Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Let’s play a game.”

Hermione looked across the table at Malfoy, unsure who he was talking to. When she found his eyes on hers, she had to consciously stop herself from checking behind for someone else. Especially since she knew the only thing behind her were bookshelves.

“Are you talking to me?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Who else would it be? It’s Friday night and we’re in the library. We’re alone in here.”

The thought didn’t exactly comfort her, although she could safely and truthfully admit she wasn’t scared of Draco sodding Malfoy. She never had been.

“We’re supposed to be working on our joint project, which is what I’ve been doing. What have you been doing over there?”

She was vaguely annoyed at the possibility that she’d have to do the whole thing herself. She was rather used to that reality, of course, but she’d hoped (perhaps naïvely) that he’d pull his own weight. He’d always been clever, close behind her in the rankings all the way up to that disastrous Sixth year. She should have argued more when Professor Flitwick put them together…

He pushed his parchment toward her. “I finished five minutes ago. I’m bored.”

She gasped an affronted sound at the boldfaced lie but grabbed his work anyway to disprove it. And then, annoyingly, found that she couldn’t.

He had finished his half.

And it didn’t look like he’d only done the bare minimum, either. She shoved the pages back to him without comment and bent back over her own parchment. Perhaps she could have finished already too, except there was still so much to detail…she huffed. Surely she’d been thorough enough by now.

“Fine. One round.”

He smirked. “I expect you’ll want to go more than one round with me.”

She ignored the innuendo and stared blankly at him until he sighed and leaned back.

“I’m going to give you two choices and you have to tell me which one you’d pick. It’ll be a little get-to-know-you game.”

“Why would you want to get to know me?” she deadpanned. “You’ve never tried to before.”

He snorted. “Stubborn as ever. Come on, Granger.”

She grit her teeth and then laid down her quill. “Alright. Give me my choices.”

“Right. It’s called This or That, by the way. I’m sure you’ll pick it up quickly.”

She glowered at him. “It’s called Would You Rather and it’s a Muggle game, you prat.”

He made a one-arm gesture of acceptance. “Fine, Granger. Would you rather…” He assessed her then smirked. “Have someone use their hands to give you a back massage or an orgasm?”

She got the sense he expected her to blush at the word. She stared at him, frustration mounting that he was being so juvenile and making their project take longer than it needed to.

“Can’t decide?” he quipped when she was still staring at him.

“Back massage,” she snapped. “I can’t do that myself.”

He chuckled. “Can’t do either of them yourself, but perhaps you’re too pure to know that. Pity not in the way that matters.”

Now she looked up. “What?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not going to call you a mudbl—that word, don’t worry.”

“You sort of just did, at least in your head, you insufferable—no, that’s not what I’m questioning right now. What do you mean, I can’t do either by myself?”

He riffled the pages of the book in front of him idly. “Can you give yourself a back massage?”

“Malfoy.”

He sat forward, bringing his forearms up to rest on the table and interfacing his fingers. “I didn’t think I’d be the one to explain this to you, Granger, but when a man gets aroused, he finds a witch and the result is called an orgasm.”

She processed this statement for a beat. “You don’t think women get aroused too?” Now she was truly concerned, particularly for the women she often saw hanging around him.

“I know women get aroused, Granger.” That smug smirk was back. “Trust me, I’m well acquainted with it. Who do you think they come to to…come?”

“Women don’t need a man to come,” she said, both bemused that he thought it and aghast that he was so confident that was spouting it off like truth.

He scoffed. “Is that what Muggles teach?”

“Is that what Purebloods teach?” she shot back. “That women are just…just helpless vessels for your…” She wasn’t sure she could say the word in front of him. Not that she was embarrassed, necessarily, but she felt it would delight him to hear her say cum and she refused to give him an inch.

“Pureblood wives are taught that sex is meant to extend the bloodline,” he said, sounding like he was reciting from rote whether he intended to or not. “And that’s only possible with a Pureblood husband. The girls I’m with are just future Pureblood wives. Although, not mine.”

She gaped. “That is…the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

And then she couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “Oh my god. You really think that…that women don’t masturbate? That they can’t?”

His smug expression had turned stony at her laughter. “It’s true.”

She took a moment to get herself back under control, his expression having wrought another wave of giggles from her. “You are…a bigger idiot than I ever imagined. Oh Merlin.” She wiped under her eyes where mirthful tears had collected. “I feel an urgent need to interview a few Slytherin women. Could you let me into your common room later?”

“What, you’re claiming that they…that you…” He seemed at a loss for words.

She grinned at his fumbling. “Oh yes, Malfoy. We can come all on our own.”

A pink flush blossomed on his cheeks but his expression was still stony. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well. I’m not sure what you want me to do about that.”

She was still smiling as she turned back to her work. Perhaps she’d just wrap up her current section and then round it off with a comprehensive summary before her closing paragraph…

“Prove it.” His voice cut through her humor.

She glanced back up at him. “Prove it how?”

He flicked his brows. “Show me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Show you…?”

“Don’t be dense. Show me how you make yourself come.”

It was her turn to blush. “I’m not going to masturbate for you.”

He shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. “Fine. But that only proves my point.”

“Me not masturbating for you doesn’t mean I can’t,” she hissed.

“Whatever you say,” he laughed, then went back to reading through his work, evidently confident she’d been simply provoking him with her rebuttals.

It felt like a lose-lose situation whether she showed him or not. But even so, there were two things Hermione Granger could not abide: willful ignorance and a man telling her how her body worked.

She had pushed back her chair and rounded the table before she’d fully thought through the ramifications, but it was Malfoy. She felt nothing for him, and taking him down a peg, proving he was wrong about yet another aspect of the world, was too enticing to pass by. She flicked her wand to cast silencing and notice-me-not charms around their study nook and then used her hand to push his book aside.

He looked up, annoyed but then surprised to see her beside him. She hopped up to sit on the edge of the table and lifted a leg so hers framed his thighs.

“Granger, what are you doing?” he asked, incredulous.

“Showing you, you idiot.” She tossed her wand to the table. “Watch. Do not touch me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he retorted but she could already see the way his eyes were skimming up her bare legs.

“Or yourself,” she added. The last thing she needed was Draco Malfoy pulling his cock out in front of her. Hermione didn’t often find herself aroused in the library but despite herself, that image did unfair things to her.

And there was something about arguing with Malfoy about orgasms that had gotten her rather wet. She put it down to the satisfaction she’d feel in proving him wrong but she knew part of it was due to the man in front of her. He was, unfortunately, objectively attractive. His platinum hair and intense silver-blue eyes and sneering, smirking mouth — not to mention his broad physique. If he’d had a different personality, she’d have climbed him like a tree already.

But…even with his personality, there was something about him that made her blood pulse.

She kept her eyes on his, though his own were still mapping the spread of her thighs, and began by brushing her hair off her shoulders with soft fingertips. Her neck was very sensitive and she usually began her solo sessions there. As always, the soft caress sent a rush of sensation through her, tightening her nipples and raising faint goosebumps along her arms. She let out a little sigh and his eyes cut to hers.

His gaze was intense on her and when it dropped to her hands, she watched his head tilt slightly. He was cataloging her actions, learning from her.

Merlin, why did that thought get her so hot?

“My neck is sensitive,” she murmured without conscious thought.

His eyes tracked up her throat to her eyes. “Yeah?”

He didn’t sound half as confident as he had and it thrilled her. She trailed her fingers down to her collarbones and then to the buttons of her white blouse. She fiddled with one for a moment, his eyes fixated on the action, before she decided against it and instead brushed her fingers over her clothed nipples. Even through her shirt and thin bra, the touch lit her up.

“My nipples, too.”

She was going to lean into it, she decided. If there was ever a moment she could use her knowledge for good when it came to making Malfoy a slightly better person, surely it was this. His future wife could thank her.

He swallowed thickly.

She toyed with her nipples for a few moments, brushing softly and lightly pinching, letting the tension pool between her thighs as he watched with rapt attention.

Godric, what she wouldn’t give to have someone’s mouth on her right now…she quickly banished the thought. This was about showing him the power of female independence.

She trailed her right hand down to the waistband of her skirt, but then carried on to the hem where it rested against her thighs. It’d be easier to show him if she lifted her skirt, she reasoned.

She brought her left foot up to rest on his thigh for support but also because it delighted her to imagine her dusty shoe print soiling his impeccable trousers. She felt him tense his muscle under her foot and then forcibly relax it again. She was momentarily tempted to glide her foot up to prod at his groin and see how hard he was but she kept foot where it was and her eyes on his, determined not to let him see that she was thinking about his cock in any capacity.

“Any questions so far?” she asked him, voice low but purposefully unaffected, more to tease him than expecting an actual answer.

He surprised her by asking, just above a whisper, “How aroused are you right now?”

She bit the inside of her lip to quell her initial response of very and instead slipped her hand up her skirt and into her knickers. She was slick, so wet that her knickers were damp. She withdrew her hand and showed him her fingers, glistening faintly with her arousal, as answer.

Malfoy, damn him, licked his lips at the sight and she almost gave in and begged him to put his mouth on her.

His eyes were intense on hers as he looked at her. “So now what do you do?”

“Shall I tell you or show you?” she quipped, trying to get a hold of herself.

“Show me and tell me,” he told her. “Tell me what you’re doing to make yourself come.”

Fuck.

She forced herself to swallow and then tilted her head. “Now I’m going to rub my clit. You do know what a clit is, don’t you?”

His smirk showed he didn’t think much of her tone. “Yeah, Granger. I’m well acquainted with the clit.” The confident lilt was back. He wet his bottom lip in a way that could have been subconsciously had he not been making quite intentional eye contact with her.

Heat fizzled through her but she held his gaze as she brought both hands to the hem of her skirt and slipped it up until her light blue knickers were exposed. He lost their little contest, his eyes darting down almost immediately to fix on the apex of her thighs. She wondered if he could see a damp spot against the lightly colored fabric.

She kept her left hand holding her skirt and slid her right over the gusset of her knickers then up and inside them. He half opened his mouth and then shut it, evidently thinking better of what he’d been about to say.

She was simultaneously nervous and desperate to hear what it had been.

“What?” she whispered, stroking her fingertips lightly down her slit and then back up to brush her clit. Her toes curled within her shoes at the teasing sensation.

“Nothing.” He sounded unsure again.

She snorted. “You’re holding back now?”

He hesitated for a moment then said, “I was just going to ask if…well, I can’t really see what you’re doing.” His flush had deepened slightly.

It made her feel potent.

“You want to see my cunt?” she asked him with forcibly indifferent curiosity.

He clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

“Alright.” She withdrew her hand and then reached down to pull the gusset of her knickers to the side, baring herself to him as if it meant nothing to her. She watched as his eyes ate her up, heavy on where she was practically dripping onto the desk.

On his lap, his hands flexed but didn’t stray. She wondered with a rush of heat if he was desperate to touch himself, too. She expected the pressure in his trousers would be getting quite unbearable soon, if it wasn’t already. The thought that he was suffering because of her, and obeying her instructions to not touch himself, was immensely gratifying.

She dipped a finger inside herself and then used the wetness to lubricate her way as she began a slow, circuitous motion around her clit.

“I like it soft and slow to start,” she told him impassively. “Then I gradually increase the pressure. And then the pace.” She followed along to her words and her hips flexed involuntarily to press closer into her hand.

“See that?” She managed an steady voice even though if she’d been alone, she would’ve been moaning. “My body likes what I’m doing to it.”

He made a sound that perhaps was meant to be a hum of acknowledgement but came out more like a strangled groan.

The sound rocked through her and she slid two fingers inside herself to relieve some of the pressure that was steadily building. She fucked herself with them for a few beats and then retreated back to her clit. The sensation felt twice as strong now, her orgasm within reach.

And fuck, she’d never been so close to coming so quickly in the presence of someone else. She could get herself off alone in under a minute — she’d timed herself once, for science — but there was a level of vulnerability that someone else added to the equation which extended her typical duration. Apparently she either didn’t consider Malfoy a person (quite possible) or his presence was only improving her experience (unfortunately more likely but very confusing).

Either way, the reality of it was that she was about a minute away from coming.

“I’m getting close,” she told him in as measured a voice as she could manage. “All by myself, see? I didn’t need a cock.”

His eyes were half-lidded, watchful and assessing on her hand. “Maybe not,” he conceded, voice low. “But I bet it would feel good, wouldn’t it?”

She thought she did an admirable job not reacting to that externally but her cunt clenched at the suggestion. It would feel good; in fact, it would push her right over if she had something inside her to squeeze around. But it didn’t have to be a cock, necessarily…

She betrayed herself by looking at his hands, his fingers thicker than hers by double.

“Maybe if it were someone else’s,” she allowed.

He laughed, darkly amused. “Granger, if I were someone else, you wouldn’t be doing this right now.”

She hated to admit it but…he was right. If it had been Ron making such boldface claims she’d have simply lectured him for thirty minutes, sans hand in knickers. But Malfoy drove her absolutely mad. His stupid cocky smile and damned confidence over something incorrect, yet another lie he told himself to feel more powerful over her.

She’d lost her mind to prove him wrong.

“How do you know if a girl has orgasmed?” she asked instead of responding to his goading comment, her mind racing to justify what her body was now demanding.

He grinned a self-satisfied smile. “I can feel it.”

She gulped and then flicked her eyes to his hand. “Then I want you to put a finger in me, so you can’t convince yourself that I’m about to fake it.”

It was a bold request, a line they couldn’t uncross. He seemed to make the same assessment and either didn’t care about the consequences or chose to ignore them.

“Which one do you want?” he asked, risking her ire by spreading his left hand proprietarily across her right thigh.

She squirmed under his touch and unthinkingly chose, “Middle.”

“One or two?” His eyes were hot on hers.

“One.” She let out an admittedly shuddery exhale. “I don’t know if two would fit right now. I’m…I’m very close. And I get really…really tight.”

His gaze darkened and then his lips quirked in a facsimile of a smirk. “Prove it.”

His dare granted her the final justification she needed. She spread her legs slightly in invitation and he brought his hand upward, curling all but his middle finger loosely down to his palm. He circled her opening once and she felt her walls clench in anticipation. His eyes darted up to hers briefly, checking, and then he slid his finger into her.

She couldn’t stop the whimper than tore out of her, her cunt baring down instantly to clutch him within her.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

Her cheeks were burning. “Don’t move it,” she instructed breathily. “This…this has nothing to do with you.”

This was the orgasm that was beginning to crawl its way up her spine. She kept up her pace on her clit but couldn’t help the slight rock of her hips against his hand when she used her other hand to pluck at a nipple.

“I’m going to come,” she gasped.

“Do it.” He was holding completely still as she’d told him to but the heat in his eyes felt like a physical touch against her skin.

She only half convinced herself that the way her orgasm immediately seized her had nothing to do with his gravelly command.

She bit down hard on her lip to keep quiet but a soft whine escaped despite her best efforts. And then she was coming, her cunt squeezing around his finger for an excruciating three seconds before pulsing in waves of toe-curling release.

Her hips rocked against his hand again without her permission and he broke his control for one fleeting second when he curled the digit against her front wall. Feeling him moving inside her sent an after-shock through her, so unexpected that she couldn’t hold her moan.

“You come hard,” he told her, sounding dazed. “Your little cunt would choke my cock to death, Granger.”

He’d brought a hand to the bulge straining in his trousers and now squeezed himself over the fabric. She decided to permit his disobedience; he’d been good when it counted.

And despite herself, she did want to see his cock. Wanted to know how hard he was for her. And ideally sink down onto it. Her orgasm had been satisfying but also invigorating in a way that made her want more.

She pulled her hand off her clit and to her mouth, absently sucking her fingers clean. “I suppose you’ll never know,” she paused to muse indifferently.

His jaw clenched so hard she saw a muscle jump through his cheek as he watched her mouth suck. “I suppose not.”

“Unless…” She withdrew her fingers from her mouth and dried them absently on her shirt.

He raised a brow, dragging his finger out of her and making her squirm. He examined the glistening digit for a moment.

“Unless?” he prompted, and then brought it to his mouth.

It had to be said, watching resolutely proud Pureblood Draco Malfoy sucking the juices of her little Muggleborn cunt off his finger was a sight she never thought she’d witness.

“Unless…would you rather,” she smiled coyly at him. “Make yourself come here, right now, or in your dorm alone?”

If he was willing to play along, perhaps the next round could be mutually beneficial.

He smirked.

Chapter Text

The hand over his groin squeezed again but then he dropped it away and sent a calculating gaze her way.

“What’s in it for me if I do it here?”

She raised both brows in an expression of faux-surprise. “Oh. I didn’t think I’d be the one to explain it to you, Malfoy, but when a man gets aroused—“

“Very cute. Obviously that’s not what I meant.”

She tilted her head inquisitorially at him. “So just to be clear, Pureblood husbands are expected to masturbate?”

He looked vaguely annoyed at her apparent ignorance though her question was partly genuine. She’d admittedly never had a deep interest in Pureblood culture and frankly, the small snippet she was being exposed to now wasn’t making her any more eager to learn. But nevertheless, the prospect of discovery was always innately compelling to her.

“Of course,” he said dryly. “A man has needs.”

Rage burned, white-hot, for the span of a breath.

She tried to temper her reaction, but only so she didn’t inadvertently hex him on school property.

“Men have needs?” She repeated as unemotionally as she could. “Could I trouble you to expound on that little statement?”

He rolled his eyes. “Honestly Granger, I thought you’d know a bit more about men given your choice in best friends. Potter was, in the end, a lost cause but I’d have thought Weaselbee would have enlightened you at some point. Despite a few unfortunate aberrations, he does come from quite an old Pureblood line.”

She ignored his implication and raised a haughty brow. “I wouldn’t challenge my knowledge of male anatomy right now, Malfoy.”

She slid her foot across his thigh and onto the strip of chair visible between his legs, planting the hard edge of her heel threateningly close to his family jewels, the sole of her shoe just a suggestion against the placket of his trousers.

“Now explain what you meant.”

He’d frozen as she’d moved her foot and now tipped his chin up in a show of deference she found quite telling, particularly when he swallowed thickly. One way, or another, he was very aware of what she could do with that foot.

“Men…men have to release the pressure or else it could damage their—“ she felt his thigh muscles twitch against the side of her foot as he resisted moving. “Equipment.”

“That’s utter nonsense,” she scoffed, and then horror gripped her. “Malfoy. Please don’t tell me that Pureblood girls are taught that, too, and then get it used against them.”

He shook his head emphatically. “Everything is consensual. Always. At least with me.”

The final caveat didn’t soothe her much but before she could open her mouth to question him further, he spoke again.

“But are you claiming otherwise? Does it…does it hurt women, too?” The concern in his voice was almost sweet but she wasn’t softening to him yet.

“It doesn’t hurt anyone,” she snapped. “Shall I prove it?”

His eyes narrowed. “How would you prove it?”

She pressed the toes of her shoe down slightly, as if his cock was a pedal in a car. “Ever heard of edging, Malfoy?”

The flush on his cheeks darkened damningly. Well then.

“Ever tried it?” She inquired lightly.

“No.”

“No, what?”

He clenched his jaw. “No, I haven’t tried it.”

“And no, you don’t want to?” She tilted her head, assessing him.

“I didn’t say that.”

She began to restrain the wicked smile that curled across her mouth but then thought otherwise and let it unfurl in all its glory. He looked suitably apprehensive but, she noted with a shot of delight, overtly aroused. Draco Malfoy was turning out to be a very interesting sexual being. She was rather intrigued by his nuances.

“Then that’s what you’ll get out of wanking for me now,” she told him. “Show me how you would make yourself come but don’t get yourself all the way. If you can manage…let's say, three edges, then I’ll go another round with you.”

He really did shift his hips now, his hand tightening visibly on his thigh like he regretted removing it from his cock but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to bring it back. Godric, he was being so well behaved – she felt a lick of excitement flick up her spine.

“What’re the choices in the next round?” He asked, ever the Slytherin.

“If you can be good and wait,” she wet her lower lip suggestively and his eyes locked on the motion, “then I’ll let you pick them.”

The offer was daring — there was apparently no predicting what Malfoy considered an appropriate sex act — but she was fairly confident that he’d sway somewhere in the camps of oral or full sex. Both of which, frankly, she’d be quite happy to participate in with him.

Again, Malfoy was the poster child of his House. “Okay,” he told her. “But if I can’t stop myself on the last one, that shouldn’t count against me.”

She fixed him with a stern look, not appreciating his attempts to look for loopholes. “You’ll stop,” she told him, “or else I will make you stop.”

He opened his mouth petulantly to obviously demand how she intended to stop him, but caught himself at the last second. She quirked her eyebrow at him, acknowledging his wise choice not to challenge her.

He swallowed his comment and then brought his hands up to his belt. He shifted his hips forward on the chair so that her shoe was pressing firmly over his erection.

“You going to keep that there the whole time?” He asked, undoing his belt with respectably unhurried hands.

“Do you want me to?” She quipped.

He snorted. “No, you pervert. Move it “

She raised her brows and pressed down lightly before she drew it away. He smothered a groan by clearing his throat and worked his zip down.

Her eyes were trained on the action and she was filled with a sudden eager sense of anticipation at the prospect of seeing Draco Malfoy’s cock. No matter what it was like, it would be a win for her. If he was small, she could privately use the knowledge to justify all sorts of toxic male behaviors from him (not that she had any misconstrued notions about what a man’s size meant about him, but she rather expected he did); if he was large, well, that had obviously excellent implications for at least her next hour.

“Sure you don’t need cock right now, Granger?” He goaded. “You’re practically drooling.”

She cut her eyes up to his, annoyed. “I’m just waiting for the spectacle. Come on, let me see what you’ve got.”

He pushed his trousers open accommodatingly and then dipped his hand under the waistband of his black boxer-briefs. He gave himself what could only be a reassuring squeeze before he tugged the material down.

She was immediately ashamed of her visceral reaction to him. Cocks weren’t supposed to be pretty but somehow his…was.

From what she could see so far, he was slightly above average in length and well above average in thickness, straight and smooth with a gorgeous, pink-tinged head. She could practically feel the vein that ran down the underside throbbing against her tongue, and that thick ridge of his head would feel so…Fuck, she was…fuck.

“Well?” His voice cut through her spiral.

She kept her eyes on his groin for a beat longer, forcing herself to give him a careless, analytical look before she slowly dragged her eyes to his. He was flushed down his neck now but his eyes were half-lidded and that damn smirk showed he knew she wasn’t repulsed by him.

“Do you need me to tell you how to do it?” She asked him sweetly.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He shot back, but he stroked a fist down his length all the same.

“Darling,” she purred. “I would love to.”

It had the intended effect, his jaw flexing and his hand not-so-subtly tightening at the base of his shaft. He mastered himself quickly though, gliding his hand back up and bringing with it a bead of precum. He dragged his thumb through the gathering moisture, swirling it over the head of his cock until it glistened.

“Aren’t you going to tell me while you show me?” She goaded, to stop herself from doing something else.

“No.” His thumb made another pass, eyes fixing on her mouth. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, testing a theory, and he reacted more or less how she’d expected, his nose flaring and fist bobbing once, uncontrolled, over the tip of his cock.

“Stop fantasizing about my mouth, Malfoy,” she chided.

“What do you want me to think about instead?” His voice was taut but he didn’t look away.

“Think about how much you’re not allowed to come right now,” she suggested airly. “But try very hard to still do it.”

“You’re such a fucking bossy little witch,” he bit out.

“Come on,” she cajoled, “Get yourself nice and close.”

“I am fucking close,” he snapped.

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He tipped his head back slightly, throat working to swallow but eyes still not leaving her mouth.

“Then stop.”

He grit his teeth but obeyed, hand pulling away to rest on his thigh. She acknowledged his restraint with a nod.

“That’s one. Now do it again.”

“Why am I surprised you get off on being bossy,” he said, surprising her by bringing his hand to his mouth instead of back to his cock. She watched with thinly veiled interest as he worked his mouth and then let a tendril of saliva drip into his waiting palm. He brought it down to his cock, slicking his way and she forced herself to not squirm.

She had a bit of a preference (it felt unfairly benign to label it a kink) for well-lubricated sex acts. Really, quite thoroughly, well-lubricated. Frankly, the wetter the better.

She watched him stroke his cock at an unhurried pace, observing where he applied pressure or favored a lighter touch. She wasn’t sure why she was cataloging how he liked it as she didn’t really intend to ever sit a practical exam for it, so to speak, but she’d never quite gotten the hang of letting a learning experience pass her by.

“It should be more off putting to have you staring at me than it is,” he complained, half to himself.

“Many people find exhibitionism quite arousing,” she said agreeably.

“I’m not a fucking exhibitionist,” he griped. “I meant you, specifically.”

That caught her attention enough that she lifted his eyes from where they’d been laser focused on his hand and up to his. He was already looking at her, his steely-grey gaze intent.

“Me, specifically?” She repeated, quizzical.

“Believe it or not but you don’t feature often in my sexual fantasies, Granger.”

She snorted. “You know, I actually don’t believe you.”

He sighed. “Fine. I may have once considered a good way to shut you up was to get your mouth around my cock. And maybe another time had a singular urge to fuck the bossy, swotty, fucking little know-it-all — fuck.”

He paused his pumping — which had increased in urgency as he’d began spouting off — for a split second then resumed at a much more measured pace.

She tutted. “Name calling isn’t nice, Malfoy. I’m not into degradation.”

“No?” He dragged just his fingertips up along his shaft.

“I find positive reinforcement much more effective,” she informed him.

“What, like…like you want to hear how fucking smart you are?” He sounded incredulous.

She laughed. “I don’t need validation about that. And anyway, I meant the other way.”

He frowned. “You want to tell me how smart I am?” He was blushing slightly but the cocky smirk was back. “I also don’t need validation about that.”

“What about that?” She flicked her eyes meaningfully down to his cock.

His expression flitted through surprise and interest, and landed on wariness. “What about it?”

“Do you want me to give you some positive reinforcement about your cock?”

He looked momentarily stunned and then swallowed and said with forced casualness, “Yeah, alright.”

She licked her lips, shifting on her perch on the desk as she considered how to approach it. She wasn’t being facetious when she’d said she liked giving praise. She liked the affirmation that what she thought was meaningful to someone, and when a man responded viscerally to her assessments? Nngh. She may as well just throw her knickers away.

“Well, I suppose I’ll start by admitting that when you first pulled it out, my mouth watered.” His eyes were locked on hers, practically unblinking. “In any other scenario, if I’d been presented a cock like yours, I would have dropped everything to get it in my mouth.”

She tilted her head, observing his reaction. He looked hungry for more, his hand unceasing. She tried a more aggressive tact.

“It got me wet just looking at it. All big and thick and swollen, so fucking deserving of a hot, wet mouth.”

His nostrils flared. She could actually see the way his cock stiffened, another fat glob of precome squeezing out the tip.

“Don’t come,” she warned.

“Fuck!” He pulled his hand away, shoving both roughly through his hair to interlace them behind his head, his cock bobbing in his lap. She watched it throb but he held off.

He was panting.

She felt drunk with power.

She slid off the table and knelt between his legs, bringing herself eye-level to his cock.

“Granger,” he groaned. “Fuck. Get up.”

She flicked her eyes up to his. “Why?”

“You know why.” He scrubbed his hands down his face. She breathed a laugh and he jolted, a hand flying down to urgently squeeze the base of his cock. “Don’t. Oh Circe, Granger, please. Please.”

“Malfoy,” she said, delighted. “Could I really make you come without touching you right now?”

He was breathing hard, chest expanding. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, warring with himself over some internal battle. He looked certain, if not a little defeated, when he gave her an affirmative nod.

“Then that’s two. You’re being so fucking good right now,” she told him, genuinely. “Such a good fucking boy.”

He whimpered, a desperate, pleading sound. It shot straight through her, lighting up her nerves from her nipples to her clit.

“One more and then you can choose how you come,” she promised him.

He exhaled hard through his nose and brought his hand back to his cock. He only managed to stroke himself five times until he yanked his hand away.

“Three,” he grit out.

She dared to run a hand up his shin and couldn’t resist a teasing quip. “So, tell me, how’s your equipment? Are you in pain right now?”

“I’m fucking suffering,” he panted.

“It hurts?” she said with mock-sympathy.

“I need to come.”

“I know you do.”

“So can I…can I pick how now?”

She nodded at him, her lip caught between her teeth as she fought a delighted smile at his continued obedience.

“I want–” he began but she shook her head.

“No, Malfoy; would you rather…” she gestured that he finish the rest.

“You are—” Whatever name he was about to call her was smothered in a frustrated growl. “Fuck. Fine. Would you rather suck me off or…or let me fuck you.”

He was, she thought, at least predictable in this instance.

“Why not both?” she quipped, and then leaned forward without warning to lick a broad stripe up the underside of his cock. The sound that tore out of his chest was absolutely wrecked.

“Fuck,” he swore. “I…I won’t last for both.”

“I don’t want you to. I want you to come now and then return the favor until you’re hard again.” She swirled her tongue around the circumference of his cockhead, as he’d done with his thumb. “You’re young. I’m sure it won’t take long.”

His inhale was ragged. “Can I touch you?”

She dragged her tongue down his shaft then drew back. “Touch me how?”

“Can I put my hand in your hair?”

His request surprised her, both that he was asking and that he even wanted to. She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Why?”

“I’ve always wanted to.” His hips jerked involuntarily as she brought a steadying hand to the base of his cock. She decided not to analyze this unexpected request though she suspected she’d not get a clear answer once he was no longer under duress.

“Fine. But don’t tangle it up.” She’d half expected a quip about how it couldn’t possibly be more tangled than it already was, but he just nodded seriously and brought his hand up — thankfully, the hand that hadn’t been stroking his cock.

She waited for a firm grip but his hand was unexpectedly careful. He raked his fingers along her scalp, then rubbed a lock between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s soft,” he murmured.

She didn’t like how gentle he was being — it was Malfoy. She retaliated by sucking the head of his cock into her mouth and then, without warning, engulfing as much of him as she could in one rapid descent.

He swore and his hand reflexively tightened, fingers curling into her hair. There it is, she thought, savoring the way it lit up her nerve endings. It seemed safer somehow, more characteristic, for Malfoy to pull her hair, schoolyard bully that he was.

“Granger,” he groaned. “Oh fuck. Your mouth…so…nngh.”

She was unrelenting, bobbing her head and making up the difference with her fist. Her idle cataloging of his preferences settled into her motions without conscious effort, her hand tightening on each descent and loosening on the upstroke. She suckled the sensitive head and tilted her head slightly to look up at him. He’d never looked better, she thought, flushed and panting and fixated, absolutely transfixed, on her.

“Gonna come?” She inquired, rubbing the broad pad of her tongue across his frenulum.

“Can I?” He breathed, straining to stay still.

She smiled. “Whenever you want. Wherever you want.”

She sucked him back into her mouth as he groaned above her, and tightened his grip on her hair again so that she couldn’t pull off.

“Gonna come down your throat,” he warned. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come so hard.”

She laved her tongue on him, rising and falling within the parameters he allowed her, turned on to an unprecedented degree. She moaned her agreement around his cock and only managed to drop another inch lower before he was swelling in her mouth and then coming. She breathed deeply through her nose and worked her throat, swallowing like the good fucking girl she was.

He pulled her off him a moment later and she gasped in a lungful of air.

“Sorry,” he panted. “Sorry.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, catching her breath but not at all upset. “God,” she gasped. “That was so fucking hot.”

His eyes were wide, disbelieving, and then he laughed and scrubbed his hands down his face. He dropped them a moment later and looked at her.

“Come here,” he demanded and then, without any warning, he hauled her up and kissed her.

Chapter Text

She kissed him back on reflex but when his tongue sought entry, her brain caught up and she pushed herself away with hands on his chest.

“What are you doing?” She asked, rather breathless.

He looked thoroughly mussed and from this close — still half on his lap — she could see the tiny flecks of blue that contributed to the overall effect of his eyes, eyes that had widened at her question.

“What am I doing?” He repeated, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “I hope you’re asking a question of intent and not action because, I swear to Merlin Granger, if no one has ever kissed you before I may have to burn down Gryffindor tower.”

“Of course I’ve been kissed, you idiot. But…” she trailed off.

“But?” He prompted.

“But kissing is…intimate.” The word embarrassed her to be using with him, particularly in connection with something he’d done with her.

He raised both eyebrows. “More intimate than my cock in your mouth?” He asked skeptically.

She tried to rapidly assess if he would be mortally wounded by the truth but then reminded herself that it was Malfoy and so went with honesty. “Well…yes.”

He stared at her. And then his expression softened and he leaned back in the chair, giving her more space. “In that case, I apologize.”

Now it was her turn to stare at him. “You…apologize?”

“For crossing a line. I realize now you didn’t say I could kiss you so that was quite presumptuous of me.”

Her brows slowly furrowed as she tried to keep pace with him. What the fuck? Had she fallen into another dimension?

“It’s alright,” she heard herself saying. “I don’t…I suppose I didn’t mind it.”

He snorted lightly and began to shift, the movement jostling her. She realized somewhat belatedly that her hands were still pressed to his chest and that his were on her too, one on her hip and the other wound back in her hair.

“What was your intent then?” She asked before she could stop herself.

“What?” He froze, his hand halfway through the act of untangling itself from her curls.

“When you kissed me. I suppose I am questioning your intent, not the action.”

His eyes darted to her lips but he quickly brought them back up as if he hadn’t meant to look. He cleared his throat. “I just…wanted to.”

Reconciling this statement against all the other things he’d ever said to her — the last hour notwithstanding — made her temples throb. “You wanted to…kiss me?”

He sighed with excessive exasperation. “Fucking hell. I’m not sure if I should be offended right now or not.”

“Why would you be—“

“Stop asking every single question that comes to mind and just think about it first.” He looked annoyed.

She did her best but without many data points, and considering the undoubtedly skewed reasoning he was operating from, she wasn’t confident that her analysis was of much use. Nevertheless, she offered him a rather flippant guess.

“Is it because you’ve been taught that wives should be rewarded with kisses when they suck their husband’s cock?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you joking?”

Her frustration mounted. “No.”

He dropped his head back to rest on the back of the chair, eyes on the ceiling. “Merlin and Morgana. It’s like you’re trying to misunderstand on purpose.”

“Less than an hour ago, you didn’t think that women masturbated, Malfoy. How am I supposed to know what you think about anything after that?”

“That’s…” Under her hands, his chest fell on a heavy exhale. “Fair enough. Fine. I wanted to kiss you because you just blew my fucking mind, and I couldn’t think about anything else but getting my mouth on you. And—“ She watched pink spread up his cheeks, “—and I rather like kissing.”

A flash of heat blossomed in her chest at this tidbit. She chewed the inside of her lip but her mind was already made up.

“Stand up,” she told him.

She made to rise, so that he could, but he was quicker, his hands wrapping around her waist to power her ascent as he stood from under her. His casual show of strength tightened the knot of arousal that had been building ever since she’d gotten her first glimpse of his cock.

Once they were on their feet, she didn’t waste a moment before sliding her hands over his shoulders and pulling up onto her toes to kiss him again.

He responded instantly, slanting his mouth over hers and deepening the kiss. His hands flexed where they held her and then he took a step forward to erase any distance between them. His body was warm, the temperature of his skin still slightly elevated from his recent orgasm. She melted into him, hitching her arms higher so she could run her hands through his hair. It was soft, and when she carded a hand through the longer locks on top, the strands felt like silk between her fingers.

He made a muffled sound of pleasure into her mouth and pressed forward again, bumping her arse into the table behind her. She broke the kiss to hop back up onto the table and then twisted his jumper into her fists to pull him between her thighs. She grabbed another handful of fabric over his collarbones and used the grip to drag his mouth back to hers.

He was enthusiastic, introducing his tongue to hers as soon as she parted her lips. The teasing flick of it against hers tightened her nipples and then he was sweeping into her mouth, an unapologetic claiming.

As they kissed, she slowly began to lower herself back, pulling him over her. He went easily for a few seconds and then caught himself on a hand by her hip, arresting his descent halfway down. She lay back against the wooden surface, her knees hanging over the edge.

“What are you doing?” He breathed.

She huffed. “I thought you had banned self-evident questions. You’re familiar with the concept of sex, aren’t you?”

He pulled back enough to look at her, incredulous. “I’m not fucking you on a table, in public.”

She frowned, confused, then pointedly looked left and right. “We’re alone. I’ve charmed the area. And anyway, one of your options for me to choose just now was to let you fuck me!”

He waved a dismissive hand, dispelling her comment. “That was my cock talking. Now I’m telling you that I will not fuck you on this table.”

She tried not to be obviously disappointed but missed the mark enough that he chuckled, leaning down to drop a kiss to the dip between her collarbones. “Don’t worry, love. I fully intend to fuck you, just not here.”

She ignored the pet name, eager to get on with it. “Where then? And do not suggest a broom cupboard.”

He physically recoiled, appalled. “A broom cupboard? Oh Granger, please don’t tell me that’s where Weaselbee takes you.”

She pinched his arm. “Stop implying that Ron and I have slept together.”

He looked genuinely surprised by this. “You haven’t?”

“No. What, have you slept with all of your friends?”

He smirked. “Only the female ones.”

She gaped for a minute, not having expected him to be so honest nor blasé about it. Her reaction evidently pleased him.

“Does that shock you, Granger?”

She mastered herself with a scoff. “Of course not.”

But he tilted his head, still grinning like a fool. “Are you sure? For a minute there it looked like you were imagining me with Pansy. And Daphne. And Tracey. And—“

“Millicent?” She interjected sweetly.

He glowered. “I’m not friends with Millicent.”

She pursed her lips, nodding understandingly. “So…is that a no then or…?”

“No, I haven’t slept with Millicent bloody Bulstrode. Salazar, Granger, give me an ounce of credit.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” she said sarcastically, “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t discretionary in your selections.”

“Apology accepted.” He fixed her with an appraising eye. “So, if it wasn’t Weaselbee then who was it?”

“Who was what?” She’d lost the string of conversation entirely, her mind still trying to parse the logistics of his prior conquests. How did they interact knowing they’d all slept with the same bloke? She was suddenly wildly jealous of Skeeter’s animagus form, beyond curious what those dorm room conversations were like.

He sighed. “Keep up. Who was the bloke who took you in a broom cupboard?”

“Oh. No one.”

He weighed this response, testing it for truthfulness and evidently finding it lacking. “No one as in, no one’s ever fucked you in a broom cupboard or no one as in, you don’t want to tell me?”

It was the former but she rather liked having him on the hook, intrigued about why he was so…intrigued. “Shall I list out my sexual partners for you and you can guess? Ooh! That would be a fun get-to-know-you game.”

“Pass. You’re too annoying to continue this conversation.” He rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb as if she was the most vexing creature he’d ever encountered (gleefully, she suspected she was). “All I was trying to do was find a respectable place to have sex and you’ve somehow managed to turn that into another chance to badger me.”

“I’ve never had sex in a broom cupboard,” she offered with a put-upon sigh. “Happy?”

”Immeasurably.”

“So where do you take your conquests then? An empty classroom?”

He snorted. “A bed, Granger. Usually mine since the girls' dorm is spelled against penises.”

“Wait. You’ve only slept with Slytherins?” She was genuinely surprised.

“Until now, I suppose.” He jerked his chin toward her. “Why, have you gone outside your own?”

“Almost exclusively.” It was true, she’d never done anything beyond kiss a Gryffindor (Ron), and that had been awkward for a few days thereafter whenever they were both in the common room. Why would she intentionally add complication to her own space, especially when there were so many other possible partners?

“Who from my House?” He demanded.

She snorted. “Don’t worry Malfoy, you’re my first snake.”

This seemed to placate him temporarily but then his eyes narrowed. “Who else, then?”

She bit her lip to contain her smile. “Oh, so you do want a list of my sexual partners.”

His jaw tightened and for a moment he looked furious at the concept, but then his features relaxed on an exhale. She was mildly amused by his show of possessiveness, given that she wasn’t his to even try and possess. But he was a spoiled little rich boy, after all — the habit was probably ingrained in him.

“Fine. Tell me.” He made it sound like he was doing her a favor by listening.

She almost didn’t want to indulge him but she saw no reason to withhold it. It wasn’t like she had kept her rendezvous a secret. She kept it short and sweet.

“Viktor, Michael, Terry, Justin, Ernie.”

He processed this with a stern expression. “Who was the last to touch you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ernie. Obviously my list was given in chronological order, you prat.”

He tilted his head. “And if it had been given in order of skill…?”

She swatted him. “Each of them was excellent in their own way. Don’t be jealous.”

His expression darkened. “What do I have to be jealous about?”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“You are infuriating.” He straightened fully, his eyes raking over her supine form below him. His hands skimmed from her waist down to her bare thighs where they rested on either side of his hips.

“Makes you want to leave your own mark on me, doesn’t it?” She murmured, watching for his reaction.

His jaw ticked but he didn’t say anything as he pushed her skirt up her thighs until it pooled atop her pelvis. His eyes were intent, hot on her, as he trailed his fingertips back down and over the front of her knickers.

She didn’t know what he was going to do and it was driving her mad. With the exception of her experimental tryst with Terry, during which she allowed him to restrain her, she was always the one in control, always the one deciding what would happen next. Malfoy had seemed to play right into that dynamic except that now, she had no idea what he was thinking.

It was making her twitchy, her nerves tingling though not from anxiety. From anticipation.

He circled his forefinger softly around her clit over her knickers and she inhaled sharply, arousal spiking through her.

He cut his eyes up to hers. “So where do you fuck these boys, Granger?”

It took a moment for his question to register. At first she thought he’d meant where in her body but no, he meant geographically.

“A few places. The Room of Requirement, at least before Sixth year.” She hurried on, aware neither of them had fond memories of the day the room had been destroyed by Fiendfyre. “And then…well, empty classrooms mostly. And once in a bed.”

“Just once?”

She nodded. It had been Terry’s four-poster in Ravenclaw tower, which he’d tied her hands to. He’d let her return the favor after making her come with his mouth, and she’d really, really enjoyed finding the various ways she could make him squirm. The memory heated her, cheeks warming and hips shifting.

“A good one, was it?” He asked her, clever eyes noting her physiological changes.

“I tied him to it,” she murmured, just to goad him.

He responded deliciously, nose flaring and fingers curling to press so hard into her thighs that her flesh dimpled under them. She squirmed, delighted and aroused.

“Well. The next time you come, I want you to be naked in my bed.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.” His jaw was firm, eyes back on her knickers.

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you to let me come here? Just one more time?” She wheedled.

His eyes flicked to her, a smirk unfurling. “Yeah? You want to come?”

She bit her lip again, because the pressure and little nip of pain felt good, and nodded. Maybe he’d follow her prescribed order of events and go down on her. Her cunt clenched at the thought. She had a suspicion that he was skilled at it, that silver tongue and expressive mouth finally put to good use.

He brought his thumb to his mouth and wet it with his tongue, then used his other hand to tug the gusset of her knickers to the side as if he had every right to do so. The cool air made it blatantly obvious how astonishingly wet she’d gotten and she stifled a moan. He brought his thumb down and stroked it, petal-soft and wet, around her clit. The touch flared every nerve ending between her legs white-hot, the suggestion of contact making her hips instinctively rise toward the source. But he’d already drawn his hand back, just out of reach.

He chuckled, amused at her display. “Then you’ll need to fucking wait.”

She wanted to throttle him, or cry, but neither of those would make her come (well, the first might get her close), so instead she brought her own hand down.

He tsked, grabbing her wrist and pinning it to her stomach. “No, Granger. Perhaps I wasn’t clear. Your next orgasm is mine to give you.”

She bristled at his audacity and tried to get her wrist free but his grip was unrelenting. He tilted his head as he watched her wiggle.

“What do you say?” He inquired conversationally, “Shall I take you to bed? Get you naked and get my tongue in you, and then my cock? That’s what you wanted, if I recall?”

It was. She wanted it so badly she seriously considered begging him for it. The thought appalled her enough to shock her back to rational thought.

“You don’t get to decide anything about my body,” she asserted.

He chuckled lowly. “Don’t fret, love. I’m not delusional; you’ve been very clear on how you like to play. I’m just trying to give you what you want somewhere I want.”

Well. She couldn’t exactly find fault with that, and he was an extremely promising lay.

“Alright then,” she agreed. “Take me to bed, Malfoy.”

Chapter Text

She’d half expected him to back out of it once they’d exited the alternate reality they’d cultivated within the library, but he proved just as enthusiastic as he led her down a back stairway that was promised to be a shortcut.

As neither of them were Prefects, they didn’t speak so as to not garner unwanted attention. Privately, she knew she had a free pass to do as she wished — the castle was still standing partially due to her efforts, after all — but she was aware that he was back for his final year on a strictly probationary case. She didn’t know the exact parameters of his probation but she had to assume sneaking a girl into his dorm after hours was probably not on the “good” list.

As for her, she was feeling nothing but eager anticipation as he brought them down the corridor she knew held the concealed entrance to the Slytherin dormitories. He murmured the password under his breath, glancing over his shoulder at her, perhaps appreciating the novelty of having to unlock the door for his femme de la nuit. The entrance appeared and he guided her through then brought up a hand to halt her.

“Wait here a minute, since I assume you’d prefer not be paraded past any awake members of my House.”

Frankly, she didn’t care either way but saw no reason to be contrarian on this one instance so nodded. He dipped down the narrow corridor and into the larger room beyond, but was back mere seconds later.

“Empty. Come on, my room is down below.”

He led her through a finely appointed common room and down a set of stairs on the other side, then left through another corridor and down a second flight. She was surprised when he opened the door to a single room. She spun on her heel as he shut the door with a quiet snick, casting locking and silencing spells as he did so.

“You have your own room?” She was slightly put out by this — she had to share with the other returning Eighth year girls (not that there were many).

“Not the most popular bloke,” was his only reply before he crowded her toward his bed.

She refused to be deterred. “Even by your housemates?”

He sighed. “Can we not, Granger?”

“I can’t ask any questions?”

“Save it for pillowtalk. Come on now, let me see you.” His hands had regained their position on her hips and he made quick work of rucking her shirt up and out of her skirt. “Buttons or over your head?” He asked.

“Such a barbarian,” she chided. “Buttons. And go slowly.”

He looked abashed for a moment but then saw her coy smile and realized she wasn’t asking because of nerves.

“Like being teased, do you?” He murmured, his fingers finding the top button and slowly pushing it through the hole.

“I told you,” she sighed. “My neck is sensitive.”

“That’s right, you did. And,” he slowed his pace further as he undid the third button. “these too, hmm?”

He stroked the backs of his fingers against her nipples as he progressed to the fourth button. The twin sensations made her clit throb and she hummed low in her throat.

“That feel good?” He asked her, eyes darkening when she nodded.

He finished opening her shirt at a rate no one could truthfully call slowly but she forgave him when his hands skimmed up her bare abdomen. She thought he’d go back to her breasts but he just barely grazed them, hands continuing up to stroke her chest and up her neck.

His hands cupped the space between her head and neck, fingers combing into her hair to cradle her head and thumbs pressing under her jaw to tilt her head back. He leaned down and exhaled a slow, warm breath against her throat. Every hair on her body stood on end, her nerves alight. He dragged just the tip of his tongue from her hyoid to her chin and then hovered his mouth over hers.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he warned her, and then did.

If she whimpered into his mouth, well, that was her own business.

He kissed her like he had to prove himself to her. He didn’t, not really, but she rather liked that he considered her worth the effort.

His kisses were intentional and exacting, structured perfectly to bring her from one thought to the next. The nip and subsequent suckle on her lower lip was a prelude to how he’d treat her nipples, the rough strokes of his tongue against hers a promise of what he’d do between her legs.

By the time her back hit his mattress, she was thoroughly, disastrously kissed.

He undid the top two buttons of his shirt then tugged it and his jumper off in one from behind his head. She was only able to admire the broad planes and cut lines of his chest and abdomen for a moment before he was above her, slotting himself between her legs and introducing the hard line of his clothed cock to where she was hot and wet behind her knickers.

She pressed her head back against his mattress to haul in a lungful of air, immediately using it to breathe life into a needy moan.

He was panting, resting on his elbows over her.

“Fuck, you make such pretty sounds.” He ground his erection against her cunt again and she keened. “Merlin.”

“You’re too good at this,” she panted, dismayed by the truth of it.

He laughed, the sound pleased but darkly promising. “I haven’t even started, love.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she could spontaneously orgasm from a sound. She grappled for self-control but found the ropes of it dangling somewhere beyond her reach. She felt unmoored by him, floating in a puddle of female needs for him to stoke as he pleased. She felt like a fucking vessel for his cum. The thought incensed her, propelling her to action.

“Get on your back,” she told him in a tone that garnered no disobedience, despite the breathlessness with which she delivered it.

His amusement faded slightly, intrigue darkening his eyes and pinking his cheekbones. “Why?” He hedged.

“Because,” she informed him bossily, “I'm going to ride your tongue.”

He blinked and then rolled off her and onto his back without further hesitation. Delight sparked through her at his rapid obedience. She shimmed out of her skirt and knickers then climbed on top of him in only her bra and unbuttoned white blouse.

“Draco,” she hummed appreciatively as she straddled his ribs. “You really are such a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Get up here, you fucking dominatrix,” he told her, gripping her arse with both hands to tug her up his torso.

She laughed, clambering the rest of the way up and pinning him to the bed with a thigh on either side of head.

“Never done it this way round,” he told her idly, eyes tracking up her body. “Will you take your bra off? I want to see your pretty tits like this.”

She quirked a brow. “Want to earn it?”

He smirked. “Sure.”

She raised up on her knees and shuffled forward to align herself with his mouth, stabilizing herself with hands on his headboard.

“You’re so sexy like this,” he told her, eyes on her cunt and hands tightening on her arse to bring her down. “C’mon, Granger. Lemme taste.”

She was glad for her grip on his headboard when he finally touched her, the flat of his tongue dragging across the entirety of her center in a single, confident sweep.

“Shit,” she hissed, hands curling around the wood.

He hummed in agreement, his tongue working across her in exploratory licks. She kept herself still above him, letting him figure her out, though her body ached to rock against him. He discovered her tells quickly, eyes watchful on her as she hummed and sighed and resisted squirming while he explored.

Her urge to move eventually revealed itself to him when he made an especially delicious pass over her clit and her hips jerked involuntarily. Her eyes fluttered shut as she groaned softly, leaning her weight on her extended arms.

He hummed against her, hands pressing her forward and then tugging her back lightly, a silent offering for her to move. He relaxed his tongue so the fat pad of muscle cushioned her clit and provided a luxurious surface on which to grind. She did so fervently, then slowed her pace to tug her shirt off. He had absolutely earned his little request.

His eyes were heavy of her actions as she reached behind to flick open the clasp of her bra, pulling the lingerie off and casting it aside. Her breasts felt heavy, sensitive and vaguely achy. She cupped them, squeezing gently, and sighed happily. She avoided her nipples for now, savoring the indirect touching while she circled her hips against his tongue, and then lifted off him slightly.

“Need a break?” She asked, to be considerate. If he’d only ever gone down from on top, then he’d probably be used to taking a quick breather as needed.

“Fuck no, come back here.” He wrapped his hands around the top of her thighs to bring her back down.

He rubbed his tongue against her entrance again but then flicked it up to her clit, circling it. It felt incredible and she copied the motion with her fingers on her nipples on instinct. She moaned, caught up in the sensations, and then pinched her nipples between her thumb and the side of her forefingers.

Malfoy chose that exact moment to suck her clit into his mouth.

Her hips bucked so violently that she nearly crushed his nose. But when she sucked in a breath and looked down to apologize, she saw that he was smirking.

The bastard had done it on purpose.

“Fuck. Do that again,” she told him.

He quirked a brow in acknowledgement and began circling her clit as he had before. She mimicked it for several teasing rotations and then surrounded her nipples with her fingers. She glanced down and when her eyes met his, she pinched and he sucked.

Her eyes half-crossed, it was so good.

His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her to his mouth as he alternately flicked and sucked on her clit. Her orgasm rushed toward her, the tension seizing her and strangling the moan that rushed up her throat. She succumbed to it, her cunt squeezing tight around nothing in a way that made her almost beg for something, anything, inside her.

He let her come down for half a second before his hands wrapped around her waist and he tossed her to the side. She went easily, body pliant.

He was up and over her a moment later, shoulders back between her legs as he knelt on the bed. He worked his mouth and then brought it to hover over her clit as he dripped saliva down onto her. The sensation of it sliding down her still-pulsing cunt made her toes curl in the sheets.

“See what you do to me? Fucking mouth-watering,” he told her, watching it drip and mingle with her own natural lubrication. “Circe, you’re so wet from it. My cock is dying to feel you.” He met her eyes from his southerly position. “Can I?”

She raked her hands through her hair, elbows pointed to the ceiling, and groaned. He was too much, somehow able to be exactly what she needed, even as those needs seemed to shift like the sands.

“Fuck me,” she whined. “Fuck me, god, please fuck me.”

He didn’t waste time with teasing her for what anyone else would’ve labeled as blatant begging (but what she’d decided to define as extremely clear instructions). He slid backwards off the bed then shucked his trousers and boxer-briefs with flattering enthusiasm.

He was back over her a moment later, a hand planted beside her head and the other reaching down to align himself. He knocked the outside of his thigh against her knee, widening the spread of her legs, and then notched the thick head of his cock against her opening.

“Last chance,” he grit out.

“Put your cock inside me immediately or—“ the rest of her threat was cut off as he gripped her hips and slammed into her to the hilt.

She shrieked.

“You said immediately,” he panted, holding still for a moment and then bumping his hips against hers for several deep thrusts. “I’m just trying…to…be…good.”

Her vision whited out, his cock so snug inside her that she felt fused to him. He lifted his torso up to settle back on his knees, hauling her hips up onto his lap while her back and shoulders lay sprawled on his mattress.

The angle was exquisite, the press of his cock firm on her front wall as he shifted inside of her. She’d only barely finished regrouping from her last orgasm and her walls felt swollen and sensitive, quivery.

“You good?” He asked her, hands snaking around to grab palmfuls of her arse.

“I might come,” she groaned.

He snorted. “You’re absolutely going to come.”

“No.” She drew in a ragged breath. “I mean I might…I might be about to come. Right…right now.”

He shifted his knees on the mattress, adjusting his position slightly, and she squeezed her eyes shut with a whimper when her cunt clenched, hard, around his thick cock.

“Wait, really?” His voice was strained, surprised. “I thought you meant in a few—you know what? Never mind. Go ahead, baby. I’ll give you another when you’re done.”

He leaned forward slightly to cup her breasts and thumb at her nipples and the sensation of it, the way his cock ground inside her as he leaned, his fucking casual confidence, hurtled her off the cliff. She groaned, guttural, as everything inside her contracted and then pulsed.

She was vaguely aware of him hissing out a breath and cursing above her. Her hips rocked with the waves, moving herself on his cock a few inches each direction, until she finally settled back on his lap.

Awareness draped itself back around her.

“There you go.” His hands were coasting up and down her thighs as her breathing evened out. “Feel better?”

“Who are you?” She demanded.

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She had meant it as a compliment — obviously — but she was also seriously asking.

This was quite different from how she’d expected the Draco Malfoy she thought she knew to be in bed. Sure, she’d assumed he’d be cocky and self-serving enough to ensure the witches he bedded had a good enough time to not declaim his prowess to others, but…this was proving to be a bit more than just personal-reputation-preserving sex.

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “You’re kind of…blowing my mind right now.”

He looked so smug that she instantly regretted telling him the extent to which he was surpassing her previous partners — and her own expectations — but then he corralled the expression and shrugged a shoulder.

“Until a few hours ago, I thought that women couldn’t come without a man’s help — I know, I know, stop glaring at me, Merlin. Listen, I thought they needed me and I’ve always taken that responsibility seriously.”

He was blushing, a different tinge to the color that had already bloomed during his diligent work making her come. She found herself altogether impressed with the cunning nature of Slytherin women, to have trained their men to be diligent lovers under the guise of them biologically needing it.

“But you’re the first girl to really…well, give it as good as she gets, so to speak.”

The corners of her mouth — which had curved into an unimpressed frown during the beginning of his little speech — now quirked upward.

“Yeah? You like a little push back?”

“Apparently so.” He adjusted his grip on her, squeezing a fresh palmful of arse. “Now, are you ready for more? Because I’m sort of dying.”

His shifting had renewed her nerves’ awareness to the fullness inside of her. Considering she’d come without so much as proper thrust, she was extremely keen to experience the fullness of what he had to offer.

“Mmhmm.” She circled her hips on his lap, feeling his cock on all sides.

He exhaled through his nose, nostrils flaring. “Are you going to let me fuck you before you take over?” He asked, eyes locked on where he was disappearing inside her.

“How about this, Malfoy,” she began, willing to barter. “I’ll let you fuck me however you like, but I get to choose how and when you come. Does that sound fair?”

“Fuck. Yes.” He sounded genuinely enthusiastic, tinged with just enough raw desperation as to send her blood pulsing through her.

“You like being told when to come?” She rocked her hips against his again, suppressing a shiver at the feeling.

“I thought that was self-evident by now.” He slid his cock out until the thick ridge of his head was barely breaching her. Inexplicably, the feeling made her mouth water. He pushed back inside her and she had to swallow a moan.

“I’d like to hear you say it,” she decided, as he drew back again.

He punished — or rewarded — her for her demand with several hard, quick thrusts. She luxuriated in them, squeezing her breasts and cupping them so they bounced for him. His eyes were transfixed on them, but he met her eyes when he finally obeyed.

“I like being told when to come,” he ground out, not slowing his pace. “I like you telling me what to do. I like seeing how hot it gets you. Feeling how wet you are over it. Shit.”

“You’re not allowed to come yet,” she reminded him when his pace had reached a tell-tale cadence.

He pulled out with a grunt and dropped a hand to his cock. The veins on his arms were already raised from his exertions but they bulged further with the force of his grip as he held his orgasm back.

“Fucking demented to enjoy this,” he groaned, evidently to himself.

He reached for her a moment later, hands pushing her knees to her chest and then deftly flipping her over. She squeaked at the unexpected change in position, and then laughed when his hands were back on her, hoisted her up at the hips to get her on her knees.

She made to rise up but his hand was quick to hold her down, warm and large enough to span the entire distance between her shoulder blades.

“This is how I want to fuck you next,” he told her. “You said I could choose. I won’t come yet but…you will.”

She scoffed, though it was just bravado. She had a great love for the position, at once vulnerable in a way that triggered a modest dose of adrenaline while still granting her exquisite power.

“Oh yeah?” She taunted, arching and stretching her arms long. “You gonna make me, Malfoy?”

His hand slid up her back and curled tightly into her hair.

Fuck.

She was glad he hadn’t re-entered her yet to feel the damning clutch of her cunt that the sensation had wrought from her, though she suspected he knew anyway. He used his grip to turn her head to the side and then released her, his hand sliding down her spine to palm her arse.

“Something tells me I won’t have to,” he murmured as he lined himself up with a few probing strokes through her. “You’re gonna come all on your own, won’t you, Granger?”

Truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she had another one in her. She’d already come thrice in a scant two hours, which was one more than her previous record.

But then he slid back into her with a confident press, nudging both her G-spot and her cervix as he did so, and she knew it was, in fact, a guarantee.

However, she elected not to answer him and instead arched further, pressing her breasts to his bed and wiggling her hips back on him. Her arse grazed the taut skin of his abdomen and she spread her knees further, relishing the feeling of him absolutely balls deep in her.

“Just can’t help yourself, can you?” He muttered above her, pulling out and then fucking back into her just as deep.

“I don’t know how your other shags have gone, Malfoy,” she quipped, meeting his next thrust. “But sex is usually a partnered activity. Do they really just lie there while you do everything?”

“No, not…not everything. But you’re definitely the most…participatory.”

“That’s quite a lot of syllables to be able to articulate right now,” she observed. “I think you ought to fuck me until you can’t say anything besides please.”

“So fucking bossy,” he griped, but he complied, holding her hips and using the leverage to double his pace. The friction of it had her mewling like a damn kitten, her knees slipping further apart to welcome the press of his body.

He kept up his rhythm, hands digging into the flesh of her arse so hard it hurt, but the pain only added to her pleasure, the additional stimulus working to overwhelm her system.

“Close,” he warned, sounding it.

She was too, the edges of it reaching for her, slicking her spine with sweat and making her thighs tremble.

“Hold it,” she panted, “Hold it, baby.”

She hadn’t meant to issue the endearment but her brain was fuzzy, a mix of colliding signals as all of her nerve endings reported back their various, urgent messages in a scattered bombardment.

And then suddenly, they coalesced.

She squeezed her eyes shut as her orgasm overtook her, less in her control than any of her life. 

“Fucking hell,” he ground out. “You just got so fucking tight.”

She couldn’t reply, her entire being diverted into the pulsing waves of almost excruciating pleasure. He gentled his pace but didn’t stop, fucking her through it and keeping it going with each errant brush of his balls against her clit.

Eventually, her legs gave way and she sank down onto her belly, forehead pressed into his mattress and nose assaulted by his scent saturated in the bedding, masculine and woodsy. Worried she was going to give herself a complex if she didn’t breathe in something, anything, else at the present moment, she rolled onto her side and then her back, pushing her hair off her face, gasping.

He had a hand on his cock again, but his expression didn’t belay any of the urgency that his straining forearm did. She entertained herself by watching him, eyes taking in his muscular thighs, defined torso, broad shoulders, and heaving chest. She licked her lips as she met his eyes and he huffed a laugh, shaking his head at her overt ogling.

“C’mere,” she told him, patting the spot beside her.

He collapsed onto his back and she made quick work of straddling him and sinking instantly back down on his cock. He grunted, hips lifting under hers.

“I’m still close,” he reminded her with a note of desperation.

“Good. This is how you’re going to come.”

He groaned, hands flexing. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside me.”

His hips stuttered. “What? No…no I can’t.”

“You don’t want to?” She wasn’t going to force him, obviously, but she was more than a little disappointed.

“Of course I want to,” he bit out. “But it’s not…I’ve never…it’s not allowed.”

“By whom?” She demanded.

“It’s just not done…outside of…marriage. The bloodlines…fuck, Granger, fuck give me a minute.”

She coasted to a stop and stroked her hands down his chest while he panted. “You’re telling me you’ve never come inside a woman?” She said, disbelieving.

“Just mouths. Or tits. Or stomachs. Or my own fucking chest.” He ran his hands through his hair, said chest heaving and flushed, the picture of an undone man.

She wet her lower lip subconsciously as she devoured him with her eyes. God, she wanted to decimate him.

“Well. I don’t have a bloodline to preserve — and anyway, I’m on the potion — so…” She couldn’t resist a slow rock of her hips. “If you want to come inside me, you can.”

He swallowed thickly and she watched his abs tense as he resisted something. Then he nodded. “Fuck yeah. If you’re sure.”

“Want me to prove it to you?” She offered with a teasing drag of her forefinger from his hip and down the ridge of muscle bisecting his pelvis, toward his groin.

He clenched his jaw. “Not sure I’d survive.”

She smiled, laughing. “Mmm, perhaps not. So,” she rocked her hips again, “are we in accord?”

“Yeah, babe.”

She narrowed her eyes at his term, unsure if he was teasing her about her earlier slip. “Get ready to fucking beg for it then, darling.”

He groaned, head pressing back to bare his throat. “You know exactly what to fucking say, don’t you? Circe.”

She canted her hips against his harder, pleased at his reaction to her torment. And then she raised up and applied herself wholly to his annihilation. He lasted for longer than she’d given him credit for, but eventually it became more than he could withstand.

“Fuck, please,” he grit out as she bobbed repeatedly over the head of his cock, neglecting his aching shaft.

“Please what?” She asked him, dropping a scant inch further.

He resisted for another breath and then, “Please, let me come.”

“Not yet.” She kept up her teasing over his cockhead, careful not to overstimulate him but not ready yet to let him off the leash.

He made a sound that she could only describe as a pathetic whimper. It made her cunt contract, the auditory stimulus shooting through her even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to come again. Still, she used her reaction to her advantage, and his demise.

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Did you feel that? My cunt loves the sounds you make.”

“Granger.” His voice was wrecked. “Fuck. Fuck, please let me come, I…I…oh Circe, I need to come.”

She pretended to consider his pleas, and then dropped down onto him in one swift descent, squeezing her walls around him with all her remaining strength.

“Okay,” she told him. “Come.”

She could tell when he reflexively tried to lift her off him, evidently to pull out, but she pressed down harder, not letting him more than halfway out before she slid back down.

“Come inside me, Draco,” she purred. “Fill me up.”

And then she bent forward and slanted her mouth over his, swallowing his strangled groan. She wasn’t sure whether it was her final assurance, or her unrelenting rhythm, or even her kiss — it was probably an amalgam of all three — but he finally gave in, swelling even further inside her as he began to come.

She kept her lips on his, kissing him sweetly even as his own mouth slackened against hers while he lost himself to his orgasm. She worked him through it, offering him little sounds of pleasure, until he was finished.

She drew back a few inches to inspect his face — flushed, smiling — before levering down to suck a soft mark along his neck.

“Well?” She inquired. “How was it?”

He exhaled a breath, composed jointly of satisfaction and awe. “Fucking incredible.”

“Good.” She licked her mark, pleased with how nicely the rose of it stood out even among his other pink splotches, then sat tall.

“Let me see,” he said, pushing up onto his elbows.

She cocked her head, jostling from his movement below her. “See…what?” Did he want her to conjure a mirror to inspect her hickey?

He winced slightly at the friction from her jostling against his spent, sensitive cock and nudged her off him. She slipped off and sat beside him, knees bent demurely to the side.

Rather than answering verbally, he raised up enough to gain the leverage needed to push her into her back. He kissed the skin below her navel and then sat back, a hand on each thigh to hold her open to his gaze.

Oh.

He wanted to see his cum inside her. She obliged him, working her inner walls lightly to encourage a pretty picture for him.

“Messy,” he observed. And then he lowered down and, before she could protest, licked through her. He groaned. “You taste different. You taste like mine now.”

Her cheeks were burning. In all her varied experiences, she’d never had a man taste himself in her.

And she couldn’t help but hear the double meanings to his phrasing. Mine, as in his contribution to her messy cunt. Or…mine.

“You are so possessive,” she told him, more breathily than she’d intended as he’d begun to explore her with his tongue again. “And don’t try to start anything. I’m not coming again.”

He looked up from between her legs, a knowing smirk already curving across his face. He raised a brow.

“Maybe not right now but…this isn’t the last time, Granger. Not by a long shot. Now,” he crawled up her until he was cradled between her thighs, his forearms framing her face. “Kiss me.”

For once, she simply…obeyed.