She found it difficult to reply when her sex was still constricting around an absent length. Her eyes drifted shut, and Ginny was madly trying to sift through the haze of release, to stop the vague clenches her sex was still executing.
When she chanced to glance at him again, he was still hovering, chin still covered with her. Deliberately, he swiped fingers through the liquid and brought them to his mouth, watching her reaction.
"Don't," she muttered weakly, shading her eyes from the suddenly too-bright room.
"Don't what, Mistress?" he asked innocently.
"Just stop," she said, raising a languid hand to massage her temples. The vision they surely presented right here had manifested itself in her head, and it was all she could do to suppress the moan.
"I could stop," he said agreeably, moving so that his swollen cock brushed lightly against her bent knee. "But you know, I'm still feeling Malfoyish and not broken at all."
Her lips curled savagely and he squelched a laugh.
"You know, Mistress, by your own admission many women have been in here," he began conversationally. "And while their appetites are as lusty as mine, there's one thing I never let happen. I never let them get the best of me. I never let them mount me. You know why? Because I'm better than them. Because I dominate them. Because they're not worthy enough to have the upper hand."
"Or maybe you're scared they can fuck you on their own terms, hmm?" she spat, moving to escape from the invisible cage he'd made with his body. Uncoiling his body, he pinned her instantly with the weight of his eyes and not at all with the corded arms that he'd planted alongside her head.
"What about your terms?" he said, pointing to the sad scrap of feather he'd long since banished to the throw rug on the hardwood floor nearby. "I don't think mine have been met yet. I'm not very inclined to return your quill."
Her eyes squeezed shut again, wondering if she was ever going to get out of this not-quite nightmare.
"I have an idea, Weasley," he said brightly, allowing his turgid flesh to slide just inside her slick nether lips. She jerked underneath him, and her eyes opened wide.
"Pray tell?" she asked tiredly, trying not to concentrate on the flutters he was causing in her stomach.
"Oh, it's wonderfully sinister," he said, and she stared at him, trying to determine if he was joking or not. "We've established that you're the mistress here. Maybe you ought to climb atop me and get what you want."
His steely eyes bored into hers and she could hardly believe what he was saying.
"Perhaps it's the only way to put me in my place," he taunted, trying to spur her to action. "And certainly the only time a Weasley would ever best a Malfoy."
His head snapped to the side as she slapped him sharply.
"No matter whatever your filthy family does to us, we're always better than you," she hissed. "Fucking, fighting, bloodlines, loyalty."
"Prove it, then," he snapped, gathering her roughly to him and executing a roll on his bed. Once she was draped over him, she moved quickly to sit up and get away, but he again employed his wiry strength to pin her arms in place.
"Not so fast," he snarled. "This isn't over."
"The hell it's not…" she yelled, and then her voice switched abruptly to a keening wail as he lifted her up and dropped her on his waiting shaft.
He bucked his hips sharply into her, growling as he held her down over him.
"Well, Mistress, here we are," he managed tightly. "I'm looking to be punished and you just said you're better than me at it, so let's get to it."
She felt boneless and light-headed as he made small thrusts into her to keep her attention. His words were penetrating and infuriating, but his cock inside her was taking away her ability to put together a coherent thought.
"No, I, this…" she said weakly.
Like a shot he sat up halfway, his face inches from hers.
"I said fuck me, you weasel bitch," he rasped, and had to recoil almost immediately as she recovered and snapped her teeth viciously at the end of his nose.
"With pleasure," she growled, raking her fingernails down his face, outlining livid streaks.
Leaning down, she angled herself so she could move back and forth on his shaft as quickly as possible. His fingers tangled painfully in her hair, holding her head in place. Ginny bit his near shoulder out of pure spite, taking small pleasure in seeing the deep indentations her sharp teeth left.
He grunted and shoved her upper body to a steeper angle, granting him access to her breasts. Her hands came up automatically to brace herself when she screamed as his teeth set into her right nipple.
He worried and pulled and nipped, sending streamers of fire down her body and straight to her quim. Now that she had unthinkingly propped herself up on him, he was able to take his hands away from her waist and hold her in place, levering his hips up and into her as quickly and roughly as he possibly could.
"I'm barely breaking a sweat, Mistress," he bit out, taunting her as her own sweat dripped down her flushed face and splashed on his abdomen.
But he was lying, she could tell. His platinum hair had dampened at the roots, and a line of perspiration broke across his smooth forehead.
She let herself fall heavily on his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs. His next breath was full of her as she captured his lips and bit at them, drawing blood and showering his face with her own sex sheen and dripping tendrils at her temples.
She pulled away, hoping she had silenced him for a moment, but he grinned madly back at her, teeth gleaming and bared.
"Oh, Weasley, what a gaping great cunt you have," he sneered, grinding his pubic bone into her clit just to see her wince and whimper in dark bliss. "How many other boys have you let plow you like this?"
His words had the desired effect and he delighted in watching her face screw up in near-tears. To punctuate his point, he drove himself as deeply as he could into her rather snug confines, knowing his jibe was one of the worst a woman could ever hear.
A sob escaped her and she brought her fist down in the middle of his chest, wetness seeping from her warm brown eyes. Each heaving gasp tightened her body around him, and she was still moving out of recently acquired habit.
"I hate you," she cried bitterly. "What have you done to me?"
Despairingly, she reached her free hand between her legs and grabbed him, intending to pull him from her passage. Her slickness made it hard to grasp his member, but she tilted her pelvis in order to remove him. He groaned loudly and instead thrust through her clenched fist and into her. The angle of her body was different, and he went so deep that he triggered her orgasm.
When she collapsed upon him and screamed in his ear, he thought he might lose his hearing. Paroxysms gripped her body and him in turn, and he took advantage of her near-incapacitation to thrust several more times into her clenching body, letting her climax bring his own.
Her body, weakened by sex, pain and exhaustion, promptly fell unconscious.
***
He was still inside her, hard as rock again when he could have rightly made a case against it.
Her breathing was even now and steady in his ear, and Draco found he didn't mind one bit that her hands had clasped loosely atop his head.
He'd long since summoned his wand, only moments after she'd passed out. Taking great care not to wake her, he'd whispered the strongest contraception spell he'd been taught, one that protected the woman for nearly two days. And after that, he'd lain there beneath her, reveling in the amazing sensation of becoming hard again within her body and how nicely that body fit over his own.
His own body was heavy with stupor, but his groin always got the last word. Whispering a wingardium leviosa, he put his arms around her and rotated their bodies, staying joined. Settling her into the deep, warm spot where he'd just been lying, he saw her snuggle slightly into the mattress and fingers grasp at sheets that weren't there.
Finding a gentle rhythm that continued without him consciously directing it, he slid in and out of her slowly, watching her face contort slightly and listening to her sighed exhalations. Examining her in the now-guttering candlelight, he could see her lips were swollen and chafed, red with overuse.
When he touched the very tip of his wand to her mouth she stirred and her eyes cracked sleepily. It was almost as if she didn't recognize him, he thought. Yawning, she lifted her eyes to his own.
"What are you doing?" she asked softly, squirming a bit below him. Deciding stating the obvious wasn't the best, he did tell the truth.
"Healing your lips."
"Oh," she said, her eyes closing again. He murmured the reducing spell and watched the obscene swell vanish from her mouth.
Her nipples were dark pink and tender, he discovered, when he inadvertently brushed against one. An anti-pain spell and the reducing spell took care of that, and when he found bruises on her wrists and arms from holding her, he massaged them gently while scanning his mind for the spell to stop subcutaneous bleeding.
Her deep and slow breathing told him that she'd fallen asleep again. No matter, he thought, it only afforded him more time to heal the marks she'd accumulated. He hadn't realized she would fight that hard, excite him so much. He didn't regret one hurtful thing he'd said to her, as it had all served to further their explosive orgasms. No one had ever reacted to him as she had, and he knew after one session that her easily raised ire would provide excellent fodder to lure her into it again.
Because in all honestly, he wanted her to win their little game. Wanted her to dominate him so thoroughly he'd gladly service her on all fours and call her Mistress and mean it. He was skilled in true domination, having found no one to best him, and always had great pleasure from it. But this…this fiery Weasley, she would make him pay.
Setting aside his wand, he concentrated now on wringing this very last bit of pleasure from her. He'd reduced the swelling between her legs and soothed it with the tiniest hint of charm-generated lubricant. His way eased even more, he braced his hands on the bed and she must have felt the sudden change in weight, because her eyes opened and she looked at him with more comprehension.
"Draco," she muttered, unable to muster the strength to push him off. "Haven't you hurt me enough?"
He leaned down to kiss her gently, though her words speared through him and he felt a twinge of remorse.
He was about to tell her he was sorry when the depths of her body rippled with orgasm, tearing his own from him and rendering her insensate.
***
Five short hours later, Ginny woke and wished she hadn't. Her body was painfully numb and stiff, and as she determined how best to extricate herself from Draco's arms, she realized he must have performed some sort of glamour on her. There was no way she'd be leaving without marks unless he charmed them away.
He was pressed against her back, head tucked just behind her neck. He'd linked both hands over her midriff at some point, and gingerly she pried them off and disconnected his long fingers to allow escape. As quietly as a silencing spell, she moved gingerly off the bed and located her wand and clothing.
The sunlight peeking in around his drapes showed her that he still bore the marks of her sharp fingernails on his pale cheeks, slightly bloody teeth marks on his shoulders and three distinct bruises where she had hit him. If she'd had the time for a closer inspection, she'd have seen the half-moons her fingernails dug into his thighs and a myriad of other small battle wounds.
Had it been anyone else she might have been upset over marring that pale perfection. She bared her teeth in a feral smile and dressed immediately, leaving his dungeon quarters and the hate they begat.
***
One full day later and she'd been studiously avoiding him, though she heard the whispers that someone had attacked Malfoy and he had the nasty scratches to prove it.
She was back in the library, studying for an exam, tucked into a far corner away from the infernally chattering students.
Though she faced the wall, she felt a presence approach her. A shiver ran down her spine and with that small affirmation, she knew who the intruder was.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, her tone measured but strained. She refused to turn around, to look at him, to see the evidence of their sex clearly outlined on his face. Her back became rigid as he seated himself in the chair next to her and turned sideways, so close she could feel his hot breath.
"Here," he said, brushing her cheek softly with an expensive-looking quill.
She shivered at the memories the caress brought to mind, but tried to pull herself together and stay icily calm. "What's this for, Malfoy?"
"So you have something to write with." He smiled devilishly and she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as she realized that nothing had ended when she snuck out of his room before he woke. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep your old one handy for the next time you come to play."
~finis~
Author's Note: Thanks to all of you who stuck with this fic through the many months it took to finish it. Special mention goes to Mynuet who wrote the last few paragraphs for the ending on the first day I proposed this fic. I've altered it slightly to fit the events.
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