A/N: I apologise for the delay in getting this to you. The last few weeks of my semester were a beast and I've been very busy with my real job. Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me. There are probably two more chapters after this one (I think), and I'm hoping I can wrap this up within the next few weeks. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the much-anticipated consummation of Hermione and Harry's marriage.
~oOo~
Chapter 11 - Consummation
I kissed Harry without hesitation this time, without fear or nervousness. I kissed him with enthusiasm and familiarity, as if kissing him was something I did every day.
Our first kiss was a drunken snog, our second a chaste peck on the lips during our binding, our third a mix of desire or nervousness. This kiss was different though. This was a kiss of acceptance, of contentment, of building joy.
I was vaguely aware of the books sliding from his lap onto the floor below as Harry welcomed me into his arms. We were a tangle of limbs and too many clothes, and that blasted skirt on my dress got stupidly pinned beneath his leg and pulled taut when I tried to lean into Harry and slide my left leg over his thigh, but it didn't matter because Harry was kissing me and pressing my chest into his and tugging at my hair in a way that made me moan.
I kicked off my heels and slid a hand under the still-unbuttoned collar of his shirt and let out a whimper of pleasure when I felt his lips and teeth on my earlobe. We moved in concert, shifting on the bed until my head hit the pillow, Harry above me, my skirt still tangled awkwardly between us.
He pulled back enough to look down at me with an expression of desire on his face that I never, ever thought I'd see from my best friend.
"I know we didn't really, um, talk about this much, but do you…" he paused and then dropped his head, no longer looking me in the eye. "Fuck, this is weird."
"What?" I asked breathlessly, a small panic starting to build in my mind. What was weird? Was I weird? Was it strange and uncomfortable to be with me?
"Talking to you about sex. It's kind of…"
"Surreal?"
"Yeah."
"Is that a bad thing?" I asked, shifting to try to free my tangled skirt.
"No. No! It's...I don't want to push you into anything. I mean, I know we have to-"
"Shh," I breathed out in a soothing tone as I reached out tentatively and brushed his perpetually messy hair back from his face.
His eyes met mine, and I offered him a small smile. "You aren't. Pushing me into anything, that is. I… I want this, Harry. I do. I promise, if you do something I don't like, I'll tell you."
A look of sheer relief crossed his face, and I realised he was perhaps as nervous as I was.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. Don't stop," I whispered, putting my hands at his waist and tugging at his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his trousers.
"Oh, thank Merlin," he responded immediately, kissing me again in a meeting of lips and teeth and tongue that expressed his relief. And it was a relief, I supposed, to know that Harry was just as nervous as I was.
We moved together in a way that was both familiar and new, me pressing my lips to his jaw, his ear, his neck as he bent to toe off his shoes and pull off his socks, him lifting me up to unzip my dress and pausing so I could unbutton his shirt and slide it from his shoulders. I'd seen Harry shirtless before, many times, but I'd never been able to run my fingers over the muscles of his chest and back, never been able to lightly trail a fingernail over his nipple and hear his sharp intake of breath. It was heady to know that I affected him as much as he affected me.
I should have been nervous when he pulled down the top of my dress, revealing the delicate pale pink lace bra I'd bought for this day. I should have been nervous when he didn't stop but continued to tug at the fabric, lifting my hips and sliding the silky soft dress down my thighs until I kicked it away, leaving me dressed only in my bra and the matching knickers. I should have been nervous, for I'd never once been this bared before Harry, but he was gazing at me with such a heated and intense look that I felt beautiful and sexy and powerful.
His touch was reverent, his hands almost worshipful as he slid them up my thighs, over my hips and belly and finally over my lace-covered breasts.
"Beautiful, so beautiful," he murmured, pressing his lips to my breast, just above the lace's edge.
I wound my fingers into his hair and wrapped my legs around his waist. His erection tented his trousers and pressed against my knickers in the most delicious of ways, and I couldn't help but roll my hips into him and arch my back into his touch, my whisper of his name a soft prayer of thanksgiving, of grace.
He kissed across my chest as his hands slipped beneath me to fumble with my bra.
And then.
"Shit."
"What?"
"It's stuck."
"What?""
"The - fuck! The damn clasp," he admitted, his breath tickling my collar bone and neck.
I couldn't help it - I giggled. It was such an utterly real and human moment in the midst of intimacy, and it was so perfectly us. We weren't cinematic perfection. We weren't the stuff of romance novels, and we probably never would be, and somehow that was okay.
"I'm ruining this whole mood, aren't I?" he muttered.
"No," I said, taking his face in my hands to look into his green eyes. "No, this is us, and it's familiar and real, and I wouldn't want to be here with anyone else."
The sincerity in my words seemed to take his breath away as he gazed at me. He turned his head to kiss my palm.
"I'm going to need you naked. Right now," he said into my palm as I laughed again.
We both fumbled with the hook-and-eye closure of the bra together until it came loose. As soon as it was off, I flopped back onto the pillow and reached for the belt on Harry's trousers. If I was about to be naked, he needed to be as well. I managed to get the belt and trousers both unfastened as he traced fingers, lips, and tongue across my breasts, but the moment his lips closed around my nipple, I lost all sense of what I had been trying to do.
There were not words to describe what he did with his mouth.
I'd always enjoyed having a man lavish attention on my breasts and my nipples, but never before had it felt this exquisite, shooting a spark of pleasure down my body that reverberated in my core.
"More," I gasped, clutching at his hair to hold him to my breast.
He mumbled something incoherent against, my nipple, and I nearly came off the mattress when he rubbed two fingers over the damp seam of my knickers. It seemed silly now that I'd worried about sex with Harry, worried that we'd be awkward and uncomfortable and somehow all wrong. I'd not been this turned on in a long time.
"Oh fuck, you're so wet," he groaned as he tugged my knickers aside, stroking, touching, exploring my body and pressing two fingers up inside of me.
"Oh god, yes." I arched into his touch, rolling my hips in concert with the movement of his fingers.
The elastic of my knickers was digging uncomfortably into my hip, stretched as it was to accommodate his hand, and it was distracting me from the downright sinful things he was doing with his mouth and his fingers. I shifted underneath him and tried to shimmy out of my knickers without tangling his hand in them.
"Someone's eager," he said teasingly.
"Shut up and take off your trousers."
I spit it out reflexively, without forethought, and Harry laughed uproariously.
"A wise wizard always listens to his wife," he said with mock sincerity, making me snicker as he knelt above me and quickly unfastened his trousers. I kicked off my knickers and watched as Harry undressed. Underneath the all-black attire he'd worn for our binding, he had on red pants with little golden snitches all over them.
I couldn't resist snickering, and the words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them.
"Is that a snitch in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?" It was, quite possibly, the single most ridiculous thing I'd ever said, and I couldn't quite believe I'd actually said them. In bed. Whilst naked with my new husband. A felt a blush of embarrassment spread across my cheeks.
He froze for a moment before wrinkling his nose at me.
"It's good thing I married you before I knew how awful your pick-up lines were. No wonder you've been single all this time!"
"Harry!" I sputtered with mock indignation, swatting lightly at him. Truthfully, I was more in awe of the size of the bulge in his pants than I was his insult over my goofy pick-up line. I'd suspected he was well-endowed that night we'd snogged on the sofa, but this was impressive.
He crawled back onto the bed, a ridiculous grin on his face. "You should know, love, that I never keep a snitch in my pants. There's no room for it, and it'd be damned impractical, really."
I laughed at his absurd comment and then shrieked when he tickled my rib cage. Somehow I managed to both swat at him and pull him closer to me at the same time, and the next thing I knew, we were kissing again. Never in my life had I thought I'd be naked and laughing with Harry Potter, and yet here we were, and it felt so incredibly right.
"Now it's just your ego talking," I chided against his lips. I felt, rather than saw, him smile against me.
"Of course it's my ego talking: Hermione Granger is naked in my bed."
"Potter."
"What?"
"Hermione Potter," I corrected, tugging at his pants.
He lifted his head to look at me. "Hermione Potter," he repeated with a grin as he casually tossed his glasses on the bedside table.
"Can you even see without those?" I teased as I hooked a leg around him and slipped my hands under his pants to squeeze his bum and draw him closer to me. I moaned involuntarily at the feel of his still partially-covered erection pressed against me.
"Do you doubt my abilities, Hermione Potter?"
"Only your ability to see."
"I'd tickle you again to make you pay for that, but you're rather naked, and I'm turned on enough that I'm going to let it slide."
Before I could respond, he was moving down my body, pushing my thighs apart, and then - oh god. His tongue darted out, tentatively, and then with more assurance before he pressed a kiss between my legs. His tongue traced the contours of my body, seeking my clit, and his fingers pressed up inside of me, and after that it was a heady blur of fingers and lips and tongue. He enticed, he demanded, he wrung pleasure from my body, and before I knew it, I was coming undone, my thighs trembling by his head and my fingers clutching a handful of his black hair, his name a breathy moan as I writhed and shook and felt, and it was exquisite bliss.
His teeth nipped playfully at my inner thigh, making me shriek and shudder as his fingers continued to lightly stroke me through aftershocks of pleasure.
"Wow," I breathed out as I felt him press a kiss into my hip bone.
I reluctantly released my grip on his hair, and Harry moved atop me, nuzzling at my neck.
"That was amazing," I sighed as I reached for him, tracing my nails down his back and over the curve of his bare arse. I wasn't sure when he'd ditched his pants.
"I've wanted to do that to you since that night on the sofa," he admitted, using his teeth on my ear lobe and making me shudder again.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"It was brilliant."
He laughed then - a throaty sound - and kissed me again, and the taste of myself on his tongue was intoxicating, and I knew I wanted to make him feel as good as he'd made me. I pressed on his shoulder, and Harry let me roll him onto his back and take control. My lips, teeth, and tongue marked a path along a body that was both familiar and foreign to me as I mapped out the faint marks of scars, the dips and crests of muscle. Harry was hard muscle overlaid with pale skin and sparse dark hair. He was the scent of sandalwood and clove, of parchment and books and home. It was a potent combination.
I had only begun to explore his body when he grew impatient and guided my hand to his cock. I was hardly virginal, but I blushed like an innocent schoolgirl as I wrapped my hand around him and let him guide my stroke, showing me what he liked. I slid my fingers and palm down the length of him and back up again, reveling in the warmth and the slide of skin, of the groan I drew from him, of the length and girth of his cock. Something inside of me involuntarily clenched at the thought of impaling myself on that cock, and then again at the thought that it was mine, mine, mine because he was my husband, and I could experience this as often as we wanted.
I straddled his thighs and took in the sight before me: Harry's head thrown back onto the pillow, mouth open in a long moan, his abdominal muscles flexing as my hands teased him and brought him pleasure.
I'd never been a huge fan of fellatio, mostly because I was never confident in my skill, but I wanted to give of myself to Harry, to give him everything. I wasn't sure if this burning desire in me was spurred on by the magic of our binding, or if this was just us, our chemistry together, but for once in my life, I wasn't going to question it.
I started to move off of him, to give myself space to bend over and bring my lips to the head of his cock, but he stopped me then, his fingers digging into my forearm.
"Wait."
"What?" I asked, my hand still wrapped around him.
"It's not that I don't want you to do that - I do, fuck, believe me, I do - but I'm not going to last."
My lips stretched into a grin, and I was inordinately pleased with myself.
"C'mere," he said in a pleasing voice as he tugged on my arm and pulled me closer to him until I was straddling that glorious cock.
"You're going to let me be on top? Our first time?" I couldn't help the surprise in my voice.
I could now admit - even if only to myself - that Harry's domineering Auror persona on display at the Ministry after our respective exes had crashed our wedding had awakened a tiny bit of a fantasy, of being dominated, of being pinned down and fucked into the mattress. It wasn't the sort of thing I'd really experienced, as according to Ron, I was "bloody terrifying." Apparently wizards who valued the safety of their 'wands' didn't attempt to dominate witches like me, or some rot like that.
Harry grinned up at me in that cheeky sort of way of his that I was coming to adore. "I'm confident enough in my masculinity to let you be on top for now. Besides, what wizard wouldn't want those tits bouncing in his face?"
"You're incorrigible."
"You love it."
I opened my mouth to respond, and then stopped myself, for I realised in that moment that I was dangerously close to shooting back at Harry, "No, but I love YOU," and that...I couldn't do that. Loved him as a friend? Yes, absolutely. Loved him as my family, the only real family I had? Of course.
But loved him… as a wife?
We weren't there yet. I knew we would get there, and I was beginning to think it would be sooner rather than later, but I didn't want to spoil what was without a doubt the best sexual encounter of my short life by making a sappy, premature declaration of love.
"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, sensing my discomfort as I knelt above him, his hands on my arm and hip.
I shook my head and smiled at him. "It's nothing."
"You sure?"
He sat up then, and for a brief flicker of a moment, I marveled at the abdominal muscles that flexed before me.
Harry let go of me to cup my face and hold my gaze. "I know we have to do this, but if you're not ready, if you're having second thoughts, we can wait… maybe do this later tonight."
I glanced down at his very erect, very impressive cock and then back at his face. Harry noticed where my eyes had gone.
"He can wait. He knows it's poor form to shag a witch who isn't fully willing," he said.
"Did you just…? Oh God. Don't tell me you have some sort of name for it. It's awkward enough that you just referred to your penis in the third person."
He snickered and pressed a delicious kiss to my jaw and then my neck and my ear, making me shudder. I reflexively reached down, brushing my fingertips across his cock, enjoying the way his body twitched in response.
Harry nipped at my ear lobe. "I do not have a nickname for my penis, but I'm thinking 'basilisk' has a nice ring to it. Or did you want to name it?" he teased.
I couldn't help it: I burst out laughing because 'basilisk' was such an utterly absurd, egotistical, over the top suggestion, and I knew he couldn't possibly be serious. As usual, Harry had managed to draw me from my own thoughts and put me at ease.
"You are the absolute worst. I was rather turned on by your whole 'dominant Auror-turned-secret-researcher' thing, but you're totally going to ruin it for me with the penis names," I laughed as he hugged me close and pulled my hips down toward a cock I was probably forever now going to think of anytime I heard the word 'basilisk.'
"So you're saying I should stop talking then?"
Before I could respond, he shifted, and that deliciously hot, hard length slipped between my legs, brushing against me just so. Damn, he was good.
"Maybe," I gasped out. "Do that again."
He guided my hips in a torturously slow rocking motion, and I whimpered at the feel of his cock sliding through the wet folds of my body, the plummy head bumping my clit. It was shocking how quickly I'd gone from debating my feelings for Harry to laughing to now whimpering with need. I'd run the gamut of emotions in mere seconds, and I couldn't wait to find out what other emotions he could evoke in me.
"I don't need to wait," I whispered to him.
Without hesitation, I reached between us and stroked his cock firmly one more time before positioning it and sinking slowly down onto him, making us both moan at the sensation.
Harry was big, bigger than I'd ever experienced, and he stretched me in the most intimate and incredible of ways, touching places no one had ever touched before. I clung to him, holding his head to my neck as he bottomed out and my inner muscles fluttered around him.
A warmth spread through me, originating - it seemed - from my core, where we were joined together. The feeling I'd experienced during our binding ceremony, that of a magical cord tethering me to Harry, flared within me in that moment. There was no visible display of magic as there was during the wedding, no purple and red undulating waves, no explosive shimmer of magical sparks, and yet I knew our magic was there, as integral to the consummation of our marriage as the actual sexual act. The tie that bound us twisted and turned, weaving new strands around itself, tying us irrevocably together. For better or for worse, Harry was mine, and I was his, and the magical, emotional, and physical connection between us overwhelmed me in the best of ways.
Harry lifted his head to gaze at me, a look of awe on his face as he breathed out a soft "wow."
I nodded my agreement with his sentiment, as I could not seem to form words. Our magic, it seemed, had recognised our joining and was content with it, but I needed more, and I knew Harry did as well. I rocked my hips reflexively, marveling at incredible he felt inside me.
"Fuck, oh fuck, you feel so good," he mumbled, his breath warming my skin. "Don't stop, love."
He let me lead our lovemaking, let me lift my hips and impale myself again and again on that glorious cock, let me experiment with what felt best to me, what angles made my eyes roll back in my head and my body shake on top of him as he caressed me and whispered his devotion, telling me how sexy I was, how much he wanted me, how he'd always wanted me.
I rode him until the muscles in my thighs protested, and arousal dripped from my body and made an obscene squelching sound each time I dropped my hips down onto him. I rode him until I quivered with pleasure, and then I shoved him back onto the pillows and braced myself on the hard planes of his chest, his muscles taut beneath my fingers and rode him to an orgasm that left me gasping for breath before I collapsed bonelessly atop him.
Harry let me rest only for a moment before he rolled me onto my back and pressed soft, barely there kisses across my chest, jaw, and neck.
"That was, without a doubt, the sexiest thing I've ever seen," he murmured as he pushed back into me, making my hips roll and my back arch up off the bed.
"Oh god," I pushed out, feeling overwhelmed at the feeling of him on top of me, inside of me, as my body still twitched with the aftershocks of orgasm.
"Yes, love, hold onto me," he said as I wound my arms around him, my fingernails digging lightly into his back. "You've had your fun, but I'm not finished with you yet."
His strokes were hard and fast, and his hands held me tight, bending my body as he desired, pushing one of my knees up toward my chest in a way that made me cry out and plead for him: please, more, don't stop.
I was in sensory overload. The air around me smelled like Harry and like sex, and I was surrounded by the sound of his body slamming into mine, of the moans and cries and grunts and whispered profanities and endearments that made up the symphony of sex. I could still taste the faintest hints of my own arousal on his tongue and in his kiss, and I could feel him on me, in me, everywhere around me.
My world had condensed to just this space on his bed - our bed - and the consummation of our marriage was communion, grace, a blessing of magic itself.
I could tell the end was near, could sense it in the frenetic pace of his thrusts, in the twist of his handsome features, in the way he groaned and dug his fingers into my skin in a motion that was just short of painful. I wanted to see it, I wanted to see him come undone, to know that I'd brought him the same mindless pleasure he'd brought me.
I gripped his hair, hard, pulling his face back to mine, making him push out a stuttered, "fuck."
"Are you going to come?" I whispered, lifting my hips to meet him thrust for thrust.
His mumbled, "fuck, yes," as he met my gaze sent another flood of wetness from me as he slammed into me harder this time.
I pulled him closer, close enough that I could bite - hard - at his earlobe, enjoying the shudder that passed through him. Yes, he was very close indeed.
"You feel so good," I murmured into ear. "The way you fuck me. I want to feel you come. Come for me, Harry."
He lost it then, and I had the privilege of watching him come undone above me. His final hard, deep thrusts wrung one last small orgasm from my body, and then he came with a final roar, spilling himself deep inside me before finally coming to rest, his body slumped atop mine.
I felt the magic that bound us flare once more and then fall silent, and I knew somehow that if our magic held any sentience that it was pleased. It was done. We were well and truly wed.
