Fic: Artless by lightofdaye
Title: Artless
Username: lightofdaye
Pairing: Harry/Pansy
Type: Het
Prompt: #9 - The art of seduction (photo)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~4,300
Warnings/content: PWP
Summary: The Ministry doesn’t throw good parties, but that doesn’t stop Pansy having her fun.
Notes: With thanks to the mod for patience, apologies for not really using the prompt that effectively, and undying gratitude for my beta/cheerleader’s tireless help and support in getting this done.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.
Artless
The Entrance Hall of the Ministry of Magic had been specially enlarged for the occasion: a large Gala held on the Summer Solstice. And nowadays the Ministry had to throw it themselves, Pansy Parkinson thought with a sneer of contempt; when they’d gone on their anti-pureblood crusade after the war, they’d done the unthinkable and ripped a hole in their own social calendar. The kind of people they’d tossed in Azkaban were the kind of people who’d thrown parties and galas in the first place and those were the places where people met people and hobnobbed and quietly got things done behind the scenes.
Of course when they attempted it themselves, they made a total mess of it. The only people that had turned up were the Ministry higher-ups, who didn’t want to but had to set a good example, the Ministry suck ups, and the truly desperate people. And Pansy. Who was not employed by the Ministry and was so not desperate, thanks.
She wouldn’t have bothered except it had been rather too long since she’d been at a party - especially one paid for and, more importantly, catered by other people. Still, as tedious as it was, she tried to look past what it was and what it could be.
Pansy was on the prowl for a new boy toy. Considering the loss of grace suffered by everyone even remotely Dark Lord-connected, she’d had to ditch Draco Malfoy to her great regret. At least that was what she told people.
The party was at least full of possibilities. The other Slytherins were no better than Draco, though. Former Hufflepuffs were too boring. And ex-Ravenclaws… well, she’d never met a Ravenclaw who didn’t think they were smarter than she was.
That left Gryffindors. And here she mentally excluded the ‘former’; no-one ever really left Gryffindor house. There were three in attendance, and they were the big three: Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and the royal saviour himself, Harry Potter.
True, Longbottom looked like he’d wandered in by accident. And Weasley was dangerously close to braining himself on a chandelier. But Neville had been always been a soft touch and Ron had recently been ‘let down easy by the third member of the golden trio’ according to Witch Weekly. They both had an air of attainability about them and they were both pureblood - traitorous ones, to be sure, but it was a little easier to unwind in their direction than anyone closely related to a Muggle.
Clearly, I have a lot to think about, Pansy thought. And if there was one thing that helped her think, it was free booze and food. So she sidled in the general direction of the buffet tables, a glass of port appearing in her hand as she examined a tray of biscuits and the selection of cheeses. She hadn’t been expecting anything more than chunks of generic mild cheese on those annoying little sticks, but apparently the caterer was some kind of cheese connoisseur and there was an impressive selection. Pansy started to help herself to slices of something white, crumbly, and utterly delicious. It hardly made it to the biscuit, as she kept slipping broken morsels of it into her mouth. She was so entranced by the flavour that the words came as quite a surprise.
"Excuse me, but are you finished with the Wensleydale?" said a soft male voice next to her ear.
Pansy, hand frozen halfway to her mouth with another chunk, turned to her left to see Harry Potter looking at her with a smug smile that disappeared so fast it almost hadn’t been there. She stared for a very long millisecond. She had a mental image of Harry Potter as she had known him at school: short and scrawny with terrible glasses and a never-ending streak of bad hair days. This mental picture had absolutely nothing in common with the man in front of her.
True, he wasn’t a giant, but she was looking up at him. His posture and movements belied a certain strength and confidence in the way that mere bulging muscles did not. He wore black dress robes, bordered and lined with forest green, and they were cut in the kind of slightly overdone way you got when you let the tailor be fashionable and have their own way about everything. He was wearing them slightly askew in a fashion that was wrong but comfortable.
Both of these things practically screamed ‘I’m single’ to Pansy, and despite herself, she felt herself become… interested. She said the first thing that popped into her head.
"Now, I think that has to be the worst pick-up line anyone’s ever tried on me."
"Well, there’s a reason for that," Harry said, nonplussed.
"Really?" Pansy said.
"Yeah, I’m not trying to pick you up."
Well, that’s just ridiculous, Pansy thought as her mouth continued talking with little conscious input.
"Oh no, you mustn’t be like that. You’ve got no chance of succeeding if you don’t at least try."
There was a faint glimmer in Harry’s green eyes that made Pansy think that, yes, he wanted to try now. She became certain when she realised that his gaze was not entirely fixed on her own and instead was trying to see all of her body with attempted, not great, subtlety.
Not that she could blame him for looking of course. She looked even better than usual at the moment. Perhaps he had mistaken the dress for something slightly more adventurous than what it was. The dark blue sections of her dress suggested a sleeveless, low cut affair and Pansy smirked as his green gaze searched for the cleavage the dress promised, only to instead find the palest creamy blue cloth that made up the rest of the dress.
"Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re trying enough for both of us," Harry said.
Pansy bristled. She didn’t like either way he could have meant that. The nerve of some people and their ego. It wasn’t like she wasn’t doing him a favour by even speaking to him.
"Yes, I suppose trying is something you’re too good for. After all, big hero like you, I’m sure the girls just throw themselves all over you."
Harry’s jaw tightened and she felt a thrill of triumph. He’d have to do a lot better than that to impress her.
"You’d be surprised," he practically growled.
"It’s like I said, then; you have to put in the effort," Pansy said with a practised snort of derision.
"You think I can’t?"
"Well, that remains to be seen," Pansy said, fighting a horrible urge to wink. "But I’m being silly. You wanted the cheese?" She took half a step to one side, leaving him just enough room to get at the Wensleydale, if he didn’t mind invading her personal space.
He didn’t. He stepped right up to her, so close she’d barely have to reach out to touch him. He didn’t seem to be wearing any deodorant or aftershave that she could smell, either; there was just a faint smell of musk that seemed to be all him. He placed his plate down on the table nonchalantly, his green eyes glimmering at her.
"Sod that. Do you want to dance?" His hand rose as if to take her arm, and Pansy couldn’t help but glower at the sheer effrontery. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. She was in control here, not him.
"Do you even know how?" she shot at him, testily.
"You’re in luck; I think I know this one," Harry said, now gazing at the swirling figures in the middle of the room.
Pansy made up her mind. The guy was practically giving her a straight line there. And if she was going to have to put up with any Gryffindor, she might as well as aim for the top. She drained her port in a single swig and placed the delicate glass down on top of Potter’s never used plate. Can’t seem too eager, she thought.
"Oh well, if you insist."
Then he really did take her arm as they headed over to the dance floor. His touch was firm and steady but not too hard, which was a refreshing change from some other hands she had known.
He murmured something that was practically inaudible as they stepped closer together. She clasped one hand in his and placed the other one on his hip. They slowly circled the dance floor, to the slowly gentle rhythm of the music. Pansy could feel the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as they spiralled together and couldn’t resist moving her hand, shifting her grip around the back of him and edging lower. She heard a slight hitch to his breathing and saw an eyebrow arch over the top of his glasses, but he made no other objection at all as her fingertips dug into his tight arse.
Even when the music stopped, Pansy held herself close to him, until she realised most of the people had left the dance floor already. Potter didn’t seem to want to let her go, though, she thought smugly. After another couple of seconds, he coughed awkwardly and sprang away from her as if compensating for his earlier closeness.
"That was fun," he said softly, "Do you want to get a drink or something?"
"Here? Ha. I have better drink at home."
"Err… how nice for you?"
Oh Salazar, take a hint, man.
"Yeah. If you’re lucky, I’ll even share it."
"Why that almost sounded like an invitation."
"Well, there’s a reason for that," Pansy said with a wink. "Come on, let’s get out of here already."
So much for the art of seduction. Am I going to have to strip before he gets the message?
With Harry Potter trailing half a step behind her, she put an extra swing into her hips as she walked, as if she had absolutely no doubts at all. It wasn’t like she was expecting the flash of photography on her back, after all, or one of Potter’s friends to suddenly shout out an objection and come to his ‘rescue’.
She took his arm firmly in her grip when they reached the disappartion point and grinned at him; he looked almost surprised at the gleeful look on her face.
"Ready for a wild ride, Potter?" she said and then disapparated them.
They reappeared in the living room of her cosy London flat. There were half a dozen very comfortable rooms, as opposed to the many uncomfortable ones she could have been in with her parents. The lights were comfortably dim and subdued.
Harry was looking slightly dazed after the side-along apparition but Pansy didn’t much care. She’d brought him back here for one reason, and having him slightly off-balance just made him more agreeable.
She steadied him with her hand on his arm and cupped his face with the other hand, pulling him down so she could press her lips against his. They were surprisingly soft, she thought, as she captured his bottom lip between hers and tugged on it. He groaned slightly as she let him go.
"So you were joking about the drink then?" Harry said weakly.
Pansy just snogged him again, but he was ready for her this time. He leant into the kiss, his arms settling down on her hips. His mouth opened and she darted her tongue forward before he could, sliding it into his mouth to explore it. Harry whimpered slightly and seemed to melt against her, his grip hard about her waist to support him. His hips lurched forward to grind against her.
Geez, when was the last time this guy got laid? Pansy thought.
There were thick layers of clothes between them but, even so, Pansy’s heart was beating faster as she felt his hardness against her stomach. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and hair where she was gripping him.
"Just relax will you?" she growled as she broke the lip-lock, "and my zipper’s just a bit above your hands, I’m sure you can find it if you tr-ah." The stern effect was rather ruined when he ducked down to press his lips against her neck and suck. But it didn’t matter. He still did what she wanted: his hands rose to the top of her dress and found the zipper, drawing it down to the small of her back. His other hand followed a second behind, his fingertips splayed wide, caressing the newly revealed flesh of her back. The touch was electric; Pansy arched her back and ground herself against him, eliciting fresh groans from both of them.
Pansy took a deep breath as the fabric around her chest loosened, now only held up by the shoulders. Absurdly, she felt a slight tension at the thought of taking it off entirely. She rapidly pushed it down, disentangling herself from him and shoving the dress down her body; it bunched briefly at the waist before falling completely to the carpet. She stepped out of it and glared at Harry, daring him to make a snide comment.
Instead, he looked slightly thunderstruck as he gazed at her tits. Her skin was flushed and her nipples stood out in hardness.
"Guess you’re having fun," he said softly, a grin curling one side of his mouth.
"Like you aren’t," she shot back, matching his smile.
"I suppose I should even things out a bit," he said, shrugging out of his own robes. It was easy for him, of course. And he was wearing more beneath it than she was - a shirt and dark trousers.
"You call that even?" Pansy snorted derisively; she was already half naked here. She stepped closer, her fingertips tracing the length of his body, feeling tense muscle under his clothes on the way down to his waistline. She found the button on his trousers. "This is what I’d call even."
At that, she undid the button and yanked his trousers and pants down over his hips almost to his knee. His cock sprang up as if had been spring loaded. And it was not in Pansy to even try to stifle her surprised gasp at its size. It looked long enough to her, thick enough as well, standing proud against trimmed dark hair.
She was already bent over from pulling down his clothes, so she just dropped to her knees right there. This wasn’t like her; she didn’t do this sort of thing unless her partners asked, but then they always did.
"Pansy, I…" Harry said huskily, but whatever he had been about to say, it was lost when Pansy’s tongue darted out to lick at the underside of his cockhead. Harry’s legs tensed and he growled in a way that made Pansy want to hear it again. She swirled her tongue against the head of his cock and had to grab it around the base to keep control of it. Feeling the warmth and throbbing of it in her grip suddenly made her aware of the rapid beating of her heart and the uncomfortable feeling between her own legs. She squeezed her legs together and squirmed slightly where she knelt, but it was no good. Of course, any second now Harry was going to start moving his hips or seizing her hair, and she was going to have to call the whole thing off anyway.
But Harry didn’t. His hands stayed balled into tight fists by his hips, only moving them to pull his shirt over his head when he realised it was getting in her way. His stance widened to give Pansy enough room to do whatever she wanted to him.
Pansy went ahead and did just that. She wrapped her lips around his cock and bobbed her head down as far as she could, smearing her lips slowly up the shaft again. It wasn’t easy, but the sounds he was making were so delicious that she could hardly help herself. Harry groaned loudly when she sucked the head and whimpered softly when she popped it free of her mouth and altered her tongue across his balls, before slowly licking her way back up to the sticky head to start all over again. After a couple of repetitions of the cycle, his voice was hoarse with growing need and tension, and the empty feeling between her legs had grown to the point where she couldn’t help but run the fingers of her free hand across the sodden black lace of her knickers. Finally releasing him, she looked up, and an instinctive shudder passed through her body when she saw the green fire in his gaze.
"We have got to get you into my bed, like, five seconds ago," she said huskily.
"Right," he said, the intensity of his gaze suddenly broken. "Umm… where is it?" he finished sheepishly.
"Here." Pansy indicated the door with her head and grabbed his arm to drag him off in the right direction. She generously managed to giggle rather than curse him, when he nearly tripped and had to pause to kick off the clothes still wrapped around his ankles.
They rushed into her room with incredible but not undue haste. Her bed was almost too large for the room, even though it was the smallest double bed available. Harry surprised her by pulling her into another kiss when they reached the foot of it. His mouth clamped down over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth roughly as if in revenge for her control over the situation. Pansy couldn’t remember another guy kissing her after what she’d just been doing, but it turned out to be a heinous ploy. The next thing she knew, Harry had sat her down on the bed, breaking the kiss just when she’d started to get into it, his head diving down between her legs.
He put his hands on her waist again; his grip managed to be strong and firm without passing the line into roughness. His fingers curved around the waistline of her knickers, and his thumbs met them from underneath. He pulled them free and down the entire long length of her legs, and with a smirk he managed to slip them over her heels and do away with the shoes as well, leaving her in nothing but thigh-high stockings. Hopefully he knew as well as she did that it would take far too long to get them off.
Thankfully he did because the next thing he did was put his face back between her legs and start eating her out like a starving man. He ran his tongue across her slit and licked like he’d never tasted anything so good before - and he probably hadn’t, she thought, just before the questing tip of his tongue reached the top of her folds and pressed firmly against her clit.
Pansy shrieked. She threw her head back against her quilt as a thunderbolt of sensation jerked her body. As she tried to catch her breath and stave off impending orgasm, she realised just how badly she had lost control of the situation. She was going to have to stop this, right after he did that again with his tongue. Maybe.
She trailed her hands slowly down her body, briefly clasping her breasts before going over the top of her stomach, even as Harry licked and she struggled not to pant. Then her fingers were tousling his black hair, tangling it around them and teasing chunks of it into spikes.
Her grip closed tight on it and yanked him upwards before she came all over his face.
"You," she said, most severely, "are supposed to be in my bed, I said. Right now, on your back."
"My bad," Harry growled, the fire back in his eyes. He did not look at all contrite or convinced by her tone, but he scrambled into her bed nevertheless. Somehow his cock still looked hard enough that she wouldn’t have to waste more time before getting to the main event.
She’d been surprised when she’d first seen his size but now she was taken aback all over again as she straddled him and lowered herself onto him. The tapered head slid in easily enough at first, but it spread her wider and wider. She gasped and stopped with an inch of it in her.
"You okay?" Harry murmured, his arms reaching out to support her, but she batted them away and sank a little further down. Inch by inch she pushed down on him, spreading her inner walls, until she felt light-headed and punch-drunk and was resting on his hips with him fully embedded inside her.
"Hell’s bells," she whispered.
If he thought she was just going to start bouncing up on down on this damn thing he had another thing coming. She instead started to shift her weight, in little circles, grinding herself on him. His hands again reached up, this time for her breasts; and this time she caught them and pinned them down on either side of his head, leaning down on his wrists to keep them there. The lean muscle she could see under the dark hair of his forearms meant he could probably still get free if he wanted to, but he made no effort to.
"Play nice, I’m getting comfortable," she said lightly.
True, she’d just started the grinding motion to try and get used to him being inside her, but damn if it didn’t feel great anyway. She started to rock back and forth, barely lifting herself off his length at all but still feeling him inside her and as she moved back managing to get some friction on her clit.
She groaned huskily as she rode him. Her neck lolled towards him slightly, her black hair wild and hanging around her face in a tangled mess, obscuring the sight of her half-lidded eyes. She quite lost track of time, just captivated by the sensations of rubbing her inner walls over Harry’s cock and feeling the electric sensation of grinding her clit against him. Each time the effect felt even better, sending shudders racing through more and more of her.
"Pansy." She heard the growl eons later. "Pansy, please."
She became aware she was practically shaking. Harry’s molten green eyes were looking up at her with something like awe in them. He was damp with sweat and fidgeting beneath her.
"Please?" she gasped.
"Let me…" He lapsed into wordlessness, his hips jerking upwards in need. Pansy cried out in response.
Then she leant forward close enough that her face was almost against his, that her breasts brushed against his chest. She put just a little more up-and-down into her motions.
"Let you what, sweetie? Fuck me? Pound me silly?"
"Gods yes," Harry groaned.
"Say it."
"I want to fuck you senseless," Harry growled, the words flooding out him like water erupting from a broken dam.
Her hands slipped off his, releasing him.
"Then do it, Harry," she said. "Do it now."
Just like that, his hands snaked around her body. Every touch was searing hot, like her body was suddenly sensitive all over. He rolled them over so their positions were reversed, and her spread legs went flying into the air before she managed to wrap them around his waist.
Then he was thrusting, his thick length plunging in and out of her body in a quick, rapidly increasing rhythm. Pansy could hear the slap of flesh on flesh and the wet, squelching sound and a strange near-wail that, after a couple of seconds, she realised was coming from her.
Her body shook out of her control, her inner walls clenching down around Harry’s cock, as waves of pleasure coursed throughout her. She almost remained in control until she felt him gushing inside her and clenched still harder as she came.
Her mind had ceased working properly. She was dimly aware of Harry rolling off her, but it didn’t seem to matter very much; her limbs were cotton wool, and she seemed to be floating in contentment. Eventually it was the dryness of her throat that brought her out of it. Suddenly she seemed to be parched. Limbs still not fully functioning, she nevertheless dragged herself up and out of bed. Someone seemed to have added a few extra miles to her house as she staggered to her bathroom and took a long, cold drink of water from her tap.
Her immediate thirst quenched, she reached for a glass and filled it up with water before heading back to her room.
He was still in her bed when she got back to her bedroom with a half-drank glass of water in hand. He’d stretched out with his arms with folded behind his head and his green eyes were half-lidded. He looked supremely comfortable - as well he should after what they’d done.
"Drink?" she asked, offering him the glass. He took it and gratefully downed the water in one gulp, smiling at her again as he placed it on the bedside table next to him.
"You look very pleased with yourself." Pansy said.
"Shouldn’t I?" Harry replied.
"You might try feeling lucky, instead."
"Oh I am," Harry said agreeably.
"Damn right," Pansy said, lying down on the bed next to him, head resting on his shoulder. "I bet you weren’t expecting to end up here tonight."
"Oh, of course not," Harry said sleepily.
All in all though, it was good that Pansy wasn’t looking at his face any more and that she didn’t see the amused twinkle in his emerald eyes.
-----
For the Love of Pansy (Round 1) Masterlist
Username: lightofdaye
Pairing: Harry/Pansy
Type: Het
Prompt: #9 - The art of seduction (photo)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~4,300
Warnings/content: PWP
Summary: The Ministry doesn’t throw good parties, but that doesn’t stop Pansy having her fun.
Notes: With thanks to the mod for patience, apologies for not really using the prompt that effectively, and undying gratitude for my beta/cheerleader’s tireless help and support in getting this done.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.
Artless
The Entrance Hall of the Ministry of Magic had been specially enlarged for the occasion: a large Gala held on the Summer Solstice. And nowadays the Ministry had to throw it themselves, Pansy Parkinson thought with a sneer of contempt; when they’d gone on their anti-pureblood crusade after the war, they’d done the unthinkable and ripped a hole in their own social calendar. The kind of people they’d tossed in Azkaban were the kind of people who’d thrown parties and galas in the first place and those were the places where people met people and hobnobbed and quietly got things done behind the scenes.
Of course when they attempted it themselves, they made a total mess of it. The only people that had turned up were the Ministry higher-ups, who didn’t want to but had to set a good example, the Ministry suck ups, and the truly desperate people. And Pansy. Who was not employed by the Ministry and was so not desperate, thanks.
She wouldn’t have bothered except it had been rather too long since she’d been at a party - especially one paid for and, more importantly, catered by other people. Still, as tedious as it was, she tried to look past what it was and what it could be.
Pansy was on the prowl for a new boy toy. Considering the loss of grace suffered by everyone even remotely Dark Lord-connected, she’d had to ditch Draco Malfoy to her great regret. At least that was what she told people.
The party was at least full of possibilities. The other Slytherins were no better than Draco, though. Former Hufflepuffs were too boring. And ex-Ravenclaws… well, she’d never met a Ravenclaw who didn’t think they were smarter than she was.
That left Gryffindors. And here she mentally excluded the ‘former’; no-one ever really left Gryffindor house. There were three in attendance, and they were the big three: Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and the royal saviour himself, Harry Potter.
True, Longbottom looked like he’d wandered in by accident. And Weasley was dangerously close to braining himself on a chandelier. But Neville had been always been a soft touch and Ron had recently been ‘let down easy by the third member of the golden trio’ according to Witch Weekly. They both had an air of attainability about them and they were both pureblood - traitorous ones, to be sure, but it was a little easier to unwind in their direction than anyone closely related to a Muggle.
Clearly, I have a lot to think about, Pansy thought. And if there was one thing that helped her think, it was free booze and food. So she sidled in the general direction of the buffet tables, a glass of port appearing in her hand as she examined a tray of biscuits and the selection of cheeses. She hadn’t been expecting anything more than chunks of generic mild cheese on those annoying little sticks, but apparently the caterer was some kind of cheese connoisseur and there was an impressive selection. Pansy started to help herself to slices of something white, crumbly, and utterly delicious. It hardly made it to the biscuit, as she kept slipping broken morsels of it into her mouth. She was so entranced by the flavour that the words came as quite a surprise.
"Excuse me, but are you finished with the Wensleydale?" said a soft male voice next to her ear.
Pansy, hand frozen halfway to her mouth with another chunk, turned to her left to see Harry Potter looking at her with a smug smile that disappeared so fast it almost hadn’t been there. She stared for a very long millisecond. She had a mental image of Harry Potter as she had known him at school: short and scrawny with terrible glasses and a never-ending streak of bad hair days. This mental picture had absolutely nothing in common with the man in front of her.
True, he wasn’t a giant, but she was looking up at him. His posture and movements belied a certain strength and confidence in the way that mere bulging muscles did not. He wore black dress robes, bordered and lined with forest green, and they were cut in the kind of slightly overdone way you got when you let the tailor be fashionable and have their own way about everything. He was wearing them slightly askew in a fashion that was wrong but comfortable.
Both of these things practically screamed ‘I’m single’ to Pansy, and despite herself, she felt herself become… interested. She said the first thing that popped into her head.
"Now, I think that has to be the worst pick-up line anyone’s ever tried on me."
"Well, there’s a reason for that," Harry said, nonplussed.
"Really?" Pansy said.
"Yeah, I’m not trying to pick you up."
Well, that’s just ridiculous, Pansy thought as her mouth continued talking with little conscious input.
"Oh no, you mustn’t be like that. You’ve got no chance of succeeding if you don’t at least try."
There was a faint glimmer in Harry’s green eyes that made Pansy think that, yes, he wanted to try now. She became certain when she realised that his gaze was not entirely fixed on her own and instead was trying to see all of her body with attempted, not great, subtlety.
Not that she could blame him for looking of course. She looked even better than usual at the moment. Perhaps he had mistaken the dress for something slightly more adventurous than what it was. The dark blue sections of her dress suggested a sleeveless, low cut affair and Pansy smirked as his green gaze searched for the cleavage the dress promised, only to instead find the palest creamy blue cloth that made up the rest of the dress.
"Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re trying enough for both of us," Harry said.
Pansy bristled. She didn’t like either way he could have meant that. The nerve of some people and their ego. It wasn’t like she wasn’t doing him a favour by even speaking to him.
"Yes, I suppose trying is something you’re too good for. After all, big hero like you, I’m sure the girls just throw themselves all over you."
Harry’s jaw tightened and she felt a thrill of triumph. He’d have to do a lot better than that to impress her.
"You’d be surprised," he practically growled.
"It’s like I said, then; you have to put in the effort," Pansy said with a practised snort of derision.
"You think I can’t?"
"Well, that remains to be seen," Pansy said, fighting a horrible urge to wink. "But I’m being silly. You wanted the cheese?" She took half a step to one side, leaving him just enough room to get at the Wensleydale, if he didn’t mind invading her personal space.
He didn’t. He stepped right up to her, so close she’d barely have to reach out to touch him. He didn’t seem to be wearing any deodorant or aftershave that she could smell, either; there was just a faint smell of musk that seemed to be all him. He placed his plate down on the table nonchalantly, his green eyes glimmering at her.
"Sod that. Do you want to dance?" His hand rose as if to take her arm, and Pansy couldn’t help but glower at the sheer effrontery. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. She was in control here, not him.
"Do you even know how?" she shot at him, testily.
"You’re in luck; I think I know this one," Harry said, now gazing at the swirling figures in the middle of the room.
Pansy made up her mind. The guy was practically giving her a straight line there. And if she was going to have to put up with any Gryffindor, she might as well as aim for the top. She drained her port in a single swig and placed the delicate glass down on top of Potter’s never used plate. Can’t seem too eager, she thought.
"Oh well, if you insist."
Then he really did take her arm as they headed over to the dance floor. His touch was firm and steady but not too hard, which was a refreshing change from some other hands she had known.
He murmured something that was practically inaudible as they stepped closer together. She clasped one hand in his and placed the other one on his hip. They slowly circled the dance floor, to the slowly gentle rhythm of the music. Pansy could feel the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as they spiralled together and couldn’t resist moving her hand, shifting her grip around the back of him and edging lower. She heard a slight hitch to his breathing and saw an eyebrow arch over the top of his glasses, but he made no other objection at all as her fingertips dug into his tight arse.
Even when the music stopped, Pansy held herself close to him, until she realised most of the people had left the dance floor already. Potter didn’t seem to want to let her go, though, she thought smugly. After another couple of seconds, he coughed awkwardly and sprang away from her as if compensating for his earlier closeness.
"That was fun," he said softly, "Do you want to get a drink or something?"
"Here? Ha. I have better drink at home."
"Err… how nice for you?"
Oh Salazar, take a hint, man.
"Yeah. If you’re lucky, I’ll even share it."
"Why that almost sounded like an invitation."
"Well, there’s a reason for that," Pansy said with a wink. "Come on, let’s get out of here already."
So much for the art of seduction. Am I going to have to strip before he gets the message?
With Harry Potter trailing half a step behind her, she put an extra swing into her hips as she walked, as if she had absolutely no doubts at all. It wasn’t like she was expecting the flash of photography on her back, after all, or one of Potter’s friends to suddenly shout out an objection and come to his ‘rescue’.
She took his arm firmly in her grip when they reached the disappartion point and grinned at him; he looked almost surprised at the gleeful look on her face.
"Ready for a wild ride, Potter?" she said and then disapparated them.
They reappeared in the living room of her cosy London flat. There were half a dozen very comfortable rooms, as opposed to the many uncomfortable ones she could have been in with her parents. The lights were comfortably dim and subdued.
Harry was looking slightly dazed after the side-along apparition but Pansy didn’t much care. She’d brought him back here for one reason, and having him slightly off-balance just made him more agreeable.
She steadied him with her hand on his arm and cupped his face with the other hand, pulling him down so she could press her lips against his. They were surprisingly soft, she thought, as she captured his bottom lip between hers and tugged on it. He groaned slightly as she let him go.
"So you were joking about the drink then?" Harry said weakly.
Pansy just snogged him again, but he was ready for her this time. He leant into the kiss, his arms settling down on her hips. His mouth opened and she darted her tongue forward before he could, sliding it into his mouth to explore it. Harry whimpered slightly and seemed to melt against her, his grip hard about her waist to support him. His hips lurched forward to grind against her.
Geez, when was the last time this guy got laid? Pansy thought.
There were thick layers of clothes between them but, even so, Pansy’s heart was beating faster as she felt his hardness against her stomach. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and hair where she was gripping him.
"Just relax will you?" she growled as she broke the lip-lock, "and my zipper’s just a bit above your hands, I’m sure you can find it if you tr-ah." The stern effect was rather ruined when he ducked down to press his lips against her neck and suck. But it didn’t matter. He still did what she wanted: his hands rose to the top of her dress and found the zipper, drawing it down to the small of her back. His other hand followed a second behind, his fingertips splayed wide, caressing the newly revealed flesh of her back. The touch was electric; Pansy arched her back and ground herself against him, eliciting fresh groans from both of them.
Pansy took a deep breath as the fabric around her chest loosened, now only held up by the shoulders. Absurdly, she felt a slight tension at the thought of taking it off entirely. She rapidly pushed it down, disentangling herself from him and shoving the dress down her body; it bunched briefly at the waist before falling completely to the carpet. She stepped out of it and glared at Harry, daring him to make a snide comment.
Instead, he looked slightly thunderstruck as he gazed at her tits. Her skin was flushed and her nipples stood out in hardness.
"Guess you’re having fun," he said softly, a grin curling one side of his mouth.
"Like you aren’t," she shot back, matching his smile.
"I suppose I should even things out a bit," he said, shrugging out of his own robes. It was easy for him, of course. And he was wearing more beneath it than she was - a shirt and dark trousers.
"You call that even?" Pansy snorted derisively; she was already half naked here. She stepped closer, her fingertips tracing the length of his body, feeling tense muscle under his clothes on the way down to his waistline. She found the button on his trousers. "This is what I’d call even."
At that, she undid the button and yanked his trousers and pants down over his hips almost to his knee. His cock sprang up as if had been spring loaded. And it was not in Pansy to even try to stifle her surprised gasp at its size. It looked long enough to her, thick enough as well, standing proud against trimmed dark hair.
She was already bent over from pulling down his clothes, so she just dropped to her knees right there. This wasn’t like her; she didn’t do this sort of thing unless her partners asked, but then they always did.
"Pansy, I…" Harry said huskily, but whatever he had been about to say, it was lost when Pansy’s tongue darted out to lick at the underside of his cockhead. Harry’s legs tensed and he growled in a way that made Pansy want to hear it again. She swirled her tongue against the head of his cock and had to grab it around the base to keep control of it. Feeling the warmth and throbbing of it in her grip suddenly made her aware of the rapid beating of her heart and the uncomfortable feeling between her own legs. She squeezed her legs together and squirmed slightly where she knelt, but it was no good. Of course, any second now Harry was going to start moving his hips or seizing her hair, and she was going to have to call the whole thing off anyway.
But Harry didn’t. His hands stayed balled into tight fists by his hips, only moving them to pull his shirt over his head when he realised it was getting in her way. His stance widened to give Pansy enough room to do whatever she wanted to him.
Pansy went ahead and did just that. She wrapped her lips around his cock and bobbed her head down as far as she could, smearing her lips slowly up the shaft again. It wasn’t easy, but the sounds he was making were so delicious that she could hardly help herself. Harry groaned loudly when she sucked the head and whimpered softly when she popped it free of her mouth and altered her tongue across his balls, before slowly licking her way back up to the sticky head to start all over again. After a couple of repetitions of the cycle, his voice was hoarse with growing need and tension, and the empty feeling between her legs had grown to the point where she couldn’t help but run the fingers of her free hand across the sodden black lace of her knickers. Finally releasing him, she looked up, and an instinctive shudder passed through her body when she saw the green fire in his gaze.
"We have got to get you into my bed, like, five seconds ago," she said huskily.
"Right," he said, the intensity of his gaze suddenly broken. "Umm… where is it?" he finished sheepishly.
"Here." Pansy indicated the door with her head and grabbed his arm to drag him off in the right direction. She generously managed to giggle rather than curse him, when he nearly tripped and had to pause to kick off the clothes still wrapped around his ankles.
They rushed into her room with incredible but not undue haste. Her bed was almost too large for the room, even though it was the smallest double bed available. Harry surprised her by pulling her into another kiss when they reached the foot of it. His mouth clamped down over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth roughly as if in revenge for her control over the situation. Pansy couldn’t remember another guy kissing her after what she’d just been doing, but it turned out to be a heinous ploy. The next thing she knew, Harry had sat her down on the bed, breaking the kiss just when she’d started to get into it, his head diving down between her legs.
He put his hands on her waist again; his grip managed to be strong and firm without passing the line into roughness. His fingers curved around the waistline of her knickers, and his thumbs met them from underneath. He pulled them free and down the entire long length of her legs, and with a smirk he managed to slip them over her heels and do away with the shoes as well, leaving her in nothing but thigh-high stockings. Hopefully he knew as well as she did that it would take far too long to get them off.
Thankfully he did because the next thing he did was put his face back between her legs and start eating her out like a starving man. He ran his tongue across her slit and licked like he’d never tasted anything so good before - and he probably hadn’t, she thought, just before the questing tip of his tongue reached the top of her folds and pressed firmly against her clit.
Pansy shrieked. She threw her head back against her quilt as a thunderbolt of sensation jerked her body. As she tried to catch her breath and stave off impending orgasm, she realised just how badly she had lost control of the situation. She was going to have to stop this, right after he did that again with his tongue. Maybe.
She trailed her hands slowly down her body, briefly clasping her breasts before going over the top of her stomach, even as Harry licked and she struggled not to pant. Then her fingers were tousling his black hair, tangling it around them and teasing chunks of it into spikes.
Her grip closed tight on it and yanked him upwards before she came all over his face.
"You," she said, most severely, "are supposed to be in my bed, I said. Right now, on your back."
"My bad," Harry growled, the fire back in his eyes. He did not look at all contrite or convinced by her tone, but he scrambled into her bed nevertheless. Somehow his cock still looked hard enough that she wouldn’t have to waste more time before getting to the main event.
She’d been surprised when she’d first seen his size but now she was taken aback all over again as she straddled him and lowered herself onto him. The tapered head slid in easily enough at first, but it spread her wider and wider. She gasped and stopped with an inch of it in her.
"You okay?" Harry murmured, his arms reaching out to support her, but she batted them away and sank a little further down. Inch by inch she pushed down on him, spreading her inner walls, until she felt light-headed and punch-drunk and was resting on his hips with him fully embedded inside her.
"Hell’s bells," she whispered.
If he thought she was just going to start bouncing up on down on this damn thing he had another thing coming. She instead started to shift her weight, in little circles, grinding herself on him. His hands again reached up, this time for her breasts; and this time she caught them and pinned them down on either side of his head, leaning down on his wrists to keep them there. The lean muscle she could see under the dark hair of his forearms meant he could probably still get free if he wanted to, but he made no effort to.
"Play nice, I’m getting comfortable," she said lightly.
True, she’d just started the grinding motion to try and get used to him being inside her, but damn if it didn’t feel great anyway. She started to rock back and forth, barely lifting herself off his length at all but still feeling him inside her and as she moved back managing to get some friction on her clit.
She groaned huskily as she rode him. Her neck lolled towards him slightly, her black hair wild and hanging around her face in a tangled mess, obscuring the sight of her half-lidded eyes. She quite lost track of time, just captivated by the sensations of rubbing her inner walls over Harry’s cock and feeling the electric sensation of grinding her clit against him. Each time the effect felt even better, sending shudders racing through more and more of her.
"Pansy." She heard the growl eons later. "Pansy, please."
She became aware she was practically shaking. Harry’s molten green eyes were looking up at her with something like awe in them. He was damp with sweat and fidgeting beneath her.
"Please?" she gasped.
"Let me…" He lapsed into wordlessness, his hips jerking upwards in need. Pansy cried out in response.
Then she leant forward close enough that her face was almost against his, that her breasts brushed against his chest. She put just a little more up-and-down into her motions.
"Let you what, sweetie? Fuck me? Pound me silly?"
"Gods yes," Harry groaned.
"Say it."
"I want to fuck you senseless," Harry growled, the words flooding out him like water erupting from a broken dam.
Her hands slipped off his, releasing him.
"Then do it, Harry," she said. "Do it now."
Just like that, his hands snaked around her body. Every touch was searing hot, like her body was suddenly sensitive all over. He rolled them over so their positions were reversed, and her spread legs went flying into the air before she managed to wrap them around his waist.
Then he was thrusting, his thick length plunging in and out of her body in a quick, rapidly increasing rhythm. Pansy could hear the slap of flesh on flesh and the wet, squelching sound and a strange near-wail that, after a couple of seconds, she realised was coming from her.
Her body shook out of her control, her inner walls clenching down around Harry’s cock, as waves of pleasure coursed throughout her. She almost remained in control until she felt him gushing inside her and clenched still harder as she came.
Her mind had ceased working properly. She was dimly aware of Harry rolling off her, but it didn’t seem to matter very much; her limbs were cotton wool, and she seemed to be floating in contentment. Eventually it was the dryness of her throat that brought her out of it. Suddenly she seemed to be parched. Limbs still not fully functioning, she nevertheless dragged herself up and out of bed. Someone seemed to have added a few extra miles to her house as she staggered to her bathroom and took a long, cold drink of water from her tap.
Her immediate thirst quenched, she reached for a glass and filled it up with water before heading back to her room.
He was still in her bed when she got back to her bedroom with a half-drank glass of water in hand. He’d stretched out with his arms with folded behind his head and his green eyes were half-lidded. He looked supremely comfortable - as well he should after what they’d done.
"Drink?" she asked, offering him the glass. He took it and gratefully downed the water in one gulp, smiling at her again as he placed it on the bedside table next to him.
"You look very pleased with yourself." Pansy said.
"Shouldn’t I?" Harry replied.
"You might try feeling lucky, instead."
"Oh I am," Harry said agreeably.
"Damn right," Pansy said, lying down on the bed next to him, head resting on his shoulder. "I bet you weren’t expecting to end up here tonight."
"Oh, of course not," Harry said sleepily.
All in all though, it was good that Pansy wasn’t looking at his face any more and that she didn’t see the amused twinkle in his emerald eyes.
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For the Love of Pansy (Round 1) Masterlist