Sneaking Around (Ron/Pansy, 1436 words)
Title: Sneaking Around
Pairing: Ron/Pansy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1436
Summary: On the outside, it appears that Ron and Pansy hate each other, but lust lies right beneath the surface of their arguments.
Author's Notes: Written for week 36 at hp-smutday, prompt: Ron Weasley
"I'm surprised a blood traitor like you would even show your face in Hogsmeade, Weasley." Pansy's voice was cold and hard as a whip, and Ron felt his cock twitch at the very sound.
Ron whirled to face her. "Can't you give it a rest, Parkinson? Face the fact that the war is over."
"The only fact that I will be facing is that--"
Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Harry by the elbow. "This could take all night," she hissed. "Let's leave them to it, shall we?" Harry nodded fervently and they hurried toward the Three Broomsticks, well used to this kind of confrontation.
Ron and Pansy both watched them go, even as Pansy's mouth kept moving and spilling insults, though the words trailed off as Harry and Hermione disappeared down the street. Ron frowned at their backs as they left, thinking to himself that if Hermione were really as intelligent as everyone said, she would have noticed that Pansy's insults were a bit thin lately.
As soon as the pub's heavy door closed behind his friends, Ron pulled Pansy into a nearby alley, away from the eyes of the passers-by. He grabbed her by the shoulders and crushed his lips to hers, kissing her hard until he could barely breathe. Pansy kissed him back with equal ferocity, wrapping her hands around his upper arms and digging in with her fingers so that he felt a tinge of pain through the pleasure.
When they finally broke the kiss, she was breathing hard. "Same place as before, Weasley?" she asked.
"Merlin, yes," he said, already drawing his wand to Apparate. A moment later, the alleyway echoed with two loud popping sounds, and Ron and Pansy disappeared from sight.
As soon as they reappeared, inside the dilapidated front parlor of the Shrieking Shack, Pansy grabbed Ron and began kissing him again.
"Hurry up, Weasley," she demanded, her voice muffled as she sucked on his bottom lip. "Draco will notice I'm gone before long. He's already suspicious and I--"
"I told you not to talk about him to me," Ron said, as he was undoing her robes and pushing them off her shoulders to expose her black lace brassiere.
"All right, fine," Pansy said. She stuck both hands down his trousers and grasped Ron's dick in her hands then, and he entirely forgot about all the years of insults and hatred between them.
"Yeah, fuck," he gasped out, cupping her breasts in his hands and sucking at her neck as she stroked him to full hardness.
"Now you're getting it," Pansy said sarcastically, but without much heat. Her insults were fairly short on realism, when she was busy tearing her robes the rest of the way off.
"On the couch," she ordered, pushing Ron in that direction.
"I have a better idea," Ron said. He turned Pansy's body so that her back was to him, and they were both facing the large picture window that overlooked the village of Hogsmeade. "Put your hands on the windowsill," he told her. Not arguing for once, Pansy complied with his order. Her head was bowed forward, a sheet of black hair hiding her face, but her spine was straight and her hips lifted toward Ron.
Ron took up position behind her, and traced the curve of her arse with one hand, then slipped his fingers underneath her black lace knickers and between her folds. Pansy's soft flesh was already heated and wet, as if all those insults they'd exchanged had been foreplay. Ron shuddered at the thought of it, slipping two fingers inside her. Impatient, she kicked off her knickers and widened her stance. "Don't mess around, Weasley. Just fuck me already."
Ron's cock was already standing at full attention, but it jumped again in response to her order. "Don't have to tell me twice," he murmured, as he pushed slowly into her. The tight heat of her body surrounded him, embraced him tightly as she never did in any other way.
"Now," he said softly, as he sheathed himself inside her, and leaned forward to fondle her lace-covered breasts with both hands, "look out the window."
The Shack's old window was made of thick, distorted glass, but through it they could both see the village of Hogsmeade spread out below them in the golden sunlight of an autumn afternoon. And more than that...
"Any of them could look up here anytime they want and see us," Ron murmured, as he pulled out and then drove into her again, fighting against the urge to lose himself in pleasure. Pansy braced her arms against the windowsill and arched her back, her nipples stiff against his fingers. "What would they see?"
Pansy moaned and pushed back to meet his next thrust with a soft grunt. "They'd see-- see me laid out like a bloody buffet line for you," she said, gasping for breath between words. Her voice was punctuated with the wet slap of skin on skin, and the creak of the old floorboards. "They'd see a blood traitor fucking me so hard--"
"Who, Parkinson?" Ron asked, as his pulse pounded in his ears and the scant rhythm of his hips grew ragged. "Who could see?"
"Anyone," Pansy panted, her voice rough. "Everyone in Hogsmeade. Even D-- my friends, and yours. Anyone I know could see you fucking me right now-- oh Merlin-- Weasley--" After that, her insults broke down into a more generalized string of curses, her legs began to shake, and Ron felt her body quiver and pulse around him, until he gave in to the heat that had been building inside him since he'd first spotted her a block away. With a shout, he followed her over the edge into oblivion.
A minute later, Pansy had retrieved her knickers and pulled them back into place. Ron sat down on the edge of the rickety velvet couch and pulled on his jeans.
"Is that what you want, Weasley?" she asked softly, and Ron looked up. Pansy stood before him in the dusty room, clad only in a few bits of black lace, twisting one bit of hair around her finger in a nervous gesture.
"What?" he asked. "Doggy-style?" It had been rather an inspired idea, Ron would happily admit that. He'd had plenty of time to think about it, since their last not-really-a-coincidence meeting over two weeks ago.
"That too, I suppose," Pansy said, raising half her mouth in a smile. "I meant, do you want people to see us together?"
"Like this? In the middle of-- no, not really. I just thought it would be hot."
"Oh, you were right about that," Pansy agreed quickly, but somehow she looked a little disappointed.
She didn't press the issue any farther, but Ron could tell there was still a question in the air somehow. "Do I... want people to see us together?" Ron repeated slowly. "Like a regular couple?" There didn't seem to be many other options. It wasn't as though they went on many dinner dates together; they simply pretended to run into each other, argued publicly, then screwed like rabbits away from the critical eyes of their friends. That was the way they both wanted it, or at least that's what he'd thought.
Pansy scoffed. "We're too messed up for that."
Ron watched as she turned away and gathered her clothes. The room was dusty, littered with broken furniture and scribbled with graffiti, but the light caught her black hair and made her skin look like marble.
"Hey," he said, standing and walking over to her. "Let's do it, huh?" He doesn't explain what it is, doesn't lay out all the variations of dinner and drinks, holding hands in the street and picnics in the park and being a public unit even in a mob of friends, but it's all there in his mind.
"Our friends will think we're under a love potion," Pansy said flatly. Ron didn't bother to point out that they didn't share any friends in common.
"You love to shock them and you know it," he said.
Pansy smiled, and there was a little sparkle in her eyes as if she were picturing the reaction.
"Dinner on Friday," he said, and it wasn't a question, but she nodded in agreement. He felt a smile stretch across his own face then, and he leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips.
Pairing: Ron/Pansy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1436
Summary: On the outside, it appears that Ron and Pansy hate each other, but lust lies right beneath the surface of their arguments.
Author's Notes: Written for week 36 at hp-smutday, prompt: Ron Weasley
"I'm surprised a blood traitor like you would even show your face in Hogsmeade, Weasley." Pansy's voice was cold and hard as a whip, and Ron felt his cock twitch at the very sound.
Ron whirled to face her. "Can't you give it a rest, Parkinson? Face the fact that the war is over."
"The only fact that I will be facing is that--"
Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Harry by the elbow. "This could take all night," she hissed. "Let's leave them to it, shall we?" Harry nodded fervently and they hurried toward the Three Broomsticks, well used to this kind of confrontation.
Ron and Pansy both watched them go, even as Pansy's mouth kept moving and spilling insults, though the words trailed off as Harry and Hermione disappeared down the street. Ron frowned at their backs as they left, thinking to himself that if Hermione were really as intelligent as everyone said, she would have noticed that Pansy's insults were a bit thin lately.
As soon as the pub's heavy door closed behind his friends, Ron pulled Pansy into a nearby alley, away from the eyes of the passers-by. He grabbed her by the shoulders and crushed his lips to hers, kissing her hard until he could barely breathe. Pansy kissed him back with equal ferocity, wrapping her hands around his upper arms and digging in with her fingers so that he felt a tinge of pain through the pleasure.
When they finally broke the kiss, she was breathing hard. "Same place as before, Weasley?" she asked.
"Merlin, yes," he said, already drawing his wand to Apparate. A moment later, the alleyway echoed with two loud popping sounds, and Ron and Pansy disappeared from sight.
As soon as they reappeared, inside the dilapidated front parlor of the Shrieking Shack, Pansy grabbed Ron and began kissing him again.
"Hurry up, Weasley," she demanded, her voice muffled as she sucked on his bottom lip. "Draco will notice I'm gone before long. He's already suspicious and I--"
"I told you not to talk about him to me," Ron said, as he was undoing her robes and pushing them off her shoulders to expose her black lace brassiere.
"All right, fine," Pansy said. She stuck both hands down his trousers and grasped Ron's dick in her hands then, and he entirely forgot about all the years of insults and hatred between them.
"Yeah, fuck," he gasped out, cupping her breasts in his hands and sucking at her neck as she stroked him to full hardness.
"Now you're getting it," Pansy said sarcastically, but without much heat. Her insults were fairly short on realism, when she was busy tearing her robes the rest of the way off.
"On the couch," she ordered, pushing Ron in that direction.
"I have a better idea," Ron said. He turned Pansy's body so that her back was to him, and they were both facing the large picture window that overlooked the village of Hogsmeade. "Put your hands on the windowsill," he told her. Not arguing for once, Pansy complied with his order. Her head was bowed forward, a sheet of black hair hiding her face, but her spine was straight and her hips lifted toward Ron.
Ron took up position behind her, and traced the curve of her arse with one hand, then slipped his fingers underneath her black lace knickers and between her folds. Pansy's soft flesh was already heated and wet, as if all those insults they'd exchanged had been foreplay. Ron shuddered at the thought of it, slipping two fingers inside her. Impatient, she kicked off her knickers and widened her stance. "Don't mess around, Weasley. Just fuck me already."
Ron's cock was already standing at full attention, but it jumped again in response to her order. "Don't have to tell me twice," he murmured, as he pushed slowly into her. The tight heat of her body surrounded him, embraced him tightly as she never did in any other way.
"Now," he said softly, as he sheathed himself inside her, and leaned forward to fondle her lace-covered breasts with both hands, "look out the window."
The Shack's old window was made of thick, distorted glass, but through it they could both see the village of Hogsmeade spread out below them in the golden sunlight of an autumn afternoon. And more than that...
"Any of them could look up here anytime they want and see us," Ron murmured, as he pulled out and then drove into her again, fighting against the urge to lose himself in pleasure. Pansy braced her arms against the windowsill and arched her back, her nipples stiff against his fingers. "What would they see?"
Pansy moaned and pushed back to meet his next thrust with a soft grunt. "They'd see-- see me laid out like a bloody buffet line for you," she said, gasping for breath between words. Her voice was punctuated with the wet slap of skin on skin, and the creak of the old floorboards. "They'd see a blood traitor fucking me so hard--"
"Who, Parkinson?" Ron asked, as his pulse pounded in his ears and the scant rhythm of his hips grew ragged. "Who could see?"
"Anyone," Pansy panted, her voice rough. "Everyone in Hogsmeade. Even D-- my friends, and yours. Anyone I know could see you fucking me right now-- oh Merlin-- Weasley--" After that, her insults broke down into a more generalized string of curses, her legs began to shake, and Ron felt her body quiver and pulse around him, until he gave in to the heat that had been building inside him since he'd first spotted her a block away. With a shout, he followed her over the edge into oblivion.
A minute later, Pansy had retrieved her knickers and pulled them back into place. Ron sat down on the edge of the rickety velvet couch and pulled on his jeans.
"Is that what you want, Weasley?" she asked softly, and Ron looked up. Pansy stood before him in the dusty room, clad only in a few bits of black lace, twisting one bit of hair around her finger in a nervous gesture.
"What?" he asked. "Doggy-style?" It had been rather an inspired idea, Ron would happily admit that. He'd had plenty of time to think about it, since their last not-really-a-coincidence meeting over two weeks ago.
"That too, I suppose," Pansy said, raising half her mouth in a smile. "I meant, do you want people to see us together?"
"Like this? In the middle of-- no, not really. I just thought it would be hot."
"Oh, you were right about that," Pansy agreed quickly, but somehow she looked a little disappointed.
She didn't press the issue any farther, but Ron could tell there was still a question in the air somehow. "Do I... want people to see us together?" Ron repeated slowly. "Like a regular couple?" There didn't seem to be many other options. It wasn't as though they went on many dinner dates together; they simply pretended to run into each other, argued publicly, then screwed like rabbits away from the critical eyes of their friends. That was the way they both wanted it, or at least that's what he'd thought.
Pansy scoffed. "We're too messed up for that."
Ron watched as she turned away and gathered her clothes. The room was dusty, littered with broken furniture and scribbled with graffiti, but the light caught her black hair and made her skin look like marble.
"Hey," he said, standing and walking over to her. "Let's do it, huh?" He doesn't explain what it is, doesn't lay out all the variations of dinner and drinks, holding hands in the street and picnics in the park and being a public unit even in a mob of friends, but it's all there in his mind.
"Our friends will think we're under a love potion," Pansy said flatly. Ron didn't bother to point out that they didn't share any friends in common.
"You love to shock them and you know it," he said.
Pansy smiled, and there was a little sparkle in her eyes as if she were picturing the reaction.
"Dinner on Friday," he said, and it wasn't a question, but she nodded in agreement. He felt a smile stretch across his own face then, and he leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips.