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Chapter 2 - Chapter 2 The Helping Nephew

Hello dear sexy bastards....

Enjoy.....

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Orion's hand was still laying flat against her stomach, the heat of his palm seeping through the damp silk of her dress.

"You're trembling, Auntie," Orion whispered. His voice didn't come from across the room; it vibrated against the shell of her ear, low and intimate. He was standing directly behind the chaise lounge, his body looming over her seated form.

"I.....I'm cold," Andromeda stammered, though that wasn't entirely true anymore. Her skin felt cold, yes, clammy from the rain and the shock of widowhood, but beneath the surface, a strange, feverish fire was kindling.

It started where his hand touched her midriff and radiated outward, making her toes curl in her sodden shoes.

"Then we must get you out of these wet things," Orion stated, It wasn't a question anymore

He moved his hand from her stomach, slowly dragging it upwards, the friction of his palm against the wet fabric created a sound a soft...shhh....that seemed deafening to Andromeda's heightened senses.

His fingers grazed the underpart of her bra, a fleeting pressure that made her breath hitch, before settling on the zipper at the back of her dress.

"Orion, no," she protested weakly, her hand fluttering up to catch his wrist. Her grip was frail, lacking any real conviction. "It's not proper. I'm... I'm your aunt."

"You are freezing, Aunty," he corrected, his tone brooking no argument. He didn't pull his hand away, instead he leaned down further, his chest pressing against the back of her head.

She could feel the solid, hard muscles of his body. "Do you think Ted would want you to catch your death of cold on the day he died? Do you think the House of Black cares for the prudish laws of commoners?"

He pulled the zipper, the sound was a long, slow tear in the silence. The black dress slackened instantly and the cool air of the drawing room hit her damp skin, making her shiver violently, but before the chill could set in, Orion's hands were there.

He peeled the fabric down from her smooth shoulders, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He wasn't stripping her; he was unwrapping her slowly.....The dress pooled at her waist, leaving her upper with just lase exposed to the firelight and his gaze.

"Beautiful," Orion murmured.

Andromeda squeezed her eyes shut, shame and desire warring in her chest. She wasn't a girl of sixteen. She was 42. She had borne a child and her body wasn't the taut, untested marble of a statue; it was soft, lived-in, and unmistakably maternal.

She wore a slip of black lace, mourning underwear she had donned that morning in a daze that struggled to contain her curves. Her shoulders were rounded and pale, dusted with a smattering of freckles that the summer sun had left behind. Her arms were soft, lacking the definition of a warrior but possessing the plush comfort of a mother.

But it was her back that Orion focused on first.

He ran his fingertips down her spine, tracing the flesh that disappeared into the waistband of the bunched-up dress. Her skin was incredibly soft, yielding under his touch like warm dough.

"You hold so much tension here dear aunt," he whispered, his thumbs digging into the muscles of her shoulder blades.

"It's...been a hard year," Andromeda gasped, her head falling forward.The massage was masterful, he found knots she didn't know she had and worked them with a pressure that bordered on pain, forcing a moan from her lips.

"You have the body of a true Black woman," Orion observed, his voice clinical yet laced with a dark appreciation. "Not like those waifish girls at Hogwarts. You have what it needs where it needs."

He slid his hands around her waist, his fingers splaying wide. He could feel the heaviness of her breasts swaying slightly as she breathed. They were full, sitting low and heavy against her chest, constrained tightly by the black lace cups.

"Look at you," he commanded softly. "Open your eyes, Andromeda."

She obeyed, the tea making resistance impossible. She looked at the large, ornate mirror above the fireplace, the reflection showed..... there she was, the grieving widow, half-naked in her nephew's drawing room.

Her hair was a mess of damp curls, her face flushed, her eyes glassy and dilated and behind her stood Orion, tall and dark, his hands possessing her.

"I look... old," she whispered, her insecurity bleeding through.

"You look ripe," Orion corrected, his eyes locking with hers in the mirror.

He moved his hands lower, past her waist, gripping the swell of her hips through the bunched-up dress and squeezed firmly. Andromeda's hips were wide, a cradle of softness that had widened slowly after Nymphadora's birth. Orion's fingers sank into the plush flesh, kneading her like he was testing the quality of a rare silk.

"Orion....." she whined, the sound high and needy. The sensation of his large hands handling her hips, claiming the soft flesh that no one but Ted had touched in decades, was overwhelming.

"Stand up," he ordered.

She stood on shaky legs, the dress fell to her ankles with a wet plop, leaving her standing in her heels, stockings, and the black lace set.

Orion walked around the chaise lounge to stand in front of her. He towered over her, his grey eyes sweeping over her form with a hunger that made her knees weak.

He took in everything, the slight curve of her belly, a soft pouch of skin that she usually hid under corsets, now exposed and vulnerable. The stretch marks, faint silver lines on her hips that whispered of motherhood. The heavy, teardrop shape of her breasts that spilled over the top of her bra, the pale skin veined with faint blue.

She tried to cross her arms to cover herself, a last-ditch effort at modesty.

Orion caught her wrists gently but firmly. He pulled her arms to her sides.

"No hiding," he said. "Not from me."

He stepped closer, invading her personal space until the heat of his body was all she could feel. He reached out and cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones.

"You tried so hard to be Andromeda Tonks," he murmured. "The good wife, the blood traitor. Living in a small house, counting galleons, aging in obscurity."

He let his hands slide down her neck, over her collarbones, and stopped just above the swell of her tits.

"But underneath.....you were always this. A creature of luxury, a woman who needs to be handled."

He didn't grab her breasts, not yet. Instead, he traced the rim of the lace cup with a single finger. Andromeda shivered violently, her nipples hardening instantly against the fabric, betraying her completely.

"Orion, please," she begged, though she didn't know what she was begging for. To stop? To continue? The tea had blurred the line between the two until it was invisible.

"Please what?" He leaned down, his face inches from her cleavage. He inhaled deeply, smelling the scent of her skin...powdery, sweet, and spiked with the musk of arousal.

"Please stop? Or please touch?"

"I.....I don't know," she sobbed softly.

"I think you do."

He moved his hands to her waist, gripping the soft handles of love that rested there and pulled her flush against him. The contact was shocking, her soft, half-naked curves collided with the hard, tailored wool of his robes. She could feel the ridge of his belt buckle pressing into her stomach.

And lower, she could feel something else. Hard...very hard.

"You feel that, don't you Auntie?" Orion whispered into her hair. He ground his hips forward, a slow, deliberate pressure against her pelvis. "Ted is gone, he is cold in the ground but I am here, I am alive."

Andromeda let out a ragged gasp, the mention of Ted should have been a splash of cold water. Instead, twisted by the potion and Orion's dark charisma, it acted as a permission slip.

He is gone....I am alone and I need this...

She slumped against him, her forehead resting on his chest. "It's wrong," she mumbled into his robes.

"Nothing feels this good if it's completely right," Orion countered.

He moved one hand down, over the curve of her buttocks covered in the sheer stockings and panties. He didn't just touch; he grabbed. He squeezed the generous flesh of her ass, pulling her even harder against his erection.

"You're not a widow tonight, Andromeda," he growled, biting lightly at the sensitive part of her neck. "Tonight, you're just mine."

Authors Note:-

I am not gonna fastpace the smuts.....it will be several chapters long...sensual ....enjoying ... degrading....😏.

So not for fast one chapter smuts....

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