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strobing, colourful lights flash before my eyes, the bass from the song currently playing reverberating through my chest. i'm buried in the middle of writhing bodies, sweat curling the hair at the nape of my neck. there's a man behind me; i don't know his name, nor do i wish to learn it. i grind back against him, the two of us gyrating to the heavy beats of the music, my hand curling around the back of his neck as his own give my hips a firm squeeze. i can feel his cock against the curve of my arse and i smirk.
i allow my eyes to roam, gaze landing on the bar. i long for a drink, and i'm not sure how long it's been since i finished my last one, my throat now parched.
i stare unblinkingly at the piercing green eyes that i meet.
my head is fuzzy, and i'm unsure if what i'm seeing is really there, but then he beckons me over with a sure quirk of his head; it's like my body has made the decision for me before my mind has even processed what has happened.
i manage to untangle myself from the strong hands that grip me, making my way through the mound of bustling bodies that stand between me and the man my body is apparently attracted to like a magnet. what else would explain the reason i make my way towards him immediately, leaving a willing body behind me in favour of approaching him?
he watches my every move like a hawk over the rim of his glass, legs casually spread on the bar stool he is perched upon. his hair is still as messy as ever, but i find myself wishing i could sink my fingers in and tug, mentally cursing myself for wanting such a thing.
he beckons the bartender over with a vague gesture of his hand, the woman rushing over with obvious hope gleaming within her eyes.
"two measures of your best whiskey for this one. add it to my tab."
i raise a sleek eyebrow as he holds his hand out towards me. i take it, allowing him to tug me towards him, now stood between his legs, "trying to get me drunk, potter?"
i see the bartender's shoulders sag, disappointment lacing her face as she watches us. potter completely ignores her, chuckling as he places his glass down on the bar. "you can hold your drink," he says, one of his hands sneaking behind me, pressing into my lower back to coax me closer, "just trying to lower your inhibitions a bit."
i snort, taking the whiskey that the bartender places in front of us and downing it in a single swallow. potter just watches me with an amused smile, not even flinching when i bang the glass back onto the bar.
"they're evidently already lowered if i've come to you of all people," i reply, trying my best to ignore the way that his hand sets something warm off in my belly. i shiver at the thought, blaming it on the whiskey. "where have your lackeys gone anyway?"
"friends," potter corrects. he pauses to finish off his own drink, placing his empty glass next to my own. "pansy's keeping them entertained. how else would i have known that you were here?"
damn pansy. i frown, my arms crossing over my chest, "and why exactly did you want to find me?"
he leans forward, and i can smell the whiskey on his breathe — the same that he had ordered me. i automatically sway towards him, our lips mere centimetres apart.
"you know why," he whispers, hot breath fanning over my lips. my heartbeat quickens in my chest, my arms going lax and dropping to my sides. a triumphant smirk graces his lips, "let's go and find a table, yeah?"
i don't speak, words getting caught in my throat, so i nod my head and step back when he removes his hand from my back. he takes my hand once he is off of the stool, leading me to a table opposite the bar where we both situate ourselves into the booth. we sit so close that our thighs are pressed up against one another's, and i don't shake his arm off when he loops it around my shoulders.
whilst we speak his voice is low and barely audible above the bass of the music. i can hear it perfectly, mind you, with how close we are sat, but any passers-by won't be able to hear a word from our conversation. he makes me laugh, he asks me about things that no one, besides perhaps pansy and my mother, gives a toss about. it's safe to say that he has me utterly charmed, and that realisation sends nerves rushing through my body.
"i need another drink," i say, just as he begins to draw lazy shapes upon my arm, "anything for the great harry potter?"
he snickers, "piss off. same as before."
he removes his arm from around me and i slide out of the booth, winding my way past people to make it back to the bar. i order the drinks on potter's tab — an exotically named cocktail for myself and the whiskey for potter — leaning my elbows upon the wood as i do so, and wait patiently. i dare a look over my shoulder, a pleased smile rising on my lips as i catch potter openly staring at my arse. i knew these trousers were a good idea, despite how much of a pain it is to slide leather onto skin.
the drinks are placed in front of me and i grab them to take them back to our table. potter stands up as i approach, taking his drink before sliding his free hand onto my arse and giving it a good squeeze.
"merlin, your arse," he says, pulling me flush against him, "it looks good enough to eat."
"would you eat my arse, potter?" i question playfully, lifting my glass to my lips to take a sip as i peer at him teasingly through my lashes.
he practically growls at the idea, landing a quick slap to the left cheek before squeezing again, "absolutely."
i chuckle, placing my hand upon his chest and pushing, "come on, you great brute, sit down."
he reluctantly lets go of my arse and does as i've said, immediately reaching for my thigh once i've sat down. desire is coursing through my veins now, and i have to will myself not to visibly shiver.
"why are you deciding to chat me up now, potter?" i ask, swirling the contents of my glass as i speak.
he smirks, finishing of the contents of his own before slamming it down on the table, "better late than never, eh?"
his answer is so unbelievably cocky that it sends a shock of arousal through me immediately. i can tell that he knows we're going home together tonight, and whether to his or mine he doesn't care.
"i hate you," i reply, annoyed with myself for finding such cockiness attractive, especially when said cockiness had been displayed by potter.
"do you?" he questions, raising an amused, almost smug brow. he leans in after that, until his cheek is brushing mine, his lips a breath away from my ear, and he mutters, low and seductive, "you may hate me, malfoy, but you want me more than you have anyone else in your entire life."
i can't help it, i pull his lips to mine in an instant. i finally allow myself to bury my fingers into those messy locks, and i do tug, relishing in the way that he groans against my lips.
"fuck you," i whisper, whimpering as he licks into my mouth. gooseflesh breaks out across my skin as our tongues dance together, and i gasp as he nips at my lower lip.
"i think you'll find that i'll be doing the fucking," he says, grinning wickedly. he doesn't look anywhere near as worked up as i feel, but i don't care, not when i know how well he can mask his desire.
"fuck." the very idea of potter fucking me makes me feel weak at the knees. my breathing is ragged, and i know damn well my cheeks are flushed, "we're leaving."
potter laughs softly, the timbre of it rumbling openly from his chest, "finish off your drink while i pay off the tab and i'm all yours."
—
potter is on me as soon as i've apparated us into my bedroom. he picks me up with such ease that it leaves me breathless, snogging me slow and hard as he pushes me up against the wall, my arms around his neck and legs around his waist. i whine uselessly into his mouth as he grinds his hips against mine, the display of unabashed strength leaving me on the brink of melting point from pure longing alone. for some unknown reason i want this so bad, and i think i might cry if i don't come soon.
he turns then, carrying me as if i weigh nothing over to the bed.
"say it again."
i allow potter to lay me down on the mattress, hypnotised by the ease with which he moves. no longer is he the clumsy teenager i knew before the war. no, he is man now, a confident man, with wit that i had never cared to acknowledge before tonight, muscles lining his hard body, and clothes that actually fit, surprisingly enough. he even walks with this swagger that leaves me feeling like a pining teenager, staring after their crush with their lower lip tucked between their teeth. of course, i don't allow that to happen, that would be utterly humiliating.
i watch him crawl over me, until he has hands on either side of my head, warm, calloused palms against the cool fabric of my pillow. and of course his palms are calloused, it is to be expected of a quidditch player of his calibre.
"what?" i ask finally, not completely sure of what he had said, my mind fuzzy with a mix of pure desire and alcohol. why i desire this so much i don't know, but i am incapable of dwelling over it right now, especially as the heat from potter's body envelops me as he leans closer.
"say it again, malfoy. what you said back at the club," he says, striking green eyes staring directly into my own. they're gorgeous even with his hideous spectacles, though i would never admit that out loud. his pupils are blown wide, irises a mere sliver of colour surrounding inky black circles. i try not to think too hard on what emotions i can see swimming inside them; thinking would do no good in this situation.
and, though his request is ridiculously vague, i know exactly what he wants me to say.
"i hate you."
it's only a whisper of words, but they're loud in the silent room, and they float easily to potter's ears with how close we are. my fingers tighten where they grip the fabric of his t-shirt, repeating the words like a prayer, a litany, "i hate you. i hate you, i hate you, i hate you."
something flashes in potter's eyes, the green somehow darkening further, and his head lowers swiftly to capture my lips once more. he kisses me hard, much harder than before, and it sends a fresh wave of gooseflesh over my skin. my fingers slide up his chest, gliding up the side of his neck until they find hair, where they sink inside happily and clutch surprisingly soft strands again. potter's hair has always been messy, and though his demeanour is completely different nowadays, his hair has not changed since we were knocking about the corridors of hogwarts.
"i hate you," i breath into his mouth, repeating the words again even as potter's hands begin to undo the buttons on my shirt, "you infuriate me."
and then he growls, a guttural sound that seems to rumble from deep within his chest, and merlin, it makes my heart flutter with anticipation. his lips are against mine again immediately, tongue licking into my mouth when i let a gasp slip, wet, hot and completely filthy. i love it. i love it so much that a spike of panic flourishes within my chest, but then potter gets my shirt open and begins to kiss across my jawline; the feeling fades away as quickly as it had manifested once he makes it to my neck.
an embarrassing whine bubbles it's way up my throat, and i am unable to rid of the sound before it escapes my kiss-slicked lips. potter doesn't seem to mind, in fact, it spurs him on even more.
"keep making those noises and you'll be getting the pounding of your life tonight." he speaks the words huskily into my ear, nibbling on the lobe, and i whine again. it's a pathetic sound, i know, and i'm sure i will regret it in the morning, but i can't stop myself. i can't stop myself from bucking my hips up either, wordlessly begging that potter do something with the problem i possess beneath my tight leather pants.
i almost regret wearing them out tonight in my current position, but then i remember the look on potter's face when i had turned to look at him over my shoulder from the bar, his eyes glued to my arse. the pants leave nothing to the imagination, and i pride myself on managing to keep my body fit for the perusal of those who dare to look. there's only a few wizards that do these days, but potter had looked with no shame.
i am distracted from my thoughts by a deep chuckle, the baritone of potter's voice sending shivers down my spine. one of his hands is back by my head, but the other is skirting torturously past my nipples and down my abdomen, pressing against the skin of my stomach.
"you can't even keep your hips on the mattress, malfoy," he says, a smirk twisting the corner of his lips upwards, "you've always been impatient, haven't you?"
i don't answer, nor do i think he wanted me to in the first place. his smirk widens into a devilish grin and he swoops down again, burying his face in my neck. it's as if he's painting the alabaster skin there with an array of different techniques, though not the usual ones an artist may use.
there's no sweeps of brushes, there's no dabs of colour. no, instead there's suction where rosy lips close around skin, there's nibbling where teeth clamp down playfully, there's swipes of a teasing, wickedly skilled tongue. it's completely maddening, and he must actually want that to be the affect, because as he displays these techniques his fingers are finally playing with my nipples, flicking, pinching, twisting. i am left a whimpering mess, arching my back into his touch.
"you like me touching your tits, malfoy?" he questions, a low rumble right below my ear. he kisses down my neck, tongue peeking out to lick a line across my collarbone.
"shut up," i reply, letting my eyes slip shut as i feel him kiss down my chest.
he chuckles again, and then his tongue is on my nipple, circling the tight bud. and fuck, since when have my nipples been so sensitive?
i gasp, hand burying itself further into potter's hair and properly clenching, so tight that i reckon it might actually sting a little. he doesn't complain though, continuing his assault on my nipple as i lay back and continue to whimper like a little bitch. i can't believe this is what he has already reduced me to, but then again, who am i to complain when it feels so bloody good?
"you've got such pretty little tits," potter says, nipping lightly with his teeth, "your nipples are so sensitive."
he kisses across my chest now, venturing to the other nipple to conduct a repeat performance. and yeah, they are sensitive, really sensitive, and i don't think i've ever been so hard in my life. why is it that potter is the person that has managed to do that? it should annoy me, but instead it relaxes me further, encourages me to just lay back and enjoy myself. because let's not forget, it's potter who is currently happily sucking on my nipple. harry bloody potter.
idly i wonder how i have even managed to get potter in my bed in the first place, but when i think about it, it was bound to happen some day. longing looks from quidditch stands to broom, from one end of the pub to the other, from the dance floor of a club to the bar.
i remember what potter had said, when he'd leaned in, breath hot against my cheek, muttering the words, "you may hate me, malfoy, but you want me more than you have anyone else in your entire life."
and isn't that just the scary truth. it's why i hate him so much, the prick. i hated him then, and i hate him now, even as he trails a row of kisses down to my navel, tongue diving in for a teasing second before he continues the path of kisses right to the waistband of my ruddy leather pants.
"just vanish them," i say, trying my very best to ignore the desperation in my tone, "it'll take too long to take them off with your hands."
"eager, malfoy?" he questions, "tell me why i should vanish them and not take my time."
the bastard is grinning, but it is hard to ignore the want behind his own eyes as he stares down eagerly at my legs.
"just do it, potter," i reply. i won't stoop so low as to beg, not for him.
his grin turns feral as he leans over me once more, staring directly into my eyes as one of his hands takes a leisurely stroll down my torso again. he bypasses my nipples, as well as the waistband of my pants, and instead heads straight for the bulge that sits waiting. his palm presses down against me, hand cupping, and i gasp in a sharp breath.
"tell me why, malfoy, or i'll keep you right on the edge until you're crying."
i don't doubt that he would be able to do just that, but i'm stubborn, so i stay silent as he continues to palm my erection through tight leather.
he frowns, moving to sit back, arse against heels between my legs, "or i could just leave."
"no!" the word is out of my mouth before i can even think to stop it, and i reach for him with a greedy hand, "no, please."
he raises an eyebrow again, but his hands slide up my shins, inching towards my thighs at a torturously slow pace, "tell me what you want."
it's an order, and i know that this time he won't take any shit. potter would just leave, that's what he's like.
"i want you to touch me," i whisper, humiliated and staring at the ceiling, "i want you to touch my skin."
"yeah?" he questions, and though my eyes are elsewhere i just know that he is smirking, "where do you want me to touch you, babe?"
babe. gods, that should not rile me up as much as it does. my eyes close again of their own accord and i whimper, like a sulking puppy when they don't get what they want.
"touch my thighs, my arse, my cock. anywhere, please." and okay, maybe i'm begging for him now, but he called me babe for merlin's sake. leave me be, because i know damn well you'd be doing the same.
potter moves and my eyes are automatically drawn to him, and then i realise that the movement had been him pulling his wand out.
"gladly," he says, before ridding of my leather pants with a flick of his wrist. of course, they will be missed, but not at the minute.
i am left completely bare from the waist down, having gone commando to fit the stupid — but, don't forget, completely sexy — pants onto my legs in the first place, and potter's eyes rove over my body like a starved man.
"so gorgeous," he mutters, hands reaching up to grasp my hips with firm fingers, "you're bloody gorgeous, malfoy."
i'm naked save for the shirt still open around my shoulders, but everything from my toes, to my cock, to every little scar upon my abdomen is on show, and yet i feel perfect under his gaze. he is still fully clothed, the only things gone being his heavy leather jacket (which is a shame, to be honest) and his boots (which is also quite a shame). i don't quite remember when he removed either of them, to be honest.
he is left in a simple black tee, the shirt practically stuck to his skin with how tight it is, clinging to every ridge of his biceps and abdomen. and then there are his jeans, gods. they too are tight, ripped at the knees, and they show off his muscular thighs and the curve of his arse deliciously.
i must admit, potter has become quite fit since the war. no more is the gangly, malnourished teenager he was in school. now he is wrapped in a layer of thick muscles, like i mentioned earlier, thanks to his quidditch training, filled with strength that he had happily demonstrated not twenty minutes ago when he had lifted me up with little to no struggle.
he leans down, beginning to kiss along one of the horrendous scars that stretches from my right peck, just below my nipple, all the way down to my left hip. he left that there. he is the one that has permanently marked me. it's only right that he be the one to kiss along those marks, isn't it? our perfect bloody saviour, kissing along the scars that are left from when he almost killed me.
"these scars are beautiful," he whispers against my skin, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through my body.
i release a breathless laugh, "of course you think they're beautiful, you sick bastard. you're the one that left them there."
he leans over me again, hand claiming it's previous position on the pillow besides my head, and he drags a finger slowly across another scar that stretches across my abdomen.
"do you not like the fact that i've marked you, malfoy?"
fuck. of course i do, but like hell i'm going to admit to that. i won't admit to how good his touch feels upon the scars either. it's like he is tracing over the left over magic there, coaxing it to the surface to leave a tingling trail in it's wake. his magic surrounds me, engulfs me, and i want to completely surrender to it.
"no," i answer, staring directly into his eyes as i speak.
potter's smirking again, smug bastard, and his eyes flick down to my lips momentarily before returning to my eyes. "you're lying," he says, finger continuing to trace over the scars in a leisurely path that sets my teeth on edge. it just feels so good, and it has no bloody right to.
i turn my head stubbornly to the side, breaking eye contact. there is silence for a moment before he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him again, and he leans down until his lips are a breath away from my own.
"you're lying," he repeats, and a shaky exhale leaves my lips. "you like being marked by me, don't you? don't lie to me, draco."
merlin, the way he says my name. i can feel my cock dribbling pre-come onto my stomach, and isn't that just humiliating. i would never admit that this is riling me up so much, so what do i do? i lie.
"i don't like it," i mutter, "they're hideous."
something flares in his eyes again, and then the next thing i know a slap is landing on my cheek. it's not too hard, but it leaves a light sting, and the fact that it sends a shock of arousal through me makes me want to curl up and hide away. i should want to hit him back, but the only thing that i want to do is come, and i want him to be the one that makes me come. how fucked up am i?
"you lied again, draco," he says as i turn my head to meet his eyes once more, "only naughty boys lie. do you know what happens to naughty boys?"
i shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
"no?" he raises a brow, a smirk rising on his lips again, "naughty boys get punished."
oh shit. of course potter's a kinky sod, and of course i've ended up a kinky sod too.
he sits back like he had before, "take your shirt off and get on your hands and knees."
i'm scrambling to move as soon as the words are out of his mouth. i toss my shirt onto the floor, moving to my hands and knees like he had ordered.
"that's good, draco. go onto your elbows for me," he places a hand on my lower back, urging me to lower onto my elbows, "arch your back. yeah, just like that, baby. spread your legs."
my arse is on full display for him now, and i should feel embarrassed, except i don't. this is the first time that i've been with someone who is equally as dirty as i am, who knows to offer me just the right amount of praise and humiliation, the right amount of affection and pain. i know what's coming — my arse up in the air, legs spread; he's preparing me for a nice, hard spanking, and i'm gagging for it, steadily leaking onto the duvet below me.
"it's a shame you've only just decided to be a good boy, draco. you could've avoided this punishment." he runs his hands over the globes of my arse as he speaks, giving them a satisfyingly firm squeeze. his thumb inches closer to my crease, and i push back into his touch without really thinking.
i hear him chuckle behind me, "though, i think you want this punishment. am i right?"
i nod my head, and then realise that i'm not facing him. "yeah," i say, voice hushed and breathy with desire.
"of course you like being spanked..." his drawl crawls across my skin, and i whimper pathetically. "draco malfoy likes to get his arse smacked... it's perfect really, because a brat like you deserves it."
the crack that echos off of my skin then makes me yelp. he'd caught me so unaware, and the smack sends a wave of pain blossoming across my right arse cheek, leaving a sting and, presumably, a glowing red handprint in it's wake.
"such sensitive skin," he says, squeezing the other arse cheek as he speaks, "all smooth and pale."
another crack, this time on my left. i gasp this time, just able to hold back the yelp that threatens to escape my lips.
"it's about time it gets marked again, don't you think?" he doesn't let me reply, swatting my arse three time in quick succession. by the time he finds a nice rhythm, alternating between slapping my left cheek, right cheek, thighs, i'm moaning and pushing back into the burn. my eyes are stinging with tears, a few stray droplets leaking down my cheeks, and i can hear his ragged breathing as he works.
"you like that, baby?" he asks, leaning down to press a kiss to my tingling arse cheek, "you should see your arse right now. it's so red, draco. you'll be sitting funny for days."
i gasp when a finger begins to circle my eager hole, "please."
the finger disappears, and potter mutters something beneath his breath. when the finger returns it's cool and slick, slipping into me with no resistance at all. i'm not surprised with how worked up i am, a shaky moan leaving my lips as something finally penetrates me.
"merlin, you're so tight," he says, his free hand reaching up to grab my hip as he pumps the finger slowly in and out, "can't wait to stretch this pretty little hole out with my cock."
"yes," i hiss, desperation clogging my voice. he slips a second finger in besides the first, twisting and scissoring his fingers in the most maddening way. my hips are rocking back against his movements without me even realising, and i only notice when potter squeezes at my hip.
"stay still, draco," he says, and when i listen he rewards me by curling his fingers in just the right way, finding my prostate and rubbing at it mercilessly.
i'm shaking now, thighs quivering with it, moaning uselessly into my arm, "fuck, oh my god. fuck." he just chuckles, managing to wiggle a third finger in, practically fucking me with them. "potter, i'm ready... please, merlin, fuck me."
potter's fingers don't relent, "you want my cock, draco?"
"yes! please, please!" i'm so far gone, the knowledge that i'm begging for him flying right over my head.
he finally slows the movements of his fingers, slipping them out with a filthy squelch. he leans over me, until he is able to whisper in my ear, "turn over, baby."
i whimper desperately, but do as he says, turning over so that i now lay on my back. he stares down at me with an unwavering hunger in his eyes, hands sliding up my thighs and spreading them as he goes. he kneels between them, and— when had he gotten naked? he's moving to grasp his cock, his utterly gorgeous cock, pumping it slowly as his fiery gaze roves up and down my body, abdomen flexing with his pleasure. i feel saliva filling my mouth as i watch, eager to feel that cock inside of me.
"you look so pretty like that," he says, voice husky with pent up desire, breathing ragged, "want you to watch me whilst i fuck you. want you to remember it was me who made you feel like this. you won't want to fuck anyone else after i'm through with you."
little does he know no one has ever made me feel like this before. and yeah, i don't think i want to fuck anyone else after this, because fuck, i already know this pending orgasm will be the best of my life. i'm practically panting below him, moaning softly as i watch him, waiting and whining with outstretched arms.
he mutters something again, probably another lube charm, and slicks up his cock as he leans over me. my arms immediately close around his neck, making sure he stays close, one of his hands by my head like earlier. the other lines his prick up with my hole, the blunt, spongy head nudging and then slowly beginning to slip inside. i gasp shakily, legs coming up to wrap around his waist as i'm filled, inch by deliciously thick inch. his cock is heavenly, and i find myself whimpering as he bottoms out.
"gods, you're perfect. you feel perfect. so fucking tight for me." he groans the words into my ear, cheek pressed against mine as he gives me a few moments to adjust.
"fuck me, potter," i whisper, allowing myself the pleasure of sinking my fingers right back into his gorgeous mop of hair, "fuck me like you mean it."
he raises his head just enough to look me in the eye, our lips brushing as he speaks, "is that a challenge, malfoy?"
i come back to myself enough to crack my signature smirk, "scared, potter?"
he grins, "you wish."
i pull him down by his hair for a filthy kiss, his hips beginning to pump immediately. he raises onto his elbows, fucking me with sure snaps of his hips that leave me moaning wantonly into his mouth. spikes of pleasure zing directly up my spine, fizzling out into all of my limbs until i'm overcome with pleasure, the head of his cock rubbing against my prostate with every thrust.
i break away from the kiss with a gasp, back arching and head thrown back as i breath in as much oxygen as i can. i feel like i'm floating, his lips hungrily attacking my neck, marking as much available skin as he can.
"god, baby, you feel so fucking good." he moans into my neck, hot breath tickling my skin, "christ, you're gonna kill me."
his thrusts slow, and a whine rips itself from my throat, fingers clawing at his back, "potter, what the fuck!"
"shhh." he sits up, once again kneeling between my legs, and raises them so that they are draping over his shoulders. he bends me almost in half, a hand on the headboard of my bed, the other gripping one of my thighs. then, he starts fucking me all over again, but this time with a rigour that has me positively shaking.
"oh, fuck!" this new angle has his cock brushing against my prostate with even more pressure, my eyes practically rolling back behind my eyelids as his hips snap, and snap, and snap.
"you like that, draco?" he asks, grinning down at me, the attractive show of teeth making me feel dizzy, "does it feel good?"
there are small droplets of sweat slowly dripping down his temples, and merlin, it really shouldn't make this whole thing even more attractive, but somehow it does. his abdomen continues to flex with both his pleasure and the effort it takes to thrust into me repeatedly, his hand flexing upon my thigh.
i gasp in a swift breath. "feels so good," i manage, hands clenched within the duvet as he continues to absolutely attack my prostate, "i'm so close."
"yeah?" his hand moves from my thigh to my leaking prick, circling it in his fist and beginning to pump it in counterpart to his thrusts, "you gonna come for me, babe?"
with the combination of both his hand and prick working me steadily over the edge i feel the knot inside me tightening, body getting tauter and tauter as he continues. "fuck, yeah, i'm gonna come... oh fuck, i'm gonna come!"
it takes barely any time at all for me to finally let go, body seizing up before going loose, shaking as spurts of come cover my chest and stomach. i moan weakly with each intense wave of pleasure, feeling quite faint with how strong it is, just on the brink of completely blacking out. i'm unsure if i hear his name slip past my lips, but at this very second i couldn't care less. i've never had an orgasm so vehement, potter's eyes burning into mine as he watches me with such intense passion that it makes my heart clench.
i go almost limp when it's finished, breathing so fast that my chest hurts with it. he lets my legs fall from his shoulders, coming down to cover me again, face burying into my neck as he continues to thrust, shaky little groans and moans escaping his lips. i find myself running my fingers up and down his back, encouraging him with dirty whispers as he gets closer and closer.
come on, potter, come inside me. i know you want to. fuck it into me, make me wet with it. do you feel how tight i am for you? how hard you made me come? you feel so good, harry. come on, i want you to...
he comes with my name on his lips, hips stuttering into me as he empties inside of my dripping hole. the amount of lube that is probably on my poor duvet is absurd, but again, i can't find it within myself to care. at some point he'd murmured something to slick my channel up, further easing the way into his relentless thrusts. he thrusts until he goes boneless, his sweaty body falling onto mine in a gasping heap. i smile with amusement, fingers massaging his scalp as he attempts to get some oxygen back into his lungs.
"fucking hell," he says eventually, sighing into the skin of my neck, "i need a long kip after that."
i swat the back of his head, "prick. are you not going to ask if i'm okay? you spank me until i'm crying and then bend me in two. i could barely breathe!"
potter snorts, "i didn't hear you complaining while i was doing it, you drama queen. what do you want me to do, smother you with kisses and baby you?"
"no," i frown, "just surprised you assumed you were going to stay."
"you're kicking me out?" he questions, a self-satisfied grin obvious in his tone.
"fuck off, sounding all smug like that," i scoff, giving him a proper whack across the head this time.
"oww, christ, fine!"
i roll my eyes, "change my bedding for me and i'll consider it."
"alright, princess," he chuckles, managing to stand up quick enough to avoid another slap.
"bloody hate you," i mumble, rolling begrudgingly off of the bed when he begins to strip it.
he snorts again, quipping sarcastically, "love you too."
and okay, maybe i am going to let him stay. but i still hate him, even if he is a good shag, alright?
finite
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