A/N: And here we are, my poor attempt at citrusy things. *grins* Took us long enough, right? I know I said this chapter wasn't ready but I got too excited to wait and had a friend read through it, twice, in an attempt to catch any missteps. Hopefully, there aren't any but (just a reminder) I am only human so forgive me in advance, yes?

Also, I could use some reviews, please. I can not improve if I do not understand what I am doing wrong and like most everyone else, I long to improve.

Okay, lovelies. Enjoy!

She awakened with a whimper and a rush of heat that centered at her core and exploded outward. Her form thrashed against coolness, against a body...a heavy, masculine body...him. She felt a heavy jut of flesh nestled between her thighs~ hot, long, hard~ and a gush of wetness greeted that knowledge as her most sensitive areas made ready for an intrusion. Slim legs attempted to shift, to at least OPEN but he did not allow it, only thrust against her as his large hands gripped her tightly.

"Not ready for me yet," he growled, voice more bestial than human. "Stop fidgeting. Hold still." The last word was underlined by a brisk slap to her hip.

Hermione shivered and then paused in her writhing. She had to listen, didn't she? Didn't want him to be angry with her or have him think she did not know how to listen. She would be good for him. He'd see and then he'd take care of her.

That was his job, wasn't it?

Draco shifted away, a small smirk on his lips once he heard the whine she released at his lack of contact. "On your back," He didn't mean to snap at her but her scent was driving him mad. She smelled juicy, sweet and the way she stroked her inner thighs together, that little silken rasp of sound, caused his own body to thrum with barely repressed lust.

But he had to prepare her, didn't he?

So, again. "On your back kitten."

Hermione flipped so quickly from side to back that it would have been funny had the intention not been so very serious. Draco studied her~ the flush of her skin, the gleam of tears in her honeyed gaze, goosebumps.

"Hands behind your head."

He didn't mean to growl at her, he didn't, but her fucking scent was pulling him in so many different directions. 'Fuckin' focus!'

It was at that point that she began to whimper out words like "Please" and "Alpha" and "Need you" and "Help me".

So he did.

Kisses first, from mouth to knees, teeth, and tongue, marking and soothing. Fingers next, stroking over soft skin, from clavicle to the hidden cleft between dangerously splayed thighs. Fingertips first and then nails, until lightly tanned flesh glittered with scratches and bite marks and whimpers resounded throughout the bedroom, fluttered up and away. Over and over, control barely kept but enough, just enough to...

"Please, please, please."

She had cried out as her body thrashed beneath him and he just wanted to rip into her but not yet. First time should be slow, no joining that can't be broken, not yet. Not until she's ready. He won't mark her until she's ready. Won't bite that spot, won't fuck her until she collapses. Not yet.

Waiting was hard, especially once she rolled her hips up against his length, the slip of wet nether lips enclosing his hardness, pooling over his flesh. He could smell her. Stronger now. She had saturated him, the air, the bed. No more waiting then because she was crying, actual tears, and pleading, actual words of desire. With the last vestiges of control left to him, he gripped her hips and slid deep inside her warm, tight, wetness.

She shrieked, almost a howl, and he felt her inner walls as they fluttered, drew him deeper. Yet she didn't remove her hands from beneath her head, didn't try to grasp at him with needy fingers. Instead, he was drawn closer by slim legs that wrapped his waist so that her pelvis tilted upward, just a bit more.

His control, shattered.

And then there was nothing but slick and sweat, hard and fast, screams and tears...and begging.

The first time took the edge off.

The second time loosened her taut inner muscles so that future endeavors would not be as painful.

The third time found her on her hands and knees, arse in the air, his hands leaving bruises on her hips as he pummelled her insides and bit her hard enough to draw blood. It was the first time he nipped the little node at her nape. The scent and taste of that exquisite piece of flesh acted as an aphrodisiac to him and so...

He had to bite her again.

And again.

In the early evening, he fed her. Made her drink. Bathed her. Stroked and petted and licked and tasted and teased and coddled and drank her down as if she were a fine wine.

They fell asleep after the sixth time.

He awakened her the next morning to do it all again, including the marking. Each time he nipped that node harder, breaking it open, watching it seep little rivulets of red. He drowned in her scent, drew her legs up, held them open. Poured himself into her womb, over and over again.

She screamed for him.

Begged and pleaded with him.

Cried for him.

And, on the evening of the fourth day, he took her (arse up, face down) and filled her, until they could not be parted, as he painted her inner walls, her cervix, with his essence while his cock grew and grew~ longer and as thick as his forearm. For long minutes he forced more inside, felt her stretch, heard her cry. He pulsed then, too large to back out, she too tight to let him go.

Merlin, it felt good.

She shook beneath him, her body painted with streaks of blood and rivers of sweat and he tried, he did try, to calm her as she writhed and jerked and came, repeatedly. Eventually, he had rolled to the side and brought her with him, back to front, his hard length still planted deep within her velvet heat.

"Shh, kitten. Breathe."

And, soon enough, she had.

By day six, they only had to be joined three times and those times were softer, more delicate. Easier. She ate more, drank more, talked more and he knew that this heat, her heat, would soon end. Probably the next day.

"I feel better, Draco," Hermione said as she straddled him in her bed that night. "Think it's almost over."

The blond nodded as his hands coasted over the curve of her hips before they retreated up over her tummy to cradle the small heft of her breasts. His thumbs flicked over the tight pinkness of her nipples, left then right, once and again. He looked into her eyes, to judge her reactions and was pleased by the glazed expression.

"And will you put me away from you after, kitten?"

She shivered in negation. "No! No."

His lips found her throat, to leave hot kisses there. "Good," he growled. "You're mine."

When the pair awakened on Saturday, Hermione was pleased to discover that her heat was over. Well, not truly pleased. After all, she was in pain, pain that she could actually process, and felt as if she could drink an entire river. These things were not pleasant! A yawn caught her unaware and segued into a stretch which immediately startled a low groan out of her desert dry mouth.

"Good morning, kitten."

"I feel awful...everything hurts, Draco," she all but whined.

He chuckled and tugged her toward him, his large hands stroking her abused skin with studied lightness. "You need a bath so I am gonna get one started for you. After that, I expect you to settle down on the couch as I am getting some help from the manor to get the apartment in order." He heard her indrawn breath but shushed her. "NO. You will do as I say. You've been fucked about twenty-five times in the last six days. Your inner muscles need a chance to relax. That means you soak, and sit. Let me take care of you."

With that, Draco released her and rolled from her bed, his lean form still gloriously nude and covered with scratches and love bites. She gave a small gasp at the sight but that sound only encouraged him to turn and wink at her before he sauntered into her bathroom. Obviously, he was serious about her taking a bath and if she were honest, she knew she truly needed one.

She ached.

A few hours later found Hermione dressed in comfortable sweats and a tee shirt and seated at the granite-topped island in her kitchen, drinking tea. Her apartment had already been put to rights, lunch had been prepared (and eaten) and the quietude had finally settled beneath her skin, stroking her soul on little velvet kitten paws. She heard the floo as it disgorged someone but she didn't bother to get up. Only one person would have been able to enter anyway.

"KItten! Why aren't you on the couch?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, picked up her favorite mug and stood up. "Because I was drinking the tea Tippy made for me before she left." Her words were softly spoken but by the time she'd finished, she was in the living room.

Draco promptly scooped her up and settled on the couch. "You could have sipped your cuppa in here, witch."

There was nothing for it.

She laughed.

By that evening, she had recuperated enough to go out for a quick bite. Because she had no interest in changing her clothes, Draco suggested the Leaky Cauldron for food, maybe grab a drink. Hermione quickly agreed so they floo'd over, stepping out into the dark and dingy place within a few moments. The diminutive witch immediately stepped away from the tall young wizard and headed for a table, figuring that Draco would place their order, and settled in a dark corner, her eyes darting immediately to the grimy window as she looked to Charring Cross Road.

Minutes later, Draco appeared, his hands filled with steaming piles of fish and chips, two butter beers and a shot of fire whiskey for himself. The scent was amazing and Hermione heard the grumble of her stomach. Both she and Draco laughed as it was rather loud. With practiced ease, the plates were placed, the mugs too, and the blond male had taken a seat across from her.

Silence reigned as they ate their fill and as Hermione sat across from him, it suddenly hit her~ she loved him. She was not in love, not yet, but she felt a warmth of emotion every time she gazed into his gray eyes. Of course, Draco noticed the soft adoration in her expression, the glint of emotion in her eyes, and understood that she'd had a revelation, one he'd known for himself months ago.

Yet he did not bring it up. Instead, he reached across the table and grasped her small hand in his own and asked her, "You ready to go home?" She nodded, dipped her head, and blushed so that she missed his grin in the process.

Once they'd returned to Hermione's apartment, she noted the time and herded him toward her bedroom. At first, he did not understand why she seemed hell-bent on hustling him there but that all changed as soon as she started to undress him, her slender fingers reaching out to unbutton his shirt, her full, cupid's bow lips tasting every inch of skin she uncovered.

He expected her to pause, to behave as if the past six days hadn't occurred. She did no such thing. Instead, she stripped him of his clothing with hurried fingers and slow licks, nips, and kisses until the hardness trapped beneath the fabric of his jeans could not be hidden or denied. He felt her hand cup him through the denim and softly squeeze. Once. Twice. A third time and his breath was caught before he released it in a rumbling growl.

"Don't tease, kitten. It isn't nice."

She said nothing, only dropped to her knees before him with a smirk to rival his own. He felt her untie his shoes, felt her tap each foot in turn so that he could kick them off. Then the socks were gone, leaving his large, pale feet bare. SLin fingers traipsed upward, trailing over his shins, swooped around to grip his calves. The journey was slow as her hands drove him absolutely batty, the slowness a joke of the highest order. Finally, she reached his belt. Slim fingers made short work of it, as well as the button fly which held him away from her gaze.

She whispered, "Take them off."

So he did.

Finally, a slender hand encircled his heft, stroked upward from root to tip, thumb swiping over the sensitive head. She heard the hitch of his breath and grinned. Again, she whispered, "Lay down, Alpha. Let me take care of you." What could he do besides give in to her request? He settled himself, slid backward until his back reached her headboard and then he waited.

She stripped down, baring her skin to his hungry gaze. A moment later, she had joined him upon her bed, her smile seductive yet shy. "On your back please." Then she waited, on her knees, her body held in abeyance, just to the left of him as she watched him maneuver into position, his head propped up on two pillows.

"Perfect," she told him before climbing onto him, settling her small frame above his with a sigh.

She teased then. Kisses, deep drugging kisses, teeth nipping at his bottom lip before she allowed her tongue to twin with his own in a dance as old as time. She could feel him as his length throbbed at her entrance, could feel her wetness gather and pool on his groin. Didn't matter. She had too many plans that needed to be followed to fruition.

Down she traveled, leaving no inch of flesh untouched, unkissed, untasted. Bites were given, drawing low groans from the man she had decided to please, to give to him what he had given to her; repletion. By the time she'd reached the hard flesh which jutted proudly from his blond thatch of curls, she was soaked however, she chose to ignore her own needs and focused her attention on him.

One hand cradled the soft yet heavy scrotum which had drawn tighter as the other dabbled in the pre-ejaculate gathered on his tip, wetting her fingers before gliding downward with a firm grip. SHe drew another long, loud groan from his lips and that made her smile. SHe looked to him then, a flush of pink upon her cheeks. "I've never done this before." Then she dropped her head, opened her mouth and sucked him inside.

He growled.

It took a minute or so to find a rhythm, to learn to hollow her cheeks on the upward motion, to swirl her tongue at the tip before drifting down, taking him in, inch by inch until he hit the back of her throat with more than a few inches to spare. Those inches were stroked by taut fingers, gripped tightly to follow the up and down of her mouth, to spread the warm saliva that escaped her.

She felt his hands in her hair as he gently bucked upward.

She sped up. Felt him as the roundness she cradled drew further inward, became smaller yet tighter until he warned her off and she ignored him. Faster then, up and down, until he came with a low rumbling growl, her name falling from his lips like a benediction.

She tasted him.

And smiled.

Yet, he was not done and before she could think or blink, he'd drawn her up and flipped her onto her back and slipped between her thighs, his shoulders pushing them apart so that he could lick and suck at her woman's secret place until she came crying out.

And then he took her again.

And it was bliss.

When it was over, sleep found them and drew them into darkness.

A/N2: And now we are at the end of everything I've written and checked. Next chapter will take about a week or so (probably) with only a few more chapters in the works to finish the story. *blinks* I am thinking, at most, three but could be less depending on what else the story has to give. Until next time!