The floor was cold against her skin, but the heat from his body was a singular, heavy weight. Harry moved with a deliberate, punishing slowness that she had not expected from a man who usually rushed to finish his tea or his sentences. This was not the quick, frantic friction of the last time they had been in the east wing; this was a measured dissection. He had her pinned between his thighs, his weight pressing her into the rug, and the grit of the fabric felt rough against her bare thighs. She was trying to maintain the illusion that this was a transaction, a favour she was dispensing to keep him from being a clumsy duellist, but the way his hands gripped her hips made the lie feel thin.
"You are being too careful," she murmured, her voice a low rasp in the quiet of the room.
Harry did not answer with words, but instead gripped her waist tighter and drove his cock deep into her pussy. The blunt force of it made her gasp, her head snapping back against the floor. He was not being gentle, and she found she did not want him to be. She wanted the weight of him to erase the polite distance she had spent weeks perfecting. He pulled back until he was almost out, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance, and then he pushed in again with a heavy, rhythmic thud. The sensation of him filling her was a thick, stretching fullness that made her hips tilt upward instinctively.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice stripped of its usual sarcasm.
"I want you to stop pretending this is a lesson," she said, her fingers digging into the muscle of his arms.
He grunted, a low, animal sound, and began to fuck her with a more aggressive pace. The sound of their bodies meeting was wet and heavy, a rhythmic slapping of skin on skin that filled the small space. She watched him as he worked, watching the way his jaw tightened and the way his sweat made his skin glisten. He was looking at her with a hunger that felt far too honest for a man who prided himself on being a master of composure. Every time he thrust his cock into her cunt, she felt the pressure build in her lower belly, a tightening ache that demanded more of him.
"It is a favour, Harry," she reminded him, though the words felt hollow as she wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer. "You are simply learning to hold your tension."
"You are a liar," he muttered, leaning down to catch her mouth in a bruising kiss.
He pulled out of her almost entirely, the cool air hitting her wetness for a fraction of a second before he plunged back in. The friction of his cock sliding against her walls was intense, making her muscles clench around him in a desperate, rhythmic pulse. She felt the slickness of her own juices coating his shaft, making the movement easier, more fluid, and more punishing all at once. He was hitting her depth with every stroke, a blunt, heavy sensation that made her vision blur. She was no longer sure where her body ended and his began; there was only the sensation of him, the heat of him, and the way he seemed to be trying to reach her very core.
He shifted his weight, moving from the floor to a position where he could look down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. He began to move his hips in a circular motion, a grinding sensation that sent a fresh wave of heat through her. The way he rubbed his cock against her clitoris as he thrust made her cry out, the sound muffled by the way he pressed his mouth to her throat. She felt the build of her orgasm, a tightening coil of sensation that she could not control, and she realized that she was no longer performing the role of the teacher. She was just a woman being taken, stripped of her poise and her clever retorts.
"Tell me again," he whispered, his breath hitching as he felt her walls tighten around him. "Tell me what this is."
"It is a transaction," she said, her voice trembling as the first waves of a climax began to roll through her. "You are paying for the instruction, and I am providing the service, and it is a very simple arrangement, really, if you just focus on the way you are hitting the mark and the way the rhythm is supposed to dictate the outcome of the engagement, but you are being far too greedy with your movements and you are not following the structure of the drill, and if you would just listen to the way my breath is changing then you would understand that the way you are fucking me is actually quite efficient, even if it is a bit messy and lacks the refinement of a proper duelling stance, but then again, you always were better at the brute force than the finesse, weren't you?"
She was talking too fast, her words tumbling over one another to fill the terrifying silence of her own vulnerability. She was using the language of the classroom to mask the fact that she was coming, her body shaking with the force of it. She felt the heat of her orgasm bloom inside her, a pulsing, heavy sensation that made her cunt squeeze his cock with a desperate strength. She was trying to keep the conversation going, trying to keep the control, but the more she spoke, the more the truth began to bleed through her polished veneer.
"It is just a favour," she said, her voice cracking as she felt the first swell of a release. "A simple, uncomplicated favour that requires no emotional investment and certainly no thought of how much the weight of your body is crushing me right now, but you are always so demanding of the space, aren't you, and you always have to be the one who decides when the lesson is over, even when the lesson is clearly working perfectly well without your interference, and you are being incredibly greedy with your fucking, Harry, because you are taking everything and giving nothing back but this heavy, blunt sensation that makes it impossible to think or breathe or pretend that this is just a way to improve your technique."