Smutathon Entry 15: She Came in the Rain (Secret Pairing)
Title: She Came in the Rain
Pairing: Secret
A/N: Rainwater Kink
Smut:
“Hello.”
He couldn’t believe his eyes, but the small rivulets running down her face, the shivers shaking her body were real.
“Come in,” he said.
The sky outside was thundering. He closed the door quickly, turned around, and then gasped when he saw her. She had taken off her coat, and was standing in front of the fire. She was drenched.
“I’m sorry about everything,” she said, before he could think of the best way of starting a conversation. “I was wrong. So bloody wrong.”
“It’s doesn’t matter,” he said, taking out his wand. “Let me cast a Drying Spell on you -”
She shook her head. “Come to me,” she said.
It was as though he had been cast with a demobilising charm. He couldn’t move; he was trembling beneath his robes. He had wanted this for so long, so long …
She was wearing a very pale, very Muggle cotton dress, and he blushed as he noticed her nipples sticking out against the wet fabric. For the first time since he had known her, he was seeing her as a woman - collarbones, breasts, narrow waistline, hips, legs. The lines of her pants were visible, too, so he could easily imagine …
He coughed. “You really need a Drying Spell. It must be uncomfortable … You could catch a cold, too …”
“You’re right,” she said, matter-of-factly. “It is uncomfortable.”
To his utter consternation, she bent down, showing him a full cleavage, and slipped the pants off her. Then, she threw them at his face.
“Perhaps,” she continued, toying with the top button of her dress, “I should take this off as well.”
In three strides, he reached her and, grabbing her hair, kissed her with all the strength he could muster. The force of his attack made her knees buckle, but his other hand was there to lend support by grabbing her arse tightly. When they broke off, she said, “That’s more like it. That’s what you should have done ages ago.”
He lifted her and threw her on his couch. Years of hunger, years of desire were coming out of the woodwork, exploding in the way he licked the rain off her neck. Her puny dress was ripped apart, revealing the real her to him - the milky white bosom, the hard brown nipples, the flat midriff, the reddish triangle that led to her most sensitive, most pleasurable spot. With a groan, he launched himself against her, one hand cupping an unbelievably soft breast, his mouth claiming the other one.
With his wand, she removed his robes, so that he was only in his pants. He jerked as she slapped his arse and guided him on top of her.
“Don’t I need to take this off as well?” he asked her nervously, indicating his pants.
“Lie back,” she ordered.
He obeyed, watched her parting her legs and then sitting on top of him. He was so hard he was going to burst, but she rubbed on him, grinding her hips against his, her arse moving round in a slow motion.
“Please … please,” he begged.
His pants were gone the next second, but he had more to suffer. Her warm mouth closed in around his cock, shutting his brain off, and he buried his hands in her hair, making her move up and down. Closing his eyes, he let himself drown in the indescribable attack of sensations.
All those years of waiting had been worth it; he had emerged victorious against all odds. It was his fingers her lovely hair wrapped around, not Potter’s. It was his skin that gloried in the feel of hers. It was his …
Wait. Why did his inner thigh feel ticklish? He certainly hadn’t seen Lily having coarse hair on her body, unless you counted her …
His eyes flew open; he screamed, and Peter Pettigrew found himself being unceremoniously shoved to the floor.
“I can explain,” he squeaked in terror, as Snape Summoned a patchy cushion to hide his rapidly shrinking manhood. “The Dark Lord felt -”
“OBLIVIATE!” shouted Snape, waving his wand so forcefully Pettigrew was knocked out.
“You shall pay for this one day, you filthy little rat,” he swore under his breath, and then wiped the tear off his eyes.
Pairing: Secret
A/N: Rainwater Kink
Smut:
“Hello.”
He couldn’t believe his eyes, but the small rivulets running down her face, the shivers shaking her body were real.
“Come in,” he said.
The sky outside was thundering. He closed the door quickly, turned around, and then gasped when he saw her. She had taken off her coat, and was standing in front of the fire. She was drenched.
“I’m sorry about everything,” she said, before he could think of the best way of starting a conversation. “I was wrong. So bloody wrong.”
“It’s doesn’t matter,” he said, taking out his wand. “Let me cast a Drying Spell on you -”
She shook her head. “Come to me,” she said.
It was as though he had been cast with a demobilising charm. He couldn’t move; he was trembling beneath his robes. He had wanted this for so long, so long …
She was wearing a very pale, very Muggle cotton dress, and he blushed as he noticed her nipples sticking out against the wet fabric. For the first time since he had known her, he was seeing her as a woman - collarbones, breasts, narrow waistline, hips, legs. The lines of her pants were visible, too, so he could easily imagine …
He coughed. “You really need a Drying Spell. It must be uncomfortable … You could catch a cold, too …”
“You’re right,” she said, matter-of-factly. “It is uncomfortable.”
To his utter consternation, she bent down, showing him a full cleavage, and slipped the pants off her. Then, she threw them at his face.
“Perhaps,” she continued, toying with the top button of her dress, “I should take this off as well.”
In three strides, he reached her and, grabbing her hair, kissed her with all the strength he could muster. The force of his attack made her knees buckle, but his other hand was there to lend support by grabbing her arse tightly. When they broke off, she said, “That’s more like it. That’s what you should have done ages ago.”
He lifted her and threw her on his couch. Years of hunger, years of desire were coming out of the woodwork, exploding in the way he licked the rain off her neck. Her puny dress was ripped apart, revealing the real her to him - the milky white bosom, the hard brown nipples, the flat midriff, the reddish triangle that led to her most sensitive, most pleasurable spot. With a groan, he launched himself against her, one hand cupping an unbelievably soft breast, his mouth claiming the other one.
With his wand, she removed his robes, so that he was only in his pants. He jerked as she slapped his arse and guided him on top of her.
“Don’t I need to take this off as well?” he asked her nervously, indicating his pants.
“Lie back,” she ordered.
He obeyed, watched her parting her legs and then sitting on top of him. He was so hard he was going to burst, but she rubbed on him, grinding her hips against his, her arse moving round in a slow motion.
“Please … please,” he begged.
His pants were gone the next second, but he had more to suffer. Her warm mouth closed in around his cock, shutting his brain off, and he buried his hands in her hair, making her move up and down. Closing his eyes, he let himself drown in the indescribable attack of sensations.
All those years of waiting had been worth it; he had emerged victorious against all odds. It was his fingers her lovely hair wrapped around, not Potter’s. It was his skin that gloried in the feel of hers. It was his …
Wait. Why did his inner thigh feel ticklish? He certainly hadn’t seen Lily having coarse hair on her body, unless you counted her …
His eyes flew open; he screamed, and Peter Pettigrew found himself being unceremoniously shoved to the floor.
“I can explain,” he squeaked in terror, as Snape Summoned a patchy cushion to hide his rapidly shrinking manhood. “The Dark Lord felt -”
“OBLIVIATE!” shouted Snape, waving his wand so forcefully Pettigrew was knocked out.
“You shall pay for this one day, you filthy little rat,” he swore under his breath, and then wiped the tear off his eyes.