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[clumsy_auror]

It's been a long, long day.

There've been crying jags, squabbles over naptimes, spit-ups, spills, and baths flaily enough to merit an umbrella.

However.

Nymphadora Tonks is a Determined Woman.

And this particular Determined Woman is currently leaning against the open closet door, waiting for her husband to look up.

Comments

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Her husband is... totally oblivious.

Absentmindedly sketching a bomb, and sort of humming to himself the way he does when he's in a groove.

La, la, la.

Oblivious.

[clumsy_auror]

'Dora waits for a few moments.

And then coughs, delicately.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard doesn't even look up, for a second.

"You coming down with something, sweet... heart?"

He looked up.

[clumsy_auror]

She's been doing some anticipatory shopping. Of the lime-green-with-pink-roses-on variety.

"Hi."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard is frozen.

Frozen in place.

Because.

Lime green.

But also.

"Hi."

She's overflowing.

Damn.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora very deliberately does not smile.

"Busy?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Uh."

Bernard looks down at the sketchpad.

Looks up at his wife.

The sketchpad ends up on the floor next to the french doors.

The charcoal pencil ends up under the bed.

"Not really."

[clumsy_auror]

The witch slowly makes her way over to the side of the bed, one hand on her hip.

"Well. That's convenient."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He uncrosses his legs and turns, scooting to the edge of the bed, his knees on either side of her long, shapely thighs.

He lifts a hand to trace the seam of the lingerie at her hip.

"This is new."

[clumsy_auror]

"Uh-huh."

One of her hands drifts up to lightly smooth over his shoulder.

"Figured since it was a special occasion, and all..."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Normally, Bernard doesn't put much stock in fancy clothes, and fancy underthings are at the top of his list of unnecessary items. Why worry about something that's meant to come off?

However.

This particular ensemble is rather fetching, to say the least.

"Is it, now?"

His fingertips slip under the elastic at her hip and snap it gently.

[clumsy_auror]

"Yeah."

A step closer, and her hair swings around her shoulders, brushing his arm.

Her other hand finds his ribcage.

"I think it is."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Blue eyes darken, and Bernard bites his lip, staring up into her eyes. His other hand comes up to rest at her waist, sliding around to the small of her back slowly.

His gaze drops, and he leans forward to press a kiss to her sternum, eyelids fluttering closed.

[clumsy_auror]

"You wanna know why it's a special occasion?" Nymphadora murmurs, her own eyes growing a bit heavy-lidded as she watches his mouth on her skin.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Voice muffled by her skin, "I'll wager I'm about to find out, regardless."

[clumsy_auror]

"It's a special occasion," she continues, pressing him back onto the bed and crawling into his lap, "because it's been just about six weeks and I have good reason to believe that everything is in excellent working order."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

And the grin that's been threatening to erupt curls his lips wickedly. "I thought as much." He scoots back, hands wandering aimlessly up her back, down her thigh.

Then he looks up at her, a filthy dirty light in his eye. "Does that mean you've been trying things out on your own, then?"

[clumsy_auror]

A thoughtful look. "It's possible that I have. Why? Is that a problem?"

Her legs, meanwhile, gently squeeze his hips.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

A full-body flush slowly creeps up to his cheeks, and he bites his lip again, his fingertips slowly following the waistband of her knickers to the front.

"No. Not a problem at all." One hand sneaks up to fiddle with the underwire. "I'm just intrigued by self-sufficiency. As always."

[clumsy_auror]

She shrugs casually. "Isn't much to it, really." Slim fingers trace the shell of his ear and down along his jaw. "Just go someplace quiet, close my eyes... think about your hands on me. Your lips on my skin." Her voice lowers a notch. "Your tongue in my mouth."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard exhales shakily, his breath skittering across her skin, unable to tear his eyes away from her. His hand creeps around to her back, pulling one bra strap down over her shoulder.

This is precarious. His hand follows the fallen bra strap back to the front, skimming over the line of skin where the cup of her bra ends, back and forth. Back. And forth.

One would think he wasn't in much of a hurry.

"Well." Back. "It's always nice to be wanted." And forth.

[clumsy_auror]

"I should think so," comes the reply, her tone steady. Still casual. "I certainly like it."

There's a tell-tale flush on her cheeks, however.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

The other strap is down.

Ever more precarious.

His lips trace the line, now. Back and forth.

"As wanted as you are--" a lick, and his hands are at the small of her back, not quite moving yet, "--one'd think you'd almost get bored with it."

[clumsy_auror]

Her fingers are in his hair, now, tugging gently, her lips slightly parted as she looks down at her husband.

"Do I look bored to you?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He tips his head back to look her in the eyes, half-smiling.

"Not particularly."

One hand at her back curls, fingernails digging in just a bit.