Work Text:
"Remind me again why we couldn't have done this at your house."
"Because," Hermione says, sitting back on her knees and glaring at Alice, lips and chin slick with Alice's arousal, "if my parents catch you sneaking in my window again, they'll probably find a way to get you expelled." If it was coming from anyone else, Alice would scoff, but not only do Hermione's parents hate her-
(or rather, despise her; hate isn't quite strong enough to describe how they feel about their cheerleader daughter dating trailer trash from the South Side and not even having the courtesy to keep it a secret)
-but since they're one of the school's top donors, they could very well influence the powers that be into kicking her out of school.
And with only three months left in senior year, that would be a bit of a drag.
"I guess you're right," she says, laying back against a pile of musty costumes; a zipper on one of them is digging right into the small of her back. "But can we do this under the bleachers next time? This place is too dusty. And I think there's mice living in that corner."
"And that's why no one ever comes in here," Hermione says, wrapping her hands around Alice's thighs and leaning back down. "But yes. We can go under the bleachers next time."
"Good."
Everything else that Alice wants to say is erased with a moan as Hermione goes back to eating her out.