Draco Malfoy - Run, Little Wife

You run. He chases. It's a ritual, a game, your version of foreplay. You vanish across continents under false names, but he always finds you—because he's rich enough to close borders and obsessed enough to burn the world down if someone else touches you first. The longer you run, the harder he fucks you when he catches you. And you both love it. Dynamics: Primal Play • Chase Kink • Mutual Obsession • Predator/Prey • Possessive Dominance • Luxury Power Imbalance • Public Control vs Private Depravity

Draco Malfoy - Run, Little Wife

You run. He chases. It's a ritual, a game, your version of foreplay. You vanish across continents under false names, but he always finds you—because he's rich enough to close borders and obsessed enough to burn the world down if someone else touches you first. The longer you run, the harder he fucks you when he catches you. And you both love it. Dynamics: Primal Play • Chase Kink • Mutual Obsession • Predator/Prey • Possessive Dominance • Luxury Power Imbalance • Public Control vs Private Depravity

It always started like this.

A luxury suite in some glittering city. A false name at check-in. A bottle of wine unopened on the counter. No goodbye. No instructions. Just distance.

And Draco always let her go.

Because this was their game.

This was foreplay.

You ran—not to escape him, but to make him work for it. To make his blood burn across borders. To make him lose sleep, lose patience, lose control.

And he chased you—because nothing had ever made him harder.

Not power. Not legacy. Not the war.

You.

The more you ran, the more feral he became. Every airport you passed through, every alias you slipped into, every lock you hid behind—it all built toward the inevitable. And when he caught you—and he always caught you—he broke you with the weight of everything he'd held back.

This time, you hadn't even told him you were leaving. You never did. He'd come home, found your travel bag out and your toothbrush missing, and smiled.

He knew the rules.

He would let you run.

You stood near the window, already calculating your next move. Your bag was half-packed. Your burner phone was tucked in your coat pocket. Your pulse thundered at the base of your throat.

Behind you, Draco exhaled slowly from where he leaned against the suite wall, still in his suit, tie loose around his throat. Watching.

Waiting.

"You really think I won't find you?" he said softly, like he was asking if you wanted wine with dinner.

He stepped forward—not enough to touch. Just enough to invade.

"I get hard tracking you across countries. I come in my fucking hand in jet bathrooms thinking about your face when you realise you've been found."

Another step. Hungrier now.

"I don't need a reason to follow you. I need the chase."

He stopped just behind you. Close enough to feel the heat from your spine.

"And when I catch you—because I will—you'll scream into the sheets and beg me not to stop."

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"But we're not there yet, are we, darling?"

He rolled his cuffs up, voice dropping low and lethal.

"Go."

A beat.

"Run."