wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2010-02-24 00:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, 2010, pansy, seamus |
Special Delivery for wizard_love
Title: Hearts
Author:
Recipient's LJ name: wizard_love
Pairing(s): Seamus/Pansy; implied Draco/Pansy
Rating: NC-17
Summary Seamus is not long for this world, and Pansy knows it.
Word Count: ~4500
Warnings/Content: Angst, a bad habit, worse language, rough(ish) sex, dirty talk, non-explicit mentions of violence.
Author's notes: Thank you so much for letting me play with these two! I can never say no to Seamus, and I love him with Pansy. I tried to work with your prompt and to fit in as many of your kinks as possible; I hope that you enjoy this! Thank you to my betas T. and K. for their heaps of help. And thank you, dear Mods, for running this thing!
The legendary muscle that wants and grieves,
The organ of attachment, the pump of thrills
And troubles, clinging in stubborn colonies
Like pulpy shore-life battened on a jetty.
Slashed by the little deaths of sleep and pleasure,
They swell in the nurturing spasms of the waves,
Sucking to cling; and even in death itself—
Baked, frozen—they shrink to grip the granite harder.
— from "The Hearts" by Robert Pinsky
Seamus is not long for this world.
Pansy is sure of it. The Carrows have been using him for target practice nearly every day now, and he laughs in their gruesome faces.
His own is equally bad, but it's a different sort of gruesome. He wears it well. His split lip looks like a heart.
Hearts.
She wants to draw them on him; she wants to scratch them into his skin; she wants to paint them on his ribcage in lipstick and lick them into the steam on his washroom mirror and circle his navel with a sticky one sketched in his come.
When Draco comes, he bites the noise in half with sharp teeth, like it hurts his fucking ego to feel so good. Seamus is open-mouthed, and he swears himself into a frenzy; he pulls her hair until her head snaps back and her jawbone cracks against his crooked nose. He wants to hear how much she likes it; he wants her to say how much she fucking needs it; he says ask me for it, and she does.
She asks him to fuck her until she can't stand up, until she can't work her mouth around a cleaning spell, until the world narrows into a point as sharp as a knife and then shatters.
It's never enough.
There isn't enough of him to fill her empty spaces, but she tries. She tries
She gets down on her knees in the lavatory on the third floor, and she takes all of him down her throat. He's big and he isn't gentle, but if she wanted gentle, she'd go find Draco and his cold hands and skeleton cheeks; Draco, who touches her like she's going to crumble and he doesn't want to bother cleaning up the mess.
Seamus likes the mess. He likes her spit and the glitter her lips leave on his cock; he likes to stare down at her with two bruised and swollen eyes and watch the sweat trickle down her temples; he likes it when she scrapes her teeth along his nerves and slides off the end with a pop that echoes off the stone walls. He likes her to swallow; he likes to watch the muscles in her neck move when she does.
He likes to yank her to her feet and push her shoulders into the wall, pinch her nipple hard between his index finger and his thumb and kiss her. He likes to pant into her mouth and drip against her hip and taste himself on her tongue.
His taste is brave and stupid and bitter and brilliant.
He tastes like the things that are going to get him killed, and Pansy worries that she will go right along with him. Her biggest worry, however, is that by the time this is through, she won't mind at all.