If he was honest, which he was in these cases, he'd never really liked her face or her wide, glassy eyes, or that willowy little girl's voice, or her ratty hair that always seemed to be in need of a brush. Her legs were chunky and her breasts too small and she was just too damned short. She was an alien, a fairy-child. There was nothing regal or proper about her.
But she tasted better than he might have thought. He'd expected cloying sweetness or something entirely rancid and stomach churning, but she was neither of those things. She was warm and real and eager, and hate it though he might, he'd been waiting for something like this for two years, Luna Lovegood or not.
He pulled her closer by the hips, and with a moan he wondered if maybe there was someplace they might go nearby that was a little less in the open. Whatever position they might have been in, there was a part of him that might always shudder at the thought of being seen with her.
no subject
If he was honest, which he was in these cases, he'd never really liked her face or her wide, glassy eyes, or that willowy little girl's voice, or her ratty hair that always seemed to be in need of a brush. Her legs were chunky and her breasts too small and she was just too damned short. She was an alien, a fairy-child. There was nothing regal or proper about her.
But she tasted better than he might have thought. He'd expected cloying sweetness or something entirely rancid and stomach churning, but she was neither of those things. She was warm and real and eager, and hate it though he might, he'd been waiting for something like this for two years, Luna Lovegood or not.
He pulled her closer by the hips, and with a moan he wondered if maybe there was someplace they might go nearby that was a little less in the open. Whatever position they might have been in, there was a part of him that might always shudder at the thought of being seen with her.