NOTES

My friend Coyg_81 introduced me to a new ship a few months back.

I resisted for as long as I could - Dramione was all I thought I was interested in - but now I've added another Malfoy to the mix.

And another collaboration with LaBelladoneX and CuppaTea90 led to this.

We wrote pure smut.

That is all.

This story is also published to our collaboration page: Bella Smith Fics

*** Dedicated to Claire, who is always there for us ***

He was waiting.

And he hated to wait.

But here he was, waiting, drinking Muggle scotch and wondering if she would even show.

The pub was dark and dingy and in a seedy part of town, and he was certain that she would simply not show. But he also knew that it was what she would want — dark and out of the way — where no one would see them.

But he could only assume she was coming; the owl he had sent that morning returned unanswered. So it could go either way. She could simply not show up and make him look like a fool, or she would show up and they could have this ridiculous meeting where — at her insistence — no one would see them together.

And it was ridiculous. His position on the board coupled with her working at St Mungos meant they had met across the hospital boardroom table many times. They had argued over projects and discussed improvements in her office, the Chief Administrator's office, not to mention his study at his home. They weren't strangers. Not by a long shot.

Yet, tonight, he felt they were.

But this, she said, was different. This needed to remain in the dark, had to be just between them. Intrigued, he had complied, and found the darkest, most out of the way place he could, and hoped that she wasn't simply stringing him along.

Arriving just a few minutes earlier than his requested time, he deliberately sat near the back, in the darkest corner of the pub. Here he could see her arrive — if she did turn up — but she wouldn't see him. She would have to search, which gave him just the smallest amount of power over her. A control freak like her would hate that someone else would be more knowledgeable, even briefly. He loved the idea.

He had asked why she didn't organise this clandestine meeting. She'd responded by telling him that a slimy git, such as himself, would have much better knowledge about dingy places where people who didn't want to be seen met up. So, he was better equipped to find somewhere.

He smirked into the darkness; she knew him far too well.

The door opened, all eyes turning to witness the arrival of a new customer. The clientele were, no doubt, expecting a regular — a dark figure — in every sense of the word.

Instead, she walked in.

And, of course, she spotted him instantly.

Rolling her eyes, she made her way towards him, the few other people in the pub watching her, but her eyes never left him. Dressed in a figure-hugging low-cut navy dress with matching bolero jacket and high nude pumps, she owned the room as she crossed it. A click of her perfectly manicured fingers would have had those present panting after her — men and women alike.

"Really?"

He stood to greet her, glancing around the dimly lit room. "Is it not exactly what you requested? Dark, seedy, where no one knows you?"

She ignored him and took her seat, missing the self-satisfied smirk that flicked across his face.

"May I offer you something?"

She raised an eyebrow, smiling suggestively. "Oh, there are many things you could offer me. For now I'll have what you're having, neat."

"For now…" He repeated, moving towards the bar.

Minutes later, a whisky tumbler was placed on the table in front of her, the amber liquid of his favourite scotch swirling from the movement.

She ran her index finger around the rim of the glass, licking her lips as she anticipated the burn of the peat against her tongue.

"Thank you. May all your ups and downs be under the covers," she quipped as she raised the glass to her lips, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh, I assure you, I always rise to the occasion. And, if I may counter your toast with another?"

"Please, be my guest."

"May Madam Fortune forever watch over you. And may you never meet her daughter."

"Why, thank you. That's awfully polite. I have another… IwlIj jachjaj!"

She drained her glass in one go and slammed it down on the table, signalling for two more drinks. He insisted on paying for those as well. Judging by the tightness of her dress and the absence of any kind of purse or handbag, he briefly considered asking if her cash was stuffed into her bra.

His bemused expression led her to explain. "It means 'may your blood scream'. Apt for our history, don't you think?"

Anger flashed across his eyes at her comment. It was too close to the bone. What was she playing at?

"Continue with comments like that… whatever it was… and I assure you, there will be screams. Only they'll be yours."

"It's Klingon. And I assure you, I'd be very happy to scream if you were the one making me."

"And in what country, may I ask, do the natives speak Kling-on?" He laughed, taking a moment to finish his first drink, his eyes never leaving hers. "Actually, nevermind. I'm more interested in what type of scenario you envisage me making you scream? I'm sure you've internally screamed in frustration when we've clashed across boardroom tables."

"Oh, I don't mean that type of screaming. I mean—" she leaned forward, resting her body on folded arms "—the kind that comes with skin… fingers, lips, tongue… orgasms. Lots and lots of orgasms."

Her breasts sought his attention but his resolve held. He knew she wanted him to look down, to show weakness, to falter. She wanted to tease. But she had no idea just who she was dealing with. He wouldn't let her win.

"Don't you have someone to keep you occupied? A certain someone who makes you scream?"

She smiled demurely. "I have someone who tends to my needs. But... sometimes my needs… well, let's just say I have a desire to... experiment."

"One can learn a lot from experimentation," he replied, leaning towards her, their breath mingling as they maintained eye contact. "You have to try things out for yourself, even if you're not sure of what you are doing. It takes time to feel your way into things, wouldn't you agree?"

"I do. And I also believe one should continue to research all possibilities, to allow for the discovery of new concepts, and to let the seeds of those new ideas flow from within. It's hard, achingly so, but a successful end result also brings with it a deep inner satisfaction."

"Why you practically sucked the words right out of my—"

"Oh, I know!" She interrupted with a smirk. "I am most adept at reaping the benefits of such creative experimentation. Afterall, I am known for pulling many a masterstroke."

"Indeed." He sat back, taking his glass with him. "I compliment you on your abilities, the upshot of your talents is always most satisfactory. However, I must enquire if you are seeking to further your research and, perhaps, engage in some clandestine experimentation? Is that the reason we are meeting in such an… unusual setting?"

"You are correct," she nodded, finishing her second drink. "My research in this field requires some additional assistance. To date, I've been spread far and wide. I've come to the conclusion, many times, that I would like to take my experiments to a whole new level."

"That would certainly be an interesting move forward," he commented. "One I'd be most happy to investigate. I am, after all, known for having my fingers in many pies…"

"That you are."

He stood, his hand out to take hers. "Shall we discuss this experimentation now? I have a suitable place in mind for your… research."

She allowed him escort her from the premises, the same inquisitive eyes following them to the door. Once outside, he placed his lips to the back of her hand, the tip of his tongue licking her skin.

Her gasp was silenced by the crack of their Disapparition.

"You're incredibly handsome," she said, tracing her finger across his cheek bone. She glanced up at his pure blond hair, staring into his eyes, the depths of which she could never reach. "You always have been."

His hands stroked over her shoulders, sliding her jacket down her arms — smiling when she didn't resist — and letting it fall to the floor. He wanted to strip her one slow piece at a time, wanted to watch as each slip of naked skin was revealed to him.

"Do you know how I spend my days?" He pressed his nose to her neck, continuing as she hummed her response. "All of them start with me waking up hard and imagining my tongue licking every inch of your skin."

His fingers slid along her collarbone, along the hollow of her throat, the tops of her breasts. Her breath shuddered, skin quivering at his touch as he continued to caress over the silk of her dress, down, down, to the curve of her hip, the flat of her stomach, the mound of her pubic bone. His fingertips were smooth, no doubt due to his privileged life, a man whose power came from academia, ambition, cunning. Knowing that behind the tenderness of his skin was the courage of a leader, the mind of a teacher, the heart of a lover… it was deliciously erotic and more than a little arousing.

"Then I think about all the ways I'd like to fuck you."

Her throat dried up as his fingers moved higher, tracing over her ribs, a heat washing through her body when his hands stopped teasingly beneath the curve of her breasts.

"No morning is any different," he continued, walking around behind her, the pull of her zip exposing her goosebumped flesh. "You are always on my mind. And the things I want to do to you on that boardroom table… to see the seeds of our experimentations slide from your body and pool on the varnished wood." He pulled her roughly against him, his breath against her cheek, his erection pushing, grinding, teasing. "Then I'd turn you over and make you lick every drop, while I prepare you."

"Yes… Merlin, yes…" Her breath caught, her body tingling with anticipation.

"Oh, yes," he repeated. "I'd prepare you for taking your experimentations to a whole new level."

Her dress descended to the floor, his fingernails trailing up the sides of her shivering body, her own fingers flexing in anticipation. She hadn't worn a bra underneath the dress, her breasts pert and perfect, nipples covered in baby blue heart pasties to match her fine lace boy shorts.

She was temptation — ripe and juicy. She was his apple.

And he would have her, consequences be damned.

"Come," he instructed, stepping away from her. "Stand in front of the mirror."

She stepped out of her discarded dress and jacket, turning to catch his eye in their reflections as she made her way across the room. They held each other's gaze while she stood perfectly still, watching him.

He removed his outer robes, floating them across the room to the dressing area where they rested gently on a waiting hanger. His pocket watch was next, and she smiled as he carefully laid it down on the nearest table, treating his father's gift with the utmost care, just as he did her body. His waistcoat and tie followed, cufflinks joining the watch. Only when his sleeves were rolled up and his shirt open and hanging from his broad shoulders, did he walk towards her.

"Those shoes make you a perfect height for me," he remarked, his blond hair shining under the glow from the crystal chandelier, grey eyes sparkling with devious intent. "Bend forward."

She instantly did as she was told. Her mind may oppose him, her arguments frustrate him, but her body willingly obeyed him. The shorts were ripped away with impatience, his hand resting at her lower back, holding her down.

"Look at me," he commanded, his fingers sliding across the smoothness of her arse. "Are you ready to experiment with me?"

She rested her hands against the cool glass, her eyes boring into his. "I've been ready all day," she panted. "I want it so much. Please… please… I want it."

A moment passed, the silence broken sharply by the crack of his other hand against her skin. Her scream ignited him, blood pumping with vigour through his veins. Another smack.

Another.

She threw her head back and howled for him, his name repeated over and over.

Another.

Another.

Her desire flowed from her body, sweat broke out on her back, her forehead, between her breasts. He continued, his skin smarting, hers pulsing where blood gathered.

Suddenly his touch was gentle, caressing… loving. This time fingers trailed between her cheeks, circling the small grip of her butt plug. Ever so slowly he tugged, teasing, playing... his body thrumming at the sound of her moans.

"Please," she begged. "I need it… need you."

"Touch yourself for me," he ordered her, pushing the plug back in. "I want to see your hands on your breasts, your tongue—" he winked "—I think you know what I like."

He moved away as she stood, reaching up to pull away the pasties. They floated to the floor as she cupped and lifted her breasts, her talented tongue sliding out to meet her taut nipples, the tip flicking around the areola. Her back was still to him, his viewing pleasure made all the better by her reflection. As she lovingly caressed her body for him, he had the view of her perfectly reddened cheeks and shapely legs in killer heels.

The rest of his clothes were removed with just as much care and attention, despite her pleas for him to hurry. When he was ready, he returned to her side, pulling her close and kissing her tenderly for the first time.

"Say it."

"Arsenal."

"Don't forget it."

"I won't."

He stood behind her again, their skin alight with nerves and anticipation.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"You are beautiful like this — bared to me as no one else has ever seen it. So wanton, so delectable, so inviting… I've never felt so hard for you as I do right now."

"Please… Oh, God, please…"

"Your Muggle god can't give you what I can."

She cried out with pleasure as the butt plug was slowly removed, revealing her primed entrance. Her body moved back automatically, searching for him, needing him.

He cast a lubrication charm, preparing himself quickly for what he hoped would bring her the pleasure she desired. He gripped her hips, leaning forward to lick her damp skin, a salted bead of sweat gathering on his tongue.

"You taste divine," he murmured, "the sweat of your body when it craves my touch is ambrosia to me, your desire my nectar. You were made by the gods for me."

"Oh, fuck, yes," she moaned as the tip of his cock penetrated her hole, the pressure building as he moved forward as slowly as his own desperation would allow. He wanted to fuck her arse so badly, to give her what she'd been begging for.

"Oh, darling," he cooed, "you feel perfect. So warm, so tight. Your body is practically throbbing for me."

He kept talking to her, his words laced with want and need for her body to accept him. He watched her facial expressions move from nervous to excited, from worry to calm, from need to pure sexual pleasure.

She held her breath as he began to enter her body, breathing out quickly as his tip pushed past her loosened muscles. It was a glorious feeling… to be filled with him, to have his body joined to hers in a private place, hidden…

A clandestine meeting of his hardened desire and her willing body.

A secret.

A beautiful, personal secret.

He pulled her up, holding her close as he began to thrust slowly into her. One arm wrapped around her breasts, pushing them up, the other slid down, his hand cupping her mound, kneading against it.

Her head dropped forward, eyes closing as he moved. She met his thrusts, a rhythm building between them quickly, as if this was what they were born to do — love each other, hold each other…

Fuck each other.

His pace quickened, her cries continued, his words of desire flowed. Her fingers met his — his touch was perfect, but she needed more. More of him, more of the slick friction, more of the never-ending sensation, more… just more.

"I need..." Her voice stuttered, but he somehow knew.

His own nimble fingers linked with hers, and together their joined hands slid over her slick skin while their bodies moved. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head dropped back to his shoulder, her mouth open in a delectable 'O'.

He watched in the mirror, watched her body, their fingers, heard her gasps. Felt the tightness surrounding him with an overwhelming awe. And he knew, with an unequivocal certainty, this would be a regular occurrence from now on.

"Don't you look away, don't you fucking dare." His teeth grazed her shoulder, her breath catching as she returned her gaze to the mirror. "There you are," he murmured seeing the hunger in her eyes. "Watch, right there. See yourself. See me."

Her eyes caught his and together they watched. Watched each other move, saw the desire build, felt their hearts beat as one.

"You're everything I've dreamt of. Better than I could've anticipated. My light."

She reached her arm back, sliding her fingers through his hair, letting his words settle across her skin. This was what sex was supposed to be like — two bodies in unison, each drawing out the other's needs, celebrating each other, worshipping each other… satisfying each other.

He never left her unsatisfied.

She always pleased him.

Their experiments were always successful.

They were a perfect team.

In every way.

In attraction, in friendship, in love… in marriage.

And their love of roleplay only added to the excitement they felt when it came to their sex life.

The Malfoys were the perfect couple.

And their whispers of love as they held each other close, coming together in perfect unison, only cemented the fact.

A short while later, they lay on the chaise longue beside the mirror, their nakedness covered by a light throw. Her fingers traced patterns on his chest, her head in the crook of his neck. One of her legs draped across his hip, her body pressed against his side, desire already building within her again. He wasn't far behind, determined to fuck his wife's pussy as soon as possible, his need to fill it rising quickly.

"My love," he spoke quietly, "can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why won't you change your safe word?"

"I love Arsenal," she replied, looking up. "I've always supported The Gunners, ever since I was small."

"But Draco and I are Liverpool supporters," Lucius moaned. "Using Arsenal as a safe word could really be a turn off, you know."

Hermione sat up. "Honestly, Lucius! Ever since I introduced you two to football, you've been ridiculous over this. I'll always support my team, you'll just have to… walk alone… on this one."

"Oh, you did not just do that," he groaned. "That was pathetic!"

She laughed loudly. "It was, wasn't it? Well, maybe I could change my safe word?"

"To what?"

"Spurs?"

His answer was immediate. "No, no. We're good. Arsenal is fine, Hermione. Arsenal is fine."

The end.

"You will have to experiment and try things out for yourself and you will not be sure of what you are doing. That's all right, you are feeling your way into the thing." (Emily Carr)

"Experiment, experiment, experiment - until it finally flows from within you. It is a hard road. But the result is also a deep inner satisfaction." (Jack Dickerson)