Fourteen Thousand Galleons

Bollocks To Your Process

There's one thing that Draco knows for certain. He's unequivocally head over heels in love with the savior of the wizarding world and his bushy-haired sidekick. It's a painful realization, one that has meandered its way into his thoughts gradually over the life of their relationship that started all those months ago. It's not unwelcome and, in fact, he's decided that he can't possibly live without them. As a Malfoy, Draco isn't used to the idea of dependency on others. And, if his father hears about this, Draco will be unquestionably fucked.

But, it's really hard to care much at all about the repercussions when he's buried to the hilt inside of Hermione. The way her pretty pink mouth parts to allow breathy little whimpers to fill the scant space between them, the way her eyes flutter closed and her chin tilts back, the way the heels of her feet burrow against the flesh of his arse and encourage him to move deeper and faster; it drives him absolutely mad.

Of course he's remiss that Potter had to jog off to work, but he's also not complaining that the witch beneath him is moaning out his name. She's so responsive to every slight touch, Draco can't help but give into the mounting tension in his body earlier than he'd like. He'd stay in bed with her all day just to feel the beats of magic pulsing through him whenever they're together. Somewhere in central London, Potter's energy is spiraling out of control from the continuous stream of desire that's raging between him and Hermione.

"Potter's probably having a wank in his office after that," Draco laughs as he rolls off of her and lands gracelessly on his back beside her.

"Must you really be so crass?" The adorable tint of pink on her cheeks draws another smile out of him.

Draco rolls onto his side and props his head up on his elbow. He feels the silk of her skin from hip bone to breast, lazily trailing his fingers along her curves. The dilated brown eyes that stare back at his are still filled with the same need he feels throughout his body and it takes everything in him to not take her again.

He must get to work. Must do the adult thing. Must sit with his father on another board meeting instead of sit beneath his witch while she takes –

Hermione breathes roughly, her breath fanning against the hollow of his throat. The pads of his fingers hold the erratic pulse of her heart just shy of her chin. He swallows because he doesn't think he can actually hold back, despite his vain attempts to try.

"You don't like the idea of Potter touching himself?" Draco asks her, voice low and gravelly as her pulse speeds up under his touch. She wets her lips but refuses to drop her eye contact. "He's very skilled at handling a cock, you know? He has long fingers and he knows how to squeeze just right."

Her face is positively flaming at his words and he likes it. Warmth pools at his midsection as his hand finally drops from her throat and moves down to the spot where her bum meets her thigh. He hoists her thigh up and over his.

"Draco..." Her hand finds his bicep and her fingers dig into his skin.

"I'm willing to bet that when his eyes close, he thinks about that first night." Draco positions himself at her entrance and pushes in slowly. He falters for only a moment, a deep breath leaving him slowly. "He must wank to the idea of me fucking you while he fucks me. Does that turn you on, love?"

She doesn't answer, barely makes a noise, but her lips press firmly into his. The emotion that she pours into the kiss, it's beyond anything he's ever felt before. His strokes inside of her are leisurely, so opposite of everything he's experienced before now. It doesn't escape his notice that this isn't fucking, it's making love, and so he takes extra care to show his affection.

This is something he hadn't yet done with Harry and it feels special. Sacred, almost. The bond mark on his chest isn't in flames, but instead sizzles like embers. It's raw and exquisite.