Everything except the storyline belongs to J.K. Rowling.
The summer evening was sultry. It made my skin tingle, in a good way. The breeze that wafted in through the large, open windows caressed my bare skin, blowing some stray strands of hair out of my face. I lounged luxuriously on the couch in the library, enjoying the soothing effect of the weather. I had long ago stopped reading in favour of watching you.
You are sitting at your desk, working, as you often do on Friday evenings. So you have the entire weekend to spend with me, that's what you always tell me. I watch as another breeze ruffles your blond hair lightly. You wear it semi-long. Not yet down to your shoulders, but long enough that I can run my hands through it and pull at the strands. You know how I like it.
Another sigh escapes me as my skin continues to tingle. It's making me feel sensuous. It makes me want to touch you. Slowly I get up from the couch. The top I had pulled up to just below my breasts falls back down to my shorts. The weather that day had been warm, with an occasional light rain to take the edge of the heath.
Standing behind you, I run my hands from your shoulders, over your chest, down to your abdomen. You hum in appreciation, but continue to work. I start kissing and nibbling at your neck. Finally, you drop your quill and sit back in your chair.
"Hermione, love-"
"Hush," I answer. I don't care about his work, or that my interrupting might mean he'll have to work the next day. Nothing of that. All I care about is wanting to touch him, kiss him, stroke him. I want to lose myself in the gentle tingling of my skin. I want him to feel it too.
With a sigh, you abandon your work completely, tilting your head back to give me better access. Meanwhile, my fingers slip between the buttons of your shirt, tantalisingly touching the bare skin underneath. You hum again and turn your head to give me a kiss. It is slow, burning, as sultry as the summer night itself. You are always so in tune with my moods that it still amazes me, even after all this time.
I can't help prevent another sight from escaping me as your tongue gently caresses my lips, not seeking entrance but simply enjoying my taste. You gently take hold of my wrist and guide me around your chair, to straddle your lap. For a moment you look at me, your grey eyes burning but gentle. You know me so well.
With a hand behind my head, buried in my hair, you guide us back into a kiss. For a long time that is all we do. Your hands are holding my waist, thumbs making circles over my ribs. My arms are wrapped around your shoulders, my hips slightly moving, grinding against yours in a rhythm only we know.
Another sigh as your lips move from my mouth to that tender spot behind my ear. You nibble my earlobe before running your tongue over the shell of it and gently blowing. I moan. Softly you raise my top over my head, divesting me from it. When your lips once more decent towards my neck, your hands rise to massage my breasts through my pink, lace bra. Slowly, gently, languidly.
I feel my nipples harden under your administration and slightly arch my back into your touch. Your mouth is following my collar bones as your hands stroke their way to my back to undo the clasp of my bra. Carefully, you peel the garment of my skin. A small groan escapes you at the sight of my naked breasts.
Cupping your face, I pull your head back up for another kiss. This time our tongues do meet. They swirl around each other leisurely, exploring, tasting. A thumb brushes a nipple. I gasp and moan. Stepping off your lap, I pull you with me to stand. You follow willingly, mesmerised. Reaching up, I start undoing the buttons of your shirt. You lean down for another kiss, your fingers lightly skimming up and down my sides.
Finally, I can pull your shirt off your shoulders. I love the feeling of your skin under my hands, your muscles flexing as you help me to get rid of it. I run my hands back up your arms, over your shoulders and chest. As I plant a kiss at the base of your neck, I wrap my arms around you, resting my hands between your shoulder blades. You groan as I let my lips roam over your chest, occasionally wrapping around a nipple, sucking lightly.
A squeezing, slightly nauseating feeling tells me you have Apparated us to our bedroom. You pick me up and lay me down on the bed. I stretch and your breath hitches, the burning of your eyes suddenly lighting up. Slowly, ever so slowly, your fingers start caressing my skin, up my legs, along my arms, over my belly, my breasts, along my neck, and over my face. I sigh and close my eyes, enjoying the tingles that simmer just below my skin, through my blood, to my core.
A little cry escapes me as your mouth closes around my nipple, sucking gently, the tip of your tongue soothing. Your hands are at my shorts and, after you've lavished the same attention to my other breast, I lift my hips to help you take it off.
You rise up and I follow. I trail my finger through the soft, blond hairs from your belly-button down to the buttons of your trousers. You hum, a finger trailing up and down my arm as I unclasp your belt and slowly undo the buttons. I can feel how hard you are underneath and can't resist caressing you through your boxers before I pull both boxers and trousers down your legs. You appear before me and you shudder as I give you a short lick.
As you toe of your shoes and socks, I lay back down on the bed, once more stretching, watching you, wanting you, longing for your touch. You bend down, crawling into the bed, a hand caressing my side as you smoothly enter me. We both gasp at the exquisite feeling. I stroke some hair out of your face and you lean down to nibble on my lower lip as you start moving.
I feel as if we've completely become one. I don't know where your skin ends and mine starts. My legs wrap around your hips as we move in sync. Long, sensuous strokes that make me sigh, and moan, and whisper your name. Your lips never stop tracing my skin, leaving a low burn in their wake, like the embers of a dying fire. But we are not dying, we are remembering life, together, moving, burning.
Our breaths become laboured as we both feel the tension building. You kiss me and swallow my moans as we both find that sweet, sweet release. We both catch our breaths but continue kissing, stroking, caressing while you slip out of me. Somewhere along the gentle touches and whispered words, we fall asleep, sated, and feeling loved.