Leigh!fic- Humpathon 2010- Week Three drabbles
Title: Humpathon 2010 Drabbles- Week Three
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Lucius Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Stewart Ackerley/Katie Bell, Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley
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 Three of Humpathon 2010 at hp_humpdrabbles. The final three, for your smutty reading pleasure!
Lucius Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson (R) for eonone
Stewart Ackerley/Katie Bell (PG-13) for numbaby
Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley (R) for elle_blessing
Lucius Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson (R) Prompt: spoiled
Word Count: 500
Pansy's lip curled into a small, satisfied smirk when she felt her lover's large, capable hand slide over her bare shoulder. "You said you were having dinner with Draco and Astoria tonight," she commented as she continued to methodically take off her jewelry.
"Astoria wasn't feeling well," Lucius remarked, idly sliding one hand beneath the silk of her robe to caress her collarbone. "Carrying the Malfoy heir takes its toll."
"I wouldn't know," she replied, raising one dark brow. She ignored the casual caresses of his elegant hand as she pulled her diamond hairpin out. Dark curls, freed from their confines, fell down her back in a cascade, framing her pale face.
"And you?" he asked casually- too casually. "You said you were dining in tonight."
"I had a last minute invitation to join an old friend," she replied, blue eyes flashing up at him; the barest hint of a challenge written in the light orbs.
"Ah, yes. Lysander Montague," he drawled, grey eyes meeting blue in the mirror. "The man isn't fit of a woman of your standing." Leaning down, he ducked in and ran his nose along the elegant line of her neck, inhaling her scent. "He cannot spoil you as I can."
Pansy shuddered beneath him, and quick as a cat had her fingers intertwined in his long hair. She yanked his face up to hers and fused their lips together, free hand clawing at his neck.
Large hands gripped her hips, lifting her off her seat so that she could wrap long, slender legs around his waist. It was but two steps before they fell onto the bed together, Lucius' hands pulling her robe away to reveal creamy, bare skin for him to feast upon.
"Lysander cares for me," she breathed, moaning when he covered a pink nipple with his lips, sucking lightly. Her nails clawed as she writhed beneath him, moaning her pleasure when one hand slipped between her legs, coaxing her to full arousal.
Lucius' smug was smirk as he pulled back from her body, admiring the way she was spread beneath him on her bed. Seconds passed, and his trousers were pushed down so he could thrust into her waiting heat. He groaned, momentarily overtaken by the feeling of her surrounding him before he started to move.
She cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist. Delicate hands slipped under his shirt, and lacquered nails ripped little trails of fire down his back, adding an enticing bite of pain to his pleasure.
Dropping his head down to her shoulder, he kissed the smooth skin gently before he murmured, "But does he make you scream his name as I do?"
"Lucius," Pansy moaned, gasping. Her breasts bounced with the force of his throats. Already, she could feel the mounting pleasure threading through her veins, just waiting for that last little push to send her flying over the edge.
His hand slipped between her legs, rubbing furiously at her sensitive nub as he continued to move. "Scream for me, Pansy."
She was helpless to do naught but comply, screaming his name as she climaxed. The feeling of his lover coming was too much, as always, and his hips pinned her to the mattress as he spilled his completion into her lovely body.
His breathing was harsh as hers when he leaned down, brushing his lips over hers tenderly. "Mine."
Stewart Ackerley/Katie Bell (PG-13) Prompt: compromise
Word Count: 422
Everything in Stewart and Katie's relationship revolved around compromise. It was natural, really; with two different personalities, born competitors both, there were bound to be conflicts along the way. Getting to the point where 'they' had a definition- relationship- had been challenging enough, but neither had been prepared for the challenges that were waiting for them.
Miraculously, the number of conflicts between Stewart's proposal and their wedding day were minimal. Aside from a minor disagreement over the reception food- Stewart and his ridiculous prejudice against orange colored food- pumpkin gnocchi was a lovely side dish- all the discussions between the happy couple were smooth.
But after the wedding? They fought about every single little thing.
They fought about where to build the house ("I told you, Stewart, it'll be a cold day in Hell before I live in Appleby!"), over which side of the family to have Christmas dinner with ("But Kates, my Mum actually cooks."), and who got to shower first in the mornings before training ("Katie, this would be much easier if we just conserved water and showered together.").
The walls of their home- eventually built on the sea in Dorset- stood testimony to the myriad of fights between the couple. Though magic hid the visible signs of conflict, there had once been an angry stain running down the dining room wall from where Katie had thrown her glass at her husband. In retaliation, he'd ripped the curtains off the window in the living room ("They were ugly anyway!").
Compromise took time, and it was something they were constantly working on. No matter how hard it was, no matter how many wounds they inflicted upon one another, neither was willing to give up and walk away.
Because beneath all the conflict, hurt feelings, and outbursts, there lay something even stronger than ire: love.
In the bedroom, the passion between them flared just as hotly as their tempers, but caresses were gentle, tender. His hands- large, Keepers hands- slid slowly over her body, savoring the way she trembled beneath him. When he entered her, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and clung to him, his name a whispered prayer on her lips.
Always simmering, their desire and love ran to scorching when they chased ecstasy. It was another form of challenge, each trying to hold off until the other had surrendered to pleasure. But neither was able to hold off for long, and twin moans echoed around the room when they fell over the edge.
That was their compromise.
Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley (R) Prompt: Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless
Word Count: 500ish
It was another normal night in Godric's Hollow; quiet, uneventful. Only the soft rumble of Harry's snores permeated the air, as comforting and familiar as a night light is to a child. One arm was slung protectively across Ginny's body, holding his sleeping wife back against his chest. On the outside, it seemed that all was well.
But Harry's secure and comforting presence was more of a dream than her actual dreams.
The graveyard again. Always the graveyard. But at least they were alone this time; for now. She was flooded with a deep sense of shame at the way she clung to Tom, how her body responded at the mere mention of his name. She hated knowing his minions all saw the way it was clearly written on her face.
She craved this.
She could feel Tom near, could feel his hard gaze lingering on her naked body. Her breasts swelled proudly in the weak light of the new moon, nipples erect and begging for his attentions- just as her heart and soul did.
"Ginevra."
His voice, so low and sinful, resonated from behind her, and she felt his long fingers press down gently on her shoulders when she turned to face him.
"Silly girl," Tom murmured in her ear, words caressing the delicate shell. As he spoke, his hands slid over her bare hips, one moving upwards to cup a heavy breast. "Did you think that a mere draught could keep me away?" He tweaked a nipple, hard, and Ginny felt his lips curl upwards against her ear.
"Never forget, Ginevra," he continued in that silky tone of his, "that you're mine."
She was helpless to do anything but whimper and nod silently. "Yours," she whispered. In the light of day, she would fight it. Her mind was torn between what she knew was right, good- Harry- and the darkness she craved- Tom.
His hand slipped from her breast, drawing a needy whimper from her plump lips before it melded into a gasp at the feeling of cold steel tracing a line down her hip.
Tom used a light touch, drawing the blunt side of the blade over the curve of her hip before it slipped between her legs, caressing her wet folds before he drew it up. Flatting the side of the blade against her skin, he slid it over her swelling belly.
"And the babe you carry, Ginevra?" he murmured. "Is it mine, or is it his?"
Her brown eyes flew open, head snapping back to look at him. He was too quick for her; a sharp inhale and a whimper were all she could muster when she felt the blade press against her neck.
A quick flash of pain was her only indication he'd cut her before he lifted the blade, and in the moonlight, she could see her blood, dark and thick, on the steel.
"You belong to me, Ginevra," he murmured, dragging his tongue over the blade to lick her blood. "And so does your child."
Ginny awoke with a start, gasping as her eyes flew open in horror. Behind her, Harry shifted in his sleep, momentarily disrupting his snores before he rolled over.
It was only a dream, Ginny, she thought, taking deep breaths to calm her rapidly-beating heart. Her hand slid up to touch where she'd felt Tom's blade slice her skin, reminding herself that she was safe.
When she pulled away, her fingers were tacky with blood.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Lucius Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Stewart Ackerley/Katie Bell, Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley
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 Three of Humpathon 2010 at hp_humpdrabbles. The final three, for your smutty reading pleasure!
Lucius Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson (R) for eonone
Stewart Ackerley/Katie Bell (PG-13) for numbaby
Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley (R) for elle_blessing
Lucius Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson (R) Prompt: spoiled
Word Count: 500
Pansy's lip curled into a small, satisfied smirk when she felt her lover's large, capable hand slide over her bare shoulder. "You said you were having dinner with Draco and Astoria tonight," she commented as she continued to methodically take off her jewelry.
"Astoria wasn't feeling well," Lucius remarked, idly sliding one hand beneath the silk of her robe to caress her collarbone. "Carrying the Malfoy heir takes its toll."
"I wouldn't know," she replied, raising one dark brow. She ignored the casual caresses of his elegant hand as she pulled her diamond hairpin out. Dark curls, freed from their confines, fell down her back in a cascade, framing her pale face.
"And you?" he asked casually- too casually. "You said you were dining in tonight."
"I had a last minute invitation to join an old friend," she replied, blue eyes flashing up at him; the barest hint of a challenge written in the light orbs.
"Ah, yes. Lysander Montague," he drawled, grey eyes meeting blue in the mirror. "The man isn't fit of a woman of your standing." Leaning down, he ducked in and ran his nose along the elegant line of her neck, inhaling her scent. "He cannot spoil you as I can."
Pansy shuddered beneath him, and quick as a cat had her fingers intertwined in his long hair. She yanked his face up to hers and fused their lips together, free hand clawing at his neck.
Large hands gripped her hips, lifting her off her seat so that she could wrap long, slender legs around his waist. It was but two steps before they fell onto the bed together, Lucius' hands pulling her robe away to reveal creamy, bare skin for him to feast upon.
"Lysander cares for me," she breathed, moaning when he covered a pink nipple with his lips, sucking lightly. Her nails clawed as she writhed beneath him, moaning her pleasure when one hand slipped between her legs, coaxing her to full arousal.
Lucius' smug was smirk as he pulled back from her body, admiring the way she was spread beneath him on her bed. Seconds passed, and his trousers were pushed down so he could thrust into her waiting heat. He groaned, momentarily overtaken by the feeling of her surrounding him before he started to move.
She cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist. Delicate hands slipped under his shirt, and lacquered nails ripped little trails of fire down his back, adding an enticing bite of pain to his pleasure.
Dropping his head down to her shoulder, he kissed the smooth skin gently before he murmured, "But does he make you scream his name as I do?"
"Lucius," Pansy moaned, gasping. Her breasts bounced with the force of his throats. Already, she could feel the mounting pleasure threading through her veins, just waiting for that last little push to send her flying over the edge.
His hand slipped between her legs, rubbing furiously at her sensitive nub as he continued to move. "Scream for me, Pansy."
She was helpless to do naught but comply, screaming his name as she climaxed. The feeling of his lover coming was too much, as always, and his hips pinned her to the mattress as he spilled his completion into her lovely body.
His breathing was harsh as hers when he leaned down, brushing his lips over hers tenderly. "Mine."
Stewart Ackerley/Katie Bell (PG-13) Prompt: compromise
Word Count: 422
Everything in Stewart and Katie's relationship revolved around compromise. It was natural, really; with two different personalities, born competitors both, there were bound to be conflicts along the way. Getting to the point where 'they' had a definition- relationship- had been challenging enough, but neither had been prepared for the challenges that were waiting for them.
Miraculously, the number of conflicts between Stewart's proposal and their wedding day were minimal. Aside from a minor disagreement over the reception food- Stewart and his ridiculous prejudice against orange colored food- pumpkin gnocchi was a lovely side dish- all the discussions between the happy couple were smooth.
But after the wedding? They fought about every single little thing.
They fought about where to build the house ("I told you, Stewart, it'll be a cold day in Hell before I live in Appleby!"), over which side of the family to have Christmas dinner with ("But Kates, my Mum actually cooks."), and who got to shower first in the mornings before training ("Katie, this would be much easier if we just conserved water and showered together.").
The walls of their home- eventually built on the sea in Dorset- stood testimony to the myriad of fights between the couple. Though magic hid the visible signs of conflict, there had once been an angry stain running down the dining room wall from where Katie had thrown her glass at her husband. In retaliation, he'd ripped the curtains off the window in the living room ("They were ugly anyway!").
Compromise took time, and it was something they were constantly working on. No matter how hard it was, no matter how many wounds they inflicted upon one another, neither was willing to give up and walk away.
Because beneath all the conflict, hurt feelings, and outbursts, there lay something even stronger than ire: love.
In the bedroom, the passion between them flared just as hotly as their tempers, but caresses were gentle, tender. His hands- large, Keepers hands- slid slowly over her body, savoring the way she trembled beneath him. When he entered her, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and clung to him, his name a whispered prayer on her lips.
Always simmering, their desire and love ran to scorching when they chased ecstasy. It was another form of challenge, each trying to hold off until the other had surrendered to pleasure. But neither was able to hold off for long, and twin moans echoed around the room when they fell over the edge.
That was their compromise.
Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley (R) Prompt: Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless
Word Count: 500ish
It was another normal night in Godric's Hollow; quiet, uneventful. Only the soft rumble of Harry's snores permeated the air, as comforting and familiar as a night light is to a child. One arm was slung protectively across Ginny's body, holding his sleeping wife back against his chest. On the outside, it seemed that all was well.
But Harry's secure and comforting presence was more of a dream than her actual dreams.
The graveyard again. Always the graveyard. But at least they were alone this time; for now. She was flooded with a deep sense of shame at the way she clung to Tom, how her body responded at the mere mention of his name. She hated knowing his minions all saw the way it was clearly written on her face.
She craved this.
She could feel Tom near, could feel his hard gaze lingering on her naked body. Her breasts swelled proudly in the weak light of the new moon, nipples erect and begging for his attentions- just as her heart and soul did.
"Ginevra."
His voice, so low and sinful, resonated from behind her, and she felt his long fingers press down gently on her shoulders when she turned to face him.
"Silly girl," Tom murmured in her ear, words caressing the delicate shell. As he spoke, his hands slid over her bare hips, one moving upwards to cup a heavy breast. "Did you think that a mere draught could keep me away?" He tweaked a nipple, hard, and Ginny felt his lips curl upwards against her ear.
"Never forget, Ginevra," he continued in that silky tone of his, "that you're mine."
She was helpless to do anything but whimper and nod silently. "Yours," she whispered. In the light of day, she would fight it. Her mind was torn between what she knew was right, good- Harry- and the darkness she craved- Tom.
His hand slipped from her breast, drawing a needy whimper from her plump lips before it melded into a gasp at the feeling of cold steel tracing a line down her hip.
Tom used a light touch, drawing the blunt side of the blade over the curve of her hip before it slipped between her legs, caressing her wet folds before he drew it up. Flatting the side of the blade against her skin, he slid it over her swelling belly.
"And the babe you carry, Ginevra?" he murmured. "Is it mine, or is it his?"
Her brown eyes flew open, head snapping back to look at him. He was too quick for her; a sharp inhale and a whimper were all she could muster when she felt the blade press against her neck.
A quick flash of pain was her only indication he'd cut her before he lifted the blade, and in the moonlight, she could see her blood, dark and thick, on the steel.
"You belong to me, Ginevra," he murmured, dragging his tongue over the blade to lick her blood. "And so does your child."
Ginny awoke with a start, gasping as her eyes flew open in horror. Behind her, Harry shifted in his sleep, momentarily disrupting his snores before he rolled over.
It was only a dream, Ginny, she thought, taking deep breaths to calm her rapidly-beating heart. Her hand slid up to touch where she'd felt Tom's blade slice her skin, reminding herself that she was safe.
When she pulled away, her fingers were tacky with blood.