Author's Note: Because I would like to have this story finished on Portkey before the end of the Reader's Choice Awards nomination period, I will be posting chapters every day until this is finished. Please expect at least two more chapters after this. I (and any other D/G writer on PK) would appreciate your nomination. Thank you.
Ginny took her thousandth calming deep breath as she walked (tiptoed, really, she tiptoed) down to the dungeons, her heart, skin and brain running riot underneath her robes. It had been pride that made her come back. Pride and the teeniest, tiniest shred of satisfaction she derived by getting praise from Malfoy. But her heart still felt virtuous. There was no harm in learning a little more about men. After all, she anticipated dating a certain man, so this was purely working in her and Spencer's favor.
The nervous heat rose off her in waves and she could smell a hint of the heady perfume she'd applied just minutes before. Rounding a corner, she-
She was whirled around by an unseen face and crushed against a warm, very excited male body. The words she tried to form were squelched by the hot tongue forcing through her open mouth and stroking the roof of it. The boy's arousal was evident as it pressed insistently against her midriff. Finally, she wrenched away, shoving her attacker back toward the damp stone wall with a force she'd not thought herself capable.
Draco Malfoy's body collided hard with the stones, knocking the wind out of him but not wiping the feral, amused grin off his face.
"What were you thinking?" she hissed angrily, fingers reaching absently to soothe her swollen lips.
"You've got to be prepared, Weasley," he said, approaching her again. "When young Spencer steals you away under the cover of darkness, you need to know how to react."
Without further ado, he once again latched onto her forearm and began leading her the short distance to his room.
"I hardly think Spencer would accost me in the hallway," she accused in a disgusted whisper.
In a moment she was backed up against the wall, with Malfoy's lips hovering just above hers, a leg between hers.
"Don't be too sure about that, Weasley. The element of surprise is a potent aphrodisiac," he rasped, nipping her bottom lip. Her lips parted again to expel a squeak and he took them, plunging his tongue none-too-gently into her minty mouth.
When he released her, she was gasping, and he took one last moment to look at her before tugging her down the corridor.
"Surprise makes a man's blood run hot and he won't stop until it's cooled."
***
"We're going to use the chair and the bed tonight," he announced once they were inside. Flinging his robe to the desk chair, he turned and faced her.
"Can you kiss? Or am I going to have to teach you?" he asked, rapid fire. "Because there wasn't much response just now."
"Well, how am I bloody well supposed to know what to do when I've never been attacked like that? Of course I can kiss!" she protested indignantly.
"Fine. We'll stay clothed for most of this. It's essentially a warm-up to sex," he said matter-of-factly. "Take off your robe and shoes."
She nodded, feeling a fine tremble begin to course her body. He'd already made his way to the chair, dimming the candles and dampening the fire with artful waves of his wand.
When she worked up the courage to come around the chair, she nearly gasped. His longish hair was hanging about his eyes, and he'd seated himself sideways in the chair, his taut Seeker's thighs offering her a perch.
"Well, come here," he drawled. "If you knew better and I was Spencer, I'd already have my hand up your skirt."
Scowling, she approached him, hating the moment when she had to turn her back to him and allow him a full-on view of her bum. His hands grasped her waist and put her in the correct position. Settling her, he lifted a finger and turned her chin toward him.
"Put your arm around me," he instructed. "The other one is left free to touch and fondle."
There was no earthly reason why he began to nibble at her earlobe first instead of diving into her fresh-tasting lips. But she was gasping and squirming already, so he figured his flight of fancy was worth it.
Puffs of warm air escaped her and grazed his cheek. He continued to work on her ear, finding out for her that tracing his tongue around the sensitive inside edge made her shiver and her nipples hard. She was rooted to the spot; the sensations Malfoy was creating not allowing her to move into or away from his touch.
His left arm pulled her flush against his chest, the warm side of her right breast crushed into him. A curious ache spread through her, something she could not name and had no idea how to assuage.
And then the palm of his right hand brushed over the rigid tips of her breasts and her body clenched, igniting a spark within her that made every beautiful hurt burn brighter and hotter. The arm she had around him fisted in his hair, and she swiveled to see him dead-on.
He wasn't smiling -- certainly wasn't smirking -- as if this was surely serious business. His hand settled on a breast and began making love to it through a soft layer of clothing and she let a cry escape.
Of her own volition, she leaned forward and captured his lips, needing something to distract her from the pleasure one hand with five fingers was building. But he wouldn't react, not the way she wanted him to. He was coy with his lips, forcing her to seek him out, to make her kiss him like she thought she wanted to be kissed.
A tentative tongue passed between his lips and he touched it lightly with the tip of his own, sparring teasingly with it, wordlessly coaxing her to turn hers to the side so he could rub the surfaces together. The quiet, one-breath moan she uttered from the back of her throat sent a jolt of fire to his loins. He'd been less than even semi-hard as this whole thing started, as if his brain and his cock were of one mind and that one mind recognized this wasn't really something over which to be too aroused.
Mindlessly she searched for his tongue as he deliberately pulled it back from her, and when she squirmed in exasperation his mouth thrust forward, catching the entire organ between his lips and sucking on it, stroking and milking it in reverse of what she would ultimately experience.
Pulling back for breath, reeling, her addled mind pointed out that somewhere beneath her thighs he was becoming hard, the bulge pressing across the cleft between her buttocks. Heat radiated from the spot and she wriggled, unused to such a thing between her legs.
A sharp hiss indicated he'd felt her movement, and with a shocked expression she turned toward him, seeing his eyes drift open and his mouth relax from a grimace. Horrified she'd hurt him, she tried to leap off him but he held her fast.
"Do that to a man more than twice and he'll be done before you even start," Draco said hoarsely. "And no, it doesn't hurt. Not in a bad way."
Not sure if she was totally satisfied with his explanation, she tried to gingerly resettle her weight on him. He huffed impatiently at her actions, and merely scooped her up and closer to him.
"Mal…" she began, but he cut her off.
"Draco," he corrected swiftly. "I don't see you calling Spencer `Pierce' in the heat of the moment, do you? And while I obviously like the sound of my surname, it's fair inappropriate in this instance, Ginny."
Gulping like a fish out of water, she merely nodded. In the space between his last words and his next, she discovered he'd been stroking her far hip leisurely, long fingers reaching around and testing the flesh of her backside. To say it felt nice was an understatement.
"Draco," she said pleadingly, but not knowing what she wanted.
"There's more, don't worry," he said, voice muffled against her neck as he suckled at the soft skin there. "There's more."
***
She was wearing a cream wool sweater knitted by her mother, one blessedly bereft of her initial. Draco decided that as good as she looked in it, it needed to come off.
Darting forward, he pressed a light kiss to her lips, then pulled away. Before she could follow him, his fingers were cold on between her warm skin and the hem. Inexplicably careful with the material, he drew it up and she obediently raised her arms. The drag of the cloth over the thin cotton of her bra pebbled her nipples, making them stand out in sharp relief.
Interesting how she almost felt more exposed than last night. Her arms instinctively went to cross over her aching breasts, but he stopped them with firm hands to her wrists.
"Don't cover yourself. Showing that you're proud of your body even when you're not is sexy. Men don't see your imagined imperfections," he said, his tone low and lilting, a teasing tag on the end.
Her eyes said she plainly disbelieved him. He decided to show her.
"Like these freckles, here, there, everywhere. They invite a man to memorize them," he said slowly, leaning forward to place his lips over a particularly dense patch on her left shoulder. "He wants to be able to count them from memory." As he spoke, his mouth laved clusters and individual freckles, and out of the corner of his eye he could see her pert toes clenching through knee socks.
"And you're probably wondering what you ought to be doing at this point," he continued softly. "For the most part, it's perfectly fine for you to lie there and enjoy it. But be a little vocal. Tell us what you like and want. We can't read your mind; hell, even the best Legilimens aren't disciplined to do it while they're hard as rock."
His proclamation produced a giggle from her, and that, as much as anything, spurred him on. As he kept working his way down to her breasts, he began to tickle the small of her back with light fingertips, making her laugh out loud and smile in between gasps.
"Good wizards have perfected the wandless magic to deal with brassieres," he muttered against her skin. "Evanesco!" he said, waving his free hand. Suddenly there were no barriers between them now, and he took advantage of her gasp of surprise to cup her generous breasts together and begin laving both at once.
"You can't do that!" she wheezed, hands going to his shoulders and mindlessly pulling him closer and shoving him away, as if she couldn't decide if the exquisite pleasure was too much or not enough.
His thumb came up to take his tongue's place as he responded.
"Yes, I can," he said languidly. "A good man will buy you a better one and then do it again."
"But you won't," she said indignantly, finally deciding she needed to pull him closer despite her wrath. He didn't answer as his mouth was full of her again, rolling the distended nipple in his mouth, grazing his teeth over it relentlessly.
Her hands fluttered uselessly, not knowing where to put them but wanting to find purchase.
A spasm of heat burst through her like the summer sun when Draco, not releasing her nipple, looked up at her through hooded eyes and took her hands in his, placing them behind his neck.
Given leave, her fingers speared restively through his thick locks, feeling the smoothness of the strands cascade coolly over her hot skin. Then she moved to his ears, reveling in the blood warming the peach-fuzzed skin covering them, finding that she could make him voice masculine versions of her earlier whimpers when she traced the contours of them with her fingernails.
Intent as she was on his ears she almost didn't realize when he released her breasts from his questing tongue. He surfaced, face mere centimeters from hers.
"We're not made much different," he said, thumbs and forefingers pulling gently on her nipples. "We like the same things you do."
When he leaned in to kiss her fiercely she was ready.
"Do you want to try?" he asked, seeing barely leashed excitement on her face.
"Yes," she said resolutely. When he let go of her, she shook her head vehemently. "No, no, stay here," she said absently, bringing his hands back to their task. "I think I can manage to unbutton you."
Her fingers were far more nimble than the night before, and she took more than a little pleasure in yanking his shirttails out of his expensive trousers and crumpling the fine linen into a ball, tossing it carelessly to the floor.
Swollen lips descended slowly to his tiny nipples, mimicking his earlier motions. And for many minutes, she continued her ministrations while he ever so gently slid his warm palms down the back of her school issue skirt and inside her satiny knickers, kneading her buttocks and holding her to him.
Reclining his head, he simply reveled in the warmth of her and in how she picked up his actions and was returning the favor. She was making him hot again. Whenever she would squirm to get a better angle she'd brush against his hardness, and it was all he could do not to let his unmanly gasp escape.
She broke contact with his now sweating skin and raised her head.
"Draco?" she asked, registering first his hands on her arse and then his utterly delectable expression.
"Yes?" he rumbled.
"I think I'm going to try what you did to me before," she said, her voice questioning as if she wasn't sure he would allow it. "And, erm, by the way, you have your hands down my knickers."
"Yes," he stated unequivocally, and squeezed her.
Deciding that Spencer might well do that too, she shook her head slightly and began to rove her tongue around, but it was different, with him. His skin was so pale and the imperfections so miniscule she almost couldn't justify mapping them with mouth and eyes. Abandoning her quest there, she tilted his head to the side and began to trace the cords in his neck with her tongue, feeling the strength and tension coiled within.
When she needed more leverage to reach his ear, he sensed it and pushed her further up his chest; her bare breasts level with his collarbone. Her torso lay along his, and the heat between them was starting to build sweat, and he could barely resist the urge to stroke her body up and down his. And then she touched his ear with her tongue.
She felt his body jerk, and tried to bob her head up to make sure she'd not hurt him. Her answer was his heavy hand on the back of her head, pressing her to his ear.
"Again," he said throatily, hand still pressing on her. Tentatively she tried once more, and elicited the same rasped response. Building confidence, she tried to remember all the things he'd done. Her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, tracing, tasting, touching as deeply inside his ear canal as possible, twisting in quickly and moving away just as fast.
"Sweet Circe," he breathed, and then his mouth was on her ear, thrusting and parrying, drawing a low, extended moan of surprise. To her credit, she didn't release him, and he rewarded her as best he could, ignoring the full-to-bursting feeling in his trousers.
He couldn't stand one minute more of this, of being a sweat-sheen away from her fragrant skin, of her curved bum fitting all too precisely in the cradle of his thighs.
"I think we should…" Ginny heaved on a gasping breath, with Draco finishing the thought.
"Move this to the bed," he rejoined, having already put one arm under her knees and the other around her back. Pushing off the chair, he stood and did an admirable job of not wobbling as his weak legs carried her.
In the dim light, he could still see the glistening of perspiration and saliva on her skin, and he knew it was on his too. He laid her on her back, her excited nipples pointing to the sky. Her tartan skirt was bunched high on her thighs, but still hiding her sex.
He scrambled atop the bed beside her, stretching out and pulling her to him. Their mouths met in a messy kiss, his now-damp hair curtaining their lips. One hand was behind her head, and he used it to keep her mouth crushed to his. The other lit on her thighs, rubbing mindlessly just below the rucked-up hem of the skirt.
Unexpectedly turning on her side, his hand caught partially between her thighs as her dainty palm began in vain to release his hardness. A rush of adrenalin shot through Draco and it was all he could do to unzip his trousers with shaking hands.
She pushed the offending fabric down, amazed that he'd yet again gone bare beneath, and grasped him firmly. Moaning in her mouth, he pulled his hand out of her warm thighs and bore her shoulders back to the bed. Realizing he meant to give both of them better access to the other, she relented, moving close enough that she could rest him alongside her thigh as she squeezed and pulled rhythmically.
When his hand came down unmistakably between her thighs, she opened up without any prodding. Still fully dressed from the waist down, skirt, knickers and knee socks intact, she vaguely wondered what he would do with her.
She didn't have to wait long. As he tenderly plundered her mouth, he insinuated his fingers against the sodden fabric of her knickers. Her parted legs allowed her musky scent to rise, and he knew he had to have more of it. Fingertips brushed softly against the cloth, feeling with a few strokes that her sex had opened itself to him, her distended clit palpable below.
Tracing the ridges of her folds through her knickers, he felt her grip increase on him. Gritting his teeth, he sought the tactile nub. The tiny protrusion was enough. With exactly seven soft swipes of his thumb, she clenched around his hand, breaking their kiss long enough to gasp the air to vocalize.
The renewed flood of wetness seeped though to his hand, and he took advantage of their parted lips, licking the spot like a lolly.
"Draco!" she moaned, her hand speeding up on him, his hot flesh branding her thigh. In the end, it was the sight of her unoccupied left hand wandering down to touch her newly flowered sex with astonishment that broke him. Pressing hard against her hand, he moaned, spilling himself over the perfect skin of her upper leg.
Mesmerized, she went to touch his semen, unconsciously spreading the silky substance into her flesh.
He growled and one last spurt came flooding out, his body quaking.
For many minutes, all they could hear was the other panting.
Later, he heard her intake of breath, and he didn't want her to speak, didn't want her to spoil it.
He stopped her egress with a hand to her hip and a fleeting bite to her shoulder.
"Stay," he grated.
***
He'd have to try and curb his regrettable habit of falling asleep soon after coming. Though it was a reliable way to progress to an afternoon nap, it wasn't exactly going to serve him well while teaching Weasley.
These and other thoughts occurred to him as he lay in the darkness on his bed, his only reminder of Ginny her perfume on his duvet and pubic hairs caught painfully in the open zipper of his half-shucked trousers.
His loosely formed fist came up and he popped himself ruefully in the forehead a few times before braving his sex-weakened muscles and actually getting undressed. Crawling to the side of his large bed, he hung his legs over the bed and pushed off to the floor. Approaching the bureau, he opened a drawer and fished out a random pair of pajama pants, cringing when he had to ease the delicate hairs out of his zipper before he could change.
As he went through the motions, he tried to remember if he'd realized when she left his bed and no doubt scurried back to her own. Hell, he couldn't even clearly recall when they'd first met in the dungeon hallway. His forgotten watch told him it was after 2 am. Shaking his head, he padded back to the bed and shoved the down comforter and flannel sheets toward the foot.
Sliding in and wiggling his bare toes against the soft cotton of his sheets, he pulled the part of the comforter that still bore her scent up to his face and fell asleep.
***
It wasn't until her alarm clock pointed to "Get up or regret it" that she became fully cognizant of the dried semen on her thigh, her still-fragrant knickers, and her hurriedly tugged-on sweater over bare breasts.
Every move she made while unwrapping herself from the sheets chafed the wool against her nipples, sending shocks to her sex and a blush to her face.
She did clearly remember telling herself that she had to get to her bed before daybreak, that Draco didn't know he had pulled her against him, hands lacing her to him protectively. He didn't know he'd wedged a long, strong leg between her thighs that stimulated her beyond belief.
Honestly, she wasn't sure how she'd gotten any sleep caged in his arms.
She had heeded his command to stay with him without any question.
***
She knew she'd passed Draco in the hall when she caught the now-familiar scent of spiced cologne and hints of smoke. She honestly couldn't tell if she'd actually passed him more often than she thought or that he was now purposely walking her way.
Regardless, he'd not contacted her for another session and she'd not made any effort to do so either. Her own reaction to his ministrations became frightening for the simple reason that she wasn't sure she would respond to Spencer like she did Draco.
Frightening, was what it was, to think that she'd finally snag Spencer and he'd not be able to rouse the fire she felt when Malfoy touched her. It was enough to scare her into reticence.
Three days had passed and she still felt him holding her at night.
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