Inferno | Draco Malfoy

062 | Soaked

"Fuck me, I want you to fuck me."

My breaths are shallow as Draco's hands find their way under my pyjama top.

"That's it." He chuckles, leaning into my ear. "Tell me how badly you want me, and I'll fuck you until your legs shake as hard as the bed."

I tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head for him. And again, his muscles are revealed to me. It always does the trick; never fails to make me weak. He takes my hand and places it on his chest, making me instantly melt or in this case, soaked.

Draco's hand reaches for my shorts; my breathing fastens. He unties the drawstring of my shorts painfully slow, keeping eye contact with me through every small movement.

Enough of his teasing, I untie the string for him.

"Patience." He taps my hand away."Be a good girl for me."

I gasp as he pulls my shorts down, and with a strong grip to each of my thighs, he parts my legs, allowing room for himself.

"So wet for me already."

His finger feels my arousal through my clothed cunt and I'm practically on the edge of it all.

"I'm about to fuck you senseless. Do you understand that carissima? Hmm?"

My stomach twists at his words. My thighs want to clench together as he rubs me a little faster.

He smiles, satisfied with my pleasure, as I softly moan in anticipation.

"This is what we do in my fantasy."

Fantasy, fantasy... Fantasy...

FANTASY!

I gasp, sitting myself up on my bed. My chest is heavy and I feel like I won't be able to breathe for much longer. I lift my hair, gathering it in a ponytail as I feel sweat drip from the nape of my neck. My whole body feels as if I just swam in a pool of fire. I wipe my forehead sweat off with the back of my hand before fanning my face.

My mind replays the vivid fragments from my dream — more like nightmare; the feeling between my legs doesn't seem to leave.

You've got to be fucking kidding me. This couldn't have possibly happened. Maybe I was actually dreaming of uh... Benjy Williams. That doesn't make it any better, I shouldn't be thinking like this in the first place. And I definitely shouldn't be feeling like this either.

I open the the first drawer of my nightstand to the same old pocket watch. It's half six — the time that I'd usually go for a run, but, I can't. Not today. With a deep breath, I lie back down again. Only this time, my blanket isn't covering my sweltering body as my imagination plagues me, making me unable to fall asleep again.

My first dream within months, possibly years, and this is what happens? This? This is all because of that prick who embedded his poisonous lewd sex fantasies into my head.

Why now? Why do my dreams have to come back now? It's June twenty-fourth, midsummer, a midsummer night's dream. Or in this case, a midsummer horror.

I shake my head, telling myself to stop thinking and just rest. But, I can't. The nightmarish dream just keeps running without pauses or stops. It all felt surreal but, so real at the same time. The way he teased me. The way his hands felt on me, knowing exactly where I wanted them to be.

Perhaps I was thinking about another blond lad, you know, there could be a slight chance that it wasn't him— And now I'm just feeding myself lies. It was him.