The fire in the Slytherin common room burned low, casting flickering orange light across the green velvet of the sofa. Harry sat in the armchair, his frame tense and his eyes fixed on the way the light caught the curve of her calf. Draconia reclined back against the cushions, her legs stretched out before her toward the hearth. The heat from the flames reached her skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat she felt watching him. He was watching her too, his gaze heavy and unblescent.
"You are staring, Harry," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet of the room.
"It is hard not to," he replied, leaning forward slightly.
Draconia watched his hands. They were resting on the arms of the chair, his knuckles pale in the firelight. She reached down to the hem of her silk robes, letting the fabric slide upward to expose the pale expanse of her thigh. She moved slowly, deliberately, ensuring he saw every inch of skin as it was revealed. The movement was a provocation, a way to claim the space between them.
"Do you want to touch?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
"I want more than to touch," he said, his voice dropping an octave.
Draconia reached for the top of her first stocking, the silk smooth and cool against her fingers. She began to roll the fabric down, the sound of the silk sliding against her skin a soft hiss in the quiet room. She did not rush. She watched his eyes track the movement of her hands as she worked the stocking down her leg, past her knee, toward her ankle.
"The rules are simple," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "One thing at a time. We do not name the game, but we play it."
"And the first thing is the stocking," he noted, his breathing becoming shallower.
"The first thing is the silk," she corrected him.
She finished rolling the first stocking down, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her ankle as she pulled the discarded silk from her foot. She tossed the bundle of silk onto the floor beside the sofa. Now, she lifted her leg higher, resting her heel on the edge of the velvet cushion. The position made the cleft of her crotch prominent under the thin silk of her robes.
"Now, the second one," she whispered, her fingers catching the edge of the second stocking at her mid-thigh.
She began to roll it down, but she did it clumsily. She made a show of struggling with the fabric, pulling it with a jagged, uneven motion that broke the fluid grace of her previous movement. She wanted him to feel the frustration of the pause. She wanted him to ache for the seamlessness of her skin.
"You are doing it wrong," he muttered, his eyes darkening.
"Am I?" she asked, her voice a teasing lilt.
"You are making me wait," he said, his voice strained.
"Then you will wait," she said, pulling the second stocking down with a jerky, uneven hand to make him wait.
The tension in the room snapped as he rose from the armchair. He moved toward the sofa with a predator's grace, his eyes fixed on the sliver of skin she had left exposed. He reached out, his hand grasping her thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. Draconia let out a sharp breath as he pulled her closer to the edge of the cushion.
"You are a cruel woman," he said, his thumb tracing the line of her hip.
"I am a woman who knows the value of a slow burn," she replied, her heart hammering against her ribs.
He leaned down, his mouth finding the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. Draconia arched her back, her fingers tangling in his hair. The heat of the fire was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth against her. He moved lower, his lips trailing down to her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin. He pushed the silk of her robes aside, exposing her breasts to the firelight. Her nipples were hard, dark points in the flickering light.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
She opened her eyes, watching him as he gripped her hips. He pushed her legs wider, forcing her to wrap them around his waist. He began to unfasten his trousers, his movements frantic yet precise. When his cock sprang free, it was thick and heavy, a dark length of flesh that seemed to glow in the amber light. Draconia reached for him, her fingers wrapping around the base of his cock, feeling the heat and the pulse of him.
"Is this the game?" she asked, her voice a ragged whisper.
"This is the part where you lose your breath," he said, before driving himself into her.
He pushed into her cunt with a single, heavy thrust, his cock sliding deep into her wet heat. Draconia cried out, the sound swallowed by the heavy velvet of the room. He began to fuck her, his hips slamming against hers in a rhythmic, brutal cadence. He was deep inside her, his cock stretching her walls as he moved. She could feel the friction of his skin against her sensitive clitoris, the blunt pressure of him filling her completely.
"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back as he drove into her. "You are so tight."
"More," she gasped, her hands clawing at his shoulders. "Harder, Harry."
He obliged, his thrusts becoming longer and more forceful. He pulled her up toward him, his cock sliding in and out of her cunt with a wet, slapping sound. Every time he hit her cervix, she felt a jolt of electricity shoot up her spine. He was relentless, his movements heavy and deliberate. He gripped her thighs, his fingers leaving white marks on her pale skin as he pumped into her.
"I want to feel you everywhere," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.
"You have me," he replied, his voice thick with lust. "You have all of me."
He pushed deeper, his cock rubbing against the most sensitive parts of her interior. Draconia felt the pressure building, a swell of heat in her lower belly that threatened to consume her. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper into her pussy. He caught her lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue lashing against hers as he continued to fuck her. The rhythm was primal, a dance of skin and heat.
"Don't stop," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please, don't stop."
"I won't," he promised, his breath hot against her ear. "I am going to fill you."
He drove into her one last time, a long, deep thrust that seemed to reach her very soul. Draconia felt her orgasm beginning, a wave of heat that crashed through her. Her muscles clamped around his cock, the tight grip of her pussy drawing a guttural roar from his throat. He came inside her, his cum hot and thick as it filled her. She felt the pulsing of his cock as he finished, the sensation of his cum inside her making her head spin.
They lay there for a moment, their breathing heavy and synchronized, the fire still crackling in the hearth. The room was silent once more, the only sound the crackle of the logs and the soft scrape of their skin.
"The first rule," she whispered, her eyes opening to find his.
"We do not name it," he finished, a small, satisfied smile touching his lips.