fic: Trade
Day 18 of Advent Drabbles!
Title: Trade
Rating: R
Word Count: 950
Pairing(s)/Characters: Astoria/Albus Severus (background Draco/Astoria)
Warnings: ADW: 42/17
Summary: It is an easy seduction, but it is a trade.
Notes: For thilia, who gave me a few prompts but I ended up with "Astoria/Albus Severus" and "seduction". A pairing I've always wanted to write and so happy to do for you, bb! The only thing missing is hot fanart. Hmm, I wonder who could do such a hot pairing justice… *grin* Happy holidays. <3 (btw, this is shamelessly based on a porn I once saw lol)
Trade
It is an easy seduction. Astoria does not even need to get her hands dirty, like with other boys who do the things she asks. Unlike most boys, Albus Potter doesn't need dark potions, financial assistance, or lurid promises-all he needs is simple, slow seduction, the bare flash of one pale shoulder as she greets him at the door, the subtle arch of cleavage when she bends to serve him tea, a slip of confessions to admit she is lonely when her husband leaves her, that she would love a strong, handsome boy to help her in his wake.
Albus is one of those boys, who does not want to be his father and yet cannot escape his ever-reaching shadow. He is under constant pressure, desires to be more than ordinary, and he wants things he shouldn't, looks at older women out of the corner of his eye, fantasizes about thing that would make his father wonder where he'd gone wrong.
Astoria knows this, because she has known boys like Albus all her life. She married a man who was quite similar, yet so very different.
It is why she is not surprised when, as she steps into her dressing quarters just outside her bath, she spies Al's knee, just his knee at first because Albus is trying to hide from her. Behind a Grecian beam that sets her décor, Albus hides. Perhaps he has been watching her bathe, watching her fingers soap her breasts and stomach and sweep between the folds of her cunt and inside. If she'd have known, she'd have put on a better show for him, but she can hear him panting, so maybe just watching is enough.
Astoria dallies, takes her time brushing out her long, yellow curls. She hums a tune, stands nude before her mirror, touches her skin and pretending to find fault with the pale, smooth flesh at her cheeks, near her eyes, around her supple mouth. She is forty-two years old, should be embarrassed at herself, and yet the only thing she can think is how her body sings to be watched and leered at. She makes Albus wait, because he will love her even more when he no longer has to.
When she is ready to leave, she finds Albus with his dick out, trying not to be noticed as he hides. She pretends to be surprised, feigns modesty when she covers her body, but the look on his beautiful, beautiful face stops her cold. It is quite hard to feign innocence with a wide-eyed, slack-jawed look like that staring at her.
For the longest time, Astoria thought he was homosexual. The way Albus walks, talks, interacts with her son, shows an interest in her perfumes-but now, looking at the way he wants her, Astoria knows she has been mistaken. That makes it all the easier when she gestures for him to stand (he does) and calls him to her (he comes).
"Was there something you wanted, Albus?" she asks, like she doesn't already know.
Albus looks her over, as if appraising a new broomstick, and it thrills her. What is she to him? The beautiful, untouchable mother of his friend? The wife of a former Death Eater? Whatever she is, she likes what she sees, and he likes what he sees and says nothing, just raises his eyes to hers in question, perhaps embarrassed.
"Was it these?" she asks, massaging her small breasts, kneading them. "Albus, was it my breasts?"
The word must shock him. He sucks in air, his fingers twitch at his sides, and he reaches up to jerk himself, not slowly or shyly but in a vulgar, quick way that makes Astoria smile. He is so, so eager.
"Do you want to touch me?"
Again, Albus looks her over, from eyes to toes; his gaze lingers at the V of her sex, the fine blond curls she no longer cares to shave, and settles at the pebble of her right nipple.
"Yes," he says.
Albus reaches out, gropes her awkwardly, clumsily, like a boy who has never touched a woman, and Astoria cannot believe her luck as she moans for him and his fist pumps faster, faster, faster, and he grunts and leans in to claim her mouth.
But no. She stops him with a single digit between their open, panting mouths.
"First, you must do something for me. This is a trade, Albus," she reaffirms, at his confused, pretty look. "I do something for you. You do something for me."
And then, the word she longs to hear: "Anything." This, he says, as he tries again to mouth at her like a simpering pet, and she lets him, tongues his mouth until he's breathless and grunting like an animal.
When his fingers sink inside her for the first time, she rocks into him, tells him she has never had better, that he is perfect, tangles her fingers into fistfuls of his hair, bites his mouth. When his lips find her nipples, she arches, moans, shouts, tells him he's a good boy and praises him. And when she sinks to her knees to finish him off, she does so with languid, effortless patience, as his toes curl and his hips thrust and buck.
There is only one thing she wants, and she tells him before she lets him come.
"I want you to help me kill my husband, Albus."
His eyes go wide: predictable. His breath sucks in and out in whooshes: expected. But then, he nods. One single jerk of his head as he trembles.
"Please," he says. "Anything."
He comes. The deed will be done.
Title: Trade
Rating: R
Word Count: 950
Pairing(s)/Characters: Astoria/Albus Severus (background Draco/Astoria)
Warnings: ADW: 42/17
Summary: It is an easy seduction, but it is a trade.
Notes: For thilia, who gave me a few prompts but I ended up with "Astoria/Albus Severus" and "seduction". A pairing I've always wanted to write and so happy to do for you, bb! The only thing missing is hot fanart. Hmm, I wonder who could do such a hot pairing justice… *grin* Happy holidays. <3 (btw, this is shamelessly based on a porn I once saw lol)
Trade
It is an easy seduction. Astoria does not even need to get her hands dirty, like with other boys who do the things she asks. Unlike most boys, Albus Potter doesn't need dark potions, financial assistance, or lurid promises-all he needs is simple, slow seduction, the bare flash of one pale shoulder as she greets him at the door, the subtle arch of cleavage when she bends to serve him tea, a slip of confessions to admit she is lonely when her husband leaves her, that she would love a strong, handsome boy to help her in his wake.
Albus is one of those boys, who does not want to be his father and yet cannot escape his ever-reaching shadow. He is under constant pressure, desires to be more than ordinary, and he wants things he shouldn't, looks at older women out of the corner of his eye, fantasizes about thing that would make his father wonder where he'd gone wrong.
Astoria knows this, because she has known boys like Albus all her life. She married a man who was quite similar, yet so very different.
It is why she is not surprised when, as she steps into her dressing quarters just outside her bath, she spies Al's knee, just his knee at first because Albus is trying to hide from her. Behind a Grecian beam that sets her décor, Albus hides. Perhaps he has been watching her bathe, watching her fingers soap her breasts and stomach and sweep between the folds of her cunt and inside. If she'd have known, she'd have put on a better show for him, but she can hear him panting, so maybe just watching is enough.
Astoria dallies, takes her time brushing out her long, yellow curls. She hums a tune, stands nude before her mirror, touches her skin and pretending to find fault with the pale, smooth flesh at her cheeks, near her eyes, around her supple mouth. She is forty-two years old, should be embarrassed at herself, and yet the only thing she can think is how her body sings to be watched and leered at. She makes Albus wait, because he will love her even more when he no longer has to.
When she is ready to leave, she finds Albus with his dick out, trying not to be noticed as he hides. She pretends to be surprised, feigns modesty when she covers her body, but the look on his beautiful, beautiful face stops her cold. It is quite hard to feign innocence with a wide-eyed, slack-jawed look like that staring at her.
For the longest time, Astoria thought he was homosexual. The way Albus walks, talks, interacts with her son, shows an interest in her perfumes-but now, looking at the way he wants her, Astoria knows she has been mistaken. That makes it all the easier when she gestures for him to stand (he does) and calls him to her (he comes).
"Was there something you wanted, Albus?" she asks, like she doesn't already know.
Albus looks her over, as if appraising a new broomstick, and it thrills her. What is she to him? The beautiful, untouchable mother of his friend? The wife of a former Death Eater? Whatever she is, she likes what she sees, and he likes what he sees and says nothing, just raises his eyes to hers in question, perhaps embarrassed.
"Was it these?" she asks, massaging her small breasts, kneading them. "Albus, was it my breasts?"
The word must shock him. He sucks in air, his fingers twitch at his sides, and he reaches up to jerk himself, not slowly or shyly but in a vulgar, quick way that makes Astoria smile. He is so, so eager.
"Do you want to touch me?"
Again, Albus looks her over, from eyes to toes; his gaze lingers at the V of her sex, the fine blond curls she no longer cares to shave, and settles at the pebble of her right nipple.
"Yes," he says.
Albus reaches out, gropes her awkwardly, clumsily, like a boy who has never touched a woman, and Astoria cannot believe her luck as she moans for him and his fist pumps faster, faster, faster, and he grunts and leans in to claim her mouth.
But no. She stops him with a single digit between their open, panting mouths.
"First, you must do something for me. This is a trade, Albus," she reaffirms, at his confused, pretty look. "I do something for you. You do something for me."
And then, the word she longs to hear: "Anything." This, he says, as he tries again to mouth at her like a simpering pet, and she lets him, tongues his mouth until he's breathless and grunting like an animal.
When his fingers sink inside her for the first time, she rocks into him, tells him she has never had better, that he is perfect, tangles her fingers into fistfuls of his hair, bites his mouth. When his lips find her nipples, she arches, moans, shouts, tells him he's a good boy and praises him. And when she sinks to her knees to finish him off, she does so with languid, effortless patience, as his toes curl and his hips thrust and buck.
There is only one thing she wants, and she tells him before she lets him come.
"I want you to help me kill my husband, Albus."
His eyes go wide: predictable. His breath sucks in and out in whooshes: expected. But then, he nods. One single jerk of his head as he trembles.
"Please," he says. "Anything."
He comes. The deed will be done.