heedless by romanshome

leave

My fingers slightly stroked the grainy cover of the book latched inside my hands, legs crossed over one another as my head rested on Scorpius' slowly breathing chest. His hand was occupied with his phone as he scrolled mindlessly across his Instagram, which he had done quite often. He never really shared my love for books, but I found them quite endearing, living in another reality that was nothing like my true one. To be frank, it did bother me how much he cared about his theme on Instagram, or how many likes he got—or that his entire life was on the internet.

But then again, maybe I'm just boring.

Back in Glasgow, at my home, my single father worked hard to care for my family—which consisted of a younger sister named Arabeth, my father, and me of course. She was at the ripe age of eight years old, and as she always reminds me, there's....two months before she's eight and a half. My family wasn't even on the same brink of being as rich as the Malfoys—which makes me a bit ashamed at times—even though my father does work hard.

He owns a small shop on the edge of Hogsmeade. A book shop. I suppose that's why I'm in love with novels. Hassan's Book Parlor. I usually worked during the summer so I could conjure up enough money to buy a decent present for Scorpius when his birthday rolls around. It shames me when he gifts me something worth five times more than whatever I ended up settling with. But he reminds me that it's nothing about the quality, but the meaning behind it.

That's when I knew I loved him.

But still, I work alongside my father every summer to also spend time with him. Scorpius even stopped by one time, meeting my father. And just like everyone, he actually loved Scorp. He was

charming, polite, and well collected. When my father had went out to fetch us sandwiches, little did he know that he ended up pressing me against a bookshelf in the back of the store and taking me in the shop.

The corners of my lips twitched, remembering the moment. His cheeks were pink, matching the tip of his nose, fair hair falling over his face and slightly tickling my forehead. Strong, hot hands gripped either side of my thighs—forcing me to stay wide open for him, pistoning himself deep inside of me. My arms were clinging to him by my fingers curling into his clothed shoulders, moans of appreciation falling from my puffy lips.

"You're so beautiful," he panted against my neck, kissing gently on the flesh in the crook of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as he held me securely, pace quickening with an increased speed, both of our highs chasing us. His hot tongue swiped across my neck before nibbling on the flesh, making another wave of pleasure roll through me, a whimper passing my lips.

"Fuck, Scorp."

"I love you so fucking much," he whispered harshly into my ear before delivering a rough thrust, making me jerk in his hold. A whine spilled from me as he rolled his hips into mine, making me raise my own—trying to meet him halfway. He felt so long inside of me, I memorized every crevice. Every vein. I knew all of him. And he knew how to work me.

He pulled away from my neck, looking me right in the eyes, before pulling all the way back out and slamming back in. My mouth fell open as a silent gasp tore from my lips, making his lips jit into a smirk. His stormy, grey eyes glinted.