Leigh!fic- Humpathon 2010- Week Two drabbles
Title: Humpathon 2010 Drabbles- Week Two
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ron Weasley/Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson, Stephen Cornfoot/Cassandra Montgomery
Rating: PG-13 through NC-17
Word Count: Between 100 and 500
Summary: Nine smutty drabbles for your reading pleasure.
Author's Notes: This is the round-up of my submissions for Week Two of Humpathon 2010 at hp_humpdrabbles. I didn't write as many this week, so yay!
Ron Weasley/Luna Lovegood (PG-13) for hpfangirl71
Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson (R) for seraphimerising
Stephen Cornfoot/Cassandra Montgomery (R) for mugglechump
Ron Weasley/Luna Lovegood (PG-13) Prompt: thestrals, the Forbidden Forest
Word Count: 497
"I know you're there, Ron Weasley."
Ron started from his spot behind one of the forest's massive old trees, heat flooding his cheeks at Luna's words. He hadn't meant to follow her out of the castle- again. But the idea of sitting in the common room with Harry and Hermione, eating chocolate frogs and studying potions notes as if nothing was out of the ordinary, was repulsive to him.
"I- sorry, Luna," he said hesitantly.
Her smile was beatific as she turned and glanced back over her shoulder at him. Her long blonde hair shone white in the moonlight, making Ron's memory flash back to the other times he'd followed her into the trees.
"I was wondering when you would say something," she said, tossing another scrap of raw meat to the thestrals. Or at least, Ron thought there were thestrals there. He still couldn't see the bloody beasts. "I know you've been following me here for weeks."
His cheeks flooded with heat at her words. She'd know he'd been watching her?
Ron watched, transfixed on the sight in front of him, as Luna's white hands pulled her shirt off and let it lay in the pile of clothing. She wasn't wearing anything underneath, now bare as the day she'd been born. The light of the moon shone through the trees, illuminating milky white skin and long blonde hair.
She lay back against the mossy damp earth, hands sliding over her skin. Ron's eyes were wide when one hand cupped a breast, tweaking her pink nipple, while the other slipped between her legs. His arousal stirred, and the little voice in the back of his mind said he should look away.
He couldn't, though.
In front of his disbelieving gaze, Luna brought herself to climax like some debauched goddess of pleasure. Her chest heaved, the wetness between her legs glistening in the weak, pale light, and stray bits of dried leaves and sticks tangled in her hair.
He'd never seen a more desirable sight in his life.
"You've been watching me," she said, startling him out of his mental stupor. "You watch me touch myself."
With a gulp, Ron nodded weakly. "Yeah, er, sorry about that."
Luna laughed, a sound akin to tinkling bells that filled the air. "Why?" she asked, moving the few steps towards him. "There's nothing wrong with giving and receiving pleasure."
"I just- I, uh, didn't want to intrude."
She smiled her bemused smile and reached out to take his hands in hers. Moving slowly, as if she didn't want to startle him, she took his large hands and moved them to cover her breasts.
"Luna," he exhaled in surprise, giving the soft globes an instinctive squeeze. This wasn't happening; he shouldn't be here, feeling Looney Lovegood up in the middle of the forest. Soon, he was going to wake up and realize this was all some wet dream of his.
"Can you give me pleasure, Ronald?" she asked with her soft, secretive smile. "Let's find out."
Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson (R) Prompt: fancy dress
Word Count: 500
It had started out as a simple game, nothing more. The Ministry ball was full of fools, and that was especially true of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Of course, they weren't together- that sight would have made Voldemort's withered corpse spontaneously explode- but they were there; Hermione on that ponce Krum's arm, and Draco at the beck and call of his new fiancée.
Pansy fluttered her lashes, playing coy as Ron whisked her around the dance floor. The collective weight of the room hung on them, whispers mingling with the whimsical music.
"What is she doing with him?"
"Is that Ron Weasley? Harry Potter's best mate? Oh no, I have got to tell Daphne!"
"I never thought Pansy would stoop so low as to touch a blood traitor."
It was just a game.
Or so she thought.
But when the masks fell away at midnight, Pansy wasn't in the ballroom with Astoria and Romilda, sipping champagne and making catty remarks about Millicent Bulstrode's dress. Nor was she to be found in the arms of one of the dignitaries in appurtenance, with money, social status and looks enough to secure her affections.
No, Pansy was pressed up against the wall in a secluded alcove off the second-floor corridor, near White Chapel's administrative offices. And she wasn't alone.
Ron Weasley's hands were rough, much rougher than any other man who had ever touched her, but she didn't care. They felt wonderful against her smooth skin, sweeping over her thigh as he hitched it up around his waist. This was wrong, debauched, but it was oh so right, being here with him.
She captured his chin with one delicate hand, manicured nails digging into his skin as she wrenched his face up, forcing him to meet her gaze.
"This means nothing," she murmured throatily, her blue eyes hooded with lust. "You mean nothing."
He growled low in his throat, and his free hand encircled her small wrist. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Parkinson," he murmured as he drew her hand down to the fastenings on his belt. Already she could feel him, hard and wanting through his trousers, and it made her ache with anticipation.
Nimble fingers made quick work of the fastenings, pushing his trousers down his hips and then oh, he was inside of her. Pansy threw her head back in pleasure, lacquered nails raking down his neck as he thrust into her welcoming heat.
No words were spoken, no words were needed. The slap of skin against skin, mingled grunts and moans, and the occasional gasp, accompanied by the faint strands of music floating up from the ballroom, formed the score to their coupling. It was primal, the way they grasped at one another, lips and teeth relentless in their quest for dominance.
Then all too soon, it was over. Pleasure roared in her veins, body tightening before the explosion of pleasure washed over her, drowning her senses in waves upon waves of sensations. His hips pumped against her, then stilled when he gave himself up to his orgasm.
It wasn't what she'd been looking for, but it was something.
Stephen Cornfoot/Cassandra Montgomery (R) Prompt: Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry
Word Count: 496
Stephen's body was beat. His day had been filled to the brim with Quidditch, and while he usually stuck to the commentator's booth, the WWN had thought it a good idea to have him participate in a charity match... with professionals. It had been years since he'd last played a true match, and his wrist ached with the ghost of an old injury.
Peeling off his shirt, he flung it into the locker. Merlin, all he wanted was a hot shower and bed. In that order.
Across the room, Stewart gave a wolf-whistle. "Merlin, Cornflake, did you get in a fight with a chimera?"
"Fuck you talking about?" Stephen asked, glancing over his shoulder at his best mate.
Stewart's expression was smug, blue eyes glistening with mirth. "The claw marks down your back, mate. Looks like you bedded a wildcat."
Stephen's lips twitched, mind instantly flashing back to the night before. "You might could say that."
The blonde beauty that lay sprawled across his bed was exquisite; long blonde hair and legs that went on for days. Proud, round breasts gave way to a flat stomach, and Stephen's eyes darkened as his gaze traveled down the length of her body, lingering on the thatch of curly blonde hair at the juncture of her thighs.
"Come here, big boy," Cassie murmured, crooking one finger at him with a 'come hither' smile. And really, who was Stephen to refuse?
His smile was predatory as he slid over her body, pressing her into the mattress. Rough hands moved over silky skin, one hand cupping a breast. He pressed his hips against hers, letting her feel the way she affected him.
A low, sultry laugh rumbled in his lover's throat. "What're you waiting for, Stephen? An invitation?"
"Maybe," he murmured, dropping his lips to drag along her throat.
Long fingers fisted in his hair, tugging his head back sharply to look at her. There was a crazy gleam in her blue eyes, one that shone even through the haze of want.
"Fuck me," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "Fuck me so hard I can't walk tomorrow." Beneath him, she shifted, spreading her legs to bring his aching erection in contact with her slick folds.
Stephen needed no further instructions, thrusting into her with a loud, long groan. She was so fucking wet, so tight, and all his.
Cassie gasped and arched, raking her lacquered nails down his back. Her long legs wrapped tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. The sharp lines of fire on his back only served to add to his arousal.
With a feral grin, Stephen let his teeth sink into her soft neck. A mark to match the ones running down his back. It was only fair.
Giving his mate a smirk, Stephen grabbed his towel and headed towards the shower. "But a true gentlemen never kisses and tells!"
Stewart rolled his eyes and grabbed his kit. "Yeah, but your claw marks are worth a thousand words."
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ron Weasley/Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson, Stephen Cornfoot/Cassandra Montgomery
Rating: PG-13 through NC-17
Word Count: Between 100 and 500
Summary: Nine smutty drabbles for your reading pleasure.
Author's Notes: This is the round-up of my submissions for Week Two of Humpathon 2010 at hp_humpdrabbles. I didn't write as many this week, so yay!
Ron Weasley/Luna Lovegood (PG-13) for hpfangirl71
Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson (R) for seraphimerising
Stephen Cornfoot/Cassandra Montgomery (R) for mugglechump
Ron Weasley/Luna Lovegood (PG-13) Prompt: thestrals, the Forbidden Forest
Word Count: 497
"I know you're there, Ron Weasley."
Ron started from his spot behind one of the forest's massive old trees, heat flooding his cheeks at Luna's words. He hadn't meant to follow her out of the castle- again. But the idea of sitting in the common room with Harry and Hermione, eating chocolate frogs and studying potions notes as if nothing was out of the ordinary, was repulsive to him.
"I- sorry, Luna," he said hesitantly.
Her smile was beatific as she turned and glanced back over her shoulder at him. Her long blonde hair shone white in the moonlight, making Ron's memory flash back to the other times he'd followed her into the trees.
"I was wondering when you would say something," she said, tossing another scrap of raw meat to the thestrals. Or at least, Ron thought there were thestrals there. He still couldn't see the bloody beasts. "I know you've been following me here for weeks."
His cheeks flooded with heat at her words. She'd know he'd been watching her?
Ron watched, transfixed on the sight in front of him, as Luna's white hands pulled her shirt off and let it lay in the pile of clothing. She wasn't wearing anything underneath, now bare as the day she'd been born. The light of the moon shone through the trees, illuminating milky white skin and long blonde hair.
She lay back against the mossy damp earth, hands sliding over her skin. Ron's eyes were wide when one hand cupped a breast, tweaking her pink nipple, while the other slipped between her legs. His arousal stirred, and the little voice in the back of his mind said he should look away.
He couldn't, though.
In front of his disbelieving gaze, Luna brought herself to climax like some debauched goddess of pleasure. Her chest heaved, the wetness between her legs glistening in the weak, pale light, and stray bits of dried leaves and sticks tangled in her hair.
He'd never seen a more desirable sight in his life.
"You've been watching me," she said, startling him out of his mental stupor. "You watch me touch myself."
With a gulp, Ron nodded weakly. "Yeah, er, sorry about that."
Luna laughed, a sound akin to tinkling bells that filled the air. "Why?" she asked, moving the few steps towards him. "There's nothing wrong with giving and receiving pleasure."
"I just- I, uh, didn't want to intrude."
She smiled her bemused smile and reached out to take his hands in hers. Moving slowly, as if she didn't want to startle him, she took his large hands and moved them to cover her breasts.
"Luna," he exhaled in surprise, giving the soft globes an instinctive squeeze. This wasn't happening; he shouldn't be here, feeling Looney Lovegood up in the middle of the forest. Soon, he was going to wake up and realize this was all some wet dream of his.
"Can you give me pleasure, Ronald?" she asked with her soft, secretive smile. "Let's find out."
Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson (R) Prompt: fancy dress
Word Count: 500
It had started out as a simple game, nothing more. The Ministry ball was full of fools, and that was especially true of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Of course, they weren't together- that sight would have made Voldemort's withered corpse spontaneously explode- but they were there; Hermione on that ponce Krum's arm, and Draco at the beck and call of his new fiancée.
Pansy fluttered her lashes, playing coy as Ron whisked her around the dance floor. The collective weight of the room hung on them, whispers mingling with the whimsical music.
"What is she doing with him?"
"Is that Ron Weasley? Harry Potter's best mate? Oh no, I have got to tell Daphne!"
"I never thought Pansy would stoop so low as to touch a blood traitor."
It was just a game.
Or so she thought.
But when the masks fell away at midnight, Pansy wasn't in the ballroom with Astoria and Romilda, sipping champagne and making catty remarks about Millicent Bulstrode's dress. Nor was she to be found in the arms of one of the dignitaries in appurtenance, with money, social status and looks enough to secure her affections.
No, Pansy was pressed up against the wall in a secluded alcove off the second-floor corridor, near White Chapel's administrative offices. And she wasn't alone.
Ron Weasley's hands were rough, much rougher than any other man who had ever touched her, but she didn't care. They felt wonderful against her smooth skin, sweeping over her thigh as he hitched it up around his waist. This was wrong, debauched, but it was oh so right, being here with him.
She captured his chin with one delicate hand, manicured nails digging into his skin as she wrenched his face up, forcing him to meet her gaze.
"This means nothing," she murmured throatily, her blue eyes hooded with lust. "You mean nothing."
He growled low in his throat, and his free hand encircled her small wrist. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Parkinson," he murmured as he drew her hand down to the fastenings on his belt. Already she could feel him, hard and wanting through his trousers, and it made her ache with anticipation.
Nimble fingers made quick work of the fastenings, pushing his trousers down his hips and then oh, he was inside of her. Pansy threw her head back in pleasure, lacquered nails raking down his neck as he thrust into her welcoming heat.
No words were spoken, no words were needed. The slap of skin against skin, mingled grunts and moans, and the occasional gasp, accompanied by the faint strands of music floating up from the ballroom, formed the score to their coupling. It was primal, the way they grasped at one another, lips and teeth relentless in their quest for dominance.
Then all too soon, it was over. Pleasure roared in her veins, body tightening before the explosion of pleasure washed over her, drowning her senses in waves upon waves of sensations. His hips pumped against her, then stilled when he gave himself up to his orgasm.
It wasn't what she'd been looking for, but it was something.
Stephen Cornfoot/Cassandra Montgomery (R) Prompt: Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry
Word Count: 496
Stephen's body was beat. His day had been filled to the brim with Quidditch, and while he usually stuck to the commentator's booth, the WWN had thought it a good idea to have him participate in a charity match... with professionals. It had been years since he'd last played a true match, and his wrist ached with the ghost of an old injury.
Peeling off his shirt, he flung it into the locker. Merlin, all he wanted was a hot shower and bed. In that order.
Across the room, Stewart gave a wolf-whistle. "Merlin, Cornflake, did you get in a fight with a chimera?"
"Fuck you talking about?" Stephen asked, glancing over his shoulder at his best mate.
Stewart's expression was smug, blue eyes glistening with mirth. "The claw marks down your back, mate. Looks like you bedded a wildcat."
Stephen's lips twitched, mind instantly flashing back to the night before. "You might could say that."
The blonde beauty that lay sprawled across his bed was exquisite; long blonde hair and legs that went on for days. Proud, round breasts gave way to a flat stomach, and Stephen's eyes darkened as his gaze traveled down the length of her body, lingering on the thatch of curly blonde hair at the juncture of her thighs.
"Come here, big boy," Cassie murmured, crooking one finger at him with a 'come hither' smile. And really, who was Stephen to refuse?
His smile was predatory as he slid over her body, pressing her into the mattress. Rough hands moved over silky skin, one hand cupping a breast. He pressed his hips against hers, letting her feel the way she affected him.
A low, sultry laugh rumbled in his lover's throat. "What're you waiting for, Stephen? An invitation?"
"Maybe," he murmured, dropping his lips to drag along her throat.
Long fingers fisted in his hair, tugging his head back sharply to look at her. There was a crazy gleam in her blue eyes, one that shone even through the haze of want.
"Fuck me," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "Fuck me so hard I can't walk tomorrow." Beneath him, she shifted, spreading her legs to bring his aching erection in contact with her slick folds.
Stephen needed no further instructions, thrusting into her with a loud, long groan. She was so fucking wet, so tight, and all his.
Cassie gasped and arched, raking her lacquered nails down his back. Her long legs wrapped tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. The sharp lines of fire on his back only served to add to his arousal.
With a feral grin, Stephen let his teeth sink into her soft neck. A mark to match the ones running down his back. It was only fair.
Giving his mate a smirk, Stephen grabbed his towel and headed towards the shower. "But a true gentlemen never kisses and tells!"
Stewart rolled his eyes and grabbed his kit. "Yeah, but your claw marks are worth a thousand words."