Fic: Raw, Addicting, Intoxicating (1/1) *NC17* B/Hr
Title: RAW, ADDICTING, INTOXICATING
Author: Three AM (findingbliss)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: B/Hr, implied D/Hr
Summary: One Christmas vacation led to unexpected revelations…
Disclaimers: JK Rowling owns everything, except for the plot.
Author’s Notes: For Ame, hope you like. And I’m so sorry it’s late. I actually did four revisions and each with a different plot. ^_^;; I just couldn’t seem to get it right. This piece was the last and the longest I’ve written among the others so I decided to stick with it. It’s not the best, but I hope you’ll still like it, at least.
“I knew those Yoga lessons would pay off someday,” Blaise drawled smugly. He was lying on his bed with his arms around his witch possessively. They just had the most amazing sex done in the afternoon. They weren’t worried about their other classmates or any professors catching them in the act, for it was Christmas vacation and very few (including the two of them) stayed at Hogwarts for the rest of the break.
And boy, was Blaise glad he agreed staying with her. Having a Head Girl as a girlfriend surely has its benefits.
“I’m glad I taught you then.” Hermione smiled lazily. She purred contentedly as she snuggled closer to her lover.
She reminisced about the first time they had gotten together. It had been over four months now since she stepped in the King’s Cross station and had almost been kidnapped by two closet Death Eaters. Pucey and Flint, alumni of Hogwarts, grabbed her from behind and stunned her with a wand hiding beneath their jackets. Things happened in so little time that she didn’t have the chance to at least grab her wand. Frozen by force, they dragged her painfully towards Merlin knew where, probably to apparate to their son of a bitch of a “master”. But thank the gods above, someone came to her rescue.
Before anything of that happened, if Hermione would be told that Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin sly and wise in his quiet ways, would be her knight in shining armor, she’d probably laugh in their faces and tell them to bugger off. But after what Blaise did to the former Slytherins then whisked her away from the crime scene not too obviously, Hermione somehow felt relieved and grateful. But not too much. After all, he was still a Slytherin, who knew if he too was part of the plan?
And so, Hermione Granger, a wise Gryffindor and heroine of the bravest Golden Trio, did what she could at that moment with all the muggles bustling around them. She whirled around and punched him squarely in the face!
The present Hermione suddenly chuckled.
“What’s so amusing, love?” Blaise asked, looking down at her as her head was resting against his chest.
She looked up, amusement clear in her eyes. “I was just remembering the start of school year. In King’s Cross station…”
Suddenly, he groaned and rolled his eyes. “Are you forgetting you were almost killed that day?”
“Yes, but we weren’t really sure if they were going to kill me at that time.”
“How Gryffindor,” he commented, earning him a whack on the stomach. He grunted.
“Seriously, I know Flint and Pucey. They are bastards through and through. If they weren’t going to kill you, then their other mates would. Or Voldemort would,” he finished quietly. His grip on her tightened.
“Yes, probably,” Hermione said. “But you came to my rescue.”
Blaise’s eyes went heavenwards again. “Don’t tell me you’re going on your fairytale mode again.”
“Oh do shut up,” she admonished him playfully. Then, she bit her lip and smiled at him. “I’m glad you saved me.”
“Like a damsel in distress.”
“I resent that.” She frowned. “I was taken by surprise and force, so I wasn’t able to use my wand. But at least I thought of it!” she defended.
“Still-”
“And didn’t I hit you the moment I got away from them?” she added.
Blaise leaned up so he could see her fully. He was now scowling. “I’m your savior and you hit me! You were supposed to retaliate at them, not me! What kind of defense was that?”
Hermione gasped in indignation. She too propped on her elbow and glared at him. “What was I supposed to think then? That you were a goody-good Slytherin? What if you weren’t? What if you were with them? How was I supposed to know?”
“You’re being too judgmental.”
“I was being cautious.”
He was still frowning at her.
She smirked. “Admit it, honey. I was good.” She laughed. “My aim was good.”
Blaise then, relaxed. He got back down lying on the bed. “Probably.”
Hearing his reply, she raised a brow. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, inching closer to his face.
He eyed her closely through half-lidded eyes, and shrugged. Her face was too close to his and he was eyeing her pink inviting lips. “You’re the most intelligent witch in our batch, you figure it out.”
Refusing to bite the bait, Hermione smiled gloatingly instead. “You just refuse to acknowledge the fact that I was able to hit you.”
But to her surprise, her lover smiled.
“Didn’t I pay you back?” he asked teasingly.
‘The egotistical prat,’ Hermione thought. She knew very well what he was talking about.
After taking him on in the middle of a busy crowd, muggles finally started to notice the commotion they made. Blaise, quickly recovering from the unexpected punch the feisty young woman threw, immediately took in their situation. Not wanting to cause more scene and questions from their gathering audience, he quickly stepped closer toward her, swept her off her feet and kissed her. Right then and there.
To say Hermione was shocked was a total understatement. She was flabbergasted!
“What kind of payment was that?” she shot back.
He shrugged, one of his hands now gripping her round buttocks. “A lovers’ quarrel was much easier to play and comprehend than a quick kidnapping and rescuing, in a wizarding way at that.”
“Yes, I know. You explained that a couple of times before,” she said grudgingly. She was now atop of him and she wiggled her hips a bit against his. She smiled as she felt him.
“Naughty witch,” Blaise said through gritted teeth. Both of his hands were now gripping her full arse as he guided her in their little play.
“Am I?” Hermione asked with a mischievous smile. Her hands went to both of his shoulders and clutched at them as she opened her legs more and straddled his hips. With her on top, she teased his arousal faster, her wet opening touching and caressing his throbbing erection across its length.
“’Course,” he managed to pant out. “You are the… naughtiest… witch… I’ve ever… met.”
Blaise hand moved to her bushy curls and pushed her head down for a ravishing kiss, while his other hand was still gripping her from behind. They kissed, passionately and desperately (as if they didn’t do the deed just earlier), both of their hands groping each other madly. His tongue was now waging a war against hers, moving inside her mouth like a raging storm. Then he bit her lower lip as Hermione growled, pulled back a little and devoured his lips back again.
Hermione’s hands went lower, from his collarbones to his muscled chest. Again, she was amazed by Blaise’s lack of hairchest. Before, she didn’t really mind if her boyfriend would have it or not. But the moment she found out that her Slytherin lover’s chest was impossibly smooth yet firm, she was immensely pleased.
She pinched his nipples, then she run her hands across his breasts. Blaise groaned, suddenly wanting to end her teasing. He gripped her more tightly and started to push her hips against his very much erect penis. But Hermione moaned, protesting.
She broke their kiss and stared down at him like a goddess in lust. “No, not yet,” she purred.
“Hermione…” he moaned.
She chuckled. She settled on his abdomen, leaving his thoroughly aroused penis behind. Staring at her lover wantonly, she ran her hands down his chest, leaving red cat-like marks on his tan skin. God, she loved his skin, his body, his features, all of him!
Blaise was a god walking on earth. Like a true descendant from his Italian ancestors, his handsome face was flawless of freckles and acnes. His lips and nose seemed to be carved out from a perfect statue. His eyebrows were neatly groomed, and his eyes were the most electrifying blue Hermione had ever seen. It always reminded her of Boracay when she visited Asia with her parents during the break last year. It was the clearest sea under the strong summer sunshine… so much like the eyes she was staring at now.
And Hermione drowned in those deep cerulean pools.
Lowering her head just a few centimeters away from his, she licked his lips, slowly from one side to the other. “Do you know how much I love…” she trailed off, kissing his chin, his throat, then down to his collarbone.
Her hands went back to his hardened nipples, taunted them for a bit, before crawling lower to his body. Lower and lower…
Blaise hissed, anticipating her next move. But Hermione continued to rain kisses along the middle of his chest, licking and sucking as she left her marks, reddish against his natural tan. And her hands remained in his firm belly.
“You are like an espresso,” she whispered, soft enough for his ears alone.
“Raw.” She licked his stomach from the tip of her tongue.
“Addicting.” She shifted downwards, nibbling his compact abdomen as she suddenly grasped his hot throbbing erection. Blaise gasped out loud, his hips buckling under her touch.
“Intoxicating.”
Then out of the blue, a warm cup was quickly conjured in her hand, which quickly left his arousal a second before the cup appeared. Blaise didn’t even notice her clutching her wand until she set it down on her bedside table. He stared unblinkingly at the small cup in her hand, trails of faint smoke swirling upwards, its coffee smell so pure and delicious. Its movement like a gypsy dancing slowly and sexily under the moonlight. Intoxicating indeed.
Blaise chose to remain silent, utterly curious as to what Hermione had in mind. Why would she be choosing a completely strange time for a coffee break?
His question was instantly answered, when she spilled the coffee all over his chest, the dark brown liquid and light foam burning in his skin.
“Hermione!” Blaise almost sat up, if not for her still sitting atop him. He stared down at the hot coffee spilled across his whole torso and down to his abdomen and still lower. He could feel its heat, scorching his skin like a real fire.
“What did you-?” But Hermione silenced him with a dainty finger in his lips. She then trailed her finger from his lips to his cheek, his jaw, his throat, then finally to his coffee-layered chest.
Without any warning, Hermione hungrily drank the espresso against his skin. She slurped the blistering liquid, wiping his body clean with her tongue. She lapped on him, lavishing.
Greedily. Ravenously.
Like a slave to its master.
Blaise was an inch closer to coming. He thought he was barely breathing, what with his Hermione doing to him, yet he found himself panting heavily. He closed his eyes tightly, immersing himself on the burning sight of his lover in his mind, lapping the dark liquid and tasting the golden foam off his body. Never in his life did he imagine that the Gryffindor know-it-all, with her pristine and deceivingly prudish ways, would do something so erotic.
So fucking arousing.
His hands found her breasts, close to his pelvis. He grabbed them, squeezing them tight as he frustratingly fought back the overwhelming urge to come. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to feel the glorious feeling of her so tight around him, clenching and squirming beneath him.
Under his control.
Hermione winced as his hands seized her breasts strongly. She sucked in her breath, fighting back the pain yet dwelling in the pleasure of his familiar hands toying with her chest. His touch was demanding, yet so unbearably caressing. His strokes were so igniting and frenzied, yet excruciatingly precise with unspeakable tenderness. In control, yet so feverishly uncontrollable. He was simply a paradox.
A puzzle that Hermione couldn’t wait to solve.
A challenge she claimed for herself alone.
Looking up at him and finding his unfathomable cerulean eyes with her rekindling golden brown ones, Hermione squeezed her grip on his penis more strongly and she was rewarded by Blaise’s hoarse cry of her name. She smiled.
“I want you, now,” he growled. “Fuck it now!”
Encasing her arms in a sudden vise-like grip, Blaise pulled her up and then pushed her down on the bed, switching their positions. He was so fucking burning. So hot with wild desire stirring up his entire body. He stared down at her with unkempt lust in his eyes. Roughly, he pushed her legs wide open with his knees, which he didn’t really have to do since she opened up for him so willingly.
He kissed her hard and passionately. Their tongues smoldering with furious fire. They bit each other’s swollen lips. They gripped and clawed and marked.
Blaise had to force himself to pull back from her red full lips. He gazed at her with apparent hunger and longing. “Hermione,” he breathed. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she gasped back. With hips bucking upwards, she ran her hands through his black wavy hair. ‘Incredibly soft…’
“Tell me you want this.” He gripped her wrists with both hands, bruising, sure to leave marks.
“I want this.”
Hermione begged in desperation. Blaise hissed in anticipation.
“Scream for me.” And he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside her.
She screamed, crying out his name. She surrendered.
He dove in and out of her again and again. She met each of his thrusts with equal passion. Her legs were around his waist now. Their hips kept on rocking until the Head Girl’s bed kept up with their pace. They radiated with fervor and heat. They were wild, untamed… unbelievably intense.
Hermione gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down to the crook of her shoulder. She grasped at his now sweaty hair, clawed at his back, and breathed rapidly. She closed her eyes and she saw blinking lights. Implausible bright lights. She couldn’t understand what was happening to her… to them. It was like driving so fast that everything was becoming a blur.
“Blaise…” She clung at him like a lifeline. She was spinning. Around and around.
Unstoppable.
Blaise kept on rocking in and out of her. His face was resting on her clammy neck, winded, and tasting her salty sweat. His eyes were squeezed tight, concentrating on the feel of her so amazingly soft, yet scorching hot.
In and out, in and out. Thrusting forward then pulling then pushing back again.
He couldn’t stop. No. ‘Nothing in this world could make me.’
Biting her neck hard, Blaise finally came. His seed spilled inside her so thoroughly, completely, and he felt her come too just seconds after he did. Together, they shook with aftermath tremors. Their bodies were still so close to each other, sweat trickling down their skin. The scent of their fresh sex hung in the air, mixed with the intoxicating scent of the spilled coffee.
Amazing.
He was still inside her. He started to pull out but she held him back, her legs now tangled with his.
“No, not yet,” Hermione whispered. “I like the feel of you inside me.”
Blaise obliged. He rested on top of her, but he still has his elbows supporting him slightly.
“Blaise?”
“Hm?”
“How do you feel?”
He paused, asking himself the same question. ‘How do I feel?’
For a long minute, there was silence. He didn’t know how to express it. Bloody hell, he couldn’t find the right words. It was beyond words. He felt that not a phrase could describe what he was feeling. It was…
“Perfect,” he managed to draw out.
Hermione stared straight in his clear blue eyes. Her hands touched his damp face, fingers caressing his forehead, his eyes, nose, cheeks, and his lips. Her touch was excruciatingly light like butterfly kisses. She gazed at him in open wonderment and touched him with such emotional affection.
She was perfect.
Blaise couldn’t comprehend anything sensible. He closed his eyes, trying to understand what happened between them. It was nothing like the quick and informal sex they had in the past. At their latest conquest, he was actually rendered speechless. What they shared was something so powerful, nothing like the magic they were continually studying at the very same roof of their school. Admittedly, he lost control. It was astonishing in itself. The prince of silence and restraint lost his discipline! He lost his self-possession.
Bloody right he did.
He surrendered to her, fully giving himself up to that unexplainable bliss. And he wasn’t regretting it.
Blaise smirked. He wondered just how much his witch’s hold on him. And… ‘Does she know?’
“What are you smirking about?” Hermione asked.
“Nothing,” he lied. He kissed her fingertip resting against his lips. Then he bent down and kissed her again. This time, the kiss was gentle, as if comforting and reassuring each other that what happened might be totally unexplainable, but it was real. They didn’t need words… Letters glued together could only express as much.
Deep-seated emotions could say everything much stronger and with more conviction and truth.
Blaise finally pulled out and lied down beside her. Instinctively, she snuggled closer to him, his arm going around her and resting on her waist possessively. He was tired, and he bet so was she.
His eyes were starting to drop when Hermione interrupted. “Blaise, don’t you think we should take a shower first? Just quickly?”
He groaned in protest. Honestly, he was exhausted and the thought of standing and leaving the bed was too tiresome.
“Please?” she continued to beg, however. “We’re sticky and wet and sweaty. Not to mention the coffee…”
“And whose fault is that?” he drawled lazily.
“Oh sod off,” she said in that bossy tone of hers that Blaise found so undeniably sexy. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
He raised a brow at her in reply. He watched her with half-lidded eyes, his lips curved in a smug smile.
“Prat,” she muttered under her breath. Blaise just laughed.
“C’mon Blaise, just a quick shower, then we can rest,” she continued. “How about a bath then? In the tub?”
Blaise looked quickly from his witch then to her own bathroom, then back to her again. ‘Hmm… Now that sounds not too bad…’
The next thing Hermione knew, she was in his arms, and he was heading towards the bathroom.
“Knew you couldn’t resist,” she said, grinning. She leaned forward, with her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
“Happy Christmas.”
xxxxxx
Draco Malfoy eyed the dark haired Slytherin, who just entered their cold lank common room with a satisfied smug smile in his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” Draco asked, not stirring from his lounging position in his favorite couch. He watched his room mate paused and looked at him blankly, before surprise covered his face. Then Zabini smirked.
“Nothing,” he replied nonchalantly.
Draco stared at his schoolmate as the latter proceeded toward the boys’ dorm. When he disappeared from view, the blonde turned his attention back to the fireplace. The fire’s shifting hues from yellow to orange, then to red was teasing, almost hypnotizing. But it wasn’t enough to divert his thoughts from the image imprinted in his mind.
The tableau of Zabini and Granger shagging their senses out was… indescribable.
It seemed that what they shared couldn’t even be called so casually as sex. ‘Lovemaking?’ he considered. Then he snorted. Zabini wasn’t the type to lower himself like that. No Slytherin could be ever so disgusting as to even think of love.
‘Love,’ he spat in his mind. That pathetic thing didn’t exist.
Then Draco’s reflection turned to Granger. Hermione, whose tongue constantly waged a war against him and whose brains won over his own intellect at every subject, had been the object of his obsession since third year, when she dared taint his pride by that stinging slap in his face. Ever since then, he couldn’t take the loathsome Gryffindor off his mind. She would always be there, lurking in the deep corners and shadows of his mind.
He hated her with every fiber of his being for doing that to him. He despised her for distracting him and it infuriated him more for the fact that she didn’t even know her effects on him.
He reviled her. She made him lose out of control.
He obsessed about her. She was always in his mind.
She was his.
Draco closed his eyes and clenched his fists tightly. That hidden revelation never failed to bring him into a dark surreal bliss. In his fantasies it would always be only them, him and her, trapped in an unending void of ecstasy and passion. She would always be screaming for his name only, surrendering her body and soul exclusively for him, and submitting her innocence for him alone.
He thought and made his designs for claiming her.
But his makeshift world and all his plans in conquering his Mudblood whore were threatened by the arrival of Zabini. That fucking son of a bitch Zabini.
At the end of sixth year, after the last supper in the Great Hall, Draco caught Zabini eyeing Granger in a very familiar way. That kind of look where he couldn’t concentrate on anything seriously because between the text lines in his notes and books, the picture of her would always surface and it was far more enticing. Like she had always been in his mind for quite a time and he couldn’t get her out of his system.
Then Draco knew. He knew Zabini also wanted what he wanted for himself.
He couldn’t take it. He had to make things clear to anyone who would care that Granger was only his.
Last day of sixth year in Hogwarts Express, when the two Slytherins were alone in one compartment, Draco confronted his dark haired schoolmate. Both prideful males didn’t beat around the bush. That was the first time for the two of them to finally admit to someone of their addiction. They also found out that they did share a couple of interests; not only Granger, but also their bursting pride, and possessiveness. So they agreed on one bet… one prize.
‘Whoever gets to her first and breaks her guard down, wins,’ Draco remembered his words, their challenge.
He narrowed his eyes, as he broke his reverie and sat up. He got one of the pictures lying under a couch pillow, held it up in front of his face, and stared at it.
It was a photograph of a gloriously naked Granger writhing beneath an equally naked Zabini. Draco took a deep breath, slowly getting aroused. His steel gray eyes focused on the image of the goddess of his dreams as she closed her eyes in obvious ecstasy and opened her mouth in a silent scream of bliss. She was exotically beautiful, with her wild untamed hair embracing her pillow, her arms and legs wound around someone else’s body…
Draco’s lips set into a thin grim line as he watched her yield completely, her hips joined so intimately with her lover’s. He watched him fucked her, thrusting in and out of her, making her back arch in pleasure. He watched them complete their union.
Suddenly, he threw the photograph into the fire. He took the other moving pictures, browsed through them fast, feeling his anger rise higher as his eyes took in the images of Granger and Zabini. Then with a loud growl, he crumbled them into one ball and hurled it into the fire.
His breathing was rapid now as his gray eyes stared unblinkingly at the burning papers. His lips formed into a scowl. A hand went to his hair in an unconscious gesture of distress.
Envy was wanting something not in your possession. Jealousy was the fear of losing something in your possession. *
Jealous. Draco never did once liked the feeling of facing the green-eyed monster. It made him feel lose out of control.
‘She is mine damn it! She is fucking MINE!’
With an impatient hiss, he stood up from the couch and paced the empty common room. His hand went through his hair again, messing up his usually neatly combed locks for the second time. His eyes darted to the direction of the stairs in the boys’ dorm, then to the paintings, to the carpeted floor, to everything else that would hopefully distract him from his dilemma. But his eyes sought back to the stairs.
Draco took deep breaths in hopes of calming himself down. Agitation wasn’t going to help him now. He had to be composed, like his usual self, to think clearly. He had to change his plans.
He knew he already lost in his little game with Zabini. But he couldn’t allow himself staying the loser. A Malfoy shouldn’t disgrace himself as such.
A true Malfoy heir would get up, retreat momentarily for a few steps, and lick his wounds by himself into one corner. All along planning his counterattack. A retaliation, twice as cunning, twice as dangerous.
Draco resumed his seat by the fireplace, sitting like the Slytherin prince that he was. His back was slowly relaxing, feeling pleased with himself. His eyes were no longer burning with jealousy and hatred, but were reignited with a dangerous mix of excitement and thrill. His scowl was replaced by a forming sinister smile.
‘You don’t know who you’re fighting, Zabini,’ Draco said silently, staring at the fire again. An elegant hand went up to stroke his lips and chin, as a plan was quickly forming in his mind.
Again, his mind dwelled on the image of Granger, sweating and panting in ultimate ecstasy. Raw.
Beads of sweat trickled down her face and neck, as her magnificent body thrashed up and down in throes of pleasure. Addicting.
Her swollen inviting lips opened in temptation, and her golden brown eyes smoldering in white hot desire. Intoxicating.
Red hot burning fire reflected in his cold gray eyes.
‘Mine.’
End.
xxxxxx
* Reference to these statements originally from As Good As it Gets by Arch Stanton.
36. Name/Pen Name: Ame/ame_to_kyou
Pairing of the fic you want: Hr/B
Rating(s) of the fic you want: R or NC-17
3 - 5 Things you want your gift to include:
1. coffee (preferably espresso)
2. romance/sex
3. a photograph (muggle or wizard is up to the author)
4. Draco
5. somebody saying: "I knew those Yoga lessons would pay off someday."
What you don’t want your gift to include: Character death, incest, excessive violence, angst, non-con, Superfluffy!Blaise/Hermione.
Author: Three AM (findingbliss)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: B/Hr, implied D/Hr
Summary: One Christmas vacation led to unexpected revelations…
Disclaimers: JK Rowling owns everything, except for the plot.
Author’s Notes: For Ame, hope you like. And I’m so sorry it’s late. I actually did four revisions and each with a different plot. ^_^;; I just couldn’t seem to get it right. This piece was the last and the longest I’ve written among the others so I decided to stick with it. It’s not the best, but I hope you’ll still like it, at least.
“I knew those Yoga lessons would pay off someday,” Blaise drawled smugly. He was lying on his bed with his arms around his witch possessively. They just had the most amazing sex done in the afternoon. They weren’t worried about their other classmates or any professors catching them in the act, for it was Christmas vacation and very few (including the two of them) stayed at Hogwarts for the rest of the break.
And boy, was Blaise glad he agreed staying with her. Having a Head Girl as a girlfriend surely has its benefits.
“I’m glad I taught you then.” Hermione smiled lazily. She purred contentedly as she snuggled closer to her lover.
She reminisced about the first time they had gotten together. It had been over four months now since she stepped in the King’s Cross station and had almost been kidnapped by two closet Death Eaters. Pucey and Flint, alumni of Hogwarts, grabbed her from behind and stunned her with a wand hiding beneath their jackets. Things happened in so little time that she didn’t have the chance to at least grab her wand. Frozen by force, they dragged her painfully towards Merlin knew where, probably to apparate to their son of a bitch of a “master”. But thank the gods above, someone came to her rescue.
Before anything of that happened, if Hermione would be told that Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin sly and wise in his quiet ways, would be her knight in shining armor, she’d probably laugh in their faces and tell them to bugger off. But after what Blaise did to the former Slytherins then whisked her away from the crime scene not too obviously, Hermione somehow felt relieved and grateful. But not too much. After all, he was still a Slytherin, who knew if he too was part of the plan?
And so, Hermione Granger, a wise Gryffindor and heroine of the bravest Golden Trio, did what she could at that moment with all the muggles bustling around them. She whirled around and punched him squarely in the face!
The present Hermione suddenly chuckled.
“What’s so amusing, love?” Blaise asked, looking down at her as her head was resting against his chest.
She looked up, amusement clear in her eyes. “I was just remembering the start of school year. In King’s Cross station…”
Suddenly, he groaned and rolled his eyes. “Are you forgetting you were almost killed that day?”
“Yes, but we weren’t really sure if they were going to kill me at that time.”
“How Gryffindor,” he commented, earning him a whack on the stomach. He grunted.
“Seriously, I know Flint and Pucey. They are bastards through and through. If they weren’t going to kill you, then their other mates would. Or Voldemort would,” he finished quietly. His grip on her tightened.
“Yes, probably,” Hermione said. “But you came to my rescue.”
Blaise’s eyes went heavenwards again. “Don’t tell me you’re going on your fairytale mode again.”
“Oh do shut up,” she admonished him playfully. Then, she bit her lip and smiled at him. “I’m glad you saved me.”
“Like a damsel in distress.”
“I resent that.” She frowned. “I was taken by surprise and force, so I wasn’t able to use my wand. But at least I thought of it!” she defended.
“Still-”
“And didn’t I hit you the moment I got away from them?” she added.
Blaise leaned up so he could see her fully. He was now scowling. “I’m your savior and you hit me! You were supposed to retaliate at them, not me! What kind of defense was that?”
Hermione gasped in indignation. She too propped on her elbow and glared at him. “What was I supposed to think then? That you were a goody-good Slytherin? What if you weren’t? What if you were with them? How was I supposed to know?”
“You’re being too judgmental.”
“I was being cautious.”
He was still frowning at her.
She smirked. “Admit it, honey. I was good.” She laughed. “My aim was good.”
Blaise then, relaxed. He got back down lying on the bed. “Probably.”
Hearing his reply, she raised a brow. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, inching closer to his face.
He eyed her closely through half-lidded eyes, and shrugged. Her face was too close to his and he was eyeing her pink inviting lips. “You’re the most intelligent witch in our batch, you figure it out.”
Refusing to bite the bait, Hermione smiled gloatingly instead. “You just refuse to acknowledge the fact that I was able to hit you.”
But to her surprise, her lover smiled.
“Didn’t I pay you back?” he asked teasingly.
‘The egotistical prat,’ Hermione thought. She knew very well what he was talking about.
After taking him on in the middle of a busy crowd, muggles finally started to notice the commotion they made. Blaise, quickly recovering from the unexpected punch the feisty young woman threw, immediately took in their situation. Not wanting to cause more scene and questions from their gathering audience, he quickly stepped closer toward her, swept her off her feet and kissed her. Right then and there.
To say Hermione was shocked was a total understatement. She was flabbergasted!
“What kind of payment was that?” she shot back.
He shrugged, one of his hands now gripping her round buttocks. “A lovers’ quarrel was much easier to play and comprehend than a quick kidnapping and rescuing, in a wizarding way at that.”
“Yes, I know. You explained that a couple of times before,” she said grudgingly. She was now atop of him and she wiggled her hips a bit against his. She smiled as she felt him.
“Naughty witch,” Blaise said through gritted teeth. Both of his hands were now gripping her full arse as he guided her in their little play.
“Am I?” Hermione asked with a mischievous smile. Her hands went to both of his shoulders and clutched at them as she opened her legs more and straddled his hips. With her on top, she teased his arousal faster, her wet opening touching and caressing his throbbing erection across its length.
“’Course,” he managed to pant out. “You are the… naughtiest… witch… I’ve ever… met.”
Blaise hand moved to her bushy curls and pushed her head down for a ravishing kiss, while his other hand was still gripping her from behind. They kissed, passionately and desperately (as if they didn’t do the deed just earlier), both of their hands groping each other madly. His tongue was now waging a war against hers, moving inside her mouth like a raging storm. Then he bit her lower lip as Hermione growled, pulled back a little and devoured his lips back again.
Hermione’s hands went lower, from his collarbones to his muscled chest. Again, she was amazed by Blaise’s lack of hairchest. Before, she didn’t really mind if her boyfriend would have it or not. But the moment she found out that her Slytherin lover’s chest was impossibly smooth yet firm, she was immensely pleased.
She pinched his nipples, then she run her hands across his breasts. Blaise groaned, suddenly wanting to end her teasing. He gripped her more tightly and started to push her hips against his very much erect penis. But Hermione moaned, protesting.
She broke their kiss and stared down at him like a goddess in lust. “No, not yet,” she purred.
“Hermione…” he moaned.
She chuckled. She settled on his abdomen, leaving his thoroughly aroused penis behind. Staring at her lover wantonly, she ran her hands down his chest, leaving red cat-like marks on his tan skin. God, she loved his skin, his body, his features, all of him!
Blaise was a god walking on earth. Like a true descendant from his Italian ancestors, his handsome face was flawless of freckles and acnes. His lips and nose seemed to be carved out from a perfect statue. His eyebrows were neatly groomed, and his eyes were the most electrifying blue Hermione had ever seen. It always reminded her of Boracay when she visited Asia with her parents during the break last year. It was the clearest sea under the strong summer sunshine… so much like the eyes she was staring at now.
And Hermione drowned in those deep cerulean pools.
Lowering her head just a few centimeters away from his, she licked his lips, slowly from one side to the other. “Do you know how much I love…” she trailed off, kissing his chin, his throat, then down to his collarbone.
Her hands went back to his hardened nipples, taunted them for a bit, before crawling lower to his body. Lower and lower…
Blaise hissed, anticipating her next move. But Hermione continued to rain kisses along the middle of his chest, licking and sucking as she left her marks, reddish against his natural tan. And her hands remained in his firm belly.
“You are like an espresso,” she whispered, soft enough for his ears alone.
“Raw.” She licked his stomach from the tip of her tongue.
“Addicting.” She shifted downwards, nibbling his compact abdomen as she suddenly grasped his hot throbbing erection. Blaise gasped out loud, his hips buckling under her touch.
“Intoxicating.”
Then out of the blue, a warm cup was quickly conjured in her hand, which quickly left his arousal a second before the cup appeared. Blaise didn’t even notice her clutching her wand until she set it down on her bedside table. He stared unblinkingly at the small cup in her hand, trails of faint smoke swirling upwards, its coffee smell so pure and delicious. Its movement like a gypsy dancing slowly and sexily under the moonlight. Intoxicating indeed.
Blaise chose to remain silent, utterly curious as to what Hermione had in mind. Why would she be choosing a completely strange time for a coffee break?
His question was instantly answered, when she spilled the coffee all over his chest, the dark brown liquid and light foam burning in his skin.
“Hermione!” Blaise almost sat up, if not for her still sitting atop him. He stared down at the hot coffee spilled across his whole torso and down to his abdomen and still lower. He could feel its heat, scorching his skin like a real fire.
“What did you-?” But Hermione silenced him with a dainty finger in his lips. She then trailed her finger from his lips to his cheek, his jaw, his throat, then finally to his coffee-layered chest.
Without any warning, Hermione hungrily drank the espresso against his skin. She slurped the blistering liquid, wiping his body clean with her tongue. She lapped on him, lavishing.
Greedily. Ravenously.
Like a slave to its master.
Blaise was an inch closer to coming. He thought he was barely breathing, what with his Hermione doing to him, yet he found himself panting heavily. He closed his eyes tightly, immersing himself on the burning sight of his lover in his mind, lapping the dark liquid and tasting the golden foam off his body. Never in his life did he imagine that the Gryffindor know-it-all, with her pristine and deceivingly prudish ways, would do something so erotic.
So fucking arousing.
His hands found her breasts, close to his pelvis. He grabbed them, squeezing them tight as he frustratingly fought back the overwhelming urge to come. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to feel the glorious feeling of her so tight around him, clenching and squirming beneath him.
Under his control.
Hermione winced as his hands seized her breasts strongly. She sucked in her breath, fighting back the pain yet dwelling in the pleasure of his familiar hands toying with her chest. His touch was demanding, yet so unbearably caressing. His strokes were so igniting and frenzied, yet excruciatingly precise with unspeakable tenderness. In control, yet so feverishly uncontrollable. He was simply a paradox.
A puzzle that Hermione couldn’t wait to solve.
A challenge she claimed for herself alone.
Looking up at him and finding his unfathomable cerulean eyes with her rekindling golden brown ones, Hermione squeezed her grip on his penis more strongly and she was rewarded by Blaise’s hoarse cry of her name. She smiled.
“I want you, now,” he growled. “Fuck it now!”
Encasing her arms in a sudden vise-like grip, Blaise pulled her up and then pushed her down on the bed, switching their positions. He was so fucking burning. So hot with wild desire stirring up his entire body. He stared down at her with unkempt lust in his eyes. Roughly, he pushed her legs wide open with his knees, which he didn’t really have to do since she opened up for him so willingly.
He kissed her hard and passionately. Their tongues smoldering with furious fire. They bit each other’s swollen lips. They gripped and clawed and marked.
Blaise had to force himself to pull back from her red full lips. He gazed at her with apparent hunger and longing. “Hermione,” he breathed. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she gasped back. With hips bucking upwards, she ran her hands through his black wavy hair. ‘Incredibly soft…’
“Tell me you want this.” He gripped her wrists with both hands, bruising, sure to leave marks.
“I want this.”
Hermione begged in desperation. Blaise hissed in anticipation.
“Scream for me.” And he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside her.
She screamed, crying out his name. She surrendered.
He dove in and out of her again and again. She met each of his thrusts with equal passion. Her legs were around his waist now. Their hips kept on rocking until the Head Girl’s bed kept up with their pace. They radiated with fervor and heat. They were wild, untamed… unbelievably intense.
Hermione gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down to the crook of her shoulder. She grasped at his now sweaty hair, clawed at his back, and breathed rapidly. She closed her eyes and she saw blinking lights. Implausible bright lights. She couldn’t understand what was happening to her… to them. It was like driving so fast that everything was becoming a blur.
“Blaise…” She clung at him like a lifeline. She was spinning. Around and around.
Unstoppable.
Blaise kept on rocking in and out of her. His face was resting on her clammy neck, winded, and tasting her salty sweat. His eyes were squeezed tight, concentrating on the feel of her so amazingly soft, yet scorching hot.
In and out, in and out. Thrusting forward then pulling then pushing back again.
He couldn’t stop. No. ‘Nothing in this world could make me.’
Biting her neck hard, Blaise finally came. His seed spilled inside her so thoroughly, completely, and he felt her come too just seconds after he did. Together, they shook with aftermath tremors. Their bodies were still so close to each other, sweat trickling down their skin. The scent of their fresh sex hung in the air, mixed with the intoxicating scent of the spilled coffee.
Amazing.
He was still inside her. He started to pull out but she held him back, her legs now tangled with his.
“No, not yet,” Hermione whispered. “I like the feel of you inside me.”
Blaise obliged. He rested on top of her, but he still has his elbows supporting him slightly.
“Blaise?”
“Hm?”
“How do you feel?”
He paused, asking himself the same question. ‘How do I feel?’
For a long minute, there was silence. He didn’t know how to express it. Bloody hell, he couldn’t find the right words. It was beyond words. He felt that not a phrase could describe what he was feeling. It was…
“Perfect,” he managed to draw out.
Hermione stared straight in his clear blue eyes. Her hands touched his damp face, fingers caressing his forehead, his eyes, nose, cheeks, and his lips. Her touch was excruciatingly light like butterfly kisses. She gazed at him in open wonderment and touched him with such emotional affection.
She was perfect.
Blaise couldn’t comprehend anything sensible. He closed his eyes, trying to understand what happened between them. It was nothing like the quick and informal sex they had in the past. At their latest conquest, he was actually rendered speechless. What they shared was something so powerful, nothing like the magic they were continually studying at the very same roof of their school. Admittedly, he lost control. It was astonishing in itself. The prince of silence and restraint lost his discipline! He lost his self-possession.
Bloody right he did.
He surrendered to her, fully giving himself up to that unexplainable bliss. And he wasn’t regretting it.
Blaise smirked. He wondered just how much his witch’s hold on him. And… ‘Does she know?’
“What are you smirking about?” Hermione asked.
“Nothing,” he lied. He kissed her fingertip resting against his lips. Then he bent down and kissed her again. This time, the kiss was gentle, as if comforting and reassuring each other that what happened might be totally unexplainable, but it was real. They didn’t need words… Letters glued together could only express as much.
Deep-seated emotions could say everything much stronger and with more conviction and truth.
Blaise finally pulled out and lied down beside her. Instinctively, she snuggled closer to him, his arm going around her and resting on her waist possessively. He was tired, and he bet so was she.
His eyes were starting to drop when Hermione interrupted. “Blaise, don’t you think we should take a shower first? Just quickly?”
He groaned in protest. Honestly, he was exhausted and the thought of standing and leaving the bed was too tiresome.
“Please?” she continued to beg, however. “We’re sticky and wet and sweaty. Not to mention the coffee…”
“And whose fault is that?” he drawled lazily.
“Oh sod off,” she said in that bossy tone of hers that Blaise found so undeniably sexy. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
He raised a brow at her in reply. He watched her with half-lidded eyes, his lips curved in a smug smile.
“Prat,” she muttered under her breath. Blaise just laughed.
“C’mon Blaise, just a quick shower, then we can rest,” she continued. “How about a bath then? In the tub?”
Blaise looked quickly from his witch then to her own bathroom, then back to her again. ‘Hmm… Now that sounds not too bad…’
The next thing Hermione knew, she was in his arms, and he was heading towards the bathroom.
“Knew you couldn’t resist,” she said, grinning. She leaned forward, with her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
“Happy Christmas.”
xxxxxx
Draco Malfoy eyed the dark haired Slytherin, who just entered their cold lank common room with a satisfied smug smile in his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” Draco asked, not stirring from his lounging position in his favorite couch. He watched his room mate paused and looked at him blankly, before surprise covered his face. Then Zabini smirked.
“Nothing,” he replied nonchalantly.
Draco stared at his schoolmate as the latter proceeded toward the boys’ dorm. When he disappeared from view, the blonde turned his attention back to the fireplace. The fire’s shifting hues from yellow to orange, then to red was teasing, almost hypnotizing. But it wasn’t enough to divert his thoughts from the image imprinted in his mind.
The tableau of Zabini and Granger shagging their senses out was… indescribable.
It seemed that what they shared couldn’t even be called so casually as sex. ‘Lovemaking?’ he considered. Then he snorted. Zabini wasn’t the type to lower himself like that. No Slytherin could be ever so disgusting as to even think of love.
‘Love,’ he spat in his mind. That pathetic thing didn’t exist.
Then Draco’s reflection turned to Granger. Hermione, whose tongue constantly waged a war against him and whose brains won over his own intellect at every subject, had been the object of his obsession since third year, when she dared taint his pride by that stinging slap in his face. Ever since then, he couldn’t take the loathsome Gryffindor off his mind. She would always be there, lurking in the deep corners and shadows of his mind.
He hated her with every fiber of his being for doing that to him. He despised her for distracting him and it infuriated him more for the fact that she didn’t even know her effects on him.
He reviled her. She made him lose out of control.
He obsessed about her. She was always in his mind.
She was his.
Draco closed his eyes and clenched his fists tightly. That hidden revelation never failed to bring him into a dark surreal bliss. In his fantasies it would always be only them, him and her, trapped in an unending void of ecstasy and passion. She would always be screaming for his name only, surrendering her body and soul exclusively for him, and submitting her innocence for him alone.
He thought and made his designs for claiming her.
But his makeshift world and all his plans in conquering his Mudblood whore were threatened by the arrival of Zabini. That fucking son of a bitch Zabini.
At the end of sixth year, after the last supper in the Great Hall, Draco caught Zabini eyeing Granger in a very familiar way. That kind of look where he couldn’t concentrate on anything seriously because between the text lines in his notes and books, the picture of her would always surface and it was far more enticing. Like she had always been in his mind for quite a time and he couldn’t get her out of his system.
Then Draco knew. He knew Zabini also wanted what he wanted for himself.
He couldn’t take it. He had to make things clear to anyone who would care that Granger was only his.
Last day of sixth year in Hogwarts Express, when the two Slytherins were alone in one compartment, Draco confronted his dark haired schoolmate. Both prideful males didn’t beat around the bush. That was the first time for the two of them to finally admit to someone of their addiction. They also found out that they did share a couple of interests; not only Granger, but also their bursting pride, and possessiveness. So they agreed on one bet… one prize.
‘Whoever gets to her first and breaks her guard down, wins,’ Draco remembered his words, their challenge.
He narrowed his eyes, as he broke his reverie and sat up. He got one of the pictures lying under a couch pillow, held it up in front of his face, and stared at it.
It was a photograph of a gloriously naked Granger writhing beneath an equally naked Zabini. Draco took a deep breath, slowly getting aroused. His steel gray eyes focused on the image of the goddess of his dreams as she closed her eyes in obvious ecstasy and opened her mouth in a silent scream of bliss. She was exotically beautiful, with her wild untamed hair embracing her pillow, her arms and legs wound around someone else’s body…
Draco’s lips set into a thin grim line as he watched her yield completely, her hips joined so intimately with her lover’s. He watched him fucked her, thrusting in and out of her, making her back arch in pleasure. He watched them complete their union.
Suddenly, he threw the photograph into the fire. He took the other moving pictures, browsed through them fast, feeling his anger rise higher as his eyes took in the images of Granger and Zabini. Then with a loud growl, he crumbled them into one ball and hurled it into the fire.
His breathing was rapid now as his gray eyes stared unblinkingly at the burning papers. His lips formed into a scowl. A hand went to his hair in an unconscious gesture of distress.
Envy was wanting something not in your possession. Jealousy was the fear of losing something in your possession. *
Jealous. Draco never did once liked the feeling of facing the green-eyed monster. It made him feel lose out of control.
‘She is mine damn it! She is fucking MINE!’
With an impatient hiss, he stood up from the couch and paced the empty common room. His hand went through his hair again, messing up his usually neatly combed locks for the second time. His eyes darted to the direction of the stairs in the boys’ dorm, then to the paintings, to the carpeted floor, to everything else that would hopefully distract him from his dilemma. But his eyes sought back to the stairs.
Draco took deep breaths in hopes of calming himself down. Agitation wasn’t going to help him now. He had to be composed, like his usual self, to think clearly. He had to change his plans.
He knew he already lost in his little game with Zabini. But he couldn’t allow himself staying the loser. A Malfoy shouldn’t disgrace himself as such.
A true Malfoy heir would get up, retreat momentarily for a few steps, and lick his wounds by himself into one corner. All along planning his counterattack. A retaliation, twice as cunning, twice as dangerous.
Draco resumed his seat by the fireplace, sitting like the Slytherin prince that he was. His back was slowly relaxing, feeling pleased with himself. His eyes were no longer burning with jealousy and hatred, but were reignited with a dangerous mix of excitement and thrill. His scowl was replaced by a forming sinister smile.
‘You don’t know who you’re fighting, Zabini,’ Draco said silently, staring at the fire again. An elegant hand went up to stroke his lips and chin, as a plan was quickly forming in his mind.
Again, his mind dwelled on the image of Granger, sweating and panting in ultimate ecstasy. Raw.
Beads of sweat trickled down her face and neck, as her magnificent body thrashed up and down in throes of pleasure. Addicting.
Her swollen inviting lips opened in temptation, and her golden brown eyes smoldering in white hot desire. Intoxicating.
Red hot burning fire reflected in his cold gray eyes.
‘Mine.’
End.
xxxxxx
* Reference to these statements originally from As Good As it Gets by Arch Stanton.
36. Name/Pen Name: Ame/ame_to_kyou
Pairing of the fic you want: Hr/B
Rating(s) of the fic you want: R or NC-17
3 - 5 Things you want your gift to include:
1. coffee (preferably espresso)
2. romance/sex
3. a photograph (muggle or wizard is up to the author)
4. Draco
5. somebody saying: "I knew those Yoga lessons would pay off someday."
What you don’t want your gift to include: Character death, incest, excessive violence, angst, non-con, Superfluffy!Blaise/Hermione.