FICLET SERIES: Lessons (Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass)
Title: Lessons
Character Pairing: Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass
Prompt: Set Thirteen - vii. tepid
Rating: This chapter's a hard T for strong language and non-explicit sexual situations . . . er, no pun intended.
Word Count: 1255
A/N: the Quidditch/sex analogy comes courtesy of a-respite. This whole first section, I hope, comes across as sort of the “anti”- prompt. Some intense snogging and teenage petting, but I don’t think it’s physically graphic to necessitate an R rating.
Summary: 13 ficlets, in which Michael Corner learns you can't judge a book by its cover and Daphne Greengrass learns to trust.
Link to Prompt Table: table here
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vii. tepid
Michael Corner realizes that secret relationships are quite exciting. The sneaking around into broom closets and empty classrooms, the thrill of fear from almost being caught with Daphne Greengrass wrapped around him . . .
It’s been going on for almost two months now, but - Sweet Merlin! - it never gets boring.
However, Michael can’t help but feel guilty. Every time he sees Terry and Anthony, it reminds him that he hasn’t told them about his new relationship. And the guilt sinks in deeper and deeper. So he puts off telling them because he doesn’t want to witness their anger at him . . . even though the longer he puts it off, the more they’ll be furious.
However, this is not what he’s currently thinking about.
He leans against a desk in an unused classroom. He stands as Daphne sits on the wood surface, her legs pressed against his hips. She lengthens them and closes them around his lower back. She tugs on and loosens his tie, pulling him closer to her and Michael feels her fingers winding through his own shaggy hair and his hands suddenly become very wild. His left takes a chance to move up her thigh a tad bit higher than the last time they were together. His right finds the bottom of her slightly wrinkled shirt and touches the warm soft skin below.
They break apart, both teenagers breathing very hard.
“You’re being rather bold today, Corner.”
Michael’s head falls onto her shoulder. “Y-yeah . . . er, sorry.”
She smirks and laughs, but it’s a very pleasant sound. Not to mention wicked and sexy. “Would you like to play a little longer?”
Michael cocks his eyebrow, but he hopes he sounds nonchalant. “What do you mean?”
He also hopes that she can’t somehow feel anything below his waistline, even though they are so close. Because, right now, the state of things down there has suddenly gotten a little harder to ignore-
She pulls on his tie and whispers in his ear. “Move you left hand up.”
Michael swallows, but he complies. There’s no way he won’t do anything right now, especially if she’s willing.
“Put it on my inner thigh, Michael.”
His eyes bulge out and he’s lost his breath. But he’s not saying “no” right now - because that would just be stupid.
So he moves his hand, trying to focus on anything on Daphne Greengrass from the neck up.
Her breath catches as he lets his hand slide up just a little more and, in a bold move from her, she widens her legs. He falls forward a bit, and the tips of his fingers graze cloth.
Her knickers!
She lets out a gasp. He’s about to back off when she pulls on his tie.
“Leave it.”
A small, gurgle escapes from his throat.
“Have you ever done this before?”
Michael, somehow, manages to shake his head.
“Really?” A little grin of disbelief grows on her face.
“J-just . . . uh . . . under-the-shirt . . . a little-”
“You’ve managed to barely score through the center hoop then?”
“U-uh-huh . . . just . . . well, not r-really-”
“But you’ve never ‘caught the Snitch’?”
Michael is very close to losing it now. He shakes his head.
Daphne presses her lips against his for a very long kiss. She draws him forward slightly and her lips reach his ears.
“Touch me.”
Michael’s breath shakes and shudders and hers does the same and she exhales, tickling his ears and neck with warm air, as his hand fulfills her wishes.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
They are snogging and “exploring” . . . but this time, Michael knows Daphne’s not here.
She is distracted and indifferent to his ministrations. She’s not really into this, and he doesn’t know why.
“Hey,” he says as he lifts his head up and looks at her. She opens her eyes slowly and furrows her brow.
“You're not here.”
Daphne snorts softly and her mouth tweaks. “I’m very much here . . . your hand’s definitely here. Going up my shirt and all-”
Michael quickly retracts his hand although he doesn’t really want to. “Yeah, but you’re all distant. You’ve got something on your mind . . .”
She flicks at the bottom on his shirt, twisting it between her fingers. She swallows and she avoids looking at him. “Just . . . don’t want to go home this time.”
Michael can’t help but smile. “Well, I’m not staying here myself. Don’t worry, though. I’ll definitely write-”
Daphne flashes him a flatly annoyed look. “My parents are holding a Christmas Ball for Astoria and me.”
He grins, thinking he didn’t hear right. “You’re upset because you’re having a party being thrown in your honor?”
She rolls her eyes, but her face betrays a resignation to some inevitable outcome. “Other years, it’s just for family and old friends of my parents. However, I have the distinct privilege of being the first of the Greengrass daughters to come of age. So, they’ll dress me up like a good little monkey and I’ll be shoved this way and that,” she says, but her voice remains emotionless. “I’ll meet some eligible pure-bloods who all have Gringotts’ accounts of equal or greater value than ours.”
Michael ignores his nervous breath. “But I thought they weren’t forcing you into anything-”
Daphne shakes her head. “They’re not, and they can’t but,” she stands up and straightens out her clothes, “they can ban me from the house and remove my name from our vaults.” She re-buttons her blouse.
She looks at him and Michael studies her. Daphne seems sad and she stares into the space just next to him, as if there’s some lingering thought that she wants to give voice and form to, or some caveat, or some “but . . .” that’s hovering right on the tip of her tongue.
However, she rearranges her face and she flashes him an expression that’s just a little arrogant and haughty. “Well, don’t know about you, but it’s late.” Daphne gives him a nod, and turns to walk out of the classroom.
“Wait!” Michael stands up and he reaches out but grabs nothing.
Daphne stops. She turns, but it causes her to bump right into an errant desk corner. “Fuck!” She sucks in a breath and rubs her hip. “Bugger that smarts!”
It’s enough to knock the smugness right off her face.
“What would happen if I went to this thing?”
She narrows her eyes at him. “You want to go?”
Michael shrugs. “Well, would they welcome me with open arms?”
Daphne bites her lip and he can see the right side of her mouth pull upwards. It’s the look she gets when she’s thinking through something. But she says not a word, and instead turns towards the door.
Just as she’s about to leave, Daphne turns back around. “I can’t say my parents would be all that happy about you showing up, but you might want to talk to your friend . . . Anthony is his name?”
Michael looks at her confused.
“After all, they sent his invitation just last week.” And she turns and walks away, leaving Michael gaping in her wake.
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Character Pairing: Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass
Prompt: Set Thirteen - vii. tepid
Rating: This chapter's a hard T for strong language and non-explicit sexual situations . . . er, no pun intended.
Word Count: 1255
A/N: the Quidditch/sex analogy comes courtesy of a-respite. This whole first section, I hope, comes across as sort of the “anti”- prompt. Some intense snogging and teenage petting, but I don’t think it’s physically graphic to necessitate an R rating.
Summary: 13 ficlets, in which Michael Corner learns you can't judge a book by its cover and Daphne Greengrass learns to trust.
Link to Prompt Table: table here
-------------------------------------------------
vii. tepid
Michael Corner realizes that secret relationships are quite exciting. The sneaking around into broom closets and empty classrooms, the thrill of fear from almost being caught with Daphne Greengrass wrapped around him . . .
It’s been going on for almost two months now, but - Sweet Merlin! - it never gets boring.
However, Michael can’t help but feel guilty. Every time he sees Terry and Anthony, it reminds him that he hasn’t told them about his new relationship. And the guilt sinks in deeper and deeper. So he puts off telling them because he doesn’t want to witness their anger at him . . . even though the longer he puts it off, the more they’ll be furious.
However, this is not what he’s currently thinking about.
He leans against a desk in an unused classroom. He stands as Daphne sits on the wood surface, her legs pressed against his hips. She lengthens them and closes them around his lower back. She tugs on and loosens his tie, pulling him closer to her and Michael feels her fingers winding through his own shaggy hair and his hands suddenly become very wild. His left takes a chance to move up her thigh a tad bit higher than the last time they were together. His right finds the bottom of her slightly wrinkled shirt and touches the warm soft skin below.
They break apart, both teenagers breathing very hard.
“You’re being rather bold today, Corner.”
Michael’s head falls onto her shoulder. “Y-yeah . . . er, sorry.”
She smirks and laughs, but it’s a very pleasant sound. Not to mention wicked and sexy. “Would you like to play a little longer?”
Michael cocks his eyebrow, but he hopes he sounds nonchalant. “What do you mean?”
He also hopes that she can’t somehow feel anything below his waistline, even though they are so close. Because, right now, the state of things down there has suddenly gotten a little harder to ignore-
She pulls on his tie and whispers in his ear. “Move you left hand up.”
Michael swallows, but he complies. There’s no way he won’t do anything right now, especially if she’s willing.
“Put it on my inner thigh, Michael.”
His eyes bulge out and he’s lost his breath. But he’s not saying “no” right now - because that would just be stupid.
So he moves his hand, trying to focus on anything on Daphne Greengrass from the neck up.
Her breath catches as he lets his hand slide up just a little more and, in a bold move from her, she widens her legs. He falls forward a bit, and the tips of his fingers graze cloth.
Her knickers!
She lets out a gasp. He’s about to back off when she pulls on his tie.
“Leave it.”
A small, gurgle escapes from his throat.
“Have you ever done this before?”
Michael, somehow, manages to shake his head.
“Really?” A little grin of disbelief grows on her face.
“J-just . . . uh . . . under-the-shirt . . . a little-”
“You’ve managed to barely score through the center hoop then?”
“U-uh-huh . . . just . . . well, not r-really-”
“But you’ve never ‘caught the Snitch’?”
Michael is very close to losing it now. He shakes his head.
Daphne presses her lips against his for a very long kiss. She draws him forward slightly and her lips reach his ears.
“Touch me.”
Michael’s breath shakes and shudders and hers does the same and she exhales, tickling his ears and neck with warm air, as his hand fulfills her wishes.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
They are snogging and “exploring” . . . but this time, Michael knows Daphne’s not here.
She is distracted and indifferent to his ministrations. She’s not really into this, and he doesn’t know why.
“Hey,” he says as he lifts his head up and looks at her. She opens her eyes slowly and furrows her brow.
“You're not here.”
Daphne snorts softly and her mouth tweaks. “I’m very much here . . . your hand’s definitely here. Going up my shirt and all-”
Michael quickly retracts his hand although he doesn’t really want to. “Yeah, but you’re all distant. You’ve got something on your mind . . .”
She flicks at the bottom on his shirt, twisting it between her fingers. She swallows and she avoids looking at him. “Just . . . don’t want to go home this time.”
Michael can’t help but smile. “Well, I’m not staying here myself. Don’t worry, though. I’ll definitely write-”
Daphne flashes him a flatly annoyed look. “My parents are holding a Christmas Ball for Astoria and me.”
He grins, thinking he didn’t hear right. “You’re upset because you’re having a party being thrown in your honor?”
She rolls her eyes, but her face betrays a resignation to some inevitable outcome. “Other years, it’s just for family and old friends of my parents. However, I have the distinct privilege of being the first of the Greengrass daughters to come of age. So, they’ll dress me up like a good little monkey and I’ll be shoved this way and that,” she says, but her voice remains emotionless. “I’ll meet some eligible pure-bloods who all have Gringotts’ accounts of equal or greater value than ours.”
Michael ignores his nervous breath. “But I thought they weren’t forcing you into anything-”
Daphne shakes her head. “They’re not, and they can’t but,” she stands up and straightens out her clothes, “they can ban me from the house and remove my name from our vaults.” She re-buttons her blouse.
She looks at him and Michael studies her. Daphne seems sad and she stares into the space just next to him, as if there’s some lingering thought that she wants to give voice and form to, or some caveat, or some “but . . .” that’s hovering right on the tip of her tongue.
However, she rearranges her face and she flashes him an expression that’s just a little arrogant and haughty. “Well, don’t know about you, but it’s late.” Daphne gives him a nod, and turns to walk out of the classroom.
“Wait!” Michael stands up and he reaches out but grabs nothing.
Daphne stops. She turns, but it causes her to bump right into an errant desk corner. “Fuck!” She sucks in a breath and rubs her hip. “Bugger that smarts!”
It’s enough to knock the smugness right off her face.
“What would happen if I went to this thing?”
She narrows her eyes at him. “You want to go?”
Michael shrugs. “Well, would they welcome me with open arms?”
Daphne bites her lip and he can see the right side of her mouth pull upwards. It’s the look she gets when she’s thinking through something. But she says not a word, and instead turns towards the door.
Just as she’s about to leave, Daphne turns back around. “I can’t say my parents would be all that happy about you showing up, but you might want to talk to your friend . . . Anthony is his name?”
Michael looks at her confused.
“After all, they sent his invitation just last week.” And she turns and walks away, leaving Michael gaping in her wake.
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