For your kink meme darling <3 I'd like a story about Fleur and Bill with the kink of light bondage and candle wax :P
Hey, sorry for the wait! I hope you’ll like it, I was out of my comfort zone, so it’s possible I wasn’t able to say anything at all. In that case, I’m deeply sorry.
Also my French is VERY rusty. I hope I got it right.
Title: Fleur, le loup et la cirewordcount: 832rating: explicit
The Dungeon is alight with suspended candles everywhere, the heady scent of Camellia from some of the candles envelops the whole room. It’s not only terribly hot in there, but also suffocating.
Bill feels sweat pour down his body, as he handles the candles they’re going to use soon. Fleur is lying on the recliner, back slightly arched thanks to the elbow harness keeping her in place.
Her golden hair is made up in the same bun Bill is sporting, her heavy breasts rest attractively on her chest, her legs are spread invitingly, but the end tail of their favourite vibrator peeks from between a small tuft of blond hair.
She’s a work of art as it is, Bill would like to tell her, but the confidence her body displays is showing that she doesn’t need him to feel beautiful. Bill still loves to remind her every day, just in case she might forget what a masterpiece she is.
Bill has never cultivated his artistic side, but she’s made him rediscover painting, except he’s going to paint on her with hot water.
She’s mixed the wax herself, adding the colours they most like, but keeping the melting point quite low, so he won’t burn her. He still tests the first colour - a dark red - on the inside of his arm, where the skin is the most sensitive. It doesn’t burn, it hurts precisely as they both crave it.
He can feel his cock strain against the soft cotton of his track pants, as he watches the wax drip slowly on her left breast. The moan that leaves Fleur’s perfectly shaped lips sends shivers down his spine. His hand finds his way against her right breast, testing its weight and tenderness. He blows the candle and lets it drip slowly on her body. As he sits down, positioning her legs on both his thighs, half of her torso is dark red.
The dark colour tickles a part of him he’s been living with since he was bitten. It’s the safe way to keep it sated, and Fleur loves it. He lets the dark red candle go and grabs one of the other floating candles. They’re five and the only candles that aren’t a pale pink. It’s another shade of brighter red, that he drips on Fleur’s other breast, after testing it on himself.
Fleur is incoherent, so down she is in subspace, but the moans that she makes and the careless pleads almost have him losing control. He promised to keep it up until she’s been repainted.
He remembers the delightful pain of the hot wax against his skin, when he’d been in Fleur’s place, and decides to finally, finally, drip some on the perked up nipples.
Fleur shouts so loud, that she almost scares Bill into stopping, but then she begs him louder and louder. He restrains himself from scuttling closer to her cunt and rubbing himself against it, and grabs the white candle. He makes sure it’s less hot than the previous two and then pours it in the hollow between Fleur’s collarbones. She screams again as he paints her chest bones and her stern in big ungraceful splatters of wax.
It’s Fleur that scuttles down on the recliner and starts rubbing herself as best as possible against his clothed cock. He loses his control for a moment, until he remembers the vibrator and turns it on on its lowest setting. Fleur sobs, part in relief, part in frustration. The fist pastel blue he grabs is the lighter of the two and it paints a painfully sweet contrast against her dark red breast. He’s especially careful to avoid dripping it in her belly button - oh how she hates it! - and drips whirls and spontaneous shapes on her belly, still not as taut as it had been before her pregnancy. He paints with special care the healed scar of her c-section, and Fleur is reduced to sobbing out her pleasure.
As he grabs the last candle, another shade of light blue, he gives in and rubs himself against her. Fleur his a mess of wax and high pitched swearing in French that makes him tremble in excitement. The last candle’s wax drips slowly on her tummy, it’s by far the hottest of the candles, but Fleurs takes it with almst relieved whimpers. He speaks what little French he’s learnt and lets the candle float back with the others, as he makes his way down her body with his fingers, where the white wax is already almost cooled.
He soon finds his head between her legs, vibrator turned on full speed and his mouth attacking her clitoris restlessly, her fingers painfully tugging on his hair.
When she comes back up from subspace, she’s clean already and in a hot bath, with camellia petals floating on the water and candles floating in the air.
“Je t'aime, mon ange,” Bill says, as she’s almost asleep - a small smile tugs at her lips.
