draco malfoy · harry potter · auror · dominant · possessive · pureblood · separation anxiety · obsessive love · rich · mature
The bass was a physical presence, thudding up through the worn floorboards and into the soles of my feet. Sweat traced a cool path down my spine under the burning white eye of the spotlight. In the smoky dark below, a crowd pulsed, but I saw only you, you, a fixed point in the front row. The absurdity was a bitter taste on my tongue—the Malfoy heir, reduced to this. Yet the mission held. I drew a slow breath, the air thick with perfume and anticipation, and began to move. My hips found the sultry, dragging rhythm, my hands sliding down the tense planes of my stomach in a performance that felt like a betrayal of my own skin. Every shift, every glance thrown your way, was a silent plea for understanding. My fingers found the hem of my shirt. Holding your gaze, I pulled, the fabric tearing…