Baser Urges

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a/n: Okay, listen - this is a smutty fic. Let's all just assume sex could be lurking around the corner and agree not to read while your boss/professor is looking over your shoulder. Because spoiler: it is.

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Chapter 7: Baser Urges

"What did you tell Officer Potter?" Draco asked, barely managing to stumble in through her front door, his fingers wrapped possessively around her hips. He reached around, pulling the Glock from his waistband and setting it surreptitiously on her entry table.

"This is what you want to talk about?" she asked skeptically, her voice muffled as she shook her head against his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, indulge me," he murmured, pinning her wrists above her head and pressing her against the wall. "Permit me my baser urges" - he bent his head, nipping lightly at her neck - "and then I'll satisfy yours."

She squirmed against him. "I told him," she started, gasping as he pulled her dress up, running his hand along the smooth expanse of her thigh, "that I wasn't feeling well, and that I called a cab - "

"Quick cab," Draco remarked offhandedly, and she laughed.

"He was busy with Ron," she said, shrugging. "I doubt he noticed."

At Weasley's name, he stiffened; she caught it.

"You have a problem with Ron," she mused, wrenching a hand free to pull his chin up. "Dare I ask?"

"I have a number of other things I'd prefer to talk about," he told her, picking her up to wrap her legs around his hips. "For example," he said in her ear, "the way I'm going to take this dress off you - "

"The precise scientific method, you mean?" she teased, and for some reason, he felt himself harden at that.

"With my teeth," he supplied, and she grinned, pulling his lips to hers again. "Right after I lick your lovely little cunt, of course - "

"No," she growled suddenly, shoving him away and pulling her dress down. "Nope, nope, nope."

"What?" he asked, panicked. "What did I - "

She kicked off her shoes - damn, he lamented, having planned on leaving them on - and dropped slowly to her knees, still looking up at him.

Fuck, he thought, watching her; she let her fingers flutter above his zipper before seeming to think better of it, deftly undoing the button of his jeans and then tentatively leaning forward, taking the zipper between her teeth and tugging it down.

"Holy shit," he managed, swallowing, and she yanked his jeans to the ground, waiting for him to kick them away before suddenly abandoning her torturous patience and taking his cock in her hand, eyeing it closely - determinedly - and in a way that made his mouth go dry.

"You know," she said leisurely, rubbing her thumb across his tip, "you really do have an outstanding penis."

"Jesus Christ, how drunk are you?" he choked out, shutting his eyes as she swirled her tongue across the head of his cock, tasting him.

"I'm just saying," she said, leaning back to nod appreciatively. "As a doctor and anatomical expert," she clarified mercilessly, "it's a fucking perfect dick." She leaned in, lifting it to lick slowly up the underside of his shaft before glancing up, smiling at him. "The size is, of course, ideal," she noted, gripping him firmly as though to emphasize this, "and the shape is just - it's gorgeous." She nodded at his cock, approving it. "Tastes good, too," she added, taking it in her mouth and giving it a long, languid suck before releasing it with a pop, running her tongue across her lip.

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