Chapter Text
Saturday
June 5th, 2010
00:04 AM
Hermione
Draco. Sodding. Malfoy.
She hadn’t seen or spoken to him in years. Perhaps not since his trial, where she had very briefly defended him, reminding the Wizengamot that he was just another child—forced into a war he never wished to fight in. Ultimately, he had been dismissed, and had moved up north by the end of that year, completely disappearing off her radar.
But when she spotted him leaning against the wall of a muggle club in London, nursing his drink as though his life depended on it, she decided to walk over to him.
There was no logical reason she should want to approach him. He had always been so cruel to her, always vicious and horrible, calling her names and making fun of every single part of her being. From her teeth to her hair, to her heritage and friends.
Everything about her had always been wrong to him. She had been filthy and simple, and he treated her like she was a speck of mud on his brand new dragonhide shoes.
Yet there she was, heading his way.
If it was to confront him, to throw her drink in his face or punch him in the nose, she did not know. Maybe all she needed was for him to know she was there. To simply smile at him or just walk right by him.
Suppose I’ll find out when I get there.
Weaving through the masses, she clutched her own drink close to her chest, her eyes locked on him. But instead of finding her, he only let his eyes wander about, appearing as though he was looking for someone, though his eyes moved too fast for him to actually see anything—let alone anyone.
She made it to the other side of the dance floor, taking a quick sip of her drink for courage as she drew nearer to him. Finally, he spotted her, his brows raising in evident surprise, though the corners of his lips pulled just slightly.
“You look miserable!” Hermione shouted over the music once she was close enough. He hunched forward so he could hear her better and she could smell his cologne, a deep, smoky number with bergamot, that wafted over her with his closeness. “Had to come see if you were alright!”
“I am beyond miserable! My friends dragged me out here!” His voice was so much deeper than she recalled.
She found herself surprised for a moment, simply by the fact that he was speaking to her like a normal person. “What’s the occasion?!”
His brows furrowed as he leaned in even closer, and she repeated herself, her hand instinctively resting on his broad shoulder.
“My birthday!” he told her, and she turned her head to look at him. His pale-white skin and icy-blond hair were painted purple and blue with the flashing lights of the dance floor.
“Happy bir—”
“You don’t need to do that, Granger!” he said, cutting her off, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But thanks anyways!”
She felt a large hand move to rest on the curve of her hip. Lightly, not invasive, though still very much present. She took another swig of her drink, feeling the hint of whiskey mixed into the lemonade burn down her throat as she swallowed it.
“And where are your friends?!” she asked, casting a glance onto the crowded dance floor. She could barely make out Luna and Ginny grinding on one another, though could not spot any other familiar faces.
“Pansy should be around here somewhere, but I think Blaise and Theo went to the loo to suck each other off!” He finished his own drink with a hearty swig. “What are you drinking—let me buy you one!”
“Double Lynchburg Lemonade!” she told him, not about to protest getting a free drink from her childhood bully.
He gave her a firm nod, plucked the empty glass from her hands, and left her alone by the wall to get them more drinks.
She leaned against the cool surface of the wall, watching him walk away. By Merlin’s saggy tits, he was surprisingly… Gorgeous!
Broad shoulders, tall and lithe, though well defined. His arse appeared to be sculpted by the gods themselves. And his hair?! Combed, swooped and very, very sexy!
Sexy?!
Had she seriously leaned back against the wall, feeling the alcohol taking effect, and thought of Draco sodding Malfoy as sexy?!
She watched him at the bar, speaking with the male bartender as he ordered their drinks. He paid with a £20 note and shoved another £10 in the tip jar. Handling actual muggle money with such a natural ease it was almost impressive. He lifted the cups from the bar and walked back over to her.
Both drinks were the same. Lynchburg Lemonades, tall glasses filled with soft amber liquid, topped with a sprig of mint. He handed her one and kept the other for himself.
“Thanks!” She accepted it from him and took the first sip, a rather big mouthful that burned deliciously on the way down as she held his gaze. “So Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott are…?!”
“Fucking and in denial!” Draco nodded, stepping in closer once more. “It all started with a threesome where they basically forgot the girl existed!”
She snorted, her head lolling back against the wall. “But they’re in denial?! Even after that!”
“Absolutely! It’s miserable being next to them!” The amusement in his voice was contagious. She turned her head to view him better, spotting the slightly reddened cheeks, the light misting of sweat on his neck and the cheeky little glint in his eyes. “Who are you here with?!”
How was it so easy to talk to him? How was it that she found her body closing in against his, her gaze so focused on the silver eyes before her. She had never in her wildest imagination thought she would be having fun while talking to him, of all people!
To be fair, she had never enjoyed going out to clubs, though he was making the experience fairly enjoyable.
“Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood!” She called back, watching as blue and green light melted over his purple hued features. “They wanted to celebrate their four months together by dry humping on the dance floor!”
He laughed, briefly glancing over to the dance floor, where he could undoubtedly see the two witches covered in glitter, dancing so close together it almost looked like they were one and the same. “Sounds like a good way to spend the night!”
“But humping is only fun when it’s wet, not dry!” She spoke before her brain knew what she was saying. She then sputtered, covering her mouth with her hand for just a moment, laughing at herself. “I’m sorry—I meant—”
An amused grin flashed before her. “You’re not wrong!”
His gaze was piercing as he took a large sip. His Adam’s apple practically glowing with misted sheen as he drank. She felt herself flush, following his lead to down another mouthful, not making herself look away from his eyes.
“So, what about you, Granger?!” he asked as he finally lowered the glass from his lips. His tongue caught a stray drop gliding down his bottom lip. “Anyone to celebrate anniversaries with?!”
She shook her head, allowing him to crowd himself closer to her. His forearm pressed against the wall by her head. She could only occupy herself again with another sip, her drink nearly empty. “No! It’s only me! And my cat!”
His hand found her waist once more. Her fingertips trailed the curve of his arm, feeling the defined muscle beneath his shirt before she glided her fingers over his shoulder, finally resting it at his nape, inviting him forwards as she felt the soft, white hair against her fingers.
“And I don’t think he’d mind it if I brought back com-”
The last word died on her lips as he pressed his to hers. Tender yet firm, he tasted of sour lemons and burning whiskey, stinging her tongue in a surprisingly delicious way.
Her tongue caressed his, her mind and body both melting at the feeling of how he wrapped both arms around her waist to pull her tighter against himself, the condensation from his glass sinking into the fabric of her short black dress.
He kissed her like she had never been kissed before. Fire seemed to be catching in her veins, rushing through her body with every rapid beat of her heart.
Fingers curled into the soft white strands at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at them. A low groan was fed into her mouth.
His sturdy frame felt divine against hers while a leg found its way between both of hers, barely skimming where she wanted the firm muscle of his thigh to touch.
Hooking her other arm around his waist, she was careful not to spill her drink down his back. All she wanted in that moment was to taste him. To touch him. To feel him.
One large hand soothed the rounded curve of her rear and up along her back. Long fingers found their way into her hair, pulling out the French pin that held it in place, before tangling into her long curls.
His lips moved from hers, kissing a path down to her neck, nipping and licking lightly on her exposed, misted skin. The slight sensation of stubble scraping against her sensitive skin was enough to send shivers up her spine.
“Y-yours or mine?” she asked breathlessly, hoping he’d hear her over the heavy thumping of the bass and the inferno of music and chatter all around them.
“Yours.” He pressed his thigh against her core, grinding it against her. She rolled herself against him in return, wishing she could apparate from that very spot and into her bed.
Hermione
It took them all of thirty seconds to decide neither of them wanted to remain at the club much longer.
They hurried off, hand in hand to find a broom closet, which whirled around them in a blur of rushed kisses and laughter muffled by each other’s lips, before Hermione grabbed onto his wrist and apparated them away with a sounding crack.
The moment her feet hit the floor of her flat, Draco was all over her once more, kissing her.
Hard.
Almost desperate.
She couldn’t help herself as she laughed against his mouth, feeling him backing her up against the corner of the kitchen counter.
He picked her up from the floor, setting her on the counter as their kisses grew more and more desperate.
Fuck—not the counter!
"Bedroom," she breathed between his bruising kisses.
"Helpful." His lips found her jaw.
"Door behind you." Her fingers started at the top buttons of his shirt.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Right. Excellent. Glad one of us knows where we're going."
A surprised laugh escaped her throat before he kissed her lips again, and had his arms tightening around her thighs to pick her up from the counter to carry her to the door she had left ajar.
Reaching the bedroom felt like the most difficult task in the world. It was so close, yet so, so far.
With his strong arms carrying her, he backed himself up against the door, pushing it open with his shoulder.
She briefly opened her eyes, inhaling sharply against his mouth. Bloody hell, the room was a fucking disaster.
Books covered her nightstand in towering piles with both new pockets and ancient tomes. Clothes were piled on the chair in the corner, accumulated over the last few days. Her bed remained exactly as she'd left it that morning, with her duvet crumpled and her pillows askew.
Draco stopped, turning his head at her reaction to view her untidy bedroom.
Hermione immediately became aware of every single thing that was out of place. The half-drunk water bottle. A dirty sock which had missed her laundry basket, orange cat hair at the foot end of her off white duvet.
"Don't," she quickly told him.
"I'm not saying anything," he protested.
"You were about to, though, weren’t you?"
"Oh, absolutely, yes." One of the corners of his mouth pulled upwards in a smirk.
She grabbed onto a pinch of his hair, tugging hard. “Tosser.”
His grin only grew. “I’m almost surprised it took you this long to insult me.”
She rolled her eyes at him, only briefly, and with a smirk tugging at her own lips. However, both his grin and hers disappeared the moment their eyes locked once again. The atmosphere between them shifted so incredibly quickly it stole her breath away.
Neither of them spoke. For the first time all night, there wasn't music drowning them out. There was no crowd dancing around them. No flashing lights painting him in hues of pinks and blues.
It was just the two of them, alone in her cluttered bedroom.
Hermione swallowed. Draco wet his lips.
Ever so slowly, he brought his face closer to hers, as though he was giving her every opportunity to change her mind.
She didn't.
His eyes flitted between hers, then down to her lips. His own were red and swollen, slightly parted and damp from having been locked on hers.
Her fingers curled into the crisp black collar of his shirt just as whatever restraint had appeared between them vanished completely.
The kiss that followed was hungry and reckless and desperate, and entirely worth the wait.
By the time he stumbled backwards through the room and onto the bed, both of them were laughing again because his foot had caught on the corner of the rug, making him land hard enough for their teeth to collide just a little.
"You're incorrigible," Hermione informed him with amusement.
"You invited me here," he decided to remind her.
"That doesn't make you any less incorrigible."
"It feels like it should." His teeth scraped lightly at her bottom lip.
"It doesn't." Her tongue flicked against his top lip.
His grin only broadened.
For some unknown reason, that grin of his affected her nearly as much as their heated kiss.
Maybe more.
Her fingers found the remaining buttons of his shirt, fumbling just slightly as she worked them open. One by one, agonisingly slow, even for her. Draco watched her for a moment, amusement lingering at the corners of his mouth.
"You certainly are impatient, Granger,” he mused.
"So would you be, if you were in my shoes,” she admitted, glancing up to catch his gaze for just one moment, then returned her focus to the damned bottom buttons of his shirt.
The last button finally gave way.
His chuckle was low as she shoved the shirt from his shoulders, quickly tossing it aside, hearing it land somewhere on the floor—perhaps by the sock, though she didn't really care where.
Her gaze swept over him briefly before his hands caught her hips and pulled her closer. Silvery slashes. Broad shoulders. Lean muscle. Warm and soft skin beneath her fingertips.
More importantly, him. Right there.
Eyes dark and hungering at her like he wanted to devour every last bit of her.
The buckle of his belt clinked softly as he opened it between them.
“Making things difficult for yourself, are you?” she arched a brow, reaching down between them to help him loosen his belt, glancing between his eyes and the silver buckle.
She could feel the outline of something hard beneath her hands.
“Perhaps I just wanted you to do this for me,” he said, before biting his bottom lip, watching as she pushed the leather and metal aside, then quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.
“So, just because it’s your birthday, you’ll make me do all the work?” She lifted her weight from his lap and shoved his trousers down, but he did not raise his hips to help.
"Birthday privileges are allowed to a certain degree.” His arm hooked around her waist as he flipped them over, her back landing on the mattress beneath him. “But let me show you exactly how generous I can be.”
He stood for a moment and kicked off his trousers. Before she could reach for his boxers, he climbed back onto the bed.
She reached for the hem of her dress instead.
His hand caught hers, stopping her.
"Let me.” His words were quiet. Dangerously so.
A shiver shook the length of her spine.
Draco's fingers replaced hers, slipping beneath the smooth, black fabric. Slowly, deliberately, pulling it up.
The teasing and intensity lasted all of three seconds. Then the dress joined his clothes on the floor.
"Much better," he murmured.
Hermione barely had time to laugh before he kissed her again.
Hard.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he gently pushed her backwards once more.
Everything blurred after that.
His mouth.
His hands.
The scrape of stubble against her skin.
The way he seemed incapable of staying more than an inch away from her.
Hermione couldn't decide whether it was the alcohol or Draco Malfoy that was more intoxicating.
Both. Definitely both.
"You're trouble," she breathed against his lips.
She felt his smirk. "So I've been told.”
He sat up on his knees, and for a moment, Hermione simply looked at him.
Not because she wanted to admire him, no. But because she simply couldn't seem to stop herself.
The teasing smirk tugged one corner of his lips. The loose strands of white hair falling across his forehead. The way his heated gaze followed her every movement.
It was entirely unfair!
"Enjoying yourself?" his deep voice caused her eyes to flutter.
"A little," she admitted in a hushed breath.
"A little?" His hands felt her thighs, from her bent knees,down to her hips.
"Don't ruin it." She swatted one of his hands, not to stop him, but to tease him back.
His laugh was warm enough to make something flutter inside her stomach.
Before she could so much as think of a reply, he caught her hand in his and pressed a brief kiss against her knuckles.The simple and tender gesture surprised her, almost as much as it seemed to surprise him.
For half a second they stared at one another, her chest heavy with anticipating breaths, then Draco cleared his throat.
"Right," he said. "Before I accidentally become charming or something."
"Bit late for that."
His expression shifted, turning into something softer. Something that made her pulse stumble.
The space between them seemed to disappear all at once.
One moment they were talking, and the next, they were kissing again.
The laughter from earlier that night faded from her mind. The teasing faded soon after. Everything else faded from existence.
There was only Draco. His hands explored her body. His lips crushing hers. His tongue licking into her mouth.
The rush of wanting something she probably shouldn't—definitely shouldn’t.
When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing harder than before.
"You still with me, Granger?" His voice was huskier than before, like he was trying to restrain himself.
She opened her eyes, half-dazed, only to find him watching her carefully, giving her room to change her mind.
The fact that he paused at all made something tighten unexpectedly in her chest.
"Unfortunately for you,” she said, reaching for him again, "I'm very much still here.”
The playful grin returned immediately. "Excellent."
He lowered himself to her chest, his lips pressing between her breasts. Her stomach. Below her navel.
Fingers hooked within the waistband of her knickers, pulling them down her legs before settling himself between them, testing her out with one long and slow swipe of his tongue.
“You sure are taking your sweet time with your birthday present.” She groaned with frustration.
“It’s called savouring, Granger.” His tongue circled her clit once. “It is my birthday after all, so let me enjoy my cake, will you?”
Her head hit the mattress with an irritable sigh. “Do you only lick off the icing or do you perhaps eat it?”
His chuckle could be felt throughout her body as he settled his face between her legs, his lips closing around her clit to finally start enjoying her.
He swiped her center, his tongue circling her with a firm pressure, as he attempted to hold her down with the way she writhed below him. She was moaning, reeling, scrambling to grasp anything she could get her hands on.
Then she felt as two long fingers entered her, curling up towards a sweet spot she had only ever reached with a toy. Whimpering, she bucked her hips upwards, her fingers tangling in his hair as her body begged him to finish what he had started.
She finally dared to look down, his lust-drunk eyes were already on hers. The sight was her undoing. Every muscle in her body tightened as she choked back a pleading sob.
By the time her eyes fluttered open once more, his gaze was fixed on her, smouldering and intent, his lip caught between his teeth, his hand wrapped around his newly exposed cock and giving himself slow, teasing strokes.
“Please tell me I can fuck you now.”
A breathless laugh escaped her. “Absolutely.”
Relief and something dangerously close to satisfaction flashed across his face.
In one swift movement, his hands hooked beneath her thighs, pulling her closer to himself so that he was hovering over her.
“There’ll be no going back after this,” he said quietly. The words should have sounded teasing, but instead, they hung heavily in the air between them.
Hermione’s gaze flickered briefly to the faded mark on his forearm, just beside her head, before returning to his intense eyes.
“Just fuck me, Malfoy.” Her hand curled around the back of his neck, drawing him down toward her. “And stop talking before I change my mind.”
The bright grin that answered her was brief and thoroughly undeserved, and it vanished the very moment she pushed up from the mattress, capturing his mouth with hers in a kiss that tasted of her orgasm and the whisper of whiskey.
Fuck. She needed him inside of her.
She felt the warm, blunt head of him dragging through her folds, coating himself in her slick before pushing himself inside of her slowly—so… fucking… slowly.
The feeling of him was incredible. The stretch was so utterly sinful and so ultimately good she could only want more. And more he gave her, filling her inch by inch until he rested, fully seated deep inside of her. And Merlin did he hit deep!
She felt so full beneath him. So full she could barely breathe. She could feel him hitting so deep it almost hurt—almost.
Her gasp filled the room, accompanied by a deep groan escaping him. He buried his face against the crook of her neck as he kept slowly rocking himself into her, giving her body time to accept his cock.
It only took him a moment to settle into her, then she could feel his teeth against her skin. His tongue. His lips.
“Fuck…” he rumbled into her.
He sucked her flesh into his mouth, branding her just as the deep, rhythmic thrusts of his hips started.
Gasping, she gripped his hair with one hand, the other wrapping around his back to hold him closer.
He kissed up the side of her neck, over the curve of her jaw before finally licking into her mouth. She could still taste herself on his tongue, devouring her own orgasm alongside the sharp whiskey and the unmistakable sweet flavour of him.
Pushing his body from hers, he moved them so he sat with his thighs on either side of her, hands pressing her thighs down onto her stomach as his cock ground into her.
“You appear to be enjoying this,” she gasped, clawing desperately at the rumpled duvet.
A hard thrust into her, making her see stars. “What gave it away?”
Every nerve felt like it was on fire, pulsing and throbbing with every move of his. She gripped the sheets and the duvet with despair, the assault on her cervix sending her on a high she had never experienced.
Her muscles tightened, back arching from the mattress. “You’re so—I’m—close—So! Close!” she gasped between his thrusts.
“Eloquent.”
She slapped his neck.
A thumb rubbing circles around her clit was all her body needed to send her into euphoric bliss around him, clamping down around his thick length whilst her fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist, needing any damned part of him to hold onto as she came.
She barely had the time to come down from the high of a second orgasm in mere minutes before his lips were on hers, rough and brutal and crushing and perfect.
“You’re so hot like this” he said, using a large hand to shift her jaw, latching himself back onto her neck.
His thumb crushed her bottom lip, and she was quick to suck it into her mouth, her tongue twirling around it.
Fingers gripped his hair, curling around the white strands like a lifeline as he took her exactly how he desired.
With his teeth against the tender, marked flesh of her neck, he almost completely withdrew himself from her before slamming into her with a brutally delicious force.
He did it again.
And again.
And again.
The sound of his skin slapping against hers mixed perfectly with the gasps and moans that grew louder with each forceful stab of his cock. He hit the right spot with every single move of his hips.
“So hot—when you come—around my cock,” his deep voice rumbled before he sucked her nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
She had never been one to talk during sex, never been vocal, but she really wanted to tell him exactly how absolutely amazing he felt—but words failed her.
“Uh-huh–” was all she managed as she nodded her head, eyes half-lidded as she watched him sit back up on his knees.
A smirk tugged at his lips, but he bit back the quip he obviously wanted to say.
His chest glistened in the moonlight with the slight misting of sweat. His eyes roved her body, mapping every valley and hill, from the peaks of her hardened nipples to every pebble of her gooseflesh.
Strands of white hair fell to his brow, his fingers trailing down her body. Over her bouncing tits, to the softness of her stomach. The desire in his gaze and the tender way his fingers caressed her body made her feel as if she was about to ignite.
She reached for his hand, but his fingers trailed down between her hips, but he did not touch where she ached the most. Instead, his hips snapped against her, driving his cock hard and deep into her with a strength so immense she felt her breath leave her.
“O-oh, Merlin!” she cried beneath his unyielding thrusts, knowing she was just about to hit her third orgasm for the evening.
He lifted her hips slightly off the mattress, hitting her even deeper than before.
“That’s not my name, princess,” he said through gritted teeth, barely audible over her whimpering moans.
Desperately, she caught hold of his forearm, grounding herself against the overwhelming rush of sensation. “T-touch me,” she begged him.
The silence was punctuated by a thrust so hard against her cervix she had not choice but to call out his name.
“Malfoy!” She felt her muscles fluttering around him as he drove her into the mattress, but he still did not touch her. Wrong name.
So. Full.
So. Close.
“Fuck—” she gasped, near breathless. “Dr-Draco”
A wicked grin spread across his moonlit face. “Good girl.” And his thumb finally circled her clit.
His pace did not relent. Eyes dark and hooded, he hunched over her, chasing his own release as she was nearing her next climax like a speeding train.
“Dra-co! Draco, Draco!” she whimpered between his thrusts, her fingernails dragging harshly across the back of his shoulders.
He had her folded over herself, and as a hand grabbed onto his hair once more, his mouth claimed hers like a man starved.
More pressure onto her bundle of nerves and the intense jabs at her cervix finally sent her over the edge, yet again, his name still leaving her lips in stuttering gasps.
“Fuuuuck.” His groan was muffled against the damp skin where her neck met her shoulder, his movements sputtering. A moment later, he went still, buried deep inside of her while his forehead dropped to her collarbone.
For several seconds neither of them spoke. There were only heavy, quaking breaths.
Hermione could feel everything. His breath against her throat. The rapid rise and fall of his chest against hers. The weight of him draped over her. His fingers still absent-mindedly tracing her side as though he hadn't quite realised he was doing it.
Slowly, she turned her head. He was already looking at her.
Their eyes met, and for one strange second, neither of them seemed to know what to say or do. Without giving into hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed him.
His mouth curved immediately against hers.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” she muttered against his lips.
“I'm finding that remarkably difficult at the moment.”
She chuckled happily into his mouth.
Merlin.
A few hours prior she’d walked into a club expecting a mediocre night out with two of her friends, and had somehow ended up having an absolutely amazing night in bed with Draco Malfoy, on his birthday no less.
Life truly was absurd.
“You’d better be staying the night after that,” she informed him.
One pale eyebrow lifted. “After that?”
“Yes. After that.”
His grin widened. “I wasn't planning on going anywhere.”
“No?”
“No.” He brushed a loose curl away from her face. “Besides, I think I’ve become rather attached to my birthday present.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tosser.”
Hermione
She awoke to a large, calloused hand kneading her breast, and lips brushing lazily against the crook of her neck.
Someone was hard against her arse. Very hard.
Draco’s arm tightened around her waist as he pressed himself impossibly closer. “Morning,” he murmured against her skin with a coarse, sleep-ridden voice.
Hermione made a vague sound that might have been a greeting, perhaps a complaint, or perhaps a request for another hour of sleep. After all, she had been kept awake rather late the night before.
“I've got a problem,” he rasped
“Mm?’
His teeth grazed her shoulder before pressing a kiss to the spot. “You.”
A sleepy smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Sounds like something you should sort out.”
She felt his lazy laugh against her neck. “Normally I’d agree.” His hand slid slowly across her waist. “Unfortunately, you’ve been driving me mad since approximately midnight.”
Hermione shifted backwards just enough to feel exactly what he meant. A strangled noise of want and frustration escaped him.
“You’re a cruel witch.”
“If I was a cruel witch, I would have cursed you by now.”
“Who’s to say you haven’t already?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper as his lips found the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “I want you. I haven’t stopped wanting you since last night.”
The rough honesty in his voice sent an intense shiver down her spine. She tipped her head back against his shoulder.
“Then do something about it, Malfoy.” She wiggled her hips against his erection once more, enjoying the low grunt he emitted. “Come and take what you want.”
There was no hesitation as his teeth grazed her skin whilst he grinned against her neck. Long fingers trailed from her breast, down the curve of her stomach before guiding one of her legs up, allowing him access to her already wet and throbbing core.
Behind her, he propped himself up on one elbow, just so he could watch as his two middle fingers passed through her slit, collecting her slick to bring it to her clit, massaging her lazily between his two fingers.
She turned her head to face him, taking in his spectacularly mussed, white hair, the way his bottom lip was still slightly reddened and swollen from how hard she had bitten him the night prior, and not to mention his lust-drunk eyes.
She reached between them, finding his cock pressing against her arse. He was generously longer than she expected and so thick that her walls tightened just at the memory of the delicious stretch of him. She could feel his veins pulsing beneath her touch.
Stroking him at the same pace that he rubbed her clit—slow and tender—she kept her gaze on him. His eyes met hers for one long moment, only breaking the connection to press his lips to hers.
Sweet. His lips were not crushing and punishing like the night before, no, it was sweet and lazy, with his tongue swiping lightly over hers.
Hooking her leg backwards, over his hip, she guided the tip of his cock to her entrance. No words were shared against each other's lips as his hips shifted and he filled her with one slow stroke. Her hand lifted, fingers tangling in his hair as he rocked himself in and out of her, earning breathy moans and sighs against his lips.
Fingers gripped at the back her thigh, shifting her leg higher, the head of his cock pressed hard against a sweet spot within her.
Every slow thrust caused her stomach to tighten significantly, the bundle of nerves behind her navel coiling tightly like a spring.
Her fingers found her clit, taking the spot where Malfoy had toyed with her earlier.
“Just like that, Granger.” His voice was a low and gentle rumble against her lips. He pulled back from their kiss, just as her head sank back down onto the pillows.
“Please—” she breathed, rocking her hips back against his, feeling his cock fill her even deeper.
“Yeah, princess?” His teeth could be felt on her neck.
“M-more.” The word left her in a desperate whimper.
But instead of giving her more, he lowered her leg, pulling himself out of her. “As you wish,” he said, pushing up to sit on his knees. “Now, get on your stomach.”
She gave herself a moment to look at him. Taking in the silvery lines that marked his chest and stomach. His body must have been carved by Michelangelo himself, considering how he appeared to be near flawless.
Reluctantly, she obliged, rolling around so she couldn’t see him. He guided her legs together, then let his strong grip lift her hips just slightly off the mattress.
His legs bracketed hers, his large hands massaging her arse, spreading her cheeks apart as the head of his cock nudged against her aching emptiness.
She was just about to turn her head, about to beg for more when he pushed himself inside of her, branding her G-spot with the force of his thrust. Her fingers clawed at the sheets below her, her back arching into the mattress.
“You like that, baby?” he asked in a strained groan, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm that took her breath away.
She could only nod, trying her best not to scream his name into her mattress as he abused her inner sweet spot.
A large hand travelled from her ass, up the length of her spine, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. Long fingers felt her scalp before grabbing a fistful of her hair at the root, tugging just hard enough to keep her in place as his pace increased.
She whimpered, feeling his cock marking her insides as his own, branding her, with the relentless pleasure he was thrusting into her. She could barely breathe, barely control any part of herself as she recognized the spasm of her muscles.
“D-Don’t stop!” she begged in a quivering gasp, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts. Every. Single. Time. “I’m—so… Dr—”
Her walls fluttered around him, his moves building her up to a crescendo before her climax finally hit her like a tidal wave. She tightened around his thickness, cries of the deepest, truest pleasure sounding through the room, his fingers still holding her hair as he rode her through her first ever G-spot orgasm.
A kiss could be felt between her shoulder blades, the hand fisting her hair releasing her, fingers dragging lazily down her spine as his cock halted, buried deep inside of her.
“Fuck, I could listen to you come for me every day,” he murmured against her pebbled skin. “You’re like a drug, I swear.”
Her head landed on the mattress below, nodding limply. “Uh-huh…”
Oh, she could certainly get used to waking up like that, moaning his name as he blessed her with orgasm after orgasm.
“I hope you’ve got one more in you,” he hummed huskily against her shoulder. “I’m not leaving until you’ve had one more.”
She lowered her hips onto the mattress, feeling his rock solid length slip out of her.
“Oh, I do,” she breathed, turning to look at him.
Fuck. Me.
“Lie down, Malfoy. On your back,” she instructed, pushing herself up with her mostly boneless arms.
A smirk tugged across his lips, his brows raising. “Really?” he asked, moving to lie down just next to her, his head resting on the pillows. “Are you about to treat me like a king?”
“Prince, actually.” She swung her leg over his hips, hovering just over where his throbbing, solid length was still glistening with her slick, laying flat against his stomach. “You’re no king until I’m a queen.”
His hands rested on her thighs, eyes scanning her body up and down with appreciation. “You look like a queen,” he said, his eyes hazy with lust. “But you need to earn your title. Show me what a queen you can be.”
Wrapping her fingers around the wide base of his cock, she positioned herself over him, his gleaming tip teasing at her entrance.
“Oh, I’ll show you.” Then she sank down, her walls immediately tightening around him.
There it was, the same feeling as the night before, where his dick pressed so deep into her that she was sure she could see stars.
The guttural groan that left him was intoxicating, sending a shiver up her body at the mere thought of being the one doing that to him.
His hands seized her hips, guiding them to circle against him, earning himself a soft, breathy whimper as her head fell back.
A deep curse left his lips as he bucked his hips up against her, encouraging her to move. And so she did.
One hand on his stomach, she felt the firm tone of his body and the raised bump of a silvery slashed scar as she started bouncing on his cock, feeling how he filled her to the brim with every. Single. Move.
One of his hands moved up her body, squeezing her breast, pinching her peaked nipple between his fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.
“Fuck, princess. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
His hand travels to find her hair once more, curling into a fist as he collected it, bringing her down over him, with either hand pushing into the mattress by his shoulders.
Lips crashed hungrily against each other, his tongue claiming her mouth as he fucked himself up into her, one arm around her waist.
She met his thrusts, grinding herself against him every time their skin met. She gasped against his lips, tasting exactly how much he desired her, how deeply he craved every part of her.
Pleasure mixed with divine pain as she pressed, hard, down onto him, his cock hitting her cervix with every breath, every hard rock of his hips.
Locked to him, her tongue exploring his with desperate hunger, she bounced harder against him, feeling the pleasure building up within her body, a pleasure that only climbed higher and higher as Malfoy was so close to bringing her off the edge.
She pried her lips from his, sitting up and arching her back as she rode him like a professional, her head thrown back, hair wild, tits bouncing along with her hips.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,”—he fucked himself up into her even harder—“taking me so well, babe.”
His thumb found her clit, the rocks of his hips slamming into her with a harder force as he took complete control of her. Guttural grunts mixed with whimpering moans as her orgasm washed over her, her entire body tightening, fingers clawing at his chest and stomach at the same time his hips stuttered, and she could feel the deep pulses of his cock as he painted her insides with his cum.
Draco
The cup of coffee she had made him was great—three sugars and a hearty splash of cream. Perfect.
She leaned back against the kitchen counter, dressed in a muggle T-shirt that landed just beneath the curve of her hips, barely covering her. She was smelling her coffee for a moment before taking a sip, allowing a small groan to escape her as she swallowed. If her headache was anything like his, she probably needed it.
He knew he did.
It was well past eleven, and he really should get going because he knew his mother would have a fit if he was late to his own birthday celebration.
He took another sip of his coffee and placed the cup down onto the counter.
“I should probably go,” he said. He also had a bit of explaining to do to his friends for simply vanishing the night before.
Granger opened her eyes to look up at him, lowering her own cup to the counter.
Fuck, she was gorgeous like that. Freshly fucked, her hair wild—even though she had tried containing it to a bun—lips red and swollen, wearing that oversized, deep grey T-shirt that juuust hid her body from him; though, he would much rather have her naked.
“Probably. I do suppose you have a lot happening today, birthday boy.”
A small chuckle left him. “I do. A full itinerary, actually,” he said with a low hum as he took one step closer to her. “But before I go, I would like just one more kiss. Since it’s my birthday and all.”
“Since it’s your birthday and all?” She asked with amusement. “You don’t think you’ve gotten enough for your birthday?”
He crowded her, arms on either side as he leaned in closer to her. He did not kiss her, nor would he force her to. He pressed his lips to her temple, the hinge of her jaw, and down the side of her neck—which she craned to expose more of herself to him, a sweet sigh escaping her as both of her arms wound around his neck.
“I am known to be insatiable, Granger,” he murmured softly against a love bite he had created on her neck the night before.
“Just one kiss?” Her voice was breathy, and so, so sexy.
“Just.” He kissed the side of her throat. “One.” Her chin was next. “Kiss.” His lips pressed just to the side of hers, making her head turn towards him.
Brown eyes glanced between his eyes and his lips before finally claiming his mouth with her own.
Her tongue was bitter from the coffee, yet the unmistakable sweetness that was still Granger lingered beneath it, coaxing him onward to take exactly what he wanted. But he had to keep it to a kiss. He knew his parents were expecting him.
A gentle, little noise escaped her throat, and he instantly felt his heart rate increase.
Her moans? Her fucking whimpers? Merlin’s tits, they would be his undoing!
His hands moved from the counter, finding her waist instead. Beneath the fabric of her shirt, he knew her to be soft, curvy, with a handful of stretch marks on her hips.
Fucking. Perfection.
Fingers raked through his hair as her tongue flicked lightly at his upper lip.
“You should probably go,” she whispered against his lips, not making any moves to release him from her hold.
So, he reached for her thighs, lifting her from the floor to place her on the very edge of the kitchen counter, where he stepped in between her parted legs.
“I should probably go,” he agreed against her lips, hands roving up the divine curve of her hips as he drew the fabric of her shirt higher.
Both of her hands left his hair, making a path down the front of his black dress shirt before settling at his belt. The gentle rattle of the leather and metal sounding together made his cock twitch to life just below her hands.
As swiftly as she undid his mind, she undid his belt and opened his trousers, her hands finding their way into his boxers to take his cock out and stroke him, teasing him.
“Perhaps I can stay—”
Her lips parted from his, kissing down to the base of his neck, where she sucked some of his skin into her mouth, branding him.
“—Just a bit longer?”
A hand found its way between them, between her thighs where her cotton knickers were damp with her want. His fingers played with the fabric that parted him from her perfectly pink pussy, feeling the fabric grow wetter as he continued to touch her.
“Just a bit longer,” she murmured against his collar bone, where she had left another mark on his skin. “Wouldn’t want to keep your parents waiting.”
“Don’t remind me of them.” His free hand cupped her jaw, angling her face towards his. “I’d rather be focused on the sexiest witch I’ve ever seen, than them.”
“And who is that sexy witch of yours?” Her eyes were dark with lust, her lips glistening and slightly parted, swollen and slightly reddened from their several kisses since the club the night before.
A smirk tugged at his lips. “Please, Granger. Playing stupid doesn’t suit you.”
Her mouth pulled into the beginning of a smile, her cheeks heating just before he crushed his lips to hers once more, licking into her mouth to claim every part of her that he could before he actually had to leave.
Her thumb swiped the bead at the tip of his cock, swirling it around the head, as his fingers pushed the centre of her underwear aside. She was so wet she was practically dripping onto the kitchen counter.
Fucking hell!
“What are you waiting for?” She breathed against his lips, pointing his cock against her drenched slit. “Fuck me, Draco.”
With his hands on her thighs, he pulled her closer to the edge of the dark stone countertop and drove herself into her, sheathing himself in her tight, wet warmth in one thrust of his hips. And, just as she had both times he had sunk into her before, he felt her walls flutter around him as he stretched her, filling her to the brim with himself.
Her head leaned back against the kitchen cabinet, her neck beautifully exposed to him, her pulse beating rapidly beneath her golden skin.
Lips attaching to her throat, he nipped and licked over her pulsepoint, feeling it pass from her body to his as he thrust into her with the very same rhythm as her heartbeat.
“You take me so well,” he rasped against her neck, rocking into her with harder beats.
She gasped, clinging to him with every thrust, lifting her leg higher to drape it over his shoulder. “And you,”—she gripped his shirt tightly at the shoulder—“fuck me,”—she tried rocking her hips back against him—“sooo good!”
He buried himself deep into her, grinding his cock hard against her cervix, then stopped moving altogether, a wicked smirk pulling at his lips.
“Am I fucking you so good that you, Hermione Granger, forgot proper grammar?” he asked, resting his forearm on the kitchen cabinet, just above her head.
“What?” she panted softly. “I didn’t—”
“But you did.” He smirked, pressing a small kiss to the side of her calf. “It’s good to know what effects I have on you and your big brain.”
Her muscles tightened around his cock like a vice grip, causing him to buck forwards, his brow colliding with her shoulder.
“Fuck—”
“Stop being a twat, Malfoy, and get to it.” She swatted the back of his head.
While his cock was throbbing deep within her, he nodded his head slowly. “Okay, Granger,” he mused, drawing his hips backwards, bringing himself out so far that only his head remained in her tight, warm cunt. “I will do as you please.”
She licked her lips in anticipation, and he drove himself into her with one hard slam. She gasped loudly, fingernails clawing into his shirt as her back arched against him.
“I will fuck you so well,” he uttered between hard, long thrusts, earning himself guttural moans from the witch at his mercy.
“W…” He buried himself to the hilt, a whimper leaving her.
“E…” He punctuated with another thrust, removing his family’s signet ring from his finger.
“L…” Another thrust, and she whimpered, her walls fluttering around him as he could feel her impending orgasm.
“L…” He slipped the ring to cover the pad of his thumb, massaging her slick clit with the carved silver.
Seconds. That was all it took for her climax to wash over her, clamping down so hard around his cock that he was sure he’d go breathless. He continued driving hard into her, the metal still massaging her sensitive bud as he chased his own high with her body.
Her moans and whimpers filled the room, desperate pleas for him to give her more, to stop, to keep going, to fuck her so well. With each and every sharp roll of his hips, her words became more and more incoherent until she grabbed him by a fistful of his hair and brought him down upon her, kissing him, licking into his mouth like her life depended on it.
“Draa—I’m… F—” Words failed her against his lips, though her sounds of pleasure merged with his own deep groans, where his own high was just around the corner.
“Come for me, princess.”
He rotated the ring the other way, every part of her body tugging him nearer. Every muscle in her body tightened and arched, making her look like the sexiest sculpture he had ever seen, lost in bliss and lust and ecstasy.
His pace stuttered, her body around him and beneath him driving him into oblivion with shuddering breaths as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, and the stray brown curls that had escaped her messy bun.
Deep, rushed breaths filled the space between them, both coming down from their rushes into euphoric bliss.
His mind was numb, his body throbbing with his slowly calming heartbeat. Every other sense was filled by her presence.
Her errant curls against his brow. Her scent in his nose. Her skin on his lips. One leg over his shoulder whilst the other remained around his waist. His clothes stifled him, making him feel crowded by a slight discomfort, like it would all feel better if he was just bare, his skin pressed against hers, just as they had been that morning.
Blunt fingernails trailed his nape as her head shifted. Following her movements, he pulled back, just enough to let his eyes focus on hers. Neither said anything, only taking each other in.
Sex drunk, flushed and freshly fucked, with reddened cheeks, kiss-stung lips and a slight misting of sweat on the sides of her neck, she looked breathtaking. Absolutely stunning. Sexy as could be.
He wished he could stay a little longer, wished he could see her like that time and time again.
But she wouldn’t want that. Oh no. They had just happened upon each other at a muggle bar. It had been a one-night-stand, and she would never be interested in having more with him than that.
So, when she glanced at his lips, angling her head to claim his mouth once more, he pulled away. Inhaling deeply through the nose, he reluctantly pulled his cock out of her, tucking himself into his boxers, quickly buckling his belt back up.
The bubble of bliss had burst, bringing them both back to reality. They were not friends. They were not even acquaintances. There would be no more kisses, and he would never step in between her legs again.
“I should—Yeah, I should go,” he said, looking away from her and her look of confusion. “This was fun, but my parents will probably be setting up a search and rescue party if I don’t show up to the manor soon.”
“Right. Yes, of course.” She sat up on the counter, fixing her knickers before scooting off the edge. “Would you like to floo, or would you prefer to apparate?” Her voice was low and almost careful, tentative in a way.
“Apparate, I think,” he told her. “You’ve probably warded your flat, but is there anywhere nearby I can apparate from?”
He briefly glanced around her flat, noting a disgruntled-looking ball of orange fur on her deep blue sofa, the clutter on her coffee table and the overstuffed rack of coats in the corner by what he could only assume was her front door.
“The landing down the stairs,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of the entryway. “I’ve cast a permanent charm so no one can hear anyone apparating or disapparating.” She took a step towards him.
“Lovely.” He nodded his head once, still not daring to truly look at her. He buttoned the top buttons of his shirt. “Well, Granger… Thanks for coffee.” He swiftly strode towards the door.
“You’re welcome,” she sighed.
The door fell shut behind him and he took the steps down to the landing, knowing full well he would never visit her flat again. Then, he disappeared with a muffled crack.