Happy New Year 2017 to all of you! Huge thank you, dear readers, for your infinite patience! I'll be updating all of my stories soon enough. Work, romance, and ill-timed sickness kept me away from you, but I'll never abandon anything!

Shameless Lumione smutty-ness ahead! Let me know what you think.

Hugs,

Lana

For the first hour or so on the plane, Hermione's luxurious seat might as well have been a bed of needles. She fidgeted and fussed at Lucius's side, watching anxiously as the world receded below them. The perpetual white of the clouds, interspersed with occasional glimpses of the blue of the ocean below, seemed to swallow them whole. These blue and white repetitions and fluctuations were almost hypnotic, lulling Hermione into a sort of trance.

Lucius seemed content to read his business documents beside her, very at ease to be making their exodus. She tried to watch him without making it obvious, but soon was fast asleep. If she had dreamt, Hermione didn't recall. She only began to stir when the smooth ride came to a halt, and the soothing sound of engine stopped.

"We're here," Lucius said, unbuckling his seat belt and reaching over to grasp her knee.

Hermione stretched and yawned, climbing rubbing the sleep from her eyes. They made their way through customs, to their designated Portkey. The sudden jolt through the air startled Hermione after such a calm, uneventful journey. Clumsily, she lost her footing when they landed in their room and tumbled gracelessly to the floor. Lucius gallantly helped her up and drew her close.

Hermione rose up on her toes to kiss him. He closed his eyes and set his hand on the nape of her neck, kissing her back. It was the closest she'd felt to him in days, but it was a kiss unlike any they'd shared in the past. Hermione wasn't aroused, per se. There were no incendiaries, no explosions going off inside her. It was idle and comforting, almost sweet feeling. His eyes were still closed as she pulled away. His jaw was clenched, and his brow tight. Hermione knew this look too well, flushing at the knowledge. He was aroused ... and holding himself back.

Hermione shrank away from him and tried to find an appropriate topic to distract him with. She was determined to refrain from any intimacy until she could broach her concerns to him about his ugly showdown with Ron.

"Wow! Lucius, come look at this!" Hermione exclaimed, as she opened the doors to the balcony.

She expected to see a typical beach resort view. Instead, she blinked twice, all air leaving her lungs. She wasn't looking at the beach or the ocean waves. Hermione was too busy looking upward. The sky was not of this earth — stippled with more stars than there were grains of sand on the beach. It was dizzying, disorienting. The longer Hermione looked, the more lights she saw, and at times they even seemed to pulsate like the subtle respirations of some great, celestial animal.

"I don't believe it," she breathed, still stunned. "It's beautiful."

Lucius came behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I could stay here all night," she whispered to him.

"You could, yes. But let's get you inside," Lucius said, grasping her gently by the shoulders.

"Afraid I'll go frigid on you, even in the Caribbean?" she baited him.

He smiled wryly, tugging her inside, but leaving the balcony doors wide open.

Hermione sighed and reluctantly let him lead her in. She wandered around the house, her reflection moved through half dozen windows of high, gridded glass. Pendant lights dangled from the crisscrossing beams overhead. The place was steeped in his austere masculinity. It was cozy, but lacked the stereotypical trappings of beach resort that she expected to find.

"This way." Lucius set his hand on the small of her back and led her down the hall. He pressed open the door. He dropped her trunk at the foot of her bed.

"Get unpacked. I think I've some things in the lower drawers, but the rest are all yours."

Hermione awkwardly bit her lip, watching him. She hadn't budged from the doorway.

"Something wrong?" he asked her.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell on the bed. "We just haven't been together since that night," she said.

He nodded, his eyes flashing at the memory. "I know. Second thoughts?"

"No," she firmly replied. She wanted to so much to clear the air between them and get on with it. Still, she didn't want to spoil the evening now by getting into lengthy discussion.

Lucius offered his hand to her. Hermione stretched hers out to him. His grip tightened and he wrenched her forward, forcing her down across the bed. By sheer instinct, she tried to scramble away, but he wouldn't allow it. He mounted the bed, pinning her wrists above her and split her legs apart with his thigh. Hermione wiggled feebly against him. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be beneath him, to feel the heaviness of his body against hers. To be held and held down. To be at his mercy. To be his.

Lucius descended. Hermione expected him to disrobe her and take her then and there. She knew he was thinking it, knew he wanted it. She could feel his erection growing in his trousers. His gray eyes froze over. Hermione braced herself for the storm. But he backed away. The tension between them dissipated as quickly as it swelled.

"Unpack, rest. I'll start dinner. I'm sure you must be hungry," he said.

I am. Ravenous, in fact. Hermione slowly sat up, trying not to feel scorned by his retreat.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're going to cook? By yourself?"

"I do when occasion calls for it. You'll need your strength for tonight."

"I'm not that hungry, Lucius."

"Liar," he said with his signature smirk. "I don't blame you for being skeptical. Now do as I say, then join me downstairs."

Hermione listened to his footsteps recede down the hall, then watched her own chest rise and fall with each breath. She heard her stomach rumble plaintively, as she slid off the bed and unpacked her trunk. In one of the drawers she found a set of his neatly pressed white shirts. She lifted one. It smelled of cedar, musk, and leather. It was like him. And like him, Hermione wasn't quite willing to let it go. Silently, she slipped off her clothes and pulled the cotton over her eyes. She stared at herself in the mirror. The neckline of his shirt slipped down to expose her shoulder. She had to admit the effect was both sexy and silly. Just like that, she sauntered swiftly downstairs.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked the moment she stepped into the kitchen through a subtle white haze of smoke.

Lucius spun to face her, stirring a steaming copper pot with a whisk. Hermione fought the urge to laugh. Like her, he also looked ridiculous. He'd donned a black apron, an oven mitt, and rolled up his sleeves to the elbow. All he was missing was the neckerchief and a big, floppy toque blanche.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked, hiding her smile.

Lucius moved away from the stove and filled two glasses with wine.

"Not just now," he said, handing her the glass.

Their glasses clinked.

"What are we toasting?" Hermione asked, grinning.

He shrugged. "To the the night. To the stars. To us." He returned her grin and raised his glass. "To the paradoxical undressing, perhaps. May she huddle herself ever closer."

Hermione blushed as she took a small sip. Lucius watched her silently for a moment, then offered his hand once more.

"Come here, I need to borrow your tongue."

She trailed him to the stove and sniffed.

"It smells amazing," she said, hopping up to seat herself on the counter. "What is it?"

"Coulibiac. A sort of muscovite salmon en croute. But this," he dipped a wooden spoon into the pot, "this is what I want you to taste."

He blew on it gently to cool its contents. Hermione obediently lowered her lips to the spoon.

Sweet. Salty. A bit metallic.

She swallowed. "It's kind of ... odd."

"You dislike it?" He stirred.

Hermione licked her lips and shook her head. "It's not bad. I just never had anything like it before."

"It does have a copper flavor to it, which maybe peculiar to some."

"You're quite the chef, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione bent closer to him. The wine was making her bold. "Did you used to cook for your ex-wife too?"

His stirring ceased.

Why did you say that, Hermione?

His eyes flashed icily. "No. That's not really what you're asking, is it? Go on, then."

She breathed softly. "Did you holiday here with her?"

He leaned closer, leveling his gaze. "I've had women here before I was married, yes. But Narcissa, no. She never liked this place."

Hermione bit into her lip, wrestling with her friable nerves. She wanted to ask him. By now, she felt she had the right to ask him about his past. Nevertheless, principle and practice were too often at odds. She swirled the wine in her glass.

"Why didn't she like it?"

He stared at her for a moment, then answered, "The hot climate disagreed with her complexion, or so she said." He quaffed the rest of his wine. "Besides, this was my personal sanctuary. A place that's just for me. A place for renewal."

Hermione felt a distant, piercing sting in her chest. "Is that what we're doing here, Lucius? Starting over?"

He leered at her wolfishly. Hermione felt her skin burn crimson beneath his eyes.

"No. You can never start over." He stirred the pot once more. "Even if we could, I wouldn't. Every mistake I've made in my life has its part in bringing me to you."

She dropped her eyes, not knowing how to respond. Lucius reached past her and lifted a long, gleaming knife from its rack.

"You know how to use this?" he asked.

She gave a terse nod.

"Cut up some parsnips. We'll roast them with the coulibiac."

Hermione slipped off the counter. The non sequitur was sloppy, but it was saving grace."

She set about her task with care. Yet when she felt him sweeping her hair off the nape of her neck, she almost missed her target. His touch alone was enough to undo her. Hermione closed her eyes, sighing as he laid light kisses along the edge of her throat.

"Continue," he whispered.

She did as he asked, melting beneath the steady descent of his lips. Then Hermione felt a sudden sting. Glancing down, she saw red pooling on the tip of her finger. Wincing, she slipped it into her mouth.

Lucius snatched her hand away. "Let me see," he commanded.

"It's nothing. Honestly. I have Essence of Dittany in my bag, I'll be fine," she hurriedly reassured him, not wanting anything else to interrupt their intimate moment. She amended her original plan: all the issues that needed to be addressed and discussed could wait. On their first night, she just wanted to focus on her lover.

He summoned the vial from her bag, and Hermione tried not to roll her eyes as he warned her about the stinging. He applied couple drops to her finger. The burn flashed through her blood, then fizzled.

Hermione marveled when Lucius placed a lingering kiss on her healed digit. "No more knives for you, Miss Granger," he said.

"You know perfectly well you were distracting me, Mr. Malfoy," she playfully retorted back. "I'm not entirely useless in the kitchen. For instance, you should be stirring that." Hermione pointed at the sizzling edge of the pot. She stepped closer to him and reached to turn down the burner, purposely grazing his inseam and letting her hand linger there just long enough for him to notice.

"Perhaps I should take over the stirring duties?" She batted her eyes unctuously at him.

He ran a hand through his hair, deliberately not acknowledging her action.

"Very well." He surrendered the whisk and sliced up the last several parsnips. It was dreadful fun for Hermione, making a mess in the kitchen with him. It all felt wonderfully domestic somehow. Hermione used to resent being conscripted into kitchen duty in the Weasley household. However, such an ordeal with Lucius was a welcome prospect. The chain of flirting and fondling was building the tension too much, and when they kissed again, Hermione was the one who clung and deepened the kiss.

She missed him. She missed the feel of his strong body beneath her hands. He was always so warm and smelled so good. As he buried his face in her neck, Hermione delighted in running her fingers through his he pulled his head back, she looked into his eyes. Deep gray and warm now. A thick, sensitive emotion was blooming inside Hermione. Lucius's expression was almost pained as he leaned in to kiss her again. This time the kiss was more gentle, gentler than he's ever been with her. His warm, soft lips graze against her own in the sweetest way. Her hands reached up to hold his face close to hers, as she tried to pour more of her feelings into this one kiss than into any of their other encounters. She felt him pull away, but Hermione kept her hold on him and Apparated them into the bedroom.

She released him, only to start unbuttoning her shirt. He did the same, as their lips found each other, fusing together once more. With measured movements, Lucius guided her backward until Hermione felt the bed behind her knees. His hands were soon pulling at her shirt, making quick work of discarding it before pulling her down onto the mattress. He came down with her, his body pressing hard into her own. Hermione's legs spread, resting along his sides. Their kiss ended, but their faces were still mere centimeters from each other. No words were needed.

Lucius placed his lips at the base of her jaw, as he rolled them over. Hermione now straddled his lap, beaming at him.

"I've missed you," she whispered, feeling compelled to say something.

His arms wrapped protectively around her waist. "I've missed you too," he mumbled against her jaw and fell back onto the bed.

They slowly undressed each other. Lucius proceeded to reacquaint himself with every inch of her body. His warm breath, his solid muscles, and tender touches made Hermione nearly deranged with need. Yet he was careful to take his time. Kneeling between her legs, Lucius ran his hands along her thighs. A moan of utter pleasure blared from Hermione's mouth. As if reading her mind, he positioned the tip of his rock hard cock at her opening and leaned down over her body. His heavy breathing was thick against her neck and, with her hands, Hermione felt him push his hips forward. With gentle force, he buried himself completely within her.

Never had Hermione felt so full. She kissed the part of his cheek that she could reach without moving too much from her position. Lucius returned the kiss, but remained unmoving inside her, waiting for her to adjust to him. She felt him take a deep breath and pull back. They both groaned at the action.

Every nerve inside Hermione was alive and screaming at the feel of him. Lucius thrust back in, and she could only gasp in response.

His brow furrowed in concern, but Hermione gave him a shaky smile. An excruciatingly slow rhythm built between them, and Hermione could finally move her hips again without feeling as though he were splitting her in half. Soon, she joined his movements. Neither one increased the pace; both content in taking their time. Lucius pulled himself up and sat back on his feet, his muscular thighs spreading to accommodate her. His hands reached to grasp each of her ankles, and spread her legs farther apart.

Hermione watched him, then glanced down where their bodies were joined, watching his shaft move in and out of her. There was something incredibly erotic about watching Lucius slowly push in and pull out, as she arched in tandem to each movement. He looked magnificent like this - his thick mane of hair deliciously tousled, his gray eyes glazed over in the heat of passion as his muscles flexed under his exertion.

Without trouble or hesitancy, his right hand slid under her lower back, and Lucius effortlessly pulled Hermione up. She raised her face up to kiss him, moaning into his mouth.

"Lucius," she whispered against his lips, as his arms wrapped completely around her. Air hissed through Hermione's teeth as she deeply inhaled and dropped her head back from the fantastic, intense pressure building inside her. Lucius's capable hands kept her against him as he leaned forward to kiss her neck. His mouth sending shockwaves straight to her groin.

Slowly and carefully, up and down, they kept at their unhurried pace. Hermione grabbed at his face to kiss him with as much passion as she could muster. He eagerly reciprocated.

Never, ever had Hermione felt so close to anyone, so intimate and complete. She didn't want this to be over too soon. An idea struck her, and she pressed on his shoulders until Lucius lay her back on the bed. Hermione swung one leg over to grip at his hips and keep him from pulling out of her. She turned them slowly over until she was on top, straddling him. Lucius moaned in appreciation and greedily took a hold of her hips and took up the rhythm of his thrusts once more. From this angle, Hermione felt him every more intensely. She rode him thoroughly, moaning and gasping at his every variation. For the first time, Lucius started to increase the pace, his thrusts becoming more frenzy and frequent. As she bounced on his lap, Hermione could no longer hold herself up and pressed herself to his chest. His lips found her neck and shoulder, biting and nipping at the skin he could reach.

Hermione didn't know how much longer she can hold off on her impeding orgasm. The sensitive tingling has spread from her clit to her stomach and chest, to her limbs, and even to the tips of her hair.

"Lucius," she moaned his name again, thick with implication.

He knowingly panted against her skin and rolled them over until Hermione was on her back. She spread her legs wider, welcoming him. Hermione wrapped her arms and legs entirely around him, as Lucius fucked her into oblivion. Hermione felt him everywhere - inside her, against her, around her. His lips found hers, and it was enough. More than enough. It was her undoing.

Hermione gasped into his mouth as she tipped over the precipice.

"Come with me," she begged him before he forced his tongue into her mouth.

The floodgates opened, and Hermione's body vibrated with release. She held herself to Lucius, as her inner walls squeezed his cock over and over. She could feel him expanding even more inside her before he stilled and joined her.

His guttural groan in her neck made Hermione shiver, as his hot, thick spurts filled her. Their shared climax went on and on, and Hermione felt like she could cry. The intensity of the moment was too much and had her exhausted beyond measure. She couldn't stop shaking. His hips twitched, sending even more shivers through her.

When Lucius moved again to pull out of her, Hermione hissed in protest. She wasn't ready to part from him yet. He relaxed again, panting for air. Hermione could hardly breathe in this position, but she loved having him on top of her and being wrapped up in his arms.

Safe, strong, and protected in my Lucius's embrace.

She smiled against his shoulder.

My Lucius.