Day 11: wearing kigurumis and dom/sub

"Please, 'Mione," Harry whined, trailing after Hermione with the black onesie slung over his shoulder. "Please, I swear I'll do anything for you if you wear this for me."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and shot him a glare. She picked up her book off the kitchen counter and turned to leave.

Harry Apparated right in front of her, startling her into dropping the book. He caught it and held it over his head, batting his lashes at her. "Please, 'Mione? Please, please, please?"

Hermione gritted her teeth and crossed her arms, not even bothering to take her book from him. She scowled up at him and growled, "Harry James Potter, I refuse to dress up as a Dementor just because you think I'd look cute."

"Why not? I'm dressed up as a Hippogriff, aren't I? Don't you think I look cute?" Harry asked, putting his hands on his hips and staring at her pointedly.

Hermione pursed her lips and looked him up and down.

Harry knew he looked good. He'd made sure the Hippogriff kigurumi he'd bought from Zabini Fashions fit him perfectly. It hugged the hard planes of his body, his biceps slightly inside the sleeves, and it clung to his arse, showing off just how pert and tight it was—Blaise Zabini's words, not his own.

He'd asked Blaise to make a Dementor onesie for his beautiful wife too. He'd tried to cajole her into it by offering to take her to Rome to tour all the wizarding and Muggle sights, but she had refused to put on the dress. He had offered to do the dishes and cook all her favourites—not that he wouldn't do that anyway—but she had refused that too. He'd attempted everything, but she hadn't budged an inch.

All that he could do now was…

Harry fell to his knees and crawled towards her, his head lowered. "If you agree to put on the onesie, I'll let you do anything you want to me."

Hermione inhaled sharply. "Anything?"

Harry hid his smirk by keeping his head ducked. "Anything…Mistress."

Silence.

Harry could hear Hermione's brain working double speed. She had asked him in passing once if he'd feel comfortable giving up control to her in the bedroom, but he hadn't been able to answer her then. He'd thought it through later on, and now was the chance for him—for them—to try something new while he simultaneously got to see her put on the Dementor onesie.

It was brilliant…if he said so himself. The only problem he could see was Hermione saying no to being in control.

Fortunately, that didn't come to pass.

Hermione stepped forward and cupped his jaw, tilting his head up. She licked her lips, and Harry mimicked her subconsciously. Her eyes shone as she cocked her head and stared at him. "Are you sure about this, Harry?"

His hair fell into his eyes when he nodded. "My safe word is Malfoy."

Hermione's face twisted in a grimace, and he couldn't help but snicker at her reaction. Neither of them wanted any mention of the blond ferret in the privacy of their bedroom, so making it his safe word was an easy choice.

Hermione murmured, "Very well, I'll dress up as a Dementor for you afterwards. For now, I want you to undress, put your hands behind your head, and kneel for me."

Harry's heart soared as he followed her instructions.

Hermione circled him at a snail's pace, and the tension in the room began to rise. Harry's skin tingled and his cock twitched as her heated gaze scrutinised every inch of his body. Staying on his knees when she ran her fingers over his shoulder blades was tough, but Harry remained still.

Hermione walked over to the kitchen counter and leaned against it. "Crawl over to me, my pet, and undress me with your teeth."

Harry had never felt so aroused before. Being in control of their pleasure in the bedroom had been the most wonderful feeling in the world, but it was swiftly replaced by being ordered around by Hermione.

He crawled over at lightning speed, his cock already weeping. He tried to put his hands on her knees, but she reached down and smacked him across the face. She growled, "Didn't you hear me, Pet? With your teeth."

Harry's tongue lolled out of his mouth. He clenched his fists by his sides, desperate to please his Mistress, and leaned closer. Biting the zipper of her skirt, he tugged it down, down, down. He lowered his head and caught the hem of her skirt in between his teeth. He yanked it down her thighs, over her knees, and down her shapely calves. It pooled around her ankles, and he threw himself flat onto the ground to pick the skirt with his teeth before tossing it to the side.

He then gazed up at her and whispered, "Permission to speak, Mistress?"

"Granted." Hermione ran her fingers through his thick hair, and he purred at the sensation. She yanked on his hair, reminding him to speak.

He swallowed and asked, "May I touch you?"

"No, but you may pleasure me with only your mouth," she murmured, still stroking his head.

Harry beamed. He buried his face in between her legs, delighting in the way her breath hitched in her throat at his action.

If she wanted him to please her, then please her he would.