Melting
She growled against his lips. Draco's hands edged around her back, gripping the silky fabric of her dress. His mouth traveled across her cheek, latching onto her neck.
She let out a hiss and ground against his lap. His hands paused, momentarily distracted, loosing focus on their mission. She wiggled out of his grasp, standing up from his lap. Hermione smiled at him, her eyes and teeth glistening in the darkness.
They had barely landed from apparating out of the nightclub they were in before his mouth sought out the precious little area of sensitive flesh behind her ear. She had squealed and pushed him down onto a barstool that lined the end of his kitchen. His flat was meticulous and modern, all lines and stark surfaces. Just like Mister Malfoy himself. Hermione was his opposite: soft, curvy, feminine. Her body looked at home amongst his things,. She contrasted against the harsh, sterile metallics. She was fire to his ice. And every time he brought her here, he ended up melting.
Hermione pulled him towards his living room, using his collar to her advantage. She pushed him down onto the sofa, his eyes grazing her body, hungrily.
"Hermione." He hissed out. It sounded more like a prayer than a demand. Only this witch could have him so undone. He was supposed to be stiff, dominating. His voice was supposed to cause his contemporaries to shutter in fear. Instead, Hermione shuttered in lust.
She mewed and let her hands drag slowly across his lap, just lightly stroking across his package. He bucked up into her dainty hands. She clucked her tongue at him.
"No, sir," she purred. "Not yet."
She moved away from his place at on the grey, tweedy sofa. She walked to the wall opposite, turning on the small glowing sconces. They sparked light up the walls, making Hermione's features seem softer, more sensual, if that was possible. Draco found himself straining against the button fly of his trousers. His witch glanced over her shoulder slightly before bending down to turn some music on. As she was setting the mood, she was also displaying who was in control tonight. Yes, normally, she enjoyed her role as the submissive party in their relationship, but the witch had her own thoughts for tonight. She pivoted from her hips, her fingers tracing down her thighs, past her knees, reaching the stereo.
From Draco's seat on the sofa, the witch looked totally wanton. Bent in half, practically grabbing her ankles. His fingers ached to feel her skin, to remove that dress and those silly high heels, to plunge into her and wreck her, to make her see stars behind her eyelids while she screamed out his name.
She took an excruciatingly long time to return to her full standing stance. She turned back to the wizard, watching him lick his lips, his eyes shooting around her body. She watched a small, sly bead of sweat start at his temple and trail down his neck before it disappeared under the edge of his button down. Tonight's lesson would be fun for her.
"Its sort of…hot in here, don't you think?" She breathed out a pregnant pause, "Let's shed some of these clothes, eh?" She strut back towards him, straddling his lap, her lithe fingers tracing up his chest, finding the tiny dark blue buttons of his shirt.
He pressed against her, using the friction of her across his lap to his advantage. He held her hips down roughly. She'd probably have bruises in the morning; large purpley-blue hand prints on her small tan hips.
"Dra-draco."
Her hands had removed his shirt and made their way down to the young man's trousers, struggling to put the strap of his belt back through the buckle. He kissed down her neck, planting kisses and bites on her collar bone and at the edge of the tight dress she wore. She sighed in pleasure.
Fingers edged down to his fly, briefly freeing him of the tension that resounded so loudly in his stomach and pants.
"So many buttons on you," she moaned.
"Mmmhmm," he breathed between her breasts, "no buttons on you, love." He smiled into her, letting his hands fall of her hips slightly, pulling the hem of her dress farther up so it bunched delicately around her middle. His fingers traced the knickers she wore. Lace.
"Mmmm."
"Come on...Draco, please." Her hips moved against him, betraying her previously cool demeanor. He claimed her mouth again, dueling with her tongue.
"Who's lesson is it now, love?" He laughed out. Draco made her putty in his hands, swirling little circles around on her hips and bottom.
"Mine…it's my lesson…for you…you-you'll see." She tried to say it with conviction, but mostly just sounded desperate for him. He raised his eyebrow at her.
"Right, Hermione…"
"Shut up and make me cum." Hermione sung.
Draco, for one, never needed to be told twice. He tore the flimsy edges of her panties off, letting his fingers find her soft core, his fingers teasing her folds. His body moved against her body, his lips tasted her mouth, memorizing every plane, echoing every noise.
He slid a finger into her while she gasped out. She trailed her mouth over his neck to his ears, where her moans and purrs were made even more audible.
"Draco, yes, more," her words turned into demands, prayers, sighs, streams of seemingly unconnected thoughts as her muscles clamped onto his fingers, urging him deeper and faster.
"Cum for me." He smiled up at her as her eyes glossed over. Her back arched, pressing her breasts to his bare chest. Her hair fell from its pins, spilling down her back. She looked reckless and beautiful, like a goddess going over the edge. She melted into him.
A brief moment later, she was standing up, pulling her dress down. Lust clouded his eyes for a second before she spoke.
"This week's lesson: don't ditch me and my friends at a party when you said you would come," Hermione drawled, raising her eyebrow.
"Or you don't get to cum." She smirked and apparated away in a whoosh.
Draco looked down at his lap, seeing her ripped panties laying wayside on his living room floor.
He snatched up his button down from the floor before apparating away to find his girlfriend.
"That little minx."