Inspired by song Getting You Home by Chris Young
He watched his wife emerge from her large closet wearing a floor length silk shift dress with a slit running up one side to her thigh. He smirked, she was gorgeous. Her pale skin contrasted against the chocolate brown of the dress making her eyes sparkle and come to life. Her hair long and free hung in dark, shiny barrel curls to her waist.
She had that look in her eyes tonight, he thought.
His mind shifted gears as he stood there watching her put her earrings on – all he could think about was seeing her dress hit the floor. There was nothing he'd rather do than love her all night long.
She felt his eyes on her and smiled, "You look handsome, tonight," she said softly turning to face him.
She knew what he was thinking.
His face didn't reflect any kind of emotion, but his eyes darkened confirming her suspicions, "Don't I always?" he asked teasing arrogantly.
She rolled her eyes, "Fishing for compliments doesn't become you, my love."
He huffed in humor and walked towards her offering his elbow, "shall we?" he asked while he eyed her lasciviously.
She nodded and blushed.
He still made her stomach flutter with nerves, especially when he looked at her they way he was looking at her now.
Black tie affairs, waiters wearing dress robes, pristine table clothes and expensive wine; they'd been planning tonight and looking forward to it for some time.
She smiled at all the right times and spoke intelligently when posed with a discussion, but her eyes always found his, across the room, across the table or right next to each other all they could think about was getting home.
Walking through the front door, seeing her dress puddle at her feet.
His mind came back to the discussion at hand; his father asked him something – what was it? He wondered trying hard to remember.
He couldn't think, his wife's hand was drawing hearts onto his, it was driving him crazy.
She smirked, "Your father disagrees with increasing property taxes for land owners bordering werewolf reserves. What are your thoughts?" she asked saving him from certain embarrassment.
His eyes shot to his father's knowing smirk – he returned the expression and gave his opinion, "I believe we will need to increase taxes temporarily, while the werewolves reestablish themselves in working society. Once this 'werewolf welfare' initiative is passed we can add addendums limiting their time in the program and develop qualification criteria for the program," he answered smoothly.
His wife smiled at him, "How very political of you, my boy. Now dance with your wife," Lucius said and squeezed his daughter-in-laws hand before he stood to find his own wife.
She leaned forward, "Perhaps you should give your donation," she whispered seductively squeezing his thigh and quickly flicking his earlobe with her tongue.
She said something else, making his eye brow quirk and his erection press painfully against the belt of his pants.
"Did I hear you right? Did you tell me go give our donation and let's leave?" he asked, hopeful
"I know that look, love; are you sure? We've been planning this for a while and our night out will be cut short if we leave now," he reminded
She leaned in slowly her eyes never leaving his, "Draco…" she sighed before her lips brushed his softly.
While she leaned in she moved her hand up his thigh to his hardened member and squeezed as her lips closed in.
He hissed and stood quickly pulling her up with him. He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and walked briskly out of the ball room, nodding first to his father – who smirked and said something to Narcissa, who also turned and smiled when she saw them leaving quite suddenly.
He then stopped and handed a bank note to Harry Potter, founder of the charity ball; without a word they left. Hermione had only a short time to smile and wave behind her while her friends stared back at her departing figure with a mixture of humor and irritation – Draco, Ron and Harry still didn't get along that well, only establishing a baseline of civil behavior around one another and an occasional game of Quidditch for family gatherings; they were always on opposite teams.
They Apparated to the gates of Dragon Castle (they didn't live in Malfoy Manor, much to his parents' chagrin). He captured her lips with a searing kiss that made her knees weak and her belly tingle with anticipation. Pulling her dress apart and raising it, he picked her up urging her to wrap her legs around his waist; she did and they kissed passionately down the entire path to the large wooden doors.
He didn't set her down until they reached the master suite.
She was always impressed with how strong he was – he never had any trouble carrying his wife, she was small slip of a witch. His 6'2" muscled body towered over her 5'3" petite frame.
Her hands were fisted in his hair pulling and tugging roughly; he loved it.
He stood watching her as her pretty brown eyes danced in the candlelight glow.
His fingers trailed a path up her bare arms leaving goose flesh in their wake; as he reached the thin straps of her gown he hooked his fingers through and lifted them up and over the round ball of her shoulder.
The dress pooled at her feet and he held his hands out to her, helping her step out of the puddle.
His eyes roamed her beautifully toned body and lacy pink knickers. She smiled feeling a healthy amount of feminine pride that her husband of five years was still turned on by her.
As he bent to take her nipple in his mouth they heard something that halted any further romantic notions, "Mummy?" the little voice called out.
His forehead dropped to shoulder and he whimpered making her snicker. She let go of his hair and Accio'd her robe, "Yes, love," she answered softly.
The door creaked open letting the light from their room spill into the master suite, "I'm scared, can I sleep with you?" the little blonde boy whined.
The twins were four and shared a room that connected to Draco and Hermione's room, "You don't want to leave Leah all by herself do you?" Hermione asked her son, Scorpius.
Scorpius paused, "Yes," he said making his father chuckle.
"Daddy?" another little voice called.
Draco sighed, this night was not going as planned, "Yes, princess."
"Can I sleep with you too?" she asked.
He looked at the woman who changed his life – he loved her and his children more than anything in the world, "Yes love."
By the time he was ready to crawl into bed and, at least, hug his wife to him, his children were sleeping in the middle of the bed and his wife was smiling up at him most amused by his vexation.
He settled in, "Good night my love," he said from the other side of his children.
"Good night, Draco."
They were silent for a while and but for the soft breathing of their children they could've heard a pin drop, "Draco?" she asked softly
"I'm pregnant," she said smiling.