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Hermione got a lot of flack about her level of enthusiasm when it came to Quidditch, which was a little frustrating because it was only partly true. She wasn’t obsessed with the sport like the rest of the Wizarding world but she wasn’t opposed to it like she was often made out to be.
The World Cup had been exciting and she’d gone to every single one of Gryffindor’s games, after all.
But she could admit that once the thrill of the first thirty minutes had worn thin, she did get bored. The problem was the scoring structure, she reasoned. The value of catching the Snitch outweighed a lot of the importance of scoring with Quaffles and so the bright clang of each hoop soon lost its sparkle for her.
The other issue was how long games lasted, the damn Snitch ever-elusive. In fact, her list of cons when it came to the sport all revolved around that one tiny gold ball. What was the point of it? And those who Seeked for it? She worried about them sometimes.
It was perhaps because of these strongly-held beliefs that the universe found reason to demonstrate for her the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of the catch.
It was Friday night and she was at the Leaky enjoying some end-of-the-week drinks with a few of her colleagues from St. Mungo's. As it was the entrance into Wizarding London, the Leaky was always the place to be and because of this, it was packed to the gills.
She shouldn’t have seen it.
She wasn’t supposed to have seen it.
He’d only been tugging his jumper off, the pub walls almost sweating from the number of bodies inside, when she’d caught a glimpse of gold from the corner of her eye. Her attention snagged and she looked. She’d only seen it for half a second before he had tugged his t-shirt back down, the knit of his navy jumper having brought the white cotton along for the ride. It was gone just as quickly as she’d seen it but that tiny flicker of something kept her eyes searching around.
Ah, she thought resignedly. She got it now.
She put her revelatory moment aside to focus on the scent of fresh discovery. She was sure of what she’d seen — what else could it have been? — but the person upon which she’d seen that flash of metal didn’t compute.
There was no way that Draco Malfoy had a piercing. And not there.
She’d opted out of the Auror track but even so, knew almost all of them; working as a Healer meant a fair amount of crossover with DMLE employees, usually in various states of pain. It was nice to see them in this context, chatting and laughing instead of swearing and writhing. Particularly nice to see Malfoy amongst them, relaxed and joining in, leaned back against the wall beside a high top surrounded by colleagues. She didn’t mean to stare at him for as long as she did but came back to herself when he met her eye over the rim of his pint and lifted a brow, questioning her attention. She had to know.
“Back in a ‘mo,” she told her table and rose, not taking her eye off him.
He watched her approach with a measured expression, not exactly surprised but not sure of her purpose, either. Which was fair enough; apart from a few friendly words in passing or the time she’d fixed a splinched pinky finger for him, they hadn’t really interacted.
She stepped right in front of him, uncaring about the sidelong looks his coworkers were giving her, but it was he who initiated their interaction.
“Granger,” he greeted, having another sip of his stout.
“Hello, Malfoy,” she said, to be polite, and then couldn’t help but jump right in. “I thought I just saw something.”
He raised his brows. “Oh? Need an Auror?”
“No,” she began but then doubled back when his implied offer gave her a reason to pull him away. “Actually yes. Are you available?”
His expression let her know that he’d been joking, given how quickly his brows dipped, suddenly serious. “Yes. What’s wrong?” He looked back to where she’d come from.
“No, no, nothing's wrong.” She was mucking this up. Covert, she hissed to herself. Be covert. “Can you come with me?”
He put his pint on the table immediately and straightened, gesturing her onward. She took him through to the passageway that led to the rooms for rent as it was the most unoccupied place she could think of, and then turned to him.
“I just…” She suddenly felt foolish, and a bit of a predator. “Erm…”
Malfoy’s professional alertness was slowly fading as he watched her rethink her actions, his shoulders relaxing again and the edge of his lip pulling up.
“What are we doing back here, Granger?” He sounded amused. Almost…flirty. Her brain clunked around for a moment, useless as it tried to process that tone from him. To her.
“I wanted to get another look at something,” she finally admitted. She’d come this far, hadn’t she?
He smiled, like he was used to this sort of come-on. “Oh? What’s that then?”
“Can I just…” She reached a hand out between them, hovering in front of his shirt.
“Just what?” he murmured.
“Just look?” Her hand, the bold thing, had made soft contact with the fabric. She brushed her fingers down slowly until she reached where his navel should be, anatomically, but didn’t dip down to confirm her suspicion just yet.
“Seems you’re already not just looking,” he said but there was bemusement in his voice. “But go ahead.”
He leaned his shoulders back against the wall and tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, a casual pose and one that also demonstrated a fair amount of trust. She licked her lips and then diverted her hand to the hem of his shirt and used both hands to tug it up, fingers curling around the fabric as she held it to his solar plexus to keep herself from straying.
The gold glinted in the flickering candlelight from the sconces, cheeky and pleased at her for having caught it. She stared for a moment, the reality that Draco Malfoy had a pierced belly button too bizarre to be easily adopted into her perception of practically everything she thought to be true. But then she saw that the tiny ball at the base of the barbell was winged and reality recalibrated in a snap.
She smirked up at him. “Wanted to finally catch one, hmm?”
He’d been watching her look at his body with an almost self-conscious expression but at her teasing comment, his face broke into a smile. He chuckled. “Ouch, Granger.”
She pressed her lips together to get her grin under control and then looked back at the tiny Snitch jewelry. “Ouch I’m sure. Why on earth do you have your navel pierced?”
“I wanted something I could hide easily,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“I see.” She cocked her head, eyes trailing up. “Why not a nipple then?”
Pink had tinged his cheeks when her eyes met his. “Ah. They’re…a bit too sensitive.”
She forced herself to act normally at that and not picture what he might do — the sounds he might make — if she were to pinch one. Or lick it. Or suck on it.
She cleared her throat. “Right. And not..?” She glanced down to his groin meaningfully.
He gave her a pointed look, brow lifting, and she hummed a sound of understanding, nodding a bit manically. “Of course. That’s probably….probably quite sensitive.”
His throat clicked. “Yes, it is.”
She had to shift the topic away from his cock or else she was going to really stretch the bounds of what was appropriate in a rather public hallway.
“It’s just an uncommon location,” she remarked, looking back down at his navel. “Especially for a man.”
His stomach was toned, the faint ridges of abdominals and the trim lines leading further down a wondrous juxtaposition to something that was typically rather feminine. The full spectrum of Hermione’s sexuality was extremely interested by the dichotomy that his piercing and his body were presenting.
“Oh. Is it strange?” He seemed uncertain.
“No.” Yes - but not in the way he meant. “No, I like it. It looks pretty on you.”
He made a choked sound and she glanced up. His cheeks were properly pink now and there was a darkness to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Dilated pupils, her Healer brain informed her helpfully. A sign of many things but in this case most likely arousal. She tried to shut her brain off but it had never listened to that directive, even when she’d asked nicely, so she gave up and let it run rampant.
“Is that alright to say?” she asked, biting her lip with concern. “I don’t mean to sexualize you.”
He inhaled and then licked his bottom lip into his mouth, releasing it slowly as he considered his response.
“Don’t you?” he asked at last, tone mostly joking but not wholly.
“Not unless you want me to,” she said, matching his tone.
He swallowed, eyes searching hers for a moment before he whispered, “I want you to.”
She was already overly warm and those words fanned the flames even higher. “While I…just look at you?” she asked, not sure how far he was wanting to go.
His jaw feathered. “If you like.”
She heard what he’d left unsaid but checked anyway. “And if I want to do more than just look?”
“Granger.” He smirked at her then and the confident curl of his mouth did unholy things to her. “I’m literally baring myself to you in a fucking hallway. I think it’s safe to say I’d let you do whatever you want to me.”
It was her turn to swallow, mouth already pooling with saliva at the thought of getting it on him. “Really?”
He huffed a laugh, shifting his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, Granger. You look like you want to eat me alive. I…” He shifted his hands again and it caught her attention enough to finally look away from his steely eyes and his golden navel. Down to where he was doing a poor job concealing his arousal. “I like that,” he finished.
It made her unbearably wet to see him like that, all tall and broad and muscled but blushing and squirming against the wall because she’d lifted up his shirt and called him pretty.
“Okay then,” she murmured, gaze flicking back up to meet his. “My flat or yours?”
His eyes went half lidded at the implication that they’d be going somewhere together, to do something together.
“Whatever you want,” he breathed.
She smiled up at him and slowly pulled down his shirt.
Yes. It would be.
•
She went home with him. It seemed neater, somehow, and she couldn’t deny that she was curious about where the fallen angel of Pureblood society now called home. It turned out that the answer to that was a second floor flat next to Hyde Park, something she learned while peering out the window. He had Apparated them straight into his sitting room and she took a moment to look around. It was tidy but not spartan, the colors neutral but not cold, and lit only by lamplight in a way that made it feel cozy rather than dim. When she completed her canvass, she found him watching her.
“To your satisfaction?” he inquired mildly.
“It’s nice,” she said. “Give me the full tour?”
He intuited her request for what it was and took her to his bedroom. The room held to a similar theme as his lounge so she didn’t waste time in combing through his things. Perhaps she’d have a bit of a nosy after she got her hands on him.
He shut the door and then propped his shoulder against it, facing her. His posture was relaxed but his eyes tracked her as she took a step closer, and then another. She stopped in front of him, near enough to touch, and tilted her face up toward his. His eyes dropped to her mouth and then flicked back up. She liked his restraint, so wanted to offer him some of her own.
“Do you have any limits?” she asked.
He raised his brows at that. “Do I have any limits? Shit, Granger, what’re you planning to do to me?”
She rolled her eyes at his melodrama. “Do you or not?”
He appraised her for a moment then asked, “Will you kiss me?”
She blinked at the unexpected question, unsure which answer was his preference. “Yes, if you’ll let me,” she replied, hoping desperately that he would.
He nodded in the affirmative and darted his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, dragging her eyes there so that when he spoke, she saw the words as they were formed by his lips. “Then no,” he said. “I don’t have any limits.”
Would he really have called the whole thing off if she’d denied him a kiss? It baffled her for a moment. They weren’t friends exactly, but certainly they had moved past the animosity from their school days, so reticence toward something so simple shouldn’t have been expected nor approval for it explicitly secured. But then again, she’d as good as chatted him up in the pub, not even allowing the full shape of a conversation to form before she’d started undressing him.
Perhaps that was his modus operandi when it came to taking witches home: show them his sexy little secret and use it to charm the knickers off them.
And perhaps some were more discerning than she about what their lips would touch?
She licked hers automatically. Hers would be touching every inch of him, if she got her way.
Which, looking up at him now, it appeared she would. His grey eyes were dark in the lamplight and they held hers for a moment before slipping away to trail over her face, along her shoulders, up to her hair, conducting a canvass of his own. When their eyes met again, his had gone half lidded and her heart skipped a beat in anticipation for what would come next.
But he didn’t do anything beyond smirk down at her with that sultry expression. She frowned and it made his smirk stretch.
“Go on then,” he murmured, flicking a brow, and her stomach flipped at his low invitation, at the very concept of kissing Draco bloody Malfoy. It sent her heart racing.
But she’d done braver things than this, so went up on the balls of her feet and pressed her lips to his. And once she’d made the first move, he let himself go.
His hands jumped up to cup her jaw, tilting her how he wanted and slanting his mouth to deepen the kiss. Her hands found his chest, fists curling into the buttery cotton of his white t-shirt and using it as an anchor when his fervor had her back arching backward, daring gravity to claim her.
He tasted like malt and caramel and she wondered if he could taste her own drink on her tongue, and if he liked the lingering bite of the dry white wine she’d abandoned at her table.
Oh gods, her table! Her colleagues! His jumper, their unpaid tabs…He’d pulled her into the fabric of space right from the back hallway, his hand secure around her bicep as soon as she’d told him to take her to his flat. She couldn’t believe herself, oh Merlin, what would—
He stroked his tongue along hers, groaning, and any thoughts of responsibilities disappeared as completely as if he’d Vanished them.
She sent a hand up into his hair, carding her fingers through that silky, enviable blonde. He always kept it so well styled, as if he got it cut once a week, half a centimeter at a time. She twisted her fingers, getting a good hold of it and making sure he felt it: her ruining it. His head tilted with the tension.
“Fuck.” He wrapped a hand around her wrist, holding tight but not pulling her off him yet. “Granger.”
“Too much?” She nipped at his bottom lip and then lowered to her flat feet, flicking her tongue over his Adam’s apple when she encountered it.
“No, just…fuck, I should have known you’d be a feral little thing.”
She laughed against his throat, sorely tempted to bite him right over the thick cord of muscle which was straining with the angle she’d pulled his head at, just to show him how very feral she could be.
“You did say I had the look of someone about to eat you alive,” she reminded him, and then satisfied herself with a chaste kiss to his neck. The light touch made him shudder and the hand not gripping her wrist dropped to her arse. He chuckled on his next exhale as he squeezed a generous palmful, the strength of his hand making her throb.
“That I did. And you do.”
“And I will,” she promised, then curled her other arm around his shoulders and brought him back to her mouth.
They made it to his bed mostly upright but as soon as Hermione felt the edge of the frame, she turned them so that it was him who went down first. He did so, chuckling like he wasn’t at all surprised, and hauled her on top of him. She hovered over him on all fours and then pushed herself up and sat back, feeling his belt buckle under her.
“Take your shirt off,” she told him.
He curled up instantly, crowding into her space, and pulled it off from behind his neck, his eyes steady on her. She let herself look again, taking in what she’d seen in the hallway and what was new.
He was well muscled but lean enough that she could trace the various groupings through his skin. Her fingers trailed across trapezius and pectoralis major, down rectus abdominis (which tensed at her descending touch), and then up his sides over obliques, a hint of latissimus dorsi, and up the roundness of deltoids. He was like something out of her anatomy textbook; a perfect specimen to study.
He let her not-just-look, preening a bit under her appreciative gaze. She traced the line of his collarbone and then finally let her fingers fall away.
He didn’t hesitate. “Now yours.”
She complied, stripping out of her jumper and then her camisole, watching the way his eyes devoured every new piece of herself that she bared to him. He took his time just looking, making her nerves tingle at each place he put his eyes but not his hands. He licked his bottom lip into his mouth as he took in her midnight blue satin bra, white teeth flashing on a bite.
“You look so soft.” His eyes flicked up to hers. “Can I touch, too?”
“Yes.” She was going to vibrate out of her skin if he didn’t.
His palms were warm as they traced the shape of her waist, fingers almost ticklishly light along the sensitive skin of her back. She shuddered involuntarily and he glanced up at her, smirking.
“Squirmy already?” he teased her. “Can’t wait to see what you do when I get my mouth on you.”
She almost asked where but realized it wouldn’t matter: even if the only place he licked was her elbow, she knew she’d be a writhing mess.
He had a purposefulness about him which made her wonder, so she asked, “Do you do this often?”
His eyes touched hers for half a second then went back to caressing her breasts, his fingers flirting with the lacy edge of a cup but still not quite touching. She’d never been not-touched with such intention before and the lack of it was making her acutely aware of how much she wanted it. He was driving her wild by doing absolutely nothing.
“Do what?” he asked, fingertip flicking down over the little decorative bow between her breasts.
“Have sex with strangers.”
She thought he might be pleased to learn that he would, in fact, be getting sex soon – was hopeful that it might make him speed things along – but instead of victory, his face displayed confusion when he looked up properly, hand stilling.
“We’re not strangers.”
She shifted her shoulders, trying to get his hand moving again. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” His tone sounded intentionally casual so she mistrusted it, adjusting her expression to indicate as much.
“Don’t play dumb. I just mean we aren’t dating or together in any sort of official capacity.”
“Ah.” His hand moved again, finally, trailing across the little valley between her breasts and then up along the other cup, nodding seriously. “Of course. You just fancied a shag and I was the most logical option.”
She narrowed her eyes at his dry tone, considering how much to divulge. “If you must know, I didn’t actually want a shag until after I pulled you into the hallway.”
His brow lifted at that, expression knowing. “Is that right? And what was it I did that turned you on?”
He had another thing coming if he thought she’d back down from a challenge, even one so close in appearance to baiting. He might be the one wearing gold at present, but it was woven into her bones.
“Shall I show you?” she demurred sweetly.
His nostrils flared but his expression stayed playful. “Hmm, you’d better. Or else I’ll imagine all sorts of inappropriate things.”
She tutted. “Oh my, we couldn’t have that. You'd probably be so far from the mark, anyway.”
He snorted, amused, and looked back down as his hand finally closed around a breast. He gave it a little squeeze that had her arching into his hand but backed off almost at once, stroking his fingers over the soft material of her bra and around to the back.
“Can I take this off?”
She did it for him, worried that if she let him do it, he’d do it one hook-and-eye at a time. It was perhaps overly eager of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to care, and especially not when she saw the way it quirked the corner of his mouth up, like he was pleased but trying not to show it.
He brought his hand back to her and rotated his wrist so he could cup her, lifting slightly to feel the weight of her. He copied the motion with his other hand, eyes darting between her breasts as he cupped and squeezed, appraising her. It sent a hot bolt of arousal through her, liquifying her completely when he paired his next twin squeeze with a low groan.
“You have magnificent tits.”
“Thank you.” It was more breath than word, and the dazed sound of it reminded her of her original intent: to get him making sounds like that.
She reached up and brushed a hand over his chest, fingers dragging down down down until they encountered metal. She stroked her forefinger over the little barbell and cut her eyes up to his.
“Lie back now,” she told him, “and I’ll show you what made me come home with you.”
He licked his lips and then flicked a brow, smirking. “Can’t wait.”
He released her breasts with a final squeeze, thumbs brushing over her nipples as he went. It was telling, the way he touched her. It had a teasing nature to it, sometimes firm and other times so light it made her nerves tingle.
People often showed their preferences like that, she’d noticed. In life, and at her job especially, it was important to read the cues from others to treat them the way they wanted: making eye contact or avoiding it, touching gently or using a more professional detachment. Hermione enjoyed being exactly what someone needed, whether it was an attentive, caring Healer who genuinely wanted her patient to feel seen and understood, or an aloof medical professional who’s detachment made unfamiliar procedures feel mundane and therefore nothing to be worried about.
So it was second nature to use that hint from him to guide the way she touched him now. She let her fingers just barely graze him, her touch drawing goosebumps to his skin, but stopped here and there to press more firmly: over his pecs, around his ribs, down along his hip bones. When her thumbs coasted back up over his iliac crests on their way to his waist, he gave her what she’d been waiting for, his hips lifting instinctively under her and a soft groan escaping. She clamped her teeth down on her lip at her first victory.
“Your body is insane,” she told him. “How are you so fit?”
He puffed a little laugh and she saw him rake a hand through his hair in her periphery.
“Running. Picking heavy things up.” He shifted again as her hands skimmed inward, meeting just above his navel. “Work keeps me active.”
“Ah of course. Nothing like paperwork to get your stomach toned.” She said dryly and he chuckled, accepting the dig on what it really was like to be an Auror, knowing that she was well acquainted with the other side of the job, too. She slid her fingers back to his sides and then under him, running them firmly down the muscles that framed his spine until she felt the top of his trousers. “Gods, I bet your arse is amazing.”
He barked a laugh. “Do I need to be concerned again with why you brought up limits?”
She looked up, interested. “Is that a limit for you?” she inquired.
He huffed a breath, hand combing through his hair again and then disappearing behind to prop his head up. He peered up at her, cheeks a little pink. “Dunno. It’s never come up before.”
She kept her reaction restrained, even though the prospect of him being curious enough to not give her an outright no was filling her head with all sorts of wicked ideas. “Hmm. Another time then, perhaps?”
He shrugged, still non-committal — in both directions — so she left it alone for now and worked her hands up and around his waist.
“So what, it was my body then?” he prompted, hips shifting again in a way that made her wish they were naked. “You lifted up my shirt and that did it for you?”
“That and…” She flicked the jewelry and he hissed. “This. This made me quite curious about a few things.”
“Yeah? What things?”
“Well...” She lifted up so that she could scoot back to perch on his thighs. “You answered the why here, but not the why in general.”
From her new position, she could finally see how hard he’d gotten. The front of his nice work trousers was tented by a slightly left-leaning bulge, the suggestion of what lay against his pelvis making her lick her lips reflexively. He caught it.
“See something else that makes you curious, Granger?”
She kept her eyes on that bulge and tilted her head inquisitively as she dragged a slow forefinger up the ridge of it. She heard him suck in a breath and smiled down at his lap.
God, he was so easy.
She diverted her hands to his belt and worked the leather tail free of the buckle, glancing up at him as she did. She had his whole attention on her now, like every facet of his body was turned toward her. It was wildly gratifying, to be the center of his focus like that. It made her drunk with power.
“I think you know that my curiosity is insatiable.” She undid his button and then dragged down the zip, the rasping sound of the teeth parting making her nipples peak.
He shoved his arm further behind his head so that he could keep his eyes on her as she pulled his trousers open. The pose pulled his muscles taut and stretched the line of his abs in a way that made her unable to resist leaning forward and licking them. He grunted, a little sound of surprise and arousal, and so she did it again, more slowly. The little Snitch was taunting her and as she’d long ago decided not to resist temptation, she dragged the tip of her tongue across his skin until it gave way to metal.
She liked the contrast; liked the way it clinked against her teeth and how it made him draw a breath through his.
“No ones ever been this interested in it,” he remarked. “But even so, you’re making me wish I’d had my cock done after all.”
“Oh?” She stroked her tongue lightly along the barbell, pushing it up with her tongue under the Snitch and then using the tip to slide it back down again. “Why, you think I’d do this to it?”
She could see how labored his breathing was getting already; could feel his abs when they tightened jerkily under her hand.
“Wouldn’t you?” His voice was low and discerning, like he’d figured her out. She gave him a coy little smile.
“I’d do a lot of things to it,” she told him. “But I want to do something else first.”
He had barely flinched when she’d had him on her exam table, mending his splinched finger with a more practiced hand than she’d done all those years ago for Ron and then wrapping it in carefully gauze, so she suspected he had a rather high pain tolerance. Which meant he wasn’t wary of pain when he’d declared his nipples too sensitive to pierce. And she hadn’t quite been able to shake the image of him enjoying it.
She leaned up and flicked her tongue across the little bud experimentally. He exhaled in a puff and she dragged her tongue more slowly around the circumference.
“Does that feel good?” she asked, tongue flicking across again once she’d performed a full rotation and glancing up. She was able to observe his reaction this time, and so didn’t miss the way his mouth parted slightly at the sensation.
“Fuck, yeah. It does.” He swallowed, like admitting it was making him nervous, and she had to forcibly restrain herself from biting down on him.
“Hmm.” She sat back and smoothed her hands over his chest, applying a little pressure as she felt the muscle shift and then swirling her fingers around his nipples and then down to trace the grooves of his pecs. He groaned appreciatively, his abs tensing as she brought her massage down over his ribs. She kept going until her fingers dipped under the line of his waistband then curled them around and tugged to indicate what she wanted. His hands were quick to push his trousers down, lifting his bum until they were down around his thighs and then tucking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer-briefs. She caught his eye and nodded, so he stripped them off, too, kicking both off to the floor before lying back, naked and gorgeous.
She slid off the bed to strip out of her own trousers but left her knickers on when she settled herself back over his thighs. His cock was thick and hard where it rested just above her and although she wanted nothing more than to encase it somewhere hot and wet – her mouth, her cunt, she almost didn’t care which – she had plans to enact first. So after giving it an appreciative look, she ignored it and leaned back over him. She made the next drag of her tongue glacial and broad, wetting the skin of his pec and then flicking the tip over his nipple when she reached it.
“Granger–” he began but she shushed him, pecking a soft kiss over the bud. He didn’t protest further and so she gave his other nipple the same treatment, watching how they pulled tight as the cool air of the room tingled over the wet surface.
“You look so good like this,” she told him, eyes raking over his body. “I like you under me.”
He huffed a laugh but it morphed into a hissed inhale when she brushed her thumbs softly right over the top of each bud. His cock flexed under her belly, a damp patch sticking to her skin. She sat back and dropped her gaze, thumbing at his nipples again and watching another glob of precum ooze out.
“So sensitive,” she murmured, watching the moisture pool just below his navel.
He whimpered as she did it again, and again, mesmerized by the way his body was responding. He finally broke when she leaned forward and closed her teeth softly around either side of one, tonguing at him like she would’ve if he’d decorated himself with metal here, too.
“Ah,” he moaned. “Ah… fucking Christ.”
He was flushed from his cheeks down to his chest, the color matching what she’d done to his nipples. She dragged her fingertips across both, a barely-there touch that had him squirming again.
“Still good?” she asked, checking his expression even though his tone had been rich with unmitigated pleasure.
“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he panted. “Fuck, please…please—“
She wrapped her fingers around his cock and he cut himself off with a wretched groan. He was solid in her hand and she treated him to a slow stroke up to the tip, squeezing when she got there and savoring the hot slide of precum over her fingers.
“Now, I know this feels good,” she said conspiratorially. “Doesn’t it, Draco?” She stroked her thumb softly over his frenulum, wet with himself.
“So fucking good,” he grit out.
She could see the tension in him, the way he was holding off from thrusting up into her fist. She hummed agreeably and gave him another languid stroke as a reward for his restraint then let go. It bobbed over his lap for a moment before tapping up against his abdomen, leaving a damp mark.
“No, don’t stop,” he pleaded then groaned with frustration. “Fuck, you’re such a tease.”
She laughed, her blood on fire and her knickers absolutely ruined. They’d slide together so well, she thought, and almost let herself do it; almost gave in to the dull throb between her legs. But he was breaking so beautifully and she wanted to see how far she could take it.
She hummed a sympathetic sound and ran her forefinger up the underside of his cock, swirling it in a little circle over his slit. His whole body tightened in an involuntary flex, his piercing glinting at the motion. Like a moth to a flame, she descended, dragging her tongue wetly up his cock and further until she had dragged saliva and precum up to his navel, wetting his stupid fucking slutty little piercing with it. He groaned from deep in his chest.
“Oh fuck, Granger.” He sounded agonized. “Oh fuck, you’re…you’ll…”
“Don’t tell me this will make you come,” she said, keeping her tone bemused to belie the way she could feel her own arousal dripping onto her thighs.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he groaned, a fist curled tight in his hair not unlike how she’d pulled on it earlier. His eyes were locked on her tongue, gaze flicking up to meet hers in a hot touch before dropping back down to her mouth.
She flicked her tongue against the barbell. “I know exactly what I’m doing to you,” she corrected him lightly. She dipped her tongue into his navel to prod at the Snitch. “Don’t I, pretty boy?”
His hand shot between them, closing around his cock as he hauled in a few heaving breaths. “Don’t— I’ll…fuck, fuck.”
She let him hold his orgasm back, even though she wanted nothing more than to see him come undone, and sat up tall on his thighs.
“Well, you’ve proven how sensitive your nipples are,” she said conversationally as if she hadn’t almost just gotten him off from a single lick. “Shall I test the rest?”
He barked a laugh at that, strained. “If you do that to my cock, you’ll kill me.”
She grinned and he shook his head like he was in awe of her. She liked that quite a bit.
“How’s this,” she bargained, “you let me play a little longer and then you can come however you like. Alright?”
He eyed her intently. “However?”
“Mmhmm. And wherever, too,” she added.
He swallowed thickly, eyes trailing down from her mouth to linger on her breasts before dropping down to where her knickers were sticking to her.
“Inside you?” His tone implied he expected the answer would be no.
“You want to come inside me?” Her brain had slipped to a low buzz at the thought of his cock pressing up into her.
“I want to fuck you,” he clarified. “And then I want to come inside you.”
She couldn’t hold her whine and his cock bobbed between them at the sound of it. He latched onto her reaction like a drowning man. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you, Granger?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, very badly.”
He exhaled. “Fuck. I can’t believe I just negotiated my way into a blowjob and sex.”
She managed a derisive snort. “Hardly. You’re only getting what I wanted to do anyway.”
He shook his head at her again, disbelief etched plainly. She bit the edge of her lip, grinning down at him for a moment and then adjusted her expression back to devilish.
“I’ll be nice,” she teased, curling a finger around his cock to bring it up perpendicular from his body.
He inhaled, held it, and then exhaled gustily. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
She had to laugh at that. “Oh Draco, that’s not at all what you should be worried about.”
She left that hanging between them as she finally squeezed her hand around him, testing the rigidity of him and then gliding her fist up to the crown to squeeze again. His cock was gorgeous and so flushed that the tip was almost purple. She gave him a few slow strokes, biting her lip at the feel of him.
He covered his face with his hands, groaning. “Fuck, don’t look at it like that.”
“Mmm but I want to,” she purred. “I like imagining what it’ll feel like inside me. Especially this part, right here?” She pumped her fist once over the crown and then squeezed again. “It’ll be a stretch but it’s going to feel so fucking good.” She allowed herself a moan. “I can’t wait.”
“So fuck me,” he pleaded, hips rising to chase her hand when she drew it away. “Shit, please fuck me.”
She brought her fist back down in a tight glide all the way to his balls. They seized up and she broke off to give them a little squeeze, weighing them like he'd done to her breasts. He whined and she brought her other hand up to pump along his shaft.
"That feel nice, Draco?" she asked sweetly.
"So nice," he groaned. "The nicest fucking-oh shit."
Her patience had worn out. She couldn't resist dipping down to suck on the head of his cock, moaning in satisfaction at finally having him inside her, the masculine taste of him lighting up her brain. Her cunt had never been so jealous of her mouth before, pantomiming the suckling she was inflicting on his cock and dripping arousal because of it.
“Need to fuck you,” he panted.
Yes, she thought desperately and let him go. She sat up again, swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
“So do it.”
She waited for his eyes to meet hers. They did a moment later, the grey of them almost entirely obliterated by black but then they glinted when he saw the look on her face. He hesitated for less than a breath and then she was on her back, his strong hands around her waist, yanking her down the bed a few inches back towards himself.
“This what you’ve been working me up for?” he said, fingers already curling under the side of her knickers to tug them down her hips. “You want me wild? Want the pretty boy feral for you, Granger? Hmm? Is that it?”
She gasped out her breath, adrenaline surging and stoking her arousal to a fever pitch, but didn’t have time to reply before his hand was between her legs.
“God.” He swirled his fingers through the slickness with enough pressure to have her eyes rolling back. “Fucking Christ, you’re soaked. Shit, is this just from playing with me?”
She bit her lip, nodding and pressing herself further down on his hand. He slid a finger into her, almost as if he hadn’t meant to, and then withdrew to rub the tip of it around her entrance. Her walls contracted involuntarily at the sensation and he panted out a laugh.
“Fuck, you’re so ready for me, aren’t you? Been teasing yourself for my cock, too, haven’t you?”
“Please,” she moaned.
For a moment, it looked like he might try to pay her back for what she’d done to him, to get her so needy that she was mindless, but in the end he didn’t have it in him. He’d been waiting so patiently and the prospect of burying his cock inside her was likely more than he could resist. He hauled her thighs over his and sat back on his haunches, hands coming under to pull her up against his lap. He used his hands on her arse to encourage her in a slow grind up the underside of his cock, her wetness and his precum sliding together just as luxuriously as she’d imagined it would. Her clit was so sensitive that when the thick ridge of his head brushed over it, she whimpered and fisted the sheets. She’d never needed something inside her as badly as she did right at that moment and knowing that she was about to get it was making her tremble.
“Need it so bad, huh?” He steadied himself with a hand at the base and wrapped his other around her thigh, holding her open as he notched himself. “Show me.”
She pressed her hips forward, feeling the head of him breach her. Her walls fluttered around it and she moaned, head pressing back. She undulated her hips, feeling the thickness of him pressing just right at the tender place inside her.
“Want it all?” he asked, voice tight.
“Please. Yes, please.” She’d never been so polite in her fucking life.
He wrapped his hands firmly around her thighs and pulled her onto him at the same time that he fucked forward, sinking his cock in to the hilt. Everything fluttered: her cunt, her eyelids, her heart. She had never felt so complete. So full.
“Goddamnit.” He panted for a moment. “You are…so snug.”
He watched himself fuck her for a few thrusts, his mouth dropping open, his hands still over her thighs to keep her where he wanted. The intensity of the first few strokes finally mellowed enough for her to open her eyes, staring at the ceiling as she tried to get her breathing back in any sort of measured rhythm.
“Ever thought about getting a piercing?” he asked.
It took her a moment to parse his words. “What?”
He slid his hand up her thigh and over her pelvis, angling down over her mound.
“Just here…?” He pinched his thumb and forefinger over the top of the fleshy ridge of her clit, pronounced with how swollen it had gotten, simulating the pressure of a barbell. She squeaked. And then he slid his fingers down until they squeezed right over where her clit peeked out and she yelped outright, the pleasure suddenly acute.
“Or here? I bet you’d like a little something to rub against right here, wouldn’t you?”
“God,” she choked out and his eyes flicked up to hers, the edge of his mouth lifting.
He kept his fingers where they were and then slowly pulled his cock out of her. The pressure of his fingers made it so the thickness of his head grazed along her front wall on the withdraw and she canted her hips up to chase the feeling. He moved with her, keeping the tip of his cock inside her and then worried her clit between his fingers, eyes flicking from the motion up to catch her expression. Whatever her face was doing made his mouth curl up with wicked delight. He held her gaze as he pinched her clit firmly and then, with a quick motion, thrust his cock back in, deep.
A sound escaped her that she’d never heard from herself before, something guttural and whiny.
“Shit.” He pulled back and did it again, then softened the pinch to roll his fingers around her clit on his third thrust. She’d never had someone touch her like that before. She was used to fumbling or swiping or repetitive, almost robotic circling, but he was toying with her and it was absolutely destroying her.
“Draco,” she groaned. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah?” He was fucking her properly now, the hand not breaking her apart gliding up to hold her waist. “Is it good, baby?”
Her cunt answered for her, pulsing around him as she felt the heat of her orgasm approaching. He was making her wild; a desperate little creature whose only purpose was to take this man’s cock until she was coming on it for him. He was drawing all sorts of depravity out of her that she’d never known about; drawing out all manner of involuntary sounds: keening gasps and cut-off moans and filthy, slick squelches. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so wet.
“Yeah,” he was murmuring, when her ears finally caught up. “Yeah, you love it, don’t you? You’re making a fucking mess of me, Granger.”
It was hard to take a full breath, her muscles tensing more and more with every stroke. He had unlocked something inside her, something that was making her want to lie there and take it for as long as he could manage, to for once not be the sole decider on whether she’d come or not, because it was for once, finally, literally and figuratively out of her hands.
“Draco,” she moaned, and then said it again because hearing his name made his hips slam harder in a way she needed. “Draco. Draco. Fuck. You’re gonna make me come.”
He grunted and squeezed her clit again, plucking at it repetitively.
“Good, Granger. Fuck, so good. Come on, baby, come on me. Show me how much you like it.”
She couldn’t have held off if she tried. Her orgasm claimed her, the hot clutch of it almost scalding in its intensity, the resounding waves almost as intense as the first crash. She’d done so well, she thought mindlessly, she’d fulfilled her purpose for him. She wanted to laugh at herself but she didn’t have the wits to do anything beyond gasp.
When she resurfaced enough to open her eyes, the first thing she saw was his face. He had his bottom lip firmly between his teeth, brows pulled together. He groaned when he saw that her awareness had returned.
“Fucking Christ, that almost got me,” he whined. “You’re so sexy. So tight. Shit. Was it a good one, Granger? You squeezed me for ages.”
Her heart was racing, exhilarated by her orgasm and the rush of endorphins. “That might be the hardest I’ve ever come.”
“God.” He dropped his head, his blond hair almost long enough to brush against her cheeks. “That’s so good, Granger. Fuck, that makes me so proud.”
She wanted to kill him — she wanted to hug him. He wasn’t playing fair, giving her the best orgasm of her life and then spouting off like that. She pushed her hands through his hair, tugging his face up and then crushing her lips to his. He whimpered against her mouth and she nipped at his lip in response.
“Get on your back,” she told him between kisses.
He rolled them without hesitation, grabbing handfuls of her arse as soon as he was able.
“Love it like this,” he mumbled, grinding her back and forth on him, fingers dimpling her flesh. “Love being fucked.”
She fell forward and dug her fingers into the meat of his chest, sure her nails were clawing into him and not giving a single fuck. He groaned, head pressing back so his throat was bared.
“You are such a slut,” she hissed, rocking on him. “Have the dirtiest fucking mouth.”
“You like it.” He snaked a hand up to squeeze a breast, thumbing at her nipple and then worrying it like he had her clit. Her spine curled in at the bolt of pleasure that shot through her, hips jerking against his pelvis.
“I fucking love it,” she moaned. “Oh… oh, do that again.”
He did, bringing his other hand up to copy the motion. With both hands on her tits instead of encouraging her hips, her rhythm began to falter. He rocked his pelvis under her.
“Oh, don’t slow down, baby. Keep going, keep going.”
She did her best, thighs burning and brain slowly shutting down. All she could think about was the way that his cock was stroking inside her; how the carefully groomed hair at the base of it was stimulating her oversensitive clit; how sexy he was, panting under her, desperate to come after having been brought to the edge twice already. And then her eyes dropped to the little gold barbell, glinting up at her amidst all the pale, sweaty muscle below her, and she felt another orgasm surge, her walls hugging around his cock and making every ounce of friction feel twice as potent.
“Felt that,” he groaned. “Oh shit. You gonna come again?”
She could only nod, speech absolutely beyond her cognitive abilities as she ground herself on his lap. It was good, it was so good, but it wasn’t enough.
“More,” she begged, hoping he knew what she meant. “Please, more.”
His hand fisted in her hair without hesitation and he craned his neck to raise his head until his forehead ground against hers while his other hand gripped her arse. His touch hurt but in the perfect way, making her entire body tense on top of his. And then he was fucking up into her, his hips unrelenting, pounding so hard that were it not for his iron grip on her, she’d be bouncing. Instead, all that power was being diverted right against her clit every time his pelvis connected with hers, his cock tapping her cervix. She wanted to cry with relief.
“Fuck.” He bit out the word. “Shit, I can’t do this for long…I–fuck, fuck, I need to come.” He whimpered, broken and helpless. “Please, I need to come so badly.”
“It’s so good, Draco,” she panted. “It’s… so…good.”
He kept his insane intensity for a handful of breaths and then was swearing, sucking in a breath and whining it out as it all became too much for him. She felt the moment he couldn’t hold off any longer, his hands tightening each place he held her as his breath caught on a chest-deep groan.
“Oh fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck, Granger, I can’t—ohh fuck, m’coming.”
But even as he groaned through his orgasm, he kept driving into her, ceaseless even when she felt his cum spilling out of her with the motion of his cock. The slickness of it – the reality that she’d made him come yet he still wasn’t stopping – sent her orgasm imploding through her, so hard her vision whited out.
She collapsed on him, forehead still pressed against his, his hand still tangled in her hair. He tilted his chin and kissed her then broke off, breathless. They panted together, so close she could almost blame her dizziness on the incorrect ratio of oxygen to carbon dioxide, but then he rolled them to their sides and she got a full lungful and knew it wasn’t that.
He had, plain and simple, blown her mind. It sent a bubble of laughter up through her, and she dropped a hand to her abs, sore from being overworked. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was a little darker at the roots with sweat, but he was smirking at her.
“Oh my god, Draco,” she laughed, feeling wired. “What the hell.” She laughed again.
“I’m going to take this as evidence that I managed to fuck you silly,” he teased, face amused and something like fond.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She rolled onto her back, giving her breasts a quick comforting squeeze and then pushing her hands up overhead, getting her breath back.
He was quiet beside her and when she tilted her head to see why, found him watching her. She offered him a smile, and he returned it then sucked a canine contemplatively.
“You said you’d kiss me,” he said. “Does that mean I can kiss you?”
He’d kissed her not two minutes ago, so she frowned, confused. “What?”
“I’d like to kiss you.” His expression was earnest, but then the edge of his mouth pulled up. “However I want. Wherever I want.”
She would have rolled her eyes at him quoting her own words back to her, except that her heart was pounding out of her chest. “After today, you mean? Out in the world?”
“Yes. If you’ll let me.”
She smiled at that, teeth trapping her bottom lip on instinct but then letting it free, giving him a full, toothy grin.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll let you.”
And then, just because she could, she leaned forward and kissed him.
He kissed her back; the first of many.