A/N: Hello, dear readers. This is the chapter that earns this story its "M" rating. If lemons aren't your cup of tea, this chapter isn't for you.
Chapter 8
Ron reckoned it must have been about three in the morning, but he couldn't be sure. It was dark, he knew that much, but a bit of light was seeping in through the curtains. He'd stirred from a deep, dreamless sleep, and his eyes had flickered open, his gaze resting on the slender arm that was draped across his chest. *Hermione's* arm. It was only then that he fully remembered where he was — his four poster at Hogwarts — and who was with him. He took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out again, pulling Hermione closer to his chest, cradled as she was by his left arm, and smiled to himself when he felt her curl up that much tighter against him in response.
She was still dozing, though. He kissed the top of her head and crooked his right arm beneath his head, the better to see the curve of her hip and the line of her leg next to his own.
Sweet Merlin, he wanted her. He'd always wanted her, of course — Hermione had been the star of his every sexual fantasy, even during the Lavender days — and his cock stirred to life at the recollection. He knew she was inexperienced, however, and he'd be damned if he'd do anything to pressure her. He was just starting to think that he ought to distract himself from his horny thoughts lest she wake and be flustered by his arousal when — *damn* — she rolled even closer toward him in her sleep, bending her leg so that her thigh was clenched about his midsection and then … she awoke with a start, lifting her head slightly from its resting place on his shoulder.
There was no way to deny it, no way to hide it: He had a rock-solid erection, and the pressure of Hermione's leg against it only served to make it worse — or better, depending on one's point of view. The friction was, in fact, exquisite torture, and Ron struggled to arrange his face into something like a passive expression, though what he wanted more than anything else was to flip her onto her back and snog her senseless. He was thankful for the lack of light within the confines of the bedcurtains, for he was quite certain that his ears had heated up to a telltale, flaming pink.
In the same instant, Hermione felt her cheeks flush, and she averted her eyes from his, wondering what to do next. If she pulled her leg away from his warm, throbbing and … goodness, quite large … erection, would Ron take that as a signal that she was revolted by his obvious arousal? Because she most certainly wasn't. In fact, she was slightly surprised to find that she was quite the opposite of revolted. She felt a flutter in her chest and between her legs at the realization that he was so turned on — by her. She smiled shyly despite her confusion, and raised her eyes to meet his in the semi-darkness.
"You're, um … awake," Hermione whispered, biting her lower lip and flicking her gaze to his mouth momentarily before peering up toward his eyes again.
Ron let out a small, embarrassed chuckle. "Yeah, you could say that," he said quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a lopsided, uncertain grin.
Hermione raised herself onto one elbow, a motion that necessarily forced her to shift her leg downward and off his erect shaft. Ron let out a brief moan in response, not sure whether he was relieved or disappointed at the loss of contact.
Before he could decide, Hermione spoke again. "How long have you been … erm … up?" she asked in a small voice.
"Not long," Ron said hurriedly, then kicked himself inwardly for sounding like such a nervous prat. "Just a minute or two before you," he added.
"Oh."
"Yeah, so …"
An awkward pause followed.
Hermione squirmed slightly, accidentally nudging her center against Ron's hipbone, and she breathed a shallow gasp at the warm, buzzing feeling that radiated from her core at the contact. Her hand, which was still resting against his chest, flexed in response, and she felt the nipple beneath her fingertips harden slightly at her touch. Ron hissed quietly in response but said nothing, trying desperately not to move, for fear of startling her in some way.
"Do you, um … do you want to—" she murmured, but Ron, skittish and if possible even more turned on than he was before, cut her off.
"Do I want to what?" he blurted with a note of panic in his voice.
"Oh, uh," Hermione replied, now equally jittery. "I just wondered if you wanted to go back to sleep."
"Oh! Oh, that," Ron sputtered.
There was another awkward pause.
"Well?" she whispered after a moment.
"Well, what?"
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Want to go to sleep?"
"No!" Ron said, a little louder than he intended. He gulped, trying to collect himself. "No. I mean, well, no, I'm, uh, I'm pretty awake right now, and, I dunno … I mean, I reckon I could catch some more winks if I tried, but I…"
Hermione watched him babble with an increasing sense of amusement.
"… I mean, I could go either way, really," he continued, oblivious to her growing grin, "but, uh, you know, if you'd like to just, I dunno, stay up and talk or — oh … Sweet. FUCKING! Merlin…" He groaned that last bit with a deep, gravelly growl, because Hermione, unbeknownst to him as he'd been chattering away, had summoned her inner Gryffindor, had lifted her free hand from his chest and had settled it firmly on his erection, squeezing it gently through the flannel of his pyjama trousers. "Oh, bloody hell, Mione," he added a bit more loudly, tipping his head back into his pillow as he slammed his eyes shut. "Oh, *gods*…"
Hermione, meanwhile, was fascinated. She'd felt Ron's erection against her middle as they'd snogged at various points throughout the evening, but she hadn't yet touched it with her hand, and she was amazed at how remarkably large it was. She pressed her palm against its length, the pressure causing Ron to take a deep breath through his nostrils, and she marveled that it extended several inches beyond the full span of her hand. She then lightened her touch and dragged her index finger up the underside of his cock toward the head, a movement that drew a faint whimper from Ron's lips. She realized, quite contentedly, that he was quite under her power at that moment, and the idea thrilled her. He wanted her — and she knew it. And, by Merlin, she wanted *him,* too.
"Does that feel good?" she whispered, watching his face as he clenched his eyes more tightly shut, his brow furrowed, his lips drawn into a tight line.
"Beyond good, love," he answered with a slightly choked voice. "Fucking fantastic. Gods. If you keep doing that, though, Mione, I'm going to beg you not to stop."
Hermione felt strangely shy all of a sudden, but was reassured by the look of ecstasy that continued to wash over Ron's face at her touch. Emboldened, she pressed her fingers against the head of his cock just a bit harder through the fabric. "Maybe I don't want to stop," she said, and bit back a smile as he let out a low moan in response.
"If you're sure you don't want to stop …" Ron breathed, opening his eyes to look her over for signs that she might not be certain. Seeing none, he continued: "If you don't want to stop, then maybe … if you wouldn't mind …"
With that, he reached out his right hand, which had been tucked between his neck and his pillow, grasped her by the wrist, and eased her hand beneath the waistband of his trousers. There, he flattened her fingers against his shaft and, as he pressed his own hand against the back of hers, she curled her fingers around him and squeezed his cock firmly. The skin-on-skin contact was breathtaking. Yes, Lavender had touched his cock before. She'd done far more than touch it, truth be told, but this was *Hermione,* and the feeling of her little hand wrapped directly around his cock was more than glorious — it was a dream come true. His flesh, so warm as to feel nearly scalding to him, pounded and twitched against her palm. He was quite sure, in fact, that he would come explosively — and soon — unless he somehow managed to control himself.
Hermione, meanwhile, was astonished at how solid Ron's shaft was — solid but also sheathed in remarkably soft and silky skin. She could feel the strong rhythm of his pulse beneath its stunningly warm surface. But …
"I want to see you," she said with a firm and confident tone that rather surprised her.
It surprised Ron, too. His eyes, which had slid shut as he savored the feel of her skin on his, popped open. And the sight before him made his heart skip a beat: Hermione Granger, clad in his old, tattered Gryffindor practice jersey, lying in his bed with her hand clenched firmly around his todger. It was proving to be a night of many wonders — and yet, apparently, there were more wonders yet to unfold, for Hermione Granger had just announced, quite boldly, that she wanted to see more of him.
He couldn't help but laugh.
"What's so funny?" she said in a mildly vexed tone, her grip on his cock tightening slightly.
"Nothing, it's just that … Merlin's sweatsocks … I can hardly believe … do you have any idea how often I've wished …" And, with that, he laughed again despite himself.
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, too, pausing long enough to say, "Well, is it so wrong that I want to see you?" She let go of his erection and instead tugged at the waistband of his trousers. Ron was about to raise his hips and let her continue pulling his trousers down when she spoke again. "I mean, if you're my boyfriend, I should, you know … I should get to see what's mine, shouldn't I?"
He looked at her and could see, even in the dim light within the four-poster, that she was sincere — though she had tried to speak these words with a teasing lilt in her voice. But really, he knew Hermione well enough to know that she was dead serious — and that she was more than a bit worried that maybe she'd gotten carried away with herself, and that maybe he was judging her now for having been too forward, too demanding.
He smiled and reached out, taking the hand that had been pulling gently at his trousers, and pressed it to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one. "Mione, is that it? Is that what I am now?" he whispered against her skin. "Am I your boyfriend?"
She leaned against him, the better to look into his face directly. "If you want to be, yes, I suppose you are," she replied, her voice breathy and low. "Is that what you want?"
Ron turned her hand in his and kissed her palm before clutching it to his heart. "I want to be a hell of a lot more than that, love. A hell of a lot more," he said. "But if that's the title on offer at the moment, I'll take it."
Something about these words … or maybe just the way he said them … brought tears back to Hermione's eyes, and before she knew it, she had very nearly leapt at him, crushing her lips to his, and he kissed her back with gusto.
oooOOOooo
A/N — I'll be honest — I started writing fan fiction because I craved M-rated stories that were a blend of good storytelling and excellent smut, and I wasn't finding quite what I was looking for elsewhere. So ... my stories are going to tend to be lemon-y. One reader recently complained that my first fic, "All In," bordered on porn at times, and that feedback sort of stung. But then I thought, "Well, what do you expect from an M-rated fic?"
Anyway, I hope to keep things from being too raunchy but ... yes, Ron and Hermione are sexual beings, and this story includes that aspect of their relationship. If you're not into it, then now's the time to explore someone else's writing.
Come to think of it, you could check out an FFN writer named Carmen's Daughter. She just favorited me and I decided to check out her work. I'm one chapter in to a T-rated story of hers called "Lola," and I'm already hooked.
This is all a long-winded way of saying sorry if the smut offends - and to warn you that there's more to come. The question is, how *much* more? I have some ideas about what happens next, but I'm curious about what you expect. Share your thoughts in the comments section, won't you?
In the meantime, thanks for reading - and if you like this story, please share it with your fellow Romione-heads!
Cheers,
Holly.
