Quoque
magis tegitur, tectus magis aestuat ignis. Acrius invitos multoque ferocius
urget, quam qui servitium ferre fatentur, Amor.*
OVID
There was
one more thing that had let him enjoy the Black family celebrations – Lucius
had a deal with Cygnus. He had sold it as a sort of compromise – he would have
to leave his poor, lonesome father alone for Christmas, in return he hoped to
spend New Year’s Eve with Narcissa and Abraxas. Cygnus, ignorant of Lucius’
aversion to his father, thought this sounded fair, and equally ignorant he was
of the fact that Lucius and Abraxas hadn’t spent that night together in the
past eight years, and had no mind to change that tradition this year either.
In a way,
this night marked the beginning of their relationship, and Lucius had some
plans to celebrate the first anniversary of their first kiss. Narcissa didn’t
like parties anyhow. Their party
contained exactly two persons, and it would take place in his London apartment.
No, he wouldn’t break his vow. But he thought he had found a clever way to
interpret his own rules.
He only
told Narcissa that they’d spend the evening on their own, at his place in
London, and that he had dished up her father some story. She misinterpreted the
circumstances and his roguish smile, preparing herself to be made a woman this
night. She spared him all the remarks on the tip of her tongue; she was far too
thrilled anyhow.
He had
even asked the Dark Lord to guarantee him that he wouldn’t be summoned this
night, and although the master had been highly amused, not to say scornful, he
had agreed. The elves had prepared everything and disappeared then, like he had
told them, and with a curious expression, Narcissa now looked around.
“So, what’s it going to be, mon amour? Are we getting wasted by
ourselves, or are you in for a game of backgammon?” she teased him with her
most saucy smile.
“Games it’s going to be, but I didn’t have backgammon in mind.”
She smiled suggestively. “Ah, that sounds interesting. What sort of games
did you have in mind?”
“You’ll see soon enough, ma belle. If you’re not entertained, I’ll get the backgammon board.”
She shot him an intrigued glance, they toasted and sipped their
champagne, and when she had finished her glass, he seized her close, kissed her
and lifted her up, murmuring into her hear, “Do you trust me?”
“I do absolutely!”
“Excellent.” He carried her into his bedroom, carefully putting her down
on the large bed. She was grinning broadly now and tilted her head.
“I am very happy to see that you’ve changed your mind, or did you bring
me here to admire the bed linen?”
“I didn’t exactly change my mind,” he said calmly and sat down next to
her. “I’ve just thought of a way to interpret the rules.”
“Is that how they call it these days?”
He placed a finger on her lips, gave her an intent look and made her lie
down comfortably, kneeling above her and starting to kiss her very gently. She
had one hand in his neck, the other one stroked his back and shoulders, and
with astonishing strength, she pulled him as close as she could. This was going
to be every bit as hard for him as he
had thought.
The kisses grew more passionate, until he trailed away, caressing her
temple, the side of her neck, and for the first time ever, her décolleté. Oh
Merlin. Her skin was even more soft than it looked, it scented sweeter than a
bouquet of roses and as for the sensation of her breasts, accidentally touching
him here and there… She had fumbled with the string that had held his hair and
now ruffled through it, gasping when he hit a very sensitive spot, and very
slowly, he let his hands glide along her sides, up and down, with each turn
wandering a little more to the middle.
She sharply drew her breath when his hands glided over her breasts for
the first time; her hands shot forth and groped his wrists, trying to steady
him right there, but he was stronger than her and would not linger, moving back
to her belly. His lips were busy caressing her throat and he growled, “Do you
like to be touched right there, my blossom?”
“You bet,” she moaned, still struggling with his wrists.
“Excellent…” He stroked over her breasts once more, lingering a little
longer now; she arched her back to press against his hands and he chuckled
lowly. “And here?”
“Mmmm,” was all she managed to reply; he went on teasing her, until he
finally cupped her breasts with his hands and left them there; he could feel
her nipples through the silky fabric of her dress robes, he also felt his own
erection push against his trousers, but that, of course, would not do. This was
for her, and for her only. He kneaded her, massaged her, she moaned softly; he
raised his head far enough to see her face and drank in the vision of her even
features contorted with pleasure. He flattered himself to know what he was
doing, and that this was only the beginning. In his many years of steady
practise, he had made an art form out of this, and she was going to reap the
benefits.
When he started to kiss her nipples through her clothes, she whimpered
and clutched his hair – when he began to push down the straps of her robes,
inch by inch, covering each spot he discovered with kisses, she was trembling.
He dared not opening his eyes when he had pushed the fabric so far down that he
could have seen her bra; by now his hard-on was throbbing, yearning to be
released, but he must not give in.
Naturally, he did open his eyes at some point, stunned, nay, petrified with what he saw. God! She was
beautiful! Her firm, full breasts cupped in golden green laces – it was more
than he could take. The laces were made of silk, but they felt ordinary and
coarse in contrast to the softness of her peachy skin. Somewhere in the
outskirts of his mind, he thought that he would never leave their bed again,
once they were married; he would simply spend the rest of his living days
caressing this sweetest of all creatures, until he died of exhaustion, a happy
man.
If he should have made a guess, he would have predicted that she was hot
and wet between her thighs, judging her moves, her shaking, the little sounds
she made, the way her hands cramped into his hair, his side, raking his skin;
he’d let her do anything but move down to his crotch. He had undressed her down
to her waistline; her nipples jutted forth, he caressed them one after the
other, changing in between, lips, tongue, teeth on the one side, experienced
hands on the other, not stopping once until she almost screamed. Very well. He
smiled against her velvety skin and crawled a little upwards; he kissed her
lips again, enjoying her pants, her vows of love in between.
“Do you want me to go on?” he whispered and nagged on her earlobe.
“I’ll
kill you if you stop!”
“Mmmh.
Now that’s incentive!”
He took
his time, every now and then considering to summon some ice with his wand and pour
it into his trousers; when he had removed her skirt and panties, he struggled a
whole minute with his self-control not to plunge into her at once, and that her
hands roamed his body and she wriggled provocatively didn’t improve the matter.
He had never wanted anyone, anything so badly. To distract himself, he pursued
his original plan and bent down between her legs, doing her with his hands
first, with his mouth later, and although he didn’t exactly count, he thought
she had come three or four times when he let go of her at last.
She was
covered in sweat and quivered, little spasms still twitching through her body,
she gasped for breath and made utmost peculiar little sounds; he lay down
beside her and took her in his arms, drawing up the covers and wrapping her in.
She clang to him like dear life, entwining her legs with his, burying her face
in the arch between his throat and shoulders, her fingers clasping his hair and
his side, and the mere fact of her lying like this next to him, fully naked and
moaning still, made his erection even more painful.
“You… I…”
she panted, hoarse with exhaustion. “You’re… Incredible!”
“Not
nearly as incredible as you, angel.”
The way
she kissed him when she had caught her breath again! Her voice was hoarse and
rasping; she begged him to get undressed as well, but this one wish he had to
decline. He tried to explain the problem as tastefully as possible, making her
chuckle and tease him and press against him even tighter.
“All
right, all right. But there can be no serious objection to taking off your
shirt, right?”
“My
shirt?”
“Yes,
your shirt, for Christ’s sake! I want
to see you! Come on, that’s only
fair!”
“I guess
so,” he said and chuckled, sitting up and looking down onto her gorgeous face.
She looked hungry, ordering him to do it slowly, and with languorous moves, he
unbuttoned his shirt, waiting when it was open and gasping when her hands shot
forth to stroke over his chest. Perhaps
this had been not such a good idea after all.
“That
looks even better than I had pictured,” she breathed, pulling on his left lapel
and pushing the shirt over his shoulder. She saw him close his eyes, and
discovered that she had a bit of a sadist in her. She saw the bulge in his
trousers, and had a faint notion how difficult this must be for him – all the
better, after all this had been his
idea. And it was his idea, too, to
stick to his self-imposed celibacy! Her hands glided down, but he was quicker,
snapping her wrists and forcing her away from his crotch.
“Don’t…
Please, petal, don’t!”
“You’ve
spoilt me, mon amour. Let me gratify you, too…”
He
hesitated, but feebly shook his head. “No. This night’s for you, my love, and for you only.”
“Yes, I
get that, but to make my bliss complete, I should like to do some things with you, too,” she exclaimed, raised her
upper body and pecked a kiss on his collarbone. “Come on, I can see that you’re in need of a helping
hand!”
“I want
to consummate our love in our wedding night, my love!”
“That’s
all right with me – you shall marry a virgin. That state cannot be altered by
some caresses, can it?”
“Narcissa,
I’ll explode – literally, explode in
the moment you touch me.”
“Look, so
we’re talking of even less, eh? Let me make you explode, Lucius, my love…
Please!” she cajoled him with her most flattering voice.
He hadn’t
got enough blood in his head to argue with her, let alone win. At least, he
succeeded in insisting to keep his trousers on – he thought he might be in need
of that additional barrier if he wanted to resist temptation and stick to his
pledge in this situation. Predictably enough, he came approximately thirty
seconds after she had put her hand in his lap, but she wasn’t content yet. She
pulled him to lie next to her, entwined their legs, put his left hand on her
naked bottom and the other on her bare breast and began to kiss him, until he
was stiff once more, and even though he was half dressed, her training as a
pianist proved to be invaluable when massaging him through the fabric.
“Temptress,”
he whimpered in his second orgasm’s aftermath. She laughed brightly and settled
in his arms, half lying next to him, half on top. Her lithe, and ever so bare
body pressed against him; her fingers glided over his stomach, his chest, his
throat and back again, her lips nibbled on his nipple. Lucius faintly thought
that there couldn’t be a man in the whole wide world remotely as blessed as he was, even though the feeble voice of
reason scolded him for being such an idiot. After this night – after seeing her
full beauty at last, her passion, her fire, all of which had exceeded his
wildest dreams – after experiencing what this innocent girl was capable to do
with her lips and hands on her very first try… How on earth was he supposed to
live through the next one hundred eighty-eight days without going insane?!
* The more you try to hide it, the more the loving fire will burn.
Fiercer and more vehemently Amor assails the struggling, than those who
surrender to him.
*****
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