The doors slowly begin to close on the overcrowded lift, and Hermione’s in the clear.
She lets her head fall back against the grate behind her and hugs her morning Prophet to her chest, sighing in relief. It’s too early to fight off Teddy Lupin’s wandering hands.
Not that she tries very hard at any other time of the day. God, she’s becoming a Lisa Turpin. Shortly after Lisa’s divorce, she surprised everyone by quitting a prestigious career in International Wizarding Law and going to work as a manager for some Quidditch team. And according to rumours, she was presently working her way through the team, the reserves, and the prospective recruits alike, often more than one at a time.
Hermione had initially scoffed at the notion of a post-divorce crisis and returned with pride to her ten-hour workday. Then Teddy Lupin happened. And now he’s everywhere, giving her those lopsided grins and pulling her into custodial closets and offering her massages in the breakroom and....
Grabbing the elevator door a moment before the grate clicks into place, shoving it open with a broad shoulder. “Ta,” he says when one of the large broom-carrying blokes reaches out to help him. The syllable is followed by several pardons as the cheeky git actually shoulders his way back to where she’s standing.
Hermione grits her teeth, flushing. Several of the lift’s occupants are giving them odd looks.
“What are you doing?” she hisses as the lift creaks into motion, bodies jostling.
“At the moment? Having breakfast and heading to the office.”
Hermione huffs. Breakfast is a bright green lollipop that matches his hair and his nails. From the corner of her eye, she can see him give it a long, circular lick before he sucks it, cheeks hollowing. She shoots him a glare, and he smiles.
The lift stops with a jolt at Magical Games and Sports. As Hermione tries to steady herself, she feels Teddy's arm snake around her waist, pulling her closer to him. The door opens, the blokes with brooms get off, the door closes, and Teddy's arm stays right where it is.
Hermione bites the inside of her cheek, staring straight ahead. No one notices the contact between them, but that's only because the lift is so crowded. Surely he'll move his arm once the crowd begins to thin. And just as that thought crosses her mind, the lift stops at Magical Transport, and half the crowd gets off. That's always a popular office around the holidays.
Yes, any second now he'll stop this nonsense.
Memos fly in. The door closes. And instead of moving his hand, Teddy spreads it over her lower hip. His thumb rubs lazy circles on her hipbone. Exactly as he does when she’s bent over her desk, and he’s pumping into her from behind. It’s not her fault that she starts getting wet at the contact. It’s conditioning, that’s all.
They’re at the back of the elevator, and no one is looking at them now. Still, anyone could turn around at any minute. Anyone could get on at the next stop.
Anyone does, of course, and that anyone happens to be Percy. Hermione thinks she's done for at first, but Percy is oblivious, entirely engrossed in a report. The doors close, and Teddy's hand moves to cup her arse through her skirt. He actually starts to knead her arse cheek. She turns to him, eyes bulging, and he pulls the lollipop from his mouth with a loud pop.
At that, Percy does look up. Hermione lifts her copy of the Prophet just in time, hiding her face behind it.
The doors open at Magical Creatures, and Teddy bends down to whisper in her ear, "It's okay, he got off."
She doesn't lower her newspaper. At this point, she's not taking any chances. Two more floors to go. She can make it. And when she gets there, she’s going to walk briskly in the opposite direction and vow to never let Teddy Lupin touch her again.
Just like she did after their rendezvous in the café loo last week. And their quickie in the file room a few days after that. There’s practically nowhere left in the Ministry of Magic that Hermione can go without feeling the ghost of Teddy’s fingers. His tongue. His cock.
Two more floors. The lift rattles and stops at Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Hermione hears the shuffle of people leaving the lift, the slide of the golden grates, and then Teddy dips his fingers into the cleft of her arse and says, "They're gone."
Hermione lowers the newspaper, and her whole world narrows to the ‘STOP’ button in front of her. She springs for it, flattens her palm against it, and the lift comes to a screeching halt. "What do you think you're doing?" she grits out.
She can't make herself turn to face him, but she hears his chuckle behind her. "Just making sure you're awake."
Hermione presses her eyes closed and takes a deep breath. "Teddy, you can’t just—" She breaks off in a gasp as she feels him pressing against her from behind. His large hands flatten against the grates on either side of the control panel, caging her in.
"Can’t what?" he whispers, right in her ear. He still has the lollipop in his mouth. She can hear it clank against his teeth. He lowers his voice. "You know you’d love for me to get you off right here, less than a floor away from your ex-husband’s office." He lowers one hand, and before Hermione even knows what's happening, his fingers start plucking at her skirt, working it up in tiny tugs. "Is that why we've stopped?"
She can feel the button digging sharply into the palm of her hand. "No, Teddy, not here." Even as she says it, he bunches her skirt around her hips, and his fingertips move in a maddening circle right over the waistband of her knickers.
He'd do it. She knows he would. One word from her, and he'd slip his hand inside her knickers and finger her to a mind-blowing orgasm. Or more.
Of course he'd do it. There's nothing at stake for him. If they get caught, he's just an average randy nineteen-year-old trying to get one off. But she'd never live it down. And Hermione has worked her whole life to be professional, to be taken seriously.
Not that it's gotten her far. Here she is pushing forty, divorced, bored with her profession, and soaking her knickers for a quickie in an elevator with her best friend’s godson.
That thought really shouldn’t make her wetter, but it does.
She closes her eyes and bucks her hips against Teddy's hand. He flattens it, his fingers sliding between her legs, rubbing over her damp knickers. They both groan. She can feel his erection against her back, and she gives up and grinds backwards against it and forward into his hand.
"That's it, that's it," he whispers, and Hermione’s hips work harder at the encouragement. "Feels good, yeah?"
She nods silently. It feels fantastic. She wants to come, and Teddy has proven adept at making that happen, time and time again. There’s nothing he won’t do or say to make that happen. She blushes at the thought of where his tongue has been in the past week alone.
“Now spread those legs for me,” he says, working her knickers down to her knees. “And keep those right there. I don’t think you want those pretty knickers touching this dirty floor, do you?”
Hermione whimpers. That’s classic Teddy Lupin, always reminding her just how depraved they’re acting. He gets off on it. And Hermione would be lying if she didn’t admit she does, too.
“Good girl.” There’s something both infuriating and arousing about those two words. He plants a soft, wet kiss under her ear, and Hermione realizes the lollipop is gone from his mouth a second before he’s pushing it between her lips. “Hang onto that for me, yeah? I need my mouth free for a minute.”
Hermione breathes shakily through her nose, the sour apple of the lollipop making the inside of her jaws sting. She realizes that, for all intents and purposes, he’s just gagged her. Breakfast, indeed.
“Oh, and Hermione?” Teddy adds as he lowers himself to his knees. “Try not to take your hand off that button, love. I don’t think we want these doors opening, do we? Arch your back.”
She obeys without thought or further complaint, leaning her forehead against the cold metal of the control panel. Her breath fogs the glass of the floor number display, where the ‘2’ has almost completely clicked over. If she releases that button, she has no doubt the doors will open right on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She knows everyone in that department. And they all think they know her, too.
They have no idea.
They’d never believe that Teddy Lupin is busy spreading her arse cheeks at 7:45 in the morning in a Ministry lift, the flat of his tongue licking a stripe from her clit nearly all the way to her pucker. Hermione whines through her nose and arches her back further, her lips closing tightly on the lollipop.
“Fucking drenched,” Teddy says thickly. Lick.“Not that I’m surprised.” Lick.“You stay wet for me all day long, don’t you, Hermione?” Lick.
With a hiss, Hermione works the lollipop into the corner of her jaw so she can speak around it. “Did you need your mouth free just to talk?” she snaps.
A chuckle, and then he really goes to town. Hermione’s legs shake from trying to hold herself up as his tongue laves and his lips suck. Then she feels his mouth leave her, and the stubble on his jaw scrapes right over her bulging clit. He does that all the time — rubs his face all over her cunt, coats it in her wetness while purring like a cat. He won’t wash it off, either, not entirely. He’ll walk around all day with the tang of her slickness clinging to his badly shaven face.
Hermione bucks against his face at that thought, sucking hard on the lollipop, the ‘STOP’ button digging a cavern in her palm. She’s close, so close, to coming all over him when he pulls away and stands. She can hear him working his belt free. Jerking his zipper down.
“No, Teddy, we can’t” she gasps half-heartedly. It’s one thing to get eaten out on the lift. It’s quite another to get fucked, and honestly, they can’t be in here all morning. She can already imagine the crowd downstairs, repeatedly mashing the ‘up’ button and swearing, maybe even calling maintenance to see what the problem is.
“Don’t,” she pleads, but he’s already lining himself up, pumping just the head of his cock in and out of her.
“Yeah, right,” he laughs, biting down on her shoulder. “Wish I had a Knut for every time you’ve said that to me.” He scrapes his teeth over the nape of her neck, his breath blowing stray pieces of her prim updo across her cheek. “Drop the act and fuck yourself back on my cock like a good girl.”
Hermione does, Merlin help her. She snaps her hips back at his dirty talk, burying him to the hilt.
“There we go,” he says. “Nice and tight.” He lowers his voice. “But I can make you tighter.”
Hermione’s free hand curls into a fist, knowing what’s coming. She can feel him growing inside her, his cock becoming impossibly thick and then even thicker, until he can barely even move it in and out of her. But he does. He always does. And to compensate for any discomfort, his hands go to work on her, fingers pinching at her nipples and rubbing slow circles on her clit
“Teddy, that’s enough,” she whines as he enlarges himself one final bit. She’s often wondered just how far he’d go if she didn’t stop him. She’s often wondered just how much thickness she could take.
He hums, his hips rocking. “What do you think Harry would say if he knew how much you like being split wide open on my giant cock?”
Hermione bites her lip over the disintegrating paper of the lollipop stick. She doesn’t like it. She loves it. She’s already bouncing back against him, encouraging him to go deeper, faster.
“Look at you go,” Teddy says with a strained chuckle. He’s getting close now, too. She can tell. But he keeps up that string of nasty talk. “You’re going to be smelling like come all day, Hermione. You’re going to get off this elevator, sweating and stinking of sex, clothes a mess, and everyone’s going to know exactly what you’ve been doing. And you fucking love that, don’t you?”
She lets out a shout as she starts to come, and in her moment of release, her hand slips and the lift jolts upwards.
“Whoa,” Teddy says, a genuine note of panic in his voice as he flattens his own palm against the button, saving them.
And that, Hermione thinks, still coming and coming, is exactly why she can’t say no to Teddy Lupin.
The thrill of the close call is enough to shut him up and make him put all of his efforts into getting himself off. His hand shakes against the control panel, his other digging into her hip as he pounds into her. He fucks her so hard that the grates rattle around them, metal creaking, his breath hot and heavy in her ear. Then he stills with a growl, his cock automatically shrinking as he loses himself, releasing inside her.
Hermione doesn’t know how long they both stand there joined, panting in the aftermath. Better than a thermos full of coffee, she thinks to herself, and she starts laughing almost hysterically.
Teddy joins in with a light chuckle of his own. “Fuck,” he whispers. Teddy Lupin’s favorite word. Favorite pastime, too, from what Hermione can tell.
He slowly pulls out and away. “Grab the button,” he whispers, and they very carefully trade off, the lift giving a mini-jolt that they can’t really be arsed about, as sated as they are. She stands still as he pulls her knickers back up and readjusts her skirt, smoothing the wrinkles. He always does this for her.
He never cleans their release off of them, though. That she’ll carry around in her knickers until she does something about it herself. And she doesn’t always do something about it.
Hermione can hear him adjusting his own clothing, and when she finally turns to look over her shoulder, he’s licking sweat from his upper lip and checking her out. “You look good,” he says. He smirks. “Considering.”
She straightens her back and removes the lollipop from her mouth with a loud pop, pushing it back between his lips. She ruffles Teddy’s hair, and he winks.
“Going up?” he says.
With a smirk of her own, Hermione lets go of the button, and the doors open a split second later on Level Two, memos already soaring and Aurors rushing by.
And Harry Potter standing in front of the lifts, repeatedly pushing the ‘down’ button.
“Something wrong with the lift?” he asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Hermione is already walking away with heated cheeks and wet thighs as she hears Teddy tell his godfather smoothly, “Nothing a little fiddling around couldn’t fix.”