InsaneJournal

Sleeping Together - R/Hr - NC-17
Title: Sleeping Together
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Words: 1400
Rating: NC-17


Sleeping Together
****
Hermione lay and watched him sleep.

She had seen him sleep before, of course she had.

But that was her friend, Ron, or her boyfriend, Ron.

Now that had changed.

Now she watched her lover, Ron.

His head on the pillow, right beside hers; strands of his beautiful hair pasted to his neck and forehead.

Not because they spent the day fleeing from Death Eaters and were filthy and sweaty and dozing fitfully in a cave, somewhere.

But because his heart had raced and his muscles had trembled and sweat had broken out on his body as it had joined with hers.

She brushed his fringe out of his eyes, and he murmured her name.

She smiled at him.

Amazing how, barely a year ago, it had taken all her courage to invite him to a party as her guest.

Not even as her date.

She had been so unsure that he’d return her feelings.

Yet, tonight, she had asked Harry to take the single room and had slipped, naked, into Ron’s bed, waiting to seduce him.

Not that he’d been hard to seduce.

Part of her wished it had been perfect and romantic – all flowers and wine and poetic declarations of love.

Well.

Maybe not.

Not when she’d covered up her nervousness by ordering him around.

Not when he’d blurted out that he’d promised his brother he’d see to her ‘needs’ first.

That was pure Ron.

But, God, the feelings.

When she’d been able to stop babbling and let herself feel.

Feel his fingers exploring her, guiding her, lifting her to her climax.

With a frown of concentration on his beloved face, poised above her, that had melted to awe as he saw her fall apart under his hands.

Of course she had climaxed before; had climaxed imagining his face, his fingers, the weight of his body on hers.

But to be able to let go and have him give her pleasure, even if it was under Bill’s orders.

Well.

Suffice it to say, she’d not be able to explain why she blushed the next time she cast a Patronus Charm.

Because it was pretty obvious what her happiest memory was, now.

Losing control.

She usually made bad decisions when she was out of control. She nearly let Ron be strangled by Devil’s Snare; she slapped Malfoy; she used a ridiculous jinx against Death Eaters.

But tonight she had lost control; she had flown to pieces under his fingers and he had put her back together again.

With his clumsy love making; telling her to shut up, when he was actually inside her; with his kisses.

He reached for her in his sleep, pulling her closer and burying his face in her hair.

She curled against him, her skin sticky and hot where they touched.

So, almost everywhere, then.

She smiled.

Being engulfed by Ron’s body heat was like curling up in a furnace, and she was too hot and it was late and they had to be up soon and she couldn’t sleep, but she didn’t pull away.

She rested her hand on Ron’s chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily.

She wondered how things would change.

Tomorrow they were off again, looking for the cup at Maus Howe; sleeping in a tent.

All three of them.

Well, that wouldn’t change.

But, if they had the chance to stay at an inn again, well, Harry would have the single room.

There was no point in being coy about it, was there?

She and Ron were together, in every way.

They would share a bed.

They’d share a room at Grimmauld Place, when they went back.

She would try and sleep in his arms – maybe fewer blankets would help with the heat.

And.

Hermione bit her lip to stop a laugh escaping.

When they went back to the Burrow?

“That’s OK, Mrs Weasley,” she’d say. “Harry can have the twins’ room again. I’ll sleep with Ron.”

Maybe not.

She disentangled herself from her boyfriend’s limbs and wriggled over to the cool side of the bed.

Ron turned on his side, half-reaching for her and wrinkling his nose.

She watched him sleeping for a minute, before closing her eyes and falling asleep herself.

It felt like she’d barely slept and her eyelids were heavy and scratchy, but something woke her.

Something hot.

And wet.

And tugging on her nipple.

Her eyes flew open.

The blankets had been kicked down to her waist and Ron was leaning over her, the ends of his hair tickling her breast as his tongue ran hypnotically round and round her nipple, before sucking hard again.

Electricity ran through her body, and she felt her every muscle contract.

“Ron,” she whispered. “What time is it?”

“My birthday,” he grinned, nuzzling his way over to her neglected breast.

She laughed.

“Five,” he admitted. “Harry will be in soon, to wake us up, but I reckon we have time – as long as I’m as unimpressive as last night.”

She giggled and he looked up at her and pouted.

“Aren’t you supposed to defend my manhood?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Let me see it.”

Ron groaned and rubbed his erection against her thigh.

“Really,” she said, shoving him off her and onto his back. “Let me.”

She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him.

At his eager face, blue eyes almost black by the light of the flames in the fireplace.

She ran her eyes and fingers down his neck, and he swallowed.

She smoothed her hand across the shadowed dip of his collarbone, imagining the freckles scattered across his shoulders and chest as she circled his nipple with gentle fingers.

He shivered.

Her hand trailed lower, counting each rib. He’d always been skinny, and they really didn’t eat well enough – his mum would go crazy next time she saw him.

But his sharp hipbones couldn’t distract her from what was between them.

Arching up from his groin, his cock seemed to strain towards her fingers as they crept across his belly, tangling in the soft red hair that laid down an unsubtle path to her goal.

Most couples would have done this sort of exploration long before the actual intercourse, she supposed, but their relationship hadn’t left much opportunity for such intimacy.

Harry left them alone together as much as he could, but they didn’t like him to feel left out, and they couldn’t practically do more than kiss, anyway.

So, she’d been aware of how quickly she aroused him, made him hard, and had been amazed at how powerful that made her feel, but she’d never actually seen it.

She bit her lip and looked down at him.

Reaching out, she touched him and Ron whimpered, thrusting up against her hand.

“Ron?” she whispered, flicking her eyes up to his face.

He was watching her, with a look of such longing that her heart literally skipped a beat.

Gazing into his eyes, she wrapped her hand around him and stroked slowly.

His skin was velvety soft and scalding hot and slid easily over a rock hard core that intrigued her, although she knew that this wasn’t the moment to discuss the mechanics of an erection with him.

She explored him with careful fingers.

“Harder,” he muttered, his jaw set.

She tightened her grip and stroked more firmly.

“Like this?” she murmured.

Ron nodded frantically, reaching for her and pulling her down for a messy kiss.

She threw one slim leg across his, as she grew more confident, revelling in the noises he was making as he sucked on her tongue and bucked desperately under her.

He broke off the kiss, panting. “F-faster,” he stuttered.

She clumsily sped up, watching his face as his eyelids fluttered closed and he grimaced, almost as if he was in pain.

Then she felt his cock throbbing in her hand and he cried out and thrust hard as his come splattered across his stomach and his hand closed over hers, squeezing and milking his climax out of him.

He dragged his eyes open and looked up at her.

“Wow,” she said.

“Hermione,” he breathed. “God.”

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her hungrily, and she felt their bodies slide against each other, spreading his seed between them.

“Love you,” he murmured against her lips, his hands in her hair. “Fucking love you; love fucking you.”