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“You will be the death of me Hermione Granger.” He groaned, sliding, somehow, impossibly deeper. She felt the head of him firm against her cervix. A sensation bordering on pain, but in this sloppy, sex-addled state, all she could do was groan at the sheer perfection of the fit of him.
She could feel herself stretched so, so tight around him. His cock, broad and thick, filling her entirely.
His forehead dropped heavily against the crown of her head and he inhaled deeply, soaking in the scent of her shampoo and her sweat and the sweet, sharp note of her sex. The air was thick with the combined smell of them. Sweat clinging to their skin, glossing them in the warm candlelight.
“Draco. Ple-“ her plea died out on a long, keening whine as he slid all the way out and then all the way back in. Giving her less than a second to grieve the fullness before he set a punishing pace. Thrusting hard and heavy. Their skin slapping with the pumping of his hips.
His fingers curled around her right thigh gripped tighter, hitching her leg higher against the wall. His other hand left the supple softness of her breast to grip her chin and turn her head to the right, facing the mirror hanging on the opposite wall.
In this position he could gaze at the beauty of her side profile. Curls clinging to her sweat-soaked forehead. Eyes drooping heavily in the bliss of her pleasure. Lips hanging open, moans pouring out, glossed with spit as she practically drooled in her fuck-drunk state.
The most celestial sight he’d ever known.
“Open those gorgeous eyes for me sweetheart.” A pant. A groan. A deep, firm thrust to punctuate his command. “Open those eyes and watch yourself fall apart for me.”
She was too far gone. Too deep in the fog to even hear him. He’d done his job too well, and that big, beautiful brain of hers was completely snowed under the euphoria of nine orgasms and endless praise.
He lifted his fingers from her neck, sweeping her curls behind her ear in the process. Draco tilted himself backwards a little, not enough to interrupt his thrusting into her, but enough to see her profile in full. He reached up and brushed at her temple with the back of his fingers.
Hermione whined at the loss of his torso against hers. He chuckled; at this stage she was always so reliant on contact. She needed it to keep her grounded in her surrender of thought. Needed every available inch of him to be against her. Skin-to-skin.
“Hermione, love.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and watched her eyes flicker. She was coming back up, just a little. Just enough.
“There’s my gorgeous girl, open those eyes for me.”
Her lids lifted. Her blown pupils shrinking a fraction.
A small huff of air left her lips and her head turned a little. Her eyes shifted and met his.
For a moment he was lost in the glowing mahogany of her gaze. Like the air had been punched from his lungs and a lurch of nausea swelled and ebbed in a flash inside him. Unfiltered adoration so strong it registered as sickness. In that moment Draco was completely taken by how deeply he loved her, yet all he could do was meet her gaze and hope that she could understand the rush of emotion he’d been struck with.
The corners of her mouth lifted, smiling softly around a weak, tired moan and he knew she understood.
When they were this deep in a scene it was so easy to get lost in the bliss and drift away from the outside world entirely. Sometimes they planned for it. They’d allow the tide of pleasure to sweep them away and would wake, hours later, tangled together. The afterwards was always sweet and sure. Filled with tender words and gentle action.
This was perhaps the deepest he’d seen her, and on another day, he’d let her shake and cry out her final orgasm with her mind deliciously blank. But today, of all days, he wanted her to watch herself collapse into ecstasy.
“Draco.” It was quiet, and whimpered, but she was there. Enough to focus. Enough to follow his final instruction.
Pressing a chaste kiss to the space between her brows he turned her head again and watched as she zeroed in on their reflection.
Pressing his torso back against her; his cheek against her temple, he set a determined pace and listened to her keen.
“Ohhhhh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Thaaat’s it. My perfect, perfect girl. One final time sweetheart. One last one for me.” His words poured from him without filter.
Ribbons of praise wrapped around her. Bathing her in his adoration.
She was right on the edge. Teetering with only one certainty. She was going to fall and it was going to be unbelievably intense.
Hermione’s eyes met his in the mirror just as his left hand slid down from her breast and cupped the slight swell of her tummy. In the soft place between her hips where their baby was growing.
“Come for me my darling.” He ordered on a pant.
She shattered.
His cock was almost forced from inside her with the strength of her pulsing. Her release gushed down onto their thighs and wet the floor between them as she screamed her climax. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she became a complete dead weight in his arms.
Nothing but plaintive whimpers and whines fell from her as he pulled her body tight against his and her head lolled into the warm space between his shoulder and neck.
She was completely and utterly spent.
Three more slow, heavy thrusts and Draco’s resolve tumbled over the edge too. He spilled deep inside her with a roar of pleasure as he came undone.
His thighs were quivering, and it was only by sheer determination that he managed to keep them both upright long enough to scoop her into his arms and drop onto the bed.
Draco tugged Hermione to his chest, tangling her legs with his and tucking her arms close. Wandlessly, he drew the quilt up and over them. She was asleep, huffing rhythmically against his neck.
Ten orgasms had done their job.
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He had no idea how long had passed by the time she roused, but he was still holding her tight against him, focussed on nothing other than the way their hearts were beating in sync.
“mmphhdra-.” She stopped to lick her lips, mouth parched.
“Shh, hold on sweetheart.” He replied.
A moment later he had her sitting, propped against him, with a glass of ice water pressed against her lips.
“Take a few sips for me love, then try again.”
She followed his instructions dazedly, and Draco felt a rush of dizziness at how perfect his witch was.
“How do you feel, love? Does anything hurt?” He asked. He’d been quite rough somewhere between orgasm five and seven and although she’d been more than enthusiastic at the time, it was always his priority to check in with her after a scene. When she was high on endorphins not everything registered at a normal level, pain being one of them. He’d never, ever hurt her, but a part of him would always be scared that he had. He had to keep her safe. That was his job.
Hermione flipped herself to sit straddling his lap, and lifted both hands to hold his face. She leaned forward and pressed a warm, gentle kiss to his lips.
“You didn’t hurt me Draco. I feel perfect. You’re always so, so good to me. You made me feel perfect.”
He glowed under her assurance, smiling softly at her. She always knew the words that would soothe the part of him that fussed and worried. A part that had been especially active since the revelation of the new life inside of her a fortnight ago.
Hermione leaned forward, arms folded around his neck to hug him tight. They stayed that way for another minute or so, until he felt her squirm slightly and she muffled an almost-silent whine against his neck.
He knew that sound. That squirm. His cum was leaking from her and she was uncomfortable and turned on by it in equal measure.
It was sweet, the way she hid her face against him like there was anything to be embarrassed about. He knew that was part of it for her. The vague implication of shame. That she shouldn’t enjoy it, the feel of his cum dripping from her, but she did. She loved it. His wife was absolutely perfect.
Reaching a hand between them he swiped two gentle fingers through her sex and groaned at the slickness he found there. Hermione shivered and whined with the sensation. She was so swollen and sensitive, but he couldn’t resist.
Nudging her side, he got her to sit up and meet his gaze. A gorgeous pink blush was painted across her cheeks and chest. He smirked knowingly, watching her every tiny expression as he gathered his escaping spend and pressed it back inside her.
Hermione’s eyelids fluttered closed as she released a soft sigh.
“So good for me. My perfect girl.”
He watched slack jawed as she reached for his wrist and pulled his hand to her mouth. With blown pupils and a spark in her eye, he feasted on the sight of her as she placed his two fingers onto her tongue and sucked them clean.
He was struck utterly dumb and had to literally shake his head to break free of whatever trance she cast on him.
Hermione giggled. The sight of her husband, such a strong, stoic man, who took such perfect control of her pleasure, rendered speechless from one simple act.
She thought she might be the luckiest woman alive.
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The scent of chamomile and lavender rising in the steam of their bath was lulling Hermione into a serene state of relaxation.
They’d long since finished bathing each other; the sweat and spend long-gone from their skin.
He was drawing runes against her stomach, she realised. The soothing, rhythmic pattern of his fingers weren’t aimless caresses, but runes.
Tears gathered in her waterline as she settled fully against the solid comfort of his chest.
Algiz, for protection of Hermione and their child. Gebo, for the gift that was their baby’s existence. Uruz, for the strength of their love.
Her tears broke free and Draco simply held her close and rocked her gently. Their hands pressed lovingly against the promising swell of their next adventure.