Fic: Next Time
Title: Next Time
Author: Lady Kes
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.
Summary: Hermione knows how Viktor will respond to most situations, but sometimes she's wrong in the most interesting ways
A/N: This is my first attempt at smut. Thanks go to sare_liz for the excellent beta, and to cincoflex for the feedback.
As the sun went down over the western horizon, a well-practiced dance began to occur in the small garden of a house located somewhere in the Neckar river valley. Hermione Granger-Krum was reminded by her husband that it was getting dark and she responded that she’d be inside in a little while, and then went back to reading a book while sitting on a blanket outside. This process repeated itself three or four times, as usual, before she heard the door open again but did not hear any words. Viktor was probably finally exasperated enough to come outside and get her, and she smiled down at her book. Next he’d most likely come to stand in front of her blanket, and look down at her with a combination of affection and frustration. His footsteps approached and then stopped, but as prescribed by the dance, she neither turned nor said anything. He’d come around her in just -
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a pair of strong hands grasping her firmly around her upper ribcage. This was a new step in the dance and she could not suppress a shriek as she was propelled upwards until she was standing on her feet with her back against a solid wall of Viktor. The hands hadn’t moved, but she was now being rotated to face a very exasperated Bulgarian.
“Hermione, you do not listen when I speak,” Viktor said, his accent muted by time and living in Germany. They’d decided Germany was the best combination of locations, since it was close enough to England for her, close enough to Bulgaria for him, and he could play for the Heidelberg Harriers while she worked for the University at Heidelberg.
“I listen,” she defended herself meekly before adding, “I just don’t always obey.” This was a bit of semantics she knew he’d see through immediately, but she was still startled by being suddenly displaced.
“Hermione, you know I only say these things for your safety. It is not good for you to be outside after dark. There are wards, but you must also be aware of your surroundings,” Viktor said patiently.
Suddenly she was angry that he was so smothering, though as soon as she was calmer she knew she’d recognize it as one of the things she loved about him. He was always so caring and concerned and, in most cases, she loved being cherished by him. She attempted to tug out of his grip, which was an exercise in futility, before saying, “I know that, Viktor. Don’t treat me like a child!”
Viktor looked down at her, puzzled by the sudden anger but with a bit of mischief in his eyes, and said, “I do not treat you like a child. If I did, I would do this,” and here his hands shifted to her waist and she was suddenly thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
His actions resulted in another shriek and her beating her hands against his upper back while saying, “You put me down this instant, Viktor Krum,” but as she expected, she was ignored and carried into the house. Viktor stopped in the living room and shifted her so that she slid down his body to the floor. She looked up at him, ready to scold him for carrying her like he was Ogg the Caveman and she was his conquest, but the mood in the room had changed. Sliding down his body had left her quite aware of the straight planes and subtle curves that her rather attractive husband had, and he seemed to have noticed her curves on the way down too.
She wasn’t entirely sure who had made the first move, but suddenly their mutual exasperation transmuted into mutual arousal (which was actually a fairly common side effect of their arguments) and she found herself being kissed quite thoroughly while Viktor’s hands slipped under her jumper and planted themselves on the small of her back. She put her own hands behind his neck and threaded one into his hair, then dropped her head back as his mouth gently kissed her neck, just under the corner of her jaw. There were definite advantages to being married for five years, she decided fuzzily. Each of them knew what bits went where and what each thing did best.
She shifted her hands to run them down his back and then under his jumper, heading up his sides towards his ribcage. His own hands were heading quite determinedly for her bra and she squirmed away from him just long enough to say breathlessly, “Bedroom?”
He rumbled an assent and they headed for the bedroom, which was far more comfortable than the couch or the floor. Along the way, they both lost their jumpers, shoes, socks, and her bra was on only by sheer force of will. She was still a bit shy about being naked anywhere other than the bedroom. What if the neighbors saw, after all?
When they reached the bedroom, he made a determined assault on her bra once more and this time she let him. The straps slid down her arms and he gently removed them from her wrists before kissing her again, palming one nice handful of breast and teasing the nipple. He’d always insisted that although she didn’t have particularly large breasts, they were just the right size for his hands, so what more did he need?
She moaned softly into the kiss, running her own hand up to the flat nub of flesh almost obscured by coarse black chest hair. His answering groan was enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and she ran her hands back down to the button and zip of his trousers, feeling the hard ridge underneath them as she slipped the button through its hole and put her hand on the zipper-pull.
“Vait,” he said breathlessly (his accent became more pronounced when he was too aroused to moderate it), which reminded her of his belief that a lady should never undress herself or the gentleman she was with. She therefore pulled her hand back and smiled up at him, waiting. He placed a kiss on her shoulder, then unzipped and removed his own pants. Clad only in his shorts, he was an excellent and delectable specimen and she kissed him again while her hands roamed his back and his hands found the side zip on her slacks, lowering it and pushing her slacks down around her hips. She moved away for an instant, allowing him to push her slacks all the way down before she stepped out of them, but then went straight back in for another kiss, enjoying the feel of him almost completely naked against her.
Viktor maneuvered them over to the bed and very gently lifted her around the waist so she was sitting on the high edge. She took this opportunity to kiss him while snagging her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pulling him towards her, opening her legs so he fit snugly against her and wrapping her legs around his, groaning into his mouth when their respective pelvises met. The contact seemed to set both of them on fire, because what had been relatively gentle suddenly became rather more urgent and they quickly shed their remaining undergarments. Viktor’s hand headed south and searched out that curious collection of nerves between her legs, prompting Hermione to drop her head back with a sharp intake of breath. His other hand was occupied in teasing one nipple while his mouth traced a path from her shoulder to her collarbone and then up her neck to her own mouth.
“Vitya, God,” she managed to say between kisses, “Need you.”
“Vould not vant to deny lady,” he responded with a smirk before arranging them both on the edge of the bed and pushing inside her. From there it was a collection of sighs, murmured words in various languages, and, of course, pleasure.
When they were lying in bed, sated and having cleaned up the rather sticky consequences of their previous activities, Hermione looked up at the ceiling and murmured, “Mental note: blatantly disobey husband’s suggestions as often as possible. Tends to work out well for the both of us.”
Viktor growled in response, but there was no anger in it, since she happened to be right. He pulled her against him and they settled down to sleep, once more in perfect harmony.
Until the next time she decided to read in the garden after dark, that is.
According to my Serbian co-worker, Vitya is the pet form of Viktor. She says it is sometimes more common in Russia, but that she has known it to be used in both her own country and Bulgaria (which borders Serbia).
Author: Lady Kes
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.
Summary: Hermione knows how Viktor will respond to most situations, but sometimes she's wrong in the most interesting ways
A/N: This is my first attempt at smut. Thanks go to sare_liz for the excellent beta, and to cincoflex for the feedback.
As the sun went down over the western horizon, a well-practiced dance began to occur in the small garden of a house located somewhere in the Neckar river valley. Hermione Granger-Krum was reminded by her husband that it was getting dark and she responded that she’d be inside in a little while, and then went back to reading a book while sitting on a blanket outside. This process repeated itself three or four times, as usual, before she heard the door open again but did not hear any words. Viktor was probably finally exasperated enough to come outside and get her, and she smiled down at her book. Next he’d most likely come to stand in front of her blanket, and look down at her with a combination of affection and frustration. His footsteps approached and then stopped, but as prescribed by the dance, she neither turned nor said anything. He’d come around her in just -
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a pair of strong hands grasping her firmly around her upper ribcage. This was a new step in the dance and she could not suppress a shriek as she was propelled upwards until she was standing on her feet with her back against a solid wall of Viktor. The hands hadn’t moved, but she was now being rotated to face a very exasperated Bulgarian.
“Hermione, you do not listen when I speak,” Viktor said, his accent muted by time and living in Germany. They’d decided Germany was the best combination of locations, since it was close enough to England for her, close enough to Bulgaria for him, and he could play for the Heidelberg Harriers while she worked for the University at Heidelberg.
“I listen,” she defended herself meekly before adding, “I just don’t always obey.” This was a bit of semantics she knew he’d see through immediately, but she was still startled by being suddenly displaced.
“Hermione, you know I only say these things for your safety. It is not good for you to be outside after dark. There are wards, but you must also be aware of your surroundings,” Viktor said patiently.
Suddenly she was angry that he was so smothering, though as soon as she was calmer she knew she’d recognize it as one of the things she loved about him. He was always so caring and concerned and, in most cases, she loved being cherished by him. She attempted to tug out of his grip, which was an exercise in futility, before saying, “I know that, Viktor. Don’t treat me like a child!”
Viktor looked down at her, puzzled by the sudden anger but with a bit of mischief in his eyes, and said, “I do not treat you like a child. If I did, I would do this,” and here his hands shifted to her waist and she was suddenly thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
His actions resulted in another shriek and her beating her hands against his upper back while saying, “You put me down this instant, Viktor Krum,” but as she expected, she was ignored and carried into the house. Viktor stopped in the living room and shifted her so that she slid down his body to the floor. She looked up at him, ready to scold him for carrying her like he was Ogg the Caveman and she was his conquest, but the mood in the room had changed. Sliding down his body had left her quite aware of the straight planes and subtle curves that her rather attractive husband had, and he seemed to have noticed her curves on the way down too.
She wasn’t entirely sure who had made the first move, but suddenly their mutual exasperation transmuted into mutual arousal (which was actually a fairly common side effect of their arguments) and she found herself being kissed quite thoroughly while Viktor’s hands slipped under her jumper and planted themselves on the small of her back. She put her own hands behind his neck and threaded one into his hair, then dropped her head back as his mouth gently kissed her neck, just under the corner of her jaw. There were definite advantages to being married for five years, she decided fuzzily. Each of them knew what bits went where and what each thing did best.
She shifted her hands to run them down his back and then under his jumper, heading up his sides towards his ribcage. His own hands were heading quite determinedly for her bra and she squirmed away from him just long enough to say breathlessly, “Bedroom?”
He rumbled an assent and they headed for the bedroom, which was far more comfortable than the couch or the floor. Along the way, they both lost their jumpers, shoes, socks, and her bra was on only by sheer force of will. She was still a bit shy about being naked anywhere other than the bedroom. What if the neighbors saw, after all?
When they reached the bedroom, he made a determined assault on her bra once more and this time she let him. The straps slid down her arms and he gently removed them from her wrists before kissing her again, palming one nice handful of breast and teasing the nipple. He’d always insisted that although she didn’t have particularly large breasts, they were just the right size for his hands, so what more did he need?
She moaned softly into the kiss, running her own hand up to the flat nub of flesh almost obscured by coarse black chest hair. His answering groan was enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and she ran her hands back down to the button and zip of his trousers, feeling the hard ridge underneath them as she slipped the button through its hole and put her hand on the zipper-pull.
“Vait,” he said breathlessly (his accent became more pronounced when he was too aroused to moderate it), which reminded her of his belief that a lady should never undress herself or the gentleman she was with. She therefore pulled her hand back and smiled up at him, waiting. He placed a kiss on her shoulder, then unzipped and removed his own pants. Clad only in his shorts, he was an excellent and delectable specimen and she kissed him again while her hands roamed his back and his hands found the side zip on her slacks, lowering it and pushing her slacks down around her hips. She moved away for an instant, allowing him to push her slacks all the way down before she stepped out of them, but then went straight back in for another kiss, enjoying the feel of him almost completely naked against her.
Viktor maneuvered them over to the bed and very gently lifted her around the waist so she was sitting on the high edge. She took this opportunity to kiss him while snagging her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pulling him towards her, opening her legs so he fit snugly against her and wrapping her legs around his, groaning into his mouth when their respective pelvises met. The contact seemed to set both of them on fire, because what had been relatively gentle suddenly became rather more urgent and they quickly shed their remaining undergarments. Viktor’s hand headed south and searched out that curious collection of nerves between her legs, prompting Hermione to drop her head back with a sharp intake of breath. His other hand was occupied in teasing one nipple while his mouth traced a path from her shoulder to her collarbone and then up her neck to her own mouth.
“Vitya, God,” she managed to say between kisses, “Need you.”
“Vould not vant to deny lady,” he responded with a smirk before arranging them both on the edge of the bed and pushing inside her. From there it was a collection of sighs, murmured words in various languages, and, of course, pleasure.
When they were lying in bed, sated and having cleaned up the rather sticky consequences of their previous activities, Hermione looked up at the ceiling and murmured, “Mental note: blatantly disobey husband’s suggestions as often as possible. Tends to work out well for the both of us.”
Viktor growled in response, but there was no anger in it, since she happened to be right. He pulled her against him and they settled down to sleep, once more in perfect harmony.
Until the next time she decided to read in the garden after dark, that is.
According to my Serbian co-worker, Vitya is the pet form of Viktor. She says it is sometimes more common in Russia, but that she has known it to be used in both her own country and Bulgaria (which borders Serbia).