A Thief to Catch a Thief; a Death Eater to Catch a

By popular request; The kitchen table.









Hermione thoroughly disliked portkeys, and now, stood in the kitchen sink of Malfoy Manor, she disliked them even more. She could have coped if she’d landed in the house-elf-high sink, it was only a foot off the ground; but no, the portkey put them in the one used by human caterers, thus it was full sized.



“This isn’t the entrance hall.” She said dryly, mentally writing the letter of complaint she would be sending to the planning department.



“Is it that obvious?” Lucius said in utter sarcasm, jumping down from the sink and offering Hermione a hand.



“ I can’t jump in these heels, Lucius, can you help me down?” she said sheepishly. She’d faced trolls, Death Eaters, werewolves, dementors, more Death Eaters, dragons, merpeople, even more Death Eaters… and she had been beaten by a pair of shoes.



“Come on, milady, lets get you down from there.” Lucius said with a sweeping bow. He swept a winged arm around her knees, pulling them to his chest; his other arm went to her lower back. Squeezing, he pulled her knees into his chest and her abdomen to his face. “Lift your legs.” He said, walking backwards and setting her down on the central island in the middle of the kitchen, steps made the tall counter more accessible to the House Elves.



“Thanks.” Hermione said, looking into the wizard’s eyes. The slate grey depths were clear and bright; one eye slightly bloodshot thanks to a drunken brawl that broke out between two female employees, Lucius stepped in to break it up and ended up with a face full of elbows as he physically picked up the aggressor to split the fray.



Slowly, Lucius retracted his animagus form, his arms back to being pale and muscled. Hermione took the time to notice his figure accented by the shadows on the tight black shirt. Hermione hadn’t realised black could have shadows – but there was a lighter shade of black where the ridges of firm abdominals and pectorals caught the light; and pitch black areas where shadows dipped into the crevices between the definite ridges.



“Have I got something on my shirt?” Lucius asked, sweeping his hand over the fabric searching for stains.



“No.” Hermione said, neutrally.



“Why were you staring at it, then?” he asked, puzzled.



“No reason… and it is rude to go into people’s minds without telling them.” Hermione said, blocking Lucius’s Legilimens with Occlumency.



“Hmmm… very rude, bordering on obscene, perhaps?” Lucius said, one eyebrow raised, putting his hands on either side of Hermione’s body as she sat on the work surface.



“Perhaps…” she said slyly, moving backwards so the backs of her knees touched the cold marble of the surface.



“Oh, you dare move away? Your bottle of potion denied my pleasure when they took the pictures for the calendar; you have flirted with me for months; you spent the past three hours grinding against me…” Lucius growled, leaning over Hermione, dropping his head to her neck and drinking in her scent.



“If this goes further, it can’t go back.” She said, angling her head so he could continue his nasal exploration of the back of her ear.



“No, but we would maintain a professional working relationship while at work.” He replied, his voice husky and gravely in his arousal.



“But it would go no further than friends with benefits – I don’t do relationships.” Hermione warned him, yanking his hair so she could look at his face, judging whether he was actually taking any notice of what she was saying.



“What does that mean?” Lucius asked, wanting clarification – honestly, he couldn’t care, as long as he saw some action before dawn came.



“Sex, no emotions.” Hermione said, her face a picture of seriousness, in comparison to the lust-fueld expression Lucius wore.



“Agreed.” Lucius said, moving to kiss her.



She moved away from his plundering lips, her fingertips covering his mouth.



“Kissing is involved with the emotional bit, its too close, too intimate.”



“And sex isn’t?” Lucius said from behind her digits, puzzled.



“No. It isn’t.” she replied, gasping as Lucius dragged her forward on the smooth marble.



“Well, this had better not be – I’ve wanted to do this for months.” With that he dropped his crumpled cape to the tiled floor, kneeling on it before his nymph. Quickly he divested her of her shoes and undergarments, leaving the tiny dress where it was. He reinstated the leather tie back into his long hair; pushed her thighs part and burrowed his lips in her femininity, nipping gently, smoothing the tiny bites with kisses.



“No – trust me, that’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.” She gasped, digging her fingernails into his scalp.



To tell the truth, Lucius had done this once with Narcissa, she had hated it, deeming it unhygienic and revolting – to say she would not return the favour was an understatement. Lucius was doing his best to learn Hermione’s moans and sighs, the areas that responded, the touches the response required. Lucius knew how to read people, and Hermione was no exception.



He remembered everything he’d done in reverse, from the first lick to the tiny lip-covered nibbles he was using on that most cherished little bundle of nerve endings. He hoped this wasn’t a one off.



“Oh God! Don’t stop that! More… please… more.” Hermione gasped, her fingernails digging into his scalp, the little daggers urging him on in his oral explorations.



Slowly, Lucius entered one long finger into her, gently massaging her; it wasn’t long before he found that hidden pleasure spot. A few gentle presses on the spongy section within her and Hermione was practically riving his hair from his scalp as she began to tumble from her high.



“Lucius, Lucius! Oh God! Lucius!” she cried as she began to spasm and tighten around his digits; his mouth left her so he could gaze into her face as she hit completion.



“Lucius… Lucius! Merlin! Lu…” she trailed off, her eyes and inner walls fluttering simultaneously. Her chest heaved, the sparkles on the nymph dress catching the light. He’d never seen anything so primal, so natural, so beautiful – and never expected it to be in silence.



The only sounds to be heard were her erratic shallow breaths, and Lucius’s deep, laboured ones as he watched in awe as she tumbled into oblivion.



“That was… mmm…” Hermione gasped, gently untying the hair band and combing the orgasm-induced snags from his hair. His hair was soft, damp at the nape with perspiration – it also had several nasty snags in it thanks to her talons.



“Definitely.” Lucius said, arching into the little tugs and pains she was causing; his senses were on edge in the dimmed kitchen, enhanced by passion. What would have normally hurt simply added to everything he was already feeling.



“Come here.” Hermione commanded gently, taking Lucius’s had from between her thighs and pulling him to a standing position. Deftly she undid his belt and dropped the tight trousers down, Lucius pushing them (and his boots) the rest of the way off. He stood in the backless tight shirt and black cotton boxers. Boxers that did nothing to hide the bulge beneath them.



“Drop them too.” She whispered in his ear, Lucius followed the order without question, putting thumbs into the waistband and dropping them down firm thighs to slim ankles. He stood before her in all his naked glory, flickering dim candles giving him an ethereal image.



“Shit! That’s cold!” he hissed as a slim, slippery hand wrapped around his length and began pumping, covering him in whatever the substance was.



“Shhh… it will help, even with excellent foreplay, I don’t tend to be wet enough for it.” Hermione said, continuing to make him slicker.



“Please tell me you are now – It’s going to be a short evening if you continue that.” He groaned, dropping his head into the crook of her neck.



He was unceremoniously tugged by his cock to her entrance, and slid in easily.



“Mmmmh, Aaaah, Nuhh, Oh Merlin, so tiiiiiiiiight…” he moaned as her walls clamped down on him. He began to thrust gently, getting used to the feeling of such a grip around him after so long. It took moments before her talons digging into his rear acted as spurs and increased his speed and force.



As one to prove that males were capable of multitasking, Lucius continued his thrusts as he pushed the straps of the little dress down, bending to press his face into her breasts. She wasn’t huge, the small mounds would barely fill his hands; but they sat firm and pert above a slightly rounded abdomen and flared hips.



“Oh… mmmm… oh, oh… ahhh! Oh Gods, Lucius!” Hermione screeched as the angle he bent at increased the pressure on both her g-spot and clitoris simultaneously.



It wasn’t her screams that took him over, it wasn’t her fingernails raking down his back, it wasn’t the feel of her contracting around him – it was the silent gasp and the look of pure bliss on her face.



Her head fell back, eyes closed; blood-flushed lips opened slightly; chest sporting a bright pink flush. She was without doubt a woman who knew pleasure, and had no qualms with naturally showing it. He followed her to climax with a whisper of her name as he pressed himself into her as far as he could go.



***



Lucius apparated them to his bedroom, where they talked of little things and explored the other’s sated body with caressing fingertips and agile tongues.



It was some time later when Hermione asked: “Where’s the guest room?” rising from the bed and putting on his pyjama top.



“What?” he replied, somewhat fuzzy with pleasure.



“Guest. Room. Where?” she said, sarcastically.



“What do you want a guest room for? What’s wrong with this one?” Lucius said, sitting up.



“To sleep.” She said, surely the answer to that question was obvious?



“Why not sleep here – I promise, I can’t ravish you anymore tonight, I’m rather empty.” He chuckled in male satisfaction.



“I don’t sleep with casual sex partners – too messy in the morning.” She shrugged, buttoning the too-big top over her figure.



“Do you let anyone in emotionally?” Lucius asked, reaching for his pyjama bottoms.



“No.” Hermione replied, no further comment offered, she walked to the door, reaching for the handle.



“Third door down to the left.” He said, extinguishing the light from the room before she saw his look of anger. He wasn’t sure who he was angry at, he’d agreed to no-strings-sex, but surely sleeping in the same bed didn’t count as strings?



“Night, Lucius.”



“Night Hermione.”



The door closed; leaving Lucius sated, but alone.