The characters, as usual, are J.K. Rowling's. The activities they're doing, though, not so much.
Fairly intense mature content. There's the warning.
He gave me a choice.
He was going to his room, he said. I could follow him, or I could leave.
It was going to happen, or it wasn't, and that was the end of it.
His self control was over for the night. It was my turn.
The only problem was, so was mine.
Malfoy's eyes met mine and I all but froze completely. Darkened gray orbs went straight through me, hitting a core I didn't even know I had.
Wordlessly, I followed as if in a trance.
My purse, which had been in my hand to go, lay forgotten.
He approached me in his room, pausing at the door and gesturing for me to enter.
I did so without a sound, and I heard the door shut and lock behind me. I felt an involuntary shiver at the sound.
I turned slowly, having reached the bed on the other side of the room.
His eyes caught mine again, and I momentarily forgot how to breathe. His entire demeanor became wild; predatory.
I felt a near-matching intensity from my own eyes as they remained locked. The tension was palpable. I felt my heart beat in my chest, and I felt my breath coming faster. I saw his chest move just a little faster as well.
There were no more questions.
I had scarcely registered movement before he had reached the two inches in front of me. My breath caught again in my throat for another tense moment.
I felt his hands running along my arms. Then it was his nails, sharp and almost teasingly gentle. I felt another involuntary shiver run up my spine, and he gave me a knowing smile.
Then I found myself being lowered onto the bed with soft, sure hands. As I complied, he pressed his nails into my shoulder blades with deliberately restrained pressure, settling himself beside me. I found my mouth opening for a sharp intake of breath in response.
My nails then found his back, tracing sharp lines down it I knew he'd find later. He drew in a similar sharp breath and pressed himself harder against me.
Of their own free will, my hands wrapped themselves within his hair, deep at the roots. I pulled hard, scratching my nails against his scalp. He threw his head back with the force of my hands, sucking in air between bared teeth.
Biting my lip, I kept my eyes on his and pulled again, harder. His eyes became even more animalistic; his grip on my shoulders even more predatory.
I pulled again, harder, and dug my nails even farther into his scalp. He let out a low growl, and then he was on top of me. I felt a pang of excitement mixed with fear within my chest.
Then it was a blur of nails and teeth and tongues and lust and pain and sheer, animalistic pleasure all rolled into a hot, sweaty mixture of humans and sheets.
His hands were everywhere all at once, and mine nearly matched his in force and intensity. There were cuts and bruises and bite marks in tender flesh, and sharp stabs of pain intensifying pleasure. There were gasps and sighs and borderline inhuman growls.
It was like nothing I had ever felt before.
And then, in the end, there was pleasure; sheer pleasure, punctuated by the deep embedding of nails in flesh at the climax. There were moans that turned to screams that quieted into moans again.
And then there was us, quiet and sweaty and cuddling in the sheets.
And then there was sleep. Pure, deep, restful sleep.
Then there was the morning, calm and peaceful.
And in the morning, when we finally emerged from the room, I picked up the forgotten purse, gave him one last conspiratorial smile, and went home.
...only nine hours late.
A/N: I know, I know, it was pretty intense.
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