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“Hermione, left foot blue,” Lee announced from his place on the couch.
Hermione lifted her foot from yellow, bringing it up to wedge beside George’s on the only convenient blue circle. George bumped his hip against hers, trying to tip her over. She gasped her affront, laughing and shoving her arse into him then lifting it high in the air to hold her balance.
It was exactly then when her front door opened. Hermione looked down between her thighs to see that Draco had returned home, still dressed in his Healer scrubs, a dark cloak the only visual respite from the offensively bright color. He froze just inside the room, eyes locking on her arse which was, unfortunately, presented front and center by her bent-over wide-legged position and covered only by a thin pair of black yoga pants. He blinked then took in the rest of the scene: the large, multi-colored dot mat she and George were twisted up on, with Lee sprawled on the adjacent sofa watching them.
“Granger,” Draco said, tone politely inquisitive. “Have you been holding orgies while I’m at work? Or, even more concerning, redecorating?”
“No,” she laughed. “It’s Twister! Come play!”
Draco stepped fully into the room, unclasping his cloak with an absent hand as he surveyed them more closely. George was balanced precariously with a foot on blue and a hand each on green and yellow, with Hermione beside him with two feet on blue and a hand extended back through her legs on red.
“This is a Muggle game, I presume,” Draco said at last.
She rolled her eyes, a motion which drew his gaze back down to her face. “As usual, you are—”
“A prat,” offered George with a grin.
“Boringly astute!” Lee put in.
“—correct,” she mouthed. The edge of Draco’s lips curled up but he corralled his pleased smile quickly with a long suffering sigh.
“So what, it’s just for two people?” He nodded to Lee. “You’re not playing?”
“Someone’s got to be the spinner, eh?” Lee raised the cardboard square. “And I like being on the sidelines, anyway.”
Draco made a sound of agreement but Hermione’s thighs were beginning to burn from the stretch so she huffed loudly before Draco could ask another question.
“Come on Lee,” she whinged. “Spin it! I’m going to keel over if you don’t give me somewhere better to put my hands.”
“Pah!” George scoffed. “Pathetic. I could hold this all night.”
Hermione lifted just her sock-covered toes from the mat to stab them as hard as she could into the top of George’s foot beside her on the shared circle.
“Bloody hell,” he yelped, wiggling his foot to try and shake her off without toppling over or leaving the dot. “Cheating! Lee, she's cheating!”
“I'm not!” she retorted adamantly, pressing down harder. “Touching is allowed; read the rules!”
“Swotty comment!” Lee waggled a finger at her. “A sickle in the jar for you, Herm!”
“Touching is allowed?” Draco repeated, brow raising. “What sort of game is this, Granger?”
“Don’t call me Herm!” she complained to Lee, who grinned unapologetically, then looked at Draco as best she could from between her legs. He was just as handsome upside down, something she noted automatically and then promptly tried to unthink.
“It’s a kids’ game,” she told him. “Don’t be gross.”
He touched a hand to his chest in mock offense, expression going wide before curling back into a smirk, flicking a lock of hair back up into the swept-back style he preferred for work. He’d just gotten off an 18-hour shift at St. Mungos and even with his features softened from exhaustion and wearing those horrible lime green scrubs, he still looked delicious. She forced the thoughts back into the special little box she kept them in but didn't have time to click the lid shut when George's fervent jostling redirected her focus.
She softened her knees just slightly to stabilize herself, sending her bum back for balance. She vaguely registered Draco muffle a swear as he dropped his cloak, but George was about to tip and she couldn’t spare a glance back to see what her blonde roommate had done. A moment later George went down, grappling for purchase but finding none in his socks, arse meeting the plastic mat with a satisfying thud. Hermione checked once to confirm her victory was secure before finally falling back onto her own bum, thighs shaky.
“Huzzah!” she said, doing a little seated victory dance with raised fists. George kicked at her while Lee booed her good-naturedly.
Draco crossed his arms over his chest, surveying them with muted amusement. “So this is what you lot have been up to all day? Do none of you work?”
“This is work,” George corrected. “We’re exploring incorporating party games in the Wheezes product offering for autumn — y’know, before the start of term — and Hermione had the afternoon free after getting back early from patrolling Centaurs or whatever.”
She tsked, whacking at his arm. “Petitioning Centaurs.”
“How lovely for the Hogwarts staff. I can only imagine the creativity you’ll apply to this.” Draco waved a hand lazily at the mat. “A stinging hex or two, I expect.”
“Ohhh!” George craned his head back to Lee, who snapped his fingers and pointed back at George in agreement.
“Don’t give them ideas.” Hermione pushed to her feet, dusting off her bum and giving Draco a faux-chastising look. He ignored it, eyes still downcast.
“Interesting that the four House colors are represented,” he mused, tilting his head. “You could do something with that. Add in charms or rule-based gameplay that are geared toward the strengths or weaknesses of each House, like having to complete a dare whenever you touch a red dot, for instance. Or answer a trivia question for blue.”
Lee and George were both staring at Draco like he was some sort of games-genius, twin expressions of ever-mounting mischief curling their mouths into smiles.
“Oh yeah,” George emphasized, nodding at Draco. “That’s brilliant, mate. And what for Slyth–”
“Time to go,” Hermione interrupted cheerily, shooing him up. “I can’t allow this sort of brainstorming to continue in my home. As a former Head Girl, it feels irresponsible to allow.”
“It’s my home, too,” Draco put in, smirking at the way she was clearly trying to stem his involvement. “Shouldn’t I get a say in how I spend my time in it?”
“Hmm…” She pretended to think. “Nope.”
He gave her a flat look which she met with a smirk of her own, something she’d learned through the osmotic equivalent of cohabiting with the prince of slanting smiles for the better part of a year.
“Fine, fine.” George got to his feet as Lee curled up to a sit, setting the cardboard spinner on the couch cushion beside him. “But don’t think kicking us out will interrupt this collaboration.” He waggled a forefinger between himself and Draco. “I do know how to owl people, you know.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Hermione told him, voice dripping with sincerity. “That’s huge, George. Well done.”
“Oi.” He ruffled her curls as he passed her on the way to his shoes by the door. “Horrible woman.”
“I’ll send you other Muggle game suggestions,” she said, watching as they donned shoes and jackets. “If you need a tutorial on any of them, I’m happy to help.”
“Much obliged.” Lee sent a beaming smile her way. “Ta, Hermione.”
“Anything for unification,” she said brightly, then waved them out. George sent them each a loaded parting glance as the door swung shut.
“You kicked them out rather abruptly,” Draco noted from where he’d meandered to the sofa. He picked up the spinner and gave it a flick. Hermione watched the black plastic dial zip around before slowing to land on ‘left hand green’.
“I thought you might be tired,” she said easily, using the side of her foot to neaten his shoes where he'd left them at the base of the coat stand.
He caught her gaze from the corner of his eye and she could tell right away that he saw right through her lie.
“Thoughtful of you. But I’m not tired.” He flicked the spinner again, watching as it landed on ‘right hand red’. “Oof, that’d be a stretch.” He showed her the result. “Think you could do it? You seemed rather bendy.”
The knowledge that he’d observed anything about her body sent a rush of heat through her, but she wasn’t unfamiliar with his rakish flirting so sent him a scathing expression. “Of course I could.”
He jerked his head to the mat. “Let's see it then.”
He was standing on the edge of it, his heels half covering two of the green dots, which meant if she acted on his stupid challenge, she’d have to get rather close to him to get her left hand on green. He marked her dithering with a raised brow, sending her a smile that suggested she’d already failed.
Ha! As if.
She strode over until she was less than a foot from him and then dropped to her knees beside his right leg, keeping her face upturned. The flash of surprise that danced across his features was intensely gratifying but she hid her reaction to it by turning around to get her left hand on the green circle, shuffling on her knees until she was over the central yellow and blue rows. It was easy enough to slap her hand on a red dot, though it stretched her wingspan to its limit, forcing her chest to brush the mat in a variation of child’s pose.
“Nicely done,” he murmured, and she heard the spinner go again. He hummed an intrigued sound. “Left foot green. Tricky, tricky.”
She knew what he was doing, goading her like that, but knowledge didn’t preclude reaction and so she lifted her hips enough to send her left foot out to the side.
“I’d like to see you try this,” she said, tilting her head as far as she could to catch a glimpse of him. As she’d expected, his gaze had dropped back to her arse.
“Mm, I’m sure you would.” His eyes found hers a moment later, a brief look of guilt at having been caught flicking across his face before his confident smirk was back. “Maybe I will.”
He tapped the spinner with his wand, murmuring a spell under his breath, and then laid both on the couch. The spinner levitated itself upright, hovering a few inches above the cushions.
“Left foot green?” he confirmed, but placed his foot on the green dot directly behind hers without waiting for her response.
“Each player gets a unique instruction,” she corrected, purely to be pedantic.
“I thought we could play a variation,” he said smoothly. “As, apparently, my ideas are brilliant.”
She snorted as derisively as she could, earning a chuckle. She almost didn’t want to know but couldn’t help herself — not with anything when it came to him.
“What variation?”
“Touching is vital in this game, isn’t that what you said?” His tone was excessively innocent. “So I propose we get the same position instructions, but if you choose a dot which doesn’t lead to you touching me, then you take something off.”
She frowned at the mat, processing that, then turned a skeptical look up at him over her shoulder. “Are you suggesting we play strip Twister?”
He smiled indulgently. “Only if you don’t want to touch me.”
The sound that escaped her was mostly laughter, tinged with disbelief. “I…what?”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” He waggled his brows at her. “And I bet you’ll learn a thing or two, which I know you love.”
She couldn’t figure him out. They’d flirted from time to time, but she’d always convinced herself he was just playing along. That he didn’t actually mean it. The suggestion that he might have sent her thoughts swirling around, which left her mouth unsupervised.
“Okay,” she said unthinkingly. “Let’s play.”
She almost took it back except that her agreement had inspired a genuine smile on his face, and she was incapable of not doing whatever it took to summon one of those lovely smiles. Particularly because he always seemed vaguely embarrassed whenever they slipped loose.
“Spin,” he said, and the charmed spinner obediently whirled around before landing on ‘left foot yellow’.
She bent her knee, bringing her foot in one row from green to yellow. Similarly, he shifted to the side, his foot landing on the circle behind hers.
“Oh dear,” he drawled. “We’re not touching.”
“You’re insane,” she informed him, hating that she couldn’t see his face. “How are we supposed to take off clothes if we can’t move our hands or feet?”
“You can move to strip,” he said easily. “Obviously that’s the whole point of this.”
She took advantage of the shift in rules to sit up and turn fully to look up at him. She only partly regretted her choice when it brought her eye-level with his hips, but kept her gaze lifted on his still-pleased little smile. As it had been since he’d arrived home, his goal was inscrutable to her.
“You want us to strip?” she said, tone deeply disbelieving now.
He had the audacity to bark a laugh. “Why do you sound surprised by that?”
“Because…” She faltered. “Because we’re…friends? Roommates?”
His brows lifted. “Is that supposed to imply you thought I’d be less into you after living with you?”
Her brain short circuited. “Yes. N-no. I…sorry, you’re into me?”
“Mm-hmm.” He seemed to be enjoying her uncharacteristically glacial processing skills. “And you’re into me.”
The bold statement restarted her system, if not at a slightly higher clip than before. Her heart was pounding but she kept her tone light. “Oh really? And how do you know that?”
He held up a finger. “You didn’t correct me just now, for one.” She silently cursed herself as he raised a second finger, and then a third. “You flirt with me — quite unreservedly sometimes, might I add — and you remember all the little bits, like when my mum’s birthday is, and to get me that brand of muesli I can never find myself before I’ve even run out.”
“Because it’s from Tesco, not the market in Diagon,” she reminded him sweetly. “And anyway, that could just be me being friendly.”
He sent a knowing smile down at her. “It’s not.”
It absolutely wasn’t.
Unable to think of another somewhat reasonable justification, she shifted focus. “What made you bring this up? Assuming I’m following and you’re claiming to have liked me for some time now, why now?”
Draco shrugged an unfussed shoulder, a gesture she knew he did only when supremely fussed. “It was going to happen eventually. Now felt right.”
She didn’t know what sort of metric he was using to judge the rightness of the moment. It felt like so many moments between them, particularly in the past few months after they’d accidentally split a bottle of wine when he'd come home to find her on the sofa, treating herself to cooking shows and cab sav after she’d been literally shouted at while presenting in front of the Wizengamot. He'd conjured himself a glass, commiserating with his own difficult day, and sat beside her with his feet up on the coffee table. Wine-warmed and slumped against his side, she’d wanted very badly to kiss him. But kissing meant crossing boundaries — even more prohibitively, it meant moving — and so she’d just sighed and snuggled closer to him and watched as the chef braised a lamb shank, content.
That moment had certainly felt confession worthy, as did the several others she could recall without much effort. But the exact reasoning for his decision to break their mutual avoidance was immaterial. He’d done it. She was more curious about his choice in how.
“So why are we playing strip Twister instead of just…talking about this like normal people?” she asked, raising a brow at him.
“We are talking about it like normal people and not to be pedantic, but we’ve not yet officially started playing strip Twister yet. But to your point: because it sounded fun. And sexy. And I like playing games with you.”
She thought again of all those almost-moments between them. He certainly did.
“Fine.” She raised up on her knees and reached behind to tug off a sock before holding it aloft. “Is this sufficient?”
“Not even close, but it’s a great start.” He tugged his scrub top off from behind his neck, an act that killed her but not as much as seeing him in his sleeveless undershirt, the white fabric snug to the contours of his chest and showcasing the rounded swells of his shoulders.
“Always with the one-upmanship,” she said dryly, dragging her eyes off his arms to fix on his glittering grey eyes.
“Just hoping to inspire you,” he teased, then looked at the spinner. “Spin.”
It whirled to land on 'right hand blue'.
She turned to retake her position, replacing her left hand on green and her left foot on yellow and planting her right hand one row inward on blue. She felt the warmth of Draco’s body as he squatted down behind her, his knees bracing her hips on either side as he leaned forward to place his right hand on the blue circle just above hers, caging her in under his body. Her heart, already running, sprinted.
“No stripping this time,” he said, voice playfully apologetic, and then emphasized his point with a light squeeze of his knees against hips, as if she hadn’t been violently aware of every place his body was touching hers. She expelled a breathy sound that she hoped suggested a laugh and not the slightly strangled groan she’d smothered.
His voice was deeper when he said, “Spin.”
Their next move was right hand green. The only way she’d manage it without falling would be to flip all the way over and get into a variation of crab pose which, in a normal game, was just fine but under the current circumstances, made her brain buzz with possibilities.
But there was no other option so she shifted her weight, encountering his chest and only freezing for half a breath before pushing back more firmly against him. He made a low sound of approval which she withstood by offering him a little snort in return.
“Move, please?” she said impatiently. “I can’t turn over with you behind me like that.”
His chuckle was a little strained but the warmth of it sent another wash of heat through her. Obligingly, he leaned out of her space and she bottled up her courage before lifting up and flipping over, supporting herself with her bent leg over yellow and hands below on adjacent green dots.
“Well done,” he said, brows lifting and then sinking into something slightly wicked.
He fell forward over her, catching himself on a green dot just to the side of her right hand with his left knee bent into the open space between her legs, foot on the appropriately colored circle below. He held his body off hers and sent a victorious smirk down at her.
“Look at that. We’re not touching.”
She considered lifting her hips to force them into contact but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. There was bravery and then there was aligning one's pelvis with that of their long-held crush and distractingly attractive roommate, and Hermione had just enough self-preservation to skew toward safety, both emotional and mental.
“I should mention,” Draco added, holding his position over her, “that I had a rather busy day at work.”
She pouted, bantering with him instinctive. “Aw, getting tired already?”
He smirked. “Not even close. I just thought you should know that I got absolutely soaked through with something I won’t specify at the present moment during a procedure today, so these are my backup scrubs.”
She frowned, not following why this was pertinent information. “...okay?”
“Irresponsibly, I hadn’t replaced by backup boxer-briefs,” he continued, “so once I take my undershirt off, I’ll be down to just one article of clothing.”
She wasn’t sure what was hotter: knowing that his cock was only a thin piece of material away or that there was a real possibility he’d be naked while she was still fully clothed.
She narrowed her eyes up at him playfully. “Are you trying to entice me to touch you?”
He grinned. “I’ll be happy with any choice you make.”
Right then.
She dropped her hips to the mat. He raised a brow in acknowledgement of her choice then levered back into a squat then stood.
She removed her second sock, watching with rapt attention as he stripped off the thin undershirt, leaving his torso on display. She stared at the elegant shifting of his lean muscles, knowing the hidden strength of them from the time she’d slipped on an icy patch while they’d been walking home from a pub night and he’d literally lifted her off her feet to keep her from going into the road. The sense of weightlessness hadn’t left her, even after he’d set her carefully back on the pavement. She’d felt floaty and untethered the entire remainder of the walk home.
He lowered back down to the mat in just his scrub bottoms, knees thunking in a dulled one-two, his eyes on hers. “You know, I rather like a barefoot woman,” he told her, tone forlorn. “But in this one instance, I wish you’d kept them on.”
She bit the edge of her lip. “Oh? What should I have taken off instead?”
He feigned another shrug but his gaze dropped damningly to her cotton t-shirt. “...I don’t know.”
“I suppose you’d better not touch me then,” she suggested and his eyes snapped back to hers.
“I’ve never been good at that.”
The force of her teeth against her lip was going to draw blood soon if she didn’t back off, but it was impossible not to react to him. She’d thought all the absentminded touches – a hand on her back when he passed behind her in the kitchen, a touch to her elbow when they stepped off the curb, the brush of his hand when he passed her a mug of tea – had just been that - absentminded - but reframing them under the umbrella of him slowly seducing her brought heat to her cheeks and a keen sense of awareness at just how nearly-naked he was.
Just how close.
She slid her hands back behind her, finding a green dot for each and then slowly lifted her bum off the mat, her left foot on a yellow dot.
“Spin,” she whispered and his eyes flared.
Beside them, the dial whirled then rested on ‘right foot red’. Draco wet his bottom lip with a quick flash of his tongue and she drew in a slow, measured exhale, watching as he sank down to a wide squat, a foot each on yellow and red, then leaned back over her to hold himself over her with a single hand on green.
“Right foot red,” he reminded her lowly and she slid her foot out, spreading her thighs under him. His jaw feathered though he didn’t look away from her eyes.
“Regret your game yet?” she whispered, chest warm and heart racing.
He breathed a soft laugh, close enough that she felt the barest brush of it. “Never. You should see yourself right now.”
He was one to talk. Holding himself in a semi-plank over her was making the muscles of his abdomen tense with the effort. She wanted to sink her teeth into the swells of his pecs, and drag her tongue over his abs. She wondered if he was getting hard and had to bite the inside of her cheek to contain the little sound that tried to escape her at the thought.
“You should touch me,” she said.
He snorted a soft sound of disagreement. “I never thought I’d say this but…no. I want to see what you have on under that shirt.”
“How do you know there is anything under?” she teased.
“Because I know what it looks like when there isn't,” he informed her quietly, tone conspiratorial. “It’s the only thing I look forward to when coming off a night shift. You, making tea in your little pajama tops, sleepy and cold.” She scoffed with feigned outrage and he grinned down at her. “Gets me right to sleep.”
“Draco Malfoy,” she chastised, to cover the way her entire body was pulsing for him, and he bit the edge of his lip, pleased.
“So, shall we strip?” he asked innocently and she huffed to recenter herself, deciding she wanted to string him along for as long as she could manage.
“No,” she said, and craned her neck to the side so she could press her temple to the arm he was supporting himself on. He was warm, his skin scented with the soap from the hospital and the underlying remnant of his shower gel. She wanted to lick him there, too.
His bicep flexed against her head as he shifted his weight above her, and she watched as his pupils visibly expanded.
“Spin,” she said, voice hushed.
He glanced to the side then reported, “Left hand blue.”
“Shit,” she laughed. “I'll absolutely fall.”
“Strip if you fall,” he said with a flick of his brows, expression mischievous. “New rule.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”
He laughed, pushing back to hover in his squat before stabilizing himself with a hand on the blue dot between his spread thighs. Damn his athleticism. She shifted her weight to her legs, giving herself a little bounce on one hand to bring herself up enough to try and reach for blue, but there wasn’t much space between them and going from a stretched-out crab pose to a squat was difficult. Her bum hit the mat.
“Aw,” he said, tone sympathetic but eyes devouring her. “What’ll it be then, Granger? Shirt or leggings?”
Considering she was wearing a tiny thong under her yoga pants, her hands went to the hem of her shirt. Although wearing just her t-shirt and minuscule knickers would be an excellent way to torture him…
She went with her gut, fingers curling under the soft cotton and stripping her shirt over her head, curls going in every direction. She tossed it to the side then brushed her hair back off her face, catching the final half of his exhale and the flare of his nostrils, eyes fixed on her breasts concealed only by a comfy lace bralette.
“God,” he breathed. “I want to touch you.”
She was certain he could see the pulse of her heart through her chest, it was pounding so hard. “So spin it,” she said, voice forcibly level.
He wet his lips again, eyes still downcast on her chest. “Spin.”
She checked it this time, his attention wholly diverted. “Right foot blue.”
They got into position slowly, working around one another's bodies without touching, just for now. She ended up in a low squat, her feet on yellow and blue and her hands on green and yellow, while Draco arced over her, his arms extended to find purchase on the green and yellow dots with legs straight to give her space below him. It took no effort at all to rise up a little bit under him and lick a stripe along his abs, something Hermione did without hesitation and with great enthusiasm. He swore softly, muscles tensing under her tongue.
“Fuck, Hermione,” he breathed.
“Does that count as touching?” she murmured, lips close enough to brush his skin.
“If I say no, will you do it again?”
She pressed her smile to the dip just below his navel. “Should I pretend to fall?”
“Yes please.”
She laughed, licking him once more as a treat for them both, and then raised her voice just enough to enunciate, “Spin.”
He muttered a soft sound of disappointment then turned his head. “Right hand red,” he said.
She huffed, visualizing how to get there from her current position. Above her, Draco pulled in a breath and then pushed off the mat, pulling himself up to standing.
“You’re not supposed to take your other hand off blue,” she reminded him. “But I’ll let you off this once.”
“You sure?” he slipped his thumb under the waistband of his scrub bottoms, tugging suggestively. “I don’t mind taking a penalty.”
The movement of the fabric highlighted, quite blatantly, the bulge in his trousers right in front of her face. As the material resettled after the tug, she could see the outline of his cock, pointed down toward his left thigh. He was definitely, definitely, hard.
She swallowed the flood of saliva the sight inspired. She wanted to curl her fingers under the waistband and pull down, wanted to see how much his cock would spring up when it was released and whether he was as perfect as she’d always imagined him to be.
She would – soon. But not yet.
“I can think of a better penalty,” she informed him, and pointed to the spinner. “Right hand red, Draco.”
He considered her instruction with a calculating look, eyes narrowing and tongue wetting his lip again before he glanced down to the mat, orienting himself. He lowered down backwards in a slight diagonal, keeping his feet on yellow and blue and then reaching under himself for a blue and red dot, finding his own version of a crab pose. It was exactly what she’d hoped he’d do, and so didn’t dawdle in getting herself where she wanted.
She stood and stepped over him, a leg on either side of his waist to plant her feet on the required dots, her back to him. He groaned, either anticipating her next move or simply overcome by the sight of her standing over him, her bum feet from his face. She let him enjoy the view for another second and then lowered down, seating herself low on his pelvis. Between her legs, his cock visibly jerked against the thin material of his scrubs, a sight she observed with breathless laugh.
“Got me?” she checked, and then carefully lay back on him, reaching behind to find the mat beside his hands. She was sure her hair was all over his face, ticklish and irritating as she always found it, but he didn't puff it away or complain. His body was solid under her, every muscle tensed, but when she wiggled slightly to properly reach for red, he made a choked sound and shuddered under her.
She peered over her shoulder at him. “You alright back there?”
He shuddered again and then they were sinking down, his hands lifting from the mat as soon as his back touched down to close around her hips and tug her a few inches down until her arse was pressed against his cock.
“Feel that?” he ground out. “You’ve got me so worked up, baby.”
The word sent a bolt of arousal through her already sensitive system, her nipples tightening until they ached and her clit throbbing. She circled her hips over him, breath catching in her throat at just how stiff he was. Her head rested half on the mat and half over his shoulder, and she could feel his staggered breaths as they gusted against her forehead.
“You touched the mat,” she whispered.
“You did too.” His hand slid from her waist to the top of her leggings, fingers slipping under the waistband. “Can I help?”
His breath was labored beneath her back, the rise and fall of his chest rapid and intoxicating. She lifted her hips obligingly and he brought his other hand down to work her yoga pants over her bum and as far down her thighs as he could reach. Job done, his fingers skimmed back up the revealed skin, leaving twin trails of sensation up her thighs. He paused at the thin elastic of her knickers, snapping it lightly against her right hip.
“These are your knickers?” he groaned. “Oh fuck, why are they so tiny?”
“You can’t even see them,” she laughed. His hand slid inward at once, finding the cotton where it covered her mound and then sliding his fingers down until he was cupping her firmly between the legs.
“I can barely even feel them, too. God. These are so sexy.”
The pressure of his hand – the size of it – made her hips twitch up, seeking more of his touch.
“Is this okay?” he asked, tone suddenly apologetic. He tilted his head to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. “Can I touch you here?”
“Yes.” She felt electric, nerves zapping all throughout her body in a frenzy of feedback. “I want you to so badly.”
He groaned again, plaintive and yearning, his fingers pressing more insistently between her legs, pushing the damp cotton against her.
“I want to touch you all over,” he muttered, circling his fingers over her entrance while the heel of his hand brushed over her clit. “Want to get my tongue on you. In you. I want to kiss you so badly, Granger.”
She ground her hips against his hand, the eroticness of feeling his erection under her bum while she lay on him, right there on their living room floor, making her arousal feel more potent than ever. Or maybe it was just him, pulling from her the pleasure she’d wanted from him for so, so long.
“That feels so good,” she moaned, eyes falling shut. “Take your trousers off?”
“In a minute.” He rubbed more purposefully over her clit, and although it felt incredible, she was impatient.
“No, now,” she said. “Please. Now.”
He pressed his brow bone against her temple, panting in her ear. “I need a minute, baby.”
“Oh.” Her inner walls fluttered at the implication. “You need to come?”
His laugh was broken, the humor barely audible under the depth of his yearning. “I need to fuck you.”
She felt the effect of his words at every nerve ending, from her toes to the top of her head. It tingled through her, making her antsy and needy.
“I want that very, very much,” she assured him. “God, please, Draco. Yes, I want that.”
His hips jerked under her, the hard line of his cock throbbing under her arse. “Right here? In the lounge?” He groaned, teeth finding her ear and scraping delicately, sending another wave of goosebumps across her skin. “I wanted to do this nicely. Take you on a real date. Kiss you first. Kiss you during. Get you in my bed and keep you there all night.”
She squirmed on top of him. “That’s–yes. Let’s do that. But…later. Take me on a date tomorrow. And I’ll still sleep in bed with you tonight. But please…I don’t want to stop. Please don’t stop.”
His free hand slid up her torso, finding a breast and cupping it in a greedy hand. “Okay, Granger. Okay, baby. We won’t stop.”
He used his double-handed grip to rock her over the entire front of his body, grinding up under her and groaning softly in her ear. She considered rolling off to straddle him properly, both to get him inside her expeditiously and to get her hands all over his chest and shoulders and into his hair. But then he banded an arm around her middle, pinning her to him as he used the other to yank his trousers down. The material caught on his erection but he switched hands, the left now curling around her ribs in order to get himself free.
There was something deliciously sensual about getting slapped between the legs by a cock, and so when Draco’s sprang up to bounce insistently against her knickers, she whined out a high-pitch sound of want.
He muttered a swear, shifting under her to kick his trousers off, the motion keeping his erection in a steady sway against her sensitive inner thighs and over her cunt. She reached down to pin it with her palm, keeping him snug against her knickers, and his swear turned guttural. He used his foot to snag the band of her leggings and helped her strip them fully off.
“Fuck, Draco,” she breathed, keeping her hand on him then stroking her fingers down as far as she could reach, desperate to hold him in her hand but unable to in their current position.
“I know,” he groaned. “Hang on, hang on.”
Finally naked under her, he brought his hand up to his mouth and then nudged hers off his cock, stroking the collected saliva over himself. Judging by the degree to which she’d soaked her knickers, she hardly thought extra lubrication would be necessary but appreciated the thoughtfulness nonetheless. He brought his damp fingers to her knickers once more, giving her a firm rub as he nuzzled his nose against her temple.
“Yes?” he confirmed. “Still want me?”
She wanted to laugh at the idea that she might have changed her mind in the half-minute it had taken to undress, but then he was slipping his fingers under the gusset of her thong without delay, pulling it to the side, and she didn’t have breath to think let alone speak. She nodded urgently, sending a hand overhead to find his hair and get a good grip in it, instinctively knowing she’d need it.
He pulled her thigh over his and then bent his knee, aligning the thick head at her entrance. She let her other leg slide to the side, opening herself up to him, tilting her hips to meet him. He rolled his hips upward, pushing just inside and drawing twin groans from them. She hadn’t slept with anyone in close to a year, but had had plenty of cock-like things inside her (with increasing regularity as her crush on him had expanded from idle musings to full-blown, uncontrollable fantasies). As he pressed her down while pushing up, she realized how much she’d missed doing it with another person.
She relaxed into it, holding onto the back of his head and pressing the soles of her feet into the mat below them, letting him work her up and down over him, luxuriating in the stretch.
“Fuck, you feel…so good,” he groaned, gradually increasing his pace as her walls moulded around him, her arousal slicking his way. “I’ve thought about this…so often…but reality…fuck, it doesn’t compare. You're so wet, baby. Oh…god. Is it good? D’you like this?”
“You’re perfect,” she moaned. “Better than I imagined, too.”
“Fuck, don’t tell me that right now,” he pleaded, the hand around her middle sliding up to cup a breast while the other sought her clit, rubbing over it with slow, firm pressure. “Could you come like this? Because if you can’t, we need to reposition because this…I’m–” He broke off with a rumbling groan. “You’re all over me. So warm and soft and, god, your shampoo–”
Her hand jumped down to cover his rubbing fingers, encouraging him into the side-to-side motion that she favored.
“I can come like this,” she breathed. “Just…just don’t stop yet. I won’t take long.”
“Take all the time you need,” he swore. “No rush. I won’t stop.”
It was that desperate promise – one she was sure he wouldn’t actually be able to fulfill but the desire for which made her entire body throb for him – that had the hot clutch of her orgasm bearing down around him.
“Harder,” she whimpered. “Harder and I’ll come.”
He put his all into it, holding her tight against his chest and planting both feet on the mat, hips driving up into her with a force that had her vision spotting. Her orgasm began before she’d fully taken a breath, squeezing around him in long, strong contractions. She moaned unrestrainedly and he made a sound like he was dying. His hand curled under her arse a moment later, grip strong as he pulled her up until his cock slid free. It throbbed against her mound and then pulsed a thick rope of cum up her torso, jerking lightly over her sensitive clit.
“F-fuck,” he stammered breathlessly, another line of cum streaking her to the breast. “Oh fuck.”
He gave her two more hot stripes before finally settling, the press of his fingers softening on her bum as he exhaled long and satisfied. He gave her breast a gentle, rolling squeeze, chest expanding under her with another deep inhale.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll clean you up.”
She dragged her fingers lazily through the mess, not minding in the slightest. “That was so hot. Come on me whenever you want.”
He laughed. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
She gave him a little wiggle then slid to the side, the cold plastic slightly jarring after Draco’s warmth. She hissed in a little sound and he rolled to face her, his arm sliding around her waist to squeeze her arse and tug her back close.
Face to face with him, she didn’t hesitate before leaning in and pressing her mouth to his. He made a soft little sound of pleasure, working her bottom lip between his to suck lightly before realigning again to press another kiss to the top. She took advantage of the position to give his full bottom lip a little nip and then slid her tongue along it. He opened immediately, tongue meeting hers in a languid glide that she matched.
Kissing him felt like everything else they’d found together over the course of their cohabitation. It held the same mutual give-and-take, the natural balance, that she valued so highly. She wanted to keep kissing him indefinitely but he slowly eased off, kissing her in several little presses before brushing his nose against hers as their lips finally parted. She lingered for a moment then leaned back, biting the edge of her lip as she took in the flush over his cheeks and the glossy, warm quality in his normally cool eyes.
His gaze drifted over her features for a moment before finding hers and holding, and she waited for the words she could see forming on his lips.
“I delivered a baby today,” he said, tone musing, and she blinked, brows furrowing at the unexpected combination of words.
“You work in the emergency department,” she blurted, the only sensible thing she could think of.
He raised his hand, stroking his fingers over her cheek until he encountered a wayward curl. “Yes, well, it was an emergency.”
Her brows went up. “Merlin. Was everyone alright?”
“Mm.” He twirled his finger, coiling the curl around it. “It wasn’t her first, so labor had progressed quicker than she expected. Mum and baby are fine. But shush. The point I’m trying to make is…” He went up on his elbow, leaning over her and fixing her with a deeply sincere expression. “I delivered a baby, but this was the most amazing thing to happen to me today. And yesterday — all year, in fact.”
She pressed her lips together in an attempt to contain her grin. “Last year was excellent though, was it?”
He tsked, though his smile was fond. “Such a brat. I didn’t know what I was missing last year, alright?”
She hummed a happy sound, leaning into his touch and then tilting her face into his palm to press a kiss to it. “I didn’t, either. Well, I did. But not to the extent I do now.”
He tapped the tip of her nose with his thumb. “Cute.”
She slid her eyes to his, the unasked question in them. He rubbed the pad of his thumb softly over her nose, a sensation that half made her want to sneeze.
“It’s cute that you think you still have any idea the extent to what you’ve been missing out on.”
“I didn’t realize you were so humble, Draco.”
He gave her an unimpressed look. She blinked innocently.
“Just for that, I might have to show you right away.”
She made an oh no face and he tutted, rolling her onto her back, the hand on her bum sliding up to cushion her lower back. His consideration deserved acknowledgement, and reciprocation.
“Take me to bed,” she murmured. “You can do whatever you want to me there, but then you should sleep. I’ll make you something to eat for when you wake up.”
His gaze lingered on hers, something impossibly soft behind his eyes, then he lowered down to nip gently at her bottom lip.
“That sounds perfect,” he murmured. “And conveniently enough, you won’t even need to leave my bed to give me exactly what I want to eat.”
She laughed into his next kiss, then wound her arms around his shoulders and let him carry her to his room.