A/N:
Ship: Luna x Draco x Hermione
Plot: Yeah, a bit
Chapter Correlation: This will probably end up in Names the Sky somewhere.
Shouts out to Olivie Blake, because I would never have the courage to write this without reading her works. Also, this wasn't fan requested, unless you consider me a fan of my own work. ;)
Vine
xoXOXox
Hermione
I awaken to a blissful warmth surrounding me, a spectacular heat like I've never known building in my core.
Looking down across my stomach, I see a slew of gold curls diving and surfacing between my legs. They bounce and shimmer against the pearlescent skin and black sheets, sending the most radiant reflexion into the air. I can't describe the sound that removes itself from me. Something primal - the basic functionings of my animal senses wrenching themselves from my gut to vibrate into the stillness.
"Good morning," she hums on a caught breath.
"More... Morning... Gods damn..." is the response she gets from my barely functioning brain.
I'm dying in the most serene way; all of my senses dissolving into the beat of my heart, the pulse of blood into her mouth. I don't have the sentience yet to bury my hands in her hair or even touch her. All I have is primordial heat, the spurring of life from an essence that doesn't exist.
"She tastes so good, Dray," I hear breathed against my most secluded places.
He groans, pushing my hair away from my eyes to run his tongue along my neck.
His hand is cool against my face, a welcome relief to a bit of the expounding hotness. He smiles down at me, his white teeth shining in amusement. Maybe there is something else to that smile - something softer, more real.
He takes his place over her, kissing the base of her spine as he runs his thin, aristocratic fingers down her curves. She tenaciously continues kissing me, slow and patient, methodical in my undoing per usual.
"Make her feel it," he vaguely commands.
Although there are no clear instructions on what to make me feel or how, somehow, I think she will understand exactly what he means in the ambiguity. The unexpected moan she sends into me jerks me roughly out of my mind. I let it shut down for my body to guide my actions as I reclaim my place as an ornament to be admired.
"I love your curls," she comments flippantly, digging her petite hand into the dark, coarse hair as she takes a mouthful of tender nerves.
I arch my back to pull her closer to me. I want us to melt together, to forgo every judgement my whirring mind thinks up to acquire her sense of dedicated purpose instead. The vibrations of her lips against me are nearly my undoing as he begins to slide his fingers inside her.
"She's so tight. I wish you could feel her with me, Hermione." he groans over her soft suckling sounds. "Fuck, it's like no other," he remarks pretentiously, sending another amazing vibration straight up my spine as he licks her from start to finish. She buries her face in my quim, taking a sharp inhale that nearly makes me shiver.
"Gods, she's so wet… juicy," is mouthed against my skin; luxurious silk dipping into me as she touches every sensitive space.
"Jealous," he remarks, unashamed.
She strokes that perfect place, the insipid spot that has carnal moans pouring from my throat, crossing my mouth with the arid scraping of inescapable need.
She whispers a secret caught in the silent air between us.
"Taste her,"
Her fingers disappear into his mouth, and the vision of him wrapping his lips around them is enough to remove any notions of dignity I might have had.
"Mmm…" he mutters without any comprehensible language, his pureblood sensibilities abandoning him for closed eyes and unadulterated indulgence.
She pulls me between her strong, thin lips and into her mouth; all illusions of delicacy and gentleness relieved for unrestrained desire. She hums her satisfaction against my cunt as he sheaths himself entirely inside her. Watching her eyes flutter shut as she succumbs to inebriated bliss is all I need to push me over the edge. The mental explosion degrades me into nothingness while I cum embarrassingly quickly.
He lets a slow smile cross his face as we lock eyes. "Gods, Granger, does it feel like this...to you?" he asks, his voice huskily breaking as he bites his full bottom lip.
I don't know what he expects. There's nothing I can say to satisfy his longing.
"Gods, Granger…" he breathes, thrusting deeper as she grips my thighs for support, "You have to feel this; to be inside her…" he trails off, letting the white spun silk touch the back of his neck as his head falls to his shoulders. "It's glorious,"
"Yeah," I concur, half lucidly, "She's per… perfect. You're perfect. Just fuck me."
"Mhmm," she hums along my skin, sending a burst of pain and overstimulation through my gut and up my core. She stares admiringly at me while she speaks to him in a tone of contented acceptance. "She's ready for you, my love."
xoXOXox
Draco
I wrap Hermione's legs around my waist, carrying her carefully up the thin spiral staircase as she rests her head on my shoulder.
"I can walk, you know," she chastises with a muffled scolding against my skin.
"Mmm. You could," I tell her, purposely setting one foot before the other lest we tumble to an embarrassing demise three floors below. "but then I wouldn't get to feel your arse jiggle deliciously in my arms."
She laughs at this, mumbling "fuck you" as I smile against the side of her face. My cock twitches its unwelcome protestation, which I gallantly ignore. Such terribly unhelpful habits she's imbued me with.
"So greedy," I admonish, kicking open the door to the lavatory.
I rest her gently into the thick layer of foam in the round tub, inhaling the indulgent tropical scents she's so fond of. A small wince makes it's way to her eyes as the hot water laps at her tender folds. The sight of pain melts away as surely as it came while I draw her attention to my tongue at her ear. Her lids glide shut in complete surrender, her firm golden skin sinking beneath the mountain of sparkling bubbles.
It's come to my attention that I would always like to see her like this, no fear or shame to spoil her sweet, full lips. No lines of toil and hardship to marr the creases between her deliciously expressive features. No hoard of thoughts to screw her face into debilitating concentration.
She cracks one eye minutely open. The soft light of the floating candles is too blinding, one more sensation to send her careening into the stars. A chaste kiss pouts on her rose petal lips as she lets her hair sink below the surface. I press myself into the cold marble to relieve the throbbing ache as it swims gloriously behind her, floating like some dark and forbidden flower.
Luna sinks one delicate foot into the tub, then the other, gracefully seating herself to face our exhausted lover. She takes a handful of sea salt to stroke up Hermione's silken legs, expertly digging her thumbs into the strong, tight muscles beneath her touch. A slew of bubbles surfaces as Hermione moans into the water. I slip my arm beneath her broad shoulders to bid her to sit up.
"You don't get to drown, gorgeous. That's my expertise." I tell her, remembering the flooding tide of her dripping cunt as I took her again and again. She screamed my name wildly, roaring from the depths of her soul as the grating r and resounding o echoed from the walls.
The creamy coconut lather does no favours to my expanding need as I run it down her collarbone, across her shoulders, into her delectable breasts. Luna has the salt up to her thighs, kneading and caressing as we lull our obliging paramour into tranquillity. My lovely places one hand on our lover's hip, imploring her to turn over. She does, resting her face against crossed arms with her dark waves cascading over the front of her shoulder. We continue our ministrations, soothing her back and neck, her deep waist and impeccably taut muscles. Luna works up from the ankles with us finally meeting at the perfect curve we have both learned so well.
We delve our hands into her luscious arse, the soft flesh melting like candle wax into my palms. We quest until we find the firm muscle that gives it its mouthwatering shape. A shiver of delight manifests itself in tiny pricks of barely discernible hair fluttering along her spine. Hermione whimpers into her arms as our touch grows more forceful.
"Do you want us to stop, beautiful?" Luna asks gently, stroking an open hand across the glowing expanse of skin.
"No, never," our lover breathes, her breath hitching in melodious praise of our endeavours. "It feels good. I'm just sore. Stairs," she offers in mumbled explanation.
A deep, raspy chuckle escapes me.
"Of course, Granger. The stairs." I quip with a roll of my eyes. Not the hours you recently spent riding my cock into oblivion.
She sighs a lengthy exhale, nearly gliding back into the warm water as Luna resumes her healing touch. Her hair becomes a tangle of uninhibited splendour again, teasing me with silken chocolate shining beneath the candles. I'll have to summon my minuscule bravery before she falls asleep in the bath.
I run one hand gently over it from the scalp to the ends, stopping to tease my fingertips into the base of her neck. She lets her mouth relax open over her arms, but no sound escapes.
"May I?" crosses my lips in more of a husky whisper than an assertive request.
She's suddenly more awake, her eyes opening slightly as she sits upright to turn and face me.
"That's an hour-long job, Draco. I couldn't possibly ask you to…" she murmurs above the gentle splashing. She's silenced by my lovely's lips as she slides over her lap to straddle her.
Luna breaks away from the kiss with a tiny hum of satisfaction, the cold of the marble tub doing nothing at all to aid the burning need stinging against my skin. Her fae-like voice sparkles across the dimly lit room -
"You do it by yourself all of the time. There's two of us, beautiful. Surely we can manage in time for you to take a nap before dinner."
Hermione nods her inebriated acquiescence, shutting her eyes once more as I summon a bottle of shampoo. I pour a generous amount into Luna's small hand, then mine, making sure each one is coated evenly to withstand this undertaking. I slide my fingers into the slippery strands, ensuring each piece is fully saturated as I massage it into her scalp. We take our time separating every piece, running from root to tip as it shines with froth in the candlelight. Once we have every neglected strand coated in our attentions, we each trickle a vase of cool water over her, taking care not to drip the cold liquid on her skin.
Luna and I work the sleek conditioner over every slick surface as the indulgent fragrance of coconut and mango have my mouth watering for her. Once it has done its work to nourish all of the places wrought by the sun and wind, tears begin streaming down our lover's cheeks. We kiss them away, wiping them with the backs of our hands, but it isn't enough.
I cup the hard line of her jaw, tilting her head toward me.
"Hermione, look at me, love,"
She opens her eyes in earnest, the pink strain around them transforming her warm honey gaze into a glowing amber dream.
"You're gorgeous," I remind her at a whisper.
Luna chimes in, her voice the tinkling of bells ringing into the dying day -
"This isn't a chore, Hermione. It's a privilege, one we're grateful you shared with us."
"Thank you," she chokes, her face contorting as ancient pain releases her from its grasp.
xoXOXox
