Who: daphne greengrass and roger davies When: continued/slightly backdated from 17th september Where: roger's home What: a ridiculous amount of things Warning: NSFW Status: completed in docs
There was his hand again, sending goosebumps cascading over her leg in its wake. She was sure that every little hair on the back of her neck was standing on end as he caught the zip on her dress with fingers from his other hand. The sound was almost palpable in the quiet around them. She closed her eyes and inhaled as his lips came to rest against her neck. The bite that followed earned him a soft gasp.
She went into the kiss with an eagerness that surprised her. Part of her wondered if she should be more tentative, more uncertain about wanting to kiss him, but the rest of her just wanted to feel. He was good at making her feel, she found. The little movement of fingertips over fabric, finding a path up to her shoulders so he could work her dress free of them. She let it fall carelessly and didn't even bother stepping out of it as she continued to kiss him.
Once more his hands were distracting. Drawing her attention as if they were speaking to her as they moved across her skin. When he pulled back, she drew in a breath, her lower lip mimicking his as a flush heated her cheeks. She wasn't embarrassed about someone seeing her in a state of undress, but she could almost feel the warmth of his eyes as they moved over her breasts. Daphne wondered how something as simple as a look could make her feel hot all over. The compliment made her smile, brow arched slightly over one eye. "I could say the same about you," she said. "I certainly don't have those muscles," she pointed out, fingers resting lightly against his abdomen.
--
Roger smiled when Daphne told him that same could be said about him. If there was one thing they had definitely managed to establish in the space of that evening, it was that Daphne didn’t find Roger unattractive. At her words that she didn’t have the sort of muscles as Roger did, he let his hand run lower, thumb brushing against the soft skin of her belly. She may not have been toned, but Roger really didn’t care. Daphne was stunning, as much as she had been in her dress as she was now out of it. Rather than repeating himself again, though he could, Roger caught her lips with his again, the kiss slightly less gentle and careful, but still plenty of soft.
With his hand coming to rest on Daphne’s hip, Roger moved backwards towards his bed, pulling her with him as he did so, only breaking the kiss when his legs hit the edge of the bed so he could sit down, before pulling her into his lap. Roger’s hand slid downwards from Daphne’s hip, over the material of her panties, before he slid a thumb under the side, softly rubbing against the skin underneath. With her in his lap now, Daphne’s breasts were at the perfect height for Roger to run his lips over them, free hand coming to unhook the clasp of her bra. If he hadn’t been so distracted by replacing the material with his lips, Roger would have been rather proud at having managed to remove her bra with one hand.
Capturing one of her nipples between his lips, Roger gave it a tentative lick, sucking lightly before letting go again. With both of his hands now on Daphne’s hips, Roger shifted her slightly so he could situate himself between her legs better, the material of her underwear the only thing between them as he gave a slight thrust upwards, mostly hard at this point. “Still whatever you want,” he told her, before licking across the side of her neck.
--
Daphne's muscles twitched slightly under his touch. They weren't as defined as his by any means, but it was impossible to keep them from trembling beneath his thumb. She liked his hands on her and the way that he looked at her. It certainly hadn't hurt that he'd called her beautiful. It was easy to feel beautiful when he was looking at her like that.
She settled easily into his lap, adjusting to the way that it felt to be so easily maneuvered. Again she fixated on his hands. Daphne was sure that he'd probably touched dozens of women the same way he was touching her now, but she found that it didn't really matter. It felt good. She focused on that feeling and let it take over, following it wherever it might lead. It became difficult to focus on the hand at her hip as his other slipped up her back and undid the fastenings of her bra. She smirked a little at how skillfully he did so. Helping him off with the bra, she dropped it by the bed, barely having time to release the fabric before his lips found her nipple. She was sure that if she hadn't slipped her arm around his shoulder that she probably would have levitated off of the bed.
The sound she made was both of pleasure and of surprise. It was as though there was some invisible string tied between her breasts and the junction of her thighs, making her roll her hips against him involuntarily. The thrust of his hips was perfectly timed and she let her head roll back on her shoulders. "Keep doing that," she told him, back arched enough that her breasts were easy to touch again.
--
Roger was certainly more than happy to recapture one of her nipples with his mouth when her back arched, pushing her breasts closer to him. The way Daphne’s body responded to his touch, the way she moved on top of him, it made Roger want to do more, to touch her more, to capture all of the movement and heat between them. Almost unable to stop himself, Roger thrusted upwards again, but the motion was shallow, mostly a roll of his hips. There was enough of a friction between her body and his for Roger to swallow a soft groan, though. Moving one of his hands up to run a thumb over the nipple he wasn’t currently licking, Roger’s other hand gave Daphne’s hip a squeeze.
She felt like fire against him and Roger really wanted more. There was heat radiating from her where his erection pressed against her, the material of her underwear undoubtedly getting wet. Finally pulling back from Daphne’s breast, Roger gave another groan, this one resounding around them now that it wasn’t being swallowed up by her skin. “Fuck me,” Roger said, the words leaving his lips before he had much of a time to consider them, not that Roger felt like he currently could’ve given thinking a great deal of go. Roger didn’t want Daphne to do anything that made her feel uncomfortable, but he also did really want her to fuck him. He didn’t doubt that the thought was illustrated by his hardness between her legs.
--
The entirety of the situation was the most confusing, unexpected turn of events that Daphne thought she had ever experienced in her life. Still, she didn't want to stop. Knowing that she didn't want to stop was a terrifying thing, if she thought too long on it. She was very confused at how they had ended up here but found herself unwilling to rewind. For the first time in a very long time, she didn't feel like there were millions of expectations to live up to. She didn't have to be a lesbian. She didn't have to be straight. She didn't have to do anything, really, if she didn't want to. Maybe that was why she did so desperately want to.
There was a heat that she felt inside of her, a slow burn that she was sure was one more gentle blow away from being a wildfire and all she wanted was for Roger to keep stoking that fire until it enveloped her completely. The words that he said were gasoline. She kissed him again, more roughly than before, slipping off of his lap without pulling her lips away. It was only when she had to straighten herself out to stand properly that she let their lips part, breaking the kiss so she could peel her panties off and discard them.
While her brain wasn't functioning very well, she did have the presence of mind to find her wand amongst her things. A quick spell to ensure they had plenty of protection in place, she set her wand on the side table by his bed and turned her eyes on him again. "Does that mean I can be on top?"
--
Roger leaned as much forwards as he could manage when she got up, keeping the kiss for as long as he could before she broke away. He blinked, watching her take the last bits of her clothing off, cast a spell and then look at him again. The question made Roger’s breath catch in his throat because his body had attempted to respond to it both with a laugh and a moan of anticipation. Reaching out, Roger pulled Daphne back in closer, lips running up against her neck, over her jaw. His hands traveled over her body, wanting to touch her everything. Wanting everything from her. Or whatever she was willing to give. At this point Roger was quite willing to settle for that completely.
“Whatever you want,” he repeated, his words utterly honest. Roger waited for her to resettle on top of him but stopped himself, very consciously, from pushing upwards as he had when there had been a material of clothing between them. Roger wanted her to be able to decide the rhythm. To choose what worked for her and what didn’t and whilst he really hoped there wouldn’t be anything that didn’t work for her, Roger was still more than willing to let her dictate that.
Moving his hand to hers, Roger wrapped his fingers around Daphne’s wrist, but lightly enough that she could pull away with ease if she wanted to. Carefully, he led her hand between them, until her fingers brushed against his cock. Roger had to bite his lip at the contact so he wouldn’t give a groan, wouldn’t have his body jerk upwards. “It’s your experiment,” Roger reminded her with a small smirk, mostly to indicate that he was teasing. Not that it made it any less true. He wanted her to choose this.
--
His willingness to let the situation go up to the point where she felt comfortable with was appreciated. Having that much control and power over the situation made her feel very sure of herself. Well, as sure of herself as she could feel with all of the confusion rolling through her head. She kept rowing that paddle boat through that confusing ocean of emotions and would keep doing so for as long as it kept feeling good.
She rejoined him on the bed, letting him resettle against the blankets before she repositioned herself above him. She was more conscious of the heat coming off of him now that there was no barrier between them. It made Daphne bite her lip to keep from whimpering appreciatively. Whatever she wanted, he kept saying. Yes, whatever she wanted.
She didn't fight his touch and let him guide her hand between them, her fingertips connecting with his erection with the lightness of a feather. Her eyes were on his face, watching the way his lip got caught between his teeth. She wanted to bite his lower lip again like he was doing now. She found that she wanted to do a great many things, actually.
Tentatively, at least at first, she wrapped her fingers around him and gave a little squeeze. She kept her eyes on his, watching for any little reaction that she could get out of him. "I think that I like being in control," she said.
--
When her fingers wrapped around him, Roger’s breath caught, replaced by a soft groan, hips bucking upwards slightly before he could even attempt to stop them from doing so. Roger’s whole body felt starved of her touch, despite the fact that she was so close it felt like she was everywhere. Her words made Roger smile softly. There were plenty of more ways in which she could’ve been in control, deciding when and how and if they had sex was such a minute way of being in control and yet, Roger realised, he enjoyed that she had that control. Enjoyed letting her choose and do what she wanted.
“Please,” he offered almost automatically, the tone so begging it surprised him a little. But Roger thought he’d beg more if it meant she kept touching him. His hands, now free, run over her thighs where they rested on each side of him, upwards to her hips and to her waist, thumbs caressing against her skin. Tilting his head upwards, Roger caught Daphne’s lips into another kiss. It was less gentle and faster than the ones before, and Roger did his very best to pour all of the need for her he currently felt into that kiss, in a hope that she’d do something about it.
--
The sound he made echoed in Daphne's mind and she was pleased with herself that she'd found a way to pull such a sound from him. It made her feel powerful. As silly as she knew that feeling probably was, it was still there. She was in control of the situation enough that she could stop at that very moment if she felt the need to. Having that ability alone was a power that she wielded proudly. She wouldn't, however, use that power to halt the movement of the evening, not when he begged so prettily.
The kiss was more fuel for the fire that still burned inside of her. She returned it with just as much needfulness as she aligned their bodies. It was only as she shifted her weight and drew him in that it became too much to focus on the kiss and the movement in tandem. Her lips parted in a gasp against his, fingers releasing their grip on him in favor of moving to his chest to balance. It was a new sensation that nothing thus far in her life really compared to. She couldn't claim that she hadn't experimented with plenty of lovely battery operated pleasantries, but Daphne had to admit that it wasn't the same as the real thing.
There was discomfort, but not enough to stop her from sinking fully onto him, the tips of her nails biting into his chest as she settled above him. Eyes closed, lips parted, Daphne did her best to remember how to breathe before she could do anything else.
--
Roger didn’t even attempt to stop the moan that escaped him when she took him in, the heat between them somehow managing to feel even hotter. Roger’s hands steadied against Daphne’s hips, careful not to make her move as he let her adjust to his body, let her lower herself down on him as quickly or slowly as she wanted. His breathing was coming in shallow, jarred sounds and Roger desperately wanted her to move, but he didn’t allow himself to move instead. It was still whatever she wanted and so far Daphne seemed to be quite happy to decide the speed and pace at which they did anything.
To stop himself from bucking upwards, towards her, into her, Roger shifted slightly, another gasp escaping his as he did so since she moved with him and he just wanted more. Instead, though, Roger brought his mouth back to her breasts, kissing across the skin softly, before his mouth came to swallow up one of her nipples again, sucking lightly onto it as he ran his tongue over the hot skin. She felt amazing and Roger wanted to show her that.
--
Daphne was overwhelmed by sights, sounds, and sensations as he shifted beneath her. Her own breath was shaky at best and she was almost certain that she was trembling inside and out. She wondered if he liked it slow or quick, a combination of the two perhaps, but was immediately distracted from all of that the moment that he caught her nipple in his mouth again. The sound she made was very much louder than she intended it to be and she clamped her lower lip between her teeth to keep from doing it again.
She wanted to touch him all over just to see what spots urged him to make noises. She wondered idly if he might be ticklish and immediately wondered why such a silly question would even pop into her head. Her hands left his chest, moving to the back of his head to clutch and tug at his hair just to keep him right there against her breast. Daphne felt sensitive all over and each time his tongue moved against her flesh, she was sure her hips twitched in response.
"Fuck," she whispered, eager to move and to feel. She thought of lifting herself only to slide back down again but was unwilling to pull away from him even accidentally so she settled for grinding herself against him instead. She gasped at the spark that sent through her veins, her nails grazing his scalp.
--
The way Daphne’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling Roger in closer as much as she pushed herself against him, made Roger want to give her more. Do more for her. And then she began rocking against him and Roger groaned against her skin, loudly enough for the sound to fill the room. He would have pulled back to kiss her, except that her hand kept him close and Roger was hardly going to stop what she seemed to enjoy plenty in favour of something else. So he continued to lick and suck, letting his breath come in gasps against her.
Roger’s hand that was still on Daphne’s hip, gave it a squeeze, before pulling her in slightly closer. It wasn’t a harsh movement but the way she rocked into him, Roger wanted to rock back and he couldn’t really stop himself from the way he pushed into her to meet her movement halfway. She was so hot around him and so hot in general. Roger enjoyed the noises she made, both from the movement between them but also from his mouth on her skin. When he did pull back, it was only to give Daphne a kiss that was borderline hungry, before his mouth moved back down and onto her other nipple, fingers gripping against her hip as they both moved.
It wasn’t a sharp or fast or hard movement, but it still felt like so much. Probably because Roger tried to stop himself from moving too much, letting her move however she wanted whilst he concentrated on making her moan.
--
His breath was molten against her skin, almost so hot it was unbearable but not quite. A slow dance, their bodies moving so slightly that it was as if they weren't moving at all. The heat was so massive between them that Daphne wondered if there would be Roger-shaped handprints on her thighs when they fell apart again.
It took a great amount of willpower to fist a handful of his hair in her hand and pull him back from her breast for one more kiss. Wild-eyed and starved for more, Daphne's hands went to his chest again, pushing him away from the kiss and down towards the pillows as she finally moved more than an inch from him. The slow slide around him again was just as heated as the first, but she kept her eyes open this time.
--
Roger followed the way she moved his body with such ease that it felt effortless. When she pushed him down, Roger went willingly, a hand running up her body to cup the breast his lips had been on, the other hand still steady on Daphne’s hip. When she moved, Roger caught his lower lip between his teeth with a soft ‘fuck’ uttered at the sensation the movement brought. He wanted her to move more, to move faster, to move harder but he also wanted her to stay exactly where she was and have him however she wanted.
“Daphne,” Roger managed in half a breath. “Move,” he said somewhat verbalising what the thoughts in his head were, though mostly, he wasn’t even all that able to follow whatever he was saying. Until, at least, Roger realised that there might be something even more helpful to say. “Please,” he repeated, pouring a great deal of need and desperation into that. Begging her to let him have her, or rather, to have her have him.
--
The difference between the word 'fuck' and the word 'please' was massive and yet they both wound Daphne up inside like a rubber band. She wasn't sure how long it would take before she snapped, but she could feel that tension inside of her building and tightening with every word and every movement. Reducing him to merely one word responses, she still felt in control of the situation. He didn't force her to do anything even if he did beg for it.
She gave into that pleading by finding a rhythm and losing herself in it. She tried to focus on his face, on his lips, but was quickly swept up in the sensations and gave up fighting to keep her eyes open.
"Again," she said softly, breath hitching in her throat. Sucking in another breath, she clarified. "Say my name again."
--
When she did move, Roger really would have given her anything, so the request to say her name again was met with an almost overly eager adherence as Roger held onto her, hips pushing down into the bed so they wouldn’t push up and somehow break the magic of whatever was happening. Somewhere in between repeating her name, probably more than once, and grasping out swear words, Roger did manage to pepper in a few more ‘please’s.
Reaching up with the hand that wasn’t on Daphne’s hip, Roger brought his hand up to the back of her neck, pulling her down so he could kiss her. Her mouth felt as hot as everything else did and Roger had to physically still himself so he wouldn’t come right there and then. He desperately wanted to slam upwards and into her, to meet that heat and seek out more of it, but something about not doing that was almost as hot as if he had.
--
The restraint that Roger had was awe-inspiring. Daphne couldn't refuse the way her hips wanted to move once they'd gotten started and here he was keeping his so deliciously still. She poured herself into that kiss, her hips moving in perfect rhythm with their tongues. Seeking out his hands, she laced their fingers together only to draw his hands up on either side of his head, pressing him down against the pillows as her teeth nipped at his lower lip.
The grip on his hands tightened as her pace quickened, her insides tightening up more with each rise and fall of her body. The tighter that ball of tension in her belly got, the shallower her movements became until she was merely grinding herself against him, seeking out that edge that she could feel coming at her full force.
Daphne wasn't entirely aware of when the grinding melted into twitching above him but suspected it was somewhere around the moment that the rubberband snapped inside of her. The silence in the room was snuffed out by some mixture of a curse and his name, the grip on his hands so tight her knuckles paled. Even after the sound disappeared, Daphne's mouth still remained open, her breath coming out in pants.
--
Roger let her take his hands so easily it didn’t strike him that her movement felt like punishment until she was holding his hands down so hard Roger couldn’t pull them away without putting actual effort into it. But it also felt good. Amazing really. Both the way she held him down and the way she moved above him, so evidently drawing her own pleasure out of the movement. Roger felt so oddly used but also satisfied. He wanted her to use him, wanted her to do whatever brought her pleasure, whatever let her get something out of this. And he was more than happy to follow her lead.
When her breath came in gasps, his name mixed in between them, Roger did buck his hips upwards, coming so hard he felt like he might’ve briefly lost the ability to see. He was sure that similarly to Daphne, Roger’s own breath had come with moans, swear words and her name, all jumbled together, but if asked, he really wouldn’t even be able to untangle it. Afterwards, his body relaxed under hers, one hand pulling away when Daphne’s grasp loosened. Only enough, though, to bring his hand up to her face and then pull her into another kiss. This one, though, was softer, more careful. Almost thankful.
--
Feeling him follow her over the edge was enough to make her shudder. She'd experienced many things but the way that felt had not been one of them. That on fire feeling didn't go away. Maybe it wasn't a raging forest fire, but the embers still glowed, brightening as he caught her face in his hand and pulled her into another kiss. She returned it just as softly, releasing his other hand and cupping his face gently as she tipped her forehead against his.
She opened her mouth to say something, her voice unwilling to come out at first. Swallowing, she tried again. "I do believe that it's safe to say that I find you sexually attractive too," she said, laughing softly.
--
The gentleness of the kiss and her touch in contrast to what she said made Roger laugh against Daphne’s lips. An honest, deep laugh that he barely had energy for. His hands moved back down to her hips, lifting her off of him carefully and slowly enough that he gave another low groan as he did so. Shifting Daphne next to him, Roger managed just about enough movement to pull a blanket over them, blinking sleepily as he reached to switch the light off, a soft glow from the light left on in the living room filling the bedroom.
Roger’s hand settled low on Daphne’s stomach as his breath slowly recovered. “I feel spent,” he said out loud but mostly as a general statement rather than anything he particularly felt like needed to be said. The yawn that followed it was unstoppable and Roger could barely even think about asking her to leave. The thing was, though, that Roger wanted her to leave. Desperately. Because he didn’t want her to leave at all, he wanted to pull her in closer and rest his head against the pillow and sleep. With her there. Which really just meant that he should have insisted she left but instead Roger just sighed softly.
--
He moved her so easily off of him that it made her smile a little. She felt very light and feminine next to him and it was strange that such feelings were so nice. What was also strange was the fact that he hadn't asked her to leave. She was confused by that fact and very nearly asked him if he wanted her to go, but kept her mouth closed once he pulled the blanket over them. She thought that maybe she should leave, but she found that she didn't want to. She was quite content to lay there with him.
Daphne gave up on looking for an explanation and curled her arm around his middle, snuggling in close and resting her head against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat thumping beneath her ear and it was probably that which lulled her off to sleep before she could say another word.
--
It was Sunday morning, which meant there was no alarm going off to wake Roger for work. He still blinked awake quite early in the morning, but that was the faith of those who got up early regularly. Waking up early really wasn’t very new to him, a ray of sunshine sneaking through the curtains and across the bed, filling the room with a touch of light. What was if not new, then certainly not something Roger experienced a lot, was waking up with someone else in his bed.
Usually, almost exclusively, Roger made his one night stands leave after sex. He didn’t like sleeping with someone because he had no idea how to do that. Last night, though, Roger had wanted Daphne to stay. That was a realisation that made Roger’s breath catch as he suddenly felt extremely awake, turning his head to look at Daphne as she slept next to him. They’d migrated slightly apart during the night, probably due to overheating, but she was still close enough that Roger could feel her breath against his skin. It wasn’t until his hand was halfway towards her, to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face that Roger even realised what he was doing. So he stopped himself, pulling his hand back.
This was not what Roger did. Roger did not bring girls home and have amazing sex with them and have them stay. The former two, sure, he was quite an expert in that, but this wasn’t just them accidentally falling asleep, Roger had chosen not to ask her to leave. And he felt rather confused about the whole thing. And also had no idea what he was meant to do now.
So slowly, as not to disturb her, Roger got out of the bed, locating some jogging trousers to pull on before he left the room, heading to the kitchen where the coffee lived, in vain hope that coffee would somehow make everything he had felt clearer. It didn’t, really, but the smell of it that filled the kitchen did make Roger feel more... grounded, he supposed. He made enough so there would be some for Daphne, too, when she did wake, leaving it in the coffee machine so it’d keep warm. An owl arrived with the Sunday papers, so Roger settled himself at his dining table with a mug full of hot liquid and a paper in front of him as he tried very hard not to think about how not only had he let Daphne stay but also how the sex they had had was probably one of the best he’d ever had.
--
She didn't stir when he moved off the bed or even to the sounds of the coffee as he made it. It was the smell that drew her out of her sleep. Daphne peeked one eye open, lifting her head a little to take in her surroundings. She hadn't had enough to drink the night before to be confused about where she was but she was definitely still confused about why she was still there. She wondered if he'd gotten up so quickly because he had really wanted her to already be gone. Probably. Who knew.
Dragging herself out of the bed, she looked at her dress on the floor and didn't bother to pick it up, slipping her panties on and reaching for his shirt instead. At least she didn't need help to put that on like she would with the zipper of her dress. She could change once she'd had coffee and told him it was alright if he wanted her to go.
Stepping out of his room and heading towards the smell, she stopped in the doorway and looked at him as he read his paper and sipped his coffee. For a moment, she said nothing and just watched him, still confused. When she did speak up, it was quietly. "It's okay if you're ready for me to leave," she told him. "Would it be terribly imposing if I stay long enough to have coffee and weasel you into zipping me into my dress first?"
--
Roger had been so absorbed into reading the latest failures of the DMLE according to The Prophet that he didn’t hear Daphne come into the kitchen until she spoke. When she did, he looked up from the paper about to reply when the words sort of caught in the back of his throat at the way she stood there, wearing nothing but the shirt he had had on the night before. Daphne had looked amazing in the dress she had worn last night, she had also looked amazing completely naked in front of him, but now she looked just us stunning wearing a tshirt Roger was sure he had owned for years.
“I made you coffee,” he replied not really paying attention to the fact that it didn’t answer her question. Getting up, he fetched a mug off of the mugtree, pouring coffee into it as he nodded towards the table so she’d take a seat. Bringing to mug over, he put it in front of her before sitting back down. There was milk and sugar on the table if she wanted any and briefly Roger wondered whether he should offer her breakfast. He then decided that since he wasn’t having breakfast, the hospitality might be a bit too much.
Taking a sip of his own already half drank coffee, Roger looked down at the paper and then back at Daphne as he tried to think of what he was meant to say. What he did end up saying wasn’t really what he had intended to. “So did I put you off of all other men?” In a way, Roger really hoped she said yes. That this was when Daphne would tell him that actually the sex had been terrible and she was definitely only into women and Roger could write the whole thing off as some bizarre accident.
--
He hadn't answered her question, not really, but she wasn't refusing the coffee that he offered her. She'd given him the opportunity to tell her to leave without it and he hadn't so she didn't worry overmuch about it. She moved to sit at the table, thanking him when he sat the mug in front of her. Reaching out to wrap her hands around it, she let the warmth of the coffee within to radiate through the cup and into her skin. She was about to reach for the milk or perhaps the sugar when he asked that question and she was left uncertain of how to respond.
Yes? Maybe. In the sense that she wasn't really considered with having sex with other men at present. No? Definitely, because she wasn't at all in objection to having sex with at least one man again. She bit her bottom lip as she pondered over the response. "Yes and no," she told him finally. It was honest and that was what he'd been with her. "I'm not thinking about sleeping with other men," she told him. "But you haven't put me off of sleeping with you."
She looked up at him then. "Unless, of course, last night wasn't as fantastic to you as it was for me."
--
Daphne’s reply made Roger give a soft sigh. It wasn’t a disappointed one, though, no matter how much he had hoped it might sound like one. Her words, the fact that she would have sex with him, it made Roger’s head fill with images of last night, the way her body had felt against his, the way her hands had held him down, the way she-- “I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had,” Roger told her far too frankly, before putting his mug down on the table with enough force to make it slosh over his fingers despite the mug being half empty.
“Fuck,” Roger swore not because the coffee was hot, because by now it was mostly lukewarm, but because it struck him that it was true. Roger had had plenty of amazing sex and yet none of it had made him so desperate and starved and yet satisfied at the same time. People really weren’t meant to have the best sex of their life with someone they met in a pub the night before, Roger was sure. In fact, people definitely weren’t meant to have such good sex with someone who hadn’t even been convinced they were into you.
Wiping the coffee off of his fingers against his trouser leg, Roger looked at Daphne. “I don’t know what I’m meant to do with you,” he said honestly.
--
Daphne was surprised by his words and startled by the force he sat his mug down with. She was left blinking owlishly at him. She wasn't sure what to say, so she just watched him as he wiped the spilt coffee off of his fingertips onto his trousers. The fact that she was positive a man as attractive as Roger had plenty of sexual encounters in his lifetime and was telling her now that he thought a night with her had been the best was astonishing. She wondered if he was just trying to make her feel better. Building up her ego, perhaps? But no, it didn't seem that way. The tone of his voice wasn't sing-songy or fake. He wasn't lying. It didn't take a genius to be able to figure that out.
The last statement was something she could very much relate to. "I don't know what I'm meant to do with you either," Daphne told him. "Yesterday I was absolutely certain that I was a lesbian. It was the only thing that I was certain about and now I have absolutely no idea what is going on. My brain feels fuzzy and confused and even sitting here with you I'm warring with running out the door screaming or rushing over and rubbing myself all over you." She swallowed. "Have I lost my mind? This… I don't know what this is."
--
Yesterday, before Roger had met Daphne, hell, even halfway through their conversation, when she’d joked how he no-doubt would want to brag about bedding a lesbian, Roger had been so sure she was right. The idea of telling Arran who didn’t even speak to Roger anymore had been so clear in his mind. Of course Roger would want to brag. Hell, who wouldn’t? How many times in your life did you really get to claim that you’ve managed to convince someone who thought themselves unattracted to your gender as a whole that actually having sex with you was a great idea? Except now, sat at his dining table with Daphne, Roger didn’t want to tell anyone. It felt like he’d somehow would be betraying what had happened between them and that just made Roger even more confused.
“I like you,” Roger told her in a tone that he found almost too calm. “I think you’re interesting and quite lovely and, Merlin, can you fuck well,” he said crudely but honestly. “I want you to leave so badly, because I don’t know what to do with liking you.” What was as startling as the point itself, was the fact that Roger just didn’t feel like he couldn’t tell her that. It seemed so inconsequential. He had told her that he slept with his best friend’s girlfriend, he’d told her that he was jealous of Lydia being happy, he told her that he tried to please his dad despite knowing his father wouldn’t care and she had still come home with him. So this? It just didn’t seem like something he shouldn’t tell her.
Pushing his mug around the table slightly, for no other reason than to have something to do with his hands, Roger shook his head. “I want you to leave, but I also want to fuck you against this table so badly.” And what the fuck was he meant to do with that?
--
His words should have been confusing. They should have been startling enough to make her decision for her to leave and not look back. They weren't, though. They were oddly comforting. He seemed just as uncertain and confused as she was. Maybe more so. She liked him too, such a strange and unexpected sensation that she would have thought was a lie if she wasn't feeling it so damn strongly. She wanted to blame it on the booze, but there hadn't been enough. She wanted to blame it on Tracey, but the fact that so much time had passed between them made that blow so much easier to bear. Daphne even wanted to blame it on experimentation, but the fact that his words made her squeeze her thighs together told her that was a bullshit excuse too.
"So fuck me," she said finally. "It's only fair. You let me fuck you, you should get to fuck me back." She took a sip of her coffee as if what she'd said hadn't been anything special at all. The weather or the latest news. "Then I'll leave."
--
Roger snorted in response to her words before he could even consider not to. It shouldn’t have been funny, but it was. The situation felt so weird and confusing and yet he didn’t mind having this conversation with her. In fact, Roger enjoyed having this conversation with her. Roger never enjoyed talking about feelings because feelings were emotional and hard to deal with and yet the blunt honesty between them didn’t feel like something he couldn’t cope with. “Fair,” he repeated. “You didn’t strike me as a bloody Gryffindor, Daphne,” he told her rather sure she wasn’t. Not a Ravenclaw either, certainly not with her original dismissal of experimentation. Hufflepuff or Slytherin would be where Roger would put his money, but certainly not a fair Gryffindor.
“What do you want?” Roger asked her. It was odd, because he knew he didn’t know her. One conversation and some genuinely amazing sex did not make them heartfriends. And yet, somehow, Roger felt that being asked what she wanted was not something Daphne got a lot. Perhaps more surprising than his wish to ask was the genuine need to know what the answer was.
--
She smirked at his response, laughing a little, then shaking her head. "No," she agreed. "Not a Gryffindor. Fair or not, though, it would be the best way to lure you into giving me what I want and thinking it's your idea," Daphne told him. "So, I suppose that might answer two questions in one go." She might not always seem to fit into her Slytherin house, Daphne did have a cunning streak about her that she didn't get to let out to play nearly enough.
"I want to keep feeling good," she told him. "And you make me feel good. Does it really matter why?" Roger was bluntly honest with her and yet also oddly gentle and that combination was intriguing and attractive to her. "I have spent so much time trying to please everyone else and make sure that I'm somehow fitting into this little box that I'm meant to fit into and for the first time in--," she let out a breath, then sucked in another. "In my life. The first time in my life I feel like that box is open again and I don't have to fit inside of it. And it's your fault. And I'm thankful. And horrified. And confused. And really fucking horny. And all of that is your fault too."
She bit her bottom lip, then got up from her seat and moved around to his side of the table. She pushed his mug aside and sat down on the table, resting bare feet on the chair between his legs. "I don't know what I want," she admitted. "And yet I do. I want you to kiss me again. Touch me again. And then, if you want me to leave, I want that too."
--
Whatever Roger had expected her to reply to his question, it hadn’t been that. Maybe he had hoped she’d tell him that she did want to fuck him, or maybe tell him that she just wanted to drink her coffee and fuck out of his life instead. Either of those Roger had been more prepared for than for Daphne to tell him that he made her feel. Roger was not the guy who made anyone feel things that made them want to stay around him. That was why all his relationships broke apart, because he wasn’t capable of offering anything other than a really nice time and the moment any emotional support was required he just wanted the girlfriends to go away. But Daphne was there, telling him off for making her feel confused and horny. Which was honestly ridiculous because she made him feel exactly the same way.
When she sat down in front of him, bare legs hitched up, Roger’s hands automatically came up to run against the sides of her thighs, skin not nearly enough as hot as it had felt last night, but the cool air from the open window somewhere in distance almost made this better. That and Roger could feel himself growing hard as he watched her, listened to her tell him how she wanted him to kiss her and touch her and want him to want for her to leave.
Standing up, the chair toppled over behind Roger and he ignored it completely in favour of pulling her into a kiss. One which was harsher, and harder, and somehow so much more raw than any of the ones they had exchanged last night. Roger’s hand swept everything off the table behind her, half drunk mugs and sugar and milk all crashing down on the ground, making a mess as the liquids got absorbed into that morning’s papers and Roger really didn’t care. What he cared about was pushing Daphne down against the table, crawling half atop of her as he kissed her.
--
It was a strange thing to want someone to tell you to leave while at the same time having your body begging for them to pin you to any surface flat and sturdy enough to handle your weight. Daphne felt it, though. The sounds were what she thought she would remember the most. The chair as hit the floor, the mugs sloshing their contents somewhere in the fall, and the crinkling of the paper before it became too wet to be crumpled.
She welcomed that kiss as if it were water and she were starved for drink. Her arms immediately winding around his shoulders and pulling him in closer. It was insanity. Pure insanity straight from the fount. None of that mattered, though. Not a single confusing thought mattered even the slightest bit because it felt so fucking good. "We've lost our minds," she breathed out against his lips somewhere between one kiss and the next.
--
She could very well be right, Roger thought, but he was too busy pushing his shirt off of her body to really give much of a response at all. Instead he moved them both more up the table so she could fully lie on top of it. Roger had never thought of his dining table as somewhere to have sex but right now he was very grateful that somehow, his past self had purchased a table big and sturdy enough to have two people on top of it, touching each other with such need that one might think they were both utterly starved for attention.
This was different from what it had been last night. Not just because Roger was on top this time, but because where last night it had been intimate and gentle, right now the touches mostly felt desperate and angry. Needy in a way that Roger hadn’t anticipated. All he wanted was her and Daphne didn’t seem to be putting up even the remotest attempt at a protest. Roger pushed her panties down with such strength that they may have ripped if this had been a bad novel rather than a desperate attempt at just getting her naked as soon as possible.
The looseness of the trousers Roger had on meant that they were half pushed off just by her body moving against his, so it took no effort to free his cock from them, harder than it had any right to have gotten in such a shockingly short time. Roger’s hands grasped at Daphne’s, mimicking the way she had held down his hands the night before, but probably a lot looser. He pushed into her, lips hot against her neck as he swore loudly. “Fuck,” the word clear against her skin, followed up by a bite to her neck as Roger gave a deep thrust of his hips.
--
Maybe she was starved for attention. Maybe all of this was because she was just lonely and would have happened with anyone that had showed her that attention she craved. Daphne found she didn't believe that, though. Maybe it was because he was brutally honest about how he felt that had opened up the door but, whatever it was that had triggered it, Daphne was doing nothing to stop the train from continuing down the track.
She didn't so much as resist him removing the shirt, forgetting about it the moment it left her frame. Daphne squirmed beneath him, doing her best to free herself from her underwear and managing, somehow, to do so somewhere between kisses and touches he was lavishing her with. She was thankful for the ease that he freed himself from his own clothing. His grip on her hands earned him a sharp and appreciative noise that hitched in her throat as he entered her.
The word he whispered so close to her ear made her body seize around him, her legs twining around him as if that would somehow allow him to fall further into her. Gone was the gentleness of the night before, replaced by a desperate lust that permeated her very being. Her hands were uncertain of where they wanted to rest and went in different directions, one set of nails sliding down his back while the other hand lost itself somewhere in his hair, holding onto him desperately.
--
It felt like her touches were everywhere and Roger wouldn’t have been able to actually tell where his body ended and hers started. He fucked into her, because there was no other way to describe it. The motion of his hips was hard against her as the table shook beneath them. Roger pushed down into her as her legs wrapped around him, giving him so much of a better angle to do so. It wasn’t sweet and it wasn’t romantic and yet Roger honestly thought it was also possibly the closest he’d felt to someone in years. The sounds that she made were equally matched by him and if it hadn’t been for the softer tone of her voice, Roger might have failed to distinguish between those, too.
He could hear himself offer a litany of words, her name mixed in with just a random selection of swear words as Roger pounded into her. And then her muscles seized around him and Roger came so hard he half expected the sturdiness of the table to actually let him down and collapse underneath him. His breath came so harshly that Roger had to remind himself that he even needed to breathe. After a moment, Roger pulled back but only enough to kiss Daphne, not actually moving off of her, or out of her.
The kiss was soft and in comparison to the sex felt almost unbelievably gentle. “You are such a fucking shit lesbian,” Roger informed her, eyes mostly shut as he breathed against her lips.
--
Daphne's head was spinning. She felt dizzy and unstable. She still clung to him even after his hips stilled and he stayed within her. Sated, she returned that kiss, eyes fluttering closed at the gentleness. His words weren't what she expected him to say and she laughed softly against his mouth. "Yeah? Well, you're fucking shit at telling me to leave," she pointed out, smirking even as she went in for another kiss with no intentions of letting him go or leaving.
The table was solid and hard against her back, a stark contrast to that loopy and intangible uncertainty of what the hell was going on that flickered around in the air. She still didn't know what any of this was or what it meant or if it meant anything at all, but Daphne didn't want it to stop. That much she could nail down, at least.
"I'd like to stay," she said after a moment, the words whispered out against his mouth. "No expectations, though, Roger," she promised. "Well, that's a lie. I absolutely expect to not make it very far before this gravitational pull snaps us back together like magnets again." She laughed, reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead. "I still blame you, you know," she teased.
--
Roger had to admit that she had a point. He really wasn’t being very good at making her leave. In fact, he was clearly doing quite the opposite of making her leave. And then she told him she wanted to stay and, well, Roger had to admit that he was attempting to fight a battle he didn’t even want to participate in. He wanted her to stay. Roger didn’t know why but as much as she blamed him, he decided it’d be fair to blame her. Especially when she brushed his hair away from his forehead and he responded by pressing another kiss against her lips. Blaming Daphne was easier than asking questions, Roger thought.
Finally, with a small sigh and another brief kiss, Roger pulled back, feet hitting the ground as Roger hitched his trousers back up before he looked around them. “My kitchen looks like it lost a fucking war,” he said frowning at the way milk was pooling between his toes. Roger found a discarded hoodie on one of the chair that hadn’t suffered in the great battle, throwing it at Daphne since the shirt he had taken off of her was slowly absorbing coffee on the floor. Her underwear, Roger decided, was also something she’d probably have to give up.
Locating a wand, Roger cast a vanishing spell, opting for just getting rid of the mess and buying himself a new sugar bowl than bothering with cleaning it all up. “Do you want breakfast?” He asked Daphne since now that he had decided there was little point in forcing himself to make her leave, Roger felt he might as well feed her.
--
Daphne leaned up to a sitting position, catching the hoodie that he tossed at her. She looked around at the mess that they'd made and shook her head. "At least the only casualties are easily repurchased?," she offered in consolation. A little milk and sugar could easily be replaced. She flashed him a smile and slipped the hoodie on, finding it fit her more like a dress than a jacket and liking that just fine.
The question told her that he wasn't going to make her leave and that made her feel very warm. "That would be nice," she said, nodding. "I make a fabulous omelet if you happen to have some eggs," she offered. "A small repayment for that shattered sugar bowl."
--
Roger looked at her when Daphne offered to make him an omelet. The absurdity of the situation was striking and yet Roger had no idea what to do with it. So instead he just pointed towards the fridge. “There’s eggs and cheese in there, I think there might even be a pepper,” he told her with a small shrug as he made his way across the kitchen to where the coffee machine was.
Putting down two mugs, Roger frowned at them. “I hope you like black coffee, because I’m all out of milk,” which he was. Completely her fault, too. Roger felt that if they were going to blame each other for making each other feel things, then he was perfectly justified to also blame her for the fact that they were going to have to have black, sugarless coffee with the omelet she was intending to make.