#bellastoria

They’re settled in front of the hearth, Astoria flipping through a dusty tomb, pretending to read. It’s become a worn routine between them — reading, peeking, teasing. A grey linen D’Orsay dangles from her left foot, giving the other woman a tantalising flash of her bare heel.

When Bellatrix was first forced upon her and Draco’s doorstep, Astoria had been too afraid to even look at her. She still doesn’t like to look, not directly, but she doesn’t need to. She can feel Bellatrix’s gaze burning into her from across the room.

“Take them off,” orders Bellatrix. She seems calm, but Astoria knows better than to be fooled.

“What if I refuse?” Astoria flexes her foot. Her high heel dangles precariously from the tips of her toes.

“What makes you think you can refuse?”

Astoria’s heart beats fiercely in her chest, but her voice remains steady. “Oh, really?” she says. “This is my house. You are merely our guest.”

Bellatrix grins at that. It’s feral and filled with blood-red lust. It makes Astoria shiver. Slowly, purposely, Astoria slides her foot into her heel, resting it firmly against the floor. She finally looks up to meet Bellatrix’s gaze.

Bellatrix is in front of her in a flash, leaning over her chair, her wild curls brushing Astoria’s face. Astoria’s book falls to the ground with a thud.

“Take them off,” Bellatrix orders again, no longer calm but wildly dangerous.

Astoria tilts her chin up. “No.” She wants to challenge, to push and to prod. She wants to see how far Bellatrix will go, how far she’ll claw and curse if Astoria lets her.

“Then, I’ll help you.” 

Bellatrix kneels in front of her. With the whisper of a touch, she slides her fingers down Astoria’s calf, slow and deliberate. She circles them over Astoria’s bony ankle and squeezes the tendons of her foot.

Lifting it higher, she brings the grey linen to her mouth and places a brief kiss on the seam. Astoria gasps, lips parted, as she watches Bellatrix slowly lick the pinpoint heel. Base to tip, curling her tongue and catching Astoria’s eye.

She jolts when a hand lands on her thigh. It slides under the seam of her dress and plays with the edge of her underwear.

“Take them off or I’ll make you.” Bellatrix’s fingers slip inside, and Astoria moans. It’s a slow, slippery glide. She’s already so wet that her pants are soaked through.

“You’ll have to make me,” Astoria breathes, and Bellatrix adds another finger then another. She isn’t gentle about it. She pulses inside Astoria at a rapid pace, drawing her to the edge much too quickly, almost uncomfortably so.

Astoria wraps her legs around Bellatrix’s waist and presses her heels into her back. Bellatrix leans closer, her sharp teeth a dangerous warning by her ear.

“Take them off,” Bellatrix orders for the final time.

Astoria’s orgasm rips through her, her vision blacking out and her legs tensing.

The grey linen heels fall to the floor.

Also read it on AO3!