Wicked

WICKED

You're already in there
I’ll be wearing your tattoo
you're already in there

Got a cloud sleeping on my tongue
He goes then it goes
and kiss the violets as they're waking up…

Tori Amos, Cloud on my Tongue

In the midst of the dancing bodies and the murky scent of sex, she could feel his eyes burning holes in her. A slow, feral smile crept onto the edges of her lips and she stretched out a slender hand to beckon him to her. But he stayed. He stayed at his place at the edge of the bar, his drink in one hand and his eyes lingering on her.

She licked her lips; her own eyes sending a challenge that she knew he would eventually take. She then turned and linked hands with a man who was offering more than just a dance and pulled him towards her. She whirled around with a wicked grin towards the bar and began to sway with her intoxicated partner.

She let her head fall backward onto her partner’s shoulder, allowing his hand to sneak under her tank top and his fingers to brush against her breast. She met his eyes again, smirking when she could see him shift and the glass in his hand trembling.

Drop it, she willed. And it fell, disappearing into the crowd and into a million pieces. The club was too loud for anyone to hear anything. She moaned softly, as her partner’s hand became bolder and started to knead her flesh. She grabbed his other hand and ran it under her skirt, bringing his fingers to her lips and nibbling at them lightly.

Perhaps that had been the last straw because she suddenly found herself against a hard chest with a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

“Sod the hell off,” came a low growl.

Her former dance partner seemed to be way to pissed to understand what was going on and stumbled back into the crowd of dancing people with a slurred ‘screw you’.

“You’re playing with fire,” came the growl again.

She smirked and moved slowly, his hardness fitting firmly against her backside. His free hand pulled one of her legs against his own and began to trail up her skirt. She met his gaze with a startling intensity she didn’t even know she possessed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She nearly burns as he breathes against her. She’s aware of what the closeness is doing to her. She relishes that the closeness is getting to him. But all she wants is to feel his lips against hers.

She licked her lips. “Then burn me, Harry.”

He threaded his hand through her hair and crushed his lips to hers. He tastes like vodka, she thought as she moaned into his mouth. Vodka with rum, my favorite drink. She bit down on his bottom lip and then ran her tongue against it as a mocking tease. The sensation of his lips on her neck was indescribable. A shiver of delight caressed her body as his hand lazily crept inside her blouse. Skin against skin, erased the awareness sweltering heat of club.

“Hermione,” he breathes. “Hermione…”

He gripped her hair tighter, exposing her neck and burying his lips against her throat.

“You’re dangerous, Hermione,” he hissed, pressing his lips on the hollow of her throat. She threw her head back, one leg wrapped around his waist and the other rubbing against the warm leather of his pants.

“Maybe,” she purred.

In the midst of intoxicated bodies of dancers, she became aware of the singer crooning his lyrics.

“You make me hard when I’m all soft inside.”

Harry’s fingers brushed against the edges of her panties. She basked in his scent of pinewood and sweat, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

He molded himself against her own, moaning into her ear. He told her once that when she wore that scent of jasmine and rosemary, it completely ensnared him by wits’ end. And being this close never seemed to be enough for him, not that she minded.

It was maddening, she mused. Because at some point even touching lost its appeal, she needed him to be buried in her. He brought his lips down to her shoulder once more.

“I see the truth when I’m all stupid-eyed.”

She whimpered as he drew her lips to his once more, tasting her like a fine wine. She reveled in the exhilarating taste of him.

“The arrow goes straight through my heat…”

He pulled away slightly, his eyes drunk with dark desire.

“Without you everything just falls apart.”

Her lips curled when she realized what he was asking. No, what he was telling her. She gave him wicked smile, signaling that it was she who still held the power between them.

But she unraveled when he countered with his own smile filled with the promise of sin and feverish night for the both of them.

And then she told him.

“Take me home.”


Finished.

Author’s Notes

Umm, yeah… I was spring cleaning, it seems, and I came across this old thang. *shakes head* The lyrics, all four lines, are from the brilliantly scary pen of Trent Reznor of NIN. Good stuff, people.

So review, if you must. I’d like to hear what you think.