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Theo knocked back a glass of firewhiskey in two large gulps. This wasn’t his first drink of the day and certainly would not be his last. He was currently seated at a high end cocktail bar in Muggle London, far from his family estate where his wife and two kids were probably eating dinner by now. He would be expected home at some point, but Daphne never questioned the late nights. Work comes first.
Over the years, Theo had developed an established routine that met every expectation of a pureblood husband. Most of his day was spent in professional and social settings. He had a prominent seat on the Wizengamot, where, despite being half the age of most of his counterparts, he had managed to charm his way to a position of influence among the leadership. That seat afforded him entry into the most elite circles, not even the likes his father had ever been afforded. And, as a result, Daphne’s status had been elevated.
Daphne did not know that his work at the Wizengamot really did not involve much, but he felt no need to advise her. He had his role, and she had hers. At home, he played the role of a present husband and father. He made sure his family was provided for. And, Daphne never wanted for anything. That was enough for her, he supposed.
The thing about Theo was that he was handsome. The type of handsome that made every syllable that came out of his mouth sound like it was the word of Merlin. The older he got, the more devastating he became. Now, at 46, his short dark hair had started to grey at the temples and around his ears. He had a few wrinkles framing his eyes that appeared when he was truly smiling, which actually was not that often but nonetheless they added to the allure. His tall, imposing figure dominated most rooms, and people were either intimidated by him or they wanted to fuck him, or both.
Now, sitting at the bar, Theo wasn’t thinking about the half day he spent at work shutting down poorly thought out legislative initiatives. And, he wasn’t thinking about Daphne. No, his mind had wandered to the woman seated three stools down around the corner of the bar. Her dark brown hair covered half her face as she pulled a martini to her lips.
She kind of looked like Hermione Granger. Maybe she was. It had been two decades or more since he had seen her in the flesh. His lower half stirred thinking about his boyish fantasies involving fucking Granger in the library while she berated him for not studying hard enough for his NEWTs. You’ve got to take this seriously, you prat, or else I’ll never let you cum again. He knew Granger probably had never given him much notice at school. He could blame that on his late growth spurt.
The woman flicked her eyes up to meet his stare. She was striking — slender with warm skin and dark-colored eyes that were ringed with golden halos. He cleared his throat, signaling to the bartender to bring another round to them both.
Wondering whether this woman had as sharp a tongue as Granger had, Theo began to engage her in conversation. “You from around here?” he asked.
“Been a while,” she said. She turned her body to face him, as a rich scent of jasmine, clary sage, and spices hit his nostrils. If Theo had to guess, she was wearing 300 pound perfume. Her dress looked expensive too, that is, if you could call it a dress. It was a tiny nude-colored silk piece that she had styled with an oversized fur coat that was currently slipping down off of one shoulder. For a brief moment, Theo wondered whether she was a high end sex worker, but realized it did not matter. He wanted to fuck her.
“What brings you back to London, then?” he asked.
“Good question,” she started, taking a sip of her newly refreshed martini. “I was living abroad with my partner and we recently got divorced. I spent some time in Australia handling some family affairs and then decided it was time to come home.”
“Ah, I wouldn’t have pinned you for a divorcée,” Theo said, reaching for a pack of cigarettes in his front pocket. He took one out, packed down the tobacco, and flicked his lighter as he inhaled. Smoke curled around his fingers.
“Oh really? Drinking martinis alone at my age wasn’t a dead giveaway?” She laughed with the confidence of someone who clearly did not give any fucks. “And, what about you? Single?”
“Does it matter?” he said, taking another drag from his cigarette.
“No, I suppose it does not,” she said matter of fact.
Theo finished his glass, setting it down with a clink against the wooden bar. Leaving his trench coat still hanging under the bar table, he got off of his stool and gave her a long look before he walked toward the bathroom with his cigarette hung from his lips.
Her heard the tapping of stilettos following him.
Dipping into a lowly lit unisex restroom that was almost more curated than the main bar room, he felt her closing into his space. As the door shut behind them, he turned and pinned her against the door. He tossed his cigarette to the floor, seeing burning embers litter the ground in his periphery.
Two fingers slid up her bare leg until it reached the spot where her dress had ridden up, just below her arse. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
She looked up at him, lower lip trapped underneath her top teeth, speechless. Her breasts were already heaving in his direction. In a matter of seconds, his two fingers felt a pool of wetness at her core. No underwear.
Not wasting any time, his fingers were inside her stroking toward him. “Oh, yes you are. Yes, you fucking are.”
He wondered whether she had left a puddle on her bar stool from how wet she was and how fucking short her dress was — she was practically naked. She was still breathing heavily, and with the way she was angled, her slip dress had fallen so the top half of one of her nipples was exposed. It was a tiny brown bud that contrasted perfectly against her golden skin.
The woman arched against his hand, seeking more friction. He curved his fingers and pulled tight at that sensitive spot she had hidden inside her, while she ground against his hand. He thought about the number of women who had come on his hand before, and he was spurred forward.
He also needed more friction. With his free hand, he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock in one swift motion. It was thrumming with energy. Tiny drops of pre-cum had already beaded around his tip.
Withdrawing his fingers, he pushed his cock inside her and lifted her higher so that he could straighten his back. Her feet dangled above the floor before she pulled them up and around his waist, tucking him in closer. He felt the spikes of her heels dug into his back and his cock stiffened further. She moaned again as he felt his thickness expanding against her inner walls. She was so tight.
Theo pushed all the way inside her and raised his hand to her neck, staining it with her own wetness. He began to thrust deeper and faster with each movement.
Each thrust pulled a loud breath out of her sending shocks to his cock and driving him closer to the edge. There was no time for a muffliato, even if he could (Statute of Secrecy and all). That, and maybe he was a bit of an exhibitionist. He liked when a woman whimpered like that in public.
She let out a broken string of pleas, as her knees pressed firm against his waist and the spikes of her heels drove harder. “Fuck me . . . Don’t stop . . . Harder . . . Harder . . .“ He had broken a slight sweat by then, but continued to push in and out of her drenched cunt with increasing pace.
He caught the distinct smell of her arousal flooding the tiny bathroom. “That’s it, you take me so well,” he said in a gravely tone, “your little cunt is just begging for me to come inside you. Isn’t that right?” His hand gripped tighter around her neck, but not enough to cut off oxygen.
The woman gasped loudly, as her orgasm ripped through her. Theo followed shortly afterward, filling her full of his thick, warm spend. When he pulled out and set her back down on the ground, he noticed a stream of his cum was making its way down her upper thigh, marking her as his for the time being.
Theo straightened, tucking his cock back inside his trousers. He reached into his front pocket and grabbed another cigarette, this time holding it out for her to take the first hit as he flicked the lighter against the tip. They passed the cigarette back and forth, as he adjusted his tie and she straightened her dress and finger combed her wild curls.
She took a slow drag and let out a long puff of smoke before she said, “You never told me your name.”
“Theo,” he responded.
“That takes me back. I went to boarding school with a Theo. He was a real prat, though,” she said, winking at him before she opened the door of the bathroom to make her exit.
“Interesting,” he said, a bit caught off guard by her insinuation.
Theo just followed her back toward the main bar room. He’d managed to slide into the slipstream of her personal scent — jasmine, clary sage, and spices, now mixed with her arousal. He’d have to do a quick scorgify to hide the smell on his clothes before he apparated home.
As she turned toward the bar’s front door, she looked back at him once more with those glowing eyes, and there was no question it was really her.