happier - Draco x Hermione
“Say you love her,” Hermione whispered, hoping the quick blinks of her eyes would eliminate the tears that began to gather. “It’s ok. You can say it.”
Beneath her, cock still buried within her warm walls, Draco starred up with fearful eyes. The knife was pressed to the hilt in his neck, but she hadn’t twisted it, not yet. She wanted to hear him say it first, wanted to have clarity that this, was the right thing, the only thing she could do to keep him.
He strained, his handcuffed hands rigged and she shook her head lightly, let out a small sigh. He was being dramatic. As long as the knife didn’t twist, it was merely a flesh wound.
“I know you moved on, found someone new.” Hermione said, tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. “We broke up only a month ago, Draco. And you already are seeing someone?” She paused, then chuckled. “It can’t be going that well, considering you came over tonight.”
“I missed you.” His voice was horse, a light whisper, and Hermione paused again, eyes bouncing from the knife to his eyes.
“Say you love her,” Hermione replied, leaning forward, right hand on the hilt and the left on his chest, bracing herself above him. He was still hard, his length filling her the only way she liked. “But not like you loved me? Right?”
“R-right.”
Hermione smiled, pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I missed you too, Draco. So much.”
His face stretched, a pained smile on his mouth, and he moved his neck slowly, pursing his lips. Hermione excitedly surged forward, captured his mouth. He tasted of mint, oh how she craved it. Placing her left hand beside his head to hold herself up, she dipped her tongue into his mouth, careful to not twist the blade.
Suddenly Draco bucked and Hermione gasped, her walls contracting around him deliciously as he hit deep within her.
When had her hand become wet?
She looked down, gasping as she pulled her left hand up to find it covered in blood. Draco sputtered, spritzing blood on her chest and chin.
“No no no!” Hermione screamed, the knife twisting even more as blood pooled from the wound, coating her hands, his neck, her thighs. The sheets beneath his head were soon soaked, and she sobbed as she tried to stop the bleeding.
“Why did you do this?” She cried, hands pressed to his neck. “Why couldn’t I make you happier?”
His lifeless eyes gave her no reply.