Diagon Alley always looked frighteningly different, yet exactly the same each time she walked the cobblestone streets.
The sound under her heel, however, was distinct and new — as she hadn’t changed out of her work boots tonight. It was a heavy click under the steel toe, steps dragging as Betty shook off the disorientation of the portkey. She always had to separate the bits and pieces that seemed to get scrambled around. At least apparition only made her queasy.
It was also part of the reason she only came back to London when she would be staying more than a day at a time. With the weekend being a holiday, she wouldn't have to be back at work until Tuesday. Which meant a trip back to her flat and an inevitable afternoon tea with her mother at some point.
Staying at the reservation during the week left her in disarray, despite its ease. She hadn't entertained the thought of moving just yet, much too attached to her apartment above Florean Fortescue’s. Ice-cream anytime she wanted? That was hard to pass up.
A flock of firecrabs clicked at her as she passed the Magical Menagerie, her fingers wiggling at them in greeting as they huddled in their cages, trying their hardest to escape, shells glowing brightly against the backdrop of night. Seeing the store, she remembered with a sigh that she needed to pick up some food for Caramel at some point. It was a wonder the kneazle still liked her, with the lack of time they spent together. It was why that was the only pet she could manage to keep, their independence and mostly self-sufficient nature fit with her lifestyle as well as it could. Plants, however, were still a challenge — she’d never even been able to keep a cactus alive, so it was a wonder she’d ever passed herbology.
The lanterns that lined the streets granted her safe passage to the Leaky Cauldron. She had been craving one of Toni's fancy new cocktails that the petite witch had been experimenting with. Muggle liquor was something that had become popular recently, and for good reason. There were items of comparable strength to firewhiskey that sought a pretty galleon. They got you knackered pretty quickly, too.
And she needed some sort of drink, after the day or rather, week, she’d had.
Entering the dimly lit bar always filled her with a sense of nostalgia. Though her mother hadn't let her go very often on principle that it was a pub and no place for a child — it was decent enough to grab supper when they were in the area. And siphoning drinks from her father's ale when her mother wasn't looking was always a pleasure.
It was a little past prime drinking hours — Odeta had gotten stroppy with her when she'd been finishing up for the evening, inevitably missing the first portkey. Betty had to visit the medi-witch for a smarting burn across the top of her shoulder. It was unexpected, and normally she would have been wearing her hide jacket, but the Romanian summers were near dreadful with heat. Now, she had a fresh bloom of tender pink skin that she could feel whenever she turned her head.
The tables were dotted with patrons here and there, but several were drinking alone — some already so headlong into their cups that they'd simply passed out at the table.
“Old Gregory over there still alive?” she asked, sliding onto a stool in front of the long oak bar and leaning onto her elbows.
The man in question was face down in the remains of his plate.
Toni looked up from the dusty book she was reading, brown eyes lighting up with a wicked gleam. “Merlin, I hope not. That bugger always eyes my tits even when I'm wearing full robes.”
“Toni, you never wear robes.”
“Besides the point.” She waved a hand, closing the book and tucking it onto a shelf below. “I've got something special for you to try today.”
Leaning forward, Betty pursed her lips. “It's never a good thing when you say it like that.”
Her head tilted, looking up from under her lashes. “Oh please, you love it when I make you something special.” She swatted at Betty's arm, tugging on the sleeve of her cotton jacket and forcing her to lean in closer. “Plus I think you're going to need it,” she lowered her voice, eyes darting to the patron at the end of the counter.
Following the line of sight, her eyes widened as she inhaled sharply, a pang of longing rose in her gut.
“Jones — been here a couple hours. Only had the one firewhiskey though.”
She hadn't seen him in years. Of course, he looked older — sharper lines, broader shoulders. Still a variation of the jumpers he would wear at Hogwarts, tie loose around his neck and tucked under, first button of the crisp white shirt undone—
“Oh blimey. I’m going to need that drink, Toni.”
“Told you.” Her voice was a distinct sing-song melody, hidden behind a snicker.
Betty turned back, facing forward and ignoring the pull she felt in his direction.
All of a sudden, she felt like she was back in school, drowning in Polly's hand-me down robes that she could never get to fill out the same way. She could smell the pumpkin pasties and roasted quail as if she was sitting in the great hall. The patter of steps on sleek, tiled floors, plush velvet, and the smell of fresh ink and parchment.
There were many a day where she wished she could go back.
Her eyes had slipped closed, lost in the memories he'd evoked. A gentle clink against the wooden bar had them opening, staring down at the delicate crystal flute Toni set in front of her.
She blanched. How long had she been sitting there like an idiot?
“Oh, only as long as it took me to make the drink. Three minutes?”
“Stop it,” she hissed, eyebrows pinching together. “I hate it when you do that to me. Gives me a headache.”
Toni rolled her eyes. “I'm better than that and you know it. You're just jealous.”
And truthfully, she was. There weren't many things she found she couldn't do if put to the task, but on occasion there was.
Fingers grasping the stem of the drink, Betty glared through her lashes before taking a sip of the amber liquid. Her brows melted at the sweetness, tongue darting out to lick along the sugared rim. “What is this?”
“It's called a sidecar, dunno why. But tastes fantastic.”
“Very sweet... and almost sour.”
“That'd be the lemon.”
“Mmm, I like it,” she took another sip, enjoying the way the warmth spread in her chest and eased the newfound tightness. Tipping the drink back, she took a heartier gulp.
“Careful there, Cooper.”
Betty stilled, licking her lower lip before setting the glass down.
“Or have you actually learned how to handle your alcohol?”
Simmering, she swiveled slightly on the seat of the stool. “By leaps and bounds. Helps when you're not a child anymore.”
When exactly had he moved closer?
She blinked. If she stretched her arm out, she imagined she could just brush the elbow of the thick cable knit sweater, separated by only a stool. Glancing away, she pursed her lips. Toni wasn't anywhere to be found. Either she'd apparated or Betty had really been into her drink and didn't notice her slinking away. The twat. What an excellent example of a Hufflepuff and an even better friend.
“Oh, has it been that long?” he questioned, quizzical look to his grey eyes as he quirked a brow. “Felt like just yesterday.”
Okay. Was everyone around her a legilimens all of a sudden? Or was he just reminiscing over seeing a schoolmate as well?
Of course, Toni didn't count.
“Been more than a couple years, Jones. Yet you still look like a schoolboy,” she appraised, making a show of looking him up and down, scrunching her nose as she looked away.
Though, he looked like anything but a boy at this point.
He pushed at the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, drawing her attention from the corner of her eye. His chuckle had her bristling.
“I prefer the term professor.”
That made her eyebrows rise to her hairline, hair seeming to spark all the way to the ends of her tightly cinched ponytail.
Jughead shrugged, lip curling upward in a half smile. “Hogwarts always was my home. Never really wanted to leave.”
The edge of the glass hid her frown as she took another sip from the sugary sweet concoction. When she tipped it back again, she realized it was empty. Pushing the glass away, she turned another quarter, legs crossing over one another.
Betty didn't miss the way his gaze darted down to watch the action.
Laying her palm across her knee, she smoothed her hand against the sheer material.
Her mind supplied an image of his hand sliding up a similar pair of tights, seated next to each other in charms class. She'd nearly bit her quill in half when his fingers brushed over her cunt, pressing so lightly that she was panting by the time class was over. She locked herself in the prefect’s loo afterward, hand up her skirt until she was shaking and imagining much more.
“So what do you teach then, Professor Jones?”
His attention snapped back up to her, pupils dilated as his lips parted, seeming to drink her in.
She caught herself leaning forward, but couldn’t seem to stop.
He started to say something, words dying on his tongue before running a hand through his hair and musing it thoroughly. Looking up at her through lashes longer than her own, he tilted his head coquettishly. “History of Magic.”
“Really?” Betty raised an eyebrow. “How'd they ever get rid of Binns?”
“Said I was his favorite student.”
“And that's it?” she huffed, “he just stepped aside? After centuries?”
The smirk he was wearing was entirely too smug.
“Yep,” he popped the p with lazy enthusiasm.
“Well — despite wondering why on earth you would want to teach it, as the subject was always dreadfully boring, I certainly hope you've changed things up.” She turned her nose up, wishing she had another drink to sip as she ignored the cautious way he watched her. Of course, Toni wouldn't interrupt them even if Voldemort himself somehow resurrected. She was a good friend, like that.
“You know…” he drawled, leaning across the stool that separated them. He wiggled his index finger, beckoning her.
Obliging him was easy, it was resisting the urge to lean in farther that was difficult.
She smelled the firewhiskey on his breath, and something spicier underneath. It sent a chill down her spine, reminding her that her tastes hadn't changed as much as she would have liked.
Jughead drew the tip of his finger under her chin, deftly commanding her attention as he tilted her face up to force her to look him in the eye.
“One could argue—”
Her heart fluttered almost violently against her ribcage.
“—That a subject is only dull when not understood.”
Jaw dropping slack, Betty reeled back, swatting his hand away with a snort. “Are you really insulting my intelligence when I do believe I scored higher marks than you?” If her voice pitched a little higher, it was really no fault of her own.
“We both got an outstanding on our O.W.L's if I recall,” he said smoothly, leaning back on his elbows against the bar.
Ignoring the way he exuded a level of arrogance befitting a Malfoy, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Nothing you've said has changed my mind. The subject itself is still boring.”
There was a gleam in his eye that she couldn't decipher. She blamed the glasses. That was it.
“Oh, Cooper. It's anything but boring. You know…”
He glanced down to where she was biting her lip. She released it immediately, lips parting in a quiet inhale.
“—There's certainly a lot of history between us. Don't you find that interesting?” Jughead murmured, mouth still crooked up at the corner.
Feeling her cheeks heat, she blamed it on the blasted drink Toni had forced on her, not the way he was searching her face so fixedly. Nor the way the bar suddenly felt like it was suffocating her in a blaze of fiendfyre. She resisted the urge to squirm, forcing her knees to lock tighter together.
“Silly me.” Betty smiled coyly, the snake that lay dormant winding up her belly and slithering up her throat to coax the words from her lips. “I don't seem to remember that at all.”
His stoic impasse might have fooled some, but there was a subtle tick to his jaw and a crease between his brows that aged him beyond that of the teasing schoolboy she once knew. The look in his eye, however, had her feeling parched, mouth going dry as she barely managed to maintain her composure.
“Maybe you need something to refresh your memory?”
She took a slow breath in, the honey drip of his words was cloyingly sweet and she wondered idly if Jughead had spent too much time in the Gryffindor common room to have seemingly picked up a lesson or two himself. A Ravenclaw never did turn down an opportunity to learn.
Dropping her hand from where she had it resting against the bar, she leaned forward enough to plant it on his knee in a brazen stroke of confidence.
“Perhaps. But I think I might need a whole lesson plan, Professor .” She bit her lower lip again, watching his eyes drop to the action. Her hand slid higher on his thigh, smooth fabric cool against her fingers with a glimmer of warmth underneath.
He grabbed her wrist — fingers circling around her pulse.
“Cooper,” he warned through a tight-lipped growl that she felt in the bottom of her belly, “I'm not playing games here.” He leaned in, closer than before, enough to feel his breath on the shell of her ear. “I haven't got much of a sweet tooth anymore.”
She blinked, trying to decipher his words as his grip tightened on her wrist, forcing her lips to part with a gasp.
“What does that even mean?”
It was very tempting to lean in farther, to burrow into the crook of his neck.
He clicked his tongue. “It means my appetite won't be sated with a little romp in the broom closet.” He chuckled, the puff of his breath against her neck left her feeling a little bit dazed.
Betty had to focus her attention on the painting over his shoulder, lest she crawl over the stool and right into his lap.
“Remember when we fucked in the potions classroom?”
Oh, did she ever.
A shiver worked its way down her spine, a prolonged slowness that left her almost breathless.
Jughead leaned back, looking at her with dark eyes as he drug her hand a little higher up his thigh, jolting her forward.
“Which time?” she asked, despite knowing the answer.
“When I had you bent over the desk, underwear stuffed in that pretty pink mouth of yours. Ring a bell?”
“Oh.” There had been multiple times over multiple desks but she nodded weakly, remembering the occurrence vividly as she clenched her thighs together.
He’d had his hand wrapped around her neck, holding her to the desk as he fucked her. She'd bit down on her tongue so hard when he’d slapped her ass that she’d started to bleed. That's where the underwear came into play.
She never actually got that pair back from him.
“I've always been a diligent student, taking my studies seriously. I never could let anything slide when there was room for improvement.”
Jughead’s thumb pressed over the pulse in her wrist, feeling the steady thump-thump that didn't quite reflect how hard it was becoming for her to focus. She had to remind herself they were still in public, though she doubted anyone was paying them any attention.
“And now…” he let go of her wrist, gaze never straying from her face, “I haven't been able to go back.”
The loss of heat and comfortable pressure had her sighing quietly, imperceptibly.
There was a strangeness in his eyes. Neither shame nor fear, but something she recognized nonetheless. Vulnerability.
“Why don't you show me?” Betty whispered, not quite trusting her voice not to shake if even a decible higher.
His brow raised for a moment, lips parting slightly before pursing together with a shake of his head. “No.”
Anger flamed up her chest, fingers digging in at his thigh where her hand never wavered. The word was always more hurtful when it came from his lips.
Jughead leaned away from her but didn't displace her hand. “No.”
She could have wrapped her hands around his throat, but she supposed he wouldn't like to be on the receiving end. He always preferred to be in control, no matter the situation. Though, she couldn't help but think how pretty he might look begging at her feet.
Short exhale, inhale.
“What do I have to do to prove that I want this?
There had been a line they'd never crossed in school. Never anything beyond a tryst away from prying eyes. Their parents, in part, had prevented anything from taking root beyond pure physical comfort. And at the time, that had been the reason Betty found herself attracted to him — a forbidden fruit in the garden of Eve.
But she found that time and distance hadn't diminished those feelings as she'd once expected. If anything, her heart beat stronger for him now than ever before.
He was acuriosity that she needed to explore.
His hand closed over hers against his leg, then he was standing, pulling her up from the stool until they were toe to toe. He towered over her, forcing her head to tilt up as he stole the breath from her lungs with only a few simple words.
“I want you. All of you.” He brought his free hand to her face, thumb dragging along the tremble of her bottom lip. “Can you be a good girl and give yourself to me?”
The words stilted on her tongue, her silence surprising her in ways she hadn't expected. There was a yearning, an ache that she wasn't familiar with burning in her chest. It was notably different than the one in her belly at the way his eyes searched her face. It would be so easy to give in and let go that the thought alone terrified her.
There was no certainty of what came after. Or of what did not.
People always attributed Slytherins to doing that which only brought them gain, and this surely would do just that. So why was she hesitating? There was a fundamental resistance to her nature, the born and bred values that had been instilled from day one.
She had been focused on her career, her life — her goals.
Betty took in a breath, the scent of him like a warm midnight fire luring her in.
“Yes, I can.”
Her shoulders relaxed as the words left her lips, tension alleviated by the thought of letting someone else think for her, for once.
He smiled, rare and boyish, as his thumb slid up the curve of her jaw. He held her face in his hand, leaning in until his lips hovered just above her own. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, his hand tightening around hers in response. It was the only warning she got before his shoulders twitched and the unmistakable pull of apparition tugged at her.
But in a blink of an eye, it was over.
Her eyes remained closed, settling herself from the vertigo.
Jughead’s hands cupped her shoulders, smoothing across the fabric of her jacket. He passed over the area of tender skin where her shoulder and neck met, eliciting a strangled noise from her throat as her eyes flew open.
Immediately, concern crossed his features, eyebrows knitting together above the wire rim of his glasses as he pulled his hands off of her.
He had never looked more like a professor.
Bobbing her shoulder, she shook her head. “Just a burn.”
He only seemed to look more cross, fingers going to the set of ties that held the cream and ivory striped jacket together. “Where'd you get a burn on your shoulder from?”
As he helped her out of the jacket, she pulled a face. “You do know that I work with dragons, don't you?” she plucked her wand out from the pocket inside and sent the jacket sailing toward a rather comfortable looking sofa then tossed her wand on top.
“Well, no. I thought Archie was taking the piss when he'd said that.”
Betty couldn't help but begin to laugh, because it did sound a little ridiculous. However, it died in her throat as he brushed the end of her ponytail back over her shoulder, lightly tracing his fingers over the sensitive, new skin.
“Nope,” she barely managed to croak out, leaning her head the other direction as he outlined her shoulder, fingers dipping under the leather strap of the vest that was serving as her top. “My Swedish short-snout, Odeta, doesn't like it when I leave for the weekend.”
Jughead made a noncommittal noise deep in his throat. “Smart girl,” he said quietly before he drew his attention back up to her face. “Pick a safeword.”
Her breath caught and then — “Andromeda.”
He smirked, seemingly impressed. “Had that ready, did you?”
She stepped forward, breaking into his bubble and leaning into his chest. The fingers of one hand curled into the jumper, scrunching the dark blue knit in her fist. She pulled him closer, lips finding the corner of his mouth. “I tried to tell you, I want this just as much as you.” After placing a barely there kiss, she slid her nose along his jaw, moving up to whisper in his ear as she pulled herself up onto her toes. “I've thought about you at night more times than I can count, Jones.”
His chest rumbled against her, hands planted at her hips and tugging on the loops at the top of the black shorts. He pulled her flush against him, lips finding her throat and giving her a nip. “And what do you do when you think of me?”
She smiled into his hair, hand smoothing out against his chest. “Curious, huh?”
“Very. I'm imagining all sort of things. Most of them involve your fingers in your cunt.”
“Well,” she drawled, “I'm not saying you're wrong.” Leaning back and dropping flat on her heels, Betty tucked her head into the crook of his neck. She placed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, then his adam's apple, then just above the collar of his shirt. Her hands dropped to his waist, plucking at the hem of his jumper.
The air was growing hotter, the intimacy they were crafting with subtle touches and the press of lips against sensitive skin had her simmering under the surface. More echoing in her head like a mantra.
Jughead’s fingers dipped beneath the waist of her shorts, grazing the strip of bare skin above the band of her tights. The delicate, barely there whispering of his fingers had her almost giggling. She nearly sighed when he retreated, only to arch her back in response as his hand slid over the front of her shorts to cup her cunt.
She simultaneously wanted to squeeze her legs together and spread them apart, but ultimately did neither as he ground his palm against her, rendering her immobile. Grabbing handfuls of his jumper, she wrinkled it in her fists as she clung to him. A quiet moan left her lips, eyes squeezing shut as heat bubbled in her groin. “Fuck.”
He hummed soothingly into her ear under his breath. “Patience is a virtue,” he tsk'd teasingly before rubbing his fingers against her, the seam of her shorts and the layers of fabric dulling the touch just enough that she was ready to beg for more.
Then, his hands moved suddenly to grip her upper arms, pushing her away to hold her at arm's length with unyielding strength. His gaze swept her up and down, slowly, her cheeks heating at the intensity as her heart began to thud in her chest more profoundly.
“Take off your clothes.”
It was a command.
Her hands moved automatically, tugging the buttons apart at the front of her vest.
At the same time, Jughead reached up behind him, grabbing hold of his jumper and pulling it over his head in that absurdly attractive way men did. He tossed it in the general direction of her jacket, before pulling his wand from the holster beneath the sleeve of his button-up. He brought it to his mouth, holding it between his lips as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. When he was finished, he took his wand back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Keep going, Cooper.”
She'd faltered watching him, distracted.
Shedding the vest, she was left in only her silk bralette, his eyes glided over the exposed skin with both familiarity and newness.
With a whisper under her breath, the laces of her boots untied themselves, allowing her to kick them off before shimmying the shorts down her legs. Peeling down the tights as gracefully as she could manage, Betty caught the impressed stare at her use of wandless magic and bit her lip at the pride that bloomed in her chest.
Jughead had kicked off his own shoes and socks, feet bare against the hardwood.
For some reason, the sight of their toes had her giddy. It was a level of undressed they'd never quite reached when they were young and eager. Their rendezvous had left little thought for removal of clothing as it was inessential to his cock in her pussy.
Once she was down to her skivvies, she thanked Merlin that she'd decided on matching underthings for once. They were, of course, dark green.
“Your house loyalty is astonishing,” he quipped.
She rolled her eyes. “Don't stand there and tell me you're not head of Ravenclaw.”
He smirked, shoulders bobbing up and down in a shrug. “The kids like me.”
“I'm sure they do, Professor. But I thought we had business to attend to, do we not?” Her head tilted to the side, arms folding behind her back as she jutted her hip to the side, drawing his attention down to her legs.
“Oh, of course. Very important business.” With a motion of his wrist, he flicked his wand towards her head.
Normally, she would have panicked, but there was an inexplicable trust, even after all this time.
The band holding her hair up fell away, severed by a silent diffindo. Her tresses tumbled loose around her shoulders and she drew a hand up to tuck the loose waves behind her ears. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Better?”
“Much. I always liked you with your hair down.”
The clenching in her chest at the simple comment was really unfair.
“Follow me,” Jughead instructed, tilting his head over his shoulder before turning to lead her down the hallway off his kitchen.
Grabbing her wand, she practically skipped behind him.
There wasn't a lot of time to admire his flat, and she felt terribly hopeful that perhaps she might get a chance in the morning. It was quaint, homey in the way that all the buildings in Hogsmeade felt. There was an odd, sinking feeling in her gut when Betty thought about their trips to Madam Puddifoot's to have breakfast, or over to Honeydukes to grab a treat.
The feeling was replaced by surprise when Jughead turned to grab her wrist, as if suddenly impatient. He pulled her the rest of the way across his bedroom to push her down against the plush bed. She landed with an ooph, face turning to the side as he hovered over her back. Sucking in a breath, she relished in the warm weight as his pelvis pressed against her ass, nose buried in her hair.
“Fuck, you smell so good. And you're still so fucking tiny. I could break you if I really wanted,” he groaned out, breath wafting over the back of her nape as he nosed her hair aside. It sent goosebumps rising along her arms and back.
Despite the rush of heat his words produced, she thought about how she'd been working since early that morning and she was pretty sure she actually smelled like soot and sweat. But the way he rocked into her, lips finding the place between her shoulder blades to mouth at her heated skin, managed to shove all the words back down her throat.
His hands held her wrists in place, unforgiving and tucked in close to her body. She could do little but wiggle her hips as he ground against her, cock growing hard against the curve of her ass.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fingers still tight around her willow wand.
“You first,” she challenged.
He chuckled, deep in her ear. “You're not playing by the rules, Betty.”
Her teeth caught her bottom lip, biting down as she shifted her thighs together. Her name sounded dark and sensual rolling off his tongue. She wanted to hear it again.
“The charm—” was as far as she got before he was lifting up to plant his knees by her hips, deftly flipping her onto her back in a single, smooth motion.
It was hard to resist thinking of how many times he'd had to do that to perfect it.
Staring up wide-eyed, Betty dropped her wand from limp fingers. His own touched the skin of her belly, just above the line of her underwear as he cast the contraceptive charm. The warmth of his magic sunk into her, her head tilting back into the mattress with a quiet sigh.
“There we go.”
Her wand floated up to the nightstand beside his bed, and her eyes flickered back his face. Watching him use magic was more attractive than it should have been. It had her thinking of a proper duel with him, to see how they'd grown with wit and finesse. The idea quickly turned to them fucking after a heated exchange.
Clearly, her mind was preoccupied.
He was watching her, sitting back on his heels above her, just barely resting on the tops of her thighs. His own wand twirled between the tips of his fingers before he gripped it tightly and turned it upon her skin again. He touched it to the outside of her wrist.
“I've experimented with my proclivities for BDSM,” Jughead began, voice velvety smooth as he pressed the tip of his wand in against her skin before drawing it roughly up her arm. A cold searing line followed the motion, as if someone had followed the path with an ice-cube. “And I've found my niche and picked up a couple of tricks and ideas along the way.”
She shivered as he delivered the same treatment to her other arm, wrist to the inside of her elbow. Just a taste.
Betty found herself nodding as the wand was placed at the hollow of her throat. “I approve,” she shuddered out as he drew a line down her chest, the cold making her want to recoil and arch up at the same time. The tip pressed under the edge of the flimsy silk at the top of her breast, lifting it to circle around her nipple. It hardened under the indirect stimulation, her chest pushing upwards and body begging for more.
“Don't worry, we've got all night,” he said, the inflection in his voice like the purr of something dangerous. “I intend on taking my time with you.”
Her tongue must have been more loose than she thought after that cocktail.
It was getting hard to separate her thoughts from what words were actually pouring out of her mouth when the cold coming from his wand drew up around her throat, along the sensitive skin below her ear, and then back down to rub over the front of her underwear.
She rocked her hips forward, thighs tight together, with a groan. “Fuck.”
Fingers spreading and clenching against the mattress over and over, Betty found herself getting lost in the way he drank her in. His pupils dilated as his eyes roamed the curve of her hips and waist, the heave of her chest. It was like she was a book , laid out for him to lazily explore each page.
“Fuck is right,” Jughead murmured, a hum trailing away his words. The wand slid over the fabric of her underwear until he was pressing in, in, in with the long side and parting her open to apply pressure right against her clit. “I want to see if you can come without me even touching you with my hands. Think you can, love?”
There were surely some words more intelligent floating around in her head than the gurgly groan that left her lips as she nodded, but he just chuckled at her.
Hips stuttering forward, she rocked against his wand unabashed. The cold made her shiver before it dissipated altogether and began to grow warm against her sex. Her head tilted side to side, eyes closing as her belly grew just as hot.
The wand shifted, dragging roughly up over her hip and side to draw a pattern into her ribs and sternum. The warmth intensified the longer his path became. He circled her nipple through the fabric in tight circles, and it felt like a breath of hot air blowing against the pebbled flesh. She shifted under him, practically writhing on the bed in a gasp.
“Which is better, cold or hot?” He asked, and she could feel his smirk behind her eyelids.
It was hard to tell, because both were still present in the various paths each had taken. They swirled together in a dizzying sensation, goosebumps and beads of sweat prickling her skin simultaneously.
“I — I don't know.”
He rolled the wand over her nipple, back and forth until it was so hot it almost felt like he was pinching her, drawing a moan from her lips.
The sharp cut of his voice had her biting her lip again when he brought it back down to slide beneath her underwear and through the folds of her pussy. She shivered at the return of the chill that had her practically vibrating, toes flexing as she rocked her hips forward.
“Cold,” Betty choked out.
“Good girl,” he tutted.
The brutal combination of the back and forth between hot and cold along with his words of tender praise were enough to send her over the edge, pleasure spiraling until she was panting. Her back arched, hips tilting as she rode out the spasms that began in her belly and ended in the curl of her toes. A quick thing, that only left her aching for more. “Jughead,” she sighed, hoping it didn't sound as needy aloud as it did in her head.
“Merlin, you sound so perfect.”
She scrunched her face up at the words, leaning up onto her elbows to watch him pull the wand from between her legs — and lick it.
“Did you just — lick your wand?” She wondered if it was something she'd imagined.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I did. It's weird for me to lick it but not to practically fuck you with it?”
Dropping back flat to the bed, she huffed but stayed silent.
“See? Now scoot up to the pillows.”
Sliding her legs through the space between his knees, she used her elbows to move backward. His fingers caught in the band of her underwear as she moved, and she swatted at his hand. “You're wearing awfully more clothes than me.”
The crease between his brows returned, and he brought a hand up to remove his glasses. They set themselves next to her wand as he stood from the bed. “What did I say earlier? Submission is a part of this agreement.”
She felt like throwing up a flock of butterflies, her stomach twisting at the thought of them stopping now .
“Sorry,” she blurted, shaking her head, “I didn't — sorry, yeah. I just—”
He smiled then, unexpectedly, and her mouth snapped shut.
“I’d like to punish you — for that — not stop, never stop, Betty. I want to sink my cock in your cunt and fuck you till morning.”
She swallowed unhelpfully, her throat having run dry at the implications. “What kind of punishment?” Her voice was small and quiet, her legs pressed together to abate the throb of her clit, still seeking relief. It wasn't that she hadn't liked it when they'd experimented in school, quite the opposite, in fact. It haunted her dreams with relative frequency.
Jughead grinned, pulling the belt from the loops in his trousers.
“Oh.” She blinked, watching as he looped the ends together to cut the length in half, not dissimilar to a switch.
“Oh yes,” he echoed, undoing the line of buttons on his shirt and pulling the loosened tie from his neck. “Turn over.”
Biting her lip, she let her eyes roam the peak of olive skin, hurriedly. She wondered idly if he swam in the Black Lake to stay in shape while she followed the line of dark hair from his navel downward. His trousers stayed firmly in place, despite her petulant pout.
He sighed, and her eyes danced back to his face to find his brows pinched together again. His wand flicked in her direction, body flipping onto her belly and knocking the breath from her lungs.
Something coiled tight around her wrists, yanking her arms forward sharply. She yelped, looking up from the hair that had fallen in her face, knees pressing in against the bed as she glanced at the tie that was once around his neck now binding her wrists to the bedpost.
“That's better. You have such a nice ass. I want to see it red.”
Her eyes fluttered, her hips pushing back and up into the air in response. “I’m all yours, do with me what you like.”
“Remember your word?”
“Yes,” she answers airily.
He climbed over her, sitting on her calves with his legs tucked in close against hers. “Don't be afraid to use it,” Jughead said pointedly.
A hand lay against the back of her knee, and she couldn't help the tingles that formed at the base of her spine. Skin sensitive in places that were rarely touched, the sensation had her wanting his hands and lips on every part of her body. She was sure she'd only have to ask.
“I know, Juggie.”
His hand stilled in its movement up her leg, fingers brushing against her inner thigh and just grazing the silk over her cunt. “Good,” he murmured.
Betty dropped her face into the pillow as he pulled the scrap of silk down her hips, leaving them bunched at the tops of her thighs. His hands splayed against her ass, a handful in each palm as he squeezed before slapping her on the release. Her eyes closed, the sting only a taste of what was to come.
“I’m going to hit you with it once, not as hard as I can, so you'll know what it feels like first.”
She nodded into the pillow, hands curling around the short leash of the tie and holding tight.
For a moment, all Betty could hear was her own breathing and the pulse in her ears before the leather drug up over the back of her thigh, then the curve of her ass. A tender caress before it left her skin and came back down in a swat that had her jaw falling slack and hips surging forward at the jolt. It was different in the way it stung, the area more compounded as opposed to a hand.
“Do you like that?” he asked, rubbing his palm up and down the area to soothe the sting from her skin.
The combination could be attributed to sour and sweet, and she had always like that type of candy best.
“Yes,” she said eagerly. “I want more.”
Jughead patted her bottom gently. It was a contrast that had her blood singing.
“I'm going to hit you five times — harder than this one. Count them for me.”
She nodded again, before clearing her throat. “Yes, Professor.”
He groaned, “Fuck, Betty. Want that sweet mouth around my cock.”
Grinning into the pillow, she wiggled her hips. “Don't get distracted now. There's plenty of time for that — isn't that what you said?” Though the thought did have its merits. All the times she'd sucked his dick previously were in dark closets, wary of passing students despite the muffliato they’d always cast.
“In a few more words than that,” he drawled before swinging the belt down against her.
“Oh,” she gasped. This one was sharper, more forceful. It licked up her spine, tingling at the base of her skull. Her clit throbbed with the rhythm of her pulse, blood rushing around in her ears. “O—one,” she finally rasped out, barely remembering she was supoosed to count.
He switched to her other cheek.
“Two,” Betty moaned, burrowing into the pillow until she couldn't breathe and then turned her face to her arm to rest her forehead against it as she struggled within her bindings, but they only seemed to grow tighter around her wrists. She gripped the fabric between her fingers, yanking against the bedpost as she ground her hips.
Tingles erupted across her scalp, quite possibly feeling every hair follicle on her head. Her mouth dropped open in a pant. “Three.”
“You're doing great, love.” The soothing of her skin had her almost sighing, chest heaving with a breath that made her lightheaded.
She hadn't realized she'd bitten her lip until she tried to speak again, the copper harsh on her tongue as she wet her lips. “Four.”
He switched to her other cheek again, the last strike right next to the first.
This one stole her breath, muscles tensing as she strained to stay still. She sucked in a gulp of air, arms shaking. “F—five.” Her hips rocked forward, pushing back against his hand as he dropped it to her ass, fingers tracing the red that she was sure marred her skin. Her breathing was ragged, as carefully measured breaths fell to the wayside.
Andromeda was on the tip of her tongue, not because of the pain, but because she had never been so desperate for release before.
The crack of leather dropping to the ground was faint in her ear, the sound of her breath weighing heavy.
His nose was in her hair, lips at her neck, breath cool against her heated skin. Jughead threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging softly at her scalp and moving her hair out of his way. He trailed slow, lingering kisses all the way up to her ear. “You did so fucking good. I'm so proud of you. It's only going to get better from here.”
Teeth at her earlobe sent her hips rocking with the spasm of her clit. She ached fiercely, dizzy with want that seemed to consume her every cell. Her mind couldn't process his words beyond good , something so fundamental and affecting that she got lost in the word. It burned her throat, bubbling up and up until it was spilling from her lips in a barely there whispers, over and over. At some point it, it occurred to her that it had morphed into the word andromeda.
Turning her face to the side, she bit down on her swollen lower lip, gnawing it between her teeth.
Jughead was petting her hair, nose at her neck and breathing sweetly against her cheek. “Let's stop for a while.”
Her heart lurched uncomfortably and she shook her head, looking above her shoulder at him. “No,” she said hoarsely before trying again, louder. “I just, I really — fuck, Jug, I need to come so bad. Please.”
He hovered over her, concern evident in the way his eyes swept over her face. His frown made her want to whine pathetically.
“You used the safeword.”
Squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment, her cheeks burned under his stare and she burrowed into her arm. “I’m about two seconds away from dying, here. I want you to put your mouth on my pussy right fucking now, Jughead.”
His chuckle had her bristling.
“Bossy. You'd make a good dom with that filthy mouth. I really should put it to good use.”
Betty opened her eyes to squint up at him, lips pressing into a thin line.
“How long has it been since you've had sex? You're so fucking sensitive.” His fingers brushed down the curvature of her spine. He smoothed his palm over her tender backside, eliciting a hiss from her lips.
“How long have we been out of school?” she asked, breath hitching as he walked his knees back down her body.
“Six years. Don't tell me you haven't—”
“Of course I have. Merlin. It's just a good time marker. But realistically, probably a year or more.” She sighed, ever since she had finished her apprenticeship at the reservation.
“Still so long,” he commented offhandedly. “Spread your legs, up on your knees,” he instructed, allowing her the room to move.
Swinging one knee out and up, Betty used the tie around her wrists to help anchor herself as she shifted onto it, lifting herself up onto her knees. Feet apart, she raised onto her elbows, hips tilting out. She caught her breath, heartbeat thudding away in her chest like the beat of a drum.
Jughead worked himself between her knees, bending down to kiss the dip in her lower back as his hands spread over her hips. Fingers gliding along smooth skin, he raked his nails along the front of her thighs on the upstroke.
“So pretty with your ass in the air. Pussy on display, all for me.” He blew across the lingering marks from the belt, before kissing one gently and working his way down.
He spread the cheeks of her ass, tilting her farther as his tongue flattened against her cunt.
The vibration of his pleased hum had her thighs quivering, hips stuttering against his mouth as he stroked his tongue against her folds. “Fuck, you really don't have to do much back there, Jug.”
His hands gripped her tighter, pulling her in against his face as his tongue flicked at her clit. “You’re so fucking wet you're dripping, love. Gonna feel so good to fill you up with my cock.”
Closing her eyes, Betty took a breath in through her nose. His tongue drew circles over her nub before drawing it between his lips and sucking gently. She moaned in response, head rolling back and forth as he laved his tongue over and around her clit again and again. Her abdominals clenched, clit throbbing under the ministrations as her hips sought the pleasure she craved so deeply.
His tongue slipped between her folds, hot and wet as he thrust into her cunt. Only for a few strokes and then he was at her clit again, wet sounds filled her ears as he groaned into her. Then, his fingers were filling her, sliding into her pussy in place of his tongue.
“Merlin — you feel so good. I've dreamt about this — craved this for years, Betty.”
Her eyes opened only to roll upwards. She either moaned his name and various curse words or a whole bunch of gibberish as he pumped his fingers.
He was relentless, working her with a pressure that kept building building building until she was ready to sob. The pads of his fingers moved deeper, angling down in a come hither motion against her.
Her back arched, neck craning as the insurmountable pressure in her groin felt ready to burst, and she swore her vision dotted with black as her orgasm overtook her. A flood of wetness gushed around his fingers, the squelching noise had her keening as he lapped at her, working her through and extending her pleasure. She rocked her hips in time with the spasms that pulsed from her center. By the time they dissipated, her head was spinning and she felt short of breath. His tongue worked her clit until she was nearly frazzled, hair wrought with static.
Shying away from him, her head buried in the pillow with a groan, she would have fallen sideways if not for his hold.
He licked up her inner thighs, grin prominent and smug against her hip.
She batted at him, threatening to kick him in the face before she realized the tie had fallen away from her wrists. They were a little raw from her thrashing, and she stretched her arms above her head before sitting up on her knees with a whimper.
“Sore?” Jughead leaned in over her shoulder, snuggling up behind her and moving the hair from her neck to kiss up her throat.
Her wrists, her ass, her knees. He could take his pick.
“‘Lil bit,” Betty murmured, sighing softly as his lips found her ear. “Feels good though.”
“Got my chin all wet from how good it felt,” he teased, nibbling on her earlobe.
“Jughead,” she warned, peeking a half-lidded eye open at him. His grin against her neck had her shuffling away, but she didn't get far before he looped an arm around her waist, hoisting her back against his chest.
“Ah, ah, ah. You're not going anywhere yet.”
His hand cupped her breast, fingers caressing through the silken garment askew on her chest. Her nipples were taut underneath the fabric, the shift of the silk as she took in heaving breaths only pushed her breast further into his hand. His fingers slipped beneath the band, sliding up the juts of her ribs to circle her nipple. He slotted against her more firmly, the hard press of cock against the back of her hip rocking into her slowly.
She clung to his arm at her waist, fingernails digging and clawing at both his skin and shirt.
He pinched a hardened peak between his fingers, pulling and tugging until her stomach was clenching beneath his arm as she writhed in his grasp. He pulled her earlobe between his teeth again, heat flooding her belly just as quickly as before.
It took no time at all before she felt herself growing slick again, her walls fluttering and aching for him.
“Please,” she whispered, head knocking back against his shoulder as his hand unwound from her waist to slide down the curve of her hip and thigh. Her hands followed him, curling around his forearm and pushing him between her legs.
“Please, what?” Jughead asked, lips sucking sharply at her neck, the opposite side of her burn. His teeth grazed her over and over, tongue lapping at broken skin that would bruise before he was even finished. He resisted her strength, fingers barely threading through the sparse hairs above her sex.
“I want more, more than your fingers — I want you inside me.” She felt a weight lift from her shoulders, as if the words were weighing her down.
His fingers drummed against her pubic bone, retreating from her belly altogether. “That can certainly be arranged.”
“Fine,” he tutted, hands meeting at her sternum to unclasp the clip between the silk.
Pressing her head harder against his shoulder, Betty sighed when he pulled the material away and down her arms. He wasted no time in placing both hands over her breasts, grabbing a handful in each palm.
“I want you to ride my cock so I can see your pretty tits.” His thumbs pinched at her nipples again before slapping the side of her breast roughly, sending her arching against him. He grinned into her ear before pulling away sharply and pushing at her lower back.
She shuffled forward, managing to slide her underwear down the rest of the way, kicking them from her ankles. The sound of his trousers had her stilling, listening as the fabric rustled. Turning to peek over her shoulder, she watched him undress as she settled back on her heels.
Once he shed the remains of the button up, he yanked his trousers and skin-tight boxer briefs down his legs all at once. She was distracted from his erection (which, hello there) by the way he'd turned, displaying his upper back as he reached down to finish undressing.
Between his shoulder blades was a large, brilliant, opalescent dragon tattoo. It had scales of multi-faceted color and shimmer that seemed near impossible. And then, it moved.
As if sensing an audience, its eyes blinked blearily, wings stretching out towards Jughead's biceps before flapping a couple of times and then crawling down his spine with spurts of smoke emanating from it's snout. It curled at the base of his spine, head resting in the divots of his lower back as it stared at her with one eye open.
She was transfixed and shot out her hand as Jughead made to turn back, sitting up on his knees to crawl up to the pillows. “Wait,” she blurted, pushing at his shoulder and leaning in. “You have a dragon tattoo? And it moves?”
“Oh, yeah. That's Maleficent. Right bitch, that one. But she can be cute.”
“It moves?” Betty asked again, reaching her hand towards his back to glide over the skin of his hip where the Hornback tail curled. It — she twitched under her hand, snorting out a trail of smoke before closing her eyes and seemingly falling asleep.
Jughead looked nonplussed, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Yeah, surely you knew magical tattoos could do that.”
Her head shook, wonder still evident in her gaze as she slowly drew her eyes back up to his. “I mean, I sort of thought it was a load of rubbish, to be quite honest.”
Effortlessly, he moved up the bed to recline against the pillows. “Surely some of your co-workers have tattoos? Dragon tamers certainly seem the type.” He patted the front of his thigh, tilting his head back against the headboard.
Her eyes dropped to his lap, cock standing proudly against his belly, and she shimmied forward to swing her leg over his, settling herself atop his thighs. She hovered there, barely resting her weight on him. “I mean, we're fairly covered up most of the time. Lest you want to get a burn like I did today.”
His eyes landed on her neck and his hand followed, raising up to brush his thumb against the ridge of her collarbone just below the patch of the tender skin that streaked across her shoulder. “I'd have thought pureblood Elizabeth Cooper would know all the ins and outs better than me.”
Frown turning her lips down, Betty placed her hands on his shoulders, scooting forward until she was settled fully in his lap. His cock pressed between their bellies and she watched his pupils dilate farther, eyes growing so dark they were nearly pure black.
“I don't know how many times I've told you, I'm not a pureblood. My grandmother Smith was a muggle,” she said dismissively, hips canting forward in a gentle roll as he placed his hands on them, guiding her movements with a quiet groan.
“Right — yeah. Always forget that based on the way your mother acts so uppity all the time.”
“Are you really talking about my mother when I’m about to sit on your dick?”
He laughed, fingers gripping at her hips and tugging her forward as he ground upwards. The friction between them had them both drawing in ragged breaths between their laughter.
“Okay, point taken. Let's get to the sitting now, shall we?” Jughead raised an eyebrow, hand leaving her hip to wrap around his cock, pumping up and down a few times.
“I'd actually really like to sit on your face,” she tossed out without really thinking, focused on the way his jaw had fallen a little slack, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. Lifting back onto her knees, she placed her hands on his shoulders for balance as he nudged the head of his cock against her folds.
“I’m always up for that,” he drawled, “but first I'd like to fill your cunt with my come.”
Her head tilted to the side, eyes fluttering as he rubbed up against her clit and back down, gathering wetness along the length of his shaft. “Right — ah, we'll revisit t—that… later.” She'd become thoroughly distracted by the gentle pressure on her clit, the slickness against her, and the heavy feeling that began to unwind in her core.
She wasn't quite sure what they were talking about anymore.
He seemed to take mercy on her, and she had to applaud his self-control as he guided his cock to her entrance, slipping past her swollen folds.
It was an easy slide home as Betty dropped back to his lap, desperate to feel him inside of her.
“Holy fuck,” she gasped, back arching and knees squeezing at his hips. It felt so good, so, so good that she might’ve even drooled a little.
Jughead seemed to agree, as his head propped forward, hiding in her neck to quietly pant against the sensitive flesh. His hands held her steady at the hips, gripping so tightly she would be sure to remember this moment when bruises shaped like fingers showed up in her mirror.
“Merlin. You feel so fucking good, Betty,” he groaned into her skin, lips and tongue laving at her throat, coaxing mewls from her.
They stayed like that for a moment more, adjusting to each other, before Betty rolled her hips against him, relishing the shift inside of her as he slid deeper. It was both heaven and hell as the heat and pressure had a stream of moans flowing from her lips.
He rocked with her, lazily thrusting as she lifted herself from his lap and did a majority of the work.
What a leg day workout, she mused before descending into a hazy, lust fueled fog that clouded her brighter senses.
Her movements hurried under the guidance of his hands, slamming down onto his cock over and over as their hips met in rough thrusts. The slickness of her arousal had their motions sloppy and noisy, the sounds only fueling the tightness in her core that was steadily building.
His kisses moved down her chest, lips and tongue affixing to her breast.
She bit down on her lip, breathy moans escaping as her hips stuttered against his. Rocking forward and grinding her clit against his pubic bone, Betty chased her pleasure as he attended to her. Her fingernails raked down his shoulders, leaving neat red lines in their wake. He switched to her other breast, taking her nipple between his teeth to tug at it.
She clawed at him, his hiss against her sensitive, rosy peak had her shuddering over him.
Jughead leaned back, one arm curling around her waist, forcing her to bob up and down on his cock harder, deeper as he twitched his hips upward on each downstroke.
“Betty, love, do you trust me?”
He sounded pained, and she didn’t know whether it was from the exertion and overwhelming slow build of his release or something else.
“Yes,” she whispered, eyes fluttering down to him as their lips briefly touched. It sent a shock down her spine and she arched upwards right into his hand at her throat.
“This’ll feel so good — I promise, okay? If not you can hex me to London and back.”
It felt comforting, never dangerous. Betty supposed the look in his eye made all the difference — he was no murderer.
With a quick nod, she let herself take a steady breath before he wrapped his hand tightly around her throat. The thumb pressed in just under her ear and tilted her head back.
For a moment, the pressure made her breath quicken before she let herself relax. She'd tensed all over, pussy clamping down on Jughead's cock, causing his grip to falter for a moment.
“I'm good,” she croaked, hands slithering up to his hair and scraping against his scalp. She gripped the thick locks, lifting herself up and then dropping back down in his lap as she fell back into the rhythm they'd set before.
His hand on her throat tightened the tiniest bit, just enough to feel pressure on the sides and a slight dizziness rose as air became harder to suck in. Her stomach clenched when her body began to burn from need and want, as though she was dialed up to one hundred in the blink of an eye.
She was sweating behind her knees and sure that her hair was a frizzy mess with the static discharge of her magic as she lifted herself up and down. The narrowed focus that his hand had granted had her acutely feeling every twitch and throb of his cock as he filled her with each thrust.
In no time, tears were pricking the corners of her eyes as she climbed to a high that she’d never felt before.
The look in his eye was something she couldn't match with any memory. A raw and unbridled lust simmered beneath the warmth she'd always known him for.
Betty realized his lips were moving — speaking.
“—taking my cock so well. It's taking all that I have not to hold you down by your pretty throat and fuck you raw. But you're better than that, deserve more than that,” he groaned, and she noticed his cheeks and chest were flushed with a heat that matched her own.
“Maybe next time,” she offered in consolation, the suggestion not as unappealing to her as he probably thought.
Jughead tugged her forward, hand manipulating her head to bring her in for a kiss filled with more longing than any she'd ever had before. Their lips moved with a slowness that their hips soon mirrored. It was more intimate than anything she'd ever experienced — the push of his chest against hers as their bodies pressed flush together, the beating of his heart echoing the same rushed cadence of her own, the sound of their skin sliding together both rough to her ear and so very appealing all at the same time.
He licked at the seam of her mouth, nibbling her swollen lower lip before tugging on it in earnest. His fingers fluttered against her neck, squeezing as he curved the palm of his hand over the front of her throat in cushion and bowing her back into an arch.
It felt like she was floating, rising above herself with each careful breath as his thumb pressed in against the pulse in her neck. The effect was dizzying, the burn in her lungs only increased the tightness in her groin. Her hips jerked erratically, pressure coiling tightly as desire flooded her veins like a gate had been flung open.
The arm he had curved around her worked her up and down his cock, over and over, their hips slotting together perfectly as he hit the spot inside her that he'd grazed with his fingers earlier.
She tossed her head back, unintelligible babble falling from her lips as she struggled for his name, or even her own.
“That's it, Betty. Come for me.”
His voice hit at just the right moment, when a particularly hard grind suddenly sent her free falling into bliss. A squeak left her throat as she froze in his lap, hands tangling in his hair and yanking as she felt her release finally overwhelm her.
Betty’s eyelids drooped, mind blanking, so overcome that she barely heard his quiet hiss in her ear. Her arms and legs quivered from the intensity that pulsed from her center, her toes curling as she panted for the breath she was already short on.
Working her through it, Jughead loosened the hand at her throat to slide up into her hair and curl at the root as their movements began to halt. His own breath was labored, shoulders tense as she dropped her hands to them.
“Holy shit,” she panted, at a loss for more articulate thoughts.
“I’d hate to be cocky and say I told you so, but my cock did just do that, so…”
He was entirely too smug, but she could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the tick to his jaw as she slid her hand over his cheek and rubbed up towards his hairline. “Shut it,” she grinned, taking in a deep breath before slumping in his lap. “—and fuck me.”
Without needing to be told twice, he scooped under the backs of her thighs, lifting and gliding her legs to lock behind his waist as her arms wound around his neck. Planting a foot to bed, he managed to lift to one knee, then the other. Tucking her legs up against him, he laid her out on the bed, settling his weight between her thighs. His cock twitched inside her as he stared down, eyes fixated on her face.
Her cheeks burned at the attention, hands sliding from his neck to curl around his arms. “What?”
Jughead shook his head a little, his smile making her heart flutter.
“You just look really beautiful right now. Not that you ever aren't, but fucked out is a good look on you.” He brushed some hair from her shoulders, fingers grazing the burn at her neck before landing on her thigh and hoisting her leg up a little higher.
She couldn't help but laugh. “Thank you?”
“It's my pleasure.” His tone was all cheek as he dipped his chin to kiss her forehead. “And now, I’m going to take mine.” The shift was palpable, the gleam in his eye returned to a dark, heady blue, like a violent storm ready to sweep her away.
“Please,” Betty breathed, her cunt clenching around him before he even began to move. His soft groan rumbled through her chest as he pressed down against her.
Suddenly his hips snapped forward and her head rocked back, jaw falling slack. She was still sensitive, gasping for quiet breaths as he picked up the pace.
Moving over her, his voice gravelly and low, he murmured words of praise in her ear. It had her clinging to him, desperate for his words as she canted her hips up to meet his thrusts. Though she was spent and exhausted, her belly still burned with heat as he moved within her.
His lips found her ear, hand at her shoulder pulling her down as he rutted against her, every jolt threatened to scoot her backward with the force of his hips. He growled in her ear as she slipped her hands around to his back, fingernails raining red lines along the space between his shoulders.
She bit her lip and wondered with peaked curiosity if she could come again as she felt herself reach toward the ledge, ready to tumble after him. The tingling at the base of her spine had her humming, “S’good. Feels so good, Jug. So good. I think I'm gonna come again.”
It was a little like being drunk, she thought, the world so loud and quiet all at the same time.
“You think? I know you will.” His breath huffed across her collarbone in quick pants, the hair at the back of his neck was turning damp under her fingertips as she gripped the strands. The muscles in his back quivered, his thrusts becoming erratic as he tilted her hips farther, slamming into her cunt over and over.
Tightening her legs around his waist, she arched her back upward and pushed their chests together as the heat built in her stomach. It was like she was coming upon a fire that grew brighter and wilder with every step towards it she made, unable to turn away.
“Fu—ck.” Jughead growled, as his hips stuttered against her, making several deep thrusts that slowed until he stopped moving all together. His cock twitched inside her, his warmth spilling out and filling her just as he'd promised. Her name fell from his tongue, so low and soft that it barely caught in her ear.
Before she could catch her breath to respond in kind, he was sliding a hand between their hips, finding the slickness between her folds that he'd helped propensiate and gathering it to circle her clit with two fingers. It didn't take much, with his hips still gently rocking into her and his fingers applying a pressure that had her gasping for air.
She whimpered, clinging to him as she felt herself let go, tipping over the edge into a coolness that soothed the burn that had overtaken her. It spiraled like a hurricane, quenching her thirst for more and finally satiating the ache she'd felt all over.
Lips pressed kisses all over her neck and chest and eyelashes fluttered at her skin as he settled his weight atop her, resting on his elbows. There was a sense of calm, like the moments after a summer storm, and a serene quietness that only encompassed the sound of them catching their breath.
“You know,” Jughead started, his shoulders finally relaxing as she walked her fingers up and down his arms and back, “Maybe I would like something sweet for dessert after all,” he murmured, tilting her chin up as his fingers curled around her jaw to bring their lips together one more time.
As her eyes closed, Betty couldn't help but lick at his lip, smile hard to contain. Just like her, underneath the brash exterior, he'd always had a sweet tooth.