: Lavender Brown, Parvati PatilRating
: orgasm denial, scarred!LavenderThemes/kinks chosen
: See A/NWord Count
: Lavender and Parvati participate in an age-old tradition. Parvati thinks Lavender could stand to learn a little patience...Author's notes
: For ragdoll
, who wanted Parvati/any female Hogwarts student, Diwali, mehndi, and orgasm denial. Any errors regarding Diwali are my own; I was in such a mental daze this month that I didn't do much of the research I should have done, and so I've left a lot of things vague rather than risk messing them up.
I have stolen Lav's fashion-design ambitions from better writers, and the story about Lakshmi and Sarasvati from a delightful old professor I knew once.ragdoll
, I hope this brightens up your NYE a bit. :)
"Hold still, luv. You'll mess it up."
"It bloody tickles
," Lavender complained. "How long have I got to keep this on again?"
Parvati giggled and dipped her brush in the henna pot again. "Just think of it as...well, it's like when you paint your nails and you can't do anything while you wait for it to dry."
Then the brush was trailing over Lavender again, tracing whorls and rosettes over her palm, twining tendrils up her forearm. Lavender tried not to twitch; it tickled a bit, and the first lines Parvati had drawn were stiffening, making her skin feel tight. "We made up spells
to dry our nail polish, remember? Can't we do that with this?"
Parvati pushed up the sleeve of Lavender's robes to bare more of her arm. "No," she said with a wicked grin. "The waiting is part of the point. The longer you leave it on, the deeper the color, and the deeper the color, the more luck you'll have."
Lavender huffed out a sigh. "I suppose I need all the luck I can get."
Luck was the reason she was doing this, after all, letting Parvati paint this stuff all over her, and on this particular night. It's Lakshmi's night
, Parvati had said. The goddess of prosperity.
Lavender's shop was set to open in a month. Goddesses of prosperity were exactly the sort of allies she could use.
Mr. Patil hadn't helped much, at dinner. You know about Lakshmi and Sarasvati, young lady? Lakshmi is the goddess of wealth; Sarasvati is the goddess of creativity. They are rivals, and if one of them favors you, the other will be jealous and turn her face away.
Lavender had smiled and nodded, but secretly hoped Parvati's dad was wrong--in fashion design, one needed both.
Lost in remembering the story, Lavender almost didn't notice what Parvati was doing until it was too late. Parvati had already undone two of the buttons of Lavender's robes. "No," Lavender murmured. "Leave them."
"It's nothing I've not seen, silly," said Parvati with a soft laugh.
It had never been a regular thing between them, but from time to time, they'd been lovers; there'd never been makeups and breakups and drama like they'd had with boys. Just this silent understanding between them, that they would be there for one another always, and sometimes that meant painting nails and sometimes it meant crying on shoulders and sometimes it meant gasping against each other's skin in the dark. But this was the first time since...
Parvati bent over to kiss Lavender, brushing Lavender's lips lightly at first with her tongue, then slipping her tongue inside Lavender's mouth to dance with Lavender's own. Parvati tasted of honey, from the Diwali delicacies they'd had. Lavender wondered if she tasted the same. She started to reach for Parvati, to twine her hands in that thick endless hair, but remembered the mehndi that adorned her hands. Bloody hell
, she thought, and laid them back at her sides.
Then Parvati's hands were at her breasts again, touching Lavender's nipples through the silk of her robes. Lavender moaned, arching to press herself harder against the caress. When she felt Parvati's fingers working at the buttons again, though, she pushed the hands away. "Scars," she whispered.
Parvati blinked, then understanding dawned in her eyes. "Please, Lavender, let me see you. It doesn't matter a bit."
"The lamps are so bright," Lavender said, waving her hand at the glowing lamps that bathed the room in gold.
"Lavender...you could never not be beautiful to me."
The lamps' flames seemed to blur, and Lavender realized her eyes were damp. "All right," she said.
Lavender let Parvati undo the rest of the buttons. She didn't think she could take it if Parvati cringed or gasped, but instead Parvati simply touched her, starting at her collarbones, then sliding her hand in a warm trail between Lavender's breasts, down Lavender's belly. Lavender flinched a bit as Parvati's fingers followed the lines of the scars, but a moment later those fingers were moving downward again, slipping between Lavender's thighs.
"So soft," Parvati murmured, "so wet." It was true; Parvati's fingers sank easily into Lavender's slick folds, moved like silk over Lavender's clit. Lavender shifted her hips, moving in rhythm with Parvati's attentions. Yes, just like that...
Parvati stopped. Lavender groaned as Parvati drew away. "Please," she heard herself say.
Instead, Parvati reached for the mehndi brush again, swirling it languidly in the pot of pigment. Then the bristles were tickling at Lavender's skin again, painting cool wetness over Lavender's stomach. Lavender started to sit up, wondering what Parvati was up to, but Parvati gently pushed her back into a reclining position. "You mustn't move, Lav, remember?"
Lavender obeyed as best she could, though it was even harder now that Parvati was working with the sensitive skin of her stomach rather than her hands, and though she was still painfully aroused. Parvati didn't make things any easier by leaning over to kiss Lavender's breasts between strokes. Hot smooth sweetness of Parvati's tongue wetting her nipple, lips sucking till it was rock-hard. Lavender's clit throbbed. She wanted badly to move, and at the same time there was something delicious about being unable to do so. "Parvati," she moaned, not sure quite what she was begging for.
She heard, rather than saw, Parvati return the brush to the paint-pot, and then a moment later Parvati's fingers were back where they belonged, rubbing slow circles on Lavender's clit. So good, so sweet. Merlin...
"I think it needs just a little more," said Parvati. Yes, just a little more
, thought Lavender, but it turned out that Parvati was talking about the henna; she pulled away again even as Lavender whimpered in frustration, and adorned Lavender's belly with a few more swirls and curlicues.
"Please, Parvati, I want..."
Parvati smiled and caressed Lavender's cheek. "Patience, luv. It's just like with the mehndi. Now, stand up. I want you to see something."
Lavender wobbled to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly, and a dull ache was beginning in her womb from the thwarted arousal. "What is
it?" she asked, more than a little annoyed.
Parvati said nothing, but turned her large cheval mirror so that Lavender could see herself in it, and Parvati's beaming smile over her shoulder. Lavender gasped. Parvati had incorporated the scars into her design, weaving them into a many-petaled lotus. It was beautiful.
"Now, we can brush the henna off, and it'll leave the designs behind...unless there's something you'd rather take care of first..." Parvati's smile turned mischievous, and her hands cupped Lavender's breasts, thumbs moving in teasing circles.
"Yes," said Lavender. She watched in the mirror as Parvati slid one hand down the curve of Lavender's waist, then into Lavender's curls. "Yes," she whispered again when those skilled fingers found her clit again and touched her just right. "Yes," one more time, as liquid heat flooded her nerves and she came, one wave after another, feeling like a flower opening.