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"You know I hate to fly!"
Hermione sat on the bed, zipping up her boots with a huff. This argument was becoming a weekly ritual.
"And you know I hate to Apparate!" Charlie countered. "It's unnatural."
He really needed to get over that little phobia. "And what is so natural about being two thousand feet in the air with nothing but a piece of wood between your legs?"
Charlie stopped rummaging through their dresser drawers and turned slightly, giving her a suggestive smile.
She tried to roll her eyes, but that would require tearing her gaze away from his bulging bicep. Did he just flex it slightly? Damn him! He knew what that did to her. "You know I didn't mean it like that," she said, trying to sound exasperated.
"Maybe not," he purred, "but the mental image remains."
"Oh, for pity's sake," she huffed. She was never going to indulge him in that little fantasy – no matter how good a flier he was – so he could just get over it. "Get dressed. We're going to be late, and then we'll have to Apparate."
He turned around fully then and crossed his arms, making those muscles even more pronounced. Hermione didn't look. It was bad enough that he always had to run around shirtless until the last minute. The tattoos drove her crazy, and not in the way she let on to him.
"We have plenty of time," he replied.
"Not to fly," she said with a pointed glare. "It starts in twenty minutes."
"I can get us there in twelve minutes, no problem."
"At what cost?" she wondered aloud, trying to tame her bushy hair into a quick updo. "I don't want to arrive retching uncontrollably. With my hair a total mess to boot." Not like it could get much worse.
He was so quiet for a moment that she looked up curiously. Now he was wearing a sulky expression. "We could just skip it, I suppose." Oh no, not the pout. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
She sighed heavily and walked towards him. "No, of course not, Charlie," she said. "I know how much it means to you." That was an understatement. The words unhealthy obsession were mild in this case. Then again, she supposed her feelings about libraries weren't entirely normal.
"But it's definitely not your favorite thing in the world."
"It's not bad," she lied. She reached out and curled her hand around his upper arm. She wanted the gesture to reassure him, but she could admit that she was mostly trying to cop a feel. His skin was almost as rough as it looked, and the muscle beneath was steel. "I like to see you happy." And that was not a lie.
That seemed to mollify him somewhat. "All right. We'll compromise, then." Always the negotiator. "We'll fly there and Apparate back."
"Oh, no," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I am not falling for another one of your compromises. Not when it comes to magical transportation. Something entirely out of your control always keeps you from reciprocating."
She gasped. He was suddenly crowding her personal space. This was promising. Charlie was not a tall man by any stretch of the imagination, but he had no trouble making his presence felt.
"I have no problems reciprocating." His voice was close to a growl. Very promising, indeed.
"Is that so?" She tried to sound casual, but she was aware that he was backing her towards the bed now, and her body was taking happy notice of that fact.
"You know it is."
Oh yeah, she knew all about his talents for reciprocation. She reached out and placed a palm against his heavily freckled chest, under the pretense of holding him off. Silly notion, that. No one held Charlie Weasley off.
She licked her lips and looked up at him through her lashes. "Maybe I need a reminder."
He looked down at her hand on his chest for a moment and then back up. "If I didn't know better," he said, in his dangerously quiet voice, "I'd say you were trying to worm your way out of going."
"Never." Because that would be naughty. And he didn't stand for naughtiness. The muscles between her legs clenched at the thought.
"You sure about that?"
She moved her hand lower, letting it skim over his pronounced abdominal muscles. "Positive," she whispered. Her voice had become husky.
He raised one eyebrow, and she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her legs. "You don't sound so sure, Hermione."
She closed her eyes for a moment. She could actually feel her nipples hardening. "No, we really should go," she responded, opening her eyes. "It would be a waste not to."
His lifted his hand, tangling his calloused fingers in her hair. She could feel him dislodge a few bobby pins. "Yeah. Total waste," he agreed. He leaned in close to her, their noses nearly touching. "But I bet you would make it up to me."
She swallowed thickly. "I would certainly try my best."
He let go of her hair and tugged both her jumper and t-shirt over her head in one motion. "I might like to see that."
She unzipped her boots and yanked them off, tossing them aside. "I might enjoy the effort."
He gently placed the fingertips of one hand over her breastbone. Then he gave her a not-so-gentle shove, and she fell back on the bed. She started backing towards the pillows, giving him room to follow. And he did, moving forward on knees, unbuckling his belt as he went.
"And just where would you start?" he asked. But he was answering the question for her. He unzipped his jeans and kneeled over her torso. With any other man, in any other situation, she might have considered it an unforgivably chauvinistic gesture. But it was Charlie – her Charlie of now more than three years – and when she looked down and saw the trail of wiry red hair beneath his navel, she couldn't help licking her lips in anticipation.
She gave him a coy smile and tugged his pants out of the way, wrapping her hand around his thick cock. It was hard as a rock and already dripping. "I could always start here," she suggested.
"Yeah," he whispered, and he managed to give her a look of stern resolve, despite the fact that she was now stroking him firmly. "You can't go wrong… starting there." He raised one eyebrow at her as though asking what she was waiting for.
She raised her eyebrow right back at him and ran the flat of her tongue from his balls to the dripping head of his cock. She saw his jaw tighten and did it again. And again. And then she wrapped her lips around him and eased her mouth all the way down until her lips met pubic hair.
Charlie grabbed onto the headboard then, and despite the way he shook, and despite the breathy quality he couldn't keep out of his voice, he issued a one-word order to her: "Suck."
Oh, and she did, as hard as she could, relishing his desperate moan as she pulled back and then began a bobbing motion. And she got just as dirty with it as she knew he wanted. She let herself slobber along his length, feeling it drip on her chin. She groaned around him and worked her hand and mouth in unison until he was pumping his cock in and out of her mouth. Then she cupped one hand over his firm buttocks and the other around his balls and let him go for it.
Sex with Charlie Weasley always toed the line of too much. Too rough, too dirty. But it never crossed that line. Even now, he watched her carefully, ready to back off at any moment if she looked like she was going to gag. She would never admit it to him or anyone else, but she liked being used like this. Only by him.
"Ah… your mouth…" He panted for breath. "Fuck." He was tensing now, and she got ready. She didn't care if he came before she did. In fact, she loved this. She loved to watch him come – to know that she had the power to do this to him.
But he stopped suddenly. For a moment, he held still with his eyes pressed closed, shaking slightly. Then he took hold of his cock and slipped it out of her mouth, rubbing it over her lips. "You're doing good," he said with a smirk. "But I don't think it's going to be enough."
God, she hoped not. She feigned disappointment. "Maybe I just don't have it in me today," she whispered, biting her lip for added effect. "Oh well. We could still make it, you know. If we leave now."
He chuckled. "Oh, no. You're not getting off that easy." He crawled backwards slightly and removed what little clothing he was wearing – basically just jeans and pants. "Not now."
"I'm not?" She gave him her best innocent expression, which was quite a feat on her part when he presented himself nude above her, all of that tanned, freckled, tattooed skin stretched over sinuous muscle. She really just wanted to gape. She never got tired of looking at his body.
"No way." He started to work on her jeans, jerking them down over her hips and yanking them off. He grabbed one sock by the toe and pulled it off. Then the other.
"And just what are you going to do to me, then?"
He hummed, low in his throat. "Very naughty things, I'm afraid."
Hermione was so wet that she could feel it seeping into the bedcovers beneath her, even through her knickers. He tugged on her hand, and she lifted up, allowing him to remove her bra and throw it off to the side. Then she plopped back down, settling herself against the wall of pillows behind her.
"What kinds of th-things?" she asked, stuttering on the last word as he closed his lips around one of her nipples, gently sucking. She bucked up against him mindlessly, and he moved to the other nipple, licking and sucking for a moment before kissing his way down her torso.
"Well, first of all," he said, tugging her knickers down, "I'm going to reciprocate."
She kicked her knickers the rest of the way off. Oh yes. Charlie's tongue… well, 'oh yes' pretty much covered it. Even if his technique had been lacking – and, on the contrary, it was nothing short of phenomenal – his sheer enthusiasm for the act would have been enough to render her a babbling mess.
He spread her legs obscenely wide and settled himself between them, letting his breath ghost over her. "Because, despite what you seem to think," he said, "I do know how to reciprocate." He parted her folds with his thumbs. "Let me demonstrate."
He gave her one gentle kiss, right on her clitoris, and she called forth all of the restraint she possessed to keep from thrusting forward. He had taught her, through many breathless encounters just like this, that he wanted her to hold still and receive.
"You say please," he told her simply. "And I will lick."
"Please," she spat immediately, balling the bedcovers in her fists.
And without another word, he went to work. Not being able to move made this a million times more intense, and that was undoubtedly what he was going for. She was a captive to his whims. If he wanted to tease her with gentle flicks, she could only whimper and take it, and that's how he started out now. It was only when her pelvis began to shake almost beyond her control that he pressed his tongue against her more firmly, giving her the pressure she needed.
A few moments later, he backed off entirely, kissing his way around the insides of her thighs and across her mound. "Charlie," she mumbled.
"Yes?"
"Please."
He licked again, this time immediately applying the pressure she needed. And he kept it up for a few long minutes, knowing it was just short of what she needed to come. He teased her entrance with just the tip of one finger. That's what she needed, but he wouldn't give it to her the way she needed it.
Then he backed off again, returning to the light flicks, and Hermione started to realize she wouldn't be able to take much more of this. Again, it was always just short of too much.
"Charlie," she pleaded, "just let me move."
He sucked her clitoris between his lips and let go with a plop. "I'm afraid that's not going to work for me," he answer simply. Flick. "But since you sound desperate—" Flick. "—I will give you this."
And with that, he gave her just the pressure she needed with his tongue, and he slipped two fingers inside her, and he bent them exactly the way she liked, and he worked with single-minded determination to make her come.
She did. The spasms had her clenching so hard that he could barely move his fingers inside her, and she cried out mindlessly, letting it overtake her entirely and carry her away.
And when she looked down at him with what she knew must be the stupidest expression in the world on her face, she saw that he had his chin propped lightly on her mound, and he was giving her a smug look.
"Thank you," she said. That was probably the most ridiculous thing she could have said, but it just came out because she felt that kind of effort deserved gratitude. Or something.
Actually, the look on his face told her exactly what he felt his effort deserved. And despite her mind-blowing orgasm, she started tingling again from the thought of it.
He began raising his body, and the smug look disappeared. "You know what I want."
Yes, she did. She pulled her knees up and pressed them to the side, teasing him with a view of her arse that wasn't exactly what he wanted. "Hmm. I think I do," she replied. "But I haven't done very well today, have I? At giving you what you want?"
He began tugging on her ankles to turn her over. "You've been obstinate." His voice was playful. His eyes weren't. "It's true."
"Maybe you should just take it," she suggested, flipping over onto her belly and stretching luxuriously, but refusing to lift her arse.
He took care of that. He roughly grabbed her hips and yanked her arse into the air. "Maybe I should," he agreed. His voice was much softer than his fingers, which she was sure were going to leave bruises.
The tingling grew stronger now. It became throbbing. "Maybe I've been a bad girl," she said, her voice quiet.
"Oh, you've been a bad girl." He pressed down on the small of her back, forcing her to arch for him, and he used his knees to spread her legs wider. "No doubt about it."
The air was tense with their game. Charlie really knew how to commit to a role. She tossed him a wary look over her shoulder. "Maybe you should teach me a lesson."
With one hand still on her hip, he used his other to guide his cock to her entrance. He pressed forward just enough to lodge himself inside. Then grasped her hips in both hands and snapped his hips forward. She cried out at the intrusion, and he chuckled at her.
"If only I could be sure the message would sink in," he said. He pulled out to the tip and gave her another slow, deep thrust.
"I hear… that repetition… is the secret," she offered with what little breath she had.
He fisted one hand in her hair and leaned over her, covering her back with his front. "Can't hurt." He repeated those maddeningly slow thrusts until they were both shaking. "Though I might be forced to take more drastic measures."
"If that's… what it takes… ah!"
He buried himself and thrust slowly but deeply, barely even withdrawing. "How's that?" he whispered in her ear. "Are you starting to catch on?"
She wanted to mewl like a cat in heat. His cock fit her perfectly, and he knew just how to work it. "I think… I'm getting… the picture," she panted.
"One can… only hope." Now his breath was becoming ragged as well, and his hand released her hair. He moved his arm around her waist, his fingers brushing the underside of her breast.
"Fuck, Charlie," she said at last. "Stop teasing."
"Me?" His lips sought her neck now in wet kisses. "Tease?"
"Fuck me," she demanded, moving her hips to get the motion she wanted.
"Why don't you fuck yourself?" he suggested. "I'll watch."
That worked for her. She felt him pull back until he was upright again, and he placed one palm against the small of her back to steady himself. Hermione arched her back and started bouncing back against him, in the exact rhythm she needed. She heard him groan at her motion, and that made her arousal shoot even higher, knowing he was watching her work herself around his cock.
He wasn't speaking at all now, a sure sign of how close he was to coming. But she was going to get there first. She reached between her legs and massaged her clitoris, feeling her muscles tense. He grabbed onto her hips again with both hands, but he let her continue driving the motion, and she reached and reached for it, until she finally felt it overtake her. She shouted out over each wave that hit her.
She heard him cursing now, and he took over, driving himself relentlessly into her clenching body. He felt huge now in the tightness of her swollen flesh, and he must have felt that, too, because it wasn't long before he was letting himself go inside her. His hand mindlessly cupped her forehead, pulling her head back, and he thrust and thrust and thrust through his way through it, groaning as he pumped her full of his release.
"Fucking hell," he panted at last, still making tiny thrusts inside her. Her legs were giving out, and she went with it, flattening herself against the bed. He fell heavily against her, but it was the best weight in the world. Every inch of his skin felt hot and slick with sweat against her.
"God, Hermione." He brushed her hair aside, pieces that had come loose during their frenzy, and he pressed his open lips against her jaw.
She turned at that, until they were both on their sides, facing each other. They wrapped themselves together as closely as they could and gave each other soft kisses all over – eyebrows, jaws, necks, lips.
"Well," she said at last, hesitantly, "there's always next Sunday, I suppose?"
He laughed and shook his head. "I am not complaining."
Yeah, she didn't think he would.
She smirked. Another Sunday afternoon Quidditch game successfully avoided. Ah well. They did have season tickets. And the season had just begun.
The End