More FIC: "Lacings and Longitude" (Luna/Cho, NC-17)
So I'm finally getting around to reposting my first lengthy Femslash fic, so I'd appreciate some comments on what you think. Especially since the person it was written for never commented. *growls* God but that is the rudest, most inexcusable thing in a fest. Honestly.
Title: "Lacings and Longitude"
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Luna/Cho, implied Cedric/Cho
Summary: Cho had tried ignoring her. Tried glaring and yelling and raging. But she didn't leave. Instead she did what no one else had dared. She touched her.
Warnings: Corsetry, slapping, angst
Author's Notes: Originally written for hp_springsmut and posted here. Betaed by marilla82 and written_doodles.
She waits in her room, the hours passing slowly, marked by the shifting shadows across the blue velvet bedspread. She watches them almost disinterestedly. It was all only time, wasn't it? And what were the hours now? She had seen his body when it came back, held his cold-too cold- hand when he was laid in the private room, normally reserved for visiting dignitaries. Perhaps it was dignified, but Cho didn't care.
She had returned to her room, empty. Like she had now for the past few months, more time which passed her at once too fast and too slow. The days blended together in an endless dirge of black robes, so they seemed to drape the castle in mourning. She knows there had been a holiday, but her awareness of it is superficial, limited. Murmurs around her in a different room, worry that felt as empty as his eyes had been when she looked at him, desperately trying to find that spark of humour and the slow burn of hunger she had seen so often. Gone.
And so too had she thought herself, until she floated into Cho's room. She had paused beside Cho's bed, head tilted to one side and blue eyes not empty enough. Cho had tried ignoring her. Tried glaring and yelling and raging. But she didn't leave. Instead she did what no one else had dared. She touched her.
Luna's hand had floated with the same ethereal drift that she had entered the room, slow and elegant. It hovered by Cho's face then cracked sharply across her cheek in a quick slap.
Cho blinked as the world suddenly snapped into time, into feeling, and she started to cry. As if she knew the sympathy of her clothing, Luna slipped out of her robes and climbed onto Cho's bed. She stretched out on her side then her arms wrapped around Cho's shoulders and waist, drawing her close. Cho pressed to the soft anchor of Luna's body, dark hair spilling over Luna's pale shoulder, tears slipping over her collarbone. And for the first time in months, she had slept, truly slept without dreams which left her cold and longing in the morning.
Now again, she is alone in her room. The other girls of her year thinking they were leaving her to mourn. But in truth they are leaving her to live again, to find solidity and feeling with a girl two years her junior.
Luna arrives with a whisper of robes and the spark of blond hair, gliding over the wooden floor to Cho's bedside wordlessly. She pauses, meets Cho's black eyes, then floats her hands to her chest to unfasten her robes. They slide to the ground silently before Cho whose attention focuses on the swell of Luna's breasts, pushed up and held in place by a tight corset. The edges and bones are marked by white satin binding, but the main fabric is not a serviceable drab coutil nor an elegant brocade. It is a world map, muted colours curving in Italian boots and African horns around her compressed body.
"Come. Find your place."
Cho rises to her knees on the mattress and touches the white edge of the corset, smooth satin binding tickling the sensitive pads of her fingers as she follows it from one side of Luna's body to the other, up over one breast then down into the low trough between them then back up again. Luna gasps quietly, and Cho almost misses the sound but for the accompanying quiver of her high breasts.
She drifts her fingers down over the busk closure at the front of Luna's corset, over the metal points of it before shifting outward to trace the shapes of continents and countries. Her finger pauses and she murmurs, "He wanted to go to Morocco…."
Luna lifts Cho's chin so she is forced to meet her eyes. "I said your place. Not his. The place you see when you close your eyes during class. I see Finland. Where do you see?"
Cho swallows a few times, trying to push the constriction around her throat away, trying to remember, but all she sees is him. Eyes filled with laughter then empty. Staring. She starts to cry. "I- I don't know. I don't remember."
The slap is a relief when it comes, jarring the image of Cedric's dead eyes from her mind and she looks up gratefully to Luna and whispers, "Thank you."
Luna smiles a bright, iridescent crescent of promise that seems so out of place in the room, in Cho's life, but something that she clings to.
"Please, Luna. Please make me remember. I have to remember what I see. My own place."
Luna nods and climbs onto the bed, her narrow hips moving with a seduction born of confidence and the snug constraint of her corset. An almost absent flick of her wand draws the curtains around Cho's bed, enclosing them in a space that is flickering with tiny blue lights with the next sweep of Luna's wand.
"Mum called them fairy lights, though they're not really fairies but the French Azuritian Moths look about the same if you are lucky enough to see them on the fifth full moon of a leap year."
Cho smiles at the twinkling lights and then at the way they light Luna's pale skin, illuminating her in a way that would make her namesake proud. Before she knows it, Cho is caressing Luna's skin again, her hands drawn to its warmth and solidity, stroking up her arms and over her chest. She trails her fingers over the seemingly fragile collarbones that swept away her tears, and she bends down to kiss them, honour them with whispers and lips. Her eyes close when she feels Luna's small hands comb through her hair, soft touches of encouragement that soothe her. She lets her mouth find its way to Luna's throat, and it pauses over the steady rhythm of Luna's heart that beats there. Her tongue darts out to lick over it, to taste the life that flutters under her skin.
Luna murmurs to her head. It could be an instruction or a compliment or an explanation of why the South American sendaka has three hearts. It doesn't matter. They are words spoken to her instead of about her, around her. And they are accompanied by unfaltering touch that isn't afraid to keep her grounded. Cho noses back into the soft curtain of Luna's hair, letting the fruity scent surround her. That first time she had lain with Luna, she thought that Luna would smell of flowers, perhaps something as cliché as moonflower, but she was wrong. She inhales again, and the tropical smell of bright sun and rich fruits fills her nose. She thinks she could stay here forever, breathing in Luna's warmth, but her hands grow restless for more.
They curl around her waist, pulling her closer so their knees bump together as she strokes over the tight frame of the corset. They follow the ridges of the bones as they bisect Egypt, Mexico, China, the small dots of the Philippines. The world's longitude is cinched around Luna's body in satin-covered stripes. It is a world made warm by Luna's body, and even the irregular coastline of Antarctica is suffused with heat.
Cho's hair flutters with the soft rush of Luna's breathing, now and then not and then now again. She wants to change that rhythm, to make it faster, louder; so she slips her fingers below the corset, finding soft cotton tucked below the bound edge of the world. There is more heat here and wetness that isn't tears. Luna moans and her hands curl over Cho's shoulders, anchoring Cho as well as herself. Cho kisses Luna's throat again, mouth open and lips clinging, then slides her fingers over the curve of cotton, between Luna's thighs. The fabric feels thinner when it's wet, arousal reducing barriers and spreading noticeably when Cho starts to rub back and forth over it.
With another moan that sounds both needy and reluctant, Luna pushes Cho back onto the bed. She lets herself fall into the softness of the bedclothes, knees curling back toward her stomach to free her ankles from the awkward bend. She straightens her legs back down, and Luna pushes them apart so they slip on either side of her body. Delicate hands push her nightgown up, above her knees, her thighs, her waist. Cho shivers as the cool air embraces her and her nipples harden somewhere under the ripples of blue flannel. Her inner thighs are scratched by small manicured nails and she spreads them further apart. The mattress under her shifts and she watches Luna settle between her legs. Her lips brush over her stomach, kissing over her navel, tongue circling it. Cho's smile is reflexive, but it remains curving her lips when Luna laughs against her stomach.
"I like the way it quivers when I do that. It's like a trapped giggle in your skin."
A small laugh bubbles up through Cho and breaks free. Luna smiles widely at her and nods approvingly then licks around the shallow well of Cho's navel once more. Cho's muscles twitch again before tightening when Luna's blonde head moves lower. She rubs her face over the small thatch of black curls which spring lightly back into place as Cho tips her hips up to her.
The first touch of her tongue is a mere flicker, barely a whisper of sensation but all the more noticeable for its delicacy. The second is equally fast but more direct, and Cho whimpers. Her eyes fall closed when Luna uses her fingers to spread Cho open, to expose the small nub of her clit to her mouth. Luna circles her clit in slow curls of her tongue then gently sucks it between her lips. Cho fists her hands in the bedspread, clutching handfuls of the velvet against her palms, as heat, pleasure, feeling rush through her. Luna's mouth is smaller, tighter than his was. Her motions are direct, deliberate, whereas his were larger, sweeping. Luna's tongue is precise, calligraphic, against her clit. Cedric's was all-encompassing, broad brushes over lips.
Her left inner thigh suddenly flashes with pain and her eyes snap open, fixing on Luna.
"Don't close your eyes until you remember your place. Watch me. See me. Not him."
Cho bites her lower lip and nods, eyes only looking away from Luna's face for a moment to see the pale imprint of a small hand on her thigh. Her gaze returns to Luna's eyes as the hand in question slides down under Luna's chin, fingers prodding the damp skin of her cunt.
She tightens with a low, begging whimper. "Please."
"Please, what?" Luna's lips move just too high, just too far away.
"Please, Luna."
Luna's face brightens into a smile and she positions two fingers against Cho's opening then thrusts them roughly into her, forcing them all the way inside until they are stopped by the knuckles of the fingers curled against Luna's palm. Cho is suddenly full, arching up fro the bed as her cunt jolts with a mix of pleasure and pain. The movement bumps her pubic bone to Luna's nose, and Luna pulls her hips back down to the bed by the fingers inside her. Her mouth closes on Cho's clit again and starts to suckle, sucking it into her mouth where her tongue flicks rapidly over it. Cho writhes over the bed, tugging futilely at the covers. She can't look away from Luna, from the way her eyes close beyond the black curls, from the small crease between her eyebrows, from the fall of pale hair over their skin. She is being pulled into Luna's mouth, into her body. Cho shudders as her cunt is fucked by fingers that curl and pull and push inside it. She is pushed farther apart, burning heat at the stretch of skin and muscle. She doesn't recognize the high cries that fill her head, doesn't care. Seeing now only that pale shimmer of hair, Cho starts to rock her hips, quick jerks of her body that force Luna's fingers deeper into her wet cunt and Luna's tongue harder against swollen clit.
It is suddenly too much for her. Too much tongue and taste and strain and push, and Cho tries to pull away, head shaking frantically. But she is given no reprieve from any of it. They demand- Luna demands completion, orders her by determined touch to throw herself into the dangerous spiral of sensations. Cho freezes, whole body tense and motionless as she desperately tries to fight the fall, but a single graze of Luna's teeth over her overly-sensitive clit makes her scream. Her body arches then twists as her orgasm rushes through her.
Time falls away as she shudders, gasping for air, screaming more when Luna continues to shove her fingers in and out of her, pushing over the perfect spot again and again, until Cho becomes nothing but sensation, nothing but heat and pleasure and wetness, lost to a seemingly endless swell of pressure and release.
Somewhere, somehow she finds stillness once more, air cooling her damp skin as slick fingers stroke gently over her. There are lips once more murmuring against her temple and the rich bouquet of sex and ripe fruit fills her nose. She turns her head to find Luna's mouth, licking over it, drawing their taste, her taste into her as they twine their legs together. Luna's tongue is just as careful in her mouth as it was over her clit and it caresses the tip of Cho's lightly. Cho's hands release the bedspread and rest against the laces that crisscross Luna's back, and she finally closes her eyes.
The kiss slows, lingers, ends, but their lips stay together, touching softly, even as Cho murmurs, "Costa Rica."
Feedback will keep me from crying.
Title: "Lacings and Longitude"
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Luna/Cho, implied Cedric/Cho
Summary: Cho had tried ignoring her. Tried glaring and yelling and raging. But she didn't leave. Instead she did what no one else had dared. She touched her.
Warnings: Corsetry, slapping, angst
Author's Notes: Originally written for hp_springsmut and posted here. Betaed by marilla82 and written_doodles.
She waits in her room, the hours passing slowly, marked by the shifting shadows across the blue velvet bedspread. She watches them almost disinterestedly. It was all only time, wasn't it? And what were the hours now? She had seen his body when it came back, held his cold-too cold- hand when he was laid in the private room, normally reserved for visiting dignitaries. Perhaps it was dignified, but Cho didn't care.
She had returned to her room, empty. Like she had now for the past few months, more time which passed her at once too fast and too slow. The days blended together in an endless dirge of black robes, so they seemed to drape the castle in mourning. She knows there had been a holiday, but her awareness of it is superficial, limited. Murmurs around her in a different room, worry that felt as empty as his eyes had been when she looked at him, desperately trying to find that spark of humour and the slow burn of hunger she had seen so often. Gone.
And so too had she thought herself, until she floated into Cho's room. She had paused beside Cho's bed, head tilted to one side and blue eyes not empty enough. Cho had tried ignoring her. Tried glaring and yelling and raging. But she didn't leave. Instead she did what no one else had dared. She touched her.
Luna's hand had floated with the same ethereal drift that she had entered the room, slow and elegant. It hovered by Cho's face then cracked sharply across her cheek in a quick slap.
Cho blinked as the world suddenly snapped into time, into feeling, and she started to cry. As if she knew the sympathy of her clothing, Luna slipped out of her robes and climbed onto Cho's bed. She stretched out on her side then her arms wrapped around Cho's shoulders and waist, drawing her close. Cho pressed to the soft anchor of Luna's body, dark hair spilling over Luna's pale shoulder, tears slipping over her collarbone. And for the first time in months, she had slept, truly slept without dreams which left her cold and longing in the morning.
Now again, she is alone in her room. The other girls of her year thinking they were leaving her to mourn. But in truth they are leaving her to live again, to find solidity and feeling with a girl two years her junior.
Luna arrives with a whisper of robes and the spark of blond hair, gliding over the wooden floor to Cho's bedside wordlessly. She pauses, meets Cho's black eyes, then floats her hands to her chest to unfasten her robes. They slide to the ground silently before Cho whose attention focuses on the swell of Luna's breasts, pushed up and held in place by a tight corset. The edges and bones are marked by white satin binding, but the main fabric is not a serviceable drab coutil nor an elegant brocade. It is a world map, muted colours curving in Italian boots and African horns around her compressed body.
"Come. Find your place."
Cho rises to her knees on the mattress and touches the white edge of the corset, smooth satin binding tickling the sensitive pads of her fingers as she follows it from one side of Luna's body to the other, up over one breast then down into the low trough between them then back up again. Luna gasps quietly, and Cho almost misses the sound but for the accompanying quiver of her high breasts.
She drifts her fingers down over the busk closure at the front of Luna's corset, over the metal points of it before shifting outward to trace the shapes of continents and countries. Her finger pauses and she murmurs, "He wanted to go to Morocco…."
Luna lifts Cho's chin so she is forced to meet her eyes. "I said your place. Not his. The place you see when you close your eyes during class. I see Finland. Where do you see?"
Cho swallows a few times, trying to push the constriction around her throat away, trying to remember, but all she sees is him. Eyes filled with laughter then empty. Staring. She starts to cry. "I- I don't know. I don't remember."
The slap is a relief when it comes, jarring the image of Cedric's dead eyes from her mind and she looks up gratefully to Luna and whispers, "Thank you."
Luna smiles a bright, iridescent crescent of promise that seems so out of place in the room, in Cho's life, but something that she clings to.
"Please, Luna. Please make me remember. I have to remember what I see. My own place."
Luna nods and climbs onto the bed, her narrow hips moving with a seduction born of confidence and the snug constraint of her corset. An almost absent flick of her wand draws the curtains around Cho's bed, enclosing them in a space that is flickering with tiny blue lights with the next sweep of Luna's wand.
"Mum called them fairy lights, though they're not really fairies but the French Azuritian Moths look about the same if you are lucky enough to see them on the fifth full moon of a leap year."
Cho smiles at the twinkling lights and then at the way they light Luna's pale skin, illuminating her in a way that would make her namesake proud. Before she knows it, Cho is caressing Luna's skin again, her hands drawn to its warmth and solidity, stroking up her arms and over her chest. She trails her fingers over the seemingly fragile collarbones that swept away her tears, and she bends down to kiss them, honour them with whispers and lips. Her eyes close when she feels Luna's small hands comb through her hair, soft touches of encouragement that soothe her. She lets her mouth find its way to Luna's throat, and it pauses over the steady rhythm of Luna's heart that beats there. Her tongue darts out to lick over it, to taste the life that flutters under her skin.
Luna murmurs to her head. It could be an instruction or a compliment or an explanation of why the South American sendaka has three hearts. It doesn't matter. They are words spoken to her instead of about her, around her. And they are accompanied by unfaltering touch that isn't afraid to keep her grounded. Cho noses back into the soft curtain of Luna's hair, letting the fruity scent surround her. That first time she had lain with Luna, she thought that Luna would smell of flowers, perhaps something as cliché as moonflower, but she was wrong. She inhales again, and the tropical smell of bright sun and rich fruits fills her nose. She thinks she could stay here forever, breathing in Luna's warmth, but her hands grow restless for more.
They curl around her waist, pulling her closer so their knees bump together as she strokes over the tight frame of the corset. They follow the ridges of the bones as they bisect Egypt, Mexico, China, the small dots of the Philippines. The world's longitude is cinched around Luna's body in satin-covered stripes. It is a world made warm by Luna's body, and even the irregular coastline of Antarctica is suffused with heat.
Cho's hair flutters with the soft rush of Luna's breathing, now and then not and then now again. She wants to change that rhythm, to make it faster, louder; so she slips her fingers below the corset, finding soft cotton tucked below the bound edge of the world. There is more heat here and wetness that isn't tears. Luna moans and her hands curl over Cho's shoulders, anchoring Cho as well as herself. Cho kisses Luna's throat again, mouth open and lips clinging, then slides her fingers over the curve of cotton, between Luna's thighs. The fabric feels thinner when it's wet, arousal reducing barriers and spreading noticeably when Cho starts to rub back and forth over it.
With another moan that sounds both needy and reluctant, Luna pushes Cho back onto the bed. She lets herself fall into the softness of the bedclothes, knees curling back toward her stomach to free her ankles from the awkward bend. She straightens her legs back down, and Luna pushes them apart so they slip on either side of her body. Delicate hands push her nightgown up, above her knees, her thighs, her waist. Cho shivers as the cool air embraces her and her nipples harden somewhere under the ripples of blue flannel. Her inner thighs are scratched by small manicured nails and she spreads them further apart. The mattress under her shifts and she watches Luna settle between her legs. Her lips brush over her stomach, kissing over her navel, tongue circling it. Cho's smile is reflexive, but it remains curving her lips when Luna laughs against her stomach.
"I like the way it quivers when I do that. It's like a trapped giggle in your skin."
A small laugh bubbles up through Cho and breaks free. Luna smiles widely at her and nods approvingly then licks around the shallow well of Cho's navel once more. Cho's muscles twitch again before tightening when Luna's blonde head moves lower. She rubs her face over the small thatch of black curls which spring lightly back into place as Cho tips her hips up to her.
The first touch of her tongue is a mere flicker, barely a whisper of sensation but all the more noticeable for its delicacy. The second is equally fast but more direct, and Cho whimpers. Her eyes fall closed when Luna uses her fingers to spread Cho open, to expose the small nub of her clit to her mouth. Luna circles her clit in slow curls of her tongue then gently sucks it between her lips. Cho fists her hands in the bedspread, clutching handfuls of the velvet against her palms, as heat, pleasure, feeling rush through her. Luna's mouth is smaller, tighter than his was. Her motions are direct, deliberate, whereas his were larger, sweeping. Luna's tongue is precise, calligraphic, against her clit. Cedric's was all-encompassing, broad brushes over lips.
Her left inner thigh suddenly flashes with pain and her eyes snap open, fixing on Luna.
"Don't close your eyes until you remember your place. Watch me. See me. Not him."
Cho bites her lower lip and nods, eyes only looking away from Luna's face for a moment to see the pale imprint of a small hand on her thigh. Her gaze returns to Luna's eyes as the hand in question slides down under Luna's chin, fingers prodding the damp skin of her cunt.
She tightens with a low, begging whimper. "Please."
"Please, what?" Luna's lips move just too high, just too far away.
"Please, Luna."
Luna's face brightens into a smile and she positions two fingers against Cho's opening then thrusts them roughly into her, forcing them all the way inside until they are stopped by the knuckles of the fingers curled against Luna's palm. Cho is suddenly full, arching up fro the bed as her cunt jolts with a mix of pleasure and pain. The movement bumps her pubic bone to Luna's nose, and Luna pulls her hips back down to the bed by the fingers inside her. Her mouth closes on Cho's clit again and starts to suckle, sucking it into her mouth where her tongue flicks rapidly over it. Cho writhes over the bed, tugging futilely at the covers. She can't look away from Luna, from the way her eyes close beyond the black curls, from the small crease between her eyebrows, from the fall of pale hair over their skin. She is being pulled into Luna's mouth, into her body. Cho shudders as her cunt is fucked by fingers that curl and pull and push inside it. She is pushed farther apart, burning heat at the stretch of skin and muscle. She doesn't recognize the high cries that fill her head, doesn't care. Seeing now only that pale shimmer of hair, Cho starts to rock her hips, quick jerks of her body that force Luna's fingers deeper into her wet cunt and Luna's tongue harder against swollen clit.
It is suddenly too much for her. Too much tongue and taste and strain and push, and Cho tries to pull away, head shaking frantically. But she is given no reprieve from any of it. They demand- Luna demands completion, orders her by determined touch to throw herself into the dangerous spiral of sensations. Cho freezes, whole body tense and motionless as she desperately tries to fight the fall, but a single graze of Luna's teeth over her overly-sensitive clit makes her scream. Her body arches then twists as her orgasm rushes through her.
Time falls away as she shudders, gasping for air, screaming more when Luna continues to shove her fingers in and out of her, pushing over the perfect spot again and again, until Cho becomes nothing but sensation, nothing but heat and pleasure and wetness, lost to a seemingly endless swell of pressure and release.
Somewhere, somehow she finds stillness once more, air cooling her damp skin as slick fingers stroke gently over her. There are lips once more murmuring against her temple and the rich bouquet of sex and ripe fruit fills her nose. She turns her head to find Luna's mouth, licking over it, drawing their taste, her taste into her as they twine their legs together. Luna's tongue is just as careful in her mouth as it was over her clit and it caresses the tip of Cho's lightly. Cho's hands release the bedspread and rest against the laces that crisscross Luna's back, and she finally closes her eyes.
The kiss slows, lingers, ends, but their lips stay together, touching softly, even as Cho murmurs, "Costa Rica."
Feedback will keep me from crying.