A/N: Now, I know I should be writing TMH 11, but this was written for a request by an anon on tumblr. There was a list of 23 types of kisses and I invited people to request one type of kiss and a pairing for me to write a drabble about. This was "hot, steamy kiss + Romione." I took it quite literally. :) This is set about a month after the war, by the way. I just finished it like 10 minutes ago but I decided I like it enough to post it as my 20th story on this site. Hopefully you all enjoy it too! I've got two more requests to write as well, and those may find their way onto this site eventually - and so will the next chapter of Take My Hand, which I promise is in the works as we speak.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the best and so is Robert Galbraith and I am neither.
She could feel his eyes on her, as heavy as the air that surrounded them as they knelt side by side in the soil. It had been, in his words, "hotter than the bloody depths of hell" for the past three days, and the sheen of sweat that seemed to be covering every inch of her body now felt as though it was simply a part of her skin, fused to her very being by a permanent sticking charm. Quite frankly, she felt disgusting, and she was sure she looked it, too.
He, on the other hand - well, sweat almost suited him. She couldn't help but notice, as they worked tirelessly in his mother's garden, the way his shirtless chest glistened, slightly pink from the sun's rays. The effect of it almost seemed to accentuate each of his actions; or maybe, that was just a result of her own fascination with the way his body moved. Either way, she couldn't deny that he looked damn good.
Her own cheeks burned, embarrassed by her thoughts, though she knew she needn't be. She was allowed to think these things now, after all; she was his girlfriend - which explained why he was looking at her, she supposed, though she wished he wouldn't. The heat did nothing but cause her hair to swell to an almost super-human level of frizz and her shirt to stick to her skin in the most unattractive places. But still, his eyes were trained on her, and she felt as though she might melt away under his gaze.
It didn't take long for her to decide that she'd had quite enough. But when she turned to tell him off, the most unexpected thing happened as his eyes met hers - if she didn't know better, she'd say it was purely electric. The space between them seemed to fizz, to crackle, as though it was about to break down and collapse from the weight of the humidity around them and whatever else lay between them. It was that unknown force that had no practical name, but which she knew quite well - it had always been there, really, some sort of underlying power drawing them together. And for whatever reason, here and now, while they were sweating like pigs in his mother's garden, it was overtaking them like never before.
Her brain seemed to be working at half of its usual speed; perhaps the heat had made it lethargic. But the reason for it wasn't important; in fact, reason itself didn't matter in the slightest, because before she could truly register what was happening, his lips were on hers, devouring hers, and her mind was wiped clear of any sort of rational thought.
And now, it was more than sweat that was clinging to her skin; it was dirt, as the force of his kiss knocked her backward into the soil they were meant to be working; it was his jeans, stuck to her bare legs as they tangled with his. And it was his mouth, moving with hers in a way that was positively delicious, so perfectly fused with hers she felt she may die - his lips, pressed insistently against hers, and then his tongue… It was overwhelming, it was intoxicating, and she felt like she couldn't possibly get enough of it. His kiss was almost salty, she noted as one of her hands slid up to grip his hair; the other grasped at his sweat-slicked back, and she wasn't sure where his hands had got to, but she thought she felt a pressure against her thigh as he moaned into her mouth and kissed her deeper still.
This was what they'd been waiting for; this was kissing, and now that they'd started, she hoped they would never stop. Another moan - perhaps this one had been hers, but she couldn't be sure - and was that his hand, sticking to the skin of her stomach beneath her shirt? But then there came loud noise from the house; undoubtedly nothing more than the result of some sort of botched attempt at a cleaning charm by one of his brothers, but enough to remind them of the existence of the world beyond themselves. He stayed hovering above her for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, faces burning, as they unsuccessfully tried to regain some sort of grip on their mental faculties, but the air around them refused to cool even the slightest degree.
He cursed loudly then, and she couldn't help but laugh softly in agreement. As they set themselves right, they exchanged a meaningful look, a wordless promise to continue where they'd left off later - though how much later, they had no way of knowing, especially in their current living conditions. But someday, eventually, they were bound to be alone, truly alone, and when that day came…well, she knew they wouldn't need any sort of heat other than the sparks that blazed between them.
Thank you for reading!