I am working on some chapter fics that don't have smut yet (one of them is T-rated so won't at all), and when I went to edit a chapter I suddenly had the urge to write something super smutty. A smutshot, if you will. Enjoy.
Looks were given with intent to disarm, to engage, but never more than that. Don't touch, just look. They each had their own way of doing it, and it seemed as though with each turn it became more obvious why, yet still they never spoke of it. Not directly.
Ron, with a side-long glance after a cocked head and tilted chin; A smirk floating across his full lips, a severe indent in his cheek, hiding a few freckles in the crease. His eyes glinted with knowing behind those blue irises, blinking at her through blond lashes like morse code, telling her what he wanted- what she thought he knew she wanted, and wanted in return.
Hermione, underneath Ron standing or sitting, had no choice but to look up at him, sometimes having to peer at him through a double accordion of dark lashes. She'd blink and he'd be looking down at her in that way, and she'd clear her throat and look away, feeling a smile on her face she hadn't consented to. But she didn't care, because he didn't seem to, so they played this game of looking and blinking and smiling, but never touching.
They'd done that already, even kissed, during battle. But now, when things were settled, and mostly sad, but safer and brighter, they resorted back to looking. Only this time, instead of trying to hide it, they gradually worked their way up from furtive glances to full on staring across the room.
Soon, inevitably, it had gotten to the point where these looks had progressed from shy, sheepish grins to Hermione's tongue darting out to lick her lip as she stealthily stared at him over the top of her book; and Ron biting down on his bottom lip, squinting at her over Harry's shoulder, quirking an eyebrow for good measure as he won a game of chess.
She squirmed in her seat, and noticed that Ron had noticed, so she quickly looked away, pretending to read. She heard him snort, and then Harry complained about Ron always winning, thinking he was laughing at his lackluster chess skills. Hermione let out a loud cough from her hiding place, and smiled to herself when Ron chuckled.
She ventured another look, peeking around the side this time, and when she caught his eye his chest puffed up, and he let out a long heavy breath, glancing at her, then away, a hand ruffling his hair. He was flustered. Frustrated. It had been three weeks since they returned to The Burrow. She assumed he needed time to grieve, and didn't want to force anything upon him. But looking at him now, the way he avoided her stare, did something to her. She slammed the book closed and got a rush of satisfaction when he suddenly locked eyes with her again; his open wide, hers narrowed with determination.
They were finally acknowledging this thing between them that started weeks ago. This thing that was put in a locked chest was all at once being unlocked with just one look from Hermione; She licked her lips and saw Ron gulp. She blinked and he blinked back slowly, no longer paying attention to the chess board. She slid down the edge of her seat and he started, almost knocking the pieces over, causing them to shout squeaky threats up at him.
Harry, out of the corner of her eye, coughed loudly and told them he was going to bed… in Ginny's room- the fact that his best mate was going to sleep in his sister's bedroom didn't seem to register with Ron. He merely nodded at Harry, his eyes still on Hermione, making her swallow and take in shallow breaths. The air was thick, and hot, and rampant with unchecked want and unspoken declarations. And even though she had an encyclopedia of words she wanted – needed – to say to him, she didn't much care to say them. She wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen, but she didn't dare break the spell.
She stood up slowly, her hands shaking at her sides, her body trembling, her brain buzzing from trying its hardest to keep her feet rooted to the floor. She did it once before, threw herself at him, threw caution to the wind and embraced what she wanted as hers – him. This was his time, his turn to show her what she assumed – what she knew – he wanted. And when he got to his feet it was so sudden, like a rocket shooting up from the sofa, his tall frame casting a shadow over her entire body from the candle behind him. He went to move, but the table was in the way, and his knees knocked the already offended pieces over and onto the floor, but he couldn't be deterred as he sidestepped away from it, dodging the rolling chess pieces with nimble feet until he was finally in front of her, never removing his eyes from her, only blinking when needed.
He was close enough that she could smell him, and feel his breath on her hair, but still he refrained from touching her. Her neck was craned, her hair falling down her back as she strained to keep eye contact. The intensity of the silence and burning gaze was making her stomach flip over. She wrapped her arms around her belly, and the movement must have jostled something loose within Ron because he was touching her: His fingers were digging between her arms, making them come loose. Her breath caught in her throat, and she dropped her arms at once to her sides, then gasped when he tucked his arm around her waist, his hand flat against the small of her back, pulling her flush to his front.
And just like that, after weeks of tentativeness and coy looks, they were as close as they were during the heat of the battle when he had lifted her off her feet and kissed her back. Only this time there was no urgency. There was no war going on. It wasn't now or never… it was just now.
He gathered the back of her t-shirt in his hand, her hair tangling with his fingers and fabric, and sucked in a breath as he bent over, making her tilt backward. She was breathing heavily, almost to the point of hyperventilating, and realized he was, too. So, in order to give some encouragement, and to get things moving before they both passed out from anticipation, she brought her hands up to his face, cupping his hot cheeks and rubbing her thumbs across his lips, then chin.
He smiled then, and she let out a small laugh. Then he was kissing her, trapping her lips between his. After a few seconds he pulled away, grinning madly down at her, his pupils dilated and glassy, dancing. She slid her hands in his hair and dug her fingers into the back of his neck, pulling him down again, making him kiss her with a satisfied grunt deep in her throat.
He straightened his torso, both hands on her back now as he pulled her up with him, off her feet. Not wanting to separate for breath, they gasped into each other's mouths, kissing deeply, their tongues battling for dominance. He stumbled as he held her up, wrapping his arms around her even more tightly before setting her back down again, pulling away, panting.
She suggested going to his room since Harry wasn't there, because someone might hear them down there, carrying on. His eyes bulged at this idea, and he readily agreed, climbing the stairs ahead of her with such speed, agility and stealth that Hermione would have laughed out loud if she wanted to get caught out of bed so late at night, with Ron, on their way up to his room…
Finally alone, and with a magically silenced room that included a bed, they were back to behaving shyly. He reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging on it lightly, pulling her to him, then to sit on his bed. She had been on his bed countless times, but never like this. Never with a promise hanging over them that something more than talking or rowing would follow. Never before had she been so nervous, yet so eager at the same time.
Then he was kissing her again, and she was melting once more. He had braced on hand on the bed behind her, stretching his body toward her, angling his face to catch her lips. So she turned to make it more comfortable, and as the kiss became deeper and more heated, she found herself straddling his hips, her bum on his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. Ron cursed in a low voice, and she moaned from the throaty, lustful sound of it. That she could illicit such a response, from him, made her feel powerful, wanted.
With his hands loose on her waist, he dropped his face into the crook of her neck, nuzzling her hair. And when his tongue dragged over her skin her body went rigid, then relaxed as he pressed his lips over where he licked. He sucked lightly, sealing it in, searing her body with his mark. She looked up at the ceiling, allowing him access to the rest of her neck, which he peppered with kissed and licks, whispering her name over and over.
She sunk down into him, until she felt his hardness through his flannels, against her hot center, her breaths coming in as gasps and leaving in shallow puffs as she moved experimentally over him. Ron's large hands, previously casually set on her waist, were now under her shirt, gripping her naked back, pulling her in closer and the shirt up higher. Their movements were intense, yet their pace was slow, as if they wanted to savor every moment, even though they knew the other wanted nothing more than to shag each other senseless.
Hermione had imagined what her first time would be like, had imagined how it would be with Ron. It was only a fantasy, yet here she was, in his arms, and so far it was a thousand times better than any of her daydreams had ever been.
Her shirt was being pulled up over her head by Ron who was breathing so hard and fast she had to kiss him before he was able to look at her properly, to calm him down- to calm her own nerves, for the apprehension over being this exposed was making her insecure mind go into overdrive.
He pushed her away gently, sliding his hands slowly down her shoulders, pushing, then his eyes were on her chest, staring and blinking, and an enormous smile lit up his face. He looked up at her and told her she was beautiful before curling both hands over both breasts, lifting them, passing a thumbs over the nipples. She shuddered and squirmed, and he grinned wider. Then his mouth was on her, and she cried out, her hands flying to his head, threading his hair. Her back arched, pushing her chest into his face. When he sucked too hard she pulled away, and he looked sheepish until she pulled his own shirt off and hugged him, smashing their bare chests together, rubbing her nipples across his.
He groaned, his hands roaming all over her back and stomach and breasts hungrily, thrusting his hips up into hers. The pace between them was quickening, and it was becoming obvious where this was going. So Hermione gathered her senses and scrambled off of him, taking a moment to catch her breath as she stood in front of a perplexed Ron, topless and red-faced with wild hair and sweaty palms. He went to question her, but she held up a finger, silencing him, and then took out her wand, aiming it at herself and reciting a spell. He cursed and stood with her, and together they pulled off their socks, then their bottoms and underwear until they wore nothing but nervous grins and fidgety hands.
He seemed even taller without any clothes on; all pale skin and freckles, ginger hair on his head and between his legs, and a thick, pink erection jutting out at her. She hesitated, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and in over her head. She had no idea what she was doing- she didn't know what to do with that. He let out a snort, and she realized she was staring down at it, and blushed, rolling her eyes and shuffling, her bare feet pushing aside random pieces of clothing.
But he was doing his fair share of ogling, and she had to resist the urge to cover the hairs between her legs, or her belly that felt too wide. But she knew he'd only remove her hands, like he did downstairs. Besides, if he didn't like what he saw he wouldn't still have a massive erection, she thought to herself, hushing the voices in her head.
Again, he pulled her to him, until their bodies, now free from obstruction, touched. She could feel every muscle in his abdomen on her belly and chest, his thighs against her; his erection - soft, yet hard - pressed down from her belly button to her slit. He held her still by her hips and pushed his forward, sliding the tip across her hairs and momentarily against her clit, making her jump.
They chuckled nervously together, some of the tension dissipating, and he turned them around, asking her to lie down. All of a sudden he sounded anxious, and his hands were shaking as he joined her on the bed, climbing between her legs. His brow was already sweating, and he kept licking his lips. Seeing him this way made her calm, knowing that at least one of them needed a clear head about this, even though her heart felt like it was expanding with every beat, threatening to burst from her chest.
She told him to kiss her, and that seemed to help since he immediately ducked his head, closed his eyes, and pressed his mouth to hers so fiercely that she made a noise of shock. When he tried to pull away, however, she kissed him back, needing him to relax, so that she could relax. Otherwise, they'd both be too tense to enjoy it. Statistics showed that, for many females, the first time having sex wasn't always pleasant. But Hermione didn't want to be a statistic. She had wanted this for far too long to have it go sideways because of a bad case of nerves.
So she kissed him, because she didn't really know what else to do. His erection was poking at her thigh, so she adjusted her body underneath him, raising her bum off the bed, effectively rubbing herself along his length. Ron hissed, and Hermione gasped, as he was suddenly inside her, just inside the opening, splitting her open enough feel like she was in bloom.
They locked eyes: Ron's asking for permission, Hermione's saying yes. With a nod of her head, Ron pushed, sinking in further- her slick wetness, brought on by the slow build up of desire, aided in the ease of his insertion. Yet, even with the lubrication, she was tight, and he was rather large, so it took a few more tries, and a few more grunts and apologies, before he was in up to his bollocks. Hermione was breathing hard through her nose as he stilled within her, waiting for her to give him to go ahead to move. It didn't hurt so much as a very strange sensation of being so… full, down there.
There was a moment of awkward silence as Ron was frozen above her, eyes shut tight, and Hermione coming to terms with the fact that she had just lost her virginity, to Ron. She hadn't asked if he was a virgin, but judging by his expression of panic mixed with shock and awe, put together with the nervousness and multiple apologies, she was sure of her answer without asking. So she allowed for one more second of clarity, to remind herself that Ron – her Ron – was currently inside of her, in the most intimate way two people can be joined, for the first time in both their lives. He was hers, and she was his, and the emotions within threatened her tear ducts.
As soon as she whispered to keep going he let out a relieved breath, and started moving his hips, sliding out, then in again. He told her he loved her, and she let the tears fall, sniffling and smiling. When he bent low to bury his face in her shoulder she cried out that she loved him, and he whispered it again, over and over, along with her name.
He thrust into her harder, faster, the bed banging against the wall a few times before he stopped, and she felt him let go inside of her. She wasn't sure if she had reached climax, but when he collapsed on top of her, heavy and slippery with sweat, and their limbs intertwined, her body was humming and her heart was a thunderstorm, sending tiny sparks all over her body.
He pulled out of her, and she rolled with him, not wanting to let go, to never not touch him again.
XXXX
Thank you for reading! As always reviews are encouraged and very much appreciated!