Title: The Mating Rituals of Magical Objects -- or The Snake and the Scoop (or lack thereof)
Genre: Crack, humour, object!porn? I don't bloody well know
Rating: PG-13 or R, I guess. Lots of innudendo and suggestion
Pairing: Quill/pimp cane (and Rita/Lucius implied)
Summary: Does it need one?
“So, Mr Malfoy, how did it feel to be under Imperius?”
“Please, Rita, we were at school together. Call me Lucius.”
Rita’s light chuckle filled the small room. “It’s been a few years since school, Lucius, and more for me than you.”
“Indeed. We’ve both come far since then.”
“Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”
The quick-quotes quill was bored by meaningless banter. Rita seemed to do a lot of that, and so usually she just made things up (which seemed to please her mistress).
This particular evening, however, there was a much more interesting distraction. Leaning against the writing desk over which the quill hovered, nib damp with ink and threatening a parchment with lashes of scandalous gossip, was Lucius Malfoy’s snake headed cane. It peered at the quill insolently with jewelled eyes and lazily flicked its forked tongue.
The quill was certainly most intrigued.
“Tell me about Imperius, Lucius. Describe it to me.”
“It’s like… seduction,” he murmured silkily. “Terrible and beautiful at the same time. He forces you to do things, and he forces you to enjoy them. Very few people ever have their decisions made so easy.”
The quill thought she sensed something from her mistress – a tingling of excitement, perhaps – but she was far too interested in the fascinating specimen observing her from below. With a delicate flutter, she dropped to the floor beside the desk and shuffled her filaments enticingly. The jewel-eyed snake cane looked amused, but not impressed.
“Are you saying, then, that you enjoyed it?”
The quill heard a note of something dangerous and predatory in her mistress’ voice, but was hardly paying attention. Instead, she had reached out her quivering tip and trailed it over the cane’s polished shaft. The silver head hissed in surprise.
“Like and dislike,” Malfoy said, and here the quill noted (even though it wasn’t recording the conversation) that his voice was strangely ragged, “Are far too simple for something as complex as Imperius.”
The quill twined her lithe body around the cane, tickling in a thousand places with her plumage. The snake snapped its metallic jaws on air.
“I didn’t say anything about like or dislike,” Rita replied, as the quill deftly slid herself up and down the shaft, and felt the wand hidden inside its base thrum with excitement. “You can still enjoy something, even if you thoroughly dislike that fact.”
The cane gasped a breath as the quill flicked her nib against the base of its wand, then hissed in pleasure and something that might have been arrogance as she curled her tip around its throat. The conversation she was supposed to be recording had been entirely forgotten.
“Like I said,” and here Lucius’ breath hitched; “The decision of whether to enjoy it or not was not mine to make. Why should I feel… guilty… for that pleasure?”
The cane shuddered and the quill quivered. Oh, this was too delicious. She tickled its chin, loved its response: hissing and arching its head as she curled herself tighter and tighter around its hard shaft.
“It would have disgusted me, doing those things. I don’t think you detested your… master… and his orders… as much as you suggest.”
Her mistress’ voice was husky now. Demanding, breathless. The cane pressed its head back against the desk and arched its base off the floor, held tight in the quill’s feathery embrace.
“Am I right, Lucius?” A dangerous pause, then a whispered breath.
The cane was shaking, the wand inside throbbing, it’s jewelled eyes rolling back in its head, jaws snapping.
“I think I missed that. Did you say yes?”
“Yes. Oh, God, yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
With a final, delicious hiss, the cane arched up, and the wand shot from its base and clattered across the floor with a trail of sparks. The quill stroked a few more times, and then sinuously uncurled herself, fluffing her fronds out and feeling quite pleased with herself.
Quite pleased, that was, until a few moments later, when she was being snatched up in her mistress’ clawed hand. She could feel the fury radiating off Rita in waves, and shook in the wake of several threats that she’d be shredded and replaced.
Perhaps she should have been recording that conversation, after all.