Lucifer made her peak once more, with his lips around her clit, fingers knuckles deep inside her, with her hands curled into his hair, begging for him to make her come, to make it stop, to keep going, to please, please, please—
Lucifer slammed back into his body, breath whooshing out of him and head spinning as if he was just spit out of one of those terrifying muggle attractions Hermione made him ride once.
His head rolled back against the headrest and he chuckled as the realisation hit him.
She pushed him out of her mind, with Lucifer only using the power an adult wizard should have.
'That's my girl.'
A faint tremble went through him, an echo of her response trickling down the remnants of the bond between them.
His heart was performing staccato beneath his ribs and his cock was ready to burst even before awareness creeped in, and with it, a heady scent of arousal.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
It appeared as if Hermione moved around in her sleep, while he was—otherwise occupied.
Her hand clutched the edge of a stuffy pillow and her legs shifted a bit—a tension in her frame that wasn't there before his little detour.
Her devious shorts rode up at least half an inch, if his measurements were right.
(When it concerned his favourite part of her anatomy, they usually were.)
'Then you can have your fun with me in our library. With me sleeping.'
He couldn't deny the frisson of excitement her words sent through him.
To fill her, to take his fill of her while she was—only technically—unaware, left every inch of his skin exposed like a live wire.
His head swam but Lucifer forced himself to stay still, to calculate everything before he made his move, even with his girlfriend's permission.
He had to make sure she was ready to take him, for instance.
The next shift of her legs was unmistakable. Was she growing impatient?
Lucifer grinned and leaned forward, the leather creaking underneath him.
He liked her shorts too much to wish them out of existence so he simply vanished them to their bedroom with his own garments.
With the silky pink fabric out of the way, his eyes were free to feast on the picture before him.
His palms itched to trace the dimples above her arse, to knead the full flesh of her cheeks, to tease them apart and taste her until she turned into a sopping mess.
If she wasn't cold earlier, she certainly was now, and he watched, transfixed, as the backs of her thighs tensed with goosebumps and her right thigh, the one on the top, shifted forward.
He almost choked on his next swallow when the skin between her thighs gleamed with wetness in the dim light of the library.
He was out of his seat in a flash.
Warming charms were not necessary.
She would be warm soon enough.
He couldn't resist trailing the tips of his fingers up her leg, feather-light, teasing.
His touch turned firmer when he reached the apex of her thighs, where she flared the hottest, where she was aching with want.
The biting sting of the lubrication took the edge off and he slid up behind her, caressing her hip.
The book Hermione was reading before tumbled to the floor with a soft thud.
She would murder him if he damaged it in any way but, given that he was practically mindless with need, Lucifer did not pay it much thought.
After this—he would die a happy man.
His groan got lost in her curls when he met nothing but pure heat.
He breathed through his teeth, sliding through her wetness, the stretch of muscle nearly blinding, giving way until he was fully seated, snug inside her walls.
His vision went blurry as he fought for control and his breath started coming in wet pants but he allowed himself to bury his nose in the crook of her neck, to swallow greedily the scent of her skin mixed with sweat.
The scent he was missing before.
He moved his palm over her side and above her lower stomach, pressing slowly, simultaneously giving a tiny push with his hips.
Fuck.
She constricted around him and Lucifer almost saw stars.
He needed to get her off one more time before reaching his own peak.
He needed to feel her around him.
Dragging his palm lower, he encountered her clit. Giving it a perfunctory flick, which resulted in another flex of muscles from her and another muffled curse from him, he drifted lower, to where she was stretched around his erection.
Trembling fingers, now coated in her wetness, trailed back to her clit, finally giving it their undivided attention.
Hermione was still asleep—he suspected she forced herself to stay that way to let him have her like this, and if he thought he couldn't lo.. her more than he already did, he was sorely mistaken.
His hips moved freely, snapping against her backside while his other hand sneaked under her, moving her body to the side and forward, until she was sprawled on her stomach with him against her back.
This time, Hermione let out a breathy moan, clenching the pillow beneath her head with both hands.
His hips gave an involuntary jerk and he pressed deeper inside her with a groan.
This position would be the death of him.
Supporting himself on one elbow, forehead resting over the top of her head, Lucifer renewed his assault on her clit, pinching, rubbing it, all the while fucking into her at a progressively growing pace.
She loved when he had her like this, front to back, covering her entire body, free to do anything he wanted with her.
To her. As he did now.
Delirious, he cupped his hand over her sex, just holding her, the base of his palm both rubbing the bundle of nerves and pushing her onto his cock, once, twice—
Lucifer let go, powerless in the face of the agonising pleasure of having her shattering around him.
The awareness came to him in waves.
The sweat was cooling down on his back and legs, he was still wrapped around his wife—only now she had him pressed up against the back of the couch, carding her fingers through the mess of hair on his head with a sleepy smile.
"Hi," she said softly. "Feeling okay?"
"More than," he croaked. The inside of his mouth felt like Sahara but he was more concerned with her. "You?"
She traced the line of his cheekbone, fingertips brushing his nose, lower lip, curling under his chin, as if reacquainting herself with his features.
As much as he liked what they did in her mind, nothing could ever compare to the reality of holding her in his arms, warm and safe.
"Mhmm." Mischief shone bright in her eyes when she peered up at him. "Never better."
Lucifer eyed the ceiling in exasperation, the edges of his mind still fuzzy.
He wanted to kiss the satisfied expression off her face. "You're going to be insufferable, aren't you."
She had the audacity to shrug her shoulders, "It's not everyday you make your boyfriend come so hard he passes out—without even lifting a fin—Lucifer!"
Her words dissolved into giggles when his fingers dug into her sides with deadly precision.
Lucifer wheezed when her elbow caught him in the ribs and her shriek for mercy was answered when she almost launched herself off the couch in an attempt to halt his attack.
He gathered her, panting and cackling, back into his embrace, tugging the duvet over them to keep some of the warmth in.
He had no intention of moving anytime soon.
Her legs tangled with his and her hands curled between them, one palm over his left pectoral, thumbing at the largest scar bisecting his chest.
"You left me no choice but to get back at you," he muttered into her temple, burrowing his fingers in her curls.
Pure bliss, that's what this was.
"Promise?"
He pinched her hip.
"Sleep, girl."
Her laughter was his lullaby.
xxxxxxx
Author's Note
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1 Extra Chapter - 100 Power Stone's! 😈