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Draco’s sprawled out on the bed, completely naked, glaring as if he’s daring you to take him apart.
You do.
First with kisses to his jawline and down his neck. He growls at you, turning his head so you catch his mouth.
Next with soft fingers trailing down his chest. You took him to the beach last week, and now freckles adorn his pale skin like stars in a smooth expanse of summer sky. You make sure to kiss each one.
Then with firm hands on his thighs, clenched around tight muscles. He squirms in annoyance, but soon he’s gasping as finally,
finally,
you take him apart with your mouth around his cock, moving and teasing and sucking to elicit those sweet moans. You tremble as you take him apart, your body aching as you ignore your own needs to satisfy his. He tastes like the sun, unrelenting heat and light, and you know that if you get too close to him, you’ll burn up. You already are.
As he yanks your hair and you swallow down his come, you know that it doesn’t matter if you burn up today, and tomorrow, and every day after. He could take all of you, and you would thank him.
Because you’re horribly, terribly in love with Draco Malfoy.