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Summary
What can go wrong with a hungry blood magic fertility goddess altar? Absolutely nothing, of course. Absolutely no suppressed lust will be uncovered. Absolutely no shameless smut will follow.
—
Her name became a growl as she freed the lower buttons and raked her nails across his abdomen, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. She tried to push her hand into his trousers.
“Right. Right. Time to get creative.” He was breathing hard now, pupils blown. “Bloody hell, they never taught us at Hogwarts what to do with magically aroused witches who can't consent. They bloody well should have, with all those love potions circulating. Should be an entire N.E.W.T.-level course—oh, fuck—”