Title: Fantasy
Author: millieweasley
Characters: Lavender Brown/cocks
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Oral sex
Kinks chosen: Hedonism
Word Count: 1202
Summary: Lavender love to suck cocks, the more the better, and she's found a way to do so.



There was something very special about sucking a man's cock. The texture, the feel of it in your mouth, the taste, the intense smell, the satisfaction when your lips and tongue brought the man to the brink and over – the victory when you had the taste of come lingering in your mouth…but most of all – for Lavender – it was about the power she held over men when her lips were around their most delicate organs.

It was almost like a drug, that power, especially when men kept coming back for more. She was good, she knew, but when they knew, when they couldn't get enough of her, that's when she knew there was nothing better than sucking cock in the world.

She could still remember her first time, the way she'd fallen to her knees in her old tree house and hesitantly tried to please her three years older boyfriend one summer. He'd been kind enough to instruct, yet she hadn't been good enough to keep his interest, and later that very summer she'd found him cheating on her.

She'd gone down on his best friend the next day to prove a point. That's when she'd realised she really liked it, that she wanted to do it often, and a lot. He, of course, had not minded at all, but taught her everything she needed to know – and when she was "fully trained" as he'd called it – he'd brought another friend along for an "examination". At first she'd been insulted, but as both boys started to touch her, caress her and undo their trousers, she'd found herself wet and hot and willing. She'd sucked them both that night, and the very next day, the new boy had come again – bringing another friend.

She wasn't sure how she ended up spending her summer on her knees in her summer house, but the boys were many, and they always came back for more. It didn't occur to her that she was almost addicted to the feel of a cock in her mouth by the time summer was over.

The first few weeks back at Hogwarts was murder. Not only did school drag on worse this year than any other, but not having the opportunity to suck cocks the way she'd done during summer had her snapping and snarling at people for no reason at all. Oh she managed to get a boy or two to drop his trousers in the bathroom, but something was definitely missing with these younger boys, something she couldn't put her finger on. Of course most of all they were just too few and far between.

That's when one of the boys took her to Madam Puddifoot's, persuading her to go down on her knees under the table. It was a rush she had not been expecting to sit there, hidden by the table cloth, his cock in her mouth. She wasn't sure why she'd taken the risk, but she knew she wanted to do so again.

It was that way that Madam Puddifoot's had caught her after she'd brought another one of her dates there. That's why she was there even now, on her knees, under the table, her fingers between her legs as she waited for the next guy, and the next. As embarrassed as she had been, Madam Puddifoot had seen a business opportunity.

She of course did not get paid. Not because Madam Puddifoot didn't offer, but because she simply didn't like to feel like a whore. She sat under the table for free, waiting for another man, another cock, and the mere excitement brought her off every night, and left her mouth achingly tired as the taste of come lingered behind. It was her indulgence after the dark had fallen.

She had her routine finished, went to bed with the others, pretended to go to sleep, then snuck up, slipped on a light dress, or a skirt and a top, then she'd be off, out through passageways she'd once sucked the Weasley twins (both at the same time, it had been a thrill) for the knowledge of. She nearly ran all the way, her breath in her throat as she reached the small tea shop. Madam Puddifoot always waited, always snuck her under that one table no one used for anything else (how long had that been going on?), where the floor was permanently cushioned.

She sat still.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Then a voice. An order for coffee.

No one ordered coffee at Madam Puddifoots. Not if they wanted coffee. No instead they ordered coffee when they wanted her, and a few minutes later, legs slid under the table, a conversation Lavender never listened to was held above the table. Her own eyes were fastened on the juncture of thighs, on what she knew would come. Hands.

Strong hands. Weak hands. Sometimes sweaty nervous hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Thin fingers. Beautiful fingers. Ugly fingers.

She amused herself by imagining the man behind the fingers as they undid their trousers. As they finally revealed the price, what she was here for. Lavender always shivered when she saw a new cock before her. Licked her lips before she leaned in, her light hands caressing the man's thighs as she moved ever closer, letting her tongue run slowly over the length, swirl around the head of cock.

The sigh of satisfaction.

She loved that sound.

She would start slowly. Licking, tasting, letting her tongue play with the cock she'd been given, her mind imagining the man behind it. She imagined she could tell a man's age from the taste and feel of a man's cock, yet of course it was impossible for her to know for sure. She also liked to imagine that one day, she'd recognise someone. A teacher perhaps. Then she'd sit wet in his class for the rest of the term, only to fall to her knees by the end of it, revealing everything and letting him fuck him hard against the desk. The teachers varied in her fantasy. The cocks in her mouth varied as well as she finally stopped teasing, letting her lips close around the length.

Another sigh of satisfaction.

She would work the cock in and out. Further in on every turn. bit by bit, inch by inch, a little further, until her nose reached the stomach behind, until the man above and behind the cock was grunting quietly while trying to look calm. Or so she would imagine. Then sometimes she would imagine the entire room filled with men in the same situation. Grunting, sighing, being sucked by horny girls under table cloths until they were shaking with pent up tension. Their hands would find their way under the cloths. They'd find the girls' hair, grab it, hold on and move her roughly back and forth as they moved their hips up and down erratically.

Then the final grunt. The final jerk of the hips.

And hot, salty come would fill her mouth and she'd groan herself with the pleasure, the power the rich feel of knowing you were responsible for that. It was the highlight of her day. Every day. Several times a day.

Madam Puddifoots was her fantasy.