As soon as they entered the room, Pansy scoffed. "Oh, hell no," she stated rather emphatically and with a thought, changed the entire room. Gone was the square bed. In its place, a simple rug lay on the floor. No pillows, no comfort. "No one will be enjoying this," she told him rather flatly.
Gritting his jaw at her imperious tone of voice and her grating attitude, Ron narrowed his eyes. "Fine by me, baby doll. It's not like I wanted any of this anyway."
"Forfeit then," she challenged with a malicious smirk.
"You forfeit!" he countered back, clenching his fists at his side, reminding himself how much bigger he was than her, and that if he smacked her on the snoot—as he was aching to do—he would hurt her. Ron didn't like hurting girls. It was his number one rule: no hitting a girl, ever. He'd never done it, even in Quidditch (it's why he'd picked the position of Keeper – because the contact with other players was limited physically, and the majority of his time was spent on blocking Quaffles lobbed at the goals or Bludgers aimed at his head).
"Never!" Parkinson hissed at him, her fists equally clenched. "You'd just love to see me quit, I'm sure, but you can choke on it, Weasley. I will never give in to the likes of someone like you!"
Smirking, Ron stepped closer. "We'll see about that." He flipped his card up and taunted her by not showing her the Deed on the other side, letting her imagination run wild. "So, shall we get to it? We haven't got all night, you know." Fuming mad, Pansy stomped over to the little scrap of fabric she'd put on the floor and crossed her arms. "I drew first, but I'd rather not touch you yet. Have to work my way up. You go."
"Why? So you can get the last laugh on me? Forget it, Parkinson. You go first," he challenged.
Smirking just as viciously at him as he had at her, she read off her card:
DEED: You get to go down on your partner. Have fun!
Ron blanched. She was going to bite his dick off. That shark-like grin with those little, sharp teeth promised it.
OH, FUCKING HELL!
Unless… He looked across at Slytherin's
Bitch Queen and was inspired. If he didn't make his card unpleasant for her, perhaps she'd be less inclined to make her card unpleasant for him. Besides, he thought, as he read his card again, maybe he could even knock her off her pedestal as 'Mione had suggested earlier this week…
"Parkinson? Perfect. I'd love to see her squirm for one of you, too. How galling would it be to her pride for any one of you three to touch her 'precious pureblood limbs,' much less make her squirm under your mouths and hands?"
Yeah, good plan, that. He could really work her up with his card, pretend it wasn't so bad and he liked it even. Maybe charm her in the doing. Then, she'd be more willing to go easy on him. Or maybe even run off scared (despite her vow of two seconds ago not to be outdone by him).
It was a workable plan. A potentially fun plan. A very Slytherin-like plan. HA! He'd use Parkinson's own way of playing against her. He'd beat her using her own tactics!
"Forget it. I'll go first," he insisted, and read his card aloud to her:
DEED: Lick the beverage or food of your choice off your partner's body.
As he'd expected, his partner balked, but after a minute of letting her pace back and forth, swearing, he finally put his foot down. "Either forfeit or take the dress off," he said in the most even voice he could muster. "It's too pretty to ruin."
She stopped on a dime and looked up at him like he'd gone daft.
"Or, I could just get chocolate sauce all over it," he offered instead. "If you don't mind, that is." Snarling, she reached around and pulled down the zipper of her dress. It was an awfully loud, rather ominous sound in the quiet, bare room, and sweat broke out on his upper lip unexpectedly. With a shrug of her shoulders, the straps fell and then the dress was pooling at her feet.
Circe's holy tits!
Her strapless bra and lacy black panties with the garters that attached to lacy, sheer black thigh-highs covered her so that no hint of nipple or bush was visible, but the rest of her mouth-watering body was fully exposed to his gaze, and for the first time, Ron had an opportunity to see what really had lain under Parkinson's robes. Large C-cup breasts, long torso that was peachy-golden, flat tummy with a tiny bump at the bottom to give it a nice rounding out, hips that were wide enough to want to grab onto as you thrust away, and long, toned legs. He even thought her belly button pretty.
"Take a picture, you lecher," she scowled. "It'll last longer." With that, she lay down on the floor, resigned, staring up at the ceiling with jaw tightly snapped shut.
If she wasn't such a shrew, he might actually think Pansy Parkinson quite a beauty. Too bad she was a raving harpy with a foul mouth, though.
Removing his jacket and summoning a chair to lay it over (he wasn't going to throw it on the floor, carpet or no carpet), he then thought up what single food item he'd most like to lick off that smooth, untouchable skin of hers. The perfect idea came to him, and into his hand popped a bowl of fluffy dairy product – his favourite. Parkinson snorted. "Original, Weasley," she snidely commented. "Really original. Whipping cream."
Scooping up some with two fingers, he put it to her lips and smirked. "Not just any whipping cream, sweet cakes." He smeared it all over her darkly-tinted mouth. "Strawberry heavy whipping cream." She sputtered in reaction, and as soon as her lips parted, he thrust a finger in. "Try some."
She bit him and growled, but not hard enough to hurt, just to warn him off. A half-second later, her eyes widened and she let him go. He removed his fingers and licked his lips, knowing she'd had a taste of the lightly sweet, fruity cream.
As if cued by his action, she mimicked him, and swept the cream off her mouth with a flick of her pink tongue, then hummed in surprise. "Not bad, I suppose," she grudgingly approved. "At least it won't be too sticky."
Suddenly realizing how much fun this actually could be, Ron dipped his fingers back into the bowl and, scooping up a goodly amount of the dessert accompaniment, began smearing it across her belly button. Slytherin's Queen jumped and gasped, then clenched her teeth, trying to pretend disinterest.
Oh, he was going to wipe that indifference away, all right. He was going to make her squirm like a worm on a hook, just as 'Mione had predicted.
Putting the bowl at his side, he leaned over and began lapping the cream off of her body. Within three small strokes of his tongue, he had to reach for more to replenish what he'd taken, and her body shuddered, tightening up. Goosebumps prickled her skin all over now. He took his time licking the second batch off, and then the third, which he smeared up her belly and sternum to the point where the bra cut him off.
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