take my hand
Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC
Word Count: 3.8k
Rating: E
Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, references to consensual sex between minors, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex
Summary: Ominis lets you know he’s ready to go all the way with you, and you quickly realize he likes being told what to do (a.k.a. my “sub-inis” response fic to #dominis)
"That should work, right?" you murmur, stepping closer to him so you can unsubtly press your chest against his and drape your arms around his shoulders. "I know you’re clever, Ominis. I can tell you how to touch me, and you’ll do it?"
"Yes," he breathes, quickly stealing a kiss and letting his hands shift all the way down to the curves of your ass.
He’ll have to learn by touch, you think. Or maybe even by taste.
You have absolutely no problem with that.
Ominis Gaunt is simply going to drive you mad.
For several happy, lovely months you've called the young man your classmates jokingly referred to as “Slytherin’s most eligible bachelor” your love. You’ve kissed his plush lips, memorized the sharp lines of his cheekbones with the tips of your fingers, and even draped your legs across his lap while you curled up together in a secluded corner of the Slytherin common room to study.
…Actually study, of course. Because, unfortunately, he’s kind of a tease.
In fact, the real reason he’d garnered his cheeky nickname? Not one of the girls in your year had gotten anywhere near Ominis’ bed, which, by your seventh year at Hogwarts, was admittedly uncommon.
Even when you started bringing him to the Room of Requirement for some additional privacy, hoping to tempt him into some of those intimacies you know he’s never experienced with anyone else, he’s been a perfect gentleman.
Sure, by now you’ve spent many wonderful nights tangled in the sheets with him, kissing him breathless and letting your hands roam as far as you can get away with. But Ominis wants to “take things slowly,” and you respect that.
(You’re slowly going feral over it, but you respect it.)
He takes you completely by surprise one evening when he tells you that he’s finally ready to go further with you. However, when you sit on the edge of your bed with him and ask him to clarify what that means, he balks.
“Whatever you’d like to do,” he insists, noncommittal. “I’m ready.”
“Ominis,” you say gently. “I do think we should talk about this, so we can both be comfortable.”
He bristles. “‘Both?’ You mean me.”
You bite your lip. It’s true that you are significantly more experienced than Ominis, though it’s not something you’ve talked about in great detail with him. You know that you’re his first everything, that he’d abstained from any sort of physical relationship with anyone thus far because he genuinely wanted to be in love with his partner.
You, however, had pretty much done the opposite after the residual trauma of your fifth year left you with a mindset of “you only live once.” You became more and more selective after you eventually realized that, while occasionally fun, meaningless sex didn’t make you feel better about what had happened. The only thing that did was talking about it with Ominis, which is one of several reasons you fell hopelessly in love with him.
“I mean us both,” you insist. “Just because I’ve had sex before doesn’t mean I want to rush into anything either. This is important. You are important, love.”
He softens a bit when you lace your fingers with his, tugging his hand into your lap.
“I just… I don’t know how to talk about this,” he forces out. “And not because I’m posh or repressed or anything like that, but simply because I fear I don’t know what I need to know.”
“What you need to know?” you ask curiously.
“Truthfully, most of what I’ve ever heard about sex is from the other seventh-years,” Ominis admits. “It’s not like I could have those kinds of conversations with my parents, what with the way they are. I suppose if there’s anyone I could have asked, it would be Sebastian.”
You wince a little and Ominis laughs softly, bumping his shoulder against yours.
“Don’t worry, I’m not intimidated by the two of you,” he murmurs.
You and Sebastian had been “friends with benefits” (as he’d delightedly called it) toward the end of your sixth year, and thank Merlin you’d been able to maintain your friendship after it had ended.
You wouldn’t dare assume just how much Ominis knows about that fiasco, but the real reason it ended was that the two of you were simply too alike in bed – both far too dominant. Every time you came together, it felt like a duel, which was quite fun at first but quickly became exhausting and left neither of you truly satisfied.
“Well, I suppose you could talk with Sebastian,” you agree. “He’s not, er – he’s knowledgeable enough.”
This time Ominis winces, and you pat his hand apologetically.
“You could also just ask me, you know,” you tell him. “We can talk about these things. What we like, what we don’t like, what we want to do together.”
Ominis shifts closer and presses his shoulder against yours, resting his head against the top of yours. “I know. I suppose it’s just… challenging to feel so ignorant.”
“Love,” you sigh. “You aren’t.”
“I am,” he insists ruefully. “But we can… try new things together, right?”
“Of course,” you tell him, dropping his hand so you can stand between his legs and cradle his chin in your hands to pull him in for a kiss. “As long as you’re sure you’re ready.”
“Very ready,” he murmurs, resting his hands on your waist and dragging them down to your hips, more adventurous than he usually allows himself to be.
“Besides, it’s not as if you know nothing,” you tease him. “I’m sure you know how to make yourself feel good, right?”
Ominis goes red and doesn’t offer an answer, but you don’t need one to know that you’re correct.
“I can show you how I make myself feel good.”
It only falls a little flat when Ominis pointedly asks, “‘Show’ me how?”
It’s only then that you realize Ominis had a fair reason to be nervous. He probably has much less familiarity with the female body than many of his Hogwarts classmates would have had, from studying nude forms in classical Muggle art to the risque illustrations and photographs his male counterparts pour over in secret.
He would have been excluded.
“Right, er…” you mumble, thinking on your feet. “Maybe I could… tell you what I like, and you could do it for me?”
“Do it for you?” he asks, and you blink surprisedly when you realize he doesn’t sound annoyed at all with being tasked with your pleasure.
Honestly, he sounds quite interested.
“That should work, right?” you murmur, stepping closer to him so you can unsubtly press your chest against his and drape your arms around his shoulders. “I know you’re clever, Ominis. I can tell you how to touch me, and you’ll do it?”
“Yes,” he breathes, quickly stealing a kiss and letting his hands shift all the way down to the curves of your ass.
He’ll have to learn by touch, you think. Or maybe even by taste.
You have absolutely no problem with that.
For a while you let him kiss you while his hands roam, letting him refamiliarize himself with the figure he already knows quite well beneath your uniform. Then, while his hands slip underneath your skirt to explore your bare thighs, you strip off your tie, dress shirt and brassiere. He undoubtedly hears the rustling of your clothes as you remove them, but he keeps his hands where they are until you reach down and grab his wrists.
Ominis exhales softly when you press his hands to your breasts, and you hum happily when his fingers flex against your skin.
“Touch me,” you tell him softly. “Not my clothes.”
“You’re beautiful,” he says softly. “You feel… you’re so soft.”
You giggle and arch your back into his hands, and when he drags his thumbs across your nipples, you lean down and press your forehead to his.
“Not too soft,” you counter.
“Can I… may I use my mouth on you?” Ominis asks hesitantly.
Merlin.
You’ve observed that your love certainly has an oral fixation. You suppose it could have to do with his blindness, but it could simply be a part of him like anything else. Ominis has been known to suck on quills for hours while he studies – the sugar quills from Honeydukes and, regrettably, regular ones as well – which has occasionally been distracting to some of your classmates who are driven to less-than-pure thoughts while watching him redden his mouth.
“Yes, use your mouth,” you breathe, tipping your head back when he brings his lips to your skin.
He doesn’t just immediately suck at you like some of your past partners have done in a rush. He kisses you all over – the curves of your breasts, across your collarbones, down to your navel and back up again. He’s learning you, and it’s making your head spin.
“Let’s move on,” you slur after a while, nearly dizzy from how good you feel with your skirt still on.
“May I?” Ominis asks, reaching behind you for the clasp of your skirt.
You assent and he deftly unclasps it, letting your skirt drop to the floor and leaving you in just your undergarments. But before he can tug them down – and he does try – you pause him by grabbing his wrists once more.
“I am nearly naked, and you’re fully dressed,” you remind him. “Seems unfair, love.”
“Fine,” he says with a bright laugh, leaning back onto his elbows to let you tug his tie loose and pull it over his head. You unbutton his shirt deliberately slowly, treating yourself to each new inch of bare skin you reveal as you work your way down.
When you reach the bottom, you can tell he’s quite ready for you by the state of his trousers, and you deduce those need to go as well. His breath hitches when you unbutton and unzip them for him, coaxing him into lifting his hips for you to tug them down.
After that, you both hurriedly tug off your undergarments and toss them… somewhere, to be sure.
He looks like sin sitting before you, completely nude with his long cock hard in his lap.
“Are you going to show me now?” he asks hopefully, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides.
“Mmm, soon,” you murmur. “I think I want you to show me something first.”
“You – you want to see…?” Ominis asks, his eyebrows raised. “But you know what men like, how we…”
“I know how men get themselves off, yes,” you say, finishing the sentence he lets die on his tongue. “I don’t care about what men like. I want to see what you like.”
“I can’t imagine I’m that unique,” he retorts.
“Then show me because I want to watch,” you challenge, gently pushing on his shoulders so he’ll scoot back and let you straddle his thighs. “I’m asking so nicely, Ominis.”
He exhales shakily and rests his hands on your bare hips. “Well, I usually… I usually have something to – Merlin, I have a salve, so it’s not dry.”
“Let me take care of it,” you purr, lifting one of his hands to your mouth and licking across his palm. He nearly chokes, but he lets you wet his hand for him and wrap it around his cock.
“Touch yourself,” you murmur. “Tell me what you think about when you get yourself off.”
“You,” he says quickly. “It’s always you, kissing you, touching you.”
You watch hungrily as he starts to stroke himself, observing the way he drags his thumb across his sensitive head and squeezes firmly at the base.
“Touching me how?” you encourage him.
“I… like this, touching your breasts, your bare skin,” he whispers. His other hand trails from your waist down to the crease of your hip. “Here too.”
“Do it then,” you whine. “Touch me, feel me.”
Finally, with his free hand he reaches between your thighs, tracing two fingertips along your folds. You’re already wet, and he groans softly before cursing under his breath.
“Let me show you,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to guide his hand.
You shift his hand up until his fingertips are pressed to your clit. “This is one of my favorite places to touch when I’m alone,” you tell him, nosing along his cheek. “Just touching here can get me off, actually.”
“R-really?” he breathes. “But what about… inside?”
“Inside, hm?” you croon. “Seems like you aren’t as ignorant as you let me believe.”
Ominis blushes a little and ducks his head, but he quickly tips his sightless gaze back up to you when you trace his fingertips along your slit to your entrance.
“Here,” you breathe. “If you want to go inside, it’s just here.”
“Can I?
“One finger first,” you tell him, and he’s perfectly gentle as he presses his long middle finger into your body.
You press your lips against his cheekbone and murmur, “Tell me how I feel, Ominis.”
“Warm. Wet, so wet,” he groans. His hand on his cock has gone completely still, forgotten in favor of exploring you with his other hand. “And – tight.”
It’s then that you have a brilliant idea.
“What if I let you use your mouth on me here?” you keen when he drags his thumb across your clit with his finger still inside you. “Would you like that?”
“I can do that?” Ominis asks. “You would want me to?”
“If you’re comfortable,” you tell him, gently running your fingers through his hair to loosen it a little from his daily coiffe. “I’d like to try it with you.”
Stunned, he nods and gently pulls out of you so that you can join him on the bed and lie on your back. Carefully, you drape one leg and then the other over his shoulders as he kneels between the apex of your thighs. You cross your ankles behind his back to coax him closer and onto his elbows, his face inches from where you most want him.
“What, er… how should I…” he asks.
“It’s instinct, love,” you croon, leaning back on your elbows and watching as he leans in a bit more, transfixed by how close he is to you. “I couldn’t possibly tell you, I’ve never done it myself.”
“Has anyone ever…?” he asks suggestively, one of his hands wrapping around your thigh.
“Ever what?” you tease him, utterly in love with the way it makes him blush harder.
“Has anyone else ever used their mouth on you?” he asks more firmly, nuzzling his temple against your inner thigh.
“Mmm, no,” you murmur.
He smirks to himself. “So I suppose I needn’t be worried about being compared.”
“Ominis,” you sigh. “I need you to do something, anything. Just try, I promise I’ll tell you if it’s working or not.”
“Please, tell me,” he requests. “I might not… It’s harder to be sure that I’m doing it right, if you’re quiet.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem,” you reply cheekily.
Without another word, Ominis leans in and presses his tongue to your skin, licking you open with broad, curious strokes of his tongue while he learns the taste and feel of you. You quickly lose your breath as he explores your drenched core.
You gasp sharply when he presses his tongue against your clit, and he quickly asks, “How does that feel?”
“Amazing,” you breathe. “That’s good, Ominis, right there, keep going.”
Ominis simply lights up after receiving your praise, and it makes your heart race adoringly to see how much he loves this – loves you.
He becomes more and more assured as he presses his tongue against your clit, and even without his sight, he couldn’t possibly miss how your legs tremble helplessly when he moans into your body, the vibrations sending you closer and closer to your climax.
He experiments with pressing his tongue inside you as well, and it feels nice, of course it does. But it’s just not as nice as when he’s paying attention to your clit, so without thinking, you reach down and tug on his blond hair to direct his mouth back to where you want it.
This time, when Ominis moans against your clit, it’s not for your benefit.
“Did you like that?” you ask knowingly, twisting your fingers deeper into his hair. Usually it’s so perfectly coiffed, but you imagine by the time you’re through with him, it might look more like Sebastian’s does after Quidditch practice.
“Yes,” he admits, his voice nearly a whine.
“Good. Make me come and you can tell me how else you’d like me to touch you.”
Desperate to finish you off, Ominis first wraps both hands around your thighs and positively buries his face between them, his tongue flicking over and over against your clit. Then he pulls one hand back and presses the tips of two fingers against your entrance.
“Inside?” he asks quickly.
“Yes,” you grit out. “I’m so close Ominis, don’t stop.”
Obediently, he presses his long, thin fingers inside you and curls them how you tell him to, and you only last another minute under his focused ministrations before you come hard, both hands now tangled in his hair to hold him in place until you’re too sensitive to take anymore.
When you finally push his face away, Ominis looks drunk. His mouth and chin are soaked from your release, his pale skin is burning red and his hair is a wild mess.
“So…” he murmurs, dragging a thumb across his lower lip and briefly sucking it clean. “How was that?”
“Don’t be daft,” you laugh deliriously, still staring up at the ceiling. “You’re a natural, Ominis, you get an Outstanding from me.”
He smiles and rests one of his hands on your bare hip, trailing the other up your waist to your neck so he can lean down and kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
However, despite how formal his countenance often is, he’s still a young man – and not a very patient one.
“I believe you said something about touching me now?” he murmurs, kissing down your chin to your neck and gently nipping at your pulse point.
“Mmm, yes, I do think you deserve a turn,” you agree.
You reach down to wrap your hand around his cock and slowly stroke him, earning a choked-off moan and a much less gentle bite against your neck.
“Which would you like, Ominis? My hand, my mouth, or my cunt?”
Ominis curses under his breath – you can tell he likes it when you’re vulgar, despite how often he chides Sebastian for using similar language around their other mates.
He zones out for a moment, considering, so you stroke him harder to bring his focus back to you. “Tell me, love.”
“Your – your body, I want… I want to be inside you,” he admits. “But I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”
“That’s alright,” you reassure him. “It’s only your first time, we’ll have many more times to practice.”
He whines softly and presses a kiss over the bruise he’s worked into the skin below your jawline. “Many more?”
“Focus,” you tease him. “Let’s enjoy this time first, alright? Are you ready?”
You drop your hand from his cock so he can sit back and line himself up against you, and you think that this must be where some amount of instinct kicks in because the juts of his hip bones line up perfectly with the insides of your thighs without so much as a guiding hand from you.
“Good, Ominis,” you breathe, and his cock jumps, its wet tip tapping against his stomach.
He takes himself in hand and presses the head of his cock against your entrance, tracing a line from your hole to your clit and back to learn just where to press in, and then he starts to sheath himself within you.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and you beam delightedly – you’ve never heard him talk like that before.
“That’s it, keep going,” you encourage him. “I can take all of you.”
He’s quite long, but he takes his time with you, slowly pressing in until his hips are flush with your thighs and his arms are trembling slightly as he holds himself above you.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks, restraint clear in both his voice and the tense line of his jaw.
You cup your hand against the side of his face and murmur, “Not at all, you feel wonderful.”
“Can I move?” he pleads, and you breathe your yes against his lips.
Even without the muscle memory of a more experienced man, Ominis is a fast learner. He quickly sets a rhythm that has you dragging your hands down his chest and demanding more, harder, faster.
Your heart can barely take it when he simply meets your demands without a word, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucks you like it’s a gift to be inside you.
“I want to make you come again,” he confesses, leaning down to kiss you wherever he can put his mouth on you – your jaw, your shoulder, your lips. “Can I?”
“Yes,” you breathe, because your first orgasm had left you so sensitive you’re sure you can come again before Ominis finishes.
In fact, you think if you asked him, he’d make himself wait for you.
You slide a hand down your body and start to touch yourself, rubbing your clit the way you know you like when you need a release. You want to be quick – you want him to learn how it feels when you come around his cock.
“Close,” he grunts, his hands fisting in the sheets beside you. “Love, please…”
“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, leaning up to nip at his lower lip. “Let me come first, Ominis, I promise it’s worth waiting for.”
“I can’t,” he whines, but you know he can – you can see how he’s straining to hold back, his stomach taut and his arms tense beside your head.
“Just a little more, love, and – ah!” you gasp, because when he sits back just a little – as if trying to physically pull back from falling over the edge – his cock presses against a spot inside you that’s just enough to make you see stars.
It’s barely seconds after you come that Ominis groans helplessly and spills inside you, his thrusts coming to a halt when he feels you become impossibly tighter around him.
You stroke your hands lazily up and down his back while he catches his breath, mercifully not dropping his full weight onto you in favor of gently rolling to the side, hooking your leg over his hip.
“What’s the verdict, then?” you ask him softly, tracing your fingertips along his jawline and smiling at the blissful look on his face.
“We’re doing that again, quite literally as soon as I can,” he pants, and you can’t help but laugh brightly and bury your face against his chest.
“How charming!” you tease him. “That’s it, hm? Have I finally made a monster of you?”
“Without a doubt,” he agrees, pressing his nose to your hair.
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