InsaneJournal

ficlet dump
These were all written for the HP Anonymous Kinks meme at karmicsunshine on LJ. I went kinda crazy.

Title: We sew the eyes on dolls
Pairing: Narcissa/Molly
Rating: R
Warnings: 'Intense' prose? Imagery.
Word count: 603
Summary: Narcissa loathed Molly Prewett.
Beta: nolagal
Notes: Written for the HP anonymous kinks meme at karmicsunshine. Prompt: Narcissa/Molly, during their school years, Narcissa is jealous of Molly. (Which was my own prompt, but I couldn't not do it. This is easily my bestest favorite rarepair. <3)


Narcissa loathed Molly Prewett. The particular things she loathed were too many to count, though she tried, and often—the highlights on the girl's hair, her freckles everywhere like spilled cake crumbs, tits that were twice as big as anyone deserved (where were you when they were passing out tits? Bella liked to jibe), a waist and hips and soft cheek to match, ratty passed-down clothes and two—not even one, but two—brothers who'd hex any Slytherin who dared come within a ten-foot radius of their little princess.

It was acceptable that Narcissa loathe her; everyone who'd ever expected anything from Narcissa expected that she'd loathe blood traitors, the Prewetts included and Molly among them by necessity.

The expectation was a relief; otherwise, there would be no accounting for the way Narcissa's' blood boiled every time the girl walked by, or the hand that clenched her gut whenever she heard her laugh at something her insipid ginger boyfriend said.

It would explain why, when Narcissa was walking up the stairs and Prewett was walking one flight above her, she happened to look up at just the right moment to catch sight of the girl's shabby, yellowing knickers with a single hole, and wanted nothing more than to touch—to slide her fingertips over the damp material, tickled by the hair springing out from its native lands, maybe pulling a bit, a tease, and then slipping inside that squalid tear. It was because Prewett was despicable and acted like she didn't know it; she needed to be shown how dirty she was, by a stranger who would press against her back and whisper filthy, horrible things in her ear while icy fingers would stretch that tiny cotton hole and creep into more humid climes.

~

Narcissa would see to it that Prewett knew how dirty she was. How wrong, how unworthy of her bouncing curls and flushing cheeks, of the insipid ginger who worshiped her every word, of so many friends who hated neither her nor each other. She would know this tonight, all of it and more, worse, because Narcissa would tell her, pull her into the shadows and show her with creeping fingers while her friends' golden laughter receded down the hall, unaware.

Narcissa would take her time and show the girl what she would never be worthy to have, razor-fine pleasures at icy fingertips and teeth that bit. Prewett would understand, in the end, that all her abundance of silken flesh and golden laughter would never make up for what she lacked, and that no-one (not even Narcissa) would (could) ever give it to her.

She would understand this, and she might cry—out of pain, or loss, or an unrefined feeling of injustice—and Narcissa would smile pretty little silverfish smiles, slipping into the gray of the hall and leaving Prewett where the light would never touch her the same again.

What wouldn't happen—Prewett wouldn't sniffle and wipe her eyes on a shabby yellowing handkerchief, and say, you poor thing, you still don't see, do you? and she wouldn't reach out to Narcissa (who wouldn't flinch), wouldn't act like she was the lucky one who had everything, the enviable curves, the friends, the laughter and the red gold evenings, as if Narcissa were the empty husk (matchstick arms and flat chest, and no one to hear when she cried)—no, this time, Narcissa would do it right, none of that would happen. Molly would understand, understand everything and understand it right.

She would see once and for all just how Narcissa loathed her, and there would be nothing, nothing she could do about it.





Title: Pineapple
Pairing: Hermione/Severus
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bloodplay! Highlight for spoilers: *roleplay, faux-noncon, knife/blood play. Play play play!*
Word count: 1047
Summary: Kinky porn
Beta: nolagal
Notes: Done for the HP Anonymous Kinks Meme at karmicsunshine. Prompt: Hermione/Snape, non-con play, rope bondage, S&M. Remember, folks, it's the sub who's got the power, so can we please let Hermione not be all weak and weepy? This is one of the select het pairings that doesn't scare me away on sight, and I had the wild and adventurous urge to write some het, and out popped this strange little thing. o_O


Hermione tested the ropes binding her wrists together above her head; they were tight and just a little scratchy, sure to cause chafing if she struggled against them.

The ropes around her wrists weren't the largest of her worries, however; what really made her nervous was the complex network of ropes crisscrossing her hips and upper thighs and effectively fixing her to the bed. She couldn't have lifted her hips if she'd wanted to, and her legs were permanently spread wide open. These ropes were marginally softer, but she'd find it virtually impossible to avoid straining against them.

The door opened and she tensed, suddenly feeling twice as exposed. Severus Snape looked at her for long moments with hooded eyes before slowly unbuttoning the tiny buttons at the cuffs of his robes, and then slowly, deliberately moving to the placket of his robes and working the button at his throat out of its hole with meticulous precision. He repeated the motion at the next button, and the next, slowly revealing the creamy white shirt underneath. When he had shed the robes, he set in on his trousers with the same deliberation, and then his shirt.

On the bed, Hermione whined.

"That's right, love, you can tell what's coming next, can't you?" Severus smiled, a frightening, cold stretch of the mouth. "And there's nothing you can do to stop me... tied up so prettily and left here, as if waiting just for me." He shed his last item of clothes, toed off his socks and folded them, then stalked to the bed and leaned down to whisper huskily in her ear. "Don't worry, love. I'll make sure you enjoy it."

Hermione's eyes sparked. "You'll never!"

“We’ll see about that.” He leaned over her, his already hard prick brushing briefly against her abdomen, and caressed the length of her body in long, leisurely strokes.

Hermione squirmed to get away from his touch, but the ropes held her in place. Severus chuckled and flattened his palm over her bare breast.

“Perhaps you’d appreciate something a bit less… soft.” From somewhere within the folds of the bedsheets he produced a tiny blade, holding it up to her for a moment that stretched indefinitely as she took in its glittering edge and wicked point.

He lowered it deliberately, making his intention perfectly clear, and Hermione flinched away.

“No, please. Anything, just don’t cut me.”

“Anything? A bit premature, aren’t we? You haven’t even had a taste.” The knife completed its downward journey uninterrupted and he drew it across the line of her clavicle, beads of blood springing up in its wake.

Hermione hissed in a breath, and Severus repeated the cut, a bit deeper this time, on the other side.

“Fuck,” Hermione bit out. “I said no cutting.”

“Oh, but you like it.” Severus dipped his fingers into her wetness, and she stifled another whine.

“There’s nothing you could do to make me like this,” she countered.

Severus didn’t speak, but crawled down the bed until he was seated between her spread thighs. Hermione arched her neck, unable to see from this angle what he was doing with his hands—or the knife.

“Relax, love,” he said. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

The blade bit into the flesh of her inner thigh without warning and she cried out. She could feel the point moving, drawing a white-hot line behind it, and then it was gone. A moment passed as the feeling seemed to flare brighter, and then it was replaced by a wet, stinging heat as Severus bent to lap up the blood collecting on the scratch. Hermione moaned.

When he did it again on the other leg she was prepared, and held in her cry, determined to give him no satisfaction, but she couldn’t stop the flush of heat to her groin as he used his tongue on her again.

The third time he cut her, switching back to the first leg, she gasped, it wasn’t fair. “You’ve done two, stop—stop!” The last word came out half a moan as his mouth descended on her again.

“Stop!” she cried again as he traced a fourth white-hot line, not as long this time but farther up her thigh. When he licked the blood, his cheek brushed against the outside of her widespread labia.

“Fuck, stop now,” she groaned.

“Told you I’d make you like it,” he said. “And I’ve barely started.”

“I don’t… like… it,” she ground out as he made another pair of tiny cuts. She wasn’t sure how much more of this torture she could stand.

“I bed to differ,” he crooned, and lowered his mouth on her dripping cunt.

God, so hot.

The ropes bit into Hermione’s hips as she thrashed, testing them—but no, there was no escaping that enveloping mouth and wicked tongue.

“Just don’t—don’t.” Because fuck, it did feel good, and there was nothing she could do to stop that.

Severus swept his tongue up the center of her slit and paused to flick the point against her clit. She was beyond protesting coherently now; all she could manage as he repeated the move was a string of soft grunts that sounded a bit like no, no, no, no.

In the end, it wasn't his tongue that did her in; it was him placing his hands on her inner thighs, right where he'd used the tiny knife, applying just enough pressure to renew the ache, just as he closed his lips over her taut clit. The twinned sensations bled together as they rushed toward her brain, and she knew if he did that one more time—and he liked repetition—she wouldn't be able to hang on any longer.

"Pineapple!" she cried.

Severus looked up at her, startled. "What is it? I thought we were doing well."

"A bit too well." Hermione groaned. "Now get up here and fuck me properly before I explode, you old bastard."

“We’ve still got to work on your endurance,” Severus muttered, tracing his thumb over the red lines on her leg. “Truly appalling how quickly you cave…”

“Old perfectionist bastard,” Hermione amended. “Get up here now or else there'll never be more work.”




Title: The Evolution of Fear
Pairing: Harry/Sirius
Rating: R
Warnings: Chan, non-con, potions use, coercion
Word count: 622
Summary: Harry and Sirius share the strongest love there is—the only thing keeping them apart now is fear.
Beta: nolagal
Notes: Written for the HP anonymous kinks meme over at karmicsunshine. Prompt: harry/sirius: dub/non-con, harry using a love potion on sirius. make it dark; obsessive, messed-up harry a plus. This was very, very heavily inspired (to the point near-plagiarism, now that I look at it) by One Truth by accioscar. So yeah. Just go read that fic. You won't regret it.


In this life there are some things so powerful, so strong and true, that they just don't need saying. That Sirius Black loved Harry Potter was one of them—he'd never said it out loud, of course, but Harry knew it like he knew his own name. How could saying it make it any stronger? He'd broken out of Azkaban for him, trekked across the country and starved and eaten rats and lived as a dog for him. He'd lived in a cave for him, just to be near him.

Love like that? It didn't need saying out loud to make it true. So Harry didn't say it back, because it would ruin it, see? Cheapen it to something made out of mere words, like those exchanged in anxious bursts over cups of tea at Madam Puddifoot's, and Harry couldn't do that. Love like theirs was shown; it was etched into their bodies in indelible marks of give and take.

There was only one thing: Sirius didn't think Harry loved him back, even though he did. More even, but he had no prisons to break out of (only a school to sneak away from) no rats to eat or caves to sleep in, and when he looked into Sirius's wrecked beauty of a face Sirius refused nobly to see his adoration. That was the other thing—Sirius was scared to love Harry properly, to really show him. Maybe he thought Harry was too young, or wouldn't understand, or wouldn't want him, and Harry didn't blame him for it because he was supposed to be a noble Gryffindor, right? That was one of the things Harry admired most in him, that and his control, which was maybe the same thing as his fear but couldn't be, because all those times Harry had sneaked away just to sit in his presence and gaze at him in adoration Sirius had sat there in silent torment, never putting so much as a finger on Harry.

Harry could deal with fear. He had the antidote in his pocket now, glimmering crimson in its tiny glass phial, just waiting to play its part to bring down the last barrier left between them.

Sirius wolfed down his sandwiches without looking to see what extra glittering crimson layers they may contain, just as Harry knew he would.

When he turned on Harry, the lust in his eyes was laid bare, no longer shielded by fear or misplaced noblesse, and Harry had never seen him look more beautiful.

When he clutched at Harry and buried his face in his neck and sobbed Stop me, Harry, stop me, I don't know what I'm doing, Harry gentled him and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, It's ok, you can let go now, you want this, you want this. Sirius growled and bit his neck, unable to hold back any longer.

When Sirius ripped off Harry's clothes, Harry did the same, making sure to memorize every scar and tattoo and hair, even though he could hardly see through the lust clouding his vision. He was sure it was the same for Sirius, more so even because he'd been denying himself so long, and Harry guided Sirius's hands over his own body—over chest with the hair just starting to come in, over the sensitive nipples, down his sides and over his hips and to the small roundness of his arse.

When Sirius filled Harry, Harry cried out; he hadn't expected it to hurt, but then didn't it make sense that love as strong as theirs would hurt? Harry wrapped his legs around Sirius's back and pulled him closer, said faster, because now, oh now, Sirius would be sure Harry loved him. There was no going back.




Title: Getting Under the Skin
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PWP (srsly), spanking, rimming, violent!sex, dirty talk (of a kind), no plot. Not even an explanation. Or a backstory. Or a context. Nada.
Word count: 1277
Summary: In a perfect world, Ron would never have to talk about his feelings at all. Draco's pretty perfect.
Beta: nolagal and asnowyowl
Notes: Originally written for the HP Anonymous Kinks Meme over at karmicsunshine. Prompt: Ron/Draco, rimming, spanking, incoherent begging, bottom!Draco.



The Slytherin had always known how to get under his skin like no one else. Even with his closest friends, Harry, Hermione—they knew when to give him space, when to back off. Draco went right for the quick.

"Fuck, Weasley, don't hold back like that. I'm not an infant."

"I'm not. Holding. Back." Ron punctuated each furious word with an open-handed smack to Draco's arse, using all his strength. Three crimson hand prints burned in the wake of his outburst, and Draco breathed heavily, swaying slightly on his hands and knees.

"Is that all you've got, Weasley?" he sneered. "I'd have expected more from a—"

"A what, Malfoy?" Ron wrenched Draco's head up by the hair at the back of his neck.

"Maybe if you're good enough you can beat it out of me," Draco said, licking his lips. Ron pulled his hair tighter, hearing strands snap, but Draco betrayed no sign of discomfort aside from his straining neck muscles.

And just like that, Draco had gone under Ron's skin and pulled out this blinding fury, as if it had always been there, waiting for him. Ron growled, wordless, and his hand slammed into Draco's arse again, not stopping as the blows drove Draco down into the bed.

"Is it enough now? Now?" Ron asked as he continued to hit the purpling flesh of the prostrate boy before him.

Draco moaned.

Ron paused. "What? I don't think I heard you."

"I said no, Weasley, you couldn't give me enough if you had a fucking manual. No."

"I'll show you the fucking manual," Ron grunted. "You're not so special, Malfoy, not as perfect as your mummy and daddy and everyone you know tells you. I can give it to you as good as anyone else." Ron wrapped his arm around Malfoy's waist and jerked him roughly upright.

Malfoy moaned again. Ron seized him by the hips, nails digging carelessly into white skin.

"No you can't... just a dirty Weasley..." He was panting now, having trouble speaking.

"Dirty Weasley, eh? I'll show you dirty..." Ron bent Draco over, pushed him down so he would balance with his arse in the air, and spread his flaming cheeks wide. The first swipe of Ron's tongue passed over his puckered entrance, causing Draco to whimper and jerk forward, but Ron grabbed him by the hips and dragged him back again.

"I haven't shown you how dirty I can be yet, Draco," Ron panted. He licked Draco's crack again, then stabbed his tongue into the tight hole, not backing off until he had loosened Draco enough to plunge his tongue in again and again, fucking Draco's arse with his tongue.

"Yes, yes, yes," Draco whined, seemingly unaware he was speaking. "So filthy..."

Ron withdrew, wiping his chin on the back of his hand. He slapped the center of Draco's arse and earned a sharp intake of breath. "Hope you didn't think I was going to stop there, Malfoy. I'm gonna give it to you until you can't take it any more, and then I'll keep going, just to make sure you've had enough."

Ron lined up the head of his cock with Draco's spit-soaked entrance, pausing to feel the sphincter quiver against him as though inviting him in. "You ready, Draco?"

"Fuck, Weasley, just do it, you know I'm ready."

"I know," Ron said, then thrust forward, holding Draco still as he writhed. "You can take it, Malfoy. I wanna see you take my cock up your arse almost dry." He rocked his hips, pushing himself deeper into that tight heat.

"Fuck," Draco moaned.

"Take it," Ron whispered, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in hard enough to push Malfoy forward on the bed.

"Fuck," Draco said again, and pushed his arse back against Ron.

It was all Ron could do then not to let go and fuck the blond into the mattress like he'd been dying to do since Malfoy awoke that hungry rage within him, but he held back. He'd make sure Malfoy never doubted him again.

"That's all you can say?" he panted. "You'll have to do better if you want any more." He pulled back again and pushed in against the resistance of Draco's under-prepared arse, forcefully but slowly.

"More, I need more," Draco whined.

Ron grinned and slapped Draco hard on the side of the arse, covering the smooth unblemished skin he hadn't touched before with a red hand print.

"Say it again." Ron raised his hand and another hand print appeared next to the first.

"Need you to go faster," Malfoy said, breathing hard. "I can take it."

Ron maintained his firm pace. "Not quite good enough." He scratched his nails down Malfoy's hips, digging pink welts through the area he'd just spanked. "I can keep hitting you all night."

Malfoy groaned and pushed up into Ron.

Ron gave a sharp thrust, earning another groan, and then pulled out entirely.

"No!" Draco cried. When Ron's tongue descended to lap around Draco's entrance, the cry turned to a moan of pleasure. "Oh, Ron..."

Ron nearly caved in, right then, but he held himself together. He continued to lick and fuck the other boy with his tongue, opening him wider.

"Tell me what you want, Draco," he said when he paused for air.

Draco whined, mostly incoherent. "Want... want you to stop that and..."

"This?" Ron licked a swathe across the tender flesh where he'd spanked Draco, then nipped, none too gently. Draco gasped, and Ron repeated the action, holding Draco down as he bucked against the bed. "Not yet, you don't," he said. "Not until you tell me what you want."

"Want," Draco whined, and Ron bit him again.

"Not good enough."

"You," Draco moaned. "Want... you..."

Ron growled and surged up, biting Draco's shoulder as he plunged into him. It was impossible to hold back anymore. Ron slid his arm under Draco's hips to open him up to him further, and then began fucking him in earnest.

"Tell me again," he grunted.

"Want you."

"Keep saying it."

"You, Ron, want, want your cock, your hands, give it, I can take—"

The string of incoherent words was Ron's ultimate undoing; he fucked Draco mercilessly, pushing him into the mattress. Draco didn't stop; now he was begging—the words hardly made sense as they spilled from his lips, but he seemed unable to stop.

"Ron, please, yes, like that, oh god fuck, harder, yes, please, please, yes, Ron..."

Ron came then, spasming his release inside Draco's body even as he slammed his hips forward one more time. He dug his nails into Draco's sides as the pleasure rushed through him, and Draco came with a cry, writhing under Ron and panting into the pillow.

Ron kissed him between the shoulder blades almost tenderly as he rolled off, all his anger long dissipated. Only the lust remained, which was so much the same and yet wholly different, and a slow burning desire for this boy who wanted him so much and would do so much to show it.

"I get to top next time," Draco said sleepily.

Ron yawned. "Shut up you great prick, you know you love it."

"You have the oddest ways of showing affection, Ron Weasley."

Ron just smiled. "You know you love it."

"It's a good thing I know you so well."

"What's that, a warning?" But secretly, Ron was glad Draco had figured him out the way he did. "Don't know what I'd do if you didn't..." Ron trailed off.

"What?"

"Never mind," Ron said, knowing he didn't need to say it. Draco would crawl under his skin again soon enough.




Title: In which Lavender and Parvati discover the benefits of real tits and fake cocks
Pairing: Lavender/Parvati
Rating: (light) R
Warnings: Magical thrumming phallus, masturbation, sex, general silliness
Word count: 1628
Summary: Parvati is a bit nervous of Lavender's dildo, and for good reason.
Beta: nolagal and juliandahling
Notes: Originally written for the HP Anonymous Kinks Meme over at karmicsunshine



It began with a dirty magazine. They'd nicked it from an easily-intimidated Hufflepuff boy who they'd caught reading it hidden inside a book in the library, and immediately smuggled it up to their dorm to explore in private.

The exploration soon turned to ridicule; the Hufflepuff apparently didn't have a very high taste in smut.

"Her breasts, Parvati, look at the size of them!"

"Oh, that cannot be real."

Lavender squealed as the picture began to move. "God, what is he doing?"

Parvati tilted her head. "That can't even feel good, I mean, for that bloke..."

"Mmhm. No way that could feel good with those tits. Looks like they might swell up and pop any minute."

"Ew, don't!"

"Well, they do. He'd better not squeeze too hard."

"Ew, ew, go to the next one."

"..."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, even worse, just keep going."

"..."

"Whoa."

"God."

"I didn't know that was even... can you bend like that?"

"Nope."

But the ludicrous pictures weren't even the best part. That came by surprise, when they flipped to the last page and the pictures were replaced by a dizzying array of tiny boxes, all advertising some sort of augmentation, enhancement, anonymous messaging service... and in the lower left corner, almost hidden in the gutter of the magazine, there it was.

"What do you think, Lav?"

"Wow, that looks..."

"Just like the real thing, I know."

"Think we should get it?"

"Ha, ha."

"No, seriously. It's mail order, says here it comes in anonymous packaging; no one would ever know..."

Parvati squinted at the tiny ad. "I dunno. My cousin's got one that vibrates. This one doesn't say it does anything."

"What are you talking about--you wouldn't need that thing to vibrate to have fun."

"Then get it if you want. It's your money."

Lavender shoved Parvati in the shoulder. "Just watch, you'll be begging me to let you try it."

"Will not. I don't need some fake... penis... thing... to have fun."

"Just you watch."

~


The package arrived six weeks later, wrapped in anonymous brown paper as promised. Not as promised, it vibrated.

"Oh, that is just not fair!" Parvati exclaimed. "They can't have it doing things it said it wouldn't!"

Lavender just smiled smugly and disappeared behind her bed curtains.

As always, they had the dorm to themselves for the greater portion of every day, should they choose to spend their time there. Hermione was rarely in the dorm, always in the library or with Potter and Weasley, so Lavender had plenty of time alone with her new toy. Parvati withstood an entire month of exuberant orgasms from the next bed over before she finally caved in and asked to have a try.

"It's in the top drawer," Lavender said, flipping a page in the Astrology text.

Parvati fished out the object and retreated behind her own curtains, shutting them fast. She set the vibrator in front of her on the duvet and spent a good minute or two just looking at it. It did look really, really real. After a minute more of this, she gingerly picked the thing up and figured out how to turn it on. It jumped in her hand and whirred menacingly, and she turned it off again quickly.

"All right in there?" Lavender called.

"Yeah, 'course. Just don't listen!"

"Fine, not listening." Lavender started to hum loudly.

Parvati turned it on again, clenched her eyes shut, and brought it most of the way to her crotch before she had to drop it again.

The curtains rustled and Lavender's head appeared between them. "All right?"

"Er..."

Lavender's eyes fell to the vibrator, bouncing merrily on the bed between them, and she sat down next to Parvati, closing the curtains behind her. "For starters, you've got this turned up way too high. There are levels, look." She adjusted something, and suddenly the phallus stopped jumping. It buzzed quietly in Lavender's hand, docile.

"Ah." Parvati cleared her throat.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "You didn't even take your knickers off."

"Hadn't gotten around to it yet."

"Look, it did take me a while to get used to it. I could give you some tips and stuff, if you want."

Parvati shrugged. "Okay." As long as she didn't have to touch that thing again right away.

"All right, lie back and close your eyes. Oh, and take off you knickers."

"Lav!"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Parvati worked her knickers off, blushing, and then crossed her legs at the ankles, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs.

"Close your eyes."

"Right."

"I'm going to leave it off for right now, just let you get used to how it feels..."

"On my knee?"

"Gotta start somewhere. How's it feel?"

"Like, smooth. Not bad. Are you sure that's the thing? And not like, your finger?"

"This is my finger."

Parvati seized up in giggles as Lavender's finger dug into the sensitive flesh under her knee. "Ah, stop, stop, I get it!"

"It's just made to feel ultra-lifelike," Lavender said, her voice smug. "Just wait, it gets better."

"If you keep stroking my knee like that, I'm not sure I see how it does."

"Shut up, you. Fine. This skirt has to go, though." Fingers insinuated themselves under the hem of her skirt and pushed it up until the material was bunched around her waist. Parvati conscientiously crossed her feet tighter.

"I'm turning it on now, okay?"

"Mmhmm."

She felt the faint buzz more than heard it, and then Lavender started sliding the head of the device up her inner thigh. "Hey, that tickles!"

"Sort of the point, isn't it?"

"Guess so."

"Don't freak out, I'm not putting this in anywhere. Just sort of exploring around, seeing if anything feels good... this is what I did when I first got it, so..."

"Ooo."

"Good?"

"No, horrible. That was me shrieking in agony."

"Be serious! I've practice using the vibrator, not reading minds."

"Yeah, that was good. You could do it again even."

"Like this?"

"Yup."

Parvati realize that at some point her legs had uncrossed, and she didn't bother crossing them again. Lavender might not be able to get the same angle if she did...

"Okay, you ready for me to take it to the next level?"

"You sound like a bad porno, Lav, stop."

"No, I meant the power! Do you want me to take it to the next higher power level?"

"Oh, right. Sure."

"Honestly. 'The next level,'" Lavender quipped sarcastically, but Parvati could hear the smile in her voice.

"Fuck! ...Sorry. It's just—"

"I know. You can swear if you want, I don't care. Could even help."

"Okay, good."

"…"

"…"

"That's fucking..."

"Feel good?"

"Shut up, Lavender. You know how it feels."

"I can't shut up, I'm supposed to be helping you. Hey, try this."

"Holy fuck, Lav, what is... oh!"

"It's got special vibration modes too," Lavender explained, infuriatingly calm. "That was the first one..."

"Yeah..."

"What about this one?"

"Oh, that's actually... kind of... odd..."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, not really doing anything for me. Is there another one?"

"Yup. Here."

"Ah."

"Okay?"

"Sorta."

"Wait, it's better if you do it down here..."

"Oh, my god."

"Yeah."

"I didn't even know..."

"Yup, me neither."

"Lav, I think I'm gonna—"

"Right now?"

"Go back to that first mode, and yeah, right there..." Parvati's hand closed over Lavender's on the thrumming phallus and she guided her to the spot. "Yeah, and just keep doing exactly what you're..."

Parvati's nails dug into the back of Lavender's hand as she arched off the bed. Her nerves sang and she came harder than she ever had alone.

"That was..."

"Hmm?" Parvati opened her eyes at last, blinking against the light.

Lavender knelt beside her hips, eyes locked somewhere in the vicinity of Parvati's stomach. "I'm just impressed. Guess I didn't think you really had it in you."

"You underestimate me, dear. Just because I didn't want to wank with something that looks like a severed cock—"

"It does not!"

"Well, where's the rest of it then?"

"It's supposed to look like this!"

"To each her own. But anyway, I was saying, just because the idea of it gives me the willies—okay, okay, fine, that pun was sort of intended—doesn't mean that certain other things... well, you know."

"No, what?"

"You're completely ridiculous, you know that? Come up here."

"Parvati... what are you doing..."

"Taking your kit off. We're going to do this properly now."

"Mmm." Lavender hummed into Parvati's hair as Parvati kissed a freshly-exposed shoulder. "Your way's not bad so far. You'll use Ronald on me though, right?"

"You named you dildo Ronald?"

"Well, as long as we're talking about severed dicks..."

"Lav, honey, that doesn't even make sense."

"Whatever; a girl's got to get her revenge somehow. What do you say?"

"I guess, maybe... if you really, really want..."

"Oh, good. Parvati?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna take your clothes off too? Or the rest of them at least? Or—"

"Yeah, yeah. Wanna give me a hand here?"

"..."

"Oh, wow."

"Yeah."

"Touch my tit again."

"Like that?"

"Yeah, just like that. You could keep doing that, you know, if you wanted. I wouldn't mind."

"No?"

"Nope."

"Did you know you've got fantastic tits, Lav?"

"Why thank you. Yours... Ooo... yours aren't too bad either. I mean, they feel way better than they look. I mean, no offense. They're just... really really nice."

"None taken—just keep doing that."

"As if I'm stopping anytime soon."

"…"

"God, where did you learn—"

"Shh, I'm making it up as I go. Good?"

"God, fuck, you've no fucking idea."

"Oh?"

"No! Don't stop now!"

"Right."

"Fuck..."

"…"

"Parvati?"

"Yeah?"

"Think I definitely like your way better."

"You said that already."

"I know."