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Catch and Release	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 19606 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his universe aren't mine and I'm not making any profit from the writing of this fanfic.

Chapter List
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�� She was on
the floor of a dingy Amsterdam
apartment and Lucius Malfoy
was pressed against her.� Somehow that
was not alarming, nor was the fact that she had been kissing him for nearly fifteen
minutes without pause.� She could easily
do it for fifteen more.

He kissed like a demon.� Her hands were tangled in the hair she�d just
trimmed as she kissed back passionately.�
Her entire body was on fire and she didn�t know how to stop it.� He seemed similarly unable to control
himself.

�� Good God,
had it been so long since a man touched her?�
Had she been so deprived that this
man could incinerate her?� And what about him?�
She knew for a fact that he hadn�t been deprived, but he was breathing
so heavily, his mouth seeking hers again and again with feverish intensity.

�� As she
struggled to make sense of it, he peeled off her top, his large, strong hands
playing over the skin that was revealed.�
His tongue followed, tracing the valley between her breasts.� Then he kissed her neck and collarbones as
his palm teased her nipple to an aching point through her bra.

�� Mentally
unmoored, Hermione yanked at his shirt.�
Briefly, the twist of fabric blocked them from one another, but it was
quickly resolved and she took in his muscular torso.� Her heart sped in her chest as her glance was
drawn to the line of pale hair that disappeared beneath his trousers.

�� Lucius tugged her onto her side so he could reach around to
unhook her bra.� It popped free in a
manner of seconds.� Then he was cupping
her breast, his blond crown lowering to suck her nipple into his mouth.� It was like lightning.� The sensation went straight to her core, and
she could feel a hot, wet flush of arousal between her thighs.

�� He seemed
to want to touch her everywhere at the same time.� His free hand was never still, tracing up her
side, around to grip her buttocks, down her thigh, up into her hair.� He relinquished her nipple, leaving it to
pucker in the cool interaction of the air and his saliva.� With a tug at her hair, her neck was tilted
back and he licked along the strong cords of muscle.

�� It was the
most primal, sexual thing anyone had ever done to her.� No wonder women fell into his bed.� His teeth were nipping at her jaw and his
hips ground into hers.� Her eyes flew
open.� Sweet Merlin!� That was the other reason women fell into his
bed.

�� He had
granted her other breast his attention now, rolling the nipple between his
fingers and teasing his tongue along the flattened tip.� She couldn�t help the moan that bubbled from
her throat.� Everything he did felt so
good.� A low growl answered her and was
then stifled as he rose up to plunder her lips again.

�� His tongue
twined with hers, sliding in open-mouthed, dueling kisses.� When she felt nearly breathless, his teeth
scraped at her lower lip and tugged slightly.�
Then his body was sliding down hers in a warm friction.� He stripped her sensible work trousers away,
not even getting stuck on her kitten heels.�
He tossed those away, too, and kissed the instep of her right foot.

�� That left
her knickers.� They were microscopic and
completely sodden with her arousal.� She
yelped as he suddenly rose and hefted her to the edge of the bed.� Hermione�s eyes widened as he sank to his
knees.� He didn�t bother to remove the
thong; instead, he just pushed the scrap of fabric aside and lowered his mouth
to the feminine folds it barely concealed.

�� Oh my God!�� She
didn�t mean to scream it as loud as it came out, but he was fairly attacking her clit.� His eyes were closed, one hand curled tightly
around the joke of an undergarment, the other spreading the slick petals of her
sex to give him the access he wanted.�
Hermione tilted her head back and tried to remember to breathe.

�� It wasn�t
easy.� She had felt like an asthmatic
gasping for air from the moment they�d first slammed their lips together.� This was even worse.� This was bordering on anaphylactic shock.

�� He teased
and sucked and laved her like his life depended on it.� A tense orgasm was coiling in her loins.� She reached for the pale silk of his hair
again, needing an anchor.� She could see
that he�d let go of her knickers, trusting his nose to do the job of keeping
them at bay.� The movement of his arm
told her that he was stroking himself as he tongued her clit.� Imagining his hand curled around his ruddy,
pulsing cock put her over the edge.

�� She
screamed again.� The world shivered
around her and then crumpled in like a collapsing building.� The bricks of orgasm fell upon her, bunching
her muscles, sending the blood thundering from her heart, and wringing a fine
sheen of sweat onto her skin.

�� She was
conscious of his tongue straying, tasting the slick juices that readied her for
him, and of him finally pulling her twisted knickers from her body.� Blood continued to pound in her ears.� Hermione was dizzy.� She hadn�t had an orgasm like that�ever.

�� She was
propelled back to reality when he stood and crossed the small room to retrieve
his towel.� He wiped her essence from his
face and then nonchalantly let the rest of his clothing fall away.� She was absolutely riveted as he made his way
back to the bed.

�� Was it
really fair that someone as odious as him was so well endowed?� There were many men out there who were
perfect gentlemen, yet couldn�t raise half the flagpole Lucius
could. �Then again, she supposed that
when a man possessed a penis like that, there was no reason for him to be a
gentleman; women would sleep with him anyway.�
Hermione wasn�t immune.� Simply
put, his cock made her want to do wicked things.

�� He climbed
over her into the center of the bed.�
Hermione turned, tucking herself against his side and reaching for the
proud organ that so transfixed her.� It
was like trying to hold silken fire; he sighed as she experimentally stroked
his length.

�� Lucius shifted a moment later, turning towards her and
slotting his lips over hers.� This kiss
was gentler and more patient.� The mania
of need had faded to something more controllable, though she could still feel
and taste his heart pounding as she touched him.� He seemed vulnerable like this, with one arm
draping around her and his cock throbbing in her palm.

�� He was vulnerable.� She could do him some serious damage like
this.� All it would take was one squeeze,
one quick strike�he had to know that.� He
had to know that she was still his adversary.

�� She kissed
him harder.� What was he now?� Who was this man who needed to take a ragged
breath before returning the intensity of her kiss?� He made a sound against her lips.� It might have been a stifled moan; she was
teasing the head of his cock, fingers dancing over the little bead of moisture
she found there.

�� She was
thinking about how it would taste when he reached down and pried her hand
away.� In one smooth, knowledgeable move,
Lucius turned her onto her back and insinuated himself
between her thighs.� She had always liked
the feeling of skin on skin that this basic position afforded.� She also liked the warm weight of a man
against her as long as it was invited.�
Hermione wasn�t entirely sure if this was invited but her body wasn�t
objecting.

�� He was
fascinated by her breasts again, squeezing, kissing, and exploring the soft
handfuls of flesh.� Lucius
certainly knew how to touch a woman.� When
his fingers contacted her skin a tingling warmth
followed them.� She never felt like she was
being poked or prodded and his movements were forceful enough to convey desire
and a wealth of sensation, but gentle enough not to hurt.� He was no fumbling young man so overtaxed by
his eagerness that his touch evoked nothing.�
That was a welcome change from Ron and the years of nothing since.

�� After
another brief bow of his head to suck on each nipple, he rose up to look at
her.� She dared to meet his eyes for the
first time.� They were edged in sensual
haze, blue and burning.� That look alone
made her womb clench in remembrance of what he had done just minutes before.

�� You got on
your knees,� she blurted.� That was the
one coherent thing she could voice.

�� His brow
creased.� Then his eyes narrowed.

�� And you,�
he whispered, leaning close, �are beneath me.�

�� It was a
reference to the conversation they�d had weeks before, when she�d belligerently
questioned him about sleeping with Muggles.� He had never agreed with her that they were
beneath him, and joked that he liked them beneath
him in the sexual sense.� If she was
anyone else, she could have taken that as a joke when applied to her.� But this�it was meant to be a double
entendre, to remind her, to taunt her�

Every muscle in her body
tensed.� The sudden awareness of what she
was doing exploded in her mind.� She was
sleeping with the enemy.� This man was a
dangerous fugitive.� He belonged in hell,
where he would drown in hot mud or be chewed upon by the teeth of the devil
himself.� He was Lucius Malfoy.

�� Panicked,
she raised her arm to strike.� He was ready
for it.� He caught her and pinned her
down, and just as she was about to open her mouth to scream, he thrust forward
and sheathed himself inside her.

�� The scream
died on her lips.� It felt so
divine!� She was full and reeling, her
thighs pressed apart by the solidness of his body.� He drew back and thrust again, cleaving her,
and she gasped.� There was no way she
could resist this.� It was the sweetest
of agonies.

�� He didn�t
let go of her arms for a long time, perhaps not trusting her or perhaps just because
the hold gave him good leverage to start a hard rhythm.� When she could no longer contain the moans he
triggered, he let go.� Her arms curled
around his torso instantly, fingers scraping against his muscular back as he
slammed his cock inside her.

�� She was
supposed to be arresting him, not fucking him, but Hermione didn�t and couldn�t
care.� Her thighs twined around him,
clinging, tensing as she raised the soft parabola of her pelvis up to meet the
harder angles of his.� The world jarred
again and again as their bodies impacted, each time provoking a sharp, fresh,
surprising burst of pure ecstasy.

�� The old bed
was creaking.� His left hand was curled
around the metal piping of the headboard.�
In a very great irony, it had bars not unlike a prison cell�s.� The sight
instilled some fire in her.� Hermione
raked her nails down his back.� At his
hiss of pleasure-pain, she bucked up against him, fighting his control.

�� They
grappled even as they clung to one another, his body crashing into hers.� She could tell that the fight was only
turning him on more.� Truth be told, the
adrenaline was enhancing everything she felt; when he slid inside her, when he
bottomed out, it felt like her body was made of electric currents.

�� Hermione
managed to squirm halfway out from under him and he quite suddenly had
enough.� Before she knew what was
happening, Lucius was physically lifting her, turning
her about and pulling her against him.�
She ended up with her back against his chest.� His arms trapped her there, the right one curled
beneath her right arm and gripping her left shoulder and the left about her
waist.� With a slight tilt forward, he
was able to glide back into her wet heat.

�� This angle
felt different � and heavenly.� Of its own accord, her head lolled back
against his shoulder.� His teeth and
tongue sought her neck, nipping and soothing in alternating patterns.� Hermione whimpered and surrendered to
him.� She wanted only for him to keep
going, to keep fucking her until they reached a trembling, shouting climax.

�� With
submission came a reward.� The arm about
her chest loosened and his hand trailed down her body.� He began to toy with her clit as he
penetrated her with slow, firm thrusts, letting her feel each inch of him.� And she did; she craved the sensation when he
pulled back and sighed when the delicious press of his hardness filled her
again.

�� The teasing
of her clit riled her beyond sense.� Her
chest was heaving.� Her right hand was
squeezing his thigh, feeling the muscles tense each time he moved.� Moans were quickly becoming pleas, entreaties
to fuck her harder, to never stop, and please, Lucius,
please�!

�� As she
tightened around him he moved with more abandon, growling at her to come.� Her voice rose in a near wail as she started
to.� The muscles he breached spasmed and crushed around him and the moan he released
sounded like he was dying the most erotic death possible.

�� Through the
orgasmic rush, Hermione thought she heard glass shattering.� It turned out it wasn�t her imagination.� Lucius�s hand
suddenly went over her eyes and he pitched them forward so that she fell onto
her hands and knees.� She could feel the
press of his forehead between her shoulder blades.

�� When their
orgasms subsided, he spoke in a breathless voice.

�� Your wand.� Banish
the glass.�

�� How awkward
it was to reach for it with his cock still inside her and his hand resting on
her hip.� She felt too good to mind.� In an equally breathless voice, she banished
the shards of glass.

�� He
carefully eased free of her, leaving her insides clasping in his absence.� Lucius collapsed
onto his back.� There he lay with his
eyes closed and his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his
breath.� He looked like some kind of god,
all smooth, sweat-sheened skin over taut muscles. �His cock was still semi-erect and gradually
fading back to its resting state.� The
only thing she could do was lower herself down beside
him.� His heartbeat was quick and
clamoring against her ear.

�� Where did
the glass come from?� she asked softly.

�� Lucius lifted his hand and pointed straight up.� Hermione looked where he indicated.� There was a light fixture directly above the
bed.� There was nothing left of it except
a socket with the base of a bulb still screwed into it.

�� Their
orgasms had been so intense that they literally exploded; it was accidental sex
magic.� She had heard of it happening
before, mainly in letters to women�s magazines, but never experienced it.� Until now she�d had her doubts as to whether
it was possible.

�� She propped
herself up and stared at him. �His
breathing was starting to even out when she noticed a glint in his eyelashes.

�� Hold
still,� she whispered.� �I missed a piece
of glass.�

�� He was
absolutely still as she cautiously lifted the tiny shard from between his pale
fan of lashes.� His warm breath tickled
the underside of her arm.� Again, so much
trust�she swallowed heavily and cast the small chip away.

�� There.�

�� Thank
you,� he murmured.� �That would have been
unpleasant.�

�� She nodded
and lay down, resting her cheek on his chest.�
His arm went around her and she could feel his fingers absently stroking
her skin.

�� Has that
ever happened to you before?� he questioned.

�� She didn�t
have to ask what he meant.� �No.�

�� Lucius sighed.� �Nor I.�

�� No more was
said, and they fell into the sleep of the sated.

��

� �� She would have expected him to be gone
by the time she woke.� However, Hermione
woke with the warm body of a man still at her side.� It was the small hours of the morning.� The city lights did their best to break
through the inadequately curtained window and cast slices of fuzzy radiance
across his body and the sheet that was drawn up to his waist.

�� He had
covered her, too.� She was so much
shorter that the sheet rested across her ribs, just beneath her breasts.� Hermione was perplexed by many things, chief
among them his thoughtfulness, coupled with recklessness and the undefined
thing that had drawn them together in the first place.� She hadn�t imagined it; the light fixture
above her was still in shambles.

�� She lay
there for long minutes, frozen by indecision.�
She wanted him to wake and at the same time prayed that he
wouldn�t.� Lucius
slept on, oblivious to her internal conflict, his breathing soft and even.

�� She didn�t
know what it meant.� What did this make
her?� What did it make him?�
And why?�
Why, why, why had she ever been foolish enough to become involved in
this?

�� At 2:46 am,
Hermione slipped from the bed, gathered her clothing, and left.

�� The pop of
her Apparition woke him.� It was a sound
any magical person was tuned to, even subconsciously, and he was glad the
instinct had not abandoned him in so much time outside the magical world.� His only link to it had just left.

�� He turned
onto his side and propped up on his elbow.�
There was an indentation in the bed where her body had lain.� He could still smell the musk of her
arousal.� It was in the sheets.

�� He hadn�t
expected her to stay, but it did sadden him that he�d probably never see her
again.

�� In spite of
the fact that she�d left, Lucius felt calm.� He felt composed in a way that he had not
experienced in months.� His entire being felt�refreshed.

�� There was
certainly something to be said for good sex, but he didn�t think that was
entirely it.� The obvious fact was that
he had unintentionally released magic during the encounter.� They both had.� Logic told him that was why he felt better,
because he had finally done a strong bit of magic.� Fortunately, sex magic did not follow the
same rules as regular magic and it couldn�t be tracked.

�� He had
never experienced that kind of release with a Muggle.� Perhaps it wasn�t possible.� Perhaps this was yet another cruel twist of
irony in his life - maybe the only solution to his problem was to have sex with
witches�or wizards.� He�d consider
wizards if it kept his sanity intact�

�� But it was
all irrelevant.� His face was plastered
all over the wizarding world.� There were very few magical folk who didn�t
know who he was.� It was simply too
dangerous to pursue magical partners.�
Hermione was his only option, and he doubted she would be returning.

�� All along,
she had been playing a game she was unfamiliar with.� A game where she tried to get closer to
someone she wanted to capture in order to gain trust - without getting
attached.� She didn�t know how difficult
that was and she certainly wouldn�t know what to do now that their physical
attraction had boiled over.� Lucius couldn�t claim to know her terribly well, but he was
certain that she would feel very, very guilty about it.

�� He felt no
guilt, nor any fear.� In every encounter
with her he had followed his instincts.�
Yesterday, for reasons he didn�t understand, his instincts screamed to
kiss her, to take her, to break through the wall between them�

�� That wall
would only be rebuilt higher and thicker now.�
He knew in his gut that she would not return to him no matter how many
postcards he sent.� She would be too
spooked by what had happened.

�� He knew
this, but wherever he went, he was going to buy a postcard anyway.� He wouldn�t take a chance.� There would be no way for her to mistake his
desire to see her again whether they repeated last night�s actions or not.� He just wanted her presence.� Even though her end goal was to capture him,
the fact remained that he had fallen prey to their dangerous game just like
her.� Lucius
had made the critical mistake of becoming attached to the feisty Muggleborn.

He could do nothing about it,
nothing that wasn�t rash and foolish, anyway.�
It was out of his hands.� The
decision would be hers from this point forward.�
And in the meantime�he would just go on with his life as it had been
before Hermione Granger found him.
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