Hermione giggled. She was actually giggling. In bed. Naked. With Draco Malfoy. While he had a raging erection. What the hell was so funny?

"Granger," he started, sitting up, "What the bloody hell has got you laughing?" Hermione's head was tipped forward, eyes squeezed shut in fits of giggles and her wild curls falling in her face.

"Sorry, Draco— I mean, Malfoy." She blushed furiously with her slip of tongue. "It's just… I can hardly believe this is happening."

"Well, Granger, it is." Draco stated pointedly. "And by the way," he continued, "You will not call me Draco."

"Sorry—" Hermione began again, but was cut off as Draco grabbed both of her hands, pushed her down on the bed, and held her wrists over her head.

"Don't you dare apologize," he whispered fiercely into her left ear. Hermione shivered in pleasure as his breath touched her skin. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she uttered in a voice so faint he could hardly hear her. Draco brought her face to hers, locking their gazes.

"I said," Draco breathed in a hushed tone, "do you understand me, Granger?"

"Yes!" She spoke louder and more confidently this time, inadvertently pushing her hips up, trying to meet Draco's.

"Good girl." He growled, pushing his hard, pulsing (but still restricted) cock against her. Hermione gasped at the contact, grinding herself against Draco with fervor. He moaned into her ear as she rubbed up and down his clothed shaft, in utter disbelief that she felt so good. Their chests pressed against each other, and Hermione mewled as her nipples were stimulated by Draco's.

"Fuck," Hermione moaned, arching her back to press herself harder into Draco.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Draco asked, stopping the motion. Hermione groaned in disapproval, her eyebrows furrowed and begging him to continue, but he wasn't giving in, she was sure of it.

"It just feels so good, and I…" She stammered, her sentence trailing off into nowhere as she realized his question was entirely rhetorical.

"Good girls," he drawled, "don't use such naughty language."

"Okay, Malfoy." She whispered.

"Did you want me to keep pleasuring you, Granger?"

"Yes, Malfoy."

"Good. Then undress me all the way. Now." He demanded sharply, releasing her wrists from his strong hold. Hermione quickly sat up in compliance, but not without the same sense of reverence she had while she was taking off his shirt earlier. She leaned down over him, gently unbuckling his belt and sliding it off, through every loop, making sure not to make any unnecessary noise. She kissed a line above his trousers, blowing cool air over the saliva markings. Draco shuddered in anticipation. He could feel his cock straining against his pants, begging for release. He had waited so long for this moment, even if he hadn't realized it before. He had wanted Granger for so long, but it was so incredibly forbidden. There was no way this could only be a one-time occurrence, however, of that he was certain. She was just too damn good.

Hermione was unbuttoning his trousers. She was unzipping his fly. Draco groaned impatiently as she took her time pulling his pants off. He eagerly began to help her, but she pushed his hands away, pulling the fabric down and off of his feet, discarding them on the floor along with their other (and long-since forgotten) articles of clothing.

Draco followed Hermione's heavy-lidded gaze as her vision forged a path from his feet all the way up his legs, settling in lusty hunger on his bulging cock, covered only by his boxers. He felt her light fingertips tracing patterns on his on his ankles until she ran them up his legs until they reached his thighs.

Slowly and carefully, she tentatively placed her palm against the place his blood had been rushing constantly for the past hour. Draco had to practically force his hips not to buck up toward the source of the pressure, internally screaming at himself to maintain his calm and collected composure. "Granger," he spoke, not sharply, but not too softly, either, "You will do as I say."

"Of course, Malfoy". Hermione smiled coyly. She knew exactly what she was doing— Draco's voice was composed, yes, but his complexion gave him away. The usually pale flesh that looked like ice was covered in a rampantly splotchy sexual flush.

Draco spoke slowly and evenly. "Granger," he started, "you are going to be a good girl. You are going to be my good girl."

"Yes." She replied, pressing her palm onto his length a bit more aggressively this time. Draco suppressed a deep moan, wondering if this ecstasy would ever know an end.