All You Want

4) I Feel The Way You Want Me

Heat began burning through Hermione's exhaustion and reaching her consciousness like tongues of a flame. A growing need steadily started to encroach upon her dreams until she became gradually aware that she was writhing, trying to find friction and a sense of satisfaction.

Something hot, wet, and soothing wrapped itself around her nipple and then there was firm pressure between her legs right where she wanted it. It was hot and bearing down against her so she could grind her pelvis up into it.

It was not enough.

The need kept growing larger and larger but she couldn't seem to reach the edge. It kept darting beyond her.

She arched up and groaned, feeling ready to go to pieces with frustration.

Suddenly the teasing heat on her breasts vanished and she was pinned down, her wrists held above her head. Hot skin was pressed against hers. Heavy. Safe. She could feel the faintest touch along her neck and moaned.

"So perfect."

She heard the words against her throat and it made something inside her shudder. A tongue slid up her neck and she spasmed, writhing and wrenching at the hold on her wrists.

There were lips lightly playing across one of the glands on her neck as something slid between her legs and slowly caressed her. She opened her legs further and lifted her hips.

She was so close.

So close.

She could barely breathe with wanting.

She felt a light touch glide over the delicate skin. She was so swollen and over-sensitive she felt as though she were on fire, about to die. There was a hollowness that felt as though it were eating her.

She sobbed.

A long finger slowly sank into her core and she clenched around it as a broad thumb pressed lightly against her. Stroking. Teasing.

She felt ready to shatter. A second finger slid in. She felt two fingers roll her over-sensitive nub gently between them as the mouth teasing along her neck suddenly closed over one of her glands and sucked hard.

She shook and exploded.

Her whole body spasmed and shuddered as she rode through the climax. When she stopped shuddering through the aftershocks, the fingers withdrew and the hold on her wrists vanish.

She opened her eyes dazedly and looked up at Draco Malfoy.

The need—the burning need driving her—had been momentarily dulled. She felt somewhat coherent as she stared up at him.

She had already known it was him. The nerves in her spine had already memorised the vibrations of his timbre. His perfect, comforting scent had been wrapped around her like a cloak.

But seeing him still felt surreal. As though it defied a universal law of some sort.

She studied his face. She'd never before seen the expression he currently wore. He looked—reverent.

"How—how are you here?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. She reached up and touched his cheek to reassure herself that he wasn't an illusion.

"I heard you crying," he said, studying her carefully. "I was afraid you were hurt."

"Oh," she said, feeling bewildered. Something in the back of her mind felt as though the answer made no sense, but most of her was just overwhelmed that he was there. He was with her. She wasn't trapped alone in a state of unassuageable misery.

He seemed to be searching her face for something.

"Do you—," he started and his eyes flickered slightly. He clenched his jaw as though he were swallowing something bitter. He opened his mouth to start again when Hermione reached out and pulled him down on top of her.