Call Harry to his Room

One night Draco called Harry into his room and stripped, ordering her to tell him he she feels about him,

“I feel compelled towards you,” Harry admitted, still studying the visage before her, eyes eating up the sight hungrily, greedily feasting.

“Touch me,” he ordered.

And this time she did, reaching out and touching his knee. His muscles jumped and spasmed under her fingers as they slowly ran up his thigh, shifting the delicate hairs. Then, emboldened, her palm pressed down, cupping the warmth of his skin. Her other hand came up, reaching for his opposite thigh.

“Compelled to touch you,” she continued on whispered breath. She leaned over him, rubbing her face against his chest again, “smell you,” she dragged her chin down the center of his torso before dipping down to tease his bellybutton.

His hips twitched and jerked. If not for the natural curve, her chin would have been caressing his cock right then.

“I want to touch you.”

“Touch me,” he growled.

And she did, bringing her hands up those final inches that crossed the space from his thighs to his privates, transversing those tiny hairs that grew darker and coarser, teasing her fingers until she slid past and onto silky skin. She’d seen pictures, in books, of course, but this was another example of where books just could not properly prepare one for real life. He was… beautiful, her mind tried to supply. This bit of anatomy that was so different from anything on her own body. It was fascinating, and she wanted…

Her fingers trailed up and down the length of him, a light caress that was maddening, skimming from root to tip. He reached down and grabbed her hand, forcing her fingers to curl around his shaft and squeeze… Her breath caught, eyes widening as they looked down at him with a mixture of emotions that he didn’t care to analyze right then and there, too caught up in the exquisiteness of her soft hand moving against his most delicate bits.

“Don’t stop,” he told her, not offering much of a choice, his hand still covering hers, guiding her movements up and down his shaft. Not that she had much interest in stopping as he continued to show her just how he liked to wank, with slow twists and glides and smears and tugs. His other hand reached up and curled around her neck, tugging her back down over him, and she yelped when she lost her balance and went tumbling, sprawling against him.

He grunted, hips pumping up, as he dragged her face to his and hissed against her lips. “Just like that. So fucking perfect, Harry. You’re fucking perfect sissy elf. Feels so bloody brilliant. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come all over your hand. Your fucking sissy hand, on my cock, and it feels so fucking good, Harry. Gonna come.”

“Draco! I want—I—mphf!” She wasn’t given the chance to tell him want she wanted. His tongue pressed into her mouth even as his penis pressed into her hand, and his movements sped up, jerkily, desperately until he cried out against her, body trembling under hers. She felt the sticky wetness of his cum coating their joined hands, still moving over his penis but slower now, gentling, until finally he lie panting but still beneath her. Even his kisses had eased back into a nuzzling rub of skin against skin.

“Give me a moment,” he murmured against her cheek, causing her to shiver. The one hand at her neck was still squeezing, gently massaging, keeping the sparks and tingles that raced through her alive and charged.

“What—what for?” she questioned, fingers tangling with his, gliding and smearing cum from her hand to his. The sensation was… intriguing.

He rolled them over, pressing his naked body into hers as she fell into the mattress, and she realized for the first time that although he was completely naked, she was still dressed.

"Draco,” she moaned, head falling back as his mouth closed over her throat.

“I want to touch you, Harry,” his hot breath caused goose flesh to prickle down across skin. “I want to taste you,” his tongue was like wet fire, searing and burning her, and then his teeth scraped against her skin. “All of you.”

She undulated below him, hips pressing up to rock against his pelvis, cradled and frotting against hers. Her hands clenched against his, even as he pressed them down into the mattress up near the pillow cradling her head. And she felt she could do little more than lie there, gasping for breath and reveling in the fiery sweep of emotions he managed to evoke within her.

“Please,” she gasped. “Please, Draco, touch me.”

And he did.

His hands reached for the hem of her lounge shirt, pushing and wrenching it up, forcing her arms up over her head and freeing her upper body to the cool night air. And then he paused, took a moment to **** himself to slow down and just look, like she had. And what he saw was wonderful: Harry, laying half naked in his bed, chest heaving under the weight of her panting breaths, skin flushed with arousal and maybe just a hint of self-conscious embarrassment, and her breasts…

He groaned, reaching up to cup one exquisite breast, test its weight and texture, marvel at how perfect it felt in his hand. “Fucking perfect,” he whispered again, daring to look up into those green eyes.

"Perfect and mine,” he told her, falling over her to reclaim her mouth. His tongue breached her lips, thrust in again and again before sucking her tongue back into his mouth, encouraging her to kiss him back as both hands continued to play and explore her breasts. Finally he pulled back, dropped down to her chest and began laving and bathing her breasts in scalding kisses and scraping bites. She continued to writhe and undulate beneath him and he growled, bucking forcefully between her thighs.

“Do you feel that, Harry? Can you feel how hard I’m getting, again, because of you?”

“…Draco…”

“Amazing sissy elf,” he whispered against her teat. “You’re going to make me come again, from just the sight, smell, touch of you…” he groaned again, thrusting against her, sharply enough to draw a cry from her lips, “my sissy.”

“Draco, please,” she whimpered, desperately clutching at him.

“What do you want?” he asked her, rubbing his face into the valley between her beautiful, amazing breasts, squeezing each one in his hands, pressing them together so he could attempt to kiss both nipples at once. “Do you want more? Do you want me to touch you more?”

“Yes! Yes, Draco! Touch me! Please, touch me,” she begged, wiggling beneath him, struggling to press more of her body against his, but that was nearly impossible. They were already pressed tightly to one another.

His hands fell from her breasts, and she sobbed at the lack of contact. Nails scraped at her hips, and the tugging of cloth helped her realize he’d gone for her lounge slacks, was attempting to remove them, and she quickly arched up off the bed, giving him the space needed to wrench the offending clothing down her hips, sloughing off her legs, and kicked away. Only his hands, pressing intimately into the hot, moist folds of her sex, made her realize he’d effectively removed her panties as well.

The act of removing her pants had **** Draco to scooch lower down her body, but that was perfectly fine with him because he now had immediate access to Harry’s intimate bits. Those bits that a woman protected most fiercely against casual touches or sweaty-palmed groups in a broom closet. Ready, immediate, and permission granted access, he thought, spreading her legs apart and looking his fill even as his fingers pressed and sunk into her warmth.

He had his fingers inside Harry’s body, the same way he’d had his dick there, and wasn’t that just bloody amazing? Brilliant. The way her body just stretched and opened and took him in like that. He pressed a third finger, watching the opening stretch and accept his intrusion as Hermione continued to moan and writhe and try to press against him.

His thumb brushed over the little nub, and he watched in amazement as she reacted, the magic literally pouring off her, trying to wrap around him and draw him into her. He was more than willing, more than eager to sink his dick into her again and chase after that euphoric sense of completion, but there was something he wanted to do first, since he had her here in his bed, spread out willingly before him.

Apparently she did have words left, because suddenly a litany of them were pouring from her lips. “Yes! Please, please, Draco, I need, I need. Please, touch me. Taste me. Draco, please, yes!”

He didn’t wait for her to finish giving her consent, merely tipped his face forward, rubbing his cheeks against the wiry coarse hairs that covered her mound. He **** the folds of her sex further apart and then buried face, mouth and nose against her heated sex. She screamed, he thought, maybe, but he was too distracted to pay her shouts and words any attention.

He used his tongue to trace along the little bumps and ridges, intrigued at the unevenness and the little creases; ran his tongue around his fingers, where they continued to stroke in and out of her opening, and even pulled his fingers away so he could press his tongue into that gaping hole, amazed at the way it seemed to open and close and squeeze around him. So hot. So incredibly hot. And then he returned to that little nub of flesh that had cause those amazing reactions earlier when he’d brushed it with his thumb. How would she respond if he sucked on it, he wondered.

She screamed again, body bucking and thrashing so violently he had to use one hand and his body draped across her thighs just to keep her hips against the bed. Still, he didn’t stop, wasn’t sure if he could stop, enthralled by the scent and taste of her, the feeling of her body and magic as he wrapped around him, dancing and whirling about in a frenzied cacophony or sounds and colors and sensations.

Draco's hips jerked of their own violation. Inside her, having sex with his sissy elf. And she was hot and wanton, and moaning and writhing against him, thrusting down on his shaft as the magic in the air, the magic of the spell and their own magic poured off their bodies, pumping into the air around them with the same furious speed as he found themselves pumping against each other’s bodies. And he could see it, that magic, their magic. It swirled in the air around them, clogging and **** them with its sheer supremacy dominance sovereignty potential might intensity potency.

It was overwhelming, overpowering, and he came with a might shout. A feeling like his magic was pulling from him, being sucked from his body, hurting his every bone and muscle for an infinity… and then it was over, slammed back into his own body, his own person once more. Every nerve and muscle twitched in over sensitized aftermath.

Harry lay shivering in his arms still, sweaty and exhausted.