Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
Kinky Kristmas Fic: Just Once More (Ron/Lavender) 
24th December 2013 21:00
Kristmas Wish Fulfilled For: [info]luvscharlie
From: [info]lunalovepotter

Title: Just Once More
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Lavender (background Ron/Hermione)
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: Infidelity, costume play
Other Warnings/Content: None
Word Count: 4,650
Summary/Description: Lavender had decided that she would end their affair on her terms. Until Ron turned the tables on her.
Author's Notes: There's not quite as much "kinky" in this one as I'd originally intended, but there is plenty of "kristmas" - and cupcakes! I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to my beta for squeezing me in at the last minute, and to the Mods for being so patient with me.



Lavender Brown did another quick turn in front of the mirror, watching with a certain degree of pleasure as the flirty red velvet skirt lined with white fur twirled out from her thighs. The black velvet belt cinched her waist perhaps a little tighter than she might ordinarily have preferred, but it did accentuate her curves. She'd decided that she could live with the discomfort for a little while; she would not be wearing the outfit for long anyway. Her heart fluttered as she paused to look at herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her unruly dark blond curls forming a wild mane around her face. Her large breasts had been pushed together and forced upward by the form-fitting dress, and the low-cut neck left very little to the imagination. It wasn't really her taste, but she had to admit she looked stunning. Even her thick, somewhat chunky thighs seemed elongated by the short hem of the skirt. She felt empowered, and she would need every ounce of that power tonight. Because tonight she would be breaking up with the love of her life.

Her breath caught in her throat as she thought of Ron, with his bright blue eyes and his loping, slightly clumsy gait - especially that mop of fiery red hair, and that sexy smirk. He was socially awkward, yet endearing, and so very funny - and brave. Definitely brave. After all, he was an Auror and that took a lot of nerve. He was also loyal, a trait that on its face seemed at odds with the fact that he'd been sleeping with Lavender for the last five months while married to Hermione Granger. But it still held true - because Lavender caught the fleeting expressions of doubt on his face when he thought she wasn't looking, and heard the slight softening of his voice whenever he mentioned his wife. He didn't do it on purpose, he wasn't trying to hurt anyone - he was confused. They had been going through a rocky patch, arguing about when to start having kids (he was ready, while she wanted to wait until her career was "further established"). But there was no doubt he loved her. He'd pretty much loved her since before he knew what it even meant to be in love. Lavender wasn't blind - she'd seen them bickering their way through Hogwarts. She'd known what it meant.

Lavender pursed her lips together, absently wondering if perhaps she should apply more lip gloss. Ron always said it made her lips feel too "slippery", but he did like the taste of her mouth. She had a wide range of flavors, every single one of which she had tried on him. His favorite flavor was strawberry.

She lifted her left hand to her mouth and touched it, parting her lips slightly as she thought of how much she would miss his mouth and the funny little noises he made when they kissed, like he was slurping hot soup. That first kiss that had started their affair had been sloppy, with his tongue all over the place (as were his hands, she thought fondly of his awkward attempts to rid her of her industrial-sized brassiere), but as their relationship progressed so had his kissing technique. Now his tongue was all soft and big and felt absolutely heavenly sliding along her lips and the inside of her mouth.

Tears beaded in her eyes, and she blinked them away impatiently. "No, you will not cry. This is not a sad thing," she admonished herself. She cupped her breasts through the velvet, kneading them like dough. She wasn't wearing a bra this time; the dress was tight enough on its own to hold them up. Ron's hands were solid, and always a tad too dry when he touched her skin. The pads of his thumbs were like sand paper rolling over her nipples. He tried so hard to be tender and gentle, however it simply wasn't in his nature. Imagining his hands where hers were now made her sigh involuntarily. Her mouth went dry, and her throat clenched. She abruptly pulled her hands away from her breasts and smoothed them down her skirt, enjoying the softness of the velvet.

In the corner by the fireplace her modest little Christmas tree twinkled with colored lights, reflecting the shiny baubles that adorned its branches. A few wrapped gifts sat underneath, little trinkets she'd picked up for her shop employees as well as a couple of toys for her cat, Milo, a plump orange tabby she'd rescued from the alley behind her flat last year. Up until a few minutes ago he had been dozing there but she'd banished him to the bedroom since he and Ron didn't really get on too well. (Milo had a rather uncomfortable habit of staring menacingly at Ron whenever he came over.)

On the stereo a muggle singer named Dean Martin was crooning "Let It Snow." Lavender found she actually preferred these so-called "classic" muggle holiday songs. Ron had first heard of them naturally through Harry, since he'd spent all those years living with his muggle relatives - and Lavender's curiosity had been piqued enough that she'd managed to procure a collection, as well as a muggle CD player upon which to play them. It had taken her some time to figure out how to even turn the bloody thing on, but now she was operating it like she was a muggle herself.

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful…"

It had been snowing most of the day. The snow swirled outside the windows, propelled by a steady but not overbearing wind. Ridges of white powder rimmed the panes of glass, reminding her of the frosting on the specialty cupcakes she prepared daily at her bake shop in Diagon Alley. They were quite the sensation at the moment, and Lavender herself had become a minor celebrity over the past year. She'd just been profiled in Witch Weekly last month, in their issue highlighting up-and-coming entrepreneurs. She'd baked a special batch of cupcakes for tonight, using green and red frosting with sprinkles. She'd spread on the frosting extra thick the way Ron liked it. She'd even put chocolate chips in the batter, just for him. Yes, tonight she would give him everything he liked - everything - and then she would tell him it was over. She had to, for her own self-respect.

This was not what she wanted her life to be any more - she wanted her own man, with whom she wouldn't have to wonder if he was thinking of someone else in quiet moments. She wasn't anywhere near to being friends with Hermione Granger. She certainly didn't hate her, but truthfully she'd never really understood her; Hermione was so different from all the other women Lavender knew. But Hermione was also a woman and Lavender appreciated how devastating it would be for any woman to find out her man was fucking someone else (let alone his ex-girlfriend). She didn't want to be that "someone else". And as much as she hated to admit it, Hermione had, after all, saved her life by throwing that curse at Fenrir Greyback before he could finish --

Lavender squeezed her eyes shut, as the familiar tingling and burning sensation tickled the scar that traveled from her left ear, down along her jaw line to where it abruptly stopped at the hollow in her throat. She had become skilled at concealment charms over the years, so now it was barely noticeable to anyone unless they were standing inches in front of her and staring straight at it - and even then it was only a slightly raised pinkish tint on her skin. But she always felt it. Always. To her, it would be as obvious as the eyes on her face. After the war she'd had a horrible time adjusting. For awhile she'd wished she'd died, and she'd resented Hermione for saving her life. Until she'd stumbled into baking, quite by accident, and her life had suddenly mattered again. Then came the day Ron had barrelled into her bake shop fresh from a row with Hermione after he'd forgotten to order a cake for Harry's birthday, and somehow they'd ended up in her stock room after hours, fucking against the wall. Things had just progressed from there.

The song switched to "Winter Wonderland" just as she heard Ron's heavy footsteps in the hallway. She felt a bubbling sensation in her chest, that sense of anticipation that always preceded their rendezvous. It almost made her sad to know this was the last one, and that he had no idea.

She hated to hurt him, and for a split second she decided she wouldn't do it, that things would go on as they had been for as long as he wanted them to, as long as he was in her life. Her hand grasped the knob and she pulled open the door and saw him standing there still dusted with snow, wearing his dark brown wool coat and knit cap. He gave her that crooked smile, his eyes skimming over her body shoved and squeezed into the Christmas dress. "Sorry I'm late," he said, yanking the cap off his head and unbuttoning his coat. "What's with the costume?"

"Oh you know, spirit of the season and all - it's the night before Christmas Eve," Lavender piped up, allowing herself to be gathered into his arms for a long, delicious kiss. Ron moved farther into the room, pushing the door shut with his foot. His breath tasted like Butterbeer.

"Do you like it?" she asked, when he moved away temporarily to shed his coat and remove his boots. He seemed to take a bit longer to answer, struggling with his left boot for a moment before he finally tugged it off and tossed it over next to his right boot with a loud thunk. Lavender waited, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet. "Well?"

"Sure, yeah, of course I do," Ron finally answered, with a smile. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, a gesture she recognized as a nervous tick. But before she could ask him what was wrong, he'd curled his right arm around her waist to draw her close. He stroked the pillows of her breasts with his fingertips, causing her nipples to harden instantly. She sighed, sucking in her lower lip as she leaned closer. Her body was tingling, her limbs burning for him - not to mention the dress was killing her and she couldn't wait to take it off. Ron's hand slipped down her front and disappeared under the furry hem of her skirt. His fingers tickled her inner thighs, dangerously close to her crotch. She noticed the change in expression when he realized she wasn't wearing knickers. He looked like he had just discovered a hidden treasure. Ron gave her that look every single time, as though each time was the first she'd ever gone without underwear. And every single time, it made her swell with pleasure. Whatever had been bothering him a moment ago seemed to have disappeared.

"Touch me Ron," she purred. "Come on." She kissed his chin, making a soft sucking noise as Johnny Mathis launched into the chorus of "Winter Wonderland".

"I never understood why you like this music so much," Ron said, as his fingers brushed over the hair between her legs. She was wet, and she whimpered at the sensation of his coarse fingertips narrowly missing her clit. "What's wrong with the Weird Sisters?"

"The Weird Sisters are just…well, weird," Lavender breathed. "Besides, this music isn't so bad." Her stomach clenched when his hands circled around and found her bare bottom. Her pussy was throbbing for him, and he knew it - he might be awkward in bed, but he still knew how to push her buttons. Merlin, this was going to be hard to give up. Hard - like his cock - so thick and hot and… She inhaled sharply, biting her lower lip.

Ron's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment as he rolled his corduroy-clad crotch over hers. "Well, at least it's not that mental Celestina Warbeck my mum likes," he remarked, and Lavender giggled despite herself. She allowed her hands to travel along his arms, which had grown so firm and muscular since he'd started with the Aurors. She rounded his shoulders, and then moved her fingers up into the rumpled thatch of his hair, which was still windswept.

"Come on," she urged. "Please." Part of her didn't know why she was hurrying him along, as this would be the last time he would touch her there and she wanted to savor it. But her biological urges were getting the better of her. Ron smirked, and in one quick movement, his left arm tightened around her waist as his right hand circled back around. He shoved the first two fingers inside her as his thumb slid over her clit.

"Oh!" she shrieked, arms flailing for something to grab on until she once again found his shoulders. Her hips rolled with every sweep of his fingers, moving against the prominent bulge in his trousers. He applied and then released pressure from his thumb, and she honestly thought she was going to pass out from the pleasure.

"Wicked," he breathed in her ear, his voice low and husky. She came right then and there, her limbs like jelly. He grabbed her waist and held her up against him for another long, slow kiss. He grunted and groaned, his cock nudging her insistently. He finally broke the kiss, his mouth dropping to her jaw, and then her neck. She felt the sucking sensation as he licked her skin with his mouth adhered to her throat. He held her until her breathing steadied and her knees stabilized so she could stand on her own.

"That was bloody brilliant!" she exclaimed, heart thumping loudly. She was sure her breasts would burst out of the dress.

But Ron suddenly took hold of her waist and turned her around, guiding her toward the sofa and she knew there would be no more talking, at least for now.

So while Bing Crosby began to sing "White Christmas", Lavender bent over the back of the sofa, holding her breath as Ron shed his clothes. She heard the sound of his zipper being drawn down, followed by the clink of his belt buckle as his corduroys hit the hardwood floor.

Ron flipped up the back of her skirt and placed his hands firmly on her hips to steady her. Then he shifted his body, and she spread her legs a little more to give him room. She bit her lip hard as she felt his cock slide into her. Her pussy clenched around it eagerly and he immediately began to thrust. His movements were jerky, and this time felt perhaps even a bit too rough; it was almost as if he had something to prove. But then his hands slid around to her front, pulling down the neckline of her dress to free her heavy breasts.

Lavender exhaled at the sweet release, rolling her hips back to meet his thrusts. Ron gently took the weight of her breasts in his palms, pressing his thumbs into her nipples. She didn't want it to feel good, but of course it did. The sofa was not her favorite place to be fucked, and she didn't particularly like it from behind either - she preferred to watch Ron's face as he came inside her - but Ron preferred it that way, and tonight was about him.

Lavender had always sensed that the reason they played so many sex games, and the reason why Ron liked to fuck her from behind, was due to Hermione. He did everything with Lavender that Hermione couldn't - or wouldn't do with him in their own bed.

Of course she'd never asked him outright about his sex life with his wife, but on occasion Ron would let things slip, and she understood that their routine - while not exactly dull - was fairly ordinary. They had sex regularly, although it was always in a bed. They never did anything really crazy.

Ron couldn't possibly like that, Lavender reasoned - and yet still he talked about Hermione with that soft tone and that warmth in his eyes that he didn't even know was there. Sometimes his mouth even twitched when he talked about her, as though he was resisting the natural urge to smile. No matter what, Hermione would always be in his heart. Hermione would always be Ron's true love. And what did that make Lavender, then?

"Bollocks," Lavender muttered thickly, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that once again threatened. She squeezed the back of the sofa so hard her fingers hurt, feeling her body betray her with the swirling numbness of arousal. Damn it, she loved him.

But he would never love anyone else the way he loved Hermione Granger - Hermione was to Ron as Ron was to Lavender now. She couldn't do this any more. It had to end. It was too hard. She had thought that sneaking around with him would be enough to fill that void in her life, the one thing that baking cupcakes and running a successful business could not do. She had thought that she didn't need a "public" relationship, as long as she was being satisfied sexually. But then she'd gone to Seamus and Parvati's wedding, and seeing them fawn all over each other made her realize that that was what she wanted. She wanted to go out with Ron, to show him off and be a real couple - the way he was with Hermione, the way everyone else seemed to be. But he would never leave Hermione, and deep in her heart, Lavender knew she could never ask him to do that.

Ron's hips stiffened and then stilled, and for a moment everything went quiet except for his ragged breathing and the thump of her heart. There was a pause in the music, and then right as she heard the opening refrains for "Silver Bells", Ron let out a bellow and released inside her.

He held her arms and lifted her up against him, grasping her breasts firmly with one hand, while the other arm curled around her waist. His wilting cock stayed inside her, tickling her. Her pussy was wet and throbbing, and the smell of Ron was everywhere, clinging to her skin. Her arms were weak from holding on to the sofa, but she dropped her arms and allowed her right hand to cup her pussy. She fondled her clit, pushing and rolling it for a few seconds until the tide finally broke. Her knees gave way and she collapsed; but for Ron's strong arms holding her up she would've been a melted heap on the floor.

"Last. Time." She whispered the words as she forced herself up again, to stand on her own power. Then Ron bent close, his breath hot on her ear. She thought he was going to kiss her, and as she braced for the feeling of his mouth on her soft earlobe, she blurted: "We have to talk."

To her surprise, she heard the same words in her ear, a split second behind her own. "We have to talk."

Her brain fuzzy, Lavender nodded. "Oh - okay…" She glanced around at Ron, who looked as startled as she felt. He moved his eyes abruptly away from her, finding sudden interest in the Christmas tree. He licked his lips again.

"Well, then why don't you put on a robe or something, and we'll meet back here in a minute," he said without looking at her.

Suddenly everything was awkward and uncomfortable, much like it had been during the early days of their affair, when they weren't sure what they were doing or where their relationship was headed. The room seemed claustrophobic. The air was warm, pressing on her like a heavy blanket even though she was naked and shivering from the sweat that had broken out all over her body. She felt off balance. Even the holiday music sounded jarring. "How about you…" she glanced in the general direction of the kitchen. "There's cupcakes. Extra frosting. There's Butterbeer, as well."

"Oh, erm, well thanks but I'm not that hungry really." His voice sounded guilty.

Despite herself, Lavender insisted. "No. I made them for you. Have at least one, all right? Give me a few minutes to -- well, freshen up." She felt stupid, and silly. They were only cupcakes, and she made them every day. But these were his cupcakes, the last ones she would make special for him, and he had to have one. It was important to her.

Ron shrugged. "All right, then." He moved away from her, and picked up his trousers. She caught herself glancing back at his bare torso and his flaccid cock, one more time before it was hidden away. She exhaled deeply, and then forced herself to move away to the bathroom.

She took far longer than necessary to get ready, because this was probably going to be one of the hardest nights of her life and part of her still didn't want it to end. She even considered taking a shower to wash every remnant of their last time together off her body, but realized that she didn't want to do that, either.

So she gratefully shed her dress, slipped into her bulky pink robe imprinted with bunnies and splashed some water on her face. Tears threatened but thankfully didn't come. She stood in front of the mirror for a few seconds, watching her reflection say the words: "I'm sorry, Ron, but it's over. We can't see each other any more." She vaguely wondered what it was that he wanted to talk about, but it was most likely that he wouldn't be able to see her for awhile due to work; he always got a little anxious before a long mission. He'd been gone for ten days at one point, and she'd just about gone mad.

But she couldn't help it, he was her Won-Won. She worried about him, even though she had no claim to him. She wondered how much Hermione worried when he was gone, and then she stopped that thought in its tracks.

"No more of that," she chided herself. Then she took a deep breath, shook her hair out of her face and exited the bathroom. Ron was on the sofa, fully dressed (albeit with his flannel shirt untucked from his trousers) and finishing off a green frosted cupcake while Frank Sinatra sang "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town".

She clenched her fists and walked into the room, purposely sitting at the opposite end of the sofa. She arranged her robe around her legs, and then finally lifted her head, the words on the tip of her tongue --

"Hermione and I are having a baby," Ron blurted. "Well, not exactly. She's not pregnant yet, but she says she's ready and…we're going to start trying." He looked at her hopefully, as if expecting her to congratulate him. His mouth twitched. He was trying not to smile.

Lavender's jaw dropped. "Are you having me on?"

Ron looked startled. "What? Of course not. We talked all last night, and she said she's been so caught up in work, and as much as she loves it she needs more…what was it? Oh yeah - balance in her life. She and Ginny have been talking. She's seen how happy Ginny is being a mum, and considered that if Ginny can manage her career at the Prophet with being a mum while still feeling fulfilled, then it might not be so hard to do. So there is no reason to wait any more -- "

There was that sparkle in his eyes, and the soft, warm tone of his voice. He was talking about Hermione as if Lavender wasn't even there. All of the power and self-assurance that Lavender had talked herself into was gone in an instant. This was supposed to be her moment, her one opportunity to be strong and gain the upper hand. She watched his mouth move, while his voice droned on. She had long since stopped listening; the only thing she could hear was the thump of her heart pounding in her ears. Indignation flooded through her.

Bloody hell, this was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to be the one ending it and moving on with her life. But now he was leaving her after all - he would get to go home to a cozy cottage, to spend Christmas with his family and try to make a baby with his wife. Meanwhile she would undoubtedly stuff herself with his special chocolate chip Christmas cupcakes and cry herself to sleep with Milo curled into her chest while listening to "Blue Christmas" on endless repeat. He wasn't even giving her the satisfaction of keeping her dignity. He couldn't even let her break up with him. And he looked so happy right now, happier than he'd ever been with her. Perhaps happier than he'd ever been, full stop. He was getting the life he wanted.

She couldn't take any more. She bolted to her feet, holding the lapel of her robe closed over her chest. "GET OUT."

"Hang on, what?"

"Why did you come here anyway, Ron? Why did we even go through with any of this?" She realized she was being somewhat of a hypocrite since she'd fully intended to break up with him that night, and she had totally led him on with the slutty Christmas dress that showed off her breasts and her legs. She hadn't worn any knickers because she knew he liked it. She'd let him have whatever he wanted, to prepare him for the end. But she was still angry. If this relationship had to end - and it definitely did - she should get to be the one who did it. She was the one who would be alone, not him.

"Because -- I, well…I just thought it would be better to tell you in person…"

"Just get out!!" She jammed her finger toward the door.

Ron stumbled around, knocking into the coffee table as he went to retrieve his hat and coat. He made as though to stop and put them on but Lavender shot him a murderous glare and instead he went to the door. With barely a glance over his shoulder at her, his eyes wide and bewildered, he left.

Lavender stood there for a few moments, rigid, staring at the closed door. Her chest felt tight, and her jaw clenched. With a resolute flick of her wrist, she summoned the plate of cupcakes and a bottle of Butterbeer from the kitchen which she guided on to the coffee table. Then she opened the door to her bedroom, and within seconds, Milo came trotting out, the bell on his collar jingling merrily. He passed a cursory glance around the room, as if to check for any unwelcome guests, before proceeding to nuzzle Lavender's legs. She picked him up and flopped onto the sofa with him in her lap.

"Looks like it's just you and me again, love," she murmured, scratching Milo's head as he settled himself in her lap, kneading his paws into her thighs. He made himself comfortable and she picked up a cupcake from the tray. She bit into it, and the taste of sweet red frosting and chocolate chips filled her mouth.

Only then did she let the tears fall. Tonight, she would let herself feel sad. But tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow her life would really start.
Comments 
27th December 2013 03:52
Poor Lavender. I like how you've written her mixed emotions, and your awkward-but-sexy Ron is believable as well.
10th January 2014 20:08
Thank you very much! :)
28th December 2013 19:29
He was also loyal, a trait that on its face seemed at odds with the fact that he'd been sleeping with Lavender for the last five months while married to Hermione Granger.
One of my absolute FAVORITE things is when fidelity fic is written so that there is no "bad guy" only an awful lot of hurtful emotions.

(as were his hands, she thought fondly of his awkward attempts to rid her of her industrial-sized brassiere),
*sporfle* Any of us who've worn those industrial size bras completely get this!

A few wrapped gifts sat underneath, little trinkets she'd picked up for her shop employees as well as a couple of toys for her cat, Milo, a plump orange tabby she'd rescued from the alley behind her flat last year.
There's a cat! I LOVE cats. And "my" Lavender always has a cat. She's a total cat person.

"The Weird Sisters are just…well, weird," Lavender breathed.
Such a Lavender answer!

He wasn't even giving her the satisfaction of keeping her dignity. He couldn't even let her break up with him. And he looked so happy right now, happier than he'd ever been with her. Perhaps happier than he'd ever been, full stop. He was getting the life he wanted.
And now I kind of want to kick the ever loving shit out of him!

I love this Lavender. She's exactly as I picture her. So perfect!

And that sex was SMOKING HOT, HOLY CRAP!

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE THIS. THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!
10th January 2014 20:10
You're very welcome! I had a feeling that this was your prompt - no one else I know likes Smoking!Harry. And it was an absolute pleasure to write. <3
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