Work Text:
“We’re at work, Pansy,” Percy said, as testily as he could manage. “And I’m your boss.”
She leaned forward, whispering in his ear: “So boss me around.” She sat back, grinding once again against his crotch as she bit her lip. Merlin, the way she moved was terrifyingly intoxicating. He still didn’t know how he’d managed to land her, let alone how she got so desperate for him. But he wasn’t the kind to complain about such things, and especially when she gave him that devilish grin, and said: “What would you like me to do, sir?”
That stirred something in him, certainly. Perhaps he could play this game. He cleared his throat.
“Get up.” She pouted, stopping her movement. Seemingly, she thought he was trying to end the game still. He quickly added, “Now, Ms. Parkinson. Or do I need to take disciplinary action?”
That got her attention. She perked up, that sly smile returning to her lips. The one he always knew for a sign he was getting over his head; the problem is, the smile also made it so he couldn’t quite care about that fact.
She complied, anyway, though he immediately missed the pressure against his hardness. She put her hand on her hip, and looked at him, expectant. She was shorter than he, but now she towered over him. Usually, her standing over him heralded a very different kind of play. But to have command of this woman? Yes, he could imagine he might like that, for now.
“Undress,” he said.
She immediately began snatching at the buttons of her blouse.
He got up while she did so, ignoring her questioning look, and went to charm the door locked. He wanted to ensure no one would enter when he was so thoroughly defiling the Ministry’s furniture with his girlfriend.
“Are you not going to even watch?” she said. Her hands were paused mid-way down her shirt, and she leaned over his desk with a pout.
“I’m watching,” he said. “Just…” But no, he shouldn’t explain himself to her, should he? She never did, when she had control over a situation. He walked back, taking his seat in front of her again. “Carry on.”
“Maybe I don’t want to now,” Pansy said, turning her chin up.
Gosh, she was a marvellously frustrating woman. She had that sparkle in her eye, as she did whenever she was testing him.
“That wasn’t a request, Ms. Parkinson, that was an order.”
That lip bite again, what a thing it was. But her hands resumed their busy work unbuttoning, exposing the expanse of her stomach, her lacy bra. Dark green, quite a lovely shade. He wondered if she’d been planning to invade his office since this morning.
She slid the shirt off, onto the floor. How nice it was, to sit back and watch her as she revealed herself to him. Especially, her eyes were trained on his face, watching his reactions. He was careful not to give away too much.
“Quicker now, Ms. Parkinson,” he said as she fiddled with the zipper of her skirt. He was used to her teasing him, but now that he controlled the broomstick, so to speak, he planned on turning the tables.
He snapped his fingers, which earned him quite the pretty scowl.
Still, she sped up, her skirt falling to the floor to reveal matching underwear. They were delicate, and so sheer he could see the soft brown hair she kept manicured there.
He looked her up and down, now almost naked, and sucked in a breath. He still found himself completely confused over how he was allowed to look upon such a woman.
She clicked her tongue.
“Percy,” she whined. “You’re doing the thing.”
He met her eyes, wiping the smirk off his face. She was always so embarrassed, when he marvelled at her. Usually, it was a demand that he stop, that he didn’t have permission to look at her like that (“like a particularly well-organised binder?” “I feel you’re asking for extra punishment, Weasley.”).
“Don’t tell me how to look,” he said sternly. “I’m your boss. I’m allowed to look at you how I damn well like.”
Her cheeks were pink, and this time, she didn’t even so much as tut.
“Merlin,” he whispered. He reached up, and placed his hands on her hips. With a firm touch, he brought her directly in front of him. Close enough, that he only had to move a few inches to bring his mouth to her underwear.
Pansy’s hand went to his hair immediately, wrapping her fingers in his short crop of ginger.
He licked through the lace, enjoying the rough texture against his tongue, and the way her breath hitched every time he sucked at her clitoris. He took one hand from her hip and, while he worked at her clit, pushed the bottom of her underwear aside so he could press his fingers against her.
She was soaked already. And that, that certainly had an affect on him.
“Mm,” she intoned as he inserted a finger, and then another, thrusting into her gently. She tightened her grip on his hair, fingers curling in the strands.
A great advantage to her usually doing the ordering is that he knew exactly how she liked it, and knew exactly the pace and process to get her quickly to the point of orgasm.
Then he pulled away, pulling his fingers out of them, and looked up at her.
Her eyes went from hooded and lustful, to full of alarm.
“Finish me!” she said, wiggling her hips at him.
He couldn’t help but grin.
“Not until I say so,” he said. It was a thrill, to deny her like this.
Especially when she immediately stamped her foot, like she were one step away from having a tantrum.
“That’s not fair!” she whined. She grabbed at his hand, trying to pull it towards her, but he easily pulled it back, where he normally would let her win.
“That’s plenty fair,” he scolded, summoning all the Prefect tones he had stashed away from his youth. He stood up, drawing himself to full height, though it was only a few inches above her. “I think you’re forgetting who is in charge here, Ms. Parkinson.”
Like he had cast a Lumos spell, her eyes lit with a devilishness that twisted his insides and affected, oh, just about every part of him. That look, that look that had always made him so weak to her demands, and had been his downfall in attempting to not date his subordinate.
“Then remind me,” she said, drawing out each word. She bit her lip at him.
Oh dear. Oh dear.
There was a strange lightness in chest, nerves mixed with arousal, with want. Because, strangely…he did want to remind her. He did want to give her exactly what she wanted. And he wanted to satisfy his own prickling desire. Part of him was more nervous, to be doing this in his place of work. It wasn’t allowed! Very explicitly, fraternising was outlawed in the Employee Handbook (though, Pansy’s response to that last time had been, “does anyone actually read those things?” It was as if she had been trying to be hurtful sometimes.).
But to his surprise, in that moment, right there, the very fact he was breaking one of the codes excited him. Pansy really did bring out the rebel in him.
“Turn around,” he said.
She arched a single, manicured eyebrow at him.
“Now,” he said, with all the command he could muster.
She looked like she was going to argue, but then she moved. Slowly, too. He knew “just toeing the line” when he saw it, but he would allow it, if only so he could spend the time working up the nerves for what came next.
Her lacy underwear barely covered her backside.
As if anticipating his thoughts, she leaned forward, putting her elbows on the desk. And, so quick he could have missed it, she gave her hips a wiggle.
It was taking a lot of concentration not only to keep his self-doubt at bay, but also to keep himself from giving into his desires too quickly. What a rush, it turned out, to have the upper hand, to have her prone beneath him, bent over and waiting for him. He was so hard that it was almost painful.
Still, he would endeavour to wait, even if it were just so he didn’t too quickly spoil her game of putting him in charge.
“Let’s see now,” he said, hoping the quiver in his voice wouldn’t show. He put a hand on one of her buttocks, squeezing and stroking. “How to remind such an insolent little worker that I’m her boss…”
He moved his hand away, lifting it. Would he really do this? He had never done this before. Oh but how much he wanted to do this, now the thought was out there.
“Please, Percy,” she said, breathless. She didn’t even look round, and he could see the tension in her body, coiled like a spring. Such want in her voice. He would catalogue that amongst many moments with her, for his guilty use later.
But it made his mind up at least.
He smacked her backside only lightly, just hard enough to make a small red mark where his hand had laid. He licked his lips. That had felt better than he thought it might, and she had made a little sound that was definitely going to his head, amongst other parts of him.
“Please, sir,” he corrected her. He gave her another smack, on the other side now, twinned to match. “Have you learnt your lesson?”
She looked round at him, a sly grin on her face.
“You think that’s enough to get my respect?”
Oh, she was going to be the death of him.
How had the tables turned, and yet he still felt caught under her spell so completely?
He set his mouth, trying not to give himself away, though from her smug look, he suspected he had. He adjusted his glasses calmly. Her hair was out of place and her cheeks bright red, but she was not as flustered as he would have liked her to be.
So he went for it, hand flat. He wasn’t the strongest man, but he tried to put some force behind it.
Her moan-cry was reward enough. His fingers left marks and stopped to admire them.
“Now,” he said. He cleared his throat. He really struggled, to say things plainly, but he wanted to do so badly — to be as vulgar as she was able, or at least come within the same Quidditch field. “I’m going to fuck you.”
There, he’d said the word. And she immediately lifted her hips, all inviting, at the words. Merlin, but she was lovely.
He reluctantly took a hand off her behind and unzipped himself. He was so hard it was almost painful to touch himself. Had he been asked a half hour ago if he liked this sort of thing, he would have shook his head vehemently. But the evidence was sort of stacked against him. He would have to have a sit down and think about that later.
But for now, she wiggled her hips again at him, and he needed her, he needed her so badly.
He slid himself out, pressing against her so that she inhaled sharply.
“Do you want me to fuck your…” He hesitated. It was a tricky word to get out.
But her voice came thick when she said, “Say it.”
He slid an arm in front of her, taking the delicate bones of her jaw in his hand and pulling her back towards him, so he might at least whisper it.
“Do you want me to fuck your pussy?” he said. His blush was instant and incredible. He would have thought all his blood was otherwise occupied, but no, his neck to the top of his ears burned. He was not sure he had ever used such a vulgar word before and it felt strange in his mouth. But from the effect it had on Pansy, growling and pushing back against his hardness, almost far enough to engulf him if his hand hadn’t been in the way…perhaps he would have to employ that vocabulary occasionally.
And her wetness against him, her desire for him, her beneath him… It was more than he could stand. He needed to do it, he needed her now.
As deftly as he could manage, he slid himself inside her.
She was furiously hot around him, and he barely kept himself from buckling at the sensation. She moaned, pushing back against him, neck arching up. Even the back of her neck was unspeakably attractive.
He kept one hand loose around her throat, just under her jaw, so he could feel every vibration of noise that came out of her, and the other gripped her hip tightly for leverage.
He wanted to take it slowly, to enjoy every inch of her, but he couldn’t help himself, thrusting hard into her, eliciting every moan he possibly could, revelling in the tiny noises and the half-stuttered breaths.
“That feel good?” he said. His voice surprised him; low and lust-riddled.
“Yes,” she said, a half-moan.
“Yes what?” he said, thrusting so hard into her that her hips slammed against the desk.
Only a moments hesitation as she caught her breath, before she said: “Yes, sir.”
Merlin, but did he feel punch-drunk on power to hear it. He was not going to last much longer, he could feel it, building inside of him with the intensity of curse.
“Pansy,” he groaned.
She seemed to sense his closeness.
“Come in me, sir,” she said, a note of pleading threaded in her words that caused him to grit his teeth to not succumb to. “Let me serve you.”
That was too much for him. He grunted, speeding up, bidden by his cock more than his senses, wanting to wring every moan out of her before he finally, finally came, jerking forward, hands leaving her to grip the desk as the shudder of orgasm ripped through him.
He leant over her for a long time, panting, his vision slightly blurred before he was able to regain composure.
It took even longer for him to work up the energy to pull out of her, picking up his wand from his desk so he could clean up after themselves with ease.
“Was that okay?” he said, sitting back in his chair and wiping the sweat off his brow. He was feeling a little embarrassed now, now that the heat of the moment had exited, leaving only the cold harsh reality of his actions and words. Said in his workplace, no less, to his employee. When they were at either of their homes, at least there was the thin barrier between work and life. But here — well.
She grinned, and, after pulling her skirt back on, curled into his lap.
“It was excellent,” she said.
She wiggled into his crotch and he was surprised he felt a stirring in response. That there was anything left in him was a miracle. But it put his fears to rest, at least. Or, made them hard to hear over the rush of his blood.
“We should get back to work,” he said, blushing.
“Oh! That’s why I came in here, actually,” she said suddenly. Then, as innocent as anything: “Brenda wants us in that big meeting today, to discuss some kind of Muggle wobble…thing?”
“The Humplewarp Potions Act, yes,” Percy said. He adjusted his glasses. “When is it?”
She batted her eyelids in a way that put a fear at him, before she looked at the clock above his bookshelves. “In about 10 minutes.”
He started, almost dumping her out of his lap before he caught himself.
“We need to go! I haven’t prepared anything, and oh, do you think this will be about defending my proposed amendment?”
He gently, though she resisted, slid her off of him, and started zipping himself up.
“It’ll be fine, Percy, relax,” she said. She placed hands on his shoulders and kissed him gently.
It was hard to stay angry at her, when she did that. But perhaps, he thought, there were other ways of expressing his displeasure.
So he took her chin in one hand, drawing her towards him.
“A good employee informs her boss of meetings well in advance,” he said, as gravelly as he could manage. “You’ll be punished for that later.”
Her eyes lit up, hungry again. She was insatiable.
“Yes, sir,” she said, all sultry in a way he just couldn’t bare.
He shook his head. There was actual work at hand!
“Come on then,” he said, straightening out his suit before he pulled her towards the door.
If he was honest with himself, he might have taken some pleasure, too, in knowing that they would sit through that meeting with her backside sore as anything, and no-one would be any the wiser but them.