Harry didn't usually have a problem asking for what he wanted. Neither did Hermione; they usually either talked it out first, or they'd start slow and see how it went. And it wasn't like she didn't know how he felt about her breasts. She'd certainly caught him staring at them often enough over the years, and all the little negligees she bought for his benefit were fairly skimpy up top. She also knew that he didn't much like it when other men ogled her breasts, but he kept his reactions in check. After all, her breasts were dear old friends—he'd watched them grow.
But that still didn't mean he knew how to say, "Hey, Hermione, love you, mind if I sit on top of you and fuck your tits?"
See, Hermione liked to be on top, and Harry liked her on top—liked the view, liked the access for groping opportunities, liked how her breasts shook as she bounced on top of him. So much easier to make her come when he could hold her hip and rub her clit with his thumb. It was a good time for everyone.
As usual, it was Hermione who forced the situation. "Right, I've given you a week. Now out with it."
"Out with what?" he asked, because no matter how long it had been true, it still unnerved him when Hermione saw right through him.
"Whatever you've been thinking about telling me," she said. "Something you want me to do?"
"Something you want to do to me?"
"Anything to do with bodily fluids?"
"Well, I promise I won't laugh or be horrified. Just come right out and say it."
"If you say so."
"I want to fuck your tits."
"Oh," she said, and looked down at them. "But how—"
"You push them together," he said, "and it makes a channel."
"Huh," she said, doing just that. "I can't say this is entirely shocking, given your mammary fixation."
"Yeah, because you aren't fixated on any part of my body."
She smiled a little and looked away because she was completely into his arse and had been since school. "Fine, so why didn't you want to tell me?"
"I'd have to be on top …"
"That's just a preference, Harry," she said. "I certainly don't mind."
He nodded; good to know. "So, do you want to?"
"Sure," she said. "Let's try it."
And he relaxed, finally. He should have known; she was the best.
"Do you think we'll need lubricant?" she asked, looking down at her chest again.
He chuckled. "I think spit and sweat will do us just fine," he said."
"Then what are we waiting for?" she asked.
"Nothing, apparently," he said as he followed her upstairs.
He was just a little taken aback at first at her ready acquiescence and immediate action. Though he wasn't sure why her readiness for sex still surprised him, it was probably best not taken for granted in any case. But kissing her, taking her clothes off (and she his) and rolling about on the bed feeling those breasts soft against his chest got him with the program—and her, he hoped.
He slid down to the food of the bed, pulling her after him. He knelt on the floor and pulled her legs apart, hooking her knees over his shoulders.
"Me first, then?" she asked, sitting up slightly.
"Of course," Harry replied. "I'm a gentleman."
And so she was giggling when he put tongue to flesh, using his hands both to tip her pelvis just so and to keep her from thrusting up against him. Her hands found their way into his hair, as usual, resting lightly on the back of his head. He kissed and licked, sucked and bit at the soft skin of her inner thigh, the tender outer lips, the deep pink flesh within that grew wetter by the moment. When she became restless, her heels digging into his back and her fingers pulling his hair, he focused on her clit, using teeth and fingers to give her just a little pain, the way she liked it. And when she came he released her, letting her press his head down and her hips up, almost riding her orgasm with her. Sure, he'd lose a little hair and maybe get her come up his nose, but fuck, it was worth it.
He sat back on his haunches and let her legs slide off his shoulders. "Good?" he asked.
"Kiss me," she said with lazy smile, and when he did she hauled them back up near the headboard. "Spit and sweat, you said? I think we've taken care of the sweat."
"My turn, then," he said, kissing along her neck. Her tits were soft and lovely, pale and pink-nippled, and while sometimes he was a little rough with them he was going to be gentle today—well, at least until his cock got involved. He took his time, licking and fondling them all over to get her nipples hard. He concentrated on her cleavage, wanting to get that channel good and wet. Hermione was coming out of her post-orgasmic haze and her hands, as usual, were planted firmly on his arse. Which, really, was fine; he felt like he was on fire though she'd barely touched him.
"Feels so good," she said, and when he looked up she was smiling.
"Yeah?" he asked. "You ready?"
She nodded. "C'mon, then," she said, pushing at his behind, and he pulled up to his knees, straddling her stomach.
"Oh," she said suddenly. "Wait."
He had a moment of panic; he knew she didn't like being on the bottom, knew he would respect her not wanting this at any point, but fuck he was so hard now and so aware of it that now that he didn't have her body to distract him that it was starting to cloud his mind.
"Harry?" she asked, and she'd just said something, hadn't she?
"Yeah?" he said, trying to focus.
"Hair elastic? On the bedside table? So I don't get your ejaculate in my hair?"
He blinked. "Oh, yes, of course," he said, handing it to her.
She wrapped up her hair in a sort of pile on the top of her head. "All right," she said, "I'm to push them together? Do you put it in first or slide it in like it's my quim?"
Harry smiled—he love that she loved that word; it was like living in a Victorian porn novel. "I'm not sure," he said, because she was really the detail person. "Let's try sliding it in."
"Right," she said, but as she pushed her breasts together and he could visualize it he said, "Er, no, sorry, let's do it the other way around."
"No sorry," she said, releasing her breasts and letting gravity pull them off to the side. "First time; we're just figuring it out."
He moved up, grabbing the headboard for balance, and placed his cock just over her breast bone. She pushed her breasts back together, enveloping his cock in the soft flesh and yeah, it looked—and felt—amazing. And her doing that made him feel like she wanted it, too, which made it five times hotter.
"So," she said, "are you going to fuck me?"
"Yeah," he replied, taking a slow careful pull back and then thrusting forward, and again a little faster, watching his cock slide into that channel and the head of it emerge just below her chin. And it felt soft and warm and wet and yielding, but he needed a little more.
"Push them together harder?" he asked. "Maybe rub them up and down?"
She did so. "I can't watch," she said, her eyes on his. "Makes me dizzy."
"We'll have to film it then," he said, "because fuck, it's hot. Pinch your nipples, yeah, that's the way."
He thrust faster, now in the rhythm, and he was fucking her tits.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he said. "I'm gonna come."
"Come all over me, baby," she said. "I want you to."
He pulled out at the last minute, stroking himself and coming all over her tits. Maybe some other time he'd stay in that hot channel, give her a pearl necklace of come around her throat, but this time he wanted to mark those tits as his.
He slid down next to her, using the leg still flung over her hip to roll her over, press those come covered tits against his chest and bring her in for a kiss.
"Someone's possessive," she said.
"You love it when we're alone," he replied. Which was fine; he wasn't fifteen anymore and they didn't play those sorts of games in front of other people.
But the next time they were at some posh reception and she was wearing one of those strapless numbers she favored and one of those blokes with no manners ogled her breasts a bit too long, Harry was pretty sure the memory of his come dripping off them would let him smile at the poor man who didn't even know half of what he was missing.
"I love you," he said.
She smiled. "Not just for my breasts?"
"Not just," he said, "but mostly," and she laughed.