Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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16th February 2010 22:03 - FIC: The Last One Is Fire (Fleur/Cho, NC-17)
Title: The Last One Is Fire
Author: [info]mindabbles
Characters/Pairings: Fleur/Cho, past Fleur/Bill
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Handkerchief Codes
Other Warnings: Very light bondage
Word Count: 5,500
Summary/Description: Fleur never learned how ask for what she wanted--it had always just fallen in her lap. Cho had a way of making certain that, by the time she asked, the answer would always be yes.
Author's Notes: Thanks to [info]magnetic_pole for the request that inspired this. This is a slightly modified take on the handkerchief theme. Thank you to [info]woldy for the very thoughtful (and last minute) beta.




One would think that a relationship that had started the way Bill and Fleur's had would end in similarly spectacular fashion—with passion and fire. At least Fleur had often thought so, in those moments when she had realised, somewhere deep in her chest, that it would indeed end.

In truth, it had not really ended. It had more shifted. They would always be friends and she would always love him, but sometime between when Dominique began to walk and when they first saw her off at King's Cross station, Fleur had realised that she longed for something she had never had.

It was an odd position in which to find herself, and it left her feeling like an uncertain teenager much of the time. Fleur had never been an uncertain teenager, but much had changed since then. Her career was firmly established, her English better than most of the people who came into the bank, her children well and grown, and yet, she found herself with a problem. She had never had to think about attracting men. They had always fallen about her, the best, the smartest, the most beautiful, hers for the taking. She certainly knew how to attract a man—just walk by him, her looks did some of the trick and Veela magic did the rest. She had no idea how to attract a woman.

******~~~******


Fleur leaned across her desk and pulled the sheet of parchment toward her. The woman, Zara Agnew, had painstakingly filled out every line on the form, each stroke of her quill infused with hope.

"This is not a usual request," Fleur said, thinking out loud more than anything, and Ms. Agnew's face fell. "I didn't say that I would not consider it. I said it was unusual."

The pretty, young face brightened and Fleur felt both gratitude and discomfort that she held people's dreams in her hands.

"You should give me a chance," Ms. Agnew said, raising her chin. Fleur admired her pluck. "None my friends will do without one of my carry-bags."

"I am certain that is so, but that does not make a business." Fleur scanned the parchment again. It had been less than a year since she had convinced Gringotts to let her manage a small business loans department. She'd developed a reputation for making loans to smaller and smaller businesses, which in truth had been her goal in the first place. None of her ventures would make anyone rich, and Zara Agnew would certainly never be rich, but that didn't mean she shouldn't have the opportunity to try.

"Ms. Agnew, you must develop a way to move beyond your friends. This is not good enough," Fleur said. "If all of your friends have one already, you will have no one left to sell them to. You will use some galleons for supplies and some for advertising."

"You—you mean," Ms. Agnew stammered, "You mean you're giving me the loan?"

"Yes," Fleur said, sitting back in her chair. She focused on the final notes she had to make, staring down at the parchment, avoiding Ms. Agnew's wet eyes, not inviting the story of the dead young husband and three children needing clothes and food and schooling. This part, the tearful gratitude, made Fleur want to Disapparate on the spot. The moment she signed the final line, she always had the sense that she'd made a grave mistake. "You will receive the necessary information and repayment schedule shortly. Good day and good luck."

Fleur listened as the now grinning young woman gathered her things and hurried from the room, no doubt to tell all her many friends who had already bought her carry-bags about her new chance in life.

"That was a risky prospect."

Cho Chang leaned against the post next to Fleur's desk. She was stunning in burgundy robes, her shining hair catching the lights from every angle. She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and Fleur felt irritation rise in her chest.

"Risky prospects are the function of this program."

Cho tilted her head, as if appraising Fleur. "You really care about the program, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Fleur snapped. Cho made her feel uncharacteristically flustered. Fleur did not get flustered. The woman had been pulled from a program abroad just a few months ago and come in like she owned the place. Everyone, even the goblins, loved her, the rising new star. Fleur remembered her vaguely as the pretty girl who'd been at that silly ball with the handsome Hogwarts champion. This clever, whirlwind of a woman bore no resemblance to the girl Fleur remembered. This woman crept her way into Fleur's thoughts in quiet, unguarded moments.

"Interesting," Cho said slowly, drawing the word out, her voice sultry and warm. She turned to leave and too late Fleur realised that she had let Cho's challenge stand unanswered. In the short time she had known her, Cho had become the only person with whom Fleur did not get the last word.

It was late in the day and the interaction with Cho had left her irritable and out of sorts. She donned her cloak and shoved her hands in the pockets as she stepped out into the cold. Something soft and smooth met her fingers and she pulled out a filmy scarf. It was the blue of the ocean on a sun-filled summer afternoon and was cool and smooth so that Fleur had the feeling of water flowing between her fingers as she held it in her hand.

The moment she arrived home, Fleur poured a goblet of wine and ran a bath. She dipped in first one toe and then sighed as her foot slid into the hot, oil-softened water. A long day was over, a goblet of red wine in hand, and scented water lapped sensuously around her breasts. The beautiful blue scarf held her long hair up and out of the way. The diaphanous fabric drew her fingers to it, to touch it again and again, cool and fluid contrasting with the heat of her bath. Fleur felt her eyelids grow heavy, slipping closed as she let her head rest against the cool tile wall.

The barest hint of a touch tickled up her leg, lingering at her knee. Fingers slid like silk over her skin through the scented water. Strong arms circled around her from behind, holding her, buoying her up and she leaned back, a soft press of breasts against her shoulder blades. Hands stroked her stomach, raising goose bumps despite the warmth of the bath. She let her head fall back, and instead of the cool porcelain of her bath, she felt a solid shoulder and soft hair brushing her cheek, silken black strands falling across her face.

Fleur grasped the thighs that now cradled her between them and groaned softly as the fingers trailed up her rib cage and followed the curve of her breasts. She held her breath, waiting. Dripping with water, the woman's hands cupped her breasts, caressing. Deft fingers brushed, first one, then the other, thumb across her nipples.

"Please," Fleur gasped, rocking her hips, pressing back against the gently moving body behind her. One of the woman's elegant hands moved down, back over her ribs, smoothing over her stomach, threading fingers through the hair between her legs. Fleur let her legs fall open as far as the bath would allow, arching up, inviting and pleading for touch. The fingers traced over her vulva, one side and then the other. Finally,
finally, a touch, stroking over her clit while the water undulated around her.

Fleur woke, panting for breath and up to her chin in hot water. Her body thrummed, desperate for release, her heart beat centred between her legs. She turned the tap for a steady stream of water and sank down into the bath, raising her legs until the water ran, increasing the urgency, over her aching cunt. The water was already so warm, so soft, and it built around her, holding her and flowing through her until it seemed to spill over and Fleur fell back into the bath, panting and sated, fingers twining in the blue scarf around her head.

******~~~******


Fleur twirled a spoon in her tea, making lazy circles with her wand. The Head of Investments and Loans, an unfortunately named wizard called Laurence Skintt, droned on about strategic plans to much aplomb from the Chair of the Board, an aptly named Goblin called Nagrob.

The dream lingered, distracting and arousing her. She slipped again and again into memories of her skin sliding silkily through the water, the warm, soft body holding her, touching her. The midnight black hair caressing her.

She scribbled on the parchment in front of her, pretending to take notes. Stifling a yawn, she looked around the table. Cho sat directly across from her—Cho, who she'd been avoiding all day, with her curtain of shining, dark hair brushing her shoulders, her formal dark green robes draping elegantly over her long, lean body. Cho rolled her quill between the fingers of her left hand. Her right hand lay on the table, one finger tapping lightly on the dark wood.

There was no reason to think it. But those fingers looked so familiar and Fleur couldn't look away.

The meeting went on into the late afternoon, and most Gringotts employees would call it a day. Fleur had a stack of loan applications waiting for her and each one represented someone sitting at home, wondering if their hopes for a better future might just come true. She sighed and trudged back to her desk.

"Night, Fleur," Cho said, with a pretty tilt of her head and a lilt in her voice that tingled down Fleur's spine.

"Until tomorrow," Fleur said, with a smile that would have guaranteed her a dinner offer from a man. Cho smiled back and shrugged enigmatically, and Fleur watched the gentle swing of her robes over her hips as she walked to the door.

Fleur sat heavily in her chair and pulled an application off the top of the pile. Instead of coarse parchment, her fingers closed around cool, smooth fabric. A scarf the colour of the first leaf of spring had appeared on her desk. She stroked the delicate scarf and her body thrummed with anticpation, her mind wandering as if she'd swallowed a day dream potion. She forced herself to place the thing in her lap and get back to work.

Hours later, her head falling forward onto a forgiving pile of parchment on her desk, she decided to let herself close her eyes for just a moment before reviewing one more application.

The smell of the forest filled her senses. It was deep and green and one of her earliest memories. These winding paths, mossy ground spongy beneath her feet, had always been her place of peace. The grand old tree, sentinel and watcher, stood where it had since time out of mind. Its girth greater than her height, its bark green and soft with moss and lichen. She leaned back, feeling its solid strength against her back.

When she was a child, she used to disappear to this place for hours, curl up and watch the dappled sunlight filter through the dense canopy of the forest, thinking, dreaming, sleeping.

Fleur slid down, sitting at the base, and relaxed into her old friend. Soft, spring green tendrils wrapped around her waist, holding her still, new plants in her familiar forest. The vines curled around her arms, pulling her wrists out to the side across the tree trunk, and encircled her thighs, pushing up her skirt and pressing her back against the tree, holding her. She couldn't move...safe...content...and utterly out of control. She waited, eyes closed.

A woman in robes the colour of the leaves approached from the centre of the clearing. Her black hair shone in the rays of light that managed to penetrate this far down despite the dense growth. She moved with a grace that left Fleur breathless, with a purpose that made Fleur tingle with anticipation. The woman bent to kiss Fleur, and her lips were cool like the morning dew. She touched, tracing the lines of green circling Fleur's wrists and waist, and Fleur arched into her touch.

Fleur pulled against her bonds, longing to trace the sculpted cheekbone, curve her hand over a rounded breast. The woman laughed and kneeled between Fleur's legs, sliding her hands to her knees, under her robes and up her thighs. She ran her fingers under the vines that bound Fleur's thighs and Fleur gasped as she moved her hands higher. The woman whispered a spell and the vines pulled, parting Fleur's legs even more. The woman smiled and bent to kiss Fleur's thighs, warm, wet kisses that made Fleur tremble. Her tongue trailed up the inside of one of Fleur's thighs and then the other. Fleur rolled her hips, opening to the hot tongue.

"Yes," Fleur gasped as the woman licked and kissed, finally laving over her clit. Fleur felt warmth flood her as she became slick and open.


"Hello?"

Fleur jerked upright at the unexpected sound. Her body hummed with desire and she ran her hands through her hair, trying to get her bearings.

"Are you really still here?" Cho asked, leaning in to look over Fleur's desk. "You should go home and get some rest."

Fleur was painfully aware of the heat flooding her cheeks and the ache between her legs, of the square shoulders and rounded breasts draped in green and standing in her doorway, looking at her with shining brown eyes.

"I must have fallen asleep," she mumbled. "Working too much these days." And she dashed from the bank without looking back and without realising that she could just as well have asked Cho what she was doing there.

******~~~******


"Here's your tea," Bill said, his deep voice comforting and safe.

"Thank you." Fleur traced her hand around the delicate edge of the cup. She leaned forward to add another spot of milk—all these years and he still never made it light enough. The blue scarf holding back her hair brushed against her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Something the matter with one of the girls?" Bill asked, sitting back on the sofa and cradling his teacup.

Fleur turned quickly, blinking and trying to cover her startled response. "No," she said. "Not that I am aware. Why?"

"So that's not what's on your mind." He smiled slyly and reached out, running his fingers through her hair. She shuddered at the familiar touch and his hand came away with the blue scarf as her hair cascaded around her shoulders. "Who gave you this?"

"I—I don't know," she said, averting her eyes.

"No idea?" He raised an eyebrow at her sceptically and rolled the edge of the scarf in his fingers. "Such objects do usually give their own clues."

"It is just a scarf, is it not?" She asked, her tone forcibly light.

"Hmmm. Is it indeed?"

"How do you know this?"

"Curse Breaker, remember? Spent the better part of my life trying to understand charmed, as well as cursed, objects."

"It is not necessarily dangerous?" Fleur asked, reaching out to pull the scarf back into her hands and ignoring Bill's smirk.

"From what I know, that depends a bit on you."

"This was the first I received," Fleur said. "I since have been given another."

"And you took it," Bill said, reaching over her to refill her teacup and passing her the milk without being asked. "Then you already know what it is."

******~~~******


Cho Chang sat at her desk, full lips pursed in concentration.

Fleur stopped to watch the way her silver robes brightened her face and made her hair look blacker than night. The shimmering fabric was smooth over the swell of her breasts and Fleur's fingers itched to trace the long line of her neck.

Fleur had been well past the blush of youth when she'd realised that a body that mirrored her own was something she'd been missing. She had expected more drama, but it turned out that Bill already knew and the sense of freedom was worth every moment of preceeding worry. Unfamiliarity of her current situation aside, she was Fleur Delacour. She was powerful, gorgeous, and she had raised two girls who had given every one of their uncles and aunts a run for the galleons in the mischief making department. This was nothing compared to that and no one, no one got the better of her.

She took a step closer and Cho looked up. A slow smile spread on her dark pink lips, deep brown eyes twinkling as the smile deepened.

"I would like to take you to dinner," Fleur said quickly. "Dinner tonight. We have some things to discuss I hope."

"Oh," Cho said, blinking and continuing to smile. "All right."

******~~~******


Walking into the restaurent, Fleur had been seized with an unfamilar feeling that she soon realised was nerves. But dinner with Cho was as comfortable and easy as being with a friend. There was work and common friends and interests to discuss. Cho wanted to hear about Victoire and Dominique and how she had left things with Bill.

As soon as the waitress had taken their order, Fleur had tried to ask about the scarves. As they ate their starters, she had considered how to tell Cho she wanted to take her home. During the main meal, Cho had kept her busy with tales of her brief but eventful Quidditch career. The meal was nearly over.

"I thought you had said we had some things to discuss," Cho said, smiling warmly over the coffee. "As lovely as this is, we could have had this conversation at work."

"I—" Fleur began, and realised she had completely failed to think through what to say. She had never had to ask, and only with Bill had she ever been able to say out loud what she wanted.

"Madam, sorry to bother you." The waitress appeared at the table. "This has just arrived." She handed Cho a roll of parchment.

"Damn," Cho muttered. "I've got to go. My sister's been ill."

She left and Fleur dealt with the cheque, a deep ache of disappointment settling in her chest. She pulled on her cloak and was reaching for a handful of Floo Powder when the waitress rushed up to her.

"Madam, you left this," said the young woman.

She thrust a silver square of fabric into Fleur's hand. Fleur's heart stuttered and she thanked the young woman, averting her eyes as she stepped into the Floo.

Fleur sat on her sofa, wrists resting on her knees, the silver scarf pulled between her hands. The material was filmy and shimmered like a strand of memory. It would not take her by surprise this time. She closed her eyes and willed it to take her.

There was a ledge, hundreds of metres above the ebb and flow of the surf, just below the cliff at the edge of Shell Cottage's garden. In the last days of her life there, Fleur had come here nearly every day. It was exposed but private, wild yet safe.

She leaned back against the rough, cool rock, the moist, salty air heavy on her skin. She ached between her legs, a slow building of desire as she cradled a woman against her chest, smooth back pressed against her breasts, firm thighs spreading her own. Fleur ran her hands over velvety skin of her lover's square shoulders and down lightly muscled arms, feeling little shivers follow her fingers. The woman dropped her head onto Fleur's shoulders and she turned to nuzzle her cheek against the soft, sweet-smelling, black hair.

The sea breezes whipped up the cliff face and over her bare skin, giving the feeling of soaring, of being borne up by the air itself. The woman's hair fluttered in the wind, brushing over Fleur's neck and face. Fleur moved her hands along the woman's sides, hips to waist to curve of ribs. The woman sighed and pressed back as Fleur's fingers teased around the curve of her breast, sweet swell of the underside to the pert, hard nipple. The pads of Fleur's fingers brushed over the nipples again and again, teasing them erect and the woman began to rock her hips back against Fleur, spreading heat where her arse pressed against Fleur's groin.

Fleur moved her hands down, splaying over soft skin and firm muscle, gentle swell of her stomach, to thread through the hair between her legs. Fleur's heart raced as she gently traced the woman's cunt, finger's brushing from her mound to arse and back again, pressing in a bit more each time until she felt the slick heat. She slid her fingers in, feeling for what touches made the woman moan and arch against her.


Fleur lay back on her sofa, the silver scarf pressed against her stomach. Her fingers sliding from her entrance to her clit and back, more pressure on her clit each time. Cho's hair would slip through her fingers like this scarf. She would grow wet and open with Fleur's attentions, her clit swelling and throbbing until her orgasm spread through her body.

The window banged open, a blast of cool air bringing Fleur rapidly down, her hand moulded around her throbbing cunt.

It was well past time to do something about this.

******~~~******


Cho pulled open the door, startlingly beautiful in a red silk dressing gown. Her welcoming smile warmed Fleur to her very core.

"Have you lost these?" Fleur asked, extending her hand from which dangled the three lovely scarves.

"No," Cho said. She turned and walked back into her flat, casting a glance over her shoulder. "I didn't lose them, but they are missing their fourth." She pulled a scarlet scarf from her pocket and beckoned to Fleur to follow.

Fleur moved as if pulled by a spell, following the sway of Cho's hips and the swing of her hair into the spacious front room. A bright fire danced merrily in the hearth. Cho sank gracefully into a sumptuous red settee, crossing one long leg over the other.

"You have given me dreams," Fleur said, flushing as her confidence ebbed and the unfamiliar sensation of feeling wrong-footed and clumsy came over her again.

"I had hoped to give you fantasies." Cho's voice was smooth and warm and she held out her hand, the red scarf trailing down and brushing her bare knee. "For you."

It had to be fire, thought Fleur, but it is no longer a day dream, so where will the fire come?

"Is this your customary way of letting a person know you are interested? It seems a lot of effort." Fleur took the seat next to Cho and grasped the scarf with her hand, the bright red a stark contrast to her pale skin. The thick, soft fabric warmed to her touch.

Cho pulled the scarf and Fleur held tight, following the movement, leaning closer to hear her soft words. "It is one way of letting a woman know what I want." Cho tilted her head and her gaze raked over Fleur. "This is very new to you."

Fleur shivered at the heat in Cho's eyes. She pulled back on the scarf, hard, forcibly gathering her wits and remembering who she was. "And all the more desired for it."

Cho reached out her hand and smoothed over Fleur's cheek, fingers tracing her jaw, trailing down her neck and lingering on her collar bone. The fire was there, then. The fire was in her touch.

Fleur closed the last inches between them and pressed her lips to Cho's, delighting in Cho's sigh, a sound that sent licks of heat through Fleur's body. Her lips were full and soft and Fleur reached to finally touch, to comb her fingers through that thick curtain of ebony hair that had captivated and distracted her.

"Oh," Fleur gasped as, slippery and hot, the tip of Cho's tongue teased open her lips. Fleur pushed onto her knees, deepening the kiss, claiming Cho's mouth and leaning over her. "You're too lovely," Fleur murmured and Cho yielded, falling back onto the sofa and relaxing into the kiss. It was the first time Fleur had ever witnessed Cho being anything but completely in charge.

The belt of Cho's silk gown slipped through Fleur's fingers, rippling to the floor. The dressing gown fell open and Cho's soft, glowing skin, small, round breasts, and gently curving hips were there for Fleur's searching eyes and hands.

Cho moved like she was dancing, rocking her hips and baring her throat to Fleur's lips. Fleur's delicate robes felt heavy and cumbersome, and she arched back, kneeling over Cho as she shed her robes. Cho lay, brown eyes begging and pink lips parted on a gasp, taking in every movement as Fleur reached back to unclasp her bra and slide her pants down her hips.

"You take well to new things," Cho said, a delighted grin curving her kiss-stung lips and brightening her eyes.

Cho slid her hands up Fleur's torso, painting heat over her stomach and ribs. Cho still clung to the red scarf and it burned, the dividing line between pleasure and pain, at every place it touched Fleur's skin. Fleur sank down, grinding their hips together and moving over Cho, groaning at the pressure building between her legs. She felt heat darken her belly and chest from ivory to deep pink, and thrilled to see a wash of red begin to creep over Cho's skin.

"Come here," Cho whispered and she pulled Fleur down into a kiss. Her hands caressed Fleur's thighs and the curve of her arse. Quick fingers tickled the inside of Fleur's thigh, making her tremble and spread her legs as far as the sofa would allow with her on her hands and knees, over Cho.

"Touch me," Fleur pleaded, wantonly arching towards Cho. "Yes," she hissed as Cho's finger slid into her folds. Fleur could feel how wet she was, feel Cho's finger slip along her, dipping just inside and then slowly moving to her clit.

"You feel gorgeous," Cho murmured onto Fleur's lips. She moved her fingers, two sliding back and forth.

Fleur felt open and full and she rocked her hips, encouraged Cho to press harder, move faster. Cho circled her clit on each pass, faster and slicker. Fleur was panting now, mouth open against Fleur's neck as the pleasure licked like flame through her body.

"Come on," Cho urged. She turned her head and kissed Fleur's neck, sucking on the tender flesh. Fleur thrust against Cho's hand and Cho's hips rocked up to meet her, the final push over the edge. Cho didn't stop, touching and rubbing, kissing, and they gasped into each other's mouths and Fleur collapsed on top of her.

"Oh, oh, arête... ça suffit," Fleur gasped. "It's too much." She melted into Cho. Cho's hand stilled, holding her through the last waves of her orgasm.

Cho smiled then, a pleased, girlish smile. "Oh, so very worth the effort."

Fleur's laughter bubbled up from her chest, surprising her and she rubbed her cheek against Cho's chest like a cat. "I hope this was not the ending."

"What do you want? What have you wanted?" Cho asked.

"I want to try, to taste," Fleur said. "I have thought about you before this you know, before the first scarf, and this is what I have wanted."

Cho's eyes darkened and she pressed up against Fleur's shoulders, easing her off the settee until they were both standing. Cho was stunning, square shoulders and lean muscles over soft curves. Fleur just stood and let herself look, and Cho licked her lips with a sly smile that said she knew, just as Fleur always had, the effect she could have on those she desired.

"Come with me," Cho said, taking Fleur's hand, and Fleur thought that there was almost nowhere she wouldn't follow.

Cho's bedroom was simple and cosy, with none of the sleek elegance of the front room. A large bed covered with a quilt that must have been generations old was pushed up under the window and several lamps filled the room with a soft glow. Cho took her time kissing and petting, and laying Fleur down on the soft bed. It was luxurious and intimate and Fleur felt her every nerve ending very close to the surface of her skin.

"Like this," Cho said, gentle words and insistent pressure, pushing Fleur back to her hands and knees. "First time, you set the pace." Cho moved and squirmed until she was under Fleur, her head toward the foot of the bed. "Take your time," she said, letting her legs fall to the side.

"Oh," Fleur breathed. Cho's hands curled around her hips and she could feel warm breath on the inside of her thigh. Fleur smoothed her hand over the slight curve of Cho's stomach and watched in fascination as the muscles twitched and her breath hitched. Cho made a soft, whimpering sound as Fleur splayed her fingers over her mound, gentling through the dark hair and feeling the first hints of wetness there. "You're wet," she groaned.

Cho chuckled low in her throat. "Of course I am," she said, arching her hips and opening her legs even more. "You drive me mad."

Fleur leaned to kiss Cho's belly. She pressed on Cho's thighs with her palms and ran her thumbs, barely touching, along the outer lips of Cho's cunt. Fleur pushed a little harder, dared to urge her open and follow her thumbs with her lips. She and Cho moaned together at the first taste, slick and warm on her tongue.

"Oh, fuck yes," Cho panted. "That's it." She pulled down on Fleur's hips, forcing her knees wider and Fleur had to brace herself on her elbows to keep up her delicate kisses and touches to Cho's soft folds.

Fleur flattened her tongue and laved over Cho's thickening clit and she gasped as Cho did the same. She stroked down to Cho's opening, pushing just past the rim, and felt Cho's tongue push inside her. She licked up and down, circling Cho's clit, pulling the tender flesh between her lips, and she could feel everything Cho did, because each lick, each kiss, Cho matched her stroke for stroke. Fleur cupped her hands around Cho's hips, pulling her harder against her mouth. She felt filthy and wet, slick from her chin to own drenched cunt.

She could feel Cho's thigh muscles tense, her belly tremble, her vulva open and swell and she felt a heady wave of power and lust. She wanted to feel ever tremor, every pulse when Cho finally tumbled into ecstasy. Fleur slid one finger and then another inside Cho, fucking her fast, in time to the hammering of her heart. Cho followed suit and Fleur's muscles contracted against the welcome intrusion. Her hips thrust down onto the fingers, desperate to come, but desperate to focus on Cho. She sucked gently on Cho's clit and Cho let out a long, low, moan and convulsed around Fleur's fingers. She never stopped lapping and kissing Fleur, body writhing, but her mouth in complete control. Fleur lifted her head to gasp for breath as Cho's fingers slid in and out of her, wet, slick sounds filling the room.

"Just, just a little more," Fleur moaned, her body strung tight as a bow. Cho shifted and Fleur felt her other hand smooth over her arse and slide down her cleft. Fleur rocked her hips back and forth over Cho's slippery tongue and onto her fingers, and Cho slipped her now slick fingers of her free hand back to Fleur's arse and slid one gently past the tight muscle and inside. "Ah, ah, oui, Je—Je…plus de...," Fleur gasped, and Cho was touching her everywhere and the pleasure jolted through her body, hot as fire.

The muscles in Fleur's legs quivered and gave out, and she tumbled onto the bed, resting her cheek against Cho's thigh. Cho's hand came to stroke Fleur's hair, smoothing it back from her face. The room seemed to spin around Fleur and she clung to Cho, feeling the length of their bodies press against each other.

"C'mere," Cho muttered, tugging on Fleur's arm. A smug little smile graced Fleur's lips that Cho sounded as drunk with bliss as Fleur felt.

When they had settled, tangled up in each other, Fleur's hand painted lazy circles on Cho's stomach, mesmerised by the shift of muscles under golden skin.

"It will not be easy to concentrate in those long meetings with the Goblins," Fleur said, her voice husky and rough.

Cho laughed, jostling Fleur's cheek with the movements of her breath. "It never was."

"I did not mean because of the meeting," Fleur said. She shifted her slow, circling fingers from Cho's stomach to her breast, tracing around it, her breath catching as the nipple tightened to a peak.

"Neither did I," Cho whispered, tumbling Fleur onto her back and kissing her with tenderness and a promise of heat.

They had always come to her, the best, the smartest, the most beautiful. Some things, it seemed, need not change.
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