Shakespearean Sacrilege

It was where she belonged, this little nook was hers, and hers alone. His chin, resting upon her head, one strong arm encasing her in love. The other held a small book and he read it aloud to her helping her to forget the pain and sufferings of their own story.

'"-the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss".' he paused and was silent for a moment, 'Im sorry Hermione, but this Romeo guy is a right ponce- nobody speaks like this.'

She bit back a laugh and pushed herself up onto her elbow to gaze down into his perplexed blue eyes.

'Now they don't, but Shakespeare is an art to be appreciated Ronald. It's the story behind the words you should pay attention to,'

'Well fine. If an ordinary bloke said this bollocks to an ordinary girl there's no chance she'd swoon about and reply with,' he glanced back at the book, '"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss". Merlin! Women are hard enough to understand anyway, what's all this dung about? Bloody pilgrims, she's talking to, what's her name?'

'Juliet,' Hermione supplied grinning.

'Yeah, her. Juliet is talking to Romeo about bloody religion before he tries to kiss her, what's that about? And is he even trying to kiss her? I can't bloody tell with all these bloody big words.' he ranted, glaring at the book in disgust. At this, Hermione, burst into a fit of laughter and found herself rolling around on the bed, disregarding any hope at educating her delightful boyfriend.

'Well I'm glad you find me so amusing,' he grumbled. Sensing danger, Hermione calmed herself down and peaked up at him through her hair. He was slouched back against a pillow half naked with tousled hair and staring quizzically at the small book in his large hand. He had never looked sexier.

Abruptly she pulled her self up, threw one leg over and straddled him. Slowly she lent forward and plucked the book from his hand and casually dropped it on the floor; receiving a raised eyebrow.

'Sacrilege,' he murmured, as his palms slid up her legs and settled on her hips. Hermione shrugged coyly and lent forward towards his lips.

'So if you wanted to kiss me, dear Ronald. What would you say?' she whispered.

'Um,' he said, momentarily stumped.

'What would you say to me? Hm?' Hermione murmured, as she trailed kisses down towards his ear.

'I would tell you that you're the most beautiful woman in the world.'

'What else?' she nibbled softly on his ear and felt his hips shift slightly.

'I would say that I would want nothing more than to kiss your sweet lips.'

Suddenly he rolled her and Hermione found herself beneath him, trapped and gazing into twinkling blue eyes.

'But I wouldn't specify which lips,' he wickedly whispered against her lips. Hermione gasped slightly and Ron took his opportunity to kiss her. The kiss deepened as their need for one another grew stronger and when Hermione's small tongue darted into Ron's mouth, he heard himself moan and pulled her closer to him. His kiss is slow, tantalising and distracts her from life. She raises her arms above her head and Ron, taking the hint, smiles against her lips and slowly pulls the nightgown over her head and drops it on top of the book.

'Sacrilege,' Hermione admonishes. He rolls his eyes and brings one hand up to cup her breast as the other ties into her hair.

'Exquisite,' she sighed, arching her back and rolling her head slightly.

Ron grinned into her neck and slowly moved his mouth down and began to give her left breast attention. Hermione moaned and rolled her hips into his, begging with her body. He slid one hand down to graze her inner thigh and Hermione groaned and slammed her head into the pillow before pulling him into a harsh kiss.

'If you wanted me to kiss your lips Hermione, what would you say?' he asked mischievously. Her brows knitted together a moment before uplifting as she gathered where his thoughts were.

'Well?' he chuckled and kissed her upturned lips softly. She bit her lip before replying with a grin.

'Get to work,' and promptly she pushed his head under the covers. Laughing Ron sunk between Hermione's raised legs, kissing her inner thighs lovingly. Hermione found herself burying her hands in his hair and surrendering to the pleasure as his mouth reaches the apex of her thighs.

'Oh!' she cried out as he suddenly kissed her, there. Her back arches from the bed as his tongue circles her clitoris. It was too much, she needed him, now. Pulling him up from under the covers Hermione kissed him harshly as he slowly sank into her, exulting in both of them moaning into one another's mouths.

'Merlin, Hermione,' Ron groaned into her neck and she closed her eyes, savouring the pleasure.

'Oh God,' she cried, her hands gripping the bed frame.

'Fuck,' he growled with his eyes squeezed shut.

'Come for me, Ron.' She urged.

'Hermione,' he breathes.

'Now, with me! Now!' she cries.

Together they reached such a high, that afterwards they were momentarily stunned.

Once they're breathing and heart rates had reduced to a normal rate, Ron propped himself up and smiled down at the beauty before him.

'I bet Shakespeare never wrote that.' He grinned.

Hermione laughed and shook her head.

'See, who needs all that pansy language when you can just get straight to the point?'

'Who indeed.' Hermione murmured as she nestled back into her nook.

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