forced | d.m.

37.propensities

Butterflies have just come to life and they are wrecking her guts. Continue to do so as she steps out of her dress and he very obviously observes her doing so, and once more, she fills the tensely silent bridge between them.

"Any signs of fainting yet?"

He fights a smile. "Holding on strong, baby."

Taken out of his stupor, Draco whisks the shirt over his head and-she looks away.

It's too much.

Thea goes to unpacking the beach bag, pulling cut-up fruits out for everyone to share, towels, a book she's been meaning to read for months but hasn't found the time for. Blaise puts up an umbrella. Draco sets the cooler up for use, held endlessly cold by a charm.

Nothing could ruin this nice beach day.

"You want to hold your hair up or should I try my best at doing a quick though rather unimpressive up-do?"

Blinking at the gibberish, Althea looks over her shoulder to find Draco opening the bottle of sunscreen. A little too shrill, she asks, "What are you doing?"

He squirts some on his hand. "Hair up, come on."

"Draco..."

Leaning closer, he whispers with a meaningful look, "You're gonna ask Pansy, or better yet, Blaise to apply simple sunscreen where you can't reach?"

She was thinking more along the lines of burning her back.

But he's not wrong, regretfully.

Resigned, Althea puts her hair up in a clip, then rubs her shins as in to steel herself. Not for the cold lotion touching her skin which admittedly brings a shock she has to shake, but for the warm sensation afterwards. The gentle skin-on-skin, triggering nerve-endings that have been hibernating a little too long.

"You are such a child," Pansy says, a fond tone to it.

It draws Thea's attention, thank god. Blaise is starting to build a sand castle with buckets he brought, starting with the biggest one.

To Althea, she says, "He couldn't sit still if his life depended on it."

I wish I wasn't sitting still.

It's hard to pretend his hands on her sides, down her spine, around her hips are not coaxing her down a seriously bad, awfully compelling track.

Not that kind of massage, she tells herself. Not that kind of massage.

Her eyes flutter shut when lips press to her shoulder, heart racing to get out of it's cage.

"Don't overdo it," she warns quietly.

He's massaging the lotion on her arms, down to the wrist. His mouth close to her ear, he whispers, "I'm feeling signs of fainting and this is the only remedy."

Her laugh is cut short when a second kiss follows. "Idiot."

"Turn around for me."

She freezes. Realistically, she is aware he means something completely innocent, but the demand is so familiar, recalls steamy little memories, she can't help letting her mind wander and actually consider following it.

Goddamnit. Get a grip.

Which would entail declining his offer to put a layer of sunscreen on her front-she can well reach that on her own-yet here she is, changing to sit facing him. Gently, he pushes her down to lie. Her heart is missing some beats.

Scratch innocent-he begins to rub not her legs or even her stomach, but her chest with sunscreen.

"You're okay with this, right?" He speaks in a lower voice, though Pansy and Blaise are having their own chat. "Nothing I haven't done before."