The Empress’s GownAuthor: trysloraCharacters/Pairings:
Delayed Orgasm, Alternate PairingOther Warnings/Content:
semi-public nudity, semi-public fondling, sex toys (worn in public), strap-on, anal play, nipple play, double penetration, light dom/sub, light bitingWord Count:
The magic snaps back into place, and no one seems to notice that Hermione stands there on the side of the street, absolutely starkers aside from her slippers, nipple clamps, and a pair of toys shoved inside her nether parts.Author's Notes:
So, I had to write Hermione & Lavender, because I love them as a pairing SO MUCH. And I wasn’t sure what to write based on the themes (then somehow it ended up with the orgasm delay all on its own), so I went back into my bunny folder and found this bit that I once started writing for a theme of public nudity. And it just worked out so well for this month, so YAY.
Lavender carefully places the bracelet on Hermione’s wrist, the weight heavy as soon as the clasp closes tight. The air shimmers and Hermione sucks in a breath, warmth and faint breeze caressing her skin. “I feel it,” she whispers.
“Good, baby girl.” Lavender pushes Hermione’s hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “You look beautiful. Just take a look in the mirror.”
They both turn to the full-length mirror at the end of the hall, and Hermione stares at her reflection. The gown is a shimmering blue, nipped in tight at the waist, curved around her breasts, pushing them up until they threaten to spill free. The skirt is long and loose, swirling around her ankles. It is formal and unusual, something designed to catch attention on a London afternoon in the Muggle world. Lavender smiles, kissing Hermione’s cheek. “Everyone will be looking at you.”
The image shifts, glamour spell glitching, and for a moment Hermione stands there, completely naked, all pale skin and bushy hair, her belly slightly soft, hips wider than she’d like. One blink and the gown is back; she breathes more easily.
“You’re beautiful,” Lavender reassures her. “Do you trust me, love?”
“I trust you.” Because Hermione does. She has trusted Lavender for so long that she can’t imagine anything else; no matter what she asks, Hermione will do it. Even this. “Just don’t get me arrested.”
Lavender laughs, low and husky from a scarred throat. “Never, love. Who would keep me warm at night if you were trapped in a Muggle jail for public indecency? Besides,” she leans in, whispers the words against Hermione’s throat. “We’re witches. They’d have to catch us to arrest us.”
Lavender circles Hermione’s nipple with her fingers, pinches gently. “Let’s finish getting you dressed.”
Hermione stands quietly while Lavender places clips over her nipples, tightening the tiny circles until they pinch her nipples, the tiny jewels that hang from the clips reminding her with every movement that they are there. Lavender leans in, tongue teasing across one pinched nipple, then sucks gently until Hermione whines. Hermione shifts her feet, uncomfortably wet and aroused.
Lavender’s fingers skate across Hermione’s belly, drifting down until she nudges through her curls, presses between Hermione’s soft lips and into her soaked slit. Lavender’s eyes close as she pushes two fingers in, thumb rolling over Hermione’s clit; Hermione’s knees buckle, and she grabs Lavender’s shoulder.
“Not yet, love, no matter how beautiful you are when you come.” Lavender withdraws, summons a harness fitted with a small dildo. Hermione steps into the harness carefully, and Lavender fits it to her, settling the dildo inside her fanny and leaving her full.
“One more, I think,” Lavender muses. “Don’t you?”
Hermione shifts her stance, feels the weight of the dildo sliding inside of her, the pressure against her clit. Her breasts ache, thoroughly aroused and heavy. She licks her lips, breath shuddering. “One more,” she agrees.
She bends forward, hands against the wall, forehead leaning against the cool plaster, and spreads her legs. Lavender pushes one finger between her cheeks, rubs gently at Hermione’s puckered hole. Hermione already opened herself up earlier when she bathed, made sure she was slick and ready. Still, that first moment as Lavender presses into her is never easy, a slight burn before Lavender’s finger slips in.
She feels so full, between the dildo and now two fingers as Lavender adds more lubrication. She pants softly, head hanging as she tries to breathe through it.
“I’m okay,” Hermione assures her. “It’s just very intense.”
The plug Lavender selected isn’t more than two fingers wide at the largest part, narrowing down to a tiny neck, and a wide base to keep it from slipping further in than it should. Once it’s seated, it feels like a heavy weight inside of her, and as Hermione straightens, the plug and dildo both move.
She gasps, gripping Lavender’s arm, slumping back against her. Lavender nuzzles her throat, cups her breasts and rubs thumbs over Hermione’s nipples. “Beautiful,” Lavender murmurs. “You are absolutely perfect, baby.”
Lavender helps Hermione to the bed, and she perches there, her hands folded in her lap, pressed down against her crotch. In the mirror, she seems demure, fingers clasped in a lap spread with fabric, but she can feel the way the heel of her hand pushes against her soaked lips. The plug moves slightly in her arse as she wiggles, the dildo sliding deeper when she squirms to get comfortable. She tries not to think about it, to focus instead on watching Lavender pull on tight black tuxedo trousers with no knickers underneath, and a white shirt that clearly shows her nipples through the light fabric. Lavender tops it with a jacket, giving only a peek at her chest.
Lavender offers a hand and Hermione stands, coming close enough to let Lavender gently place a choker about her throat. She never wears this in public, but today is an exception, the twist of gold and garnets cold against her skin as it is clasped.
It matches the bracelet, and Hermione is charmed to see how much thought Lavender has put into today’s play.
When Lavender offers her a crooked elbow, Hermione places her fingertips there and they walk together as if they were entering a formal ball, not stepping out for the afternoon on the streets of Muggle London.
They draw eyes as soon as they step out of their modest townhouse, Lavender leading the way down the few steps, her hand held out to assist Hermione.
Hermione tries to step daintily, as if she actually wears the heels the disguise spell shows, rather than the soft slippers on her feet. But every step puts pressure on her clit, shifts the toys inside of her. She wavers at the bottom step, clutches at Lavender’s arm as her eyes close.
She feels the moment that the magic around her wavers, and her eyes open, heart thundering. The magic snaps back into place, and no one seems to notice that Hermione stands there on the side of the street, absolutely starkers aside from her slippers, nipple clamps, and a pair of toys shoved inside her nether parts.
“Ready?” Lavender asks, and Hermione nods slowly.
It’s not going to be an extended scene today, which is good, because Hermione doesn’t think she has the fortitude to stand it for long. She walks next to Lavender, clings to her arm and nods politely to their neighbors. Those who pass by stare openly at them, and Hermione hears one elderly gentleman mutter to his wife about those strange artsy types, who dress for the opera before noon.
“They’re only jealous of how beautiful you are, love,” Lavender murmurs.
“Or how handsome you are,” Hermione returns.
It gets easier to breathe with every step, as she accustoms herself to the breeze against her skin, grows more assured that no one can actually see the way her breasts hang, or the soft curve of her belly. That no one knows that the plug in her bum has a small tail for retrieval, that swings against her cheeks with every step.
When they reach the entrance to the Tube station, Hermione hesitates.
“Baby girl?” Lavender says quietly.
Someone brushes by Hermione, giving a curious glance before rushing down the steps.
It’s crowded in there. Noisy. People pressed up against each other, hurrying to get on and off the trains. Hermione sucks in a breath, lets it out slowly as she squeezes Lavender’s arm. “I’m ready.”
Lavender positions herself so that those hurrying around them on the stairs bump into her, not Hermione. As it is, Hermione has to take the steps slowly, each step jogging the toys inside of her, leaving her breathless by the time they reach the bottom. Lavender hands her a card, and they both slip through the gates just in time to hear the train coming into the station.
“Quick,” Lavender says, her hand sliding down Hermione’s arm in order to grasp her hand, tugging her along as they run for the train.
They must look a sight, Hermione running in her fancy ball gown and heels, skirt flowing out around her. They push through the door at the last second into a moderately crowded car, and Lavender collapses onto a free seat, pulling Hermione into her lap.
The impact of landing spreads Hermione’s legs and pushes the plug into her arse. She whines softly, feels Lavender’s grin against the back of her neck.
Lavender hooks one arm around Hermione’s center, fingers tugging against the unseen jewels that hang from her nipples. “Now we rest,” Lavender whispers, and Hermione squirms back against her.
Lavender swats her thigh. “Now, now. Might almost think you’re trying to get off.”
“Please,” Hermione murmurs. “I’m soaked. There’s going to be a big swath of wet on your trousers when we stand up.”
“Witches,” Lavender says easily. “I’ll clean it up. I’m thinking we might want to ride more than one stop, though, if you’re so anxious to be done.”
Of course Lavender would want to draw it out longer, if Hermione’s close to the edge already. She whimpers and wriggles her bum backwards, grinding against Lavender’s crotch. Lavender manages to quietly get a hand between them, hidden by the illusion of Hermione’s skirt. The heel of her hand presses against the plug, and her fingers curl, sliding easily inside of Hermione.
She’s so close, it wouldn’t take much to go over the edge.
Hermione rocks just a little, testing to see if Lavender will pull away. Her eyes flutter closed, and she crosses her arms over Lavender’s other hand, where it presses around Hermione’s middle. Her breath catches, exhales in a soft gasp, and she rocks again.
The station is announced, the voice tinny and grating.
Lavender withdraws her hand, murmurs a cleansing spell to dry her hand and trousers.
“Up we go, baby girl,” Lavender says, sliding Hermione from her lap. She offers her arm to help steady Hermione as the train sways and they make their way to the door.
“We’re not going another stop?” Hermione asks quietly, and Lavender spins them both, presses Hermione back against the pole.
Lavender traps her there, lifts Hermione’s hands high before she kisses her, leaning her full weight against her. Hermione’s breasts ache, her nipples hard and red. “I want to go home,” Lavender whispers. “Don’t you want to go home?”
“I want to get off,” Hermione murmurs back. This train. Orgasm. Any type of getting off would do at the moment, and her attempt at flirtatious double meaning is worth Lavender’s delighted laugh.
“Let’s go.” Lavender tugs on Hermione’s hand as soon as the doors open.
They spill out onto the platform, Hermione brushing against someone who tries to slip past them. He gives her a startled look, and she smiles through the heat on her cheeks, waiting until he looks away. The illusion’s good, but it’s only visual.
She ducks her head, still flushed and warm.
They practically run down the street, out of breath by the time they get the door open. Lavender sends the door closed again with a slam once they’re inside, then pushes Hermione to the sofa, twisting her to bend her over it. Hermione obediently puts her elbows on the back of the sofa, her legs spread, arse in the air. Lavender unsnaps the harness, gently pulls the dildo free, and Hermione whines at the loss.
“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.” Lavender crouches down behind her, tongue a firm pressure through Hermione’s slit.
She cries out at the intensity of it as Lavender fucks her with her tongue, stroking through her slit, barely teasing at her clitoris. Lavender pulls back, tastes the edge of Hermione’s puckered rim around the plug, and Hermione groans loudly. She sways in Lavender’s grasp, hovering anxiously on the edge.
“Lavender, please,” Hermione begs. “Fuck. I’m so close.”
“We’re almost there, baby. Can you keep holding off for me?” Lavender stands again, slips two fingers inside of Hermione, twisting as she drives deep. It feels so good as Hermione pushes back against the touch, crying out when Lavender retreats before Hermione can tilt over the edge.
Hermione’s head is bent, forehead pressed against her forearms as she breathes through the shudders that quake through her body. Lavender summons something, a small rustling behind Hermione, then the feeling of something wide pressing against her lips, pushing in.
“Fuck,” Hermione whines. Her favorite strap-on, thick enough that it feels like it’ll split her in half. Combined with the slender plug, it’s almost too much.
Lavender eases in slowly, the dildo long and thick, stretching Hermione as she goes. When she gets all the way in, she stops and rests there. “Okay, baby?”
“Yeah.” Hermione’s shoulders rise and fall, breathing slowly. She’s found the part of the crest where it feels like she’s never going to tilt over, where she’s going to just float along here forever, swollen and aroused. She whimpers as Lavender runs hands up the sides of her body, cradles Hermione’s breasts. Lavender flicks her thumbs across Hermione’s nipples, and Hermione thrusts back, taking the dildo deeper. Hermione knows that the more she moves, the more the strap-on will roll against Lavender’s clit, and each movement is rewarded by a soft gasp.
Lavender flattens against Hermione, dress shirt open so both breasts and fabric brush against Hermione’s skin. She nips at Hermione’s shoulder, asks softly, “Yes or no, baby?”
“Yes,” Hermione whispers, skin heated. Lavender cools her with her tongue, heats her up again with sharp bites that leave Hermione writhing under her.
Lavender twitches her hips, drives deeper, and Hermione cries out, fingers flexing as she grips the couch.
“I want to….” Hermione can’t find the words, can’t seem to make sense. She’s floating, flying, barely tethered to the ground and yet somehow grounded by Lavender’s cock deep inside of her. “Please, please… fuck me.”
Lavender slides her hands back, grips Hermione’s hips, fingertips pressed tight against skin. She thrusts hard and deep, the plug in Hermione’s arse moving with the motion as well. “Like this?” Lavender murmurs, punctuating with another nip.
“Yes,” Hermione whispers. “Fuck, yes.”
It begins in earnest then, shaking her off her plateau. Lavender slams into her with low, breathy gasps of her own, and Hermione shakes from the force of it. The plug makes her arse ache pleasantly, and her entire body feels like it’s going to break apart. When Lavender finally reaches around, just barely brushes her clit, Hermione orgasms.
She shudders through it, eyes tightly clenched and tearing up as she whines loudly, begs for Lavender to do it again, come for her. Lavender draws back, thrusts again with a touch to Hermione’s clit and there’s another set of shocks running through her as Lavender groans loudly, head against the nape of Hermione’s neck.
It’s quiet then, floating in a different way. Hermione can catalog every bruise, every mark on her skin. Fingerprints at her hips, the way her arse feels just as fucked as her fanny. Bite marks along her shoulders, bruises on her breasts from Lavender’s fingers.
Lavender eases back, slipping free from Hermione’s body. She gently tugs the plug free, then undoes the nipple clamps. When Hermione is free, Lavender helps her stand long enough to lift her up, cradle her and carry her to their bedroom.
Hermione has no bones left in her body, and is grateful for Lavender’s strength in the aftermath.
They stretch out together, Lavender sprawled across Hermione, her nose pressed into the vulnerable hollow of Hermione’s throat. Hermione strokes through Lavender’s hair, only slightly caring that Lavender’s still somehow almost wearing her button down shirt; at least the trousers are gone.
When Lavender touches the bracelet, Hermione feels a laugh bubble up. It bursts out as a bright giggle, and Hermione claps a hand over her mouth as Lavender pulls back to look at her, eyes wide.
“Did you giggle?”
Hermione bites her lip, nodding as she can’t help it and giggles again. “Did you see the look that bloke gave me? I think he got a handful of my bum when we were getting off the train. He looked so surprised. And honestly, I’d far rather it were your hand on my bum, not some stranger’s.”
“I’d rather you had my hands on you, too.” Lavender rubs her cheek against Hermione’s collar bone. “This was supposed to be hiding in plain sight sort of experiment; I didn’t mean for you to get felt up by a stranger, love.” She trails fingers lightly over Hermione’s breasts, the touch almost too achingly pleasant.
“That said,” Lavender says slowly. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I’d rather be naked at home with you,” Hermione says firmly, “instead of walking about naked and pretending to be clothed. It wasn’t bad, but it falls far below the time you had me spend the entire day completely nude while baking and cleaning.”
“Mm, that was a lovely day. I think I got off three times just watching you, love.” Lavender nuzzles her, kisses her gently. “Maybe we ought to repeat that one next weekend. Only I’ll plug you up properly beforehand, see how wet you’ll be by the end.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” In all truth, Hermione never really minds. She knows Lavender loves these games, and she loves doing what makes Lavender happy. “But you might want to remember that we’re having Harry and Draco over for dinner, and that Ron and Pansy said they might be able to make it as well.”
“Then we’ll just need to clean up early,” Lavender murmurs. “They don’t need to know you were starkers while we were getting ready. And I think maybe you’ll keep the plug in during dinner. See if you can keep from squirming.”
It makes Hermione squirm now to think about it, and Lavender presses a kiss to the slope of her breast in answer.
“Yes,” Hermione agrees. “Anything. I’m all yours.”