Paper Faces on Parade

Section 10:

He awoke to the sensation of soft fingers tracing over his skin, and had to fight back the urge to start jumping up and down in sheer pleasure and surprise that this time, it hadn’t been a dream. She was really there, with him. Sharing his bed. Touching him. Drawing… flag shapes on hiouldoulder?

“Sweetheart?” he asked, playing with her hair. “Why are you drawing flags on my shoulder?”

She looked up at him with a grin that made him forget to breathe for a minute. “I’m creating an empire,” she explained, schooling her features into a serious countenance. “I’ve claimed your shoulder. It’s mine now.”

“You claimed my shoulder?”

Hermione nodded. “Through the cunning use of flags. I’ve discovered I’m quite fond of your shoulder. I wanted it to belong to me. So I planted a flag on it and now it’s mine. That’s how you build an empire.”

“Very clever,” he replied, lifting a lock of hair to his lips to kiss.

“Yes, I’m very bright,” Hermione answered. “And very… imperialistic at the moment, I find. I think I’ll claim this,” she planted a kiss on his pectoral, “… and this…” another kiss, this one on his nipple, “… and, oh, what’s this?” She slid her hand down his chest till it reached the sheet at his waist. “Undiscovered territory to claim!”

Draco laughed at her enthusiasm as she pushed the sheet aside and aligned her face with his newly bared and rapidly swelling crotch. “Is this for me?” she asked innocently, nuzzling his growing erection.

“What do you think?” he answered, smirking.

Hermione placed a kiss on the tip of his penis, giggling when it twitched at her touch. “I think it likes me,” she answered. “Can I keep it?”

“If you think you can handle it,” he retorted.

“Let’s see, shall we?”

Draco opened his mouth to make some unquestionably brilliant and snarky remark, but the words vanished like smoke when he felt his erection slide all way way into her mouth and throat. Damn, but she was good at that.

She pulled back so her mouth covered only the tip and sucked on it, hard, then relaxing her mouth to caress the length of him with just her tongue, which slid all the way down to the root, then further, down to his balls, then further still, to dance lightly over his perineum. The last time Draco moaned that loudly, mediwitches were pulling a six-inch dragon fang out of his thigh. She nuzzled her face in the crinkly hair covering his groan and sighed happily as she breathed in the scent of him. Draco started whimpering.

Hermione laughed softly. “How’m I doing so far?” she teased.

“Damn, woman,” Draco groaned. “You’ll be the death of me.”

Hermione lifted her head enough to look him in the eye, a mischievous smile on her face. “But what a way to go, right?”

“Hell, yes,” Draco snarled, grabbing her shoulders and yanking her body up along the length of his so he could capture her mouth in a kiss. One hand tangled in her hair while the other latched onto her marvelous arse, maintaining the contact between their hips so he could continue to rub his erection against her body.

“I think it’s time to do a little claiming of my own,” he purred, rolling them over so that he was on top. He planted a brief but firm kiss on her lips. “I claim your mouth,” he announced, “out of medical emergency, because I’ve discovered I simply must taste it… oh, I’d say at least five times a day, in order to lead a contented life.”

He lowered his mouth to her neck, finding that elusive spot… right… ah, yes, right there, that made her shiver from head to toe and wrap her arms and legs around him. Oh yes, he *definitely* wanted to claim that spot. “I claim this,” he whispered huskily, sucking it firmly into his mouth so it would be clearly marked for future reference, “since I don’t want *anyone* to learn what it does to you other than *me*.”

He shifted down her body a bit so that he was lined up with her breasts. “Such perfect beauties,” he stated cupping them in his hands. “What kindpirapirate would I be if I didn’t seize upon such treasure?” Sucking his fingers briefly into his mouth, just enough to get them wet, he latched onto one nipple with his mouth, and the other with his wet fingers. Hermione’s legs, already wrapped around his waist, tightened as she lifted her hips against his, and her hands slipped into his hair, trying to hold his head in place, but he slid away from her grip, lowering his body further to place a kiss on her bellybutton.

“Hmm, I want to claim this, too,” he stated with teasing thoughtfulness. “But I feel like I’m forgetting something. Darling,” he looked up to catch Hermione’s eye, “can you think of something I’m forgetting?”

“You’re forgetting to keep going, you wicked, *evil* pirate,” she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

He gave her a very pirate-like grin in return before sliding his tongue slowly from her bellybutton to between her breasts, staring into her eyes the entire time. “What can I say?” he teased. “I was born a naughty boy! Hmm, but that does remind me,” he continued, breaking eye contact to look down at the saliva trail he had left. “I know what I’ve forgotten! If I’m to claim you, I’ll need a flag, won’t I?” Hermione nodded slowly, uncertain what, precisely, he was getting at.

“A flag,” he announced. “I can do that.” His hand slid down, slowly and deliberately, from its place on her hip to caress her upper thigh, and then slide inwards. Hermione gasped when she felt his fingers just barely brushing against her curls, and Draco grinned again in response as he opened her gently, and slid a careful finger inside. His grin brightened at the dripping wetness that he found, and he lubricated his finger in it thoroughly before pulling it out. She gasped when he placed the tip of the finger on her belly, and began, in the lightest, most tickling of touches, to trace the outline of a giant flag on her abdomen. The flag was so sizeable that his finger grew dry before he had more than a line or so drawn, leading him to dip his finger down inside her for a fresh batch of his favorite type of paint while softly whistling “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

“Bastard,” she growled, torn between the desire to pull away from his tickling touch and to press closer to imbed his finger more fully inside her as he returned again and again to her dripping folds to gather more of her lubrication. The light, tickling touch, the teasing pleasure of his finger lazily exploring her folds, and the slow, deliberate manner in which he played her like a bloody violin had her shaking with arousal, too busy gasping for air to be able to curse him properly for teasing her so mercilessly.

After what seemed like several centuries, at *least*, he finally finished tracing the ‘flag’ on her soft flesh. She was literally shaking with need now, both of her wrists pinned above her head with one of his hands from a hundred years or so before when she lost all patience with him and tried to finish herself off, and her hips twisting and grinding, trying to rub up against him for long enough to give herself the satisfaction that she needed so desperately. Amusement was clearly evident in his eyes as he smiled down at her, incredibly aroused at the wanton picture that she made.

“I do believe there’s one last place for me to claim,” he stated conversationally, his grin expanding when all she could manage to do was moan in response and thrust her hips a bit more energetically in his direction. Taking the hint, he positioned himself alongside her, releasing her wrist so he could use both hands to hold onto her hips and make sure that this happened at *his* pace. When the sexual tension had mounted so high that not even *he* could stand it anymore, he thrust forward firmly, burying himself inside her.

Her hands slid down from over her head to entrap themselves in his hair, pulling his face down to hers so that she could return the favor of his deep penetration by a little invasion of her own, slipping her tongue into his mouth and savoring the taste of him from the inside out, just as surely as he savored the feel of her from where he was buried all the way within her depths. She kissed him feverishly until she reached the point where maintaining the kiss any longer would make her pass out and miss all of the wonderful things he was doing to her body. Only then was she willing to release his mouth and suck in desperate breaths of air. Draco was panting as well, his smooth, teasing manner of only minutes before absolutely gone as he shuddered and shook and panted and gasped at how wonderfully, perfectly right it felt to lose himself inside her like that.

Mustering his last remaining shreds of self-control that insisted that he make this as good for her as he possibly could, he slipped his hand between their bodies, seeking and eventually locating her clit. Though his hands were shaking, his movements were careful and deliberate, and even in her lust, Hermione realized that his strokes weren’t random, but that he was tracing the shape of a flag on her clit, claiming it as his. That realization was enough to send her over the edge. Letting out a scream that was only a few decibels short of a glass-breaking pitch, she exploded, bringing Draco right along with her as he let go inside her, keeping up the movements of his thumb on her clit to prolong her orgasm as much as possible. Only when he was sure that he had wrenched from the situation every possible morsel of ecstasy that their bodies could handle did he allow his body to relax, collapsing next to her on the bed.

Summoning the very last of his supplies of energy to move his limp-as-spaghetti body, he scooted over just enough to wrap an arm around her body as he pressed his lips gently but firmly against hers.

“Mine,” he whispered. “I’ve claimed every inch of you now. You’re mine.”

Hermione let out a shaky sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh as she attempted to recover from the earth-shattering orgasm. “I guess that means this is more than a one-night stand, doesn’t it?” she quipped.

Draco’s grip tightened involuntarily. “I’d be okay with this being a happily-ever-after stand,” he stated cautiously, his wits returning to him as he realized just what an important moment this might turn out to be. “How about you?”

“Mmm,” she replied sleepily, nestling closer and nuzzling her face into his warm chest. “You did claim me; very thoroughly, I might add; so I suppose that means that I’m your responsibility now.”

Draco smiled, planting a soft kiss on her hair. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of her digital clock. It was a little after one in the morning. He felt his heart sink into his stomach. He had promised himself that he would tell her the truth when the masquerade was over, and now he had no more excuses.

“It’s Sunday,” he said softly.”

“Is it?” Hermione asked disinterestedly, lifting her head just enough to look at the clock. “Oh, I guess it is. I feel a little bad that we missed the unmasking. I know Jim was planning to make a speech. Remind me to owl him later to apologize.”

“I think it’s time I took my mask off now, love.”

Assuming he was teasing her, Hermione giggled. “Silly boy,” Hermione answered, nuzzling against his neck. “I think I’ve already unmasked every inch of you.”

“Not quite,” Draco whispered hoarsely. “There’s… one more mask to go. One more thing I’ve been keeping from you. One more thing that you need to know.”

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