Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Genres: Dark, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Situations, Profanity, Torture, Violence
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sometimes, your enemy is the only friend you have. Other times, he is no friend at all. When you have absolutely no one to turn to, can you turn to the one who is theoretically the cause of it? Or will he then try and turn you against everything you believe? Birthday challenge.
Length: 6/10 Chapters. This chapter: 1896 words.
She didn’t stand a chance. His lips, tongue and breath were burning her, making her feel an urgent need to devour him and become devoured in turn. He was leaning his weight on one forearm, while his other hand was grabbing her thigh and startling her as he tugged at her again, making room for him between her legs. When his groin came in contact with hers, she felt a jolt go through her, and she couldn’t stifle a moan. And, God help her, they were still for the most part dressed.
Her hands were now unabashedly roaming his chest and shoulders. He moaned against her mouth and whispered “Take what you want.” She pressed against him and felt a certain satisfaction that his breath caught and came out in a low hiss. She wanted to feel skin now. With hands that were shaking with need, she began undoing the buttons of his shirt. He leaned back a little to allow her room to work, but her hands were shaking too much, and, after a few buttons, he seemed to lose his patience and kneeled to take it off himself. His hands, she noted with some resentment, were perfectly steady.
He noticed her staring at him and smirked. “Patience, Granger. I don’t doubt that the Weasel would be done by now, but I bet I can satisfy you so much better than he ever could.”
Hermione didn’t bother telling him that she and Ron had broken it off years ago. They had always seemed to make better friends than lovers. Instead, she raised her eyebrows. “All talk.” She didn’t doubt the truth of her own words for one second. In her, granted, limited experience, the men who presented themselves as great lovers usually weren’t. Yet, right now, all she could think about was how he’d feel between her legs…
He threw his shirt aside and she stared greedily at his lean form. He chuckled. “You’ll find out, won’t you? I have to tell you… I don’t mind you looking at me like that one bit.”
She flushed pink. She couldn’t help how she was reacting. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, maybe it was the isolation that had finally made her crazy, or maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t felt this wanted for longer than she even cared to remember. His eyes may not hold adoration, but the pure need that shone in them as he was looking her over was gratifying. So, she might do something entirely wrong for once and enjoy sleeping with the enemy – as long as there weren’t any consequences.
She went rigid as she remembered. “Contraception spell!” she said.
“Taken care of,” he scoffed. “Relax. Like I would allow my offspring to be half-blood.”
She scowled at him, but the point was moot as she didn’t particularly want her offspring to be Malfoy.
He opened her trousers and slipped them down her hips and off, before he opened his own belt. Hermione licked her lips and he halted his movements, staring at her for a second, before shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts and continuing. Hermione smirked to herself; he might have steady hands, but he was definitely affected. Good. She didn’t like to feel entirely powerless.
He got rid of his own trousers and then pressed down on her again. He pushed down her bra and roughly suckled her left nipple. She cried out with surprise from the sudden movement, bucking against him and burying her hands in his hair as she was assaulted by the feeling of slight pain and renewed arousal.
“You don’t want me to be gentle,” he breathed against her breast, before doing the same thing to the other one. “You want a hard, satisfying fuck where I make you come so violently that you forget your own name.”
Hermione whimpered slightly. He was right. She did want that. “I doubt you’re man enough for that,” she managed to force out.
He didn’t reply. Instead he shoved off her remaining clothes and took in her body with her glance. She reached out for his boxers, but he stilled her hand and shook his head. Not yet.
She frowned, unhappy with him calling the shots, and absent-mindedly licked her lips as she thought about what he’d feel like, thrusting into her hard and deep. He saw the gesture and groaned, and then he was kissing her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth much in an imitation of how she desperately wanted something else to happen. His hand made it down between her legs to find her more than ready.
Draco’s eyes widened slightly as he had half-expected this to be some sort of trick she was pulling. The wetness between her thighs, however, was not a trick. She wanted him to fuck her. That, in turn, made him want to fuck her more. He had thought she might actually turn out to be unwilling, but after the blatant invitation she had given him with that look, he had decided that she had it coming. He might not need to force himself on Mudbloods, but if said Mudblood was a tease who thought she could play him for a fool… Well, then she was asking for it, wasn’t she? He couldn’t allow her to play games with him like that. Anyway, it was more a question of arrogance than morals to begin with, wasn’t it? So he wasn’t terribly bothered by doing what he had to do to establish who was in charge…
But she really did want it. From him. And his own need was rapidly escalating at the thought.
He roughly grabbed a breast and sucked it into his mouth, teasing her taut nipple and tasting her flesh. Her reaction was to dig her nails painfully into his shoulders. “You like that, don’t you?” he mumbled, using his hand between her legs to rub her. Her nails dug in deeper, breaking his skin and pulling outwards. He hissed from the stinging pain and touched her harder, more urgently. The sweet scent of her arousal was drugging him, removing his ability to think.
She pushed against him and he closed his eyes briefly. Willing females definitely did feel good. One of her legs came up, her foot caressing his calf. “Please,” she mumbled against his head. Just that one word. He decided to oblige her.
He pulled back and released himself from his boxers, reveling in the covetous gaze she was sending his way. He briefly wondered if it wasn’t rather sick of him to care whether the Mudblood wanted it or not, but he put it down to mere preference. He preferred women hot and panting, begging him for more, not weeping and struggling and begging him to stop. In fact, he’d never actually done the latter… yet.
He spread her legs wider and let his hand trace her folds. So slick, so ready. He couldn’t wait. Without preamble, he entered her fully in one single thrust.
Hermione’s eyes widened and she gasped at the intrusion. It was not unwelcome, but it was foreign, strange, and a little bit painful. She was not terribly used to this, it had been so long, and he was stretching her impossibly.
His head fell forward and he groaned loudly. “Merlin, Granger,” he panted. “I didn’t think you’d be so tight.”
Neither did she, but perhaps it mattered that it had been a long time? He began moving, and she winced slightly as her body struggled to accommodate him, but at the same time she felt her arousal reach whole new levels. Oh, my, but he felt good. Her eyes drifted shut as she enjoyed the feeling of his none-too-gentle thrusts.
“Open your eyes,” he mumbled in her ear. “Look at me.”
Hesitantly, she did as he asked. His face was slightly flushed with the heat of his own passion and his eyes were burning as they gazed relentlessly into hers. It was hard for her to stay focused. She dug her nails into his back, trying hard to not lose herself in the ride, and taking a perverse pleasure in hurting him.
He made a sound conveying both pain and pleasure and halted his motions just long enough to whisper “Do you want to hurt me because I make you feel good… Or because I make you feel bad?”
She didn’t reply but instead dug her nails in deeper and he laughed a short, breathless laugh and then he began moving faster. Harder. Deeper. Her eyes closed again.
“Open them,” he demanded again. “I won’t let you forget who you’re with.”
She shook her head. How was she supposed to forget that? He was in her, on her, all around her. His body, his scent, his voice… it was intoxicating.
“When you forget your own name,” he whispered, his voice now holding a note of urgency. “You will still remember mine.”
She felt something tensing inside of her. She felt her body striving. She knew she was close.
“Who am I?” he mumbled against ear, never breaking his rhythm. “Who is it that is making you come?”
“M-Malfoy,” she replied, afraid that he’d stop if she didn’t.
“Which Malfoy?” he persisted.
“Draco Malfoy. Please…”
“Who is it that can fulfill your every need?”
“You,” she whimpered.
She was on the brink, and he had to know it, but he was relentless. “Who?”
“What name is all you know when you come?”
“Yours,” she breathed.
“The name, Granger.”
“Dra—“ She broke off on a gasp, but knew he expected an answer. “Draco Malfoy,” she whispered. Oh, this felt like nothing she could remember.
“Again,” he demanded, as he brought a hand in between them, lightly touching her, sending her over the edge.
“Draco…” she moaned the name as she finally succumbed to her climax, tensing beneath him as wave after wave of ecstasy swept her.
He grunted his approval as he then strived for his own orgasm. Holding back had been slightly more work than he had anticipated and he was so very close. “Fuck, Hermione,” he gasped. He grabbed her hip and changed the angle slightly, making her open more so he could get deeper, right before he made the final thrust, letting loose. He moaned loudly as he came hard in a burst of impossible pleasure. Black spots were dancing in front of his vision and the word ‘intense’ would be an understatement. “Fuck…” he whispered against her throat as she willingly drew him closer and caressed his back. It really had been too long.
Finally, he was spent. There was no better word for it. Still, he had to find the energy to get off her, to get up and leave. Staying would be foolish, even if he didn’t have somewhere to be. She might have given herself willingly – eagerly even, but he couldn’t trust her. He knew he couldn’t, because she couldn’t trust him either. He briefly wondered if it had been wrong of him to bring sex into the equation, but quickly tamped down that thought. It had been inevitable. Now to show her that there would be no way to use it against him…
He slowly got up and then lazily smirked at her. “Thanks. I needed that.”