First Time for EverythingAuthor:
Sex shops, pervertibles, nipple play, beggingOther Warnings:
~2000Summary/Description: It isn't that Pansy doesn't like sex; sex is one of her favorite things, really. But the idea of Muggle sex, well, that's another story. Author's Notes:
Thanks so much to ellensmithee
for the last minute beta!
If she didn't walk past the shop every
single day since she started working at Earnest Emily's Enchanted Boutique, Pansy is certain that curiosity would not have got the best of her. For the first few weeks, even the first month, she pretended that she had no interest at all in the Muggle sex shop with the pink neon lights in the windows and the ever-rotating display of books and lingerie in the window. In fact, she makes it a point to look in the other direction as she passes by.
It isn't that Pansy doesn't like sex; sex is one of her favorite things, really. But the idea of Muggle
sex, well, that's another story. She just can't imagine how they do it, how dull it must be without magic, how unpleasant. And then there are the practical concerns of disease protection and birth control. It's hard enough to picture the way Muggles go about the rest of their daily lives without magic, but to waste her attention on a question like how they get it on is simply ridiculous.
Today, however, has been a terribly long day. Not a single customer younger than 70 has walked into the shop, and every one of them has been picky, crotchety, and impatient. It's enough to drive a girl into the pub for the rest of the evening, a plan that Pansy has given some serious consideration. But she doesn't go to the pub. She decides to go home instead.
Today, the sun is shining, Pansy's new shoes are making the backs of her heels ache, and her favorite sunglasses are sitting in the small stockroom locker at the back of the boutique. Pansy rarely experiences days she would describe as "full of good cheer", but this one is looking particularly abysmal. She's feeling in a rut now, tired of helping old witches pick out brooches and scarves. She's feeling restless.
Today, she walks past that neon-lit window. Almost past. She stops this time. Full stop. She doesn't pause slightly on the ball of one foot, then keep walking. She doesn't slow up enough to hold traffic back whilst gazing out of the corner of her eye. No. She stops
in front of the shop and stares openly.
Today, she goes inside.
Inside there are shelves full of colorful boxes, racks of lacy and silky things, and display tables of Muggle sex toys, which appear, to Pansy, to be very much like wizarding sex toys, and she wonders how Muggles make them move without magic.
"I honestly thought I was the only magical person to find these things so astonishing."
The voice materializes against the back of Pansy's neck, and she jumps in surprise.
"Luna Lovegood," Pansy says, and she's shocked that the epithet "Looney" didn't fall from her lips first. She hasn't even thought of this woman in years.
"Pansy Parkinson," says Luna. "Are you looking for a dildo?"
"Am I--No!" Pansy says, and the tips of her ears start to burn. "Of course not!"
"Oh," says Luna, sounding disappointed. "Because if you're looking for a dildo, you're certainly in the right place."
Pansy shifts uncomfortably and starts for the door. "Perhaps I am in the wrong place," she said. Merlin, what was she thinking?
"Before you go," says Luna, "would you share your opinion on something?"
Pansy turns back to her. Luna, it seems, hasn't changed at all. She is still dreamy-eyed, shimmery dark blonde hair falling over her shoulders and into her face. She is still dressed oddly
Pansy likes to think that she
has changed completely. In truth, standing in front of Luna Lovegood makes her feel like that same girl from Hogwarts, the one who cared about nothing but her own standing, and the attention her actions garnished, the girl she has grown to detest a little bit. That part makes Pansy want to leave.
Luna, though, Luna makes Pansy want to stay.
"Fine," Pansy says irritably. "But make it quick."
"Yes! Quick!" says Luna, and she drifts over to a nearby display with no particular hurry.
Pansy exhales in exasperation and follows.
"All right," says Luna. "This one?" And she turns around, holding a bright blue harness over her hips. The strap-on attached is long and thick, shiny black latex that bounces as Luna thrusts her hips forward in demonstration. "House colors!"
All this makes little butterflies flutter low in Pansy's abdomen, and it makes her picture Luna in ways that she never would have considered before.
"Or this one?" says Luna, and this time the harness is shiny silver. "Sorry, they had no green. Pity."
"I..." Pansy doesn't know how to answer this. She doesn't know what to do with the knowledge that she wants
Luna Lovegood right now, that she can't even dismiss Luna's oddness because the idea of this woman in nothing but Pansy's old house colors is vivid in her mind.
"Hmm," says Luna. "Nevermind. I suppose they're unnecessary anyway."
"Unnecessary?" Pansy says. She's not following at all.
"Oh, it's all very exciting, of course, but these aren't the sort of things I prefer to work with," says Luna.
Pansy mulls those words over in her mind for a moment. Work with. In her mind's eye, Luna is an artist, and her work is spread all over the body stretched out in front of her like a canvas. The picture is intriguing. It's erotic. It's everything Pansy's life is lacking at the moment.
"Fine. I'll bite," Pansy says finally. "What would
you prefer to work with?"
Luna smiles dreamily. "My bed. A bottle of wine." She plucks a feather out of a tall vase near the cash register. "And this."
Pansy watches Luna pay with Muggle money, watches her nod and talk to the clerk, watches her tuck the feather behind her ear and bounce for the door.
"Well," says Luna, glancing back over her shoulder, "are you coming or not?"
"Am I..." Pansy finds that she needs to retrieve her brain from their previous conversation. "Where?"
"To watch me work!" says Luna, and she holds open the door.
Today, Pansy follows her home. ***
Pansy is not a drinker. She never could hold her liquor, so an occasional cocktail in public company is her limit. With Luna, she has nearly finished a bottle of wine by herself. She doesn't know why she's doing any of this, only that Luna intrigues her in a way that nothing else has in years.
Luna's wine falls over Pansy's lips, drips down her chin and over her breasts, and it makes her dizzy and happy and open
. Pansy likes distance, most of the time. She likes to keep herself--the real parts of herself--just out of reach. But Luna's wine is warm and lovely and it makes Pansy feel warm and lovely too. Tonight, Pansy wants to feel close
"You can lie down on the bed now," says Luna. "I don't bite." Her expression falls serious here. "Unless you ask me to."
"Why would I..." Pansy pales, realizes what Luna is getting at. "You think that I came over here... You think I want to sleep with you?" she says, and she's not sure why there's so much horror in her voice, since the thought of it has been playing in the back of her mind from the moment Luna appeared in the shop.
"No!" Luna laughs. "Why would you come over here to sleep? I'm sure you have your own bed."
Pansy can't quite figure out how to respond to Luna, and her brain is lazy with alcohol and she thinks that maybe she's sick and tired of being the girl who teaches old witches the right sticking charms to keep their hats on their wigs and their wigs on their heads. She unbuttons her blouse and drops it behind her, then climbs onto the bed.
"You have very nice breasts," says Luna.
"Thank you," says Pansy. She wriggles out of her skirt. The stockings and knickers take a while longer; Pansy's fingers are suddenly clumsy.
Finally naked on the bed, Pansy tucks both legs up beside her and leans on one arm.
"Not like that?" says Luna.
"Not like what?" says Pansy.
"That," says Luna. "Like this." And she takes Pansy's wrists and holds them above her head. "Keep them here."
It is in Pansy's nature to abhor commands like this. Who is Luna Lovegood to tell her what to do? Tonight, Pansy's been mellowed by alcohol, and by Luna
, and she wants very much to do this right.
Luna draws the pad of her thumb across Pansy's nipple and Pansy jumps, lets out a squeal.
"You like that," says Luna, and it's nothing more than an observation.
She pinches Pansy's nipples now, rolling them and kneading them between her fingers, and Pansy is squirming on the bed. Something deep inside Pansy's gut, something connected to her center, and then to her cunt, is thrumming with want. Luna sucks one of Pansy's nipples between her lips and Pansy shudders.
Pansy's arms have fallen lower, and Luna tsks gently, pushing them back up as she flicks the other nipple with her tongue.
"You spilled wine all over yourself," says Luna. "It makes you delicious."
Pansy smiles, and it's only then she realizes how foreign the expression is on her face. Luna traces one nipple with her nail and Pansy presses her thighs together, everything between them warm and wet with anticipation.
Luna takes the feather out from behind her ear, brushes one of Pansy's nipples lightly while squeezing the other.
!" Pansy fidgets and worries her lip with her teeth.
"These just might be my favorite breasts ever," says Luna, and she cups them in her hands, her tongue darting out over one nipple and then the other, over and over again.
Pansy presses her aching arms toward the ceiling. Luna teases the inside of Pansy's arm with the feather.
"Luna..." It's a single word request, because Pansy wants
right now, and she isn't sure what she wants, but she thinks that Luna knows.
"Yes?" says Luna.
"I want you to... touch me... more."
"Ask me again," Luna says and she draws the feather down Pansy's chin, over her throat, between her breasts. "Lie down first, then ask me again."
"Luna," says Pansy, and her voice is strained and thin as she stretches out on her back. "Please
"Are you begging me, Pansy Parkinson?" says Luna, cocking her head to one side, her tone entirely unassuming.
"Yes I am," says Pansy. "More Luna, please. I want more."
Luna sets the feather aside and takes up the empty wine bottle in its place. She pushes Pansy's knees up and apart on the bed. Pansy presses her chin to her chest to watch. Luna slides the bottleneck down the inside of Pansy's thigh. She pauses, just above Pansy's sex, and Pansy whimpers and bucks up off the bed. Luna smiles and it is radiant.
The bottle opening rolls in a perfect circle around Pansy's clitoris. Pansy bites into her bottom lip. Luna presses the bottle down against her and Pansy gasps. The bottle slides down further, pushes her lips apart, teases at the entrance of her body.
"Fuck me," Pansy hisses, and Luna laughs in response.
"Luna... fuck me, please
Pansy opens her legs further, opens herself to Luna, stretches her arms up overhead. The mouth of the bottle pushes inside and Pansy moans. Then Luna's tongue is pressing down on her clit, and Luna is tasting her, and Pansy wants to give her more, more, more because there really has never been anything better than this.
Luna starts twisting the bottle, sliding it in and out, and Pansy's world explodes into light and color, Luna's incredible mouth at the crux of it all.
Pansy is shaking as Luna pulls the bottle from her, raising it to her lips and dragging the tip of her tongue around the neck, tasting Pansy
"That was..." Pansy shakes her head, dark curls clinging to the beaded sweat on her forehead. It feels like Luna has taken her apart.
"Shimmering, shining, spectacular," Luna finishes for her, and Pansy can only nod.
Luna, who is somehow undressed now herself, crawls up Pansy's body, straddles her chest, and smiles down on her.
"And just wait," says Luna. "It's only going to get better."
Pansy sighs and smiles back, a wicked grin of anticipation. Tonight, Pansy gets everything she wants.