Paparazzi By: rock-the-casbah18
Disclaimer: Um, no?
A/N: It's getting late, I'm sick of watching The Osbournes marathon, and so I've decided to write this on a whim. It probably will be horribly written, utterly stupid, and whatever other clever little adjectives you can come up with to describe it. This is a short ficlet/drabble about what I think would happen if the paparazzi actually physically caught Draco and Hermione, who have been shagging on the sly. Enjoy!
Two minutes, forty-eight seconds. Two minutes, three seconds. One minute, fifty-six seconds. They needed to stop right now, because time was definitely not on their side. Oh, but Merlin, it felt so good to have Hermione's long, defined legs wrapped around his slender waist, felt even better having his cock thrusting deliciously inside of her warmth, her wetness. And, oh, he was going to come. Going to come in big, bursting spasms, which made him see stars, one minute and fourteen-seconds before his press conference.
He could hear the reporters and photographers gathering outside his office door, anxiously awaiting when the prestigious Draco Malfoy, handsome entrepreneur and successful sex symbol, would exit and address them. That made the tension that was building in his stomach even worse, knowing that those news folk were practically voyeurs. He was almost sure that they could hear the skin, his pale flesh slapping against her own tanned skin, as he brutally fucked the Ministry's best Cursebreaker on his desk. And he meant brutally. There was biting, and scratching, and a bit of kicking. But it was absolutely mind-blowing.
"H-Hermione," Draco managed to groan out, "I'm going to… going to… come." Grasping her form tightly to his, he rode out his orgasm, which was indeed as fantastical as he had imagined, relishing in the feel of her muscles clenching around him as she climaxed, too. The two stayed like that for a moment, Hermione sitting on his desk, Draco still buried deep inside of her, their arms wrapped around one another in what they knew would eventually be more than a casual embrace. Draco was spent; he couldn't think straight, he had climaxed so hard, and he was fairly certain that Hermione was in much the same state. It was quite surprising, that Hermione hadn't made any noise at all. But that was difficult, Draco realized, when you had a silk tie, made up like a gag, blocking any noise.
So maybe that's why neither heard the faint knock on Draco's office door, and his secretary saying, "Mr. Malfoy, the reporters are waiting. Is everything okay?" And when the secretary got no response, she worried, as any good secretary would do, and burst through the office door, not at all prepared for the sight that awaited her. A gasp escaped her lips, and flashbulbs went off, catching the image of Draco and Hermione, nude and with limbs entangled, most likely very X-rated. The lovers scrambled apart, and proceeded to throw on clothes, Draco slamming the door in the many faces of the nosey reporters.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Draco said, a deep blush marring his usually pale features. She was ruined, he was ruined, and nothing would be the same, as soon as the news was printed. That hurt, a lot, knowing that it was most likely his fault for seducing her on a day such as this. Why couldn't he have waited until tomorrow, when there was no conference, no meeting, no nothing to get in the way?
"You know, Draco, I really am not all that upset," Hermione said calmly, which was rather strange for her, considering the situation. "At least we'll have given them something good to talk about."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Draco agreed. So what, he thought to himself. Just another thing to add to the list of stereotypes that were related to Draco Malfoy. And this one, well, this stereotype was the one that he would like the most.