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pizzaapeteer · 9 months ago

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Ignited Reunion

Mattheo's the only one you can call after a small slip up on your vacation making for a palpable reunion with your brother's friend.

Warnings: NSFW 18+, fem reader, swearing, yelling, oral receiving (fem), throat grabbing, daddy kink, edging, spanking, fucking from behind, one use of y/n, angel pet name. Voldemort doesn't really exist in this, Mattheo is one year older than reader. wc: 6k

An: longgg overdue, this was supposed to be for week 2 jinxed july but since I was so delayed I adapted it a lot. Enjoy, I lost sleep over this filthy piece. Ty to my pookies as well @slytherinslut0 and @fuckaperioddrama !

A defeated sigh leaves your lips in your attempt to gain comfort from the feathered padded seat, giving up with your distressed shuffling the efforts failing to provide any. A thin layer of chills rises, shivering over your skin at the contact of the icy wall you slump back onto. Your gaze flickers around for the billionth time in hopes of finally finding anything remotely interesting contained within the dreary enclosing holding cell.

The anticipation is even worse with boredom while you sit, having only been there probably an hour, waiting - hoping he’ll come. There are a few reasons you can think of, for him not to. The most obvious being - you were his friend’s little sister, most likely a mere inconvenience to him at this hour.

Not to mention it’s unlikely he even has the time to come pay your bail and release you. He’s far too busy living out in the real world since he finished at Hogwarts. But then again, you had always been an exception to Mattheo. The two of you, sneaking off, living behind closed doors - a hidden vice that had left you feeling empty when he finished last year.

Sometimes you’ll find yourself daydreaming about the late night meetups, sprawled out in the room of requirement, tangled amongst the warm embrace of his golden touch under the bedsheets. The harmonious sounds of laughter slipping in between the slight breaks of breathless kisses. He was a perfect escape from the hoards and pressure of your family. He became a happy convenience to let loose, and what unravelled from that remains still unknown to you.

But how foolish you were to create an expectation of false hope that your brother’s leave from school would make a difference, the hope that you might finally shine out from underneath his shadow. An ideal spotlight illuminating right on you, for your mother’s gaze that ultimately fell short with the success that followed him out in the real world.

There was no escaping from the comparison of someone like Blaise Zabini.

Blaise was nothing short of perfection. His reserved nature served him well as he observed everything with intellect, caution and a level of superiority that he proudly wore on his chest. No cracks creased through his unblemished structure. A man with unbelievable patience and politeness that appeared in times of need, someone people acknowledged, had their shit together.

Though there remained an uncertainty about him in his secrecy of one’s opinions, on whether you impressed or disgusted him to himself - leaving many walking away from an interaction with an uneasy pleasantness. He still remained a golden man, not only in looks but amongst his classmates, despite being dressed in the lush fabrics of green and silver, everyone simply recognized him to be one of the more favourable snakes out of the Slytherins. This continued onto the reflections of your own home walls.

There was no need for competition in who was winning the clasp of your mother’s attention in the fight for favourite child. It didn’t help that he inherited all her beautiful looks, a spitting image of her and when you’re as vain as she was, looking at him replicated a reflection of herself, which brought happiness in unimaginable ways.

The pressure that came with being Blaise’s sister was tough. He was strict - a guiding leader expecting you to follow in his footsteps. With the whispered theories amongst the rats in the sewer of so-called ‘friends’, it was hard not to notice the Zabini household reputation sinking silently. How fascinating that your mother cryptically lost all seven husbands and inherited a wealthy fortune. Blaise and you never knew the full truth, but she was a powerful and wise witch. It was in both your best interests to stick with her word.

Despite the rumors quieting down throughout your years at Hogwarts, you knew they still swarmed and lingered outside of it. It was therefore of great importance that you pursued a similar mindset to Blaise, who proved also to be a gentle, comforting and supportive brother when you felt down, reminding you, ‘I only want the best for us.’

And so, you followed Blaise’s guide, in every step like a clone, a perfect soldier. Kept your head down, study hard and stay on course, mostly. You grew ambitious to prove yourself as something, to make something new for your tainted surname.

A clang of metal alerts your senses, breaking your distant mind drift with the relief filling words of the officer. With eagerness, you scramble to stand following behind her out into the hall, the earlier anticipation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. ‘Free to go, your release is here.’ He’s the one you risked your one phone call on, left with no choice. Your family wasn’t an option.

Turning the corner, arms wrapped protectively around your waist, he’s hard not to miss. Tall, he looms with an electricity of power that is channelled down onto his intense and agitated expression. Mattheo stands waiting by the cop’s desk, his hands buried in the pockets of his fine suit, a clear indication you had interrupted him in the middle of something important.

Easing towards him with timid steps, he acknowledges you with nothing but a nod and turns, expecting you to follow. A deep pit of shame floods your gut, along with a sense of disappointment, and you trail behind like a kicked puppy. His coat flares up with the increasing force, his legs storm out of the station, curls tousling in the sweep of wind that hits him when you breathe in the balmy night air.

The thinly distributed fabric of what you called a bikini, had earlier made you feel confident and hot, the night static with hopeful promises of capturing someone’s eye - now disintegrated into disgrace and embarrassment as you stand before an unimpressed - and fully dressed - Mattheo.

He senses the uncomfortably your displaying and shrugs his coat off, sliding it around your shoulders watching how the fabric bulges clearly lacking the muscles to fill it out. He tightens the strings tautly using a strength that reflects his irritation, jolting you forward, stumbling into his rigid chest.

The feel of your bodies pressed together ignites a sense of amenity, a rush of nostalgic memory arising briefly. It’s quickly interrupted by the harsh reality when Mattheo takes your hand with a tight grip, his face not showing any signs of matching your remembrance of the blissful memory.

Leading you around the corner into a narrow alley, hidden from the prying of muggle eyes, he finally speaks with a tone that has you wishing for the silent treatment to come back. “A muggle jail, really y/n?” His voice holds a sharpness of disbelief and disgust, and you’re unable to think positively about your reunion - clearly he had better things to do than bailing his friend’s sister out of jail.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, his hold still steady on you as the two of you apparates. The twists and turns of teleportations whirl your senses, though having done it many times, it still manages to throw you off. You take a moment to regain your footing, following behind Mattheo into the dark apartment.

It’s exactly as you would have imagined, tidy with little clutter, warm tones of brown and black cover his walls with touches of sophistication. He’s quick to enter the cozy nest that is his abode, heading straight for the booze, a thirsty sensation he needs to clear his head. One sip, another and then a slam of the glass.

“What were you thinking?! Oh, that’s right, you fucking weren’t.” There it is, the burst of anger unraveling. “Using magic for party tricks?! Illegal party tricks might I add in both muggle and wizarding worlds.” He pours another glass and downs it, barely wincing, before his eyes shift, hardening their gaze with a dark intensity, and he moves towards you.

The truth was, you hadn’t been. Caught up in the highs that spring break had revealed to you, living off the excitement of new friends, had been responsible for your adrenaline at the moment. If you had known the offer from the new Ivermorny transfer would lead to your arrest in an American muggle jail, you never would have gone.

But the prospect of Spring Break had widened your mindset, too good of an opportunity to waste - it was the epitome of summer fun. It had only meant to be an escape from the forthcoming of your future, a few weeks of fun before you prepared for your leave of Hogwarts and back into the shadow of prestige beside your older brother.

“You’re a right fucking menace making me clean up your shit, ya know that.” Stalking forwards, his figure feels increasingly taller, feeling small under his usual comforting gaze. You nod, knowing he’s right, left with no words to defend yourself. “What the fuck happen to you since I left?” His words leave his tongue with venom, the bitterness hitting you like a slap to the face.

Mattheo’s anger is as expected, but it hurts nonetheless - you went to him because there was no way you could tell Blaise. Or your mother. The disappointment that would sit staining your shoulder wasn’t something you needed or feared you could handle. You needed him to understand. It had been an accident, a moment of stupidity. You wanted him to hold you, tell you it was okay.

It had been so long and seeing him before you; it hurt that he was only expressing anger. You needed any other emotion right now, comfort and excitement. Wasn’t he at least a tad bit happy to see you?

Your tongue burns with dryness, no words, not even an apology tickling your senses. He corners you against the wall looming over you, his hand comes to rest trapping your head. “Better start apologizing soon before I really lose my temper.” A whispered threat, you know, is best not to come true.

“I’m sorry you were the only one I could call-“

“I don’t care about that,” he cuts you off quickly, shaking his head frustrated, though subtly his words reflect his care and protectiveness over you. “Vandalizing a boat with magic! You’re lucky no one saw you and were all too wasted to realize any differently.” His voice scolds, leaving you feeling worse than if it had been your brother.

“I know I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got caught up in the atmosphere.” He quirks a brow at your shitty excuse.

“Trying to impress your new muggle friends?” He sneers, his fingers pulling at the strings of the coat, exposing your revealing outfit. His eyes flicker down, and he holds back a low whistle as he takes you in, not exactly in the mood to appreciate your choice of clothing. He tuts instead, “Seriously?”

An embarrassed heat flashes across your face under the weight of his examination, and you move to close it, but he stops you. He pins the coat down, opening it fully, “feeling shy, are we? You weren’t too shy when you were vandalizing people’s property and getting yourself thrown in jail.” With a push off your shoulder, the coat slides down the wall to the ground with a scrape.

Your brows furrow as an underlying anger begins to bubble and you roll your eyes, getting sick of how superior he’s treating you, like your a little kid. “Yeah, I get it, Mattheo! I don’t need a lecture.” You say exasperatedly.

“Clearly you fucking do. Think spending a few hours in a cell will teach you a lesson. You called me now. You have to deal with what I say.”

Gritting your teeth with narrowed eyes you strain, “I said, save me the bloody lecture. Stop acting like my fucking brother.”

“Watch the way you speak to me, baby. Especially if you don’t want me to call that dear brother of yours, my friend, if you hadn’t forgotten.”

Frustration rises within you. He’s got to be bluffing. He knows how important your relationship with Blaise is and the importance of your family’s reputation. A scoff falls from your lips at the fucking audacity he has to threaten you. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me sweetheart, I’ll do whatever the fuck I please. I bailed you out, remember? I’m calling the shots!”

You flinch at his voice raising and can’t help the bratty attitude that slips out. “Yeah, I know…look at Mattheo all high and mighty.” You sneer at him mockingly. “You never could say no to me, could ya, Matty?” It’s a low blow. You know he’s always been strong in his protectiveness despite your hidden fling.

He rolls his eyes at your snarky tone, “This is different. This isn’t you.”

“Oh please, don’t give me that crap. You’re the one who was always telling me to break out of my shell.”

“Oh, fucking Salazar! - don’t tell me you did this for me.” He gives you a look of disappointed disbelief. “Not that desperate for my attention, are you? That would be pathetic, even for you.”

“Alright save the fucking arrogance for someone who gives a shit. Of course, I didn’t do this for you. Not everything is about you.” You mutter the next part under your breath. “I just wanted to have fun.”

“Fun?!” Curse his fucking surprisingly good hearing. “You could have ruined your life! Your future!”

“But I didn’t! No one else is going to find out.”

“You don’t know that! What if I couldn’t have come?”

“I don’t know. I would have figured it out! Because I never would have called you in the first place if I knew you were going to act like Blaise.”

“Oh really? Yeah, I highly doubt that.” You sigh, taking in the reality of his words, knowing he’s right.

He looks at you, his anger simmering momentarily in his complementation of what to do. You’re not his responsibility. He knows he should let Blaise deal with this, that’s what Blaise would tell him.

In fact, he’s sure he’ll get soldered for even having debating this. He can make out the sounds of Blaise’s deep voice admonishing him, should have called him as soon as he bailed you out. Probably could have made up some bullshit lie about how you two crossed paths, keeping your correct actions secluded from him.

He sighs, reaching into his pocket for his phone, “I should really call your brothe-“

You lean forwards, grabbing his wrist as you plead with him, “No! Mattheo please! Blaise can’t know! It would devastate him!”

He bites his lip, hesitating, his inner turmoil tussling, and he can’t help the small bitterness that slips out. “Really? What’s the big deal? You were just ‘having fun’, right?” His eyes hardened on you, a small part of him still furious and disappointed in your behaviour.

“Mattheo, please, you know how Blaise is!”

“Yeah, I do. Maybe that’s why I should call him. I’m sure he’ll actually get through to you.”

“Mattheo, this isn’t a joke!”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?”

His words pause your attempt and you take a step back, pressing your lips together in a thin line. You consider his words, sensing his rhetoric and serious tone. “No.”

Groaning, he sighs again at the situation, and rubs his eyes, agitatedly. He knows what Blaise is like, always striving for perfectionism and the morals he threw down on you. There’s no way he could call him, the consequences you would face wouldn’t end well. Not to mention you'd never forgive him, and despite spontaneously getting you back in his life, he doesn’t want to let you go yet. Maybe it’s partly selfish, but this could be his only time to spend it with you again after so long.

“I just want you to understand that actions have consequences…you’re supposed to be a good girl.” He gives you a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. He doesn’t want to fight with you anymore.

“What if I’m tired of being the good girl? What if I’m ready for something different?”

Mattheo’s eyes flicker over your face, searching for any sign of playfulness and that you’re not just trying to pull his leg. “Good’s always looked best on you, angel.” He uses the old pet name in a more sweet and less condescending way, his face softening as he takes in your deliberative expression. He cups your jaw with a nostalgic gentleness, tilting it up.

You sigh in defeat, knowing it’s useless to change who you are, a fate perfectly created for you. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’m just so fucking stressed - just wanted to have some fun, let loose before I finish school.” The confession flows out of you finally with ease, your words soft and hold a heavy weight of tiredness.

Mattheo exhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he runs a hand through his hair, feeling for you sympathetically. He understands the position you’re in from a certain point of view. His whole life has been built around expectations and pleasing elders, continuous pressures that come with following in a legacy.

“I know, sweetheart, and you deserve that. I wish I could take that away from you.. all the pressure and expectations.” He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closing for a moment.

His eyes open, lowering down on you and he pulls back, muttering a soft, “What am I gonna do with you?” His mind filters through ideas. He can’t tell your brother, you don’t really deserve to be lectured or yelled out - it’s clear you understand the severity of your actions.

“I just wanted to have fun.” Repeating your words for added effect, your eyes gaze at him with pleading, apologetic arousal. The air feels cleared from all past anger and just leaves behind unresolved tension. Your hand reaches out to touch his arm softly, coaxing out a reaction. “I’ve just been so stressed since you’ve been gone, Matty…I don’t have any distractions or stress relaxers.” There’s a slight connotation in your tone showing you’re referring to something other than your studies.

His mouth clicks with intrigue and desire unwrapping your words, and the feel of your light touches tracing over his forearm. As his initial protectiveness and concern simmer down, his eyes drop their gaze with scrutiny, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, wetting it slowly while he acknowledges completely the full extent of your outfit. More skin is revealed in his downward scan, and it only assists in his pants, increasingly uncomfortably constrict themselves.

“Been lonely, huh baby?” He mumbles in a hoarse whisper, a hint of surprise slipping through his tone. The idea quickly registering that you haven’t been with anyone since him and fuels him with a familiar sense of possession. He’s finding it hard to contain himself as the thought develops, overgrowing in his mind, of you pure. Untouched in months that you didn’t want to find a replacement to help relieve yourself. That you are and have always been truly his. His breath thickens, lips pulling up into a sweet smirk, “You’re tense huh? All tight?”

Your gaze never wavers from those sweet brown eyes, now holding an intensity that has your stomach swirling, a tightening sensation building that leaves your cunt dampening. Giving a simple nod to his question, you add speaking with soft feigned innocent tones, “yeah and you’re right.. I am a good girl. I’ve been focusing so hard, keeping my grades up.”

Delicate fingers graze, tantalizingly up his toned arms compressed in the button-down shirt he’s wearing, and maneuver slowly up to loosen his tie. “I think I could use a break, a treat if you will.”

He continues his own touches, keeping them to light brushes tracing the sides of your breast where the bikini is too small to cover. The tender slowness in which he moves sends waves of goosebumps igniting over your skin, his lips curling into a satisfying smirk at the reaction.

Dragging his hands up further, skimming over the delicateness of your collarbone before his touch switches to one of stridence and dominance curling around your pretty neck. “A treat you say?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his tone laced with deep attentiveness and interest.

Hands still holding his tie freeze at his firm gasp, your immediate attention halted under his teasing stare. The demanding pressure against your throat causes a small gasp to exhale, the hair at the nape of your neck rising in trepidation. His thumb rubs along your jawline, sliding his hand further behind to clasp your cheek, a wolfish grin stretching wider at your innocent expression. “I’ll make sure I give you a good break, one that leaves you on bedrest for a few days.” The innuendo slithered between his words doesn’t go unmissed.

He leans, capturing your lips finally with an eager energy, his hands tangling, pushing their way into your locks. The sweet tang of liquor seeps onto your tongue at the merging of lips in a clash of dominance. One he wins in little time, pressing you further into the wall, lips continuously messily crushing on top of one another, the buildup of a year’s worth of yearning and desire. He groans, having missed the taste of you, nothing quite like the sweetness of your lips to send him into a flurry.

Greedy touch starved words mumble out as he peppers heated kisses up your neckline, desperate to mark you once again. Fingers mingle amongst the lusciousness of your hair and tugging at the strands, exclaiming a breathless yelp from you, igniting him further and his teeth sink deeper into your skin, creating purple blemishes.

Breathless moans pant from your parted lips, your nimble fingers attempt to focus on unbuttoning his shirt and are quickly met by his assistance, his hands replace yours with his moving fast to rid it. He enjoys the hurry in which you push it off his shoulders, revealing his tanned, toned and ultimately battled skin, his breath hitching at your needy but still tender touch roaming over his chest. He grasps your ass, squeezing it with a stark contrast harshness, making you moan, before he lifts picking you up.

He moves with ease, striding towards the kitchen island, laying you down spurring a whine of protest from you at the cold marble and unhygienic location. He chuckles, his hands groping your thighs, spreading them wide for him to slither in. “Relax, I’m about to eat, gonna devour you, baby.” His head lowers, peppering kisses along your inner thighs, relishing in the quiet whimpers you pant.

His eyes light up at the way your body reacts, already squirming around, back arching under each sensitive kiss he plants, easing closer to where you want. His fingers brush with teasing touches, leaving your skin burning with a fiery trail, as he discards your shorts. Eyes widening with appetite at the matching and equally skimpy bikini bottom, revealing the adorable soaking wet patch.

He grows restless when he’s hit with your familiar scent and groans deeply, not waiting a second longer before tearing the strings snapping the material off you. His cock strains harder in his pants at the exposure of just how turned on you are.

Like the starved man that he’s become, he delves right in, flicking his tongue out, embracing the taste of your arousal. His hands find comfort wrapped around each of your thighs as he happily buries his face deeper into you, his ears melting at the sounds of your breathless whimpers.

An iron grip tugs, coiling your fingers in his curls, legs already twitching as he assaults your clit with his proficient tongue. A pleasurable moan erupts out of him and he instantly becomes mesmerized by the memory of your taste. Unable to teer his lust blown eyes away, he peers up, drowning in the contradicting angelically sinful view, an overwhelming high washing over him.

“Fucking hell baby…I missed your pussy,” he groans, sending vibrations against your needy clit, making your hips jut to seek more friction. Tightening his grip, he presses your hips down harder on the cold surface, “good girls don’t get greedy.. sit still or I’ll stop.” A desperate whine greets the air and you whimper, trying to keep your squirms still, as he relentlessly laps at you. “that’s it, be a good girl for’me.”

A continuous of broken whimpers cascades from your lips, your brows still furrowing at the agonisingly good pleasure he lavishes you with, tugging on his hair for more. The constant pressure his tongue is installing on your now overstimulated clit clouds your mind, blurring your eyes with an overpowering sensation as your legs squeeze around his head. “Ah.. ah ah fuck Matty-gonna cum oh god-”

He responds by shoving his tongue deeper within you, flicking and sucking in order to get you to fall apart quicker. “That’s my girl.. come on baby.. cum all-” He doesn’t get to finish before your back arches and you yank tight on his hair, a deep cry screaming out as you unravel in ecstasy.

He welcomes your climax with an open mouth, savoring every drop you release. He lifts his head, licking his glistening lips and looking at you with lust blown seductive eyes. His body shifts leaning forwards over you, cupping your cheek, and he smashes his lips on yours in a sloppy kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tainted tongue. Groaning at the notion that this is all because of him and his cock twitches ridiculously hard in his trousers, growing impatient.

He pulls his head back, grabbing your hips to maneuver you off the counter, flipping you around and pressing you up against it. His eyes glaze enticingly over your exposed rear and instinctively, he lands a sharp smack on your backside, watching the recoil of your skin. You moan at the unexpected action leaning down on your elbows, waiting patiently for his next move.

He bites his lip grinning and repeats the action, relishing in the darkening of your skin, followed by taking a firm hold on your ass cheeks. His fingers spread them apart to get a better look at your pretty glistening pussy, unable to hold back the hoarse groan at the new dampness you’re creating. “God, I can’t get enough of you.”

The comfortable silence lingers in the room while you take the time to catch your breath, still feeling worn out from his last ministrations. Taking his hands off you, he finally removed his painfully hard cock from his restraints, sliding it on your lower back. He leans down to pepper kisses on your back, creeping up near your ear, nipping at the shell. “Think you can still take me? Been a while.” He teases your entrance, dipping the tip between your folds, smirking at the way your pussy tries to suck him in impatiently, and he hisses out a sharp breath.

“Yes! Yes, I can take you.. I’m still your good girl.” You whine, pressing your ass back to get him inside quicker, and are met with another harsh spank in retaliation making you squeal.

He presses a hand lowering your chest to the counter tutting, “So impatient sweetheart, maybe I should make you wait.” He nudges his tip in teasingly, even just the amount has you stretching out and he releases a small groan, his other hand gripping your hip to keep you still. “Don’t know if you deserve me to move yet.” His words are strained, leaving you unconvinced that he’ll follow through on his words.

“Fuck-” Proving you right, he holds your hip and head tightly, easing in at a treacherous pace, relishing in the needy whine you make. You lay there letting him fill you up torturously, your pussy aching for friction, for movement, for anything more. It squeezes around, his thick cock clenching, and he hisses with a low groan. “Such a needy little thing for me, aren’t you. Can feel you clenching down on my fucking cock.”

He pushes forward further, bottoming you out till his hips hit your ass, and he leans down to kiss your shoulder blades, connecting your bodies together as one. He’s balls deep and his head falls resting on your back momentarily, making brief grunts of pleasure as he gives you a moment to adjust, though it’s really for him as he has trouble focusing on how good you feel. “God you’re so fucking tight baby… I can tell you haven’t let anyone for a while, have you?”

He stubbornly stills, fighting off his own urges for the sweet need to hear you beg for him, his cock twitching agonisingly inside the depth of your snug walls. He reaches down, yanking you back by your hair up to his chest, allowing him to kiss along your neck, enjoying the way you whine and mew at the sensations - desperately needing, wanting him to move. “Matty, pleaseee, I told you I’ve been good.”

A deep satisfied chuckle vertebrates against your ear and he smiles against your skin, “That’s right you have.. fuck, you’re so perfect, so patient and good.” Your breathing shallows in frustrated whines as he still doesn’t move despite the praise.

He pulls at the back strings of your bikini top speaking in a low, disappointed tone, “But that’s not my name now, is it, baby.” His free hand moves to pull at the front part, still tied and snapping it, freeing your tits, his eyes drawn to how they bounce out of their security.

He kisses more against your neck, leaving sweet marks along your skin, his hand groping your breast, toying with the nipple. Relishing in the way you squirm at the overstimulation, your pussy continues to clench around his stilled cock. He groans, his patience and temptation pushing at its fucking limits, and he’s genuinely impressed by his ability not to fall apart yet. “Come on sweetheart, I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re acting forgetful.”

The intense feeling builds even without the movement of him and you swear you’re descending into insanity in this agony, brows furrowing as you whine. His hand re-wraps around your neck as he whispers his voice hoarse with need, “what’s my fucking name angel?”

“Daddy...Daddy, please i-i need you to move.” He can hardly take it any longer at the desperation in which you plead the words he craved, needing so badly to hear. He loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to fall forwards against the counter before he pulls back with little warning snapping back into your cunt.

“Oh fucking merlin-,” He groans, his body reacting instantly to the warmth and familiarity that your tight pussy envelopes him, squeezing around him with every thrust. His pace increases with rapid speed, rigorously pounding, unable to contain himself as his hands grip tightly, digging into your hips. It’s been so long since he’s felt this good and he fears he won’t be able to last that long.

He savours the loud moans and whines you sprawl filling the empty room off his kitchen, sounds he missed so badly. They sound just as good as he remembers, having thought about them a lot - but to have you actually underneath him squirming, moaning for him fills him with a deep satisfaction and pride. “Feels even better than I remember..baby,” his brows furrow, eyes falling to watch the way his cock slides in and out of your dripping hole. His hips thrust vigorously, bringing him intense amounts of pleasure and relief.

“Daddy, fuck omg,” the pleasure the rushes through you forces your eyes to shut, squeezing tightly, hands aimlessly searching around for something to grab, reaching back to dig your nails into his waist. The pleasure is so overwhelming, your stomach turns with how deep he’s filling you up. “Fuck- so good, so deep ugh.”

He grins, “yeah feel good sweetheart, you miss me, fucking you so deeply?” The two of your bodies sweat and move together, rocking, your hips bruising against the cold marble. He lifts your left leg, bending it up onto the counter, causing his cock to slide deeper and graze hard into your cervix. “This is just for me isn’t it, this fucking pussy..all mine no matter how long apart we spend.”

The combination of his possessive words and hips brushing intensely on your g-spot has you babbling incoherently, reminding you how quickly you’re able to fall apart under the touch of this man. “Yeah-h, yeah yeah- fuck, Matty.” Nails digging in further to his skin for the needed stability as your mind breaks apart, mouth caught in a constant parting as high moans continue to tumble from you.

He laughs breathlessly, his voice hoarse as he feels himself edging the line of tipping over, “that’s fucking right,” his hips continue to shift driving further into you, “such a good girl for me always.” He doesn’t last a second longer, his hips jutting sloppily, “fuck- baby need you to cum.”

Whining a desperate broken sound, you don’t need to be told twice, allowing your forehead to fall onto the counter at the break of your orgasm ruptures through you. Twice as hard as it’s ever been, twice as loud - you don’t hold back, screaming - crying his name in a harmonious praise.

He’s never felt more aroused than from the words falling from your precious lips, before he sputters his cum deep inside you with a choked husky moan. Panting heavy breaths, trying to calm his beating heart in the aftermath of his ecstasy, rubbing your leg soothingly before releasing it from its perched position. He pulls back, quickly tugging his briefs back on, watching your slumped body stay stagnant against the marble.

“Angel, you okay?” A small hum follows, acknowledging his concern, and you sigh pleasantly when he scoops you up, carrying you down to his bedroom. He kisses your temple before laying you down and fetching a warm cloth to tend to you. You lay recovering in euphoric bliss as he tidies you up, pressing delicately tender kisses to your inner thighs.

A cluster of thoughts swirl like leaves caught up in the wind blustery inside your mind, and you speak, wanting to ponder one aloud. “Matty..?”

He looks up at your soft, drained voice. “Yeah?”

“Why did you come?” It’s been boggling your since you saw him in the police station, and there lyes a hint of vulnerability in your question.

He shifts, straightening up in order to look down on you fully. He doesn’t mean to stall the question, but gets lost in the sight before him. You always were too beautiful for him, of course, being a Zabini that came naturally. His eyes warm as he flickers his gaze down on the uncertain expression your face holds. “You called.”

It’s a simple answer, but it holds so much depth within it, causing a stir inside your chest to churn. His words reveal to you any uncertainty about the relationship you two held, he cared. More than you had expected too. Meeting his gaze, the two of your breath hitches in this moment of intensity.

He leans down, hovering over you coming closer so that you can now feel his shallow breath, “I’ll always come, no matter what happens between us.” Trying not to open up too much the hanging weight of the situation still perching on his shoulders. The notion that you still are Blaise’s sister, a forbidden fruit, always pushing tempting on him. You had been right, he couldn’t say no to you, his control always becoming a crumbling mess under your touch.

He smiles matching your own, unable to ignore the way his heart pounds harder in his chest at how your entire face lights up. With gentle hands he cups your cheek, “you’re a godamn dream y/n.”

His words hold a somber meaning, with hints of honesty and yearning that you distinguish. Offering a small understanding smile back, you slide your hand over his, feeling his warmth, “I’m glad I can always count on you, Matty, no matter what.”

He nods, too overwhelmed to say anything else, and presses a kiss to your forehead, nose and lastly, those pretty lips. The kiss radiates a different fresh energy than earlier. A recurring emotion you hadn’t felt from anyone other than him taking you back to your days together. There is heart and craving mingling amongst the tips of your tongues, encapsulating the passion you share for one another.

“One day…I promise to make it come true. I won’t give up on us. I know we haven’t even begun our own story.” Your smile at his determined words, any hints of vulnerability evaporating and replaced with a blossom of affection and fondness for him.

His eyes gaze lovingly at you as he falls laying beside you, arms pulling you closer till your head rests over his heart. The girl who he holds tightly now, had reignited the fire within him - an old flame - and he couldn’t help but want to burn alongside you, no matter the danger. To catch fire with your energy and dwindle down the wax together as one.

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