Request: Pleeeeeease, write a continuation for "bump in the nigh", about Romione fisrt time! 😍😍😍

Trembling hands, gasped words, red cheeks.

Lips moving together in a new yet well-practised way as if they have been doing this all their lives.

Hermione and Ron are kissing on top of a luxurious duvet on the softest mattress she has ever experienced. The posh hotel room feels alien after months of sleeping on camp beds and cold floors, but at least here, there are no concerns about being interrupted by nosey Weasleys or Harry, the omnipresent best friend.

It is finally going to happen after weeks of torturous waiting.

Hermione lets herself get lost in Ron as if only he alone can help save her from all her post-war worries. The kisses started small, peppered against her lips and jaw, but had soon grown deeper and hungrier. Now, she is devouring him, enjoying the bitter taste of the beer on his tongue and the fresh scent of cardamom from his aftershave.

Ron Weasley is intoxicating.

She immediately feels his loss as he tears away from her, his chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath. Hermione hadn't even realised Ron's hands were at the bottom of her vest, but now she's noticed them; she's hyper-aware of every slight movement of his fingertips and the sensations they're burning across the tight skin of her belly.

"Can I?" he questions, his blue eyes wide and unassuming.

"Please."

It's a simple word, yet it sounds pleading and desperate in her quiet, breathy voice. Ron's eyes darken, but he takes his time, wriggling them both into a sitting position before lifting the top slowly up her torso. Hermione cringes as he reveals her breasts. She's worried they're too small, that her nipples are too hard, or that they look odd compared to what else he's seen, but her maddening thoughts go unfounded.

Ron is looking at her chest like her boobs are the best thing he's ever seen.

He licks his lips, making her wish she could see into that wonderful brain of his and zone in on what he's thinking. Unable to take the anticipation anymore, Hermione summons all her Gryffindor courage before speaking.

"You can touch them if you want?"

It was the permission he was waiting for. Taking it slow, Ron begins to explore her skin, first with his hands, before finally adding his mouth, moving with a confidence she's never seen in him before.

If someone burst into their room and Avada Kedavra'd them right now, Hermione would die a happy woman. Ron's lips on her nipples force words she'd never expect to fall from her mouth. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she guides him around her chest, trying to show him what feels good for her. Sure, there are a few mistakes—like when he tries to introduce his teeth—but there is no shame or embarrassment between them.

They're learning together.

"Merlin, you're so beautiful," Ron murmurs against her skin, yet she hears his words loud and clear. They only serve to turn her on even more. She's painfully aware of how wet she is and how hard his excitement feels as it presses against her lower leg.

A wave of passion overcomes her, and she uses the hand laced into his hair to pull him up for a hungry kiss as she tugs on his boxers, desperate for more from him. She's not a fool. She's read the books, and she knows not to expect too much from their first time, but she still wants to enjoy every kiss, lick and suck. Tonight will be their only first time, and she wants every movement committed to memory before it's all over.

The rest of their clothes come off, added to the pile on the floor, and before she knows it, she's cradling Ron between her legs. He is solid against her, a hot, heavy weight that is comforting, despite the giant leap they're about to take. Having already taken the potions before they started, not wanting to rely on remembering them whilst in the throes of passion, he gazes up at her with a look she's never seen before.

Adoration.

The emotion crashes over her like a wave on the shoreline, eroding the protective walls that have taken her years to build. Her mind has been cruel, telling her Ron would never like her that way, that she wasn't enough. Yet here he is, loving her in a way she'd never expected (although she'd dreamt of it many times).

She lets out a shaky sigh, and Ron softens his gaze.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she gasps, trying not to lose her smile to the flobberworms dancing in her stomach. "Just nervous."

"We can stop?"

Hermione sucks in a sharp breath but shakes her head. "No. I want this. More than anything."

"I'll take it slow, I promise."

Ron shifts, finding her entrance after the second try, and she notices the tremble in his hand as he guides himself into her. A sharp pain follows, although she doesn't realise she's crying out until he stops moving, concern flooding his face.

"I'm sorry." He does not attempt to move, staying still as if under Immobulus, waiting for her instructions.

Eventually, the ache subsides, and her heart fills with love for him. He's so worried, and caring, and loving and perfect despite the fact he'd deny every word as if they were accusations thrown heatedly at him during one of their arguments.

"Okay, it's okay."

Hermione lifts her hips to encourage him, and he moves back against her. She never knew she could feel like this, so full and loved. Having sex with Ron is wonderful, and although their movements are clumsy and awkward, it's with him, and she knows it can only get better.

His pace picks up, and she pulls him to her, enjoying the friction that the closeness of their body brings. Then he tenses and trembles with a loud groan, and suddenly, it's all over.

Collapsing onto the bed next to her, Ron begins to press lazy kisses against her skin.

"Blimey, Hermione. That was…" his words trail off as realisation hits him. "You didn't… y'know, did you?"

In any other situation, she would chastise him for evading the word, but his concerned look stops her. He's worried it wasn't good for her.

Turning towards him, she captures his lips in a loving kiss before pulling away.

"No, I didn't orgasm. But that's okay. I didn't expect it on the first go." She laughs, then laces their fingers together as his cheeks turn red and his gaze slips from hers. He's staring at the duvet under them as if the thread count is the most exciting thing in the world. "I can show you how to help me, though, if you want?"

Ron's eyebrows shoot up into his fringe as surprise fills his face. "Yeah, I mean, of course, if you want? It's important that you enjoy this too."

For once in his life, he's willing to put in the hard work to learn. As she pushes their joined hands down her body to the heat pooling between her legs, Hermione thinks she's going to have fun teaching him all the ways she likes being touched.