This is a one shot, a flashback chapter to the story Unexpected reunion that shows how it all began. It can be read separately but it's recommended to read both stories for the full effect.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or other references to the original work of J.K Rowling. I only own my own mistakes.
-o-o-o-
"So leave then," she said and wobbled a bit on the chair. Parvati looked at her with worry and Hermione focused her gaze on the bartender with the big nose and bushy eyebrows instead.
The music was starting to make her body move and she wished she were at a nightclub instead of seated at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron. Parvati eventually left reluctantly when Hermione slurred something about wanting to sip this martini forever.
She was more free and at peace when she felt the rush of the drugs in her system and the alcohol coursing through her blood. It wasn't good for her, she knew that, but the voice of reason that'd been there forever had been lost the minute the war had ended. The scar on her wrist was looking particularly red today, the letters taunting her each time she caught it with her eyes. Being branded in that way wasn't just unattractive, it was a constant reminder of her being less than others. Something she'd tried to fight against since the day she learned what being a mudblood meant.
What a joke.
She scoffed. Wishing Bellatrix was still alive only so she could get revenge. The images of the war hunted her every day, and the only thing to cope was the snow tucked into the side pocket of her clutch and the cigarette pack next to her martini. Her friends all thought she'd lost her marbles and she was sure they were right.
But she didn't care.
The summer heat today had bothered her abundantly, the sun had been shining for all the wonders of the world, a world she felt distant from. The harshness of the beams had done nothing to hide the dark circles under her eyes. During the sunny days all she wished for was the comfort of the darkness, and during the night all she wanted for was distraction from the intrusive thoughts and the images playing in her head.
She shook the thoughts with another sip of martini, sliding off one of the olives and crushing it between her teeth like she imagined she'd crush the bones of the witch who'd scarred her.
Not being able to shake the feeling she was being watched, she turned her head over the shoulder to find a pair of grey eyes gawking at her.
Perfect. Maybe he'd pick a fight and she'd be able to get some of that pent up anger out. She held his gaze a lot longer than appropriate, and apparently he regarded it an invitation.
Well shit.
She gripped her wand out of habit. "Malfoy," she greeted when he stood beside her barstool. He ran a hand through his white hair and she couldn't help but notice how soft it looked.
Drunky.
"Granger", he said, "didn't expect to find you here," he continued and she thought he sounded different, nice. Why was he being polite?
What he really wondered was probably why she was sat alone at a bar drinking like her life depended on it.
"Just enjoying some alone time," she said, and regretted it when the smirk playing on his lips made her frown. Why was he smiling at her?
Fuck off.
"I see," was all he said and sat down on the barstool next to hers. Why was he getting comfortable next to her?
You should leave now Hermione.
Or duel the smugness out of him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked and pointed at him with the olive stick, imagining it was her wand instead. He chuckled. She'd never heard him chuckle before. He kept looking at her scarred wrist, and she fought back the urge to hide it. There was no point in doing so; he'd been there the very day it had been made.
Fuck did he want?
"Same as you, I suppose. Drinking away my misery." She didn't like that he thought she was too drinking because of misery, but it was something about how he said it. Like she was finding comfort in not being the only miserable being alive. No one around her ever seemed to acknowledge the constant state of desolation they all were in after the war. Only her. And now apparently he did too. She smiled, flashing a row of straight teeth.
Stop smiling at him.
"Uhm, alright," she said and raised her glass. "Cheers to drinking away the misery then."
Cheers? More like fuck off or I'll hex you into oblivion.
Malfoy quirked an eyebrow and she wasn't sure why she liked the way his brow was shaped.
"I don't like you," she blurted.
Finally, some truth.
If he took offence he wasn't showing it, instead he leaned closer to her, the firewhiskey on his breath undeniable. "Good, I don't like you either." The smile that followed his words made her feel something. Excitement? Contemptment?
She shouldn't like the way he gripped his whiskey glass, and she certainly shouldn't admire the way his face was sculpted, how sharp his jawline was. But she did. Hadn't she always thought him to have a pointy face? The kind that came with the stick up his arse and a privileged attitude.
It's still pointy, stop looking at it.
When the barman with the big nose declared last call for drinks, her eyes darted to Malfoy's lips and he took notice.
Why were they so pink and pretty?
Because you're drunk, that's why.
"You seem different," the twat said.
Oh, do I now? "You mean drunk? Lost of hope and wishing for the darkness to swallow me whole?"
Well fuck, she wasn't supposed to say that.
Anything but that. Retreat, retreat!
He seemed taken aback by her bluntness, but she detected a spark in his eyes. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant. You look a mess."
"You do know how to flatter a girl," she said sardonically.
"I'm a mess too," he admitted and now her jaw dropped.
They were quiet for several moments after that. What did he even mean by that? That he was as broken after the war as she was? Did he have friends to who kept annoying him, expecting and wanting things from him like hers did? Everyone seemed to think they knew her better than she knew herself and it was getting annoying. She'd always been the one taking care of things, doing what was right and it was exhausting. The thoughts of the torture on the floor of Malfoy's drawing room was etched in her brain, she could still hear the screams at night, her own screams that sounded like they came from someone else, and the pain, the pain lingered each time she woke from another nightmare.
Did Malfoy have nightmares too? The way his eyes seemed full of unspoken pain spiked her interest. She was sure he'd endured things during the war she knew nothing about. Having Voldemort as a houseguest must have fucked him up in some way.
Misery loves company, now wasn't that the very truth?
Hermione crossed her legs and saw his gaze fall to her thighs. She was wearing a rather short skirt, due to the heat that had bothered her the entire day of course, accompanied by a halter neck top. Dressed all in black, reflecting the colour of her soul.
"You're just going stand there and irritate me or do you want something?" she asked and wondered how he'd interpret it. The fact she hadn't hexed him yet did give her away though, she was sure he could see the perplexed look on her face, and the way his proximity affected her in ways she didn't want to understand.
He smirked, flashed his teeth, and she thought his smile would be one her parents would've praised. No need for braces, all in perfect rows, straight, sharp. She wondered how they'd feel sinking in to her neck.
No, no, she did not.
-o-o-o-
He let it slip he had a room at the inn, and now he was untying the bow of her halter neck top, and she was appreciating his broad shoulders and sculpted chest up close. There was no point in thinking, just doing. He smelled of masculine vanilla, and something she couldn't determine, his own musk? Whatever it was she liked it. She was just drunk enough to not back out, and sober enough for him not to take advantage. He wasn't exactly sober himself.
The kiss was supposed to feel rushed, matching the speed of which they had thrown their clothes to the floor, but it wasn't. It was soft, their lips moved in sync, like they were dancing and she followed his lead. Her hands grasped at the hair in the nape of his neck and he was caressing her waist.
When his hands moved from her waist to her arse she wasn't even sure if she was breathing anymore. It was like her body moved on it's own accord. She quickly gathered he was a good kisser, he tasted of firewhiskey and she was sure she only tasted of the gin she'd consumed.
They fell clumsily onto the bed. She straddled him and gasped when she felt the unmistakeable hardness in his boxers. He sat up on the bed with her in his lap. "Move your hips." His voice was raspy, low, and it did things to her. Slowly she started to rock her hips, grinding on the thickness between his thighs, and Merlin it felt glorious. Her lips found his again and when she felt the head of his cock against her clit she moaned into his mouth. One of his hands manoeuvred her hips and the other one was on her throat. Just the placement of it there was such a possessive move it should make her smack his hand away, but instead she felt liquid rushing to her core and she deepened the kiss.
She liked it.
Reluctantly she let go of his mouth and looked at him. She was waiting for something to come through the dizzy fog in her mind. A voice of reason telling her to leave, telling her this was Malfoy, and he wasn't attractive to her.
But the voice was silent, and the way his length felt between her thighs was too fucking good. His breathing was irregular and she could see his pulse thrumming under the skin of his neck, his lips slightly swollen from the eager kisses. The blonde hair was mussed and she realised he looked unbelievably sexy.
Yes that was the correct term. Sexy.
Suddenly he was on top of her and she wondered how the hell that happened, but there she was, underneath him. He didn't hesitate when he undid her bra with expertise, and she liked that he didn't ask if he was allowed. Ron always asked and it threw her off every time. Malfoy didn't need to ask, because the way her eyes were begging him to fuck her was all too obvious.
When he stood to drop his underwear she thought this was it. If she didn't say anything and stop this, it would happen. She searched her brain but it seemed to have taken a hiatus.
He. Was. Naked.
And fuck, he was well endowed. She had no doubt he would be hitting her cervix if he buried himself inside of her.
She looked away too quickly, denying herself the satisfaction of his naked form, because it was too much. Her body was on fire and he, well, he was fucking hot. Flames were licking her skin and when his body pressed up against hers again she wanted nothing more than for them to burn together.
He cast a contraceptive charm as if he'd done it a thousand times, and maybe he had.
"I'm on the potion," she explained.
"Doesn't hurt to be double protected," he said and smirked. She couldn't disagree with that, imagine the horror if the two of them were to accidentally bring a child into this world. She shook the thought immediately.
His fingers hooked on her knickers, she arched her back and lifted her bum off the bed to permit for them to be removed.
Fabric – gone.
The way he was looking at core was horrifying and thrilling all at once. She was naked and he looked at her with such hunger she almost forgot who he was. Who she was.
Everything about the situation was wrong, dirty, shouldn't be allowed. She caught site of his dark mark on his wrist, it was only slightly faded. The sight of it alone should be enough for her to shove him off, but that wrist was attached to his hand, and the palm of his hand was pressed against her sensitive spot. Making her fight back moan after moan threatening to escape.
Fuck me, literally.
She was writhing underneath him, wanting more, needing everything he had to offer. "Fuck, you're so wet," he said and the satisfied look on his face was primal, like he wanted to pounce on her, fuck her until she broke in half.
Please.
Her legs trembled when he inserted a finger, then two, into her wet heat. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering pitifully, as if the way her hips rocked to fuck his fingers wasn't already a show of complete desperation.
She couldn't hold back the moans anymore and her body was tensing, wanting to reach that point of relief she hadn't allowed herself in what now seemed like forever. But she fought against it. It felt wrong, letting go, in front of him.
As if he could sense it he whispered against her neck. "I know you want to. So do it. Come on. Cum for me," he said, his eyes assaulting hers in a way that made it hard for her to look away. Nothing felt safe except for the increasing speed of his fingers inside of her. It wasn't so much just the dirty words coming from those lips; it was what he was demanding, 'for me'. He wanted her to let go for him, and it was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard, so she did, allowed herself to fall into the darkness of heightened existence. When she fell, the only thing grounding her to the bed was his strong body against hers surrounding her like a safe blanket. She didn't want to come back down to reality.
She almost pushed him off her when she came back to it. When she opened her eyes the room swam back into vision and so did the reality of where she was.
This was wrong in about a thousand ways.
It was Malfoy on top of her. Malfoy who'd dedicated his life to making life hell at school Malfoy the death eater.
Malfoy who made her gasp for air when he finger fucked her.
He gnawed and sucked at her earlobe and she felt her arousal swallowing her whole again. She was back in the fire. Any thought of how forbidden it was flew away with the smoke from the flames. Instead she watched how his biceps flexed when he struggled to keep the full weight of his body from crushing hers.
Her hand reached down between his legs and touched him, stroking him. The way his breathing hitched enticed her. If he'd made her vulnerable in front of him, she would put him in the same position. She enjoyed his reactions, how his brows slightly furrowed and how he groaned through gritted teeth.
She gripped him tighter, stroking faster. He growled. Growled. It was the most delicious sound she'd ever heard, such a satisfying sound that awakened something within her.
"I want to fuck you," he said. She wasn't sure if it was a question or not, but she moaned in response and parted her legs wider.
Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god. He was huge.
He entered her so slowly she thought she might die if she wouldn't feel the full force of him thrusting in and out of her. He gripped her hands and held them above her head with one hand. She was effectively trapped between the mattress and his body. His hand around her wrists felt like handcuffs and it was fucking amazing.
"You're too fucking big," she complained, when a sting of pain ran through her, he was only half way inside of her.
"You're too fucking tight," he retorted.
Their eyes locked and fuck, she shouldn't have allowed this to happen. It was too intimate. She pressed her eyes shut and focused only on the feeling of his cock filling her, stretching her to the limit. She could be okay with that when it felt this damn good, but she vowed to not lock eyes with him again, it was too exposed.
His body stilled when he was fully inside of her. And she realised she'd been right, he would definitely be hitting against her cervix. She touched his hair; it was soft compared to hers. Her fingers were practically digging in to his skull when he finally started to move inside of her and she wondered if sex had ever felt this good before.
"Oh, fuck," she moaned and when his mouth closed in on hers she bit down on his bottom lip. She could feel his cock twitch inside of her.
Did he have a biting kink?
When he finally started to move she was lost, her mind a blank space, her body fuelled with desire. Every thrust felt like she was being ripped apart and every caress put her back together.
Draco lifted her and turned her around, pounding into her from behind. Thank Merlin, at least now she was able to open her eyes without the risk of staring into his. His hands were on her hips, and when one of them tugged at her hair she was right there again, right on the edge of that cliff. She was clamping down on him, almost certain from the way he was panting and groaning he was close to falling too.
She gripped the sheets and cried out his name as she reached ecstasy. His grip on her hair tightened, and the growl that he made as he emptied himself inside of her had her body shuddering around him.
He released his orgasm inside of her, she hadn't expected that at all. He didn't seem the type to share his seed with just anyone, on the potion or not. He kissed the back of her shoulder as they both tried to catch their breath, it felt better than it should.
-o-o-o-
"You smoke?" he asked trying to sound casual about it, like seeing Hermione Granger inhaling toxic smoke into her lungs was something he'd seen every day of his life.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes," she admitted, not just because the evidence was held between her index and middle finger, but because it was by far the tamest of her vices.
"Alright," he said and shrugged his shoulders, walking back inside and leaving her to it. It was refreshing to not be judged. Her friends did enough of that regarding the habits she'd picked up after the war.
While the nicotine reached her brain she considered that maybe she didn't have to regret this. Maybe it could just be, exist, and not become one of those memories that haunted you. A memory of him detached from the memory of being tortured on that cold floor at Malfoy Manor. For a moment the world fell quiet. The crisp night air cooled her flushed cheeks, and the cigarette between her fingers was the safety she required. For the first time since the war she was trapped in a bubble of tranquillity instead of misery.
And it was all thanks to the blonde wizard she hated.
-o-o-o-
He'd said he had a room at the Leaky Cauldron. A lie, of course, the place was not exactly the kind of standard he was used to. She'd been none the wiser though, and the darkness he'd seen in her eyes as she decided to go with him was something he recognized. It was the kind of darkness he was engulfed in as well. Hermione Granger was the poster child, well woman now, for light, but she'd told him she had darkness in her, and that she wished for it to swallow her whole. It was that sentence that pushed him to do it, to ask the unthinkable, to reach out a hand for her to take.
When he'd seen her at the bar, tracing the brim of the martini glass with her fingers, her bloody scar taunting him every time she moved her hand, he knew he had to walk up to her, if nothing else than to hear the sound of her voice in another setting than the floor of his drawing room.
He didn't care for her, she was nothing to him, but he didn't want her to die on the floor of his home. The memory had haunted him in his nightmares ever since. If he could go back to that very moment, he wasn't sure he'd change anything, if he'd done anything different, and it only made him feel worse.
So, he'd tried to fuck those nightmares away, and it had been a success. The memory of her moaning his name had effectively replaced the haunting sound of her screams while he'd been standing still, unreactive like a spineless moron.
He swallowed hard as the ink dripped down on the parchment. He was in the midst of studying for his N. E. W. Ts but his mind was occupied elsewhere. Trying to convince himself she had not been moaning a little louder when he'd placed his hand on her throat or when he'd tugged at her hair. But he couldn't. It was like they'd opened Pandora's box and now his mind was flooded with imagines of her squirming underneath him as he drove into her over and over again. Forbidden images, ones that shouldn't exist at all.
But they did.
Because it had happened.
They'd shagged, and it hadn't been bad at all. The feeling that she shared his desires was growing stronger by the day. He'd always been dominant in the bedroom, and he liked the women to be submissive, to do what he wanted, when he wanted it. He relished in the look of shame in their eyes when he demanded something from them they wanted to give but was ashamed to. He loved to push the boundaries, to be the one who'd make them go insane with want. That was more pleasurable to him than the actual fucking.
And now, here he was getting hard at the memory of being buried inside of her, wanting to do it again, to find out what that darkness in her was all about. Just the image of having Hermione Granger begging for his cock had him in a state of arousal for days.
She already hated his guts, and there was nothing he could do to make her hate him more, that he was certain of. He was already a disappointment to his family, who desperately tried to get him to recommit to the pureblood cause even though the war had ended and they had lost.
He deserved to have some fun, didn't he?
The saddest thing of all was he'd realised she wasn't replaceable. Now that he'd had her, the brightest witch of her age, spreading herself open for him, no one else could measure up, because they were not her.
He needed to see her again, and for a reason he couldn't explain, a part of him knew she might need the same thing.
It was better to be broken together than alone. To hell with her blood status.
It was just shagging after all.
-o-o-o-
Should she bring her books? He had asked for help studying for the N. E. W. Ts , if she didn't bring the any it would be too obvious she expected something else, and if she did bring them maybe it would make her look stupid, as if she couldn't decode what he really wanted.
Malfoy had sent her a letter; it was the shortest one she'd ever received. It was a request to meet up; apparently he wanted to discuss something particular about the N. E. W. Ts She herself hadn't studied at all, she'd stopped caring about school and grades all together, at least that's what she convinced herself on a daily basis while having a smoke instead of taking notes.
She was certain it wasn't meant as a study session at all, he wanted a repeat of what happened last week, and it made her cunt ache to be fucked again. It was stupid, reckless, and exactly in tune with her behaviour after the war. There was no point to decline, to try and act like she didn't want to explore every inch of his alabaster skin, because she did. She'd thought about it countless of times, and she'd even found it to be great distraction from everything else she was trying to avoid.
If she met with him, she needn't worry about him expecting anything from her, she wouldn't have to be polite, to be encouraging or prove her intellect, most likely he only expected her to get naked and let him pound her until she forgot her name.
And she was more than fine with that, ecstatic about it even.
Surely she understood he had no intention to study with her, but the books shoved under her arm made him wonder. Her hair was tamed, pulled into a ponytail and he speculated how she'd react if he pulled at it, making her head tilt up so he'd gain free access to her lips. She looked as good as he remembered and he wasn't sure how her curves had gone unnoticed with him before.
"So, N. E. W. Ts huh?" Hermione said and looked at him with those big brown eyes. How was it possible for eyes to be that big?
"You really here to study with me?"
She bit her bottom lip and he felt the blood leaving his brain. "I- it's what you asked for."
"And you'd just do anything I'd ask for?" He quirked and eyebrow at her.
"Of course not!" She looked offended now.
"So why are you here?" He was well aware it was manipulative of him to ask, since he was the one who'd asked her there, and however she answered it would seem as though she'd come because he requested it. Well, she had, but he didn't need to be such a dick about it really.
She was quiet for a while, kept avoiding his eyes, looking down at her shoes like they were going to give her a reason to leave.
"Well, I could only think of one thing you might want with me."
"And what's that?" he smirked at her and he was sure she didn't like it at all.
"You're really going to make me say it?" she finally met his eyes and he was taken aback by the lust he detected in them. Perhaps he was right about it, maybe she did like to be played with. It went against anything he'd ever known about her bossy nature, but there was no denying what her eyes was telling him.
"Fine, I came because I thought you wanted to fuck again, and I wouldn't mind it," she said when he stayed quiet, looking around the hallway because technically she'd just confessed to wanting him to fuck her and he hadn't even let her inside of his flat yet.
He really was a dick and she should leave.
"Last time, I was going easy on you. I'm not usually that… gentle," it was his time to confess now.
"What do you mean?" she asked, getting very bothered by the fact she was still standing in the hallway.
"I like to be the one in control, Granger, and if you're not up for that, seeing as you are, well you," her eyes narrowed at the insinuated insult, "then maybe you shouldn't come inside."
"And if I do? Come inside?"
"If you do, I will fuck you the way I want to."
They stayed silent for several moments. He watched her, tried to make out what she was thinking, giving her time to decide. He thought it better to lay all the cards on the table. His eyes dropped to her thighs when she rubbed them together.
Well shit.
"I don't know what I like," she said and he almost felt sorry for her when he saw the conflicted look in her eyes, but the way her body already responded to his harsh tone told him maybe she knew but didn't want to admit it.
"Then come inside and I'll show you," he said overly confidently, stepping to the side and gesturing for her to enter.
She did.
He almost wished she hadn't.
This was a bad idea.
-o-o-o-
He helped her out of her jeans and blouse, forming plans in his mind while he did. His flat was located on the top floor, thirteenth floor to be exact, his living room had panoramic windows and he'd always wanted to fuck someone against them. No one would actually be able to see them, the buildings around were not that close, but if a perv was in possession of binoculars, it wouldn't be impossible.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she breathed when she was standing naked in front of him.
"Scchh," he whispered as he stepped closer to her running his fingertips down her arm. Her body reacted instantaneously.
He grabbed her throat, squeezing lightly, watching her every reaction closely. She gasped, and he kissed her before she could protest, to allow her mind to surrender to her body.
"I think you like to be choked," he whispered in her ear while his other hand found her cunt.
Fuck she was so wet already. His erection was now pressed uncomfortably against his pants. His shirt was on the floor and he felt a shiver travel through his body when her fingertips traced over the uneven skin of the scars on his chest. He slid a finger between her wet folds and she shuddered.
"I don't," she said unconvincingly, reminding him he'd made a statement.
"No? Then why does it make you so wet?" She opened her mouth like she was going to tell him off, but instead she pursed her lips together. "Thought so." Draco grinned.
He'd wanted to be buried in her tight pussy since the night at the Leaky Cauldron and he wasn't going to prolong the agony for long. When she started to unbutton his pants he smirked satisfyingly and crashed his lips onto hers. She tasted like breath mints and when he shoved two fingers inside of her she purred into his mouth. The sound was too good to comprehend.
Salazar have mercy.
"Are you insane? Someone might see us!" she said while panting as he pressed her body against the glass window.
"Well that's the point," he said darkly. She made no effort to move away. "I told you, I decide how I want to fuck you, and right now, I want to fuck you from behind, and let everyone, who could be watching, see what a slut you are."
Her breath caught in he throat, evidently shocked by his rudeness.
"I'm not a slut!" The way her arse pushed against his pelvis said something else.
He rolled his eyes. Her reaction was mild compared to how he thought she'd react. He wouldn't have blamed her if she'd gathered her clothes and fled the building. His own darkness really wasn't for everyone.
"I think you are, and I think me calling you out on it is making your cunt ache to be filled." He rubbed her nipple between his fingers, making her whimper. "Tell me I'm wrong." His tone was harsh and he sounded indifferent even though he was clawing to the hope she wasn't going to tell him he was.
He rubbed on her sensitive spot and she mewled. Closing her eyes. He waited for her to say something, anything to prove he was in the wrong, that the signals he picked up were all in his imagination.
She didn't. The answer he was found in the silence.
"Maybe if I fuck you against this window, you'll realise for yourself you want to be used, desire it actually."
Still silence, the only sound was her breathing and whimpering. He was sure then, if he pushed her far enough she would beg. Beg for him the way he craved her to.
He wanted to fuck her until her brain stopped working, until her mind was only consumed with how much she needed his cock to stretch her open. He spread her cheeks, looking down at the extraordinary view, thinking of all the ways he could destroy her body, use it for his own pleasure, deciding that one day he'd take her arse too. Hoping he'd be the first to do so. His cock was throbbing now, instead of giving himself blue balls he reached around her stomach and pulled her arse close to him, making her back arch. He'd have to wash that window later, because her breasts pressed against it was leaving marks and her breathing was making fog form on the glass.
When he entered her he was reminded how tight she was, it took him a few thrusts to be fully inside of her. He started to move at a steady pace, gripping her ponytail, hard enough for her to feel he was the one in control. Her cunt was so wet he had to focus to not slip out of her when he picked up the pace.
Fuck she felt so good.
It was like her pussy was made to just barely fit him inside, the way her walls gripped him was magnificent. He watched as his cock slid in and out of her, listening intently to hear when he was hitting the right spot, angling himself correctly.
His memories didn't serve her justice, because the feeling of being inside of her wet heat was way better than he remembered.
"Fuck you feel so good," he said and groaned when her hips moved to meet his thrusts.
By the way her moans kept increasing he was sure she was getting closer.
"Are you going to cum for me, Granger?" he asked, sounding way more composed than he was. The truth was he needed to come soon, because he was close too.
She moaned yes, several times as her cunt convulsed around him. "That's it, cum for me, show anyone who might watching how good my cock makes you feel." He was pounding into her harder, and when he rubbed her clit he could feel her body giving in, her cunt gripping him so hard he had to use all his strength to keep thrusting through her orgasm. When her body stopped shaking he held one arm under her stomach and the other on her hip to help her stay up. He pulled out of her and stroked himself to completion with a growl. Emptying himself on her arse, spreading her cheeks apart, and watching as his seed dripped over her puckered hole and down her divine cunt. The sight alone almost made him hard again.
He smacked her arse playfully, very much enjoying how it wiggled, before they both collapsed of exhaustion on the hard floor.
Hermione's head rested heavily on his shoulder, she wrapped on of her legs over his thigh. "That was- I-" She went quiet when her words failed her.
"Yes?" He turned his head towards her, she looked away quickly when her eyes met his. Shyness? Shame? It had happened before when he'd shagged other women. When they came back down from an orgasm. Even though he didn't like Granger, he appreciated how she'd reacted to his words, and how she'd let him say the things he had. He pecked her forehead, and noticed the freckles on her nose. She didn't answer, instead she drew circles with her fingertips on his torso, avoiding his scars.
"You okay?" He had been quite rough, her hips might bruise from how hard he'd hold onto her.
"Yes, that was great," she finally admitted and he let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.
Just great? He was going for mind-blowing.
He sighed.
Maybe next time.
-o-o-o-
Please review if you liked it, it gives me life!
If you enjoyed it and haven't read Unexpected reunion I recommend you do, I think you might enjoy that story as well.
-o-o-o-