Title: Before the Exam Prompt: frottage Pairing: Ginny/Lavender Warnings/enticements: clothed sex, semi-public sex, underage
“Are you fucking crazy?” Ginny hisses.
She’d been rushing into the Great Hall for breakfast, horribly late, just as Lavender was coming out. And here she is thirty seconds later, shoved her up in this little alcove, Lavender’s very shoddy disillusionment charm the only thing between them and the entire castle seeing them like this, on the morning of Ginny’s OWLs, no less.
“Crazy for you,” Lavender drawls, in that half-stupid voice that Ginny never realized was a huge act, back when Lavender was having it off with Ron. “Crazy for your charms,” Lavender murmurs, low and dirty and much too sexy for eight o’clock in the bloody morning. But that voice of Lavender’s works on Ginny just like it always does, that hard glint in Lavender’s eyes reminding her at the same time that there’s much more to Lavender than this blowsy sexpot persona she likes to affect.
“Come on, Ginny,” Lavender purrs. “I need you to make me feel gooood.”
Lavender shoves one of her ample thighs hard between Ginny’s smaller, more muscled ones, her hands wrapping around Ginny’s arse and pulling her forward.
Get the fuck off, Ginny intends to say, because she’s got her bloody OWLs in fifteen minutes, she hasn’t eaten breakfast, and she can hear her mother’s voice, and Percy’s voice too, in her head right now, admonishing her about the perils of test-taking on an empty stomach.
Lavender pulls Ginny further up her thigh, lifting her up a bit so that Ginny’s actually sitting on that thigh now, Lavender’s generous breasts pressing right up against Ginny’s small ones.
“I’ll make you feel good too,” Lavender hums in Ginny’s ear.
And it’s true, she will. Lavender Brown is a very reliable girl. A girl who always keeps her word. The voices of Ginny’s mum and Percy can fuck right off. Ginny buries her face in Lavender’s neck, and arches back hard, grinding her clit against Lavender’s thigh.
And they’re off. Lavender’s a fucking racehorse the way she she lets Ginny ride her. Ginny fists her hands in Lavender’s hair, holding on tight as Lavender rocks her. Lavender’s much bigger than she is; Ginny can really sit on that thigh, her feet all the way off the goddamn floor, her leg wrapped around one of Lavender’s legs to hold herself in place so Lavender can get off too.
Lavender’s a gusher. There will be a damp mark on the front Ginny’s robes for at least an hour after. And Lavender’s a screamer. Lavender buries her mouth in Ginny's shoulder when comes, howling so loud it’s a wonder McGonagall can’t hear them all the way at the teacher’s table on the other side of the Great Hall’s oak doors. Ginny bucks her hips harder, shifting forward until she’s right at Lavender’s hip. The hardness of Lavender’s hipbone amidst all the softness of Lavender’s belly and breasts feels to Ginny’s clit like finding a diamond in a field of clouds.
And Lavender’s strong, She grips Ginny’s hips and lets Ginny ride her. Lavender the thoroughbred nobody notices. Nobody except Ginny, who Lavender takes farther each time.
“Come on, Ginny,” Lavender urges, low. “Come right here in the hallway. Show me how good I make your pussy feel. Come just for me. Be a good girl, Ginny.”
And that does it. Ginny’s orgasm breaks over her the shudder of pleasure ripping through everything else, her anxiety about the exams, her fear of getting caught, the voices in her head, the fear that never goes away. For a moment she feels like she’s falling, as if without all that fear she’s nobody. But Lavender has her, her strong arms around Ginny’s back, holding her while she bucks, keeping her seated, keeping her on.
Ginny’s head falls against Lavender’s shoulder. She lets herself breathe hard. Lavender strokes her head, and then, too soon, lowers Ginny down an inch, sets her back on her feet on the floor.
Ginny clings to her.
“Fucking hell,” she manages to say after a moment.
Lavender touches Ginny’s chin, tipping her head up to look in her eyes.
“Give ‘em hell on your OWLs then, sweetie,” she says. And then, reaching into her robes: “Here. I saved you a scone. You shouldn’t take tests on an empty stomach.”
Prompt: frottage
Pairing: Ginny/Lavender
Warnings/enticements: clothed sex, semi-public sex, underage
“Are you fucking crazy?” Ginny hisses.
She’d been rushing into the Great Hall for breakfast, horribly late, just as Lavender was coming out. And here she is thirty seconds later, shoved her up in this little alcove, Lavender’s very shoddy disillusionment charm the only thing between them and the entire castle seeing them like this, on the morning of Ginny’s OWLs, no less.
“Crazy for you,” Lavender drawls, in that half-stupid voice that Ginny never realized was a huge act, back when Lavender was having it off with Ron. “Crazy for your charms,” Lavender murmurs, low and dirty and much too sexy for eight o’clock in the bloody morning. But that voice of Lavender’s works on Ginny just like it always does, that hard glint in Lavender’s eyes reminding her at the same time that there’s much more to Lavender than this blowsy sexpot persona she likes to affect.
“Come on, Ginny,” Lavender purrs. “I need you to make me feel gooood.”
Lavender shoves one of her ample thighs hard between Ginny’s smaller, more muscled ones, her hands wrapping around Ginny’s arse and pulling her forward.
Get the fuck off, Ginny intends to say, because she’s got her bloody OWLs in fifteen minutes, she hasn’t eaten breakfast, and she can hear her mother’s voice, and Percy’s voice too, in her head right now, admonishing her about the perils of test-taking on an empty stomach.
Lavender pulls Ginny further up her thigh, lifting her up a bit so that Ginny’s actually sitting on that thigh now, Lavender’s generous breasts pressing right up against Ginny’s small ones.
“I’ll make you feel good too,” Lavender hums in Ginny’s ear.
And it’s true, she will. Lavender Brown is a very reliable girl. A girl who always keeps her word. The voices of Ginny’s mum and Percy can fuck right off. Ginny buries her face in Lavender’s neck, and arches back hard, grinding her clit against Lavender’s thigh.
And they’re off. Lavender’s a fucking racehorse the way she she lets Ginny ride her. Ginny fists her hands in Lavender’s hair, holding on tight as Lavender rocks her. Lavender’s much bigger than she is; Ginny can really sit on that thigh, her feet all the way off the goddamn floor, her leg wrapped around one of Lavender’s legs to hold herself in place so Lavender can get off too.
Lavender’s a gusher. There will be a damp mark on the front Ginny’s robes for at least an hour after. And Lavender’s a screamer. Lavender buries her mouth in Ginny's shoulder when comes, howling so loud it’s a wonder McGonagall can’t hear them all the way at the teacher’s table on the other side of the Great Hall’s oak doors. Ginny bucks her hips harder, shifting forward until she’s right at Lavender’s hip. The hardness of Lavender’s hipbone amidst all the softness of Lavender’s belly and breasts feels to Ginny’s clit like finding a diamond in a field of clouds.
And Lavender’s strong, She grips Ginny’s hips and lets Ginny ride her. Lavender the thoroughbred nobody notices. Nobody except Ginny, who Lavender takes farther each time.
“Come on, Ginny,” Lavender urges, low. “Come right here in the hallway. Show me how good I make your pussy feel. Come just for me. Be a good girl, Ginny.”
And that does it. Ginny’s orgasm breaks over her the shudder of pleasure ripping through everything else, her anxiety about the exams, her fear of getting caught, the voices in her head, the fear that never goes away. For a moment she feels like she’s falling, as if without all that fear she’s nobody. But Lavender has her, her strong arms around Ginny’s back, holding her while she bucks, keeping her seated, keeping her on.
Ginny’s head falls against Lavender’s shoulder. She lets herself breathe hard. Lavender strokes her head, and then, too soon, lowers Ginny down an inch, sets her back on her feet on the floor.
Ginny clings to her.
“Fucking hell,” she manages to say after a moment.
Lavender touches Ginny’s chin, tipping her head up to look in her eyes.
“Give ‘em hell on your OWLs then, sweetie,” she says. And then, reaching into her robes: “Here. I saved you a scone. You shouldn’t take tests on an empty stomach.”
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