Hermione/Ron, NC-17
Name: Loved the way you would....
Author: twin_cheeks
Pairing: Hermione/Ron
Disclaimer: We all play at some time. This is mine.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It was the hotest night ever. Every piece of clothing had been peeled off my body, all except my underwear, which even then I was considering pulling off.
The hotest night of the year, and Ron turns up on her doorstep, drunk and horny.
Authors notes: Birthday present to my RP buddy, frogs_alive. Wrote it on the weekend.
Oh, I also happened to be bored.
It was the hotest night of the month. Of the year. Of the decade. Ever. I'm being utterly honest, with not a single ounce of exaggerating. Every fan in my apartment was turned on full blast, every window was thrown wide open, every piece of clothing had been peeled off my body, all except my underwear, which even then I was considering pulling off.
Knock knock THUMP
I groaned, peeling the backs of my thighs from the leather couch I was on; raising my hands to run them over my thighs, hoping to rid them of the excess sweat that had gathered there during the minutes I had been lying there. It didn't work. I groaned again, waiting to see if the person at the door would choose leave, or if I'd be forced to peel myself from the couch, pull on a horrible tshirt which was bound to make me sweat even more, and cross the apartment to my door.
They didn't go away. I could hear their panting, their groaning, their incoherent mumbling. I wondered what was wrong with them - who it was, what they wanted. Was I to be afraid? Were they here to hurt me? Or were they simply a random stranger, looking for somewhere to cool off? Whoever they were, they certainly weren't welcome here. It was hot enough with one person in the apartment, and I wasn't about to let another in.
"'Ermione, s'me..." The grumble came from the other side of the door, the words slurred, the issuer sounding thoroughly out of breath and close to passing out.
I tensed up. I knew that voice anywhere, drunk or not drunk. Considering he usually was drunk these days, I certainly knew that voice. But I wasn't about to stand up for the one it belonged to.
"Go away!" I shouted, my head falling back onto the leather of the couch; hands coming up to push curls, wet from sweat, out of my face. "I'm not letting you in. Not tonight."
I hoped he would go away. I couldn't stand to see him now. Hot days, hot nights, always got me in an irritated mood, and I wasn't in the mood for him. I never was.
He never seemed to understand that he came at the worst of times. He didn't seem to understand that the mistakes he had made during the war had been far too horrid, that I wasn't going to forgive him for them, and the small factor that it had only been a year since it had ended was going against him.
"But I wan'...wanna come in...s'hot," I heard his hand, or possible his head, thump weakly several times against the door. By now, I could tell that the thump I had heard earlier had been him falling to the floor, just outside my door. If he stayed there any longer, if I ignored him, or just left him there, he was going to fall asleep. He would fall asleep, and he would still be there in the morning. He would still be a problem in the morning. My problem.
"I know it's hot," I growled, letting out a noise that sounded (quite to my horror) like a sob. I didn't want him here. It was too hot to deal with a drunk, idiotic red-headed Weasley. "But I'm not going to let you in. I never do. Now just...go...away." I realised just how much I was out of breath, just how much the heat was affecting me.
I closed my eyes, trying to prevent the room from swimming. My head throbbed, my body was slick with sweat, my hair sopping, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. Not a damn thing I could do about Ron, either.
"Why dun...you...dun love me," I could hear Ron's feeble attempts to get to his feet, knowing for certain they had failed when I heard him crashing into the potplant outside my door. "Dun...love me. Used to. Not now. Not...good nuff for you. S'at it?"
"No, Ron, that's not it," I rolled over slowly, cringing as my skin peeled painfully off the leather of the couch. I let my arm flop to hang over the edge, sighing at the moment of temporary relief of the heat, only to be struck by it again.
"Why...you dun let me close no more," I heard him give up, I heard him slump against the door. I hoped he'd hurt himself. Maybe then he'd go away. "Used to...let me fuck you. Fuck your ass...fuck your tits...your mouth...anywhere I wan fuck you let me..."
I froze.
I took in a deep breath, rubbing my thighs together once or twice, eyes drifting shut. My body wanted to hear these words. My mind didn't want him here, it didn't want to hear these words, it didn't want to hear him at all. But my body did.
"'n you'd moan 'n you'd make that...sound. Lik' a cat m'owing...let me bite you...'n I'd leave marks...all over...neck, stomach, hips, thighs...tha' spot righ' under your tits..." I heard him moan, and my eyes flew open, moving immediately to the little amount of light visible through the gap underneath the door. Was he...?
"Loved th' way you suck," My breath caught in my throat. I rolled back over, my back coming into contact with the leather again as I stared at the ceiling, trying to get these images out of my mind.
"'N you'd swallow...tha' was...was hot. No other girl swallowed. 'N they didn'...they didn' fuck me wi' their hand till I came...all over their cunt," I moaned, my head falling back onto the couch once more. Slowly, my hand began to move downward over my body, now slick with sweat that wasn't caused by the heat of the room, but by a different heat.
"I loved doing that," I muttered, my left hand finding it's way to my breast, hot and slick and wet.
"No other girl would let me...bend down 'n lick it up," He moaned, I moaned in response, my breathing becoming faster, and my mind loosing control of my hands. If I had anymore willpower, I would have stood up and crossed the room to open the door, just so I could fuck him senseless. Heat. It was a strange thing. If this were any other night, if I weren't so damn hot, so damn sticky, so damn lacking in clothing, so damn lacking in energy, I would have walked away and locked myself in the bedroom, just so I could ignore him. But tonight wasn't any other night. The heat was making me horny. It was making him horny, though I could have hazarded a guess that that was also partly thanks to the alcohol.
"Few girls would let me chain 'm to the bed and do wha'ever I wanna'd do with 'm," I heard him laugh, though it wasn't one of mirth; it was a drunk one, one of lust, one that resembled almost a growl, guaranteeing he was remembering the moments he was speaking of quite vividly. "Finger them 'n fuck their ass 'n spank 'n whip them...pour chocolate over their cunt and lick it up..." I moaned quite loudly at this comment; my free hand reaching it's goal, my fingers delving into my folds, my legs falling apart, as though he were there, fucking me at that very moment.
"Merlin I loved you doing that," I moaned as my fingers found my clit, something that didn't take much concentration or effort. "You'd chain me down and ravish my body without mercy, you'd count how many orgasms you could give me before I was pleading and begging for them." I flung my head to the side, desperate to see his shadow seeping in underneath the door, wanting to be able to see what he was doing.
"You were always begging for them," His response sounded stronger, like he was a lot more sober than he had been just seconds before. But it lasted for only one or two sentences. "You were always begging for me. Begging for me t' fuck you, 'n it didn't matter where we were. Grimmauld place, The Burrow, hotel, motel...'n whenever I asked you why you didn'...you didn' answer properly. You just said, you said, 'I'm horny', or somefing about bloody sexual fuster...flust...fruster....something over the years. 'N you know what, 'Ermione? They...they not proper answers. I wan' proper answers. Now. Wan' you to tell me why you wanted to fuck me so much, so I can come all over your door....'n then maybe I'll pass out..."
I felt a bead of sweat trickle down from my brow; making it's path down my cheek, my neck, until it cut across my shoulder and rolled off my arm. I swallowed, hard, trying to control my breathing, but receiving nothing from my lungs but enough air to emit another moan. What was I to say? I had a choice to make. I could respond to him with exactly what he wanted, causing him to come all over my door, causing me to come, quite possibly harder than I had in the past year. That would leave me with the problem of come all over my door, and one extremely drunk and passed out Ron on my doorstep (though one whom I hoped wouldn't remember a thing of this). But, if I chose to ignore him, to not respond, he could keep talking, and he could come anyway, and I would come, too. He would pass out, leave come all over my door, and still be a problem when he woke up in the morning.
"Because I...was horny all those times," I exhaled deeply, hoping the decision I had made would lead to the thing I wanted. My fingers began rubbing as furiously as possible at my clit; my voice sounding like I was quite out of breath, and quite close to something completely and utterly fabulous. I wanted to say this right. I wanted to get out all the frustration I had that night, both sexual and at the heat. I built up the courage to say words and sentences considered absolutely horrid in what my parents called 'Polite society', and continued speaking.
"I was horny from watching your ass when you walked, your lips when you spoke, my imagination running away with memories from days before, causing all kinds of new thoughts and ideas to come screaming into my mind - the friction between my legs to grow to a level so high that I was forced to do something about it. I wanted to fuck you senseless on the spot, ride you until I felt you come hard inside me. I wanted to suck on you until you came in my mouth, so I could swallow and moan around your cock. I just...wanted to fuck you do badly, and I didn't know how to word it. I lusted for you. So. Much."
I heard a low, gutteral moan from the otherside of the door, followed by a soft splatter against the door, and shortly afterward, the sound of someone slumping against the door. He was finished. He was unconscious, and therefore not a problem until the sun rose in a few hours time.
My hips rocked off the couch, seperating from the leather with the tell-tale un-sticking sound, bringing me back to reality. My fingers found my clit once more, and only had to touch it once before an orgasm rode through me. It wasn't the best I'd had, but it was certainly the best I'd had that year. In fact, it had been the only one I'd had that year caused, partly, by another human.
I sighed, my body going completely limp, and my eyes shutting; every part of my body feeling like lead. Hot, heavy, lead. I hadn't moved anywhere. I was back where I had started not even a few minutes ago; only this time, I had a drunk passed out on my doorstep.
Author: twin_cheeks
Pairing: Hermione/Ron
Disclaimer: We all play at some time. This is mine.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It was the hotest night ever. Every piece of clothing had been peeled off my body, all except my underwear, which even then I was considering pulling off.
The hotest night of the year, and Ron turns up on her doorstep, drunk and horny.
Authors notes: Birthday present to my RP buddy, frogs_alive. Wrote it on the weekend.
Oh, I also happened to be bored.
It was the hotest night of the month. Of the year. Of the decade. Ever. I'm being utterly honest, with not a single ounce of exaggerating. Every fan in my apartment was turned on full blast, every window was thrown wide open, every piece of clothing had been peeled off my body, all except my underwear, which even then I was considering pulling off.
Knock knock THUMP
I groaned, peeling the backs of my thighs from the leather couch I was on; raising my hands to run them over my thighs, hoping to rid them of the excess sweat that had gathered there during the minutes I had been lying there. It didn't work. I groaned again, waiting to see if the person at the door would choose leave, or if I'd be forced to peel myself from the couch, pull on a horrible tshirt which was bound to make me sweat even more, and cross the apartment to my door.
They didn't go away. I could hear their panting, their groaning, their incoherent mumbling. I wondered what was wrong with them - who it was, what they wanted. Was I to be afraid? Were they here to hurt me? Or were they simply a random stranger, looking for somewhere to cool off? Whoever they were, they certainly weren't welcome here. It was hot enough with one person in the apartment, and I wasn't about to let another in.
"'Ermione, s'me..." The grumble came from the other side of the door, the words slurred, the issuer sounding thoroughly out of breath and close to passing out.
I tensed up. I knew that voice anywhere, drunk or not drunk. Considering he usually was drunk these days, I certainly knew that voice. But I wasn't about to stand up for the one it belonged to.
"Go away!" I shouted, my head falling back onto the leather of the couch; hands coming up to push curls, wet from sweat, out of my face. "I'm not letting you in. Not tonight."
I hoped he would go away. I couldn't stand to see him now. Hot days, hot nights, always got me in an irritated mood, and I wasn't in the mood for him. I never was.
He never seemed to understand that he came at the worst of times. He didn't seem to understand that the mistakes he had made during the war had been far too horrid, that I wasn't going to forgive him for them, and the small factor that it had only been a year since it had ended was going against him.
"But I wan'...wanna come in...s'hot," I heard his hand, or possible his head, thump weakly several times against the door. By now, I could tell that the thump I had heard earlier had been him falling to the floor, just outside my door. If he stayed there any longer, if I ignored him, or just left him there, he was going to fall asleep. He would fall asleep, and he would still be there in the morning. He would still be a problem in the morning. My problem.
"I know it's hot," I growled, letting out a noise that sounded (quite to my horror) like a sob. I didn't want him here. It was too hot to deal with a drunk, idiotic red-headed Weasley. "But I'm not going to let you in. I never do. Now just...go...away." I realised just how much I was out of breath, just how much the heat was affecting me.
I closed my eyes, trying to prevent the room from swimming. My head throbbed, my body was slick with sweat, my hair sopping, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. Not a damn thing I could do about Ron, either.
"Why dun...you...dun love me," I could hear Ron's feeble attempts to get to his feet, knowing for certain they had failed when I heard him crashing into the potplant outside my door. "Dun...love me. Used to. Not now. Not...good nuff for you. S'at it?"
"No, Ron, that's not it," I rolled over slowly, cringing as my skin peeled painfully off the leather of the couch. I let my arm flop to hang over the edge, sighing at the moment of temporary relief of the heat, only to be struck by it again.
"Why...you dun let me close no more," I heard him give up, I heard him slump against the door. I hoped he'd hurt himself. Maybe then he'd go away. "Used to...let me fuck you. Fuck your ass...fuck your tits...your mouth...anywhere I wan fuck you let me..."
I froze.
I took in a deep breath, rubbing my thighs together once or twice, eyes drifting shut. My body wanted to hear these words. My mind didn't want him here, it didn't want to hear these words, it didn't want to hear him at all. But my body did.
"'n you'd moan 'n you'd make that...sound. Lik' a cat m'owing...let me bite you...'n I'd leave marks...all over...neck, stomach, hips, thighs...tha' spot righ' under your tits..." I heard him moan, and my eyes flew open, moving immediately to the little amount of light visible through the gap underneath the door. Was he...?
"Loved th' way you suck," My breath caught in my throat. I rolled back over, my back coming into contact with the leather again as I stared at the ceiling, trying to get these images out of my mind.
"'N you'd swallow...tha' was...was hot. No other girl swallowed. 'N they didn'...they didn' fuck me wi' their hand till I came...all over their cunt," I moaned, my head falling back onto the couch once more. Slowly, my hand began to move downward over my body, now slick with sweat that wasn't caused by the heat of the room, but by a different heat.
"I loved doing that," I muttered, my left hand finding it's way to my breast, hot and slick and wet.
"No other girl would let me...bend down 'n lick it up," He moaned, I moaned in response, my breathing becoming faster, and my mind loosing control of my hands. If I had anymore willpower, I would have stood up and crossed the room to open the door, just so I could fuck him senseless. Heat. It was a strange thing. If this were any other night, if I weren't so damn hot, so damn sticky, so damn lacking in clothing, so damn lacking in energy, I would have walked away and locked myself in the bedroom, just so I could ignore him. But tonight wasn't any other night. The heat was making me horny. It was making him horny, though I could have hazarded a guess that that was also partly thanks to the alcohol.
"Few girls would let me chain 'm to the bed and do wha'ever I wanna'd do with 'm," I heard him laugh, though it wasn't one of mirth; it was a drunk one, one of lust, one that resembled almost a growl, guaranteeing he was remembering the moments he was speaking of quite vividly. "Finger them 'n fuck their ass 'n spank 'n whip them...pour chocolate over their cunt and lick it up..." I moaned quite loudly at this comment; my free hand reaching it's goal, my fingers delving into my folds, my legs falling apart, as though he were there, fucking me at that very moment.
"Merlin I loved you doing that," I moaned as my fingers found my clit, something that didn't take much concentration or effort. "You'd chain me down and ravish my body without mercy, you'd count how many orgasms you could give me before I was pleading and begging for them." I flung my head to the side, desperate to see his shadow seeping in underneath the door, wanting to be able to see what he was doing.
"You were always begging for them," His response sounded stronger, like he was a lot more sober than he had been just seconds before. But it lasted for only one or two sentences. "You were always begging for me. Begging for me t' fuck you, 'n it didn't matter where we were. Grimmauld place, The Burrow, hotel, motel...'n whenever I asked you why you didn'...you didn' answer properly. You just said, you said, 'I'm horny', or somefing about bloody sexual fuster...flust...fruster....something over the years. 'N you know what, 'Ermione? They...they not proper answers. I wan' proper answers. Now. Wan' you to tell me why you wanted to fuck me so much, so I can come all over your door....'n then maybe I'll pass out..."
I felt a bead of sweat trickle down from my brow; making it's path down my cheek, my neck, until it cut across my shoulder and rolled off my arm. I swallowed, hard, trying to control my breathing, but receiving nothing from my lungs but enough air to emit another moan. What was I to say? I had a choice to make. I could respond to him with exactly what he wanted, causing him to come all over my door, causing me to come, quite possibly harder than I had in the past year. That would leave me with the problem of come all over my door, and one extremely drunk and passed out Ron on my doorstep (though one whom I hoped wouldn't remember a thing of this). But, if I chose to ignore him, to not respond, he could keep talking, and he could come anyway, and I would come, too. He would pass out, leave come all over my door, and still be a problem when he woke up in the morning.
"Because I...was horny all those times," I exhaled deeply, hoping the decision I had made would lead to the thing I wanted. My fingers began rubbing as furiously as possible at my clit; my voice sounding like I was quite out of breath, and quite close to something completely and utterly fabulous. I wanted to say this right. I wanted to get out all the frustration I had that night, both sexual and at the heat. I built up the courage to say words and sentences considered absolutely horrid in what my parents called 'Polite society', and continued speaking.
"I was horny from watching your ass when you walked, your lips when you spoke, my imagination running away with memories from days before, causing all kinds of new thoughts and ideas to come screaming into my mind - the friction between my legs to grow to a level so high that I was forced to do something about it. I wanted to fuck you senseless on the spot, ride you until I felt you come hard inside me. I wanted to suck on you until you came in my mouth, so I could swallow and moan around your cock. I just...wanted to fuck you do badly, and I didn't know how to word it. I lusted for you. So. Much."
I heard a low, gutteral moan from the otherside of the door, followed by a soft splatter against the door, and shortly afterward, the sound of someone slumping against the door. He was finished. He was unconscious, and therefore not a problem until the sun rose in a few hours time.
My hips rocked off the couch, seperating from the leather with the tell-tale un-sticking sound, bringing me back to reality. My fingers found my clit once more, and only had to touch it once before an orgasm rode through me. It wasn't the best I'd had, but it was certainly the best I'd had that year. In fact, it had been the only one I'd had that year caused, partly, by another human.
I sighed, my body going completely limp, and my eyes shutting; every part of my body feeling like lead. Hot, heavy, lead. I hadn't moved anywhere. I was back where I had started not even a few minutes ago; only this time, I had a drunk passed out on my doorstep.