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coq au vin

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One of the things Narcissa loved most about Lucius was the way he entered a room. Back straight, head up, strides so powerful the lights flickered in his wake. Thin lips curled in a smile as his grey eyes swept the room and everyone in it, like they were just there for his amusement. Presence, they called it.

Lucius pulled the doors to the restaurant open for them and they strode in, every head turning in their direction. This restaurant was acclaimed, one those places people raved about and waited months to get into, but a few discreetly performed charms had put them at the front of the queue. Lucius and Narcissa walked up to the reservation desk, arms linked.

“Reservation for seven o’clock,” said Lucius, his voice unhurried, almost bored. “Malfoy.”

“Right this way,” said the woman behind the desk, and she led them to a table in the middle of the restaurant.

Narcissa glanced up at Lucius, studying his smooth jawline, the sleek blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. “I think we’d like something a bit more private,” she said in a voice she hoped was both gracious and commanding.

“Certainly,” said the woman, and Narcissa couldn’t help but notice how handsome she was in her maître d’ uniform, dark hair pulled back in a bun. Narcissa looked her over and licked her lips as the woman pulled a chair out for her. The woman blushed and Lucius shot Narcissa a sideways smile.

When she’d gone he grazed Narcissa’s ear with his lips and kissed her neck. “Perhaps we’ll have to invite her over sometime.”

Narcissa smiled and ran her hands through his hair. “Perhaps. But tonight it’s just us.” She glanced around them, at the oak plank table and starched white cloth and floating glass lanterns, all modern and minimalist, but there were vines and flowers growing in the wooden arbour beside them and they were in a far corner of the restaurant, just visible enough to be seen if people craned their necks a bit, but far enough away that no one could hear their whispered conversations. Or any other noises they might make.

Lucius was wearing a long frock coat over a white button-down shirt that was halfway open the way she liked. She moved her chair close to his and kissed his lips, running her hands down his smooth hard chest, stroking the hair on his stomach, sliding her finger along the waistband of his trousers.

Lucius gasped and moaned into her mouth.

“Would you like to start with a cocktail?”

Narcissa pulled back from Lucius and ran her hand through her hair as though it hadn’t just been all the way down Lucius’ shirt. The waiter’s lips were thin and he looked faintly annoyed.

“I’d like a dry martini please,” said Narcissa.

“Same,” said Lucius in a bored voice that said clearly he didn’t give two shits if they annoyed the waitstaff.

When he’d gone Lucius reached under the table and squeezed her thigh, letting his hands wander across her legs. Narcissa pretended to be shocked when he ran his hands up her bare skin, but it was no accident that she’d worn a dress with a long slit up the side.

She closed her eyes as Lucius slid his fingers along the inside of her thigh, stopping just below her knickers, sliding back down again.

“Your drinks,” said the waiter, setting two glasses on the table.

Narcissa murmured her thanks and Lucius brought his hands back up to the table. They took a few sips and snarked on Euphemia Rowle’s garish red lame dress robes and the way Athena Carrow chewed with her mouth open and it was enjoyable enough, but Narcissa couldn’t stop thinking about Lucius’ hands, his fingertips sliding up ther thigh. She stared down at his long thin fingers.

As though he could read her mind he set down his drink and nibbled her ear, hand sliding back under the table. He stroked her thigh until he reached the waistband of her knickers and slid his soft cool fingertips along the lace edges. Narcissa’s face flushed and she ached with anticipation, need.

Lucius’s pulled his hand away from her knickers and brought it up to the table. “This might be a bit risqué even for us,” he said, but his voice was smiling. “People can see us, you know. Imagine if the Daily Prophet were to catch wind of this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she whispered against his ear. She bit down on his earlobe. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Lucius smiled and worked his hand back up her thigh, his other hand resting on the tabletop as though they were just sitting there waiting to be served. Narcissa was slick, wet, and Lucius’ fingertips slid up and down her cunt in smooth easy strokes that made her legs tighten, made her bite down on her lip to stifle her moans. She tried to sit upright and look busy but her eyes were glazed over and she couldn’t see a thing.

Lucius wasn’t one to rush things. He knew how to build it up, how to bring her to the edge without making her come, how to get her aching so badly she was practically begging. Knew because he’d learned it from her.

She gripped the edge of her chair and leaned forward, eyes half-closed, panting, clenching her jaw to stop herself moaning, but sometimes a whimper would escape her lips anyway.

“Are you...ready to order?”

Lucius pulled his hand away and Narcissa stifled the stream of swear words on the edge of her lips.

“I think we need a few more minutes,” said Lucius with half a glance at Narcissa.

The waiter narrowed his eyes at them. “Very good sir,” he said through clenched teeth. Lucius smirked. Narcissa gazed around the room and saw people with their heads together, glancing at them.

“I think they’re watching you,” Lucius whispered.

Narcissa saw them but it only heightened the ache between her legs, made it so strong it almost hurt. If Lucius didn’t finish her off she’d have to run to the lavatory and do it herself.

“But you like it don’t you?” he whispered against her ear. He slid his hand back down, running his fingers and down her centre, circling her clit, sliding back down again. Narcissa was right at the edge, thighs shaking, stomach tight, and as the orgasm coursed through her she buried her face in Lucius’s shoulder to stifle her moans.

She collapsed in his arms, breathing hard, breathing him in as he pulled her close and kissed her hair. Whispers broke out around them like a sudden breeze and the shadow of the waiter bore down upon them in a vaguely ominous way.

“Are you ready to order now?”

Narcissa was still flushed and breathing hard. “Yes,” she panted, with a faint smile at Lucius. They ordered a full nine-course dinner, with oysters for the hors d’oeurvres.

“And the main course?”

“Coq au vin,” said Narcissa, staring at Lucius and licking her lips.

“I’ll have whatever she has,” said Lucius, face shining with sweat.

The waiter huffed and raised an eyebrow; Lucius might as well have put his feet up on the table. “You have fine taste sir,” he said, the disdain dripping from his voice like the dulce de leche dripping from Athena Carrow’s open mouth.

“Now,” said Narcissa as the waiter took their menus, “Where were we?”

She reached under the table and undid the top button of Lucius’ trousers, circling the tip of his stiff cock with her thumb. Lucius groaned.

“Careful,” Narcissa whispered. “People can hear us.”

Lucius swallowed back a moan and put his hand around his wine glass, but his face was taut and his eyelids were fluttering. Narcissa leaned towards him as though whispering in his ear, gripping his shaft and thrusting her hands down with quick hard strokes, feeling his rapid breath against her face, the way his body tightened. He was so close.

She let go and pulled her hand back.

“Don’t stop,” Lucius panted.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Narcissa, reaching back down to touch the tip of his cock. Lucius gasped. “I wouldn’t want us to make a scene.”

“Please.” He was begging.

Narcissa bit down on his ear and slid her hands back beneath his pants, stroking him softly, then faster, harder, until his body shook and he moaned into Narcissa’s ear.

The waiter bustled over to their table with a swish of fabric, but this time he didn’t look even remotely annoyed. His face was flushed and sweating and he’d opened his shirt collar. “Your hors d’oeuvres, madam and sir,” he said in a breathy voice, setting two white plates in front of them. “Is there anything else I can get you? Anything at all?”

“I think we’re good for now,” said Lucius. He winked.

Lucius discreetly cleaned himself and Narcissa buttoned up his trousers and kissed his jaw. “I think he’s rather taken with you.”

Lucius smiled in a self-satisfied sort of way and brushed back a loose strand of hair. “We’ll have to become regulars here.”

“I like your thinking,” Narcissa whispered against his neck. She slid her hand between his legs. Half the people in the restaurant were craning their necks to look at them now. “I’m rather fond of this place. I’ve heard the coq au vin is exquisite.”

Lucius brushed back strand of hair from her face, tucked it gently behind her ear the way he had the first time he’d kissed her, all those years ago, and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I love you Cissa.”

Narcissa cupped his face with her hands. “I love you too.” She pressed her forehead to his before pulling away, and they started their dinner.