Title: Playthings
Author: cedar
Characters: Bill/Fleur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Might be considered slightly fluffy.
Themes/kinks chosen: March '08 theme: penetration toys
Word Count: 1487
Summary: Fleur buys a toy for Bill.
Author's notes:

Playthings


Fleur is wearing the purple lace bra and matching thong that makes Bill sweat when he so much as washes them, and she straddles his legs as he lies naked against their pillows.

"I bought you a leetle present," she says, smiling in the way that Bill knows means one those presents marketed in the back pages of Witch Weekly "for married couples." Squeezing his knees, she climbs off the bed and retrieves a box.

"Close your eyes and open ze box," she instructs, settling back into the bed.

"But if my eyes are closed I can't see the box to open it, ma cherie."

Fleur shakes her head. "Your accent, as always, est terrible." She kisses him and places the box in his hands. "But you are still my love."

Inside the box, which is wrapped in plain white paper, there is a silver...something. Bill picks it up and turns it over. It's one piece, three loops connected to a flat part with a point of sorts attached to one end. "It's...er...it's very nice," he says diplomatically. "It'll look lovely on the Christmas tree."

"You are always so 'umorous," Fleur chastises, rolling on top of him. She plucks the silver thing from him and holds it in front of her, tracing along the curves of the metal. She wraps her hand around Bill's cock and he moans, spreading his legs. "It does not go on ze Christmas tree."

"It can go on the Babbling Baobob Tree of Beedle the Bard for all I care." Bill has trouble forming the words. "Just...keep doing that." He lets his eyes close, focusing on Fleur's hand around him. The day's stress is melting away under her warmth and a pleasant pressure is replacing it. He's at the point in the climb to orgasm where he feels he could rest for a bit, just let her stroke him, stay like that all night and into tomorrow.

"Do you want to play with your new toy?"

"Mmmhmm." Bill's in no state to put words together.

When Fleur takes her hand away Bill has no time to protest before smooth metal slides over his cock. He feels a stir of magic from Fleur's wand and the toy conforms itself to his shape. It fits snugly around his cock, behind his balls.

And then he gasps.

The cold, slick metal penetrating him makes Bill jump. He twists his hips and whines in protest.

"Shhh, Bill, quiet."

"What is this thing?"

Fleur kisses him on the cheek. "A leetle toy for us to play with. Well, for me to play with. Eet does not hurt you, does eet?"

Bill looks down between his legs. The metal is warm now, conformed to his shape. It's oddly flexible and its weight is obvious, but not uncomfortable. "No, it doesn't hurt at all, but I'm not seeing how this is any fun for you." Pausing, Bill thinks it's not the most fun he's had in a while, either.

Possibly the only thing Bill likes more than sex is having his head massaged, his hair played with, and Fleur knows this. She rubs the pads of her fingers around his scalp, twisting his loose hair in her fingers. "Eet is very fun for me because you see, I am the one who can take it off or not take it off. All day tomorrow," she says, drawing the words out, "and maybe even ze day after zat, you wear zis. All day, when you are in your meetings and talking about finances with goblins. All day you will zink of me and wait to come 'ome."

The logical half of Bill's brain opens his mouth in protest. What if something happened and everyone learned his secret? A fire, or maybe one of those heinous carts in the vaults would overturn. What if he couldn't stop thinking about it in his meetings? Would anyone be able to tell? But there is another half to his thoughts, loud and subversive and delicious. He'd have to control himself all day, focus on his work, and it would be his secret. Everyone else in all of his meetings, or his afternoon curse study, would have the same day they always did and there he'd be, in his nice work robes, hiding a cock ring and a phallus up his arse. The thought of it makes him redden, and then he grins.

"So if I wear this all day, what do I get when I come home?"

"I zink ze real question is, 'What do I get when you come 'ome?'"

The next day at work, Bill can barely concentrate. The part inside him has some kind of curve to it and it rubs against that little spot that makes him shiver. After two hours, the only thing that keeps him from excusing himself for a good wank in the mens room is the knowledge that the ring around his cock is just tight enough to deny him exactly what he wants. The goblins at the long meeting table are rambling about a chest of gold and some other treasures on some island that no one could find unless he'd already been there, but Bill's not listening. He's squirming in his seat and he can feel sweat sliding in rivulets down his back. For a moment he thinks about playing sick, owling Fleur, and going home, but he knows the whole point of this is for Fleur to tease him, to know that the two of them have a very intimate secret. Instead, he puts everything he has into maintaining an air of concentration and diligence. At least, he figures, that will look like he's working.

By lunchtime he can't talk anymore. The inside of his cheek is raw from biting and his lower back aches in his attempt to shift that little piece away from his prostate. It's anchored in place, though, and movement becomes torture. Bill has never been so acutely aroused when he is so far from being able to release, and he thinks that either he's going to die of a heart attack or have the greatest orgasm of his life, if not both.

As he pretends to write he idly hopes that the orgasm comes before the heart attack.

Fleur comes home late from work that day; Bill knows she's done in purposely. Before she even gets to take her cloak off, Bill grabs her, pressing the length of her torso against him. He's been pacing the living room for far too long, naked from the waist up, flushed and tense.

"Please," he begs, kissing along her ear and down her neck, "I can't wear this thing any longer. I'm going to explode." She's barely dropped her bag but he's already sliding the buttons on her robes out of their holes. "Take it off and I will do whatever you want. I promise. Please." He doesn't even bother trying to speak French.

"Oh, so you like it?" she inquires. "Zat's good." Her voice is so casual it makes Bill want to scream. He slides his tongue over her collarbone and down to her breast, sucking at her nipple. "I'm happy."

"Yes, yes, I know that," he growls. "It's a wonderful toy, hours of pleasure for nice married couples but Fleur, cherie, I don't know how much longer I can last. This thing is--"

Something in his pleading must have worked, because Fleur pulls him down to the floor by the waistband of his trousers and yanks his belt off. She hums in approval when she opens his fly to reveal his cock, red and erect, smooth. Untangling her wand from her robes, she taps the ring that holds his balls in place. The front rings loosen but the phallus stays firmly in place. Bill shifts onto his back and that is the last he can take. Fleur kisses him and he cries out in relief as he bursts into orgasm, his vision blurred and red and his back arching. He can feel her smiling against his lips, the smile she has when she knows he's in a state of bliss that she brought him to. Tears burn Bill's eyes. He lies flat on his back on the itchy carpet.

"I take it you liked your leetle present." Fleur slips her hand around his and squeezes. "I knew you would. It was quite sexy to see you like zat, you know. I zink we should play again with this toy. Tomorrow?"

"Erm...maybe wait a few days."

Her laugh tickles his ear. "All right. But you know, the new Witch Weekly will be out tomorrow. If you do not like zis toy I could pick out a different one..."

Bill's laugh matches Fleur's. "Oh no, ma cherie. The next time a little toy like that enters this house, I'm picking it out."