#11: Exquisite - Lucius/Rita
Word Count: 216
He hates the way that everything about Rita is so wrong, but somehow so right. Her supple curves seem to fit every groove in his palms, and her stiff, lacquered curls smell oddly divine. She is the complete opposite of Narcissa, who alludes a snow queen. Narcissa is cold to touch and making love to her is like trying to thaw out an ice sculpture.
(She moans, arching her back as she rocks on top of him. He's mesmerised by her confidence, the way she doesn't care about her naked form. Her breasts bounce and he cups them with his hands, enjoying the sounds that escape her lips at his touch.)
He hates the way that he really dislikes her, but somehow he keeps crawling back to her boudoir. He hates the sideways, red-lipped smirk she gives him when she answers the door. He hates the vice-like grip of her lime green fingernails as she yanks him into the house.
(Her fingernails claw across his chest, leaving red welts that he knows Narcissa will question later. But in the moment he doesn't care; the pain is exquisite because she gave it to him. "Lucius," she gasps, bucking her hips faster. He knows she is reaching her peak, and this is the part he loves the most.)