Waiting to Exhale

A/N: I thought I'd be able to write the entire scene in one chapter but I've discovered that THIS was an impossibility especially since I wanted to build the scene in a particular way. I do hope you enjoy the setup. It was important for the way I want the story to build. *Nods* Anyway, please let me know if you approve and what, if anything, you would change or correct.

TTFN

"I'm frightened," the words were soft, the admission drawn from the pit of the young woman's stomach.

"Don't you trust me, Hermione," her husband queried.

"Yes," but there was a wavering in her voice that belied the exhalation.

"We don't have to, Mio Mine. I can wait."

Hermione looked at the platinum-haired wizard before her, taking in his posture, his gray eyes filled with longing, his slight frown. They had spent time pushing each other's boundaries. There had been conversations and teasing and sex, lots and lots of sex, sex that left bruises and scratches behind. And she trusted him, she did, but fear was a mood killer and she was scared. She just wasn't sure about the whole thing, not yet.

'Am I Gryffindor or not?' Stupid thought, that. Of course, she was.

"No, Draco, you are doing this for me as much as yourself. Just give me a moment to center, please."

The pair were within the safe confines of the Dowager House, hidden from the world in a bedroom that saw no use, except for when they wanted to play rougher than usual.  There was a small table located next to the large four poster bed with an odd collection of things: a feather, two candles, a blindfold, ice cubes, a collar with a small platinum tag which read, simply, Mio Mine. Most of those things could be have been mimicked by spellwork but within this room, hands were always best, at least for play. Neither of the two knew enough about their chosen past time to fool with learning the spells, not until they grew more confident. After all, this would be the first real scene they had ever attempted and Draco refused to put his wife into harm's way. He cared too much to do so.
As the diminutive witch settled herself, Draco looked over his things once more before the realization finally hit him. This was really happening. Years of thinking about her at his mercy, years of wanting to hear her beg. Now, now he could. Of course, long ago the reasons were much different, worse, awful but the underlying result had not changed. Her voice giving way to silence which only ended when she cried his name. He felt his length stir at the thought.

"Sir? I'm ready."

Gray eyes met deep brown and a smile slipped over patrician features. A thought and her clothes were gone, leaving her sun touched skin, bare. The young man took a moment to study her as she stood before him; legs hip distance apart, hands resting on her nape, fingers entwined and hidden beneath her long, wildly disastrous, curls. This particular position lifted her breasts slightly and allowed her small curves to be fully open to his gaze.

"Beautiful. Now turn around."

Hermione did as she was bid, lifting up on to her toes and spinning around, causing the plump curve of her ass to jiggle slightly. Her hair, a riotous mass, ended just above her waist and hid her back from view.

"Do you need a safe word," he asked, voice calm. Collected.

"Please? I will use Oleander."

"What tapping code if I tell you to be silent?"

"Two for slow. Three for stop, SIr," Hermione answered.

Draco headed for the small table and grabbed both the collar and the blindfold before returning to his wife and stepping behind her. With a soft touch, he swept the fabulous length of his wife's curls to one side and tapped her fingers. She moved her hands, dropping them to her sides so that he could affix the collar.

"Silence, for now, Mio."

She nodded, once and waited for the next piece, her blindfold. SHe felt his slim fingers combing through her hair and relaxed further, the tension seeping from her form until she felt like melted butter beneath his ministrations. Within moments, once he noted her lack of tension, the blindfold was added. 

Hermione deepened her breathing and waited.

"Do you trust me, Mio Mine," the question murmured just by her left ear.

Hermione nodded.

"Take three steps forward and then climb up onto the bed. Crawl forward until you reach the pillows and then lay down, on your back," was his quiet command.

The young woman stepped forward and within a minute or two, was positioned properly, her body at rest, head comfortably nestled upon the soft pillows, arms and legs spread slightly. He hadn't asked for the last bit but she knew that it was how he always started their play when he was in a mood. Her ability to touch him had always been removed when he wanted to play her body like a fiddle. She hated it, hated being restricted because touching him gave her pleasure but she knew that his control was better served in that instance.

"Good girl," his husky voice filled her with a quiet contentment.

She heard the quiet sound of him moving closer to the bed, felt his nearness and heat when he bent over her to press a soft kiss to her full lips as his fingertips plucked at her proffered flesh, alighting upon her breasts, belly, neck, thighs.

"We are going to work on sensation today. You know what things I've chosen and you know the reasons why. Are you prepared?"

Hermione heard the concern, the care, in his voice and smiled. She knew that he thought she'd back out, her fear beforehand an almost palpable thing. However, he did not understand the slight drift, the contentment she felt once things started. He had never experienced it and so he could not easily comprehend though she'd tried to explain it, after the fact. Regardless, the drift was not an excuse to keep him waiting and so, she nodded.