|femexchange_mod (femexchange_mod) wrote in fem_exchange,|
@ 2008-12-18 22:27:00
|Entry tags:||nc17, pansy/ginny|
Happy holidays, woldy! (Pansy/Ginny, NC-17)
Title: Still Hungry
Summary: Ginny caught more than the snitch at the final game of the season.
Warning(s): PWPesque, EWE.
Note: Thank you to my betas I, KF and M. woldy, you requested snarky flirting that leads to smut, Quidditch pads, walls and showers. I hope I met your desires. Enjoy!
In a flash Ginny barreled through the atmosphere. Faster. Faster. Faster. It was a most inelegant move, nothing so glamorous as a feint or cut; she merely whipped through air, plummeting from hundreds of meters above the Quidditch pitch to the Terra Turf below, chasing the flittering gold.
A black shape danced in the corner of her eye and she pulled up sharply, looping through the air at such speeds her stomach squashed against her spine. The sensation might have felt less nauseating if she'd been stepped on by Hagrid's massive little brother. And straight down she continued. The Bludger sailed by.
Inch by inch she gained ground on the Snitch. A roar echoed through her ears; anticipation tingled down the length of her fingers as her hand slowly closed in on the fluttering wings, barely brushing against the tips of her neatly trimmed nails. Close, so close.
She leaned forward, pressing herself to the oak shaft of her broom, the cheering and cries dimmed to a dull thrum in the depths of her consciousness and finally, with a delicate touch usually reserved for puffskeins, she captured the Snitch.
And pulled hard on her broom as the green presence of the Tuft loomed before her, the broom bristles nicking against green stems as she shot away from the ground.
"Pride of Portree's Seeker Weasley has caught the snitch! The Prides win the final game of the season, 345 to 260."
With a grin wide enough to overshadow even the nose on her face, Ginny circled the pitch, the struggling Snitch held high above her head as her team flew circles around her.
"Great job, Weasley!"
"Nice catch, Ginny!"
"Sticky Fingers, you did it again."
She rolled her eyes at the stupid nickname, but beamed at the praise anyway.
The team gathered together for a photo shoot. The bright flashes of the cameras sparkled through the primary color wheel and blinded her, draining her smile into a tired grin by the end of it all. Her friends waited through the press's giddy fawning by the edge of the pitch: Luna, Harry, Hermione and her brother Ron. They waved every time she looked up, milling about as they huddled together in a cloud of their own breath as they pulled tight the fronts of their thick robes against the chill of the winter's day.
Finally, after the last reporter's Quick Quotes Quill grew still, the team dispersed to the showers and Ginny trotted over to her friends.
"Wow, Ginny! That was an amazing catch," Harry said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders for a brief squeeze and then stepped away.
"Thanks," she said with a recharged grin as Luna hugged her, followed by her brother.
It was Hermione's turn for her hug; they were collecting them like Quidditch cards. "I'd say your air speed in that dive probably broke the speed flying trials. Maybe even broke Mach 1." Ginny's eyebrows rose in her utter incomprehension of the words Hermione was speaking. "Oh, never mind. It's just, you were so fast." Ginny giggled at Hermione's impressed assessment.
"I was, wasn't I?" she said. Unconsciously her eyes continued to scan the stragglers still out on the pitch. Nobody left of her team; they were probably finishing up with their showers by now, and nobody else…
"I didn't see her." The whispered words yanked Ginny's attention to Luna, who stood so close they were sharing the same foggy air. Ginny's eyebrows drew together even as her eyes grew wide in one of those expressions that attempted to command another to shut up, but never seemed to work. If only she could wordlessly cast a Muffliato. Luna just shrugged.
Ginny turned back to the others. The boys were watching them a little too closely; Hermione wouldn't meet her eyes, and… was she smirking? "I need a shower." She brushed at the sweat, already dried to white flakes on her temples, with the arm of her purple robes. "I'll meet you guys in the south entrance, then dinner with the team?" With eager nods they agreed, waving as she headed towards the showers, still glancing over her shoulder along the way, just in case she'd missed someone.
But she hadn't.
As she walked through the locker entrance, two of her teammates, Walker and Nakahara, were leaving, already showered and changed. "You just getting in?" Walker asked, staring down his long nose at her. He vaguely reminded Ginny of Snape, except that he smiled and had a personality warmer than that of a stone gargoyle.
"Yeah, got caught up with the gang," Ginny said with a shrug. "You know how chatty they all get." Nakahara barked out a very unlady-like laugh at the sheer understatement. "We'll meet you at O' Conner's in about a half hour," Ginny said as she walked to her right, into the woman's section of the locker room.
"Alright," Nakahara said, her voice already fading through the privacy charms. "We'll see you there. Make sure you bring Potter. He's always a hoot loaded."
The area around her locker was puddled from other people's drips. "No problem," Ginny called over her shoulder as she began unbuttoning her outer purple robes.
With a thump, she tossed her goggles onto the bench and over those she dropped her gloves. The locker room was quiet, eerily quiet, as she unstrapped her shoulder and knee pads. Slowly she stripped down, rubbing at her shoulders, still tense from that winning dive.
She smiled at the memory. And then her smile faded.
Naked, she padded for the showers, which were more of a cattle wash rack, open with six showerheads lined up along the tiled wall that shimmered in aqua-blue waves. She pulled on the temperature tap and nearly scalded herself under the hot water. Springing out of the stream, she dialed the heat down until the water cooled. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, focusing on the joy of winning the game instead of the disappointment that seemed to be gnawing on her nerves with vicious teeth, distracting her from even simple things like washing herself. She stepped under the spray, letting the heat relax her shoulders and back. She pumped some foaming bubbles, pink and lightly perfumed, out from a nozzle and began scrubbing down her body.
She enjoyed how the heat seeped into her muscles. With practiced movements she ran her hands over her body, digging deeply into the sore spots, and then began washing her shoulder-length hair. With her eyes closed, she faced into the flow of water and practically jumped to the moon when she felt something touch her shoulder.
She spun around, brushing sudsy hair out of her eyes and spitting the water from her lips.
"You," she said, her heart giving a little patter when she saw Pansy standing there, dressed in a silk robe quickly darkening under the spray of water. That gnawing ceased. Pansy's hands were resting on her hips and her eyes flared with hunger, something Ginny had imagined, but had never seen. Imagination paled compared to reality.
Pansy's chin tilted forward and Ginny caught a glimpse of her eyes peeking through her dark bangs, piercing and sharp.
"You came," Ginny said, and looked away at the needy sound of her voice.
"I did." Ginny's gaze returned to Pansy. Pansy smirked, and then took a step forward, and another, small, tiny steps. Ginny suddenly had an inkling of what a mouse might feel like under the scrutiny of an airborne hawk. Pansy was stalking her.
They'd been playing this weird flirting, catty game over the last few months at bars and parties where they'd continued to cross paths, and Ginny had all but revealed her hand to get Pansy to make a move. It wasn't that Ginny was shy, oh hell no, it was just she wanted to be pursued this time, just this once.
Pansy's gaze traced over her body, and despite the steaming shower, a shiver scurried across Ginny's skin. Pansy licked her lips, and then said, "You look like you're enjoying yourself."
Ginny nodded and then closed her mouth, only just realizing it'd fallen open.
Pansy's smile was sly. "I think I'll join you."
Ginny reached out a hand in silent invitation, but Pansy, apparently, was taking her role as pursuer quite seriously. It was then that Ginny found herself pressed against the wall.
Pansy had run her eyes over every patch of Ginny's skin—the rounded arch of breasts, the slim hill of stomach, the red patch between her legs. Her long hair, dark from the water, contrasted against the shimmering blue of the shower room's tile. She looked eager, anticipatory, her lips open and chest rising as her eyes captured Pansy's own; Pansy marveled at the magical crackle that saturated the air between them.
"You don’t mind do you?" She might as well play polite, not that Ginny's refusal would have stopped her. Not that Ginny would refuse. A smile quirked upon her mouth when Ginny shook her head. Pleased, Pansy leaned forward to taste the water gliding down the upper reaches of Ginny's right breast.
A hand clenched onto her arm and one word was spoken, moaned. "Pansy."
The sound of that one word, her name, drew wetness down between her legs that had nothing to do with the hot rain of water. With her tongue, she traced a meandering path up along Ginny's chest and collar bone—her skin was so smooth—and ended at the edge of her ear, where even in the fall of the water around them she could smell the light perfume from the soap, the lingering scent of leather from the Quidditch pads, and the sweet, sweet scent that was all Ginny.
Pansy pulled back to look at the woman she'd trapped against the tiles. Ginny's eyes were closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
"You taste good enough to nibble on all day," Pansy said, more purr than actual words. With a quick step back, she slipped off her soggy robe; the splat of it hitting the floor was discordant against the rhythmic patter of the water and undulating hum of Ginny's breathing. It only took one long stride and her body was pressed against Ginny's. Skin on skin. A soft gasp injected shivers all along Pansy's nerves as sensual as the magic that snapped and sparked at every spot their bodies touched.
"Who am I to starve a hungry woman?" Ginny managed to say before Pansy bit at her ear, drawing her tongue along the edge and then darting it inside. She wrapped her lips around the sensitive lobe and sucked gently, distracting Ginny as she ran the tips of her fingers down along her sides, along the dip of her waist and onto her hips, slowly circling her thumbs along Ginny's lower abdomen, where leg met hip.
Then the kisses traveled from ear to throat, dancing up to Ginny's mouth. The gentle parting of lips twisted under the fervor of dueling tongues, Pansy wrangling control, ending it with a suck to Ginny's bottom lip. Like the sliding of a snake up a yearling tree, Pansy felt Ginny's hands ghost up her arms, over her shoulders and down Pansy's back. Pansy's own fingers, never idle, were trailing along Ginny's smooth stomach, petting along the dip of a hip, the curve of her breast, drawing her fingers across her heated skin to tweak one nipple to firmness.
"Fucking hell." Almost breathless, Ginny pushed their bodies together.
The noises Ginny was making were going to unravel Pansy's plans of seduction. Groans and moans, little pleases that drew something tight within Pansy. She leaned back to examine Ginny's face, her eyes, her glistening skin as water streamed down over her head, catching on her lashes.
"Why… why you stop?" Ginny asked, full sentences no longer in her power. Her face held no worry, no concern. She blinked—one fat drop hung on her left lash—and smiled at something she saw on Pansy's face.
"I haven't. Just a momentary pause." She'd waited so long.
She pressed forward again, her elbows braced against the unyielding tile on either side of Ginny's head. Their breasts brushed against each other. "I should hope not," Ginny said, her eyes searching up into Pansy's.
"Don't worry. I'm still… hungry." Lowering herself, letting her body rub along the full length of Ginny's torso, Pansy licked across Ginny's right nipple, eyes looking up at her face, then sucked gently, playing the nub with her tongue, rolling it over and over. Then she freed the right and turned her attention to the other, performing each tender stroke in replication.
Urged by Ginny's panting, her eagerly roving hands, Pansy left her breasts, trailing tiny kisses along the central line of her stomach to her navel and dipped in her tongue, circling the edge as she worked her palms up and down the length of Ginny's tense thighs.
Pansy was amazed at how beautiful Ginny was, flushed with passion, soaking wet and moaning out nonsense words. Part of her wanted to say something, make some promise or assess some observation, but she didn't want to tarnish this moment with words, with attitude. This was the thing she'd wanted. Amused, she wondered if she too had that same glow. She felt powerful and sexy with Ginny at her mercy; like she could tackle the world, take on all those people who cursed her name for her breeding, cursed her lineage and values.
The draw of lips along skin continued, made a path across the smooth surface of Ginny's inner thigh. Briefly, she nuzzled between Ginny's parted legs, inhaling the musky scent of her arousal. Then she rose, teasingly swiping her tongue along that firm abdomen, sliding her body up Ginny's and captured her lips in her own as her fingers trailed down through her dark patch and began teasing over her clitoris, diving between her moist folds.
Ginny gasped and tilted her pelvis, opening her legs in welcome. "About time."
With a chuckle, Pansy dragged her fingers through Ginny's natural lubrication. So wet, and Pansy moaned at that simple sensation. Brushing her finger over Ginny's swollen clitoris, she circled it gently as the woman trapped against the wall groaned out again and again. The sound shot to Pansy's core and her own pussy throbbed in response.
"Ginny. Ginny. Ginny," she chanted like a spell, casting passion and desire.
Another finger slid in and began trailing a lazy path up Ginny's folds to her clit and back again, coating Pansy's fingers with her juices and without warning she plunged them into Ginny, pressing up inside of her, and at the same instant she bit hard, right above the collarbone.
"Merlin, Pansy!" The writhing of the body below her continued to stoke Pansy's own unbridled lust.
It was like velvet inside, soft and mysterious, and Pansy marveled that she'd never slammed this woman, her woman, against the shower wall, or any wall, before. They'd been sharing coy glances and flirting maddeningly for months. Why had she waited so long?
With her thumb rubbing over Ginny's clit, Pansy drove her fingers in over and over, fucking Ginny as she commenced rubbing her own leaking pussy over Ginny's firm thigh. She fucked and she rode, never quite working enough friction, but eagerly drinking up every moan and cry Ginny offered, kissing her, devouring each and every breath until Ginny stilled, caught in a silent cry of pleasure. Her head was thrown back against the wall, mouth open and body twitching, the little sparks of magic, of power, exploding across their skin.
Finally, Ginny slid an inch down the smooth tile, relaxed and boneless, and Pansy slipped out her fingers, softly massaging the sensitive flesh just to watch her lover squirm.
With tenderness, Pansy leaned forward and kissed her, trying to express her pleasure through each brush of tongue, each press of lip. She was still randy, randy as hell, and couldn't wait for Ginny to make her scream.
"My turn," Pansy said. Ginny's lips quirked and with her gaze latched on to Pansy's, she slowly dropped to her knees.