17.

Did I tell you

He paused at the door, and turned back to look at her. Had he heard her thought? Had she spoken aloud? Their eyes locked across the miles of empty air between them, a connection that transcended all magic, and all reason. She was drawn in, hypnotized by the gaze. There was utter silence, the sounds of the world had gone. No more noisy traffic below. Not even the annoying ticking of her clock could permeate the shell of concentrated emotion.

He was halfway back to her before she heard the door close. There was nothing tentative, nothing even mischievous in the way he pulled her against him that time. If passion was a storm, then he was hurricane; a wild and cyclonic freight train barreling toward her. . .against her. There was a mad swirl of colors and patterns as she was swept up into his arms, her room a kaleidoscope around her as she was spun around then suddenly dropped onto her bed. She bounced once on the satin surface of the comforter. . .before he came over her.

If his kisses had felt intense when she was standing, they were electrified times ten now that she was lying supine, beneath him. She was certain she could feel even more of him in this position; his ribcage, his knees, the sinewy tendons in his arm . . .and she decided that there could not possibly be a more delicious feeling in the world than being pinned to the bed. Trapped, although willingly, between a bed and an. . .uh. . .hard place.

He was determined to prove her wrong. Kissing her ears, down her neck, her collar bone, dipping his tongue into the delicate depression at the bottom of her throat. He inhaled the musky cologne she had sprayed lightly onto her decollatege. . .it accented the warm earthy fragrance of her skin delightfully. He paused to nuzzle the exposed skin, attempting to fumble with the buttons of her robe. He had noticed, when he first came out of Hermione's fireplace, stumbling into the darkness of her flat, that he had dropped his wand somewhere behind.

He mourned it's loss now, it would have assisted greatly in the removal of the clothes. As it were, he would just have to do this the hard way,but there was a certain amount of esthetic satisfaction in slowly revealing her, inch by inch. He would have to try it some time when he had enough time to experiment. At the moment, she was rubbing against him. . .unintentionally, in her eagerness to kiss him,and it was driving him a bit crazy. He hadn't been with a woman in years, most definitely not since the day, years ago, that he had unconsciously fallen in love with Hermione.

And judging by the awkwardness in her touches, little shy touches. . .he deduced that she had most likely not been with anyone.

At all.

That thought made him slightly guilty and he wanted to pause long enough to assure himself that she was giving herself, not just submitting. . .

But she freed her hands from between them, and began in earnest to touch him. Her fingernails raked the bare skin of his neck and scalp, dissolving any reservations he might have had.

It wasn't until he was opening her robes, that the truth of what was happening struck her. Remus had really just stormed into her room ,swept her up into his arms, and lay her on the bed, It was really him, resting his weight on her, nuzzling her breast through her blouse. He was making passionate love to her..and she was lying petrified beneath him like a frigid bride.

Forcing her body to respond to her will, and not so much to his touch, she flexed her fingers and touched him. Once she started, she could not cease, hoping that her caress was as pleasing to him, as his was to her. She felt as though she had fallen into a fathomless abyss of rich liqueur; and had become comfortably drunk on delight.

She could not pull him close enough, hold him tight enough. She had to try to open his shirt, even though her fingers trembled, even though she felt the cool air on her chest, distracting her. Then he lowered his lips to the curve of her breast, even as he kneaded her flesh, feeling the twin globes swell and tighten in his hand. . .the tiny nipples straining against the creamy satin and lace of her bra.

He had to have one of them in his mouth, and he pulled the fabric down to expose one. It was pink, and textured, delightfully rounded, as it rose arrogantly from the slightly puckered aureola. He licked it, and blew across it, delighting as she shivered. . .and twitched. When he was sure it was chilled, he took it into the heat of his mouth, and sucked, eliciting a gasp from her.

He managed to unbutton her entire robe without moving his mouth, suckling still like a hungry infant, nuzzling the silken breast as he did. She arched against him, helplessly, as he ran his hand beneath the tangled clothing and along her leg. She thought to kick her shoes off, so that she could bring her leg up, making the embrace seem a little more intimate. This opened her up, so that he was suddenly pressed exactly where he wanted to be. . .and he groaned at the flood of heat that blossomed through his abdomen. His shirt disappeared; she had yanked it enough to remove it, and tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

Now she was preoccupied with the sight and feel and taste of his upper body. ..the soft tawny hair curling across his chest, where the flat nipples nested; the lean, sinewy definition on his abdomen. . .crisscrossed in several places with a few fading scars. She touched them lightly, tracing them gently with one of her nails.

This caused him to catch his breath and return his lips to hers, suddenly, and she felt the distinct rasp of his palm against her bare thigh. Her body betrayed her immediately, her legs fell open limply and easily; she felt wanton suddenly. Remus took full advantage of this invitation and brushed her through her knickers.

" Oh!" she exclaimed, nearly biting his lip. Pinning her upper body down with his weight, and grinning slightly as he stared down into her eyes, he hooked his fingers in the band of her panties, and arrogantly pulled them down and off.

Her eyes darkened suddenly, her face flushing pink as she raised her mouth to his. He teased her a minute, only allowing her small light brushing kisses, his hand now retracing it's path back towards her center. when he reached his destination he was pleased to find her very damp and responsive to her touch. Now he alternated, giving her full kisses, but only touching her lightly with his hand. . .tracing circles and letters on the soft skin of her inner thigh:dragging his fingers along the crease where her leg connected to her hip, running his palm flat over her hip bone across her belly, and down the other side. . .then lightly across the soft curls.

She moaned a little into his mouth, her body instinctively trying to grind into his hand, but he pulled back each time until she whimpered in frustration, raking her nails down his back, and tugging briefly on his pants band.

He couldn't wait any longer. He had waited too long as it was. Damn his pants! He fumbled with the button; heard it pop off and hit the floor.

She was so caught up, she didn't even notice he had hiked her plain black skirt to her hips, until he came up over her and she felt him...felt IT, rubbing along her thigh. It was burning hot, and pulsating slightly.

" Oh...Remus, I..."

" Shhh..." he whispered in her ear, before applying a tender kiss along her lips, softly,as a promise, that whereas she would be loved well, it would not be hard.

Well, not this time at least.

Grasping her hip in a bruising grip, he brought himself to her...then into her...slowly. She pressed her head back into the pillow, her eyes fluttering closed as the concentrated sensations of pleasure and pain, and pleasurable pain..began to burst throughout her. He put his free hand beneath her head, tilting it towards him,

" No..." he rasped..." look at me..." and when she opened her eyes, he drove forward, into the snug glove of her body. She gave a little cry of surprise, as she was so suddenly and so completely filled.

He nudged forward a bit more, releasing a new type of dull pleasure into her womb. He expelled all of his breath in a loud "Huh!" sound, and he took two shaky breaths before he was convinced that he wasn't dead. It felt as though he had died and gone to heaven, to use a metaphor. He felt like using more than metaphors. . .he felt like using vulgarities, and non-sense words, and her name; over and over again.

Still gazing into her now glazed eyes, he brought her leg up, urging her to cross it over his back. The movement made her internal muscles undulate around him; and she realized that just having him there, feeling his body over her, his back under her leg, and him, himself, buried even deeper now into her body. . .was bringing her very close to release.

She bucked her hips a bit impatiently towards him, delighting in the way it brought him completely into her. His jaw clenched in the effort of restraining himself...as he pulled nearly free of her before thrusting back inside...spearing her slowly until he was certain she was entirely and completely prepared to be tumbled well.

Only when the tiny word " please" escaped from her lips, did he again stare at her with that feral look that both scared her and thrilled her.

" You are mine. . ." he whispered, as he bit her neck, just under her ear, and this time when she threw her head back, he didn't stop her.

He was too busy, driving into her, lifting her hips up to him as he came down to her, their half-dressed state only driving him to a wild frenzy. The bed quivered, the satin comforter jiggling and rumpling as she clenched in her fists, giving small grunts every time he full embedded himself into her.

When she felt it begin, it was foreign. . .she had never come this way, never felt her own muscles urged into extreme climax in such a wonderfully brutal fashion. It began in her spine, her womb, her toes, her fingers, her heart, her soul;. . .and when it bloomed out it was so intense that she did cry out...something she never, even in her wildest dreams, imagined herself capable of doing.

God! He didn't stop, and he was huge and throbbing inside of her. She wanted to lay there forever and ever, engulfed by the warm prickling tide of ecstasy that ebbed and flowed, as though every molecule in her body was centered around him, and anytime he thrust into them they scattered to the extremities of her body, like neon billiard balls disturbed by a cue and sent searching blindly for their pockets. Her legs slid from around him, and lay spread shamelessly on the bed.

She was both hot and cold, happy and sad; fascinated not only by her own body, but also by the look of pained passion on his own face, as he reached desperately for his own release. She thought he was never so beautiful as then, when he shuddered, grimacing in a closed eyed and drunken expression of complete satisfaction. She felt then the hot flood of his passion, filling her. . .making her completely and totally his own.

He collapsed onto her, burying his face into her neck as she slowly spiraled back down to reality, becoming aware of her room again, the feel of the comforter beneath her, the smell of his after shave, the prickle of stubble against her ear. . .

She grinned, and hugged him to her, planting a kiss on the tip of his chin.

" Did I tell you that I love you?" she asked.

He raised himself up so that he could look down at her.

" Did I tell you I know?" he grinned, cockily.

She frowned slightly, in mock thoughtfulness.

" So...why did you come again? " she asked.

He leaned down, close to her ear and said, in low, and just-as-serious voice;

" I didn't. I only came once!"

" Remus! I...I..that's not what I meant!." she exclaimed, turning crimson.

" I know, but I delight in purposefully misinterpreting you. I love it when you blush.''

" I don't blush..." she said, frowning.

" That my love, is something that I can easily remedy!"

" Yes but are you certain, my dear? " asked Arthur Weasly.

" Arthur, I think after having been married this long I can recognise THAT look in a man's face."

" MUM! '' came five simultaneuous voices.

" This is horrible! " moaned Ginny.

" No one is even marked down for this day. And it is exactly between Tonk's day and Hagrid's day. Who get's the gold?" said Fred.

" Perhaps, said Dumbledore, we should hesitate to call the bet until after there has been a public declaration of their affection? "

Everyone mumbled to themselves, before finally agreeing that it would be the most logical way to handle the dilemma.

" So what are we supposed to do for now?" asked George.

" I would believe that the cure to lycanthropy would be a delightful engagement present, Mr. Weasly..." said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as he exited the room.

George sniffed.

" I would think every girl should want a cuddly man-eating monster for a husband. "

" Well, old man, not every girl is capable of handling one of us virile Weasley men, " said Fred, and before their mother could point a reproving finger at them, they Disapparated out of the kitchen.