Title: Ice Cream
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Pairings: Bellatrix/Narcissa
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Bellatrix and Narcissa enjoy a summer treat.
Author's Notes: Written for the prompt Harry Potter - Bellatrix/Narcissa - lick on
femslash100's Drabbletag5.
Summer is unbearable and cloying in its humidity, and Narcissa wants nothing more than to sink into an iced bath. But she is a Black, and in public, Blacks – though never cousin Sirius – must show proper decorum. Iced baths or taking off her clothes to free her body to the feeble breeze are out of the question; she isn’t even permitted to fan herself under her mother’s gaze.
She is allowed ice cream.
The treat is thick and cool and glorious. She devours it eagerly and licks her spoon clean with as much gusto as she is permitted to show over anything, and when she is done, she meets Bella’s eyes over the table.
Her sister is watching her and lingering over her own sundae, swirling her spoon in melting cream while their mother’s eyes were averted and licking it clean with languorous strokes of her tongue. Narcissa watches that tongue flatten and flex over the silver, and whatever good her ice cream did in cooling her vanishes in a wave of heat that surges through her body.
Bella’s lips curl and her eyes darken with promise, and Narcissa watches, dizzy with arousal and with sweat sliding down her spine.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Pairings: Bellatrix/Narcissa
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Bellatrix and Narcissa enjoy a summer treat.
Author's Notes: Written for the prompt Harry Potter - Bellatrix/Narcissa - lick on
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Summer is unbearable and cloying in its humidity, and Narcissa wants nothing more than to sink into an iced bath. But she is a Black, and in public, Blacks – though never cousin Sirius – must show proper decorum. Iced baths or taking off her clothes to free her body to the feeble breeze are out of the question; she isn’t even permitted to fan herself under her mother’s gaze.
She is allowed ice cream.
The treat is thick and cool and glorious. She devours it eagerly and licks her spoon clean with as much gusto as she is permitted to show over anything, and when she is done, she meets Bella’s eyes over the table.
Her sister is watching her and lingering over her own sundae, swirling her spoon in melting cream while their mother’s eyes were averted and licking it clean with languorous strokes of her tongue. Narcissa watches that tongue flatten and flex over the silver, and whatever good her ice cream did in cooling her vanishes in a wave of heat that surges through her body.
Bella’s lips curl and her eyes darken with promise, and Narcissa watches, dizzy with arousal and with sweat sliding down her spine.