Disclaimer: Do I REALLY have to tell you I don't own anything? You should know by now that all I own is an obscene amount of books and Darien, my muse.
Summary?x? Don't know really. Review and tell me who you think it should be::blatant plug: A contest to see who can lose their poker face first that rapidly goes naughty. Innuendo galore.
It all started as just a game, really. Sort of an 'I can do anything better than you', almost. I glanced at him over my goblet of pumpkin juice at breakfast in the Great Hall. He was reading the Daily Prophet with a solemnity that was better suited to a mass funeral. His face was serious as he gravely contemplated what I knew was an article on tea cakes. I rolled my eyes and gave him another sidelong glance. He was raising his own goblet of pumpkin juice to his lips. Perfect timing. I couldn't resist: I leaned over closer, and said, with the most deadpan voice I could muster,
" Mooooooooooooo." He choked, and spat pumpkin juice all over the paper, colouring a toothily smiling witch a fetching shade of orange. I looked on with (feigned) mild interest as he continued to loudly clear his lungs of unwanted liquid, resisting the urge to smirk.
" Something the matter?" I enquired politely, as if commenting on what lovely weather we'd been having lately. He glared at me. He was so cute when he was mad. I gave in to my inner urges and laughed until I cried. His expression of wounded dignity combined with the juice dripping off his face was too much. He continued to glare until I stopped abusing his ears with my (admittedly loud) mirth and sat up, wiping my eyes.
" Oh come on," I wheezed, sniffing, "you've got to admit, that was well-done." I hadn't thought it possible, but his glare intensified. I wondered, peering at him with great interest, how he was keeping himself from getting a headache, with his eyes squinched up like that and his forehead compressed like cardboard. I gave a last snicker and set my elbows on the table, resting my face on my hands. I looked at him again. He was STILL glaring? Finally, his forehead softened, and the glare gradually dissipated.
" I am going to get you for that," he said, enunciating very clearly, baring his teeth slightly in a wicked smile. I gave an exaggerated shiver.
" Oooooo, I'm quivewing in my vewy boots," I said, smirking back. He just cocked an eyebrow and smirked more at me from under his brow. My god, he was sexy when he did that. I wondered if he knew it.
" Oh no, I won't get you now," he was saying, and I wrenched my attention back. " Oh no no no, I'll get back when you're not expecting it, when you're completely unprepared. I guarantee that I will make you lose control just as badly as me." Hoo boy, my inner self was taking that dialogue and attaching some wicked, wicked images to them… I have WAY too vivid an imagination for my own good, sometimes. I told my mental projectionist to take the night off and lifted my goblet in mocking salute.
" Bring it on, pretty boy," I said, draining my goblet in teasing toast. He just grinned at me.
We were sitting in the back of Binns' class, when he decided to put his little wager into action. Leaning over, he put his mouth close to my ear, and said,
" Baaaaaaaaaa." He sounded remarkably sheep-like. A man of many talents, he was. I just barely kept control of my face, and kept staring straight ahead as Binns droned on. Mentally, I was chuckling in a very undignified manner, but as I flatter myself to think that I have better control over myself than that, my lips didn't even twitch. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him sit back. He looked faintly disappointed. I inwardly cackled and rubbed my hands together. Ye gods, this was going to be fun.
And so it went on for the next week or so. I nearly got him at lunch with a well-placed bleat of my own, and he retaliated with frog impressions during Potions that had me holding my breath until I turned red, for fear I'd burst out laughing. I sent him outrageous notes by owl-post. He left strange pictures in my books. Our little 'contest' soon escalated beyond simple barnyard noises to make each other laugh. It metamorphosed into a total gross-out, with me finding various varieties of insect in every meal I ate (where was he getting all these, anyway?), and him getting a new piece of gryphon anatomy in his bag each day (black market butchers are SO useful). Zonko's suddenly had a huge peak in sales of Dungbombs and things of that ilk. After the animal bits and strange smells, I admit we got a little desperate. As neither of us had cracked the other's 'poker face', we had to begin resorting to other, more disturbing ways. It was almost- inevitable, really.
Dinner, Great Hall: middle of said dinner. We were sitting across from each other, and had spent a good part of the meal doing the most bizarre things with our food we could think of (we'd had a mini-contest-within-a-contest to see who could make the best animal out of stir-fried vegetables). The bizarre abruptly switched to the seductive when we each took a bowlful of onion soup. It was good soup, I'll admit, but I don't think its consumption merited the, er, noises he was making as he licked his spoon clean with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue. Coupled with that- look he was giving me from under his brows in that way he has that made my insides go all Jello-y…I swallowed my own mouthful of soup a bit more forcefully than I meant to, scalding my tongue a little. I inwardly groaned. This had suddenly become a hundred times harder. I girded my loins, however- so to speak, and didn't show any sign that I was affected, only licked my lips slowly and teasingly. His eyes widened the tiniest fraction, but nothing else moved in his (damn him) perfect face. I took a spoonful of soup and gently, gently blew on it, pursing my lips into a near pout. I flicked out my tongue and experimentally tasted the soup, ostentatiously to see if it was cool enough. Seeing that it was, I gave the soup a lusty slurp that would have made it scream with pleasure had the soup not been thoroughly killed.
This went on for the entire meal. Our friends around us stared in amusement at our silent battle to make the other lose control. I knew I was coming close to losing my own. He was getting to me, dammit! By the time he was done eating his spaghetti in a way that is probably illegal in at least three countries (I didn't know it was POSSIBLE for his tongue to do that), I was feeling quite frazzled and a little unglued. Taking a fortifying gulp of spiced cider, I gathered my resolve again. I WOULD last through this. I would. But then, dessert came. I gave a silent groan. Dessert: the realm of sweet delights and romantic chocolate things. Me, a food fetishist? Naw. I struggled to keep my face straight as he gently nibbled on a piece of Black Forest Cake, eyes closed and giving little moans of pleasure at how gooooooooooood the cake was. Ohhhhhhh, godddddd said my mental projectionist, who had come back was now working overtime with images of those eyes… those hands… that mouth… that… that damn tongue… but then, my eyes lighted on my salvation. Somebody play the Hallelujah chorus, God actually did exist!
Who would have thought a bowl of French vanilla ice cream would be the nuclear bomb in my arsenal, but the way things were going, that bowl should have been glowing with holy light, inspiration struck so blindingly- and wickedly. Actually, I'm thinking maybe that God wasn't the deity helping me on this one… I think He's too pure to have put such a thought as that into my head. Oh boy, was it getting hot in here. I took one of the small bowls and filled it to the top with as much of that delicious dessert, and noted the location of the hot fudge. Operation Dessert Storm: accepted, Commander. Send out the troops!
" You know," I said, voice a wee bit huskier than I meant it to, " I do think that vanilla is one of my favourite flavours of ice cream." I took a heaping spoonful of ice cream, and gave a long, slow swipe with my tongue. His eyes widened a bit more. " It's so white and creamy and-" I sucked the top gently into a peak and closed my eyes, humming with pleasure. " Mmmmm- goooooooood…" I continued. I kept ravishing the mountain of ice cream on my spoon. " But what I like best…" I paused, taking the small pitcher of hot fudge and tilting it over my ice cream, with my index finger outstretched beneath it, " is when I add the hot, thick, delicious chocolate to the luscious creamy-" I tilted the pitcher more, letting a thick stream of fudge sauce run down onto my finger and then to my ice cream. Setting the sauce down, I stared right at him with my best smoldering look, and sloooooooowly licked my finger clean of chocolate, making sure he saw my tongue and what it was doing. My my, he didn't look quite so cool and calm now."-dessert," I whispered, licking my lips again, even more slowly.
He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and pushed away from the table so fast the goblets wobbles. He hurried out of the Great Hall as fast as he could, people staring after him, and then at me. I gave them my best innocent look, while my mental projectionist did a victory dance with my inner self. I won! He didn't succeed in making me lose control! I made him lose control! Again! I allowed myself a bitty (all right, bigger than bitty) grin, and finished enjoying my hard-earned ice cream.
When I got back to my common room, in a golden glow of smug self-righteousness, I went right to my favourite overstuffed sofa and flopped down, closing my eyes and smirking at my recent victory. Hearing a noise on the stairs, I poked my head over the couch to see who it was. My inner smugness faded, to be replaced with a less- righteous emotion. Three guesses who, and the first two don't count.
He was standing at the foot of the stairs leading to his dorm. He was- wet, if you want the short version. The long version went into how the water dripped down the hair that was plastered to his head, down a perfect neck, lovingly curving over the fascinating planes of his (drool) bare chest, in glistening paths that I longed to trace with my hands and tongue… it soaked into the waistband of black pants riding tantalizingly low on his hips… I swallowed down my hormones, which were currently all trying to throw themselves at him. Oh boy, I am SO stuck on him. He saw that, and smirked up through his brows again. Dammit…
" Did you enjoy your… dessert?" he asked, voice low and deliberately seductive.
" Oh yes," I breathed, wrapping my control around me like a shroud. I wasn't going to go down without a fight, dammit! " It's a shame you had to run off and miss it." I slowly got up off the couch and took one step closer. Slowly pulling off my robes, I exhaled loudly. " Whew, is it hot in here, or is it just me? They should take some logs off that fire." I slowly unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled them up, bit by bit. " Don't you think that it's hot in here too?" I breathed, coming a little closer. His jaw was clenched so tightly I expected to hear his teeth cracking. I walked around, purposefully close, but not enough to touch, and sighed into his ear. " It's just too warm for… comfort, don't you agree?" My mouth was almost touching his skin. I saw him shiver, and grinned, hugely. Sweet, sweeeeeet revenge… I moved even closer, so we were just barely brushing each other. Unable to resist pushing him even more and completely secure my triumph, I whispered, " Don't you think we should..." I didn't get to finish before he whirled around, eyes flashing in the firelight.
" All right, all right! You've made your point, you win, now cut it out!" But I kept going.
" Why?" I asked in mock surprise. " Oh, is someone getting a little hot and bothered?" I smirked again. " There's no need to get so… upset over a little game, now is there?" I leaned a little closer, nearly touching noses. " I don't think you need to get all… disturbed over a simple sporting match," I breathed over his lips, parted slightly. My inner self was torn between being in control and continuing my teasing, or giving into my hormones which were screaming SEX-GOD! in bright, neon lighting. That decision was made for me when he tilted his head to the side and closed the distance between us in the hottest, wettest, sexiest, most demanding kiss I've ever had the good fortune to be on the receiving end of. One hand cupped the back of my head ruthlessly, preventing all movement, not that I wanted to. The other hand ran down my side to rest in the small of my back in a bold, almost proprietary caress. I wrapped my arms around his bare torso and molded myself to him as I tried my best to suck that talented tongue out of his head.
When oxygen became a pressing necessity, we pulled apart, gasping a little for air. I was pleased to see that he looked as distracted as I felt. My god, but that boy could kiss. He nuzzled my neck and then trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses, letting me feel his tongue and the edge of his teeth, up my neck to the sensitive skin just under my jaw. He nipped, very gently, and then licked the spot. I moaned, deep in my throat. He pulled back, smirking, and, disentangling himself from me, stepped back, tipping an imaginary hat.
" Pleasant dreams," he said, voice so darkly promising that made my toes curl, then turned and went up to his dorm. I heard the door shut. I blinked, then licked my lips, wondering who had really won this round.
Dee aynd! For those who have not seen albinoblacksheep's The End of the World, this means this story is no more. It's ceased to be. It 'as expired. Sorry, sorry… wrong bit… see the pretty button? It says 'REVIEW!' Obey the pretty button! Tell me what pairing to write this as!