Leigh!fic | Shall We Dance? (1/1) | Blaise Zabini/Romilda Vane
Title: Shall We Dance? (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Blaise Zabini/Romilda Vane
Rating: R
Word Count: ~500
Summary: They were complete opposites. Complete opposites who liked to see one another naked.
Author’s Notes: Written as a gift for nearlyconscious as part of Humpathon 2015 at hp_humpdrabbles -- the prompt was "dancing as foreplay."
"Most men typically ask a woman to dance, Blaise. They don't steal her champagne and whisk her onto the dance floor without a word."
"My apologies, Romilda," he replied smoothly, though his tone was anything but apologetic. "Would you believe me if I said I told you I could not resist? That the sight of you in that dress froze my thoughts?"
She smirked as one hand slid over her hip, his fingertips lightly gripping the red silk of her dress. "I would not." Amused dark eyes flickered up to his face. "I know you too well for that."
And she did. Romilda Vane had known everything there was to know about Blaise Zabini since they were teenagers. Fevered snogs behind the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor had evolved into shagging in the coat check at a London nightclub. It was a game they played, these two people who had nothing in common but sexual attraction. He was a cool and quiet presence, she a brash and forceful personality. They were complete opposites.
Complete opposites who liked to see one another naked.
"Are you thinking of me, Romy?" Blaise's lips brushed her ear as his hand slid around to the small of her back. Then lower, until she could feel the heat of his palm through her thin dress. His other hand held hers as he led her around the dance floor to the music, a slightly Latin feel to the beat.
Romy bit her lip and shook her head. "I'm thinking your hand is on my arse, and that we're in public, Blaise," she murmured.
He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her neck, making her shiver. How he always found that tiny little spot, she never knew, but it made her knees go weak -- and damn the bastard for knowing it. "Liar," he replied softly, tugging her closer. "I think you're thinking of that night, of my lips nibbling your soft skin." His teeth nipped gently at her jaw; a sudden motion, easily seen and dismissed. "Is there still a mark there, Romy? To remind you of me?"
Oh, that snake. If she hadn't been thinking of that night -- and honestly, she had been -- then she was now. A flash of arousal shot through her at the memory, of satin beneath her stomach and breasts, caressing her skin as Blaise nibbled the rounded flesh of her arse. She remembered how he made her cry his name when his hands maneuvered her pliant body so he could move his lips lower still, licking her until she climaxed twice.
"Babushka's Bruise Balm. It works wonders."
"Pity. I suppose I'll just have to try harder next time." With a sudden spin, Blaise's arm banded around her waist, and he dipped her low as the music came to a crescendo and quieted. He held her still for a moment, suspended in the dance. She couldn't miss the way his appreciative gaze darted to her cleavage, or the way her skin was flushed and warm where he touched her. Blaise's lips curled, and he added, "If you'll let me steal another dance later, that is."
Romilda's answering smile was coy. "Who said anything about waiting until later?"
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Blaise Zabini/Romilda Vane
Rating: R
Word Count: ~500
Summary: They were complete opposites. Complete opposites who liked to see one another naked.
Author’s Notes: Written as a gift for nearlyconscious as part of Humpathon 2015 at hp_humpdrabbles -- the prompt was "dancing as foreplay."
"Most men typically ask a woman to dance, Blaise. They don't steal her champagne and whisk her onto the dance floor without a word."
"My apologies, Romilda," he replied smoothly, though his tone was anything but apologetic. "Would you believe me if I said I told you I could not resist? That the sight of you in that dress froze my thoughts?"
She smirked as one hand slid over her hip, his fingertips lightly gripping the red silk of her dress. "I would not." Amused dark eyes flickered up to his face. "I know you too well for that."
And she did. Romilda Vane had known everything there was to know about Blaise Zabini since they were teenagers. Fevered snogs behind the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor had evolved into shagging in the coat check at a London nightclub. It was a game they played, these two people who had nothing in common but sexual attraction. He was a cool and quiet presence, she a brash and forceful personality. They were complete opposites.
Complete opposites who liked to see one another naked.
"Are you thinking of me, Romy?" Blaise's lips brushed her ear as his hand slid around to the small of her back. Then lower, until she could feel the heat of his palm through her thin dress. His other hand held hers as he led her around the dance floor to the music, a slightly Latin feel to the beat.
Romy bit her lip and shook her head. "I'm thinking your hand is on my arse, and that we're in public, Blaise," she murmured.
He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her neck, making her shiver. How he always found that tiny little spot, she never knew, but it made her knees go weak -- and damn the bastard for knowing it. "Liar," he replied softly, tugging her closer. "I think you're thinking of that night, of my lips nibbling your soft skin." His teeth nipped gently at her jaw; a sudden motion, easily seen and dismissed. "Is there still a mark there, Romy? To remind you of me?"
Oh, that snake. If she hadn't been thinking of that night -- and honestly, she had been -- then she was now. A flash of arousal shot through her at the memory, of satin beneath her stomach and breasts, caressing her skin as Blaise nibbled the rounded flesh of her arse. She remembered how he made her cry his name when his hands maneuvered her pliant body so he could move his lips lower still, licking her until she climaxed twice.
"Babushka's Bruise Balm. It works wonders."
"Pity. I suppose I'll just have to try harder next time." With a sudden spin, Blaise's arm banded around her waist, and he dipped her low as the music came to a crescendo and quieted. He held her still for a moment, suspended in the dance. She couldn't miss the way his appreciative gaze darted to her cleavage, or the way her skin was flushed and warm where he touched her. Blaise's lips curled, and he added, "If you'll let me steal another dance later, that is."
Romilda's answering smile was coy. "Who said anything about waiting until later?"