The Wedding - COMPLETE

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Updated 5-23-07

Your reviews are spectacular, as usual. Every new chapter, there is a new reviewer bravely daring to post and I am very grateful for your generosity. Thank you, ALL of you for taking time to give me such wonderful feedback. I know the other authors understand how precious your reviews are, but I hope my sincere thank you's in each chapter give you all the sense of the importance of the feedback you write. It really is a dialog we all have together, not just a story.

Now - to answer a few posed questions:

Hermione Malfoy I AM zooming along with the pregnancy. I am not writing every day of their lives. My story would be the size of "War and Peace". (Not that I'm not constantly tempted - sigh.) As for Snape and Ginny procreating, uh, don't want to anticipate my chapters. 'Nuff said.

Jenn In California, female underwear is usually panties, while male underwear is either boxers or briefs. I hope your tests went well.

LVanna Thank you for the web site for British-American slang counterparts. Fun!

And in general - I think Lucius probably heard the doctor say 'sweets in moderation' and he translated it to minimal or no sweets and unilaterally decided to enforce it. He took charge of his wife's pregnancy the same way he would take charge of anything he felt was important. I think he came with the word 'leader' stamped on his birth certificate.


This chapter has a strong dose of lemony flavoring to it. I hope you enjoy, although you might feel the culprit got more than he deserved. All you conservatives may skip this entry if you wish. No violence, just kinky.


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Chapter Thirty-Five

Apologies All Afternoon


Lucius removed his clothing sliding into the bubbly water of the large green marble spa and joining Hermione on her underwater bench. “I am trying not to overwhelm you with my version of taking care of our baby, but I’m probably doomed to failure. I’m Slytherin to my core and running the show by hook or crook is an ineradicable, personal flaw, I’m afraid.”

Hermione was able to relax now that the inquisition had ended in her favor. “Lucius, I wouldn’t have you any other way. Actually I couldn’t have you any other way. Try to imagine for a moment, if you were any less forceful as a personality, what would our marriage be like, do you think?”

Lucius thought about her question seriously, then reluctantly smiled, “I rather believe your dainty little footprints would be all over my back. And front. I see what you mean. We’re going to clash rather often, I fear, but we’re very well matched, so the honors should be divided evenly, and even though you so often manage to make me livid with your independence, the clashes themselves will be entertaining.”

“I’m hoping that making up after the clashes will be even more entertaining,” Hermione’s eyes gleamed in the steamy room. She slid her hand under the towel at the edge of the spa and pulled out Lucius’ new black vibrator. Hermione slowly waved it at him, a deliciously evil glint incongruously lighting up her pansy brown eyes in her sweet face.

Lucius was mesmerized by her proffered gift. “Please,” he said, simply, reaching his hand to the nape of her neck and reeling her in for a kiss that started at her lips, but shot straight to the back of her tonsils, his tongue acting like a heat-seeking missile and drowning her in that serpentine dominance he spoke so disparagingly of, yet used with such skill.

Hermione came willingly, luxuriating both in her husband’s acceptance of her ceasefire, and his wet, muscular physique bending itself over her, treating her to inventive masculine fingers hidden underwater by the froth. She almost forgot she was holding the vibrator, but after a few drugging moments that added more steam to the room, Hermione pushed her spouse back and told him, “Bottoms up!”

“What? Here? I’d prefer using the bed this time.” Slytherin Lucius was back and directing their play.”

“Give me one good reason why you get to say where I use this,” Hermione challenged, twirling the black plastic in her hand.

“The handcuffs,” Lucius said smugly. He knew his wayward little wife very well.

Hermione sucked in a startled gasp. Then the evil glint reappeared in her eyes, giving Lucius a moment’s slight hesitation about his disclosure. “You win. That’s an excellent reason. Yes, yes! I love that reason.” Hermione slowly climbed out of the spa, her increasingly ungainly form slowing her down a bit.

Lucius hurried to help her so she wouldn’t slip on the slick flooring. Protection and safety first, then sex play. Maybe it would have been better in the water for her, a little buoyancy to help her with her task. But she was sold on the handcuff idea now, so he didn’t try to change her mind again.

Lucius virtuously gave himself several points for his saintly restraint in letting her use the bed instead of the water. In his mind, they were now even for his faux-pas with the biscuits. Her blond wizard never had the slightest trouble extending his generous benevolence to himself; the stronghold of his artful mind included a dark, remote cavern where all his more unpleasant or uncomfortable guilty feelings were securely locked and buttressed against any stray sentiments of culpability or dishonor or remorse, freeing him of their iniquitous weight. He didn’t understand that his ability to trust was a casualty of that very stronghold.

Hermione strolled toward the towels, a huge grin hidden from her domineering husband. She was usually hugely entertained listening as Lucius voiced his serpentine raisons d’etre, exonerating himself from blame for his more high-handed actions. He was really quite creative sometimes. Where Narcissa had always been at war with his superior facility for controlling their lives, Hermione loved the challenge of pitting her intelligence against his.

Lucius was much the more devious of the two, but he rarely was able to see or avoid a simple frontal assault on his clever schemes because he just wasn’t built to recognize a direct route to anything. It was another reason why he had so much trouble with trust. Trust requires a simple straightforward act of faith and Lucius was always looking for the hidden agenda. He saw his (minor) flaw of being a control freak as his only weakness, but to Hermione his weakness wasn’t his wish to direct everything. It was actually his inability to foresee and forestall direct actions, like when she just moved into his bedroom without asking. She certainly wasn’t going to point out the true weakness in his armor; she used it too much for her own advantage. They were very well matched, indeed.

Lucius entered the bedroom drying himself off with a large towel and using his wand to dry his hair and smooth it into shape again. He held the towel negligently in front of him so Hermione wouldn’t see his already tumescent staff; he wanted to keep a little mystery in the bed sport, but knew his capacity for deluding himself was probably as big as his tool - which was lifting the front of the beleaguered towel, giving him away anyway.

Hermione came out of the bathroom wrapped in another towel which she awkwardly used to dry herself with while holding onto the vibrator, as Lucius aimed his wand at her hair, drying and fluffing her curls into a shape he liked. She shot him an ironic glance, conveying her reaction to his organizing her again, but he merely smiled his superbastard smile and collected both their towels, tossing them into the hamper to disappear into the laundry - somewhere. He blinked once, thinking perhaps he’d better discover where the laundry was, before Hermione learned he was ignorant of that too. Marriage did have its potholes.

Hermione waved him over to the bed using his black toy, “Lie down, face up, and put your cuffs on yourself, tightly please. I don’t want any escapes while I’m torturing you with my Muggle Instrument of Obsidian Terror.”

Hermione twirled a villain’s imaginary mustache, which was entirely lost on Lucius who merely thought she’d got something sticky on her fingers and was showing him. Muggleborns had odd habits at times. He liked her name for his toy, though. He lay down as she asked and fitted the restraining cuffs over his wrists and ran a nonverbal charm to tighten them so he couldn’t pull his hands out.

Then he got a shock. Hermione took her wand and strung his ankles to the bedposts at the foot of the bed with some cord she transfigured from their curtain tiebacks. That effectively spread his legs apart, opening him to her mercy. He got a little relief as she piled pillows under his knees, but he still felt more exposed than he had planned on. Why did he never see her intentions until he was mired in them?

He felt her charm take over from his on the cuffs and was doubly chagrined. Now he was trapped until she let him up. He took a deep breath, unintentionally drawing Hermione’s attention to his carved chest muscles, then he lay back and relaxed. He would enjoy her domination of his senses, and not worry about being tied down - he WOULD. His head snapped back up, “Hermione, you’ll need the new tube of ointment I got from Snape the other day. He has a new recipe better than the old one. It’s on the bathroom counter next to the little blue jar.”

Hermione obediently fetched the tube and got back into position between Lucius’ widespread legs. She put the ointment on the bed beside her, as she sat and smiled down on her helpless husband. She enjoyed his hands cuffed together above his head on the sheets, his toned, flaxen-haired legs upended and strung up on either side of her with his knees bent over the pillows, his gorgeous, male torso ending in that impressive show of masculinity between his legs, but most of all, oh most of all, she enjoyed watching his face change from smiling complacency through hesitant anxiety and into unguarded alarm. She knew he was now remembering his recent behavior about the biscuits and she could see his slippery mind connecting that to his current vulnerable position.

“Lucius, we need to have a little discussion on the differences between caring, controlling, and trust.” She reached out and slowly ran her hand up and down his engorged penis, stroking him gently, hypnotically. “Right now, I’m caring about you, offering you an experience I know you relish, and I’m also controlling you – as part of your pleasure. You saw my biscuits and immediately jumped to the conclusion that I was irresponsibly hurting our unborn child, showing no trust in me. I’m wondering if you are trusting me now? You’ve put yourself completely at my mercy physically,” her hand caressed his large, smooth sac, lifting it and holding it cradled in her palm, “You’re willing to trust me with your body, but not your emotions. Why are you able to allow me the opportunity to unman you if I chose, but not touch your heart? Will you think about that?”

Lucius was absorbed in the electrifying caresses of his wife’s hand, trying to balance her words against the intense sensations flowing from his penis outward to every other part of his body. Part of the intensity jolting his system was his helpless feeling of being bound and mastered by her. His nature was normally so overwhelming and commanding that being controlled for a few moments of erotic indulgence was an aphrodisiac itself. He put away her uncomfortable comments for later and emptied his mind of anything but his wife’s enticing hands and lips. He relaxed and closed his eyes, shutting her visage and her earnest words out and concentrating purely on her stroking.

Hermione gave up on what had turned into a monologue and moved on to delivering what she had promised her husband in the bathroom. She couldn’t bend forward at her nonexistent waist so she couldn’t easily use his skin staff as her personal lollipop. It was disappointing, but today’s agenda was all about that black piece of plastic lying beside Snape’s new ointment, so she started nibbling on Lucius’ legs instead. Each leg was thoroughly scoured by tongue and lips, with tiny biting kisses planted in deserving spots, like an angelic inside thigh, a well-developed calf, an exemplary ankle, and several award-winning toes. But all the while Hermione’s hand was seamlessly fondling his genitals.

Lucius had gone past encouraging her and whimpering her name and was moaning with totally inarticulate abandonment by the time Hermione judged him ready for his special treat. She gathered up the ointment first, applying plenty of the lubricant to her mate’s unprotected anal opening, then she splattered more onto the black plastic. Being an expert now with her second time, she slowly introduced the softened point into Lucius’ body, sliding, and this time twisting, the vibrator as she impaled him delicately on the instrument while lifting his sac. He helped her by relaxing his body, enabling her to penetrate him more deeply, and his sac tightened in response, enough to stay up out of the way as she increased the toy’s depth.

Lucius didn’t open his eyes, but the small hiatus helped him concentrate again and he gave terse instructions on where to position the tool, gasping when she found his prostate, “Yesss! Oh, Sweet Goddess, I love that. Do it right there…shite, that’s good. Oh fuck… precious!” Lucius’ instructions descended into groans of delight and rose an octave when Hermione started stroking his fleshy rod again, making him rock more and more wildly as his body was lovingly assaulted both front and back. His arms pulled against the cuffs, trying to release himself, straining his thick biceps and cording his wide shoulders in a futile argument with the unforgiving restraints. Lucius’ legs were pinioned too thoroughly for him to gain any purchase on the mattress with his butt muscles except to raise his groin a few inches when he flexed them.

He started twisting his torso in his excitement, causing Hermione to be a little more careful in her application of the hard plastic, but she waited patiently as she gave him a dextrous reaming, listening for the familiar signs of his peaking arousal and reveling in the dark music of his rising groans. Her arms were getting a little tired when he finally started losing his battle to resist his orgasm. Hermione grinned and flipped on the vibrator, certain that he’d completely forgotten its particular attribute. He had.

Lucius bellowed so loudly she was afraid he would hurt himself with his reaction to the exquisite pain-pleasure. His lower body bowed completely off the bed as she increased her squeezing pressure on his cock with one hand while holding the black vibrator firmly inside his colon at the point he was most vulnerable, sending the vibrations roaring straight up his groin into his swollen penis. With a mighty shudder, Lucius let go and his magnificent rod gushed hot cum like a flamethrower all over his torso, his face, and the sheets in accompaniment to his litany of appreciative pornographic curses.

Lucius suddenly went limp and Hermione worriedly felt his spent cock to make sure his blood was pumping. She assumed he must have passed out, but it was a little scary seeing him so still after being so wild. She carefully pulled out the vibrator and sent it into the bathroom, then she got down from the bed and retrieved her wand from the nightstand, using it to clean him and the bed up before he woke. She opened the cuffs and sent them back into the headboard and managed to release his legs gently and slowly lower them one by one so they didn’t crash back onto the mattress while he was out cold.

A small snore drew her attention to her wizard’s face and she realized he had drifted from his ‘petite mort’ into a boneless slumber. Hermione pulled an extra blanket from the closet and sent it over Lucius, wrapping him in warmth while he slept. She leaned over him and kissed her demanding beloved on his cheek, leaving him to his rest.


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A/N:

Whew! Now I'm tired, too. Please leave your reviews quietly. I'm going to take a small snooze with our sated satyr. Eat your hearts out, ladies.
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