They'd seen him down there at one point, but had gotten separated, him off doing something else entirely while they explored. They should have known better than to split up, especially somewhere as bloody creepy as Rapture. As it was, Ron barely remembered the walk back; they'd made it out alright and he wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. Who knew if one of those things would try and follow them out?
"There are loads of other people down there though, aren't there? With swords and guns, I'd reckon," Ron said, though he was mostly convincing himself of the fact. He was still almost shaking, his own hair still a bit wet and plastered to his forehead. His hand still gripped Hermione's, and it made him feel almost grounded, in a way.
It'd all been sort of spur of the moment, hadn't it? While the newness of snogging Hermione still hadn't completely worn off, not even after months and months, he never had to really think about it much anymore. It'd become somehow both normal and brilliant at the same time and he didn't think he'd ever get sick of it. Her mouth was warm and soft and familiar, and his hand was at her jawline, pad of his thumb moving slightly against the skin there
( ... )
In an instant, the tension broke, as it so often did between the two of them. Hermione would always find it comforting to know that the two of them could swerve from tears to laughter and anywhere else in between in no more time than it took to say the other's name. It was reassuring, in its own sort of way, that no matter how livid one might feel at the other, that there stood the likely chance that they'd come back together again. Nothing terrified Hermione more than the thought that Ron might somehow be lost for good, and if Hermione ever did something to contribute to that, she knew she wouldn't have been able to forgive herself. Not even a year ago, when he'd Disapparated away from Harry and her, in spite of knowing that the Horcrux was perhaps the most to blame, Hermione still hadn't been able to keep herself from wondering at night. Where had things gone wrong? What could she have done better? What had she done to make him think that she and Harry were involved romantically, of all things? The last part had somehow hurt the
( ... )
Laughter threatened to spill over, mixed by nerves and encouraged by the way that Ron kept on talking, needing to document his every thought, as though it wasn't already made clear by the smile that he pressed against her lips and the soft brush of his hand by her side. The more she thought about it, the increasingly difficult it became to bite the laughter back, until Hermione found herself pressing forward more to compensate, deepening the kiss and running her bare foot along his calf, subtly edging yet further up the mattress. It was all rather awkward, in truth, the sort of knocked elbows and halty breath that one would expect from youth, and the bumbling nature of the first stages of intimacy was very new to Hermione indeed. Books wouldn't help here. Overthinking just made it worse. There had been a few occasions over the years when Hermione realized just that, and usually threw aside all of her reservations as a result, but this moment was slightly different than breaking the rules to brew Polyjuice Potion in the girl's bathroom
( ... )
Ron might've been new to this, but it was a fair bet that Hermione pressing herself against him meant that what he'd done was alright. Usually he was rubbish at reading people-- oftentimes even Hermione, mostly Hermione-- but this was loads easier. This wasn't exactly difficult to figure out, at least, so far. She edged farther up on the mattress and he followed, trying his best to do it in a way that'd mean he wouldn't have to stop kissing her, even for a second
( ... )
His lips were warm as they pressed down the side of her neck, soft and hesitant kisses drawing a line down to her collarbone. Each spot against which Ron pressed his lips seemed to heat directly under the skin, the flush rising all the way to her cheeks; although she was still clothed, Hermione knew well that her thin camisole left very little to the imagination, and no matter how comfortable she was around her best friends, this was still a territory that she had barely begun exploring with Ron, and insecurities rose quickly to the surface, riddling her awareness and keeping her movements tentative, slightly unsure. (But make no mistake- she felt safe just being in his presence, from his warmth, without which sleeping had become a difficult task anymore
( ... )
Were Ron's mouth not occupied with kissing her, he might've said Hermione's name as well. As it was, she'd brought the two of them back into another kiss, covered his mouth with hers again, and all he could manage was a sort of low and pleased groan deep in his throat.
Every bit of him that she touched felt bloody amazing and Ron felt warm in a pleasant way that made him want more of it all. Of course, there was the question of just what "more" meant. She'd hooked a finger into the waist of his trousers... was that supposed to mean something? There wasn't exactly a good time to ask, not with how brilliant all of it was, not with how much he was trying not to muck any of this up. It wasn't as if he'd ever done any of this before-- except the snogging bits, of course-- so a lot of it was just guesswork, trying to work out what he'd done right from Hermione's reactions. Still, even the way he had his hand on her was careful. He really didn't want to muck this up, especially not if this was going to go where he thought it might be going
( ... )
The sheets were rucked under Hermione's thigh, the folds pressing against her skin, and somehow, it mattered. Hermione's hand desperately smoothed out the rumpled sheets, as though working towards perfection on every level as her lips continued to seek Ron's out, her tongue brushing along his lower lip, her voice soft and caught in her throat as she did her best to keep calm. Inevitably, the effort was futile, and even as Ron tried to turn away from the contact, Hermione's hands immediately traveled to the front of his trousers, slipping the button deftly and pulling down the zipper until she was able to coax his trousers down so that they hung loosely about his hips. Where caution might have otherwise been, adrenaline had Hermione's heart beating on high and her reservations torn to shreds as she gasped again, breaking the kiss suddenly as her fingers teased under his waistband, feeling his heated skin and feeling that hers could only be more so, every limb of her body feeling warm, almost uncomfortably so. Movements coming to a halt
( ... )
Ron hadn't really known what to expect going into all this-- bloody hell, he hadn't expected any of this, really-- but Hermione suddenly opening up his trousers without much warning at all. Not that he wished she hadn't or anything mental like that, he just wouldn't have thought she'd be the one to press onward, with him doing his best to make sure he wasn't rushing her. But her hand was in his hair and on his trousers, so he reckoned it wasn't anything he needed to worry about much anymore
( ... )
In truth, Hermione hadn't expected Ron to be able to produce a condom that evening, and at best she felt that perhaps he or Harry had decided to store some in one of the dresser drawers, but when Ron produced one from his pocket, her eyes widened in surprise. Perhaps she should have been distraught, and certainly the tension suddenly returned, Hermione feeling as though all of the air had left her lungs, but she managed a soft laugh, more nervous than anything else. Her hands rested on Ron's hips, almost encouraging as she quickly leaned forward to press her lips against the side of his neck in an open-mouthed kiss, teasing his skin lightly between her teeth
( ... )
"Yeah... er... Bill gave me some the other day... I guess I never took that one out of my pocket," Ron said, suddenly sheepish that he'd had one on him. He definitely hadn't been anticipating this happening or anything, but it'd been a good thing that he did have one, hadn't it? But Hermione'd looked surprised like maybe he wasn't supposed to at all.
His mouth twisted into a small frown for a moment until she kissed him again, and he was sure he wasn't about to get she wasn't about to shout at him for it.
Ron's hand flexed against her hip as they leaned against each other, and ran it slowly up her side until it rested on her ribs. He couldn't help but kiss her again, briefly, before he answered her. It was ruddy difficult to be this close to her and to not be kissing her. Merlin, but she smelled amazing.
"I don't think so," he said, voice low, but a bit more gruff than usual. He shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head subtly. "If-- if you don't think it is, I mean."
She steadfastly blocked out all thoughts of Bill handing the proper tools over to Ron for this moment- after all, no doubt the bequeathing would have had been accompanied by an explanation of how to properly go about it all, and imagining anyone providing instruction for their evening or, worse yet, raising expectations overly high, was not something Hermione wanted to preoccupy herself with. Fortunately, the feel of Ron's hand lightly grazing up her side, warm and gentle all at once, distracted Hermione remarkably well as she let out a small hum, one soon interrupted by a kiss that she couldn't help but smile against.
Shaking her head just a touch, not wanting to stop kissing him for any longer than she had to, Hermione took a couple of breaths to steel her nerves before she leaned in for a peck. "No, I don't think so either."
Her lips brushed against his cheek as she silently said those three words again, trying to keep the smile which threatened from bursting and ruining the intimacy of the moment. I love you, she mouthed,
( ... )
As quickly as Ron had mentioned his brother's name, he'd forgotten that he had, more focused on the subject at hand; on Hermione's mouth on his cheek and then on his jaw line... bloody hell. None of this had felt as if it was happening too quickly, though it all had been a bit unexpected, so much happening all at once. Sort of like jumping straight from turning mice into snuffboxes to transfiguring owls. Somehow though, Ron felt like Hermione might actually have been better at all this, but he was likely biased in the moment.
His hand underneath Hermione's shirt twitched a moment as he hesitated, and in a bit of a nervous motion, he pulled her shirt up and over her head. If nothing else had been happening too fast, he hoped this wasn't either; every second they touched left him wanting more, his heart beating so loudly that it made him wonder if she could hear it too.
In reality, it only took a couple of seconds, but to Hermione, the feel of fabric brushing up along her arms felt like an eternity. Static snapped in her curls of hair. Her heart continued to beat, not quite as steadily as a drum, Hermione's face lighting up with embarrassment as she closed her eyes, not quite able to open them for fear of seeing a disappointed expression on Ron's face, perhaps. It had never really mattered to her before, the way that she looked in the nude. Hermione hardly put much effort towards her appearance at all on the best of days. And yet suddenly, it mattered now, it mattered so much that it scared her, extending seconds into minutes, then hours, Hermione shivering as she waited for reassurance that she wasn't sure would come.
Chest still rising and falling, one of Hermione's hands curled nervously over her opposite shoulder, her arm blocking her chest partially from view.
"If I knew we were going to- I would have-" Hermione stammered, words a mere whisper as she bit her lower lip, thoughts going
This had been unexpected for both of them, so it wasn't like there was any way she could have known. Ron definitely hadn't. Though, for a moment, he was stuck there, trying to keep his eyes from going a bit wide in amazement. He'd reckoned that maybe one day they'd get to this point-- or at least he'd hoped they would-- but the reality of it all was loads better than just thinking about it.
Not that Ron had thought about it. Not really
( ... )
They'd seen him down there at one point, but had gotten separated, him off doing something else entirely while they explored. They should have known better than to split up, especially somewhere as bloody creepy as Rapture. As it was, Ron barely remembered the walk back; they'd made it out alright and he wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. Who knew if one of those things would try and follow them out?
"There are loads of other people down there though, aren't there? With swords and guns, I'd reckon," Ron said, though he was mostly convincing himself of the fact. He was still almost shaking, his own hair still a bit wet and plastered to his forehead. His hand still gripped Hermione's, and it made him feel almost grounded, in a way.
"Do you think we should go back?"
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Every bit of him that she touched felt bloody amazing and Ron felt warm in a pleasant way that made him want more of it all. Of course, there was the question of just what "more" meant. She'd hooked a finger into the waist of his trousers... was that supposed to mean something? There wasn't exactly a good time to ask, not with how brilliant all of it was, not with how much he was trying not to muck any of this up. It wasn't as if he'd ever done any of this before-- except the snogging bits, of course-- so a lot of it was just guesswork, trying to work out what he'd done right from Hermione's reactions. Still, even the way he had his hand on her was careful. He really didn't want to muck this up, especially not if this was going to go where he thought it might be going ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
His mouth twisted into a small frown for a moment until she kissed him again, and he was sure he wasn't about to get she wasn't about to shout at him for it.
Ron's hand flexed against her hip as they leaned against each other, and ran it slowly up her side until it rested on her ribs. He couldn't help but kiss her again, briefly, before he answered her. It was ruddy difficult to be this close to her and to not be kissing her. Merlin, but she smelled amazing.
"I don't think so," he said, voice low, but a bit more gruff than usual. He shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head subtly. "If-- if you don't think it is, I mean."
Reply
Shaking her head just a touch, not wanting to stop kissing him for any longer than she had to, Hermione took a couple of breaths to steel her nerves before she leaned in for a peck. "No, I don't think so either."
Her lips brushed against his cheek as she silently said those three words again, trying to keep the smile which threatened from bursting and ruining the intimacy of the moment. I love you, she mouthed, ( ... )
Reply
His hand underneath Hermione's shirt twitched a moment as he hesitated, and in a bit of a nervous motion, he pulled her shirt up and over her head. If nothing else had been happening too fast, he hoped this wasn't either; every second they touched left him wanting more, his heart beating so loudly that it made him wonder if she could hear it too.
Reply
Chest still rising and falling, one of Hermione's hands curled nervously over her opposite shoulder, her arm blocking her chest partially from view.
"If I knew we were going to- I would have-" Hermione stammered, words a mere whisper as she bit her lower lip, thoughts going
Reply
Not that Ron had thought about it. Not really ( ... )
Reply
Leave a comment