-Hush-
By Diet Cigarette
"LEMATO!" She heard his gruff and weakened voice call from behind the hazy mist. Before the very thought of reacting entered her mind, she felt her body being constricted by an unseen force. It grew tighter and more tenacious with every slow, yet rapid passing second. Her breath became hindered as she gasped to take in her needed supply. Ginevra mentally cursed him as his rigid body presented itself from behind the wall of vapor. He limped slightly, his robes slightly scorched at his cuffs.
He chuckled at the sight of her wound up body. "Do you think you're..." He paused for a moment, attempting to find the exact words.
"Clever?" She choked out.
"I was leaning more towards foolish." Draco smirked as he started to step towards her.
"I'm brilliant," She managed to peep. Her chest felt as if she had a truck load of bricks laid atop it. Every word was almost unmanageable, but somehow, she found enough strength to press out her words. His beautiful blue eyes traced over her bound figure. Ginevra could almost feel every thought running through his head. Every sick, sexual notion that corrupted his mind.
"Apparently not brilliant enough, am I correct?" He asked her, bringing his attention to her blood shot eyes that met his in an instant.
"I suppose not," She sarcastically replied. In all honesty, she didn't give a flying fuck what the man thought. She was more concerned with the idea of freeing herself at the moment. He drawled closer, his lurid finger finding it's way to her rosy cheek. It almost burned fire as he traced her stiff jaw.
"How does it feel?" He questioned her, watching his movements carefully. Those words stirred an uncountable feeling below her belt, but she dared not acknowledge her desire.
"How does what feel?" She retorted, watching his gaze carefully.
He met her eyes once more, with an alluring smirk on his lips. He came even closer to her, his breath against her ear.
"To be utterly, and completely helpless." He said with a gruff whisper. His motions moved from her jaw, following the course of her collarbone. Ginevra couldn't help but want his touch. Though somewhere inside, she knew this wasn't right, her retired morality had been washed away long ago. Her nipples seemed to scream for attention, yet falling upon deaf ears as his nail scratched her chest, right in between her awoken breasts.
She didn't say a word. He knew better than to assume she wasn't enjoying this, wanting his body against her own. She was usually one to give an argument. Now, in his grasps, she remained quiet, hypnotized, like a snake and his charmer. Oh, he would make her dance.
"Do you enjoy this?" He questioned her, his touch moving southward ever more. Her thoughts were jumbled like shattered glass. It was not that they hadn't committed the act before, but it always seemed to sinful to her. She didn't enjoy it, she was absolutely in love with it.
His hand found it's way into her robes, and all that she seemed to be furious with before some how vanished with his cold hands against her panty line. Her eyes closed, awaiting the sensation she'd been dreaming of since they first had been locked in this forsake house together. His fingertips found her, sliding inside her wetness and pressing against her throbbing clit.
"Mmm," She pushed her pelvis forward to meet his touch, though her movement still stifled from the spell.
Her knees fell weak, and she felt as if she couldn't support her weight anymore, but magically, she didn't collapse. He pressed his entire body upon her's now, the lust in his eyes flaming. She assumed, no, knew that the fact she was bound was a fantasy he'd been awaiting. She could admit to herself she'd thought about it before, but she would never admit it to him.
His motions were delicate, a touch Ginevra had never knew Draco possessed. He was soft, and teasingly modest with every stroke against her. He moved past her clit, exploring further as she felt him press inside her. She felt herself clenching her fists.
"Do you enjoy this?" He asked her again, pressing inside her further. She wasn't sure how she should reply. In all honesty, her thoughts were way beyond sense or the ability to process correctly.
"I bloody well love it," She softly admitted, truthfully.
"I know," He murmured, removing his hand from her and pressing his lips together in thought. His eyes darted to her robes, taking them in the front hem, and parting them their separate ways to gain further access to her body. Her knickers exposed as he pushed the fabric off her arms, letting it casually fall to the marble flooring.
He took his time. He wanted her body to plead for him. It was working.
Her bra was the first to go, as he pressed his chest against her small frame, raising his arms around her to undo her fragile snap. Without his hands leaving her body, they traveled down her admired curves, snagging her pale rose pantys with his fingertips, and pulling them slowly down her hips. He brought himself down as well, positioning himself upon his knees, his smug gaze fixated upon her wet lips.
She watched him intently, yet frustrated from anticipation.
Draco placed his tongue hauntingly soft upon her slit, leisurely tasting her as his flat tongue found her most sensitive area. Ginevra let out a small gasp of pleasure, instinctively attempting to part her legs to give him further access to no avail. His movements were like a wave, pressing against her finely. She was surprised with his subtle contact. Her arousal building with every sweep of his tongue. She wanted more, and just as she felt her body start to slip over the edge, her legs almost shaking, he backed off.
"Don't stop," She muttered under he stifled breath.
He stood to his feet, slipping his dark robes from his toned body. He was left in a par of silk boxers that she didn't catch the color of. She was too enthralled as he stepped closer to her, taking his palms to her jaw and pressing his damp lips against her trembling ones. His hard on was pressing against her abdomen. She could almost imagine his thrusts inside her. The worst of it was, she couldn't help the process along any faster. He was brutally teasing her.
She kissed him back, their tongues playing like a passionate wild fire. His thin lips were soft yet demanding. She tasted her own juices, just before he pulled away.
With a new found hast, he guided her body to the cold and uninviting floor. It felt like knives in her back but she couldn't even concentrate on the insanely chilled ground. She couldn't mind it, her thoughts too consumed with his next move.
She noticed his boxers were gona from his body, though she didn't notice him remove them. He parted her legs with his equally chilled hands. He could adjust her body, she could not. The weight on her chest seemed to fade as she focused on a completely different region of her body.
Draco placed himself in between her thighs, intently brushing his manhood against her. She didn't say a word, just watching and enjoying the moment they were in. She was forced to bit her lip as he refused to give her what she wanted, teasingly holding himself at her entrance but refusing her of what, she knew, they both equally wanted.
The floor seemed to become less uncomfortable, and she was able to relax. His hands positioned themselves above her shoulders as he brought his body against hers.
Her lips parted, almost as if to say something, but before her words were conjured, his thickness pressed inside of her. She inhaled rapidly.
"Oh.." She breathed through her teeth as he pushed himself further with another slow thrust.
--
The hurried wind brushed past her as she sat upon the mansions porch, throwing her long hair into a fit, and the smell of late spring dew grazing her nostrils. She pulled her hemmed robes closer around her chilled body and watched the still landscape. It was early morning, the sun's brilliant halo just creeping over the skyline of pines that laid planted throughout the estate. It made her nauseous.
It had been weeks since her and Draco had slept together, yet, somehow, she found that it was the only thing that polluted her thoughts. She couldn't take her mind off their activities. It had not happened since, and though she was not swayed toward being disgusted, or smitten, she like to entertain the idea of doing it again.
She remembered once when sex was intertwined with love. Love as an emotion, oh how it would be lovely to actually feel one of those again. The world was different now though. Emotions were weakness, and weakness was unforgivable.
She knew she should be worrying about other matters to say the least. The Order of the Phoenix, or what was left of it anyway, was growing strength once again. Their numbers dwindled after Ron's death, but news from tortured captives said they were sending out recruiters. She couldn't help but wonder who in their right mind who stand against Voldemort.
Didn't they know all hope of good was gone? There was only surviving. That was one of the reasons she had swayed toward her master. Then power created a cruelty. The more she grew to realize how much strength she held over her civilian public, the more the actions, that she once found inhuman and horrible, became enjoyable.. almost fun.
Her soft strands were pushed behind her ear as she stood to her feet, taking once last quick glance at the only beauty left in the world, before disappearing into the dark halls of Malfoy Manor.
"You look ill," Ginevra commented, stepping into the largest of the libraries located in the quarters. Vast shelves of decaying literature lay untouched upon the ebony structure. She spotted a pale and tempered Draco seating himself in a black leathered arm chair behind his dark curtains in the corner of the room. She decided to take the sofa beside him.
Taking a seat, she inquisitively added, "Maybe you should lay off the liquor for a few days and see if that doesn't do you any good," His eyes, focused upon a seemingly interested book, looked up to meet her gaze with his own glare.
"Sod off," He growled, taking his attention back to the jumbled words upon his page.
"I'm only trying to help you," She passively replied, pulling her bare legs upon the cold material. Dressed in only a long sweater that draped over her figure lamely, she folded her legs closer to her body for sweet warmth.
"You look quite disgusting yourself," He said quietly. She assumed he did not care if she heard or not. "Have you bothered with yourself lately? Already letting yourself go so early in life, Weasley. My god, you look like one of your brothers right now,"
"I rather look like a man, than a malnourished corpse," She shot back, though she couldn't help but notice the lack of passion in insulting her fellow death eater.
"If you'd shag a malnourished corpse, I'd hate to see what else you'd take a go at,"
"If you'd shag a brute, I'd hate to see who else you've had your homosexual way with," She retorted without a second's waste. He didn't even bother to look up or acknowledge her presence, never mind reply to her. "I hate you sometimes,"
"Sometimes?"
"Sometimes." She finally got his attention as he set his book to the side and pulled his body towards the edge of his seat.
"Fine Ginevra, you have my attention," He stopped to place his elbows upon his knees for support, the candles surrounding him playing their shadows upon his features beautifully, "What on bloody earth is it that you take it upon yourself to search me out and bother me?"
"I wanted company," She shrugged it off.
"But you hate me,"
"Sometimes," She agreed.
"And any other time?" He questioned, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
"I tolerate you," She stated bluntly, which caused him to chuckle slightly. She was slightly surprised, but in all honesty, it was sort of.. nice.
"I tolerate you too, pet," He smirked, as he traced his eyes down her bare, chilled legs. She mirrored his smirk, smacking the seat down beside her, inviting him to join her upon the sofa.
"I rather not," He stated, repositioning himself upon his armchair.
"Why not?" She cocked her head to the side. He shook his head, and without saying a word, trudged the few feet to sit beside her huddled frame. His body weight pressed into the uncomfortable sofa, while the thick atmosphere felt heavy upon her chest. The lights were dimly lit, as they usually were. He did not take a preference to blinding lamps in his house. She imagined that was why he was always so frail as a child.
She took it upon herself to lay her body back, gently resting her head in his lap and letting her locks of golden red hair fall aimlessly a crossed the cushion. She didn't object. She imagined he didn't mind. His iced fingers slithered their way towards her strands of hair, stroking them slightly and taking them into his palm to be toyed with.
:)
I struggle with if there's NOT ENOUGH detail or not. But I don't want to over-do it because then that's just frustrating to read. I think I finally found my place to where I'm going with this story though.