Wanting to be Wooed

Because he is head over heels in love with Hermione Granger- has been for three years apparently- he asks her out again the next day. And again after that. And after their third date, a respectable length of courtship for the new millennium, he follows her into her flat after kissing her passionately on her stoop.

“I could make us some tea,” Hermione offers, gnawing on her lower lip, having already kicked off her shoes and hung up her coat.

“I’d rather see the books in your bedroom,” Draco counteroffers.

She accepts, taking his hand in hers and pulling him upstairs.

Her room is messy, at least to her standards. There are books strewn all over, stacked up on different surfaces and even blocking the path to her closet.

She steps into the room, but his hand catches hers and she is pulled back to face him.

“I really don’t care about the books,” he mutters before bringing her face to his and kissing her deeply. He’s so tall. She’s on her toes, and she leans against his broad chest so that she can keep her lips against his. He tastes so good. Like the chocolate torte they’d shared for dessert.

His hand squeezes hers and then lets go, moving to her waist.

They part for just a second and a sigh slips from her lips.

“Hermione,” Draco sighs in response, his other hand sliding up her spine to the base of her neck, slipping into her hair.

“This isn’t very gentlemanly of you,” she whispers into the air, not really listening to herself. Objecting for Merlin knows what reason. She wants him. Needs him to want her. The way he makes her feel? At dinner. At the office. In his ridiculously expensive car. She thought that was wanting. Desire. 

But it is this. His firm chest beneath her fingers. His sharp jaw angled down to hers with their mouths so close they are sharing the air.

This is wanting.

“You’ll let me worship you, won’t you Granger?” He asks, fingers tightening at the base of her hair, pulling her head gently back. Once her neck is exposed, he kisses along the soft skin, setting her aflame.

“Please,” she answers, tilting back even further.

A soft growl comes from Draco and she lets go of the worry that he might not think of her the same way as he did his past dates. As beautiful and delicate. 

She wanted to be wooed and Godric had he delivered.

Granger. An acknowledgment that he knows exactly whose heart he holds in his hands.

They kiss again, his tongue sliding along her lower lip and pressing softly into her mouth. They are wearing too many clothes.

Both of them. Him especially. How had they made it all the way up to her room with him still wearing his coat?

“The bed,” she says even as he kisses her, needing a way to get her hands on his trousers. Fingers on the hem of his shirt.

He smirks in the dark and nods, his fingers leaving her hair to lay on her waist. He walks them backwards towards her bed and she kicks off her shoes, thinking about how the muscles of his back might feel under her touch.

He sits down and pulls her between his knees.

And then they are kissing again, unable to spend a second without their lips tasting one another.

“Please,” she repeats, feeling like her skin might catch fire if he doesn’t feel his skin against it immediately.

His hands pull her blouse over her head and she pushes his jacket off his shoulders. Too many clothes.

Where is her wand? She could vanish them. She doesn’t particularly like these clothes. She’d worn them because they were flattering, but she wasn’t particularly attached.

“Focus, Hermione,” Draco says, fingers reaching for the zipper of her jeans.

She reaches for the buttons of his shirt. It is awkward and confusing with their hands reaching past each other, but she can’t take her hands off his shirt.

He pushes the denim down past her arse and then pulls until they slip past her knees and pool at her feet.

Then his hands cover hers and he tears at his shirt. She lets out a short squeal at the shock of it but then his bare chest is there, under her hands, and she steps closer, running one hand up his chest to his shoulder, pressing firmly. Relishing the heat of his pale skin.

“Merlin, I fucking love muggle lingerie,” Draco swears, pulling his arms out of his shirt and reaching for his belt.

She’d bought the matching black bra and panty set the week before, thinking of his steely eyes drinking her in, wrapped in lace.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Hermione informs him, unable to shake the desperate need to drink him in the same way. To taste him.

He pulls his belt open and then unbuttons his trousers, revealing black pants underneath. They match. It’s a silly thought but one that makes her smile.

Draco stands, moving into her personal space and making her smile vanish as he cups her face in his hands and kisses her again. She doesn’t think she could ever get tired of it. The way he claimed her, prodded her, cared for her.

When his hands leave her again, she only tolerates it because he is shedding his trousers and then his hands are back on her- almost instantaneously.

He spins them around and presses her back into the mattress, climbing over her and pressing kisses down her neck, across her shoulder, and between her breasts. She arches her back as his lips reach her stomach.

“So are you,” he says.

She is confused for a split second until she realises he means she is wearing too many clothes too.

Laying back, getting the bra off will be difficult. Her panties on the other hand are a different story. She slips her hands to her hips and pushes the fabric down, grinning when Draco’s hands cover hers once more to pull them down her smooth legs, discarding them on the floor of her room.

Draco kneels there straddling her legs for a moment, looking down at her body and she goes a bit pink.

He’d called her lovely. Beautiful. Stunning. Because he knew how to woo a witch. He knew what they liked to hear.

“Like a goddess,” he says, a crooked smile lighting up his face. His hand, sure in its movement, presses into her hip, pinning her beneath his gaze. “I’m going to worship you.”

His touch leaves her body and she whines, not caring how it sounds. 

Draco has climbed off the bed, putting too much space between them for how incredibly desperate she is for him.

And then he is spreading her knees and kneeling at the foot of her bed, pulling her towards him.

Hermione’s breathing is heavy and her chest is rising and falling rapidly. He’s barely even touched her, but she can feel her heart thundering in her chest.

Draco presses one hand against her hip and the other to the outside of her left knee, and then brings his face to her core, kissing her pussy like it is a casual thing to do. She pants.

He licks at her skin. The warmth she had already felt in her core is flooding at the ministrations of his tongue against her clitoris. At the hot breath that is sending dizzying pleasure through her body and forcing moans from her mouth.

She lifts herself onto her elbows and watches as he eats her pussy- no, worships her pussy.

Draco notices and looks up at her, meeting her eyes but not slowing his movements. 

It makes her clench her thighs around him and he hums against her skin.

“More,” she sighs, relishing the man between her legs.

He licks and sucks as she grows wetter and she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed by how wet she is because she has never felt anything better in her life.

Though she is sure there is something better.

“Draco, I need all of you,” she begs, laying back so she can bring a hand to the back of his head, pulling gently at his hair as he moves against her mound rhythmically. “Now.”

The keening sound that falls from her lips gets his attention because in a moment, he is shucking his pants, helping her shimmy farther up the bed, and pressing his body against hers.

He presses her knee wide as his cock slides against the wetness between her legs.

“Are you ready, Goddess?” He asks.

“God, Draco, yes,” she hisses, turning her head so he can suck at the tender skin beneath her ear as his hard cock slides into her cunt, stretching her and filling her perfectly.

She gasps at the stretch and moans when he starts moving. His breathing is heavy, matching hers with the intensity of his need.

He speeds up and she curls her legs around his thighs, taking him deeper, scratching at the skin of his back with her fingernails, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he swears as she clenches around him and she knows he must be close because she herself is teetering on the edge of sanity.

“Harder,” she pleas with him.

He obliges. Draco is always so obliging.

Hermione’s orgasm moves through her entire body, curling her toes and making loud keening sounds fall from her lips even as he covers her mouth with his.

When he comes, he groans loudly, and she relishes it. He swears as she presses her calves against him, keeping him inside of her, enjoying the slick feel of their bodies melded together.

“You are so bloody perfect,” Draco says.

Hermione nods, biting her lip and looking up into his eyes. She could do this forever. Lie with him in a bed, sweaty and sated.

She glances down between them and laughs. They are both naked, except for Hermione’s black lace bra.

It seems strange to still have a lick of clothing on while his cock is softening inside her.

Draco pulls out of her and his come leaks, sliding down her skin onto her comforter.

“Do you know how long I have wanted to do that?” Draco asks, sidling up beside her and wrapping a possessive hand around her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

She shakes her head, blissful.

“Over three years. God how I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to buck up the courage to ask you out.” He presses his lips to her shoulder and gooseflesh spreads across her skin.

“I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realise I wanted you to ask me out,” she replies, turning her face to look at him.

In his eyes, she can see that he loves her. She thinks she might love him too. They’ve only been on three dates. Draco Malfoy still has plenty of wooing to do.