Chapter 12
Nodding slowly, Ron sat up so both his legs were on either side of her as she sat cross legged in front of him, and he took her hand in his. The feel of his fingers sliding against hers was blissful after their heated session, and Susan couldn't help but smile. The last tingles of her over-sensitivity faded leaving only a warm comfort and the hungry desire for more. She expected him to hold her hand, instead he turned her palm up and pulled her sleeve enough to examine her wrist. He put on a inquisitive look to go with his examination, holding it up to his face carefully.
"Can't seem to find this tattoo… hmm… I didn't see it on either of your legs. Not your ankles or your thighs. Not this wrist… what about the other?" he gently lowered her hand and went for the opposite one, giving it the same attention. "Nope, not here either."
Holding back giggles, Susan let him explore at his leisure, letting him be silly because silly was so much more preferable to his pain. He rolled up her sleeve curiously. "Elbow? No. That's ridiculous. As I suspected, no ink..."
"You're the ridiculous one," she laughed, finding that elbow to be quite ticklish.
"Well, it seems if this so called 'tattoo' exists, it must be under the shirt," he announced solemnly. "Which means, if you want to show me your tattoo, you have to take off your sweater, love."
She considered him carefully. He was definitely playing with her, no matter his forlorn tone of voice and that sad puppy dog face he was giving. "It's your sweater," she reminded him, being obstinate on purpose.
"Oi! That's right. Give it back!" He playfully grabbed at her sweater, not really trying to remove it but having fun when their fingers collided as he tried to tug her a little closer.
"Ron!" she half shouted, half laughed, as he tickled her sides through the sweater. They played like that for a while, him trying to 'remove' her sweater while she 'tried' to get away from his tickling and teasing. It nearly ended when she grabbed at his right hand a little too roughly, a moment of panic appearing on his face. But she quickly declared a Thumb War and it brought out his competitive side. The urge to win stomped all over his panic.
Ultimately he won, pinning her thumb easily beneath his. "That's just unfair! Your hands are so much longer than mine, I mean, look at your metacarpals!" she shouted with a fake pout.
Somehow, she ended up sitting next to him with both her legs thrown over his lap and their Thumb War battlefield between them. He brushed his thumb over the top of hers with a slow repetitive movement that lulled her into a relaxed state. "Teach me about the bones, Bones."
"Sure," she laid her head on his shoulder and held his hand vertically, with the back of his hand towards them. His fingers wiggled unhelpfully. "Hey…"
"Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. His other arm came around her back, fingers brushing over her hips. She felt entangled, but not trapped. Like they were carefully folded together and not thrown together haphazardly.
Susan cleared her throat. "Distal phalanges," she informed him, wiggling the very tip of his index finger.
"Was that French?"
Giving him a dry look, she repeated, "Phalanges."
"Oh that clears it right up then," he grinned.
"Middle phalanges," she continued down his finger, still holding eye contact. "Proximal phalanges…"
He leaned in and started pressing kisses against her neck, one for every bone she named. "Trapezoid… Trapezium… mmm… Scaphoid…"
"Susan." Ron earlier learned how much she liked teeth, and he applied the same technique here, biting into the spot where her neck met shoulder and completely obliterating her ability to recall bones she could usually name in her sleep. "I haven't forgotten about that tattoo."
The words whispered across her skin, sending shivers everywhere. She extended her neck to give him more access, as the hand at her hip tugged on the sweater. He leaned in, rubbing his beard against her skin and making her gasp loudly.
But the real pleasure was discovering how sensitive her neck was when he sat up a little further up and began kissing just beneath her ear. His beard tickled her skin, causing goosebumps to break out across her chest and down her arms simultaneously.
"I can assure you I have a tattoo," she trailed off as her head leaned all the way back.
"Show me."
"I can also assure you that it is somewhere underneath this sweater..." she continued, forgetting about the anatomy lesson and digging her fingers into his hair. She straightened up and leaned in for a kiss, the both of them getting lost as they sank into each other. He wrapped his long arms around her waist, pulling Susan directly into his lap.
They kissed as if they hadn't anything better to do, as if they were the only two in the world. His fingers found their way underneath the sweater and began rubbing slow circles into her hips. She held onto his hair gently, not wanting to be too rough with him but making sure he knew she needed all of his attention. That no one else could have it.
And he seemed to listen. There was a dragon in the loch outside. It was pouring down rain in a storm. Susan nearly drowned the day before. But Ron kissed her as if none of that mattered at all. As if he planned on doing it for a long time.
By the time she pulled away, they were both completely flushed—and not from the warmth of the fire either.
"Don't tell me you want to stop?" Ron asked in a low voice, fingers digging into skin.
Susan licked her lips. "No." And that breathy voice was back. "I want you to take off your shirt. Think you're up for that?"
He previously admitted to having a panic attack whenever his chest was touched. And earlier when the two of them were in bed together she had begun to unbutton his shirt and he asked her to go first instead, asked her to get rid of her pajama shirt before his. Things had then gotten too heated to continue afterwards, but she didn't forget his pains.
The fire sparked beside them, sending a flare into the air with a crack as the flames ate at the sweetwood. They both turned to look at the sharp noise, their momentum coming to a complete halt. She quickly returned her attention to Ron when it seemed nothing was amiss and found him frowning.
"I can do that," he answered, bringing a hesitant hand to the top button of his pajama shirt. His fingers flexed as he drew in a determined breath, but the button went untouched.
"Ron, you don't have to do anything you don't want to," she reminded him quickly.
"I know," he responded immediately and loudly. The volume of his own voice seemed to startle him. He took a pause and then continued in a much quieter voice, "I know, Susie. I... might need a little help with this part."
"A little help?"
"Take my shirt off," he insisted, being rather bossy with her. But he started smiling again. "Do it for me."
Still, she hesitated. "If you aren't ready..."
"I am. Honestly!" And once the words were out, it seemed truer than before. As if he convinced himself of that very fact. He lifted his hands and undid it without wavering, popping the button through its respective hole with one swift jerk of his thumb. "See? Bloody hell..."
The loosened fabric revealed a small patch of freckled skin that looked no different than the skin on his arm, or face, or neck for that matter, but he sagged into the couch behind him, releasing a heavy breath as if he'd just run a marathon. It seemed he expended all his remaining energy with that one little act of undoing the top button of his shirt.
Susan took his face into her hands, tilting his head up to face her. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, eyes closed, leaning into her, letting her hold him so tenderly. "Just harder than I thought it would be. It's all mixed up in my head… it's easier when I'm focusing on you."
She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, smoothing down his beard. "If you aren't ready, then you aren't ready. I won't push you. One word from you and we stop."
"That's the thing, I am ready," he repeated, looking up at her stubbornly. "You won't like what you see, Susie, but I am ready. I mean, I know you've seen it already. You've seen me naked and bleeding—"
"No," she snapped rather loudly, interrupting him before he could really get going. But she forced herself to speak softly once she had his attention. "I told you Ron. I don't see people by their wounds. I can't, otherwise... God, that's all I would see. I'm a Wound Maven. I get the worst of the worst physical injuries. If I only saw your wounds, I would miss everything else."
"Miss everything else? Like what?"
"Like what? Like… like that incredulous look you gave your sister when she wondered what we'd been up to this weekend. Like your steadfast passion for Creature Rights and stopping Dragon Breeding. Like how... crazy handsome you are. And how you're always arguing with your healer! Do you ever notice that? Hmm?"
They were both laughing by the end, and her smile encouraged Ron. "So you're saying you don't see me as some bleeding victim. Jeez, woman, that's all you had to say." He laughed warily before continuing. "I definitely want to take my shirt off, especially if it means you'll take yours off if I do, yet… here I am… back to being a ninny. Had a good run there for a bit."
Susan wondered about that, and the first thought that came to mind was simple. He didn't mind the giving part of sex, likely because both times he played that role he'd been the one in charge. He was the one in control. He knew, as did she, that he wouldn't hurt her or force her into an uncomfortable situation. And rationally, hopefully, he knew she wouldn't do the same to him. But that's where the confusion came in because he could never be certain.
It had to be incredibly difficult for him to open up, to allow Susan to shower him with the kind of affection he'd been so generously giving her when another had callously and violently taken advantage of him. Hard to sit there and trust that she wouldn't use power, her dominant position, to make him helpless like he'd been once before.
She still cupped his face, thumbs brushing up and down his cheeks sweetly. "We're going a little fast…" she started. "Maybe we should stop and take a break?"
"No," he said, and it sounded pleading. "I can handle it, Susie, I mean it. I want you. I want to see your tattoo. I only need you to go first, if that's alright?"
Belly doing flips, she dropped her hands and sat back, putting more space between them and really accessing his words. "You must promise me you'll stop us at any point if you're uncomfortable. Don't push yourself so far I unintentionally hurt you."
Finally he seemed to understand how much it would kill her if she harmed him in any way. He brushed his fingers over the tops of her thighs and gave her that signature goofy smile.
"Listen, love, there's three things I know for certain in life. One, if you ever need an answer to anything about anything, ask Hermione. Two, always carry a bit of Bezoar stone in your pocket. And three, you are incapable of standing by while another living soul is hurting. And I would be bones in a grave right now if that weren't true so don't you go arguing with me about it."
Susan cocked her head, feeling weirdly delighted and knowing he was absolutely right about Granger. "Are you saying you have a Bezoar on your person right at this moment?"
"Doubting me, Bones?" he smirked. Then he dug a hand into his left pocket, pulling out a dark grey stone, hardened with bits of hair and twisted into an odd round shape.
"Not anymore," she grinned. And his hands that had been slowly brushing over her thighs moved farther up and tugged at the hem of her sweater. Just once. Just enough to grab her attention.
Right. It was time to remove her top. She grabbed the hem and pulled it up and over her head. Her hair got a little caught in the neckhole but she eased the strands gently free before pulling her arms through the sleeves and setting the sweater on the ground beside them, away from the fire. Her hair slid down her back in waves of red. Then she was completely naked, sitting in Ron's lap, feeling bare but warm. He watched her, eyes big and blue and unblinking, as she lifted her left arm up and draped it over her head, giving him her left side.
What he hadn't seen when they were in bed together earlier was on her side, between her 6th and 7th rib, where there were two boldly written words, one on top of each other. Ron looked amazed and excited all at once, his finger coming up to trace the words.
"Grim Grin?"
Tingles rippled through her torso, pulsing outwards from her left side and making her tremble in his lap. "Ron."
"What does it mean?" he asked, voice gruff with pleasure. His fingers continued to trace the words and his thumb just brushed the side of her breast. Accidental or intentional, it made her shiver with anticipation all over again.
"Something my aunt always said," she tried to temper her rising desire, reminding herself to take it easy. "She believed in dedication and hard work above all else, even if it meant sticking on a smile and trudging through a difficult task. Getting it done and accomplishing the task was worth the grim grin. I know it's silly..."
By the end of her explanation her breaths became pants. It was difficult to sit in his lap, his warm body between her legs, with his finger writing cursive across her ribs. "That's what-" she gasped rather loudly when he switched from his finger to his thumb—a trick she bloody well taught him— "That's what got me through Healer Training."
"It's not silly," he finally said after torturing her for near a whole minute. "Sexy."
"What about you?" she asked, stomach practically trembling as she willed herself to relax.
"No, no ink for me. I'm too much of a chicken, can't take it," Ron informed her absentmindedly, continuing to trace the lines of her tattoo with both his thumb and his eyes.
"You know our generation gets less tattoos than our parent's generation did," she informed him of the useless fact, doing everything in her power to remain still.
Ron looked up at her, finger pausing against her rib, and she could've bitten her tongue. She forced a laugh. "Sorry, talking about parents isn't so sexy."
"Y'know you're kinda brilliant, Susie? But you're missing the obvious a bit," he gave her a goofy smile. "You're in my lap, completely naked, and looking sexy as hell. You could be reciting History of Magic lessons and it wouldn't turn me off anytime soon."
Laughing, Susan took a deep breath, feeling her stomach tremble again. "In that case, did you know dragon breeding was outlawed in 1709 at the Warlock's Conven—ahaha!"
She shrieked with joy, Ron's fingers finding life in tickling her sides as he pull her close, his mouth pressing wet kisses up and down her neck, dragging each one out.
She pushed against his shoulders, trying to get away from his playful tickling and hating how much she enjoyed it. He paid no mind to her sad attempts to push away, his hands smoothing down her sides as he kept on nipping kisses into her neck and along her shoulder. His hands continued downward until he cupped her bare cheeks, lifting her up before he leaned forward and sprawled her out on her back.
Ron squeezed her ass once before sliding around and coming to the tops of her thighs. He came to his knees so he could look down at her safely and once in position, his knees on either side of her hips, he brought his hands up to his second shirt button. "You watching, Susan?"
"I see you," she said in a breathy whisper, eyes unblinking as he undid the second button.
More freckles. More pale skin. And now she was starting to see a dusty red patch of hair towards the top of his chest, one that grew thicker as he undid the third. But it was the fourth button that revealed the first bit of scarring. Like a slash of silver where the skin stretched to cover the wound. Similar to the scar on his neck, this scar was shiny from the forced healing and as it streaked across his skin it interrupted the growth of his chest hair.
The fifth and sixth undone meant there was only one button left with more scars revealed, and Ron struggled with it for several seconds before he cautiously pushed it through and peeled away his shirt with a sigh of relief. A physical wound could be healed without leaving a trace of the original injury. A wound caused by a curse was different. Stubborn. It always scarred and more often than not, the pain lingered even years later.
Susan's Healer instincts said he needed to up his calorie intake, for he was still too skinny to be totally healthy. Though his stature was a far cry from the night he first came to the hospital, muscles atrophied and skin clinging to bone. She could still see a faint outline of his ribs, but there were the beginnings of healthy muscle across his torso and up to his shoulders.
"I tried shaving my chest in a fit of vanity, but it just made them look bigger," he admitted to break the silence of her examination. He spoke of the scars.
There were four big ones on his torso and a smattering of smaller ones dotted between, silvery slashes that stretched into a sickly purple at the edges. Three of them were across his abdomen. The top most one was just over his heart and stretched nearly down to the bottom of his sternum. Susan lifted a hand and pressed it directly over the glossy scar.
"So, what tattoo should I get to cover this up?" Ron asked lightly, a slight tremble beneath his skin.
"How vain are you exactly?" she teased, and the tremble faded away beneath her very touch. "How about a Hebridean?"
Cracking up with laughter, Ron laid down beside her, on his side, giving her full access to his chest. She rolled to her own side to mirror him and with her hand now free, Susan pressed her finger to the top tip of his top scar. "If you scale to size, the head can start here…"
She used that finger to draw a rough outline of a dragon's head, complete with very sharp, dramatic teeth. "And the body can come down this way," she continued, pushing her fingers down his chest before tracing wings that would cover the majority of his scars.
"Good thing you can't actually see what I'm drawing," she grimaced, adding a tail that definitely would've looked wonky.
"The big body could cover up this bit down here…" She drew a wide line across his trim waist, eyes darting up to check his face. He seemed completely mesmerized by her movements, eyes hooded with pleasure, so she continued drawing a dragon with her finger across his skin, moving upwards to complete an outline that covered all his scars. Then she drew a lazy circle around his belly button, a move that had him sucking in a breath.
"I think…" he swallowed, blinking rapidly as he collected his thoughts. "I think I panic about my chest because it still hurts sometimes. Like I won't be thinking about it at all, just another normal day, but then a little twinge will happen and remind me about what happened all over again. But you…"
Susan withdrew her hand and gave him her full attention.
His face and neck flushed rosy, the color spreading all the way down his chest and towards his ears. "I'm gonna repeat my earlier statement. You're the exact opposite of her. Everything she did, she did to cause maximum amounts of pain and bloat herself with power, no mind to who she hurt in the process. Everything you do is to... heal. You make their pain go away. Mine especially... when you touch me, I swear it's like magic, Susie. Nothing has ever felt better than when you're touching me like that."
Whatever she expected him to say, it wasn't that. She wiped away a stray tear from her cheek and relished in the intimacy of being known. Of being important to someone else. Susan hadn't had that in a very long time, not since her Aunt passed away. And all the time since then, everyone said she was too cold, too prickly, and no one wanted to be around that.
"Aw, Susie, I'm sorry, ignore me, don't cry," Ron pleaded, coming in close and wrapping her in a hug.
"I won't," she mumbled against his shoulder, returning the hug and wrapping herself up in him without hesitating.
"Won't?"
"Ignore you," she smiled. "Why should I? You're making my pain go away too, Ron."