Branded
Title: Branded
Author: soursourtimes
Word Count: 623
Rating: NC-17, I suppose.
Warnings: Underagers, lesbians, mild (oh so very very mild) violence, angst, badly and awkwardly written sex
Characters: Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley
This was my first foray into the wonders and difficulties of femmeslash, and trying to write lesbian sex without feeling so very stupid. Do be kind.
~~~
All soft and pretty and nervous, walking the room.
She picks up random objects as if to inspect them, and places them back without a glance, not bothering to pretend she is inspecting them.
I wonder if it is I who is making her nervous, or if it is being a Gryffindor in a Slytherin room, all green and silver to eat her red and gold.
Her wrists are thin. I could break them if I wanted. I smile. She smiles back not knowing what I am thinking-
maybe she does know. She is breakable and that is what makes her beautiful.
I lie back on the bed, let her finish her circle of the room. She sits on Millicent’s bed. They are all away for the holidays, Slytherins never stay, never need to stay.
I wanted to stay.
I stretch a hand out to her, and she sits beside me. I take her hand, slide my fingers around her wrists, connecting finger and thumb, a ring.
She leans down to kiss me and her lips brush me lightly. I pull her close, on top of me, kiss her deeply. I roll, so I am on top of her, capture her wrists, hold them above her head, hold them there, stare into her eyes.
She looks up quite calmly, thinks I won’t hurt her, but I want to, I want to, I want to.
I hate her.
I want to bite her pale skin, leave marks for others to see, I want her branded, marked as mine and mine alone. I want people to avoid her in the halls because they know she belongs to me and me alone, belongs to me in every way.
I bite her lower lip, but gently oh so gently.
I nip her neck and she sighs. Contented. I bite harder, she squirms.
My fingers tear at her top, her skirt, I want her naked, now. Her bra is gold, lacey. Her underwear are white cotton.
I lick her throat, her lips, her wrists, suck on her fingers.
I kiss her lips, long, deep, and slide one lacey cup down and take her nipple into my mouth. She arches beneath me as I slide my tongue over her.
She is beautiful and wonderful when she is like this. Completely delectable.
I tug her panties down and slide a finger inside her.
She lets out little gasps, little moans as I move in and out.
Oh God.
I trail wet kisses down her stomach, soft and pale. Kiss the inside of her thighs, her hands are free now, one hand strokes my hair. The other grasps the sheet in a fist.
She tastes sweet, yet not.
She writhes under me, and I reach up, caress her breast.
She grasps me by my hair, and comes gasping my name.
I come from hearing my name in that low, husky voice.
I kiss her stomach, and rest my head there. She strokes my cheek and entwines her fingers in my hair.
I hate her, I do.
“Pansy?” so timid. I tense.
“Mm?”
“Can I stay here tonight?”
oh god yes please stay
“I suppose.”
She pulls me up softly and kisses me. She tastes of chocolate and I taste of her.
She curls up next to me and falls asleep.
I lay awake.
~
It is midnight. I can tell by the slant of moonlight.
I lift her hand to my mouth and bite her wrist, hard. I want to leave marks, I want her burnt, branded. She stirs, but does not awake. I lick my teeth marks. They are salty with her sweat.
She moves closer, still sleeping and soon, I too, fall asleep.
Author: soursourtimes
Word Count: 623
Rating: NC-17, I suppose.
Warnings: Underagers, lesbians, mild (oh so very very mild) violence, angst, badly and awkwardly written sex
Characters: Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley
This was my first foray into the wonders and difficulties of femmeslash, and trying to write lesbian sex without feeling so very stupid. Do be kind.
~~~
All soft and pretty and nervous, walking the room.
She picks up random objects as if to inspect them, and places them back without a glance, not bothering to pretend she is inspecting them.
I wonder if it is I who is making her nervous, or if it is being a Gryffindor in a Slytherin room, all green and silver to eat her red and gold.
Her wrists are thin. I could break them if I wanted. I smile. She smiles back not knowing what I am thinking-
maybe she does know. She is breakable and that is what makes her beautiful.
I lie back on the bed, let her finish her circle of the room. She sits on Millicent’s bed. They are all away for the holidays, Slytherins never stay, never need to stay.
I wanted to stay.
I stretch a hand out to her, and she sits beside me. I take her hand, slide my fingers around her wrists, connecting finger and thumb, a ring.
She leans down to kiss me and her lips brush me lightly. I pull her close, on top of me, kiss her deeply. I roll, so I am on top of her, capture her wrists, hold them above her head, hold them there, stare into her eyes.
She looks up quite calmly, thinks I won’t hurt her, but I want to, I want to, I want to.
I hate her.
I want to bite her pale skin, leave marks for others to see, I want her branded, marked as mine and mine alone. I want people to avoid her in the halls because they know she belongs to me and me alone, belongs to me in every way.
I bite her lower lip, but gently oh so gently.
I nip her neck and she sighs. Contented. I bite harder, she squirms.
My fingers tear at her top, her skirt, I want her naked, now. Her bra is gold, lacey. Her underwear are white cotton.
I lick her throat, her lips, her wrists, suck on her fingers.
I kiss her lips, long, deep, and slide one lacey cup down and take her nipple into my mouth. She arches beneath me as I slide my tongue over her.
She is beautiful and wonderful when she is like this. Completely delectable.
I tug her panties down and slide a finger inside her.
She lets out little gasps, little moans as I move in and out.
Oh God.
I trail wet kisses down her stomach, soft and pale. Kiss the inside of her thighs, her hands are free now, one hand strokes my hair. The other grasps the sheet in a fist.
She tastes sweet, yet not.
She writhes under me, and I reach up, caress her breast.
She grasps me by my hair, and comes gasping my name.
I come from hearing my name in that low, husky voice.
I kiss her stomach, and rest my head there. She strokes my cheek and entwines her fingers in my hair.
I hate her, I do.
“Pansy?” so timid. I tense.
“Mm?”
“Can I stay here tonight?”
oh god yes please stay
“I suppose.”
She pulls me up softly and kisses me. She tastes of chocolate and I taste of her.
She curls up next to me and falls asleep.
I lay awake.
~
It is midnight. I can tell by the slant of moonlight.
I lift her hand to my mouth and bite her wrist, hard. I want to leave marks, I want her burnt, branded. She stirs, but does not awake. I lick my teeth marks. They are salty with her sweat.
She moves closer, still sleeping and soon, I too, fall asleep.