Draco and Hermione Shag, a Lot

Coming to know Draco as a friend was something Hermione cherished.

He was a changed man after the war. Repentant, remorseful, and charitable.

He spent years working on a potions mastery and spent most of his time thereafter refining old potions to reduce their side effects and brewing others to donate to the Ministry and St. Mungos, keeping their stocks up brimming.

It was difficult and expansive work, Hermione knew because he ended up hiring her as an assistant, in desperate need of qualified help, after she left the irritating red tape bureaucracy of the Ministry.

When the two developed a potion to minimize the phantom tremours found in Cruciatus curse victims, it was more rewarding than the last three years at the Ministry altogether.

Yes, Hermione cherished his friendship and the wit and flirtations that came with it.

But she adored being his lover.

The control he took, the darkness of his touch, the ghost of pain with tremendous pleasure—Hermione never experienced anything as such before and now she couldn’t imagine her life without Draco and his command in it.

However—

However, the special kind of torture of sitting on his cock, unmoving, as he reviewed documents on his desk made her consider if she should have pursued a vanilla romance with a more boring man.

The weight and mass of his large cock pressed inside of her cunt so fully, stretching her walls, the head kissing against her cervix and sending jolts of pain and pleasure with any minute movement was devastating.

Her body was full, obscenely so, but she needed more.

Thrusting, bucking, rutting, fucking—oh how desperately she wanted Draco to hold her down and use her cunt until her thighs quaked and her quim ached.

Instead, she was forced to sit and wait. And, despite only warming his cock for an hour, barely moving and with her hands on her lap (scrunching the fabric of her skirt tightly in her fists to keep from furiously rubbing her clit—this was for his pleasure, not hers), her cunt was a mess. Her lips were flushed and swollen around the base of his cock, her clit was so sensitive it hurt, and her slick stuck irritatingly along Hermione’s thighs and soaked Draco’s pants to the point where there was a distractingly obvious smell of a needy cunt in the closed room.

Hermione took a calming breath through her nose as she tried to focus on anything but how her cunt walls were memorizing every ridge, vein, and contour of Draco’s magnificent cock.

Hermione leaned forward to read the document Draco was filling out, desperate to distract her mind. Oh! It was an analysis on the use of different breeds of lacewing flies in attempt to increase the therapeutic index of Dreamless Sleep so it could be used in stronger doses for those suffering from debilitating nightmares with a much lower risk of adverse effects. Hermione remembered helping Draco brew over one hundred different batches to—

Draco shifted in his seat and his cockhead brushed against her a-spot, right in front of her cervix and the shock of pleasure was too much.

Hermione let out a deep, prolonged groan and flopped back against Draco’s body, forcing him to let go of his quill. She canted her hips and began grinding softly on his cock, forcing his head to brush against her cervix and a-spot over and over.

Hermione was sure if someone even breathed on her aching clit, at that moment, she would come so hard it would knock her out.

Instead, she received a harsh, slap over her covered cunt from Draco’s large palm and the sharpness of pain was just enough to keep her orgasm at bay, causing her to sob out in dismay. He gripped her thigh so tightly she was unable to keep bucking her hips and pleasuring herself on his cock.

“It’s barely been an hour, you filthy girl.” Draco tutted in her ear, his voice all husk and depravity and Hermione was still so keyed up, despite the slap, she could probably come if he kept muttering degrading comments into her ear.

Hermione began blabbering before she finally let out a coherent sentence, “Sir, please, please, I know I’ve been worthless, useless, but I-I want to come so badly.”

“Hmmm, at least you know that much about yourself…but how will you learn if I let you come? Maybe I should send you home like this, leaking and empty.” Draco gently gripped her throat, the pale skin of his hand contrasting beautifully against her olive tone. He brushed a calloused thumb against her pulse point, forcing whimpers out of Hermione’s lips.

“I-if that is what you want sir, if that will make you h-happy,” Hermione managed to eek out despite tears of disappointment and frustration already forming.

“Oh, oh darling, you really have me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

Hermione shook her head, not understanding what Draco was talking about, but she didn’t have time to ponder it when he reached underneath her skirt and began toying around her swollen clit, his fingers gliding all the way up to her damp pubic hair and back, but avoiding her clit itself, making her tremble wantonly as he played with her body.

“You’re a pathetic little cock warmer, but that’s okay pet, I’m going to teach you, it’s my duty to guide you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, train me, please,” Hermione begged, her tongue sticking out as she panted, obsessed with the idea of becoming the perfect cock warming tool for her sir.

For her Draco.

He dipped his fingers down, gently circling her clit, slowly approaching it.

“Come, Granger,” and when Draco pinched her clit, Hermione came so hard she shrieked until her voice went raw and she squirted, her fluids splashing onto his documents and ruining hours worth of hard work by Draco. Hermione didn’t even have time to apologize because she passed out, her cunt still clinging and squeezing around his cock.