“I can’t believe you made me ride this shit heap!” Bellatrix slurred as she stumbled off the Knight Bus and onto the dark, leafy street near their Hampstead home. “And on my birthday no less!”
Hermione quietly thanked the driver and followed Bellatrix off the bus. “It’s not your birthday anymore,” she said, tired and irritated. And it was true. It had to be close to three in the morning now.
But Bellatrix didn’t seem to hear her as she launched into yet another drunken tirade about the injustices of being forced to use public transport at wand point. Hermione just shook her head and let her mind wander as they staggered down the street towards home.
After weeks of stressing and sneaking around behind Bellatrix’s back, Hermione was pleased to say that the party had been a success. Family and friends had been in the gardens at Malfoy Manor, patiently awaiting Bellatrix’s arrival yesterday evening. At that point Hermione had been surprised that Bellatrix still thought that she was going to her sister’s house for a ‘quiet family dinner’ to celebrate her birthday.
The dark witch’s face had been quite the picture when Hermione had guided her out into the gardens and everyone had yelled, “SURPRISE!” For a moment, Hermione had honestly thought that Bellatrix would throw a fit and leave, until Andromeda had tactically appeared at her sister’s side and pressed a glass of wine into her palm. Hermione didn’t think she’d ever seen Bellatrix look so stunned but she was relieved that all the weeks of covert planning with Andy and Narcissa hadn’t been for naught. And even though Bellatrix had pretended to be upset about the party, Hermione knew better. Everyone in attendance had partied well into the early hours, overindulging on good food and music, and got fabulously hammered on the finest liquor Malfoy Galleons could buy.
Godric, what a party.
It was close to 2 a.m. when Hermione found Bellatrix. Her lover was dancing alone under the marquee with her eyes closed, a beer bottle swinging from her fingertips.
Hermione couldn’t help the silly grin that tugged at her lips as she approached Bellatrix. A few curls had come loose from her witch’s elegant updo and Hermione reached out to tuck a sable lock behind her ear. Bellatrix startled a little at the unexpected touch and her eyes flew open in surprise, but when her bleary gaze settled on Hermione, her painted red mouth curled into a lascivious smile.
“Ah, there she is,” Bellatrix simpered, and reached for her. She curled her hand around Hermione’s neck and tugged her forwards. The kiss was ravenous and needy, if not a little sloppy and way off the mark, but Hermione couldn’t help but groan as a spike of desire shot down her spine, and she returned the kiss with fervour.
“Mm, I think it’s time to go to bed, love,” Hermione whispered, pushing Bellatrix away with a great deal of effort when drunken, fumbling hands started palming at her arse through her dress. “Everyone’s starting to leave now. Cissy’s prepared a guest room for us.”
Bellatrix pouted and shook her head. “Pffft. M’not stayin’ ‘ere.”
“The fireplaces are being renovated, remember? We can’t Floo,” Hermione explained. “Come on, Andy and Alec’s staying too. And my parents. We can have breakfast together in the morning before we—”
“Nuh.” Bellatrix shook her head again and squinted at Hermione. Her eyes were glassy, her make-up was starting to fade, and her breath smelled like cigarettes and an interesting cocktail of Ogden’s, wine, and Muggle spirits. “I. Wanna. Go. Home. ‘Mione,” she mumbled, and leaned into Hermione again, punctuating each word with a firm kiss.
Of course Bellatrix was nothing if not insistent and it didn’t take long for Hermione to cave. After saying their goodbyes to the family and thanking the last of the stragglers, Lucius was kind enough to escort them down to the bottom of the drive. But Hermione quickly got the impression that the man probably wished he hadn’t been so gentlemanly when Bellatrix started to loudly recited a conversation she’d had with Narcissa earlier in the evening where the Malfoy matriarch had been more than a little boastful regarding her husband’s various talents in the bedroom.
The poor man had blushed to the roots of his flaxen blonde hair and looked only too glad to leave them at the gate just beyond the Manor’s wards before he bid them a hasty good morning and hurried back up the drive like he was being chased by a stampede of angry Hippogriff’s. Hermione couldn’t stop laughing as she turned to the road and raised her wand arm as if she was hailing a taxi. In a matter of seconds the purple triple-decker bus streaked out of the darkness and Bellatrix’s shriek of disgust and indignation was so loud that Hermione thought her eardrum had just ruptured.
“Whoopsie!” Bellatrix giggled loudly, startling Hermione out of her reverie as she wobbled a bit and nearly pitched headfirst into their neighbours hedge. “Who put that there?”
“Be careful,” Hermione chastised her, and wrapped her hand around Bellatrix’s bicep to steady her.
The dark witch was like a bumbling ballerina, graceless and uncoordinated, and Hermione found that she couldn’t possibly predict which direction they’d sway next until they’d already stumbling that way. It was little wonder that Bellatrix was so unsteady after the outrageous amount of alcohol she’d consumed. The ridiculously pointy heels she was wearing most definitely weren’t helping either, and she couldn’t believe that the dark witch’s feet weren’t crippled after all the hours of dancing. Hermione had kicked her heels off hours ago and they dangled from her fingertips now as she walked barefoot down the pavement.
“Say, why didn’t we just Disapparate?” Bellatrix asked.
“Because neither of us are in any fit state to Disapparate and I really didn’t fancy being splinched,” Hermione ground out. She’d been listening to Bellatrix go on and on for the last twenty minutes now and was getting extremely fed up of her complaining. The whole bus journey from Wiltshire to Hampstead had been a bloody nightmare to be honest.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Hermione. M’sure we would’ve been jus’ fine. Could’ve saved ourselves a trip on that grotty bus. I’ll need to Scourgify my entire body when—“
Hermione’s nostrils flared and she shot at her, “Well if you hadn’t insisted on leaving your sister’s place then we wouldn’t have needed to use the Knight Bus.”
“D’you have to be so sodding reasonable all the time?“ Bellatrix threw at her.
“Do you have to whinge all the time?” Hermione snapped back, and any other complaints Bellatrix may have had died on her tongue.
The dark witch pursed her lips and squinted blearily at Hermione as they staggered down the dark street. “Bit harsh,” she mumbled.
“You’re getting on my bloody nerves.”
Bellatrix pulled a mulish sort of expression that made Hermione want to kick her in the shin, and sassed, “Well, excuuuuuse me!”
Shaking her head, Hermione gripped Bellatrix tighter in a bid to steady her when she started to lurch precariously close to the hedge again. Hermione wasn’t entirely steady herself, and she counted herself lucky that neither of them had sustained a concussion, but eventually they made it to their front gate, and she said. “That’s us home.”
“Thank Merlin,” Bellatrix grumbled, then loudly announced, “I’m horribly drunk, doll.”
“You don’t say,” Hermione drawled, amused, as she flicked the latch on the little iron gate at the bottom of their front garden. The dark witch never called her ‘doll’ unless she was absolutely wasted and Hermione giggled as she dragged Bellatrix up the garden path towards their old Victorian semi.
“Pissed as a newt, off my fucking tits drunk. The very best kind of drunk.”
“Really?” Hermione grinned, and she felt her gnawing ire at Bellatrix’s drunken antics begin to dissipate a little.
“Are you drunk too?”
“Oh, yes. Not as drunk as you though.”
“Ha! Since when d’you ever get drunk? Never ever. Gryffindor’s prissy princess...”
“Tonight I did.”
“Mmhm,” Bellatrix nodded, then she gasped loudly as if remembering something important. “Oh, oh! Say, what was that happy Muggle water your father was feeding me?”
Hermione had to think hard for a few moments before she realised what ‘happy Muggle water’ was, and she giggled, “Vodka, love.”
“Ah, yes! Vodka!” Bellatrix declared. “I tried to say no, but your father’s very persuasive.”
Hermione scoffed a laugh. At least she knew the ridiculously expensive bottle of Grey Goose her parents had gifted Bellatrix would go down a treat when she picked up all the birthday presents that were safely stored at her sister’s house - whenever that would be. Right now she just wanted to go to bed and sleep for the next 24 hours then stuff her face with something deep fried and greasy.
“Andy had some too,” Bellatrix went on. “Probably why she was dancing like a floozy.” Bellatrix sniggered. “Didn’t know she could dance like that, she’s such a fabulous little slaaaaag!”
“Keep your voice down,” Hermione hissed, but she couldn’t stop herself from giggling again. “Andy’s a good dancer. So are you, actually. I didn’t know you could cut shapes like that.”
“Neither did I,” Bellatrix admitted, leaning her chin on Hermione’s shoulder so she could mouth at her ear. “Andy said I was like a...um...what was it again? A stripper with rent due. Whatever that means.”
The usual ten steps from the gate to the house took far longer than necessary, but they eventually reached the front door. Hermione was never more thankful to be a witch than she was in that moment because the thought of fumbling with a key when her hand-eye coordination was currently nonexistent and simultaneously holding Bellatrix up so she didn’t fall on her face didn’t seem at all plausible. She pressed her palm over the silver knocker instead and it pulsed with a faint green glow, recognising her magical signature, before the clunk of the opening lock inside reverberated loudly around the quiet street.
The lamps flared to life when they both stepped into the hall and Hermione immediately found herself pressed up against the front door as it closed.
“You’re too good to me, dove,” Bellatrix murmured, and pressed a wet kiss against Hermione’s mouth. “What did I ever do to deserve you, hm?”
“Have you had a good birthday?” Hermione asked, dropping her heels on the hardwood floor with a clatter and sliding her hands down Bellatrix’s sides.
“Mm, yes. I didn’t know so many people liked me.” Bellatrix hummed. “You did very, very well.”
“I can’t take all the credit, your sisters were a tremendous help. We all wanted to surprise you with something nice for your birthday. I thought about taking you on holiday, someplace you’d never been before, but...”
“Tonight was perfect, absolutely perfect,” Bellatrix said, and cupped Hermione’s face between her hands, reassuring her with another kiss. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself. It’s been a birthday to remember.”
Hermione noted the almost imperceptible sway of Bellatrix’s body and the way her dark brows clearly couldn’t decide whether they were frowning in concentration or quirking seductively as her bleary eyes roved over Hermione’s face.
Merlin, she was still adorably hammered.
“I’m glad,” Hermione murmured, trying to hold her laughter in check. Then she gave her witch an impish grin and said, “I mean, it’s not every day you turn fifty, is it?”
“Shhhhhh,” Bellatrix pressed her fingers against Hermione’s lips and gave her a long suffering look. “Darling, please, we’ve discussed this. That’s a very, very bad word.”
Hermione batted her hand away playfully. The dreaded f-word had been a taboo in their house for the last several months and Bellatrix had pitched a fit whenever anyone had dared mention the fact that she was turning the big 5-0.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Don’t start. You don’t look a day over forty.”
Bellatrix just shook her head but there was a small smile curling at the corner of her mouth which indicated she was pleased nonetheless.
“Thank you,” Bellatrix eventually mumbled. “I love you. Very, very much.”
The ‘I love you’s’ were still a relatively new development in their relationship, but any time Bellatrix said the words, Hermione was always filled with a heady rush of heat and pleasure and excitement that made her heart burst in her chest. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing those words spill so earnestly from Bellatrix’s lips.
Hermione smiled softly and caressed Bellatrix’s cheek with the backs of her fingers, ”Of course you do. I Iove you back, old girl.”
Bellatrix’s brows shot up at the old and her eyes flashed in warning. “Oi! Watch your damn mouth, cheeky little—”
“Or what?” Hermione challenged, lifting her chin.
Bellatrix leaned in to hiss, “Or I’ll drag you upstairs and fuck some manners into you, that’s what.”
There was a sudden, desperate sort of heat radiating between them now, a warm energy that crackled over their rapidly heating flesh. Bellatrix’s high cheekbones, her neck, her heaving chest, were all flushed a gorgeous shade of pink, and her dark pupils were blown so wide they looked nearly black in the dim light.
Hermione was drawn to her, drawn to her burning skin, her greedy gaze, her slightly parted mouth. She licked her lips in anticipation and slowly asked, “Is that a threat, Madam Black?”
“It’s a promise, Granger,” Bellatrix replied huskily.
And oh, how Hermione moaned at that.
Because since Bellatrix had started calling her by her given name in recent years it had always been a bit of an unspoken challenge, to get her to moan or pant or sigh Granger the way she used to when they’d still been sneaking around together, having quickies behind closed doors and nights full of endless passion in Andromeda’s spare bedroom.
It was exactly what Hermione wanted to hear and she leaned in to whisper against Bellatrix’s lips, “Come on, I should take you to bed.”
Bellatrix squinted for a moment, that kissable little furrow appearing between her eyebrows when they drew together, and she pouted, clearly a little slow on the uptake, “But I’m not tired.”
Give me strength, Hermione thought, and rolled her eyes again. She slipped her arm aound Bellatrix’s waist, pulling her closer, hip to hip against the front door, and she leaned in, breathless and wanting, “I didn’t say anything about sleeping, did I?”
“Oh! Birthday sex!” Bellatrix laughed and her whisky warmed breath ghosted across Hermione’s lips for a moment. “Yes, take me to bed, Miss Granger.”
Then Bellatrix surged forwards without warning and kissed her, all tongue and bruising lips.
Hermione wasn’t sure how they made it upstairs after that, but somewhere on their journey from the hall to their bedroom, she somehow lost her bra.
In fact, she lost quite a few things after that - her new dress, her knickers, her mind.
“That’ll teach you to respect your elders a bit more,” Bellatrix laughed breathlessly, nearly an hour later.
Hermione didn’t answer.
Not when Bellatrix had just eaten her out like a fucking buffet and her legs were shaking so violently that the frequency technically could’ve been called a vibration. She was surprised she’d even managed to orgasm at all after so many hours of drinking, but somehow Bellatrix had still managed to leave her a boneless, gasping heap in the middle of the bed.
“‘Mione?” Bellatrix asked, and swiped the back of her hand across her glistening, sticky mouth. “You alright?”
Again, Hermione didn’t answer.
All she could hear was the sound of her own heart pounding. Her head ached with it, with the ferocious thud that pulsed in her ears and behind her eyes. Her world was beyond spinning - due to the copious amounts of wine she’d consumed or because of the earth shattering orgasm Bellatrix had just given her, she couldn’t be sure - but in her tipsy, sex drunk state, she decided she’d be missing a golden opportunity if she didn’t give Bellatrix the box that she’d had hidden away in her knicker drawer for the past four months.
“Cat got your tongue, darling?” Bellatrix purred, and leaned in as if to kiss her, but Hermione rolled away and Bellatrix head butted her shoulder instead. “What’re you doin’?” she frowned, rubbing at her forehead.
“Returning the favour,” Hermione said, and grabbed her wand off the nightstand. “It’s not really birthday sex if the birthday girl hasn’t had an orgasm, is it?”
She summoned the box with a non-verbal Accio, why she attempted it in her current state she didn’t know, but she was pleased nonetheless when the bottom drawer in her dresser slid open and the brown cardboard box soared across the bedroom.
“What’s this?” Bellatrix sat up against the headboard, her interest piqued when Hermione handed her the box. “Another birthday present? Is it for me? Oh, can I open it?” She looked so excited, like a giddy child at Christmas. Hermione loved her so bloody much. Then Bellatrix shook the box and held it to her ear. “Well?”
“Yes, yes, it’s for you,” Hermione said. “Well, for us really, but it’s your birthday so...hm, open it, just open it.”
Bellatrix eagerly tore at the box and picked at the tape with her nails, but quickly gave up when she realised she wasn’t getting anywhere fast and used her teeth instead. When she finally managed to open the box and peek inside, the very last thing Hermione expected was the strangled sound Bellatrix made when she pressed herself back against the headboard and thrust the box away as if it was a poisonous spider.
“Oh, Merlin, it’s too much, isn’t it?” Hermione babbled,suddenly overcome with a terrible bout of shyness despite her current lack of clothes and inhibitions.
“Holy fuck, Hermione,” Bellatrix gasped, when she finally collected herself. “Why is there a dick in that box?”
Hermione didn’t know what to say. She could feel Bellatrix’s eyes boring into the side of her head. Good Godric, what had she been thinking? The whole reason she’d kept the damn thing hidden for so long was because she wasn’t sure how Bellatrix would react to it. The dark witch hadn’t exactly been shy about voicing her distaste for the male species over the years, what if she didn’t want dick anymore - even an 8 inch, green silicone one?
“What - what the fuck is that?” Bellatrix asked, and tentatively peeled back the bubble plastic cushioning the toy to get a better look. Then she used her pinky finger to lift a long piece of black nylon out of the box, and demanded, “And what the fuck is this?”
Hermione shot Bellatrix an incredulous glance. “It’s a strap-on, love. Have you, um, never seen one before?”
Bellatrix dropped the harness back into the box and said, clearly aghast, “No! Why, have you?”
Hermione shrugged, “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, well, I’ve never owned one before, until now that is, but I knew what they were. But...” She bit her lip and covered her face, mortified beyond belief. “Do you hate it? We don’t need to use it, I just thought...well, I thought—”
“Oh, I like it. Especially the colour. It’s...different,” Bellatrix said quickly, and pried Hermione’s hands away from her face. “I just wasn’t expecting a dick in a box, that’s all. Is it...some sort of weird Muggle fetish thing?”
Hermione was gobsmacked. “You’re bloody serious, aren’t you? You really haven’t seen one before?”
Bellatrix frowned, and gestured to the box. “No. I’ve seen plenty real ones, but I’ve never had any need for a fake - it is fake, right?”
Hermione barked a laugh, she couldn’t help it.
Was Bellatrix really this naive?
Were Pureblood’s really this clueless about sex toys?
She wished Andromeda had at least given her a heads up before encouraging her to buy the damn thing. Browsing for vibrators and pink fluffy handcuffs had seemed like a fun idea at the time when they’d been giggly and a little tipsy after one too many lunchtime cocktails during their girly shopping spree in Muggle London. But surely as a Pureblooded witch herself, Andromeda must’ve known that Bellatrix wouldn’t have had the first clue about naughty Muggle toys?
Damn you, Andy.
“Yes, it’s fake,” Hermione sniggered. “Don’t worry it’s made from silicone.”
“Am I supposed to know what silly cone is? Oi, don’t laugh at me!” Bellatrix pouted. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but what am I supposed to do with it? Is it for decoration or—”
“It’s a toy, love,” Hermione explained, her embarrassment all but gone in the wake of her lover’s naivety. “For us to play with.”
“Oh,” Bellatrix nodded and frowned, the concept still clearly lost on her. Then her eyes widened almost comically, and Hermione could practically hear the sickle drop when realisation finally hit the dark witch. “Oh!” Bellatrix flushed a gorgeous shade of pink, from the tips of her ears all the way down to her collarbone and Hermione’s mouth watered at the sight. “So you want me to - to fuck you with that thing?”
“I was thinking I could fuck you with it, actually. A belated birthday present.”
“I’ve never bounced on a todger that big before!” Bellatrix exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch as she reached into the box and held up the toy like Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone.
“Look, maybe we should just forget —” Hermione started to say.
“No, no! Let’s not be too hasty here. I didn’t say big was bad, love,” Bellatrix insisted. “If my husband’s dick was this big then maybe I would’ve shagged him more often. I mean, his tongue game was certainly on point but...”
Bellatrix trailed off, her expression flickering between Hermione and the obscene, green phallus gripped in her hand. Her onyx eyes glittered excitedly and a slow wide smile tugged at her lips.
Hermione giggled, she could practically hear Bellatrix’s thoughts running away with her. “Oh, so...so you want to?”
“Yes, I want to! I absolutely want to!” Bellatrix held out the dildo with a salacious grin. “Buckle up, toots.”
Hermione stood and plucked the harness out of the box, and with fumbling hands tried to work out how to put it on. Eager and helpful, Bellatrix shuffled to the edge of the bed and pulled Hermione towards her so she was standing between her legs, and reached out to assist her. It took a good few minutes and lots of giggling, but they eventually figured out what went where, and Bellatrix secured the dildo in place, tugging sharply at the straps looping around Hermione’s thighs to ensure they were tight enough.
“I look ridiculous,” Hermione said.
“Oh, shut up,” Bellatrix smirked and, impatient as always, reached out to wrap her hand around the green member bobbing in front of her face. “You look sexy. I want to climb you like a fucking tree.”
Bellatrix’s tugs were slow and rhythmic, and the sight of her hand expertly sliding up and down was enough to stoke a fire in Hermione’s belly that threatened to consume her completely. Better still, every slow pump of Bellatrix’s first pushed the base of the toy against Hermione’s clit, and the delicious pressure made her groan.
Then Bellatrix stared up at Hermione with a wicked twinkle in her eye, and asked, “How do you want me? On my back? On top? Bent over so you can fuck be from behind?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Hermione exhaled a shuddering breath.
“Just as you are, love,” she mumbled, and tangled her fingers in Bellatrix’s hair.
Because, really, she didn’t actually know how she wanted Bellatrix. She hadn’t thought much beyond giving her the damn box and she needed a moment to collect herself before they continued.
Bellatrix looked up at Hermione from under fluttering, dark lashes in a manner that looked entirely too innocent considering the fact that she was perched naked in front of her with her long fingers sliding up and down the green silicone jutting proudly from between Hermione’s tanned thighs. But before Hermione could protest, she gasped - or was it a groan? Either way it didn’t matter, because the moment Bellatrix’s wet mouth closed around the tip of the toy, Hermione felt her soul vacate her body and her breath leave her parted lips in a shaky whoosh.
Bellatrix moaned quietly around the toy, and slid her other hand around the younger witch’s hip to rake her nails up the back of her quivering thigh.
After three years together, Hermione thought she knew the full extent of Bellatrix’s oral talents.
But Bellatrix was always full of surprises.
Of course, Hermione couldn’t feel anything except the delicious pressure against her clit, but there was something new and sexy and exciting about watching Bellatrix’s lips and tongue all over the damn green dildo that made her hips stutter. Bellatrix whimpered a little when Hermione began to lightly thrust, the motion pushing the toy further into Bellatrix’s mouth, but the dark witch didn’t stop her ministrations. In fact, she took the dildo deeper, and Hermione felt her brain short circuit and turn to mush in her skull at the sight of Bellatrix’s dark head bobbing up and down the silicone, loosely aided by Hermione’s hand fisted in her glossy curls.
They had a very healthy, very active sex life with equal give and take between the sheets. But on occasion when they liked to spice things up a little with some power play, they took it in turns to be the one in charge. But, Merlin, whenever it was Bellatrix’s turn to be submissive, Hermione made sure to cherish those moments. Because Bellatrix was a witch who needed to be in control, a witch who could never show even an ounce of vulnerability, but Hermione knew that these moments were a testament to the fact that Bellatrix loved and trusted her enough to hand her the reigns on occasion.
But even though Hermione was the one wearing the strap-on on this occasion, and should’ve been the one calling the shots, she’d never felt less in control in her life.
A loud wet pop and a tugging motion near her hips startled Hermione out of her reverie, and she looked down to see her witch staring up at her with heavy, lust filled eyes and a wide, crocodile smile. Then Bellatrix slowly, tantalisingly, swiped her wicked pink tongue up the full length of the toy, and Hermione momentarily lost all power of coherent thought.
The temperature in the bedroom soared. She tried to speak, but found herself unable to form words around the sudden dryness in her mouth. But she did manage a small groan when a delicious ripple rushed through her, tingling down her spine to pool in her belly.
Bellatrix had her by the balls.
Figuratively speaking, of course.
It was little wonder men used to fall at Bellatrix’s feet, Hermione thought, especially when she exuded power and sexuality like the way she was now. And if Hermione had been one of those men and the cock between her legs had been real, she had no doubt in her mind that she would’ve shot her load by now.
“Hermione?” Bellatrix husked, fixing her with a sly, knowing look when she gave the toy another sharp tug. “You still with me, darling?”
Oh, this wouldn’t do.
Bellatrix looked much too smug for Hermione’s liking and she wanted to kiss that damnable smirk away.
“Alright, behave,” Hermione finally choked a growl, and slapped at Bellatrix’s hand until she released the dildo.
“M’sorry, dove. I got a bit carried away there,” Bellatrix wiped her mouth, not sounding sorry at all.
“I noticed.” Hermione’s hand in Bellatrix’s hair tightened and she pulled the dark witch’s head back, exposing her flushed throat. Leaning in, she growled, “But from now on you’ll do as you’re told.”
“Ooh. Bossy,” Bellatrix’s shoulders shook with a filthy little laugh and Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the way her chest bounced with the motion.
Hermione licked her lips, momentarily distracted by Bellatrix’s lovely pale breasts and tight rosebud nipples, then mumbled, “Hm, I thought you quite liked the bossiness?”
Bellatrix squeezed Hermione’s hip. “Love it. Can’t get enough.”
“Good. Get on the bed.”
“As the Lady wishes.” Quickly, Bellatrix shimmied into the middle of their bed and folded her hands behind her head, rolling her hips and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Let’s be having you.”
Hermione wasted no time and Bellatrix made a surprised sound, gasping into Hermione’s mouth when the young witch all but threw herself at her and kissed her with a fearsome hunger that took both their breaths away. Hermione could still taste herself on Bellatrix’s lips after their earlier shenanigans and it made her groan when a bolt of pure liquid fire shot right down her spine and lit her body aflame with new desire.
Suddenly, she wanted to kiss and touch Bellatrix everywhere at once, and she bit and sucked and clutched at every inch of available skin. It was hot and feral; hands roved and tongues slid together until Bellatrix cried out and ripped at the sheets, fisting her hands in the rumpled duvet when Hermione’s hot mouth immediately sought a stiff pink nipple and drew it between her teeth.
Hermione hummed against Bellatrix’s lovely breast as her mouth sucked and her fingers pinched and pulled. Then she reached down between their warm bodies and grazed a finger over Bellatrix’s clit. She wasn’t surprised when the dark witch’s hips nearly shot off the bed.
“Oh, love, you’re awfully sensitive,” Hermione teased. Yes, Bellatrix had defiantly had too much to drink and despite all the foreplay they’d already had, her lover wasn’t nearly as wet as Hermione would’ve liked. Especially for what was hopefully to come. “Not to worry, let me help you with that.”
Bellatrix’s mouth moved like she was trying to answer, but couldn’t find her words. In the end all she could do was toss her head back against the pillow and arch into Hermione’s mouth.
Hermione continued to lick and suck Bellatrix’s nipples and added a second finger. Then began to rub gentle circles around Bellatrix’s clit, careful to avoid the over sensitive bundle of nerves, briefly dipping lower to slip inside for a second before trailing her finger back to her clit again. It was the kind of slow, teasing dance Bellatrix favoured when she needed a bit of help to move things along and it never failed to leave her absolutely soaked.
Bellatrix whimpered and gasped and mewled until the evidence of her mounting arousal coated Hermione’s fingers.
“You’re killing me,” Bellatrix finally managed to grind out, and clawed at Hermione’s shoulders. “Fuck, you’re killing me.”
Bella, theatrical as always.
But Hermione wouldn’t have her any other way.
She took pity on her then and experimentally lowered herself between Bellatrix’s spread thighs. The length of the toy pressed against Bellatrix’s centre and she made a choking sound, pulling her closer, rocking her hips, seeking more friction, anything.
“Inside,” she muttered in a broken whisper, so quietly it was almost as if she was thinking out loud. “Please, inside.”
Bellatrix begging for her always did something to her and arousal pulsed tight and hot right behind her eyes and all the way to the wicked heat in her groin.
Fuck, Bellatrix was so desperate for it.
But despite how easily the dildo was now sliding between her wet folds, Hermione still wanted to make doubly sure that her witch would be comfortable.
“Shh, nearly there,” Hermione murmured against her ear before pulling away and sitting back on her knees between Bellatrix’s spread legs. She reached for the box that still lay at the end of the bed and rummaged through the bubble wrap, easily locating the small bottle Bellatrix had missed.
Bellatrix gave an agonised sort of groan, and impatiently thumped the mattress with her fist, “What the bloody hell’s that?”
“Lubricant,” Hermione smirked at her witch’s exasperated look.
“For fuck sake, Hermione,” Bellatrix keened, knocked stupid with desire. Merlin, she looked thoroughly debauched already. The sight of the dark witch lying there, spread out beneath her, with her heavy eyes and flushed, heaving breasts was so damn sinful that Hermione felt her pussy clench around nothing. “Fuck me, already. Please.”
“Patience, greedy girl. I don’t want to hurt you,” Hermione chastised her, and gave Bellatrix’s jaw a playful slap that made the older woman bite her lip and close her eyes.
“Don’t be daft,” Bellatrix insisted. “I’m so fucking wet for you. I bet if you licked me out right now you’d drown!”
“Mm, I have no doubt,” Hermione hummed. She squeezed a liberal dollop of lubricant into her palm anyway and began stroking her hand up and down the length of the dildo.
Bellatrix seemed transfixed by her fingers moving over the toy for a few moments before she suddenly asked, in a voice so soft that it made Hermione pause in alarm, “Do you miss it?”
Hermione frowned. “Miss what, love?”
“Dick.” Then Bellatrix laughed a little, but it was a wry sound, and she slid her palms up Hermione’s thighs to rest on her hips. And for a moment, a shadow of what looked like worry passed behind Bellatrix’s dark eyes, but it was gone again a moment later and replaced by a contrived look of pure nonchalance. “Is that why you wanted...”
The older woman trailed off and Hermione felt her heart stutter in her chest, and she knew she had to get this night - this morning - back on track quickly before Bellatrix’s insecurities got the better of her. So she leaned down and pressed the softest of kisses against her lips.
“Oh, Bella, no. Of course not,” Hermione said, trying to keep her tone light and reassuring. “Don’t be silly.”
“Because when we first started doing this. I thought, ‘oh this is a nice change’,” Bellatrix went on, unbidden. “And I really don’t miss dick. I mean, I willingly avoided it after Azkaban because....because of my fuckwit husband, but if you...if you wanted...”
“Oh, Bella,” Hermione said again, and shook her head, but she was laughing again. She cupped Bellatrix’s face in her hands, because she needed her witch to see the sincerity in her eyes. “The very last thing I want is a bloody man. I only bought the damn thing because Andy coerced me when we were half drunk.”
Bellatrix visibly relaxed and cocked a perfect dark brow. “Dromeda,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
Hermione’s mouth twisted into a grin as she briefly reminisced about her shopping spree back in June with her sister-in-law.
The original plan had been a light lunch and some dress shopping in Muggle London for Bellatrix’s surprise party, but they’d ended up fabulously giggly after one too many cocktails and had wandered into Selfridge’s to seek out the Anne Summer’s store instead. Hermione had come home sans dress but still fifty quid lighter after the purchase of a bottle of lube and the 8 inch green strap-on that Andromeda had spent twenty minutes convincing her to buy. Andromeda had even got the sales clerk involved, and the twenty-something blonde girl who’d previously sat bored behind the till popping chewing gum had jumped at the chance to list the pros and cons of the various toys on display.
“Look, we were dress hunting for your party. One Margarita led to four more and the next thing I know Andy’s waving this thing—“ Hermione grinned and flicked the tip of the toy so it bobbed up and down a few times. “—in my face telling me I should buy it because it would, what was it she said again? Drive you fucking wild.”
Bellatrix’s other eyebrow crept up, “And you listened to the little trollop, did you?”
Hermione grinned wider because calling each other cows and bitches and several variations of slag was how the Black sisters showed affection towards one another, and Hermione knew then that Bellatrix wasn’t terribly upset.
“She can be very persuasive, our Andy,” Hermione laughed. “But please, please believe me when I say I’m not missing anything. You’re more than enough for me.”
“Just checking. You can’t blame me for asking,” she muttered. Bellatrix’s dark eyes shone up at her, vivid and bright and so full of want, and Hermione inwardly breathed a sigh of relief because she knew the crisis had been averted. Then Bellatrix reached for the dildo again and wrapped her hand around its thick base, and her smile was sultry and full of mischief once more.
Consumed by a sudden wild and wicked urgency, Hermione was on her again. Kissing her, touching her, devouring her. She swallowed Bellatrix’s muffled gasp and swiped her tongue into her mouth, demanding more and more, barely giving her a chance to draw breath.
“Hermione,” Bellatrix sighed. She writhed under her, her nails clawing, scraping up her back in her haste to pull Hermione closer.
Hermione pushed Bellatrix’s legs further apart and took hold of the head of the dildo, slowly dragging it through her lover’s glistening, pink folds. Then she circled the toy around Bellatrix’s clit a few times and was rewarded with a sharp cry of pleasure.
“What do you need, Bella?” Hermione whispered.
“You know what I need,” Bellatrix sobbed, teeth clenched in a snarl.
Of course she did, Hermione knew fine well, but, God, she loved it when Bellatrix Black begged.
“Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”
Bellatrix growled, “Hermione!”
“Tell me,” she repeated, flashing a wicked smile. Bellatrix shook her head from side to side, looking feverish, then she mewled like a kitten when Hermione lowered her hips and circled the toy around her entrance. “Tell me...”
Bellatrix mumbled under her breath and Hermione raked pink lines down Bellatrix’s pale, quivering belly.
“What’s that, love? You’ll need to speak up, I can’t quite hear you.” Hermione grinned down at the dark witch. She’d always enjoyed this, enjoyed how easily she could turn Bellatrix to putty in her hands.
“I need it,” Bellatrix finally choked, and squeezed her eyes shut. “I - I need you. I need you inside me. Fuck me. Fill me up!”
Her girlfriend’s voice ordinarily went lower with arousal, not higher. Hearing her whine like this had an unexpected affect on Hermione’s libido, and gripping the head of the dildo, she slowly guided it inside, trying to be as gentle and slow as possible as she pushed the toy all the way in up to the hilt. Bellatrix tensed and gasped at the breach, but it was quickly followed by a groan.
“You’re such a good girl but you have such a filthy mouth,” Hermione crooned, and dipped her head to mouth wetly at Bellatrix’s collarbone, nipping at the bruise she’d left there yesterday morning. Admittedly, her dirty talk wasn’t the best, but Bellatrix always got off on it nonetheless.
“Mm, I’m a good girl. I’m good. Feels good,” Bellatrix mumbled, delirious and a little breathless, and looking far more in control of her inhibitions now that she’d had a little time to sober up. “It’s - it’s been a while.”
“Do you want me to—”
“Keep going,” Bellatrix said, reddened lips parted, hazy eyes blown with lust. The flush on her cheeks was more from desire than alcohol now and she chased Hermione mouth for another kiss. “I want you to keep going.”
They kissed deeply and Hermione waiting for the tension to leave Bellatrix’s body before moving her hips. It took her a few thrusts to find a rhythm but soon she was fucking her witch slow and deep, and Bellatrix’s gentle gasps and fluttering eyelashes was all she needed to know that she was doing an acceptable job. After all, it was Bellatrix’s birthday, and she’d hate to disappoint her on her birthday.
Bellatrix clutched at Hermione’s shoulders and spread her toned legs wider around her to cradle her hips, feet planted firmly on the mattress for leverage as she rose her pelvis to meet every slow roll of Hermione’s hips. The base of the dildo pressed against Hermione’s clit with every snap of her hips. The friction was driving her mad and Bellatrix’s cries and whimpers of more and fuck and yes urged her on further until she felt more daring and lost all worry of hurting Bellatrix as she slammed into her.
Hermione could feel sweat begin to bead on her forehead and roll down her back, her chest ached with harsh pants and her muscles burned with the exertion - who actually knew fucking Bellatrix with a strap-on would be such a workout! And even though the wet noises Bellatrix’s pussy made every time she rocked into her were the most obscene thing she’d ever heard, Hermione couldn’t help but love the sound. And if that made her a little kinky for thinking it, then she didn’t care.
“Harder,” Bellatrix urged suddenly. “H-harder.”
Rising from her for forearms to her palms, Hermione did what she was told, and started pounding into Bellatrix hard and fast.
“Is - that - b-better - darling?” Hermione grunted between thrusts.
She thought briefly about throwing one of Bellatrix’s legs over her shoulder so she could fuck her with more depth - after all, she’d experienced Bellatrix’s magnificent flexibility many, many times - but after so much alcohol, she didn’t want to risk doing them both an injury with any wild contortions.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Bellatrix panted, practically chanting. Her fingers tangled in Hermione’s hair as she wrapped her thigh around her hip, and Hermione became vaguely aware of Bellatrix’s heel digging into her arse, spurring her on like a pony as she drove the dildo into Bellatrix at a merciless pace, filling her completely over and over and over again.
Hermione hissed a little when Bellatrix nearly tore a handful of her hair out, but the sensation only encouraged her to drive harder and faster into Bellatrix. She pulled back, nearly sliding all the way out before snapping her hips and driving back in again, and she moaned at the delicious friction against her own clit. Then she dropped her head and looked down between them, and her breath hitched. She could see the glistening shine that Bellatrix had left all over the dildo every time she pulled her hips back and briefly wondered why she’d kept the damn thing hidden for so long when Bellatrix was clearly having the time of her fucking life.
At least, Hermione thought she was until Bellatrix started pushing at her shoulders.
“Bella?” she puffed, gazing down at her witch with concern. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“Fuck me...” Bellatrix panted harshly, sitting up. “From behind.”
Sweet Merlin, yes!
Wordlessly, and with a strength that few would attribute to her, Hermione muscled Bellatrix around onto her knees, and entered her swiftly from behind, barely giving the witch time to catch her breath. She dug her fingers hard into Bellatrix’s hips and began a bruising rhythm that made them both groan in unison.
Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the way the strong muscles in Bellatrix’s back shifted beneath her sweat slicked skin as she eagerly pushed back to meet her thrusts.
“Hair,” Bellatrix grunted, gripping onto the headboard with one hand for dear life. “Pull my hair.”
Through her thrusts, Hermione barked a breathless laugh, “Is that your inner masochist making an appearance again?”
“I said, pull my fucking hair!” Bellatrix growled lowly.
“Tsk tsk, now who’s bossy?” Hermione smirked, but she seized a fistful of Bellatrix’s glossy locks anyway. “Look how lovely you are. Such pretty curls.”
Hermione tugged so hard that the dark witch’s cry of mingled pleasure and pain would’ve probably brought someone running had they not been at home alone. The bestial sound was almost frightening in its intensity but it only made Hermione pull her hair harder, because her lover had asked for it, demanded it even, and Hermione was so utterly delighted to do whatever Bellatrix wanted her to do.
Never in her wildest dreams did Hermione ever imagine a woman like Bellatrix Black - so beautiful, so fierce, so larger than life, but also so fragile - could look like this.
The sight was intoxicating and amongst the haze of heat and sex Hermione soon felt the telltale stirrings of another orgasm building, and she knew she was getting closer and closer to the edge. But she couldn’t come again. Not right now. Not when Bellatrix hadn’t had her own release yet. So she slowed her rhythm and her hips began to falter.
“Keep going. Don’t stop. Don’t dare stop,” Bellatrix panted between laboured breaths that caught in her throat when she was abruptly yanked upright by the hair and pulled flush against Hermione’s heaving breasts.
They were both balanced on their knees on the mattress now, their new position made things a little difficult, but Bellatrix didn’t complain at the lack of penetrative depth when the new angle made the toy strike her g-spot with every stroke. But to make up for the loss of friction, Hermione splayed her hand on Bellatrix’s stomach, soothing the scratches she’d left there earlier, before dancing her fingers lower and sliding them between Bellatrix’s shaking thighs.
A desperate gasp left Bellatrix at the added stimulation. “I - I’m close. Fuck, I’m close,” she panted by Hermione’s ear, then turned her face to rest her forehead against Hermione’s cheek.
Energy renewed by Bellatrix’s words, Hermione slammed her hips into her with even more vigour than before and fucked her with glorious abandon.
“That’s it, beautiful.” Hermione’s voice had turned breathy and rough. “Come for me.”
The harsh, new pace combined with the thumb she now circled Bellatrix’s swollen clit with drew mewls from the older woman’s mouth the likes of which Hermione had never heard before. Bellatrix’s hips jerked without rhythm now, simultaneously rocking back against Hermione and grinding against the thumb that slid over her glossy clit.
Her cries turned incoherent and she moaned, desperate to be fucked harder, faster. And when her low moans became whimpering cries and her hands clawed for purchase on sweat slicked skin, Hermione knew Bellatrix was seconds away from tumbling into oblivion.
Groaning, Bellatrix tipped her head back against Hermione’s shoulder, and Hermione suddenly couldn’t resist the strained tendons on offer.
Because she knew that as well as having her hair pulled on occasion, Bellatrix also like the odd bite. On her sides. Her inner thighs. Her breasts. But especially her throat.
So Hermione dropped her head forwards and sunk her teeth into the thick artery that flickered wildly beneath taut, flushed skin.
Bellatrix’s voice was rougher than gravel when she finally toppled into the abyss and cried, “Granger!”
And Salazar’s bollocks, Bellatrix was a fucking vision when she came.
Unsurprisingly, it had been Hermione’s teeth scraping over the faded old Azkaban tattoo that had made Bellatrix’s eyes squeeze shut and her lips part in a silent scream. Hermione tried to keep her eyes open so she could watch her come undone in her arms but she couldn’t stop herself from being swept over the edge with her.
And she didn’t know if it was the sheer force of her second orgasm that compelled her to do it, or the salty, perfumed taste of Bellatrix’s skin, or the feel of Bellatrix’s body rippling with pleasure, but she leaned forwards and clamped her teeth on Bellatrix’s throat again. Bellatrix’s harsh hiss of pain met her ears and she knew she’d hurt her, but she only jerked away when the coppery taste of blood coated her tongue.
They continued rocking together until, finally spent, their trembling bodies went lax and Hermione dropped her forehead against Bellatrix’s shoulder until they caught their breaths. Slowly, Hermione eased backwards so the dildo slipped easily from Bellatrix’s dripping pussy. The dark witch made a small noise of protest at the withdrawal as they both collapsed onto their backs on the mattress. Hermione disposed of the strap-on quickly and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor to be dealt with later, then used what little energy she had left to drag the duvet up over their rapidly cooling skin.
“Oh, Bella,” Hermione softly said, eyes widening when her gaze fell on the bite mark she’d left on Bellatrix’s neck. Reaching up, she gently swiped at the little droplets of blood welling in the indentations made by her teeth. “I didn’t mean to beat you up so bad.”
“There’s a wild thing inside all of us, little lioness,” Bellatrix mumbled, and turned her head to press the softest of butterfly kisses against Hermione’s lips. “Don’t apologise for having teeth and claws.”
Then the dark witch’s breathing hitched and quickly evened out. Hermione wrapped herself around her and threw her arm over her lover’s flat belly, exhaling a soft, contented sigh as she nuzzled Bellatrix’s throat, pressing a soft kiss to the purple mark that had already started to bloom across her alabaster skin.
Hermione was in desperate need of a shower, a glass of water, and a hangover tonic - not necessarily in that order - but she was also sticky and sore and warm against Bellatrix’s side, so warm she just wanted to close her eyes. So she did, but just before sleep claimed her, Bellatrix’s tired, husky voice murmured in her ear.
“Best fucking birthday ever.”