Pairing:
Harry/? - Ginny? Or Hermione? Or Cho even? Who knowsRating:
Hard RType:
PWP HetMetaphoric Duel
orAlways
Nervousness. Pale hands slip down to the green buttons on a shirt that isn't mine. My cheeks flush with embarrassment and arousal combined. The face haloed with unruly dark hair leans closer to mine, and lips as soft as the wind place a gentle kiss to my own. The last button is undone and he slips his green shirt off of my shoulders slowly, eyes dancing as he takes in my soft skin.
"Beautiful," comes the strangled whisper, his voice husky and low.
I blush again, cursing at my tendency to do so, and cross my hands over my exposed chest in a vain effort at modesty. Warmth leaves my side briefly as he strips from his own confining clothing, but the heat quickly returns and I cling to it for dear life.
Skin against skin makes me gasp at the shock of it, and I move my hands down his back, trying to possess everything all at once. Our tongues always are dueling, a constant challenge of skill and passion, and now is no different. Soon though, his leaves my own, and heads for the soft spot behind my ear that sends goose bumps down my body. Making a trail down the middle of my chest, he stops briefly, as a teasing gesture, to swirl his tongue lightly around my navel, making me whimper at the jest, before he continues even lower.
Gasping alone wouldn't be enough to describe the sounds that are coming unbidden from my mouth as he works his magic on me, but somehow, I can't seem to care what I sound like. The sharp prodding of the first finger comes as a surprise at first, but as the second joins its brother, my eyelids flutter closed and I'm gripping the headboard in ecstasy.
I make a strange, high-pitched, whining noise as the feeling disappears, but then the velvet lips are on mine again, and effectively silences my protest. As we break apart, gasping for air, his gaze pierces me, the intensity of it alone almost sending me over the edge.
"Are you ready?" he pants.
"Always," is my soft-spoken response, which is said with no hesitation.
In one, long, slow thrust, he is buried inside of me, and I am left in a state of euphoric bliss. After we both get used to this new, wonderful feeling, the sensation is doubled as he starts to slowly move in and out. We both are sheathed in a thin layer of sweat, and his hair is the worst, dripping onto me. But I do not care, do not realize, because I am wrapped in the feeling of it all. All this time, my nails, shortened from relentless biting, rake up and down his back with abandon, not caring if it hurt or not.
Tension builds slowly until the small room is littered with animalistic sounds of pain and pleasure, the two always coinciding. With one final grunt, he pushes as deep as he can, making both of our resolves shatter like a fragile glass figurine, and bringing us together to a mind-numbing climax.
Spent and sated, the full weight of my lover collapses onto me for a moment, before rolling off to the side. As he gathers me up in his strong arms, he strokes my now frizzy hair which his nose is submerged in, determined to preserve the scent of my shampoo mixed with the allure of the love we just made. And after it all, as we lie there in perfect, silent harmony, three perfect words emerge from our mouths at the same time, making us giggle, tiredly.
"I love you."
