entanglements | d.m.

44.velvetvixen

New Year's Eve '98 | H I M

Six months ago, Draco only dreamed of kissing the brains out of his favourite witch on the whole planted, in this very library that he knew she was going to love.

But this is so damn real, he can't get his head around it. His Devil under him, making sweet little sounds as she grinds her cunt very subtly on his thigh between her legs.

Draco is taking shameless advantage of her establishing making out as a safe territory. And the best thing is, she's returning it just as eagerly. Her hands are all over him, and the mamy times they made out in the last thirty hours, she initiated half of them.

It would never lead to anything. No more blowing in his pants. And he is genuinely fine with it. Her kissing and groping him is mind boggling on it's own.

It feels a bit how they couldn't get their mouths off each other a few years back, but also not.

Their hot breaths exchange when they pull apart just an inch to catch it. It takes one look at her delighted freckled face and he litters kisses all over. Cheeks, nose, eyes, brows, forehead.

"You're distracting me." She giggles under the brush of his lips. "Again."

One of the reasons he keeps on distracting her is that she is very attractive going after her passion. She looks adorable when she gazes at nothing and her brain works out the story or whatever she is doing. She doesn't say much about it.

Hence why he picks up the pages that have been lazily pushed off her lap as the kissing grew more passionate. Too enticed by having it in his very hand, he tries to spy on her work before handing them over but she sits up abruptly, causing him to do as well, and grabs his face, forcefully turning it to face her.

"Don't."

"Just one paragraph," he bribes, using his sweetest, most innocent voice as he's being actively squished between her palms. "One sentence."

"No." It's set in stone. "I have something better."

She gently pushes him to lean against the back of the leather sofa whilst hauling one leg over his lap, straddling him.

Already, he is listening. Subconsciously, he puts the papers aside to put his hands to better use, on her fleshy thighs.

Then she hauls the shirt over her head.

There's no bra underneath. He saw her take it off earlier because it was uncomfortable and since it's just them the whole day, there's no reason for modesty. As the bra had been stuffed behind a pillow, just in case his parents were to walk in, he had been tempted the first time.

No matter how often he has seen them in his lifetime, he still stares and gapes and reacts below the waistline like he's seeing them for the first time. Immediatly, his hands glide up the dip of her waist to her ribs, thumbs brushing the low curve of her breasts.

Devyn slides her hands up his chest. "Promise you won't ever look at my pitiful writing."

He's so distracted, he can't filter out the word pitiful. Hypnotized, his hands reach up to fill them, almost groaning at the feel of her hardened nipples. "Cruel minx."

"Promise," her tone is dead serious.

"I promise."

She could have asked him to set the world on fire and he would have promised.

He has a special, unwavering love for her boobs. They are the perfect size at a hand full and bounce nicely when he fucks her. But she could be any size, any shape and he'd still find them perfect because it's her. At the end it's all a package.