Mating Season

by kinky_kneazle

Summary:

Firenze has been banished from the herd, but he still smells the pheromones of the mating season.

Notes:

Kinks: Bestiality

Beta'd by the wonderful nocturnali.

Written for the by_the_fountain and not_the_trio Inter-species Relationship Fest and had to take place on the Quidditch Pitch and include the Golden Snitch.

He was running. Running from one end of the Quidditch pitch to the other. His hooves pounded into the grass as he tried to escape. He wanted to escape the hunger clawing at him; the urge, no the need, to copulate that he'd felt since mating season had begun.

He could smell the pheromones wafting from the herd in the forest, but couldn't sate his desire. He'd been cut-off from the pack and could only run endlessly to try to relieve the ache.

A shadow passed over him, someone flying around the pitch. The shadow stayed over him, following his progress around the ground. He ignored it until it got larger, the flyer obviously swooping down. Slowing, he looked up and saw Pansy Parkinson.

She was gracefully riding sidesaddle, sitting straighter as she came out of the dive and began slowly circling downwards until she was almost level with him. He stopped and she pulled the broom up until she was hovering beside him.

"Miss Parkinson."

"Professor."

"May I help you?"

"Actually Professor, I was wondering if I might be able to help you."

He backed away. There was only one way he needed help at the moment and pretty though she was, it couldn't happen.

"I don't need any help."

"I think you do." As she floated closer he caught the soft scent of her. It drifted and mingled with the more cloying smell of pheromones and told him she knew exactly what sort of help he needed.

"I don't know what you're talking about Miss Parkinson."

"Did you know you can see the field in the middle of the forest from the Divination Tower? With a telescope you can see the figures galloping across. I've seen them mating. I know you must need…relief."

"Miss Parkinson, there's really nothing you can do." He turned and galloped away. She caught up with him under the bleachers, flying in front of him and stopping him short.

"Nothing?" She sat up straight, sideways on the broom. Her legs parted, as if by accident, and the sweet smell of sex hit him. It was too much, after two days of this ache and no way to satisfy it. He saw a flash of gold from the corner of his eye, but not even the Golden Snitch that signified the start of practice could stop him now that he was determined.

He stepped forward hesitantly, as if afraid to scare her off. She stayed there, hovering at his chest height. He ducked under her legs and pushed the broom up so that her thighs rested on his shoulders. He tucked his head under her short skirt and pressed a kiss to first one thigh and then the other.

She shuddered, as if even those simplest of touches had given her ultimate pleasure. He trailed his lips up pausing to lick the crease where her thigh joined her groin. She twitched, hard heels digging into his back.

"Please," she begged. "Wanted. So long."

Even if he'd wanted to tease, those words would have urged him on. He pressed his lips to her, lapping up the juices, immersing himself in the heady scent.

He moved his tongue to her clit, licking long, slow strokes over it so she squirmed in his arms. Afraid she'd fall off the broom he pushed her towards one of the beams holding the structure up. They were a very convenient height for him and once she was steady he moved his hand, pushing a finger deep into her.

Her moan was lost to the wind, but the whispered 'more' carried to his ears and he slipped another finger in, his arm moving in a familiar rhythm he desperately wanted to match. His cock was aching and for the thousandth time he wished for longer arms or a more conveniently placed appendage. He groaned against her and she responded by grabbing his long hair and pressing his face closer.

"Faster!"

He increased the pressure on her clit, one arm wrapped securely around her waist to stop her falling as she began to buck against his mouth. He increased the pace of his strokes, short and sharp to match the rhythm of her hips. He imagined he could smell the change in her, the approaching orgasm running over her skin.

"Pleasepleaseplease."

Every muscle in her body tensed and a high-pitched whimper escaped. Then she was pulling his head back, gasping for breath.

He rested his forehead against her thigh, gritting his teeth against the ache that still held him. He pulled her skirt down and stepped back.

"I think you need to get back to the castle."

"But, what about you?"

"There's nothing you can do Pansy."

She hopped down from beam. "I want to try."

As she knelt at his hooves and whispered "Lubricus Maxima" Firenze knocked the bowl from the table, water spilling across the grass in his classroom. He'd seen that image the first time he asked this question, and once was enough for his peace of mind. He'd always believed scrying to be imprecise, but he'd gotten the same answer four times now.

He looked at the calendar on his desk. Two weeks until mating season. There had to be another way.