Sinking Under (With You)Author:
Everything Old is New Again: age disparity, baths, breasts, praise. Other Warnings/Content:
Implied infidelity.Word Count:
Celebration. Author's Notes:
My first fic for the comm! Thank you for having me, and I hope you enjoy!
The bath is ready by the time Astoria slips inside Narcissa’s private rooms, her soon to be mother-in-law already resting in the basin: body engulfed in water, warm and bubbly and tinged pink, smelling faintly of something floral. Something Astoria doesn’t know the name of.
She’d been rushing to get here—had forced a smile to her face as she’d said goodbye to the last of their guests, body buzzing with anticipation. With what she knew was coming. Now, she allows herself to slow. Lets the door shut behind her, the lock clicking in place as she steps further into the bathroom, her gaze fixed on Narcissa.
She is beautiful, lounging amongst the water. Her body relaxed, hair pinned up, tendrils of blonde framing her face. No one could deny her that.
Astoria smiles, faint but genuine. “Sorry,” she says, a hand reaching for the opening to her dress. “Mrs. Lyia…” She trails off with a shake of her head, lets the rest of the sentence die on her tongue as her dress shifts against her skin. Falls to the ground.
Narcissa’s mouth twitches, as if she knows what Astoria is thinking. As if she understands. Astoria supposes that she does; that it’s the reason why she
was left to bid the woman farewell.
A glass of wine is held in Narcissa’s hand, delicate fingers curled around the stem, the contents within a light, shimmering gold. She reaches beside the basin, to where a small bench rests, and places it there before adjusting in the water.
“Come,” she says, her now-free fingers crooking slightly. Beckoning.
Astoria doesn’t need to be told twice. She steps from her dress, hastily removes the rest of her clothing but takes care to put each item to the side, and makes her way to the bath.
“What a beautiful couple!”
The exclamation is loud—too loud. Astoria turns to find the source, as does Draco, and a sigh presses at her teeth as she spots her mother’s old friend walk toward them, a big, wide grin on her face.
She’s never been much for engagement parties.
Her own is no exception.
The woman nears them, words of congratulations falling from her lips as her hand takes hold of Astoria’s, the other reaching for Draco’s. She brings them together, clasps them both in her own, and Astoria fixes a smile on her face as Draco offers a quick thanks, his words tight.
It’s a small comfort to know he’s as uncomfortable as she is.
A quiet sigh slips past her lips as she sinks into the water, the temperature an in-between of too hot and just right. The basin is large—large enough that she and Narcissa could both fit without touching each other at all if they wanted, but, well.
There’s no fun in that.
She shifts in the water, listens as it sloshes against the sides of the basin, feels the ripples each action makes. It soaks her skin, leaves her damp and slick. Smooth. She shuffles forward, to the spot that’s waiting for her. Narcissa reaches for her as she nears, her hand taking hold of Astoria’s as Astoria settles across her lap: a vice, something to help steady her. Astoria smiles her thanks, knees resting to either side of Narcissa’s hips. Like this, the water reaches above her waist but below her breasts, the bath’s suds clinging to her flesh.
Narcissa’s hand trails over her damp skin, up over her arm and towards her neck, fingers curling around the base once they get there. She nudges Astoria forward, and Astoria goes: leans down to press her lips to Narcissa’s, the act slow at first, sensual. A hint of what’s to come.
“You did good,” Narcissa tells her when they part, her hands sliding down across Astoria’s chest and cupping her breasts: touch gentle until her fingers find Astoria’s nipples and pinch. “It was believable.”
Astoria leans into the touch but swallows the moan in her throat. Warmth spreads through her at the words, the pit of her stomach twisting in an inexplicably pleasant way. The way it always does when Narcissa’s voice fills with the warmth of approval.
She tries not to squirm but fails.
“You must be pleased.”
The words aren’t directed at her. Instead, they’re directed at Narcissa, at Lucius at her side, the both of them standing behind her. Astoria starts to move, to turn to see their answer, but stops when a familiar hand settles on her back, Narcissa’s nails trailing along the exposed skin of her shoulder blades, the touch hidden in plain sight.
“Very,” she says.
Narcissa’s mouth works its way across her chest, leaves kisses along every inch of skin, and it’s not often that this happens, Astoria thinks. That she’s
the one who’s showed this much attention with so little given in return. It’s like some type of reward. Makes the pit of arousal in her stomach double, body alight with an increasingly desperate need.
Her eyes shut. Head falling forward as the remaining tension drains from her body. This thing they have, this arrangement
—she’s still getting used to it. Has not yet mastered the act of deception as well as the family around her.
She wonders if this is part of the lesson.
“Please,” she murmurs as Narcissa’s tongue licks across her nipple, and it’s needy in her own ears.
She feels Narcissa’s lips twitch against her skin; half expects for the older woman to drag it out, to tease
her. It’s a relief when she doesn’t.
It’s easy for Narcissa to slip a hand beneath the water, down to where Astoria is warm, wet, wanting
. It’s a light touch at first: a pad of her finger, a gentle brush against her clit.
Astoria pushes down against her, disturbs the water as she leans into it, a plea for more
falling from her lips before she can stop it.
People eat, drink, celebrate. Astoria stays as involved as she needs to be, follows Draco’s step across the dance floor in an obligatory waltz, the two of them a picturesque image of perfection.
When it’s over, she finds herself on the edge of the floor; Narcissa the embodiment of elegance where she stands, two steps in front of her. She leans forward, mouth positioned beside Astoria’s ear for just a moment.
“My rooms,” she says, voice low, breath warm as it trails across Astoria’s neck. “Tonight.”
Narcissa touch is experienced. Full of expertise. Two fingers bury in Astoria’s cunt and it’s only a matter of moments before Astoria is rocking against her, hands curled around the bath’s edge with a white-knuckled grip as a moan itches its way up her throat.
“Good girl,” Narcissa tells her, words murmured against damp skin. Low and quiet. Almost sweet.
Astoria’s breath hitches: the sound a needy little gasp, something desperate. She’d be embarrassed if she weren’t so far gone.
She rocks her hips forward, keeps her eyes shut as Narcissa touches her, her thumb rubbing against her clit—unrelenting, now. Each touch executed with double the effort. End goal in sight.
“That’s it,” Narcissa encourages, and Astoria moans again, forehead fallen to her lover’s shoulder, her mouth pressed to the skin as she rocks back and forth with an increasing speed. Narcissa’s praise is a sacred thing; scarce enough to be considered special. It’s a sure-fire way to get her off.
She’s sure Narcissa knows this. That she uses it to her advantage.
The encouragement keeps coming, Narcissa leaving small, wet kisses against what part of Astoria’s jaw she can reach; her praise low and murmured. It hits just the right spot inside her, has Astoria vibrating with need as their bodies rock together, until she can take it no longer. Until her body stills, moth parted in a silent scream as she shudders with pleasure, the pressure of Narcissa’s hand a constant as she comes.
She’s left panting when it’s over: breath quickened and heart rate accelerated. Narcissa reaches for her chin with one hand, nudges her so she can kiss her, all tongue and teeth, this time.
“We’re not done yet,” she tells her, almost teasing. Said in such a way that suggests it’s her
turn to be showered with attention.
Astoria can’t wait.