Originally written for GrangerEnchanted's Fuh-Q-Fest

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Rabastan sat down on his favourite chair, facing the door, and waited. Almost five minutes had passed since he had received her message; she wouldn't be long.

He leaned back against his chair, a smirk twisting his lips at the knowledge of what was to come. His fingers idly traced the armrests as he remembered the time she had pushed him down on that same chair and straddled him, yanking his head back by the hair and forcing him to look into her eyes as she sank down on him. That had been one of the few times she had taken control, and one of the reasons that chair had become his favourite. He had quickly wrestled control back from her, grabbing her hips and pulling her down as he thrust up into her, setting a fast pace, fucking her hard. It had been a memorable night.

With a small groan, he spread his legs slightly, trying to relieve the pressure as his cock started to harden. Just the thought of the damn witch could have him throbbing within seconds. He was glad she would be there soon, it had been entirely too long since the last time he'd been buried inside her, feeling those tight muscles around him, milking him for all he was worth as she begged for more.

Oh, how he loved to make her beg. It was like a drug, watching the high and mighty golden girl on her back, or on her knees, or on any other position he could think of, begging him to fuck her harder, deeper, to let her come again and again.

With a curse, he reached for his belt and unbuckled it, tugging his trousers open and pulling out his cock when the pressure became too much. What the fuck was taking her so long?

He locked his gaze on the door as he stroked his cock, and thought of what he would do to her tonight. He would fuck her, yes, but he would keep her on the verge for as long as he wanted; he would make her ache for him, make her feel what he had felt, waiting for her, not finding release.

He closed his eyes and imagined what she would look like, her cheeks flushed, her lips red and swollen, her hair wild, her eyes begging when she couldn't utter the words any more. With a curse, he tightened his fingers around his erection as his hips moved against his hand. Fuck, just thinking about her and he was already so close, so damn close. He hated the way she affected him, and loved it at the same time. He shook his head and tried to think of something else, tried to control his thoughts, his body. Just then the door creaked open, and she stepped inside.

Rabastan's hand stilled for a second as he opened his eyes and looked at her, and then it was moving again. A smile twisted his lips as he watched her slowly close the door behind her and turn to face him again, but that was all the acknowledgment she received from him.

Most of the times they met he was there by the door, waiting for her, pushing her against the closest wall, or desk, or any other surface he felt like fucking her into as soon as she arrived, his lips kissing and biting every inch of skin he could reach, as his hands ripped off her clothes. Other times he stayed away, using that low, commanding tone that he knew made her shiver to growl orders to her, making her undress for him, making her touch herself as he watched, making her show him with her hands what she wanted him to do to her, and making her wait for that contact she was begging for.

But not tonight. Tonight it would be different. He slid his hips forward slightly as he rested back against the chair more comfortably, watching her gaze dart from the hand moving over his cock to his bare chest, to his lips, and finally to his eyes. She was waiting for him to make the first move, to take charge, but that wouldn't happen, not yet. She had kept him waiting for almost two weeks, almost two weeks without touching her, without fucking her, without hearing her scream for him. That wouldn't be tolerated. She wanted this, needed it, and tonight he would make sure she saw that.

Tonight he would make her acknowledge her need for him; tonight he would make her realise she couldn't stay away from him, no matter how hard she tried. She would always come back for more, always come back to him, no matter how many times she whispered it was a mistake, that she couldn't do this anymore. He would show her the lies in her words, and make her see the truth, make her see what her body needed, and only he could give her. There was no stopping. There was no staying away. She belonged to him, and that wouldn't change.

He watched her swallow nervously and shift her weight from one foot to the other. He slowed down his strokes, and smirked when he saw her lick her lips. He was determined not to make the first move; he would wait for her to go to him.

"You have something for me?" she said in a soft voice, after minutes of silent watching. He stared at her for a few more seconds before nodding and looking at the roll of parchment he had left on the small table by the entrance, only a few feet away from her. She followed his gaze, and then turned back to him when he spoke.

"The information is right there," he said, then looked down at his cock, drawing her eyes to it as he continued stroking himself. "You can take it and leave, if that's what you want."

He could feel her hesitation, feel how she was trying to hold back, to not go to him even when he could see her skin was flushed and her breathing heavier. He ran his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the pre-come, enticing her further. He watched her gaze dart to the roll of parchment again, and he knew just what she was thinking.

This exchange had been what started it; it had been what she'd been hiding behind all this time. She didn't come to him because she wanted him, it was only for the information he could provide. They both knew it was a lie, but she held on to that thought, hiding her needs, her desire for him behind it. Most of the time, the information wasn't even worthy. He would give her the name of a former Death Eater, or the location of an old training facility, whatever was necessary to get her there. The information had just become the excuse she needed to give in, to go to him and do what she wouldn't allow herself to do otherwise.

That was the reason why he'd left the parchment on the table. She could easily reach for it and leave. If she stayed, it would be because she wanted to; no more lying to herself, no more looking for excuses. He'd had enough. She would stay there, she would go to him, and she would do it because she wanted him, because she craved his touch, needed to feel him inside her again, wanted to scream as he fucked her like no one else could. He owned her, owned every inch of her body, and not because he wanted to, but because she did. Now, he wanted her to see it. He wanted her to run out of excuses. He wanted her to surrender to him. Completely.

Rabastan had no idea how long she had stood there, watching him, trying to reach the decision he knew she would make, but then she was moving, walking closer to him, kneeling between his legs and pulling his hands away, replacing them with her own. Without a word she leaned forward, and his hips jerked at the feel of her breath against his cock. But she didn't hesitate. She had made a decision, and there was no changing her mind. Good.

He closed his eyes and groaned as he felt the tip of her tongue touch him, soft at first, flicking, circling, licking for a few seconds before she took him into her mouth. His hands shot to her hair as his hips moved forward, loving the feel of her tight lips pursed around his cock, the movements of her tongue, the vibrations her moans caused, the delicious sensation of her throat around him as he pushed himself deeper. Her head was moving up and down, following the rhythm his hands dictated, as she raked her nails down his hips and thighs, trying to pull his trousers down. He jerked his hips forward, making her gag as he gave her enough room to pull the leather down his thighs, and he felt her fumble with his boots as she tried not to break the rhythm.

She was using her teeth, faintly at first, but more and more as the minutes ticked by, the pleasure mounting as she sank her nails into his thighs and took him as deep into her mouth as she could, until he could feel her nose against him, her throat contracting around his cock. He tightened his hold on her hair and held her there, feeling her swallow around him as she fought for air, the sensations pulling him over the edge in a blinding orgasm.

As the last tremors died down he let her pull away, watching her tongue trace the corner of her lips in an attempt to catch the drops of come she'd missed as she looked up at him. Her eyes were teary from the struggle for air, but the desire was still clear in them. He kept his hand buried in her hair, pulling her up against him and crushing their lips in a bruising kiss as he moulded her body against his.

She moved forward as they kissed, pulling her robes up so she could straddle his legs, her hips moving against him in a search for friction he wouldn't give her yet.

"Please," she whimpered against his lips, but he just smirked and broke the kiss.

"Up," he groaned, and it only took her a second to obey his command. "Take them off."

She didn't argue, didn't even hesitate before standing up and stepping back. She stood a few feet away, staring at him for a second before her fingers started working on the millions of buttons running down her robes. He hated all those buttons, hated the time it always took to get them undone, and at the same time he loved the wait, loved the anticipation as her body was slowly revealed.

He followed every movement her hands made, knowing she was watching him intently. He knew, without having to look, that her cheeks would be flushed and her eyes full of desire and need, loving the way he was watching her. It felt like an eternity before he could actually see her- collarbone first, then shoulders, chest, stomach, hips, thighs. Slowly, her body was revealed to him, and not only her pale skin, but also the black lingerie she was wearing for him. He couldn't stop the smirk that formed on his lips or the twitch of his cock at the thought of her putting on the lace bra, and the knickers, and the garter belt, and the stockings for him, knowing she would see him soon, knowing what would happen when they met. He knew she only wore them for him, knew he was the only one to see her like this, to watch her dress and undress for him, every moment meant to entice him, to seduce.

He waited until the robes were pooling around her feet to get up and slowly walk closer to her. He traced his fingers up her hip, her arm, around her shoulder, and then into her hair. With a quick, hard pull, he yanked her head back and kissed her again, his tongue fighting hers as he pushed her against the door. He kept kissing her as he slipped his hands under the lace covering her breasts, caressing her before pulling the bra down, so that her breasts were spilling over it. His hands moved to her hips then, and he hooked his thumbs around her knickers before yanking, making her gasp as he tore them from her body.

He rocked his hips against hers, giving her only a ghost of the friction she was aching for, his fingers caressing all those sensitive spots in her body with feather-light touches, making her whimper as she tried to push against him. She wanted it rough, wanted it hard, and that was why he kept his touches soft and slow. When the first whimper left her lips he smiled again.

"Please," she begged, as she spread her legs, trying to tilt her hips into a better position, but he only laughed and pulled his body back, his lips still on hers, his fingers still driving her crazy with need, but nothing else.

When her hand slipped between them, he let her touch herself for a few seconds before pulling her arm away, trapping it behind her back.

"Rabastan, please." She begged, oh so beautifully, as she arched forward, her nipples hard against his chest, seeking any contact he would allow.

Unable to resist the temptation, he broke the kiss and licked his way down her throat, her collarbones, the swell of her breasts, until he reached one of her nipples. With a slow movement of his tongue, he licked around the taunt nub, then blew cold air on it, hearing her whimper again, watching her body arch forward for more. Keeping his eyes on hers, he leaned closer again, but this time it was his teeth that made contact, nibbling and pulling and making her moan his name as her free hand moved to his hair, trying to push him closer.

His fingers wrapped around her hand in an instant, turning her around and pushing her hard against the door as he forced that hand against her back as well. "No touching without permission," he growled into her ear, as he pressed himself against her back, pushing her harder into the door. "Now, why don't you tell me what it is you want?"

"Please, touch me," she whimpered, pushing back against him, rolling her hips slowly, making his cock twitch and start to get hard again.

"But I am touching you," he said, keeping his voice low, deep, teasing.

She shook her head and pushed against him again, as she bit her lip and tried to form the words he wanted to hear. "Please, I need…"

"What do you need?"

"You," she finally said. "In me, please."

"Like this?" he asked, as he slipped one of his arms around her, between her and the door, then moved it down, his fingers barely ghosting over her clit.

Another moan left her lips as she tilted her head back against his shoulder, her eyes imploring as she looked at him. "More," she whispered. When he smirked and didn't move, she added, "Please."

He forced her legs apart with his knee, giving his hand enough room to slip between her thighs, finding her wet and ready for him. He stroked her teasingly for a few more moments, then pushed two of his fingers inside, feeling her muscles contract around him, making him think of the way they would feel when it was his cock he was pushing into her. He barely registered the fact that he had started moving his hips against her lower back, his body searching for friction as much as hers did.

With a curse, he tried to regain some control over himself as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, his thumb on her clit, touching just the way she liked, his other hand still on her hair, pulling her head to the side so he had access to that tempting neck of hers to kiss, lick, nibble, bite. To mark her as his. He focused only on the delicious sounds that left her lips, on her body shivering at what he was doing to her, on her nipples rubbing against the door as he pushed her against it.

He wanted her, and he had waited too long to be buried deep inside her tight body again, but he hadn't forgotten his plan. She would wait as he had. She would long for his touch, beg for him to make her come, and still he would make her wait. So he drove her to the edge, then stopped before she could come. Her low whimpers, her pleads for more were like music to his ears. She would learn her lesson. She wouldn't keep him waiting again.

Only when her body started to calm did his fingers move again. Only then did his lips return to that spot where neck met shoulder, that place that made her moan with the slightest of touches. He heard her whisper his name as she pushed her hips into his hand, trying to control the friction, the movement, the rhythm, trying to get the release her body needed.

Again he drove her to the edge, and again he stopped. For what felt like hours, he had her trembling in his arms, the pressure building up in her, muscles tensing, breaths deepening, but he stayed in control, pulling back every time, hearing her beg, hearing her cry out, so close to desperation. And yet he held back.

But she was not the only one who craved release. His cock was hard as a rock again, his hips pushing against hers, his own low moans mixing with the sounds she was making, and he was finding it harder and harder to control himself. He wanted to be inside of her. He needed it. He had waited long enough.

Now it was time to remind her of why she always came back to him.

He drove her to the edge again with calculated touches, and when she was just ready, he pulled away from her. He turned her around and knelt in front of her, moving one of her legs over his shoulder and opening her up for him.

He pushed one finger inside her, then two, then three, his mouth moving to her clit, teasing it with his tongue, his lips, his teeth. She came within seconds, but he didn't stop. When her hands moved to his head he let her guide his movements, let her move her hips to find the best angle, twisting his fingers until he found that perfect spot, until he had her screaming his name as she came again. And again. And again.

It was only his hand on her hip that kept her standing when her knee buckled, her leg over her shoulder barely giving her enough balance to keep her from falling over as he continued to pleasure her, even when her hands on his head stopped pulling him closer and tried to weakly push him away, even when she was too hoarse to form words any more, even when she sagged against him, exhausted and yet ready for more. Always ready for more.

When he finally pulled away it was to ease her down onto the floor, pull her under his body and thrust inside her as deep as he could go. Fuck, she felt so good around him, so hot, and so tight, and as exhausted as she was, she still tightened her muscles around him with every thrust, still lifted her hips whenever he pushed into her, fucking her just the way she liked it. He took both her arms in one of his hands and pulled them over her head as his hips rocked against hers, giving his mouth the perfect access to her nipples every time she arched up against him.

She came again, finding enough strength to cry out his name, and with a curse he kept on moving, kept on thrusting into her even as he tried to control himself, as he tried to hold back while her body writhed beneath him, as her inner muscles tightened around him so deliciously. He wasn't done yet.

The second her body started to calm down he pulled out of her and flipped her over, forcing her onto her hands and knees as he thrust inside from behind. She sagged in exhaustion, resting her head on the floor, her arms too weak to hold her weight, but still she pushed back against him, still moaned with his every move.

He moved his hands to her hips, pulling her back to meet his every thrust. His hold was so firm he knew he would leave bruises, but that only enticed him to press his fingers harder into her hips, wanting to mark her and leave behind a reminder of what he could do to her.

But soon his thrusts lost their rhythm as he began to lose control. He reached forward and gripped her hair, pulling her back until she was flush against his chest, changing the angle enough to find the spot again, making her come one more time as he finally let himself go.

Hermione was panting, satisfied and completely exhausted, her body too weak to even move away from the man lying on top of her. But still she willed her arms to move, willed them to nudge him and make him roll over, willed her legs to hold her weight as she struggled to her feet. Not a word was spoken as she reached for her robes and pulled her wand from one of the pockets. A quick flick of her wand had her clothes back in place, another had every trace of their actions removed from her body. She knew he was looking at her, watching her every move, but she didn't look back.

Two steps had her by the table where the roll of parchment lay, three more had her by the door.

She did not love the man she was leaving behind; her husband was the only one in her heart, but still she knew she would be back. She knew it would be a matter of days before she contacted him once more, before the need for his touch became too much. She wouldn't be able to stay away from him for so long again. Because it didn't matter how much she loved her husband, her body… her body belonged to Rabastan Lestrange.