Hermione had certainly found more pleasure in studying lately than she had done since she had arrived at Hogwarts. It was not that she hadn't enjoyed studying before; she had; only now she had certain study aids and the task of studying had become more of a fun game than a task at all.
Sitting in the library later that afternoon after Hagrid's lesson, Hermione was very thankful for being given the opportunity to use these study aids to her benefit. Especially since, in the past ten minutes her foot had been tracing a line towards a certain study aid's hard, pulsating member; finally making contact.
Ron's eyes were scanning the pages of his textbook erratically, his breath coming in short, raspy breaths as he tried desperately to concentrate on what he was reading. Hermione leaned in closer, applying more pressure as she did so. She smiled, noticing the slight perspiration appearing on his brow and his eyes, unfocused and fighting to roll back into his head.
His hand reached over the table and took Hermione's. "Oh god," he rasped, "you're driving me crazy. Please don't stop." Ron punctuated the sentence by biting so severely on his lower lip that Hermione half expected him to draw blood.
'Time for the tease', thought Hermione.
She swiftly removed her foot away from his protruding member and pulled his hand toward her to cup her breast as she leaned in further over the table so that her head was near Ron's.
"What the...?" he looked dazed by the sudden lack of contact between them.
"Shhh," whispered Hermione in his ear, "I'm going to make you come, but you have to earn it first. I won't take anything less than 'Acceptable'."
"Hermione," Ron pleaded, "touch me."
"No," Hermione remained firm, "not until you tell me."
"Tell you what?" questioned Ron, confusion furrowing his brow.
"I want you to tell me..." Hermione trailed off, pressing Ron's hand even harder against her firm, adolescent breast. She felt Ron moan huskily against her ear and could feel Goosebumps course throughout her body. She started again, "Tell me..." another moan escaped Ron's mouth before she continued, "...Who is your Daddy and what does he do?!"
Hermione released Ron's hand and fell against the back of her chair laughing at the bewildered look on Ron's face.
"I don't get it," he said, "you know who my dad is. Why did you stop?"
Hermione bit back her laughter and apologised to Ron, stating it was a 'muggle thing'.
"I knew muggles were weird," stated Ron, "but I never knew they were just plain, damn cruel too."
"Cruel how?" asked Hermione, leaning back towards Ron, tracing her hands back up his inner thigh and reaching once more for his still alert member. She grasped it firmly in one hand and began pumping him again so hard he almost jumped out of his seat.
"Was that cruel Ron?"
Ron shook his head vigorously "...just...fine," he croaked, closing his eyes slightly.
"Good...good..." Hermione whispered, releasing her grip a little and slowing down her pace dramatically. "Open your eyes, Ron."
Ron obeyed and met Hermione's eye, "you're beautiful," he said breathlessly.
"You're only saying that because you're getting your rocks off! Now stop with the teenage emotions and carry on with the task in hand."
"But Hermione, the task is in your hand," Ron pointed out smiling devilishly.
Hermione sighed, annoyed, "The text book, Ron. You have a History of Girthmonsters essay to get finished before you even consider leaving this library."
"Believe me, Hermione, for the past thirty minutes leaving this library has been the last thing on my mind."
Hermione stopped her hand mid-thrust, "Ronald," she chastised.
"What? Can't you just continue? Please?" he started to beg, "I'm dying here. You're taking too long." Ron's eyes met hers and he was trying to put on one of his most pleading puppy-dog looks. Hermione was having none of it. They'd been here before and she was used to his pleading, he should have known by now that it didn't work.
"Ok Ron, first of all, at least one of us takes their time; thank Merlin for saving graces," ("hey!" complained Ron, pathetically)
"And second of all," continued Hermione, "You are NOT going to die if you don't come soon, nobody ever died from delayed ejaculation!"
"I'm sure I heard of this one case-"
"Nobody, Ron! Now, unless you want me to stop altogether, you'll play the game. You know the rules."
Ron sighed heavily, knowing he had been defeated. He should have known from the start that he wasn't going to win. He never won. Hermione always found a way to defeat him in games like this. His penis and he had been faithful, loyal friends since he was 12, but since Hermione had come along and taken over Ron's right-handed role, he'd found his penis siding with her more and more often, leaving Ron feeling helpless during Hermione's lack of action.
More than once he had thought about finishing the job himself when Hermione had gotten him particularly aroused but he knew his dick would never accept that again. Why settle for bronze when you've already hit gold?
He pulled the Encyclopaedia of Rare Beasts and Monsters closer to him and began to read. Hermione was right, he did know the rules; he'd have to work before he got to play.
"Girthmonsters," he began to read aloud to Hermione, "Were discovered in the 14th Century."
"Good, good," murmured Hermione, taking Ron in her hand once more. Ron swallowed a lump in his throat before continuing,
"They were discovered in Switzerland by Professor Oliver Lenin."
"Mm hmm..." hummed Hermione, continuing her strokes.
"They can live for over fifty years in any kind of climate."
"Really?" questioned Hermione, pausing briefly to tighten her grip before carrying on.
"Yeah," mumbled Ron, almost incoherently, "What's a climate?"
"Temperature."
"Oh. Ohhhh...."
"Shh. Carry on..."
Ron nodded fervently, "All Girthmonsters are male and collectively called a Chris," he had a confused look on his face again mixed with traces of pleasure that Hermione picked up on.
"It's like calling one bird a bird but calling more than one bird a flock," she explained gently.
Ron smiled, showing he understood then carried on with his reading, "Some Girthmonsters are larger than others, the largest of it's type are commonly called 'Waughys' and can produce up to ten times the amount of fluid than an average Girthmonster."
"Good. Very good, Ron," said Hermione
"Do you want me to continue?" asked Ron.
Hermione studied his face, though not pausing her strokes this time. Ron's eyes appeared glassy and more unfocused than they had been earlier. His breathing was also becoming more erratic by the second; it seemed cruel to stop now, he'd completed his half of the bargain, so therefore it was only fair that she completed hers.
"No," she said, "you just sit back. It's my turn to work now."
Ron seemed relieved as he leaned back in his chair, shifting his lower regions further towards Hermione for better access. Hermione adjusted her grip once more and began pumping again, pausing occasionally to squeeze here and there before carrying on.
Ron soon became short of breath and Hermione could feel his orgasm coming closer with every pump. He was once again biting hard on his lip, trying to control his body's reaction so as not to appear suspicious to anybody else in the library. Ron settled his inner turmoil by taking Hermione's hand in his own and guiding her up and down until he completed his release.
Oh god. Now his hand was sticky. He knew hers must be worse. Oh god, oh god. He wasn't supposed to go this far, he usually stopped before he went that far, it was much too public. Now he'd have to apologise to her. He found himself unable to meet her eye. 'Say something' his brain commanded 'Go! Now! Apologise!'
Seconds passed and Ron still seemed unable to voice his thoughts. Hermione, the clever witch that she is, beat him to it. Wiping her hands on the underside of his robe, she suddenly piped up, "Don't you dare say you're sorry. I know you're not. Not really. Embarrassed; yes. Sorry; no."
Ron looked into her eyes and knew instantly she wasn't mad. Her eyes shone with mischief that made him smile instantly.
"I would have been lying anyway," he told her.
"I know," she replied, "and it doesn't matter."
"It doesn't?"
"No," she answered. She took her newly polished hand from underneath his robe and began packing away her books and completed essay into her bag.
"Where are you going?"
"To the common room," she replied hoisting her book bag over her shoulder then straitening her robes.
"Wha-? But; my essay..." Ron, still not fully composed, voiced his feeble protests.
Hermione scoffed, "Twenty minutes is more than enough time for you to finish that essay, Ronald. It's also more than enough time for me to get me towel from the dormitory and meet you in the prefect's bathroom."
"The prefect's bathroom?" Ron repeated, confused. "Why?"
"Because," she replied with that glint in her eye again, "you've been a very dirty boy!"
With that Hermione turned and abruptly left the library, leaving Ron slightly flushed but scribbling on his parchment as if his life depended on it.