A Lesson In Love, Hermione/Viktor, NC-17
Title: A Lesson In Love
Pairing: Hermione/Viktor
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1900
Warnings: mentions of rape, murder, and torture; sex
Summary: “Viktor…haven’t you ever made love to a woman-intimately?”
A/N: Kelly--I used the word! I said I would, and I did!
The night air swirling around Hermione and Viktor on the London sidewalk was brisk, alive, and joyful, matching their laughter. The night was perfect for being young, being happy, being in love. Drawing to a stop in front of a small, dim café, Viktor used their clasped hands to pull Hermione into his arms. “Vant coffee?” he asked, pressing a kiss against her cheek, his eyes dancing.
“I have a better idea,” she answered. “How about coffee at my flat?”
Hermione watched as the laughter in his eyes faded, replaced with something she could only label as despondency. Stiffly he replied that he would prefer coffee in the café, or not at all. She sighed and followed him to a small table, then gazed at him with a look that fell between contemplation and a pout. This needed to stop. Tonight. Her heart and knickers required it.
She cast a quick spell to garble their conversation to any eavesdroppers, then met Viktor’s dark eyes. “We’ve been together over six months now, Viktor. And-“ she swallowed the last vestiges of her bashfulness, “I want you. Why do you keep refusing to come home with me?”
His heavy eyebrows met in the middle and he looked down into his coffee. “Hermy-own-ninny, you do not vant to haff this conversation. Please belief me.”
“Viktor…”
“No!” he barked, still firmly engrossed in his coffee cup.
Her ire flared. “Yes! We are going to talk about this! You seem to be interested in me in other ways; why don’t you want to have sex with me? Am I doing something wrong? I love you, Viktor; you say you love me, too. Sex…I think intimacy is a vital part of a healthy relationship, but you seem to want to ignore it completely. Which, I must admit, seems quite peculiar for a man!”
Viktor’s eyes met hers, dark as onyx and furious as fire. “Sex!” he spat. “Vhat has sex to do vith loff, vith relationship? Do not need loff to haff sex. Do not need sex to haff relationship. I vill not subject you to that!”
She stared at him in surprise. “You don’t think lovemaking is part of a relationship? Viktor, I want to make love with you!”
He glowered, a much darker version of the scowl he wore for his adoring public. “Ve do make loff. Make it vith our kisses, vith touches, vith talking. Sex is not making loff.”
“It is if you do it properly.” Hermione was struck suddenly with a thought. She knew Viktor had demons in his past, some of them involving sex. He had made sure to tell her of his past very early in this relationship, claiming she deserved fair warning of the kind of man she was getting involved with. She knew the kind of man he was, and that he wasn’t defined by crimes he had committed. She softened her voice, and asked, “Viktor…haven’t you ever made love to a woman-intimately?”
He folded his arms across his chest; she could see the pressure in his fingertips as he squeezed them against his biceps. He stared hard at the table, his mug-anything but her. “I haff had sex.”
“What kind of sex?” she pressed gently.
He let out a string of sharp Bulgarian words under his breath-curses, she knew from his tone. “I haff raped. I haff fucked Bludger-bunnies for my own pleasure. I haff neffer been vith a voman who vas not thrown avay aftervards. Hermy-own-ninny, I do loff you. I do not vant you to suffer through the kind of sex I know how to do.”
His voice sounded so broken, so tormented, that Hermione asked him, “Would it help to talk about it?” She didn’t want to hear it-when he had told her the briefest facts about his sins, the thought of this man, the man she adored with her whole heart, committing them, had made her sick to her stomach. But she knew Viktor, knew that he was the kind to bottle his emotions inside of him until they turned his gallbladder putrid. Maybe telling her was what he needed to heal from this…whatever it was.
“At Durmstrang, our fathers choose our classes for us. I vas chosen as vone of Karkaroff’s ‘specials;’ you know this. I vas twelf vhen I haff sex for the first time. Twenty of us boys, Karkaroff’s own chosen, take special classes on torture. Ve learn to rape. Learn the best vay to position your body to hurt a voman inside. I know a spell to make spines protrude from the penis.” He shuddered, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back, and continued in an expressionless voice. “For exam, Karkaroff brought in a young Muggle girl from the next village, older than ve vere, but not by much. Each boy, ve haff to take turns vith her. Most of the boys enjoyed her screams.” A tear slipped from his eye and glistened down his cheek. “I can still hear them. Ve vere the ones being trained to be Death Eaters. Ve learned so many tortures through the years. My almost last year, the vone before I come to Hogvarts, ve haff exam. Karkaroff, he takes us to a small village, and each boy has a tracking spell to see how many vomen he rapes, how many children’s throats he slits, how many men vatch, then die as vell.” Another tear squeezed out, and hastily he wiped it away, leaving his eyelashes spiky and wet. “These are the things I see in my nightmares, Hermy-own-ninny.”
When she realized he wasn’t going to keep talking, she prompted gently, “What about the Quidditch groupies?”
“That vas alvays rushed, alvays me pushing to finish, before I could hurt them. They usually left angry and unsatisfied. But vhat I could do?” He opened his eyes, bright and shimmering, and met Hermione’s gaze. “Is all I know how to do. I do not vish to put you through that, not effer.”
She reached across the table and caressed his face lightly, just the barest slip of fingertips. “Viktor,” she whispered, “you can make love. It’s a natural thing, and I know that at your core you are a good man, no matter what you’ve done in the past.”
“But-“
“Viktor,” she murmured, soft but serious, “I can teach you, if you’re willing to learn.”
*****************************************************
Hermione thought that she had never seen anything quite as beautiful as Viktor sitting on the edge of her bed, shirt unbuttoned and eyes uncertain. She stepped out of her heels and settled beside him, sliding one hand inside his shirt to caress his skin. The hand he reached up to twine in her hair was shaking. “Calm down, sweetheart,” she mumbled against his lips. “There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”
She felt his mouth curve into a smile against hers. “Vhat should I be doing now?” His warm breath tickled along her skin.
“What do you want to be doing?”
“Kissing you.” He did, deeply, twining his tongue with hers and his fingers through her curls, tumbled down from her up-do. Pulling back, he gazed at her with the hint of self-doubt still present, but the warm chocolate heat of desire was steadily pushing it away. “May I touch you…here?” he asked, softly cradling her breast through her dress.
“You don’t have to ask permission, Viktor; I won’t complain.” She rose and turned for him to tug down her zipper. He did, slowly, letting it puddle at her feet.
“Vhat if I hurt you?” His eyes traveled over her curves, the lacey bra and panties, the thigh-high hose.
Hermione stepped closer to him, twining her fingers through his dark hair, tilting his head upward to capture his full lips in a kiss. “I don’t think you will, but I’ll let you know. Just do whatever you want to.”
He grinned. “In that case, loff…come here.” Hermione gasped as his tongue teased along the edge of her hose. She hadn’t expected that, not from the timid, uncertain Viktor she’d been dealing with since she got him out of the café. He gathered her up and flopped her unceremoniously on the bed. He bit her, cautiously, halfway between hose and panties. She jumped; he was quickly beside her, filled with concern.
“Viktor. I liked it,” she told him. “Come here.” Perhaps they should start small; she’d tell him what to do, and when he was more confident, he could take the lead. She slid off the bed, flung back the sheets, and stripped off the rest of her clothing. “Yours, too.”
He didn’t respond; he was too busy pouring his hungry eyes over her body like warm, wild honey. He gave her a very appreciative grin.
“Naked. Now.”
Soon they were cuddled together on the bed, softly trailing hands over skin, trading gentle kisses, murmuring “I love you”s in at least two languages, maybe three. His hot tongue trailed over her neck, across her collarbone, down to the turgid buds of her nipples. Hermione tangled her fingers in the small smattering of coarse hair on his chest. He was beautiful, she thought, from his large, beaky nose to his purple, veiny, slightly curved penis, to his turned-out feet. Maybe other woman wouldn’t think so, but no other woman could possibly love him as much as she did. His heart and his soul were golden and shining-despite the tinges of darkness tarnishing the edges-and that light shone through for her.
When she wrapped her fingers tightly around Viktor’s swollen cock, his eyes met hers and she knew he was losing control, despite fighting for it every second. She smiled, and nipped his earlobe, then whispered, “It’s ok, sweetheart, let go.”
He pushed her onto her back, making her breasts bobble and her heart race. With eyes midnight brown and full of primal need, Viktor growled, “I loff you, Hermy-own-ninny!” He spread her lips and pushed into her, hard and thick; she moaned and rose to meet him. “Loff you! Loff you! Loff you!” he rumbled with each deep, fulfilling thrust. Hermione’s back arched; her hands clawed at the sheets, and a keening filled the air. Viktor lowered his head to bite and suckle at her pebbled peaks and she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him there, until she felt herself tighten-tighten-tighten. The rush of climax took her breath away; she clawed and bucked, and then she melted underneath him. Through heavy-lidded eyes she watched as the cords of his neck tightened with his own release, and the muscles in his biceps bulged with his workout. Liquid fire filled her insides, and Viktor collapsed on top of her.
When he had managed to relearn how to breathe, Viktor pushed his weight to the side of the bed. “You are ok, yes, loff?”
Hermione laughed weakly. “Viktor, I am absolutely fantastic.”
“Vas rather…rough, though, vas it not? Shouldn’t loffmaking be more gentle for a voman?”
Hermione curled against his shoulder and threw and arm across his toned, sweaty stomach. “Sometimes it is. Sometimes there’s more passion. But the love is what makes the difference.”
“I do loff you, Hermy-own-ninny, vith my…vell, vith my efferything, heart, soul, all I haff to giff. I neffer knew that it could be like this, relationship, loffmaking…any of it.”
“I know, Viktor, and I love you too. I’m so glad…” She kissed his shoulder, and then fell asleep locked in his arms and heart.
Pairing: Hermione/Viktor
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1900
Warnings: mentions of rape, murder, and torture; sex
Summary: “Viktor…haven’t you ever made love to a woman-intimately?”
A/N: Kelly--I used the word! I said I would, and I did!
The night air swirling around Hermione and Viktor on the London sidewalk was brisk, alive, and joyful, matching their laughter. The night was perfect for being young, being happy, being in love. Drawing to a stop in front of a small, dim café, Viktor used their clasped hands to pull Hermione into his arms. “Vant coffee?” he asked, pressing a kiss against her cheek, his eyes dancing.
“I have a better idea,” she answered. “How about coffee at my flat?”
Hermione watched as the laughter in his eyes faded, replaced with something she could only label as despondency. Stiffly he replied that he would prefer coffee in the café, or not at all. She sighed and followed him to a small table, then gazed at him with a look that fell between contemplation and a pout. This needed to stop. Tonight. Her heart and knickers required it.
She cast a quick spell to garble their conversation to any eavesdroppers, then met Viktor’s dark eyes. “We’ve been together over six months now, Viktor. And-“ she swallowed the last vestiges of her bashfulness, “I want you. Why do you keep refusing to come home with me?”
His heavy eyebrows met in the middle and he looked down into his coffee. “Hermy-own-ninny, you do not vant to haff this conversation. Please belief me.”
“Viktor…”
“No!” he barked, still firmly engrossed in his coffee cup.
Her ire flared. “Yes! We are going to talk about this! You seem to be interested in me in other ways; why don’t you want to have sex with me? Am I doing something wrong? I love you, Viktor; you say you love me, too. Sex…I think intimacy is a vital part of a healthy relationship, but you seem to want to ignore it completely. Which, I must admit, seems quite peculiar for a man!”
Viktor’s eyes met hers, dark as onyx and furious as fire. “Sex!” he spat. “Vhat has sex to do vith loff, vith relationship? Do not need loff to haff sex. Do not need sex to haff relationship. I vill not subject you to that!”
She stared at him in surprise. “You don’t think lovemaking is part of a relationship? Viktor, I want to make love with you!”
He glowered, a much darker version of the scowl he wore for his adoring public. “Ve do make loff. Make it vith our kisses, vith touches, vith talking. Sex is not making loff.”
“It is if you do it properly.” Hermione was struck suddenly with a thought. She knew Viktor had demons in his past, some of them involving sex. He had made sure to tell her of his past very early in this relationship, claiming she deserved fair warning of the kind of man she was getting involved with. She knew the kind of man he was, and that he wasn’t defined by crimes he had committed. She softened her voice, and asked, “Viktor…haven’t you ever made love to a woman-intimately?”
He folded his arms across his chest; she could see the pressure in his fingertips as he squeezed them against his biceps. He stared hard at the table, his mug-anything but her. “I haff had sex.”
“What kind of sex?” she pressed gently.
He let out a string of sharp Bulgarian words under his breath-curses, she knew from his tone. “I haff raped. I haff fucked Bludger-bunnies for my own pleasure. I haff neffer been vith a voman who vas not thrown avay aftervards. Hermy-own-ninny, I do loff you. I do not vant you to suffer through the kind of sex I know how to do.”
His voice sounded so broken, so tormented, that Hermione asked him, “Would it help to talk about it?” She didn’t want to hear it-when he had told her the briefest facts about his sins, the thought of this man, the man she adored with her whole heart, committing them, had made her sick to her stomach. But she knew Viktor, knew that he was the kind to bottle his emotions inside of him until they turned his gallbladder putrid. Maybe telling her was what he needed to heal from this…whatever it was.
“At Durmstrang, our fathers choose our classes for us. I vas chosen as vone of Karkaroff’s ‘specials;’ you know this. I vas twelf vhen I haff sex for the first time. Twenty of us boys, Karkaroff’s own chosen, take special classes on torture. Ve learn to rape. Learn the best vay to position your body to hurt a voman inside. I know a spell to make spines protrude from the penis.” He shuddered, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back, and continued in an expressionless voice. “For exam, Karkaroff brought in a young Muggle girl from the next village, older than ve vere, but not by much. Each boy, ve haff to take turns vith her. Most of the boys enjoyed her screams.” A tear slipped from his eye and glistened down his cheek. “I can still hear them. Ve vere the ones being trained to be Death Eaters. Ve learned so many tortures through the years. My almost last year, the vone before I come to Hogvarts, ve haff exam. Karkaroff, he takes us to a small village, and each boy has a tracking spell to see how many vomen he rapes, how many children’s throats he slits, how many men vatch, then die as vell.” Another tear squeezed out, and hastily he wiped it away, leaving his eyelashes spiky and wet. “These are the things I see in my nightmares, Hermy-own-ninny.”
When she realized he wasn’t going to keep talking, she prompted gently, “What about the Quidditch groupies?”
“That vas alvays rushed, alvays me pushing to finish, before I could hurt them. They usually left angry and unsatisfied. But vhat I could do?” He opened his eyes, bright and shimmering, and met Hermione’s gaze. “Is all I know how to do. I do not vish to put you through that, not effer.”
She reached across the table and caressed his face lightly, just the barest slip of fingertips. “Viktor,” she whispered, “you can make love. It’s a natural thing, and I know that at your core you are a good man, no matter what you’ve done in the past.”
“But-“
“Viktor,” she murmured, soft but serious, “I can teach you, if you’re willing to learn.”
*****************************************************
Hermione thought that she had never seen anything quite as beautiful as Viktor sitting on the edge of her bed, shirt unbuttoned and eyes uncertain. She stepped out of her heels and settled beside him, sliding one hand inside his shirt to caress his skin. The hand he reached up to twine in her hair was shaking. “Calm down, sweetheart,” she mumbled against his lips. “There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”
She felt his mouth curve into a smile against hers. “Vhat should I be doing now?” His warm breath tickled along her skin.
“What do you want to be doing?”
“Kissing you.” He did, deeply, twining his tongue with hers and his fingers through her curls, tumbled down from her up-do. Pulling back, he gazed at her with the hint of self-doubt still present, but the warm chocolate heat of desire was steadily pushing it away. “May I touch you…here?” he asked, softly cradling her breast through her dress.
“You don’t have to ask permission, Viktor; I won’t complain.” She rose and turned for him to tug down her zipper. He did, slowly, letting it puddle at her feet.
“Vhat if I hurt you?” His eyes traveled over her curves, the lacey bra and panties, the thigh-high hose.
Hermione stepped closer to him, twining her fingers through his dark hair, tilting his head upward to capture his full lips in a kiss. “I don’t think you will, but I’ll let you know. Just do whatever you want to.”
He grinned. “In that case, loff…come here.” Hermione gasped as his tongue teased along the edge of her hose. She hadn’t expected that, not from the timid, uncertain Viktor she’d been dealing with since she got him out of the café. He gathered her up and flopped her unceremoniously on the bed. He bit her, cautiously, halfway between hose and panties. She jumped; he was quickly beside her, filled with concern.
“Viktor. I liked it,” she told him. “Come here.” Perhaps they should start small; she’d tell him what to do, and when he was more confident, he could take the lead. She slid off the bed, flung back the sheets, and stripped off the rest of her clothing. “Yours, too.”
He didn’t respond; he was too busy pouring his hungry eyes over her body like warm, wild honey. He gave her a very appreciative grin.
“Naked. Now.”
Soon they were cuddled together on the bed, softly trailing hands over skin, trading gentle kisses, murmuring “I love you”s in at least two languages, maybe three. His hot tongue trailed over her neck, across her collarbone, down to the turgid buds of her nipples. Hermione tangled her fingers in the small smattering of coarse hair on his chest. He was beautiful, she thought, from his large, beaky nose to his purple, veiny, slightly curved penis, to his turned-out feet. Maybe other woman wouldn’t think so, but no other woman could possibly love him as much as she did. His heart and his soul were golden and shining-despite the tinges of darkness tarnishing the edges-and that light shone through for her.
When she wrapped her fingers tightly around Viktor’s swollen cock, his eyes met hers and she knew he was losing control, despite fighting for it every second. She smiled, and nipped his earlobe, then whispered, “It’s ok, sweetheart, let go.”
He pushed her onto her back, making her breasts bobble and her heart race. With eyes midnight brown and full of primal need, Viktor growled, “I loff you, Hermy-own-ninny!” He spread her lips and pushed into her, hard and thick; she moaned and rose to meet him. “Loff you! Loff you! Loff you!” he rumbled with each deep, fulfilling thrust. Hermione’s back arched; her hands clawed at the sheets, and a keening filled the air. Viktor lowered his head to bite and suckle at her pebbled peaks and she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him there, until she felt herself tighten-tighten-tighten. The rush of climax took her breath away; she clawed and bucked, and then she melted underneath him. Through heavy-lidded eyes she watched as the cords of his neck tightened with his own release, and the muscles in his biceps bulged with his workout. Liquid fire filled her insides, and Viktor collapsed on top of her.
When he had managed to relearn how to breathe, Viktor pushed his weight to the side of the bed. “You are ok, yes, loff?”
Hermione laughed weakly. “Viktor, I am absolutely fantastic.”
“Vas rather…rough, though, vas it not? Shouldn’t loffmaking be more gentle for a voman?”
Hermione curled against his shoulder and threw and arm across his toned, sweaty stomach. “Sometimes it is. Sometimes there’s more passion. But the love is what makes the difference.”
“I do loff you, Hermy-own-ninny, vith my…vell, vith my efferything, heart, soul, all I haff to giff. I neffer knew that it could be like this, relationship, loffmaking…any of it.”
“I know, Viktor, and I love you too. I’m so glad…” She kissed his shoulder, and then fell asleep locked in his arms and heart.