"Wait. I—" Eleanor's voice faltered. She stared at the floor, her face flaming. "You're still... I mean, you haven't..."
Alisa glanced down at herself. Still hard. Still aching. The curse didn't care about propriety.
"Don't worry about me," she said gently. "This was about helping you."
"But that's not fair." Eleanor's words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. "You helped me, and you're still—and I should—I want to—"
She stopped, seemingly horrified by what she'd just admitted.
"Eleanor." Alisa kept her voice soft. "You don't owe me anything."
"I know that." Eleanor's hands twisted in her lap. "But I... I've never... and I thought maybe... if you showed me how..."
She trailed off miserably, unable to meet Alisa's eyes.
Alisa studied her for a long moment. The girl was trembling—from nerves, from residual arousal, from something else entirely.
"Are you sure?" Alisa asked quietly.
Eleanor nodded jerkily, still not looking up.
"Eleanor. Look at me."
Slowly, reluctantly, Eleanor raised her head. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but beneath the fear was something else. Determination, maybe. Or desire…
"If we do this," Alisa said carefully, "we go slow. You can stop anytime. Say the word, and it's over, no questions asked. Understood?"
Another nod, barely perceptible.
Alisa sat back down on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs slightly. Her erection stood rigid between them, demanding attention she'd been trying to ignore.
Eleanor approached like a deer ready to bolt at the slightest sound. She knelt down slowly, her movements stiff and uncertain, and stared at Alisa's cock as if it might bite her.
"You can touch it first," Alisa murmured. "Get used to the feel of it."
Eleanor's hand reached out—stopped—reached out again. Her fingers brushed against the shaft, feather-light, and immediately pulled back.
"It's so warm," she whispered.
"It won't hurt you."
Another tentative touch. This time, Eleanor let her fingers linger, tracing along the length with agonising slowness. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, like she was studying for an exam.
"Like this?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"A little firmer. Wrap your hand around it."
Eleanor obeyed, her grip clumsy and too tight at first, then too loose. Alisa guided her gently, showing her the right pressure, the right rhythm.
"That's it," she breathed. "Just like that."
Eleanor pumped slowly, mechanically, watching her own hand move with something like disbelief. "This is so strange," she murmured. "I have one of these now, but I never thought I'd be... that I'd ever..."
"You're doing fine."
Several minutes passed. Eleanor's technique improved marginally, but Alisa could tell the girl was working up to something—could see it in the way she kept glancing at Alisa's cock, then away, then back again.
"I want to try," Eleanor finally said, so quietly Alisa almost missed it. "With my... with my mouth. But I don't—I've never—I don't know how."
"You don't have to."
"I want to." Eleanor's face was scarlet, her voice cracking. "I just... what if I'm terrible? What if I do it wrong? What if—"
"Then we stop, and it's fine." Alisa reached down, brushing a strand of hair from Eleanor's face. "There's no wrong way to do this. Just... do what feels natural. And watch your teeth."
Eleanor let out a nervous, hiccupping laugh. "Watch my teeth. Right. Okay."
She leaned forward, then stopped. Leaned forward again. Her breath ghosted across Alisa's tip, warm and shaky.
"You can take your time," Alisa said.
"I know. I just—" Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm nervous."
"I know."
Another moment of hesitation. Then, finally, Eleanor's lips parted, and she took the head of Alisa's cock into her mouth.
She immediately pulled back, sputtering. "It's—there's a taste—"
"Precum. It's normal."
"Right. Normal." Eleanor wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking mortified. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm ruining this."
"You're not ruining anything." Alisa's voice was patient, tinged with amusement, even as her body screamed for more contact. "Try again. Slower this time."
She's just too adorable.
Eleanor took a steadying breath. Then another. Then she leaned in once more.
This time, she didn't pull away.
Her mouth was clumsy, uncertain—too much suction, then not enough, her rhythm faltering every few seconds. She kept stopping to ask if she was doing it right, her words muffled and barely comprehensible around Alisa's shaft.
"Mhm, like... mhm, this?" she mumbled.
Alisa moaned softly in response, and Eleanor seemed to take that as encouragement. She tried to take more, gagged slightly, and retreated to a more manageable depth.
"Sorry," she whispered, pulling off entirely. "Sorry, I—"
"Stop apologising. You're doing wonderfully."
Eleanor's eyes were watering—from the gagging or from emotion, Alisa couldn't tell. "Really?"
"Really. Keep going. Only if you want to."
A hesitant nod. Eleanor returned to her task, her movements still awkward but growing slightly more confident. She alternated between taking Alisa in her mouth and stroking with her hand, clearly uncertain which one she should be doing.
"You taste..." Eleanor paused, licking her lips experimentally. "Different from what I expected. Not bad. Just... different."
"You can stop anytime," Alisa reminded her, even as her hips twitched involuntarily.
"I don't want to stop." Eleanor's voice was small but certain. "I want to... I want to make you feel good. Like you did for me."
She took Alisa back into her mouth with renewed determination, her technique still sloppy but her enthusiasm unmistakable. The warmth, the wetness, the soft sounds of effort Eleanor made—it was more than enough.
Alisa felt herself getting close. "Eleanor—I'm going to—you should pull back—"
But Eleanor didn't pull back. Her eyes met Alisa's, wide and nervous but resolute, and she kept going.
When Alisa came, Eleanor's eyes went wider still. She sputtered, coughed, and some of it spilt from the corner of her mouth—but she swallowed what she could, grimacing at the taste.
"That was..." Eleanor sat back on her heels, wiping her chin with a trembling hand. "That was a lot."
"Are you okay?"
"I think so." Eleanor's laugh was shaky, borderline hysterical. "I just—I can't believe I actually—did I do it right? Was it okay? I know I wasn't very good, but—"
"You were perfect," Alisa said firmly, and meant it.
Eleanor's face crumpled with relief. "Really?"
"Really." Alisa reached down and helped her up, pulling her onto the bed beside her. "Come here. You're shaking."
Eleanor curled into her side without protest, still trembling. "That was terrifying," she admitted in a small voice. "But also... I don't know. I'm glad I did it."
"I'm glad you did too." Alisa pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Thank you."
They lay there in silence, both of them catching their breath, both of them processing what had just happened.
龴ↀ◡ↀ龴
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Chapter 32: Lake talk
Chapter 33: Glad you came
Chapter 34: Tonks IV
(and so on)