vicious [d.m]

seventeen: angels & regrets

There are worse things than kissing Draco Malfoy.

He tastes like blood and delicious sin — and Khione kisses him like it's her favourite taste. She supposes it is, now that she's had it.

She's never felt so cut-off from her brain, so distant from the usual hyperactivity she usually feels within her head. There's only him — the planes of his face underneath her hands, his mouth against hers, the scent of limes and blood wrapping seductive fingers around her throat.

But he is still, rooted in shock, a cold impenetrable wall — and Khione is tearing away a second later, blinking up at him.

Shame makes her nauseous as his eyes open, gazing down at her with that blank look — and it all comes crashing down around her.

She opens her mouth — to apologise, she thinks — but then decides the best option is just to flee. He shifts to the side, listless, as she slides out from under him, her movements hasty, disbelief winding through her.

Blood rushes in her ears as she strides for the door, her stomach fluttering like the kiss unleashed butterflies within it. The snake charm down the length of her back is stark-cold against her heated skin.

How could she have—

She can't even fathom it. It's as out of character for her as it must've seemed to him. For once, she'd given in — and although Khione usually has a marvelous time ruining things, she can't shake off the feeling that she may have made a dire mistake.

She reaches the door, her throat closed up like it can keep the memory of what she's just done from really settling into her system. She's never wanted to be somewhere — anywhere — else more than right now.

Her hand closes around the doorknob — just as Malfoy's closes around her elbow.

"If you're going to kiss me," he says, a snarl from behind her, setting her pulse into a frenzy, "at least have the fucking guts to do it properly."

And then he's yanking her around, rougher than she'd expected — and the next thing she knows, his mouth comes down hard on hers.

It's her turn to freeze — because unlike hers, Malfoy's kiss is demanding and raw and something stirs to life within her core.

Her hands move on their own accord, fisting the front of his bloodstained shirt — and his own find purchase in her hair, knotting there so tight, she feels the delicious sting of pain across her scalp.

Then, she's being caged against the door, pinned back with such ferocity she'd think they were trying to murder each other. But his mouth stays against hers, her entire focus zeroing in on the feel of him — his frigid palms, the taste of him, the pain when he nips at her lower lip.

There is nothing gentle about this. She can see he's trying to prove a point — but if she's being honest, she couldn't care less right now.

He breaks away for half a second to catch his breath — and she blinks up at him, set alight with desire. He looks down at her and the turmoil in his eyes nearly makes her tremble in his grip.

She tries to pull away — but he keeps her steady, his hands still tangled in her hair. When he dips his head closer to hers once more, she can't deny the magnetic pull to respond. Almost on instinct, she pushes up into her tiptoes and they meet in the middle again.

This kiss is vicious — and suddenly, things are happening at twice the speed. His hands leave their place in her hair and instead, slide down her bare back, eliciting shivers in their wake. She gasps against his mouth when he traces the long scar down her spine with his fingertips and he swallows it down, tugging her closer until their bodies are flush against one another.