Wizard's Porn

A/N: The previous chapter is actually based on an interview I watched on sexetera, where an experienced porn star was interviewed. He was saying that he hated the 'shagged her way through colledge' type newbie and that manners and a smile went a long way.



No warnings other than Graphic Sex in this one, and then it isn't actually all that graphic. But a warning, is a warning.



THREE: VANILLA



‘Juliet’ massaged the Jasmine and midnight rose body lotion into her calves, looking up from the chaise to see ‘the manager’ enter at stage right.



“Good evening, Juliet. I’ve got some bad news and some good news…”



“Give me the bad first, please.” She said, running her hand through perfect mahogany waves that fell to her hips.



“Vince cancelled.” He said simply. Vince was Juliet’s usual partner in things.



“Fantastic.” She said sarcastically, “What’s the good news?”



“It’s a filler, not a virgin taking his place.” After the mess Daisy had made, the manager wasn’t taking any chances for a while.



“Thank goodness for that! Word travels fast.” She said, offering a gentle smile.



“But…” the manager began; she gave him a sceptic look. “But he’s not a regular down here…”



“Where’s he from?” Juliet said, her head in her hands.



“He’s one of the whips and chains bunch…”



“Dom or sub?” she whispered, shaking.



“Dominant... but he’s good!”



“No.” Juliet said, waving her wand and changing her clothing from the silky, full length negligee to witch’s robes. “No way in Hades will I do it.” She said, moving to leave, stage left.



“I’ve not had any complaints in a long time.” Said a smooth voice from behind the manager.



“I don’t doubt you, you just do what makes you happy… I don’t need, nor want a dominant. Domination without my consent made my life misery for quite a while. It’s nothing against you.” She whispered, moving to leave.



“Shit! Juliet! You can’t stand me up too! It’s the support group that are coming to view! Their therapist recommended you personally!” the manager pleaded, prepared to beg if he had to. The group were married couples who had been seeing a sex therapist, and their watching a couple (supposedly) make love was a step to re-kindling their own passions.



“Maggie was my therapist too, Mr. Manager, and I think she’d understand.” Juliet said, angry that the boss was attempting to almost blackmail her into doing it.



“I don’t have to be a dominant, give me a set of rules, and I’ll follow them.” Max said, hoping it wasn’t a Death Eater who raped her, his conscious had gone into overdrive in recent years.



“This is an example of love making, an expression of tenderness and trust between a couple. There are no game rules, no dominant, no submissive. Just two equals bringing each other pleasure.” She sighed.



“Trust is a major aspect of BDSM, trust I understand.” He said. It had been so long since he’d had vanilla sex, he wasn’t perfectly sure he was the right choice in the matter, but a Saturday night left few fillers and a long queue of Theatre Virgins. He was probably the best of a bad job, especially considering Dasiy.



“This isn’t a game, this is so different. You don’t hide behind a mask, you don’t use toys and props, just your body and kind words…” she sighed.



“I haven’t had sex without props of some description for over a decade.” Max said, thinking back to the last bout of vanilla sex he’d had. “But I’d like to prove that those who enjoy BDSM and the Dom/sub relationship can turn it off – perhaps it can take away your fear?”



Juliet was very tempted with the offer, it was the only fear she had yet to conquer. Though, this probably wouldn’t cure it, she’d have to willingly play the sub to get over it entirely.



“I guess we could get the odd prop in here, a nice fruit salad and some whipped cream to dip it in would be nice. Food can be sensual too.” Juliet said, thinking that conquering this fear would be good.



“You’ll do it?” The manager asked, holding his breath.



“Yeah, boss, I’ll do my best.” She sighed, transfiguring back her nightie.



* * * * *



“What situation are we acting?” Max asked once the Manager had left them, watching as the fruit and cream appeared on a side table next to a beautifully dressed bed. The last time he’d seen something like that had been the honeymoon suite after his wedding.



Juliet admired the casually dressed wizard for a moment, his glamour made him look Italian, the tan and dark hair looked wonderfully exotic.



“Well, if you must have a scene, how about a couple coming in after a meal at a restaurant and then making love – something the support group can, hopefully, relate to… an anniversary or something like it?”



“I can manage that, though neither of us are properly attired. Dress robes?” he said.



Juliet paused for a moment, recalling a dress she’d seen in a shop window and couldn’t afford. With a flick of her wand the pale lilac ball gown materialised on her. The bodice accented her curves; the skirt, a mass of lace and satin, swished around her legs, a train followed her steps. With a flick her hair was contained in a matching lilac ribbon in a simple ponytail, the tresses cascading down her back.



“That looks wonderful.” Max said, he’d never seen a woman dress so elegantly in so little time; the entire ensemble had taken her less than five minutes. Luckily, a wizard had little choice in the way of dress robes, but for vanity’s sake he went for a well tailored cut in a very dark blue; his trousers were tight enough to showcase his rear, but not his bulge at the front. The dress shirt only hinted at his torso, his long hair was tied back and his cravat was knotted perfectly.



“Not so bad yourself… I wonder if we can get a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne in here too? Give it the air of celebration and anniversary.” No sooner had she spoke, when two lead crystal flutes and a bottle in an ice bucket appeared on the other bedside table.



“We have five minutes.” Max said, glugging down the stamina potion.



“Should I be insulted?” Juliet said, eyeing the bottle.



“Merlin, no! Women might be able to have multiple orgasms, but men are a different story! Last night this was a must after the crap Theatre Virgin, this potion was all that kept me hard!... No, I get the feeling that this rather new experience will have me coming all too quick – it’s been a long time since I did vanilla… since I did anything but domination and bondage, actually.” Max said, he was always honest with his colleagues.



“I hope I can open your eyes to it. I don’t really understand how you can only like one form of sex. I’m not particularly kinky, but I manage different things.” She said, taking his hand as the curtain rose, showing a darkened bedroom.



“Enter stage right.” Max whispered, taking her hand in his and leading her into a messy, tipsy waltz as they went through the ‘door’.



* * * * *



“The meal was delicious,” Max said, his acting flawless – he’d being acting since he was nine to impress a Father who was incapable of affection, “But dessert would be nice.” He rumbled, nibbling at Juliet’s length of exposed neck.



“Have you turned into a vampire; do you want my throat for dessert?” Juliet giggled, kicking off her Julius Caesar purple stilettos, shrinking three inches. She walked on the plush carpet over to the champagne, her skirts trailing on the floor and rustling as she walked; she couldn’t open the bottle, the cork remained fast.



“We’re going to die of thirst if we wait for you to open the bottle!” Max laughed, a genuine laugh. He remembered saying something very similar to a five-year-old Draco as he tried to play at being a grown up at a dinner party… so long ago.



Juliet pouted, before breaking into a beaming smile and handing over the bottle. She held the two glasses ready for the bubbling ambrosia. Max popped the cork with practiced ease, the cork remained in his hand, only emitting a small pop. Even after Juliet had shaken the bottle, nothing frothed over the neck.



“To us.” Max said, clinking his glass to hers and sipping at the liquid (which turned out to be an odd mixture of lemonade and cloudy apple juice. It just didn’t work with his taste buds).



“Happy anniversary.” Juliet said, opening the wardrobe, making to undress.



Max tossed back the last of the odd-tasting drink, moving to the woman by the wardrobe, “Let me.” He said gently, slowly taking down the zip and carefully pushing the fabric from her shoulders to let it puddle around her feet.



She stood in a royal purple lace bra and matching French knickers, a simple black garter belt holding up black, sheer stockings with wide lace tops. Her figure was the ideal female shape, hourglass, healthy, natural, young… fertile.



Glamours could only change so much, but bodily shape wasn’t one of them. The lush, ripe figure was her own; and so very different from the fashionable bean pole and anorexic pipe cleaner that had become popular.



“Mmm… my favourite colour.” Max said, just because he’d been a Slytherin, it didn’t mean he was obsessed with green and silver. He loved the complexity of purple, the variety, and the fact that it symbolised royalty.



“I know.” Juliet whispered, turning, standing on stockinged tip toes to lightly kiss his soft lips. Max hadn’t kissed anyone since… since… since his Hogwarts Astronemy Tower days! He was rusty, but he hoped it was just like riding a broom – that he’d never forgotten.



Either that, or he had forgotten and was about to crash land. Gently he brought his arms about her shapely hips, angling his head to fumble into a deeper kiss. He was tentative, his tongue playing an odd game of cat and mouse with hers, retreating into her moist cavern before retreating back behind his top teeth when hers attempted to join him.



Juliet sighed, this man couldn’t kiss for the life of him. A certain ex-boyfriend with Red hair could kiss better than this! Heck, her previous, gay flatmate had been a better snog, even if he did call her Jeremy afterwards and black out in a drunken stupor. Max was completely unsure what to do, he used his teeth more than his tongue and she could feel the dribble slowly moving down the corner of her mouth. Politely she broke the kiss, discretely wiping her mouth on his robes and whispering a wandless drying spell.



Max kept an expression of passion, but Juliet could see the hurt in his eyes. “You have me at a disadvantage…” she said, nibbling on her bottom lip in a seductive manner.



“Hmmm?” he replied with a fake smile, hiding behind the mask he’d relied on so much in the past.



“Oh yes! You’re still dressed!” she giggled, moving to attack the row of tiny blue buttons as his hands followed hers, their fingers tangling playfully.



His robe was pushed to the floor to reveal a paler dress shirt, tight, tight trousers, shiny black shoes and the cravat.



“Mmm.” Juliet said, admiring him, “These robes look wonderful on you – I think I love your tailor!”



“I’m hurt, darling.” Had he just called a complete stranger darling? “I thought you loved me, not the man who makes my robes!” he folded his arms across his chest, stuck out his bottom lip and turned his head away in a huff.



Juliet pressed one French manicured finger to his cheek and gently made him look at her; trailing another finger from the other hand over the pouting lip. “Don’t sulk, babe, don’t sulk.” She chided gently, attacking the knot on his cravat and letting it float to the floor. She slowly opened each button on his shirt, kissing the skin it exposed.



She looked up as his shirt landed on the floor, biting the tip of her tongue in an incredibly cute gesture, “Have you stopped sulking?” she teased.



“Was I sulking?” he scratched his head, “I can’t recall.” He said, grinning like a fool at her; kicking off his shoes.



Juliet, dropped her gaze to one side, biting her bottom lip in a similarly cheeky way. She flashed him a smile before pinching his bum and running out of his grip before he could get to her. Their silly chase lasted all of thirty seconds before Max caught her and turned her into a giggling mess with skilful tickles. Tickle-torture was something he’d learnt from Jake when they’d been presented with Fifi, a Theatre Virgin who was comfortable as a submissive, but not with pain; they’d punished her with tickles – and it had been a well tipped night; it didn’t earn as much as spankings did, but the audience had liked the refreshing change. Fifi was a performer on the more gentle bondage and D/s stages, she remained within her comfort zone, and within the comfort zones of those who were just curious.



“Max! stop it.” She chuckled, gasping for air around the laughter, “I can’t breathe!”



“I win.” He said with a grin, only to find himself pushed backward with surprising strength, straddled, with a set of nimble fingers digging into his ribs, making him jerk and writhe as he tried not to laugh. “Truce! Truce! Stop tickling!” he laughed. Juliet rolled off him to lay at his side as they both fell into little giggle fits and caught their breath.



They couldn’t look at each other without bursting out laughing, Juliet wiping tears from her eyes.



“I think we drank too much champagne. The bubbles went straight to my head.” Max said with a real smile. He hadn’t ever laughed during foreplay before.



“Really? Wouldn’t they be heading to the stomach first?” she teased, rolling onto her tummy before getting up. She reached for him, trying to pull him up but failing miserably as he became a dead weight.



“Give me a hand, Max.” she said, only to be met with him clapping a solitary round of applause. “Not what I meant.” She smiled, loving the banter.



He rose from the floor, unbuckling his belt, unzipping the fly and letting his trousers fall to the floor. He stood there in plain white cotton boxer shorts and black socks. Max had remembered that the men watching were the ordinary sort who probably wore underwear, underwear that wasn’t silk. Actually, Max hadn’t worn cotton boxers since his Hogwarts days, this whole experience so far had a feeling of regression.



* * * * *



They lay on the well-made bed, her head and shoulders sprawled over a mound of cream and gold pillows, her mahogany waves still contained in the lilac ribbon, her nakedness blocked by scraps of silk and lace.



The candles cast a Goddess-like glow over her skin, she was as enticing as a fertility rite and Max burned the image into his memory. He’d never seen any woman look so beautiful, so relaxed, so natural…



… so normal.



Slowly he crawled up the bed, kissing on black silk-encased leg even as he rolled the flimsy fabric down, dropping it carelessly over the side of the bed. He repeated the same with the other leg, it joined it’s twin on the floor, and the garter belt was flung over to the other side of the stage.



Stage.



Max suddenly remembered this was all an act. A ploy, a ruse. Fake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun during sex, he was aroused beyond anything, and there wasn’t a scrap of leather in sight, no sharp clips of spankings in the air, no orders, no commands…



He paused, staring at the vision before him.



“Hey, are you alright? You look a million miles away.” Juliet said, offering him her hand and gently pulling him down on top of her, running her fingers through his thick black hair in a soothing gesture.



“I was looking at you, you look so wonderful in the candlelight, draped over the bed like a fertility goddess reincarnate…” he whispered, staring into dark brown eyes before he leaned in for another tentative and unsure kiss.



“You’re like a vision made real…” he whimpered when he broke the kiss, reaching behind her to unsnap her bra and toss it to the far corner of the bed. Her knickers were removed with reverence, but were ceremoniously forgotten and dropped as he viewed her naked.



“Come here.” She said, once again taking his hand and carefully pulling him down to her. They aligned well, though he was a heck of a lot taller than she. He lay in the cradle of her thighs, her feet, previously flat on the bed, tucked into the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down as far as they’d go. He wriggled out of them the rest of the way.



Without touching her, he gave (what looked like a practiced) shimmy of his hips and the tip of his erection entered her femininity. Slowly, carefully, gently he rocked back and forth until he was seated to the hilt in her heat.



She was as tight as a fist, warm as an oven, wet as the ocean and as soft as a kitten’s fur. She was purity personified in the flickering candlelight as he continued to rock into her body.



“Are you alright?” he asked gently, trailing the back of his fingers over her cheek before leaning in for a brief kiss. Upon leaning in, his position changed, and she gasped.



“Ohh. There. More.” She whimpered, splaying her fingers over his shoulder blades, manicured nails digging gently into the muscle. One of her legs ran up the back of his and locked around his waist, the other had it’s foot firmly planted on the jacquard bedspread. He ran one large hand up and down that thigh, continuing to move within her.



“So close. So close.” He groaned in a mantra, closing his eyes to savour the sensation. The gentle rocking was calm and soothing, a balm for his troubled past and late-coming conscience.



“Ahhh!” Juliet gasped, her cheeks and lips flushed ruby in passion as she climaxed, her femininity gripping him and fluttering around him; driving him over into oblivion.



* * * * *



They lay under the coverlet, him feeding her pieces of sliced apple from the fruit salad as they cuddled. This was an entirely foreign experience for Max; nobody had ever just held him after sex.



But this wasn’t just sex; sex was a too vulgar word for it. One of his feet cramped, and he stuck it out from under the covers, wriggling it like a fish on a hook to bring life back into it.



Juliet giggled again, her latest sip of ‘champagne’ coming out of her nose. She coughed as the bubbles burned, but didn’t stop laughing.



“What?” he said, utterly baffled.



“You kept your socks on!” she chuckled. Max, looking at his feet realised that, indeed, he had left his socks on. A seasoned pro had done the typical British muggle thing and kept his socks on.



They continued to laugh as the curtain fell.



* * * * *