FicWad

She was so comfortable at that moment.
After expelling all of that magical energy through the charm, the last thing she had remembered was surrendering to the blackness after feeling Harry’s arms around her and his handsome face fading into the black. Now, her comfort was of a different sort, although the strong arms that she felt before were no longer wrapped around her protectively, she could feel the soft caress of long fingered calloused hands as they softly stroked her hair. She could smell the strong heady smell that was Harry Potter and knew that it was he that was comforting her. Still she did not open her eyes. Fleur wanted to savor the sensation of his hands and the feeling of his presence next to her in bed.
She nearly shivered when his hands began to caress the smoothness of her bare arm. She felt the hardness of calloused hands, wrought from long hours in the dueling ring or the gym, the strong long fingers as they molded themselves to each curve. His hands were so big, so very powerful. She could not help herself but to compare how he was so much better than her other lovers. His hands were like him, rough, yet gentle, delicate, yet powerful. they told her that he was not someone to allow others the burden of completing something, like the smooth spoilt hands of other men told her. He was a man of action, a man of means and purpose, a man whose principles and moral fiber was as attractive to her as his striking good looks. He was beautiful, and he knew it, yet he did not flaunt it, only held it in quiet reserve.
She thought back to the time on that beach, the incident they never spoke of, when he took his pleasure from her flesh. It had been so intoxicating to feel his hand covering her breasts, his teeth on her neck, the hardness that was his manhood pressed tightly into the flesh of her back and sliding between her dexterous fingers. The sensation of his essence as he released himself upon her hot flesh had nearly sent her over the edge. She wished they had gone further after he laid her down. The look he gave her was so possessive, so needy, so tender, that she wanted him to just take her and let herself be swallowed by his presence, but it was not to be that day. Afterwards, they had spent time together very infrequently, but thank to a pristine talk they were able to have late one night, they were able to confess that they felt attracted to each other, that she felt safe in his arms.
Fleur wanted so badly to be back at that beach, the sun upon her flesh, and Harry pressed against her, throbbing as he filled her, and in the subsequent days after the experience, she had pleasured herself constantly at the thought of making love with him. As she luxuriated in the feel of his hands upon her, she started slightly when she felt a whisp of fine hair float over her face. Opening her eyes slightly, she turned over to see that it was not Harry that as pressed up against her, but her sister’s back as she slept inside the shelter of Harry’s arms. Gabrielle lay on her right side, her face buried into Harry’s chest, who was smiling serenely down at the sleeping little girl. He had one hand under his head, propping it up on the pillow, as he stroked Fleur’s hair with the other. He was still dressed in his Party clothes, but Gabrielle had opted to remove her dress, but thankfully leaving her shift on. The scene made her both happy as well as a little jealous, happy because of the fondness she saw in Harry’s eyes as he looked down at her beloved sister, but jealousy that he was not showing her the same attention.
“Harry…” she whispered quietly as to not wake her sister. Harry looked up at her, and smiled, his hand never stopped at caressing her long golden blond hair. But this caress was different than the idle fawning she had felt before, it was more…intimate. His gentle green eyes, so very different from those dead empty ones he had worn before, stared fondly at her as his fingers continued to play with the long fine strands of her hair. As she looked into his eyes, she savored his touch, the gentle caress of his fingers, the way he ran the back of his fingers over the smooth flesh of her face, the trails of fire she felt as he lightly played over the exposed flesh around her neck, her arms, and the swells above her breasts. Laying back, she closed her eyes and moaned as his fingers explored further, playing over her stomach, tracing the faint crease her panties made under the dress, and letting himself explore the sensitive flesh at the hollow of her hip.
He grinned when her stomach flinched slightly at the ministrations of his fingers, “Ticklish?” he asked her, as he lightly splayed his fingers over her taught flat belly. It was such an intimate gesture, the way he slowly let his fingers brush around the gentle curves, the way his palm came to rest firmly on her, the way he seemed to connect on more levels than simply physical, that she smiled as he did it. It was as if she could feel what he wanted to do to her, feel how he felt about her, and it was intoxicating to know his desire.
She let him play there atop her belly, let him explore and familiarize himself with the feel of her flesh covered by the thin silken layer of cloth. His eyes gleamed with growing lust as he took his time to whet his appatite for her flesh. She was so soft, her curves beautiful and gentle, yet her body spoke of her herriatage, the strife, the hard won freedom to explore their own sexual destinies without the influence of filthy minded men. The notion that of all the people she allowed to touch her so intimately, to let explore sexual desire, of all the men she could have chosen, this creature had chosen him. He felt so complete, so accepted, so full of her, that he felt lighter than air.
“You’re so beautiful Fleur,” he said, as he played upon her belly, moved his fingers and palms over the swell and caressed the bottoms of her breasts with his thumb.
“’Arry…” she murmered, her accent heavy as she lost control of her mental faculties. He grinned at her, and moved his hand lower, across her hip, tracing the panty line on her hip, and cupping the generous curve of her narrow hips. She turned in slightly, and he took the opportunity to cup her derier. It was so taught and smooth, so round, yet firm, immediately it made him hard just to feel a part of her so intimate and perfect. He imagined what it would feel like to cup her against him as they made love, the feel of both round perfect mounds as she clung to him in desperation and he gripped her firmly. He wanted to feel it, he needed to feel it.
She moaned loudly as he kneeded her flesh and ran his fingers over the smooth curves. He moved his hand downward past the swells of her derriere and down to her long smooth legs. Her flesh was flawless, smooth, no stubble or scars from past inperfections or blemishes, she was perfect and his fingers ached as he finally touched the bare skin right above her knee. She moaned slightly as she cupped the back of her knee and he filed that away for future reference. Down to the shapely calves and the dainty feet, she was perfect in every way.
Then he switched directions and began to slowly move his way up her long legs. Past her instep, iliciting another hiss of pleasure, circling her dainty ankles, up the curve of her calves, past the erogenous zone he discovered in the soft flesh behind her knees, and up to the thin shapely thighs. Her panting increased as her lust glazed crystal blue eyes caught him, begging him to give her release, begging him to take her, to finally make her his.
He smiled his best crooked lazy smile and moved his hand up her skirt, pulling the silky material up and exposing her pale smooth flesh to the cool night air. His breath caught as he saw the beauty of her naked flesh. Even though he saw her in all her glory down at the beach, it seemed so much more in this setting, here in a bedroom, on a large bed, surrounded by perfumed silk sheets, while she wore a dress instead of a bathing suit. It seemed so much more erotic than before, so much more meaningful, than their naughty first tryst on the beach.
Licking his lips, he caressed higher, and found his hands cupping the pale flesh of Fleur’s rear. The curves were so much more without the barrier of clothes to get in the way. It was as if his fingers were on fire as he dipped back and felt every single crevice that Fleur could offer him. He felt the slow gentle rise and the smooth seamless curve, accentuated perfectly at the bottom. He smiled and gave Fleur a wicked grin as he felt damp flesh when his fingers probed lower.
“You’re excited…” he commented. Her glazed expression cleared slightly as a blush suffused her cheeks. He inched closer to her face, careful not to disurb Gabrielle who was laying between them. When he could brush her forehead with his lips, he quietly stated, “I know you’re excited my Fleur,” he said, lightly brushing his lips against her forehead. She turned her gaze up wards and smiled through her blush. Teasing her again, he caressed her forehead with the back of his fingers, “Do you know how I know my Fleur?”
She smiled at how he called her ‘his’ Fleur, and brought her fingers up to run them through his long black locks, “Non. ‘Ow?”
Grinning wickedly, he halted in the middle of stroking her cheek with his fingers, and turned them over, spreading them out in front of her eyes so she could see. They were wet. Fleur blushed furiously, a flash of embarrassment and anger filling her eyes for an instant, and she refused to meet his eyes, as he chuckled lightly and went back to stroking her cheek. He let his lips play atop her forehead, letting them run back and forth, feeling the tingling sensation as he passed over her flesh. He was waiting for it, that spark of embarrassment and anger, he wanted it to grow, to build up, to give her courage and let that courage turn into the spice that he loved during love making.
Blushing, she argued with herself. She wanted so badly to show him how ‘excited’ he was, to see his cheeks flush with embarrassment, but she didn’t want to be forceful with him, all of her other lovers hated when she was like that. They wanted her to be submissive, they wanted to dominate her, to be higher than her, they did not want a woman that was strong and forceful, they wanted a demure little sex slave that would cater to their every wish. Slipping back into her role, she calmly schooled her embarrassment, and smiled demurely up at him, tilting her head back and kissing him lightly on the chin.
A flash of disappointment appeared in his eyes and was gone, masked expertly. Fleur quickly broke eye contact to give her some time to think. She did not want to ruin this moment. What had she done to disappoint him, she asked herself. Did he catch the irritation? Did she do something wrong? She looked up once more and saw him admiring her form. She had to admit, she was in a very sexy position at the moment. Her hair streaming in back of her as she lay on her side. Her arms stretched up, fingers running through his long midnight black hair. Her silky dress pushed up over her hips, the thin strips of laced fabric her panties were made of exposed as it ran over her pale white derier, and her long legs crossed over each other seductively, displaying just how long they were. It was a sight to make any man break down in thanks to God that he was born with eyes.
Yet he was disappointed for some reason. It confused Fleur to no end, was he not satisfied with her? Did he find some flaw in her body? Something he did not like? Was it the bond he had with Gabrielle working against her allure, fighting the arousal and turning it into revulsion? That could be it, Harry would not be as cruel to rebuff her, even if he found her repulsive, but that was not what she saw in his eyes at the moment. He was worshiping her body, his delicate caress was that of a man smitten. No, he was not repulsed by her, then it must have been something she did.
She stroked his cheek and twined her fingers in his hair, gripping lightly so that she could pull his lips to hers. Fleur stretched up and captured his lips and all thoughts that he did not want her fled the moment she tasted him. They were down at the beach again, his naked body pressed to hers, her flesh hot and oily, aroused and swollen thanks to his searching fingers. She felt his tongue searching, pleading for entrance, and she was not about to deny him. His met hers and they fought for dominance. She tasted so sweet to him, spring water and a fruity taste he could not place, the same taste she had all those days ago at the beach. His taste, the rough mix of strong flavors and savory sweet delight, was intoxicating to her as she moaned her pained arousal into his.
When they broke apart, she was excited to see his eyes beginning to glaze over with lust. She smiled and gave his lips another peck, then the thought hit her again. Why was he disappointed in her? Fleur had to know.
“’Arry,” she said breathlessly. His heavy breathing and hers matching each other as he tried vainly to catch her lips in a much desired kiss. But she would not let him until she had her answer, “Are you disappointed in me, ‘Arry? Did I do something you do not like?”
That wiped away the lust filling his eyes, as he pulled away slightly, his hand moving from her cheek and resting lightly on her hip. He idly stroked her naked hip and her round derier, playing with the thin straps of her panties as he thought.
“Fleur,” he said with such tenderness, such kindness that she thought she would cry. Then he surprised her, “I am not like them,” he said softly, and locked his gaze with hers. There was such conviction in his eyes, such intensity. Smoldering embers of green fire, she thought to herself, and despite her reservations about getting her answer, she stretched up to taste him once more.
“No my Fleur,” he said stopping her by placing his forehead on hers and tilting his head forward, “let me explain.” Instead of leaning into her like she wanted, he laid back, breaking contact with her once again, and used the hand he was propping his head up, to idly stroke Gabrielle’s back. The little girl smiled softly and snuggled deeper into his side, unaware of the sexual fury that was passing through the room. Fleur thought she heard her calling Harry’s name, but dismissed it when she heard the even deep breathing of sleep. She settled herself down, taking gulps of sweet cool air, and fixed her dress. Raising her hands to her hair, she discovered the ornate pale blue ribbon she had used to twine within her hair was still present. Deftly, despite the tangles, she removed it from her hair and let it fall to the floor on the side of the bed. Straitening her dress, and pulling the hem down as to cover the exposed flesh, she rest her head back as he had done and patiently waited for him to explain.
After about five minutes of silence, an eternity to Fleur, Harry spoke, “I want you to know, that I’m not like them, Fleur. I am NOT. LIKE. THEM.” He said with conviction. Fleur turned her head, to look at harry. He was staring up at the ceiling, but his eyes were narrowed in anger, his jaw tight, and his free hand, the one not caressing Gabrielle, was clenched in anger. Concerned about how Harry thought of her, she didn’t realize that he was talking about something else.
“What do you mean, you’re not like them Harry? Not like who?” she asked, bewildered.
Harry sighed deeply and closed his eyes. He shook his head slightly, and turned to his side, his right hand replacing his left in its idle pursuit to sooth the small girl. He studied the half Veela for a few minutes. She was so beautiful, so perfect for him, he thought to himself. Fleur was intelligent, witty, had a wicked sense of humor, cultured, brave, and, of course, extremely beautiful. He never noticed it before, but she had a slightly different look from the Veela he usually saw. Most were like Josephine and Gabrielle, tall, willowy, pure platinum blonde hair, much more angular in feature, and not very well endowed. Fleur on the other hand, seemed more human, than most other Veela he met. Through his travels, he actually did meet a lot of Veela, he had several working for him in his customer relations departments and heading several stores, but they all fit the mold of the traditional Veela. It was refreshing to find someone like Fleur who was different, more human if you will, and was actually proud of it. Her features were slightly less angular, but tempered by both human and Veela blood to create a face that was both aristocratic as well as compassionate. Her hair was like spun gold, not the silvery almost white of the pure Veela throwback. Her curves were subtle, but slightly more defined in the tall willowy body so much like her mothers. Her breasts were much larger than the flat chested Veela, and infinitely more sensitive, with darker areolas and harder, well formed nipples. He had dreamed of tasting her breasts and feeling it harden in his mouth, listening to her pant and moan his name, begging him to take her. It had been a recurring fantasy these nights. And finally, Veela did not have body hair, none at all. From the few Veela he slept with, he could tell that they never had to shave, never had to trim, never felt the pleasure of grinding against wet sopping mounds of coarse pubic hair. But from what Fleur was wearing at the beach and from what he saw earlier as he was teasing her and exposing the flesh hidden by her dress, he could tell that under those small little knickers, was a small mound of sparse blonde hairs, just ready for Harry to run his fingers through. It was a fetish for him, ever since Shari, he loved women with sparse pubic hair, it just seemed to enhance the pleasure during sex to feel it rubbing against him, to feel her juices and his essence tangled in it.
Sighing once again, he addressed the young Veela, “Tell me Fleur, what do you think I am looking for when I look for partner?”
Fleur was surprised by the question. Was this about his attraction to her? No, it couldn’t be, but then, why was he asking about who he was attracted to? She thought about it for a few seconds, then answered, “Well, I suppose someone beautiful and smart? Maybe someone who’s got a good sense of humor and cultured?”
Harry nodded, “Yes, those are nice characteristics. Anyone would love to be with a beautiful woman, that was a given, intelligence is important as well. Someone who can appreciate a good joke or an artfully executed prank is pretty much given for someone like me, and a cultured woman would be ideal for my type of lifestyle, but beauty is superficial and can be changed, intelligence is important, but not necessary if there’s a kind heart; a good sense of humor is nice, but that can go both ways; and a culture can be taught. Those are superficial for the most part Fleur, I’m talking about character. What do I look for in a woman besides those things?”
She looked lost at his question, so Harry asked, “Tell me who you know were and are the closest women in my life.”
“Hermione was your best friend before she betrayed you, you got along well with me the Tri-wizard year, you seem to get along well with my mother, and then there’s Mika. You seem to be very close to her…” she finished, trailing off and pondering what they had in common.
Harry nodded, “Exactly. Hermione, You, your mother, Mika, all these women, and yes my Fleur, I am including you in this category,” she blushed, when he refered to her as one of the closest women in his life, “Now what is common to all these women that allow them to work with me so very well? Give up?” he asked with a small smile. He stretched his hand out and rested it upon the soft flesh of her neck and stroked the flesh with his thumb, “All of these women are able to work so well with me, to complement me, because they are very, very strong willed women.”
Her eyes shot open in surprise and realization. It made sense. Harry telling her that he was ‘not like them,’ his look of disappointment when she started to act demure and subservient, he needed a woman who was strong, who spoke her mind. Harry needed someone as strong as he was, or he wouldn’t feel complete, he would feel like he was dominating the woman and that was something that Harry Potter would never do.
“When I was inside of the Weasel’s head, I saw some of the things he made you do for him,” he said flatly, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint, “I never thought that anyone could get off on someone being that submissive, and from the memories, I know you did not enjoy doing that either.” The horrible things the bastard made her do, from sucking him off in public, whispering degrading things about herself to him, forcing her to dance for his friends, even what he did to him was not enough payback for the months of slow mental torture he heaped upon the strong minded Veela. He destroyed part of her spirit when he did that, the strong woman thinking that she had to degrade herself for another man, “When a man is strong enough, the woman he loves will be able to become as strong as she was meant to be. If he is not strong enough, she will grow to despise him. No man has been strong enough to be with you Fleur, no man has yet been able to equal your strength. That is why they wished to crush it, to degrade you in front of them, a selfish bid for power that would have eventually destroyed them. You are a leopard, a proud woman, a fierce woman, someone who should never be caged in bonds of subservience, no matter what the situation. You should never be forced into doing what you do not wish, no matter what the consequences. Any man who doesn’t realize that, does not deserve to have you,” he finished looking directly into his eyes.
Fleur was shocked, to say the least. He understood her completely. What she wanted in a man, what she needed to become strong, what she hated in her past relationships, and he understood everything about her needs, everything. She had thought about just that throughout her relationships with men in the past. She had to degrade herself for them, she did not want to, but she had to in order to maintain the love and companionship that all Veela crave. But was he strong enough to handle her, to allow her to be herself? She already knew the answer to that question.
With conviction she never knew she had, Fleur shifted off the bed and walked around the large frame to the far side, where Harry had laid down with Gabrielle. The bed was large enough for five people to sleep comfortably without anyone touching anyone during the night, and Fleur was going to use that feature to her heart’s content.
Keeping her eyes locked on his, her heart began to race as she saw a flash of anticipation in those vivid green eyes. He followed her with his eyes, memorized every movement, ever single flash of emotion that crossed the twin blue orbs that seemed to smolder with desire that no longer need be repressed. His tongue flicked out to moisten his suddenly dry lips, and her knees grew weak with need, that tongue, that wonderful tongue, she hoped it would moisten her lips very soon.
Standing beside the bed, she slowly placed her knee atop the covers to his left as he reclined in bed. She invited him to watch her long legs as she crawled over him, but his eyes never left hers, and she felt a renewed sense of anxiousness, a renewed need that made her heart thump even harder in her chest. She approached, moving on all fours as the cat he named her, and slowly slinked her way up his body, never touching him, but never straying too far away. As she watched him, she yerned for him to make the first move, to crack that hard impassive shell first and for him to acknowledge that he needed her more than she needed him. She looked for anything that would tell her that, a twitch of the eye, a tightening of the muscles, a sudden lung towards her, anything to let her know he wanted her. Then she saw it. It was subtle, but it was there, a slight twitch of his hand, and the tightening of his arm, holding him back. He wanted her, but was fighting himself, allowing her to set the pace, allowing her to be the dominant woman, to let her explore her fantasies for the first time.
Fleur grinned at the handsome young man laying prostrate before her. He was hers.
Lightly, she lay down beside him, as he had before, using her elbow to prop her body up, she crossed her thighs over, letting the material rise slightly and the gentle curves of her legs and rear fall open, allowing him to feast with his eyes. Still, he made no move, but she smiled as his eyes wandered and a faint sheen of perspiration appeared upon his forehead as he fought with himself to remain calm. Gently, she started to run her fingers lightly over his body, running them through his long dark hair, letting them trace the strong lines of his face, feeling the softness of his lips and the wetness of his tongue as he took her fingers into his mouth.
She luxuriated in the feeling of his rough tongue licking her fingers, the gentle suction she felt and the hotness of him. Closing her eyes, she moaned in pleasure at the sensation, then slowly withdrew them, running the now wet digits down his chin, feeling the slight stubble that was forming, and down his neck. She felt the strength and speed of his pulse and smiled to herself, satisfied that she could do that to him with just a few gentle caresses. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, she deftly began to remove buttons from his shirt, stopping every few times to run her hands over his smooth rippled chest, playfully flicking his nipples, and enjoying the quiet moans of pleasures and the shivering jerks that accompanied them.
She spent time at his stomach, as he did hers. Splaying her fingers out lightly over the flesh and resting her palm on his hard abdomen, Fleur began to slowly move her fingers, letting them explore the ridges and the planes, feeling his hardness and enjoying the slight involuntary flinches that she elicited as she tickled him slightly.
Turning up and smiling a heavy lidded seductive smile at him, she inched closer until she was flush against him, and turned toward his ear, “Ticklish?” she copied, and flushed in pleasure as he smiled and moaned as her fingers elicited yet another involuntary jerk of his stomach muscles. She reveled in the feel of him, the dichotomy of his smoothness and the roughness of his hairs as she nuzzled her cheek and forehead upon his face, the feeling of hardness that was totally Harry, yet the soft, almost, innocent moans of pleasure she was able to elicit from the hard strong man. The dichotomy drove her insane with lust as she was beginning to lose her focus, losing herself in the feel of his body quivering innocently under her fingers.
Her eyes were lidded with lust as she softly placed her head on his chest. Her breathing was becoming more and more shallow as she felt more of him. She had to find a way to stay in control, she thought to herself, and realized she could do this through her gift. Touching the core of her power, Fleur pushed the magic of the charm thorough her body, letting the subtle magics enflame her skin, helping her anchor herself back to the task at hand, teasing Harry. Rejuvenated, she kissed him lightly on the chin, and rest her head upon his chest. The thumping sound of his rapidly beating heart gave her courage as her fingers ached to explore more of the beautiful man.
“Fleur…” he moaned loudly as her fingers brushed his arousal lightly. She grinning into his chest and focused on undoing the belt. With deft fingers she quickly had the buckle off and the top button undone. Turning up to his face, she was happy to see his eyes glazed with lust, as he looked down at her from his position at the head of the bed. She could tell he wanted badly to touch her, so she reached over with her free hand and entwined her fingers with his, letting him squeeze her hand in response to her ministrations on his body. As she bent back to her task, she felt his other hand reach up and slowly start stroking her back, letting his fingers trail lightly over the thin material, tracing his way up from the slight swell of her derier, up her spine, and into her hair, tangling his fingers in her golden locks.
He hissed in pleasure, as her fingers applied pressure to his buldge. She was trying to find the zipper tag and applied just a little more pressure than she had wanted, though his response was rather enjoyable. Finally, after a few seconds of fishing around, very enjoyable if Harry’s moans and groans were of any indication, she found the tag, and slowly pulled it down. Centimeter by centimeter, it lowered, and she could see his buldge beginning to spill from his pants. She liked her lips, she wanted so badly to touch him, but she refrained, knowing that was exactly what he wanted. She was going to get him back for that ‘excited’ crack from before. Fleur would show him just how ‘excited’ he was by the time they were through.
Grinning to herself, she slowly pushed her hands down the side of his pants, refraining from touching him any more than she had to, and began to play with his thighs, teasing him as he teased her back at the beach. A groan of disappointment reached her ears as she smiled back up to him.
“What’s wrong Harry?” she asked him, wearing the most innocent face she could muster and knowing that Harry knew exactly what she was doing to him.
His grip became harder and more insistant, as she grinned up at him, “You know what’s wrong, you naughty little girl,” he said in a quivering voice. She smiled when he called her a ‘naughty little girl’. Suddenly, she felt cool air caress her naked skin. Looking back, she found that his hand had been busy and had pulled up her dress to expose her luscious curves. Smirking down evily at her, he said, “But you know, naughty little girls always attract naughty little boys…” he said, and quickly let his fingers trail down to the curve of her derier and squeezed her tightly, eliciting an involuntary moan of pleasure from deep within her. As she opened her eyes she caught him grinning at her, “…very naughty little boys…” he said and blew her a kiss.
Not to be outdone, she quickly moved up and kissed him lightly on the chin, then pulled away from his exploring fingers and giggled when he let out a dissapointed groan. Grinning, Fleur moved herself lower on his body, resting herself at his feet, and lightly tugging on his slacks. Getting the hint, Harry arched his back slightly, to allow Fleur to pull them off his legs. They came off easily, and the golden haired Veela dove between them, running her fingers up the inside of his thighs.
He groaned loudly as he looked down at the beautiful girl, her smile twisted into a mischevious grin as she made herself comfortable between his legs. She was stretched out lanquidly on her belly, her left arm over his thigh, propping her head up as she looked into his eyes, and her free hand playing gently on the inside of the other. When she caught his gaze, it thrilled her to know that she was causing the smoldering look, she licked her lips and decided to tease him a little bit.
“Nice little thong Harry,” she commented, as she traced the upper elastic band of the tiny black thong underwear he had been wearing, “But I think you need to buy them a little bit bigger…you don’t seem to be fitting very well in them right now,” she commented as she lowered her face only a few inches away from his very uncomfortable ‘physiological response’.
He grinned down at her, “Well,” he said with a slight blush, “they fit when I put them on this morning. But I think it’s your fault that they don’t fit anymore. They are kind of uncomfortable at the moment.”
She smiled mischeviously as she circled her fingers around his flesh, “A bit uncomfortable is it? Maybe we should do something about that. What do you think Harry?”
Harry swallowed hard and smiled back, “What do you have in mind, Fleur?”
Without a response, she quickly slid her thumbs into the back of the thong, and yanked them off cleanly from his legs. He let out a hiss, as he was immediately exposed to the cold air. Looking up, he saw her grinning hungrily at him, his tiny black thong held in her fingers as she sat on her feet and took in the sights.
He was so perfect, she thought to herself, she wanted it to be inside of her so badly, yet she wanted to tease him more, to explore him, to see what made him groan in pleasure.
She was so caught up in looking at him, that she didn’t notice the grin he was shooting at her until he asked, “Enjoying the view my Fleur? You know, it’s much nicer if you take a hands on approach to the whole sightseeing thing…much better use of your time…” he said with a smug look.
She giggled at his comment and slapped his foot playfully as she moved up and positioned herself at his side, letting him shrug off the unbuttoned shirt before she let herself rest her head on his chest and let her fingers play at his stomach. She sighed as his arm hugged her to him, his naked body beautiful and hard against hers. She idly played on his stomach, moving closer and closer, teasing him with her fingers, then pulling back just before she touched him. By the time she was through, he was harder than he had ever been in his life.
“That must be a little painful,” she commented, her fingers playing on his chest.
For some reason, he grinned at her, “I don’t know, you tell me,” he said, then she squeeked as he quickly pulled up the back of her dress and cupped her to him and flipped her over, turning into her and pressing his hardness into her thigh. She giggled as he rained kisses onto her neck and his fingers began to tickle her. Soon, she was under him, and he was the dominant one.
Pulling himself up, he positioned himself face to face with the stunning blonde Veela, and looked into her eyes as he smiled at her. She smiled back, her lust filled eyes brightening with mirth and enjoyment. Then he was tasting her. His lips on hers, her tongue swirling around his, the fruity sweet taste of her mouth mixing with the savory taste of his as they crushed each other to their own bodies. Fleur reveled in the taste of him, the feeling of his strong arms crushing her to him, the sensation of his hardness pressed hard against the top of his thigh as he stradled her leg. Then a delicious idea came to her. Slowly, she brought her leg up between his, their lips still locked together as they tasted each other, and smoothly began to rub him, up and down his length. He seemed to choke in mid kiss, and pulled back, a grin on his face, as he felt her working on his length. Smiling, he let his hand move down to where her leg was stimulating him, and let his fingers move down the inside of her thigh, teasing her lightly. Suddenly, he pushed her leg down and dove between her legs, bringing them to either side of him and caught her lips as he crushed her to him, his hands cupping her derier and hiking her up to sit on his lap. She stradled him and felt his hardness pressing against her sopping panties as she lost herself in the intensity that was the kiss. She didn’t realize it, but she was actually undulating her hips, rubbing herself against him as hard as she could, crushing him to her as he deepend the kiss. She marveled at the fact that he was unhurt as she was nearly three tiems as strong as the normal human male, but he took it like it was nothing, hefted her complete weight like she was lighter than a feather, all the while being as gentle of a lover as she had ever heard of.
As they kissed, her dress began to bunch up around her as her thighs encircled his narrow waist. Her irritation at the lack of skin contact between her was apparent as her kiss became even more insistant, more needy. Finally, unable to take it anymore, she pushed him back and yanked off the offending garment, exposing her breasts to the man she lusted after. He immediately dove back against her, his hands cupping her to him, as he buried himself between her breasts. Immediately, her nipples began to stiffen even more, becoming almost painful as he neglected them in favor of tasting her lips once again.
In between breaths, she moaned, “Kiss me Harry, Kiss me,” over and over again. After a time, he began to realize that she didn’t’ mean kiss her mouth, and dipped her back so he could place himself between her mounds. She hissed in pleasure as she felt his tongue taste the flesh between her breasts, the sensitive skin burning with the contact of his rough tongue. She began to pant as he circled his tongue around her breasts, letting it slip delicately around her areola, teasing her more and more as he changed sides. Finally, he took her dark nipples into his mouth and she nearly screamed in pleasure. Moaning his name over and over, he could tell that she was getting more and more aroused by the second, from the dampness that he was feeling and the way her thighs seemed to constrict more and more, trying to alleviate some of the need she felt between legs. Sensitive to her plight, Harry slowly lowered her to the bed, and moved himself lower on her body, until her beautiful pale legs rested upon his shoulders.
He watched as her fingers immediately traveled between her legs in hopes of alleviating some of need. His eyes traveled up and caught hers as she looked pleadingly at him. He smiled and lowered himself. Her panties were nothing if not sexy. They were small, very small. Lace made up the small straps that ran low on her hips. It formed a diamond pattern at the top of her rear, and traved between the two beautiful mounds, to give a semblance of cover for the beaufiul folds of her flower. The triangle that should have covered her was made of a thin material that easily outlined her lips as well as the tiny patch of sparse hair he discovered above her flower. He was thrilled at the prospect of playing with it once they were spent.
Delicately, he hooked his fingers into the lace at her hips, and slowly pulled her panties from her sopping mound. The smell of her arousal, that musky smell that he would know anywhere, immediately hit him, and he nearly lost himself in her. He nearly jumped her right then and there, but knew that she would not appreciate it. This was their first time together, and it should be something they would remember.
Sitting between her legs, he admired her in her entirety. She was beautiful, the pale delicate skin, so flawless, so perfect, the beautiful breasts, their dark nipples hard and aroused, her long beautiful hair spread out behind her, shining golden in the soft light of the room, her eyes, twin azure pools of glowing emotion, beautiful and enchanting, her thighs, milky white, and smoother than silk. She was perfect for him in every way. He marveled at the sight of her before him, naked as the day she was born, her chest heaving in anticipation, her eyes filled with lust, he wanted her so badly at that moment. Laying down on his stomach, he gripped her thighs, pressing them back so he could have access to her most precious of flowers.
It was beautiful, the lips red and swollen with need, the labia small and unpronounced, yet dark and inviting, the small hooded clitoris swollen like the lips around it, it was a sight to behold as he dipped his lips to her and tasted her. Normally, Harry did not enjoy giving oral sex. Although the response was arousing and extremely sexy, he did not, under any circumstances, enjoy the taste of his partners, despite the frequency of his oral ministrations. So when he went down on Fleur, he had been expecting the same thing, but as soon as he tasted her, he changed his mind. She was different, very different from the other women he had tasted. Where they were much too strong or their flavor was much too pungent, Fleur’s was…tangy…he thought, with a very slight hint of a sweet taste to her. It reminded him strongly of plain yogurt, and he found himself renewing his vigor, trying out many of the things he had been afraid of doing before thanks to his reservations about oral sex.
“Oh sweet…Harry…more…” she moaned as she brought her legs up to rest on his shoulders and twined her fingers in his hair as she pressed him deeper between her legs. He twirled her tongue within her folds, moving over and stimulating one labia then moving over to the other. He licked the swollen flesh around her petals and raked his tongue over her swollen clitoris, moaning in pleasure when she threw her head back and groaned.
Never before had she felt this good. None of her past lovers would go anywhere near to giving her the oral pleasures she wanted them to. They would always refuse, but would beg her in ernest to go down on them. It was something she hated, yet another way for them to degrade her. They would never tell her when they were through, never apoligising when she choked and coughed, she hated it, and the taste was horrible. The salty, bitter, taste of the semen, the nasty texture that was a cross between honey and thick curds of old cream or yogurt, she hated it, yet she would have done it for Harry in an instant. He was so considerate. Her few friends at Beaubattons had told her about their experiences, some of the lesbians had informed her of what women tasted of as well, and their reports were not very flattering. Fishy? She doubted she tasted ‘Fishy’, but she had never tasted another woman, so how would she know? Yet Harry was pleasuring her anyway, enthusiastically tasting her as she jerked and thrashed around in pleasure. Never before had anyone been as attentive as he had, every single button that he could press, he was pressing, every single combination of pleasures that he could administer to her flower, he was, and expertly. She was building so fast, she couldn’t believe it.
As she let herself go, letting herself build up to her climax, she felt the control of the charm slip free of her, letting it shine through her body, the magic spilling into the air. Reflexively, she groaned, knowing that in the past this was where here pleasures ended, or the slow build up quicked and stopped before she could take herself all the way to completion, yet to her great surprise it didn’t stop, it increased! Opening her eyes she looked down between her thighs and her breath caught as twin orbs of green fire were staring back at her.
“’Arry…” she said, too lost in her pleasure to bother with pronunciation, then reached out her hand to stroke his hair. When her hand was only a few inches away, Harry used his tongue once again to hit a sensitive point, and she jerked back, throwing her head back and screaming, “”ARRY!” in pleasure. From there, her pleasure continued to increase exponentially, every single movement that her Harry made just added to the growing sensation of fullness that was building up between her legs.
She found herself grinding her hips up and down in response to Harry’s ministrations, increasing her pleasure, letting her clitoris rub against him and coating his cheeks and chin in a thin layer of her juices. She was so aroused, so very aroused. She could feel the ambient magic she was pumping into the air yet the charm had no affect on Harry as he continued to build her.
Fleur was so close, her conscious self was gone, and in the back of her mind, she thought she could hear someone moaning and whimpering in time with Harry’s tongue. The sound was so foreign to her, the high pitched whimpers and panting that were punctuated with spikes of pleasure. It was building so fast, it was so good, she was floating in air. Finally, she climaxed, her head thrown back and her body jerking as it exploded in waves of pleasure. Her voice was a keening wail as she felt the pleasure wrack her body, yet it didn’t subside like it usually did when she pleasured herself, it continued. Over and over again, she felt the orgasmic waves assault her body. Finally, completely spent, her body weak and limp, she collapsed on the bed, her chest heaving as she lay naked and spread out on the bed. She just did not want to move right at that moment, yet she smiled as she felt her lover move up slowly across her body.
She felt the trails of her juices as he nuzzled her heaving belly, laid kisses between her breasts, left a few nips on the smooth skin of her neck, and finally came to rest beside her. She felt him roll off to her side, and slowly start to stroke her hair, comforting her and patiently waiting for her to regain her strength. His fingers felt so good on her sweat soaked brow, the perspiration making her bangs stick to the skin on her forehead, and the trails of perspiration that ran down her face. She smiled as Harry trailed his fingers down, and came to rest between her thighs. His palm was resting on her lower stomach, as he idly stroked the wet pubic hair above her flower.
Fleur giggled at the sensation and opener her eyes to see a grin on Harry’s face. She looked down to see his glistening wet fingers twirling thorough the golden blond curls, “Having fun?” she asked him as she looked up at him.
He chuckled and continued to play with her wet hair as he propped his head up with his free hand and looked down at Fleur. She was still bleary eyed from the last bout of pleasure, her sweat slicked features seemed to shine as the light hit her just right. She seemed to like that he was playing with her golden curls and he slowly leaned his head down and nibbled on her ear.
“Harry,” she said giggling, as he nipped at her ear, all the while his fingers never leaving her wet curls. She noticed this fact and smiled up at him, the affects of her previous climax fading quickly.
“You really like that don’t you?” she asked, as he grinned down at her.
Harry shrugged, “I’ve always liked girls with a tiny bit of sparse hair. Not too much, but just right. It makes it feel so…so,” he said trying to find the right word, his fingers still playing between her legs.
“So naughty?” she asked with a sultry grin.
He wiggled his eye brows at her, “See,” he said as he brought his fingers up, to caress her nipples, “I told you. Naughty little boys always seek out naughty little girls. And you, my sweet Fleur,” he said, bringing his hand up to her nose, “Are a Very,” he tapped her nose, “Naughty,” he tapped it again, eliciting a giggle and a grin from the stunning Veela, “Little,” again, “Girl,” he finished and caught her lips in his.
She giggled into his kiss and let him taste her once again. Her mind was fogging once again as she arched her back into him. She gasped as she felt his hardness against her thigh, realized that this entire time, he had not been able to find pleasure, and silently thanked him for his selflessness by quickly pulling him atop her. Grinning, he moved with her and was soon between her long beautiful legs. She was still so wet from her previous climax and would be able to accept him easily.
He locked eyes with her as he positioned himself, blue met green as silent emotions passed between them. He asked her if she was ready for him, she pleaded with him to fill her and make her his, and he complied. Silently, without breaking eye contact, he slid into her completely.
“Ahh!” she shouted loudly in a split moment of pain, as his length stretched her insides. He was so much fuller than her other lovers, it was the first time that she was actually completely filled, it was as if he were made specifically for her, like they were meant to be.
She fought to keep her eyes locked with his as tears leaked from the sides. There was pain, it still burned, almost as much as her first time, yet this was somehow much more fulfilling. It was symbolic, she supposed, her first time had been painful, yes, yet it was not very important to her. This was painful, yet this was the most important moment of her life, the moment Harry took her and made her his. Finally, the burning subsided, and the feeling of fullness returned. It was so comforting to find something that was so right for her.
He looked down at her with the most tender expression she had ever seen, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Fleur…are you ready?” he asked her, asking permission to move within her, to give her pleasure, and to take the pleasure of her flesh for himself.
She nodded wordlessly, and claimed his mouth as he pulled out and pushed back in. their moment of coupling was punctuated by a sharp moan as she began to seek pleasure. He grunted as her tightness enveloped him and thanked every single deity he knew that he could experience this moment, it was the greatest sex of his life. the sheer pleasure was overwhelming and the way her eyes just rolled up and the way her Veela charm blasted him and forced him to new heights of arousal, was just so new to him, so very pleasureable. He could tell that she was enjoying herself from the incoherent moans and shouts of pleasure she punctuated the air with each time he thrust into her. He loved the way she gripped him so tightly as he made love to her, the way her finger nails dug deep furrows into his back, they way her breasts swayed as he thrust into her, the way her head jerked back each time he entered her hard, and the way she murmered over and over how much she loved the way he felt inside of her.
Fleur was shocked at the sensation, it was as if lightning were shooting through her. Her charm was out of control as she no longer held anything back, letting the fire of her magic suffuse her body, enflaming the nerves and increasing sensation tenfold. Everything was engorged with magic and blood, her nipples rubbing against his hard chest sent waves of pleasure surging through her, the way his hips brushed against her thighs made her even more wet for him, the way he nuzzled the hollow of her neck and the sensitive areas behind her ear made her throw back her head and scream, and the sensation of his fullness entering her and completing her was just too much as she quickly built up to her orgasm. She could feel him grunting with purpose, could feel his pace picking up, as he neared his own pleasurable release. She relished the sound of his moans, the way he said her name with the caress of a lover, the way he described the sensation of her enveloping him, the way he commented on how wonderful she tasted and how he wanted to do that again. She just could not take it any more as she fiercely began to throw herself down upon him, nearly shouting her pleasure into his ear.
Harry couldn’t take it any more. He had been nice enough to go down on her, not that he didn’t’ enjoy it, and he had waited until her sensitivity had returned to normal before touching her again, but now he just did not have any patience. He had to do it. Ever since that day on the beach, he had a running fantasy that he wanted to fulfill with Fleur, and now he no longer wanted to cater to anyone else’s fantasy, he wanted his right now.
As he thrust into her faster and faster, he stopped at the peak of one, and looked directly into Fleur’s eyes, “I need you so badly,” he said, “Let me take you, Fleur, let me have all of you,” he pleaded with her. He wanted the fantasy, but he needed her permission.
She ran her fingers through his hair and nodded, not knowing exactly what he wanted, but willing to give him anything to make him continue. He smiled in relief as he claimed her mouth once again, but instead of continuing to thrust into her, he remained buried between her legs and reached down over her back. He cupped her derier and pulled her even further onto him, then suddelnly jerked her up until she was straddling him in mid air. He was so far into her that she moaned his name, screaming it at the top her lungs. Offhandedly, she wondered if harry had enough foresight to have placed silency wards around the room, but she realized that she really didn’t care, as he picked her up and forcefully pushed her against he head of the bed, her back flat against the cold wood and her front burning from his minsitrations.
“Oh God Fleur,” he moaned into her mouth, “I wanted to take you like this for so long…” he admitted as he thrust against her hard, forcing her further up the headboard as she gripped him tightly. Harder and harder, he pounded himself into her, and louder and louder did she scream as his thrusts sent her over the edge. Her climax hit her so hard, the muscles rippling and sending shockwaves through her body, it was even stronger than her first climax.
The tightness of her nearly sent him over, but he held on, he wanted her to finish before he did, and nearly five minutes later, she slumped on him completely spent and completely relaxed. Finally, he gently lowered her to the bed and finished off, pulling out of her at the last second and letting his essence out onto her tummy. Finally, he crawled up between her legs and collapsed next to her, his hands pulling her close as he pillowed his head upon her breasts and fell asleep.