This story features Draco and a woman. Whom it is, I will not write here. You'll have to guess on that one. Comment, and if you get it right I promise to tell you so.
The heat of bodies and the rhythm of sex, and the feeling of overwhelming... what? I couldn't tell. All was blurry, out of focus and unimportant. All but her. Her beauty made me ache, made me feel all of those carnal urges that I'd always thought contemptiously of as the longing of the gutter of the human race. The fools who let themselves be controlled by it, and those that actually thought it meant something. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But yet... here I was. Feeling all of those things myself. Finding myself truly wanting, for the first time in my life. And even more, acting upon that want. And finding that the object of my lust was willing, eager even, to please my irrational feelings. To sate me.
NO.
The first move, always meant to be awkward, that seemed so perfect. A light touch. No shying away, no nervous clumsyness. By then I had long given up on fighting it, and it simply didn't matter how she reacted to my actions. Willing or no, she was mine to take. And I would take her. No matter what. But as it went, she moved into my touch, embraced my harsh ways and responded with those of her own. As if she had been longing for this herself for a very long time. But I don't think she had. I think she just realized, uncounsciously, that if she tried to back away or fight, I would force myself upon her without mercy or second thought. So beautiful.
NO.
Something's... something's... What is it? What is that feeling? Picking away at the edges, making me feel like I should stop and think. I didn't want to stop. I didn't want to think. I just wanted to act, act, act, and feel her act with me. But there it was, and I didn't like it. Ah, the warmth of her. The pulsing, aching need, and her oh so salvagingly wonderful warmth. Just a bit more now.
NO.
Could you call it the longing to go back? No, that's a bit to perverse even for my current state of mind. Not back. Right. Going right. That was how it felt. So wonderfully right. Right? A shudder and yes, oh yes, right, right, right. The most perfect ever. Except for that nagging feeling that I couldn't identify. That tickling, awful feeling that... what? I should know, but I can't remember. She does that to me, makes everything hazy with lust. Covered in the mists of my own obscene imagination. Twisted beyond recognition, until all was just... her.
NO.
Oh, it was close now. So very close. The upbeat, the climax, the waves of pleasure that would hit the beach that was my mind, washing away that spindely, tickling feeling of something-or-other-worthless-emotion. My God, she was beautiful in that shameful, detestable position. Bitter, oh so bitter. That cunt was taking my sanity from me, causing me to lose my mind and want no more than to induldge myself in her. Filthy whore. Wait, what? That wasn't right. Beautiful. Grace and elegancy. Yeah, that was better. Bitter, brittle, breaking. I'm sorry. You didn't actually want this, did you? You just gave me what I wanted, selflessly sacrificing your honor for me. I did this to you. I'm the one who's filthy.
NO.
But it feels so right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But those are just word, aren't they? They have nothing on wants, unable to top this burning sensation. Especially now, as it's reaching it's peak. So very close now. So very very. On the edge and- Oh. I see now. I found the word that can top this. A single word that can shatter all of this. Entangled limbs, shaky breathing, burning pleasure and the musky scent of sweat, blood and semen.
WRONG.