Title: A Roll in the Hay
Author: silvernatasha
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: R
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Bad porn - rough-and-tumble, working-class guy convinces stuck-up, snobby rich girl to get a little dirty.
Other Warnings: First time, purple prose.
Word Count: ~1,900
Summary/Description: Teased about being uptight by her friends, Pansy turns her attention to the new stable boy, Ron. Early 20th century AU-ish.
Author's Notes: This is probably better classed as bad erotica/romance novel than bad porn, but shh. It was fun to write. Thanks to anijade for reading this over for me.

"Pansy, my darling, what on earth are you looking at?" Astoria delicately added sugar to her tea, for to take it without was highly unfashionable in all the right circles at the moment. "You look like you're away with the fairies."

With great reluctance, Pansy drew her gaze from the window and back to her friends. "Just keeping an eye on the new stable boy. I can't say if I like his work or not yet."

"Oh, let's have a look!" exclaimed Daphne, rising to her feet so that she could peer out the window. As dark as her sister was fair, she cut quite the silhouette against the afternoon sunlight. "I say, that's a Weasley, isn't it? We had one of those come to break a curse on the family jewels, don't you remember, Astoria?"

"Mmm." Astoria sipped her tea. "Oh, yes. Very charming." Her thin lips curled into a smirk. "Excellent backside."

"I knew you kept dropping those pearls on purpose!" Daphne grinned and retook her seat with a swish of her skirts.

"Well, I think he has shifty eyes," Pansy said, lifting her chin. Honestly, she didn't put it past Astoria to entertain herself in such a fashion. After all, young Scorpius had been born a scant eight months after her wedding to Draco and Pansy didn't believe that he had been early for even a second. "And he has such big feet."

Daphne's dark eyes twinkled. "Well, you know what they say about men with big feet."

Pansy blinked. "No. What?"

Astoria giggled from behind her teacup. "Big shoes, of course." Still giggling, she shook her head. "Pansy, love, you really ought to lighten up a little. Let your hair down once in a while."

Raising a hand to check that her hair was still neat, Pansy gaped. "I do that sometimes." She sniffed. "And I am light."

Daphne reached over and patted her knee. "Of course you are."

By the time the Greengrass sisters swept out of the manor with more giggles and exclamations over the stellar quality of the cakes on offer, Pansy felt rather put out. Indeed, she needed something a little stronger than tea to put their teasing out of her mind. She shook her head. No. Even if it was always five o'clock somewhere, it was still a little early for that.

She summoned a maid with a flick of her wand and a tinkle of bells. "Go tell Weasley to saddle my horse. I'm going for a ride."

There. She could let her hair down. There was nothing quite like the way a good canter got one's heart racing.

She eyed Weasley as he passed her the reins, double-checking his work in case he had done it wrong. "Everything seems to be in order. I shall be back in about an hour. Clean my spare tack while I'm gone, will you?"

Ron gave a demure nod. "As you wish."

If Pansy Parkinson said she would be gone an hour, she was gone an hour and hardly a minute more. Her cheeks were flushed with exhilaration and she felt light as a feather. Clambering down, she let Weasley take Merryweather to his stable. Pansy let out a breath and unfastened her helmet, shaking her silky dark hair loose.

Frowning, she realised that Weasley was watching her as he tended to the horse. "What on Earth are you gawping at, Weasley? Shouldn't you be paying attention to the horse and not me?"

"Sorry, Miss Parkinson. As you wish."

However, while he wasn't permitted to stare at her, she was allowed to look at him. Tall, red hair, a freckled complexion. Hands that seems to be on a scale with those large feet of his, it seemed. There was nothing refined about him, naturally, yet his unpolished nature seemed to have a certain charm and Pansy did so like a man who followed orders well. Judging by the way he dealt with Merryweather, he was very attentive and she could see why her father had employed him.

He looked over at her as he hung up the tack; Pansy wondered quite how she had not noticed how blue his eyes were. Those eyes were limpid pools one could drown in. She had worn a dress the very same shade to Theodore's birthday ball. Perhaps she should have considered accessorising with a man. They seemed to be in vogue these days, judging by the number of wedding invitations that arrived in the post; just not a servant.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Parkinson?"

"No," she said sharply. "That will do."

Casting a glance back over her shoulder as she headed back towards the house, Pansy pouted. The impertinent man was still staring at her; she picked up the pace, hurrying on her way with a flush on her cheeks that had nothing to do with horse riding.

It took two days for Pansy to find the nerve to go back to the stables for fear of being stared at. Oh, she had been stared at plenty of times in the past, but usually when she wanted it and by those men that she deemed suitable. Weasley was a stable hand and therefore ought to be keeping his eyes to himself.

Finding the stable empty, Pansy made a fuss over Merryweather, talking to her horse softly as she tidied his mane. The sound of heavy footsteps cut across her quiet chatter and Pansy swallowed, reminded of the Greengrasses' comments about men with large feet. Goodness, the sound of someone walking shouldn't make her heart flutter so.

She peered at him across Merryweather's back. "What are you doing here?"

His mouth hung open churlishly. "It's the stable, Miss Parkinson," he said finally. When her icy glare didn't abate, he added, "I'm working."

Pansy's lips paled as she pressed them together. Working, indeed. Honest to Merlin, she was being an utter fool here. All because some blue-eyed boy spent a little too long looking at her. "Yes, well... carry on with that."

He half turned away, hand resting on the handle of a spade. "As you wish," he said slowly.

Slowly, Pansy returned to her work, though she grew ever more distracted as found herself watching him work. Merryweather provided a good shield to hide behind, but Pansy was sure he kept spotting her. There was nothing interesting about a stable boy, she told herself sternly, only he did seem to have rather nimble fingers.

She could almost hear Daphne and Astoria giggling beside her. Her skin prickled uncomfortably, as though it felt too tight for her body. Unfortunately, Weasley did nothing to ease her discomfort when he removed his shirt and continued his work. His broad back fairly glistened with perspiration and that should have been thoroughly off-putting, Pansy knew, only it simply served to make her want to run her fingers down his pale skin. Her mouth was dry at the thought.

Forgetting all about Merryweather, she simply watched, colour gradually rising up on her cheeks as she started to notice the strength in his arms and the particularly nice way his trousers clung to his backside.

The tip of the shovel hit the stone floor with a clang, dislodging Pansy from her happy place and making her jump; Merryweather was unconcerned. "Am I doing something wrong, Miss Parkinson?" Ron demanded tersely, barely bordering on polite and his blue eyes flashing with a stormy emotion that made her chest tight. His fingers gripped the handle, turning dangerously white.

She gaped. "No," she said finally. "You're doing well." Pansy bit her lip. "But..." Sighing, she slipped out of Merryweather's stable and secured the latch. "Weasley, my friends have been suggesting that I've been a little uptight as of late. Which is nonsense, naturally, but... well, do you have any suggestions for how I should unwind?"

He raised his eyebrows, surveying her for a long moment while Pansy's heart fluttered like a hummingbird. "Nothing that's appropriate, Miss Parkinson."

Oh, my. Something about that made her throb in an unexpected way. She coughed lightly to hide a whimper. Keeping her head held high, Pansy tried to remain composed, but that throbbing wasn't going away. "That might be acceptable."

"Er, all right, then." Ron tossed the shovel to one side, took a few long strides towards her and swept her up into his arms. Pansy barely had a moment to breathe in the scent of his musky manliness before she found herself lying atop a pile of fresh hay with him looming over her. He kissed her, lips strong and warm against her own. She drank him in, fingers tentatively sweeping over the firm expanse of his back.

His dexterous fingers found the buttons of her neat blouse, though his lips never left hers. He managed to unfasten the first button, but after a moment of fumbling with the second, Ron simply pulled hard and sent the buttons scattering and revealing her heaving bosoms to his gaze as she gasped.

"I liked that blouse, Weasley."

"It looks better off," he responded in a growl that sent a shiver down her spine. Well, that was her told. She couldn't find the words to disagree, not when he added a slightly belated, "Miss Parkinson."

As his lips found her chest, Pansy sighed, closing her eyes and surrendering herself to his touches. His hand cupped her virgin mound through her jodhpurs and Pansy squirmed with a breathy whine, the unfamiliar throb becoming all the more familiar as she revelled in the desire that coursed through her.

He really was excellent with his hands, she decided. Without words, he wordlessly persuaded her jodhpurs and underthings down, his own trousers unfastened in quick succession. Pansy bit her lip in wonder at the first sight of his turgid member, the length quivering in need as it pressed hot and heavy against her pale thigh.

"Take me!" she gasped, head falling back against the hay.

He breached her maidenhead with a smooth stroke, buried to the hilt. Pansy trembled in delight, moaning wantonly. Her lips formed an O of pleasure as the firm pistoning of his hips turned the initial pain of his entry into a mounting ache of need. The carnal drive of their bodies brought forth a chorus of moans and rasps that sung as sweetly in the summer air as the music of the spheres.

Pansy kissed Ron, her delicate fingers curling through his titian hair as the all-consuming sensations swept her ever closer to the crest of completion. The pulsing essence of her desire coiled tightly inside her, her breath catching as she found her rapture in his strong arms. Ron moaned against her lips, sheathing himself in her luscious body a final time as he lost control.

Drawing back from a slow, sated kiss, Ron's sapphire eyes fixed on her chocolate ones. "Was that what you wanted, Miss Parkinson?" His low murmur sent another spark of desire through her.

A contented smile stole across her reddened lips, sensuous and lustful all at once. "Yes, Weasley." She pulled him down for another kiss. "That will do."