Title: Gravity
Author: pre_raphaelite1
Pairing: Bill/Fleur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Pregnancy fixation
Kinks Chosen: Lactaphilia, Piercing
Word Count: 1185
Author's Notes: All purpleness is Bill's fault. *nodnod*



He watched her as she moved through the bedroom, all heaviness and grace. Her body seemed everywhere, different under the added curves and swells of late pregnancy. She complained about the changes, about the way her clothes had stopped fitting months ago, about the aches and pains which made sleeping, walking, breathing difficult. But Bill was determined to see only the positives in the effects of his wife's pregnancy. And for a bloke who had once gone with his brother to Manchester to visit a lingerie store catering to expectant mothers purely with the intention to pull one of these full birds, it wasn't a difficult task.

He began by buying her new clothes. A few more of those gauzy dresses she loved so much, floral and delicate and light enough that even the faintest breeze would make the fabric cling over her belly, showing off the ever increasing swell of it. The buttons which ran up the length of each of the dresses would eventually begin to slip out of their respective holes- the give in the fabric and the easy shift of it stretching the narrow slits wide enough that by the time Fleur was six months pregnant Bill was guaranteed to see at least three of the buttons come undone each day.

He found boots for her, low-heeled and well-cushioned to accommodate the changes in her feet and the added weight of the baby. He made certain that the soft leather had laces up the back- difficult to find despite his claims to Fleur that they were all he found to fit her diminutive feet. As such, he'd spend every morning on his knees behind her, deftly lacing her boots for her, hands massaging her calves through the leather and his eyes on the perfect level to see the full roundness of her bottom.

He offered up his hands to her to rub away the ache of straining muscles, sure fingers moving over the back of her neck, under the pale curtain of her hair. Each muscle he found and enticed to unknot would make Fleur moan, low and wanton in her relief. His hands would travel down the light curve of her spine to settle just at her hips, thumbs circling against the tight muscles of her lower back. He could breathe in her scent- violets and rose, sharpened by the herbs she gathered in the garden behind the cottage. Her hair carried it like a delicate cloud that he could taste and feel so close. His lips would brush over the light fall of blond, his murmurs all but lost to the earthy groans escaping Fleur's lips.

When she'd fall asleep under his touch, he'd have to fight the urge to press his hips up against her, to rock himself to completion against her arse. He'd listen to the sound of her breathing, even and gentle, in hopes it would calm his desire. It never did. He'd only lay there and think about how close she was, how good she smelled, how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her, until he had to carefully ease himself from the bed and go to the adjoining bathroom to find his own relief. So often did he do do this that the click of the shutting door was met with a hard twitch of his eager cock. He'd pop open the buttons of his denims and release his ever bare erection, hand closing on it immediately. It wouldn't take him long, already too aroused for delay, and he's stroke his straining thickness quick and tight. He'd bring himself off just there against the bathroom door, spurting over his fingers and the gold ring on his left hand until only the oak at his back kept him upright.

When Fleur's steps became slower, her body heavier, her belly lower; Bill spent more time massaging and caressing her. He'd rub lotion into her skin to prevent stretchmarks, until her scent became sweeter with cocoa butter, until the firm swell of her belly glistened, until Bill's cock was painfully hard. Even the swell of paternal pride at seeing their baby move beyond the skin and muscle didn't alter his need, his lust for the beautiful woman before him. He could only see his wife, part Veela and all witch, in the full glory of her womanhood, like an ancient mother goddess ready to give birth to the world. Fleur was feminine power and the sight of her made him quiver. Consequently, Bill spent even more time in the loo.

The first time her nipples began to leak, he couldn't stop looking at them. His fingers stroked very lightly over the wet peaks and that wanton moan so familiar rose from Fleur and was echoed by one of his own. He circled first one nipple, darkly flushed, then the other in a matching shade of dusky rose but pierced through with gold. The ring shone in the light, more sheen that only polish, and he looked closer to see the wetness clinging to the circle of metal. He wiped away the droplet from the ring, and Fleur arched up to his hand. A murmur of request, of permission, of demand and his mouth was on it, licking away the thin moisture from her heated skin. His tongue swept around and around her nipple, through the nipple piercing, until it was slick only with his saliva. He whimpered quietly to her in dissatisfaction and she curled her hand into his hair and pulled him closer, tighter to her breast. He sucked lightly on her in response and was reward with a soft dribble of fluid which he blissfully lapped away. It took only the encouragement of her spreading thighs for him to ruck off his denims and lift the hem of her dress to her waist and press into her. Her hands wrapped around his neck and he cradled her hips, lifting her lightly to an easier position to fuck her slow and deep, savouring every wet slide into her tight cunt. He tugged lightly on her nipple ring before switching to the other breast, sucking at it in slow rhythm to the rock of his hips. Her body trembled, belly contracting around the child inside and nipples peaking tightly, until she came around him, wetness sliding over his cock and over his tongue and making him lose himself in her, to her, surrendering all he was and had into her.

She stroked her hand through his hair as he fell asleep on the bed beside her, spent and shameless. A smile curved her lips as she watched him sleep, thinking of all the times she'd listened to him wanking on the other side of the bathroom door after he'd rubbed her back, or laced her boots, or watched her dress slip open. And she decided she needed to stretch out one more of the holes on her dress so that the next time she wore it, it would open to the waist. She wondered, with a growing smirk, how quickly he would excuse himself after that.




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