freckles42 (freckles42) wrote in ficklefreckle, @ 2007-03-22 21:00:00 |
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Current mood: | rushed |
Fic: Mar 22: Chinese Fireball
Title: Chinese Fireball
Author: freckles42
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Su Li
Rating: R
Warnings: Minor character, if that needs to be a warning...
Kinks chosen: Petticoat discipline
Word count: ~1300
Summary: Su teaches Draco about how women always get their way
Disclaimer: All characters portrayed are at least 18 years of age. None of the characters herein belong to me, all are JKR's, who is nice enough to let us play in her sandbox.
Author's notes: Well, in just under the wire, what can I say? Thanks to emiime for being a second set of eyes and my cheerleader, as always. And thank you to D for all your pairings suggestions that made Draco/Su seem like a walk in the park. It's still not yet midnight in my timezone, so I'm just under the wire... right? RIGHT. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy. :D Originally posted in March for daily_deviant
Draco held up the little pink scrap of fabric, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“And what, exactly, did you want me to do with this?” he asked, pinching the pale lace thing as though it were a creature that had Recently Gone to the Place Where Small Things Go To Moulder and Eventually Go Rotten.
Su crossed her arms in front of her and smiled sweetly.
“Wear it, of course,” she said, her Northern accent giving that lilt that Draco had learned he just couldn’t resist. Except – these were underpants and there was no way he was going to-
Oh Merlin, she was doing it again. Those dark eyes narrowed and she licked her thin pink lips and then she tipped her porcelain neck just so and how was any sort of Wizard supposed to resist that? However, he still had his pride to consider.
“There’s no way,” he said tartly, focusing on the weird brown spot on the wall just over her shoulder and feigning boredom. If he didn’t look at her, he might just make it out of this with his dignity intact. He made a note to have one of the house-elves scrub down that wall.
Quiet.
Uh-oh. That sort of silence never boded well for him – or his dignity. He dared to look back at her. Blasted Ravenclaws and their clever, obstinate ways. She was looking at him serenely, like those stupid statues she kept scattered around the Malfoy Manor. He’d tripped over them and kicked them and cursed them, but she’d set them back (or, more likely, had one of the house-elves set them back) certainly, diligently. Over the past year he had learned to avoid them if he wished to keep his toes intact. It was easier, at least, than explaining to his pedicurist why his toenails were impacted and bruised.
“No,” he said more firmly, deciding to bluff his way out. He squared his shoulders. “You can’t make me.” He dropped the offending knickers onto the floor of their room and realised immediately that he had made a fatal error. His eyes met hers and for the briefest of moments, he hesitated. She had her wand out before he’d lunged halfway across the bed.