Who: Blaise & Padma When: evening of 14 January, after the duels Where: random corridor Rating: PG-13 What: o, hormones
Tucked into an alcove, Padma was absorbed almost entirely by the dark, and though she wondered a moment at the spacing of the torches so very far on opposite ends of the corridor, she would not complain of shadow and silence. A breath, the span of several seconds, and she settled against the stone, nerves finely feelng on the surface of her skin. She waited.
Pleased with his duels for the day, Blaise disengaged himself from his Housemates, claiming a need to write his mother and share his successes with her on this day especially. The lie tasted sour on his tongue, yet it slipped off easily enough, and then he was striding through darkened corridors, until at last he reached the meeting point with Padma. Slipping his arms around her, he nearly clung, happy to be finally free of everyone else. "Never has one person been such a welcome sight."
Strange that she had seen him coming but had chosen to wait for him to reach her, to reach around her. It was not hesitation, but something settling and soft, a pleasure derived from his pleasure in her. "I could argue the same." Her voice was a whisper.
He stepped back, grinning, still beaming slightly over his successes. Only one loss today, but the other two made up for it. "Well? Did I stun you with my prowess with a wand?" Without giving her time to answer he leaned in, kissing her fiercely.
Her hands tightened in his robes, pulling him closer still than the kiss had. Padma felt in that moment control, what she had and what she did not have, moreover, what she did not want. This, this was not what she had intended. A breath, stunned, though hardly from Blaise's wandwork. "Would you like to think so?" Padma breathed softly against his cheek.
He nuzzled her cheek, leaning back to study her features silently for a moment. He saw nothing there that would stop a continuation of events. "You know, I don't think I need to show off." Words spoken softly before he descended again, allowing himself to forget tiime.
A hand lifted to his collar, Padma's fingers slipping to the base of his neck, touching softly the knots of his spine. She ran her hand down his back, imagining that line like words strung together, brief. The kiss felt like a tide, pulling and retreating, a promise. A small sound of contentment escaped Padma's lips in a moment she should have reserved for breath.
Instinct pulled him closer, movements sure and swift -- and along with a break came a brief moment of clarity, soon lost again. Left to their own device, his hands roamed, always waiting for a word of caution, telling him to stop. Lips found the soft skin of her neck, and any conversation that may have been planned was lost.
Padma did not shy at his touch, an initial thrill mixed with barest felt hesitancy. His fingers seemed so very soft against her waist, her hips. "Blaise." A cloud lifted, the glaze leaving her eyes as they opened.
He trailed fingers up and down her sides, angling his body towards hers. "Hm." He grinned slightly. "If you wish for conversation, allow me a few moments to collect myself."
She stopped the hand, holding it tight against her side where her shirt had come barely loose, a pressure against cotton and skin. "I do not know what I wish." It was not a question of confusion, Padma's tone affirming that she did indeed know what she wished, but had not the words to express it. "I am," she fought with embarassment, rare and troublesome, "not as well versed as you." She turned away, a pained expression. "In this."
His heart quickened, and he swallowed. Gently, he turned her head to face him. "I care not for experience, Padma. In this, willingness is all that matters." He took a deep breath. "I can't read your mind. If you wish to stop, you must tell me, or if I do something you don't... like, you must tell me that as well." His face burned slightly, never having had to have this particular conversation before.
Will was not the issue. "I know what I would like." She touched a hand to his stomach, fingers balled to a fist to keep from moving further. "But not here."
He swallowed roughly, then. "No, not here." His voice was strained. Grabbing her hand, he enclosed it with his and although the temptation was great to move it lower, simply held it, and held his breath. "My kingdom for a lone, well-furnished room and a night without interruption." He muttered the words mostly to himself, then let go of her completely to pace.
The words, then, the reality, shook her slightly. Fear, she thought, was inevitable. Padma breathed, eyes cast everywhere but his pacing figure, mind in turmoil. The proclamation was not a difficult one, not for its truth nor the potent want, but the act... the act could not but warrant a momentary tremor. She bit her lip, but did not speak.
The kiss stirred a riot anew, but Padma allowed herself only a moment's return before she closed her hands around his. "Now you must sit and speak with me several paces apart lest I take up permanent residence in your lap." She settled herself against the stone, regarding his face in the near dark, fear spilling free from her skin, and away.
He settled a foot away, hand stealing out to hold hers. "I wouldn't mind an ornament for my lap, but will content myself with this." He stole a look at her, to some degree relieved that they both had cooler heads than would be thought for a teenager. "Tell me a story, Padma, of your grandmother, and I shall tell you one of my mother." And in this manner, the hours passed.