entanglements | d.m.

42.badhabits

December '98 | H E R

Devyn awakes satisfied from a peaceful rest.

The sun stands high enough to promise she has slept in a great deal. The hearth is still whispering along, likely charmed. A head, as per usual, lies on her chest. Draco always ends up there.

His weight is holding in place, his arm sturdy as it frames her. Slipping out is impossible, not without waking.

And maybe she doesn't want to, for he offers comfort and warmth when dread and longing coil her gut. It takes a great few beats not to sink into the sadness of being apart from the people who actually want her company.

But this boy right here wants it.

In the confines of this room, things appear well enough, quite bearable, but they'll have to leave at some point and facing his parents is the last of her desires, as much as it is theirs.

In here, she can pretend a little longer.

Draco's fingers twitching on her chest give away that he is slowly rousing, his little groan as he nuzzles his face deeper into the shirt a straight shot to her heart for how genuine it is.

He couldn't be any place better, is what it means.

Even though he doesn't lift his head yet, his eyes still shut, she can see him crack a smile as his fingers push with intention. That hand has slipped under the big shirt, as it has for the last few nights, meeting her skin on skin. Safe to say he has a great time waking up.

And if he can be a bit cheeky, so can she, trailing her fingers down his muscled back and letting them slip in the waistband of his boxers.

On alert, he shifts his head to meet her eyes, grinning lopsidedly. Take that, plus the hazy look in his eyes and the tousled tuft of striking blond and you have a recipe for the most beautiful sight to behold.

"How is that homesickness treating you?"

The roughness of his voice is a pang to between her legs. "Fine. I'll write to them later. Can I use your owl?"

"You can have and use anything, Devil."

She has every reason to believe that the offer includes himself and that sends a second, more powerful pang. This one, he feels by the slight clench of her thighs. His eyes glint as he beholds her as though he found his favourite artwork, all while he gently caresses down her side.

The look makes her heart so full, it's almost unbearable to take.

"I don't know when you're more lovely," he murmurs, shifting himself to lie between her legs, and his attention falls to her stomach where the shirt has ridden up overnight, placing open-mouthed kisses down the center. "In the morning," he muses. "After a shower." He slides further down, tickling her a bit with his breath. "When you're reading." Steering to her hip, he passes over the waistband of her string. "Or writing in your notebook." His eyes flick up to her, mouth curving cockily but sweet all the same as he presses a kiss to her right inner thigh. "When I've made you cum. That's the loveliest."

Whatever he's playing at works. He's ghosting his lips across her center and her treacherous hips squirm ever so slightly. Her attempt to push him away is weak, but still there.

"You're always so shy about it." He smirks against her left thigh. "At first."

Devyn watches him in anticipation and fright, stunned to silence by the lust swirling in his eyes.

"Let me help you wind down." His lips, so full and soft, wander to the very edge of her underwear, his nails dragging along her outer thigh. "You're so tense."