Birthday Wish Fulfilled for: ragdoll
From: A Mischievous Member

Title: Oh, no. We're snowed in.
Characters/Pairings: Neville/Lavender
Rating: R
Kinks/Themes Included: first time BDSM, bondage, consensual D/s, blindfolds, nipple clamps
Other Warnings/Content:
Word Count: 1857
Summary/Description: Neville is enamoured by a new erotic novel. Lavender isn't. He has some persuading to do.
Author's Notes: Thank you to the very patient mods. Happy birthday, Daily Deviant!



Despite the flush that coloured her throat, Lavender scowled and thrust the dog-eared book back into Neville’s hands. "Honey?!" she demanded. "Are you mental?"

"Are you calling me honey or -"

"You bookmarked that page, so you know bloody well that I'm not calling you honey."

Neville’s shoulders slumped. "But I was thinking we could use our own honey from the garden."

"I don't care if it comes from our garden or the Minister of Magic’s. There isn't going to be honey going anywhere near my lady garden."

Turning the book over in his hands, Neville considered the black and white cover. He'd never really thought of ankles as sexy until recently, but this foot clad in a towering yet dainty high heel had given him a new appreciation for Lavender’s choices in footwear. If only she was as receptive to his suggestions as he was to her recent shopping trips.

"And you can forget about suggesting that thing with the ginger," Lavender added.

"I wasn't going to," he lied, mentally crossing that off his list.

Since The Book - Lavender now refused to call it by its actual title - had been published six months ago, Neville had read it three times in its entirety. Certain passages had been reread more than that. Though it had reached an almost farcical level of popularity, likely because of rather than despite its racy content, Lavender resolutely refused to read it. He'd even pointedly left it on her bedside table a couple of times, but it always migrated back to his side of the room.

"Hey," Lavender said quietly, taking his wrists and drawing his gaze from the book. "I'm excited to try things with you. But can we just avoid putting sugary things or any other food down there?"

Neville nodded. "Yeah. Course."

"Great." Lavender tilted her head up and he met her lips for a sweet strawberry gloss kiss. "In fact, I'm so relieved to hear you say that, there might even be a celebratory blow job later."

He perked up a little bit at that, squaring his shoulders. "Um, Lavender, maybe do you sort of want to…"

She looked down, spotting his white knuckles as he clenched the book. A heavy feeling settled itself in her stomach and she sighed. "Which chapter?"

Neville could almost taste his own hesitation, something thick and heavy on his tongue. "Twenty-three." She had already dismissed chapter ten and now seventeen, so this was his last shot, not to mention his favourite chapter.

"Fine," she grumbled, taking the book back. Her brow furrowed. "You know, I've read three or four chapters now and I'm still not sure that this book has a plot. They mostly seem to just get trapped in places and horny."

"There's a bit where they save the lives of hundreds of people."

Lavender gave a disdainful twist of her lips. "And do they have celebratory sex?"

Laughing, Neville kissed her temple. "You make it sound so predictable."

"And this is why I prefer actually having sex than reading about other people having it. I like a nice surprise." As she sashayed out of the living room, Neville bit his lip to hold back a groan and reassured himself with the promise of a blow job.

***

The small box beside Neville's breakfast plate on the morning of their tenth anniversary gave him pause. He was sure that Lavender had never given him jewellery.

Especially not jewellery like this.

"They don't look like cufflinks."

"No, darling," Lavender said, setting down the cafetière. "They're nipple clamps." She leant over and kissed him gently, then slipped into her chair.

A blush flooded Neville's cheeks. "For me or for you?"

"For me." Reaching over, she plucked one from the box. The early morning sunshine that streamed through the window made the green stone that decorated the clamp shine. "But I expect you to help me put them on."

Neville's fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the coffee, the strong scent reminding him how hungry he was. "So this is a yes for chapter twenty-three," he said as lightly as he could.

"And maybe twenty-four." At the look he gave her, she pouted despite the amusement that made her eyes crinkle at the edges. "There was a cliffhanger. You know I hate it when sex is left… unresolved." She smirked from behind a lock of highlighted hair, then pushed it behind her ear.

"Tonight?" Neville felt quite proud of himself when he didn't spill a single drop of coffee.

She shook her head, her hair coming loose again almost immediately. "No. We've had these restaurant reservations for months and I've already picked out my dessert. Apparently the chocolate brownie is nearly the size of your head."

"Does that mean you'll share?"

Lavender pelted him with a piece of croissant. "Don't ever say such a horrible thing ever again!"

***

"Oh, no," Neville whispered against the shell of his wife's ear, "we're snowed in."

Lavender stretched sleepily as he kissed the scar on her neck. "It's August, prat," she murmured, her eyes half closed. Blinking, she realised the curtains were open. It was still dark out, so she suspected she hadn't been asleep for long, and there was indeed snow starting to pile against the cottage's windows.

"But your flowers," she started.

"Will be fine. Trust me."

She bit her lip. "Always," she promised, only then realising that she couldn't move her arms; one of her silk scarves, usually worn to obscure the marks on her neck, had been twined around her wrists, securing her hands above her head to the headboard. "Oh," she said slowly, the pieces starting to fall into place.

Neville cleared his throat. "Where was I? Oh, right. Er… Oh, no. We're snowed in."

Lavender nodded gamely, trying not to giggle at his serious expression. Was he trying to act in character or remember his lines?

"We're stuck here until morning. Looks like I have you all to myself." He drew a finger softly down her sternum. Not for the first time, Lavender was glad that she slept naked. "Completely at my mercy." The look on his face as his gaze moved over her was all Neville, no acting required. He kissed her lips, a trace of firewhiskey on his tongue. "You know you can tell me to stop any time, right?" he whispered, their foreheads touching.

She nodded again. "Keep going. You're doing great." The intensity of his eyes coupled with his relieved smile jarred her memory. Was there anything she was supposed to say in this fantasy? No, she thought, she mostly had to lay back and enjoy it. Quite the reverse of the early days of their own courtship when she had almost always been on top. Middle-of-the-day quickies had been almost impossible, Neville's messy post-shag hair usually giving the game away.

When Neville produced another of her scarves from somewhere out of sight, Lavender caught only a glimpse of a pale floral pattern before it covered her eyes. "Ow," she complained as he accidentally pulled her hair while tying it. She blinked against the fabric, then closed her eyes. Neville murmured an apology, but was quick to kiss her once again, more determined and forceful than he had been in some time. Lavender pulled at her bonds, instinctively trying to wrap her arms around him to hold him close. Unable to do so, she arched her back, her breasts pushing towards him.

He pulled away the light blanket that she had been sleeping under, taking in the sight of her naked and restrained. A shiver went through him and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy it, especially when she tested the scarves again, her body curving deliciously.

Neville trailed kisses lower, first across her collarbone and then over the curve of each generous breast but studiously avoiding her nipples. Then, just as she was about to voice her frustration, he closed his mouth around a hard peak and sucked gently. Her complaint dissolved into a groan. The desperate need to thread her fingers through his hair wouldn't disappear so easily, so she gripped the cool metal of the bed frame instead.

When Neville pulled away completely with a quiet pop, Lavender exhaled slowly. Then, two quick touches and there was an exquisite pressure on both nipples. She squirmed, gasping at the slightly familiar feel of the clamps. Before giving them to Neville, she had tried them briefly until she had felt embarrassed standing topless in front of the mirror wearing them.

"Oh, god," Neville breathed in a tone so similar to his I'm-about-to-come voice that Lavender wanted to reach out and check that everything was in working order. In lieu of being able to use her hands, she parted her legs instead and elicited a less than coherent noise from her husband.

Neville smoothed his hands down her sides and over the curves of her hips. The pages of a book were nothing compared to the feel of her heated skin beneath his fingertips. Maybe he needed fewer rereads in future. No, not maybe. He flicked one of the green tourmaline drops that hung from the clamps. Definitely.

His lips met her stomach in open-mouthed kisses. Lavender squirmed more, and he held her hips down, shifting a little awkwardly until he was settled between legs that seemed to be moving further apart with every kiss. "You want me," he whispered roughly with just a small amount of wonder.

Lavender's rings clinked against the bed frame. "What do you think?" she grumbled. His laugh bounced off her thighs, only making her squirm more. She let out a shaky breath as he kissed her slick folds and his tongue slid easily amid them.

Any further grumblings were stopped by the simple fact that her breathing was coming harder and faster as Neville's tongue danced over her clit. She shifted her hips back and forth, rocking against the mattress until Neville moved his hands to her hips to steady her. Exhaling slowly, she tried to calm her breathing but then one hand slipped down to caress her as well, a finger moving at the same rhythm as his mouth.

Gradually, her knees started to pull up towards her body as the twisting, fiery need between her thighs built towards a crescendo. Neville, though, put a hand on each thigh, pressing down gently until her legs were flat again and her orgasm had been chased again. When he released the pressure, her knees started to move again and he repeated the motion over and over. Only once she was begging did he relent, finishing her with deft swipes of his thumb to her clit.

Her hips rose off the bed and her thighs seemed determined to trap his hand in place. Neville's gaze travelled up her body, past her taut nipples to her parted lips. Whimpering, she licked them; Neville was completely certain that he had never been harder.

Slowly, he removed his hand to a guttural noise of complaint from his wife. "And that," he whispered as he crawled up over her, "was the cliffhanger."