Fic: Relaxing (Kingsley/Hermione)
Title: Relaxing
Characters/Pairings: Kingsley/Hermione
Rating: Adult
Summary: Kingsley knows how to help Hermione relax after a long day
Word Count: 3195
Beta: None so please excuse an errors.
50_smutlets prompt: Bathroom
The Daily Prophet will be merciless tomorrow. The editor is probably pissing himself with enthusiasm now that the verdict has been announced. The sense of failure that comes with losing any case is intensified this time because Hermione allowed herself to believe that she might actually win. Instead, her client has been sensationalized, lost all of his privacy and ability to live quietly with lycanthropy, and she’ll be splashed all over the front page of the newspaper with words like ‘radical’ and ‘loser’ bolded for everyone to see.
After so many years, she should be used to the newspaper’s coverage of her. When the war ended, Harry and Ron were heralded as heroes in the papers while she was nothing more than a footnote. In the time since, she has been the subject of many editorials and attacks by ‘respected’ journalists who make Rita Skeeter look like a primary school child attempting to bully a classmate. The Daily Prophet editor hates her, especially her Muggleborn status and her inability to sit by and watch people treated terribly. Her loss this afternoon will be a signal that their world isn’t ready for equality for lycanthropes, and the editor will make sure everyone reading believes that, even if it’s bollocks.
With a frustrated growl, she stands up, sending her chair into the file cabinet behind her desk. She grimaces as the chair wobbles, catching it before it starts to tilt. The wheel on the right side in the front is loose. She’s been using magic to charm it, but she really just needs a new chair. Of course, that’s not even in the top five of things she needs for her tiny office, so it’ll wait. What little money she makes has to pay for rent here and for her flat with some leftover for food and even less remaining for luxuries like a new office chair. Since she refuses to accept money from Harry, she makes do with what she has and tries to focus on the good things.
She looks around her office and tries not to feel defeated. It’s what a majority of the members of the Wizegamot want, after all. They want to keep her from ever winning because they seem to think that she’ll eventually give up if she loses enough cases. They obviously don’t know her well at all. Every lost case just makes her even more determined to do the best job possible for her clients and to eventually achieve success. There have been some wins sprinkled amongst the many losses during the last five years, and those give her the strength to carry on even on nights like this when everything seems pointless.
It’s getting late, which probably means it’s time to go home. She hasn’t been accomplishing anything here tonight, except for making herself angry over the verdict and frustrated with silly things like broken office chairs. There are more important things in the world than small offices and rundown furniture. If she continues to lose cases, though, she might not even have any clients. Her successes have been very important, but no one wants to work with a failure; especially not one that many in the Wizegamot hate on sight simply because of the war and reputation.
When she gets home, she puts her files on the table before toeing off her shoes. Leaning against the table, she reaches down to rub her feet. The worst part of trials is that she has to wear pointy shoes that aren’t comfortable no matter how many charms she uses. Well, it isn’t the worst part. Losing takes that spot, but it’s a close second. She goes to her bedroom to change clothes, and she’s just slipping into a pair of track pants when she hears a knock on her door. Three short knocks followed by a longer one.
Hermione goes to answer the door and steps aside so her guest can enter. “You’re welcome to use the Floo, you know?” She watches as he shrugs off the hood that had been helping to conceal his identity and smiles. “You probably enjoy the subterfuge, though.”
Kingsley arches a brow and smiles. “Perhaps a little,” he agrees. He holds up a sack he’s been concealing. “I brought dinner. Ravioli and pasta from that little place you love along with some garlic bread.”
“Smells delicious.” She walks over and tilts her head back so she can kiss him. “I assume this means you’ve heard.”
“You fought hard, little girl. I heard the final vote was close, closer than it’s been before. You’re slowly knocking down those walls.” Kingsley tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear and drags his knuckles across her cheek. “If anyone can change this world, you can.”
“Is it terrible of me to be looking forward to the day that half of them are forced to resign or retire from the Wizengamot?” She sighs and hugs him, closing her eyes as she inhales his scent and allows herself to relax for the first time since the verdict was announced.
“I’d fire them all and replace them with progressive minded individuals if it was within my authority,” Kingsley says. “However, I assume that’s the reason the laws are clear about the Minister not having that power. It could be dangerous.”
“I know, and I understand.” She kisses him again before rubbing her fingers against the scruff on his face. “You’re working too hard.”
“Pot, kettle.” He gives her another hug before going to the kitchen. “How is your client holding up?”
“He’s a strong man. I wouldn’t have agreed to take the case this far knowing what the publicity would be like if I hadn’t felt he could weather the storm.” She pulls out a chair and sits down, watching Kingsley move around her tiny kitchen. “I’m glad you came.”
Kingsley glances at her. “I know how you get after a loss. If I hadn’t brought food, you would have skipped dinner and probably worked all night.”
“Exactly. I’m starving, and that smells great.” Hermione smiles. “Besides, we haven’t had time to get together in over a week.”
“Nine days actually.” Kingsley smirks at her as he brings over two plates with their food. “Not that I’ve been counting.”
“Of course not.” She takes her plate from him and squeezes his hand. “I didn’t miss you at all, either.”
Kingsley sits next to her and nods at the plate. “Eat your food before it gets cold, Hermione.”
“I’m only obeying because I’m hungry not because you commanded it.” She picks up her fork and starts to eat. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply. She’s hungrier than she realized, and she can’t actually remember if she ate yesterday. They talk a little about the trial and about what’s been keeping him busy at the Ministry. It’s nice conversation, as always, and she feels better after dinner despite her terrible day.
“The newspapers tomorrow are going to be ruthless,” she says, sitting back and sipping the glass of wine he’d poured her. “I can’t wait until I actually win something that’s impossible for them to ignore.”
“You’ve already made changes,” Kingsley reminds her. “When you were in your teens, you helped change laws that will affect a lot of people, even if they don’t recognize it.”
“I know, but that was years ago. There are so many things still wrong with this world, and I just look forward to a time when people aren’t persecuted because they’re different.” She finishes her wine and nudges his leg with hers. “If you call me an unrealistic idealist, I’m making you sleep on my couch.”
“I was just thinking that it’s remarkable how optimistic you are despite everything you’ve endured.” He smiles slightly. “You should also refrain from making threats that you aren’t willing to uphold.”
“You think I wouldn’t make you sleep in the sitting room?” She studies him and wonders if he’s deliberately challenging her or just being a smug arse.
“You aren’t that cruel, little girl.” He nods towards the couch in question. “You live in a tiny flat with an even tinier couch. I wouldn’t fit on the couch, and you know it. Speaking of, have you considered my offer?”
Hermione bites her lip and shrugs. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know if it’s the best choice. What we have works, and it might not if we change it so drastically.”
“While I agree with that in theory, I think we’ve reached a point where we can consider our options.” He stands and begins to clean up their dinner remains. “My house is much larger, and there’s enough room for privacy from each other when needed.”
“It isn’t that simple, Kingsley.” She stands so she can help him clean up. “You’re the Minister of Magic, and we’ve kept our relationship private for nearly seven years for a reason. If I move in with you, the press will have a field day, and there will be repercussions that affect more than just us. You know what the papers say about me, and your reputation is the complete opposite. Public opinion would likely lower because it’s me you’re involved with and because we’d be living together in a non-traditional way.”
Kingsley turns to face her. “I’m fully aware that this is complicated. It might be non-traditional, but I know that neither of us needs the ceremonial ritual of marriage to be committed. Regardless, I wouldn’t have made the offer if I hadn’t analyzed it and determined it’s a viable option for us. However, it’s a serious matter, which is why I’ve been patiently waiting for you to analyze it, as well, and make your choice.”
“I’m still thinking,” she says, relieved when he simply nods instead of forcing the issue. Things between them had started as casual sex when they’d been working together on restructuring the Ministry and changing a variety of laws. It had been nice to have someone she trusted to find mutual release with without having to deal with it being a relationship. Over the years, though, it’s become just that, complete with a joint holiday for the last three years and even an introduction to her parents when they visited Australia last year. It’s just complicated considering his job and her job as well as some of the public opinion about her. It’s a risk to his career, but he doesn’t seem to mind that.
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” Kingsley winks at her before scraping the plate into the bin. “I think you could use a warm bath and a massage after the day you’ve had. Why don’t you go run some water while I finish cleaning up?”
“That does sound heavenly.” She moves her arms around him and kisses him. “I do love you.”
He caresses her cheek. “I know. I love you, too, little girl. Now run along and get your bath started.” He swats her arse lightly before he turns and goes back to the dishes. He adds dish soap to the water, preferring to wash the Muggle way without using magic. She watches him roll up the sleeves of his shirt, his arms distracting her for a moment, and she admires the view. “I know I’ve got a great arse, but your bath is waiting.”
“You’ve got an amazing arse, Kingsley. Better than great,” she says as she walks up behind him and wraps her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his shoulder blade. “Thank you for coming over tonight. You always seem to know when I need you most.”
He puts a soapy hand on hers, and she feels the muscles beneath her face flex in a way that makes her think he must be looking down. “I’ll always be here when you need me, and even when you don’t.”
“I don’t think there’ll ever be a time when I don’t need you,” she whispers, squeezing his hand before she straightens up. “I’ll go start the bath water and keep it warm so you can join me. The flat might be tiny, but I chose it because the tub is big enough for both of us.”
“I suppose that is one positive aspect to this place,” he says. “I’m not sure if that makes up for the size of the rest of the place, no matter how much I enjoy our bath times.”
“It really isn’t that bad,” she says, taking a look around. “It’s what I can afford, and there’s enough room to be comfortable even if it’s not large enough to host a big party.”
“It’s a good thing that you don’t like big parties then.” Kingsley looks at her and arches a brow. “You’re still standing here instead of preparing your bath.”
“I prefer the view here.” She smiles as she moves her gaze down his body in a deliberate way. “But I’m going now, old man. I’ll even make sure to use the bubble bath that smells like jasmine since it's your favorite.”
Before he can answer, she leaves and heads to the bathroom. Once the water is running, she pulls her shirt over her head and pushes down her track pants. She tosses her underwear on the pile of discarded clothes then tests the water. It’s warm enough to relax her, so she adds bubble bath and pulls her hair up to twist into a messy knot.
“This is a beautiful sight,” Kingsley says when he joins her. After he brushes a kiss against her neck, he strips and puts his clothes by hers. “Looks ready to me.”
“It should be.” She watches him get into the tub, waiting until he’s settled to walk over. “Feel good?’
“Perfect. Get in, little girl.” He leans back and gives her a wicked smile that makes her tingle. Once she gets in, the water rises but doesn’t overflow. She makes herself comfortable on his lap, feeling his cock against her arse. He’s already hardening, and she can’t help feeling smug that she can cause such a reaction without even touching him. He kisses her shoulder as he reaches for a flannel and begins to wash her. “Close your eyes and relax. You’ve had a stressful day, so let me take care of you.”
“I don’t know how relaxed I can be when you’re touching me and I can feel your erection against my arse,” she murmurs, leaning back against his chest and closing her eyes. He moves the flannel across her breasts and down her belly, taking his time and washing her while also teasing. When she begins to wiggle, he drops the flannel and uses his hands to touch her.
“You feel so good.” His voice is low and husky against her ear. “Do you like that, Hermione? Like my hands on your tits?”
“Yes, but you need to stop teasing me.” She rolls her hips slightly, knowing that she’s rubbing against his erection. “I can tease, too.”
“You like being teased.” He kisses her neck as he squeezes her breasts. She whimpers when he twists her nipples, enjoying the feel of his hands on her skin. He moves one of his hands down her belly then lower, fingers stroking her and sliding inside her. It’s been nearly two weeks since they’ve had sex, and she has to think how foolish she is to put work above this because it feels so good.
“I want you inside me.” She opens her eyes and reaches down to push his hand out of the way. He grips her hips and lifts her up while she holds his cock. When she pushes down, she bites her lip and makes a noise of contentment that surprises her. He must like it because he bucks his hips up and squeezes her breast harder.
“Just like that, little girl. Ride me,” he says, kissing her shoulder and neck as she begins to move. The position is slightly awkward, but they soon adjust and settle on an easy rhythm. She starts slow, just enjoying the feel of him inside her and around her. They aren’t in a hurry, even if they’re usually a little rough and hard the first time. The second time is usually the slow and relaxed exploring. When he reaches down to stroke her clit, she starts to move faster, rolling her hips and taking him deeper. He thrusts up to meet her, the slow pace becoming more frantic as they get closer to their release.
She turns her head and kisses him, squeezing her own breast as she feels her orgasm approaching. She comes with a whine, tightening around him and trembling as he wraps his arms around her. After her orgasm, he lifts her and shifts them so she’s on her knees in the bathtub, gripping the sides as he takes her from behind. Water is sloshing out onto the floor, but she doesn’t care. A quick charm can take care of that when they finish. “Fuck me, old man,” she says, pushing back to meet his thrusts.
“Going to make you come again, little girl,” he promises, holding her hips tightly as he fucks her hard and deep. She’s probably going to have bruises on her from how tight he’s gripping her, but she doesn’t mind. She likes those little reminders of what they share. “Touch yourself. I’m close.”
Hermione reaches down to rub her clit, still sensitive from her recent orgasm. It doesn’t take much before she’s coming again. He thrusts into her a few more times before he comes with a grunt. She feels him spilling inside her, and she squeezes him as he keeps making shallow thrusts. When he kisses her shoulder, she turns her head so they can kiss.
“Think we need another bath now,” he says, grinning when she laughs. “Probably not worth the time, though, since we’ll just need another one later.”
“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She straightens up and reaches for a fresh flannel. “We can just rinse off in the shower. I’m not getting into bed with come dripping out of me.”
“A shower’s a good idea.” Kingsley pulls out the stopper so the water can drain then turns on the taps for the shower. They focus on getting clean this time, and it doesn’t take long before they’re done and toweling off. Once they’re dry, she leads him to her bedroom, where she pulls on a clean pair of knickers and her nightgown while he gets a clean pair of pants out of his drawer.
“I know it’s early, but I’m sleepy,” she admits, moving her arms around his waist and tilting her head back. “I haven’t slept very much the last few days, and I think it’s catching up to me now. Maybe that massage can wait until later?”
“That’s fine. We can go to bed now. You need your rest,” he says, kissing her thoroughly. He lets go so he can pull the covers back and get into bed. “Come here, little girl. It’s time to sleep.”
She gets into bed and snuggles up against him. “Sweet dreams, old man.”
End
Characters/Pairings: Kingsley/Hermione
Rating: Adult
Summary: Kingsley knows how to help Hermione relax after a long day
Word Count: 3195
Beta: None so please excuse an errors.
50_smutlets prompt: Bathroom
The Daily Prophet will be merciless tomorrow. The editor is probably pissing himself with enthusiasm now that the verdict has been announced. The sense of failure that comes with losing any case is intensified this time because Hermione allowed herself to believe that she might actually win. Instead, her client has been sensationalized, lost all of his privacy and ability to live quietly with lycanthropy, and she’ll be splashed all over the front page of the newspaper with words like ‘radical’ and ‘loser’ bolded for everyone to see.
After so many years, she should be used to the newspaper’s coverage of her. When the war ended, Harry and Ron were heralded as heroes in the papers while she was nothing more than a footnote. In the time since, she has been the subject of many editorials and attacks by ‘respected’ journalists who make Rita Skeeter look like a primary school child attempting to bully a classmate. The Daily Prophet editor hates her, especially her Muggleborn status and her inability to sit by and watch people treated terribly. Her loss this afternoon will be a signal that their world isn’t ready for equality for lycanthropes, and the editor will make sure everyone reading believes that, even if it’s bollocks.
With a frustrated growl, she stands up, sending her chair into the file cabinet behind her desk. She grimaces as the chair wobbles, catching it before it starts to tilt. The wheel on the right side in the front is loose. She’s been using magic to charm it, but she really just needs a new chair. Of course, that’s not even in the top five of things she needs for her tiny office, so it’ll wait. What little money she makes has to pay for rent here and for her flat with some leftover for food and even less remaining for luxuries like a new office chair. Since she refuses to accept money from Harry, she makes do with what she has and tries to focus on the good things.
She looks around her office and tries not to feel defeated. It’s what a majority of the members of the Wizegamot want, after all. They want to keep her from ever winning because they seem to think that she’ll eventually give up if she loses enough cases. They obviously don’t know her well at all. Every lost case just makes her even more determined to do the best job possible for her clients and to eventually achieve success. There have been some wins sprinkled amongst the many losses during the last five years, and those give her the strength to carry on even on nights like this when everything seems pointless.
It’s getting late, which probably means it’s time to go home. She hasn’t been accomplishing anything here tonight, except for making herself angry over the verdict and frustrated with silly things like broken office chairs. There are more important things in the world than small offices and rundown furniture. If she continues to lose cases, though, she might not even have any clients. Her successes have been very important, but no one wants to work with a failure; especially not one that many in the Wizegamot hate on sight simply because of the war and reputation.
When she gets home, she puts her files on the table before toeing off her shoes. Leaning against the table, she reaches down to rub her feet. The worst part of trials is that she has to wear pointy shoes that aren’t comfortable no matter how many charms she uses. Well, it isn’t the worst part. Losing takes that spot, but it’s a close second. She goes to her bedroom to change clothes, and she’s just slipping into a pair of track pants when she hears a knock on her door. Three short knocks followed by a longer one.
Hermione goes to answer the door and steps aside so her guest can enter. “You’re welcome to use the Floo, you know?” She watches as he shrugs off the hood that had been helping to conceal his identity and smiles. “You probably enjoy the subterfuge, though.”
Kingsley arches a brow and smiles. “Perhaps a little,” he agrees. He holds up a sack he’s been concealing. “I brought dinner. Ravioli and pasta from that little place you love along with some garlic bread.”
“Smells delicious.” She walks over and tilts her head back so she can kiss him. “I assume this means you’ve heard.”
“You fought hard, little girl. I heard the final vote was close, closer than it’s been before. You’re slowly knocking down those walls.” Kingsley tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear and drags his knuckles across her cheek. “If anyone can change this world, you can.”
“Is it terrible of me to be looking forward to the day that half of them are forced to resign or retire from the Wizengamot?” She sighs and hugs him, closing her eyes as she inhales his scent and allows herself to relax for the first time since the verdict was announced.
“I’d fire them all and replace them with progressive minded individuals if it was within my authority,” Kingsley says. “However, I assume that’s the reason the laws are clear about the Minister not having that power. It could be dangerous.”
“I know, and I understand.” She kisses him again before rubbing her fingers against the scruff on his face. “You’re working too hard.”
“Pot, kettle.” He gives her another hug before going to the kitchen. “How is your client holding up?”
“He’s a strong man. I wouldn’t have agreed to take the case this far knowing what the publicity would be like if I hadn’t felt he could weather the storm.” She pulls out a chair and sits down, watching Kingsley move around her tiny kitchen. “I’m glad you came.”
Kingsley glances at her. “I know how you get after a loss. If I hadn’t brought food, you would have skipped dinner and probably worked all night.”
“Exactly. I’m starving, and that smells great.” Hermione smiles. “Besides, we haven’t had time to get together in over a week.”
“Nine days actually.” Kingsley smirks at her as he brings over two plates with their food. “Not that I’ve been counting.”
“Of course not.” She takes her plate from him and squeezes his hand. “I didn’t miss you at all, either.”
Kingsley sits next to her and nods at the plate. “Eat your food before it gets cold, Hermione.”
“I’m only obeying because I’m hungry not because you commanded it.” She picks up her fork and starts to eat. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply. She’s hungrier than she realized, and she can’t actually remember if she ate yesterday. They talk a little about the trial and about what’s been keeping him busy at the Ministry. It’s nice conversation, as always, and she feels better after dinner despite her terrible day.
“The newspapers tomorrow are going to be ruthless,” she says, sitting back and sipping the glass of wine he’d poured her. “I can’t wait until I actually win something that’s impossible for them to ignore.”
“You’ve already made changes,” Kingsley reminds her. “When you were in your teens, you helped change laws that will affect a lot of people, even if they don’t recognize it.”
“I know, but that was years ago. There are so many things still wrong with this world, and I just look forward to a time when people aren’t persecuted because they’re different.” She finishes her wine and nudges his leg with hers. “If you call me an unrealistic idealist, I’m making you sleep on my couch.”
“I was just thinking that it’s remarkable how optimistic you are despite everything you’ve endured.” He smiles slightly. “You should also refrain from making threats that you aren’t willing to uphold.”
“You think I wouldn’t make you sleep in the sitting room?” She studies him and wonders if he’s deliberately challenging her or just being a smug arse.
“You aren’t that cruel, little girl.” He nods towards the couch in question. “You live in a tiny flat with an even tinier couch. I wouldn’t fit on the couch, and you know it. Speaking of, have you considered my offer?”
Hermione bites her lip and shrugs. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know if it’s the best choice. What we have works, and it might not if we change it so drastically.”
“While I agree with that in theory, I think we’ve reached a point where we can consider our options.” He stands and begins to clean up their dinner remains. “My house is much larger, and there’s enough room for privacy from each other when needed.”
“It isn’t that simple, Kingsley.” She stands so she can help him clean up. “You’re the Minister of Magic, and we’ve kept our relationship private for nearly seven years for a reason. If I move in with you, the press will have a field day, and there will be repercussions that affect more than just us. You know what the papers say about me, and your reputation is the complete opposite. Public opinion would likely lower because it’s me you’re involved with and because we’d be living together in a non-traditional way.”
Kingsley turns to face her. “I’m fully aware that this is complicated. It might be non-traditional, but I know that neither of us needs the ceremonial ritual of marriage to be committed. Regardless, I wouldn’t have made the offer if I hadn’t analyzed it and determined it’s a viable option for us. However, it’s a serious matter, which is why I’ve been patiently waiting for you to analyze it, as well, and make your choice.”
“I’m still thinking,” she says, relieved when he simply nods instead of forcing the issue. Things between them had started as casual sex when they’d been working together on restructuring the Ministry and changing a variety of laws. It had been nice to have someone she trusted to find mutual release with without having to deal with it being a relationship. Over the years, though, it’s become just that, complete with a joint holiday for the last three years and even an introduction to her parents when they visited Australia last year. It’s just complicated considering his job and her job as well as some of the public opinion about her. It’s a risk to his career, but he doesn’t seem to mind that.
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” Kingsley winks at her before scraping the plate into the bin. “I think you could use a warm bath and a massage after the day you’ve had. Why don’t you go run some water while I finish cleaning up?”
“That does sound heavenly.” She moves her arms around him and kisses him. “I do love you.”
He caresses her cheek. “I know. I love you, too, little girl. Now run along and get your bath started.” He swats her arse lightly before he turns and goes back to the dishes. He adds dish soap to the water, preferring to wash the Muggle way without using magic. She watches him roll up the sleeves of his shirt, his arms distracting her for a moment, and she admires the view. “I know I’ve got a great arse, but your bath is waiting.”
“You’ve got an amazing arse, Kingsley. Better than great,” she says as she walks up behind him and wraps her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his shoulder blade. “Thank you for coming over tonight. You always seem to know when I need you most.”
He puts a soapy hand on hers, and she feels the muscles beneath her face flex in a way that makes her think he must be looking down. “I’ll always be here when you need me, and even when you don’t.”
“I don’t think there’ll ever be a time when I don’t need you,” she whispers, squeezing his hand before she straightens up. “I’ll go start the bath water and keep it warm so you can join me. The flat might be tiny, but I chose it because the tub is big enough for both of us.”
“I suppose that is one positive aspect to this place,” he says. “I’m not sure if that makes up for the size of the rest of the place, no matter how much I enjoy our bath times.”
“It really isn’t that bad,” she says, taking a look around. “It’s what I can afford, and there’s enough room to be comfortable even if it’s not large enough to host a big party.”
“It’s a good thing that you don’t like big parties then.” Kingsley looks at her and arches a brow. “You’re still standing here instead of preparing your bath.”
“I prefer the view here.” She smiles as she moves her gaze down his body in a deliberate way. “But I’m going now, old man. I’ll even make sure to use the bubble bath that smells like jasmine since it's your favorite.”
Before he can answer, she leaves and heads to the bathroom. Once the water is running, she pulls her shirt over her head and pushes down her track pants. She tosses her underwear on the pile of discarded clothes then tests the water. It’s warm enough to relax her, so she adds bubble bath and pulls her hair up to twist into a messy knot.
“This is a beautiful sight,” Kingsley says when he joins her. After he brushes a kiss against her neck, he strips and puts his clothes by hers. “Looks ready to me.”
“It should be.” She watches him get into the tub, waiting until he’s settled to walk over. “Feel good?’
“Perfect. Get in, little girl.” He leans back and gives her a wicked smile that makes her tingle. Once she gets in, the water rises but doesn’t overflow. She makes herself comfortable on his lap, feeling his cock against her arse. He’s already hardening, and she can’t help feeling smug that she can cause such a reaction without even touching him. He kisses her shoulder as he reaches for a flannel and begins to wash her. “Close your eyes and relax. You’ve had a stressful day, so let me take care of you.”
“I don’t know how relaxed I can be when you’re touching me and I can feel your erection against my arse,” she murmurs, leaning back against his chest and closing her eyes. He moves the flannel across her breasts and down her belly, taking his time and washing her while also teasing. When she begins to wiggle, he drops the flannel and uses his hands to touch her.
“You feel so good.” His voice is low and husky against her ear. “Do you like that, Hermione? Like my hands on your tits?”
“Yes, but you need to stop teasing me.” She rolls her hips slightly, knowing that she’s rubbing against his erection. “I can tease, too.”
“You like being teased.” He kisses her neck as he squeezes her breasts. She whimpers when he twists her nipples, enjoying the feel of his hands on her skin. He moves one of his hands down her belly then lower, fingers stroking her and sliding inside her. It’s been nearly two weeks since they’ve had sex, and she has to think how foolish she is to put work above this because it feels so good.
“I want you inside me.” She opens her eyes and reaches down to push his hand out of the way. He grips her hips and lifts her up while she holds his cock. When she pushes down, she bites her lip and makes a noise of contentment that surprises her. He must like it because he bucks his hips up and squeezes her breast harder.
“Just like that, little girl. Ride me,” he says, kissing her shoulder and neck as she begins to move. The position is slightly awkward, but they soon adjust and settle on an easy rhythm. She starts slow, just enjoying the feel of him inside her and around her. They aren’t in a hurry, even if they’re usually a little rough and hard the first time. The second time is usually the slow and relaxed exploring. When he reaches down to stroke her clit, she starts to move faster, rolling her hips and taking him deeper. He thrusts up to meet her, the slow pace becoming more frantic as they get closer to their release.
She turns her head and kisses him, squeezing her own breast as she feels her orgasm approaching. She comes with a whine, tightening around him and trembling as he wraps his arms around her. After her orgasm, he lifts her and shifts them so she’s on her knees in the bathtub, gripping the sides as he takes her from behind. Water is sloshing out onto the floor, but she doesn’t care. A quick charm can take care of that when they finish. “Fuck me, old man,” she says, pushing back to meet his thrusts.
“Going to make you come again, little girl,” he promises, holding her hips tightly as he fucks her hard and deep. She’s probably going to have bruises on her from how tight he’s gripping her, but she doesn’t mind. She likes those little reminders of what they share. “Touch yourself. I’m close.”
Hermione reaches down to rub her clit, still sensitive from her recent orgasm. It doesn’t take much before she’s coming again. He thrusts into her a few more times before he comes with a grunt. She feels him spilling inside her, and she squeezes him as he keeps making shallow thrusts. When he kisses her shoulder, she turns her head so they can kiss.
“Think we need another bath now,” he says, grinning when she laughs. “Probably not worth the time, though, since we’ll just need another one later.”
“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She straightens up and reaches for a fresh flannel. “We can just rinse off in the shower. I’m not getting into bed with come dripping out of me.”
“A shower’s a good idea.” Kingsley pulls out the stopper so the water can drain then turns on the taps for the shower. They focus on getting clean this time, and it doesn’t take long before they’re done and toweling off. Once they’re dry, she leads him to her bedroom, where she pulls on a clean pair of knickers and her nightgown while he gets a clean pair of pants out of his drawer.
“I know it’s early, but I’m sleepy,” she admits, moving her arms around his waist and tilting her head back. “I haven’t slept very much the last few days, and I think it’s catching up to me now. Maybe that massage can wait until later?”
“That’s fine. We can go to bed now. You need your rest,” he says, kissing her thoroughly. He lets go so he can pull the covers back and get into bed. “Come here, little girl. It’s time to sleep.”
She gets into bed and snuggles up against him. “Sweet dreams, old man.”
End