Summersmut Mod (summersmutmod) wrote in hp_summersmut, @ 2009-08-18 00:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009, fic |
[FIC] Bridges :: Harry/Padma | gift for pettybureaucrat
Title: Bridges
Author:
Recipient: pettybureaucrat
Pairing: Harry/Padma
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,340
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Lots of things happen in libraries.
Author's note: I hope you enjoy this, pettybureaucrat! Thanks to miss_morland for the beta.
Harry loved visiting the library. It seemed different from what he was used to: a little cleaner, spacier, lighter, a bit more Muggle and a bit less mysterious than what he'd known at Hogwarts. He thought the systems that replaced the magic were interesting and had fun trying to figure out how notations and letters and the one old computer sitting in a corner did what “Accio” could do just as well. He liked how it was different, and yet he loved how it was still the same as he wandered into the back, away from the light – the same dark, the same mustiness and dust, the same smell of ink and books waiting for hands to pick them up.
He understood why Padma loved working here. She was a bridge-builder by nature and had finally been able to use that talent professionally, after dabbling rather unhappily in an administrative Ministry career. She always said she was only half-hearted witch, like she was only a half-hearted Indian – to which he kissed her and said that she was everything double, that she found the bridges and carried the best things across them to the other side. She usually smiled at him then in that way that meant she didn't agree, but thought it was sweet anyway, and offered up her neck for him to kiss.
He often surprised her with a bit of lunch when she was working. Today, though, he had a different idea. They had something to celebrate, after all.
He took another deep breath full of book and curled pages and ink, savouring the smell, and walked back to the front. It was a beautiful spring evening near to closing time, and the only people he encountered were some middle-aged men reading the newpapers and a girl with wet hair looking lost in the harsh lights, hesitating which book to take from the travelling section.
He slipped past the information lobby, nodding a greeting to the blonde girl behind it, and made his way down the section where the more valuable manuscripts were kept. It was even more silent there, and the lighting was soft and muted – the golden inks of old books gleamed at him from inside their glass cages.
She was sitting at a desk with her back towards him, shoulders working furiously as she wrote something down in that ridiculously fast handwriting she had.
He considered making a grab at her breasts from behind, but on second thought was sure that would land him with a hex in some unfortunate place. He knew she tended to forget her Muggle environment when her instincts took over, so instead, he walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, and quickly said “It's me!” when she whipped around, spooked.
“Fuck, Harry!” she breathed, eyes wide, “you almost gave me heart failure!”
“I'm sorry,” he smiled, noting the blotches of ink on her cheek. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you certainly did,” she replied. Her face softened as he settled himself next to her on the desk.
“Are you even allowed to say fuck in a library?” he asked, taking her notes in his hand and pretending to look at them.
“Sure, I guess,” she said, “as long as you don't intend it as a promise or something.”
He grinned at her and tossed the notes aside. “Really now?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Er, yes. Why are you here again?”
“Thought I'd come in and surprise my girlfriend with a bottle in celebration of her promotion to head librarian,” he replied, trying to be suave and charming. He pulled a bottle of wine from his rucksack and held it out for her to see. He felt a little like a puppy asking for something.
Her eyes flickered from his face to the bottle and back again. “You want me to drink while I'm working?”
“Technically,” he said, faltering a little under her almost exasperated gaze, “your shift ends in about four minutes.”
She took a look at the clock on the opposite wall and was silent for a second. “Well, I guess you're right, technically.” An amused smile was now tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Great,” he said, regaining a bit of the confidence that had been buzzing in his veins when he entered the library full of amazing sex ideas, “because I really wanted us to celebrate this with a glass of something nice. And, um, a good old-fashioned library fuck.”
She stared at him. He felt his cheeks glow and didn't really feel as sexy and smooth as he thought he would.
“Library fuck?” she echoed. Her face grew a little darker, and although it was always hard to tell with her, he thought she might be blushing. He already felt his cock stir.
“It's your favourite fantasy,” he whispered, leaning in to touch the ink splotches on her face.
“Yeah,” she breathed, “it is, but... Fuck, Harry – it's a fantasy for a reason, I don't know if I can – it's not –”
“There's no one here, Padma. And you basically own this place now, don't you want to... make it yours?” He was talking rapidly, his arousal steadily rising at what he was suggesting. They'd never done anything like this before. When she only stared at him doubtfully, he decided to act and folded his hands around her face to kiss her. After a moment or two, she kissed him back, and from the way she plunged his tongue into his mouth without much ado, he could tell she was turned on by this too.
They broke apart. “Okay,” she said breathlessly.
He grinned, his cock stirring enthusiastically. They kissed again; she was already pulling at his collar and rather awkwardly trying to get out of her chair at the same time. He broke the kiss for a second to slip off the desk, and pushed her chair backwards so he could stand in front of her.
“Need to figure out the logistics of this,” he smiled as she let her hands slide down his torso and tugged at his belt. “Maybe if you... sit on the desk?”
The look she gave him was one of pure fire that shot straight to his groin. She pulled his belt from its loops and dropped it to the floor, before rising from her chair in a very slow, languid movement that brought their bodies close together. “I can't believe we're doing this,” she said, but the way she leaned in and closed her lips over his earlobe showed no doubts. Harry groaned, his cock hardening until it was straining against his trousers.
They switched positions and she pulled her sweater over her head. Some of her hair was escaping from its stern bun in electrically charged strands that stuck to her forehead, and he kissed her hard, warmed to the core by how much he wanted to be close to her. She reached for his shirt and unbuttoned it, biting his lips as they kissed. He shrugged the shirt off and moaned as she raked her nails over his bare chest.
“Please,” she was panting inbetween kisses, so he wasted no time trying to unbutton her blouse completely and just pulled it open to reveal her bra, buttons jumping in all directions. He took a moment to appreciate the white lace of her bra against her gleaming brown skin, and the straining of her dark nipples barely visible inside it.
“Hey, that was a – a nice blouse,” she protested, but moaned as he pushed her bra down, not bothering with its clasp, and closed his mouth over one dark brown nipple. She clutched at his head, almost suffocating him against her chest – now there's a nice way to go, he thought in a lust-induced fog – and made small, soft sounds that echoed off the book cases around them, causing his hard cock to ache.
“Want to – taste you,” he said, letting go of her breasts. He didn't think it likely that he'd be able to string sentences together at this point, so he was glad when she only moaned in reply and helped him getting her sensible knee length skirt off. She kicked it away and hopped on the desk, not bothering to take off her high heels. The sight of her, half-dressed, ravishing, wearing those high heels he loved – it made him want to bury his face in the crook of her neck and never leave that place again.
He kneeled in front of the desk, spread her legs and slowly teased jer through the sticky white cotton of her knickers. He slipped a finger under the fabric and slipped his fingers wetly through her folds, his cock positively weeping now.
“Get it off,” she whispered; and, leaning back on her elbows, lifted her hips off the desk to allow him to slide her knickers down her legs. He left them hanging on one foot and kissed his way up her leg – wet, open-mouthed kissed that made her swear and try to pull him up faster. Eventually he got back to her cunt and lapped at it eagerly, moaning loudly at her deep sweet taste and smell, and at how she clenched her thighs around his face , at how everything in all his senses was her right now. She was already close, impossibly hot, and tried to ride his face as much as she could in her position. As he swirled his tongue around her clit and slipped one finger inside her, she came with an almost silent sigh, inner walls clenching around his finger.
He disengaged himself from her when she had come down from her high, and looked at her, face inflamed, eyes still closed. “That was fast,” he grinned as he hooked his tumbs around the waistband of his trousers and pants and pushed them down, freeing his cock.
“This is so hot,” she said, opening her eyes and giving him a smoldering look from between her long lashes. His throat almost constricted at how sexy she was, splayed on her desk with her blouse and bra still half on and her stern librarian hairdo coming undone. He gave a small squeak that was supposed to be an “I agree!” and positioned his hips between her legs.
“Ready?” he managed to get out.
“Oh yes,” she breathed, and then he pushed in, trying to go slow although his brain was combusting with lust. When he was fully sheathed inside her, he had to steady himself for a moment. It seemed like all the blood had rushed to his cock, leaving him almost ready to faint.
She whined and wiggled her hips, the feeling of which spurred him into action. He started rocking against her, leaning forward so his torso was resting on hers, supporting himself on his hands on either side of her. She gave a deep, guttural moan and locked her ankles behind his back, working with him in the same rhythm. He tried to keep his movements even and steady for a couple of minutes, but then he couldn't help speeding up as he felt his orgasm approaching. “You're so hot, you're so hot, I can't –” he babbled incoherently.
“Harder,” she was saying, and also something about books and fucking, and then she did something – leaned forward against him as far she could and teased a fingertip over his arsehole. The jolt that went up his spine was unbelievable, and just as she pushed her finger just a tiny little bit inside it, he came harder than he thought possible, the light of the library flickering before his eyes.
He collapsed on her as if boneless, and they panted in synch for a couple of moments.
“Sweet fuck,” he said when oxygen was finally reaching his brain again.
“You could say that,” she replied breathlessly.
They kissed sloppily, languidly. Then he disengaged himself with a comical 'pop' that made her laugh. He laughed too, still feeling shaky.
“Let's get home?” she suggested, and he nodded against her collarbone, savouring the warmth for just another minute.
Then he got up and started to look around for their various pieces of clothing scattered around the desk.
“Hey,” she said, “we didn't drink this.” She held the bottle of wine he'd brought in her hand.
“Oh, right,” he replied. “Well, another time, I suppose?”
They got dressed, feeling almost drunk, laughing at stupid things. When they stumbled out of the old book section, the lights in the rest of the building were out and they spent another five minutes kissing against the information counter.
Outside, she said: “Let's take a taxi.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I don't feel like Apparating,” she smiled, and something about her was alert again, as if she was up to something.
“Okay,” he agreed, and hailed one. They settled inside and said their hellos to the driver.
After moment he said: “You know, that was certainly something new,” and she giggled and leaned close to his ear.
“You mean,” she breathed, “when you came like a kite when I stuck a finger in your arse?”
He coughed. “Well, yeah,” he whispered back.
“You liked it, right?”
“Yeah, I – I think so.”
“Good,” she said and reached inside his trousers.
That was the great thing about her: she learned about things, and then she tried them, and made bridges with them to the other side.
“Well,” he said, suppressing a gasp as she squeezed his cock, “I suppose we do still have that bottle.”
Their driver cocked an eyebrow in his mirror.