Fuckboy {Draco Malfoy 18+}

7. cutthroat.

"Want to play a game?"

I've just gotten up to get a drink, escaping from the table where my friends and I have been playing Exploding Snap. There's another party tonight, one week after we went to Hufflepuff and raised hell.

You'd think that we never go to classes. I swear, we do. But do I really want to tell stories about studying Goblin rebellions and Transfiguration homework? Hell no. The parties are much more fun to talk about.

So anyway. I'm standing by the drink table in the far side of the common room, pouring fire whiskey over ice.

"I thought we already were," I reply, not looking up. Malfoy's standing right next to me and the temperature in my body rises as a result. There's at least fifty people spread out in the common room right now. If we were overheard. . .

"Oh?" Malfoy asks, grabbing a glass to mix his own drink. I slowly pour cola over my firewhiskey, raising my eyebrows.

"Yes, the whole, 'fuck me and I'll leave you alone' game," I answer, glimpsing up for half a second. I lift my glass and take a sip, then grimace, deciding it needs more cola.

"Ah but those aren't the rules of our little game, are they?" Malfoy murmurs, keeping his voice obviously quiet. "You're leaving out the orgasm clause."

It's been like this all fucking week. He keeps asking me, over and over again, if I'm ready to accept his proposition. He corners me after class in the corridors, eye-flirts with me from atop his broomstick when I come to watch the Quidditch practices, and checks on my status during every single party. He even gives me subtle little looks of questioning, raising his eyebrows at me, during mealtimes. After we watched each other cum, just across the very room in which we currently stand, he seems to have certain expectations for my decision.

So I roll my eyes at him. His little game is getting tedious.

"Roll your eyes at me again, and I'll make you regret it," Malfoy says heatedly, leaning in close to my ear. Then he makes a big show of stirring his whiskey with a little wooden stick, pretending he's just making a drink.

"Keep threatening me and I'll roll your whole head," I mutter. There's a bit of silence and I want to walk away, but to be honest, I can't stop thinking about the other night.

"I think there's a flaw in the rules," I finally say to Malfoy, turning towards him and leaning back on the drink table. I take a slow sip of whiskey and cola, finally having gotten the ratio right.

"Keep your voice down," Malfoy threatens, looking behind me. I turn and see Pansy looking at Malfoy nervously from across the room, furrowing her brows and peering over the crowd of dancing Slytherins. It's odd for us to even have a conversation with each other, and I pray to God that Pansy isn't currently becoming jealous.

I smirk at Malfoy and lean in a bit.

"I think there's a flaw in the rules," I whisper again, keeping my voice quiet, over dramatically.

"Enlighten me."

"If by some miracle you make me cum-" I start.

"I've already made you cum," Malfoy interrupts, and his tone seems as if we're having a casual conversation about the weather.

"I made myself cum. You only supervised," I say with a sickly sweet grin. Malfoy darkens, but I ignore his angry expression and continue. "If we fuck. . . and by some miracle you manage to satisfy my very picky pussy. . ."

"Evan-"

"And then, I give you a kiss. What comes next?" I ask, and I laugh because it's fucking ridiculous. Draco Malfoy has seen my pussy, fingered me, watched me orgasm, shown me his cock, given me brusies on my neck that last for days, and yet we've never even kissed. It's such an innocent thing, a kiss. But in this context, it feels like a commitment.