Day 27: on one of their birthdays and rough, biting, scratching
Dudley woke up on his twenty-seventh birthday to the feeling of something warm and wet surrounding the head of his cock. He blinked away the sleep from his eyes and yawned loudly as he tilted his head down. He found a pair of pretty pink lips wrapped firmly around his length, one hand cupping his balls, and the other gripping the base of his cock.
Happy birthday to me. Smirking, Dudley dropped his head back onto the pillow and groaned out loud, reaching down to fist Hermione's curls. Giving her hair a quick tug, he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep and rising lust, "God, that feels so good, baby. Don't stop."
She didn't stop. She picked up the pace, and her head bobbed up and down, a few strands tickling the tops of his thighs. She shifted on her knees in between his legs, swirling her tongue over the slit on his cock and making him delirious with pleasure.
His girlfriend really did have a magical mouth—no pun intended. She sucked him like a pro, often using tips and tricks he had never thought were possible.
At the thought that she might not have been as innocent as she had claimed she was, something dark and dangerous reared its ugly head in his chest. It coiled around his heart, squeezing, squeezing it and demanding Dudley sate it.
Hissing through his clenched teeth, Dudley gripped her hair, yanked her mouth off his cock—even though he was loathe to do so—and dragged her up his body. She cried out, startled, and reached up to grab his hand. "Dudley, what—"
"Whose dick did you like sucking so much before mine?" Dudley demanded, pulling her onto his lap. He gripped her hips and ground his hard length against her barely-there pyjama shorts. He fisted her hair again and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. He growled, "Tell me, Hermione."
Hermione clawed at his wrist, trying to get him to let go, but he tightened his grip instead. She cried out, "Dudley, what are you talking about?"
"Whose cock did you suck like this before, Hermione? Tell me the truth…Was it that redhead menace?" Dudley held her head back as his other hand roved over her breasts, squeezing them harder than was necessary and making her cry out again. His hand slid lower, lower, until the heel of his palm reached directly above her clit. He pressed down upon it, and Hermione's body jerked on top of him.
"No," Hermione choked out, scratching his arm. The pain slightly stung, but the thought of Hermione's lips around some other man still rankled. She cried, "Dudley, where's this coming from? I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday!"
"Tell me the truth! Was it my cousin? Harry?"
"N-no, he's just my friend," Hermione wailed, hiccoughing on her sob. "You know I love you."
It was as if her admission of loving him woke him up from his trance-like state.
Dudley let go of her hair, and her head snapped back up like a coiled spring. Tears had welled up in her eyes, and a few trickled down her red cheeks. She placed her hands on the nape of her neck to stave off the rising ache. She frowned down at him and demanded, "What's got into you? Why did you—"
Dudley grabbed her by the back of her neck and dragged her down for a fiery kiss. She struggled in his arms but went slack against his chest. He rolled them over, pinning her underneath him. He experienced a pang of regret when he noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks. Determined to make her feel better, he cupped her cheek and leaned in to kiss her again.
Hermione swivelled her head to the side, and his kiss landed on the corner of her mouth.
Dudley swallowed back his pride and said gently, "I'm sorry, Hermione."
Hermione glanced at him, a forlorn look in her eyes. She whispered, "You ruined everything I had planned for you."
"I'm really sorry," he repeated, kissing her cheek and then pushing himself up onto his forearms. "I didn't mean to sound like a jealous prat. Honest."
"What came over you? One second you were fine, and the next…" Hermione trailed off quietly. "You scared me, Dudley."
Dudley's stomach plummeted. How he'd longed to stay sane around Hermione, but his past still haunted him. That one fateful evening he had experienced as a sixteen-year-old, the one he never told anyone about, had left behind something positively wicked deep inside his chest. The monstrous entity had tentacles, which had wrapped themselves around Dudley's heart, and they only revealed themselves when he was at his most vulnerable…and that was with Hermione.
But he couldn't tell her that though. What would she think of him? He was—what did she call him?—a Muggle, while she was a witch. She was already better than him, had magic, and was a brilliant young woman. The only thing he had was his tall stature. He towered over her like a giant, and she claimed it made her feel protected. But if she found out he couldn't even protect her from his own dark side…
Shaking his head before he could go down that road, Dudley cleared his throat and said, "No, baby, everything's fine. Will you please forgive me for how I acted? I'm just…really in love with you, and I can't stomach the thought of you with anyone else. That's all."
Hermione stared at him for a few seconds before nodding and cupping his face in her small hand. He leaned into her palm and kissed her wrist, making her smile. She murmured, "Okay, Dudley, if you say so. But if anything's wrong, promise me you'll tell me. I don't want you to bottle up your feelings and then let them out like this. You could seriously hurt someone…or me."
The thought of hurting Hermione did strange things to him. On one hand, he hated that he could be the cause of her tears, but on the other hand, that monstrous side of him, the one that wanted to watch the world burn and stand there laughing, wished he could taste her fear directly from the source. He wanted to swallow her screams, lick her tears, bite down on her clit and make her bleed.
"I'm going to remind you just who you belong to, baby." Dudley covered her lips with his, drowning out the horrifying thoughts as best as he could.