Oh, why not ...?

x


The ball was ending. Hermione and Lucius were grateful not to have to converse and smile with any more obsequious sycophants, but still, their time in the castle had been ...pleasurable. It was enticing being here together, and neither wanted their visit to end too soon. As they bid their final farewells, Hermione's hand entwined in his once more and, instead of leading him outside to the carriages, they turned and headed back up through the deserted, moonlit corridors. No-one noticed them go.

They walked back through the castle, silently, hand in hand, being reminded of the moments they had both experienced here as students, but keeping their thoughts quietly to themselves.

They found themselves far from the core of the building, in an open atrium of some sort, unfamiliar to them both, adorned with statues of brave, noble wizards long dead. Lucius' hand was still closely entwined in Hermione's. The moon shone through the high windows, casting a blue light over the stones and statues around. It was beautiful. She squeezed his hand. He turned to look at her, once more in wonder.

She reached up to kiss him, tenderly, almost chastely. When she parted, she whispered, "We forgot to do that earlier." She moved off again.

He caught her hand and pulled her back again. "I also forgot to do this earlier."

His mouth was at hers once more, opening it forcefully but lovingly. She was constantly amazed at how easily he could always reignite her desire.

His mouth, open and hungry, moved down to her throat, coming to rest on her collar bone. His lips on that sensitive part of her body caused a surge of pleasure to wash over her. She held his head to her. His hands reached behind her and undid the laces. He moved her bodice apart enough to pull down the front, releasing her heaving breasts from their constraints. They were thrust up over the top of the dress, flowing out, the nipples searching for contact.

Lucius could not contain a groan of wonder and delight gasping from him at the sight. He grabbed one in his hands, squeezing and plying the flesh, his fingers moving to the nipple and flicking over it. Hermione threw her head back and moaned desperately. So good. So good. His mouth moved down to her other breast and his lips closed around the nipple, drawing it out to a peak of pure sensation.

She grabbed his hair, pushing him harder into her. "God, you know I love that ... more ... more ... harder ... god, you know ... don't stop ..."

He obliged. His mouth sucked harder, his tongue laving the rock-hard point. The fingers at her other nipple squeezed yet more, pinching between thumb and forefinger. Hermione gasped in with delight. "Fuck ... even more ..."

He bit down with his teeth and twisted with his fingers. She screamed in delirious pain then laughed gutturally at her reaction as he continued to torment her tight pink points.

Then suddenly he lowered his hands and grabbed her hips, lifting her up and placing her on the broad plinth of a statue they stood beside. He threw her dress up over her hips and pushed her legs apart. Not able to contain himself he swiftly used magic to rid her of her underwear. It was a high plinth and she was perfectly positioned at his mouth. She draped one leg idly over his shoulder, opening herself yet more for him. He gazed at her sex, open, expectant, wet for him already, then swiftly lowered his head to it, his tongue licking up her folds, dipping into her.

She hissed in through her teeth, her head falling back. Her belly clenched and her hands instinctively sought out her own nipples, not wanting to relinquish the feelings he had brought from her. She pinched hard. He glanced up and saw what she was doing, causing him to groan against her. She thrust towards him.

Both his hands joined his mouth at her core. Two fingers thrust in her pussy, two squeezed into her arse. She cried out in ecstasy. "Fuck ... yes!" His tongue licked up and down, up and down, circling her engorged clit, drawing it ever more out, ripe, ready for the final plucking.

Her head thrashed, but she kept her hands on her nipples, pulling them out – there was never enough. But soon her hand instinctively and violently reached down, grabbing his hair and pushing his head hard into her. One hand remained firmly at her nipple. She was poised. His fingers flicked within her. His tongue was at her clit and his lips closed around it. He sucked hard. Her fingers twisted. Then she broke with rapture, convulsing around, over, his mouth and fingers. She growled, long and low, but growing shriller as the pleasure coursed through her every fibre.

He did not move his fingers or mouth from her until the last little moan, sigh and mewl had left her, and her body had finally sagged completely. Then taking his fingers out, he let his tongue lick one final time along her, ensuring he had drunk all of her in.

When she had recovered, small guttural laughs of pleasure sounding sporadically from her, he lifted her off the plinth.

As she was lowered to the floor, she brushed against his huge erection, drawing a groan from him.

She looked blearily up at him, instantly aware of what she must do. "More, Mr Malfoy?" she drawled.

He cocked an eyebrow. She bit her lip, fixing him seductively with her eyes, her hands dropping to his belt. She started to push him backwards, away from the moonlit hall and into a dark corridor, from which classrooms radiated off.

She reached up, kissing, opening, tasting, ever pushing him back, until they hit a door. He reached behind him for the handle and it opened. They both fell through, nearly collapsing inside. They parted long enough to glance around them. They were in a classroom, empty now for the holidays, except for the teacher's desk, chairs and tables. A few desultory bulletins hung limply from the wall. She smirked up at him, before continuing her exploration of his body. They continued into the room, and he found himself stopped by a hard object. He glanced back. It was the teacher's desk, a few quills and parchments still lay strewn over it.

Hermione's hands came up again, increasingly desperate. They reached for the buttons of his shirt, rapidly undoing them and exposing the smooth flesh beneath. A shaft of moonlight fell across his chest, making it glow supernaturally. She lowered her head to it, planting warm, wet kisses over his torso. Her hands dropped, finishing what she had started earlier. His trousers and underwear fell to the floor, revealing him hard, throbbing, searching her out. She resisted but continued to lick over his chest, catching a nipple enticingly as she did so.

He hissed his tormented pleasure out, before drawling between sharp breaths, "Tell me, Miss Granger, were you such a bad, bad girl at school?"

She smirked against him, her lips and teeth tasting and nibbling his chest and nipples. "Oh no, Mr Malfoy, at school ..." she glanced up at him, before descending further, "... I was a very, very good girl." She was nearly there.

He struggled to contain himself. "So it's just my corrupting influence, then?"

"In a word ... yes."

With that she plunged her mouth fully around his throbbing, engorged head, taking it deep into her warm, velvety wetness. He released an agonised groan of the deepest pleasure.

She worked quickly; they were both so hungry for each other, that she could not be slow. Her mouth tightened around him and pushed down, taking him deep before pulling up as slowly as she could manage, swirling her tongue over his head as she went. She tasted him dripping already into her mouth and gasped in delight as the salty viscosity leaked onto her tongue.

His hand came to her hair and he pushed her onto him. "Fuck! Again!"

The incongruity of hearing that word from his noble mouth never ceased to elicit a throb of pleasure from her, and she moved swiftly to take him again, licking, tasting, swirling as he descended further than before. She held him as far down her mouth and throat as she could, glancing up at him. His face had taken on the familiar look of sheer wonder and abandonment. For that sight alone, she held him as long as possible, before pulling her tight lips slowly back off him to gulp in much needed air.

Immediately, he pushed her down again, this time she moved up and down rapidly, drawing her hand up to cup and squeeze his sac gently, while the other encircled his lower length, twisting and pulling the skin around it. She worked him hard, knowing he was close. Her head moved urgently, her tongue swirling into his slit with each movement. He was groaning unceasingly. "So good, so good, witch, don't stop, don't ever fucking stop." She dragged hard one last time, her tongue catching him. He tensed then shuddered and she caught him. His hot shoots spurted once, twice into her, then again, accompanied by the guttural groans of his rapture. She was triumphant and held his release on her tongue for a while, eyes closed in delight.

Then at last, with a last glance at him, she swallowed, feeling him coursing down into her.

She moved back. He was breathing deeply, supporting himself desperately on the desk.

She grinned up at him, before standing and backing off. She left him to recover and walked slowly round the room.

"God knows where we are," she laughed. "I don't recognise this classroom at all."

She walked over to the few notices that were still on the wall. They announced times for Quidditch practice and results of Transfiguration exams. There was an indistinct bit of graffiti scratched onto the stone wall. It was not clear, but she could just make out the initials, "LB + RW" She could hardly stifle the laugh, but continued round the room. She stopped before a wall chart of a timeline of magical history. The various figures on it moved as she approached, re-enacting their most famous scenes from history. She smiled to herself, then sighed, "I suppose we'd better go."

Suddenly she felt him behind her, hot and urgent. His hands clasped her round the waist and he lowered his head to her ear, his voice low, slow and insistent, "I haven't finished yet."

She moaned with anticipation. She would not argue. Reaching behind, she felt him, rock hard and vital again. Moving her hand higher, she could tell that he was naked save for his unbuttoned shirt.

He drew his hands up to her shoulders, then brought them slowly, deliciously down over her arms, leaving a trail of electrified flesh as he went. He brought his hands down to rest on the back of hers, entwining his fingers in hers roughly. Then slowly but firmly, he pulled them up, raising her hands up high above her head, splaying her arms a little and pinning them to the wall. He pushed against her, his mouth once more descending to her throat, opening onto it, biting down on the tender flesh. She cried out with the delicious surprise of it.

Then slowly he lowered his own hands. At first she did not move hers from their position above her, but then one started to fall inadvertently. Instantly he had recaptured them both in his, forcing them in roughly against the stonework, grazing her knuckle. She gasped with longing.

"I did not say you could move." His icy hiss went straight to the swollen nub between her legs. Her core flooded her thighs.

His hands came down again. This time she left hers where he wanted them.

His right hand encircled her waist tightly, while the other reached for her laces, pulling them leisurely. Hermione felt the bodice loosen and fall apart.

"As much as seeing you in this dress is pleasure enough, I know that what lies beneath is even more delicious." He tugged at the material, and the dress tumbled to the floor around her feet.

He moved his leg in between her knees and roughly pushed them apart. She could feel him pressing ever more hard and insistent against her lower back and rubbed herself along the tip, drawing a hiss from him.

He clasped one arm hard around her waist, lifting her up, and bending himself down so that he was positioned at her dripping pussy. She groaned out. His strength staggered her.

His mouth was again at her ear, breathing his need into her. "Are you ready, witch? Are you ready for me again?" His arm clamped hard around her waist, winding her a little. She only just managed to gasp out.

"Yes ... always ... I always want more ... do it ... now!"

With that he relaxed his hold on her, and straightening his own legs, she sank down onto his length. He was in all the way, resting on her cervix. She gasped in with wonder.

She was on her tiptoes, but able to move against him, and they developed a steady rhythm against the wall, her hands supporting her as he thrust fully in and out, stroking that exquisite spot inside time and time again. Then all at once, he pushed her hard against the wall. She cried out as her breasts hit the cold, rough stone, sending a jolt of delirium shooting through her. Her head fell back onto his shoulder as the tension inside her blurred her mind and senses. He held her tight, grunting with the exertion which was driving him towards his end.

As he thrust, she was propelled against the stone, her nipples dragging along it, creating exquisite agony and heightening her rapture. "Oh god oh god. More ... more, Lucius. Make me come now. I want to come hard around you. I want to make you come ... I want to feel me pulling you out ... now ... now!"

He could hold back no longer. With a desperate cry he thrust harder than ever into her, forcing her up the wall, more delicious pain agonising her nipples. He plunged along her g-spot just at that moment, and the pleasure refused to be held back any longer. Her muscles clenched and then melted out and out from her replete centre. Her walls spasmed around him, squeezing his engorged cock, until he convulsed into her. He came hard, filling her with his hot seed, a deep cry torn from him. In his ecstasy he collapsed onto her, pinning her against the cold, hard wall while her pleasure flowed along and finally out of her body. The burning heat of his fulfilment clashed deliriously with the icy torment of the stone, heightening the sublime sensation.

They stayed fused together for as long as they could, their breathing heavy. But soon their position became too hard to maintain and he pulled out reluctantly and turned to collapse down along the wall. She did the same. They stayed that way, breathing hard, sweat glistening off them in the moonlight.

At length she turned to him, only just focusing, and panted out, "Promise you'll never stop corrupting me."

He could only smile, his eyes closed in exhaustion.

When at last they had left the castle and returned to the Manor, they lay side by side in the deep bed. He pulled her into him, just before sleep took them both, and whispered with a smirk, "Oh, by the way ... I promise."


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