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Neville’s head snapped up as the door to his greenhouse slammed open.
With a pounding heart, he set his wand down at the sight of the familiar five foot two menace standing in the doorway. “Always a pleasure, Parkinson.”
“Save the niceties, Longbottom, where the fuck is the rest of my delivery?”
He wasn’t certain that nice was a word in Pansy Parkinson’s vocabulary. It was a big part of the reason for the missing ingredients.
Turning, he hefted the bag of fertilizer and carried it to the bench where he was working. “I included a note and a full refund for the ingredients I could not provide.”
“Would not provide,” she sneered.
Semantics. He wasn’t going to cave just because she was throwing a hissy fit. “If you feel like I am not fulfilling your needs to your satisfaction, you are welcome to seek out another supplier.”
Part of him hoped she would. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with her incessant demands or attitude anytime something was slightly off with her order.
It wasn’t as if he minded her demands, per say. She was incredibly specific on exactly what she wanted and there was nothing he found more reassuring than knowing exactly what to do so he could get it right the first time. It was humiliating finding out that he’d been doing something wrong all along and the other person just hadn’t wanted to say something.
It was that she never said thank you. Never acknowledged the work that he did to make everything perfect or the way he instantly corrected the few mistakes that did happen occasionally and it pissed him off.
She could take her fuck-me heels and sharp words and go annoy some other herbologist with her ungrateful attitude and Muggle-style tight, hip-hugging skirts.
He slammed the bag down onto the bench with slightly more force than was strictly necessary.
“When my needs are not fulfilled to my satisfaction, I demand correction,” Pansy snapped.
“And then walk away without a word,” he muttered.
She cocked her head.
Dammit. She must have heard him.
She sauntered towards him slowly. “Is that the problem, Longbottom?” Her tone was low and patronizing in a way that sent shivers down his spine.
He shifted so he was facing the bench.
“Do I not take enough time to tell you what a good boy you’ve been?” she purred. “How proud I am of you for getting my orders right?”
He could feel what little blood was left in his veins practically roaring in his ears. He was certain his face was bright red and refused to look at her. “I am not going to help you brew lust potions,” he said through clenched teeth.
She froze. “You knew what those were for.”
“I know you think I’m stupid but I am a good herbologist.” Several of the ingredients could have been innocuous, but suscito cerinthus only had one purpose. He was not giving her the world’s most powerful aphrodisiac in its most potent form. It—and fakes—were peddled in Knockturn as just “sex pollen.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid.” Her words were uncharacteristically soft. “You’re the best herbologist I know. It’s why I source everything I can from you.”
It was—by far—the nicest thing she’d ever said to him and he had no idea what to do with it, other than step even closer to the bench to keep his physical reaction hidden.
“You’re also…discreet.”
That immediately sent up warning bells. “I’m not helping you sell lust potions,” he said again. “They’re dangerous and not regulated well enough and until they are I will not provide any ingredients for them.” Suscito cerinthus was deadly if the effects weren’t treated in time.
“They’re not for the apothecary,” she said with a huff.
He started filling pots to prepare for seedlings. “Well unless you tell me who it’s for and why they need them, my answer is no.”
“They’re for me.”
He froze, then his eyes flicked over to her.
“I like to have them…on hand.” For as carefully as she was choosing her words, she didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. If anything, there was a hint of curiosity. As if she was judging his reaction to finding out she took lust potions.
He grabbed an empty pot and tried to concentrate on his task at hand. “You shouldn’t use them either, they’re not worth the risk of someone taking advantage or hurting you.”
“Aww, the heroic Gryffindor trying to keep me safe,” she mocked.
If that was the route she was going to take to try to convince him, he absolutely wasn’t going to give her what she wanted.
“I’m not the one using them,” she said, making him freeze mid-task. “They’re for whoever I’ve brought home for the evening.”
“That’s even worse.” Fuck, he was so flustered he’d completely forgotten where he was at with his pot.
“Because I have to drug someone to sleep with me?”
She was a menace in heels but he knew she wasn’t doing that. “Because lust potions are unnecessary.”
“Most fun things are.”
He clenched his jaw as he started over on the pot he was working on preparing. Everything had to be added in a precise amount and order for the best health and he refused to sacrifice that just because Pansy was distracting him. Again.
“Don’t tell me you’re against consensual recreational lust potion usage.”
“No,” he said tightly. Fuck, he’d lost track again.
“So it’s just me.”
“Yes,” he said, dumping out the pot and starting over for the third time.
“Because…”
“Because anyone you bring home should be thanking you on their fucking knees, not—” He cut himself off, but he’d already said too much.
Heat burned his cheeks as he stared down at the table.
“Is that what you would do if I brought you home?” Pansy asked, her voice low. “Thank me on your fucking knees?”
He didn’t look up from the empty pot. “Pansy, we both know you’re not ever bringing me home so please stop trying to humiliate me.” Merlin knew she had enough material already. “Unless you need something from me—”
“As a matter of fact, I want to bring Millie a bouquet,” she said. “Something grand and stately but no blooms with pollen that might get on my clothes. Yellow is her favorite color. And I would like a place to sit while I wait.”
Always so fucking demanding. Still, it was an actual request he could fulfill and one that would get her out of the greenhouse once he was done.
He pulled out a stool for her and Pansy’s lip curled in distaste. It was a greenhouse, not a tea parlor, he didn’t have a chaise lounge—
If she objected to pollen on her clothes she probably didn’t feel great about the potential dirt in the greenhouse either. Using his wand, he summoned a clean handkerchief from his cloak pocket, enlarged it, and spread it over the stool for her, all without touching it or getting dirt from his hands on it.
Pansy smiled at him and he felt his heart skip. “Thank you, Neville, you read my mind.”
Certain she was up to something, he grabbed his pruning shears and crossed the large greenhouse to where he kept a small flower garden. He used the excuse that he was developing some hybrids to maintain it, but he’d never felt that any greenhouse was complete without something beautiful inside it.
His idea of beauty often ran countercultural, but Pansy wanted grand and stately. He didn’t have enough yellow flowers blooming to make a full bouquet out of only yellow—especially if he couldn’t use any lilies—but white with pops of yellow seemed like a good way to meet Pansy’s expectations.
When he finally had enough blossoms gathered, carefully arranged, and tied up with ribbon, he brought it over to her.
Pansy gave him a small smile. “It’s perfect, Neville, well done.”
Fuck. He hated how much he loved hearing her say that to him. She was never ever that nice to him. To anyone. He hated that he couldn’t tell what she was doing or why.
Without another word, she hopped off the stool.
As she started to saunter out, she paused right next to him. “I would, you know.”
He cleared his throat. “You would what?”
“Bring you home.”
He felt his heart stutter. There was absolutely no possible way she meant it.
“In fact, I’m willing to offer a…demonstration.”
He swallowed, his throat thick.
“If you want to accept my offer, send the ingredients for one batch directly to my home,” she said. “Once I get around to brewing it, I’ll owl you the date, time, and address.” Without another word, she turned and strutted out of his greenhouse.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He needed to get back to work, not indulge any of the terrible ideas running through his mind. Because taking Pansy up on that offer was nothing short of an absolutely terrible idea.
It was no secret he was attracted to her. Had been for…years, if he was honest. She probably knew.
But he was not about to let her chew him up and spit him out. Everything about her was bad news and he had seedlings to grow.
Pansy was used to making bad decisions. Her time in school had been a series of one bad decision after the other, some of which she regretted, some of which she stood by. While she had done her best to outgrow the urge, sometimes she couldn’t help but allow herself to indulge.
Case in point: Neville Longbottom.
It was the worst decision she had made since she ended up in a Muggle jail cell the night of her twenty-second birthday. A few well-placed Galleons had turned that into a mere citation from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes that expired after a mere twelve months, but she had treated it as a turning point in her life.
She was a respectable businesswoman who ran a successful apothecary. Since she had started sourcing all of her herbology ingredients from Longbottom, she had rapidly become the most reputable apothecary in all of northern England. Doing anything to risk that was foolish.
And yet…
She could not get that damn blush when she told Neville what a good boy he’d been for always getting her orders so perfect out of her mind.
Initially, his passive aggressive pouting about her lack of gratitude had come across as every other pureblood boy she’d ever met.
Entitlement.
Full of the arrogance and expectation that everyone would fall at their feet.
Pansy found she much preferred having them at her feet. After a childhood and adolescence of being groomed to be the perfect pureblood wife who took orders and never questioned her husband, there was nothing more satisfying than having a man on his knees, begging before her.
Neville Longbottom, the pureblooded bear of a wizard and literal war hero who could physically overpower her without much effort, being the pathetic one on his knees begging for her touch was an image she could not shake however much she tried.
She’d meant to be patronizing, to make Neville finally snap and drop his customer service act and show whatever true feelings he had about her.
She hadn’t expected him to fold. To blush and nearly melt at her words, even if he knew they were sarcastic. She’d pushed him, seeing how he would react to a set of demands. There was no denying the instant relief that had come over him when she gave him direct, specific instructions, or how pleased he was when she thanked him.
Neville Longbottom was desperate to please and—despite the horrible idea it was—she wanted to see how flustered she could make him.
Instead of letting an employee open up the shop for his deliveries, she arrived early to supervise as he carefully unloaded and put everything away exactly the way she liked it. She watched with satisfaction when she thanked him and a deep blush spread across his cheeks and beneath the collar of his robes.
On his third early morning delivery, he brought her a coffee after noticing her yawn two days before. The way he blushed was absolutely delightful. It took everything in her not to reward him the way she would have preferred, but she’d made her offer. He would respond sooner or later.
After a week and a half, Pansy returned from resolving an issue with a difficult customer to find a box on her desk.
Smug satisfaction rolled through her when she opened it up and found her missing ingredients.
Neville had included a note, as well.
If the offer is still on the table, one demonstration, and then please have your assistants go back to accepting my deliveries.
It was bossier than she usually would have allowed, but he had a point. They both recognized something in the other, but as soon as they got it out of their systems, they could move on.
Just to be sure, she sent off a formal contract. The speed with which Neville returned it, entirely filled out—without struggling with or questioning the privacy charms on it—told her everything she needed to know.
As did his answers.
Almost perfectly compatible.
Smirking, Pansy sat back. She had an evening to plan.
Neville stood before his Floo, questioning every single life decision that he had ever made to bring him to that moment.
Getting his mastery in Herbology instead of joining the DMLE like his gran wanted. Opening a private greenhouse instead of going into academics like Sprout suggested. Moving to Blackpool instead of trying to open a greenhouse in London or Hogsmeade or literally anywhere else. Accepting the very first order from Pansy.
All culminating in sending her the ingredients for her lust potion. When she’d sent back the contract…
Fuck, he was hard just thinking about it.
It wasn’t his first time filling one of them out for a witch, but something about Pansy told him that she might be the one to break him.
Perhaps because she’d been fucking with his head for so long, but the fact that she was interested…
One night.
It was one night, and then maybe he could finally move on from her.
The clock striking the hour interrupted the voice in the back of his mind warning him that the opposite was likely true. Neville stepped into his Floo and called out the address Pansy had owled him.
It spat him out in a surprisingly cozy living room. Tasteful and elegant—as he expected from Pansy—but still warm and welcoming. Colorful art hung on the walls and the plush furniture was decorated with luxurious throws and fluffy pillows.
There was an unexpected intimacy in being in her living room. It was ironic, considering the magical contract of things he’d agreed to let her do to him—including making him beg for any of them—but he had a feeling Pansy didn’t let many people into her private space.
Swallowing, he reminded himself to focus. He’d been given a set of instructions and he was not going to get anything wrong.
Turning, he walked down the hallway and counted out the third door. The bedroom was nondescript, just like she’d said.
A tendril of unease snaked through him when he saw the cabinet by the door where she had instructed he leaved all of his things.
It felt too good to be true. Like he was going to blink and wake up, or find out it was some elaborate prank made up just to humiliate him.
She’d signed the contract, she’d agreed to avoid any of his hard limits. If she broke them, the privacy spells would cancel, allowing him to do whatever he wanted with it.
Guilt ran through him for even thinking those thoughts about Pansy. He’d gotten to know her well enough over the past few years to know it wasn’t something she would do. She was smart and clever and talented and passionate and gorgeous.
It had been easier to pretend he still hated her than admit how much he wanted someone who would never want him back.
But she did.
At least for one evening.
If he didn’t waste any more time.
After a deep breath, he removed every item of clothing, folded it, and put it away as instructed. Only his wand could be left out, but even that had to stay on top of the cabinet. Then he walked to the end of the bed and knelt.
His heart pounded in his chest as he waited. He had no idea how long she was going to keep him in suspense, but he drew in steady breaths, trying to calm himself. If they only had one night, surely she wouldn’t leave him waiting all night long. He’d do it, if that was what she wanted, but with every passing second his desperation for her only grew.
Whether or not she would let him touch her. Taste her. Fuck her.
His already half-hard cock twitched.
Just as he was about to crawl out of his skin with wanting, the door opened and his heart nearly stopped.
Pansy’s lips curled into her familiar deep crimson smirk, but there was a softness to her brown eyes. She was wearing some sort of corset made out of sheer black lace, another one of the hip-hugging Muggle skirts that drove him absolutely insane, and stilettos that made him reconsider his opinion on getting stepped on.
He soaked in the sight of her like a starving man eyed a feast. Every curve on perfect display, teasing him and testing his ability to hold still.
“Look at you, Pet,” she said. “Waiting so perfectly for me.”
“Please, Mistress.” It was so easy to surrender completely. The struggle around Pansy was not dropping to his knees and begging to please her. Now that he could, falling was the easiest thing in the world.
Her smile was half condescending, half indulgent. “Please, what?”
“Let me please you.”
She stopped right in front of him. “Tonight is all about you.”
Uncertainty laced with panic raced through him. It wasn’t supposed to be about him, it was supposed to be about Pansy, if he couldn’t—
“Relax, Pet,” she murmured. “You following my directions will make me proud.”
He drew in a shuddering breath, relaxing into the hand she ran through his hair.
“That’s what you like, isn’t it?” she asked. “Someone telling you what to do?”
“I don’t like getting things wrong.” The confession fell from his lips. In this setting in particular, it was almost impossible to deny her anything. “I don’t like guessing. I want to do it right but sometimes I don’t know how.”
Her long red nails continued their path through his hair, lightly scraping along his scalp in the most delightful way. “And when you do it well you want to be told.”
He wet his lips and then nodded.
She gripped his hair, more of a warning. “Words, Pet.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good boy.”
He bit his lip to hold in his whimper. Pansy’s thumb pulled it out of his teeth. “All your words, all your sounds,” she said. “Do not hold anything back from me tonight.”
“Yes, Mistress.” The words poured out of him, full of relief. Not having to hold anything back, being able to focus entirely on nothing but Pansy’s touch and her words was nothing but bliss.
Her hand slid down his neck and along the top of his chest as she walked around him, lightly dragging her nails across his skin and leaving a trail of goosepimples in her wake. She stopped behind him and placed a hand on either of his shoulders.
He felt her lean forward as she slid her palms down his upper arms towards his elbows, and then pulled her hands up, lightly scratching with her fingernails again. Instead of resting on his shoulders, she slid them forward down the front of his chest.
The scratch of her nails wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, but it felt like she was carving into his very soul.
Her lips brushed against his ear. “Your heart is racing,” she murmured. “Are you nervous, Pet?”
“No.” He wet his lips again. “A little. I just want to please you.”
The soft sound of satisfaction from the back of her throat made him melt backwards towards her as much as it made his cock twitch.
She continued her exploration of his chest, running her fingers through the hair there as her lips drifted down his neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin. “Please me?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he gasped.
“Do you know what it was like, being raised to be the proper pureblood wife?”
He swallowed, uncertain of where she was taking the conversation.
“Being told that no matter what else I did or who I became, my most important duty was to serve my husband without argument or complaint?”
Their world had gotten better in many ways from their childhood, but in many others it remained unchanged. “Not in that sense but I know what it was like to grow up feeling like I could never live up to expectations set for me.”
Her hands froze and for a moment a bolt of fear shot through him that he’d said too much or gone too far, but then she turned his head so he was looking over his shoulder at her. Leaning forward, she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He wanted more, but she pulled back with a soft smile.
“I told you all that so you understand before we go any further that there is nothing that pleases me more than having the type of man I was once expected to obey without hesitation on his knees, desperate to follow my every order.”
He swallowed.
“You are already doing so well, Pet.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
She cupped the side of his face, eyes roaming over him as she studied his expression. “We’re quite the matched set, aren’t we?”
Whether the way they were raised conflicted with who they had truly been all along or if it had led to their rebellion, the result was the same.
“I owe you an apology, Pet.”
His gaze roamed over her, wondering what she meant.
“I thought you were looking for gratitude out of entitlement,” she said. “I was not lying when I said how pleased I am with your work. There’s no greenhouse I trust more.”
Something lodged in his throat. “Can…”
“What is it, Pet?”
“Can we not talk about work? In this setting? Please?” It was going to make it too hard once they had to go back to their regular lives. It was going to be hard enough to pretend their night together never happened.
Something flickered over her face. “Of course,” she said. “Thank you for your words, Pet.” She turned his head to face forward again and went back to the teasing, taunting strokes, only with a little more bite than before. “After all, you came here for a demonstration.”
“I came here to please you.”
“So you’ve said,” she murmured. Her hands slid around his waist and his hips involuntarily rocked forward. She chuckled. “Eager, are we, Pet?”
He expected her to tease him, to taunt him, but instead her hands dipped lower and immediately wrapped around his cock.
He jerked up into her hands, chasing more friction.
“Steady, Pet,” she said. “Let me explore.”
It was absolute torture trying to remain still while she traced her fingers over him, not leaving a single inch of his cock unexplored. When she slipped one hand down to cup his balls he couldn’t hold back his groan.
“Please, Mistress.”
“Such a good boy,” she murmured. She whispered a lubrication charm and slid her slick hands up and down his length.
Pleasure licked down his spine and he was practically quivering with the need to thrust into her hands, but she’d ordered him to be still. He was trying so, so hard to be good for her, to do what she asked, to please her.
“That’s right, Pet.”
Her hands pumped him, slower than he usually preferred but at a steady pace that drove him higher with each caress. He could feel the scratch of the lace on her corset against his back, the brush of her lips across his skin. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, she needed to keep going, she needed to stop, it was torture, it was heaven—
“Oh, gods,” he gasped.
Her grip tightened in a short squeeze, not enough to be painful, just enough to get his attention. “What do you call me?”
“Mistress,” he gasped out. “I’m sorry, Mistress, please—” His words broke off into a groan of half pain, half pleasure, as she resumed her steady pace.
“Such a good job, Pet. Just like that.”
He could feel the pleasure building in his balls, about to burst. “Stop,” he gasped. “Please, Mistress, you have to stop—” It was taking everything in him to hold off from coming too soon. She hadn’t given him permission, but she hadn’t said he needed it either—
She continued her steady pace. “That’s not your safe word, Pet.”
“Please,” he begged. “Or I’m going to come and I—I—”
Her grip tightened, just enough, that he nearly came. He was already leaking all over her. “Did I tell you to hold back, Pet, or did I tell you to give me all?”
It was too much. He couldn’t take it anymore and came with a strangled cry, furiously, desperately pumping his hips as he chased his pleasure. Pansy murmured praises, continuing to work him until he finally sagged down, panting for his breath.
“Well done, Pet.” Rising from her position behind him, she walked around to face him.
She still looked absolutely perfect, while he was a breathless mess, abdomen and thighs half smeared with his come while the rest pooled below him.
Was she finally going to let him touch her? Taste her? There obviously wouldn’t be any fucking but if he could show her how good he was with his mouth, how much pleasure he could provide…
“You have two choices now,” she said. “You can go home, knowing you did such a good job and I’m so proud, or you can continue to let me play with you.”
Heat rose to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” he said. “I won’t…it takes me a while to…to get hard again.” Should he have been more explicit when he was trying to hold off during the hand job? Had she only let him come because she thought there was going to be more?
Her lips spread into an indulgent smirk. “That’s the demonstration I wanted to give you.” She walked over to the cabinet on the opposite side of the room from where Neville had left his clothes and his wand. Opening the doors, she pulled out a vial filled with a pearlescent purple liquid. “You don’t need a lust potion to get hard or to have fun with me. But if you want to truly indulge…”
He swallowed, eyeing the vial. It had been the one part of the evening that had left him uncertain. Suscito cerinthus was lethal if the individual didn’t reach a release in time. If it came to it, he could jerk off to cure it, but using anything that strong was a risk.
“This is the only soft limit I will ask of you tonight, Neville,” she said, her voice gentle.
He glanced up at her, at the break in their roles.
“If you decide you want to take this, I will not do anything that you did not offer enthusiastic consent for on the contract,” she continued, her face serious. “No matter what you say in the moment.”
He glanced back at the vial. “Is it going to make me do that?”
Her lips curled up in a small smirk. “It might make you ask for things you haven’t asked for before,” she said. “But I promise I’ll take care of you.”
Go home, or take the vial. If it was any other relationship, he would have left and waited for another night. But if he only got one night with her…
“Will I get to touch you?” The way her eyes narrowed sent a bolt of regret through him. “I’m sorry, Mistress—”
“No negotiating,” she said, voice stern. “Yes or no.”
“Yes.” His confidence grew the instant he said it. “Please, Mistress. I want to take it.”
After several agonizing heartbeats, her lips curled into the familiar smug smirk. Fuck, he would never be able to look at her again without thinking of this night.
Strolling towards him, she popped the cork off of the vial. “Open up.”
Tilting his head back, he opened his mouth.
“Do not spill a drop,” she instructed. Without waiting for confirmation, she tipped the vial, hitting the back of his throat with perfect aim.
It nearly made him choke, but he managed to gulp it down while forcing his mouth to remain open. Once Pansy emptied the last of it and he swallowed down the last drop, he doubled over, coughing.
“Such a good boy,” Pansy murmured, running her hand down his back.
Her fingers left a warm, tingling glow in their wake.
“Up on the bed, Pet,” she said as soon as he stopped coughing.
After kneeling for so long, his legs were weak, but he managed to get up onto the bed. The warm glow was moving steadily through his body, making every nerve ending extra-sensitive. The silky sheet beneath him was cool against his skin.
Pansy stood at the foot of the bed, watching him with a mix of lust and satisfaction. It made a new heat, one that no lust potion could provide, snake through him.
“Spread your arms and legs.”
He obeyed instantly and she waved her wand. Ropes curled up from the corners of the bed, securing his wrists and ankles to the four bedposts. The material wasn’t quite rough, but it didn’t feel as good as the silk sheets underneath him.
“Look at you,” Pansy murmured. “All tied up and ready for me.”
“Please,” he gasped, not even knowing what he was asking for.
Pansy hiked up her skirt and crawled up onto the bed in between his spread legs. With slow yet possessive strokes, she ran her hand up his leg, scratching gently with her nails. The warmth in his body was nearly unbearable but her soft caress was his only relief. He tried to twitch towards her, but the ropes tying him down were too tight.
“See? More to play with, just like I promised,” Pansy cooed.
Neville was already rock hard yet again. He groaned as the potion coursed through his veins. He wouldn’t get any relief until he came again. Something Pansy was certain to drag out this time.
“Do you want to know what my favorite part of this sort of play is?” Leaning down, she pressed a row of kisses up his inner thigh.
“Mistress,” he moaned.
“That’s it,” she said. “Meeting pure desperation with absolute control.”
He tugged against his ropes but they wouldn’t budge.
Pansy switched sides, kissing another row up his leg.
The potion made it nearly impossible to think about anything other than anywhere Pansy touched his skin. The most torturous pleasure raced through his body, only soothed by her lips or caress. His cock ached like it had been weeks instead of mere minutes from the last time he’d come.
His heart thundered inside his chest and he would have done anything—anything—for—
Pansy’s lips wrapped around his cock and slid down and then back up with a long deep suck. She pulled away just in time before he was coming again, pleasure racing through his body with a fierceness he couldn’t hold back.
When he sagged back onto the mattress, panting, shame rolled through him. “I’m sorry,” he moaned, miserable. “I didn’t meant to come, it—”
“It felt too good, didn’t it?”
He lifted his head just enough to see Pansy smirking down at him. She didn’t look disappointed. Lifting her hand, she traced a fingernail down his sternum. The warm sensation of the lust potion began to pump through him again.
“What…what’s happening?”
Without understanding how, his cock was hardening again as Pansy’s fingernail traced closer.
“You know, I’m rather clever at potions,” she said, sounding mildly amused. “This one is my own special invention.”
She swirled a finger through the sticky remains of his come and then up the length of his cock until he was rock hard again.
He groaned.
“No refractory period,” she said. “You’ll come as many times as I want, as many ways as I want, until I come on your cock.”
Fuck. He was in so much fucking trouble.
“Like I said,” Pansy said with the smirk that had always driven him mad. “Not necessary, but oh so much fun.”
“Pansy—Mistress!” he corrected swiftly. “I’m sorry Mistress, I—”
Her smirk spread. “Told you’d that you’d start to beg for anything.”
She rose up onto her knees and he moaned at the loss of her proximity. Her back arched as she reached behind her and Neville hear the unmistakable sound of a zip. He yanked against his restraints, but they wouldn’t budge.
“What’s the matter?” she crooned. “Use your words, Pet.”
“Please let me touch you.”
She unzipped her skirt the entire way and tossed it to the side.
The thighs he had spent so long dreaming about, had jerked off so many times in the shower imagining, were on full display. Her corset was some sort of bodysuit so he couldn’t see more than a hint beneath the sheer lace but it was enough to make him desperate.
More desperate.
“Mistress, please.”
“Please what?”
“Please let me fuck you.”
“I haven’t had enough fun yet,” she said, raking her fingernails over his skin.
The potion was pumping through his veins, making him lose any rational thought. All he knew was how desperate he was for Pansy. To feel every inch of her, to make her feel the same pleasure she was forcing out of him again and again.
He lost track of how many orgasms he had. She’d started out so sweet and soft. He hadn’t expected her to be a pleasure Domme, and he both hated and loved how right and wrong he was. It was somehow the most twisted form of sadism he’d ever experienced. Forced to have orgasm after orgasm without any true relief. Each one was enough to hold the worst effects of the suscito cerinthus at bay, but never enough satisfy it. He remained tied to the bed while she touched and licked and played with him like he was some sort of toy until he was weeping out of desperation.
“What do you think, Pet?” Pansy asked, grinding against his leg. “Have you finally had enough?”
“Please,” he begged. “Please, I will give you anything—”
She shushed him. “Alright, Pet.”
He practically sobbed. “Thank you, Mistress, thank you.” He was so delirious with want and need and the potion that he nearly came yet again when she removed her top. “Mistress, please.”
“You’ve been such a good boy tonight.” Gripping the base of his cock, she straddled him and slid down in one easy stroke.
The warm sensation was too much for him to take and he came the moment her walls clenched around him. Pansy leaned forward, scraping her nails over his chest.
“That must have felt so good, didn’t it, Pet?”
“Yes,” he gasped, already hardening again. The feeling of growing hard inside her cunt, feeling her walls stretch around him, was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
“Steady, Pet, steady,” Pansy cautioned.
He fought of his impending orgasm, determined not to come again unless it was with her.
“Such a good boy,” she said, testing him to the very limit of his control. She lifted herself, twisting her hips with a little grind. She never came completely down, controlling the depth to her exact desires. Using his body to bring herself pleasure.
There was nothing he could do but lie, bound to her bed, as she used him. It was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life. It didn’t matter how many times he’d come already, how many orgasms the lust potion had pulled from him, something about the way she used him to get herself off was nothing short of absolute bliss.
“Tell me how good this is,” she ordered, breathless.
“Perfect,” he gasped. “It’s perfect, you’re perfect. I want you so much. Please, Mistress. Use me. I’m yours. However you want me. So beautiful. I—fuck. Please don’t stop. Please.”
The red-tipped fingers that had been driving him mad all night slid between her folds to tease her clit. Somewhere amidst his mindless need, irrational jealousy spread through him.
“Please,” he said. “I want you so much. I would do anything for you. Let me give you what you need.” He hardly knew the words he was saying, only that no amount of time with Pansy would ever be enough. One night would never be enough. She was everything he’d ever wanted and if she would give him a chance, he would spend the rest of his life giving her exactly what she needed whenever she wanted it.
“Please,” he begged. “Please. You’re perfect. So beautiful. So clever. Whatever you want of me. It’s yours, just let me—”
His words cut off as he felt her walls start to flutter around him.
“Yes, Neville, right there—”
The use of his name was too much, barreling through the last vestiges of his control as he thrusted as much as his bindings would allow, coming yet again as he cried out her name.
Fortunately, Pansy was as close as him and he could feel her squeezing him, drawing out his own orgasm with her perfect release.
When she finally collapsed onto his chest, still with his—finally—soft dick inside of her, he felt like his heart was going to burst. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around her. To hold her close and cherish every single moment he got with her.
Instead, there was nothing he could do but lay there as they both panted for breath. As his entire world shifted, the axis of his life reoriented.
Finally, Pansy seemed to come back to herself. Straightening, she gave him a small smile. “Did I change your mind about lust potions?”
He swallowed as disappointed hit him like a blow. That was all it had been to her. Of course it was. Just a way to prove her point.
Finally, he managed a nod. “You did.” Changed his mind about almost everything.
She pulled herself off of him and grabbed a lilac silk dressing gown from the cabinet where she’d kept the potion. Using a soft, warm cloth, she cleaned him up and then finally released his bindings. After making him drink two glasses of water, she curled into bed next to him, drawing up a blanket to cover them both as she snuggled against his chest.
His one request for aftercare. The chance to cuddle and hold her. Considering the magical contract he’d signed, it shouldn’t have meant as much as it did.
And yet, holding her was everything.
“Do you need anything else?” she murmured against his chest.
He tightened his grip around her. “No.” Not when he was already holding everything.
“I’m proud of you, Neville,” she said, her voice thick with sleep. “You did so well.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, continuing to hold her until her breathing evened and deepened out, sound asleep in his arms.
Neville fought it as long as he could, relishing every last chance he got to hold her.
When he woke in the middle of the night with nothing but cold sheets next to him, disappointment settled heavy in his gut.
Still, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was exactly what she had promised. Exactly what he’d agreed to, knowing how horrible of a decision it was.
He just wasn’t expecting it to hurt as badly as it did.
Unable to bear the bed without her, he rose, dressed, and slipped out through the Floo before he had to face her in the morning.
You’re perfect. So beautiful. So clever. Whatever you want of me. It’s yours.
One week, and Pansy still couldn’t get Neville’s desperate pleas out of her mind.
It was just the heat of the moment. The trust she’d seen in his gaze, the admiration was nothing more than a sub finding bliss with a Domme. He didn’t actually want her. Imagining anything else was foolish and she was anything but a fool.
She threw herself into work. There was always something to do at the apothecary, and dwelling on things that would never be was pointless.
True to her word, she had arranged for her clerks to start coming back for the herbology deliveries in early morning. Neville wanted a clean break, and she would give it to him.
The only mention of their night together had been a small posy on her desk the morning of his first delivery following their tryst. Sweet pea and pansies.
Every pureblood witch knew the language of flowers.
Gratitude of time spent together. Pansies could either have been a reference to her namesake, or that he would remember their time together.
As far as goodbyes went, it was clean. Simple.
Exactly what he’d requested.
She had promised not to ask for more, so she didn’t.
Which made her new posy a week after the first all the more surprising. Camellia, cornflower, and pansies.
Longing, hopefulness, thinking about her.
I want you so much. Please, Mistress. Use me. I’m yours. However you want me.
She stared at the bouquet for far too long. Until a clerk came to the back to drop off a request for a made to order potion.
Throughout the brewing, all she could think about was Neville’s request. By the time she packaged up the order, she’d made her decision.
In addition to mailing the potion to the customer, she sent a second owl to Longbottom Greenhouse, complete with a detailed list of ingredients he knew by heart.
It took two days for him to respond.
When he did, fury coursed through her.
Her special request form was returned—without a single ingredient—along with a single blossom of hyacinth and one of rue.
A request for forgiveness and a statement of regret.
She hated playing games. It was why she didn’t tolerate brats. Neville hadn’t seemed the type, but apparently he was full of surprises. The best way to deal with brats was to ignore them, but she was too mad to think through the fact that showing up to his greenhouse would be giving him the very attention he wanted.
Barking a few quick orders for her staff to handle things for the rest of the day, she Apparated directly to the familiar greenhouse.
The first time she’d been there, she had immediately been filled with a sense of peace. It was the exact sort of organized chaos as she had in her brewing room. Unlike her brewing room, however, it was full of light and living, blooming things. The promise of growth and hope and renewal.
She felt nothing but a renewed sense of irritation when she burst through the door.
“Hi! How can I—” Neville froze when he stepped into the central aisle and saw her. For a moment, something flickered across his face before his expression turned blank. “Pansy. How can I help you today?”
She held up the crinkled order form and the wilted and somewhat abused hyacinth and rue. “Explain to me precisely the meaning of this.”
He shifted, looking down at a plant bed instead of at her. “You’re going to have to find another herbologist to fulfill those orders.”
“Because you aren’t interested?” Then what the hell had the camellia, cornflower, and pansies been about? Had she misread those?
“No,” he said. “I would appreciate if you would please not ask me for those ingredients again.”
The order form crinkled in her hand as she balled her hands into fists. Something wasn’t right. “Did I do something wrong that night? Did I push you too hard?”
His head snapped up. “No.”
“So you regret it now?”
He looked away. “No, I—” His throat bobbed.
“Tell me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s too much for me to provide you the ingredients to make the potion to do that with other people,” he said. “Please don’t ask me again.”
“What did you mean by the camellia, cornflower, and pansy posy?”
He shifted, playing with his gloves. “It doesn’t matter now.”
This behavior wasn’t like him, and he obviously wasn’t trying to be a brat. She tried to soften her voice as she took a few steps closer. “It matters to me,” she said. “Especially if I misunderstood your meaning.”
He didn’t look up from his gloves.
“I thought you were asking me for another night.”
His head snapped up.
She held up the order form. “This was for you, not for anyone else.”
His throat bobbed again.
“Is that not what you were asking for?”
He studied her. She was unable to tell what was going on behind his blue gaze. “I…I don’t think I can take you up on that again.”
She stepped closer, but froze when he backed up a few steps. “Why not?” When he refused to answer, a swell of her irritation returned. “Words, Neville.”
“Because I want more,” he snapped.
She froze at his words. More than one night? Or just…more of her?
Mortification flooded his face and he ran his hand through his hair.
She wanted to have him on his knees again so she could be the one doing that. He’d seemed to love it so much the last time.
“I…” Neville let out a long sigh. “I like you. A lot.”
Her heart thundered in her chest.
I want you so much. I would do anything for you.
Maybe they hadn’t just been words said in the heat of the moment. Maybe he had actually meant them.
“You are clever and brilliant and gorgeous and that night was…perfect,” he said. “And I can’t go through another night like that and wake up to an empty bed and wonder if you’ll ever say anything to me again only to have you just want me for sex so as much as I want to say yes, I…can’t.”
Pansy stared at him. His cheeks were flushed, either with the passion of his confession or embarrassment of saying it all out loud.
He liked her. Even though she was sharp and cutting and bossy. Well, he obviously enjoyed the latter.
But the tension between them was so much more than just physical.
He was sweet and kind and generous and forgiving. Devoted and patient and true. He never did anything halfway. Being the object of his affections would be a heady thing.
It also meant letting go of the one thing she’d gripped with both hands from the moment she’d seized the smallest morsel.
Control.
Letting go of it for one moment, trusting anyone other than herself, went against every lesson she had learned in life.
And yet…
If Neville was the one catching her, perhaps it would be safe to fall.
She walked over to stand directly in front of him, but immediately got annoyed by how tall he was.
Summoning a pallet box, she flipped it over and stood on it. Between that and her heels, she finally had a few inches on him.
Neville’s lips twitched even as doubt flickered across his face. But when he lifted his eyes to meet hers, nothing but warmth shone in them.
“You set the terms,” she said. “You told me that you wanted one night and then not to see me again.”
“I—”
“Let me finish,” she ordered. “You said you wanted to cuddle as part of aftercare, but you marked sleeping next to each other as a soft limit.”
His throat bobbed.
“I got out of bed as soon as I woke up after dozing off because I thought it was what you wanted,” she said. “I did not ask for more time with you because you said that was what you wanted. From your words and actions, I assumed that you didn’t want anything more than an occasional physical relationship.”
“No,” he said swiftly. “I want it all. Everything. If you’ll have me.”
“From now on, flowers are only to be a supplement to actual conversation,” she said.
He nodded.
She ran her hand through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut, turning towards her touch. “I want to know you, Neville,” she said. “And for that I need you to be completely honest. Especially when it comes to our relationship. Alright?”
His eyes flew open. “Relationship?”
“If you want it,” she said. “Committed and exclusive are my terms. Kinky only in the bedroom, but I probably won’t be able to completely resist bossing you around outside of it.”
The smile that took over his face made her heart soar. “I want that,” he said. “All of it.”
The muscles of her face were already sore from grinning, but she couldn’t stop. “Alright, then.”
He slid his hands around her waist, smiling up at her like she hung the moon and stars. “Pansy, can I please ask you out to dinner? And then afterwards you could tie me up again and this time sit on my face?”
Always so eager to please. She smirked as she slid her heads around the back of his neck. “Why don’t we start with dinner and see how the rest goes?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Bending down, she brushed her lips against his, this time allowing him to deepen the kiss as he held her tightly.
Pansy smiled when she arrived to work and saw the crystal vase in its permanent place on the corner of her desk filled with dahlias and myrtle.
Eternal love and devotion.
A year and a half into marriage, and her husband still couldn’t help himself.
Flipping open the note, her smile spread at the contents.
I love you more every single day. Forever grateful to be yours. Cannot wait until I get to see you tonight.
Pulling out her own sheet of parchment, she scrawled her reply.
The flowers are beautiful. If you truly can’t wait to see me, you can cancel my personal order for this afternoon to save yourself some time. I won’t be taking that potion anymore anyway.
Smirking to herself, she sent off the reply, knowing Neville was going to be an absolute mess all day after finding out that she was ready to stop her contraceptive tonic.
By the time she got home, he would be a desperate, pleading wreck. Just the way she liked him. Perhaps she’d let him be on top, as a reward. She had the day to think about it.
A bell sounded and she rose from her desk to go greet her customer with a beaming smile.