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She stands by a wall of shelves, fingers curled around the ladder placed there to reach the upper rows of books. Her body leans down and forward as she reads the spines, ignoring the tall pile of books already on the coffee table, waiting for her perusal. She wears only a thin, cotton button-down - his thin, cotton button-down. Despite its larger size, her curves can still be seen beneath the fabric, her legs shapely and bare beneath.
A peek over her shoulder shows a man sitting at his desk, bare-chested and trousers still undone. He arches an eyebrow when he sees her looking, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. He looks pointedly at the tomes and open notebooks on the coffee table before staring back at her. She lets go of the ladder and turns completely, resting her shoulders against the sturdy shelves.
“What are you looking at, Sir?” Her voice is a tease, a playful tone that matches the way her head comes up to play with a button on the shirt. When his gaze drops to the curves of her breasts peeking out at the center of the half-unbuttoned shirt, she laughs, the sound winding around the room like music.
“You, Miss Weasley, are a vixen,” he murmurs. He turns his attention to the sheath of papers in front of him, pages and pages of notes in her messy writing. “Come here, love.”
Rose pushes off of the shelf, pausing when one of the frames teeters, and walks to him, stopping to grab a few of her notebooks on the way. When she reaches him, he rolls his seat back and spreads his legs a bit wider. With a shake of her head, she perches on his thigh, the fabric of his pants smooth against her legs.
Because of course his trousers are silk.
His arm wraps around her waist, holding her close, and his hand moves the shirt away from her legs so his fingers can rest on her inner thigh. “Tell me about your thesis again.”
“Draco.” There’s a whine in her voice, one that he addresses with a light smack of his hand. “Hey!”
“You asked for my help. I’m giving help.”
Knowing he’s right, she scrunches her nose and drops her notebooks onto his desk, trying not to think of how he’d fucked her against it just last night. As if he can read her mind, he tucks his face into her neck and breathes out slowly, letting warm air tickle her. Rose can’t help but squirm, earning another smack, this time a bit closer to her slowly dampening knickers. In retaliation, she scoots back onto his leg, feeling the outline of his cock beneath his trousers, and he nips at her neck.
“Thesis, Rose.”
With a hmpf , she edges forward toward his knee, away from temptation. She pages through her notebook, layers of red waves falling over her shoulders. Long fingers gather them into a fist.
“I’m,” Rose begins but then something in the margins of her notebook catches her eye. Her head tilts in thought and then she stands, her hand slipping through Draco’s fingers easily as she crouches next to the coffee table. Finding the book she needs, she pages through it until she finds the chapter she needs. She reads, brings the book closer to her face for a moment before she sets it back down. Scrambling, she reaches for another notebook, finds a pen fallen under the table, and begins writing frantically.
Draco watches her, smiling indulgently. It’s cute, the way her tongue peeks out from between her lips as she works. One finger traces the lines of text in the book while her right hand continues writing. Eyebrows scrunch up as she looks back and forth between book and notebook, her focus solely on taking notes. Though he’ll never mention it, at this very moment, she reminds him of her mother, back when they were study partners at university.
“Found something, did you?” He asks when she finally tosses the pen back onto the table.
“Oh!” She jumps slightly and looks behind her, raising herself to lean onto the couch between herself and his desk. She apologizes. “I’m sorry. You asked me something, didn’t you?”
Smoothly, Draco stands and makes his way around his desk, around the couch, to sit. He cups Rose’s face with a palm and leans down to kiss her. “Just asking about your thesis.”
She lifts herself to sit next to him, leaning into his side when he presses another kiss to the side of her head. His hand tugs at the arm of her - his - shirt, and Rose immediately lifts her shoulder, baring it to his mouth, silently asking him to taste. He gives in to her request, but only after saying, once more, “The thesis.”
Tilting her head to provide him more access, she closes her eyes to help focus, then begins speaking. “I’m… I’m trying to prove that… Oh, that complete and deep knowledge of beauty, as described by Plato, he-helps a sin…gle, Draco .”
“Helps a single what, sweetheart?” He licks the colorful butterflies behind her shoulder, chuckling lightly at the memory of Ron losing his mind when he first saw them. It’s no longer her only tattoo, but it was her first, and Draco bites at the tiny wings. Rose turns her head just in time to catch Draco’s lips, nipping at them. He grins against her mouth but says, “Continue.”
She lets out a sigh but does as he requests. “Helps a single person nurture relationships with another human being. Happy?”
Strong hands push her gently back against the couch, one following the line of buttons, undoing them until he moves the panels back, baring her chest to him. He leans down, stubble rubbing against her skin. He whispers, “Tell me the stages.”
A hand reaches up to hold his head close to her breast, bracelets jingling against each other. Her fingers scratch at his scalp as he closes his mouth over a nipple, tugging gently with a soft bite of his teeth. “Draco, you’re the assistant head of the Philosophy department. Shouldn’t you know this?”
“Tell me anyway,” he says with a hand gliding over the lean muscles of her stomach.
She hums when he shifts backwards in order to lean down, brushing his nose down her ribcage. The touch tickles and causes tiny bumps to rise on her skin. Her hand drifts to the back of his neck. “You could just… Read… What I - what I’ve written so far.”
“Humor me and summarize it,” he demands. Teeth nip at the skin of her hip, making her squeal and protest light-heartedly. “Tell me, beautiful.”
Somehow, Rose manages to lecture through the kisses Draco leaves on her waist, her stomach, her hopes. “It starts with an individual appreciating a beautiful body. It’s the most obvious form of love from a person who calls themselves a lover .”
Grey eyes almost sparkle when he glances up from where he’s dipping his tongue into her belly button. He trails a hand from her knee upwards, rubbing up and down, moving higher with each pass. “And what, if I may ask, constitutes a lover ?”
“Someone who –” Her words break off with a gasp when his hands pick her up and throw her back down so that she’s flat on her back. He lowers himself to his stomach, settling between her legs and moving her knees to rest on his shoulders. The heels of her feet press against his back. “Someone who desires that which he does not have.”
“Mmm,” Draco hums against the slick fabric of her knickers. “And am I a lover, Rose?”
The redhead reaches for one of the throw pillows and settles it beneath her head before lifting a bit to look down at Draco. She narrows her eyes at him even as she tightens her thighs around his neck to get into a more comfortable position. “You’re getting off on this aren’t you?” she accuses him playfully. “All this talk about love and who’s who and what’s what - it’s getting you going, isn’t it?”
He raises his eyebrows, and keeping their gazes locked, he lowers his face and mouths her knickers. A single finger slides beneath the hem, sliding back and forth against slick skin until he reaches her slit, wet and ready for him.
“Draco,” she moans his name wantonly then flushes at the sound. She lifts her head and shoulders, reaches down with both hands, and slides her fingers into the blond and silver strands. “Please?”
His fingers hook around the top of her knickers, pulling and tapping at her arse so she lifts her hips. He moves up and backwards to pull them off of her, turning his head to kiss her ankle. “What’s the next step, Rose?”
“Are you serious right now?” she asks in a whine. Draco grins but leaves kisses on her leg as he lowers himself back down. When he nods, she feels his hair move against her thighs right before he licks her, a slow slide from her center up to her clit. She can’t help but buck up but a large hand splays over her stomach to hold her down.
“Rose.” The way he says her name is slow, relaxed, like a drizzle of honey over her. While he looks at her, he eases a finger into her, pumping in and out slowly, a second finger quickly joining the first. “Continue or I don’t.”
“Fuck, okay,” she pants the words. “Once th-the lover finds lo-lo-love, oh right there , finds love in another being… And is… Able… To… To… Draco. ”
“Keep going, love,” he urges, pressing his thumb against her clit. His fingers crook inside of her, making her writhe against him.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads. She starts again. “Once the lover finds love in another being, and is available to examine that love, he or she –”
“ He, Rose,” Draco corrects her with a smirk. “In this scenario, the lover is a he .”
She nods and swallows deeply. Her breathing accelerates when she feels Draco ease his thumb away from her, replacing it with his tongue. A glance down shows his eyes staring up at her through the small triangular patch of red curls.
“Once the lover finds and ex-exam-amines the love he has for a-another, he’ll realize that her beauty-ty is un-un-unoriginal. That her… That her beauty resides in ev-every body. Oh God, Draco, please, I need –”
The older man lifts his head at his name. He purses his lips in thought while he slips three fingers into her body, her natural slickness aiding his movements. “I wonder about that sometimes.”
“About what?” She can barely speak, can hardly focus on anything except the way his hand is playing her like a guitar, his fingers strumming into her body in a rise and fall of a melody.
“Well,” he says conversationally, like he isn’t thrusting his fingers into her, twisting inside her, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. “I see others who are lovely, who are attractive, but then.” He turns his hand, removes a finger, and rocks into her body harder, more violently until she’s pumping her hips in tandem with his movements. “Then I saw you, walking across campus that day and you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. No one has ever and could ever compare to you.”
His words are both a spark and a balm, a comfort and a reason for slight discontent. Rose knows there are people who are uncomfortable with their relationship, with the age difference. For Christ’s sake, Drace went to school with her parents. She’s lucky her mother was always on their side. But his confession makes her want him, love him more than she ever thought possible. It also makes her want to shy away from the worship in his eyes.
Sensing the change in mood, Draco stops his ministrations and slides both hands to her waist, kissing her stomach before leaving a trail of kisses up her body. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, licking the curves of her breasts. “You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re full of shit,” she says. He shakes his head at her, knowing she’s hiding her discomfort.
Draco moves completely over her, aligns their limbs, and kisses her. She can taste herself when he slips his tongue between her lips and she can’t help the way her body arches into him. Shifting up, Draco tucks his knees under Rose’s thighs, notices and enjoys the way her body automatically rearranges for him. It’s like the two of them are fluid enough to be one single entity.
There’s a moment of fumbling when he reaches between them to pull his cock out of his trousers. She reaches down to meet him, leading him inside of her. They both let out sounds - a sigh from her and a grunt from him - as their bodies meet, hard into soft. He settles into her and Draco knows he’ll never get used to his, doesn’t want to get used to it.
“Mmm, well, I’m full of something,” Rose mumbles with a giggle.
He can’t help but laugh, a loud and boisterous sound that bounces off the walls of his office and makes their bodies undulate against each other. Arms wrap around his neck and pull him down; he breathes in her scent - a mixture of a day’s worth of perfume, salty sweat, and beneath all of that, the scent he knows comes from the shirt she stole almost the moment she arrived.
“Just for that, tell me what’s next on the Ladder, you cheeky girl,” he says into her neck, referring to her thesis. She makes a sound of derision, but he bites the side of her neck, soothing the pain with light sucks after. He follows an invisible line with his tongue up to the spot behind her ear that makes her shiver. “Be a good girl.”
“I’m… Always… A good girl,” she argues in between gasps. She reaches a hand out to grasp the back of the couch, the leather warm and sticking to her sweaty palm. Her hips lift into his slow and languid thrusts, her ankles crossing at his lower back. Despite the quick entry into her body, she loves when they move together like this, deep connections and unhurried motions, like the world doesn’t exist outside of the two of them. Hell, it’s almost like they don’t really exist, like they’re mere puppets for the greater Universe.
“So, tell me what’s next.” He laughs into her ear before bringing his body back up. His hand presses down on her lower abdomen, thumb dipping low to circle her clit in time with his thrusting.
Her words are interspersed with jagged intakes of breath and slow exhalations of air. “Once the lover realizes that… beauty is… pre-present in ev-very, oh yes , every body, he looks for a… deeper connection. Draco, deeper, please, yes. A de-ee-eeper connection, one that wi-will make a.. a person stand… stand out among the… beauty found in… in…. In…”
“Found in?”
“Found in everyone.”
Draco snaps his hips then, driving deeper into her - just like she asked so prettily. He reaches one hand out to meet hers on the back of the couch, interlacing their fingers and squeezing. He leans back slightly, and looks down, watches the way he disappears into her body over and over again.
“You stood out to me so vibrantly. Do you know why?” Rose shakes her head, curls moving sinuously like snakes against the leather. Draco pushes into her deep, so deep that she throws her head back and releases a long, drawn-out moan. He holds himself and calls her name, waits for her to look at him again. He gives her an amused smile “Follow your ladder, love.”
She thinks hard - her brain is turning into mush and the words of her thesis, of her years of schooling, are melting into each other. Finally, she gasps out, “My soul.”
“Good girl.”
Draco slides his hand over her body, then, bringing tiny pimples of goose flesh to the surface, until they cup the backs of her thighs. Slowly, so slowly, he draws his hands to her knees, to her calves, until he’s grabbing her ankles to hold them up and apart. Not for the first time does he thank whomever is listening that his girl takes yoga.
“It’s not enough to fall in love with the beauty of a body,” she gasps out. “The lover - he learns to love the soul.”
“Yes,” Draco hisses out. “And what –”
“No more,” Rose says firmly. She lifts her upper body, using the couch and his neck as leverage, before she leans back onto her hands. Draco stares - and appreciates - the nearly perfect V of her body. He thrusts once, then harder, and even harder still, pushing his groin into her body, testing her flexibility. Rose only moans at the stretch of her muscles, the pull of her limbs.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says in awe.
Then there are only the harsh pants that escape half-open mouths. There are only half-lidded eyes that stare at each other, silent declarations passing between them. Hands grasp at slick skin, twist and tangle in hair, leave scratches on pale skin. Low moans and names said in whispers and moans and grunts fill the air as their bodies push and pull, give and take, merge and come apart at the seams.
Rose spirals into darkness dotted with sparks and fireworks. Her legs drop from Draco’s hold to rest against the back of the couch, to fall to the floor. Her muscles scream, her body aches, but this is what she loves, what she wants, and she knows that Draco is the lover her soul has been searching for her entire life. In the back of her mind, she registers the sound of screaming, and she realizes it’s her before she passes out.
Seconds pass into minutes before Rose blinks her eyes open and almost falls off the couch. The only thing that stops her is Draco’s body. He sits on the floor - his cock tucked back into his trousers with a hand towel over one shoulder. His hands are sorting through her notebooks, a pair of thin glasses perched on his nose. At her sudden alertness, he tries to stifle his laughter. “Are you okay?”
“No thanks to you,” she bites at him but she pushes a hand through his hair and meets him for a kiss before she gets up and disappears into the attached bathroom. Ten minutes later, she emerges and joins him on the floor. “What are you doing?”
“Taking notes,” he says simply. He passes her one of the notebooks where she sees his neat print alongside her research. “Not much, just little things I thought might help broaden your ideas.”
“Oh.” She tucks into his side, leaning her head onto his shoulder as she glances at what he’s added and what he’s questioned. “This is great. Thank you.”
“Sure, love.” He kisses the top of her head before he lifts his shoulder lightly. She’s already off of him and leaning over the table, focused once more on her dissertation. “Curry or pizza tonight?”
“Pizza,” she says in a distracted voice. “Please and thank you.”
Knowing she’ll be deep into research for a few hours, Draco goes about his day, working for a little bit before he calls into a local pizza shop for dinner. By the time it arrives and he’s paid the delivery boy, he returns to his office and purposely waves the box in front of Rose. For hours, she’d gathered information, perused his shelves filled with books on philosophy, religion, and science. The smell of food makes her stomach grumble and she gladly leaves her work to join him at his desk, where she perches on the edge of it, legs swinging until he grabs one and holds it still.
“So good,” she moans and it’s so reminiscent of their nights - and days, if they’re being honest - that it makes Draco laugh at her. She swats at him before stuffing a garlic knot into his mouth to make him stop.
Later, when they’re full and the moon is rising, Draco nudges her off of his desk and begins leading her out of the office and down the hall to his bedroom. She resists for a moment, saying, “I still have work to do.”
“It will be there tomorrow,” he promises her. He laughs internally because her words are slurring from exhaustion. “Text your mum just so she doesn’t worry.”
She does because he’s right and he pulls back the blanket and gets in after dropping his trousers. Rose follows, choosing to rest against him rather than the headboard. The television blares to life in bright colors and loud sounds, but it’s not very long until Rose’s body is slumped on him, eyes closed, and lips parted. Draco can’t help but chuckle as he rearranges her into a more comfortable position.
“Good night, love.”