"Stop it," Hermione scolds again, "Ron, I said stop it!"

Ron releases Hermione's book, letting her lie back again and read it. All he wanted to do was talk to her, but he can't even manage to pry her away from her stupid book long enough to explain what he wants. It's been over a week since they have been alone for more than ten minutes, finally returning from Christmas at the Burrow. He just wants to show Hermione that he still cares, and the rude comment he made about her late night research habits was only a joke.

Ron grabs her book one more time, making sure to place his finger in the pages to hold her spot, knowing he will never get what he wants if she loses her page.

"Ronald!" she almost yells, exasperated. "Give me my book back, now!"

"Talk to me?" he asks innocently.

"Another time, I have to finish this book before the weekend," she lies.

Ron sighs, pulling the book further from her reach. "You never have any time these days, you barely see me," he explains, looking away as he feigns being hurt by this.

Hermione groans in frustration. "I see you all the time, I live with you."

"That doesn't mean you see me…"

"I see you when I wake up," she lists, "when we shower, at breakfast, after work, across the table at dinner, before bed."

"That doesn't mean you see me," he explains, still acting hurt.

"Ron, I do see you." Hermione crosses her arms. "Now give me my book back, please," she adds last minute. "I really do want to finish this book by this weekend."

Ron hands over the book without another argument, though one is perched precariously on his tongue.

He lies down, to try and sleep off his frustration, but it doesn't help that Hermione won't get the hint and turn the lamp off. So he turns over a few more times, then finally is fed up with his frustration. He sits up slowly, knowing full well Hermione is watching out of the corner of her eye. He stretches his arms to the ceiling, barely exposing the bit of back he knows her eyes are focused on. Ron removes one arm from his sleeve, trying to act as tired as possible. Then he stands up and pushes down his pajama bottoms along with his underwear. Lying back down, he faces away from Hermione, trying desperately to ignore the holes she's burning into his back with her lovely eyes. This lack of clothing is the change from normal, considering it's usually too chilly to sleep with less than a full set of pajamas and an abundance of blankets.

Ron turns over finally, burying his head in the pillow, only leaving a slight view between his hair and his arm to look up at Hermione. She went back to reading. Biting her lip, really concentrating. He waits five minutes, to see if she'll put down the book, no luck. She turns on her side, away from Ron, letting the lamp light fall onto the pages of her book.

Ron takes this moment to catch her off guard. He slides over to her side of the bed, gingerly placing his hand on her knee and letting it glide up her leg until it's resting on her hip. She doesn't seem to take any notice of his advance. He brushes aside the top of the shirt she's wearing, his old Chudley Cannons' one, and brushes his fingers against her bare hip and to the front of her stomach. She still doesn't turn from her book. He slides his hand up her waist, maddeningly running his fingertips over her ribs, tracing the corrugated side of her thin frame. Her breath catches, finally, when he reaches the top of her ribs, his thumb barely touching the side of her breast. He smiles to himself, realizing he's almost won this battle for her attention.

Hermione lets her head fall back on the pillow, turning towards Ron slightly, searching for his blue eyes. She finds them, but only is briefly able to see them before he's closed them to lean down and kiss her. She closes her eyes too, letting the rest of herself relax and Ron moves his hand up her side until he's cupping her neck.

The book is still wedged in Hermione's hand, two fingers holding the page. Ron sees this and laughs. He pulls back, sitting up on his arms, and taking the book from Hermione, making sure to make an exaggerated action out of placing her book face down so the place is held. She laughs breathlessly. He comes back down on top of her, letting his head fall to her shoulder as he kisses at her collarbone. She wraps her fingers into his hair, trying not to pull him away from her, enjoying his touch too much.

Hermione kisses the side of his head, breathing in the scent of his hair, ocean and mahogany. She pulls his face up to hers, their eyes meeting again, and she whispers, "I do see you." Ron pushes his lips to hers, pulling back only slightly as to bite her lip gently.

He takes a breath, their lips still touching as he talks, "Now I want you to work on feeling me."

Her legs automatically clench together. Again, they are kissing, lips reaching out in search of the body not theirs.

Ron's hands run back down Hermione's sides, searching for the hem of the tee shirt, to pull it off of her. He finally finds it, and brings his head down to her waist, his body sliding over hers, doing wonderful things. He reaches her hip and kisses, and doesn't break that kiss until he's reached her collarbone again, the shirt forgotten on the pillow next to them.

Her fingers spread out on Ron's back as he continues kissing his way back up, her legs still clenched and her waist still turning. Finally, his strong hands grab her hips to make the movement stop. Making her go mad. He kisses her properly again, drawing her breath into his mouth as she greedily takes all that she can from him.

"Ron," she breathes in his ear, as his head ducks down to kiss along her chin.

"Hmm?" he replies, humming along her neck.

"Please."

Pulling away abruptly, Ron looks at her. "Please, what?" Never once is their body contact broken though.

"Let me feel you…," she breathes into his ear, pulling him closer against her, skin to skin again.

Running his hands along her legs again, he makes it back up to her hips, where her underwear awaits to be removed. At first, Ron thought he should tease her a bit, but seeing as he was going mad at the sight of dragging the panties down her thighs, he thought again. Soon they accompanied the tee shirt.

Moving back up her body, he again latched onto her mouth, as if it were the most important thing to him. "You're going to feel all of me, Hermione," he moaned into her mouth, not wanting to pull away.

She jumped at his rough and sudden thrust, but that's exactly how she wanted it, so no complaint fell from her lips.

The feel of him inside of her has always been indescribable, like nothing else she has ever come close to experiencing. She loves him, surely that is the most important reason why she always feels so wonderful in this position. But there's something else, something not exactly deeper, but just as potent. This act always made Hermione feel…satisfied, wanton even, because she knew that not only did Ron love her for herself, but he loved her body, he was physically attracted to her. She never knew that would be such a turn on for her.

Hermione has always felt great, whether it be when they were talking and her voice made him twitch or when they hugged and she dragged her hands down his chest right before they parted. She always felt good to him, no matter what. Sure, this was the best way he felt her, which made him feel the best. But he loved it when they would finish and she would fall asleep, curled to his chest, looking for warmth and safety. His arms would be wrapped around her all snug and he would be able to kiss her forehead without her ever knowing, it's like his own secret way to show that he loved her.

"Hermione, I need to tell you something," Rom muttered into her shoulder, as he continued moving his hips.

She froze, her angles becoming much sharper. "Yes?" She was too scared to know the answer, Ron never talked to her like this while they were having sex.

"It's more of a question, really," he corrected. "Do you feel me? Does it feel good?" His voice finally lost that control he'd been work so hard on maintaining.

She kissed slowly at his chest, her tongue tracing all sorts of random trails. "Always," she breathed against the middle of his chest.

He sighed, continuing his thrusting, trying to make her feel exactly as he was feeling.

It was always about that touch, that touch that left fire on their skin and passion dancing in their eyes.