New Story: Intemperance 2/2
Title: Intemperance (Part Two)
Author: madoldmrsfigg
Summary: “Then don’t you think, a small voice inside Hermione’s head piped up, that Ron would want that side of you, too?”
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Very much appreciated. Either comment or at weasleyisourking @ hotmail.com
Notes: Written for lysrouge in the Second Ron Fic A Thon. She requested: Ron/Hermione. 1. D/s relationship or a foray into light BDSM with Hermione as the Domme. 2. Crossdressing would be lovely. (Both requests don't have to be filled.) No character death. Hope you like it, Lily! And thanks to snoopypez for promoting Ron love, and to my darling Joey and V for the beta and encouragement.
Click here for part one.
Ron sat back on his heels, and continued to stare up at her with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, a bit hooded now, with a few locks of damp hair brushing across his forehead. Hermione couldn’t help but gaze back at this magnificent sight, and felt such a swell of love at how revulsion or judgement was the last thing she would see here. And the way he was looking at her, he was making her feel magnificent, so wanted and needed like he always did, words weren’t even needed, it was all there - all there, in his eyes. They’ve always had similar fiery, wilful natures that found their match with one another - yet looking back, Hermione found it telling that at different times in their lives, one of them has known when it was right to step down, to balance out the other.
Looking at him now, Ron had such a curious expression on his face. She was surprised that she didn’t recognise this mixture of emotions, all directed at her. They were both breathing heavily, yet he was being unexpectedly patient, he seemed to be waiting for something. He was - he was almost awestruck, she realised, a little anxious, perhaps, yet dark eyed and obviously aroused -
Then it clicked.
He looked submissive.
Hermione suddenly found herself launching at him, straddling him on the floor, snogging his face off. She groped, she tugged his hair, she pinned him down, and felt so free of everything - of worry, of stress, of pretence… then suddenly realised in horror what she was doing and jerked upright, shame-faced and humiliated, only to find Ron gazing up at her, cupping her backside with his wonderful big hands, eyes amazed, but dark.
“I - I, oh I’m so s-sorry Ron - are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
Ron let out a weak, breathless laugh. “No. Only aching because, well… Hermione, I’ve never been so bloody turned on in my life.” His eyes glinted. “Well, that is, apart from that time in fifth year, in Herbology when you bent over to prune your Babbling Bush.” He grinned slyly up at her.
A giggle, albeit nervous, burst from Hermione. “Really?” It was… rather thrilling, to think of her affecting him that way, even back then.
He nodded, his ears tinting pink to match her mirror, which now also appeared to be winking. He joined her in laughing, and Hermione was moved to be a little honest, too. “Um, I - I quite like being on top, actually.”
“Really? Oh, yeah, me too.” Vehemently. Hermione had to grin. “You should definitely do that more - I mean, if you want to. Do you want to? ‘Cos I reckoned it might be a little, I dunno, uncomfortable for you…” He trailed off, looking up at her with wide eyes, his expression a mix of concern and hopefulness.
Another bubble of laughter escaped her. “No, no, it’s not uncomfortable, Ron, it was just a little difficult at first, what with your, er - size.”
Ron beamed up at her and squeezed her bum in apparent triumph. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron! You, you boy.” Affectionately. Oh the male ego.
“Damn right,” he whispered huskily, the playfulness quickly evaporating as he started massaging her bottom slowly with his big, strong hands.
Hermione’s eyes slid shut in pleasure, she could feel all of his fingers, they were so close to - “Oh, I do like you being on top too, though… yesss, that’s always nice, but…”
“But?” Ron’s voice was so low and sincere, and so terribly earnest. She helplessly felt her tongue loosen at his ministrations.
“I, I have some, oh, some… urges.”
She opened her eyes, she needed to see him, see his reaction. A throb of heat swelled low in her stomach; his eyes were so incredibly dark. He whispered intensely, “What urges?” His lips were wet and glistening.
Hermione couldn’t help herself. She leant down and gently bit his full bottom lip, suckling slightly and pulling.
Ron groaned, full of shocked arousal.
Hermione couldn’t believe it, both the fact that she took the first step she vowed she wouldn’t, and that he really seemed to like it. Could feel it, in fact, and rubbed herself against his bulge as she recklessly pinned his shoulders down and attacked his neck, refraining from biting though sweet heaven it was tempting...
Ron dug his fingers into her bottom suddenly, letting out a moan, “Oh, God, so hot.”
Nervous excitement skittered through her veins, and Hermione dug up her courage. Opening her mouth wide, she bit down on the supple skin of his neck, not quite enough to pierce.
“Holy crap.” He arched up to her.
Hermione was at once less tense from relief and more tense from arousal. She felt compelled to do what her instincts told her, bubbling hot and victorious and made her feel like she was losing her head, a frequent temptation around Ron. Her resolve cracked and she muttered a few choice spell words under her breath in order for her to rip his scarlet Quidditch shirt from his chest with ease, revealing his wonderfully pale freckled skin underneath for the taking.
She distantly heard shocked laughter from Ron, and muttered distractedly, “I’ll fix that later,” then proceeded to attack that gorgeous exposed neck with her mouth.
“No, that’s - oh - that’s o - okay,” Ron hitched, that turned into a gasp as Hermione proceeded down past his neck, pausing to sweep her tongue flat along his collarbone, down to his chest, licking, kissing, drawing the skin into her mouth to suck with a feverish passion. Her hands were by no means idle either, mapping out his chest along with her mouth, massaging her way down towards his navel, and fumbling and tugging to undo his belt.
Shimmying herself down his body, nearing her destination, Hermione recalled how much she guiltily loved doing this the odd time she had. She wondered if that were normal, but couldn’t be bothered to worry when she could hear such sexy things being torn out from her Ron’s throat. Desperately tugging down Ron’s trousers along with his boxers, faintly surprised to hear herself growling slightly when his hips arched up to help, she finally managed to get them past his ankles and large feet. Ron seemed to be adapting perfectly into the submissive role, in fact - Ron had laced his fingers behind his head, lanky body stretched luxuriously, grinned up at ceiling and stated, “Whoa, this is the life.” The impudent cheek even had the gall to wink at her!
Forcing down a laugh and the sadistic desire to ruin his smugness with a “hem, hem”, Hermione instead decided to tut slowly and felt a wicked smile tug at her mouth. Casting her eyes around, and hit by sudden inspiration, she leant over him, grabbing her earlier discarded scarlet and gold school tie, and dangled it from her finger, raising her eyebrow at Ron.
“You know, I don’t like your arrogant attitude, Mr Weasley.” Hermione purred, or at least she hoped she did. She hoped she didn’t sound too ridiculous.
Her worries were quashed, however, as Ron stared at her with what was unmistakably hope shining in his eyes. Not bothering to hide her smirk, Hermione caught hold of his wrists and pushed them roughly over his head, perfectly aware of Ron craning his neck to stare down her gaping neckline. Conveniently, his long body could reach her bedposts from here, so she knotted and double knotted the tie so his hands could barely move, and muttered an Unbreakable Charm on it to be sure.
Sitting back on his thighs, she fixed Ron with a stare. She didn’t want to voice her worries and ruin the moment, but she needed to know what he felt, what she could do, and asked it silently through their locked gaze.
“I’m all yours, Miss Granger,” he murmured.
A slow smile spread over both their faces, and Hermione couldn’t pull her eyes away from his for a while. So deep, so blue, so trusting. All she’d ever wanted.
Without further preamble, she devoted herself to her task. She explored the long, firm lines of his body with her lips in an almost worshipping fashion, and as she did so, she realised the change that had come over her, that always did when she was lost in desire for Ron: she lost her reservations. She forgot to feel insecure; instead her whole body, her whole focus was devoted to the task at hand. It made sense, she thought idly as she tongued his navel, she had always had that kind of singular focus for learning - why should it be any different for… leisure activities? But this was even more liberating than usual, she was sliding herself sinuously down his wonderfully taut body, and she felt, well, without sounding conceited -
“Fucking sexy as hell,” Ron growled, staring down at her.
Well. As usual, Ron came to her rescue, Hermione thought wryly while her blush travelled all down her body. But - she did. She couldn’t feel her flaws, didn’t even remember what they were. The insecure little girl hiding behind a pile of books inside her was banished for the time being. It helped that Ron was so responsive; she knew that he was enjoying her possession of him, and honestly, she would’ve got a not-so-little hint if she looked a little to her left.
And she did. She leant back, straddling his legs, and looked her fill, something that she was always thirsty for, at her incredibly sexy man, tied down at her mercy. She inhaled the sweet smell of sweat, tasted it greedily, and felt another shock of arousal shoot down between her legs; the hands that were holding his hips dug down in response. Her blood thumped as she heard him moan in reply.
He liked it. Hermione could barely believe it, but it was staring her in the face: Ron was really, really enjoying her being dominating like this. What was more, hadn’t he responded positively every time she was a little rough, hadn’t his eyes gleamed, hadn’t he become that little bit louder? She stared down at his right hipbone, shifting slightly as he breathed heavily, looking so inviting. So tempting. A desire to claim rose up in her so strongly it was almost frightening. She’d done it before to his neck, surely he wouldn’t mind on his body, too?
She leant down to that delicious hipbone, and sunk her teeth into it. Mine.
“Oh shit, yes.” came a hiss from above her. Something inside Hermione snapped.
Unclenching her jaw and trailing her tongue up his heaving chest, an incredible anticipation settled in her gut. Oh yes, now he was hers, she could do all the things she wanted, she dreamed she - she mustn’t rush. Enjoy it. Don’t make him regret it. Make him love it. Breathing along the trail of saliva she left on his body and watching his abdominal muscles twitch, Hermione found it incredibly hard to will herself to calm down.
The heat of the room seemed to rocket up suddenly, Hermione felt overheated. Swiftly pulling the pilfered Chudley Cannons t-shirt over her head and tossing it aside, she couldn’t help but sigh at the coolness hitting her sensitised flesh. Glancing down, Ron appeared to be gaping at her chest, and Hermione felt something wicked rush through her, and took the opportunity to rub her now naked chest down Ron’s wonderfully firm one, like a cat. Her boyfriend appeared to be having trouble breathing, but somehow Hermione wasn’t too worried.
She realised absently that she was soaking Ron’s boxers; well, that wouldn’t do. She rose, feet on either side of Ron’s hips, and stripped herself of the last garment. Ron stared.
Straddling his chest, Hermione grabbed his face and kissed him with all the passion she had in her, and he had no problem returning the favour. Pulling away and rubbing herself down his gorgeous body, their sweat mingling, she heard him muttering a stream of endearments, and smiled through her own panting.
She slipped her palm around Ron’s erection and felt the warmness, the readiness. His pulse thrummed against her skin. She guided the tip against the place she craved his touch the most. They both cried out.
“Please, Hermione, please I…”
The deep, throbbing need was unbearable. She couldn’t refuse. Quickly mentally checking that she’d taken her daily potion - yes, she had, this morning - she grasped him tighter and guided him inside her. So thick, so stretching, he touched her everywhere and it was so perfect -
“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back. Bracing a hand on his chest, she pushed down more, deeper, taking him all in, and to her own surprise, Hermione found herself echoing his obscenity. His eyes snapped open and he made an odd choking noise.
Now fully impaled, she hissed in satisfaction and stared hungrily down at his sweating, heaving body. It was obvious that he was desperate to move. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she slid herself up on him, then ground down hard.
A cry escaped them both, and Ron shut his eyes quickly, apparently concentrating very hard on not coming. Hermione new the feeling. It was often that Ron made her orgasm two, three, even four times in one night, and often he’d come more than once himself (a fact she was privately very smug about), but she, apparently like he, wanted to last. She wanted it to be amazing, and had a theory, which she had researched and tested, that staving off one explosive orgasm beat three easy ones. She was determined for this to stick in both their minds.
So, she started slow. She acted out her favourite fantasy: the hot, sultry love making she longed to do when watching him lounge around, brightening up rooms and faces, when a steady ache developed for him in the morning and made her mind wander for days on end afterwards. She used her whole body to give him pleasure: rolling her hips with each drawn-out thrust, squeezing her thighs around him, leaning down occasionally to catch his lips in a kiss, swallowing his moans. All the while she was touching him, caressing his scorching skin with her own, kneading, smoothing, scratching. Her whole senses were incredibly heightened: every slap of skin, every noise their bodies made, every stroke of tongue on tongue, of lips, of taste in her mouth, sweat in the air… It was better than anything Hermione had ever known.
As her nail caught on his nipple, however, and Ron let out a gasp, she couldn’t help but grind down harder, ride him faster. Their skin slapped and Hermione gripped him everywhere, digging in, drinking in the vision that was Ron. Mine, mine, mine all mine…
“Yes,” he gasped. She realised she’d been muttering it aloud, and took his offer of arched neck to lean forward and bite down hard, then pulled back and increased her intensity, her pace.
His neck was flexing under the mark, straining as he pulled at his bonds, watching her breasts sway avidly with an expression of utter want. Hermione was struck with an idea.
“Watch,” she whispered.
Lifting her right hand up from her grasp on his hip, Hermione cupped one bouncing breast, and rubbed a thumb over her nipple. The shock of pleasure that bolted down to her core was nothing to the look on Ron’s face. She pinched it roughly, and was rewarded with a growl that raised the hair on the back of Hermione’s neck; she found herself riding him harder. God, how she loved it when she got it right.
Gathering herself, she slipped her hand down her sweating torso and rubbed at the junction between thigh and body. Excellent, she had his attention. Ron always did this to her, but as he couldn’t move his hands… Hermione felt excitement and pleasure build and build inside her, as she impaled herself repeatedly on him, and slipped her hand to caress herself. Touch herself.
Ron’s jaw dropped, and he thrust up for the first time, hitting the most delicious place inside, the twin to the outside where her fingers rubbed. White burst across Hermione’s eyes. The pleasure that had been rapidly mounting exploded out into every corner of her body, igniting every vein, causing her to her arch up and throw her head back at the intensity of it, dimly aware of herself shouting something. Possibly Ron’s name. She was suspended in ecstasy for what felt like a deliriously long moment, then came crashing down, bracing herself on her shaking arms as the aftershocks continued to wash over her.
Sucking in a deep breath, she came back to herself and was aware of the beautiful figure still bound under her. She drank in the vision in a glorious daze.
Gasping desperately as he thrust up into her utterly spent body, Ron’s expression was of complete ecstasy, so unknowingly sultry with his neck arched back, wet mouth parted and his eyes - half-closed and so dark and gazing at her with such heat that her entire body exulted in it.
So she squeezed herself around him. As tightly as she could.
She watched avidly as Ron’s throat worked, his eyes widened, his shining chest heaved - and then he came, making the sexiest sound Hermione had ever heard in her entire life, a low, gasping moan, and Hermione knew that if she hadn’t just done so seconds before, she would have come at the sight of him.
The image burned across her eyes; she felt almost awestruck at the sight, at what she had done. Hermione knew that she would carry that image around with her for a long time afterward, for times when for whatever reason she couldn’t be with him, for times when she was feeling low and insecure. Because this was what she could do when she put her mind to it, give such pleasure and happiness to someone, and not only someone, but the best man she’d ever known.
Ron smiled up at her, blew out a shaky breath, and raised an eyebrow. She tried to purse her lips, but they both burst out laughing.
And that, Hermione thought, was something she hoped she’d always have the power to do.
EDIT: Fixed some of the verb tenses. :)
Author: madoldmrsfigg
Summary: “Then don’t you think, a small voice inside Hermione’s head piped up, that Ron would want that side of you, too?”
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Very much appreciated. Either comment or at weasleyisourking @ hotmail.com
Notes: Written for lysrouge in the Second Ron Fic A Thon. She requested: Ron/Hermione. 1. D/s relationship or a foray into light BDSM with Hermione as the Domme. 2. Crossdressing would be lovely. (Both requests don't have to be filled.) No character death. Hope you like it, Lily! And thanks to snoopypez for promoting Ron love, and to my darling Joey and V for the beta and encouragement.
Click here for part one.
Ron sat back on his heels, and continued to stare up at her with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, a bit hooded now, with a few locks of damp hair brushing across his forehead. Hermione couldn’t help but gaze back at this magnificent sight, and felt such a swell of love at how revulsion or judgement was the last thing she would see here. And the way he was looking at her, he was making her feel magnificent, so wanted and needed like he always did, words weren’t even needed, it was all there - all there, in his eyes. They’ve always had similar fiery, wilful natures that found their match with one another - yet looking back, Hermione found it telling that at different times in their lives, one of them has known when it was right to step down, to balance out the other.
Looking at him now, Ron had such a curious expression on his face. She was surprised that she didn’t recognise this mixture of emotions, all directed at her. They were both breathing heavily, yet he was being unexpectedly patient, he seemed to be waiting for something. He was - he was almost awestruck, she realised, a little anxious, perhaps, yet dark eyed and obviously aroused -
Then it clicked.
He looked submissive.
Hermione suddenly found herself launching at him, straddling him on the floor, snogging his face off. She groped, she tugged his hair, she pinned him down, and felt so free of everything - of worry, of stress, of pretence… then suddenly realised in horror what she was doing and jerked upright, shame-faced and humiliated, only to find Ron gazing up at her, cupping her backside with his wonderful big hands, eyes amazed, but dark.
“I - I, oh I’m so s-sorry Ron - are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
Ron let out a weak, breathless laugh. “No. Only aching because, well… Hermione, I’ve never been so bloody turned on in my life.” His eyes glinted. “Well, that is, apart from that time in fifth year, in Herbology when you bent over to prune your Babbling Bush.” He grinned slyly up at her.
A giggle, albeit nervous, burst from Hermione. “Really?” It was… rather thrilling, to think of her affecting him that way, even back then.
He nodded, his ears tinting pink to match her mirror, which now also appeared to be winking. He joined her in laughing, and Hermione was moved to be a little honest, too. “Um, I - I quite like being on top, actually.”
“Really? Oh, yeah, me too.” Vehemently. Hermione had to grin. “You should definitely do that more - I mean, if you want to. Do you want to? ‘Cos I reckoned it might be a little, I dunno, uncomfortable for you…” He trailed off, looking up at her with wide eyes, his expression a mix of concern and hopefulness.
Another bubble of laughter escaped her. “No, no, it’s not uncomfortable, Ron, it was just a little difficult at first, what with your, er - size.”
Ron beamed up at her and squeezed her bum in apparent triumph. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron! You, you boy.” Affectionately. Oh the male ego.
“Damn right,” he whispered huskily, the playfulness quickly evaporating as he started massaging her bottom slowly with his big, strong hands.
Hermione’s eyes slid shut in pleasure, she could feel all of his fingers, they were so close to - “Oh, I do like you being on top too, though… yesss, that’s always nice, but…”
“But?” Ron’s voice was so low and sincere, and so terribly earnest. She helplessly felt her tongue loosen at his ministrations.
“I, I have some, oh, some… urges.”
She opened her eyes, she needed to see him, see his reaction. A throb of heat swelled low in her stomach; his eyes were so incredibly dark. He whispered intensely, “What urges?” His lips were wet and glistening.
Hermione couldn’t help herself. She leant down and gently bit his full bottom lip, suckling slightly and pulling.
Ron groaned, full of shocked arousal.
Hermione couldn’t believe it, both the fact that she took the first step she vowed she wouldn’t, and that he really seemed to like it. Could feel it, in fact, and rubbed herself against his bulge as she recklessly pinned his shoulders down and attacked his neck, refraining from biting though sweet heaven it was tempting...
Ron dug his fingers into her bottom suddenly, letting out a moan, “Oh, God, so hot.”
Nervous excitement skittered through her veins, and Hermione dug up her courage. Opening her mouth wide, she bit down on the supple skin of his neck, not quite enough to pierce.
“Holy crap.” He arched up to her.
Hermione was at once less tense from relief and more tense from arousal. She felt compelled to do what her instincts told her, bubbling hot and victorious and made her feel like she was losing her head, a frequent temptation around Ron. Her resolve cracked and she muttered a few choice spell words under her breath in order for her to rip his scarlet Quidditch shirt from his chest with ease, revealing his wonderfully pale freckled skin underneath for the taking.
She distantly heard shocked laughter from Ron, and muttered distractedly, “I’ll fix that later,” then proceeded to attack that gorgeous exposed neck with her mouth.
“No, that’s - oh - that’s o - okay,” Ron hitched, that turned into a gasp as Hermione proceeded down past his neck, pausing to sweep her tongue flat along his collarbone, down to his chest, licking, kissing, drawing the skin into her mouth to suck with a feverish passion. Her hands were by no means idle either, mapping out his chest along with her mouth, massaging her way down towards his navel, and fumbling and tugging to undo his belt.
Shimmying herself down his body, nearing her destination, Hermione recalled how much she guiltily loved doing this the odd time she had. She wondered if that were normal, but couldn’t be bothered to worry when she could hear such sexy things being torn out from her Ron’s throat. Desperately tugging down Ron’s trousers along with his boxers, faintly surprised to hear herself growling slightly when his hips arched up to help, she finally managed to get them past his ankles and large feet. Ron seemed to be adapting perfectly into the submissive role, in fact - Ron had laced his fingers behind his head, lanky body stretched luxuriously, grinned up at ceiling and stated, “Whoa, this is the life.” The impudent cheek even had the gall to wink at her!
Forcing down a laugh and the sadistic desire to ruin his smugness with a “hem, hem”, Hermione instead decided to tut slowly and felt a wicked smile tug at her mouth. Casting her eyes around, and hit by sudden inspiration, she leant over him, grabbing her earlier discarded scarlet and gold school tie, and dangled it from her finger, raising her eyebrow at Ron.
“You know, I don’t like your arrogant attitude, Mr Weasley.” Hermione purred, or at least she hoped she did. She hoped she didn’t sound too ridiculous.
Her worries were quashed, however, as Ron stared at her with what was unmistakably hope shining in his eyes. Not bothering to hide her smirk, Hermione caught hold of his wrists and pushed them roughly over his head, perfectly aware of Ron craning his neck to stare down her gaping neckline. Conveniently, his long body could reach her bedposts from here, so she knotted and double knotted the tie so his hands could barely move, and muttered an Unbreakable Charm on it to be sure.
Sitting back on his thighs, she fixed Ron with a stare. She didn’t want to voice her worries and ruin the moment, but she needed to know what he felt, what she could do, and asked it silently through their locked gaze.
“I’m all yours, Miss Granger,” he murmured.
A slow smile spread over both their faces, and Hermione couldn’t pull her eyes away from his for a while. So deep, so blue, so trusting. All she’d ever wanted.
Without further preamble, she devoted herself to her task. She explored the long, firm lines of his body with her lips in an almost worshipping fashion, and as she did so, she realised the change that had come over her, that always did when she was lost in desire for Ron: she lost her reservations. She forgot to feel insecure; instead her whole body, her whole focus was devoted to the task at hand. It made sense, she thought idly as she tongued his navel, she had always had that kind of singular focus for learning - why should it be any different for… leisure activities? But this was even more liberating than usual, she was sliding herself sinuously down his wonderfully taut body, and she felt, well, without sounding conceited -
“Fucking sexy as hell,” Ron growled, staring down at her.
Well. As usual, Ron came to her rescue, Hermione thought wryly while her blush travelled all down her body. But - she did. She couldn’t feel her flaws, didn’t even remember what they were. The insecure little girl hiding behind a pile of books inside her was banished for the time being. It helped that Ron was so responsive; she knew that he was enjoying her possession of him, and honestly, she would’ve got a not-so-little hint if she looked a little to her left.
And she did. She leant back, straddling his legs, and looked her fill, something that she was always thirsty for, at her incredibly sexy man, tied down at her mercy. She inhaled the sweet smell of sweat, tasted it greedily, and felt another shock of arousal shoot down between her legs; the hands that were holding his hips dug down in response. Her blood thumped as she heard him moan in reply.
He liked it. Hermione could barely believe it, but it was staring her in the face: Ron was really, really enjoying her being dominating like this. What was more, hadn’t he responded positively every time she was a little rough, hadn’t his eyes gleamed, hadn’t he become that little bit louder? She stared down at his right hipbone, shifting slightly as he breathed heavily, looking so inviting. So tempting. A desire to claim rose up in her so strongly it was almost frightening. She’d done it before to his neck, surely he wouldn’t mind on his body, too?
She leant down to that delicious hipbone, and sunk her teeth into it. Mine.
“Oh shit, yes.” came a hiss from above her. Something inside Hermione snapped.
Unclenching her jaw and trailing her tongue up his heaving chest, an incredible anticipation settled in her gut. Oh yes, now he was hers, she could do all the things she wanted, she dreamed she - she mustn’t rush. Enjoy it. Don’t make him regret it. Make him love it. Breathing along the trail of saliva she left on his body and watching his abdominal muscles twitch, Hermione found it incredibly hard to will herself to calm down.
The heat of the room seemed to rocket up suddenly, Hermione felt overheated. Swiftly pulling the pilfered Chudley Cannons t-shirt over her head and tossing it aside, she couldn’t help but sigh at the coolness hitting her sensitised flesh. Glancing down, Ron appeared to be gaping at her chest, and Hermione felt something wicked rush through her, and took the opportunity to rub her now naked chest down Ron’s wonderfully firm one, like a cat. Her boyfriend appeared to be having trouble breathing, but somehow Hermione wasn’t too worried.
She realised absently that she was soaking Ron’s boxers; well, that wouldn’t do. She rose, feet on either side of Ron’s hips, and stripped herself of the last garment. Ron stared.
Straddling his chest, Hermione grabbed his face and kissed him with all the passion she had in her, and he had no problem returning the favour. Pulling away and rubbing herself down his gorgeous body, their sweat mingling, she heard him muttering a stream of endearments, and smiled through her own panting.
She slipped her palm around Ron’s erection and felt the warmness, the readiness. His pulse thrummed against her skin. She guided the tip against the place she craved his touch the most. They both cried out.
“Please, Hermione, please I…”
The deep, throbbing need was unbearable. She couldn’t refuse. Quickly mentally checking that she’d taken her daily potion - yes, she had, this morning - she grasped him tighter and guided him inside her. So thick, so stretching, he touched her everywhere and it was so perfect -
“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back. Bracing a hand on his chest, she pushed down more, deeper, taking him all in, and to her own surprise, Hermione found herself echoing his obscenity. His eyes snapped open and he made an odd choking noise.
Now fully impaled, she hissed in satisfaction and stared hungrily down at his sweating, heaving body. It was obvious that he was desperate to move. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she slid herself up on him, then ground down hard.
A cry escaped them both, and Ron shut his eyes quickly, apparently concentrating very hard on not coming. Hermione new the feeling. It was often that Ron made her orgasm two, three, even four times in one night, and often he’d come more than once himself (a fact she was privately very smug about), but she, apparently like he, wanted to last. She wanted it to be amazing, and had a theory, which she had researched and tested, that staving off one explosive orgasm beat three easy ones. She was determined for this to stick in both their minds.
So, she started slow. She acted out her favourite fantasy: the hot, sultry love making she longed to do when watching him lounge around, brightening up rooms and faces, when a steady ache developed for him in the morning and made her mind wander for days on end afterwards. She used her whole body to give him pleasure: rolling her hips with each drawn-out thrust, squeezing her thighs around him, leaning down occasionally to catch his lips in a kiss, swallowing his moans. All the while she was touching him, caressing his scorching skin with her own, kneading, smoothing, scratching. Her whole senses were incredibly heightened: every slap of skin, every noise their bodies made, every stroke of tongue on tongue, of lips, of taste in her mouth, sweat in the air… It was better than anything Hermione had ever known.
As her nail caught on his nipple, however, and Ron let out a gasp, she couldn’t help but grind down harder, ride him faster. Their skin slapped and Hermione gripped him everywhere, digging in, drinking in the vision that was Ron. Mine, mine, mine all mine…
“Yes,” he gasped. She realised she’d been muttering it aloud, and took his offer of arched neck to lean forward and bite down hard, then pulled back and increased her intensity, her pace.
His neck was flexing under the mark, straining as he pulled at his bonds, watching her breasts sway avidly with an expression of utter want. Hermione was struck with an idea.
“Watch,” she whispered.
Lifting her right hand up from her grasp on his hip, Hermione cupped one bouncing breast, and rubbed a thumb over her nipple. The shock of pleasure that bolted down to her core was nothing to the look on Ron’s face. She pinched it roughly, and was rewarded with a growl that raised the hair on the back of Hermione’s neck; she found herself riding him harder. God, how she loved it when she got it right.
Gathering herself, she slipped her hand down her sweating torso and rubbed at the junction between thigh and body. Excellent, she had his attention. Ron always did this to her, but as he couldn’t move his hands… Hermione felt excitement and pleasure build and build inside her, as she impaled herself repeatedly on him, and slipped her hand to caress herself. Touch herself.
Ron’s jaw dropped, and he thrust up for the first time, hitting the most delicious place inside, the twin to the outside where her fingers rubbed. White burst across Hermione’s eyes. The pleasure that had been rapidly mounting exploded out into every corner of her body, igniting every vein, causing her to her arch up and throw her head back at the intensity of it, dimly aware of herself shouting something. Possibly Ron’s name. She was suspended in ecstasy for what felt like a deliriously long moment, then came crashing down, bracing herself on her shaking arms as the aftershocks continued to wash over her.
Sucking in a deep breath, she came back to herself and was aware of the beautiful figure still bound under her. She drank in the vision in a glorious daze.
Gasping desperately as he thrust up into her utterly spent body, Ron’s expression was of complete ecstasy, so unknowingly sultry with his neck arched back, wet mouth parted and his eyes - half-closed and so dark and gazing at her with such heat that her entire body exulted in it.
So she squeezed herself around him. As tightly as she could.
She watched avidly as Ron’s throat worked, his eyes widened, his shining chest heaved - and then he came, making the sexiest sound Hermione had ever heard in her entire life, a low, gasping moan, and Hermione knew that if she hadn’t just done so seconds before, she would have come at the sight of him.
The image burned across her eyes; she felt almost awestruck at the sight, at what she had done. Hermione knew that she would carry that image around with her for a long time afterward, for times when for whatever reason she couldn’t be with him, for times when she was feeling low and insecure. Because this was what she could do when she put her mind to it, give such pleasure and happiness to someone, and not only someone, but the best man she’d ever known.
Ron smiled up at her, blew out a shaky breath, and raised an eyebrow. She tried to purse her lips, but they both burst out laughing.
And that, Hermione thought, was something she hoped she’d always have the power to do.
EDIT: Fixed some of the verb tenses. :)