Drabbles

“Slower.”

Her tone was uncompromising but Cormac would have listened anyway. He’d been firmly put in his place by the unapologetic Slytherin after a broom cupboard fumble which had left him panting and her perplexed. 

“Wait, really?” she’d said, sounding genuinely surprised. “McLaggen, you can’t possibly have just come.”

“Uh…” It was blatantly obvious that he had. “Sorry, I thought you had already?”

She’d raised a brow. “Did you? Seriously?”

He seriously had.

“You sounded into it. Was it not good?”

She’d appraised him then, a little tilt to her head. “You have potential,” she’d told him at last. “You have great control of your body, and the right passion, and a really, really lovely cock. Let me show you how to actually do it.”

Well, he’d thought, if she was willing to give him pointers, he’d be a fool to say no.  

It was two days later and he’d gotten her into bed (or rather, she’d gotten him), which was a much better place for a proper education. 

He slowed his hips even though the restraint felt unnatural, watching her face to see when it was right. She hummed a low, pleased noise and nodded when he found it: a lazy, languid rock. 

Surely this wouldn’t be enough? 

But a slower pace meant he could properly feel her and it was keeping his own release at bay, and that combination was proving to be rather excellent. 

“Ohh, there you go. That’s much better.”

Her approval was rather excellent too.

He hummed up at her, warm and aroused by the praise. “Yeah, you like that?”

She nodded, lip caught between her teeth but then she frowned and swatted at his chest. “Focus! You sped up again.”

“Fuck.” He adjusted his hands, swallowing and trying to center himself on her. He found the slower rhythm again. “Okay. How’s what?”

“Tilt your hips again…more…more…toward yourself not—” She cut herself off with a squeak. 

He flushed hotly with pride at the way her eyes went wide. “Like that?”

“Gods yes. Now…now find that pace again and for the love of Merlin, do…not…stray.”

He grit his teeth, focus absolute and eyes on hers. He watched her look at him, first his eyes but then his mouth, his neck, his chest. It made him want to rail into her, for being so into him, but he restrained himself. 

She didn’t want that. 

“When you find a good pace like this,” she began, a little more short of breath than before, “you can put more intention into the strokes. Try to visualize your cock rubbing inside me, right on that spot I showed you.”

He panted out a short exhalation at that, remembering how she’d guided his fingers inside her before she’d let his cock anywhere near her again. He could still feel the texture of her on his fingertips, and hear the sounds she’d made when he’d finally gotten it right. 

He worked his hips in a few tight patterns until he found the small upwards circle that had her mouth dropping open.

“That it? Right there?”

“Uh huh.” Pansy was softening on top of him, her hands flexing absently on his pecs and her hips sinking until she was flush with him, grinding on his lap with each thrust. 

“Clit, McLaggen,” she ordered on an exhale. “Do it the way I showed you.”

He worked his fingers between them, the angle a little awkward until he got his wrist flipped over by an impatient hand.

Ah, that made sense.

He found her clit easily — he wasn’t completely inept — but recalled the way she’d instructed him before: firm pressure, small circles. It was completely different from the passionate, rapid swiping he’d thought was needed. 

She rewarded him with a little squeeze around his cock and the feel of it nearly knocked his brain loose. He’d never felt that before. 

“Oh shit. Does this feel good?”

“Yes.” The word was clipped, but not because of frustration: she was distracted. Finally. 

He felt her flutter again, a little harder, and groaned from deep in his chest, the satisfaction of giving her pleasure fueling him. The sound made her whimper, a cut-off little noise like she hadn’t meant to give it to him yet. It made him all the more dedicated to earning it. 

“Will this make you come?” He watched her face tighten at the low question. 

“Almost.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay…okay. Fast now. Fast will make me come.”

“Fucking hell.” He maintained everything about his position as best he could and doubled the pace.

She was snug around him so it made his accuracy easier, and then she was clenching on his cock properly, lovely pulsing squeezes, grinding on him and moaning brokenly to the ceiling. 

“So pretty,” he panted. “Fuuuck that feels good.”

He was now certain that he’d never felt a girl come on him before and it made him both ashamed and determined. He would make them come — as hard as they could and often as he could manage. The thought filled him with a new urgency for his own.  

“Can I—?”

Pansy was lax above him, cunt squelching happily as she rocked on him, working herself through the aftershocks. She peered down at him with a little pride of her own. 

“Who knew you’d be such an attentive student?”

He barked a laugh, hands tightening reflexively on her waist. “Please?”

“Go on, then.” She bit the corner of her lip, coy. “Want to return the favor? Teach me how to make you come?”

“Sure.” He pressed his head back, eyes lidded but on her still. “Bounce on me, Parkinson. I like it fast.”

She snorted and flicked a brow. “I know you do.”