The darkness of the night seemed to press in around them, narrowing the world down to just the two of them and the dirt. Draconia sat upright, wiping a smudge of wet earth from her cheek with the back of her hand. The ground was uneven and damp beneath her, but the cold was a secondary concern to the heat rising in her chest. Harry was staring at her, his hair a messy shadow in the moonlight, his eyes bright and startled. He looked as though he had been caught doing something much worse than simply running through the grounds.
"You are a complete and utter idiot," she snapped, her voice cracking as the frustration broke through her composure. "Do you even think before you move, or do you just let your feet carry you into certain death?"
Harry blinked, his hands hovering near his sides as if he were unsure whether to reach for her or retreat. "I didn't think anyone was following me, Draconia. It is not as if there is a parade for me in the middle of the forest."
"There is a difference between a parade and a near-collision with a tree that wants to kill you," she retorted, standing up unsteadily. Her legs felt heavy, and the adrenaline from the fall was beginning to ebb, leaving her trembling. "You act as if the world is your playground and you are the only one who matters in it."
"Is that what you think? That I am being selfish?" He stepped closer, his boots crunching on the grass. The movement was sudden, and she had to steady herself against the rough, scarred bark of the tree behind her.
"It is not what I think, it is what you are being," she said, her voice rising in volume. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. "You run blindly into things, Harry. You run into shadows and old shacks and trouble, and you never once look to see if anyone is watching you fall."
"I don't need anyone to watch me fall," he said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming sharp and defensive.
"But someone is!" she shouted, the sound tearing from her throat. "Someone is always watching, and you act as if you are alone in the dark!"
"Maybe you should stop watching then," he challenged, moving into her personal space until she could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. "If it bothers you so much, why do you keep coming after me?"
"Because you are an idiot!" she screamed, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "You are a reckless, stubborn, infuriating idiot, and you will get yourself killed because you are too busy being brave to be smart!"
The argument was a jagged thing, a weapon she used to bridge the distance between them. She was not actually shouting about his lack of caution; she was shouting because the terror of seeing him nearly struck by the branches had been too much to hold inside. The anger was a mask for the way her heart hammered against her ribs.
"You're so loud," he muttered, but his eyes were not angry. They were focused entirely on her mouth.
"I will be as loud as I want!" she cried, her breath hitching. "You are a menace, and you are—"
She did not finish the sentence because he leaned in, his mouth catching hers in a hard, desperate collision. The kiss was not gentle; it was a frantic reclamation. Her hands flew up to his hair, pulling him closer, and the anger dissolved into a fierce, hungry need.
Harry pushed her back against the trunk of the tree, his hands sliding under her robes to find the warm skin of her waist. He moved with a sudden, frantic strength, his lips bruising hers as he tasted her. Draconia let out a low moan into his mouth, her fingers digging into the nape of his neck. He broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.
"God, Draconia," he groaned, his voice a low vibration that she felt in her very bones. He fumbled with the fastenings of her robes, pulling the heavy fabric down until it pooled around her waist. He pushed her skirt up, bunching the fabric in his fists until he reached the edge of her knickers.
He didn't stop there. He hooked his fingers into the lace and pulled them down her thighs, exposing her pale skin to the cool night air. He knelt in the dirt before her, his head bowing as he pressed his face against the soft hair of her mound. Draconia gasped, her head falling back against the bark as he used his tongue to find her clitoris. He licked her wet slit, his tongue darting in and out of her pussy, making her hips jerk in a frantic rhythm.
"Harry, please," she breathed, her eyes squeezed shut. She reached down to grab his hair, guiding him as he slid two fingers deep inside her. He was fucking her with his fingers, the blunt pressure of his digit stretching her walls as he worked to find her center. He pushed his thumb against her clitoris, rubbing in circular motions that sent sparks of white heat through her abdomen.
He stood up, his movements clumsy and hurried. He unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it into the grass, and then he worked at his trousers. When he was free, his cock was thick and rigid, pulsing with a life of its its own. He leaned her back further, spreading her legs wide so he could stand between them.
He gripped her hips, his thumbs digging into her flesh, and guided the head of his cock to her opening. He pushed inward, a single, heavy thrust that filled her completely. Draconia let out a choked cry, her nails raking down his back as he slid into her. He was so large, stretching her pussy until it felt as though she might break, but the fullness was a relief she had been craving.
"You're so tight," he hissed, his face contorted with the effort of the entry. He began to move, his hips driving into hers with a rhythmic, brutal force. Each thrust was long and deep, the base of his cock slapping against her pubic bone with a wet, visceral sound.
He gripped her thighs, lifting her so she had to wrap her legs around his waist to stay upright. He fucked her with a singular focus, his cock sliding in and out of her cunt, coating the walls in her juices. She felt the friction of his skin against her, the heat of him driving her toward a precipable edge. She could feel the way his cock pulsed inside her, the blunt head of it hitting her cervix with every heavy lunge.
"More, Harry, fuck, more," she whispered, the words a plea. She was lost in the sensation of him filling her, the way his cock felt like a brand inside her heat.
He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming shorter and more violent. He was sweating now, his chest heaving as he drove himself into her. The sound of their bodies meeting, the wet slap of his cock entering her pussy, filled the small space between the trees. Draconia felt the tension building in her gut, a tight coil that was about to snap.
She felt the first wave of her orgasm hit, her muscles clenching around him in desperate, rhythmic spasms. She cried out his name, her body arching as her pussy squeezed his cock with an intense, pulsing pressure. The sensation was too much, too bright, and she felt the hot, thick spurt of his cum hitting her deep inside her. He groaned a low, guttural sound, his entire body tensing as he emptied himself into her, his cock twitching inside her wet, aching cunt.
They stayed like that for a long time, their breathing the only sound in the dark, the heat of their joined bodies a stark contrast to the cool night air. He lowered her back to the ground, his movements tender now, as he settled her