Lis!Fic - Fallen (1/1) - Vincent Crabbe/Millicent Bulstrode
Title: Fallen
Author: pyrobear
Characters: Vincent Crabbe/Millicent Bulstrode
Rating NC-17
Words: 2100
Summary: Right now it wasn't a time for making love or any of that utter bullshit. It was about one thing and one thing only. Fucking.
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine. I just like to play in the sand box and make sandcastles.
Author's Note: Written for the prompt 'first time' over at hp_humpdrabbles. May or may not be considered character canon/PS!verse.
Night. It was her favorite time to be in the castle. When everything was dark and quiet and if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend like the was back at Dunmore, behind the closed wards and the ugliness of life. Many would not know it, nor would she ever admit it aloud, but Millicent Bulstrode was a coward.
They could see their breaths in the deserted hall. The dungeons were cold, but not abnormally so. Not for the dead of winter. Besides, after six years you started to not mind the cold so much.
"In here." His voice was a low rumble against her skin and they she was pulled into an empty and disused classroom.
The moment the door was closed his hands were on her, fingers inching up under the hemline of her jumper. A few moments later and it was pushed up and over her head. Right now it wasn't a time for making love or any of that utter bullshit. It was about one thing and one thing only. Fucking.
The air around them was chilly, but heating up by the moment.
Once her jumper was on the floor and her school shirt unbuttoned, he stepped back, almost confused by her rather utilitarian underthings. With a sigh and roll of her eyes, Millicent's hands quickly went behind her back to unclasp the damn thing. A pile of cotton joined wool. As soon as her tits were exposed, his fingers, like sausages, were on them, pinching and pulling.
She batted his hands away. "I'm not some broodmare to be pinched and prodded to see what sort of foals I'll produce."
His grin was bright in the shadows. Vincent Crabbe wasn't an idiot. Alright, he wasn't going to win any academic awards anytime soon, but he was no idiot. Millicent had never treated him like there was nothing between his ears, a practice even his own mother indulged in with some regularity. But he showed them, hadn't he? He could wield his wand with precision now, cast the Cruciatus to make even the most stubborn of Gryffindors scream. He relished the thought of having Longbottom at his mercy, like the blood-traitor he was. Soon.
He was learning Fiendfyre and soon everyone would see what kind of wizard he was. A powerful one, at the right hand of the Dark Lord and Millicent would be at his. For she deserved such an honor.
Grey eyes watched as Vincent was lost in his own thoughts. Millicent knew what he was thinking. It was written plain across his face. He was not nearly as powerful as he thought he was, a pure pawn like they all were. But at least he still had the ability to dream. "Are we going to stand here all night?" she asked, her voice low even though this area of the dungeons was sure to be deserted. "Or are we going to fuck?"
That was another thing Vincent liked about Millicent. She didn't shy away from the dirtier like the other girls did. She spoke plain and didn't mind getting her hands dirty. "On your knees first."
She rolled her eyes, but fell all the same. It always started like this. Only this time, it was going to end differently. She was tired of always returning to the dorm unsatisfied. Their affair, for she refused to think of it as a relationship, had started as soon as Walden McNair had found himself in Azkaban, but it was regulated to back hallways and shadowy alcoves. It was no secret her brothers' wanted her on the arm of anyone but a Death Eater.
His cock was already hard and the head slick as her lips closed around it. A curious tongue swirled around the sensitive tip. She knew how to drive him wild, bucking into her warm wet mouth. A girl didn't grow up with four older brothers and run across multiple pornography stashes without learning a few things. While the other girls had giggled and twitted about seeing the boys get hardons in class during their fourth year, Millicent just rolled her eyes. She had known what those pricks could do, better than they ever could.
Vincent tried not to thrust into her willing and inviting mouth, knowing Millicent didn't enjoy it, but it felt so damn good. Fingers threaded through hair that appeared inky black in the darkness as his hips snapped and rolled.
She gagged once, than twice, before she pulled back and began to use a combination of her hand and her mouth to bring him off. The space around him was silent except for the familiar slap of flesh against flesh and his dick pistoned in and out from between her lips. before long there was a cry against the dark and her mouth was filled with the bitter taste of his seed.
He looked down at her as he withdrew, holding out his hand, even though he knew she didn't need it. He didn't know why the other boys followed Tracy like she was a bitch in heat. Sure, she gave out, bending over the nearest available horizontal surface, but who wanted the school broomstick? Besides, she didn't swallow and wasn't nearly as good at sucking cock as his Millicent.
While Vincent was lost in his orgasmic haze, Millicent spat the offending come out of her mouth and onto the stone floor, quickly spelling it away. Her hand slipped into his and automatically he was pulling her up with nary a grunt. She would never say she loved him, but there were things she liked about the man-boy in front of her. She didn't feel awkward or mis-sized when standing in front of him. There was no way she could ever be called delicate (unless she fell victim to some horrible potions experiment gone wrong), but she didn't feel like she should be part of a muggle freak show either.
He looked down at her, a free hand reaching up to brush some hair out of her face in an uncharacteristic display of kindness. "I, uh, can't transfigure us a bed, but I can put a cushioning charm down if you like."
Millicent's eyes crinkled at the corners as her wand once more slipped out from the waistband of her skirt to transfigure a desk and chair set into a functional, if a bit plain, bed. "Does that work?"
He didn't even answer. A quick squeeze of their joined hands and he was already moving towards the bed, a trail of shoes and socks, and other articles of clothing marking his way. He was pulling off his pants as he sat on the mattress, the audible creak loud in their dark haven. For a moment, Millicent was afraid the bed would break, but it held. Vincent looked at her, and for the first time that she could remember the mud brown eyes were curious. "What are you waiting for?"
She looked down at her feet and much to her horror, Millicent could feel the blush starting to creep up the back of her neck, bright and hot against her pale skin. She was half dressed, tits exposed, and he hadn't made a move to leave yet. But she knew her cunt didn't look like those in the magazines, the ones he had undoubtedly seen as well or those similar enough. She wasn't neatly trimmed or bare like some of the more risqué pornography.
"Millicent." His voice was hard, flinty. Standing, he walked across the floor, bare feet making an audible 'slapping' sound against the stone. "Come on," he grabbed her hand, tugging her towards their soon to be shared bed, "we don't have all night. You didn't turn into some sissy Hufflepuff, did you?"
Her eyes narrowed as she undid the zipper of her skirt as she kicked off her shoes. Socks and knickers soon followed. "No."
Cautiously, she moved to sit beside him, their thighs touching. She was close enough to him now to see that he had missed a spot shaving that morning and she could still smell the soap he had used after Quidditch practice. Suddenly, it was as if the realness of the situation hit them both, leaving them in strained silence.
"I'm going to lay back now." She shifted, bringing her legs up as she fell against the hard mattress. It wasn't the floor, so Millicent kept her complaints to a minimum. Almost automatically her legs fell open, inviting. A hand drifted up to cup a generous breast as she exposed the most intimate of her body to his hungry eyes.
Vincent moved as well, so he sat parallel to her, leg bent inward to give her more room to spread on the narrow bed. Perhaps he should suggest that she widen it a bit, but then he reconsidered. They weren't going to cuddle. They weren't Hufflepuffs for Salazar's sake!
His fingers, the ones she had compared so sausages earlier, brushed against her damp curls. She didn't expect him to put his mouth there, but it was nice that he wasn't only thinking about himself. Who would have thought. "Go on," she urged, "I'm not going to break."
"Didn't think you were," he muttered, his face the picture of intense conversation. A blunt fingertip entered her before the whole thing slid in, his nail almost scratching painfully against the sensitive skin.
Millicent swallowed a gasp, not wanting to appeared afraid or weak or anything less than what she was. She spread her legs further to allow him even more access.
Vincent took that as a silent invitation, now fully crawling on top of her. His prick was hard again and he fisted it a few more times to make sure. Grey and brown met, question silently asked and answered. He pressed inward with one jarring thrust.
Hands came up to either push him away or hold him closer, Millicent wasn't sure. Fingernails drew sharp, heated lines down his back as his hip moved to crash against hers. This wasn't like her brother's pornography. She wasn't moaning out of her mind in pleasure, nor in pain. It was just and odd as his dick moved in and out of her. The breaking of her hymen didn't even hurt as much as she thought it would and for that, she was grateful. It wasn't that Millicent was afraid of pain, she just didn't welcome it either.
His breath was hot against her cheek as his head came down to duck against her shoulder, pants and gasps filling her ears. She stared at the barely visible ceiling as finally enough sweat built up between their bodies to allow for skin to slide against skin.
"Perfect," he mumbled against her skin.
She wondered if she was so perfect, why the fuck was he talking?
"Fucking perfect. I'm going to find that mudblood Ganger and make her bleed for you. Let her imperfect blood splatter against your perfect skin. Like the way it should. Fuck, nobody sees you, but I see you. What you can become, what you will, by my side as we stand beside the Dark Lord, his greatest followers."
His hips were thrusting faster now and he seemed to have lost his train of thought as he pushed himself up, so he hovered above her, their eyes locked. "Perfect," the word dropped from his lips again before a cry broke apart whatever he was going to say next and something hot began to fill her, not all together unpleasant.
Vincent was rolling off her then as he began to search for his wand to clean himself off before he began to dress. They weren't Hufflepuffs. Neither of them needed coddling.
Still, she lay there, not quite in a daze, realizing something had changed, and it was not just her lack of virginity. Something hit her in the side and Millicent looked over to see that it was the white cotton of her knickers.
"I'm going to find that mudblood, Millie," his voice was soft, almost sweet in the darkness. "I'll make her bleed, make her blood sing for you, but I'll let you have the killing blow. You deserve it."
Then everything clicked into place. She had lost him, if she had ever had him in the first place, she had lost him to his own hubris. It was at that moment a tear began to fall, for it would be the first, and the last, time she would cry for him. Of that, she was sure. Hastily she wiped it away. Slytherins -- Bulstrodes -- did not cry.
Author: pyrobear
Characters: Vincent Crabbe/Millicent Bulstrode
Rating NC-17
Words: 2100
Summary: Right now it wasn't a time for making love or any of that utter bullshit. It was about one thing and one thing only. Fucking.
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine. I just like to play in the sand box and make sandcastles.
Author's Note: Written for the prompt 'first time' over at hp_humpdrabbles. May or may not be considered character canon/PS!verse.
Night. It was her favorite time to be in the castle. When everything was dark and quiet and if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend like the was back at Dunmore, behind the closed wards and the ugliness of life. Many would not know it, nor would she ever admit it aloud, but Millicent Bulstrode was a coward.
They could see their breaths in the deserted hall. The dungeons were cold, but not abnormally so. Not for the dead of winter. Besides, after six years you started to not mind the cold so much.
"In here." His voice was a low rumble against her skin and they she was pulled into an empty and disused classroom.
The moment the door was closed his hands were on her, fingers inching up under the hemline of her jumper. A few moments later and it was pushed up and over her head. Right now it wasn't a time for making love or any of that utter bullshit. It was about one thing and one thing only. Fucking.
The air around them was chilly, but heating up by the moment.
Once her jumper was on the floor and her school shirt unbuttoned, he stepped back, almost confused by her rather utilitarian underthings. With a sigh and roll of her eyes, Millicent's hands quickly went behind her back to unclasp the damn thing. A pile of cotton joined wool. As soon as her tits were exposed, his fingers, like sausages, were on them, pinching and pulling.
She batted his hands away. "I'm not some broodmare to be pinched and prodded to see what sort of foals I'll produce."
His grin was bright in the shadows. Vincent Crabbe wasn't an idiot. Alright, he wasn't going to win any academic awards anytime soon, but he was no idiot. Millicent had never treated him like there was nothing between his ears, a practice even his own mother indulged in with some regularity. But he showed them, hadn't he? He could wield his wand with precision now, cast the Cruciatus to make even the most stubborn of Gryffindors scream. He relished the thought of having Longbottom at his mercy, like the blood-traitor he was. Soon.
He was learning Fiendfyre and soon everyone would see what kind of wizard he was. A powerful one, at the right hand of the Dark Lord and Millicent would be at his. For she deserved such an honor.
Grey eyes watched as Vincent was lost in his own thoughts. Millicent knew what he was thinking. It was written plain across his face. He was not nearly as powerful as he thought he was, a pure pawn like they all were. But at least he still had the ability to dream. "Are we going to stand here all night?" she asked, her voice low even though this area of the dungeons was sure to be deserted. "Or are we going to fuck?"
That was another thing Vincent liked about Millicent. She didn't shy away from the dirtier like the other girls did. She spoke plain and didn't mind getting her hands dirty. "On your knees first."
She rolled her eyes, but fell all the same. It always started like this. Only this time, it was going to end differently. She was tired of always returning to the dorm unsatisfied. Their affair, for she refused to think of it as a relationship, had started as soon as Walden McNair had found himself in Azkaban, but it was regulated to back hallways and shadowy alcoves. It was no secret her brothers' wanted her on the arm of anyone but a Death Eater.
His cock was already hard and the head slick as her lips closed around it. A curious tongue swirled around the sensitive tip. She knew how to drive him wild, bucking into her warm wet mouth. A girl didn't grow up with four older brothers and run across multiple pornography stashes without learning a few things. While the other girls had giggled and twitted about seeing the boys get hardons in class during their fourth year, Millicent just rolled her eyes. She had known what those pricks could do, better than they ever could.
Vincent tried not to thrust into her willing and inviting mouth, knowing Millicent didn't enjoy it, but it felt so damn good. Fingers threaded through hair that appeared inky black in the darkness as his hips snapped and rolled.
She gagged once, than twice, before she pulled back and began to use a combination of her hand and her mouth to bring him off. The space around him was silent except for the familiar slap of flesh against flesh and his dick pistoned in and out from between her lips. before long there was a cry against the dark and her mouth was filled with the bitter taste of his seed.
He looked down at her as he withdrew, holding out his hand, even though he knew she didn't need it. He didn't know why the other boys followed Tracy like she was a bitch in heat. Sure, she gave out, bending over the nearest available horizontal surface, but who wanted the school broomstick? Besides, she didn't swallow and wasn't nearly as good at sucking cock as his Millicent.
While Vincent was lost in his orgasmic haze, Millicent spat the offending come out of her mouth and onto the stone floor, quickly spelling it away. Her hand slipped into his and automatically he was pulling her up with nary a grunt. She would never say she loved him, but there were things she liked about the man-boy in front of her. She didn't feel awkward or mis-sized when standing in front of him. There was no way she could ever be called delicate (unless she fell victim to some horrible potions experiment gone wrong), but she didn't feel like she should be part of a muggle freak show either.
He looked down at her, a free hand reaching up to brush some hair out of her face in an uncharacteristic display of kindness. "I, uh, can't transfigure us a bed, but I can put a cushioning charm down if you like."
Millicent's eyes crinkled at the corners as her wand once more slipped out from the waistband of her skirt to transfigure a desk and chair set into a functional, if a bit plain, bed. "Does that work?"
He didn't even answer. A quick squeeze of their joined hands and he was already moving towards the bed, a trail of shoes and socks, and other articles of clothing marking his way. He was pulling off his pants as he sat on the mattress, the audible creak loud in their dark haven. For a moment, Millicent was afraid the bed would break, but it held. Vincent looked at her, and for the first time that she could remember the mud brown eyes were curious. "What are you waiting for?"
She looked down at her feet and much to her horror, Millicent could feel the blush starting to creep up the back of her neck, bright and hot against her pale skin. She was half dressed, tits exposed, and he hadn't made a move to leave yet. But she knew her cunt didn't look like those in the magazines, the ones he had undoubtedly seen as well or those similar enough. She wasn't neatly trimmed or bare like some of the more risqué pornography.
"Millicent." His voice was hard, flinty. Standing, he walked across the floor, bare feet making an audible 'slapping' sound against the stone. "Come on," he grabbed her hand, tugging her towards their soon to be shared bed, "we don't have all night. You didn't turn into some sissy Hufflepuff, did you?"
Her eyes narrowed as she undid the zipper of her skirt as she kicked off her shoes. Socks and knickers soon followed. "No."
Cautiously, she moved to sit beside him, their thighs touching. She was close enough to him now to see that he had missed a spot shaving that morning and she could still smell the soap he had used after Quidditch practice. Suddenly, it was as if the realness of the situation hit them both, leaving them in strained silence.
"I'm going to lay back now." She shifted, bringing her legs up as she fell against the hard mattress. It wasn't the floor, so Millicent kept her complaints to a minimum. Almost automatically her legs fell open, inviting. A hand drifted up to cup a generous breast as she exposed the most intimate of her body to his hungry eyes.
Vincent moved as well, so he sat parallel to her, leg bent inward to give her more room to spread on the narrow bed. Perhaps he should suggest that she widen it a bit, but then he reconsidered. They weren't going to cuddle. They weren't Hufflepuffs for Salazar's sake!
His fingers, the ones she had compared so sausages earlier, brushed against her damp curls. She didn't expect him to put his mouth there, but it was nice that he wasn't only thinking about himself. Who would have thought. "Go on," she urged, "I'm not going to break."
"Didn't think you were," he muttered, his face the picture of intense conversation. A blunt fingertip entered her before the whole thing slid in, his nail almost scratching painfully against the sensitive skin.
Millicent swallowed a gasp, not wanting to appeared afraid or weak or anything less than what she was. She spread her legs further to allow him even more access.
Vincent took that as a silent invitation, now fully crawling on top of her. His prick was hard again and he fisted it a few more times to make sure. Grey and brown met, question silently asked and answered. He pressed inward with one jarring thrust.
Hands came up to either push him away or hold him closer, Millicent wasn't sure. Fingernails drew sharp, heated lines down his back as his hip moved to crash against hers. This wasn't like her brother's pornography. She wasn't moaning out of her mind in pleasure, nor in pain. It was just and odd as his dick moved in and out of her. The breaking of her hymen didn't even hurt as much as she thought it would and for that, she was grateful. It wasn't that Millicent was afraid of pain, she just didn't welcome it either.
His breath was hot against her cheek as his head came down to duck against her shoulder, pants and gasps filling her ears. She stared at the barely visible ceiling as finally enough sweat built up between their bodies to allow for skin to slide against skin.
"Perfect," he mumbled against her skin.
She wondered if she was so perfect, why the fuck was he talking?
"Fucking perfect. I'm going to find that mudblood Ganger and make her bleed for you. Let her imperfect blood splatter against your perfect skin. Like the way it should. Fuck, nobody sees you, but I see you. What you can become, what you will, by my side as we stand beside the Dark Lord, his greatest followers."
His hips were thrusting faster now and he seemed to have lost his train of thought as he pushed himself up, so he hovered above her, their eyes locked. "Perfect," the word dropped from his lips again before a cry broke apart whatever he was going to say next and something hot began to fill her, not all together unpleasant.
Vincent was rolling off her then as he began to search for his wand to clean himself off before he began to dress. They weren't Hufflepuffs. Neither of them needed coddling.
Still, she lay there, not quite in a daze, realizing something had changed, and it was not just her lack of virginity. Something hit her in the side and Millicent looked over to see that it was the white cotton of her knickers.
"I'm going to find that mudblood, Millie," his voice was soft, almost sweet in the darkness. "I'll make her bleed, make her blood sing for you, but I'll let you have the killing blow. You deserve it."
Then everything clicked into place. She had lost him, if she had ever had him in the first place, she had lost him to his own hubris. It was at that moment a tear began to fall, for it would be the first, and the last, time she would cry for him. Of that, she was sure. Hastily she wiped it away. Slytherins -- Bulstrodes -- did not cry.