The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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7-24-09 F

I am enjoying your reviews so much! I've added a couple of things into the story already from your comments so I thank you all for giving me your thoughts on the story.


I've dithered on whether or not to add my answers to your reviews here at the beginning or at the end of each chapter, but decided to keep on putting my responses here. It makes more sense for those who read them, to get any added details I let slip before one reads the next chapter.

Now to answer your reviews -

Aleysiasnape – Meal times always seem to be fraught with tension for these two. Maybe they’ll do better in the bedroom.

Liagiba84 – Lucius and Hermione just strike sparks off each other, don’t they. I’m sure there will be spanking somewhere in this story – it says so on the summary, so I’ll have to make good on my claim. For Lucius spanking usually leads to other ‘S’ words. He’s so predictable. (I bought myself a cut-rate laurel wreath on Half.com so I could live up to your goddess appellation. Hope I don’t mess up my new image with this next chapter…the wreath is nonrefundable.)

Angeles – This next chapter is a little different and I had fun writing it. There’s a lot of Lucius in it so you should be pleased.

lemonade8 – Occasionally I skim smut, too, if the plot is engrossing and I want to find out what is going on. That goes for books as well as fanfic. However, I do pick up juicy ideas from the smut of others sometimes. I do hope this next chapter will be worth your reading time. It’s a bit different.

meankitty69 – One always has to be careful about cutting words out; sometimes they tie to items later in a story that you forgot you wrote. So I’ll keep in the smut. We’ll get to the plan after I get these two @#$%@$ characters into bed. Hermione’s time is running out fast. Please don’t have a heart attack. I would have sent you all the sliced chapters before I induced any medical trauma. I read your review at “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” 7-17-09 and I’m crossing an extra pair for fingers for you.

blue artemis – Naïve Hermione isn’t a know-it-all about sex. Actually, that title belongs to Lucius. Yeah, sex isn’t going to make her a meek, little nobody. Nope, I didn’t cut out the smut. This next chapter is where it starts.

Lilbitbord – Lucius has his hands full with Hermione (at least he wishes he did). Snape and Lucius hatched their plan and Hermione will be something of a catalyst in the chemical sense of the word. See: http://www.answers.com/topic/catalyst

ccrawley - I sprinkled a bit of sugar on this chapter just for you. Needed to keep some back, though, for the following chapter.

BeaBibliophile – That’s two of you who would be happy to skip the smut and go on to the plan. (Don’t worry, everyone, the smut will be delivered as advertised.) Whoa Bea, we almost had a riot there. I don’t think either you or I (or lemonade8) would look good in tar and feathers. Lucius is snobby to the bone (oh, that last word just cries out for a double entendre). You did know that Hermione knew better than to put her elbows on the table, right? She was (very successfully) pushing Lucius’ buttons and then sneaked off to read up on etiquette. Was it for his sake or her pride? Hmm, some of both? I may be wrong, but it’s my opinion that he’s getting to her physically. Lucius does have the clothes sense of a Regency buck. Men being interested in style are a dying breed and, yes, Lucius is an unashamed fashionista, albeit in conservative terms.

Scary Bear Hair – I did feel I had to offer, but if I cut out Lucius’ smut I might be courting the hairbrush myself. He has no sense of humor about postponing sex. Hermione is finding and pushing all Lucius’ staid buttons. You just know that can’t last forever. I kind of wish I had an office like Lucius’, but I’d likely be snoozing on the sofa all the time. The next chapter is a little unusual. Lucius begins to display why he was a premier Death Eater; his calculating assessment of Hermione began on day one and he is learning her more than she would like.

HarryGinny4eva – That’s my fatal weakness. No matter how I try to write Lucius he comes out sympathetic – ornery and sly, but sympathetic. Lucius really took advantage of Hermione in a forever, unapologetic way, yet he tries to make her life comfortable with him. His and Snape’s plan are more important (to them) than her ‘happily ever after’ future, but Lucius is trying to mitigate the fallout for her (actually for them as a couple). Both he and Snape had a hand in ‘impressing’ Hermione into marriage, however, Lucius is the one who will have to live with her. He does have hopes for a better marriage than his first one. Maybe he’s delusional…

Ravenna - Poor Lucius – I don’t think raking his Zen garden is going to mollify his increasing temper (especially if he finds cat doodoo in the rocks again). One does have to wonder if Draco DID have some fashion sense and deliberately gave his father those hideous pajamas as a passive-aggressive payback for their lives under Voldemort. Maybe – maybe not. You can fanwank that tidbit as you like. But Lucius saw them as love.

Snapes_Goddess - Oh my – stay tuned. Lucius as a Viking…I think you’re channeling me. Scented candles at dinner wouldn’t be usual, but Lucius is very lonely – I think he did things to give himself a little harmless pleasure and to distract himself from the quiet, echoing dining room. (Well, he doesn’t have to worry about THAT anymore, heh, heh). Ah, the debating team – I mention one in the story later. Eerie, the things you say…[grin].

Jesse – Hermione’s first experience of a formal, Pureblood dinner was a disaster, but for whom? I can see Lucius in a vast array of roles; choosing among them could be a full time job except my choices always wind up with him naked. I’m glad the pace of new chapters is right for you. I go crazy trying to keep up reviews for stories I’m reading where the chapters fly at me. I need to write shorter reviews, I guess.

T Stevenson – Ch 5: My mind boggles on Lucius having anything but a taut arse. [coughnextchaptercough]. I don’t like Snape to be dead either. He isn’t dead in my fics. And, yes, he’s happily married to Narcissa. You’re correct that Hermione either DOES see Lucius as evil or she’d desperately TRYING to see Lucius as evil because her libido is waking up. She’s spent so much time on her small company that her sexual education was somewhat neglected. Lucius knows he’s not her beau ideal, but he’s trying; his innate care for family now covers her whether she wants it to or not. Right now it is like trying to pet a wet wildcat, though.

Ch 6: The Mini-Cooper has proliferated here in California. I see green ones all the time. Hermione is fast at figuring out where Lucius’ soft spots are and digging at them. I really liked writing Snape and Narcissa and Lucius together. I just needed to NOT have Lucius married to Narcissa and Snape profited.

Ch 7: Hermione doesn’t like the scent of the candles, but she isn’t very polite about it either. Both Hermione and Lucius are controlling types. They have to learn how to work together, but for now each is still trying to exert control over the other. Lucius has been patient (for him) because he wants his plan to work, but more immediately because he wants sex – and lots of it.

Rini - Sometimes it’s hard to understand what a person doesn’t know when it has been second nature to you forever. That applies to Lucius expecting Hermione to ring the dinner bell. Did you have to learn place settings in Home Ec, too? So did I. I’ve actually used that knowledge here and there, not that I want to admit it. I won’t tell anyone you thought about cutting out the smut so you don’t get tarred and feathered with the rest of us. Good luck with your studies. The chapters will be here when you have time. Fit me in during those periods of procrastination you mentioned!

Rainie – Thank you for the vote of confidence. The plan will unfold and then you might wish you had more of the smut LOL. By the end of the dinner, Lucius had privately decided he could loosen the strict ritual of a formal meal. He didn’t want Hermione too angry when he had a future in bed designed for her.

winter748 – I suppose I’m a little wicked, but I did check to see if I could dump the smut chapters and move on to the beginning of the plan. I’m quite happy with the Snape-Narcissa twosome and of course, Lucius and Hermione are getting very close to their meeting between the sheets.

crysta656 – Well, I do like to write the smut. It drips off my quill in red violet prose. Ah, and the humor always seeps into the story in lime green ribbons. Snape’s always pissed because he likes somber black best.

Citten – Well that decides me – I’m leaving the smut in so I don’t get murdered. Just like you, Lucius is also less cranky when he gets the smut. Hermione doesn’t know she’s going to like it yet LOL – she’s just cranky.

Pensieve Plotter – Hermione knows Lucius isn’t fond of her pet and she’s frantic he’s done away with Crookshanks. Lucius doesn’t quite understand what etiquette Hermione isn’t used to. It’s been part of his circle all his life. We’re coming to some Lucius-Hermione interaction, which I hope you’ll like. Hermione is now a Malfoy – that means there is a definite limit to what Lucius would do to Hermione to further his own goals. She is family now.

jw - I’m setting the foundation for Lucius’ and Hermione’s relationship first, then diving into the PLAN. Lucius couldn’t be just another guy if his life depended on it. He has no notion of how the rest of the wizarding world lives – or at least he has no interest in knowing about it. That gray dress really isn’t very attractive, is it? (Readers can see the pic at: http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/46194.html)

margaritama – No worries on not reviewing chapter 6. My goodness, how many readers don’t review at all? (About 98% sadly) Moving is an absolute b**ch. We remodeled the entire house several years ago and we lived out of the boxes for 8-9 months. I had notebooks telling me what was in every labeled box. Anal much? This skirmishing is just the beginning as the two combatants circle each other for weak points. (This, of course, does not preclude SEX!) Scented candles don’t do anything for food, but I think Lucius was pampering himself because he was lonely. Hermione has never cared much about clothes; she’s out of her element and she never likes to look ignorant in front of anyone. Lucius made inaccurate assumptions about her knowing how to outfit a wardrobe – a blunder on his part, although he was trying to do a nice thing for her. Harrumph, yes, well, Lucius will kind of be a wolf in sheep’s clothing in this next chapter – if one squints their eyes.




Ready for another chapter? Lucius is. I'm not so sure about Hermione.


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Chapter Eight

That’s Lucius All Over

On the morning of the dreaded evening, Lucius tapped on her bedroom door. “Hermione?”

“Who is it?” called Hermione deep in a tome on Centaur magic as she lay on the top of her bed, enjoying the breeze from her open windows.

“Is my voice unrecognizable or are you being deliberately insulting?” said Lucius through the door.

“Come in,” Hermione groused. “I wasn’t being inhospitable, Lucius,” she frowned as he opened her door and entered, standing just within the doorway. “I just wasn’t paying attention. Sorry,” she said ungraciously.

“I see you have your fur factory with you,” Lucius nodded at Crookshanks on the bed. “I am finding stray bits of orange fur and other less salubrious detritus in my rooms, which means your four-legged, molting blight is finding its way there. I must insist that animal stays solely in your rooms or outside. It cannot go anywhere else in the mansion. I won’t have its mangy fur all over my house or my clothes. And for our intimacies, you’ll have to come to my bedroom naked. NO more cat hairs in my rooms.” Lucius felt he was graciously giving an acceptable bit of leeway about her irritating pet while adding the crafty ‘naked’ rule that Hermione would never want to obey; he stood there expecting Hermione’s acquiescence in limiting the cat’s perambulations, while eyeing the unsavory fur-ridden creature. That damned animal was looking at him as though he were the interloper.

“Absolutely not,” Hermione said immediately. “Crookshanks goes anywhere he wants in the mansion and on the estate barring the kitchen, dining rooms, your apartments and any other area you spend a lot of time in. Not just passing through once a year, mind, but everyday use, like your study or other private areas or things. The elves have already agreed to keep the cat hair to a minimum. I asked them first. I’ll ask them to clean your rooms twice a day, just in case and put wards up for those areas to keep him out, like they did for your Zen garden. Take it or leave it.”

Hermione crossed her arms and lifted her chin higher. “And I will NOT come to your room naked. You may come to my room naked if you wish. That way you won’t get cat hair on your clothes.” Hermione smiled nastily, knowing Lucius would never lower himself to obey anything she said, especially if she tried to direct their sexual encounters.

“You asked the elves for permission on cleaning? Do you realize how asinine that sounds? You don’t ask the elves. Besides, I’m master here. If you were asking anyone, you should have asked me, not the damned elves.” Lucius felt his temper begin to boil and he needed to leave before he strangled her cat – or her. The ‘naked in her room’ part he would have to think about. That sounded somewhat promising.

“Nonsense,” Hermione gibed back, stung, “the elves are the ones who will be tidying up after Crookshanks, not you. It’s an extra workload for them. They told me you aren’t allergic to cats. I checked. All you are is persnickety. It doesn’t all run your way any more. I live here, too, now.”

She sniggered and added meanly, “Perhaps your robes will look better with a bit of orange fur. You always look so flamboyant and operatic, the way you twitch them into place like a pantomime villain committing skullduggery. You could do with some loosening up.” Lucius definitely considered himself some sort of sovereign in his household. He would need to adjust his thinking on that score. She wasn’t his slave. Or his plaything, she amended, reminded of his see-through negligee and thong ideas.

“You would like me to loosen up?” Lucius voice had gone all silky, an indicator she was now skating on very thin ice with him. She didn’t care. She was in the mood for some good old-fashioned verbal warfare and she knew just what would send him over the edge. He was not removing Crookshanks from her proscribed life or limiting where he could go.

Hermione played the age card. “Oh, I doubt that you loosening up is possible any more. By now you probably have incipient arthritis setting in. I understand that happens with older people.” Hermione watched as her husband’s eyes went to slits and his hands clenched into fists.

Lucius’ frosty eyes turned to glaciers. “As you wish, my dear. Until this evening.” He turned and left without another word, closing the door quietly behind him.

Hermione grinned down at the sleeping cat. She loved to poke at the elegant wizard's weak spots. It was about the only entertainment she had, marooned on the vast Malfoy estate. Lucius hadn’t let her off it yet and refused to discuss the topic. She had been owled by her friend Ginny who told the newlywed witch that Lucius had put it about that they were on their honeymoon on the estate and weren’t to be disturbed until further notice.

Hermione hadn’t the courage to call her new husband a liar, being immured in close quarters with him. Not just yet. Her attitude was ‘wait and see’ in this oddball marriage of hers. Ginny and Harry weren’t in England at the moment, anyway. Hermione didn’t have many other people to visit and no one would be inconvenienced by her absence.

“Amazing,” Hermione said aloud to Crookshanks. “I didn’t think he would back down that easily.” Then she frowned at what she had just said. “I should have got at least a ‘Be still’ from him. It shouldn’t have been that easy, should it?” she asked her half-cat who woke and stretched the toes out on his back left paw and began licking between them. “He didn’t blow up, Crookshanks. I wonder why?”

Hermione lost interest in the conundrum and was soon immersed in the unusual magic that centaurs used, a combination of regular spells and specialized ones to match their altered physiology.

~~~~~

Hermione’s first indication that her provocative words had had any effect came after dinner, which she had ordered in her sitting room to avoid her husband as long as she could and which, to her surprise, he had allowed, this being their delayed wedding night. She went into her bedroom, dragging her heels after her solitary dinner in her sitting room, waiting nervously for a summons to his bedroom.

A preemptory knock on her bedroom door startled her and she turned back to her door, opening it in expectation of an elf delivering a note or some instructions. Instead, her husband stood framed in her doorway and Hermione involuntarily took a step backward in shock. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and, sweet Guinevere’s girdle, he wasn’t wearing any trousers either. In a word, the man was starkers, but for twin black leather wristguards, which flowed halfway up his forearms.



“Well, will you invite me in? I’ve accepted your dictum that I be naked and you extended the invitation, after all. My only request is that you remove your rodent while I’m in your bedroom.”

Hermione stood like a statue trying to process the experience of seeing Lucius Malfoy naked as the day he was born. Her eyes darted everywhere at once, then she made a supreme effort to keep her eyes above his waist as his impressive lower appendage was beginning to grow and swing upward a bit, unaided.

St. Minerva’s Muff, even the view of his upper torso fueled fantasies she hadn’t even known she had. Hermione was absolutely mesmerized by what he had been hiding under all his snobby clothes. Shakespeare character, indeed! The man could pose for an underwear ad, especially as he certainly wouldn’t need any padding for the y-fronts. Lucius Malfoy was beautifully crafted all over. His broad, masculine shoulders curved into well-defined arm muscles and Hermione’s fingers suddenly itched to trace those burgeoning biceps.

His smooth, naked chest was bisected with firm pectorals topped by small pinky-beige nipples; under them a ripple of abdominals marched down to his slim waist. And she had taunted him with being a decrepit seventy or eighty. Hermione quietly moaned at her ill-mannered, horribly inaccurate words. The overall picture framed in her doorway was of a seductive male body that had been lovingly cared for, neither a beefy bodybuilder nor a flabby, self-indulgent sloth, but just what the male body should look like at its best - she dared another peek below his waist – its very, very best.

In all, his gorgeous body matched his handsome face and Hermione began to feel decidedly unattractive next to such perfection. His numerous corrections over the past week had worn on her confidence as he had relentlessly pointed out all her gauche ineptitudes.

She was so completely out of place in this wizard’s haughty, high-flown world, it was nothing more than a cruel lesson in her inadequacies outside her own circle. She didn’t fit in here. The tall, self-assured man standing in her doorway had it all, looks, physique, wealth, presence – well perhaps not personality. He was excessively bad-tempered and wholly Slytherin. She was pretty sure his conscience was stunted, too.

Overall, Hermione felt very outclassed by him and she didn’t like feeling second-rate. Her intelligence was her shining attribute and here it meant little or nothing at all; in fact her utter stupidity about her legal oversight had dragged her into this mess.

“Hermione? I would like an answer. May I come in? I gave you one week and that week is up.” Lucius stood projecting his normal superior attitude as though he were dressed for the opera instead of a shower.

Wordlessly, Hermione backed away and stumblingly waved her hand granting access.

Lucius liked her reaction – she looked like a tiny, honey-haired marmoset – all big eyes as they raked over every inch of his unblemished ivory dermis. He saw she was attempting to keep her eyes above his waist and he grinned to himself. She was going to have a lot more than her eyes on his assets before the night was over.

He shrewdly figured he would have to go at a speed she could accept for now - his sense was she was pretty inexperienced. But she hadn’t fainted dead away, so she had seen a naked man before. Probably the Weasley sprout she had taken out the wedding contract with. He grinned inwardly - if his wife was an accomplished lover, he was a virgin Hufflepuff.

Lucius sauntered into her bedroom and stopped by her bed. He gave a surreptitious glance around for the orange furball, but it appeared to be absent. “Hermione, you’re a bit overdressed, don’t you think? Or were you planning on limiting yourself to frottage this evening?”

“Huh?” Hermione had fastened her eyes on the movement of those naked buttocks as he had passed her. They curved like a bisected, hard, ivory velvet covered Quidditch quaffle. So male, so firm, so…she had a sudden overwhelming desire to squeeze her fingers into those round, solid, pale globes. That shocked her anew and Hermione hurried to ask, “What’s frottage? A cheese?”

Lucius turned with a smile toward his wife and leaned back against the foot of her bed, languorously crossing his ankles, “I believe you’re mixing up frottage with fromage. No, frottage is rubbing yourself against someone or something for sexual stimulation. I admit I would be very disappointed if rubbing was all you had in mind.” He gave her a sultry look from her toes to her curly head, then slowly came back to her eyes, seeing the pupils dilate with the erotic idea.

When Hermione just stood there frozen, Lucius decided to initiate a gentle seduction to get her used to him, to his body. “Come here, Hermione.” Lucius stayed relaxed at the end of her bed, six feet of male persuasion focused intently on a quaking, petite witch who had no idea what to do with a naked wizard.

Hermione stood irresolutely for a few seconds, then gave a huge gulp and stepped forward until she was only a pace away from her husband as he lounged against the foot of her bed. She ostentatiously ignored his lack of clothing and regarded him with a bravely raised eyebrow. The kinky, black wristguards piqued her curiosity, but other views took definite precedence.

An errant thought that besides his ‘quaffle’ he also had two pendant ‘snitches’ in a sac below his fleshy ‘bludger’ almost sent her into slightly hysterical giggles, but she bit her lip and took a deep breath. Umm, he smelled faintly of pine forest. Her interest in his Quidditch collection escalated.

Lucius reached forward and took one of her cold, little hands in his, kissing the palm and then rubbing it lightly over his chest to warm it. Hermione panicked as her hand was led down toward his waist and she pulled it away, tucking it behind her back. He merely smiled again and rolled his wide shoulders up, then down in slow motion like a big tawny cat stretching.

“I was bent over my desk all afternoon doing parchment work and my shoulders ache. I think it would be nice if you gave me a massage.” Suiting action to words, Lucius scooted backward up onto the end of her bed and turned, lying full-length, face down in the middle of her mattress. He calmly folded his arms under his head and put his cheek on his hands, his pale hair sliding onto the embroidered white counterpane, and waited for Hermione’s obedient assent.

Hermione was relieved that Lucius’ dangly part was no longer a visual temptation (even though it had begun to lift and point rather than dangle), while her eyes again flew as if magnetized to the solid, narrow, ivory mounds of his rear, grateful he was no longer looking at her. The little witch’s eyes glazed over - the idea of massaging those luscious buttocks had an embarrassing but compelling allure that made her palms itch to touch.

It was obvious that the rest of Lucius’ male equipment was up for grabs as well. How could he be so blasé about his nudity? The little voyeuress was torn between gorging herself on the masculine presentation lying on her bed and running straight out the door.

His smell wafted over her again, clean and kind of piney, probably his soap. His hair was still a bit damp and a shade darker than it was when dry, but it didn’t have even a hint of curl, so different from her own curling tresses. How could an aging wizard command such an impressive build? His broad shoulders, slim torso, firmly muscled legs and that fascinating butt took her breath away. Every inhalation of his alluring pine fragrance beckoned her against her better judgment, which was fast dwindling into a mushy goo.

“Hermione?” Lucius crooned, his voice low and velvety smooth, his overture plain.

Could she do it? Could all that expanse of beautiful male muscle and skin be hers to pet and touch and rub? Sweet Circe, he even had beautiful calf muscles, long, defined, narrowing down to slim ankles and long feet. Well, she snickered silently the old aphorism about ‘big feet, big cock’ held true. He might be an arsehole, but he was certainly a handsome one. The only ugly things about him were his temper and his politics, neither of which she wanted to deal with tonight. Heavens, the man smelled good.

Did she have the nerve to accept this virile male’s challenge, for it was a challenge. She was shiveringly aware that his quiet coquetry covered his determined intention to bed her before another day had passed. He was, however, leaving it up to her to meet him halfway.

He had made the first move, baring himself and showing his vulnerable side to her – well, all sides, actually, she giggled to herself in embarrassment, feeling almost lightheaded. She knew she wouldn’t be allowed to refuse his presence in her bed for the night, but she had the power to reject his offering of a slow introduction to intimacy with him.

Lucius didn’t open his eyes, but he murmured, “Hermione? If you don’t want to give me the massage, I want to move on with the sex. I’m getting a bit cold lying here.”

“I don’t know how to do a massage,” she said a little panicky. “What shall I use? Just my hands or do you have some sort of lotion?” Hermione made her decision to proceed with the massage based on putting off the total intimacy as much as she could, but his muscled, slim-hipped, naked form lying so quietly and unprotected on the bed was starting to attract her in spite of herself. She knew he wasn’t defenseless, all appearances to the contrary, but it looked like he was and it was a powerful persuasion.

Lucius opened one wintry gray eye and peered through the filmy curtain of his hair at his wife - she was looking a little less shell-shocked and a little more decisive and her eyes appeared to be glued to his butt. He smiled to himself; she was so transparent, acceding to the massage to put off the evil moment of consummation.

“Accio Sofskin,” he commanded. A small bottle of clear liquid floated through Hermione’s open doorway to rest at Lucius’ elbow. Lucius closed his eye again, negligently nodding at the small bottle. “That should be good enough for a massage. It’s one of Severus’ lighter lotions. Start with my shoulders, can you? They’re aching worse now.” He shrugged his back, displaying well-defined deltoid and trapezius muscles for Hermione.

He flexed his butt muscles as an added inducement and Hermione grabbed for the massage oil, a slight smile flitting across her face at the finicky cosmetic items Lucius must have in his bathroom cabinet. A frown followed the smile as Hermione suddenly wondered how many others had given this brazen wizard a massage, that he had the specific accoutrements so easily to hand. She irritably shrugged her shoulders to dismiss that thought. It was of no interest to her who had touched all that lovely pale, gold-kissed skin before she had.

She started to uncap the bottle, but realized that she would get oil on her clothing if she didn’t remove her nice sweater first. It was clear she had to remove more than that before much of his body was touched, so she disappeared into her closet, returning in record time wearing an old, long, baggy jersey with a Quidditch team logo on it. It came almost to her knees and she felt covered up from the prying pale eyes that had been fastened on the door waiting for her to reappear.

When he saw his blushing bride slipping out of her closet dressed in the faded, oversized jersey, Lucius barked with laughter. He raised his head from his hands, hunching up on both elbows and chuckled good-naturedly at her outfit, “I can see you have quite a flair for romantic apparel, my dear. I do believe I’m being driven mad with lust – that particular Quidditch team is my favorite.”

“I don’t want to get my good clothes oily,” Hermione sniffed, a bit defensive about her unromantic attire, but his laughter broke some of the tension in the room and she felt a little less intimidated. “Lie down,” she said brusquely, “and I’ll start on your shoulders.”

Lucius obediently lay back down on the bed and let his body relax again. “Why don’t you straddle my back so you can get a good purchase on my shoulders,” the crafty wizard suggested.

Neither of them was fooled by his blatant attempt to get Hermione close to him in some manner and Hermione snorted at his unvarnished approach to luring her onto the bed. Was this the celebrated wily Death Eater whose artful manipulation had felled Ministry officials and School Governors? His suggestion certainly wasn’t very subtle. Hermione knew he had greased his way with Galleons and threats in the past. For her he was dangling his…his…dingle-dangle. She bit her lip, smothering a moan; his ploy was working all too well. Her curiosity was at fever pitch wondering what he would feel like in her hands and her um, otherwhere.

In her brief view of him at her door, she had swiftly cataloged most of his beguiling attributes before lifting her eyes to his. His chest was without hair, but a light dusting of honey-colored fuzz began at his navel and arrowed down into a thick thatch surrounding his staff. The same light dusting of fur continued down his thighs, growing sparser as it got closer to his ankles. Lucius’ forearms also had the vaguest sprinkling of light, honey-colored hair disappearing under his wristguards.

The little witch hesitantly climbed up onto the bed and knelt next to Lucius’ bare ribcage, retrieving the bottle of lotion and spreading some on her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to straddle him, but she eased her knees right up against his side. After staring at the mellow expanse of skin confronting her for a moment, she dabbed at one shoulder blade with two fingers then retreated.

Lucius lay absolutely still, breathing lightly so his quarry wasn’t scared away, and was rewarded with a palm sliding across the wide territory of his back from his nape to his waist where the tiny, questing palm came to a stuttering halt. Lucius smiled into his arms and gave no reaction.

Hermione was emboldened by the quiescence of her husband and she swept both her hands over his back more confidently. His soft breathing was his only response and Hermione felt a little safer even though she knew she was being lured. She pressed more firmly into the blond wizard’s shoulder muscles, finally eliciting an appreciative groan of pleasure and she continued massaging the heavy muscles of his shoulders, then ventured down his arms and kneaded his biceps. His body was much warmer to the touch than hers and her palms slid easily along his lotioned skin.

She was curiously attracted to that slight, tawny flush of hair covering his forearms as he rested with his elbows bent outward from his head, wishing she could follow the hair all the way under the black leather at his wrists and she almost reached out to pet him, only at the last minute refraining in confusion. What was wrong with her, being mesmerized by a man’s sparsely hirsute arms? She even liked the small bits of flaxen fleece in his armpits.

The man had an all-over, pale aureate glow reminding her of a solid gold statuette in a picture of Aztec treasure she’d seen once. But he was warm, oh so warm, and his skin was smooth and firm to the touch, supple and resilient with the pleasant pine scent rising from wherever she rubbed.

She vaguely knew she was already lost to this game of seduction and he hadn’t even done anything – anything but present his glorious, naked body for her inspection. Now, touching him so intimately was enticing her, messing with her senses, drawing her inexorably into his sensual web and yet it was all innocent – so far.

Rubbing him was slowly turning into a heady addiction and Hermione’s eyes slid to the smooth, ivory globes of his buttocks, which were a shade or two lighter than his shoulders. Perhaps he swam? She knew he had both an indoor and an outdoor pool on the estate, but she’d never heard that he used either of them. Her fingers positively itched to squeeze that muscled flesh. Did he know? She looked back up at his face half-hidden by his platinum hair, but his icy eyes were still closed, his whole body loose-limbed and motionless in repose. Could she? Did she dare?

As though he was hearing her lascivious thoughts, Lucius half opened his eyes and sleepily regarded his masseuse, “Can you do my legs, too?” His voice was slow and deep and vibrated inside Hermione’s belly like a rolling cadence in a kettledrum. “I would appreciate it. They’re knotting up lying here after sitting at my desk all day.” He closed his eyes again obviously assuming his request would be granted.

Hermione moved crabwise on her knees down his side until she was even with his knees and went to work, first rubbing in long strokes, shying away from the very tops of his thighs, but caressing his long, straight legs to his ankles and back. Then she concentrated on his calves for a while before more confidently moving upward to the backs of his thigh muscles. As her hands slid higher, she thought she detected a slight hitching in the rhythm of Lucius’ breathing and it emboldened her to finally take his advice and straddle him over his knees to gain a better purchase on his solid hamstrings.

In a daring move, she lifted one of her knees and straddled the backs of his knees, facing his bum, keeping her body raised rather than settling on him. In this new position it was easier to increase the pressure of her hands. All the time Hermione wanted to find the courage to squeeze his butt muscles, but her normally intrepid nature failed her.

After being teased several times by small palms venturing up toward his rear, but stalling at the last minute, the prone wizard whispered, “Just do it, Hermione. You want it. I want it.” Lucius’ quiet velvety words breaking into her absorption shocked her, but it suddenly snapped her ragged restraint and she rolled her palms up and over his rear.

Two pairs of lungs exhaled in relief and something private and erotic was shared between them. “Ahhh, Mmmm,” Lucius moaned in appreciation for the arrival of those little hands where he wanted them. She was getting closer to his primary target; her willingness to touch him all over his backside was a strong indication that his ultimate objective of touching her everywhere was very close to fruition.


tbc...

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Lucius has pegged Hermione's latent, lascivious predisposition perfectly. She's naive and inexperienced, but she definitely has a passionate nature, which her husband plans to exploit. Her knowledge will soon be enhanced by a crash course in sex education.

I know, I know, cliffie. But didn't you enjoy Lucius' body? Can't rush things and miss a masterpiece like that (or should I say master piece LOL)

If a few lurkers would like to add some words, I would be thrilled. And there is always the rating button.

Chapter pics are here:

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/47031.html


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