rose_whispers (rose_whispers) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2008-05-07 17:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2008, author: rose_whispers, kink: adultery, kink: oral sex, remus/narcissa |
LMoM Day 7: Is (2 of 3)
Title: Is (2 of 3... I think)
Author: rose_whispers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Remus/Narcissa
Kink(s): female oral sex, adultery
Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2008
Word Count: 1335
Summary: Remus tests his limits, trying to make Narcissa let go
A/N: Today's rune prompt is Is, ice: "Ice may in fact be protective... that we want to store something away for later use. This rune counsels caution... denotes that things have gone on for too long and with too much coldness for there to be much chance of any warmth returning" (Horik Svensson's The Runes). Thanks to Lia for the beta!
This can be read on its own, or part 1 can be found here
Remus had expected that something would come of his little display. The eighteen year old gardener can't think to jack off in front of the lady of the manor without some repercussions. Being sacked, for starters.
But what he hadn't expected was for her to be waiting by the tool shed the next morning, her icy blue velvet robes draped about her slim shoulders, her white blonde hair cascading freely down her back. For her to shove him back into the grass without a word, hands fumbling at his fly while he . He hadn't expected his cock to be inside her before he'd even realised he was aroused, him on his back, her, magnificent, above him. Always above him, her hips rocking against him, thrusting herself down on him.
The bad thing was, he didn't last particularly long. How could he be expected to? He was eighteen, not overly experienced, and she was... perfection. The good thing? He was eighteen, which meant that within ten minutes he was ready to go again. And the second time, he'd lasted longer. The second time he'd almost managed to get her to scream. As it was, she'd only whimpered, bracing herself against the tool shed wall, her stance wide, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
Or he thinks it was ecstasy. She plays everything so close to her chest, even when she's half-naked, thrusting against him in the summer shade of her opulent gardens.
The day after she was nowhere to be seen, not even on her balcony, watching him work. Today, perhaps because it's only a few days before the full moon, Remus decides to seek her out. To hunt her, his prey. He wants to know what her voice sounds like when incited to pure lust, pure pleasure.
He bypasses the garden entirely and uses the servants' entrance to get into the house. He has no idea where she might be, but decides that the direction farthest away from below stairs is likely the smartest approach. He moves through the Manor swiftly, silently, his arousal nothing but a low thrum in his bloodstream. The house is immaculate but he doesn't stop to admire its architecture or adornments. Instead, he finds the nearest spiral staircase and heads straight up.
On the fourth floor landing his intuition, or perhaps his enhanced sense of smell, tells him that he is close, and he starts off down the corridor. He finds her in the master bedroom, slipping her robes off her naked body. Her hair is damp from a bath, her skin a little rosier than its normally pale hue.
"Madam," he says, making a mock-formal bow in her direction. If she is startled, she doesn't show it. She keeps her emotions tightly in check.
"I wasn't aware there were any flowers in my bedroom to which you had to attend," she says, turning to look at him. He hasn't seen her fully nude before, and he takes a moment to admire. She is slight, perfectly proportioned, almost veela-like in her natural grace.
"Just one," he says, stalking forward, his hands at his shirt buttons. By the time he reaches her by the bed, he has kicked off his trousers as well and is as naked as she is. He tilts his chin defiantly, daring her to insult him or send him away.
Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a fierce kiss, her sharp teeth nipping at his bottom lip as she presses her body against his. He can feel the small rosebud nubs of her nipples, hard against his chest, and he tangles his hands in her hair, insinuating his tongue into her mouth. He loves the way she tastes, clean and floral, like violet water. But he wants more. So much more.
"Lie down," he growls and at that she does blink in surprise. Just once, before she is in control once more.
"Do you think you're going to rut against me and take your pleasure, gardener?" she mocks. He hopes his smirk unnerves her.
He crawls up onto the bed, onto the bed she shares with Lucius Malfoy, and holds a hand out to her. He barely hesitates before regally ascending herself, kneeling a foot away.
"On your back," he says hoarsely, and she raises an eyebrow. "On your back, madam," he repeats. She doesn't move. Rolling his eyes, he mutters, "Fine, we can do this the hard way." With preternatural swiftness, he flips onto his back, his head by her knees, which are parted slightly. He pushes her legs open a little further and arches his head up, pressing his face against her sex.
She takes a slightly larger than usual breath but says nothing. His hands are on her thighs, steadying himself, teasing her with his fingernails. He draws his tongue along her slit. He can feel heat radiating from her, feel her muscles tense beneath his fingers. He repeats the action, this time slipping his tongue between her folds. She twitches.
Moving his hands from her legs, uses his thumbs to spread her folds, laying her open above him like a delicate pink azalea. Poisonous she is, like an azalea. He inhales the heady aroma of her, a mixture of salty sweat and her own pheromone-laced arousal. He runs his tongue over her labia, delighting in the texture, soft in places, pebbled and goosebumped in others. She is so warm, here at her centre, beneath the layers of ice with which she shrouds herself. Searching forward, he finds her clit, hooded and waiting for him, and flicks his tongue against it. She muffles a shriek with forearm. Pleased, he circles her clit slowly with his tongue, savouring her scent and flavour and the way she tries not to move above of him as he laps a her clit again and again. She is wet with her own juices and his saliva and trying desperately to stay in control. Moving away from her clit, he slides his tongue over her opening before pushing it insolently inside her.
She nearly lifts off the bed, swallowing a moan with heroic effort. He wonders if she can feel him grinning against her. Surely she can see how hard he is, his cock jutting proudly from his body, straining to become more involved. All in good time though, as he begins to fuck her with his tongue, holding her open with his thumbs. She is open, utterly vulnerable, her breath hitching as she tries to stop herself from rocking against his face.
He wraps one arm around her thigh, bracing it on her hip to encourage her movements. The other finders her clit again, fingering it in counterpoint to his tongue. He feels like he's playing a difficult musical instrument, discovering exactly how to coax sound from within its depths. Her depths. He can feel her getting closer, her control beginning to fray, to let go... and she does, at last. She grinds against his mouth, forcing his tongue further inside her. She rides his face, his fingers working frantically against her clit as it builds and builds and with a scream that could shatter the windowpanes she comes. Shuddering and moaning, her back arched and her toes curling, she is carried away by her climax, rolling off him and collapsing against her silken pillows.
He drinks in the glory of her, her whole body flushed like the finest rose petals in her garden, her eyes half-closed, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. He doesn't wait for her to recover, doesn't give into the desire to take her there and then. This morning was for her, and he's had his reward. He knows what she sounds like when she lets go. He gathers his clothes and makes his exit before she can call to him to stop, if she was even planning to. After all, tomorrow is another day.