Draco shifted up, removing his lips from her chest and kissing her mouth. He pushed his length against her core, and she hissed, "Yes."

He did it again and asked, "It feels good?"

"Don't stop. Please don't—"

He kissed her and started grinding his body into hers. The hand on her breast tugged down her bra cup and began rolling her nipple. She gasped into his mouth, squeezing her knees around his waist.

His hips found a pace that dragged the denim over her core just right, and her hips jumped to meet his on every thrust.

"Want you to come, Granger," he panted against her lips. "Will you come like this?"

"I—I think so. Please—"

He pumped faster and faster, grinding his hips against her clit. Her nails cut across his back, and her back arched, closer and closer.

"What else?" he groaned. "What else do you need?"

"Just don't stop—"

"I can't—I'm gonna—Fuck—"

"Draco, please—"

His hand squeezed her breast, plucking at her nipple—

She listened to him grunt. Listened to the curses fall from his lips like raindrops against her cheek. His hips grew erratic, grinding exactly where she needed him. She was hovering over the edge of the cliff, just one more step—

"Beautiful—fucking—fuck—"

His hips rolled into her once more. She shuddered, her jaw falling open, her body coiling, her thighs shaking, and her cunt clenching. He shivered and moaned, hips stilling as he came.

They caught their breaths. Hermione's fingers traced patterns into his scalp, relishing the way his fine hair slipped through her fingertips. His face was buried in her shoulder, panting into her skin. Letting her hands drift down his neck and smooth over his back, she followed the curves of his shoulder blades, mapping the knots in his spine and memorizing his ribs as they expanded beneath her touch.

His hand was still on her breast, bare beneath his fingers from where he'd pulled down her bra. And when his hand gave her an infinitesimal squeeze — his thumb rolling over the peak of her — she was shocked to learn that her body was still responding.

He lifted his hand, pressing into the couch to hold himself up. He hovered over her, his eyes skating down her body, tracing her mouth, her exposed breast, her waist. She memorized him in return — the way his hair fell forward over his forehead, the definition in his lean arms and chest, the color of his lips when they were kiss-bruised.

Reaching up slowly, he pushed a curl away from her face. His fingers ran down her neck and shoulder, and softly tugged her bra cup back into place. He sat up, offering her his hands, and pulled her up.

They decided to freshen up, and meet back downstairs in an hour. The walk to their bedrooms was silent, but when he dropped her off at her door, she turned to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. She was pleasantly surprised to find how quickly his tongue slipped into her mouth and his hands grabbed her arse.