Fic: Paradise
May. 30th, 2016 11:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alisanneTitle: Paradise
Author:alisanne
Rating: R
Pairing: Gregory Goyle/Luna Lovegood
Summary: She's everything you ever wanted, but how does one proposition an angel?
Word Count: ~375
Warnings: Second PoV.
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_may_madness' 2016 fest.
Day Thirty prompt(s) used: Those words are all I need to be yours forever
Paradise, rum, hibiscus
Pairing: Luna/Greg Goyle
Kink: Vanilla sex
Beta(s):sevfan and emynn.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
~
Paradise
~
She comes to you with a hibiscus in her long, blonde hair, paradise her backdrop. When you propose a drink at the bar, she agrees, ordering some rum concoction with a flower and an umbrella.
You talk of inconsequential things, avoiding all discussions of the war, the trials, the aftermath, and when you invite her back to your room for more discussion, she agrees, placing her hand in yours, smiling trustingly at you.
You’re not sure how to proposition her. How does one proposition an angel? But in the end you don’t have to. In the middle of your explanation of how you hope to redeem yourself in the eyes of society and the world by running a magical animal rescue, she takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, leading you to bed.
The sex isn’t exotic, it’s vanilla, to be honest, but as you slide into her willing warmth, beginning to slowly move, she sighs, clutches your shoulders, and arches up in welcome. You make love to her sweetly, carefully, taking care to ensure she finds her pleasure before seeking your own.
You hold out until she moans your name. “Greg,” she gasps, and you shudder and come. She cradles you through it, caressing you as you tremble in her arms, and it’s all you’ve ever wished for.
And afterwards, when she curls up in your arms and whispers, “I love you,” you close your eyes and think those words are all you need to be hers forever.
When you open your eyes again, though, she’s gone, as is the tropical backdrop. Instead you’re in the centre of a cold, stone floor, and you’re alone, so alone.
Sitting up, you wipe your eyes and, with a sigh, you stand, looking around at the bare room. “Luna,” you whisper, and her name echoes around you.
Starting for the door, you let yourself out, returning to the world you left. The world where no one trusts you, where you are reviled and hated, and where someone like Luna would never look at you twice.
And as the door closes behind you, you touch the wall, swallow a sob. Yes, the Room gives you what you want, but it can never give you what you truly need.
~
Author:
alisanneRating: R
Pairing: Gregory Goyle/Luna Lovegood
Summary: She's everything you ever wanted, but how does one proposition an angel?
Word Count: ~375
Warnings: Second PoV.
A/N: Written for
hp_may_madness' 2016 fest. Day Thirty prompt(s) used: Those words are all I need to be yours forever
Paradise, rum, hibiscus
Pairing: Luna/Greg Goyle
Kink: Vanilla sex
Beta(s):
sevfan and emynn.Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
~
Paradise
~
She comes to you with a hibiscus in her long, blonde hair, paradise her backdrop. When you propose a drink at the bar, she agrees, ordering some rum concoction with a flower and an umbrella.
You talk of inconsequential things, avoiding all discussions of the war, the trials, the aftermath, and when you invite her back to your room for more discussion, she agrees, placing her hand in yours, smiling trustingly at you.
You’re not sure how to proposition her. How does one proposition an angel? But in the end you don’t have to. In the middle of your explanation of how you hope to redeem yourself in the eyes of society and the world by running a magical animal rescue, she takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, leading you to bed.
The sex isn’t exotic, it’s vanilla, to be honest, but as you slide into her willing warmth, beginning to slowly move, she sighs, clutches your shoulders, and arches up in welcome. You make love to her sweetly, carefully, taking care to ensure she finds her pleasure before seeking your own.
You hold out until she moans your name. “Greg,” she gasps, and you shudder and come. She cradles you through it, caressing you as you tremble in her arms, and it’s all you’ve ever wished for.
And afterwards, when she curls up in your arms and whispers, “I love you,” you close your eyes and think those words are all you need to be hers forever.
When you open your eyes again, though, she’s gone, as is the tropical backdrop. Instead you’re in the centre of a cold, stone floor, and you’re alone, so alone.
Sitting up, you wipe your eyes and, with a sigh, you stand, looking around at the bare room. “Luna,” you whisper, and her name echoes around you.
Starting for the door, you let yourself out, returning to the world you left. The world where no one trusts you, where you are reviled and hated, and where someone like Luna would never look at you twice.
And as the door closes behind you, you touch the wall, swallow a sob. Yes, the Room gives you what you want, but it can never give you what you truly need.
~
