A Choice of Words
By Bambu
Disclaimer and Author's Notes: The underlying source material belongs in its entirety to JK Rowling (save where she has sold her rights to various entities). Other than my readers' enjoyment, I make no monetary profit from exercising my imagination and honing my skills as a writer.
This was written during my quest to write every fanfiction story type (songfic, one-shot, drabble, novella, novel-length, epic, PWP). This was my third or fourth attempt to write a PWP. Fortunately, the Smutty Summer Alphabet Challenge (July 2006) was offered on Live Journal, and I chose 'whisper, erotic, and porn' for use in this one-shot attempt to write a PWP. I think I managed a credible non-plotty piece.
This is definitely for mature readers.
~o0o~
'Erotic,' she whispered.
'Porn,' he replied, nipping at her inner thigh, drawing an unwilling moan from her mouth. His lips curved in a wicked smile, and he inhaled the musky overtones of her scent as her interest piqued.
This was one debate he was determined to win.
He moved his head slightly to the left, unerringly homing in on the one spot he knew would have her quivering in a boneless heap of pleasure. Her curly pubic hair tickled his nose, and he flicked his tongue through the tangle of protective hair, directly on target.
She arched off the bed, whining in the back of her throat, "Erotic!"
He nuzzled deeper, licking her again, tasting the tart flavor of her arousal.
"Porn," he mumbled, his mouth occupied. Slender fingers threaded through his burnished copper hair, spasmodically clamping as he laved her hooded nodule of flesh.
The vibration from his speaking caused her thighs to tremble with anticipation, and her breathing grew ragged. "Erotic," she panted.
She rocked into him and he held her hips steady.
He drew his head back for a moment, sure that his triumph was close at hand. A wicked grin spread across his lightly freckled face. He was easily recognizable as one who had graced the cover of last month's Witch Weekly. They had referred to him as one of three most eligible bachelors in wizarding Britain. A distinction he cared about not in the slightest.
Rather, he reveled in the sight of the witch splayed across his bed.
Curly brown hair spread in a corona around her head, enhancing her surprisingly delicate features and generous mouth. Her brown eyes were heavy-lidded and her cheeks were flushed.
She licked her lips, and his already erect cock jerked in response. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her wet heat, but his fiercely competitive nature refused to give in to baser need.
The source of their dispute laid a hands-span from her head, opened to page three-hundred-ninety-four.
It was the magical Kama Sutra, and page three-hundred-ninety-four was their favorite position. He said the book was thinly disguised porn, and she, being the refined witch that she was, insisted it was erotic literature.
Their debate had been rather heated before he lost his temper, grabbed his wand and stripped them both naked.
That had been ten minutes before. He was sure that with a little more incentive she would agree with his declaration. She was on the verge of climax. He recognized the signs, having learned every intimate detail about this witch over the past few months.
Before the end of the Voldemort War, he had only thought of her as ickle Ronniekins' best friend. That changed the afternoon they had run into one another at Gringotts. He knew she had become a Curse Breaker, but he thought she was stationed in Paris. Apparently she had just been transferred to the bank's London branch.
After he had made his deposit, he offered to treat her to lunch. She had accepted, and now, six months later, she was in his bed, and had become an indispensable part of his life.
He bent his head again, inhaling her rich scent. He loved the way she smelled.
"Porn," he pronounced, then nipped her clit, plunging three fingers into her, hooking them into her G-spot.
Hermione nearly came apart, convulsing around him, a flood of feminine release coated his fingers. She gasped for breath.
After a minute or two, he felt her tug on his hair. He let her pull him up for a kiss, their tongues sinuously twining against one another's. Then, breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, feeling the sweep of her long eyelashes as her eyes fluttered.
Opening his eyes, blue met brown, and he smiled the smug grin that his mother knew meant mischief, but was in this instance a softer, more indulgent expression.
While he was wallowing a little in self-congratulation, he dropped his guard.
Suddenly, Fred Weasley was reminded that it only took an instant for tables to be turned, and he found himself lying flat on his back with an armful of wriggling Hermione. His hips bucked as she brushed against him, and his throbbing erection demanded attention.
Fred loved that she was feisty.
She leaned across him, her breasts rubbing against the red hair dusting his chest, and without his realizing it, she grabbed her wand from the bedside table. With a flick and a swish, the silk coverlet transformed, growing four manacles to bind him to the bed in a spread-eagled position.
He glared at her, but when he saw the mischievous gleam in her eyes, he snapped his mouth shut on the retort he had almost given.
He did not like to lose.
Hermione draped herself across his body, licking the pulse point on his throat. "Erotic," she whispered in a purr.
Fred's stomach lurched in an entirely pleasurable way, and she began suckle his slightly sweaty skin, in just … that … spot.
"Nnnnh," he groaned.
Instantly, Hermione angled back and up, straddling him. Bracing her knees on either side of his hips and her palms on either side of his head, she hovered an inch above him. So close her curly pubic hair tangled with his, a merger of red and brown, glistening with the evidence of her earlier release.
He refused to concede, but his voice almost gave him away. It sounded like a growl. "Porn."
She cocked her eyebrow, and swayed back on her knees, her long hair trailing after. Its texture was silky and soft, and it teased his sensitized skin.
He arched up when she flicked her tongue over his crinkled, male nipple. "Aaahhhnnn."
Proving herself the cleverest witch of her generation, Hermione settled into a sitting position, directly on his groin. His cock twitched as she ground herself onto him, trapping his erection between her body and his.
Fred felt moisture leaking from his glans, and she was so damp from her earlier orgasm that she slid easily along his length as she rocked back and forth above him. His hands clenched into fists and he tested the strength of his silken manacles. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on her hips and thrust into her.
Instinctively, he bucked into her, wanting that friction, that delicious tightening of his scrotum which signaled his own release.
He panted for control when she rose off his body, leaving him unsatisfied and needy. Opening his mouth to say the word she wanted, one look at her triumphant gleam had Fred biting his tongue.
He shook his head.
Hermione cocked her head and smiled.
Fred shuddered. He knew that smile.
He was in so much trouble.
She moved up and off him completely, repositioning herself between his spread legs before kneeling at the apex of his thighs. Her eyes traveled over him like an Incendio, leaving his skin hot and tingling. Several curling tendrils of her hair tickled his inner thighs, and she dipped her head toward his groin.
Fred breathed through his mouth in short, ragged gasps. She wasn't even touching him, but he could feel her blowing air through the nesting curls of his groin, and then across the tip of his glans. Their combined liquid essences chilled, and gooseflesh broke out on his thighs.
"Erotic," she whispered, and engulfed his pulsing, needy erection in one smooth mouthful.
His eyes rolled back in their sockets and he arched upward, straining for completion.
She sucked, her head bobbed, and he shuddered at the tugging, pulling sensation.
He was so close.
She released him with a resounding pop.
Fred's heart hammered in his chest and he needed to come. Just one more stroke, one more touch would do it. But her eyes were sparkling, and he knew she was waiting for him to capitulate.
However, she had made a small error. Her wand was lying next to the open book, where the pictured witch and wizard were contorted into Fred's favorite position. They demonstrated the effectiveness of the angle. Fred gritted his teeth as the pictured wizard arched his back and shuddered into the naked witch.
Splaying the long fingers of his right hand as widely as possible, Fred barely touched Hermione's holly wand. But it would be enough. He had learned to cast releasing spells in that fashion when testing the latest Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes invention: Captivating Candies, for those moments when one reallys wants a captive audience.
With a non-verbal Finite Incantatem his bindings released. Instantly Fred lunged, catching Hermione off-guard, and before she could gasp, he had her lying on her back and he was nestled firmly in the cradle of her thighs.
Her eyes were wide and startled, but she granted him a nod of recognition.
Their reflexes had been honed in the last days of the war. Neither had lost that quickness of reaction which meant the difference between survival and death. It was rare that Fred could take Hermione by surprise, and he smirked at her. "Porn!"
He loved it when she tilted her chin just like that. He thought it was the defining mannerism of her personality.
Then her eyes narrowed, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, rolling her hips sinuously against his erection. "Erotic," she replied.
Fred groaned and kissed her, possessively. He cocked his hips, wriggling himself into position, ready to sheathe himself in her tight, wet, heat.
What she did next completely unmanned him.
Hermione brushed a sweat-drenched strand of hair off his face.
It wasn't that she moved the hair out of his eyes. It was the gentleness of her touch and the tenderness of her expression.
In an instant, their play had gone from competitive playfulness to something entirely serious.
In one swift thrust, Fred sheathed himself completely within her and he kissed her again.
She clutched his shoulders and he thought he might have nail marks afterwards, but he didn't really care. He was exactly where he wanted to be. He slowly pulled back, until he had almost withdrawn from her entirely, and then plunged again.
"Unh," she grunted, and tightened her muscles around him.
It wouldn't take more than two or three strokes for him, but Fred wanted her to come as well, so he angled his hips and thrust again, hitting her clit with his pelvic bone.
Her gasp told him he had been successful, and her arms and legs were trembling with impending climax.
He nipped at her lower lip, and she lifted her head from the pillow to follow him as he rose over her. He thrust again, heat spearing through him.
Then once more.
Her sharp cry filled his ears and he shuddered, ejaculate spilling into her. Hermione's muscles milked his release, spasming around him.
Trembling biceps reminded him to prop himself on his elbows, and he was flush against her body, her breasts pillowing his chest, her lips seeking his.
Fred happily obliged her, tasting the flavor of their combined essence on her tongue.
He loved it… he loved her.
Fred jerked back, breaking the kiss. He stared at her.
Hermione's expression changed from surprise to query to concern.
He dipped his head to brush her lips with a chaste kiss, and he slipped from her nether embrace. He angled back onto his knees, resting his head on her stomach.
Great Merlin, he loved her. He loved Hermione Granger.
He had to tell her.
Raising his head, he saw a fleeting, entirely naked and revealing expression cross her face. He had only seen it once or twice before. After the final battle, and shortly after she'd broken up with Ron.
His heart clenched again; this time entirely different than the last. Fred didn't want her to wait another second, but they were still engaged in that stupid competition. There was no prize other than the satisfaction of having made the other capitulate.
If his surrender eased the worry he now saw furrowing her brow, then it was losing was insignificant. Before she could speak, or begin to put up barriers between them, Fred took a breath and said, "Erotic," ending their game.
At that same moment, Hermione said, "Porn." The two words linked, sounding as if they had both said the words, "Erotic porn."
A fleeting smile curved Hermione's mouth, but then she looked away from him.
Fred couldn't stand it.
Abruptly, he sat back on his knees, gathering her to his chest.
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, her attention once more on his face.
Fred threaded his fingers through her messy hair, cupping her head. "Don't fret," he said, his voice husky. "I had a moment's inspiration."
Her chin tilted. "You had an inspiration for a joke product during sex?"
"No, you daft bird! It wasn't that. I wasn't thinking of work at all." He was appalled at the thought.
She pursed her lips.
It was difficult to put the feeling into words. What he felt was so much more complex than three monosyllabic words could express, yet sometimes simplicity was best.
"I love you," he said.
She gasped, and one hand flew to her mouth, delicate fingers covering her lips. Her eyes glistened with sudden tears. "Do you mean it?"
"I just said it, didn't I?"
"Yes. Yes you did."
Her body trembled, and then it felt as if he was being choked by the arms she wrapped around his neck. Hermione was crying and laughing at the same time.
Fred hugged her back.
After a few minutes, she released him, and the smile on her face was radiant.
"Well?" he demanded. "A bloke likes to hear it as well."
"You pillock!" She brushed his lip with her thumb, the caress belying the tartness of her words. "Of course, I love you."
Fred's throat tightened unexpectedly. He hadn't considered what it was like to be the recipient of such a declaration. It was bloody brilliant.
Her eyes shone, and she moved against him, wrapping her legs around his hips, shifting until they were in a position described on page two-hundred-twelve.
It was one of Fred's favorites.
A fresh spark of desire kindled in his groin. He smoothed large hands down her sweat-slicked back and cupped her bum. He could feel the heat of her rekindled arousal.
A small, competent hand glided across his chest, tweaking his nipples; it traced the dusting of red hair down across his abdomen, threading through his nest of curls, wrapping around his tumescent shaft.
"Guh," was as articulate a response as he could muster, given that one of her fingers had found the bridge of soft perineal skin behind his scrotal sac.
"Erotic," she corrected in a whisper.
~o0o~