shattered | f.w, d.m

ten

Draco.

December, 1997.

—

"Fuck, Draco," Keziah moaned.

Gosh, her moan could make him finish, but he sought for control to save himself the embarrassment of finishing within ten seconds.

He thrust hard, but slowly. He wanted to feel all of her. He wanted to memorize the feeling of being inside of her. The way she throbbed and pulsed around him. The way her cunt ached as much as she did for her release.

Her fingertips dragged down his muscled back and his face twisted in ecstasy at the searing sting when her nails broke the skin of his shoulder blades. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck. Her moans were breathless, like quick pants, as they poured directly into his ear.

His one hand gripped the headboard, the veins running along his hand and forearm flexing, and his other planted upon the pillow next to her head. His eyes were screwed shut, fighting off his release.

He didn't want it to be over yet. He needed more. Wanted more. Craved for more.

He needed her to stop moaning, so he wouldn't combust right then and there. But oh, her moans and each delicate sound that came from her mouth out of pleasure was nothing but music to his ears and heart. Each one was more addicting than the last.

He was twitching inside of her, pulsing. He needed to let go and release himself, but she wasn't even close to finding her reach.

He couldn't hold it. Not any longer.

He groaned as he finished. "Oh, Keziah!"

Draco gasped awake and out of his sleep, hand clutching his chest where his heart thundered beneath his palm. He was sweating. Beads of sweat balled at his temples and his neck.

He was hard. His penis was erect.

He rubbed his hands over his sweaty face and exhaled heavily. He was dying. He felt like he was dying. He hadn't seen Keziah in five days. It was killing him. Emotionally and physically, and he was not being dramatic.

His heart hurt. His mind was untidy and jangled. His body yearned and longed for her so badly that it was actually beginning to make a pang rattle in his bones like an agonizing ache. Even if it was just the sight of her in person or a whiff of her addicting scent, he just needed to see her.

Here, on this fine Wednesday, he lay in his king-size bed early in the morning with a heartache and an erection.

He didn't know where she was. All he knew was that Fuckhead Fred walked her to a bus stop, waited for the bus with her, and then she was gone. Draco followed the two to see that. Obviously.

At last, he sat up in his bed and dragged himself out of it to get dressed. First, he needed to take care of his erection and he would do so with thoughts of Keziah Cai and her thong he so generously stole.

Life was hard at the moment for him because he didn't see Keziah. Couldn't see Keziah. It was like she was his air and he needed her to be able to breathe. He couldn't fucking breathe right now.

When he finally got dressed and ready for the day, he strode out of his bedroom and down the large corridor and down the grand staircase and down into the abnormally large dining room for breakfast.

Malfoy Manor was full of dark colours from dark greens to dark greys. Everything matched though. The aura of the house was pretty sombre and ominous, Draco couldn't even deny that. But as he was raised here in this huge manor, he was used to it. The dark aura was like home for him. This manor was home for him.