Shower Scene

*ahem* Total Smut Ahead. I might transform it into an actual Shower Series, with more explanations. (Depends on feedback, really -- comments much appreciated.) For now, do enjoy, and please let me know what you think! :)

Title: Shower Scene
Author: twiddlekinks
Email: twiddlekinks at gmail dot com
Rating/Genre: NC-17, PWP, Pure Smut, ever-so-slight angst
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Spoilers: As long as you know who Ginny and Draco are, you’ll be fine.
Distribution: My LJ, DracoandGinny.com, Portkey

Disclaimer: The only part o’ mine is the plot and intense smuttage. The characters belong happily to JK Rowling, with or without any consequent sexual frustration.
Date: Composed on 1/1/05, One-Shot (might spin off into a Shower Series.)
Summary: Pure, unadulterated smut involving a particularly steamy shower.
Feedback: Always appreciated. (That is, “Yes, Please!” :))


[Fic begins here.]

Scene: The Prefect’s Bathroom. Alone and after hours.

I’m in the shower. The water is warm and wet, and my thoughts immediately turn to him. As I rinse off the soap, my hand wanders across my breasts, down my sides, to my slit. I touch myself experimentally, thinking about how he moves in my most intimate places.

-*-

The door slides open, and I’m moaning softly. I can feel your presence at my back, and then your chest touches mine. You wrap one elegant and extremely capable hand around my left breast, and your expert fingers slide over my hesitant hands. Together, we stroke my clit, and your lips fasten to my neck, suckling and licking. Your left hand drifts from my breasts to my jawline to my sides over and over. I press against your chest, and feel your erection pressing into my back. I wriggle my ass against you experimentally, and you growl. Suddenly, the pressure from your fingers changes from teasing to urgent, and I moan even louder. You’re stroking me in longer, stronger, almost arrogant movements, and you know I know I’m begging for more.

I finally can’t take it anymore and bend forward, pushing my ass against your front. You seize your engorged cock and position it at my slit. Your left hand is firmly on my hips, and you maneuver my dripping cunt onto the tip of your cock, teasing me with shallow strokes as your right hand still massages my clit. I can’t bite back my moaning, and I know I’m calling out your name, imploring you to stop teasing and get on with it. I can hear your smirk as you chuckle knowingly, completely in control. Typical, for a Malfoy. I decide to take over, and use the wall to push myself over you. Your cock settles deeply within me. We’re still for a moment, just feeling the pulsing. I can feel you so deep inside me. The water keeps sluicing over us. It’s hot and wet and suddenly you’re thrusting your hips into mine. Your right hand is still rubbing my sensitive clit, and I cry out – it feels so good. Then the pace isn’t enough, and both of your hands go to my hips. You ram yourself into me, again and again. I push against the wall for support, feeling the water fall onto my back and flow between us.

You lift my right leg up and place it against a ledge, with your right hand on the underside of my thigh, alternately stroking and grabbing, shoving me into you and you into me. I press against the wall and try to keep up with you, to hold you inside me and push and pull. The speed and friction escalate – it’s unbelievable. You’re going faster and faster, and I’m screaming out your name. The cries echo off the shower walls and the sensations get tighter and tighter and finally I feel my muscles clenching and ecstasy and sensations rip through me and I’m arching my back as you pound once, twice, and I feel your hot pulse emptying inside me, buried deep within my core. I think I hear “Ginny” whisper through your steel control, but I can’t be sure, and I feel myself stiffen. Your hands are still gripping my hips, and you lower your head onto my shoulder, with your chest pressed to my back. I relax. We rest like that for a few moments, with you inside me and the shower wall supporting our weight and the water still raining down.

-*-

His breathing tells me that he’s still there. But he says nothing to me, no matter how vocal I’ve been, no matter how many times the walls have heard me scream his name. In a way, I’m glad. There exist no insults, no social differences, no Malfoy versus Weasley here. Just a need, felt and fulfilled. I don’t know if I hate him or if it’s something less or something more. But the water continues to beat its staccato rhythm on two people, now silent. Neither of us can quit.

-*-

;) Good clean fun. ;)