loony4lupin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
loony4lupin) wrote2008-07-28 06:52 pm
loony4lupin) wrote2008-07-28 06:52 pm
All the Drabbles.
So everybodies drabbles are DONE! Here they all are. They are all relatively NC-17 or R. I hope everyone enjoyed it.
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_starcrossed_: James always thought Teddy's fingers would taste like ink.
But they don't. Teddy's fingers don't taste like ink at all. Sometimes they taste like parchment because Teddy has been reading for inspiration all day long before giving up on his writers block and shagging out his frustration. In the summer, they taste like peaches. James stops by the market every other day to pick up another bag of the fuzzy fruit because Teddy goes through them insanely fast. He says it's because they taste like James but James is convinced Teddy just likes to annoy him when the he leaves pits sitting around the flat. Frankly, it's disgusting.
Most of the time James gets to lick and suck on Teddy's fingers; they taste like freshly ground coffee. Teddy spends nights up when he's caught a break, churning out pages upon pages of solid galleons and the flat smells like coffee all night long. When James gets up in the morning, Teddy is usually asleep at his desk with ink stained fingers that taste like coffee. They've been stained as long as James can remember. They've always been sensitive too; one stroke or lick and James could have Teddy in shambles.
So when Teddy finishes his first book, they decide to celebrate with booze and a night out. They end up in the twenty-four hour tattoo parlour, Teddy's trousers and pants pulled low on his hips and James holding his hand as the loud buzz of the tattoo machine fills the room. They're pretty sloshed but the tat is simple and James is pretty sure Teddy won't regret it in the morning. The outline is already inked, an ancient ruin that means 'survivor'.
Teddy is stretched out on an old dentists chair as the artist changes the needle. Teddy looks good enough to eat with his pale skin exposed and stretch across his sharp hipbones. He always was a skinny git. But he arches and moans when the artist starts up again to fill in the ruin with black ink. It's hard not to think about the last time James had seen Teddy like this, moaning and driving James crazy. It had been a couple of days because Teddy had been working non-stop on his book, drinking coffee and walking around the flat trying to complete the final chapter. But just before they had heard from the publishing company, they had spent a really wonderful Sunday in bed.
And Teddy's ink stained fingers had certainly played their part.
James shivers at the thought of Teddy arching underneath him as he had sucked and licked Teddy's fingers just days before, they had tasted like peaches, before sliding them inside his body. There was nothing like watching Teddy's fingers, permanently stained with ink, thrusting inside James' hole. It drove them both crazy and they spent plenty of time taking advantage of the quill calloused pads of Teddy's fingers twisting inside of James before he had slide over Teddy's cock and ridden him until they both came, Teddy in a flurry of turquoise and three of his fingers inside of James' mouth. James had been quick to follow.
James tries to suppress his moan at the memory, but Teddy's eyes fly open and he seemingly forgets about the needles pushing ink into his skin and they lock eyes. James watches as Teddy's amber eyes turn green before flickering into turquoise. The change shoots straight to James' groin and he squeezes Teddy's fingers, running his middle finger along Teddy's sensitive palm. Teddy licks his lips and James is about to jump him in the middle of the parlour when he notices the lack of buzz in the air.
"All done."
It takes them less than three minutes to get out of the parlour and into the alley. James can taste the ink through the padding over the tattoo… he likes it just a little too much but Teddy doesn't mind.
Forcoonassblondie:
Hermione settled back against the tall, ladder back chair. Her skin stuck to the back of the dark wood and the wicker pinched her bare arse. She rubbed herself over it and relaxed back into the chair. It creaked underneath her and she stilled, listening.
Grimmald Place remained silent. Hermione could almost hear Ron's snores two rooms down, the thought excited her, but not as much as the small portrait before it. Hermione moved again, over the chair as it pressed against her in the most delicious way. She raised her eyes to the smirking portrait, watching the way his elbow moved up and down, his hand just out of sight, in a rhythm that Hermione was replicating with her fingers, sliding in and out of her centre. The chair creaked again but Hermione took no notice, just watched the way the younger Sirius' portrait licked his lips.
She felt so fucking filthy.
Her spread her legs widely, pulling one knee up so Sirius could see how wet she was for him. Hermione could slip three more fingers inside of herself and watched his succulent mouth. Her other hand rolled her nipple between her fingers, hard enough to send a shiver straight to her clit. The portrait smirked but kept his eyes glued to her hand moving in and out of her cunt. The hand pinching her nipple dipped lower, she brought her finger back up to her face. Hermione kept her eyes glued with the steel gray of the portraits, desire flooding her body and making her arch into her hand.
Hermione repositioned her legs so she could thrust against her fingers while the heel of her hand placed maddening pressure against her clit. She imagined what it would have been like if she had gotten up the courage to admit her desire for Sirius Black before he had died, how his mouth would feel on his skin or the way his cock would fill her so completely and how he would bring her to the brink of orgasm several times before finally letting her go with his mouth, hot tongue buried inside of her. Oh, and she imagined he would talk as he bent her over and took her from behind, whispering her naughty phrases as he fucked her in the arse. Maybe he'd tell her she'd been a naughty girl, or maybe he'd ask her how much she liked to be fucked raw for him or if she would scream for him when she came, so loudly that Harry and Ron could hear her moans vibrating throughout the entire house.
She thrashed around on the stiff chair, the wicker burned hot against her abused arse as she brought herself to the edge of orgasm. She paused, her finger dancing on her clip and then she waited. The young Sirius' arm pumped furiously, a flush on his aristocratic cheeks. He was insanely pretty and delicious and oh Merlin…
Sirius' face twisted, his mouth open in a silent climax and Hermione could practically see him fucking his fist in completion. Hermione pressed down on her fist and thrust her fingers deep inside of herself. She came, the fluid from her cunt soaking the wicker of the chair.
At least the chair had stopped squeaking.
Formadeyemax:
Neville wasn't sure when he started bartering sex for information. He also wasn't sure when he started to like it. But it kept him going in the darkest of hours, when they were up to their eyeballs in curse detention and missing people and Death Eater prodigies with no word from or about Harry.
At first, he could hardly stomach it, even the idea. But slowly Neville realised he was helping and maybe it was the knowledge that every time he offered himself up, he received something to aid the rebellion, which made Neville come harder than he had ever before.
"Mr. Longbottom, you're late."
Neville shivered, repressing a moan, he shifted in his uncomfortably tight trousers. It was amazing he had gone the entire day like this, hard and ready, open and waiting. He nodded and stepped deeper inside the private room, it was cold and the fire burned low in the corner.
"Disrobe."
Neville looked Snape in the eye. He looked worse than the last time they were together, skinnier and more sallow, as if the more time he spent in the castle drained away his will to live. Neville could identify. Snape raised an eyebrow in a perfect arch but Neville didn't back down, just held his gaze and didn't move, his hands poised to unbutton his outer robes.
"The deal hasn't changed."
The silence was thick. His hand moved away from the buttons but Snape held up his hand and nodded, his eyes flittering alive with something Neville couldn't recognise but hoped it was the look of actually doing something good for the rest of the world.
"They've taken Ms. Lovegood to Malfoy Manor."
Neville breathed in deeply, the sorrow of losing someone else fit nastily next to his desire. He nodded his head and unbuttoned his robes, and then removed his jumper and trousers. He felt his cheeks flame; it was sick and twisted to still be hard and wanting someone who was working against them as much as he was helping them. But Neville couldn't deny his leaking erection or the ache of his arse. He wanted it.
"Turn around and bend over."
Neville licked his lips and did as he was told, spreading his legs. The motion provoked a moan from him, pleasure trembling up his spine and shaking him to his core. He could feel Snape behind him, his fingers hovering over Neville's skin and making him tremble in anticipation.
Except the touch didn't come from Snape's long fingers, but from Snape's warm breath and cold nose stroking Neville's opening. He moaned and thrust back against Snape's nose as a tongue traced Neville's overly stretched hole. His pucker was so sensitive, it almost hurt. He had never felt so exposed or turned on in his entire life, his bollocks tight against his body, heat exploding behind his eyelids. Neville moaned as Snape lapped at his hole that held the red tinged glass.
"Mr. Longbottom, you seem to be forgetting something."
Neville groaned and thrust back into air, Snape's tongue having been removed. Neville stilled and widened his stance, clenching and unclenching as his hips moved. The Remembrall brushed his prostate several times, making him buck and moan, before it fell out with a pop, rolling across the stone floor. Neville looked over his shoulder at his kneeling professor, whose eyes were wide with desire.
"Sorry, Master. I'm terribly forgetful."
Forozma_katiebell:
Charlie blames her skin.
It's what draws him to her in the beginning. She blends in at the Romanian club, her body twisting and turning in the sea of rhythm inspired bodies. The lights of the club highlight the hues of her skin, which are infused with elaborate henna. Charlie wants nothing more than to trace the intricate patterns over her skin with his tongue, tasting flesh and ink, sweat and sex.
She doesn't dance with anyone but herself and it makes Charlie want her more.
He watches her and thinks of ways to get close to her, his cock hard at the thought of her underneath him, her skin moving over her body as she writhes and arches into his touch. When it occurs to him, he smiles and finishes his drink and slips out of his shirt as he makes his way through the crowd of bodies to where she stands. The henna looks even more beautiful and elaborate the closer he gets to her, the ink spills in controlled strokes over her stomach and arms before bleeding into patterns and swirls on her finger and hands.
The thought of her skin pressed against his and their contrasting tones paired with the alcohol in his veins, gives him enough courage to slide up behind her. He doesn't touch her, only hovers just above her skin, basking in the heat of her moving body. She doesn't push him away and he traces a line of henna down the dip of her waist, following the pattern until it disappears beneath cloth. He waits, barely touching her, just moving behind her to the sultry beat of the music.
It takes three songs before she presses back against him, tracing her fingers over Charlie's tattoo. Her inked hands are soft as they trace the dragon wrapped around his bicep and he moans against her neck. She is warm and pliant underneath him as their bodies move together in what could be called dancing but feels like fucking through layers of clothing. It makes Charlie even harder, thinking about the way her body could move without the restriction of clothes and the view of the public eye.
They dance for a couple of songs before she leads him off the dance floor and out of the club. Charlie is surprised when she tugs him against her as they tuck into the cool brick of the alleyway; she's stronger than she looks. Her hands trail all over his body like molten lava, she moves from his harden nipples to his thick cock, gasping and moaning into his ear when he touches her. Their skin contrasts in the moonlight as it is exposed with sure fingers and when he slides inside of her, she arches hard off the brick and digs her nails into his skin. She touches herself the harder he fucks her and she comes gasping and writhing against him.
It's as if their separate ink blends together as he comes inside of her. He stifles his own moan by sucking on her neck until there is purple blooming on her skin. It obstructs the patterns of the henna, a ripple of chaos in sea of intricate patterns, and Charlie feels satisfied in knowing he has left his mark.
For
_starcrossed_: James always thought Teddy's fingers would taste like ink. But they don't. Teddy's fingers don't taste like ink at all. Sometimes they taste like parchment because Teddy has been reading for inspiration all day long before giving up on his writers block and shagging out his frustration. In the summer, they taste like peaches. James stops by the market every other day to pick up another bag of the fuzzy fruit because Teddy goes through them insanely fast. He says it's because they taste like James but James is convinced Teddy just likes to annoy him when the he leaves pits sitting around the flat. Frankly, it's disgusting.
Most of the time James gets to lick and suck on Teddy's fingers; they taste like freshly ground coffee. Teddy spends nights up when he's caught a break, churning out pages upon pages of solid galleons and the flat smells like coffee all night long. When James gets up in the morning, Teddy is usually asleep at his desk with ink stained fingers that taste like coffee. They've been stained as long as James can remember. They've always been sensitive too; one stroke or lick and James could have Teddy in shambles.
So when Teddy finishes his first book, they decide to celebrate with booze and a night out. They end up in the twenty-four hour tattoo parlour, Teddy's trousers and pants pulled low on his hips and James holding his hand as the loud buzz of the tattoo machine fills the room. They're pretty sloshed but the tat is simple and James is pretty sure Teddy won't regret it in the morning. The outline is already inked, an ancient ruin that means 'survivor'.
Teddy is stretched out on an old dentists chair as the artist changes the needle. Teddy looks good enough to eat with his pale skin exposed and stretch across his sharp hipbones. He always was a skinny git. But he arches and moans when the artist starts up again to fill in the ruin with black ink. It's hard not to think about the last time James had seen Teddy like this, moaning and driving James crazy. It had been a couple of days because Teddy had been working non-stop on his book, drinking coffee and walking around the flat trying to complete the final chapter. But just before they had heard from the publishing company, they had spent a really wonderful Sunday in bed.
And Teddy's ink stained fingers had certainly played their part.
James shivers at the thought of Teddy arching underneath him as he had sucked and licked Teddy's fingers just days before, they had tasted like peaches, before sliding them inside his body. There was nothing like watching Teddy's fingers, permanently stained with ink, thrusting inside James' hole. It drove them both crazy and they spent plenty of time taking advantage of the quill calloused pads of Teddy's fingers twisting inside of James before he had slide over Teddy's cock and ridden him until they both came, Teddy in a flurry of turquoise and three of his fingers inside of James' mouth. James had been quick to follow.
James tries to suppress his moan at the memory, but Teddy's eyes fly open and he seemingly forgets about the needles pushing ink into his skin and they lock eyes. James watches as Teddy's amber eyes turn green before flickering into turquoise. The change shoots straight to James' groin and he squeezes Teddy's fingers, running his middle finger along Teddy's sensitive palm. Teddy licks his lips and James is about to jump him in the middle of the parlour when he notices the lack of buzz in the air.
"All done."
It takes them less than three minutes to get out of the parlour and into the alley. James can taste the ink through the padding over the tattoo… he likes it just a little too much but Teddy doesn't mind.
For
coonassblondie:Hermione settled back against the tall, ladder back chair. Her skin stuck to the back of the dark wood and the wicker pinched her bare arse. She rubbed herself over it and relaxed back into the chair. It creaked underneath her and she stilled, listening.
Grimmald Place remained silent. Hermione could almost hear Ron's snores two rooms down, the thought excited her, but not as much as the small portrait before it. Hermione moved again, over the chair as it pressed against her in the most delicious way. She raised her eyes to the smirking portrait, watching the way his elbow moved up and down, his hand just out of sight, in a rhythm that Hermione was replicating with her fingers, sliding in and out of her centre. The chair creaked again but Hermione took no notice, just watched the way the younger Sirius' portrait licked his lips.
She felt so fucking filthy.
Her spread her legs widely, pulling one knee up so Sirius could see how wet she was for him. Hermione could slip three more fingers inside of herself and watched his succulent mouth. Her other hand rolled her nipple between her fingers, hard enough to send a shiver straight to her clit. The portrait smirked but kept his eyes glued to her hand moving in and out of her cunt. The hand pinching her nipple dipped lower, she brought her finger back up to her face. Hermione kept her eyes glued with the steel gray of the portraits, desire flooding her body and making her arch into her hand.
Hermione repositioned her legs so she could thrust against her fingers while the heel of her hand placed maddening pressure against her clit. She imagined what it would have been like if she had gotten up the courage to admit her desire for Sirius Black before he had died, how his mouth would feel on his skin or the way his cock would fill her so completely and how he would bring her to the brink of orgasm several times before finally letting her go with his mouth, hot tongue buried inside of her. Oh, and she imagined he would talk as he bent her over and took her from behind, whispering her naughty phrases as he fucked her in the arse. Maybe he'd tell her she'd been a naughty girl, or maybe he'd ask her how much she liked to be fucked raw for him or if she would scream for him when she came, so loudly that Harry and Ron could hear her moans vibrating throughout the entire house.
She thrashed around on the stiff chair, the wicker burned hot against her abused arse as she brought herself to the edge of orgasm. She paused, her finger dancing on her clip and then she waited. The young Sirius' arm pumped furiously, a flush on his aristocratic cheeks. He was insanely pretty and delicious and oh Merlin…
Sirius' face twisted, his mouth open in a silent climax and Hermione could practically see him fucking his fist in completion. Hermione pressed down on her fist and thrust her fingers deep inside of herself. She came, the fluid from her cunt soaking the wicker of the chair.
At least the chair had stopped squeaking.
For
madeyemax:Neville wasn't sure when he started bartering sex for information. He also wasn't sure when he started to like it. But it kept him going in the darkest of hours, when they were up to their eyeballs in curse detention and missing people and Death Eater prodigies with no word from or about Harry.
At first, he could hardly stomach it, even the idea. But slowly Neville realised he was helping and maybe it was the knowledge that every time he offered himself up, he received something to aid the rebellion, which made Neville come harder than he had ever before.
"Mr. Longbottom, you're late."
Neville shivered, repressing a moan, he shifted in his uncomfortably tight trousers. It was amazing he had gone the entire day like this, hard and ready, open and waiting. He nodded and stepped deeper inside the private room, it was cold and the fire burned low in the corner.
"Disrobe."
Neville looked Snape in the eye. He looked worse than the last time they were together, skinnier and more sallow, as if the more time he spent in the castle drained away his will to live. Neville could identify. Snape raised an eyebrow in a perfect arch but Neville didn't back down, just held his gaze and didn't move, his hands poised to unbutton his outer robes.
"The deal hasn't changed."
The silence was thick. His hand moved away from the buttons but Snape held up his hand and nodded, his eyes flittering alive with something Neville couldn't recognise but hoped it was the look of actually doing something good for the rest of the world.
"They've taken Ms. Lovegood to Malfoy Manor."
Neville breathed in deeply, the sorrow of losing someone else fit nastily next to his desire. He nodded his head and unbuttoned his robes, and then removed his jumper and trousers. He felt his cheeks flame; it was sick and twisted to still be hard and wanting someone who was working against them as much as he was helping them. But Neville couldn't deny his leaking erection or the ache of his arse. He wanted it.
"Turn around and bend over."
Neville licked his lips and did as he was told, spreading his legs. The motion provoked a moan from him, pleasure trembling up his spine and shaking him to his core. He could feel Snape behind him, his fingers hovering over Neville's skin and making him tremble in anticipation.
Except the touch didn't come from Snape's long fingers, but from Snape's warm breath and cold nose stroking Neville's opening. He moaned and thrust back against Snape's nose as a tongue traced Neville's overly stretched hole. His pucker was so sensitive, it almost hurt. He had never felt so exposed or turned on in his entire life, his bollocks tight against his body, heat exploding behind his eyelids. Neville moaned as Snape lapped at his hole that held the red tinged glass.
"Mr. Longbottom, you seem to be forgetting something."
Neville groaned and thrust back into air, Snape's tongue having been removed. Neville stilled and widened his stance, clenching and unclenching as his hips moved. The Remembrall brushed his prostate several times, making him buck and moan, before it fell out with a pop, rolling across the stone floor. Neville looked over his shoulder at his kneeling professor, whose eyes were wide with desire.
"Sorry, Master. I'm terribly forgetful."
For
ozma_katiebell:Charlie blames her skin.
It's what draws him to her in the beginning. She blends in at the Romanian club, her body twisting and turning in the sea of rhythm inspired bodies. The lights of the club highlight the hues of her skin, which are infused with elaborate henna. Charlie wants nothing more than to trace the intricate patterns over her skin with his tongue, tasting flesh and ink, sweat and sex.
She doesn't dance with anyone but herself and it makes Charlie want her more.
He watches her and thinks of ways to get close to her, his cock hard at the thought of her underneath him, her skin moving over her body as she writhes and arches into his touch. When it occurs to him, he smiles and finishes his drink and slips out of his shirt as he makes his way through the crowd of bodies to where she stands. The henna looks even more beautiful and elaborate the closer he gets to her, the ink spills in controlled strokes over her stomach and arms before bleeding into patterns and swirls on her finger and hands.
The thought of her skin pressed against his and their contrasting tones paired with the alcohol in his veins, gives him enough courage to slide up behind her. He doesn't touch her, only hovers just above her skin, basking in the heat of her moving body. She doesn't push him away and he traces a line of henna down the dip of her waist, following the pattern until it disappears beneath cloth. He waits, barely touching her, just moving behind her to the sultry beat of the music.
It takes three songs before she presses back against him, tracing her fingers over Charlie's tattoo. Her inked hands are soft as they trace the dragon wrapped around his bicep and he moans against her neck. She is warm and pliant underneath him as their bodies move together in what could be called dancing but feels like fucking through layers of clothing. It makes Charlie even harder, thinking about the way her body could move without the restriction of clothes and the view of the public eye.
They dance for a couple of songs before she leads him off the dance floor and out of the club. Charlie is surprised when she tugs him against her as they tuck into the cool brick of the alleyway; she's stronger than she looks. Her hands trail all over his body like molten lava, she moves from his harden nipples to his thick cock, gasping and moaning into his ear when he touches her. Their skin contrasts in the moonlight as it is exposed with sure fingers and when he slides inside of her, she arches hard off the brick and digs her nails into his skin. She touches herself the harder he fucks her and she comes gasping and writhing against him.
It's as if their separate ink blends together as he comes inside of her. He stifles his own moan by sucking on her neck until there is purple blooming on her skin. It obstructs the patterns of the henna, a ripple of chaos in sea of intricate patterns, and Charlie feels satisfied in knowing he has left his mark.
no subject
Oh, the last one was hot as hell, too.
And oddly, the Hermione/Sirius one worked in a way I did not expect. It's not my fave pairing, so I approached it with some trepidation, but the portrait thing was a bit o' brilliance.
And Neville? I love Neville!
Oh, at some point, I need your email. Mine is Brighty18@hotmail.com.
no subject
I have a serious thing for canon, so I approach strange pairings like that with caution as well. I'm glad it stayed with you enough to not hate it. ; )
Neville is slowly becoming someone I can sexualize. But it's rare that I can actually write him in a smutty scene.
Email! Loony4lupin@hotmail.com I can not wait to see my fic. (I leave town on Thursday, so if there was anyway I could get it before then I would be insanely pleased but if it's not possible, no worries.)