The Gallows Chapter 21

Draco didn’t hesitate the way Hermione thought he would.

Instead, some final cord within him snapped, and his hands delved into her hair, mouth covering hers until he was stealing her breath when her lips parted on a gasp. This kiss was not gentle, it was not the reverent press of mouths that it had been in the hospital. No, this was desperation, it was the force of Draco’s need. His hands were rough in her hair, angling her head to allow him to delve deeper, tongue sweeping across hers as if he might draw her very soul into his own.

All Hermione could do was surrender to it, her hands clenched around his shirt before sliding to grip his shoulders when he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her up into his lap. She went willingly, knees perched on either side of his hips within the wide armchair, pulling the tie out of the hair gathered on the back of his head until it fell around his face. It was soft, like silk slipping through her fingertips. Draco gave a sigh as she ran her hands through it, his lips moving to her cheek, her jaw, to the space below her ear.

“Draco,” she moaned as he sucked at the spot, leaving a mark, and she knew she would have bruises on her hips from the way his fingers dug into her skin.

He rocked his hips up, dragging her against the erection steadily growing between them. With only her leggings and the fine fabric of his pants separating them from the true act, heat pulsed through her belly. A groan rumbled through his chest and he reached up, bracketing her throat with one long fingered hand to drag her mouth back to his. Draco swallowed each one of her moans as he pressed her down against his cock until he drew back to look into her eyes.

“Need you…” he’s lids fluttered and he panted a soft moan. “Need to see you come like this, Hermione. Please.”

Hermione bit her lip, each pass of his cock against her clit sent electricity zinging up her spine until she was trembling, thighs clenching around his. She gripped his shoulders, rolling her hips experimentally until they both groaned.

“That’s it,” Draco rasped. “Just like that.”

A shiver rippled down her spine at the roughness in his voice, at the way he held her face only a breath away from his own, watching her fall apart as if it was the sun rising for the very first time. And she did fall apart, the orgasm overtaking her with blinding speed. Her mouth opened on a silent cry, brows drawing tight, before Draco took that too, swallowing the sound of his name before she could utter it. Lips danced against hers, biting until the tang of copper passed between them and Draco was rising from the chair, gripping her backside to hold her tight.

With a speed and strength that surprised her, he moved down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. Hermione clung to him, riding out the aftershocks of her release, latching her mouth to the pale skin of his throat over his prisoner tattoo where she licked and nipped, savoring each groan, each flex of his hand on the curve of her ass.

The bedroom door crashed open, a flicker of his magic reacting to his will unbound by a wand. Draco’s lips found hers again as her back hit the mattress, the scent of apples and spice curling around them from his sheets. And then he pulled away, panting, lips kiss-stung and hair mussed. There was a wildness there in his eyes, pupils blown wide.

Hermione pushed up on her hands, her chest heaving and she wondered if that wild look was reflected in her own face.

“Show me,” Draco said softly.

She frowned, unsure what it was he wanted.

“Show me how to make you feel good.”

Reaching out for him, a smile curled her lips. “You’ve already done that.”

And though his lips curled, he shook his head before running a tremoring hand through his hair. “No, no, I want—I need to make this right for you. Last time I wasn’t there, not really, and I never…”

He never got to see her when they consummated the marriage. It had been pitch-black with only the barest touch of their skin to connect them. His hand only on her hip before sliding between her thighs, teeth biting into her skin. And she thought she understood what he meant about not being there, the anxiety he must have felt, the terror that he might hurt her.

And so she nodded, sitting up and grabbing for the hem of her shirt before dragging it off and throwing it onto the floor. The small ring of gray around his eyes bloomed silver in the light and he took a single step forward before stopping himself, hands clenching into fists. Hooking her thumbs into her leggings, she laid back, lifting her hips to pull them down before they followed onto the floor and she leant up onto her elbows.

Draco was a man starved; attention fixed to her legs pressed tightly together. Hermione swallowed, heat curling again through her belly, pulse pounding in her veins before slowly, she parted them. At the first glimpse, he dropped to his knees, a groan slipping through his lips. The movement brought him closer to the bed, close enough that he could have reached out and touched her, but he kept his hands at his sides, trembling from the tension.

“Show me, love.”

Hermione shivered, lids fluttering before her hand snaked down her belly, fingers parting between her thighs as she gathered the wetness there. She was soaked, not only from her release before but also from his gaze, that term of endearment. Slowly, she circled her clit, hips jumping from just the barest pressure. A soft moan echoed through the room and it took her a moment to realize it was Draco’s, not hers. His need to touch her was palpable, warring with this desire to learn her body and what she wanted.

So, she dipped her fingers lower, pressing two inside as she worked her clit with the heel of her hand. A flush crept across his cheeks, eyes fixed between her thighs and the sight of that hunger after days of cold—weeks of it—fanned the flame inside her blood until she was rocking against her hand, tiny moans echoing off the walls and reflected back on her.

But as her body tightened, as sweat dewed across her brow and chests, her breasts flushing with heat, a hand wrapped around her wrist, drawing it away. She gave a soft whimper of frustration that gave way to a gasp as Draco licked up her palm, sucking her fingers into his mouth and moaning at the taste.

“Please,” she mewled.

He shushed her as he drew her hand back, sliding his beneath her hips and slowly, gently, tugged her to the edge of the bed. Draco pressed a soft kiss to the skin of her hip, above a bruise already blooming from his punishing grip in the garden. Over and over, he kissed her, his mouth sliding from one hip to the other.

“Draco, please.” She threaded her fingers into his hair, but he only grabbed her by the wrists, pinning them to the bed.

Still, she writhed beneath him, her body giving way to that desperate movement, too far gone to feel the heat of embarrassment. Draco watched, eyes now almost completely pitch black, before his mouth descended on her. This was a similar ferocity to what she’d felt in the sunroom. Like a man starved, he licked and sucked at her skin, releasing one of her hands to press two fingers into her core.

She cried out, head falling back onto the bed as he lapped at her clit, crooking those fingers inside of her until galaxies bloomed behind her eyes, the muscles of her stomach tensing as she coiled higher and higher.

“Please, please, please.”

Begging. She was begging the way she had wanted to beg for his life. And when finally, she reached that peak and Draco sucked her clit into his mouth roughly, she screamed, breaking apart again and again only to come together whole. Before she could so much as look up, his body was pressed to hers, the taste of herself on her tongue as he kissed her.

His fabric clad cock pressed against her center with desperate ruts, hair falling around them like a blanket weaved of silver and gold. She scrambled, tugging at the soft shirt until it found hers on the floor, her hands sliding over his skin, tracing the rippling scars across his heart, over his back. But Draco barely stopped to allow her to draw the shirt from his back before latching his mouth to her throat, nipping at her collarbones, teeth grazing the sensitive swell of her breasts.

And all the while she reached for him, fumbling with the fastening of his trousers, until finally her hand slipped inside. He was scorching against her palm, heavy in her hand, the tip already wet with pre-come. At her touch, he hissed, body stilling and eyes squeezing shut.

“Is… is this okay?” she asked softly, giving the length of his cock and experimental stroke.

Draco nodded, teeth clenching and releasing. “Y—yeah.”

“Move back.” Hermione pressed on his shoulders until he slid one knee off the bed, then the other, standing before her in only his undone trousers, hair wild around his collarbones.

Gods, he was beautiful. His body a patchwork of jagged lines and silver scars, like pottery she’d read about. How artists would take broken pieces, putting them back together and filling the scars with gold. Draco was the same before her, his scars shining in the candlelight, chest heaving, and, in that moment, she thought she could see the glimmer of what he would look like when he was whole.

Carefully she rose from the bed before lowering to her knees, reaching up to draw down the hem of his trousers and pants until he stepped out. Draco caressed her hair, brushing it back from her temples, sliding across the curve of her jaw as if he could not believe she was really here. Her mouth watered at the sight of his cock, thick and ruddy, pulsing with each heartbeat. As gently as she could, she wrapped her hand around it, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip. Salt and sweetness coated her tongue and she moaned, licking the head before sucking it into her mouth.

“Fuck.” His hands tensed around her hair, hips bucking unconsciously.

She grinned around him, bobbing her head around the tip before sliding deeper, lapping at the thick vein. Draco cursed, bowing forward, thrusting again and again until he hit the back of her throat, tears springing to her eyes. Already she was wet once more, thighs squeezing together to stave off the ache blooming at the sight of his desire.

But then the hands in her hair tightened and he was pulling her away, breaths coming in ragged pants, eyes squeezed shut. His hands jumped from her hair as if electrocuted and he raised them in the air, fists clenched tight against his temples.

“Too much, it’s too much,” he rasped. “Don’t want to lose…”

Nodding, she slid her hands up and down his thighs. He was desperate to keep her safe, even if it was from him, and a painful twinge echoed through her chest as she climbed to her feet, rising to her tiptoes to brush her mouth against his.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, pleased as his hands dropped and shoulders relaxed.

Hermione kissed him again, brushing back the hair from his face, drawing his lower lip into her mouth. He groaned, the sound both needy and pained, hands delicately caressing her waist as if he didn’t trust himself to do much else—just like that night they’d consummated their bond. Her teeth grazed the swell of his bottom lip and another groan rumbled through his chest, his hands tightening on her waist until he was walking them back to the bed.

The mattress hit the backs of her thighs and she shifted, lifting one knee then the other, holding onto the back of his neck to keep their kiss until he followed. And when they were both kneeling on the bed, she laced her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to the wide expanse of his scarred one. Close, so close, for the very first time and Hermione only wanted to be closer, wanted to be the magic in his veins, the breath in his lungs.

Draco’s hands wandered, sliding lower to trace the curve of her ass before skimming up to draw a knuckle beneath the underside of her breast. Each touch was a revelation, a shiver, a drop of pleasure in an unending ocean that they would swim together. His cock jumped against her belly, smearing his need across her skin, and she knew he was unable to stop himself when he thrust against her. Slowly, she pulled them down until they were laying on their sides.

He cradled her face in his hands, the kiss becoming heartachingly sweet, thumbs stroking the line of her jaw. But her body was burning and she needed the ache and stretch of him the way she knew she needed her next breath. Slow enough as to not startle, she reached between them, wrapping her hand around his cock and guiding it to her core, sliding it against her clit. His hands tensed against her face, moving to her shoulder and chest.

“Hermione…” he moaned with furrowed brows.

“Look at me,” she whispered, touching his cheek with her free hand while she continued to rub the tip of his cock through her wetness. “Draco, love, look at me.”  

His eyes flew open and the terror was there, written across the inky black of his pupils. She smiled and wished in that moment that she was a Legilimens. That she could jump through the space between them to fight whatever demons haunted him, to bandage the wounds bleeding through his mind. Instead, she leant forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before draping her leg across his hip, opening herself further for him.

“I need you,” she murmured against his lips.

Draco exhaled, one hand sliding down her chest to brush his thumb against the rose peak of her nipple. “I don’t know if I could stand it…”

Hermione frowned. “Stand what?”

“Taking you again only to lose you. I’m afraid…” He blew out another breath. “I’m afraid that I won’t be able to let go.”

Her heart gave another painful twinge, corners of her eyes pricking at the grief clinging to the corners of his lips, his eyes.

“Then don’t let go.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, some unspoken understanding passing between them. It shimmered faintly, like their marriage bond, though invisible to the naked eye. And then slowly, ever so slowly, Draco moved forward, sheathing himself inch by inch until their hips were flush and both were panting.

“I’m yours,” Hermione breathed.

Draco withdrew slightly, then surged up again and again until his small strokes became bigger. Until he was gripping her hair and arching her neck to lick a stripe up her skin. He rolled, pinning her beneath him as he increased his rhythm, teeth grazing her throat, her jaw, until his lips brushed her ear.

“Mine,” he answered, right before she fell apart.