Chapter Text
The hibiscus scent wrapping around her was Astoria's first clue, and the only one she needed. She felt warmth at her back, soft breath stirring against her ear. "What do you like about it?"
Though she knew who the voice belonged to, she stiffened anyway. They had been dancing around this - whatever this was - for over a year. Bringing one another coffee or tea in the morning, late nights at the office poring over the latest diplomatic memos or Wizengamot cases, gazes that lingered longer than appropriate. But Astoria had never allowed the possibility to go further than fantasy in her head, had never imagined that Hermione would truly reciprocate her interest, and of all places to run into one another....
She was unprepared. She licked her dry lips. "W - what?"
"What do you like about the scene?" Hermione's lips were close enough to make herself heard around the steady, low thrum of a techno beat. The husky sound was little more than a whisper, not that anyone paid them attention.
Astoria had found herself a pleasant corner from which to perv; it was the third time she'd gotten up the nerve to visit the wizarding kink club in London, but she never stayed long and never interacted with anyone. She certainly couldn't recall having seen her boss there, though if anyone gave off dominant vibes, it was Minister Granger.
"Are you alright, Story? With me here?"
She'd been silent too long, in her surprise. The sweet nickname made her instantly more comfortable - despite their surroundings, despite the awkwardness of having her fantasy possibly presented to her on a platter. 'You don't seem like a Tori to me,' Hermione had said with a shrug when she'd coined it upon Astoria's appointment to Chief of Staff two years ago, dismissing the moniker that had grated on her all her life, and now it was just theirs.
"Yes," she replied quickly, lest Hermione step away. "Yes, I'm alright. I, um - "
She looked up at the scene she'd been watching. A nude woman strung up by her wrists to a suspension frame, on tiptoe. A clothed man circled her with a single-tail whip of some kind - Astoria was ignorant of the differences - and lashed her at irregular intervals, making her dance and cry out as welts marked her pale skin. Now and then he would step close, touch her, whisper to her. Even with a blindfold, at a distance, Astoria could see the blissed-out expression on her face.
"I like the connection they have. The trust she must have for him, to - to let him do that." She didn't know much about whips - knew even less about most other things she witnessed here - but she knew they were inherently dangerous. She tried to imagine putting her life in someone's hands that way - having someone who loved her enough, showed her enough care, to make her feel safe to.
Tears threatened to rise in her throat, and she shoved the thought away.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione mused, the words a hum against Astoria's ear, making warmth pool between her legs. "May I touch you, Story?"
"Please." Her face heated at the needy whimper that escaped her, and she started to turn, but Hermione pressed tight against her back and took Astoria's chin between her fingers until she looked forward again.
"No. Keep watching."
Hermione's arms encircled her from behind, palms resting on her stomach. The heat of her touch, of her body, radiated through the thin silk of Astoria’s dress. Though it was her first time being held like this by another woman, and Hermione was the slighter of the two of them, nothing in her embrace felt insufficient.
"Now," Hermione said quietly, "I don't think I've read this thing between us wrong, have I?"
"No, M - "
Astoria clamped her mouth shut before 'Minister' could escape. No matter how many times Hermione reminded her to use her name, she had never gotten used to that. And the Minister hated to be called 'ma'am,' absolutely detested it.
Hermione's soft chuckle reverberated through her body. "One day you're going to learn how to say my name. But I'm also fond of 'Sir,' if you're into that."
Circe. Astoria pressed her thighs together, the growing dampness in her panties suggesting she was very much into that. At least, if she could work up the courage.
Hermione wasn't put off by her silence. "I've been debating how to go about asking you to dinner, so I'll admit finding you here was an unexpected blessing." Her thumb swept back and forth just below Astoria's navel, provoking a wave of goosebumps beneath the thin layer of silk. "Would you like to come home with me tonight? We can do dinner some other time if this is too strange, or I'd understand if you felt uncomfortable - "
The Minister only ever babbled when she was nervous, and she was rarely nervous. Astoria had watched her closely for long enough to know. It was a relief to realize she wasn't the only one.
"I'd like that," she interrupted. "To...to come home with you. Though I wouldn't say no to dinner sometime." Every night, if that wasn't too much to ask.
Some of the tension melted from Hermione’s frame as she leaned into Astoria. "Good." She drew Astoria's hair away from her shoulder, baring the side of her neck, and Astoria's lips parted at the press of a kiss there. "Tell me what else you like."
That was a loaded question. Astoria had grown up in a strict, traditional household. The dissolution of her marriage - which had been more of a business transaction than anything - had soured her on the idea of relationships. She'd been single ever since, and - though Hermione was careful to keep any hint of a relationship or dalliance out of the public eye - she was certain the other witch was more experienced. She swallowed a flutter of nerves at the thought that that might ruin this before it began.
But she also knew Hermione valued honesty above all else, so she simply said, "I don't know."
Hermione tightened her arms around Astoria's waist. "Was Malfoy - "
"He was kind to me," Astoria said quickly, to dispel any negative assumptions or worries. "But we didn't often - and I haven't really - " She frowned, impatient with herself, trying to wriggle out of the embrace and turn. "I don't know what I'm doing. This is - "
Hermione held her fast. "If the next words out of your mouth are 'a mistake,' I'll be cross."
Astoria slumped into her arms, feeling a little defeated. "You'll think it is."
"A mistake?" Hermione asked, and then before she could nod, added, "Oh, Story. Sweet girl. You've no idea, do you?"
She shut her eyes tightly, still on edge. "About what?"
"How I feel about you."
She startled and tried to turn again. Hermione tsk'ed, but enough humor tinged her long-suffering sigh to diffuse any worry. "You follow orders much better when we're at work. Watch the damn scene."
"Yes - " She sucked in a breath. "Um, yes, Sir."
"Better." Hermione's voice held a grin. "What you don't know, we can learn together, alright?"
Astoria gave a slight nod, her anxiety lessening - for now, at least.
Hermione hugged her closer. "Tell me what makes you wet. What you think about when you slide your hand between your legs and wish it was mine."
Unbidden, a moan twisted its way free of her throat. "I - "
She stuttered and tried to remember to breathe. She still faced the whipping scene, but she'd been too distracted to really see. Her attention was drawn back to it as the man unbound the woman and gathered her in his arms, carrying her to a couch along the far wall. The woman curled into him, her face buried in his neck as he held her close. A wave of longing overtook Astoria, homesick for a tenderness she'd never felt, but she had enough practice compartmentalizing that.
"Do you like to watch the rope scenes?"
The question threw her until she realized that another couple was already taking their place. Suspension frames were high-interest real estate in the dungeon.
"Yes, Sir." She'd learned, in her few visits, that she liked to watch other things, too - bondage by Incarcerous, impact play on crosses or over spanking benches, wax dripped across vulnerable skin. She'd even witnessed an electrical play scene once, with real Muggle electricity. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that one. But rope was mesmerizing.
"We'll stay here then." Hermione nipped her ear, one hand spanning the curve of her belly. "What else?"
"I…I think about you touching me. Telling me to do...things."
"Anything in particular?"
Astoria shook her head. "Just - anything - in that tone you have. I want...."
"To be my good, obedient girl?"
Her inner walls clenched, making her feel empty and needy. "Yes, Sir."
"And you're doing such a wonderful job of it, little dove." Hermione nuzzled at Astoria's neck, the sensation eliciting a shiver.
The words made her feel...cared for, in a way she didn't fully understand. She was in over her head.
She swallowed hard, praying to Brigid that she wouldn't drown.
Beneath the suspension frame, two women sat on a blanket, the top binding her bottom's arms behind her back. There was that same blissful look on her bottom's face, the woman's eyes fluttering closed in pleasure.
"I want to feel..." Astoria lifted a shaking hand and briefly gestured in their direction before dropping it to cover Hermione's over her abdomen. She fought the urge to wriggle again, restless and impatient. "That. I want to feel like that."
"Thank you for telling me." Hermione's fingers twined with hers. "Is there anything you know you don't like? Anything I might do that would trigger you?"
She turned the question over in her mind. Nothing sexual, but.... "I...I don't like to be put down. Humiliated."
She'd had enough of that, however unintentional it might've sometimes been, for one lifetime.
Hermione made a soft noise of displeasure. "I'll keep that in mind, sweet girl."
There was silence for a while, nothing but the music and the sound of impact and pleasure and pain around them. Hermione's quiet breaths against her neck. Astoria got lost in the sensation of Hermione's hands on her body, not deliberately sexual but making her ache nonetheless. In the absence of any indication they'd be leaving soon, she continued to take in the scene in front of them, her nipples tightening in sympathy as the top teased her bottom in between bringing her up from the ground.
"I have a rule," Hermione murmured after a while.
"I'm listening," Astoria said, then quickly added, "Sir."
"You're a fast learner, always have been." Hermione lifted her hand to rest against Astoria's throat. The touch was light, but it still prompted a sharp inhale, a fresh wave of arousal drenching her panties. "I expect you to tell me how you're feeling, and if you want something or don't want something. Do you know what a safe word is?"
Astoria nodded.
"Good. If you need to, you can use 'yellow' for slow down and 'red' for stop. Do you understand?"
Her pulse thudded beneath Hermione's thumb. "Yes, Sir."
"Good girl."
It was beyond unfair the effect those two words had. Hermione startled her by sliding her palm down Astoria's chest and over her hip, before dipping between her thighs. The short dress she wore offered little protection, and she inhaled sharply as Hermione's hand met her lace-clad center.
"I was going to ask if you were ready to leave," Hermione said, her fingers slipping along the soaked fabric, sensitizing Astoria's swollen folds. "But I think you were ready a while ago, weren't you?"
All she could focus on was the light pressure on her aching clit. Abandoning any worry over whether people were paying attention to them, abandoning even her nervousness over what they were about to do, Astoria rocked her hips to Hermione's palm with a choked whimper. When she lost the contact, a desperate sound escaped her, one she'd never heard herself make before.
"Shh, little dove," Hermione whispered, tugging down Astoria's dress. "I'll take care of you, I promise."
The Minister lived in a modest two-story house in the wizarding enclave in Weybridge. Astoria had learned from an old Witch Weekly article that Hermione moved from her flat in Muggle London shortly before the election, but it was her first time visiting. The property was unimposing except for the fact that it was one of the most heavily warded she'd ever seen. She wondered if Hermione had done some of it herself; the woman's brilliance awed her, and Hermione had a natural power that Astoria would never reach, her own magical strength stunted courtesy of the curse that ran through her veins.
When they passed the wards, Hermione dropped the undetectable glamor she wore - the reason, Astoria had eventually realized, that they had drawn little attention in the club. It didn't circumvent the need for the two high-ranking Aurors who followed her everywhere as part of her protection detail, though they had their tricks to blend in. Since coming on as Chief of Staff, Astoria had made it her business to know the entire pool of them, and she regularly brought them tea or baked cupcakes for their birthdays. She still felt awkward, however, as Everly and Yates followed them home and hovered in the back garden.
"Ignore them. I'm the only one you need to be concerned with tonight, understood?" Hermione leaned close as they walked through the darkened dining room and climbed the stairs to the second floor, her wild dark curls brushing Astoria's cheek, a note of sternness in her voice.
"Yes, Sir." Astoria swallowed, her mouth too dry.
"I'd give you the grand tour, but, well, priorities. It can wait until morning."
Hermione led her down a small upstairs hallway to the closed door at the end, turning the knob. If the property and what she'd seen of the inside so far were unassuming, the master bedroom was a hedonist's wet dream. Hermione walked ahead of her into the room, flicking her wrist. Low magical light emanated from sconces along the walls, illuminating an enormous four-poster bed, a sumptuous sofa, and plush rugs covering the teak floor.
Astoria's gaze lingered on the bed, only picking up the hooks and bolts along the wooden headboard and posts on the second pass. A shiver rippled through her.
"Come here."
She slipped off the low heels she'd worn to the club and crossed the room to where Hermione stood by the nightstand furthest from the door.
"You're a devotee of Brigid, aren't you?"
Talk about a non-sequitur. It was an odd time for a discussion on religion, particularly considering that Astoria was certain Hermione didn't hold with any, despite her love of taking the Christian lord's name in vain in the most colorful ways.
"I am, yes," Astoria said slowly. "How did you - "
"You always light a candle in the mornings. At the office." Hermione smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind Astoria's ear, her fingertips grazing Astoria's cheek. "Suits you, you're made of light. I thought you might want to...."
Astoria glanced at the table to note the solitary white candle there - Hermione must've pulled it from a drawer while she was examining the bed - but it took a moment for the significance to hit her. Mainly because that level of consideration was alien to her.
"Fuck, I knew I should've asked someone - it's not sacrilegious, is it? To light one in here, while we...?" Hermione's voice was taut, and Astoria looked up to see her worrying her full bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm sorry, it was stupid, I'll - "
If she had displayed mild anxiety at the club, she was verging on full-blown panic and self-recrimination now.
"No, it's - " Astoria breathed a choked laugh, reaching for Hermione's hands. "It's not sacrilegious, the gods couldn't care less about that sort of thing. At least, I assume." She shrugged. "Besides, it's more for our benefit anyway, it's not as if She needs it."
Hermione's shoulders dropped two inches, her tight expression giving way to obvious relief.
Astoria tamped down on the urge to say more, lest they get too sidetracked. She had been told she could talk the topic of devotion to death; it was one of the pursuits considered appropriate for a future pureblood housewife of her stature, and she was self-aware enough to admit she'd thrown herself into it in the absence of genuine affection from her family. She couldn't disappoint a goddess she couldn't see, but she could take comfort in Her.
She could, however, disappoint the woman in front of her. She shook herself free of that fear long enough to say, "Thank you. For - for thinking of it. I'd like to light it, if that's alright?"
"Yes, of course."
Astoria let go of Hermione's hands and slid her wand free of her wrist holster to cast a simple charm, coaxing a flame. She removed the holster and set both items on the nightstand. Hermione muttered something under her breath, and the ripple of magic that caused the candle to flicker alerted Astoria to the spell's intent.
The ever-burning charm was difficult, not to mention obscure; its draining nature was why she only ever kept one up for her home altar. It would preserve the wax indefinitely, protect the candle from burning out or being blown out. Hermione added another charm, for fire safety, perhaps, but Astoria was too stricken by the first to pay attention to the words. She would've had to get someone to teach it to her. A pureblood.
The thoughtfulness of it, the fact that it spoke to the seriousness of the growing connection between them, wound around Astoria's heart like so many indestructible threads, stealing her breath for a moment.
"Alright, sweet girl?"
Astoria blinked herself back to the present, meeting Hermione's warm amber gaze. "Yes, Sir."
Hermione's lips curved into a smile, the candle lending an ethereal glow to her golden skin. "Good."
Hermione startled Astoria by reaching for the hem of her dress, but she gathered herself well enough to lift her arms and allow it to be pulled free of her body. She resisted the urge to cover herself, suddenly very aware of her every flaw, however low the light.
"Stop that," Hermione said sharply, winding Astoria's loose, dark hair around her fist and giving it a tug.
Ignoring the way the slight pain sent a current like magic straight to her clit, Astoria narrowed her eyes. "Are you a Legilimens?"
She'd know, right? Theo had taught her to detect it, to protect herself, but if the other person was strong enough.... But Hermione was trustworthy, she wouldn't do something like -
"No." Hermione's lips quirked. "But I don't need to be. You wear your heart on your sleeve."
Astoria scoffed. "I do not - "
"Jesus, dove, you'd think I'd insulted your ancestors."
As good as. Astoria was too well-trained to 'wear her heart on her sleeve,' for Merlin's sake. She tried to come up with a retort, but Hermione's laughter interrupted her train of thought.
"With me, Story. You wear your heart on your sleeve with me." Hermione tugged her hair again, and this time Astoria couldn't bite back a whimper. "A fact for which I'm very grateful. You're hot when you're feisty, you know that?"
A blush creeped up her chest and neck, certainly visible on her pale skin.
Hermione leaned close, her breath grazing Astoria's mouth. "I'm going to make it my mission in life to show you how beautiful you are, Astoria Greengrass. And if you contradict me or speak any of those thoughts you're having out loud as if they're true, I'll - "
"You'll what?"
Her lips found Astoria's earlobe, and she gave it a tender bite. "I'll spank you," she said, like it was the most natural and obvious thing in the world.
"You - " Astoria's breath caught.
"Do you know - " Hermione's free hand found its way up the inside of Astoria's thigh, cupping her center through lace that had to be absolutely saturated. "I think you like that idea. Don't you?"
Astoria couldn't speak through the moan rising in her throat, but she didn't need to. She parted her legs wider, her hips writhing in frustration, betraying her. Her hands found their way to Hermione's shoulders, slipping down her arms, curling around her biceps. "Please, I - I need - "
"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need?"
"You know," she whispered. Her eyes fluttered closed, but Hermione's grip on her hair kept her head from falling forward onto the other woman's shoulder.
"I do." Hermione's lips skated along her collarbone. "Story, if you knew how many nights I've soaked this bed aching to hear you beg for it...but that can wait. Sit."
Releasing Astoria's hair, Hermione nudged her to perch on the edge of the bed, then knelt before her. She watched with rapt attention as Hermione parted her thighs to make space for herself between them. She'd expected Hermione to use her hand, but this - she felt her blush deepening, and could have laughed at her own naiveté. It would have to happen sometime in a relationship with another woman, she supposed, but right now she felt like a bundle of raw, exposed nerve, too naked, aching in ways she'd never imagined she could. It was so much more intense than any fantasy she'd ever had.
"Grab one of the pillows and lie back. Keep your eyes on me."
Hermione's authoritative voice kept her from the edge of fear, palms on her thighs grounding Astoria firmly in the present. Why did it feel like the most natural thing in the world to do as she said?
Astoria sunk back into the pillow with a gasp when Hermione leaned forward and pressed her tongue along the gusset of lace and silk. It was an insubstantial barrier, but no matter how frayed her nerves were, she wanted it gone. Hermione seemed content to tease her through it, though, tongue tracing the shape of the delicate skin beneath.
"Please, Sir."
The hum of Hermione's chuckle sensitized her feverish skin, making her quiver. Hermione turned her head to press a kiss to Astoria's thigh. She whimpered at the loss of contact, arching up involuntarily, but breathed a sigh of relief when her panties were slipped down and off.
She remembered too late that she hadn't used her depilatory charms, since she hadn't expected to do anything other than play the voyeur tonight. In the firelight, with her face between Astoria's thighs, Hermione could see and taste and smell everything, and that thought tipped the balance between self-consciousness and arousal. Tensing, she tried to scoot out of Hermione's reach, but the other witch's hands tightened around her hips.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking up, her brow furrowed. Then she tilted her head. "Is this your first time being eaten out, Story?"
Mortification made Astoria tear her eyes from Hermione's. She looked up at the ceiling, pressing both hands to her face. "I - um - "
"You don't have to tell me. I won't do anything you don't want me to do." The concern and care lacing Hermione's soft tone cracked something open in her chest.
She shook her head, hands still covering her face. "I do want you to. I haven't...I haven't been with anyone since Draco, though." Three very long years. "And never with a - "
"A woman?" Hermione asked, rubbing a gentle palm along her thigh.
She nodded. "I wasn't really prepared for tonight. Are you disappointed?"
"Astoria, put your hands down and look at me."
The command in Hermione's tone did her in, stoking her arousal and giving her the courage to do as she was bid.
"Do I look disappointed?"
Astoria huffed a sigh, earning her a wry twist of Hermione's lips and a light smack along the inside of her leg, one that left a sting.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question, little dove. Or an invitation for sass."
Okay, message received. The Minister did like things her way, after all. The glint of humor in her eyes softened the sternness of the words, though.
"No, Sir. You look - " Astoria studied Hermione's face. Breathtaking. "Happy."
"I am." Hermione stroked Astoria's hip with her thumb. "I've been looking forward to this for a very long time. Now, spread your legs again and let me see you. There's my brave girl."
The sweet praise softened her embarrassment, and a gentle bite and a verbal reprimand kept her eyes where Hermione wanted them. When her thighs parted, Hermione lifted her legs and laid them over her own shoulders. Then her head dipped, only her cap of dark curls visible as her tongue traced a path from Astoria's core to her clit. Astoria lost the ability to do anything but plead.
Hermione licked maddening circles around her clit, rubbing at her thighs, humming soft moans into her skin. Astoria tried to stay still at first, but as her need ratcheted up, she bucked her hips, one hand gripping the duvet, the other tangling in Hermione's hair.
Hermione's answering groan broke through her fog and she loosened her grip, words breathlessly tumbling from her mouth. "I'm sorry, I - "
Hermione lifted her head. "I'm sure as hell not. If I wanted you still and quiet, I'd bind and gag you." The implicit threat drew a whimper from Astoria's throat, and Hermione smiled, her full lips glistening. "Tell me what you need."
"I - " Astoria shut her eyes, a shiver rippling through her as Hermione smacked the outside of her thigh, harder this time.
"Look at me and tell me."
"I'm sorry, Sir." She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. "I want...I want your fingers inside of me. Please."
"Is that right?" Hermione mused, pursing her lips and blowing over Astoria's clit, making her squirm. "Are you aching, little dove? Do you need to be full?"
Why hadn't anyone ever told her how hot it was to talk? She tightened her hands in the blanket, nodding. "Please, Sir."
"Patience," Hermione murmured as she slowly gave Astoria one finger, then a second. Astoria rocked her hips, needing more, deeper, and a shudder rippled through her as Hermione drove into her. "Hand back where it was."
What - oh. Hermione's head dipped again and Astoria laced her fingers through her curls. She hissed out a breath as Hermione's mouth closed around her clit, a soft whine rising in her throat with the intensifying flicks of the other woman's tongue.
"Please, Hermione - please - "
"That's it. Good girl, Story. I want you to come."
Astoria writhed as Hermione's lips recaptured her clit, suckling hard. She was on the edge of something so big it threatened to swallow her up, and she breathed shattered cries, tugging at Hermione's hair. "It's too much - it's too much, I can't - "
Hermione didn't let up, didn't speak, but the harsh grip of her fingers digging into Astoria's hips was command enough. The bite of pain spiked her arousal beyond what she'd imagined possible, and with the next flutter of Hermione's tongue over her clit, Astoria flew apart.
Awareness returned in fragments. She took stock of herself. Her chest heaved still, though her breath was returning, and sweat dampened her hair. A slight tremble made its way through her legs, still propped on Hermione's shoulders. Beneath her, the duvet was damp. Hermione's head rested lightly on her stomach.
Astoria brushed Hermione's hair back from her forehead, and she looked up. "Alright, sweet girl?"
"So good." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm a mess, though."
Hermione pressed a kiss above her navel. "If you weren't, we wouldn't be doing this right."
A smile tugged at her mouth as Hermione lowered her legs, then rose from the floor. Astoria scooted up the bed a bit, watching with rapt attention as Hermione's fingers worked at the buttons of her lacy cream-colored blouse. Her own hands itched to undress the other woman, to touch her, and she started to sit up, but Hermione raised a hand.
"Stay there."
"Yes, Sir." So bossy. She really liked that, though, always had - she rarely had to question where she stood with the Minister, or what was expected of her. She stretched, languid with contentment, unabashedly drinking in Hermione's slender frame as more and more of her was revealed, grateful the other woman had no need for a bra.
Hermione shimmied out of her black denim trousers and kicked them off, looking up. "Like what you see?" she asked, one corner of her mouth tugging upward, seemingly unruffled at baring herself as she slid her sensible black cotton briefs down her legs.
Astoria nodded, wondering what it would be like to be so self-assured. She'd learned to read the other woman well over their years working together, and she'd seen Hermione in moments of uncertainty - had witnessed a little tonight, even. It made her seem reassuringly human, because most of the time she radiated unshakeable confidence.
Astoria supposed that was a necessary skill for the youngest Minister in history. Wizards two and three times her age regularly underestimated Hermione, but not for long.
Hermione climbed onto the bed and leaned forward to kiss the inside of Astoria's ankle. The faint brush of her lips and the graze of her hair tickled Astoria's skin, and she laughed as Hermione trailed a path up her calf, nibbling at the inside of her thigh.
"That feels lovely, but it's probably wasted effort."
Hermione lifted her head, curiosity in her molten amber eyes. "No such thing, not when it comes to you."
That drew a soft smile. "While that's very sweet, you do realize I just came?"
"And?" Hermione pressed her lips to Astoria's hipbone, then frowned. "Shit, I should have been more careful with you," she murmured, studying the faint red marks. "I'm sorry, dove."
"I'm not."
Hermione's gaze snapped to hers, brows lifted. "Is that right?"
"Mm." Unsure of how to explain the draw of the pain, of the visible reminder of Hermione's ardor, she simply shrugged. "But as wonderful as that was - and believe me, it was - I don't think you're getting another orgasm out of me anytime soon."
Hermione just grinned and said, "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun corrupting you, sweet girl."
"That wasn't a dare!" Astoria's protests were brought up short when Hermione tugged down one cup of her bra with her teeth, then suckled her nipple. The faint edge against the tender bud drew a gasp. She trailed her fingertips along the curve of Hermione's spine, savoring the feeling of skin against skin.
"I know," Hermione said, and it took a moment for Astoria to recall what she was responding to. She pinned Astoria with an intense look. "It was a promise."
Astoria's eyes flitted to the ceiling. "Brigid, give me strength."
The soft tinkle of laughter surrounded her, and she felt the press of lips on her sternum. She tilted her head to meet the other woman's eyes. Hermione settled her hips between Astoria's thighs and nuzzled her breasts, reaching around to unhook Astoria's bra. Astoria shrugged it off and tossed it aside.
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked.
"I'm just happy, that's all."
"Me, too." She trailed a fingertip down Astoria's cheek. "Is there something you want?"
Astoria shook her head, wrapping her arms around Hermione and pulling her closer. "Anything with you. I want to make you come."
"I'd like that," she said. "But first I'd like to take my hand to your ass, and to fuck you again."
The vulgar words made Astoria want to press her thighs together; she tightened them around Hermione's hips instead. She'd been raised not to curse, a restriction she rarely broke, but it had always amused her how the Minister liberally peppered her speech with such words. And currently it got her very hot. She bit her lip, thinking of the way the pain earlier had spiked her arousal.
"Please, Sir."
Hermione studied her with a careful gaze. "Do you want to try being bound, Story?"
Anticipation fluttered low in her belly. "Yes, Sir."
"Alright, then." Hermione pecked her lips and climbed off of the bed.
Astoria took the chance to admire her curves as she wandered to a chest next to the couch and dug around in it. She returned holding a few hanks of purple rope, a set of shears, and some strappy leather thing Astoria couldn't puzzle out the use for. Astoria sat up in the middle of the bed. So many questions bounced around in her mind, but she stayed quiet, observing.
Hermione dropped the items at the end of the bed. "Give me your hands, dove."
Astoria held them out, wrists turned up, and watched as Hermione expertly wound rope around them to form cuffs, then linked them together. "I thought it would be rougher."
"This is bamboo, it feels better on the skin. Wouldn't hold up for suspension, but it's suitable for other things." Hermione stepped towards the head of the bed. Astoria swallowed as she wove the rope through one of the hooks on the headboard, tying it off.
Astoria tested the strength of her bonds, tugging at the slack in her tether. Her breath hitched, and Hermione stopped to study her.
"Alright, Story? Not too tight?"
She pressed her thighs together. "N - no, Sir."
"You'll tell me if that changes." Hermione climbed on the bed and gently pushed Astoria to lie back on the pillows. "Spread your legs for me, there's a good girl."
A quiver ran through her as she did as she was told, her arms stretching above her head. She felt on fire between her thighs, and her face burned as Hermione knelt above her and examined the evidence of her arousal.
"Mm. You do like bondage, don't you, sweet girl?" Hermione looked up at Astoria, who choked on her response. "No need to be so shy, you're not the only one who's aching. Do you want to feel what you do to me?"
She nodded, whimpering when Hermione rolled one of her nipples between manicured fingers.
"Words, Story."
Astoria sucked in a breath. "Yes, Sir. Please."
Hermione leaned forward to kiss Astoria, hips shifting so she was straddling Astoria's thigh, and the heat of her was like a brand as she pressed down with a moan.
That sound - Astoria longed to hear it again, wanted to hear all the different noises of pleasure she could make. Astoria flexed her thigh and pushed up, giving Hermione something firmer to rub against. She bit down on Astoria's bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth, and let it go a moment later with a little cry.
"Fucking hell," she breathed.
She moved again, sitting up between Astoria's legs, and Astoria was pleased to note she was flushed with arousal. The evidence of it coated Astoria's own skin, cooling in the air of the room, and she shivered.
"Cold, dove?"
She shook her head. "The opposite, actually."
"Mm." Hermione smiled down at her. "Do you want more rope?"
Astoria rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding. "Please."
"I'll leave binding your legs for another time.” She leaned forward and slipped her hands beneath Astoria's back, passing a strand of rope there. Astoria watched with curiosity as Hermione tied a harness, a series of interlocking diamonds over her hips and upper thighs. "This is just for fun, and because you look so damn pretty all trussed up for me. Roll over."
Astoria got an inkling of the 'fun' as she followed instructions. She gasped when she felt the silky knot slide between her folds, rubbing against her clit. "Sir - "
"Up on your knees, sweet girl. Ass in the air." Hermione ran her hands over Astoria's body, helping her get settled into the position, making sure she had a pillow for her head and her elbows were comfortably bent. She pushed Astoria's shoulders down, forcing a firmer curve in her spine. "That's it. Doing alright?"
She whimpered and started to press her thighs together, but Hermione's hand landed on her ass with a crack, a harsher blow than she'd given yet. Astoria breathed a shocked little cry.
"I want to see you." Hermione forced her thighs apart until Astoria was sure she made a lewd display. She buried her face in the pillow as Hermione tugged at the interlocking rope, making the knot press into her sensitive flesh. "So beautiful, baby. You're dripping."
Astoria turned her head just enough that her voice wasn't muffled. "Please, Sir, please - "
"What do you need, hm?" Hermione murmured, dragging her fingertips over Astoria's ass and the backs of her thighs in a faint, tantalizing caress.
"I want...I want your fingers inside of me."
"Is that right?" Hermione gave her one digit, stroking her inner walls, and Astoria pressed back to her hand with a shudder. "Do you want me to fuck you, Story?"
It was a cruel tease, but it got her hotter, made her slicker around Hermione's finger until she could hear the sound of her own juices with each shallow thrust. "Please, Sir, I need it."
"Patience, little dove." Hermione withdrew her finger with little care for Astoria's frustration. "I'm going to redden your pretty ass first, and then I'll give you what you need. I want you to tell me your safe words."
Astoria stuttered the answer through her haze of arousal. "Y - yellow and red."
"Good girl. Use them if you need them, understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
The first blows landed lightly, a gentle tease, and she couldn't help the sounds that escaped her or the way she pressed back, seeking more contact.
"I love it when you're so needy you stop thinking about everything else," Hermione whispered, hands rubbing the heat into Astoria's flesh. "You're fucking gorgeous when you let go."
The words settled beneath Astoria's skin, soothing her worries over exposing herself like this, her fears over what the future held for them. She gasped as Hermione pressed two fingers inside of her, grinding back, seeking more. After only a few moments, though, Hermione withdrew. Astoria clenched her hands into fists, biting down on her lip.
"I know, sweet girl. Just a little longer, you're doing so well.”
The sweetness of the praise assuaged her frustration somewhat, and she relaxed into the spanking as Hermione's hand landed harder, the impact rippling through her body and causing the rope to drag across her center. Astoria breathed little cries, as much from the pleasure of it as from the pain and growing tenderness.
She'd tried to count at first, but she lost the ability to do that, lost the ability to do anything but feel, overwhelmed with relentless sensation. Hermione alternated a few more times between fingering her and spanking her, ramping up the intensity with agonizing slowness. By the time she ceased, Astoria was panting, breathless with need. She whimpered with the loss of Hermione's touch.
"Shh, dove. Give me just a moment. You've been so good, so obedient." Astoria drifted until she felt Hermione's hands again, curling around her hips. "I'm going to give you what you need. Do you want my hand or my strap?"
The question confused her, but then she felt something glide along her soaked folds, nudging the knot against her clit. The sensation was a little cool, silky but firm. Astoria wasn't exactly a connoisseur of sex toys, and it took her a moment to recognize what it was. She bit her lip uncertainly.
"Story, love? Are you alright?"
"Yes." She'd waited too long. Her voice trembled with need and anticipation. "The…the strap, please."
"Good girl for telling me what you want," Hermione whispered, squeezing her hips.
There was a slight moment of trepidation as Hermione started to slide inside - it had been so long, and Astoria never used such things on herself - but the strap-on wasn't too thick, just large enough for Astoria to feel the slight burn of a stretch and then a satisfying fullness as Hermione moved deeper.
She groaned with the sensation, burying her face in the pillow.
Hermione's soft encouragement soothed the ragged edges of her need, the fear of falling into the abyss of arousal. She could hear, again, the evidence of it, the gush of her wetness with each thrust, and it made her feel wanton, dirty. So unlike the her she was used to everyone else seeing, but with this surrender, she felt more herself than she had in a long time.
"That's it, dove, you're taking my cock so well."
Astoria shuddered as Hermione drove in more firmly, tipping over the edge into overwhelm. Her hard nipples were abraded against the duvet, the leather harness Hermione wore pressing into her tender ass with each thrust. Then Hermione found a spot along her front wall that made her cry out, and her climax overtook her, sending lightning racing along her nerves. She was left shaking when she came down from it, only Hermione's hand around her waist keeping her from collapsing on the bed.
Hermione withdrew and helped her to roll onto her back. Astoria sunk into the duvet, feeling boneless with pleasure, heavy-lidded as she looked up. Hermione cupped her cheek and she nuzzled into the other woman's palm.
The touch was brief, and Astoria focused her gaze to see Hermione wrap her hand around the base of her strap, guiding it between Astoria's thighs.
"Hermione, I - I can't - " Astoria shook her head, tensing. "It's too much."
"You can. I want to see your face this time." Hermione leaned forward and brushed her lips against Astoria's. "Do you trust me, Story?"
She blew out a breath. "Yes, Sir."
Hermione stroked Astoria's messy, sweat-dampened hair back from her face, holding her gaze. "You're going to come for me again, because it's what I ask of you. And you've always done what I ask of you."
The certainty and power in her voice surrounded Astoria like the rope, constricting, comforting. Though she had no idea how she would, she nodded. Hermione pressed inside and Astoria bent her knees, hooking one leg around the other woman’s waist, wanting to feel her closer.
Hermione moved slowly at first, like she had before, the now-warm silicone dragging along Astoria's inner walls with each deep thrust. Astoria felt momentarily self-conscious beneath the intensity of her gaze, but that receded as Hermione leaned down to kiss her with a reverence that made her heart stutter.
"Good girl, taking everything I give you," Hermione whispered. Astoria gasped as she reached between them to nudge the rope out of the way, rubbing more directly around Astoria's clit, with firm circles.
"No, I - I can't - "
"You can, baby. For me."
Whatever else Hermione said receded under the all-consuming, fiery sensation she inflicted. Astoria was so sensitive it hurt, on the verge of opening her mouth to say ‘yellow,’ but before she got there a white-hot pleasure broke through the pain. She screamed and pulled at her bonds as her orgasm ripped through her with a terrifying ferocity, dragging her impossibly higher into bliss.
She was trembling, panting when Hermione freed her from the cuffs, feeling as though she lost control of her body for those long moments. Hermione rubbed her wrists, kissing them, and Astoria's eyes focused well enough to see that the rope had left faint indentations, but nothing lasting or painful. She was freed of the hip harness next, and she took advantage of the opportunity to run her hands down the other woman's sides.
Hermione studied her. "How are you feeling? Did I push you too hard?"
Astoria shook her head. Her throat felt a little raw, her voice slightly hoarse when she spoke. "I was - it was too much, but it was also...I've never come like that before." Hermione's brow had furrowed at the admission of 'too much,' and Astoria quickly added, "I liked it. I...I like it when you push me."
"Good. Let me hold you." Hermione started to move from her perch between Astoria's thighs, but Astoria gripped her sides.
"I want to make you come. Please, Hermione."
A soft laugh escaped the other woman, and she raked a hand through her messy dark curls. "How can I deny you anything when you ask so sweetly?" Hermione winked at her. "Told you you'd learn my name."
Answering laughter bubbled up in Astoria's chest, but fizzled when Hermione leaned forward to kiss her again. She clutched at the other woman's shoulders, running a hand down her back. As much as she'd loved being bound, Astoria loved being able to touch Hermione more.
"It won't take long, I damn near came when I was fucking you."
Astoria started to ask what she wanted, but Hermione moved to straddle her thigh again, grinding down shamelessly as she claimed Astoria's mouth. Astoria drank in the sounds of her pleasure, curling her tongue around Hermione's and flexing her leg, bending her knee slightly. She clutched Hermione against her, savoring the feeling of skin against skin, the heat of Hermione's tender flesh, the arousal that dripped down the curve of Astoria's inner thigh to mingle with her own.
Astoria learned a few things; Hermione was quiet when she came, her little cries easily muffled in the passionate kiss as it dragged on. She was wet, though, slick and slippery against Astoria's skin, and if Astoria hadn't just had all the pleasure wrung from her body by force, that would have made her needy all over again. And she could kiss with more dedication and focus than she spent on the most complex of legislative bills, even as she was shuddering her way through the throes of pleasure.
Hermione stilled and rested her forehead against Astoria's with a quiet sigh, then rolled to her side, pulling Astoria close. "Alright, sweet girl?"
Astoria nodded and pressed her face to Hermione's neck, humming her assent. They were both silent for a while. Even the usually endless chatter in Astoria's head calmed. She lifted her head, though, when she heard the distant sound of a door closing.
"Just the Aurors," Hermione reassured her. "They have their own little corner of the house, so they stay out of the way most of the time, but they make rounds every hour or so. They won't bother us."
"Oh." Astoria tucked her head to Hermione's shoulder, tracing patterns along her side.
"Thinking again, dove?"
"Mm." She ran her thumb over a small, faint scar on Hermione's hip. "How did you get so good at this?"
"What, sex?" Hermione's voice was laced with amusement.
"Reading me. Making me want…." Astoria shook her head.
Hermione slid a crooked finger beneath her chin, tipping her head up until she lifted her gaze. "You'd be a submissive with or without me, sweet girl, but I know how to bring it out in you because I've been on your side of the dynamic myself. And I pay attention."
Enough attention to leave Astoria feeling raw. "You're usually submissive?"
"I'm a switch," Hermione corrected her. "Sometimes."
"Oh." Astoria filed that information away, matching it up against what she knew of Hermione, and the little she knew of BDSM. "Would you want me to - "
"No." Hermione rubbed her thumb across Astoria's bottom lip. "You don't have a toppy bone in your body, dove. And I find quite enough satisfaction in being with you like this."
A small smile curved Astoria's lips at that. She was still uncertain, a little intimidated, afraid to ask what all of this meant for them. But those words wound around her heart, filling her with warmth.
"Come on." Hermione pressed a kiss to Astoria's forehead. "You're wiped. Let's get ready for bed."
She groaned. "I don't think I can manage a shower, but Circe knows I need one."
"We can worry about that in the morning.”
Hermione grabbed her wand from the nightstand and hit them both with cleansing charms, cleaning the duvet with magic as well. It wasn't as satisfying as a bath, but it made Astoria feel better nonetheless. They took turns in the en-suite, which was just as much a paradise as the bedroom, Astoria noted; it boasted a tub big enough for both of them, and a rainforest shower.
Astoria had pushed back the covers and climbed into the bed when Hermione emerged from the bathroom with her tortoiseshell glasses on. The sight was a treat, and one few people ever witnessed; Astoria had only ever caught her like this when she'd stayed late at the office and taken out her contacts. 'There are spells for that,' Astoria had said once, and promptly gotten a lecture on how it was foolish to have 'unnecessary magical surgery,' a strange idea to her given the culture she came from, where appearances meant everything. With how adorable Hermione looked in glasses, though, she couldn't say she disagreed.
"What are you looking at?" Hermione said, her lips twitching.
Astoria had the sudden realization that she wasn't the only one who felt self-conscious. "You're lovely, you know that?"
Hermione looked down, her golden skin flushing in the firelight as she made her way to the edge of the bed. "Roll over, sweet girl."
Astoria took one last lingering glance before doing as she was told. A muttered Nox extinguished all light in the room except for the candle, which cast a chiaroscuro glow along the wall. She heard the tap of Hermione's glasses against the nightstand before the bed dipped. A warm embrace surrounded her a moment later, one arm banding her waist and tugging her in close as Hermione pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
"Night, Story."
"Night, Sir."
Astoria whispered the honorific without thought, even though they weren’t in the midst of a scene anymore. It felt right, so she tried not to second-guess herself. She closed her eyes, waiting for the usual restlessness that came from being in a strange place, but sleep claimed her quickly, as if she were home.