fic: Wicked Things (Pansy/Daphne, NC-17)

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Title: Wicked Things
Author: magic_knickers
Prompt Number: #68 submitted by catbirdfish
Kink Showcased: Hedonism
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Pansy/Daphne, background Draco/Pansy and Draco/Astoria
Summary: It was definitely better than moping around the house all day.
Content Notes/Warnings: Femslash, fingering, partially clothed sex
Word Count: 1052
Author's Notes: My first foray into the land of femslash! Beta'd by the lovey juwel_fic.

Mods: Pansy/Daphne tag?

“You wouldn't even believe who's just gotten engaged,” Daphne greeted, red-painted lips shaping around the words carelessly, her right hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Ogden's finest. Neutral facial expression still firmly in place, Pansy opened the door more widely, gesturing for the other girl to enter.

“I'm sure I can,” Pansy answered, leading Daphne through the foyer, down a hallway, and into her favourite of the drawing rooms. One of her ancestors had obviously been exceedingly frivolous; Parkinson Manor seemed to be solely made up of tiny, useless rooms and large, equally useless ballrooms.

“Take a guess, then.” Pansy surveyed her friend as she settled onto the armchair closest to the window, unable to think of a plausible reason for this little game. Then again, Daphne never really needed a reason for much.

“Your sister,” Pansy stated, “And Draco.” She barely managed to keep herself from wincing at the name. Daphne gave her a knowing little smirk, a strand of her fair hair wrapped around a finger, before finally opening the liquor.

“Lucky guess,” she replied, taking a swig directly from the bottle. Pansy grimaced a bit at that, mildly disgusted by such a display. Summoning one of her father's old brandy glasses from the nearby desk, Pansy reached out to take the bottle. It was much more enjoyable when sipped from a glass, she thought.

“Have some class, Greengrass,” Pansy muttered as she poured a rather large amount of the alcohol into her glass. A tray of decadent, bite-sized chocolates had been set out by some House Elves while she hadn't been looking, and Pansy immediately reached for one of them when her eyes landed there, the rush of sweetness and cinnamon filling her mouth when she bit into it. The blonde merely looked at her, though, that irritating little grin still on her face. Choosing to ignore Daphne for the moment, Pansy turned her gaze to the window, where dark, ugly clouds were starting to gather. There was a storm coming in, that much was evident.

“You know what would make you feel better? What would maybe take your mind off of Draco for a bit?” Daphne finally asked, drawing Pansy's attention from the view through the window. Daphne knew her well enough to know that she couldn't resist a bit of fun. For some reason, this didn't bother her as much as it should have.

“What do you have in mind?” Pansy asked, taking the bait. Ever since the War's end, mind games had almost completely ceased to amuse her, especially amongst friends. It had gotten Draco to leave her on some Muggle-istic voyage for “something more,” and it had gotten both of her parents killed. Still, Daphne couldn't seem to help herself, and Pansy hadn't quite learned to navigate the twisted workings of her mind.

“Close your eyes,” the other girl whispered. Pansy hesitated, tentative, before letting her lids slip shut. She sat in the armchair, breathless and unseeing, for what felt like ages. Her pulse was beating loudly in her ears, and Pansy couldn't stop the shiver of anticipation that crept down her spine.

When Daphne's lips touched hers, Pansy had to stifle a gasp. Somehow, she had not quite expected that. Still, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. The other girl's lips were soft and lush, fuller than Draco's had ever been—fuller even than Blaise's—and when her tongue swept out to tease at the seam of Pansy's mouth, she complied willingly enough.

It felt nice, and Pansy figured that she needed something that felt good right now.

Though she'd had only a few sips of the liquor, Pansy's mind was buzzing pleasantly. She was almost convinced that she was simply dreaming when a hand landed on her thigh, surprisingly warm through the fabric of her summer robes. It inched upwards to cup her breast through the thin fabric. Pansy moaned into Daphne's mouth, little sparks and tingles running along her skin like electricity.

They parted, both gasping for breath. Daphne's pupils were dilated so completely that they nearly drowned out the clear, icy blue of her eyes. Licking her lips, Pansy looked away from the girl in front of her and reached for her glass.

“Feeling any better?” Daphne murmured, smiling devilishly. There was lipstick all over her mouth and her lips were scandalously kiss-swollen. Pansy silently affirmed her question. That had been a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

So enjoyable, in fact, that she wanted to do it again.

Now.

Pansy pressed her lips against Daphne's, one hand reaching up to tangle in her hair. It was fine, like a spider's web tangled around her fingers, and almost painfully soft. This time, they did not part until Daphne's hand had worked itself up underneath the hem of Pansy's skirt to play at the silk of her knickers, and they only did so in order to pull them off of her, leaving Pansy clad in only her robes.

Their lips met again, tongues tangling and teeth clacking—Pansy could taste blood in her mouth, but she felt too good to really bother with that. She reached for the buttons on the front of Daphne's tiny, black camisole, fumbling with each little ball until inch after inch of pale flesh was exposed to her. Fingers and hands and tongues—Pansy lost track of what was happening, lost as she was in a sea of pleasure.

There was a hand between her thighs, searching for that spot. Daphne ran a finger over her clit, forcing Pansy to moan into the kiss. They parted once more; Pansy couldn't seem to get enough air into her lungs.

Pressing open-mouthed kisses along Pansy's shoulder, Daphne slipped a finger inside of her tight channel, then, after a few shallow thrusts, followed it with a second one.

I'm dying, Pansy thought, I must be dying.

Daphne curled her fingers inside of Pansy, she sucked on that spot where shoulder met neck, her other hand tweaked one of Pansy's nipples, and Pansy came, a soft, breathy moan escaping her.

“I quite liked that,” Daphne whispered, that wicked smirk still on her face.

Pansy collapsed back into the seat, completely and utterly boneless. With that statement, Daphne had expressed her own thoughts perfectly.

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