Author's Note: Thanks to ClanMalfoy, Kirixchi and Where_Is_Truth for reading this for me! The spell "chatouillio" is based on the French infinitive verb "to tickle."
She raised her wand to fire off a scourgify to her hair and then a refreshing spell. As she tamed her hair, he heard her muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ask Harry.
Prepared to walk out the door, her back high and proud, Ginny was stopped by a single word.
"Wait," he called out, sitting cross-legged on the floor, softening cock nestled in the white-blond thatch of curls at his groin. He was trying desperately to look pious, and thought he was carrying it off fairly well.
"What?" she snapped, leaning on the doorjamb.
"Well, I've not really been punished all that much," he said, and the words were true, much as she didn't want to hear them. "I did exactly what you told me not to and now you're leaving? Did Mistress Weasley miss her turn with the family backbone?"
He'd never seen her move so fast.
She planted her small foot in the middle of his chest and pushed hard enough to make him fall and bump his head on the floor.
"We don't buy it, we fucking earn it," she raged. Clasping his long fingers around her ankle and stroking, he grinned.
"Why don't you prove it, then?"
***
It was odd that she should feel uncomfortable in her clothes when he was completely starkers. But he was sure of himself, and content to live inside his perfect skin.
Jabbed by his cruelly-tipped barb about her mettle, she squared her shoulders and pushed them back.
"Get up and take off my knickers." It was the only thing she could think of to tell him to do that would still leave her some clothing.
Gracefully, he flipped from his prone position and knelt at her feet like a supplicant. Starting at her calves, he flattened his hands to touch as much of her fragrant body as possible. Slowly his hands advanced above her knees, then to the backs of her thighs, and suddenly moved her skirt up and ducked beneath it, full lips and teeth latching on to the elastic waistband and drawing them down, interminably down.
The crotch of her plain pink knickers was damp against his chin and he could feel his nose nuzzling the equally damp curls as he brought the garment down. Gods, her scent was dark and heady, and he fancied he could just taste the rain of her desire on his lips.
Her gasp broke his reverie, and he realized his view was still blocked by the skirt that was still partially covering his eyes. Bowing his head and neck, he brought the knickers to her ankles and tugged, forcing her to step out of them.
"Now my shirt," she commanded shakily. Again, the slight, spare moves with his Seeker's skill, and he was standing before her, pulse beating visibly in the small hollow at his neck and he was staring right into her eyes as he released each button from its hole.
And then, damn him to hell, he just stood there, his expression blank and unreadable, his eyes still fixed on hers.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she forced out, hating how trapped she felt and here she was supposed to be in charge.
"Aren't you supposed to tell me?" he asked, lifting a silky eyebrow, breath puffing softly against her cheek.
"Just do it," she hissed. "Don't ask me for permission."
"Sorry," he said lightly. "You are the Mistress, after all."
Her cuffs were already unbuttoned, and it was easy for him to brush the shirt off her shoulders in a whisper of cloth. Her breasts were hiding behind the modest cups of her matching pink bra, but he could see the tops heaving with almost gasping breaths.
Circling her as she had done to him, he sized her up and then stood directly behind her, his body inches from her own. The skin on her back tingled as she felt him release each of the three catches on her bra. The tired straps and soft cups went sliding over her shoulders and to the ground, and forgetting about what he was really doing, he guided his hands underneath her arms and closed his warm palms around the weight of her breasts, groaning.
The heat made her stumble in surprise, and she collided with his solid chest and the contact made both of them sigh. He held her there, fast against him, and it was difficult not to melt into those hands and that chest and share the simple pleasure of two lovers. Before she could make herself wrench free, his fingers had molded stiff peaks of her nipples.
"I didn't say you could do that," she said slowly, moving away from him and coming up to face him with strangely bright but downcast eyes.
"You make the rules," he stated, but it was without rancor.
"Just…just take my clothes off, okay, Malfoy? Anything beyond that, you ask."
She hadn't even crossed her arms while defending herself.
***
Standing her ground, she allowed him to remove her shirt. Pebble-tipped breasts skimmed over him with every breath she took, and he reached behind her to pull the zipper down. With nothing underneath it, it rustled to the floor.
"I've exhausted my permission," Draco said. "So I'm asking for it again."
"And what exactly are you going to do with it?" Ginny asked, her grouchy voice music to his ears.
"Whatever the Mistress wants, of course."
Suffused by a dull flush, Ginny felt her cheeks and upper chest heat in embarrassment.
"I can refresh your memory, if you've run out of ideas," he casually suggested.
She had turned her back to him. Two pale, rounded cheeks greeted him, and crazily he wondered if he just ducked his head to her waist level if he could see the pouting lips of her sex.
"Suggest away, ferret," she said, trying desperately to sound bored. She'd only turned to save face, after all, because her breasts were clearly heaving now and she was immediately embarrassed about the wiry strawberry thatch of hair visible to him between the tops of her thighs.
"Oh, I could lick your quim until you scream," he stated, unemotional words belying the excitement he felt. "Of course, I'd have to keep myself from gagging, and of course feel the utter disgust that must surely come from eating a Weasley." The calm lashes of his whip-like tongue infuriated her.
Turn around, turn around, little one, let me see you.
"You insufferable prick!" Ginny half-shouted, the noise constricted by the sad lump forming in her throat. Pivoting on one delicate ankle, she crossed the few steps to him and while he ogled her full-frontal glory, she caught him unawares and shoved him down to the floor by his shoulders with prizefighter strength.
Momentarily bested, he lit hard on the floor, knees cracking on the wood and yelping. Taking advantage of his confusion and pain, she tilted her hips viciously, thrusting her mound into his sharp chin hard enough to make her wince through the tears that were threatening to fall.
"Do it, Malfoy! Degrade that pretty mouth of yours. After all, you wanted this, right? Fucking do it, you right bastard! Make me scream, can't you?"
His mouth, full of her damp skin and his nose with the scent of her, prevented him from answering in the split second she demanded.
"Can't you?" she screamed, voice thin and shrill.
***
The hard clamp of his hands over her hips broke the haze of anger clouding her eyes. His tongue split her like a silk-edged knife, and the sheer pleasure from the single touch nearly brought her to her knees as well.
No time to speak, or squeak, as the case was. Bracing herself, willing her legs to hold her, she attempted to survive his onslaught. His hands only held her up, held her apart, held her together.
The liquid velvet of his touch was everywhere, lightning fast, and not in the places she quickly discovered she wanted him to be. He swirled around the pearl hidden in folds of flesh, and when he sought it, she cried out and clutched his head closer.
He let her peak build and fall, ebb and flow, driving her to distraction. Her small hands tugged at his hair, his ears, anywhere she could find purchase, but it was not enough.
The heavy, fluid feelings of her orgasm taunted her; she was unable to grasp it, only view it from a maddeningly short distance. She moaned her displeasure and he jumped up, erection jutting again, heavy and proud.
"Not enough for you, Weaselette?" he purred. Before she could draw her eyes away from the glistening smears of her juice on his lips and chin, he set his large hands firmly into the spot where her buttocks met her thighs and lifted.
Now six feet into the air, Ginny gasped and pitched gracelessly into him, trying with all her might not to fall. Her efforts to balance herself were thwarted by Draco's masterful tongue invading her again, thrusting in short, staccato bursts across a small place inside her that made her buck with pleasure. Aloft by the grace of only his hands on her backside, she didn't know how much she could trust those instruments of pleasure.
He wouldn't stay still. He moved them around the room, making her scream with fear when he dipped and moan when his movements made him hit that spot just right. She couldn't tell where they were in proximity to anything; her closed eyes only hoped they didn't see stars. Knowing he couldn't see anything either did not comfort her, for his face was buried between her thighs, which were tightly clenched on his shoulders to keep her from tumbling to the ground.
And then she was falling, falling, and she screamed her lungs out from stark terror, the very wind knocked out of her when she alighted on the cool sheets of what was presumably Malfoy's bed.
"Accio, accio!" he demanded sharply, voice hoarse. Trying to draw breath back into her lungs and pry her eyes open were two tasks she could just not do simultaneously. Once her eyes were open, she saw Malfoy's long-fingered hand reaching out to catch his wand and the damned stub of her quill.
"I'll make you scream," he promised feverishly as he whipped his wand and produced a short robe to bind her wrists together. "I'll make you scream my name when you come."
"Chatouillio!" Draco hissed, and before she could struggle against her soft rope bonds, the teeny, tiny scrap of a feather that was left began to vibrate so quickly in mid-air that it became a gray blur. And then the blur touched her turgid nipple.
When her shocked gasp came, she rocketed off the bed. Her body arched toward him, and he sank two of his crossed fingers into her constrictive sex. The canal wasn't prepared for the intrusion, and the tightness nearly made his eyes cross as she released a keening wail when her body stretched to accommodate him.
"That's almost screaming, Mistress," he bit out, a reckless tilt to his lips.
And because she couldn't help it, she arched her body up as far as she could stand it and pushed his head down to her again.
Unable to control the grin that welled up, he busied himself once more to the task she had so plainly bid him to do. It was trickier now, now that he was tasting her and pumping her with his fingers, to determine exactly when she was close to release and backing off. He only had to hear his name dripping from her honeyed lips and he'd shove her into the abyss.
His erection was weeping, he was sure, as he eyed as best he could the feast of her flesh. As her whole body moved with his fingers, her breasts swayed and the teasing feather moved back and forth between the diamond-hard nipples, never giving her a moment's reprieve.
"What does Mistress want now?" he asked, the mirth in his voice foreign to even his own ears.
An incomprehensible moan issued from her lips.
"Sorry, I couldn't quite get that," he teased. Again, the moan.
"Pardon?" he queried.
"I want you to make me come, Malfoy," she grit out between clenched teeth, the breath she had been holding exhaled like a whistle.
"Finally, something I can understand!" he said brightly. He dove back into her, lips pursing around her clit and holding it steady, flicking with snake-like speed. Mindlessly, he let his fingers plunge into her again and again, this time curling them to catch the spot that made her gasp on each stroke.
Her orgasm built like a volcanic eruption. As the molten core of her poured over his lips and fingers, she shuddered out one single word on far too many syllables.
"Draco."
He removed himself from her body, letting her sweat out the aftershocks of her release. When she pushed aside her damp fringe so she could see him clearly, she watched him lick her essence from her lips.
His perfect white teeth glittering, he spoke two words. "Your move."
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