She pressed into him, arching and pulling him into her, snogging him as if her N.E.W.T.s depended on it, her arms around his neck, and then one leg went around him. Thorin smiled into her lips. What a demanding little thing! He rolled her underneath him, she moaned loudly, and her pins once again wrapped around his waist. His cock was obviously all for it, but thank all deities his bloody hysterics had passed, and it was time to use his sodding head. Not that head. Fuck. Both his heads.
He tore his lips from her greedy hot mouth, she was by then clenching handfuls of his hair in her ickle fists, and rose above her on his knees. Oh that was worth it! Her peepers grew twice as large, and yeah, Leary, don't even try! Of course she was trying to look elsewhere, but… let's face, no one could in this situation. She gulped and then finally met his eyes.
"Am I supposed to…?" She was so obviously bricking it that he smirked and shortly wondered if he could keep his gob shut for couple more minutes to see her panic and squirm, but then he took pity of the poor kitten.
"Oral assignments next time, Leary," she was staring at him, and he gave her a look over. Bloody hell, she was fit. Fuck it, he cared no more, his internal decision was that she was bleeding sexy, odd or not. Radiant skin, flushed and silky, small tits, and the size was brill. "On your stomach, Leary." She frowned but listened. He didn't think she would, but now he was presented with the view of her perky arse, and it was time to admit he was mental when it came to this arse. He leaned in and applied his mouth where it belonged. Kisses, sucks, and nips, he swirled his tongue on it, and she was so bloody loud again! And would you look at that! She was pointedly rubbing her fanny to the sheets, he picked up her legs under the knees and spread. She exhaled loudly, but didn't object. He started moving slowly up her body, kissing and tasting the narrow back, the shoulder blades and then the nape. He gave the back of the neck a few gentle bites, and she suddenly moaned in her throat and the perky backside jumped up pressing into his cock. Oh? That was bloody interesting. He doubled the efforts on the neck, and then put his knees and elbows on the sheets firmly and pressed his cock to her entrance. She arched her back and whined. Someone was in anticipation!
He slid in, and she hissed. She would be very sensitive, and he gave her a jiffy. The skinny shoulders were tense, and there were goosebumps on the skin of her nape, he gently kissed, burying his nose into the hairline, the barmy curls were sweeped on one side, and she suddenly slightly turned her head and rubbed her temple to his nose. That was way too chummy for his comfort, he swallowed with difficulty and rolled his hips into her. She immediately dropped her head and moaned. She was also supporting herself on the elbows, but he didn't expect her to for long. He rose over her, she emitted a raspy groan, and he started shagging her forcefully. Her arms gave in after three thrusts, but she started pushing her arse to meet him after four, the high-pitched wailing started right away.
"Blimey, Leary, you are a screamer!.." His voice was choked, and she responded by shoving her perky buttocks into him even more. He bent his neck, his lips and teeth on her neck, and his hands found hers, fingers intertwining. He was still holding himself under control and listened to her scat singing, and then he found just that one brill angle that made her holler, and he just went for it! She was now chanting something in Gaelic, and then his ickle ginger got her first vaginal crisis.
Her fingers crooked, grasping his painfully, and her bloody "Thorin, Thorin, oh Thorin..." made him move again, forgetting everything, his lips pressed to her skin, all his body burning, and fuck, fuck, fuck!.. He came, and apparently he could be loud too, and he fell on her panting and sobbing. Oh for fuck sake he was properly pathetic.
"You are heavy..." She didn't seem dischuffed, that was more of a purr than a complain. He wiped his sweaty forehead to the sheet near her head and rolled off her with a groan. She stayed on her stomach, eyes closed, little curls stuck to her sweaty temple. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the ace buzzing in his whole body, heart drumming under his hands on the chest. And then he saw she was asleep.
He should have woken her up, they needed to clean up here and return to their dormitories, but he just lay there watching her sleeping face. The lashes were long, there was no make-up on her, and suddenly something clenched in his chest. It actually properly hurt to look at her. He stretched his hand and moved a few ginger curls off her face. The jawline was delicate, and he clenched his teeth.
"Wake up, Leary," he kept his voice soft, not to freak her out. He cleaned up the candles and got dressed, and she was still sleeping. He carefully touched her shoulder, she made some sniffly nose and rolled into him, nuzzling his chest.
One arm went around his waist, he tried to move away, and she mumbled into him, "You're warm…"
"Leary, you need to wake up… It's past two, you need to return to your room." The slanted eyes flew open, and she jerked away from him. The cheeks immediately started burning, and then she slowly slid the leg off him that she managed to wrap around him.
"Past two? Oh blimey, did I fall asleep? I always do after..." She mumbled something there, probably referring to her alone times. That was an interesting topic, but probably it had to be saved for the next time. He handed her her clobber, and she dove under the duvet and started grubbing there, trying not to show any of her naked parts, which was hilarious and once again looked like a cat rummaging under blankets.
"Are you an animagus, Leary?" She sharply sat up under there, and even the duvet hill she was at the mo had a shocked expression. He was smiling smugly.
"Yes..." Her answer from under there was squeaky, and he pushed his hand under the duvet and grabbed what turned out to be a knee. Another squeak followed. He decided he'd allow himself one small thing and rubbed the skin with his thumb.
"And what's your animal form?" He thought he knew an answer.
"A Kneazle." His guess was close enough. She made a few spasmodic movements, a tee was on probably, and she pushed the duvet off. The mental hair stood up in a dandelion around her noggin. "It's skinny, the fur is obviously a manky orange colour, and has a long tail with a brush. Basically, I am a minger of a cat in my animal form. Who'd reckon?" She was hiding behind her usual self-deprecatory sarcasm. Like that time that she said he only wanted to shag her because she was new, and that she knew she was a minger. She didn't seem like a minger to him now. If ever.
He lay on his back and studied her face. She looked pissed off and was busy pulling on her denim, still under the duvet. He got her off with his mouth before, he did have a good look, but she was now hiding. He told his mawkish noggin to shut the fuck up, that was not endearing! She finally got up and pushed her feet into the flats.
"Do you need me to help with the… bed?"
"I'm in a generous mood, Leary, go get your kip. I'll finish here," he languishly waved his hand in the air, and she awkwardly shifted between her feet. Probably wondering what the protocol was for this situation. Thorin never shagged one chick twice, except for his sort of girlfriend, but that was a different story. But again Leary didn't know, and she looked at him hoping for some guidance. "How about when you are in the mood for more you send me a note, and vice versus? And we will make an appointment," he was taking a piss to silence the nagging feeling. She took a step back from him, now that the shag was over she went back to her skittish self, and he looked away from her. He didn't want to see her like that, he wanted his fiery ginger back. And then he reminded the thick fucking nutter that he was that there was no 'his ginger.' She just chose him because he knew what he was doing with his pecker.
"Um… Alright then..." She was probably backing up to the door, he didn't want to watch it. "Goodnight."
"Cheers, Leary," he kept his tone nonchalant, and the door opened and closed. He rolled on his stomach and buried his nose in the pillows. It smelled like her lilac perfume, and he groaned. Stupid, stupid, stupid, fucking moron…
He didn't see her on Sunday, and then the week started, and it was as if nothing happened. She was paired with Rivendell in Herbology again, she laughed with Mirkwood in Potions, and once again aced her Charms. He caught Thea Martin's eyes on himself couple times, she looked tense but not pissed off, so he assumed the ginger didn't complain, but on the other hand who gave a shit? He turned away from their table in the Great Hall and went back to his scroll.
It was Thursday, and he was on his way to the pitch for Quidditch practise when he bumped in some third year kid on his way. The sprog was standing in the middle of the passage, and Thorin snarled something insulting to him and head on, when something scraped at his mind, and he turned around. The kid was from Hufflepuff and looked way too pale. A dux and the King of his House would walk on, but the future healer Thorin Durinson didn't.
He came up to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. The bairn jerked and raised his eyes at Thorin. They were hollow and red rimmed.
"Are you alright, kid?" Thorin knew the boy wasn't.
"I'm fine, just..." He twisted his shoulder from under Thorin's hand. "I'm fine..." That didn't sound right.
"Your surname, sir," Thorin went for his prefect tone, and the boy jolted.
"Abbott, sir, William Abbott." The colour returned to the kid's cheeks, this time from embarrassment, and Thorin gave him another studying look. Something was very woolly about the bairn, but Thorin had no right to detain him.
"OK, Abbott, off you pop." The boy rushed away, Thorin picked up his broom firmer, but the grotty nagging feeling didn't go away.
After practice he marched to the Hospital Wing. He was overstepping all possible boundaries, but the memories from September were still fresh. The Matron, or Mrs. Longbottom, depending on how one looked at it, was sitting at her desk scribbling something.
"Oh, Durinson," she smiled to him widely, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He told her of the boy, he was her nephew after all, and Hannah Longbottom, nee Abbott frowned.
"He was just sort of… off," Thorin couldn't explain any better, "I mean I'm no healer, but there was just this iffy feeling about him." Thorin felt embarrassed, but thank Merlin, the Matron didn't tell him to sod off and nodded.
"I'll keep an eye on him. This year is just odd," the Matron rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration, "First the Entwhistle girl… And the test results are coming back now, and many students seem to be overstressed. We've never had anything like that. Alright, Durinson, thank you for letting me know. Common, run, you'll be late for dinner."
The week went on the same way, he was getting tired of trying to not look for her orange head in the crowd, when an excuse to talk to her popped up. To be precise, it landed on his stomach in the common room, again in the shape of the bodies of his nephews who demanded the report on the upcoming fair in Hogsmeade. He shook the little buggers off and marched into the library. Where else would she be, right?
She was studying at a table, but this time it wasn't with Martin or Anderson, and not even Baggins. Thranduil Mirkwood was fucking reposing in a chair, one leg thrown over another, babbling some shite in his manky nasal voice, lazily waving his pale spider like fingers in the air, and she was listening to him as if he were sharing the secrets of the bloody universe with her. Her hair was in a bun, a quill sticking out of it, and she kept on blowing one curl off her face, and then the prick had the nerve to shift closer to her, lean over the table and tuck the curl behind her ear. She blushed, and their faces were suddenly so fucking close to each other, that Thorin imagined grabbing the wanker's collar and wiping the library floor with that very ponce face. Thorin cleared his throat, she jerked away from the pale prick, but Mirkwood didn't waver and just slowly turned his face to Thorin, his manky pale blue eyes disdainful. Thorin was trying not to snarl.
"Leary, can I have a word?" She jumped up on her feet and moved to him backing up from Mirkwood.
"I'll be right back," her little ears were burning, "Hold the thought, please." Hold the fucking thought?! What?! The touching her inappropriately and making googly eyes at her thought? Because this thought Thorin could easily clobber out of his manky blonde noggin in a jiffy!
She came up to him, and he gave her a glare down his nose. She was jittery, and he grabbed her upper arm and dragged her in a secluded corner between shelves. She was resisting but not too hard, and he opened his mouth to ask about the fair, when she suddenly threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. She needed to hop up for that, and now she was pulling him down, he stumbled, and then his arms went around her. He pressed her up and into him so hard, that he squeezed some small squeak out of her, but she only held on to him tighter. They snogged for a few seconds, and then she suddenly let go off him, and because he was busy groping her arse, he wasn't holding her, and her ickle feet hit the floor, and she made a clumsy step away from him.
"Sorry, sorry, I don't know what came over me... I don't even know if it's part of our agreement, but I just... " She was mumbling, her face all red and nose twitching. "I just haven't seen you for a while, and this bloody jumper..." His head was spinning, and what the fuck was it about his jumper? He looked down at himself like a daft moron. It was a jumper like any other, his favourite, it was old and soft.
"I need another pass to the fair," his voice was choked, "I have two nephews, and they both want to go..." He cleared his throat and watched her eyes widen.
"Oh?" She sounded disappointed. Did she sound disappointed? He couldn't tell, he couldn't sodding suss anything, all the blood abandoned his noggin and travelled South. She chewed on her bottom lip and fidgeted with her necklace.
"Um, sure… I'll put them both on the list." He nodded, he had nothing better.
"Thanks." There was a pause, and she was getting visibly more and more panicked. Oh, right, she just snogged him.
"Any plans for tonight, Leary?" She lifted her eyes at him, and her nose twitched again.
"Um, library. And then… sleep. I guess. Everybody needs rest before tomorrow. It's Friday tomorrow, another do, right?" Oh, he forgot. Bloody hell, he seemed to be forgetting everything these days. She had shagged his brains out without meaning to. Or maybe he was just fucking stupid. Probably the latter.
"Oh, I'm not coming." He would but now it looked like he wasn't going to so he said he wasn't going to. Bloody hell, end him in now.
"Oh?" Now, that was definitely disappointment.
"Unless you need me to help you out there again." Now she would definitely tell him to sod off, she wouldn't accept his help…
"Oh… Well, it's up to you… I hope it's good, I worked hard on it, and the posters were an aggro..." Posters, there were posters? What the fuck was wrong with him these days if he apparently missed party posters around the school? Well, there was always the arrogant prick mode he could fall back on in such case. He stepped towards her, she shied away, and he caged her between his arms, her back pressed to the bookshelf.
"Just say it straight, Leary. You want me to come..." She was staring at him with giant peepers, and he leaned in slowly. Her lashes fluttered, lips slightly opened, but he didn't go for them, he leaned in more, and whispers into her ear, brushing his lips to her helix, making her whole ickle body jolt, "...And then you want me to drag you to the prefect bathroom after it and continue what we started on Saturday." She was taking shallow breaths in, and he pressed his mouth to the side of the neck. He swirled the tongue on the heated pale skin, and bloody hell, he missed the taste!
"Yes, please..." Oh? No snarky answers? No kneeing him in the bollocks? No prickly tude? He moved away and caught her mouth. He needed to stop soon though, he gave her his word they wouldn't be found out, and not only someone might have walked in on them, knowing her vocal talents it wasn't wise.
He stepped back, and her knees gave in, and she had to grab the shelf to stay upright. He didn't know how he could still seem chill, probably the years of pretending to be someone he wasn't paid off.
"See you tomorrow evening, Leary."
He turned around and marched away. Now he just needed to figure out the theme of the fucking do. Where were the bloody posters when he needed them?!