spikespetslayer ~ Valentine2008 ~ 1,126 words ~ Stolen Kiss
Title: The Object Of His Obsession
Author: spikespetslayer
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1126 words
Notes/Warning: None
Summary: He was obsessed with the Mudblood's mouth.
A/N: This is the first appearance that my Dramione muse has made in three freaking months! Hope that you enjoy it.
x-posted to my journal
The Object Of His Obsession
He was completely and inexplicably obsessed with the Mudblood’s mouth.
He watched her across the classes that they shared as her perfect white teeth chewed thoughtfully on her full bottom lips. As it plumped and swelled from the abuse of her canines, he wondered how it would feel under the assault of his lips. Would it taste like her dirty blood or would she have the flavor of a ripe peach? Perhaps she tasted of tart green apples, his favorite. As he watched her, mesmerized, he couldn’t help but imagine all the flavors her lips could be.
He loved to watch the way that her upper lip curled as she formed her words. It was mobile and evocative, drawing his eyes even as it spat epithets about his parentage, heritage, and sexual preferences back at him. He provoked her just to see the fire in her eyes, the curl of that lip, the way that it arched and moved with each precise and carefully enunciated word. It was one of the rare pleasures that he afforded himself.
He could hear her tinkling laugh across the Great Hall as the idiots that she associated with humored her somehow with their childish antics. There were so many different sounds to her laugh, from the light, girlish giggle to the open mouth guffaw that still seemed ladylike and proper-he cherished each one although he knew that she would never laugh like that for him. Never for him.
He took his seat in the library, chosen specifically for the best view of the witch’s perfect lips. From this vantage point, he could see each delicate nip she made while she concentrated, every delectable taste she took from her Sugar Quill, and every moue that she made. It was an obsessed man’s private utopia and a seat that he wouldn’t give up, even if ordered by the Dark Lord.
He could see that she was revising her Potions notes from that day’s class by the books open around her. He made the motions of looking through his own notes to cover his subterfuge. From beneath lashes that were thicker than any girl’s, he watched her covertly, occasionally twisting slightly in his chair to hide his growing excitement.
He was distracted for a moment by a noise to his right and when he turned his eyes back to his favorite view, he found it was missing. With a start, he twisted and turned, looking around the library to find the missing Gryffindor.
Warm hands descended on his shoulders and he became a still as a statue, not daring to breathe. There was no movement behind him, just the small, feminine hands on his shoulders and he slowly turned his head and saw the familiar gold and maroon from the corner of his eye.
“You aren’t very good at covert operations, are you Malfoy?” Her voice was smooth as honey on his ears and he closed his eyes, imagine the shape of her mouth as she spoke. He inadvertently sighed, then realized his indiscretion and stiffened under her touch.
“Whatever are you prattling about, Granger? And what are you doing? I came here to study, not be questioned by the likes of you.”
He dared to look her fully in the face and saw the humor glinting deep in the warm brown eyes. “You know, Malfoy, that would be so much more believable if you could look me in the eye when you said it.”
He started to open his mouth to elucidate a scathing comment when she tossed her hair in a most un-Hermione-like fashion, throwing it over her shoulder. “This should keep your foul mouth shut, at least for a while.”
She bent down at the waist and pressed that full, perfect mouth against his.
His brain exploded from the sensation of her lips. They were soft and pillowy under his thin, firmer mouth, completely beyond what he had ever imagined. She tasted like pumpkin juice and treacle tart and a tiny slice of heaven to him. His mouth tingled from the contact, the sensation shooting straight to his groin and he moaned deep in his throat.
Her hand left his shoulder and he felt the flutter of fingertips over the knob of his Adam’s apple as they traveled up the strong column of his throat. They came to rest on the tip of his chin, keeping his head frozen in place as the tip of her tongue came out to touch the seam of his lips, coaxing them apart with gentle touches.
When her tongue dipped inside his mouth he stiffened in his chair, unable to halt the climax that left him breathing hard through his nose like he had been running a race. Her tongue stroked the roof of his mouth once, twice, and was gone.
He hadn’t realized that his eyes were closed until he opened them to see her smirking down at him. “Well, that was more effective in shutting you up than any charm. I’ll leave you to your…studies.” She turned and made her way over to her own table, her short skirt flipping saucily as she walked away. She gathered her books, parchment and quills, stowing them in her bag without looking his way once.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her insouciant behavior intrigued him and he was dumbfounded by her bold action.
She looked up at him, saw his unswerving attention focused on her, and gave him a cheeky wink before she slung her bag over her shoulder and left the library.
Draco Malfoy sat back in his chair, running the last few minutes through his mind and convincing himself that he was dreaming. His mind was operating in a continuous loop, forgetting completely who they were and what they were. The only thing that he could process at the moment was the object of his fixation had kissed him, quite thoroughly.
He shook his head, breaking the wonder that seemed to have overtaken him. Noticing his soiled trousers, he performed a quick scourgify before gathering his own belongings into his carryall. He left the library silently and quickly, his path to his Common Room so deeply engrained into his psyche that he didn’t even have to think about taking it; he was on autopilot as he moved, neither speaking nor looking about as he made his way toward the dungeons.
If anything, her actions had made him more frantic in his fascination.
He stripped off his uniform and tossed it aside for the house elves to gather, then climbed into his bed, drawing the curtains and setting privacy and silencing charms before he reached under the blanket to relive Hermione Granger's impetuous bravado, over and over again.
Author: spikespetslayer
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1126 words
Notes/Warning: None
Summary: He was obsessed with the Mudblood's mouth.
A/N: This is the first appearance that my Dramione muse has made in three freaking months! Hope that you enjoy it.
x-posted to my journal
The Object Of His Obsession
He was completely and inexplicably obsessed with the Mudblood’s mouth.
He watched her across the classes that they shared as her perfect white teeth chewed thoughtfully on her full bottom lips. As it plumped and swelled from the abuse of her canines, he wondered how it would feel under the assault of his lips. Would it taste like her dirty blood or would she have the flavor of a ripe peach? Perhaps she tasted of tart green apples, his favorite. As he watched her, mesmerized, he couldn’t help but imagine all the flavors her lips could be.
He loved to watch the way that her upper lip curled as she formed her words. It was mobile and evocative, drawing his eyes even as it spat epithets about his parentage, heritage, and sexual preferences back at him. He provoked her just to see the fire in her eyes, the curl of that lip, the way that it arched and moved with each precise and carefully enunciated word. It was one of the rare pleasures that he afforded himself.
He could hear her tinkling laugh across the Great Hall as the idiots that she associated with humored her somehow with their childish antics. There were so many different sounds to her laugh, from the light, girlish giggle to the open mouth guffaw that still seemed ladylike and proper-he cherished each one although he knew that she would never laugh like that for him. Never for him.
He took his seat in the library, chosen specifically for the best view of the witch’s perfect lips. From this vantage point, he could see each delicate nip she made while she concentrated, every delectable taste she took from her Sugar Quill, and every moue that she made. It was an obsessed man’s private utopia and a seat that he wouldn’t give up, even if ordered by the Dark Lord.
He could see that she was revising her Potions notes from that day’s class by the books open around her. He made the motions of looking through his own notes to cover his subterfuge. From beneath lashes that were thicker than any girl’s, he watched her covertly, occasionally twisting slightly in his chair to hide his growing excitement.
He was distracted for a moment by a noise to his right and when he turned his eyes back to his favorite view, he found it was missing. With a start, he twisted and turned, looking around the library to find the missing Gryffindor.
Warm hands descended on his shoulders and he became a still as a statue, not daring to breathe. There was no movement behind him, just the small, feminine hands on his shoulders and he slowly turned his head and saw the familiar gold and maroon from the corner of his eye.
“You aren’t very good at covert operations, are you Malfoy?” Her voice was smooth as honey on his ears and he closed his eyes, imagine the shape of her mouth as she spoke. He inadvertently sighed, then realized his indiscretion and stiffened under her touch.
“Whatever are you prattling about, Granger? And what are you doing? I came here to study, not be questioned by the likes of you.”
He dared to look her fully in the face and saw the humor glinting deep in the warm brown eyes. “You know, Malfoy, that would be so much more believable if you could look me in the eye when you said it.”
He started to open his mouth to elucidate a scathing comment when she tossed her hair in a most un-Hermione-like fashion, throwing it over her shoulder. “This should keep your foul mouth shut, at least for a while.”
She bent down at the waist and pressed that full, perfect mouth against his.
His brain exploded from the sensation of her lips. They were soft and pillowy under his thin, firmer mouth, completely beyond what he had ever imagined. She tasted like pumpkin juice and treacle tart and a tiny slice of heaven to him. His mouth tingled from the contact, the sensation shooting straight to his groin and he moaned deep in his throat.
Her hand left his shoulder and he felt the flutter of fingertips over the knob of his Adam’s apple as they traveled up the strong column of his throat. They came to rest on the tip of his chin, keeping his head frozen in place as the tip of her tongue came out to touch the seam of his lips, coaxing them apart with gentle touches.
When her tongue dipped inside his mouth he stiffened in his chair, unable to halt the climax that left him breathing hard through his nose like he had been running a race. Her tongue stroked the roof of his mouth once, twice, and was gone.
He hadn’t realized that his eyes were closed until he opened them to see her smirking down at him. “Well, that was more effective in shutting you up than any charm. I’ll leave you to your…studies.” She turned and made her way over to her own table, her short skirt flipping saucily as she walked away. She gathered her books, parchment and quills, stowing them in her bag without looking his way once.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her insouciant behavior intrigued him and he was dumbfounded by her bold action.
She looked up at him, saw his unswerving attention focused on her, and gave him a cheeky wink before she slung her bag over her shoulder and left the library.
Draco Malfoy sat back in his chair, running the last few minutes through his mind and convincing himself that he was dreaming. His mind was operating in a continuous loop, forgetting completely who they were and what they were. The only thing that he could process at the moment was the object of his fixation had kissed him, quite thoroughly.
He shook his head, breaking the wonder that seemed to have overtaken him. Noticing his soiled trousers, he performed a quick scourgify before gathering his own belongings into his carryall. He left the library silently and quickly, his path to his Common Room so deeply engrained into his psyche that he didn’t even have to think about taking it; he was on autopilot as he moved, neither speaking nor looking about as he made his way toward the dungeons.
If anything, her actions had made him more frantic in his fascination.
He stripped off his uniform and tossed it aside for the house elves to gather, then climbed into his bed, drawing the curtains and setting privacy and silencing charms before he reached under the blanket to relive Hermione Granger's impetuous bravado, over and over again.