Work Text:
You watched the clock eagerly as you finished your makeup, pinning back the two stubborn strands of hair that always fall into your eyes. The Yule Ball was finally here, and you couldn’t help the thrill of excitement that came with it. You were going with one of your closest friends—Cedric.
He’s liked you since fourth year, when he intercepted you jinxing Pansy Parkinson for bullying a Hufflepuff first-year. But while Cedric’s charm and kindness are undeniable, you’ve never felt quite the same way about him. He’s handsome, sweet, and endlessly good—perhaps too good for someone like you to ever imagine being with.
When you met him outside the common room, the look on his face made your heart twist.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, offering his arm.
You smiled and took it, resting your head lightly against his shoulder as you walked towards the ballroom. You wished you felt more for him, but he knew the truth, and he was alright with it.
The first dance began as tradition demanded, and Cedric swept you off your feet—quite literally—under the enchanted ceiling and glittering lights. As more couples joined the dance, you caught him glancing toward Cho Chang from across the room. The sight filled you with quiet relief; maybe he was finally moving on. After several songs, Cedric excused himself to the bathroom, and you slipped away to find some of your friends.
Now Cedric has been gone for nearly an hour, and you’re dancing alone among your peers. The ballroom has grown darker as the night wears on, and most of the professors have already retired. The enchanted candles have dimmed, casting long shadows across the floor. You can barely make out the shapes of your friends dancing just a few steps away, and you can’t help wondering what could possibly be taking Cedric so long.
Then, without warning, a large hand settles on your hip. The touch makes your breath hitch. The hand pulls you back until your body presses against his. Cedric’s never made a move like this before, but you aren’t complaining. Maybe something’s changed. Perhaps that missing spark between you has finally appeared. You lean back into him as he places his other hand on your hip, swaying with the music.
You glance around, half expecting to see a professor—or, worse, Filch—ready to dock points. But the room is now dim and mostly empty. No one seems to notice you at all.
Most of your friends have already left, and only a few couples remain on the dance floor, lost in each other. The hand at your hip pulls you closer, and warm lips find your jaw. You close your eyes and tilt your head back in surprise—then in invitation. You feel a twitch in his trousers as your breath hitches. His mouth trails to your neck, sucking gently at your pulse point before pulling back to blow cool air against your damp skin. The shock of cold makes you gasp, eyes fluttering open briefly to see a flash of white-blond hair.
For a moment, confusion floods you. Then realisation hits.
“What the bloody hell, Malfoy?” you hiss as you whip around, rubbing your neck where he’d been kissing you, your heart still hammering.
“Ooh, feeling feisty now?” he drawls coolly, a smug grin curling his lips. “What’s wrong, love? You didn’t seem to mind a minute ago.”
“Get off of me!” you snap, batting away his hand. “Shouldn’t you be off sulking with your dementor of a date?”
“Parkinson?” Draco scoffs. “I only brought her to appease my parents. Ditched her the first chance I got. Dreadful company.” Arching an eyebrow, he leans back slightly and crosses his arms. You can’t help glancing down to spot his hard-on under his dress robes.
You quickly bring your eyes back up to meet his smirk as heat floods your cheeks. “I’ve got to go find Cedric,” you blurt as you take a few rushed steps towards the corridor nearest the lavatories. You hear a faint sigh of annoyance from Draco and do your best to ignore it.
You should have noticed right away—Cedric is far too tall to be able to reach your neck while keeping his body so firmly pressed against your own. Not to mention he’d never be so bold as to touch you like that. Your mind begins to wander back to those moments before you pulled away. You return to a normal walking speed and try to steady your nerves as you stave off thoughts of Draco’s mouth on your neck. You’re too flustered to notice the calm striding steps keeping pace behind you.
Thinking you’re in the clear, you round the corner into the corridor. Draco’s hand grasps your upper arm, spinning you around to face him, your back against the cold stone wall.
“What’s going on with you and pretty-boy Diggory, anyway?” he asks, his voice low and sharp. “He obviously fancies you.” His breath is hot against your face as he plants his other hand beside your head, caging you in.
“We’re friends. You know what friends are, don’t you?” You regret the juvenile quip instantly, wishing you’d said something cleverer.
But Draco ignores the jab, eyes gleaming. “Then why are you so keen to go find him? Don’t you think you’d have more fun with somebody who knows what you want?”
“You don’t know anything about me,” you fire back, forcing your voice to stay steady as you avoid his gaze. “And when Cedric hears you’ve been harassing me, he’ll put you in St. Mungo’s.”
Draco leans back slightly, laughing under his breath. “Oh, I doubt he’ll be up for that tonight. I ran into him in the gents earlier—he wasn’t looking his best. Left in quite a hurry.” His smirk widens.
“What did you do to him?” you demand, your voice rising.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, he’ll be fine in the morning. Maybe a bit peaky.”
Your pulse quickens—part anger, part something you refuse to name. “Has my disgraceful ancestry slipped your mind, then?” you snarl, lifting your chin in defiance.
Draco leans farther forward in response to your cheek—his lips mere centimetres away from yours before you feel his bulge press into your hip. You yelp with a combination of surprise and reluctant excitement. Draco rapidly removes his hand from your arm to cover your mouth as he grins and scans the vicinity for anybody who might’ve heard.
When he’s decided no one’s around, he whispers, “Do you honestly think I give a flying fuck about your bloodline? I thought we were past second-year nonsense.” There’s a flicker of something unguarded in his tone—something almost sincere. It disarms you, leaving your heart pounding harder than before.
It’s true, he hasn’t been nearly as much of a prat in the past year. And on more than a few of those regrettable occasions when he’s caught you glancing his way in class, there’s been a glimmer in his eyes—something like the shadow of a suppressed smile. But you’ve always pretended not to notice.
In a moment of vulnerability, his poise falters, and he looks at you as if, for the first time, he’s asking your permission. He sees the look of longing in your eyes and greed washes over his face once more. He leans in towards your neck again, hand still covering your mouth. As he proceeds to work his lips over the hollow of your neck, your body softens to his touch. He moves his other hand to the small of your back, pulling your hips closer while your shoulders rest against the wall.
Draco removes his hand from your mouth to start gliding it over your body. Giving in to your impulses, you lean towards his ear to whisper tauntingly, “You hexed my date just to get me alone?”
He lifts his head to look down at you. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of you getting a walk home and a kiss on the cheek from the boy next door when you look,” he takes a sharp inhale and glances over you lustfully, “like that, in this fucking dress.”
Your pulse throbs as his hands grip you tighter, closing the distance between your mouths. You’re surprised by the brief tenderness of the kiss, before he tugs your hair, pulling your head back, and presses himself harder into you. You whimper into his mouth, reaching your arms under his robe and around his torso, feeling the lean muscles in his back flex. He does the same, feeling for the lacing of your dress.
“W-wait, don’t,” you stammer, reaching for his arm.
“I can’t take off your dress?” he asks, attempting to maintain an air of snarky indifference.
You suppress a laugh at his obvious disappointment. “Not here.”
Awareness flashes in Draco’s eyes, and before you can say another word, he pulls you in for a fierce kiss. You let out a muffled squeal of surprise as he lifts you off the ground, the sound echoing faintly in the empty corridor.
Draco lets out a breathy chuckle, carrying you a little farther before stopping beside a tapestry. With one hand, he sweeps it aside to reveal a narrow hidden passage. Dust motes swirl in the flickering torchlight. Setting you gently on your feet, he shrugs off his robe and spreads it over the cold stone floor, his movements uncharacteristically careful.
You look at him, curiosity and anticipation tangling in your chest. He returns to you, pushing you back up against the wall of the passage and kissing you hard. Once more, he reaches for the lacing of your dress, and this time you say nothing.
He pulls away from the kiss to watch keenly as he slides the dress slowly down your body, tracing your skin with his firm hands. As he takes his time with your dress, you kick off your shoes, remove his already undone tie, and begin to unbutton his vest and shirt, shivering under his touch. You get down to the last button when he starts to lay you down over his robe.
Draco retrieves his wand and points it back toward the tapestry, murmuring an incantation you don’t recognise. You give him a questioning look.
He smirks. “Perks of being Snape’s favourite.”
“What does it do?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed.
“Makes sure nobody else can hear you moaning my name.”
You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance as a wave of warmth pulses through you.
You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him kick off his shoes and remove his shirt. He drops to his hands and knees, positioning himself over you. You run your hands over his toned abdomen, and he brushes your hair back away from your eyes, cradling your head before leaning in to kiss you once more.
As your tongues clash, you arch your back to allow Draco to unlatch your bra. He lets out a guttural sigh, his palms gliding over your bare chest, thumbs grazing your hardening nipples. Lowering his head, he takes one in his mouth, sucking firmly while his tongue swirls around the sensitive tip as he twists the other between his fingers. He glances up, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy. You gasp sharply and lean your head back, your breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts that echo faintly off the stone walls.
He releases your nipple from his lips to plant sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across your chest, proceeding to do the same to your other breast. His teeth graze your tender skin as he sucks harder, drawing a low whine from your throat. The contrast of his warm mouth against the cool draft of the passageway heightens every sensation.
After a few moments, he lifts himself back up to eye level wearing a cocky grin. You scoff and pull his face back towards your own. As he kisses you heatedly, you grind your hips against his thigh, seeking friction to ease the ache building between your legs. The rough wool of his trousers scrapes against your knickers. Noticing your desperation, Draco shifts, wedging his hips between your thighs. He lowers his weight, pressing the hard bulge of his cock against your core through the layers of fabric. Your breath hitches, kiss faltering as you savour the insistent pressure. He grinds down slowly, the friction teasing your clit through your now soaked knickers, and an uncontrollable moan issues from your lungs. His smug grin widens against your mouth before he pulls back in, kissing you deeper, more urgently.
You wrap your legs around his back to pull him impossibly closer, your hips rolling up to meet his rhythmic thrusts. The robe bunches beneath you, the stone's chill seeping through in spots. Draco's hand snakes down to grasp your arse, fingers digging into your skin as he guides your movements.
Eventually, Draco pries your legs from around him, rolling to lie on his side next to you. His lips trailing to your jaw as his hand moves lower, tracing the curve of your pelvis as your legs instinctively separate further. He teasingly cups your groin, rubbing his fingers flatly against the wet fabric before finally dipping into your knickers. His fingers slide through your slick folds, and a low, appreciative moan rumbles from his chest. “Oh fuck,” he breathes into your neck, voice rough. You fight the urge to twitch as he teases your entrance, dipping just the tips of two fingers inside, coating them in your wetness before withdrawing. Your breathing turns ragged, a needy gasp escaping as you ache for more. He presses kisses along your collarbone, nipping the skin there, while bringing his fingers up to circle your clit with agonising gentleness. The light pressure builds to firmer strokes, creating friction that has your hips jerking up towards him.
Pleasure surges through you at Draco’s teasing touch. Desperate for more, you fumble with his belt, fingers trembling as you start unbuttoning his trousers. But he catches your wrist, pinning your hand to the floor. “Not yet,” he rasps hotly into your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. After one final, torturous stroke over your throbbing clit, he lifts his glistening fingers to his mouth, sliding his middle and ring fingers past his lips and sucking your wetness from them. You inhale sharply at the display, heat flooding your cheeks, and he grins triumphantly.
Draco lowers his head, planting messy, fervent kisses down your torso. Your back arches when his mouth reaches your hip, teeth grazing the bone as he sucks a mark there. He slows deliberately, pausing after each kiss to glance up at you, drinking in your impatience. Finally, he hooks his fingers into your knickers, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside into the shadows. He kisses his way up your inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin as he inches closer to your core. Your breath hitches, anticipation building with every warm press of his mouth.
Finally, he reaches the heat between your thighs. His breath fans over your exposed cunt, making you shiver. Draco's hands grip your thighs wider, thumbs pressing into your skin to hold you open, vulnerable under his gaze. He pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours, that aloof smirk playing on his lips. Despite the flicker of resentment in your chest, your body betrays you, hips tilting up toward him in invitation. Gently, he parts your folds with his fingers. You're already so wet, your body aching for his touch.
Draco leans in, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate line along your outer lips. The sensation is electric. The flat of his tongue drags upward, pressing firmly against your entrance before flicking lightly over your clit, sending a jolt through your core. You gasp, fingers twisting into the robe beneath you. He takes his time, his mouth exploring with calculated precision. His tongue circles your entrance teasingly, dipping just inside to swirl around the tight ring of muscle before retreating, lapping at your cunt in broad, hungry strokes. He groans against your skin, the vibration humming through your clit, and it makes your hips buck involuntarily.
Emboldened by your reaction, he spreads you wider with his thumbs, exposing your clit to the cool air, and presses his mouth fully against you, tracing tight circles around the swollen nub. Pleasure sparks in your core, building with each precise movement. He sucks gently on your clit, drawing it between his lips, and you moan loudly, the sound echoing in the passageway. Your thighs tremble, instinctively trying to close around his head, but he holds them open with firm hands, the sounds of his mouth on your wet cunt obscene in the quiet passageway.
He removes a hand from your leg and circles a finger around your entrance before slipping it inside you. Your walls clench around him as he sinks deeper, knuckle by knuckle. He curls his finger to stroke that spot on your inner wall with precise, come-hither motions that make your breath hitch and your toes curl against the stone. The pressure builds, an ache that radiates outward, as he adds a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch you further. He pumps them in and out, starting shallow to tease your entrance, then plunging deep to grind against that sensitive ridge, his fingers hooking to drag along your walls on every withdrawal.
All the while, his tongue resumes licking your clit in firm, rhythmic strokes that match the thrust of his fingers. The dual assault has you moaning, back arching off the robe, the distant echo of your cries bouncing off the stone walls. Draco watches you intently, his free hand now pinning your hip down to limit your squirms, maintaining control even as his cock strains against his open trousers. You hate how good it feels, how his touch chips away at your disdain.
He lifts his head and adds a third finger experimentally, twisting them together to fill you more completely, the stretch making you whimper as he fucks them into you faster, his palm slapping lightly against your clit with each drive. Your cunt flutters around his fingers, the coil in your belly tightening unbearably, but Draco senses your impending release and slows, drawing out the torment.
“Patience, love,” Draco rasps, his voice a gravelly whisper that sends shivers down your spine as he withdraws his fingers, the wet drag making you whine in protest. The lewd noise reverberates off the walls of the passageway, flushing your cheeks with heat despite the cool air nipping at your exposed skin. He straightens up slightly, his lithe, pale body taut with restraint, muscles flexing under the faint torchlight seeping in. Your eyes betray you, dipping to follow the sharp V of his hips, fixating on the thick bulge straining against his trousers. With a rough shove, he yanks them down along with his pants, kicking the discarded fabric into the shadows. His cock bounces free, the head already beaded with pre-cum. A traitorous thrill shoots through you, clashing with the stubborn resentment you've harboured for him for so long.
Beneath the haze of arousal, a knot of suppressed nervousness twists in your gut—this is your first time. Your heart races, not just from desire but from the unknown, the fear of pain or inadequacy flickering in your mind. But this is the first time you’ve ever really wanted this, and you want it badly. You bite your lip, trying to mask the slight tremor in your hands as they clutch the robe, willing your body to stay steady, to not let him see the vulnerability you're burying deep.
Draco picks up his wand to cast a contraceptive charm, then kneels between your thighs once more. He wraps a hand around his base, guiding the tip of his cock to glide through your slick folds, breathing out a moan as he coats himself in your wetness. He teases your entrance, pressing just the head against it before pulling back, then drags up to bump your swollen clit. Each deliberate stroke elicits a soft, involuntary whimper from your lips, but it's laced with a hint of unease, your thighs tensing instinctively as if to close, though you force them to remain parted. Your hands shoot up to grip his shoulders, nails scraping over his skin, fighting to keep the nervousness from your eyes. He continues to tease your entrance as the ache inside you intensifies, and before you can bite it back, the words tumble out: “Draco, please.” Your voice escapes breathy and desperate, and you hate how needy you sound for him.
His grey eyes darken with triumph as he leans in close, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “Begging already? I knew you'd come around,” he drawls, the smugness in his tone taunting. But his fingers tighten on your thigh, a faint tremor running through them, exposing the fierce want he buries under layers of control.
With a slow, measured thrust of his hips, he pushes inside, the broad head of his cock parting your walls inch by inch. Draco releases a low, primal groan, closing his eyes. The initial pressure stings, a sharp burn that makes you gasp, your body tensing as the unfamiliar fullness invades. You cry out, head falling back against the ground, a mix of discomfort and dawning pleasure washing over you—it's more intense than the fingers, the stretch bordering on overwhelming, and for a moment, panic flares, your walls clenching tightly in resistance. Draco stills immediately, bending forward to plant a gentle, open-mouthed kiss on your lips. One hand strokes your side in slow, soothing circles, giving you time to adjust without a word, his dominance tempered by an unspoken awareness. The pain ebbs gradually, morphing into a deep, throbbing ache that your arousal soothes, your hips shifting experimentally as the nervousness recedes.
He's deep now, hips pressed flush to yours, his cock throbbing inside you. Draco sighs low in his throat, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing harshly to let you adjust. “So fucking tight,” he mutters, voice strained, his cool facade slipping into raw need. You wrap your legs around his waist tentatively at first, then more firmly, pulling him even deeper despite the lingering echo of fear, the edges of your resistance softening under waves of pleasure.
He starts thrusting, then pulling out with deliberate slowness until just the tip remains inside, then driving back in with a deep, measured thrust that grinds against your G-spot. The robe bunches and twists under your back, the unyielding stone a vague discomfort overshadowed by pleasure. Skin meets skin with sharp slaps, mingled with the slick sounds of your cunt taking his cock, echoing through the passageway. His hands wander possessively: one braces beside your head, fingers curling into the fabric for purchase, while the other palms your breast, squeezing the soft flesh before pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger. You match his rhythm instinctively, hips lifting to meet each thrust, your moans spilling out unchecked.
Draco lifts his head, sealing his mouth over yours in a fierce, devouring kiss, his tongue plunging in to tangle with yours, tasting your own wetness and the salt of your shared sweat. He accelerates, hips snapping forward with increasing force, the wet sounds of him fucking into you echoing in the passageway. He straightens up and lifts your hips slightly, shifting his angle to sink even deeper, your belly clenching with impending release. “Fuck, you feel too good,” he pants, his voice fracturing, hips stuttering as his ironclad control begins to fray.
Yet he denies you the edge, easing into a torturous grind, his cock stirring lazily inside your clenching cunt, dragging along your walls with every subtle roll. “Not so quick,” he whispers, his breath coming in hot, uneven bursts. You whimper in protest, but he chuckles—a deep, wicked rumble that vibrates through you—before withdrawing nearly all the way, leaving you hollow and yearning. Then he slams back in, the sudden fullness ripping a gasp from your throat, your back bowing off the floor.
He plays your body like an instrument, mixing shallow, teasing pumps with brutal, full-depth thrusts, his thumb descending to rub your clit in harmony with his movements. Your legs tremble, every fibre of you straining toward climax, but Draco reads it in your tightening grip, your fluttering walls, and pulls back just enough to prolong the agonising pleasure. Your pride battles the insidious thrill of his touch, how his calculated facade cracks in fleeting glimpses, forcing you to confront the unwelcome spark of liking him.
“On your knees,” he commands after what feels like endless torment, his voice gravel-rough with strain. He pulls out slowly, his cock sliding free with a wet drag that leaves you achingly empty. A flicker of irritation sparks in you at his order, but the lingering haze of need overrides it, and you roll onto your stomach, pushing up onto hands and knees. The fabric clings to your sweat-slicked skin, the stone's chill biting through at your knees and palms. Draco positions himself behind you, his strong hands clamping onto your hips, yanking you back until your arse presses against his hips. His cock prods your entrance, the tip tracing your dripping folds, bumping your clit with deliberate nudges that have you rocking backwards, chasing the friction despite yourself.
Without warning, he surges forward, thrusting his full length into you in one fluid, powerful motion. The new angle allows him to plunge deeper, his thick shaft stretching your walls to their limit. You gasp, your fingers twisting into the robe as you brace against the relentless stone. Draco sets a punishing pace immediately, hips pistoning forward in a steady, unyielding rhythm, each impact jolting pleasure up your spine. His hands glide up your back before one fists your hair, tugging your head back with just enough force to arch your spine, opening you further for his invasion. “Look at you, taking my cock like you were made for it,” he growls, the praise dripping with arrogant pride, yet threaded with genuine wonder that pierces your defences, urging you to shove back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour.
The passageway amplifies every obscene noise: the wet slap of his balls against your clit, your ragged moans blending with his guttural grunts of exertion. He snakes a hand around your hip, fingers finding your clit to rub in tight, slick circles. Your thighs quiver uncontrollably, your orgasm building as he fucks you harder, the robe sliding beneath your knees with the force. You feel his rhythm hitch, his thrusts turning sloppy for a breath before he reins it in, slowing to long, languid drags that pull whimpers from your throat, your body begging for more.
“Ride me,” he demands abruptly, withdrawing with a slick pop and flipping onto his back. His cock juts upward, rigid and glistening, veins throbbing invitingly. The shift in dynamic sends a thrill through you despite your lingering frustration. You swing a leg over him, straddling his narrow hips, hands steadying on his chest as he guides his tip to your entrance. Sinking down gradually, you savour the exquisite stretch, controlling how deeply he fills you, your walls hugging his length as you bottom out with a shared moan.
Draco's hands grasp your thighs, his grip bruising, eyes locked on yours—stormy and intense, the signature smirk vanished, replaced by slack lips and dilated pupils. You begin to move, hips circling in slow rolls, your clit grinding against the coarse hair at his base with each downward press, the friction sending jolts through you. He bucks up to counter you, hands sliding up to knead your breasts, thumbs circling and pinching your nipples until they peak into tight buds, the sharp tugs pulling gasps from your lips.
The power feels heady, letting you dictate the speed, quickening to bounce on his cock, rising and falling with wet, rhythmic slaps. Your thighs flex with each lift, muscles burning from the effort, while his shaft drags along your inner walls, the ridge of his head catching sensitive spots that make your toes curl. But Draco refuses passivity; he surges upright, one arm banding around your waist to crush you against his chest, his mouth descending on your neck to suck hard, teeth grazing as he brands your skin with blooming marks that throb in time with your pulse. You ride him with renewed vigour as he thrusts up into you.
His other hand delves between your bodies, thumb pressing against your clit, stroking in firm, insistent circles that shatter your composure, the rough pad rubbing faster as your breaths mingle in short, desperate pants. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving red crescents on pale skin, as the tension coils tighter, every grind pushing you closer.
Climax crashes over you like thunder, your walls convulsing around his cock in rhythmic pulses, his name streaming from your lungs as you arch back, body shaking in his unyielding hold. Waves of pleasure ripple through you, cunt fluttering and squeezing his length as you tremble. He drives into you through your aftershocks, prolonging the bliss until it's almost too much.
Draco's groan rumbles against your throat, low and involuntary, his hips jerking erratically beneath you, the twitch of his cock signalling he's teetering on the edge. But he grits his teeth, muscles locking as he forces himself to still. His cock throbs inside you, veins pulsing against your sensitive walls, but he holds back, breath ragged against your skin, chest heaving with the effort of restraint. A strained groan escapes him as he slowly eases you off him, his length slipping free with a lewd, wet sound. The sudden emptiness makes you whimper, oversensitive nerves protesting the loss, clenching on nothing as cool air teases your dripping cunt.
Draco's hands are already guiding you, flipping your positions with controlled strength, his fingers digging into your hips to manoeuvre you onto your side, facing away from him. He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his arm to expose your soaked entrance, the robe bunching awkwardly beneath your bodies, but ignored in the haze. He slots himself behind, his chest pressing flush to your back, the heat of his skin searing. With a single, measured thrust, he slides back in, filling you to the hilt in this new sideways angle that hits new depths—his cock curving just right to drag along untouched spots.
You gasp at the renewed fullness, your body still humming from the first climax, every sensation amplified as his hips begin a steady grind, rolling into you with deep, circular motions. The position allows for closeness amid the intensity—his lips brush your ear, hot breath fanning as a low, involuntary hum vibrates from his chest, his hand trembling slightly on your thigh as he holds you open. You push back into him, matching his rhythm, the friction building heat in your core once more, your arse pressing against his pelvis with each backward rock, the coarse hair there scraping your skin.
His pace varies—slow, teasing withdrawals, followed by sharp, snapping hips that bury him deep, the head of his cock nudging your G-spot with a jolt that makes your vision blur. When you feel him tense again, his thrusts faltering as his breath hitches in a ragged exhale, he pulls out almost entirely, the slick tip hovering at your entrance. A frustrated groan rumbles from him, deep and guttural, as he rubs the head along your folds, bumping your clit in familiar slow drags that make you squirm, hips canting for more. Then he plunges back in, starting the cycle anew, the denial heightening everything—your second orgasm coiling tighter, fueled by the prolonged tease.
Sensing your climb, the way your breath turns shallow and your walls begin to flutter, Draco shifts once more, withdrawing fully with a wet slide. He urges you onto your knees again, but this time pulls you upright, back against his chest, both of you kneeling now, his arms wrapping around to hold you steady as he enters from behind. One hand braces on the stone wall for leverage, fingers splaying wide against the cold surface, the other snakes down to part your folds, two fingers dipping in alongside his cock for a brief, stretching fullness, the added pressure making your knees buckle. He fucks you like this, short, powerful drives that jolt your body forward, his chest heaving against your back, sweat now dripping from his brow.
The fingers withdraw to circle your clit in tight, slick loops, the combined sensations pushing you over the brink. Your second orgasm rips through you harder than the first, cunt spasming wildly around his length as you cry out, a broken moan that echoes, nails scraping the stone wall. Your cunt squeezes his shaft, the obscene clench and flood of wetness finally cracking his restraint.
Draco's breath catches in a sharp, involuntary gasp against your neck, his hips slamming against your arse with frantic urgency, abandoning all control as he thrusts deeper, faster, the wet sounds growing louder, more desperate. His arm tightens around you, pressing flat against your lower stomach to feel himself moving inside. A low, wordless growl builds in his throat, vibrating through you as his cock swells, pulsing erratically. He rasps. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply, teeth grazing skin without bite. You feel his cock twitch deep inside you as he unloads, his release mixing with yours in a messy, warm flood that drips down your thighs.
Draco collapses onto the robe, and you fall backwards onto his heaving chest.
After a moment of silent recovery, you turn to look at him and can’t help but let out a chuckle. He returns your smile in a display of sincerity you would never have thought possible before tonight, and reaches to brush your hair away from your eyes.
His tenderness emboldens you, though your eyes shift away from his before divulging, “That was my first time.”
He pulls you closer and you can feel his eyes boring into you. Once you finally look back up into his face, he smiles.
“I thought, maybe.”
“Really?” you ask curiously, cocking an eyebrow.
“It’s not like I could tell or anything,” he clarifies. “I’ve just never heard about you with anybody besides Diggory, so…” This time, he turns away from your gaze, his cheeks flushed again.
“Oh, so you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” you tease, turning his head back to face you.
Before Draco has time to formulate his reply, you pull him in for a gentle kiss. After a moment of mild surprise, he kisses you back, holding your face with one hand as he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you even closer.