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Drabblicious
I'm writing drabbles for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ciaran_draco, since she wants to make the 5 pages in ocassion of her first LJ birthday. So:
Lolita
Ron/Hermione - High Heels
Hermione almost reaches Ron's eyes like this, and he wonders just when is he going to get his breath back. The high heels are black, slim, and he suddenly wants to burst, as she gives a slow turn and her skirt rides up a little. He grabs the sheets tighter, still sitting at the edge of the bed, and Hermione's legs turn into curves and edges painted with chocolate brown on his mind.
She smiles, a finger on her mouth, and says: "Do you like them?" and Ron's world turns white.
Cut me into pieces
H/D - bloodplay, vampirism
Draco cuts thin, straight lines with his fangs over Harry's skin, parallel sketches made in scarlet and pain and throaty moans. He grins up at the other boy, flat on the ground with blood oozing from fourty-three places (he cut. He knows) and glasses fogged with sweat. The scent is driving Draco into madness, and yet he contains himself, saves the very best for the end, licking at a cut under an elbow in there, smearing blood with his lips and nose on Harry's stomach, brain going numb and instinct-based.
A little bite at Harry's achilles heel, and the dark haired boy arches so much Draco thinks he might break.
(And deep down, he knows he'd like that).
ciaran_draco, since she wants to make the 5 pages in ocassion of her first LJ birthday. So:Lolita
Ron/Hermione - High Heels
Hermione almost reaches Ron's eyes like this, and he wonders just when is he going to get his breath back. The high heels are black, slim, and he suddenly wants to burst, as she gives a slow turn and her skirt rides up a little. He grabs the sheets tighter, still sitting at the edge of the bed, and Hermione's legs turn into curves and edges painted with chocolate brown on his mind.
She smiles, a finger on her mouth, and says: "Do you like them?" and Ron's world turns white.
Cut me into pieces
H/D - bloodplay, vampirism
Draco cuts thin, straight lines with his fangs over Harry's skin, parallel sketches made in scarlet and pain and throaty moans. He grins up at the other boy, flat on the ground with blood oozing from fourty-three places (he cut. He knows) and glasses fogged with sweat. The scent is driving Draco into madness, and yet he contains himself, saves the very best for the end, licking at a cut under an elbow in there, smearing blood with his lips and nose on Harry's stomach, brain going numb and instinct-based.
A little bite at Harry's achilles heel, and the dark haired boy arches so much Draco thinks he might break.
(And deep down, he knows he'd like that).