Author's Note: I don't really know how to define the twistedness that is in my head and works perfectly for this, so if you're confused about either of their motivations or who is really dominating, just rest in the knowledge that they both want to get one over on the other. And to those of you who called Ginny a wimp, sorry you felt that way. She's not totally limp in this fic, and I implore you to just read. Much love to where_is_truth for the beta.
"I'll return your quill," Draco said simply, causing Ginny to snap her head up in surprise. The hopeful light that gleamed in her tear-filled eyes was almost enough to make him sick that he was going to play this game, but only almost.
"In exchange for a little play-acting," he finished. He half expected her eyes to droop but instead her tears dried and her face turned an unbecoming shade of red.
"You want what?" she fumed, trying to push him away from her and only succeeding in bringing his now-smirking face closer to her own.
"Oh, I think you know, Weaselette," he drawled, reveling in the hot feel of her breasts pushing against him. "Just think - you wanted to humiliate me, so you can attempt to do so and get the bonus return of your quill, or you can go sniveling to Potty and risk me deciding to let the whole school in on your letter writing skills."
"Don't threaten me, Malfoy," she spat, fighting like a cornered cat.
"Or what?" he asked, somewhat relishing her struggle. "Why let yourself be humiliated when you can humiliate me?" His emphasis on the word was unmistakable and he felt his favorite smirk working itself into place. He had rather thought that Ginny Weasley was more than just shaggable, and though he'd rather die than admit it, he had imagined himself spilling thick streams of pure white come onto her delicate face and flaming hair.
"You've gone round the bend if you think I would so much as look at your ferrety bits," she said snidely.
He could feel his features suffuse with an angry heat as he said, "Oh, really? Then perhaps you could explain why you seemed so keen on them in your letter?" Taking the opportunity, he shoved those now impressively hard ferrety bits toward the cradle of her hips, fitting them intimately together. "Besides, Weasley, you won't even have to see them. Not when they're deep inside and fucking you senseless."
He inclined his head sharply, as if to kiss her. Her angrily contorted features softened into a mask of surprise when instead of melding their lips he dropped a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the small, pulsing hollow of her throat. The heat caused an instant sweat to bloom on her forehead and her mouth opened to say something decisive, but no words came.
Her mouth dropped and her chin bumped his upturned cheek. Delving his tongue once, twice into the space and pressing to feel her blood pumping within, he turned his head and met her warm lips squarely.
Ginny hadn't expected such a heinous arse like Malfoy to kiss quite so well, or for his tongue to be toffee-flavored. She spent more than a few moments defining his taste and getting a hint of chocolate before her wits came flooding back and she shoved at him violently.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, stifling the childish urge to wipe her lips just to piss him off. A slow smile spread over his face, begging her to either kiss it away or slap it off.
"Baiting you, obviously. I'm just waiting to be humiliated and here I'm doing all the work," he said, letting the barest hint of a smile creep through as he backed away from her, beckoning her without making a motion at all.
A clunk sounded as she dropped her notebook and bag to the floor.
"You want humiliation, Malfoy?" she asked, stalking him in the small space he had created. Bumping her chest with his, she matched any steely glare he'd ever produced. A small pair of hands came up and wrenched apart his neatly buttoned collar. "Humiliation is listening to your cultured accent belittling me and my family because we don't wear starched white shirts from Madam Malkin's." Her lip curled in an unbecoming way and she bent her head, setting strong teeth into the next button and ripping it away. Satisfied with the pink print her lip gloss left, she faced him once more.
Putting both hands in the gaping shirt, she rent it smartly down the center, mother of pearl buttons scattering on the hardwood floor. He stared at her, a mix of curiosity and mild surprise, as she set her fingernails into his skin and raked the shirt off his strong shoulders, leaving livid trails in her wake. He couldn't suppress a small shiver as the pain wrought from those small fingers sent more confirmation to his groin that he was about to be well-fucked.
"Humiliation is you using those arms to knock my brother off his broom when you shouldn't be near the goals at all," she growled, squeezing the hard muscles with all her might and leaving faint impressions that would bruise on the morrow.
Eyes that had hardened in Flourish and Blotts those years ago when he taunted Potter met his gaze again. Without words, she lowered her head and nipped sharply at one small, extended nipple and then the other. Draco yelped uncontrollably, and when his hands went to soothe the bitten flesh, she was already at his navel and continuing down.
"And there's humiliation here, Malfoy," she said, nimble fingers unfastening his trousers' fly. "All those girls you've supposedly slept with. They moon over you, but you forgot their names, maybe even while you were shagging." She exposed his boxer shorts and yanked them down, uncovering his throbbing, weeping erection. She closed her hand around his length and squeezed tightly until he groaned.
"I'm going to make bloody sure you won't forget about me."
And meeting his wide-eyed gaze, she calmly shoved his left leg to the side, pressed her index finger to his perineum and proceeded to scrape her teeth down his cock.
"Bloody fuck," he yelled as a dry orgasm rippled through his veins. Stumbling, he reeled backward with flailing arms until he struck the side of his bed and heaved himself atop it, away from her.
She regarded him there, he holding his still hard and reddened cock, trousers and boxers about his knees and wondered fiercely how he was still allowed to appear so edible in that state. Grasping her wand, she waved it and muttered a banishing charm, watching his clothing jerk from his body and wing into the fireplace.
"Hey!" he said indignantly, though whether from the burned clothing or his sudden nudity she wasn't sure. Stalking him, she observed his frightened scramble to the far corner of the bed as she boosted herself onto the pillow-soft mattress.
"Now who's afraid?" she sing-songed in a low, quiet voice. "Look at the snake slithering away from the li-on." From all fours, she reached out and raked the fingernails of her left hand down his near thigh.
Instead of flinching in pain he arched his back and moaned, rigid erection throbbing visibly. And then she realized she had no idea what she was doing, why she was here, or even why humiliating Draco Malfoy in return for her ruined quill was a good idea in the first place. She simply had no idea how to handle him now, now that she'd broken from her scary reverie. A single thought ricocheted through her mind. If only he'd cried out in pain I'd be making him do it again and again.
***
After recovering from the glorious shiver she'd wrought from his body, he glanced at her and at once saw and comprehended the confusion on her face. Can't lose her now.
"What's the matter, Mistress Weasley? I'm not yet feeling properly debased," he taunted. "Aren't you going to command me to do something beneath my station, like taste your cunt?"
Her eyes widened and it took a moment for his crude, effective comment to sink in, and then the sheer audacity of his word choice made her bare her teeth and her eyes narrow.
"Why, yes, Malfoy, something like that," she snarled.
"Well, then, Mistress," he said, letting the word come off his tongue with a distinct hiss, "perhaps as your slave I ought to remove your clothing." Before she could answer with a scathing affirmative, he slid off the bed, out of her sight.
In turn she moved over the smooth sheets to the floor, expecting him to stand and walk over to her.
She wasn't prepared for the wet, nipping kiss at the back of her knee. The bastard had crept on his belly underneath the high bedstead and came out on the other side. Yelping, she tried to move away from the teasing touch but he held her fast, not letting go until he'd paid the same treatment to the sensitive skin behind her other knee.
Breaking free, she threw herself forward a few steps and turned to face him, his body still half under the bed.
"Don't even dare do anything I haven't given you permission to," she said warily, shaking a finger at him. His eyelids lowered to half mast and he nodded submissively.
"Of course, Mistress. My apologies."
Then, reaching out as a panther would stretch out a paw, he came out from beneath the bed, slinking toward her on all fours, long legs and arms flexing as he made his way one limb at a time to her still-shod feet.
And because she could momentarily do nothing else, she watched as he set his impossibly white teeth into the sturdy laces of her black oxfords and began to pull them apart. Only when he had loosened them, he braced himself on his knees and ran a hand up her calf to prompt her to raise her foot.
Standing now in sagging knee socks, she was about to command him to remove them until she saw him doing it himself. One foot at a time, he pulled the sock down with his teeth and off, flinging it behind him with a careless flick of his wrist.
When that toffee-flavored tongue began to caress her dungeon-chilled toes she felt a rush of warmth pool in her knickers and thought that perhaps there was something to be said about this sick little game.
"Stop now," she said. "And stand up." She couldn't suppress the shudder borne of the sight of him looking up from her dainty foot, tongue extended to tickle her big toe. A wave of concern washed over her, as it dawned that even though she was in charge it seemed suspiciously like he was guiding her, negating her entire focus.
He stood, and was so close she had to step away from his erection, bobbing as near as it was to her waist. She began to circle him, sizing him up as if he were a side of beef. Neither spoke, and she went around him no fewer than five times. Once she traced the defined line above his spine, another time she traced the corresponding line down the center of his chest. Twice she trailed her fingers down his leaping cock, and the last time she fell to her knees and set her teeth into his perfectly rounded, muscular buttock.
His flinch and accompanying groan set her nerves on fire. She bit again, heedless of his low cry, forgetting herself and not wanting to remember.
Of its own accord, her other hand rose to knead his other buttock, while she concentrated on outlining the exact crease where his buttock met his powerfully muscled thigh. His legs spread unexpectedly but she allowed it, and her tongue fit perfectly into the groove that connected from his flank to his inner thigh…
"Sweet Circe," she heard him breathe, his moan directly connected to her sex. Momentarily stopping her tongue's tantalizing journey, she pulled her body up the backs of his legs and draped her arms over the angles of his hips, fondling his cock from behind.
"You will not come," she said softly, matter-of-factly, her conviction the strongest it had been all night. "You won't come until I tell you to." Sealing her words with a kiss to his hip, she came down once more and picked up where her tongue had left off.
"Maybe you ought to test me, Mistress," he said, his tight throat belying the silk in his tone. "If I come you'll get to punish me." Punish me, hurt me, fuck me.
A perfect idea.
He wasn't prepared for her to turn like lightning onto her back, slide partway through his legs and take one of his balls into his mouth.
"Merlin's bloody teeth!" he swore, trying desperately to keep his balance. The sight of her there, underneath him, her red hair dragging the ground, her bright eyes staring up at him, was daring him to come. The slight pull she had on his sensitive sac was aiming his cock down as well, and when she suddenly released him to suck lightly on the tip of his cock, his entire body shuddered, the temblor before the earthquake.
His whole-body vibration surprised her, and the suction she made when she let go of his penis was too much, and, just like his dreams, spurted gouts of semen into her ruby hair.
Horrifyingly, the scene played out in slow motion for him, as he helplessly watched his ejaculate sully her hair and spatter on her near cheek, her bright eyes wide open in disbelief and then later distaste.
The last emotion he saw her face play out was one of fear as she watched his knees turn to water and he fell heavily atop her, barely able to brace himself to avoid crushing her.
"Get off me!" she shrieked, hand wrenching itself out from underneath his shin and instinctively reaching for her ruined hair. Her fingers tangled in the wet mess, and from what he could see of her, she was about to explode.
"You fucking pervert, get off me!" Ginny yelled, her tone earsplitting. He was sitting so high on her chest that she was able to maneuver a knee up and effectively kick him in the kidneys.
"Ouch, dumb bint!" he gasped, rolling off her. Reaching for his surely bruised back, he massaged it and winced. "Merlin help me if I'd had the misfortune of coming in your mouth," he muttered.
By this time she had stood and was making a beeline for her wand to clean the mess when she heard his offhand comment.
"Too bad you didn't," she threw back darkly. "Maybe I could have spit it back at you."
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