FIC: "Washed on the Delicate Cycle" for nightfalltwen
Title: Washed on the Delicate Cycle
Author: ???
To: nightfalltwen
Pairing: Padma/Parvati
Rating: NC-17
Squicks: Incest
Summary: Parvati gives Padma back what Ravenclaw took from her. She takes it.
Parvati lapped up the last of the strawberry massage oil from her fingertips, her eyes burning like a candle lit behind a thin lense of amber. It strawberry was surprisingly accurate, not at all like the pumpkin one had been. Or the pineapple. Or the raspberry.
She bent down and licked at Padma's clit with a girlish smile. Padma giggled, squirming on the rose-coloured cotton sheets. Parvati stayed her head there, licking again, then sucking the small peak of flesh like it was a sugar quill, tongue teasing the underside. It wasn't a giggle that came out of Padma now, but a slow, high intake of breath followed by a sighing moan. Padma combed her fingers through her sister's hair as Parvati reached out to grasp both of Padma's thighs, spreading them apart just so.
"Who was this?" Padma enquired, head tossing to the side, eyes glossy and unfocused on the massive paper fan hanging upon the wall.
"Ernie MacMillan," Parvati answered, briefly halting her slow assault on Padma and catching her eyes again. "The boy always did have a mouth on him," she added with a smirk.
Padma laughed at the response for all of ten seconds; Parvati then dragged her tongue along the roof of her opening and suddenly her body, already raw with a night of bliss, was back and humming. She moaned softly, one hand tangling in the shiny strands of jet-black hair, the other coming to press along her breasts, back and forth.
Parvati ate at Padma's opening hungrily, the strawberry gone from her tongue and replaced by something sweet with a hint of salt, like all good shortbread had. It was narcissistic, she imagined, to enjoy her taste so much, even if it was coming from Padma. They were twins-- identical in most every physical respect. Of course she'd taste the same as Padma. Feel the same as Padma did when it had been the Head Boy's tongue digging deeper and deeper into her. Make the same sound.
Which was a sigh as Parvati's slick, dark hair became tight brown curls hugging a proud, eager masculine face in Padma's mind; a face with pale sea green eyes that graced a neck that was too long and elegant for a boy; a neck that spread onto shoulders that were smooth and pale; shoulders that trailed into limbs, long with strong forearms from the sheer number of reports he wrote and rewrote; forearms that sprayed into long, ink-smudged fingers; fingers that slid into her, wet and waiting.
Padma's eyes snapped wide, breath laboured and erratic as Parvati jabbed two fingers inside, not even bothering with starting slow and languid because Ernie hadn't. She sucked hard on Padma as she found that small bed of nerves with ease just behind her pelvic wall, proceeding to rake over it with all the determination of a badger. The laboured breaths became even more shallow, and it was only moments before Parvati felt Padma's worn muscles clench hard and a shrill cry escape her lips.
It was a few moments later when Parvati climbed up the bed to lie beside her sister, one arm pillowing her head off of the bed, facing her sister's tired, bliss-worn body. "Much better than Nott, wouldn't you say?" Parvati asked conversationally.
Padma's head rolled to face Parvati's, a small, embarrassed smile on her usually dry and austere face. "I don't know... I rather liked him just... shoving himself into me. It hurt quite a bit, but he was so wide---" Padma stifled a giggle with her hand and blushed, looking away. Parvati couldn't help but giggle at her sister's reaction and picked up the dildo that she'd grown to just the right size. She bopped Padma on the nose with it and gave it a toss, the black length dropping with a crash into Padma's night stand drawer.
Padma giggled again and rolled over, pressing Parvati to the bed. She met those identical eyes and smiled.
****
Padma couldn't place when she had become so shy, but it had to have been after she was sorted into Ravenclaw. She could remember being young and sitting at home in Hounslow with Parvati and Susan Bones and Huong Moon, who was two years younger then them but lived next door and therefore had to be included in all of their adventures. She had been outgoing and vivacious and chattery then-- all the things Parvati had been. But as they'd been sorted and separated and laundered in the washing machine of Hogwarts, it seemed those things had been bleached out of her. She would do nervous things like push her hair back behind one ear when someone spoke to her and always look a few millimeters down from someone's eyes-- things she had never done and couldn't remember ever deciding to do. Especially around boys. They were never interested in her and she could never bring herself to do anything interesting with them or, more importantly, TO them.
At least not physically.
Her mind ran rampant with fantasy. The boisterous boys of Gryffindor who didn't waste a moment with silly things like inhibitions; the dreamers of Hufflepuff who took extra care and satisfaction in their work; the experimental Ravenclaws who were intent on perfecting and refining their skills; and the smooth boys of Slytherin that could talk you into anything and made you want what they did-- they all held such mystery and charm and possibility that some days it took all her concentration not to touch herself in the middle of lessons. It had been torture to want so badly and feel so helpless.
Had been.
It had started that last summer as they prepared for their final year at Hogwarts. Parvati had regaled her with the story of the torrid one-month affair she had carried on with Dean Thomas after he'd broken up with Ginny. Upon seeing the dark, wanton look in Padma's eye as she went into every detail, Parvati has simply asked her if she'd like to see. Padma had thought she was going to break out a pensieve she didn't know about. Instead, Parvati pulled a pink dildo from her school trunk and stood over her, eyes glittering with a kaleidoscope of emotions.
The first kiss had been awkward, the first touch even more so as she couldn't quite shake the sensation that she was kissing her sister and that it was very wrong. But as Parvati moved over her and then in her, the hesitation washed away. Her mind, so intensely trained to remember the most minute detail, began to fill in the series of moments like a paint by number portrait; large, smooth, dark hand at her hip, soft voice asking her to undress, shorn black curls in her hand as she pressed his insistent lips to hers. Parvati disappeared and Padma became everything she wanted to be- confident, passionate, attractive, female. She blossomed.
Parvati may have been promiscuous, but Padma became the secret slut of Hogwarts, revelling in the nights Parvati gave her. Parvati's attention to detail was as meticulous as her own and there wasn't a person she wouldn't experience if Padma thought it might be an interesting 'experiment'. Padma couldn't get enough.
****
Parvati looked into her sister's eyes, glittering darkly with fulfilment, and knew she wasn't what Padma saw.
Parvati wished she was.
Author: ???
To: nightfalltwen
Pairing: Padma/Parvati
Rating: NC-17
Squicks: Incest
Summary: Parvati gives Padma back what Ravenclaw took from her. She takes it.
Parvati lapped up the last of the strawberry massage oil from her fingertips, her eyes burning like a candle lit behind a thin lense of amber. It strawberry was surprisingly accurate, not at all like the pumpkin one had been. Or the pineapple. Or the raspberry.
She bent down and licked at Padma's clit with a girlish smile. Padma giggled, squirming on the rose-coloured cotton sheets. Parvati stayed her head there, licking again, then sucking the small peak of flesh like it was a sugar quill, tongue teasing the underside. It wasn't a giggle that came out of Padma now, but a slow, high intake of breath followed by a sighing moan. Padma combed her fingers through her sister's hair as Parvati reached out to grasp both of Padma's thighs, spreading them apart just so.
"Who was this?" Padma enquired, head tossing to the side, eyes glossy and unfocused on the massive paper fan hanging upon the wall.
"Ernie MacMillan," Parvati answered, briefly halting her slow assault on Padma and catching her eyes again. "The boy always did have a mouth on him," she added with a smirk.
Padma laughed at the response for all of ten seconds; Parvati then dragged her tongue along the roof of her opening and suddenly her body, already raw with a night of bliss, was back and humming. She moaned softly, one hand tangling in the shiny strands of jet-black hair, the other coming to press along her breasts, back and forth.
Parvati ate at Padma's opening hungrily, the strawberry gone from her tongue and replaced by something sweet with a hint of salt, like all good shortbread had. It was narcissistic, she imagined, to enjoy her taste so much, even if it was coming from Padma. They were twins-- identical in most every physical respect. Of course she'd taste the same as Padma. Feel the same as Padma did when it had been the Head Boy's tongue digging deeper and deeper into her. Make the same sound.
Which was a sigh as Parvati's slick, dark hair became tight brown curls hugging a proud, eager masculine face in Padma's mind; a face with pale sea green eyes that graced a neck that was too long and elegant for a boy; a neck that spread onto shoulders that were smooth and pale; shoulders that trailed into limbs, long with strong forearms from the sheer number of reports he wrote and rewrote; forearms that sprayed into long, ink-smudged fingers; fingers that slid into her, wet and waiting.
Padma's eyes snapped wide, breath laboured and erratic as Parvati jabbed two fingers inside, not even bothering with starting slow and languid because Ernie hadn't. She sucked hard on Padma as she found that small bed of nerves with ease just behind her pelvic wall, proceeding to rake over it with all the determination of a badger. The laboured breaths became even more shallow, and it was only moments before Parvati felt Padma's worn muscles clench hard and a shrill cry escape her lips.
It was a few moments later when Parvati climbed up the bed to lie beside her sister, one arm pillowing her head off of the bed, facing her sister's tired, bliss-worn body. "Much better than Nott, wouldn't you say?" Parvati asked conversationally.
Padma's head rolled to face Parvati's, a small, embarrassed smile on her usually dry and austere face. "I don't know... I rather liked him just... shoving himself into me. It hurt quite a bit, but he was so wide---" Padma stifled a giggle with her hand and blushed, looking away. Parvati couldn't help but giggle at her sister's reaction and picked up the dildo that she'd grown to just the right size. She bopped Padma on the nose with it and gave it a toss, the black length dropping with a crash into Padma's night stand drawer.
Padma giggled again and rolled over, pressing Parvati to the bed. She met those identical eyes and smiled.
****
Padma couldn't place when she had become so shy, but it had to have been after she was sorted into Ravenclaw. She could remember being young and sitting at home in Hounslow with Parvati and Susan Bones and Huong Moon, who was two years younger then them but lived next door and therefore had to be included in all of their adventures. She had been outgoing and vivacious and chattery then-- all the things Parvati had been. But as they'd been sorted and separated and laundered in the washing machine of Hogwarts, it seemed those things had been bleached out of her. She would do nervous things like push her hair back behind one ear when someone spoke to her and always look a few millimeters down from someone's eyes-- things she had never done and couldn't remember ever deciding to do. Especially around boys. They were never interested in her and she could never bring herself to do anything interesting with them or, more importantly, TO them.
At least not physically.
Her mind ran rampant with fantasy. The boisterous boys of Gryffindor who didn't waste a moment with silly things like inhibitions; the dreamers of Hufflepuff who took extra care and satisfaction in their work; the experimental Ravenclaws who were intent on perfecting and refining their skills; and the smooth boys of Slytherin that could talk you into anything and made you want what they did-- they all held such mystery and charm and possibility that some days it took all her concentration not to touch herself in the middle of lessons. It had been torture to want so badly and feel so helpless.
Had been.
It had started that last summer as they prepared for their final year at Hogwarts. Parvati had regaled her with the story of the torrid one-month affair she had carried on with Dean Thomas after he'd broken up with Ginny. Upon seeing the dark, wanton look in Padma's eye as she went into every detail, Parvati has simply asked her if she'd like to see. Padma had thought she was going to break out a pensieve she didn't know about. Instead, Parvati pulled a pink dildo from her school trunk and stood over her, eyes glittering with a kaleidoscope of emotions.
The first kiss had been awkward, the first touch even more so as she couldn't quite shake the sensation that she was kissing her sister and that it was very wrong. But as Parvati moved over her and then in her, the hesitation washed away. Her mind, so intensely trained to remember the most minute detail, began to fill in the series of moments like a paint by number portrait; large, smooth, dark hand at her hip, soft voice asking her to undress, shorn black curls in her hand as she pressed his insistent lips to hers. Parvati disappeared and Padma became everything she wanted to be- confident, passionate, attractive, female. She blossomed.
Parvati may have been promiscuous, but Padma became the secret slut of Hogwarts, revelling in the nights Parvati gave her. Parvati's attention to detail was as meticulous as her own and there wasn't a person she wouldn't experience if Padma thought it might be an interesting 'experiment'. Padma couldn't get enough.
****
Parvati looked into her sister's eyes, glittering darkly with fulfilment, and knew she wasn't what Padma saw.
Parvati wished she was.