Don’t Blink, Don’t Flinch, Say Nothing
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,007
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,007
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Don’t Blink, Don’t Flinch, Say Nothing
Author: Silanah (chaldanya@hotmail.com)
Title: Don’t Blink, Don’t Flinch, Say Nothing.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: A bit of slash, NC-17
Pairing: Hr/D, B/D
Summary: It’s a bit short for a summary but – snapshots of an unlikely pairing
A/N: Thanks to Jess LoveCat who beta’d this for me. This is my first fic; there’s no need to go easy on me, though. If you find something wrong – tell me. I can’t learn otherwise. :)
It’s a game they play; one to see who will flinch first, who will be so shocked that they’ll have to speak. It’s about who’s better than whom.
Trembling, ink-stained fingers brush pale skin as she hands over an orange from the fruit bowl whilst they’re sitting in the Head Student’s study. With a lift of his left eyebrow he instigates the rules: He doesn’t blink; he doesn’t flinch; he says nothing.
When the stakes are raised a week later she keeps to the rules. While his hands are in her bushy mess of hair and he nips with even, white teeth at the soft golden skin just below her jaw, she doesn’t blink; she doesn’t flinch; she says nothing.
The rules are strictly adhered to during soft sighs and gentle caresses across back of slightly knobbly knees. But she finds herself thinking more and more of stormy grey eyes topped by pale hair.
When her mind wanders to the thought of him again she ducks into a musty, dark alcove in a little-used corridor. She allows her left hand to drift down to her breast, brushing her rock hard nipple, and then going back to pinch and knead with increasing fervour. The sensations coursing through her body brings a slick wetness between her legs. The almost public nature of her position forgotten; she brings to mind his sweet breath and calloused hands as she finally moves her hand down the waistband of her skirt and into her knickers, lightly brushing against the dark curls to touch the little bundle of nerves at the top of her slick folds. This is not enough; she needs more contact, rougher contact and with that realisation she pumps first one, two, then three fingers into her tight, wet and warm pussy. With a crook of her fingers she tips over into her little death. She takes a shuddering breath, removes her hand from her sopping cunt; opening her eyes she sees a shock of pale blond hair. Breathing deeply, mouth slightly agape, he keeps to the rules.
The gazes are held slightly longer; the tension is palpable. The touches are firmer and more frequent. The rules obeyed.
But he thinks of her whilst he kisses his way down his dark lover’s chest to the nest of curls and erect, magnificent cock. He takes the raven man’s wonderful dick in his mouth. His mind is split in two - between the man in his mouth and the woman with the bushy hair and slightly protruding collarbones.
She comes through the door of the Head Student’s study. She hears gasps and moans coming from his bedroom and if she stands on this floorboard just so the door slips ajar. She peers inside to see the man with indigo eyes – Zabini – cum in his mouth. She sees him turn Zabini around and bends him over the foot of the bed. The man who’s never far from her thoughts takes his cock into his hands and slowly enters Zabini. It’s a work of will not to join them and run her hands over their sweat-slicked skin as one thrusts into the other. But she keeps to the rules. Something in her shifts and snaps into place as she sees stormy grey eyes close. When he cums he looks for all the world like a dark demi-god.
They know it’s crazy but they find themselves searching the other out. They have become the other’s lodestone. Brown eyes search and lock onto grey. Each of them start to feel unfamiliar jealousy; he of the Weasel and Potty because they get to spend time with her – they get to talk to her; she of the one who has his affection, the one with whom he makes love. Still, they don’t flinch, they don’t blink, they say nothing.
To clear her mind of her infatuation she walks in the grounds barefoot, letting the dew soaked grass comfort her feet.
‘Granger,’ a whisper – her opposite, his pale hair glinting in the moonlight. He moves to her and removes her robe. He starts to unbutton her plain white cotton blouse. Where skin is uncovered so he kisses, nips and strokes. He licks her breasts through the pale yellow material of her bra; tonguing first one nipple and then the other. Whilst his mouth is fastened to her flesh his hands make short work of the rest of her clothes. His hands move lower to circle her hipbones, he moves his mouth from her breast to suckle on her shoulder and nip behind her ear. The fingers of one of his hands combs through the curls at the apex of her milky-white, smooth thighs to swirl around her clitoris and dip into her glistening folds.
She fumbles with his trousers and frees him from the constraining material. She reaches for his rigid cock and firmly grasps it in one tiny hand. Her breath comes faster. She is unafraid and with firm even strokes brings him to the brink. She watches as he looks in askance at her; she nods.
In one easy movement he has her lying amongst the green and he is buried to the hilt in her incredible heat. Hr inner walls are milking him. He begins to move, hitting that sweet spot inside her. He thrusts harder and harder still – fucking her into the lawn.. There are wet, sucking sounds; limbs are everywhere. There is biting, kissing, grasping, scratching. One final thrust sends them both over the edge into a glorious swirl of ecstasy.
He slowly gains his bearings and places a soft not-so-chaste kiss on her untouched lips. He breaks the rules,
‘I love you’
She does not blink, she does not flinch.
THE END
Title: Don’t Blink, Don’t Flinch, Say Nothing.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: A bit of slash, NC-17
Pairing: Hr/D, B/D
Summary: It’s a bit short for a summary but – snapshots of an unlikely pairing
A/N: Thanks to Jess LoveCat who beta’d this for me. This is my first fic; there’s no need to go easy on me, though. If you find something wrong – tell me. I can’t learn otherwise. :)
It’s a game they play; one to see who will flinch first, who will be so shocked that they’ll have to speak. It’s about who’s better than whom.
Trembling, ink-stained fingers brush pale skin as she hands over an orange from the fruit bowl whilst they’re sitting in the Head Student’s study. With a lift of his left eyebrow he instigates the rules: He doesn’t blink; he doesn’t flinch; he says nothing.
When the stakes are raised a week later she keeps to the rules. While his hands are in her bushy mess of hair and he nips with even, white teeth at the soft golden skin just below her jaw, she doesn’t blink; she doesn’t flinch; she says nothing.
The rules are strictly adhered to during soft sighs and gentle caresses across back of slightly knobbly knees. But she finds herself thinking more and more of stormy grey eyes topped by pale hair.
When her mind wanders to the thought of him again she ducks into a musty, dark alcove in a little-used corridor. She allows her left hand to drift down to her breast, brushing her rock hard nipple, and then going back to pinch and knead with increasing fervour. The sensations coursing through her body brings a slick wetness between her legs. The almost public nature of her position forgotten; she brings to mind his sweet breath and calloused hands as she finally moves her hand down the waistband of her skirt and into her knickers, lightly brushing against the dark curls to touch the little bundle of nerves at the top of her slick folds. This is not enough; she needs more contact, rougher contact and with that realisation she pumps first one, two, then three fingers into her tight, wet and warm pussy. With a crook of her fingers she tips over into her little death. She takes a shuddering breath, removes her hand from her sopping cunt; opening her eyes she sees a shock of pale blond hair. Breathing deeply, mouth slightly agape, he keeps to the rules.
The gazes are held slightly longer; the tension is palpable. The touches are firmer and more frequent. The rules obeyed.
But he thinks of her whilst he kisses his way down his dark lover’s chest to the nest of curls and erect, magnificent cock. He takes the raven man’s wonderful dick in his mouth. His mind is split in two - between the man in his mouth and the woman with the bushy hair and slightly protruding collarbones.
She comes through the door of the Head Student’s study. She hears gasps and moans coming from his bedroom and if she stands on this floorboard just so the door slips ajar. She peers inside to see the man with indigo eyes – Zabini – cum in his mouth. She sees him turn Zabini around and bends him over the foot of the bed. The man who’s never far from her thoughts takes his cock into his hands and slowly enters Zabini. It’s a work of will not to join them and run her hands over their sweat-slicked skin as one thrusts into the other. But she keeps to the rules. Something in her shifts and snaps into place as she sees stormy grey eyes close. When he cums he looks for all the world like a dark demi-god.
They know it’s crazy but they find themselves searching the other out. They have become the other’s lodestone. Brown eyes search and lock onto grey. Each of them start to feel unfamiliar jealousy; he of the Weasel and Potty because they get to spend time with her – they get to talk to her; she of the one who has his affection, the one with whom he makes love. Still, they don’t flinch, they don’t blink, they say nothing.
To clear her mind of her infatuation she walks in the grounds barefoot, letting the dew soaked grass comfort her feet.
‘Granger,’ a whisper – her opposite, his pale hair glinting in the moonlight. He moves to her and removes her robe. He starts to unbutton her plain white cotton blouse. Where skin is uncovered so he kisses, nips and strokes. He licks her breasts through the pale yellow material of her bra; tonguing first one nipple and then the other. Whilst his mouth is fastened to her flesh his hands make short work of the rest of her clothes. His hands move lower to circle her hipbones, he moves his mouth from her breast to suckle on her shoulder and nip behind her ear. The fingers of one of his hands combs through the curls at the apex of her milky-white, smooth thighs to swirl around her clitoris and dip into her glistening folds.
She fumbles with his trousers and frees him from the constraining material. She reaches for his rigid cock and firmly grasps it in one tiny hand. Her breath comes faster. She is unafraid and with firm even strokes brings him to the brink. She watches as he looks in askance at her; she nods.
In one easy movement he has her lying amongst the green and he is buried to the hilt in her incredible heat. Hr inner walls are milking him. He begins to move, hitting that sweet spot inside her. He thrusts harder and harder still – fucking her into the lawn.. There are wet, sucking sounds; limbs are everywhere. There is biting, kissing, grasping, scratching. One final thrust sends them both over the edge into a glorious swirl of ecstasy.
He slowly gains his bearings and places a soft not-so-chaste kiss on her untouched lips. He breaks the rules,
‘I love you’
She does not blink, she does not flinch.
THE END