MinisinooThe Blind Leading the
Blind
Minisinoo
erotic_elves'
June challenge, and also filling one of the 7spells
prompts.All new, all new, all thrillingly new and he catalogued everything from the belly-shaking shock of unbelievably intense sensation to the weakness in the backs of his knees to the saliva dampening the front of his trousers to the labored sound of her breath taken only through her nose. Biting his lips, he made no sound at all, trained by years of wanking behind curtains in a shared dormitory. He wasn't an exhibitionist, and now his ears strained for the telltale sounds of feet scraping on stairs. She'd backed him up against an inner wall that hid them temporarily from anybody arriving; it would grant enough time for her to get to her feet and him to tuck himself back inside his underpants.
It wasn't the first time they'd sneaked up here. It wasn't even the first they'd removed select articles of clothing, or at least wiggled hands inside them. Yet it was the first they'd moved past just hands, and when Cho had maneuvered him back against the wall, sinking to her knees in front of him to undo his zip, he'd sucked in a startled breath, leaning his head back, eyes drifting closed.
If he watched this, he'd have no endurance at all.
Now, his head lolled sideways, stone scratching his cheek and ear as he struggled not to buck into the sweet pressure of her lips around him. His thighs were shaking from the strain and he let the hand at the base of her neck hint at his rhythm, when to speed up and when to slow down. He couldn't make himself verbalize what he needed -- too prudish -- but Cho followed his subtle signals like a prize dressage horse, and perhaps that wasn't the most flattering of comparisons but there was something primal about this, something that drove politeness right out of his head, that made him want to use words like "fuck" and "prick" and "suck me off," at least inside his skull. They felt dirty passing his lips, and perhaps this should feel dirty. But it didn't.
It felt sublime.
"Oh," he whispered as she shifted position slightly and her mouth and tongue unexpectedly hit new places, fluttering and pressing on hypersensitive flesh. Letting go of the wall behind him, he set both hands on her head, cradling it, unable to keep from thrusting forward once, dick striking the soft back of her throat. Then she was gagging and pulling away and his eyes snapped open. "Sorry, sorry," he said in the same soft voice, palms stroking her hair. Late afternoon light was falling through the high windows, pulling blue and red highlights from cascading black. "Didn't mean to do that."
"It's all right," she replied, swallowing and making a funny face. "Tastes a bit . . . bitter."
"Sorry."
"Quit apologizing all the time, Cedric."
He started to say 'Sorry' to that, as well -- instinct -- but managed to bite it back before it escaped. "Do you want to stop?" he asked instead. "That doesn't look terribly comfortable."
She raised her eyes to meet his, such sweet, dark eyes. "I'm not very good at it, am I? I keep . . . drooling like an infant, twisting my neck funny and catching my teeth on you, and -- "
"It's all right." His lips twitched; they were the blind leading the blind here, he supposed. "It feels divine. But your knees on that stone, and . . . well -- "
"Just need a bit of padding." She pulled off her scarf to wad it up where she knelt in front of him and he hurried to offer his own scarf as well. It seemed surreal in its mundanity, but they'd been discovering that sex had these awkward aspects; sometimes one seemed to have too many limbs, or couldn't get a hand twisted the right way, or she'd shift unexpectedly and her breast would pop out of his mouth . . . It was all rather comical when considered soberly, but just now, he wasn't feeling sober. He was flying high on the painfully exquisite sensations she'd woken in him.
"Mostly it's hard to breathe," she added now, "and I can't get all of you in my mouth."
"I don't think that's possible."
Her laughter echoed lightly in the enclosed space. "Braggart."
"I didn't mean it like that!"
But Cho reached up to cover the head of his prick, rubbing gently and making him gasp. "I know you didn't." Leaning forward, she rubbed her cheek against the side of his erection, an oddly affectionate gesture for such a bumpy purple thing, but it felt good. "You aren't small" -- she ran the flat of her tongue up the big vein on the underside and gave him an amused look from the corner of her eyes -- "but you're not freakish, no, and there's supposed to be a way to swallow it all, but I can't manage, quite." She slid back the foreskin and used the point of her tongue to circle all around the flare of the head, and he was losing his ability to think, never mind talk.
"Don't care," he managed. Now she was pinching the skin lightly just below the indentation on the underside of the head, rubbing rapidly back and forth even as she worked her tongue tip into the slit and the dual intensity made his knees give way a little. "Oh bloody, fucking hell! Where did you learn that?"
She giggled, muttering, "Books have their uses," before leaning over to take him back into her mouth, head bobbing rapidly. He closed his eyes again, attention narrowed only to her, to the wet heat and sharp surprise of occasional teeth, the squeeze of long fingers around his base, moving to match her mouth, making up for what she couldn't swallow. With the small part of his mind still working, he wondered what exactly she'd been reading. Her tongue swirled over the tip every time her head came up and her free hand had wormed inside his trousers to find his balls, fondling them gently, rolling them in her palm.
He couldn't stay silent now. His hips undulated along with her motion, and he panted, gasping when her busy tongue hit his sweet spot, sending exquisite little shocks all up and down his spine. He wasn't gripping her head anymore. Instead, both his hands were pressed to the wall behind him for extra leverage, and the rhythm wasn't quite fast enough, her mouth not quite hard enough. He hung suspended -- frustratingly -- on the edge, could feel himself begin to leak, sparks igniting behind closed eyelids. "More!" he gasped, voice desperate. He tried to fantasize in his head, thinking about her shallow tits with small brown nipples and the wetness under his fingers on soft, hot skin when she let him mess about inside her knickers. Between his legs, she sped up as much as she could and he opened his eyes finally, looking down at her dark head. Up and down, up and down, up and down. "Nnngh," he whined, hips arching up, up, like a flyer seeking the sky, sensation fluttering low in his belly, pressure coiling in his balls under her hand. Raw sensation grabbed and shook him in its teeth. "Need -- " He couldn't get the words out, just grunted.
She shifted position slightly, hand tightening on the base of his prick, moving in little jerks up and down while she pulled her mouth back just to the exposed head peaking out of its foreskin. Her thumb moved up to rub that special spot just beneath the head.
Then she sucked -- hard -- cheeks drawn in with the force of it. And he came -- also hard -- hips jerking in an irregular rhythm, biting the side of his own hand to keep from howling at the intensity radiating out from his lap and nearly crashing him to his knees in front of her.
Abruptly he felt cold air all around his prick as she pulled her head back quite suddenly. Semen still leaked in dribbles out of the end of his prick and he reached down to grab himself, milking the last bit. She'd turned away, gagging and spitting spunk onto the stone floor, white like the owl crap. Gasping, penis still twitching slightly, he finally gave in to his bonelessness and sank down on his knees beside her. He wondered if he should feel offended by her reaction -- common assumption said so -- but he wasn't. Instead amusement warred with embarrassment, plus a bit of empathy. He didn't think he'd want to swallow either, in her shoes.
"Sorry," she said as soon as she'd quit spitting and could speak. "So sorry. That was awful of me. I just wasn't prepared and, well, er, it, ah, tastes, erm -- "
The amusement won and he laughed as he tucked himself back inside and zipped up. Orgasm had left him drained and philosophical, and he reached out to run a strand of her inky hair through his fingers. There were drops of white on her cheek and he wiped them away. "My turn to tell you to stop apologizing, right?" She smiled faintly. "Thanks," he said, feeling tender with her. "Just . . . thanks."
Her small smile widened and she scooted closer, ignoring the dried droppings on the floor for the moment. He made room and when she laid her head on his shoulder, he turned his own head to kiss her brow, then her crown. Her face was tucked against his neck. "Consider it," she said against his skin, "my contribution to the Diggory Cause tomorrow, aye?"
"Relaxing me so I can sleep tonight?"
"Something like that."
He pulled away enough to make her look up at him. Then bending, he pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. "Love you," he whispered.
"Ditto," she replied, lips curling beneath his.