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“I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy, but you know there's no antidote yet. You can only go home and wait for it to wear off on its own.”
“No, no, no,” she muttered to herself, pacing from one end of her lab table to the other. There had to be a solution. If only her mind would clear long enough for her to recall her extensive research, then she was sure everything would be fine. She knew there was an answer somewhere in her notes, if only her assistant would just fucking look.
“It’s probably best if you leave now, while you still maintain some of your cognition and faculties. The next stage should be hitting you soon, and you’d be more comfortable in the privacy of your own home for that part.”
The next stage. Unbridled and unbearable lust that wouldn’t ease, even with repeated orgasms. She knew this stage well from her study of Wolpertingers, the rare, exquisite animal that emitted a psychotropic pheromone to attract mates. In recent years, criminals had been using a synthetic version to prey on women around the club scenes, and Hermione had taken it upon herself to break it down and synthesise an antidote.
Her lab was so close to figuring it out, and they’d never had an accident in all her years, so it was just her fucking luck that she was in the blast radius of the pheromone shower when it blew up.
Her lab had been identifying the exact chemical compounds that caused the insatiable lust, and unfortunately, one of the phials had exploded coming out of the isolation chamber, hitting her skin before being contained.
“Maybe if I take trial #463—” she mumbled frantically, desperate to stop the symptoms before she was reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. Already, she could feel the heat rising in her core, and her skin felt like it was begging for touch.
“You’re already not thinking clearly, Mrs. Malfoy. You know those trails are not ready for human consumption yet. Again, I really do think you should leave now,” her assistant pleaded, reaching a hand to usher her to the door.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried, the brief contact making her arm tingle.
“Sorry! Go home, I’ll finish the incident reports and let you know if there are any updates on the next batch of tests.”
Hermione let out a shaky exhale as the reality of her situation finally settled in her mind; The only way out of this was through.
Stepping out of the Floo into the manor should have felt like coming home, but the only concern nagging her mind was how badly she needed her husband.
She and Draco had been married for years by now, and their sex life was always exciting, but their dynamic was predictable. She knew he was never going to make this easy for her. There was nothing he loved more than torturously, languidly drawing out her release for his own pleasure and aphrodesiac or not, she was not going to get what she needed without effort.
“Malfoy!” she screamed through the halls of their home, stripping off her clothes as she went. Her body was burning up, and every layer felt suffocating.
His office was empty when she barged in, her blouse discarded in the doorway. Fuck, where was he? She needed him, probably more than she ever had, and the anticipation was excruciating.
She passed Pipp on the way to search the kitchen, their one house elf that she’d tried to free upon becoming the Lady of the Manor. She’d served the Malfoys her entire life and had practically raised Draco, so she insisted on staying, much to Hermione’s chagrin. “Madam!” Pipp squeaked, averting her gaze from Hermione’s scantily clad chest.
“Sorry, Pipp,” Hermione panted, itching along her neck. Her symptoms were progressing faster than she’d anticipated, and sweat prickled every inch of her skin. “I need Draco. Now. Where is he?”
“Master is in the library. Shall I fetch you a new shirt, madam?”
“No, no,” she repeated breathlessly. “And you may retire for the night. Thank you, Pipp.” She was already walking away, all of her energy focused on undoing her sensible skirt. She slipped it over her hips, letting it fall to the floor as she continued down the hall.
The doors of the library opened upon her arrival, a feature she never got over, as she slipped out of her lace-cupped brassiere, hanging it on the oak handle as she entered.
“Draco,” she tried to call out, but her voice cracked, elongating the vowel into a mortifying moan. She paused to brace herself on a bookshelf, her vision beginning to blur. Once she found her balance, she stepped out of her knickers. The drenched fabric clung to her before releasing and falling unceremoniously around her ankles.
Now, only dressed in her anniversary jewels and wedding ring, she stumbled through the stacks, unable to call out anymore. She had to trust she’d find him, and soon. She already knew attempting to climax by herself wouldn’t work, but she tried anyway, urgently trying to relieve some of the ache boring down on her cunt. Her finger swirled at the apex of her thighs as she smeared her slick across her clit. It was sublime, but not nearly enough, and every cell in her body was screaming at her to find her mate.
Rounding the corner to the sitting area of their library, she finally set eyes on her husband, and the sight was devastating. He lay sprawled across their velvet, emerald couch, shirtless and bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. He looked edible with one hand casually tucked into the waistband of his stolen pair of grey joggers.
A thought raced through her mind, and before she could even consider the repercussions, she walked toward the couch and climbed atop him. She positioned her knees over either side of him on the cramped settee, knocking the book that had been resting on his chest to the floor. With her core pressed against the hard planes of his stomach, she ground down, luxuriating in the feel of gliding her slick cunt over his muscles.
In her haze, she hadn’t noticed her husband waking beneath her, but was alerted when his hands rose to her hips, assisting her frantic movements over him.
“What’s all this, then?” he asked, his voice deep from slumber. His grip tightened, and his large fingers indented her plush waist.
“Need you,” was all she could manage coherently. She tried to tell him about the accident in the lab, the aphrodisiac that could only be satiated by her mate, and how her entire body was thrumming with need, but all that came out was, “accident…mate… fuck me.”
His answering chuckle shook her body, adding a delicious vibration to her clit. She couldn’t help the moan it pulled out of her. “You’re being naughty, taking without asking, and you know it.” He was right. Her pleasure was his to wield, how and when he permitted. That’s how they worked. It was how they both needed it. But today was different, and she couldn’t wait.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t voice what she craved right now and had to rely on their trust that he’d take care of her anyway. She showed him what she needed by holding herself steady on his chest and reaching her other hand down to her clit, sliding across him faster and faster. “Please,” she whined, her rhythm shaky and inconsistent. She needed more. She needed him.
“My needy, little wife needs help?” He asked, his voice low and calming now that she knew he’d get her off, even though she was being disobedient. “Move up, love. Sit on my face.”
He settled against the pillow at the end of the couch and yanked her hips over his torso until she hovered just above him. Normally, she’d be at least a tad more self-conscious about smothering him, no matter how often he assured her it’d be his favourite way to go, but now, she didn’t hesitate and lowered her dripping cunt to his eager mouth.
Hermione anchored her weight on the armrests of the couch, providing enough leverage to roll her hips. He lapped firmly across her clit while she rocked against him. When his tongue finally thrust into her, lust licked at every part of her brain, making her mindless.
“Don’t stop,” she whined, her cunt aching, begging to be filled. All her thoughts vanished as her climax built, until she was crying out above him, her release leaking over his jaw.
When her body finally relaxed, she returned to his lap and caught her breath. With her first orgasm out of the way, her mind had cleared enough to explain the situation to her husband. He listened and wiped her ichor from his grin as she spoke, clearly very keen to keep assisting her through the upcoming phases of the aphrodesiac’s cycle.
“Basically, I’m not sure how long this will last, but I do know only you can alleviate the symptoms.”
“Lucky me,” he gloated, flipping her onto her back. She was not a small woman, yet he could toss her around with hardly any effort. His strength never failed to turn her on, and this time the effect was ruinous as a fresh wave of arousal gushed onto the couch beneath her.
“This is serious, Draco. I was scared, and I don’t know how long I’ll be coherent before I become a sex-crazed nympho again.” She swatted at his arm, the one attempting to fondle her breasts as if he wasn’t hearing a word she said with them on display. “Draco!”
“I’m sorry, love. I’m sure that was frightening,” he leaned in and kissed her, pouring all his sincerity into her, and she melted against the cushions. “However, we’re doing this my way.”
Fucking arse. Of course he’d turn this into a power play. “When this is over, I’m going to kill you,” she muttered drolly, pulling him back in for another kiss. His mouth tasted of her release, mixed with the quintessentially cool, minty taste she always associated with him, and she felt the heat return. “Fuck, it’s starting again,” she said between kisses.
“Yellow to stop, otherwise we’re not slowing for anything. I’ve missed having you.”
She knew exactly how he felt. They’d missed out on their honeymoon phase when they’d first married, so they retroactively fucked for a year straight after they’d finally sorted their feelings for each other out. But since then, things had slowed, and life had gotten in the way. Their sex life had become explosive late-night quickies and “maybe laters.” It had been months since they’d had the time to slowly unravel each other or have a proper play.
“Hang your head over the couch.” He emphasised the command with a sharp slap to her arse, and she whimpered as the sting radiated heat across her skin.
Once she was in position, her back arched over the armrest and her head tipped over the edge, she waited patiently while he stood and admired her. He slung his joggers low and freed his thick, engorged cock, slowly stroking himself as his eyes wandered over her full, soft stomach, smirking when he noticed her fingers rolling her nipples and tsked.
“Hands on my thighs, tap if you need me to stop.” Then, he was standing inches from her face, the leaking tip of his cock pressed to her lips as she opened for him.
He thrust in, and Hermione’s throat tightened instinctively at the intrusion. She coordinated her breathing as best she could, as he worked himself in and out of her. Drool pooled over her lips, and her eyes pinched shut while she tried to constrict around him in time with his movements.
“Oh, fuck. I’ve missed you,” he panted above her. “Touch yourself until you’re right at the edge. Don’t even think about coming.”
The aphrodisiac coursed within her bloodstream, and she swore she could feel it pumping through her clit as it pulsed with need. The second her fingers slipped over the sensitive bundle of nerves, she choked. She sputtered around his length, but he didn’t slow, nor did he give her any further directions, so she continued to run her finger in tight circles around her clit until it grew unbearable. She moaned around him, and tears freely fell into her hairline as she halted her movements. Though stopping brought no relief. The pheromones wouldn’t allow it.
“Keep going,” Draco ordered, his own voice straining.
She tried to keep touching herself, except she’d grown so fucking wet that she couldn’t keep going. Fully crying now, Draco took pity on her and took over, reaching down her body until he could use his steady hands on her. The reach caused his cock to bottom out, and Hermione’s neck bulged around his entire length.
“Hermione,” he gasped. “Come with me.”
She couldn’t have held back any longer, so she let go, and her body shook against the couch. The consistent pressure of his fingers worked her through her orgasm, appeasing the aphrodisiac’s imperative. So lost in her own release, she only faintly registered as his cock pulsed in her mouth, thick spurts of his cum pouring down her throat and overflowing as he pulled himself out.
Gasping for air, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to ground herself. Draco was quick to lift her limp body and cradle her in his lap, planting himself on the couch. He held her close, kissing the top of her head as he whispered his love, keeping her together while she calmed her breathing.
“You’re so perfect, my love. You did so fucking well, you were so good for me.” His soft mutterings of praise washed over her, and she hummed against his chest, nestling into his warmth.
Once her mind had cleared enough, she was grateful the aphrodisiac was granting her a brief respite from its relentless and cruel demands. Her body felt weak, and she didn’t know how much longer she could fight the effects before she lost her mind.
“Let me bring you to bed, my love.” She could only manage a nod against him before he lifted her effortlessly and carried her upstairs to their room. He placed her in the centre of the bed and conjured a glass of water. “Drink, please.” He helped her sit upright and brought the cool glass to her lips, threading his fingers into her hair as he helped her tip back and sip.
“Better?” He asked, concern etched onto his face. She vaguely realised she must look taken apart at the seams, hair in disarray, sweat soaking her entire body, and her usual rosy flush that tinted her skin in blotchy patterns.
She laughed lightly and nodded again. “I could use a shower before it starts up again, though. I feel disgusting.”
“Anything for my wife,” he said, scooping her back up and carrying her to their bathroom.
“I’m sure I could walk,” Hermione sulked, though secretly loving how he manhandled her.
“It’s my job to take care of you. If it were up to me, you’d never walk again.”
“You’re a sick freak. You sound insane.”
“You love me insane for you, though,” he quipped back, an adoring smile lighting up his face, and gods did she. She loved him more than she ever knew one could.
“We sound like one of those couples from the paper,” she laughed as he turned the water on and placed her inside.
“One of those couples that defy the quantifiable amount of love possible between two people?” He began lathering her curls, then carefully untangling them so they wouldn’t dry unruly.
“No, you prick. Those controlling, mental cases where one partner mutilates and offs the other. Telling me you don’t want me to walk again sounds an awful lot like you’re going to do something about it.”
“Who sounds insane now?” He smirked, rinsing her hair, and she closed her eyes under the steady stream.
When his hands ran up her body, over the soft rolls of her stomach, pausing to press his thumbs over her nipples, then around to her backside, Hermione closed her eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of protection she felt with him. His hands glided over her soaped-up skin, and she moaned as each glide relaxed her further into his arms.
“Does that feel nice, baby?”
“Draco,” Hermione warned, her body temperature rising to uncomfortable levels. “I need to get out, especially if we’re doing that today.” He knew how ‘baby’ drove her wild, nearly as much as her calling him ‘daddy’. A strategically timed ‘daddy’ could cause him to prematurely come, and it had become a game they played to drive the other wild, seeing who would crack first.
He dried her off and brought her back to bed, his hands never leaving her, caressing her until she was breathless on her back, then he crawled over her.
“I’m going to play with you until you’re begging me to stop,” he calmly informed her, kissing along her stretch marks, over each breast, until he reached her ear and whispered, “You’re going to come as many times as I allow you.”
A shiver ran through her body with each promise pressed into her skin. “I can take it,” she said, more confident than they both knew she ought to be. Every bold bone in her body vanished the second she felt his signet ring start buzzing.
“You prick,” she whined as he pinned her hands above her head, then trailed his ring between her legs.
“Come on, love. Where did all that conviction go? You can take it.”
The cold press of metal against her clit had her body bowing off the bed as it lit up every nerve in her body. She felt like she was on fire when the aphrodisiac activated and burned through her body everywhere he touched.
As her next orgasm was pulled out of her, her muscles went lax, and she couldn’t even hear herself speaking over her own heartbeat. She felt trapped in her body as the pleasure turned claustrophobic. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the silhouette of her husband smeared into a blurry haze. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she realised she was chanting, to herself or Draco, she wasn’t sure.
The buzzing had stopped, and he was cradling her face, blowing on her sweatlined forehead. “Colour?” he asked, his eyes roving over her face.
“Green,” she panted. The aphrodisiac was making everything feel too extreme, too warm, but she decided that if she could just cool down, it would be enjoyable again. “Cooling charm.”
Before she even took her next breath, a chill washed over her, relaxing her mind and giving her enough clarity to nod at Draco and enclench her eyes. “Good, I’m good.”
“Show me your glow, then I’ll keep going.” They’d established a system for when she was unable to speak, from exhaustion or simply being gagged. She would emanate a soft glow to signal where she was at on the palms of her hands.
She flashed him a green, and true to his word, he continued. Slowly teasing her clit with his ring, and pumping his fingers deep in her cunt before curving them along her front wall until she was at the precipice again.
“Please, more,” she begged, and he rewarded her by pulling his fingers from her dripping cunt, shoving them in her mouth, and lining his cock up with her entrance.
“You’re so beautiful, baby.” He pressed in and kept his thrusts, slow and heavy, each pass hitting her deep, exactly where they both wanted it.
A wave of paranoia washed over her as he fucked her, the aphrodisiac making her feel trapped in her own body again as it slammed against her mind and threatened to drown her. Suddenly, everything was overstimulating, and her thoughts were racing, telling her this would never end, that she’d be stuck in this cycle of unbearable pleasure forever. Her breathing picked up until she was gasping for air, and the world around her became fuzzy, whiting out on the edges.
She was going to pass out.
She flashed yellow.
Draco was off her in an instant, a cooling charm blasted over her clammy skin, and she could hear him talking but couldn’t make out the words. Answer him, for fucksake. But the words just kept slipping past her until she was being lifted and placed over his lap, arse in the air, face pressed into the bed. Before she could register what was happening, a quick, sharp slap landed on her backside, shocking her brain back into a steady idle thrum.
“Jesus fuck, Draco,” she babbled into the mattress.
“Feel better?”
Hermione lifted her head and glared at him, only to be met with the most irritating, smug look on his face. Of course he’d known exactly what she needed. It wasn’t her first panic attack while they had sex, but it was the first while she was under the influence of an aphrodisiac.
He patted her arsecheek and shoved her face back toward the mattress. “I’m not nearly done with you.” Hermione let out a groan as he continued talking over her, completely ignoring her indignation. “You’re far too stuck in your own mind. Let me think for you, baby.”
Her body melted against his thighs as she sighed. He always knew exactly what she needed, as long as she let him. Even with years of proof that he’d always take care of her, her stubborn nature got in the way of being docile and simply allowing it to happen. “What if this never ends?” she asked, her voice betraying how nonchalant she was trying to be.
“You’ve studied its effects for years. No one knows the stages better than you. Except for maybe myself.” She couldn’t help the inelegant laugh that involuntarily snuck out of her. “You’re probably reaching the final stage, which is why it feels so oppressive mentally, right?”
She took a deep, steadying breath. Logically, she knew this, but even now, with some temporary lucidity, she was burning up and couldn’t help the slight tremor coursing through her body from it. “You’re right,” she finally agreed.
“Tell me again,” Draco teased, a firm hand massaging up her thigh onto her arse.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a loathsome little shit?” That one earned her a spank.
The air fully cleared her lungs as she gasped, “Oh gods, fuck, Draco.”
“That’s the plan, baby.” His palm struck her other cheek twice in quick succession. “You’ll keep count for me, and we’ll stop once your mind is good and quiet.”
“Four,” Slap… “Nine,” Slap… “Sixteen,” Slap… The blows were repeated until Hermione was reciting the numbers out of habit more than an actual awareness of the current total.
Her mind was blissfully empty as she took everything he gave her. Her thoughts felt like she was underwater, but not in the suffocating way she’d been trapped in before. Now, her attention was solely focused on Draco, and the acute awareness of every place their bodies met.
After he cast a cooling charm over her, he turned her in his lap until she was stradling him, her thighs bent on either side of his body. “Thank you,” she murmured into his chest, placing a single kiss over his heart.
“I love you,” he murmured, lifting her so he could line himself up with her sopping cunt. Her whole body began aching with need, as if it was waking up to sensation again after being so thoroughly switched off.
“I need you, daddy,” she whined, kissing the crook of his neck.
“Fuck, baby. You have me. I’ll always take care of you.”
From the moment he entered her, his movements were harsh and everything she needed. While he pounded into her from below, she did her best to keep up, dropping her weight and lifting herself back up in time with his brutal tempo.
“I can’t hold back,” she cried out. She felt the last of the aphrodisiac coursing through her, demanding its payment.
Draco’s arm wrapped around her waist to maximise his leverage, pulling her down onto his cock so roughly that she screamed. “Fuck, Draco.” Her eyes rolled behind her eyelids as she struggled to stay upright and coherent.
“Hermione,” he groaned out his release, and it sent her over the edge. Her orgasm ripped through her, as unstoppable and sure as the ocean’s tides. Then, like a wave cresting, she went slack and crashed into his body, knocking them flat onto the bed.
Draco held her, his cock still buried deep, while they caught their breath and she took the moment to analyse her body, desperately in need of assurance that it was over. Countless partnered orgasms sounded lovely in theory, but the reality had been terrifying and exhausting.
“You’re cooling off,” he noticed, pressing a hand to her cheek. “Feeling better?”
“Infinitely,” she admitted.
He sat them up and cast a series of cleaning spells. Hermione was endlessly grateful that he hadn’t let her go the entire time. She always needed to feel close to him after, especially when things were heady, but particularly after the mindfuck she’d just experienced.
“Thank you for flashing yellow,” Draco murmured, trailing a hand across her back.
“I thought I would be fine, until it really wasn’t. Thanks for pulling me out.”
“I was scared too,” he confessed after a moment, and Hermioned was reminded that these quiet moments were just as much for him to return to himself as they were for her. “I knew you were fighting it, but I couldn’t tell if it was too much. I was about to call it myself if you didn’t.”
“I trust you, Draco.” She sealed the reassurance with a chaste kiss. “Always.”
“And I’ll forever be grateful for that,” he said, returning the kiss.
They lay in each other’s arms, cherishing one another until movement at the edge of the manor’s wards alerted them of a visitor approaching the front door.
“Who the fuck shows up in the middle of the night uninvited?” Draco grumbled, reluctantly releasing Hermione.
When he returned, he was grinning, waving a small slip of parchment. “Who was it?”
Draco crawled into bed beside her and handed her the note.
To: Mrs Malfoy
Despite the setbacks this afternoon, the trial we had been running was a success. We now have a verified antidote for Wolpertinger pheremones. (Included is a sample to alleviate your symptoms.)
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, her own grin splitting her face.
Draco held the antidote between them, and Hermione marvelled at it. She’d spent ages searching for the solution, and even though it wasn’t in time for her own case, she’d be able to save countless other victims from enduring the same situation.