He Might See
She bit into her biscuit, relishing in its chocolately sweetness.
"So you're saying you want him to see us?" She asked, skeptically.
"Not him, love, just...anyone…" he growled out, letting his hands trail up her sides, lifting the thin, worn out shirt she wore ever so slightly, "To walk in on us, you…sweating…hot…begging…"
She shivered. His idea was sounding better and better with each word. "Harry," she breathed.
His eyes shot up to be level with hers. He studied her flushed face. She was beautiful, wanton.
"Kiss me." She pulled the collar of his sleep shirt, tugging him close to her. Their mouths met, shooting sparks from her lips to her toes. Her hands flexed by her sides, as he ran his hands up her sides again. She moaned, opening her mouth up to him. His tongue delved into her cavern and they battled to control the situation.
Who was she kidding? She was completed drunk by his hands and lips. He was in control. It was his idea, his game.
Her sounds became deeper and huskier with every pass of his hands. When his warm, wet mouth found the tender area beside her ear, her hands shot up to grip his shoulders.
He walked her backward from the sink where they had been standing, pushing her behind into the countertop. Harry was rough and a little forceful.
And she liked it.
"Say it again."
"Huh?" she was lightheaded. He was going to have to be a lot more specific if he wanted her to make any coherent sentences while he did that thing to her collarbone.
She tugged at the top of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. His arms were momentarily trapped, causing him to let go of his hold on her, his lips detaching from her throat. She pulled harder and the soft shirt fell to the floor behind him. His glasses had became trapped within the folds, too, and clattered to the ground near the icebox.
"Forget them," she muttered.
Harry's body interwove with hers again. Her hands came up to clutch his skin, exploring his exposed chest, gripping his arms. She had to feel more, all of him. She arched into him, only the flimsy fabric of his old Quidditch jersey separating them.
"Say it again, Hermione," he asked her again, his hands dragging down her hips, pulling up at the hem of the jersey. He pulled it up in a single fluid motion, leaving her naked, standing in his kitchen.
She looked at him confused, just coming out of her daze. He chuckled. For as smart as the witch was during the day, the things he did to her at night made her seem thick, stupid with lust.
"Tell me what might…might happen." His voice was commanding, heavy, deep.
"Oh." His tongue curled into her ear, sending ripples up her spine. She ran her nails down his back, leaving thin pink lines in their wake. It was his turn to come undone, hips bucking into her curves.
She continued, "Oh…Harry…your flat-flatmate…"
More sucking, more moans, more nails.
"Your flatmate…might see…"
"He won't be home for hours."
She shook her head a him. "But you said before that h-" Harry's hand came up to stop her sentence. He winked at her.
"Oh. Oh, right," she shook her head causing curls to fly out everywhere, "He won't be home for hours." She agreed with him, catching on to the game. His lips sung across hers, awarding her for her response.
He stood in front of her, gripping her hips. He hoisted her up onto the countertop, letting her bum and legs perch on the edge. He moved to stand closer to her, right between the apex of her legs. She growled. Hermione wrapped a leg around his torso, bring him closer to her.
His hands trailed over her hips, meeting at the halfway point between their bodies at her warm center.
She purred, "For you."
His deft fingers started working her, her back arching up and away from him, her head rolling back on her shoulders. Her head made contact with the cabinet and she sighed, gripping his shoulder harder. His head dipped down from hers, laying kissed along her exposed breast, edging towards her lap. He kneeled before her, hands scooping around to her bottom, pulling her even closer to the edge, towards his hot mouth.
His mouth was warm and fast on her mound, nibbling and nipping at her bundle of nerves, while his fingers continued to slide in and out of her.
Her breaths became hitched, her moans laced with his name. Over and over again.
"Oh Harry. Harry. Har-Harry." She purred, begging him for more. Begging for completion.
"Mmm. So cl-so close. Oh god," she yelled out. One hand gripped the back of Harry's head, attempting to control his motions, while the other moved up her body so that she could touch her own breasts. She gripped and groped them, trying to add to her impending orgasm.
Harry shifted slightly, lifting one of her legs to lay over his shoulder, her back arching into him.
"Harry. Harry, More. He could come home at any mome- He could s-se-see!" She was so good at playing along.
He pumped her, being rougher than normal, trying to bring her to her cusp of pleasure, just as he heard the front door open. He looked up into his witches eyes, hers growing wide.
"Oh. Fucking. God." She words were coming out slurred as the pleasure streamed through her body. She was excited before, playing with the idea that his roommate might come in at any moment, but now that the prospect was real, she was flooded with lust, gushing as Harry lapped up her sweet juices. Her eyes popped shut, trying to finish.
"Harry. Oh, oh, oh. Harry."
She gripped Harry's head, her eyes flying open as she heard the door to the kitchen open.
He saw. He caught them. Oh god.
She came, hard. She quivered against the countertop. Her nails dug into Harry's hair, holding his face in place, milking the moment for all it had. When she lay limp under his ministrations, he stood up before her and turned to look towards the door. His flat mate was leaning there, against the doorframe, with his eyebrow raised.
"Oh, hullo, Draco."