Date Night

The scent of liquor, perfume, and arousal filled the air of the small dance club. The aroma of sex was so thick that Hermione wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave or join in. A hard body behind her urged her towards the dance floor so she gave up any thoughts of running away. It was a Muggle club near Soho and the music was loud with a sensual beat that was almost hypnotic. She wasn’t one for dancing and certainly wasn’t fond of crowds but she had lost the bet so here she was.

“Muggles have such an intriguing way of dancing,” Blaise mused as he pressed against her from behind, elegant fingers moving up and down her arms lightly. “It rather looks like fucking with their clothes on, doesn’t it? Why don’t they simply get undressed if that’s what they wish to accomplish? Seems rather foolish to me.”

Hermione shivered when his low voice rasped the word fucking against her ear, followed by the roll of his hips forward to rub against her arse and lower back. He sounded as if he were giving a lecture on Muggle dance to a class of Muggle Studies students, his voice low and sensual in the way that made her wet even as she hated him for having that ability with just a word. His actions, however, were teasing and designed to drive her crazy. It was going to be one of those nights.

“Hermione, are you listening?” he asked in a scolding tone before his teeth nipped at her neck. “Do you want to dance, pet? Or maybe you want me to fuck you in the middle of the dance floor with Muggles all around?”

“No,” she hissed even as she pushed back against him. She really should hate him, or at least resent the hell out of him, for having the ability to arouse her, to make her forget her inhibitions and do the wildest things she knew she shouldn’t do, for freeing her from herself. He never pushed her to do anything she honestly didn’t want to do but he tempted her to be reckless and daring when it came to sex in a way that made her realize just what the fuss was all about.

“I think you’re lying,” he breathed against her neck as his strong arms wrapped around her and began to unbutton her coat. “I think that your nipples are already hard and your pretty little cunt is soaked with arousal just from the idea of having my cock inside you in the middle of this crowd. Such a little slut, aren’t you, my love?”

“I’m not the exhibitionist,” she reminded softly as he spread her coat open and one hand gently caressed her breast. She looked around wildly, relieved that no one was watching them, and bit her lip to keep from moaning when Blaise’s fingers twisted her nipple through the material of her dark blue corset. “You’re the one who likes that sort of attention, Blaise.”

He’d chosen her clothes for the evening, as per their bet, and she was now wearing a corset without a shirt to cover herself, a black skirt in soft leather that barely covered her arse, garters with stockings that showed a flash of pale thigh above the hem, and heels that she could barely walk in. She thought she’d look like a slag when she’d opened the boxes he’d left on their bed, but he’d chosen things that made her look sensual and sexy without looking cheap and common. His reaction to her ensemble was obvious and currently pressed against the small of her back.

Hermione never dressed like this usually unless it was the privacy of their bedroom. The sexiest she got out of the house was a flirty skirt that fell above her knees or a low-cut blouse that just hinted at the cleavage currently on display. She wasn’t exactly comfortable being this barely dressed in public and Blaise knew it. She should have known he’d use his win to dress her in provocative clothing to prove to her that she was gorgeous just as he always said.

Of course, the last time they’d made such a bet, she’d won and forced him to wear a Quidditch uniform, a sport he loathed, and let her be his eager groupie. If he wanted her to dress in leather and lace and go dancing at a Muggle club, well, it was more tame than some of the things they’d done during this sort of play. She liked pushing her boundaries, in all honesty, and Blaise had proven to be an excellent partner in that respect, so she had no real complaints beyond the initial uneasiness until she got comfortable or distracted by the handsome man currently making her body warm with arousal.

If she considered that their entire relationship had originally been based on lust, it wasn’t too surprising that they played so well together. It was much more now, of course, and had changed and developed over the last four years much to everyone’s shock, including their own. Neither had wanted a relationship when they’d originally run into each other at a pub one lonely night. There had always been an awareness between them, one they’d nearly indulged following one of their Slug Club meetings years ago when mead had been on both their breaths and the dungeon wall had been hard behind her back. They hadn’t, though, both stopping before it became more than a heated kiss and desperate groping session.

The lust and undeniable attraction had still been present eight years later when their gazes had meet across the pub. They’d gravitated towards each other, flirting and snarking at each other during two drinks before it had just overwhelmed them both. That was the first night Hermione had ever had sex anywhere but a bed (not that she‘d been terribly experienced even in the more vanilla types of sex). It had been frantic and rough against the wall of the loo with people going in and out as he’d fucked her in the stall. It had also been knee-weakening, body-trembling, and pretty much the best-sex-ever.

After they’d both come, he’d shocked her by taking her to her flat, teasing her until she’d been ready to hex him before she‘d come so hard she‘d nearly blacked out, and then not leaving in the middle of the night as she‘d expected. She’d been covered with bruises, bites, come, and dried sweat in the morning, felt totally depraved and debauched, and she’d shocked him by waking him with his cock in her mouth as she’d tried out a few techniques she’d read about. They’d been basically together ever since, though neither had acknowledged it was anything more than lust for months. It was about the sex, of course, and dinner or conversation just happened to be foreplay.

To this day, she wasn’t exactly sure who had mentioned moving in together six months later or if either of them had ever actually brought it up and it didn‘t just happen. He’d practically been living with her anyway by that point but her flat was rather tiny. There had been a section of the newspaper left open, she’d circled a few things, he’d circled a few things, they’d spent a few weekends touring places, and then they were packing to move into a much larger flat with a gorgeous view of a park they both liked. She figured they might eventually get married as they were nearly thirty now. If they did, she rather thought it would just happen like everything else had and no one else would even know until they felt like telling people.

The sex was still just as explosive as it had been that first night, but it certainly wasn’t always like tonight. The first few months, it had been experiments and doing the most outrageous things, fucking for hours until she wasn’t entirely sure how either of them could still move. The majority of the time now, it was passionate but rather normal. Blaise hadn’t lasted hours for several years unless it was a special occasion or he was feeling very frisky. And she couldn’t have continuous orgasms without getting sore or having to stop things because she needed to use the loo, but it was still amazing even if it was more making love now than anything else.

They did still like to play, though, and made bets once a month that resulted in the winner choosing a fantasy, activity, or position for their evening together. They indulged each other and Date Night, as they called it, was always circled in red on their calendars. She’d won the last two bets so she’d expected Blaise to really surprise her tonight. He loved to win, always so smug as he chose something wild and daring that made her balk but she always ended up enjoying.

Tonight, he was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, a complete contrast to her provocative attire. He looked as if he were on his way to a business meeting instead of planning to shag her rotten, as she expected to happen by the end of the night. The shirt made his skin look darker and she could swear his eyes were more tawny than brown tonight. The bits of yellow around his irises always intrigued her and the fun of Date Night always seemed to bring them to the forefront, as did arousal and anger.

She knew women and even men were looking at him. There were times she still felt rather out of place on the arm of someone so good-looking. He had inherited his mother’s exotic looks, though his skin was more the color of light cocoa while hers was a deep, rich dark chocolate. His father’s Italian blood gave him a gorgeous complexion, one many women would envy, and he told her he had his father’s eyes. Everything else, though, was from his mother. Tall and lithe, he moved with grace and elegance that was at times poetic and other times predatory. High cheekbones, full lips, smooth scalp, his body covered with just a fine amount of hair on his legs, chest, and arms that was barely noticeable with a bit more on his lower belly and around his cock, and toned in a way that was more hereditary than achieved through exercise or effort.

Thankfully, he had flaws or she might very well hate him, though few were physical. His nose was a little too wide and a little too long but often not noticed when put together with the rest of his features. He had broken it when he was a child and tried to fly one of his stepfather’s brooms, the reason he now hated Quidditch, she suspected. He hated to be less than the best at anything he tried, a perfectionist in a way that could be more infuriating than endearing. He was neat and liked organization, anal to a point of making her growl when he lined up silverware at meals precisely or reorganized her books because he wanted them sorted by color of spine and then alphabetically.

She had always thought she was organized until she’d begun to share a living space with Blaise. He was fussy about everything from clothes to dinnerware arrangements to the position of furniture, yet he loved to be messy when it came to sex. Instead of demanding a shower as soon it was over or even usually letting her go to the loo when she felt the normal urge to pee after it was all over, he wanted to lie on sweaty sheets and snuggle in the wet aftermath of their union.

Hermione felt him squeeze her breast and stopped thinking about the past to focus on him. Sometimes thinking was the only way to distract herself when he was feeling playful and planned to tease her until she begged. After all, she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging too soon. It took her a moment to realize he’d removed her coat while she’d been lost in thought and had maneuvered them onto the dance floor.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to join me again,” he said in a rather sharp tone. He hated to be ignored and she knew she’d pay for doing so. God, she couldn’t wait.

“Sorry,” she replied in a tone that hinted she wasn’t. He gripped her hips and pulled her back against him, grinding his erection against her arse.

“You like to be watched, Hermione,” he whispered against her hair as they began to dance to the new song playing, picking up the conversation from where she‘d dropped it previously. “The thrill of possibly being seen, of being caught, it makes you wet. Listen to that music, pet. Hear the rhythm? It’s made for sex. I should bend you over right here and fuck you until you’re screaming. Maybe then you’ll not ignore me.”

“Blaise,” she moaned as she leaned against his chest and raised her arm. She brushed her fingers against his neck, drawing little circles on the sensitive spots that made him rub against her. He might be intent on seducing her tonight but she knew where he liked to be touched, too, and had no plans of being an easy conquest. It was the challenge, the fire, the passion between them that drew them together, after all.

“Tonight, you’re my whore,” he purred against her ear before he licked the skin beneath it. “You like being my whore, don’t you, Hermione? Maybe I should let everyone here watch you. I can bind them all and have them stare at you as you fuck yourself with your fingers, your hand, your wand. Would you like that, pretty pet? Watch them wank because you’re so fucking hot and they want to fuck your cunt, your arse, your mouth, until you’re covered in their come. Maybe I should bind you instead and let them all have you. Watch the women lick your cunt, watch you fuck their cunts with your lovely tongue that’s so bloody talented while the men fuck you so hard you’re not able to move when they’re all done.”

His words aroused her, always aroused her. He was so prissy, in a way, refined and sophisticated, and yet his words were vulgar and dirty, a contrast just like him. She knew he’d never share, especially not the way he liked to tease her with, but it turned her on to think about being used like that even if it wasn’t anything she actually ever wanted to happen. He could paint the most vivid depraved images with his words and he knew she couldn’t resist them. He wasn’t playing fair tonight, the Pureblood bastard.

“Nothing to say, Hermione?” He chuckled against her shoulder as he moved his hand to rest on her belly. “That is unusual. Do you see the Muggles practically fucking all around us, pet? Look at that blonde over there by the pole. Do you think she’s turned on by being watched? I bet her nipples aren’t as hard as yours are, but she does have great tits.”

“I see them,” she muttered as she glared at the blonde with the large breasts who was dancing against the pole in a way that seemed like she was fucking it.

“She’s a slag,” Blaise murmured as he slid his fingertips beneath the bottom of her corset and began to stroke her belly. “A common, brainless slag. You’re so much more than her.”

Hermione smiled and scratched the back of his neck lightly in the way that made him growl and press more firmly against her. She dismissed the blonde and looked at the other dancers, noticing most were dancing like she and Blaise. It was like sex with their clothes on and it was rather arousing. While she’d never admit she did like the possibility of getting caught, Blaise knew that she liked to watch. Her breasts were barely contained by the corset he had chosen and she nervously licked her lips and resisted the urge to cover herself when he tugged it down just enough for them to fall out of their cups.

“Just relax,” he whispered before the song changed and became slower and more sensual. “You have great tits, Hermione. Just look at your nipples, how hard they are, just tempting me to taste and touch. See the bloke by the wall? He’s looking at you, staring at your tits, not entirely sure he’s seeing what he’s seeing. He’s hard against the denim of his jeans and he wishes he could lick your nipples and squeeze your breasts but he’ll have to be content with going to the loo and wanking because he‘ll never touch you like I do.”

As he spoke, his hand moved up her ribs and finally enclosed around her breast. He tugged on her nipple, the lace of the corset rubbing against the underside of her breasts as he bent her forward and pushed against her arse. “Blaise, we can’t---”

“Yes, we can,” he growled softly as he kneaded her breast and moved his other hand to rest on her thigh before it moved up and beneath her skirt. “I’m going to fuck you, Hermione. Right here, right now, with everyone around. I’m going to raise this skimpy skirt and thrust my cock inside your wet cunt until you’re shuddering and whimpering for more. God, do you feel how wet you are? You want this, want them all to see that you’re my beautiful whore, want me to make you scream.”

His fingers entered her as he spoke, stroking her cunt as he continued to squeeze her breast and grind against her from behind. She was wet, of course. How could any woman resist Blaise Zabini or, for that much, any man? She didn’t care what sex you preferred, there was no way you could say no to Blaise Zabini if he wanted you. And, yes, she was just slightly smug over the fact that he’d chosen her when he could have had anyone, really.

Her with her messy hair and permanent ink stains on her fingers it seemed. Her with her average size breasts (the left slightly bigger than the right), curvy hips and slight belly that would actually require exercise to get rid of, which wasn’t something she’d waste time doing if she could be reading or spending time with Blaise or her friends. Her with her opinions and stubbornness and ability to make even the most calm person frustrated on more than one occasion if she was being particularly feisty and assertive. Her with her messy sock and knicker drawer and the bad habit of leaving the cap off the toothpaste in the morning, though the latter might be due to the fact that she rather liked when he growled and his eyes became almost yellow as he’d chase her through the flat until he caught her.

Of course, he was extremely fortunate that she had allowed him to choose her, and he knew it.

The song changed again. Sultry with a low rhythm that made her groan as he moved his hips in time, stimulating sex as he kept fucking her with those elegant fingers that played her as well as they played his piano. Hermione raised her head, her long loose curls falling past her shoulder as she arched against him. She saw the bloke by the wall still watching, his hand in his jeans as he touched himself, and she shivered with excitement at being seen like this from a safe distance.

Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the blonde grinding against the pole with her gaze firmly fixed on her and Blaise. The woman’s skirt was pulled up around her thighs and she was rubbing the pole in time with the music as she lightly caressed her big breasts. She winked at Hermione and licked her lips before her gaze fell to where Hermione’s skirt was pulled up.

“Do you want me to call her over here?” Blaise asked huskily as he rubbed her clit with firm circles. “Want her to lick your cunt while I fuck you? I bet she’s good at licking cunt. Watch her fuck that pole, pretty pet. She wishes it was your hand between her legs, your fingers fucking her so hard she can’t breathe, your lips on her tits. Come for me, Hermione. Right here with everyone able to watch. I won’t fuck you until you do.”

“Blaise,” she whimpered as she pushed against his hand, holding on to his shoulder as his fingers thrust deeper. His knuckle rubbed against her clit and she felt him against her arse, so hard and ready. Feeling the gaze of at least two known people on them was too much. She slid over the edge, whining deep in her throat as her body tensed then shuddered as she came.

“You’re so fucking hot, my pretty little whore,” he murmured against her ear as he kept moving his fingers until she’d stop trembling. The song changed, faster with a pulsing bass line. He pulled her skirt up higher, not baring her completely but enough that no one would have any doubts what they were doing. Her curls were damp and she felt come on the inside of her thighs when he wiped his fingers against her skin, getting her messy for him to clean up after, she knew. “Time to fuck.”

“Yes, please,” she hissed as she heard the rustle of fabric and then his cock, hard and thick and ready, was pressing against her cunt. He rubbed it along her wet lips several times before he angled his hips and entered her with one deep thrust. Her back arched and the corset slipped further down, her breasts bouncing as he began to move with the music. Fast and hard, no pretense of sensuality or sultriness now.

She didn’t care who was watching anymore. Let them watch. She met his thrusts eagerly, pushing back against him as she leaned forward for a better angle. Her gaze met the blonde’s and she smiled as she saw the woman trembling as she touched herself beneath her dress. Hermione daringly licked her lips and blew her a kiss before she reached up and squeezed her breast, moaning as Blaise rubbed a certain spot. The couples continued to dance around them, most oblivious to the true nature of her and Blaise’s dance, some watching and some touching each other as they enjoyed the show.

“Such a wicked whore,” Blaise complimented as he gripped her hips hard and dragged her back onto his cock. His fingers tangled in her hair and he raised her up. She turned her head, kissing him passionately as they fucked in the middle of the dance floor. The lights and their actions had her body sweaty and the scent of sex was thick in the air around them. She tightened around him when he pulled out, squeezing him until he was gasping against her lips.

It didn’t take him long. The foreplay and her earlier orgasm had him on edge, the idea they were being watched excited him as much as it did her, and soon he was growling quietly as he thrust once, twice, three times before he spilled inside her. He came hard, panting as he kept moving until he was completely spent. The song ended and another began. He finally slid out of her, his come dripping to the floor beneath them as he smoothed her skirt back down and straightened her corset.

“They came,” she whispered as she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled mischievously, blushing even now at what they’d just done but enjoying it too much to care. “She came all over that pole like a slutty slag and he came in his shorts like a teenager.”

“Did they?” he mused as he fastened his trousers and turned her to face him. He kissed her again, slow and thorough, before he released her. “Let’s go home. I plan to tie you up and lick you clean, pretty pet.”

“All right,” she agreed as she took his hand, looking over her shoulder to wink at the blonde as they collected her coat and left the club. Blaise pulled her against him as soon as they were outside, pushing her against the brick wall to kiss her again, his hands moving beneath her skirt to stroke her wet cunt, fingers getting wet from their combined come as they kissed passionately. She wrapped her arms around him and Disapparated, eager to get home to see what else he had planned for Date Night.

The End