Christmas in New York City. The sun had set over the horizon hours before, the dusky blue of twilight giving way to the star-specked blackness of night. James had taken Lily to the Rockefeller centre to watch the sunset, the streaks of orange and red staining the western sky, bleeding into the clouds until they shone like gold.
They had gone to dinner, then, at Le Flambé, just a block away. They had walked. Lily had been practically bouncing off the walls when she saw the dining hall. As the maitre d' led them to their table, with his ostentatious manners, thick french accent, and pencil moustache, she kept looking over at James, her eyes wide and shining with excitement.
James had loved it, watching her, like a little kid, giddy with the thrill of it all. He'd promised her the dream honeymoon, magic-free, and he fully intended to make good on his promise. Money, of course, was no object – the galleon-to-dollar exchange rate made James a millionaire in muggle terms – but for Lily, this level of luxury was something out of a fairy tale.
She had mellowed when they finally sat down to order. Her excitement was still there, simmering under the surface, but she had calmed down externally, the better to enjoy the experience. She had ogled her meal when it arrived for a solid minute before even picking up her fork. Even then, she had eaten in neat spirals around the plate, preserving the artistic integrity of the dish for as long as possible. James had teased her, but she had just laughed.
"I don't even know if I'll be able to eat this," she had confided, with a smile.
"I don't know if it's ever going to be an issue, the rate you're going." He was grinning, too. His own food was exquisite, and he was taking his time, setting his silver ware down between bites, and lingering over the aroma of his glass of wine.
When dessert arrived, James had briefly worried that his wife might actually expire. After her first bite of the flan, she had looked up at him with an expression approaching orgasmic bliss. He had laughed out loud. When he tried the dish, though, he understood. The burnt sugar was crisped to perfection, melting on the tongue, and coating the spoonful of cream.
"Crême Brulée at its absolute best," the waiter had assured them. He had been right.
When they had finally finished, and James had paid, adding a generous twenty-five percent tip, they stepped back out into the brisk night. The lights, red and gold and green, which were strung along the streets, reflected merrily in the snow.
Lily looked around for the car, leaning happily into James, and had looked up, surprised, when he chuckled and led her back the way they had come.
"Not quite finished yet," he'd said with a smile.
Ice skating on the rink outside the Rockefeller centre at Christmas time, slipping and sliding in each other's arms under the light of the enormous Christmas tree. It was a romantic cliché, and it had been a bit of a gamble on James's part. He wasn't sure if she'd love it, or feel it was over the top. As it happens, his bet paid off.
Lily had been ecstatic.
An hour later, rosy-cheeked and wide eyed, they'd tumbled into the backseat of the limousine. James rested his head on the back of his seat, and put his aching feet up on the opposite chair. Lily had sprawled on top of him, wisps of her wind-tousled hair tickling his chin. She lay there, sighing happily, while the car sped silently through the bright, snowy night.
The hotel lobby was warm and scented. Outside, through the glass doors, they could see the snow covered trees, and the streets beyond, still thronging with tourists, even as midnight drew closer. Looping her arm through his, and leaning against his shoulder, Lily allowed James to lead her to the elevator, and down the carpeted hall to their room.
When they had checked in earlier, and dropped off their bags, they hadn't gone up to the room. James had pretended it was because he didn't want to wait to start their day of sight-seeing, but in reality, he had wanted to save the room as a surprise for later. When Lily stepped inside, she stopped dead, blinking around her.
The first, and most outstanding feature of the room was the infinity pool, a hot tub sunk into a marble pedestal in the centre of the room, the water lapping against the floor to ceiling windows. As per his instruction earlier, the bath was full of steaming, frothy water.
Off to the side, the door open to the bedroom granted a glimpse of the vast expanse of cool, silken sheets and mountains of pillows. The suite included a living room as well, with an 'L' shaped couch, its back to the hot tub. Their suitcases had been unpacked; warm, fluffy towels were folded on the edge of the tub.
Lily looked at James, utterly speechless. He smiled, and kissed her cold lips.
"You're freezing!" He slipped his hand out of his fur-lined gloves, and laid it against her neck, a teasing smile playing across his lips.
She shrugged, still stunned. "Um."
"I can fix that." Still smiling, he gently helped her out of her coat, unwrapped her scarf, slid her hat off her head, tugged her mittens off, and hung everything carefully on the padded hangers, waiting in the closet by the door. He took his time, but when he turned back, she was still staring at the room.
He hung his own outdoor things up by hers, and crossed to stand behind her, his fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, his lips brushing along the smooth skin of her neck. She finally half turned her head to him, smiling, and reach around to tangle her fingers in his short, dark hair.
"This is like a fairy tale." Her voice was breathy, rough.
"It's all for you." He matched her low tone.
She sighed with pleasure as he bit her gently, ran his fingertips along the warm skin across her hips. "You're the charming prince."
He stepped back, swung her around so she was facing him. "Then you're the beautiful princess." He kissed her, cupping her flushed cheek in his palm, lacing the fingers of his other hand with hers.
Her hands ran along his neck, across his chest, and settled at his bow tie, which she undid deftly. Her fingers started on the top buttons of his shirt. He pulled back, just a little, so he could smile, and speak.
"Would the beautiful princess care for a swim, before bed?"
Lily smiled at him, her glittering green eyes meeting his. "She would," she breathed.
He kissed her again, letting her finish undoing his buttons, tug his shirt free of his pants, wrestle it off his arms. His fingers were tracing her cheekbone, running through her hair. When she dropped his shirt to the ground, and her fingers started teasing his belt undone, he moved his own hands to her shoulders, slipping first one, then another sleeve off her lightly freckled shoulder. Her hair hung across her alabaster skin, the red of it like fire against the paleness of her flesh.
She stepped gracefully out of her heels, and he bent his head to accommodate the change in her height. She had slipped her belt out of his pants, now, and her cool fingers were undoing the button of his fly. She took a moment to hold her arms up for him, as he pulled her shirt off. Her lacy bra was black, accentuated sharply against her skin. He stared for a moment, relishing the swell of her breasts under the skimpy satin. Then, she stepped into his kiss, again. Her tongue tasted sweet.
He kicked his shoes off, and stepped out of his pants as they collapsed around his ankles. Her finger took a break from undressing him to trace a path up his chest. His skin tingled at her touch, and he trembled. He broke away again, and undid her skirt, kneeling to pull it off. She stepped carefully out of the item of clothing, her hands in his hair, supporting herself against his head. His face was level with her black lace panties as she straightened up. He kissed her inner thigh, and her fingers tightened in his hair.
He stood back up, smiling, and took a step back. They were both in their underwear now, and he took a moment to enjoy the image of her, her hand on her hip, the other tucking a lock of red hair behind an ear, the black lace like midnight against her creamy, ivory skin. She came to him this time, her lips fumbling for his, her fingers brushing at the elastic waistband of his boxers. He shivered, and bit her lip, gently. She moaned into his mouth, and slipped her fingertips a little further into his underwear.
He undid her bra, and slipped it off, pulling her against him so that her soft breasts were pressed against his chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She stepped back, smiling, and pulled off his boxers, letting them fall to the ground as her fingers brushed his cock, teasingly. He pulled off her panties, quickly, almost violently, and they were both naked, kissing, and out through the wall to floor windows, the midnight skyline of Manhattan shone.
The bubbling water of the hot tub was scalding hot at first, against their chilled skin, but after a moment, they relaxed. Lily swam a little way off at first, to the window. The tub was so large, that it was possible to swim, if only for a metre or so, and James relaxed into a seat by the edge, letting the steam warm his cheeks, watching her lithe body under the seething water.
She dunked her head under, and came up, pulling her hair back from her eyes, and standing up. The pool was so deep by the edge that the water was lapping at her chest; droplets ran down her neck, and between her breasts, back into the bubbling surface. Silhouetted against the night sky, steam wreathing her features, Lily looked back over her shoulder at James, her green cat-eyes glittering. His cock throbbed just looking at her.
It must have shown in his face, because she laughed and came back, the water parting around her dripping shoulders, her eyes never leaving his face. She went under the surface, a foot or so away, and came up between his knees, her hands running along his ankles, pulling her body up into his lap. She straddled him, her smooth legs on either side of his. The tip of his cock, swaying in the currents under the steaming water, brushed against her thighs.
She leaned forward, and kissed the top of his head. His face was pressed into her breasts; he could feel the heat coming off them like a fire, even after only a few moments under the water. He brought his hands up to cup them, and she flinched at his touch, which felt cold after the hot water.
He chuckled, and submersed his hands in the water, then raised them again. She relaxed when he touched her again, and bent to kiss him, her lips hot against his. He ran his thumbs around her dark nipples, and she shuddered against him.
He cupped her left breast, and raised it to his lips, kissed it, bit her again, softly. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and she moaned. As he tugged at her hardening nipple between his lips, his fingers moved down her sides to her hips, then around to slide along the supple curves of her ass, squeezing the taught flesh between his fingers.
She gasped, lowering her head to brush the tip of his ear with her teeth. As he slid his fingers between her legs, his palms still pressed against her ass, she nibbled at him. He groaned, and her legs trembled. Again, his cock bumped against her thigh.
His fingertips found what they'd been looking for, now, and began playing across the soft skin between her legs. She moaned into his ear, biting his lobe. He slipped his index finger into her, teasing the slick, hot skin just inside her. Her breath was loud and warm and rough in his ear.
He pulled his other hand back around her side, and slid it up the inside of her thigh, searching until his thumb brushed her clit. She shuddered, and sighed, and flexed her legs. His cock brushed the lips of her trembling pussy, and this time, they both gasped.
He slipped his finger further into her, exploring; each time he brushed against her from inside, she groaned. She unlaced her finger from his hair, and pulled his face up to hers, kissing him, her tongue delving into his mouth, dancing with his. She drew her other hand slowly down his chest. He trembled with anticipation.
Her fingers closed around him, tugging at his cock. His fingers tensed, and his thumb ground into her clit again. She gasped, and her own fingers tightened, one hand clawing at his neck, the other squeezing his cock.
He began to pump his finger in and out of her, slowly at first, but faster as her breathing became more laboured, and a flush began to appear across her chest. She tried to focus on him, her hand stroking his length, but unconvincingly. Eventually, her fingers unwrapped, and clutched at his shoulder for support. She pulled away from his mouth, too, hanging her head, dripping strands of hair hanging around her face as she struggled to catch her breath.
He gave her no opportunity to do so. As he slipped a second finger into her, and slid in and out with increasing speed, he began to tease her clit with his thumb, gently, and then not so gently. She arched her back, her fingers clawing at his skin, scratching him. He didn't notice.
After a long minute, the only sound Lily's gasping breaths, and the bubbling water, she convulsed in his arms, and looked up at him, wide eyed. He could feel her trembling, clenching around his fingers, contracting and relaxing rhythmically. For a moment, her desperate stare was focused and bright, alive and anguished. Then, her green eyes glazed over, unfocused, and she groaned, her whole body shuddering as she came, her legs flexing involuntarily against his, her fingers digging into his skin.
For a second, she was stiff and still, arched over him, her mouth open in a silent scream. Then, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her back, she relaxed suddenly, collapsing into his lap, her head nestling into his shoulder, her fingers flexing feebly against his chest.
He laughed, and let her breathe for a moment. When she looked up, her eyes were clear again, and slightly foolish smile was playing across her lips. He kissed her, and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her closer to him, tight to his chest.