As soon as his hands released her, Pansy crawled off of him and to the side, turned away from him. She rolled up into a little ball and started crying.
The sound of her sincere anguish slashed at Ron's heart. What had happened? What had gone wrong? That just shared a mind-blowing experience. They'd both orgasmed really hard and enjoyed it, right? So, what was up with the boo-hooing?
Staring over at his partner's curved, naked spine, sanity returned, bringing with it sickening dread. This was Pansy Parkinson, one of his bitterest rivals, and she'd just allowed him to make her climax twice she'd begged for it, in fact. And she'd sucked him off and swallowed his come, too, gulping him down with an eagerness that matched his. Fuck, but they'd completely lost their fecking minds there for a few minutes, becoming animals, pawing and biting at each other in desperation! She was probably feeling really embarrassed and very vulnerable right about then as a result. He knew he the hell was!
Sitting up, Ron tucked his tired, flaccid member back into his pants and zipped up his trousers, crawling over to the weeping witch's side, unsure as to what to do now. She had her arms wrapped about her middle, her lids were squeezed tightly shut, and she was sobbing as hard as she had been the morning he'd ran into her in the hallway on his way to Transfiguration. He thought she looked very small and defeated.
A wave of shame swept over him, killing the satisfied buzz he'd had going after coming.
Shite, he'd hurt her. Not physically, but in a much more powerful, terrible manner: he'd toyed with her emotions by using sex as a weapon. Although it had been his intention to teach her a lesson tonight in just such a manner, seeing her like this now… well, it hurt him, too. Facing the consequences of his revenge, Ron knew in that instant that he'd done the wrong thing. A queer need to take responsibility, to comfort the crying woman erupted in his conscience and forced him to act.
Taking a risk, he snuggled up behind Pansy in a spooning position on the floor, and wrapped both arms about her, pulling her slight form against him to both comfort and provide warmth. She didn't resist, but simply cried harder. "I'm sorry that I hurt you," he whispered in her ear, his voice catching slightly as he felt remorse weigh heavily upon his chest. "Merlin, I don't understand any of what just happened, Parkinson, but… gods, you're so fucking beautiful, every bit of you. Did you know?" He pressed a chaste kiss to her throat. "I know you hate me, but… fuck, I loved what we just did! You were abso-bloody-lutely wonderful. I've never come so hard in my life. That was the best I've ever felt. I… I thought you liked it, too. I'm sorry if you didn't."
He held her in silence after that as her crying eventually tapered off. Finally, lying limp in his arms, she sniffed away the last of her sorrow.
"The best? Really?" she asked in a tentative whisper. "Are you lying?" Ron huffed. "Hell, woman, I could die happy after that. You taste like the sweetest dessert I've ever had and you suck cock better than any fantasy I could dream up. What wasn't there to love about it?"
Parkinson chuckled. "You want to know something funny, Weasley? I've never come so hard in my life either. And twice! I've never done that. I'd be lucky to get it once most of the time."
His ego gave a rousing cheer in his head. At least he'd done something right.
Parkinson turned in his arms and poked him in the chest, giving him an arch look. "But you're not allowed to tell a soul I said that, or I'll hex off your brass ones."
He lifted his hands from around her waist and put them up between them, as if to ward off potential evil. "Yes, ma'am," he automatically replied, having been taught from a young age not to argue with an authoritative woman, if possible.
After that, they lay on the floor, not touching anymore, just looking at each other, measuring up the other's intentions, considering future options.
Would he want to repeat what they'd just done? Hell, yes! If the oral stuff was that good, what would the fucking be like?
The irony of that thought struck him when the chime rang to tell them their time was over and they got up to dress. As he helped her look presentable once more, even going so far as to helping her re-zip her dress and assuring the front chains of the costume hung properly, he realized that his earlier answer to the Interrogations card from the first round had been the truth:
he had liked going down on his partner.
No, not just 'liked'. He'd loved it. Now, wasn't that the hell of it?
——————————————————
Don't want to wait?
Get the full chapters and extra content in my PDF store.
——————————————————
https://ko-fi.com/cmrowling