This story contains graphic sexual situations (oral sex). Turn back now if that's not your thing. You have been warned.

This story was written for the Quills and Parchment Lemonade Smut Fest One Shot Competition. It won for Best Humor, Best Blow Job, Best Internal Dialogue, and was Runner Up for Judge's Favorite.

Disclaimer: All canon character, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.


Neville squeezed Luna's hand twice and shifted his palm across her lower back, guiding her in a sweeping circle to the right. Waltzing around teetering stacks of old Quibblers and toe-snagging bric a brac was like trying to tap dance over a land mine, but when Luna suggested they switch on the wireless and turn the sitting room into a dance floor, Neville couldn't say no.

Those big grey eyes got him every time. All she had to do was flash that enigmatic smile, and he was like putty in her hands.

Well . . . one part of him wasn't like putty. That part was currently drilling a hole through his zipper. Hopefully Luna would be up for some snogging on the sofa later. He'd just have to Scourgify his jeans when they were done.

But when the cat's away, the mice will play.

Through some Valentine's miracle, Xenophilius had been called away for the week, leaving his eighteen-year-old daughter home alone. Probably not the wisest decision, but Neville secretly thanked Cupid for the prolonged privacy.

The song on the wireless faded into a sailing saxophone solo, and Luna smiled up at him, linking her hands behind his neck as he slowed them to a stop. "Oh, I love this song. Don't you?"

He nodded. This was now his favorite song.

She put her head on his shoulder and hummed the melody under her breath. Neville closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her hair. Shuffling about in a circle was much safer than waltzing, and he preferred the prospect of perpetual hugging. His hands slid around her waist, and he discovered a sliver of warm flesh where her pink jumper had ridden up. Smiling to himself, he brushed his thumb along her back, memorizing the bliss of her bare skin.

He always felt he was right where he was supposed to be when he was with Luna; her embrace was home. He didn't have to worry about his Herbology apprenticeship or Gran's hacking cough. She even chased away the haunting memories of the war. A truly miraculous feat.

Neville buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. His entire body relaxed as her warm scent invaded his brain.

Luna curled into him, her belly bumping the carefully concealed bulge in his trousers, which caused him to miss a step in their circling slow dance. Damn. He'd been hoping to avoid any further humiliation that night. Setting fire to the flowers at dinner had been bad enough. Now what would she think of him? Popping a boner during a snogging session was one thing, but this was quite another. This was supposed to be their super-romantic Valentine's night, not a parade of pervification.

Personally, he didn't mind pervy; it just all seemed too sordid for someone like Luna. She was so pure—the kind of girl who made love in a field of daffodils while giggling sprites danced a ring o' roses around her.

Neville, on the other hand, was the kind of bloke who obsessively wanked while picturing his girlfriend in the shower . . . or spread out on his bed . . . or covered in whipped cream. His right arm was becoming seriously overdeveloped, but in his defense, the whipped cream fantasy was extremely inspirational.

Bollocks! Stop thinking about whipped cream wanking! That's what's gotten you in this predicament in the first place.

Right.

Deep breath.

Now just pull your hips away.

Luna tightened her grip and did some sort of swirly maneuver with her pelvis, keeping her body flush with his. Neville swallowed loudly and stared across the room. Did Luna just grind on him? Did she know how to do that? It could have been an accident. Or a dance move.

Her hand dropped lower, stroking his stomach and coming dangerously close to his trousers. Neville tried to control his breathing, but he just wound up sounding like an asthmatic dragon in a lamaze class.

Was she encouraging him to take things further? He wanted to, but his heart was on the brink of myocardial infarction, and he didn't know how much longer he could maintain consciousness with all his blood surging south.

Drawing on his Gryffindor courage, he slipped his hand underneath the back of her jumper and glided his palm along the track of her spine. Oh gods. Were his hands too sweaty? Was he grossing her out?

She snuggled into him and made the most glorious sound—a sigh that spoke of both contentment and desire. His brain immediately filed it away under "Must Hear That Again."

Their dancing had deteriorated to a wonky sway, but Neville barely noticed. How could he with the room spinning so wildly? Luna met his eyes and flashed that smile that lit up his heart like a thousand suns.

Without hesitation, Neville leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were warm, and despite the cacophony in his chest, he was at peace. The world faded. Just him and her. Breathing each other like oxygen.

Luna spoke softly, her lips moving against his, "I could help you with that."

"Help me with what?"

"This," she murmured and spread her hand over the front of his trousers.

His lower body convulsed, and he squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself not to come.

"I'm sure I can do something with it. We could go to my room if you like."

"Your room?" he squeaked. "Upstairs?"

"Yes, of course. Downstairs is just the cellar, and I hardly think we'll be comfortable getting naked on a pile of Dirigible Plums."

Did she say naked? He was almost positive she had.

Luna slipped her hand into his. "You want to?"

Neville nodded, his voice caught in his throat, which was understandable; there wasn't much room with his heart jammed in there.

Her smile bloomed to an excited grin, and Neville's legs went numb. Were they really going to get naked? He didn't want to read too much into her words. She could be planning a pagan Wrackspurt exorcism or something. Luna was full of curveballs.

They somehow climbed the stairs without him realizing it; he would have suspected Apparition, but he distinctly remembered the pockets of her jeans bouncing back and forth before his eyes. When they got to her room, he barely recognized it. He'd been in there before, but the surreal circumstances skewed his perceptions; it was as if he'd ascended into an alternate universe. In this strange new world, Luna was kicking off her shoes and bidding him to do the same. Was that the custom here?

"Should I take off your trousers, or do you want to do it?"

He stared at her. They were very friendly in LunaLand. "You want to take off my trousers?"

Luna tipped her head to one side, regarding him with her ever-omniscient gaze. "Are you nervous?"

Nervous? He was petrified. He didn't know what the hell to do with a witch in her bedroom. Well, he knew, he just wasn't sure how to go about it. "I'm just a bit . . . dazed. Could I sit down?"

Luna smiled and patted the bed. "Sure. But if you're dizzy, we should probably loosen your trousers. They could be restricting your circulation."

You have no idea. His hard-on was being cruelly folded into an origami heart by his unyielding fly. Curtailed circulation was right up there on the possibility list along with permanent creases and an emergency trip to St. Mungo's to have the zipper teeth surgically removed from his shaft.

Leaning in, Luna kissed his cheek. "You're cute when you blush. What are you thinking about?"

A thousand answers came to mind, but nine hundred of them were too embarrassing to say out loud. "I was thinking about how lucky I am to have you."

"Were you really? That's very sweet." She double squeezed his fingers in their silent "I love you" signal. "Would you like to hear what I was thinking?"

"Very much."

In a grappling flurry of arms and legs, Luna was suddenly straddling his lap, her hands in his hair and her lips on his ear. Neville was too stunned to react.

"I was thinking," she whispered, "that I'd like to take out your cock and kiss every inch of it."

His jaw dropped.

"I'll lick you till you're leaking in my mouth then—"

"Luna!"

"Yes?"

"Where the hell did that come from?"

"Well you see, when a man nears ejaculation, he emits a clear fluid that—"

"No, not that! I meant, where did you even come up with such an idea?"

"Hermione lent me some very informative books."

Neville didn't know whether to laugh in relief or send Hermione a quick owl for a job well done.

Luna began to kiss his neck, and Neville's head went all fuzzy. "Did you really mean that . . . about the licking and all?"

"Mm-hmm. I love you so much Neville. I want all of you. Don't you want me too?"

His hands trembled on her hips, and he held her tighter to steady himself. "I want you more than anything. I just didn't want to rush you."

She pulled back to look at him. "I've been ready for ages."

Neville exhaled a nervous laugh. "I got that impression. Maybe in the future, you should just tell me what you want straight away; I'm obviously slow to catch on."

Luna rested her hand on his chest and tapped his heart. "I'd like something right now please."

"Anything, love."

"There're so many choices. I don't know where to start."

His erection pounded on his placket and demanded she begin with him. "Could we possibly open my trousers while you weigh your options? I'm dying here."

Luna's eyes widened with worry, and her hand fumbled for his zip. "Oh, yes. How thoughtless of me. You must be in quite a state by now."

Quite a state might be putting it lightly. Although rigor mortis was technically a state.

His zip slid down with a satisfying zzzzzzt, and Neville heaved out a sigh of freedom. That lasted all of one second, and then her hand was wrestling with his wand through a barrier of boxer briefs.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he sputtered, grabbing her wrist.

Luna's eyes shot to his. "Did I hurt you?"

Inhaling deeply, he shook his head. "Not even close. I just don't want to finish before we get started."

"Right," she said earnestly. "I'll be careful."

"Unless by careful you mean you're going to undress me without using your hands, I think you'd better give me a minute."

She nodded and politely clasped her hands together. "I've read all about erections. I understand what you're going through."

He didn't know whether to find that arousing or hilarious. Little Neville voted overwhelmingly for arousing, and he was forced to agree. "What exactly have you been reading?"

"Oh all sorts of interesting things. I'm quite keen to give it a go."

Neville just stared at her, unable to find any suitable words for the moment.

"Would you like me to take off my clothes while you calm down?"

Well that wasn't likely to help him calm down. Not at all. "Brilliant."

Luna gave him a jolly smile and pulled her jumper over her head in one smooth move.

He froze, stuck dumb by her beauty. And the partial nudity. All that stood between him and his fantasies was a thin layer of pink lace.

Luna skimmed her hands over her chest and looked down at her bra. "Do you like it? I thought you might fancy something Valentiney."

Did he like it? No, no, I always bust a nut and blackout when a witch takes off her top. "Wait . . . you planned this?"

"Mm-hmm. When you hadn't done anything by Christmas, I thought I'd better be the one to get things started. Does that bother you? I know some men like to think they're in charge of the situation."

Neville's lip twitched. The word think did not escape his notice. But unlike other men, he was more than willing to abdicate all illusions of control. Wrapped around Luna's little finger was exactly where he wanted to be. And in the current situation, it was a load off his mind. He wasn't exactly experienced.

"Doesn't bother me at all."

"Shall I take off my jeans now . . . or are you ready for more?"

"Better give me a another minute."

Luna kissed his nose and backed off the bed to shimmy out of her trousers. He'd thought that that would give him a moment to catch his breath, but Luna undressing was just as distracting as Luna in his lap. He'd never noticed just how much skin a person really had. By the time she'd stripped down to her knickers, his eyeballs were exhausted.

Standing there in her matching pink underwear, she looked like a walking wet dream. He didn't know whether to clutch his chest or his cock.

"You're bloody gorgeous," he muttered.

A joyous smile spread across her face and she reached back to unfasten her bra.

"No!" he blurted out much louder than intended. "I mean . . . uh . . . I'd like to do that . . . if you don't mind."

Luna nodded agreeably. "I want to take off your clothes too."

He automatically raised both arms in the air.

Laughing, Luna pulled off his jumper and shirt in one go, which in terms of thermal dynamics was a huge relief.

"Oh, you're quite fit, aren't you?" she said casually, trailing her hand down the center of his chest.

All those workouts were finally paying off. "I can bench press sixty-eight kilos," he informed her, hoping to impress.

She smiled sweetly. "That's nice. Can we take off your trousers now?"

Her lack of enthusiasm for his bench-pressing prowess was quickly forgotten in light of that bright idea. "Yeah. Did you want me to—?"

With no warning, Luna shoved him flat and began to tug at his trousers. She dragged his clothes, pants and all, down to his ankles in one clean jerk, which caused his erection to snap back and smack his pelvis with a meaty high five. Neville rubbed his face, hiding the blush creeping up from his neck.

Luna tossed aside his trousers, and they hit the corner with a whump of naked finality. When she gasped, he lifted his head to see what was going on and was confused by the sight of her staring at his bits as if she'd just won the lottery.

Clapping her hands cheerily, she exclaimed, "Well this is exciting, isn't it?"

He was relieved to see her so enthusiastic, but that manic gleam in her eye worried him a little.

"It's so much bigger than I anticipated. Perhaps I should have practiced with something larger."

"Practiced?" he croaked. Harry had once shown him some pointers using a suggestively sliced peach, but unless Luna had been giving the bananas hand jobs, he couldn't imagine what she meant by that.

Nodding, she went to the nightstand, and Neville leaned up on one arm to see better.

When she set the little glass dildo on the bed next to him, his embarrassment choked him into silence.

"This is William, my practice willy."

Neville just nodded, lost for words.

"Ginny and I found him in London. He's come in quite handy since I got those books. But you see," she said, leaning over the bed and running her fingers along the ridged shaft, "he's not nearly as wide as you . . . and he doesn't have foreskin. But I was prepared for that part; I just wrapped him in a silk scarf and used my imagination."

Hysterical laughter bubbled in his gut, but Neville swallowed it back down. "William seems to be lacking in the testicle department as well." It seemed right to contribute to the bizarre conversation.

"Yes," Luna said thoughtfully. "I should have popped a couple of kiwis in a sock and . . . Why are you laughing?"

Neville wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm just impressed by your dedication."

"Building a working model has its advantages," she said sagely.

Too true. He wished he'd thought to make a practice pussy. "I haven't got anything like that. I'm afraid I'm not going to be much good to you."

Luna pushed aside William and moved closer, grazing Neville's cheek with the tips of her fingers. "I could tell you what I fancy, and you can practice on me. It's much easier with feedback."

"I'm kinda nervous," he confessed quietly. It was probably best to warn her, just in case he passed out mid-muff dive.

"Really? I'm more excited than nervous. Do you want me to go first?"

"You mean . . . uh . . . yeah sure."

"Scoot up here," she said, petting the pillow. "I need to see what I'm doing."

He scrambled into place, pleased to see that his arms and legs were still working despite their lack of blood flow. Luna slid to his side and began to kiss him, pressing her naked body to his and hooking her leg over his thigh. That was the moment Neville realized that snogging and snogging starkers were worlds apart. The heat alone was divine, but the soft weight of her skin moving against his sent his nerve-endings reeling.

The need to feel her naked breasts smashed up against his heart overrode his remaining fear. Skimming his hands around her back, he found her bra catch and attempted to remove it as she rolled on top of him.

Thinking he could work something as simple as a hook and eye was a huge mistake. It only appeared operable, when, in actuality, it had clearly been soldered together by Hades himself.

"Oo-uh," he muttered against her lips.

"Yes?"

"Little help?"

"Sure." She reached back, undoing it in a trice and tossing it to the floor like pastel litter.

Funny, he didn't recall anyone mentioning that bra removal could alter time; the slow motion jiggle and bounce of her round flesh was hypnotic. Or was his brain shutting down? Me no need brain. Boooooobies! Her butterscotch areola called out to him, begging him to sample their sweetness; and before he realized what he was doing, Neville was cupping her left breast, her stiff nipple slotting between his fingers. Who knew heaven fit right in the palm of his hand?

Luna broke into a huge grin and leaned down to kiss his forehead. The thump of her heart pounded against his fingers . . . and then against his chest. She pecked a path down his body, her lips buzzing his skin with tingling warmth. Both of his own nipples got the attention of her curious mouth, and he was amused to discover they had a direct line to his balls. That might be useful in the future, but for now, it just made him mental.

When she placed a light kiss to his navel, his heart started to race. Her breath bounced off his belly and ghosted over his glans, alerting his overeager genitals to her imminent arrival.

The corners of her mouth curled up, and in triple slow motion, her hand migrated below the equator. Neville mashed his lips together and held his breath. Oh gods!

Her fingertips brushed his shaft, and he almost bucked off the bed in a fit of erratic ecstasy. Bloody fucking hell!

"It's much hotter than I thought," Luna noted. "And much more active than the book led me to believe. Is it always this jumpy?"

"No," he rasped. "He just really likes you."

She encircled him with one hot hand and shifted his foreskin down so his head was fully exposed. "I like him too. Oh, look, you're already leaking. I'd better work fast."

"Not too fas—Aaaah!"

Her wet tongue laved his length, gathering the stream of pre-cum that had dripped down his knob. Neville gripped the comforter in both hands, his knuckles shining white with strain. Never in all his life had he felt something so amazingly soft and slick. If her breasts were heaven, this was nirvana.

His brain had no chance to assimilate the new sensation—she just kept coming at him, her tongue swiping over every inch and then circling the crown with inhuman dexterity. "Gah!"

Her other hand cradled his bollocks, and the sensorial overload almost did him in. He reached out to stop her, but she suddenly engulfed his glans, and his cock was lost in a molten funhouse of oral madness.

"FUCK!"

Luna released him from the slippery suction of her mouth and looked up. "I've never heard you curse before."

He couldn't catch his breath. "Sorry."

"No, I quite enjoyed it. Say something else."

"I think I just had an out of body experience."

"Good," she said gaily and dived back down for more.

Neville punched the bed with the side of his fist and locked his teeth in a grimace of restraint. Buggerbuggerbugger! If he came too fast, she'd think he was bollocks in bed. Which he probably was. But he'd like her not to know that.

A finger grazed his perineum, and he made a noise he didn't know he was capable of producing. What the hell kind of books had Hermione been lending her?

He got his answer when he felt a digit prodding his arse.

"Luna!"

Her mouth popped off his cock, and she looked up at him innocently. "After testing your partner's response to perineal stimulation, approach the anal opening with care," she quoted. "Did you not enjoy the perineal stimulation?"

"You can't just finger a bloke's arse without warning!"

"Was that a yes or a no?"

He dropped his head back and started at the painting ceiling. Well this was a conundrum. He didn't realize he'd be confessing his sexual secrets when he came over that night.

"I fancy a finger in my bum," she commented blithely.

Neville turned his head to look at her. "You do?"

"I could show you later if you like."

Aaaaaaand, kablam, there went his aorta. "Are you serious?"

"Sure."

"I think I'm about to come."

Luna smiled serenely and wiggled her finger against his arse. "I knew that was a yes."

With a paltry five pumps of her soft hand, he was gone. The wet heat of her mouth cocooned his cock, and he closed his eyes, surrendering to the riot brewing in his balls.

Luna hummed as if she'd discovered something delicious, and the sound vibrated along his length like thunder. He came with a jolt, the semen shooting out of him so violently he saw stars.

The room became a spinning spiral of swallowing and mind-numbing suction. Her practice willy must have served its purpose, because he'd never come that hard in all his life.

When he was breathing normally, and no longer floating through the astral plane, he opened his eyes to find her peering into his face.

Kissing his cheek she asked, "Do you need to rest, or should we take off my knickers now?"

"That might be the best question I've ever been asked."

She snogged him sweetly, and it took him a few seconds to determine what was different. She tasted odd, like salty skin and bollocks, but it was surprisingly arousing knowing that she'd swallowed his seed.

Rolling her over, he pinned her to the bed and gave her the same treatment she'd given him, kissing a teasing trail down her body, molding his hands around her curves until he'd memorized every divot and crease.

He lingered over the hills of her breasts to tongue her nipples to craggy peaks. His name became a moaning chant on her lips, which buoyed his confidence a great deal. He kept waiting for some kind of tutorial, but she must have fancied his exploration, because no corrections were suggested. When he sucked her right nipple into his mouth, she threw her leg around his hip and rolled her pelvis into his belly just as she had when they were dancing downstairs. Although she didn't say anything, that seemed like a direct order, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Curling his fingers around the sides of her pink panties, he edged them down her hips, slowly exposing her dark-blonde mound.

Sweet Circe.

He'd seen plenty of pictures, but pictures, no matter how animated, didn't do reality justice. This was love at first sight. And the scent was like nothing he'd ever experienced.

Harry and Ron had both assured him witches smelled amazing, but Seamus and Dean had warned him to hold his breath.

Seamus and Dean must have been off their rockers. This was bloody fabulous. He wanted to root though her slit like a Niffler in a goldmine.

Tossing her underwear aside, he settled between her legs and looked up at her for instruction.

Luna smiled and combed her fingers through his hair. "I'm already wet, so you can just go right in."

"With my fingers?"

"If you like," she said easily. "Your tongue sounds quite nice though."

It sounded better than nice. It sounded like Christmas dinner and birthday cake and Honeyduke's all rolled into one.

Taking a deep breath, which made him a little high, he gently parted her lips with two fingers, spreading her open so he could see what smelled so damn good.

Whoa.

Playwitch was not this detailed.

Or wet.

His cock instantaneously resurrected, shrilly pleading for some penetration. He reached down and trapped it against the bed. Would you be quiet, I'm trying to concentrate.

Harry had explained the basics, so he knew the nub at the top was her clit. He just had to lick that till she came. Easy. Except if it were that simple, witches wouldn't complain about men being shit in bed. There had to be some talent involved.

Pressing his lips to her clit, he gave it a testing kiss. Blimey, it was hot down there. "I'm chilly," his muffled cock shouted.

Shut up, you.

Tentatively, he stuck out his tongue and drew it over the glistening pink pearl bejeweling her sex.

"Oh," Luna whispered.

"Was that all right?"

"Yes. It kind of tickles. Do it again."

A bit more bravely, Neville lapped the musky juice from her folds.

"Yeeesssss," she hissed, sinking her nails into his scalp.

Smiling to himself, Neville began to lick everything in sight. Maybe this wasn't as hard as he'd thought.

He tried a tirade of tricks: swirling circles, up and down, side to side, poking, S-curves, alphabets. After five minutes of that, it felt as if his tongue had run a marathon.

Peeking up, he was disheartened to see her looking totally calm. "You don't seem very excited."

"It feels lovely, but something isn't quite right."

"What?"

"I think I need you to stay on my clitoris."

"I can do that."

"And keep a steady beat. Nothing fancy."

"How fast?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll tell you when you get there."

"Okay."

That was easy enough. All girls should come with such simple instructions. Hovering over her tasty clit, he began to lap her like a dog at a water dish.

"Pretend you're snogging it," she suggested. "Put your mouth on me."

Sealing his lips to her flesh, he combined snogging with lapping, which was much less strenuous than his dog impersonation.

"Slightly to the right," she murmured. "There! There! There!"

Neville smiled, happy to hear her so passionate.

"Just a liiiiittle faster."

He knew when he'd hit the right speed, because her hips set into motion like someone had switched on her hula hoop mode.

"Oh . . . Neville . . ." She paused to gasp several times. "Please don't stop."

If he could learn how to breathe pussy, he'd never come up for air again.

Her hand tightened in his hair, and her respiration became shaky and short. Neville's body tensed, sensing the moment had come.

"I'm really close," she whispered. "Don't change anything, okay?"

He'd be as precise as an atomic clock if that's what it took. Closing his eyes, he focused on maintaining speed and pressure. This was his chance to prove himself to her, to show her he could be everything she needed.

Her thighs drew up and tightened around his head, her heels digging into his ribs. She stopped breathing. Her hips began to tic up into his face, and he fought to follow her lead without losing the rhythm.

"Nevi—Ahhhh!"

His pulse rushed, roaring through his veins and pounding in his ears. He was soaring. Never had he felt so proud . . . and relieved. It was like catching the Snitch to win the Quidditch World Cup while also experiencing the warm joy of giving someone the perfect gift.

He immediately wanted to do it again.

As the tension faded from her body, she mumbled, "Slower," and Neville gradually eased up.

When her muscles went slack, she took in a deep breath and heaved it out in a whoosh. "Holy macaroni."

Neville knew just what she meant.

"Come up here; I need to hold you."

Neville kissed her clit goodbye and climbed up beside her.

Smiling, Luna rolled against him and stroked the side of his face. "That was brilliant."

"Definitely," he agreed with a kiss.

"Mmmm," she giggled. "You taste like chicken."

He smirked. "Love, if chicken tasted as good as you, I'd weigh as much as a house by now."

Luna smiled and snared his hard-on in one hand. "You want to go again? There's so much more I want to try."

"I'm at your service, my lady."

"Can you stay the night?"

"Of course I can."

She buried her face in his neck and pulled him in for a hug, sighing softly into his skin. Neville grinned. He'd earned that one.

Kissing the top of her head, he responded with a happy sigh of his own. Love you.

A tender double squeeze to his cock assured him the feeling was mutual.