Strong chilled fingers brushing a creamy-textured blush, young Argus was enraptured with his sympathetic Mistress. "Mrs. Norris, I am," he stuttered slightly. "I am-"
Sweet lips moved to her accompanied words, "young Mr. Filch, I do believe you are speechless." Mrs. Tisha Norris's mouth drew up into a bow, and smiled. Her words fogged his brain further, "I never knew gardeners could possess such strong hands, it seems I could find a use for them." His hands in hers, she slid them up under her skirt and petticoats. Resting stoutly against the hall seat, she manipulated his foggy mind.
Argus choked slightly as he tried to speak. "And you don't mind?" He left the question open, because he wasn't sure she knew.
Mrs. Norris' eyes glittered hungrily as she unfastened Argus' trouser's belt. "Shush, such things are of no concern to me. But you sweet lad," she gripped his full arousal gently, kissing him. Argus' face grew red and he found his fingers dancing quickly to maintain the rhythm Tisha had set. "Yes," she hummed into his ear.
Bolstered by the accepting praise, Argus put out his best effort. The loneliness and shame Argus had found as a man in a world that no longer belonged to him. Squib. He hadn't found anything but ardourous acceptance in the equally lonely Mistress of the Norris estate. "Mrs. Norris, my sweet," he words belied his nervousness and fear. Eager to start, Argus had loosed his passion in ernest. Noting her crestfallen expression, Argus was determined to rectify his short coming. "My dear, tell me how I can gratify you so fully."
Finding her sweet smile, Mrs. Norris patted him approvingly. "My cats have a method of cleaning one another, which is most intriguing." She licked his lips suggestively. His wide mouth opened to permit her soft petaled tongue. Leaning back slightly, Mrs. Norris raised her frothy garment. "Taste me, sweet Mr. Filch."
Understanding dawning, Argus touched her breasts through the fabric of her gown, sliding them down to the drawn up hem as he knelt. Intent on seeing what he had been about, Argus raised her skirts higher. Starting with a gentle brush of tongue, she quivered in his grip. "Like that?" He grinned to himself at her approval. Eager to produce more sounds of delight, Argus kept up his lapping onslaught and dancing fingers accompaniment. It had taken him by surprise; when at last she wrapped her stockinged legs around him, rocking and moaning deeply.
Once she had effectively removed his access, Argus made a guttural purring noise and promised, "I should very much like to suckle you, drink your milk and purr for you as well." Pleased with his reception, his sex found new life. Nervous and anxious he nudged himself inside her and worked with all the vigour of youth.
"Mr. Filch," she cried and jerked. So intent on his progress, he hadn't noticed the change in her tone.
"Mr. Filch," a deeper voice interrupted his exercise. "Lady Norris, you my dear, are a cat." Mr. Norris raised his wand and brandished it. The lady of the house was transformed. Argus hurried to arrange himself to suit a more dignified appearance. "You Mr. Filch, are a squib, you will suffer greatly in your lifetime; which, in my opinion is a fate worse than death. However, your erstwhile mistress is cunning and catty, should you ever learn magic, you and you alone will be able to restore her to her," laughing at his own pronouncement, "proper state." Mrs. Norris looked out from round yellow eyes, hissing at her would-be husband. "Mr. Filch, take the beast and go. I have wife-shopping to do."
Mrs. Norris allowed Filch to lift her into his arms, it was apparent to both of them that they were bound to the other for the foreseeable future.
AN/ Part Kneazle, indeed. I hope I wasn't the only one to wonder about their strange dynamic.