Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: silvernatasha
From: ldymusyc

Title: Not On His List
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: NC17
Kinks/Themes Included: Pegging
Other Warnings/Content: None
Word Count: 1725
Summary/Description: As much as he wanted it, Harry didn't dare to put this on his Christmas list. Pansy got it for him anyway.



Harry leaned against the front of the sofa and tugged the silver ribbon bow off his head, wincing as the sticky tab pulled at his hair. "Not that I'm complaining," he called to the bedroom where Pansy was trying on the new set of robes he'd bought her, "but you said you had a surprise present for me." He looked at the open boxes and wrapping paper scattered around the small tree in the corner of the room. "Everything here is something I put on my list."

"Oh, you have a surprise coming," Pansy called back to him. "It's not something you put on your list, but I can guarantee you that it's something you want. It's something you've wanted for a very long time."

She stepped out of the bedroom and Harry's jaw dropped. Pansy settled her hands on her shoulders and drew them down her body, flicking her thumbs over her nipples and dragging her nails down her stomach. Licking her lips, she smiled at him as her hands slipped to her waist and plucked at the elaborate arrangement of leather straps that encircled her hips.

A long, slender cock hung between her thighs, obscuring the trimmed patch of dark curls he normally saw. It looked almost real, as if it was truly part of her body instead of attached to the harness she wore. Harry held his breath, unable to take his eyes away from her. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and coughed. "This, er. This.... I didn't...."

Pansy reached down, curled her fingers around her cock, and stroked slowly. "You think I don't know what you want, Potter? I know what you want. What you fantasize about. The magazines casually left open in the bathroom? The movies on the hotel bills accidentally left on the kitchen table?" She rubbed her thumb over the head of her cock and circled around the ridge. "You think I don't see the way you squirm when people make jokes about strap-ons? You think I don't hear the way you gasp when I grab on to your arse when we fuck? You can't hide it from me."

Harry pressed his lips together as if that would keep him from giving away a response, but it was useless. Pansy' eyes gleamed and she stepped closer to him, her cock held up and pointed at him. "Ingenious spell," she said with a purr. "It's a little something for both of us. Actually uses my juices and lets me come. Won't that be nice? Fill you up like you do to me." Harry's breath caught at the idea. As he watched, a small bead of fluid formed on the tip and slowly dripped down to run over Pansy's fingers. He shivered, his own cock throbbing against the zip of his jeans.

Pansy stood in front of him and reached down to curl her fingers beneath his chin. She coaxed him to look up, to meet her eyes, and she gave a slow, knowing smile. "Harry James Potter, Boy Who Lived," she said in a low voice, each word rolling off her tongue. "Get in the bedroom. Arse in the air."

He didn't have enough blood in his brain to be embarrassed about how fast he scrambled to run into the bedroom. He flung his clothes and glasses away from him and crawled onto the bed. Swearing, he popped up to grab his wand. He held it to his arse, blushing furiously as he cast a charm he'd used on Pansy a hundred times. He grunted when the spell sparked through him to leave him clean. He wasn't going to allow anything to interrupt this.

He tossed his wand onto the bedside table and hauled open the drawer. His hands were trembling when he rummaged in it, and he dropped the bottle of clear lube twice before giving up and dropping it beside him.

Harry ducked his head, resting it on his hands, and tried to breathe steady. He'd left little hints for Pansy here and there over the course of their relationship, but he'd never realized that she had picked up on them. Never actually expected that she would act on them. Seeing her there, with the harness cradling her hips and that realistic cock riding her groin, had his heart pounding and his mind in a jumble. He couldn't concentrate on anything except the thought that this was happening, that it was finally happening, and there wasn't a thing in the world he could do to thank Pansy for this.

He didn't hear her enter the room, his pulse beating against his ears too loud, but he felt her hands touch his back. He shuddered, muffling a groan against the mattress. He unconsciously pushed his arse a little higher, widened his knees a little further. His toes curled as he fought not to kick his feet with impatient need.

Pansy laughed quietly and brushed one hand down his arse, following the line between his cheeks. "So Gryffindor," she said. He heard the top of the lube bottle flip open. "So very Gryffindor. When you want it, you can't be even a little bit subtle about it, can you? All me, me, me, want, want, want. It's occasionally charming, but don't tell anyone I said that."

Her fingers probed between his cheeks and found the tight pucker of his anus. Harry forced himself to exhale, to breathe, as Pansy pushed one finger through the ring of muscle. She worked him gently, stretching and loosening him, crooning to him as he gulped for air. He clawed at the sheet when she worked three fingers into him and spread them wide.

"Deep breath," she said. The mattress dipped and squeaked as she climbed up behind him. She pulled his cheeks apart and held him open with one hand. The blunt head of her cock pressed to his hole. Harry took a breath, let it out slowly, and bore down to help her. Her cock pushed through, easing just inside him, and Harry moaned. "Good boy," Pansy said, pleasure clear in her voice, and she patted his arse with affection.

She moved with care, edging into him and withdrawing slow, letting his body get accustomed to the intrusion. Harry gripped the sheets, his head raised and lips drawn back in a grimace of mixed pleasure and pain. Pansy stroked his back as he grunted. She whispered to him, reassuring him and praising him. Harry thought of telling her how he'd practiced for this, how he'd used his fingers to open himself when he masturbated, but she pushed in deep and the tip of her cock brushed his prostate, and his thoughts shattered as he cried out.

Pansy gave a gleeful laugh and her hands settled on his hips. "That's the ticket," she said, her nails pressing into his flesh. She pulled him back and pushed forward until he could feel the leather straps rubbing on his arse.

Harry dropped his head onto his hands with a stuttered moan. "Please," he said, his voice cracking. "Pansy, please. Harder. I can take it, I can. All of it, please."

She made a muffled, triumphant cheer, and took a firmer grip. "Of course you can," she said proudly. "And you will."

She drew out, almost to the tip, just the ridge of her cock pressed inside him. She bent over and kissed between his shoulders where a thin film of sweat had formed. Harry felt her tongue flick over his skin and heard her soft noise of pleasure. She nipped at his shoulder blade and straightened up. "Hold on," she said.

Harry clung to the sheets, eyes squeezed shut. Pansy snapped her hips and drove into him. Deep and fast and hard and Harry let out a strangled cry. She didn't let up and he didn't want her to. He stretched his arms up to grab the edge of the mattress, digging his fingers in. Head between his elbows, he shoved back to meet each of Pansy's thrusts, bollocks swaying between his thighs and cock bouncing against his stomach.

Pansy smacked his arse. She wrapped one arm around his waist and slid the other beneath to grip his cock. She stroked him in rhythm with her thrusts, her fingers loose around his shaft and the head of her cock brushing his prostate. Harry knew he was speaking, but he didn't understand a word he said. His pulse drummed in his ears too loud. He might have been swearing, might have been praying. Might have been Parseltongue for all he knew. All he could comprehend was the desire, the need for more.

Pansy understood his incoherency. She gripped him tighter, drove into him harder. Harry's focus, his entire world, narrowed down to the connection between them, to her hand around his cock and her hips slapping against his arse. He burrowed his forehead into the sheets and bit at the cotton, gasping. Behind him, Pansy's breath was harsh and ragged; beneath him, her nails raked his stomach as she pulled him to her. "Harry," she said thickly. "Potter. Fuck, Potter."

She shoved into him, pumping her hand on his length, and Harry bucked under her. He slammed one hand into the headboard and pushed back, cock throbbing in her fingers. He scrabbled at the edge of the mattress, desperate for the finish, pleading with her to help him over the edge.

Pansy groaned, her free hand slapping on his back. Her fingers curled and twitched and dug into his spine. Her cock swelled in his arse and she came with a stuttered, high-pitched cry. Harry thrust into her hand, following her. He heard the spatters of come hitting the sheets, felt the pulse of each spasm deep in his gut.

Collapsing, he gulped for air. The sheets stuck to his stomach and Pansy's trapped hand. She fell over him, her lips against his shoulder blade. "Good," she muttered. Weakly, she stroked his sweaty hair. "Ver' good."

"Yeah," he mumbled. He struggled to get a hand back and pat her hip. Thumb hooked in one of the leather straps of her harness, he sighed in bone-weary relaxation. "Ver' good. Best present ever. Want for m'birthday, too."

Pansy hummed happily. "Not a problem. Think this might be all your presents for a long time, Potter."