Draco opens his eyes, as pointless as the action is right at that moment. All he can see is dark. Pitch dark, not even the smallest crack of light. He knows that Hermione has the entire room bright as mid-day, because he'd watched her light something on the order of seven hundred candles, but knowing isn't seeing. The last thing he'd seen was her pink tongue swiping across her lips as she folded a swatch of material into a thick strip and laid it across his eyes. He'd felt plenty after. Fuck, he'd felt. First the heavy leather cuffs fastened around his wrists, then the stretch in his arms as she attached them to the headboard, then her lips pressed to his, her breasts on his chest, her thighs wrapped around his hips.
He licks his lips, twisting his hands in the cuffs to test his range of motion. Hermione's nails scrape down his sternum and Draco hisses. "Now, now," she says, her voice full of laughter. "Keep trying that and I'll use a Sticking charm and make sure you can't get them off."
Immediately, he relaxes his arms, letting the cuffs hold them up. "And people think I'm evil," he mumbles.
"Always the quiet ones, isn't it that the rule?" Hermione laughs and Draco feels the mattress shift as she sits on the edge of it. She drags one finger beneath the curve of his lower lip and down the column of his neck. Draco tries to hold still, but she finds one of the sensitive spots on his throat and he shivers. Hermione laughs again and the bed creaks. She moves away, leaving him.
Without his sight or his hands, he has to rely on sound. He strains to hear anything from her. The rustle of lace against satin might indicate if she's put on the dark purple basque he loves so much. Footsteps could tell him if she's wearing tall heels or going bare-footed. Bureau drawers sliding or wardrobe doors opening could give him a hint to what she's planning. He lifts his head, tilting it back and forth in efforts to get some sound to his ears, but there's nothing. Not a single sound. No movement, no creaking floorboards. Not even the sound of her breathing.
"Granger," he says. His heart is pounding, making him tremble. It's so quiet in their bedroom. So damned quiet. He'd think she'd thrown a Silencing charm over him if he couldn't hear his own voice. "Granger."
He waits for a few seconds, licking his lips and swallowing to moisten his dry throat. For a moment, he starts to believe that she's left the room, left him cuffed to the bed, left him alone entirely, and he tugs at the bonds around his wrists. "Granger!"
"I'm here," she says quietly. The floor creaks beside the bed and Hermione rests her hand on his hair. Draco drops his head to the pillow beneath him and exhales, his body shaking. Hermione strokes his hair, pushing his fringe back from the blindfold, kneading his scalp. Her fingers trace the arch of his brows. "I'm here, Draco."
"Witch," he grumbles, tipping his head into her hand. He stretches, nuzzling for her palm to press a kiss against the heel of her thumb. "Don't go quiet like that. Not that long."
He feels the air move as she bends over him and her lips touch his forehead. She sets her hand over his heart. He knows she can feel it thrumming, pounding fast against his ribs. Hermione cups his cheek and her mouth brushes his. "Sorry, love," she murmurs. "Do you want to tap out?"
Draco closes his eyes behind the blindfold. He holds still, concentrating on his breathing, on the race of his heart. He focuses on the swirl of emotions that have his skin hot and tingling. His cock is stiffening fast, blood pulsing through him. Hermione flicks her nail over his nipple and Draco sucks in air with a gasp. "No," he says, his lips moving against hers. "I'm good."
Hermione's lips move, curling in a smile he can feel. She kisses him, mouth, cheek, throat, and her teeth scrape his earlobe. Draco shudders, and this time when Hermione walks away from the bed, he can hear her feet hitting the floorboards hard, thudding in rhythm with his heart.
He listens as she moves around the bedroom. Being unable to tell what she's doing is more frustrating than he'd thought it would be when he first agreed to this. He wants to wrench his hands out of the cuffs and throw the blindfold onto the floor. He wants to lunge across the room and grab her up, shove her down across the foot of the bed and drive into her. He's not sure if he wants her to get it over with or get on with it, whatever she has in mind, but he knows he wants her to just. Stop. Teasing him.
The floor creaks as she comes back to the bed and Draco holds his breath. The mattress dips and her knees press against the insides of his thighs. Draco widens his legs before he realizes he's moving. Hermione's hands settle on his hips, her thumbs close - so fucking close, but not close enough - to the base of his cock. He digs his heels into the bed and lifts his hips, trying to force her hands to slide, to push her fingers against his cock.
Hermione tenses her fingers, digging her nails into his hips. Draco hisses and swears. "All right, all right," he says. Deliberately, he relaxes, easing the tension out of his muscles. "No moving. I get it."
She releases the grip on his hips and wraps one hand around his cock. Draco groans in relief, pants as her free hand slides between his legs. He doesn't need the blindfold removed to know exactly what her face looks like at that moment. He knows her eyes are hooded, her lashes lowered as she watches her fingers circle and stroke him. Her lips are pressed together, the very tip of her tongue poking out from between them and touching the pointed center of her upper lip. Her cheeks are pink, her forehead wrinkled.
Hermione rubs two fingers against his perineum, moving lower and lower. Draco sinks his teeth into his lip, pulls the skin taut as Hermione's fingers drift down. He widens his legs further, presses his feet into the bed and bends his knees to shift the angle of his hips. Hermione gives a quiet, warning hum, and he tenses, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding still. "C'mon," he says, his voice hoarse already. "C'mon, keep going."
She laughs, soft and wicked, and his cock throbs, swaying in the loose circle of her fingers. She tightens her grip, wraps her hand around him and squeezes, and Draco shouts as heat fills his body and fire spins along his nerves. He grips the cuffs that hold his arms to the headboard and he pulls hard, the leather creaking. "Granger," he mutters, panting around each word, each syllable. "Granger. C'mon. I can't take this much longer. Fuck me, suck me, I don't care. Just something."
She rubs her thumb over the head of his cock, spreading fluid across the glans and around the ridge. She releases him and he hears her licking his taste off her thumb, sucking it hard and pulling free of her lips with a loud pop. He groans, imagining his cock in her mouth, her tongue moving around him, down his shaft and around his bollocks, beneath the pouch and over the frenulum. Hermione swipes her fingers over the head and touches his mouth. Draco opens for her and she pushes her fingers between his lips. "Suck," she tells him.
He cleans her fingers with wild, rapid flicks of his tongue, sucks the musky, salty drops off her skin. She drags her wet fingers down his chest, circles his nipples, dances under his ribs. "Hermione," Draco says, and she laughs at the strain in his voice. She lays one hand over the taut muscles in his stomach and strokes the other over his thighs. She reaches under him, pushes one finger between his cheeks, and rubs the pucker of his arse. Draco yelps and pushes against her hand. "Hermione, do it."
Her hands leave him entirely and Draco wants to sob. He slumps, his arms dangling loose from the cuffs, his legs sprawled across the bed. The mattress dips as Hermione moves. She straddles him, knees against his ribs and hands on his shoulders. "Hermione," Draco mutters, lifting his head. He can't see her through the blindfold and he's not certain he wants to right that moment. If he wants to see the hard, red peaks of her nipples or the curls between her thighs, sparkling and slick with the juices he can feel dripping onto his stomach.
She bends and kisses the tip of his nose. "Afraid I couldn't hear that properly, Draco," she whispers, her breath hot on his ear.
"Do it," he grumbles. "Do me. Fuck me. C'mon."
"No." She bites his shoulder, flicks his nipple with the point of her nail. "I didn't hear you right. Try again."
"Hermione, goddammit!" Draco strains at his bonds, bucks his hips. He grinds his heels into the bed and lifts, writhing beneath her. "Fuck me."
She gives a dark laugh and reaches back, slapping his thigh. "No. Say it right."
Panting, sweat beading on his forehead and the bridge of his nose under the blindfold, Draco collapses. "Hermione, fuck me. Please."
Her fingers wrap around his cock and he cries out. She hums in triumph. "Very good. What was that again?" She pumps her hand on his length.
Draco shudders. "Please," he says, and she gives him another stroke.
She shifts backward and rubs the head of his cock against her cunt, soaking the tip with her juices.
She fits the head to her entrance, rubs her palm down the shaft, cradles his bollocks in her fingers.
Draco whimpers. "Please, Hermione. Please. Please fuck me."
She sinks down on him with a moan that vibrates through his body. Draco grunts as she lifts up and grinds down, riding him, squeezing around his cock, tugging at his balls. Now he knows what she wants and he gives it to her, in a heavy, groaning voice. He pleads with her, asks her over and over again. Harder, Hermione, faster, right there, god, again, please, like that, please, please. Please.
She grinds down on him and scrapes her nails over his chest. Draco bucks as fire burns through his blood and the coiling knot in his abdomen snaps apart. He hauls at his cuffs, throws his head back, and cries out as he comes. His heart pounds, thudding like a drum in his ears, but over it, he can hear her. He can hear her stuttering laugh and quivering moans as she rides to her own completion.
When she collapses on him, their skin sticking together with sweat and come, he twists both legs around one of hers to hold her as best he can with his hands still bound. "You are evil," he mutters, jumping as she circles his nipple with one nail. "Making a man beg like that."
She laughs and lifts her head from his shoulder to kiss him. "Oh, sweetheart," she purrs, biting his lip. "That wasn't even close to begging. Yet."