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It had been a long night—interrupted by two nightmares. Truly, she was lucky it was a Saturday morning and she didn’t have any work to get to or a need to get up early. Ron’s body was still curled around her the way it had been as they tried to fall back into sleep. His arms were wrapped around her body, holding her close and his breath tickled against her neck. He only begins to stir when Hermione turns her head to look out the window, trying to guesstimate how much they had slept in.
“G’mornin’,” groans Ron into her collarbone. He hadn’t moved despite the awkward crane of her neck.
“Hi,” she squints and turns away from the sunlight, looking down at him. She had failed at trying to guess the time.
“Did you get any sleep?” He pulls her in closer by the waist.
“I was asleep before you were,” her words are followed by a yawn before she turns and kisses the top of his red hair. “I probably wouldn’t mind getting more, though.”
“Then you should,” he hums, “You had a… long night. I think you need it. I’ll make breakfast, it’ll be ready before you get back up.”
“No, stay,” a hand stays in his hair, making sure he won’t move his head away from her neck. “Unless you’re hungry—just be quick.”
“I’m fine,” his entire body relaxes against her again.
It was a reoccurring thing; Hermione had nightmares and wanted Ron to just lay with her. He didn’t mind. He could not imagine any situation that he would be annoyed by her holding him, or him holding her, while she just made him reassure her that he would stay. He finds her free hand that’s not in his hair and intertwines their fingers.
She kisses his forehead again. Ron looks up at her, then she kisses him on the mouth. He pulls himself up and makes himself even with her, leaning over her and pressing his body against hers. He can feel her lips begin to creep away from his own but he stops her.
“Stop,” he says gently. “You need to rest. Just let me, okay?”
Hermione pulls away from him and looks up into his eyes and stutters for a moment, a confused expression on her face, “Yeah, okay.”
She lowers herself back into the mattress, Ron now fully gets between her legs. His lips move over hers hungrily and wetly. His tongue is in her mouth but she wants nothing more than his tongue to be elsewhere, giving her more pleasure than they ever could there. It was embarrassing how needy she had gotten this quickly.
He pulls away and holds her face, just looking down at her for a moment before he says, “You’re fucking beautiful, ’Mione,” and kisses her forehead. The absolute dumbstruck look on his face as he said it made her stomach do flips all over inside of her, and she felt so insanely silly. Everyone told her how smart she was, how determined she was, or something else that everyone knew. Only Ron told her how pretty and beautiful and hot and sexy she was, despite the fact she so often struggles to see herself as these things.
His lips press to her forehead a final time before trailing back to her lips, kissing against them roughly again and finally going further to her jaw. They don’t stay there long before they find her neck instead. His tongue presses against her skin and his lips suck around where his tongue pushes against her flesh. She makes little groans from behind her mouth, turning her head one way to encourage him to do it more. He enthusiastically obliges.
They fall over the column of her esophagus, over the slanted scar, and to the other side where he begins to suck another oval into her skin. Hermione bites her lips above him to silence the noises she was letting out at his ministrations, but failed when she felt his teeth scrape against a patch of skin that was already damp from his tongue.
She feels her excitement grow when she notices his hands fumble with the hem of the cotton t-shirt and start to pull it up, over her stomach and her chest, then pulling away from her neck to get it over her head. When it’s stripped from her, he simply puts it to the side and goes back to her body. Now he nips at her collarbone, bearing his tongue down on the dip between her clavicles.
When his head goes further down, she expects to feel his mouth over her breasts or on a nipple, but instead they fall on scar tissue. He’s kissed her over the warped skin before, but not quite like this. He licks over what he can access without moving his body. He kisses his way back up, and sucks against the tight skin at the top of the scar where it begins in the valley of her breasts. His thumb strokes at where it ends near her left hip. He decides he’s done between her breasts, and focuses on just one as he starts to lap at a nipple. Her body arcs up against his, filling the space between her abdomen and his chest. He gently pushes her back down against the mattress.
His lips latch onto her nipple, teeth just barely capturing it as well, instead of the previous lapping. She wants so badly to press her body against his, but before she can he’s done it himself. The one arm that had propped him up had collapsed, doing whatever else and now he was completely pressed against her. The top of his ribs pinned against her center, keeping her hips put from any movement at all. His mouth had moved to the underside of the same breast but he was now making guttural groans against her skin as he sucked on it.
An arm snakes around her, wedging between her and the mattress, and pulling her impossibly closer to him. His mouth leaves her only to fall on the other breast, sucking equally as hard and showing just as much enthusiasm. Hermione could no longer hide her moans as Ron’s saliva started dripping down the side of her ribcage, rolling onto the sheets below her. Her body so desperately wants more but he’s being entirely too slow for her.
“Can you fuck me?” she finally speaks up when he starts to press kisses into her ribcage.
“I do plan on it, eventually,” Ron looks up over the small bump of her breasts.
“Eventually?” she repeats. “I feel like now would be a good idea, personally.”
“Patience,” he pulls himself up and presses a kiss to her lips, “You deserve this, just let me take care of you, all over.”
“I can think of something that really needs to be taken care of,” a small smile floods into her face despite how serious she was actually being.
He only presses another kiss to her lips to silence her, “Be patient.”
“I hate you,” she grumbles.
“As long as you fuck me like you do,” he kisses her collarbone, like the absolute tosser he is. Ron pulls back, sitting up on his knees and looking down at her. For a moment, Hermione wonders if she should take the opportunity to push him over and fuck herself on him. “You’re so pretty. I think I could stare at you like this forever.”
“Could you at least do it with your dick in me?” he smiles down at her, coming back down slowly and ending up face to face with her. “I’m even prettier like that, I think.”
“No, you’re only sexier like that,” Ron’s smile is contagious as she feels her own cheeks getting warm, eventually the smile returning on her own face. She becomes distracted by his freckled and scarred arms by either side of her head. “You’re prettier when you’re agitated at me, like now.”
“Agitated?” she echoes.
“Impressed with my vocabulary?” he chuckles down at her.
“No, more of your word choice,” Hermione studies his face for a moment before letting out a string of laughter. “Would you please resume, since you’re planning on taking so long?”
He kisses her again but she can feel his own smile against hers, “Is—is it okay if I kiss your scars?” and he looks quite genuine, while Hermione can only imagine that she looks confused, “I know I already did one—or two actually—but I want—”
“You can,” her voice is small because she knows if she puts any more force behind her words her voice will break.
He nods, hastily kissing back down her body to get back to where he was over her ribs. She thanked Merlin for the fact he didn’t completely restart, because it seemed like something he’d do just to get on her nerves. Ron’s tongue digs into the skin of the dips between each of her ribs, pushing into each like he was attempting to carve it out with his tongue before moving to the next one down, and eventually to the other side of her ribcage.
The weight of him shifts, and she feels his hand wrap around her left wrist, bringing it to outstretch and face up toward him. The scar looked him directly in the face. There was a small bit of resentment in his expression, but he glanced back up at Hermione then back to her arm, pressing a kiss against the crooked M on her skin.
Hermione had always hated that scar—the rest just seemed normal. They all seemed like they could have happened due to some horrible accident, or at least she convinced herself they looked that way, but a word etched into her skin looked far too intentional for her to even try and begin to convince herself that there may be somebody else in the world with one just like it. At times it had begun to feel like an entirely different being on her, a piece of her , like an intrusion in her life. An eavesdropper or a spy. The only person she had ever told this, of course, was Ron. But now, he was kissing it. He had kissed it six times already, pressing the seventh and what would eventually be the eighth.
One for each letter. She could have known this just by counting the letters in her head, but she knew this because of how many minutes she had spent staring down at the scar, examining it, watching it, picking at it or itching it, trying to come up with some way to make it go away out of desperation.
“I love you,” his voice fills the air, but he’s not looking at her. He’s looking straight at the scar. His bright blue eyes finally look up at her, and he repeats it. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” she says quietly, mostly because she’s just so taken aback.
“I won’t get into why that’s wrong right now,” Ron playfully rolls his eyes. He takes her arm and lays it back beside her body, where he had found it.
“Can I get into why it is right?” a grin’s back on her face. It’s surprising to herself how giddy she’s being in spite of her horniness.
“No, you’ll take too long,” he shakes his head, his ruffled and messy red hair, both from sleep and the amount of times Hermione had run her hands through it, moving slightly with it. “We’ll never get to the actual shagging then.”
“We could already be at the shagging part if you hadn’t spent twenty minutes kissing all over me,” she teased him about how much pure affection he was showing, despite the fact that she loved every bit of it.
“No, it’s worth it,” Ron sinks back down to her stomach, “Plus, it’s fun to get you all worked up and needy.”
Needy. She thought of the word again, and as much as she hated to admit it, it was the perfect word to describe her current state. A combination of hot and bothered, her preferred wording. Needy made her feel a bit too submissive, but Merlin, it was true.
His lips press against her stomach, all across her abdomen and his tongue even swipes at her navel, eliciting a small gasp of pure surprise out of Hermione. He keeps going lower, until he’s at the waistband of the plain underwear she had worn to bed because she hadn’t really planned on sex at all, but she was never one to complain, and neither was he about her lingerie choices.
His teeth capture the waistband of her knickers, only for a second before he lets them go and starts kissing right above them again. Instead of biting on the cotton again, he slides to the right and kisses her hip bone through the material, and then goes lower on the top side of her thigh, then works toward the softness of the inside of her leg.
Ron gets closer and closer to her center, peppering small kisses in a path and eventually kissing right in the apex of her thigh, where it meets the rest of her body. His tongue kneads the small patch of skin there, wetting it and eventually sucking a small bruise against it. She was hardly worried about it, as nobody ever saw that part of her body except Ron. She may have never even seen it herself.
“Hermione, love, you’re soaked straight through,” his thumb brushes over the patch of dampness in her underwear, and she jolts at the small touch. “I’ll touch you now, I hadn’t realized how turned on you’d gotten from just that.”
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” she huffs, but all of her frustration dissipates when she feels her knickers sliding down and eventually off of her legs. Ron is left between her legs, looking up at her face surrounded by her fanned out hair.
“I will neither confirm or deny,” Ron slips two fingers into her at once, quite easily due to her arousal. Her hips flinch upward toward him, but he pushes them back down lightly. “Be still.”
His gentle push to lower her hips back down drew a small moan from her lips, his fingers moving inside her with the help of gravity. He begins to slide them in and out slowly while Hermione makes small noises as if she’s trying to stifle her own moans by holding them back. With a flex of his fingers she gasps and bucks her hips toward him. All he does in response is push her hips back down.
Ron added a third finger inside her. She draped her arm over her forehead, leaning back and leaving the scar on it facing the ceiling above them. With three fingers in her, he didn’t move them much but instead drew them in and out of her slowly, occasionally wiggling them to press against her G-Spot. Every time he did this her body curled toward him, the hand that was not inside of her held her firmly down by pressing against her stomach.
“Ron—Ron you, fuck, I need—” but her own voice is drawn out by her moans when he starts fucking his fingers into her again.
After a few seconds of the rough thrusts, he pulls his fingers out. It looks as if he’s examining the wetness collected on them, then eventually sliding them into his mouth and sucking on them. A croaky groan comes from Hermione’s mouth at the sight. He pulls them out of his mouth and his hands go back to her hips, holding them stable against the mattress. His fingers are wet from her arousal and his own saliva.
He goes further down. He goes further down and his head disappears between her thighs, and she feels his lips all over the inside of her thighs. His teeth and tongue, too, all over her and devouring her. He works higher and higher, but when he finally gets to her center he stops.
“I mean, really ’Mione, you’re fucking soaked,” he laughs. He has the audacity to laugh at her.
“What a shame,” she pants, “considering you haven’t used it to your advantage and fucked me yet.”
“You’re dripping,” Ron points out. “Just trying to keep a mental picture.”
“I know I’m dripping,” she wiggles, trying to somehow get herself closer to his face. “I can feel it run down my legs.”
“All because you want me to fuck you,” he finally presses a chaste kiss against her slit. A small wince leaves her mouth as she tries to prolong the touch, but fails.
He leans back down, and kisses her again but much longer. His hands are both wrapped around her legs and holding her thighs just far enough apart for his head to fit between them, knees bent over his shoulders. When he begins to lick at her clit, he does it softly. The small laps drive her insane as she desperately wants more. One of her hands finds its way into his hair and holds him against her, like he had any plans of stopping anyway.
Hermione can’t stop herself from bucking against his face, and he doesn’t try to stop her either. Her hips move of their own accord while Ron only keeps his tongue out and against her. One hand is still splayed on her thigh while the other clutches the opposite hip with a bruising grip. Eventually, Hermione lowers herself back down and he begins to actively try and eat her out again.
He’s doing it slowly, just as he had done everything else. She could feel each swipe of his tongue, every time he stopped sucking on her clit to readjust, the breaths he huffed through his nose, the shaky moans he couldn’t stop that sent vibrations up her spine. All of it was so slow and it gave her the chance to feel absolutely everything. Did he always groan against her? Did his nails always dig into her skin? Did he always downright lap at her?
The sounds that he made against her went from erotic to disgusting, growling against her like he was the one being pleasured or as if he were keeping himself from eating her out faster. At the feeling of his teeth scraping against her clit, the grip on his hair tightened and she quickly bucked back up against him. He made a small whimper at the brief pain but he didn’t pull off of her at all.
His tongue dips inside of her, as far as it can. Her back arches at the sensation and she pulls on his hair, not obstructing or stopping him at all. It’s an odd feeling but not particularly new; she didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the feeling of something hot and wet inside of her. She didn’t hate it, not in the slightest but it was odd and she did really wish he hadn’t stopped paying attention to her clit, but she knew this was a part of keeping her from cumming.
She feels his tongue leave her entrance but finds her clit again. It strokes against it, faster than it had previously and definitely with more content. He was no longer lazily stroking at it but now lapping it, over and over, perhaps as fast as he could. Hermione felt her orgasm build fast. It was no shock considering how much affection her entire body had received, but her cloudy mind suddenly became a lot clearer when she realized how close she was.
One of Ron’s hands searched blindly, for what exactly Hermione didn’t exactly know, but she caught it in her hand and it settled there, wrapped in hers. She could no longer attempt to stifle her moans, one hand in his and the other in his hair. Both of her hands gripped what they had latched on to, her hips grinding against him, her moans climbing both in pitch and volume.
Ron could tell she’d cum because her legs lost all tension, where they had locked around his face they fell limp against his back. The knuckle-whitening grip on his hand loosened and her other hand stroked through his hair, in an appreciative manner as if thanking him. He licks at her until she’s done with her small hiccuping and her legs are done twitching. When he comes up, he’s heaving and out of breath.
“Please fuck me,” she whines before he can say anything first.
“I will, I will—just give me a second,” he sits up and wipes his mouth on the back of his arm. “Merlin, I thought you were trying to fuckin’ choke me.”
“You would’ve been choked, then,” her eyes raked down his body. She’s looking at him like he’s a piece of meat. He doesn’t mind. “Come here.”
He does as he’s told, coming up her body and hovering over her face. She cranes her neck up and kisses him, but he pulls her back down and stays attached to him. His lips taste like her. It’s odd and salty and a large part of her loves it.
“You’ve had far more than a second,” Hermione pulls away, a hand snaking down his body and the edge of the waistband of his boxers. “I can feel how hard you are, please just fuck me.”
Ron comes up off of her, sliding his own boxers down and working himself out of them, Hermione watching the entire time, “You’re not very patient,” he runs a hand through his hair.
“You get teased and kissed all over for that long and see how patient you are,” she hums, examining the body she had seen plenty of times before.
“I’ll have to find out someday, I guess,” he smiles. “I’m sure it’s something you could help me with. Unless you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from just fucking yourself on me.”
“You know me so well,” Hermione rolls her eyes. “Would you mind fucking me now? I’d really be thankful.”
“Thankful?” he squints, scrutinizing her word choice.
“Merlin, please just fuck me,” she scoffs, but she can feel heat rising to her cheeks as Ron grabs her legs and spreads them apart.
He gives her a final look before he gives her legs one last small pull apart and effortlessly slides in. He lets out a groan and Hermione a small gasp. She didn’t think he’d actually do it, at least not yet, but he had and she didn’t want to bring up any concerns or questions to distract him from whatever he was planning to do to her.
His first few thrusts are slow. She can feel every inch of him slide in and out of her, the sensation of fullness coming and going with his movements. The feeling of being full of his cock made her feel all warm and fuzzy for reasons other than just what she knew as pleasure; it made her feel like she was his . He had never fucked anyone else, and if all goes according to plan, would never fuck anyone else. It was also a bit of a shame that no one else would get to experience a cock like his. She was a bit shocked at the size of it at first, but considering the size of his hands, feet, and his height it made perfect sense.
And now, she was the only one who ever got to have it. She was the only one who got to see it, touch it, hold it, fuck it, or really, do anything to it. Luckily for her, he also knew how to use it after a few years of fucking her. He always started slow with shallow thrusts, as if testing the waters. Then he would progressively speed up, fuck her harder, or fuck her deeper depending on whatever he deemed right.
He had seemed to settle for going deeper for the time being. His thrusts were painstakingly slow, but his entire cock shoved into her body, entering into her over and over again with hardly any trouble. After so many instances of fucking her, it seemed almost like her cunt had been made for him to fuck.
Every thrust was punctuated with the sound of his skin slapping hers and two moans, one from each of them. As Ron begins to speed up, he leans back over her, but she’s looking up and mutters one word between her breathy moans, “Faster.”
In the state he was in, he couldn’t deny her of anything. He begins to thrust faster, his mouth falling open over hers until she leans up and captures his lips in her, kissing their shared sounds into each other. Hermione breaks away before she lets out a particularly loud moan, looking Ron dead in his bright blue eyes. His hands splayed by either side of her head, completely pressing her down and keeping her pinned.
He comes back down, kissing her again and growling into her open mouth. She could feel herself getting close and she knew he was, too. His hips had started to shake and he lost control of his thrusts, he was grunting into her mouth and a hand had gripped her cheek. He was getting rougher as he neared the edge, but it did nothing but bring her with him.
Ron pulls up away from her face. His hands left where they had lay and roughly grabbed her hips, pulling her as far down on him as he could. He thrust at a bruising pace with animalistic sounds coming out of his throat. With every hard and quick thrust, a moan was punched from Hermione’s lungs. Her back arches and her fingers try to find something to grip when she begins to actually scream as she reaches what may have been the most violent and visceral orgasm she’d ever had.
Her eyes were rolled back in her head when she felt Ron start cumming inside her. She knew she looked absolutely obscene, like something out of a porno with her head thrown back and her back arched and her fingers clutching at whatever thin sheets they could find, but she really didn’t care if Ron was the only one to see it and if it got him off. Which, obviously, it had.
He was still thrusting, slowly and with no particular rhythm that he seemed to be trying to achieve. His thrusts into her cum-filled cunt made a sinful sound that made her possibly want another round, but she didn’t know if Ron could cum in her again soon and she didn’t think she’d be able to handle cumming again after the two times she already had. And she still had an entire day ahead of her.
Hermione hadn’t realized how full she had felt with his cock in her until he pulled out, leaving her feeling empty other than the odd warmth left by where he had cum inside of her. He swings his leg over her and ungracefully lays beside her, still starkers.
“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to fucking walk,” she looks down at her body, her legs still open where he had left them.
“Good,” he shrugs playfully. She bats him on the shoulder. “What? It’s a goal I like to set and I met it.”
“I have things to do!” Hermione hisses, but it’s hard to express her resentment when she’s still tingling.
“Like what, watch me cook? Shower?” he drags on a list of their usual Saturday activities. “You don’t have work for another two days. Plenty of time to replenish, in my opinion.”
“You’re horrible,” her body turns and faces him, laying her head on his chest.
“I know,” a hand raises to the back of her head, holding her to him. “Speaking of a shower, that sounds like something we could do together.”
“Mhm, just later,” she nods against his bare chest. “I’m gonna sleep again.”
“’Course, I’ll be here,” Ron kisses her on her forehead before closing his eyes and trying his best to fall asleep. Hermione drifts off in minutes, small sounds of sleep coming from her throat and all he can think about is how thankful he is that she’s finally getting good, or really any, sleep.