Chapter 36
Sunlight was only just beginning to peek through the windows, yet, the women were still awake. The young witch held her lover closely, sincerely satisfied, and only just a bit exhausted by the hours of prior activity that left them breathless - and, frankly, a little sore between the thighs. Regardless of the fact that she had never made love to a person a day in her life, never mind made love to a woman, the witch in her arms didn't seem to notice, or care to ask, she seemed only to assume that Hermione had, at one point, fallen into bed with someone. It gave Hermione the freedom to explore without reservation, without wondering if what she was doing was right or wrong, she had taken her time with it and listened to those wondrously alluring vocal cues, the desperate moans that still played in the back of her mind, as Minerva lay subject to her self-guided learning. While she spent ample time worshiping every inch of the pale skinned beauty, it was the nail in the coffin for her to realize that, indeed, she was actually quite attracted to this woman. Singular. One woman. Although there had been a brief moment of discovery with Luna a few months prior at the beginning of the school year, it felt, after having this experience, more playful than erotic and never ventured beneath the belt. No comparison could be made between those instances. With Minerva it was an entirely different and consuming experience, it threw back the veil and exposed her desire and ache to adore this creature, despite the disparity in age and social standing, and to please this woman in every aspect - as a lover, as friend, and, although she hated to admit it, as her student. Wishing to prove herself worthy in all departments as to give the woman no reason to attempt to turn her away again, as she had attempted to do earlier the previous evening, Hermione squeezed the hand held in her own and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of Minerva's shoulder, eliciting a deep hum from the Headmistress she was spooning.
"Still haven't fallen asleep yet, dearest?" She heard the woman question, and answered with another kiss pressed to the side of the woman's exposed neck.
"I doubt I will, you will never realize how I've longed for a moment with you such as this one, let me savour it." Hermione whispered beneath the woman's ear. Her eyes scanned the side of face she was offered and witnessed the telling signs of a smile gracing the lips of the Headmistress. It made her heart soar.
"I would have never known." Mused the ebony haired witch softly, almost as though to herself. Although she wouldn't have been able to admit it in the moment, she was having difficulty drifting off into peaceful slumber for similar reasons - it was difficult to fall asleep when she felt the form of a witch who'd she'd quietly admired now nude, pressed along every inch behind her, holding her tightly, almost possessively, in the early morning hours after being completely taken in every capacity. Hermione was a skilled lover, to be sure. Clearly this hadn't been a one off instance, she had evolved into a woman who knew how to please her partner, take her time, discover parts of a body that caused yearning and elicited insatiable want for relief. Relief that she offered with her hands and mouth with such unbridled passion… Whoever had previously given her such knowledge deserved an award. She had managed to reduce Minerva to nothing more than a quivering pile of flesh, managed to make her arch so high off the mattress that she thought her back would break when she spasmed her way through orgasm, something that wasn't common in her love life prior to that point, if at all. Remembering this, Minerva drew those educated, delicious, fingers to her lips and kissed across the pads of tips that had set fire to her skin.
"It wasn't until recently that I'd found it increasingly more difficult not to tell you… Spending so much more time together, closely working, it felt less like school business and more like spending time with a colleague." Hermione admitted, lifting her head fractionally. The woman in her arms shifted so that she was laid on her back, her eyes finding emerald, which looked at her with a calm, almost tranquill, gaze.
"When did you discover this… Attraction?" Lifting her hand, tanned fingers brushed a few stray strands from her lover's brow and replaced them behind ear, watching the woman lean subconsciously into the touch which settled against the side of her neck, where hand curled.
"To you… In 1993, when I received the time turner, your elation when I told you of my plans for my courses, the way you praised me for it, guided me through it, you gave me a sense of self worth that I scarcely felt prior, you saw me… You've always seen me in a way that I've always wanted to be seen, and I began to notice you for who you are, beneath the titles - a woman who appreciates the same things in life that I do." Answered Hermione sincerely, her eyes tracing features that seemed to be recalling all those many shared moments with newfound investigation. "I can't say that I knew then that this was what I desired, I hardly had the time to really think about myself with Harry and Ronald, with Voldemort and everything else, but afterward… When I finally had the chance to actually sit down and think about myself, solely, for the first time in years… You kept resurfacing."
"Have you discovered that you are… a lesbian?" Minerva asked, taking it all in, questions finally rising to the surface in the pool of her mind as she addressed chocolate brown eyes. Hermione seemed to smile, that small, crooked half smile that had become almost signature. Minerva felt a thumb lightly brush the gentle slope of her jaw.
"I don't know… But I don't really care… As we've discovered life is short," Minerva's attention was piqued. "My attraction isn't fleeting, nor is it confined by one gender or another - my sole attraction is one witch, with green eyes, soft lips, a thick Scottish accent, a magnificent brain, an incredible body… I don't know if I'm homosexual but… Perhaps, more McGonagall-sexual."
A deep snort filled the air as Minerva's hand rose and she covered her eyes, laughing. Hermione bit her lower lip, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. How she loved this woman's laughter, to see her amused, it gave her immeasurable joy. As Minerva's laughter relented and that hand that had covered eyes rose to her lover's cheek, the smile on her lips unwavering.
"I pray you only use that term in these rooms… I don't want to know the uproar it would bring 'bout among your peers." Chuckling, Minerva was rewarded with the young witch slipping, maneuvering beneath the blanket to lay above, along the length of the ebony haired woman, one thigh coming to rest between her own as kisses began to trail across the flat of her chest. Slender fingers raked through wild, chestnut locks lovingly.
"Your… rooms… only…" Hermione punctuated her words with a tender touch of lips to her lover's sternum, as one last curiosity edged itself to the forefront of the Headmistress's mind.
"What are we here… What are we doing, what is your desire… An affair?" Although she strongly doubted that Hermione's desire was as base as something like some torrid dalliance, a small voice within the older woman roared concern… She knew she was going to be destroyed eventually at the hands of this creature. This woman… How her mouth could press gently against her chin and neck and create explosions in her chest. If she acknowledged them, she knew, she would have fallen in love… A doomed love.
Little did she realize that was the furthest from Hermione's mind, but the brunette didn't want to place undue pressure on this woman who she longed for.
"I don't want to put a name on it, I want us to spend time together, get to know one another more… Intimately," Hermione began to explain, then resting on her elbows to gaze down at the face opposite her own, sincere. "I don't want to see an end, I want to let it evolve into whatever it chooses, and I want us to enjoy it without reservations… Can we do that, Minerva?"
Thoughtfully, green eyes gazed back for minutes, consideration playing within emerald pools before a slow nod ended the conversation. The smile on Hermione's features blossomed and lightened, aimed upon her, Minerva couldn't help herself but to let it be returned before lips claimed her own with a tenderness that she'd been subconsciously craving for longer than she had possibly imagined. Heart to heart, they laid and explored the taste between them. In that moment, the women realized that whatever it was they shared was beyond that of earthly definition, but neither would admit that to one another, or themselves, for fear of failure. Instead, they chose to venture onward, discover more, and that was what they decided upon.
As the time was growing closer to one in the morning, Hermione had deduced that Hufflepuffs had to have been some of the horniest students at Hogwarts. Making her rounds, she'd had to dish out more detention than she pleased while thwarting at least seven Christmas pregnancies from taking place in various corners of the Great Hall. Her feet were killing her, her leg felt like it wanted to fall off and drag itself away, yet, she was blissfully exhausted and quite content to be doing exactly what it was she was taken up by. Chaperoning was almost fun, in the sense that, when she was a student herself, she didn't notice as much. Vague memories of the Yule Ball filtered into her mind and she couldn't help but smirk at the antics, how Ron had been such an incredible ass… Good Christ, that was so long ago.
As it would appear, the goings on currently were simmering. She'd managed to wake a few First Years who simply passed out due to all the excitement, one curled into a small ball under one of the tables, and sent them off to their dorms for a good night's rest, knowing that tomorrow the majority of students would be on their way back home for the holidays, and the few that remained would be spending a week of relaxing time without class, without professors breathing down their necks for homework. One by one, teaching staff began to take their leave as the crowd dwindled, until all that were left remained the usual suspects, the closest of friends… And Augustine - who, much to the brunette's surprise, seemed to be rather taken by a certain Flying Instructor since the first dance they had shared. On one hand, Hermione was glad to see that someone else had taken up Augustine's attention, on the other… She adored Rolanda, and wanted nothing more than the best for her friend. It was hard to decide if she liked, or disliked, the potential pairing, still, it could have been nothing. Or something - as she'd thought before.
"What are you thinking, Miss. Granger?" Spoken closely to her ear, Hermione felt slender fingers curl around the gentle curve of her side as her lover stepped beside her. The younger witch smirked and angled her head to cast a sidelong gaze at her lover's face.
"I think our dear Rolanda might have cast aside some of her bias, it seems Augustine is quite content as well," Hermione stated softly, nearly whispering, despite the distance between them and anyone else. "Can't say I mind." Briefly, Hermione cast a glance at the few of them that remained, watching as Poppy, Filius, and Pomona carried on their conversation and were beginning to make their way over, as was the quietly conversing pair of witches. Taking Minerva's hand in her own, as the last of the students meandering in small groups out to their dorms at the far end of the hall, the staff met and appraised one another.
"I would say that this was a remarkable success." Sprout beamed, warranting some nods and confirmations of agreement of her peers.
"I, for one, am very tired and going to bed immediately," Yawned the Medi-Witch, lifting her hand to mask her own exhaustion before stepping up to the youngest professor. Briefly, she gave Hermione's cheek a pat and smiled. "I'll send your things over to Minerva's rooms in the morning." And with that, the woman tossed some waves over her shoulder and began in the direction of the staff door.
"Yes, indeed… I second that, lovely party, my dears, but I am about to turn into a pumpkin." The elder woman was tired, as was Flitwick, who simply, sleepily, smiled at the two pairs of witches left standing at the end of the night before following behind the Herbology professor, swaying as though he could hardly keep his eyes open.
An awkward moment took place where the women, now left behind, peered at one another. Breaking the silence, Rolanda rocked on her heels, casually.
"Well, ladies… Night cap?" She asked, golden eyes glancing between faces. Minerva eyed Augustine briefly, the ginger woman only seemed to peer at the side of Rolanda's face with wonderment.
"I think we will be going to bed, if I stand on this leg any longer I'm going to be a bitch to deal with tomorrow and I'd rather not put my wife through that." Hermione replied through a yawn of her own, now fully aware of how tired she truly was. Three pairs of eyes trained themselves on her, unnoticed by the brunette, although no protest or acknowledgement of her loosened tongue was made, rather they stated their goodbyes and, by hand, Hermione was led by her lover to the staff door. The clean up could easily be done another day, no one wanted to be the witch or wizard left behind to return the Great Hall to its previous decor alone, and Minerva felt she had half a mind to station Flitwick for the deed, all things considered.
With Hermione's limp presenting itself more from the minute they left the to return to their own rooms, Minerva found herself securing the woman closely at her side, previously stated words swirling in her mind and causing her pulse to quicken.
They had never discussed marriage. Nor children. Nor anything beyond that of their day by day. Taking each next twenty four hour period as it was, they had never settled on a definite future. Hermione was not drunk, not by alcohol at least, but, Minerva knew, she was exhausted. She could see it in the woman's features and felt it radiate off the form that allowed her to grip it tightly, ensuring if that leg decided to give out that the woman would manage to remain in an upright position with ease. To say that she was questioning was an understatement. She was positively flummoxed and confused. She couldn't allow herself to hope for what she did not know was one hundred percent certainty. And marriage was not.
Up the stairs and into their rooms, the women wandered in silence. The minute they gained entry, Hermione's heels went flying as they were kicked from her feet. A loud groan rose in her throat.
"Never again." Muttering, she watched as Minerva parted from her and wandered to collect the pair of red heels from the floor, smirking. With them held in one hand, the ebony haired witch leaned on the arm of the couch as she bent down to remove her own.
"You looked so beautiful tonight, did you have a decent enough time?" She asked thoughtfully, a warmth lacing her words. Hermione shifted from the doorway and wandered past her lover, her hand skimming over Minerva's displayed ass.
"It was certainly far different from what I remembered, but enjoyable… Seemed like everyone had a great time." She replied, her brief touch disappearing, along with the woman who wandered into their bedroom. Minerva was close behind.
Edging to her side of the bed, she dipped into their wardrobe and tucked their two pairs of shoes away. Straightening, smoothing her hands over the silken fabric encasing her hips, she turned there to glance at the brunette who stood in front of the vanity, taking off her earrings.
"Would you marry me?" Minerva asked, her voice strengthening while through the dim lamp light she peered at the reflection of the woman in the mirror, watching as brown eyes shifted to seek out her own in the reflection of the Headmistress passed her own shoulder. Hermione's hands stilled mid removal of jewelry. Seconds passed. Minerva didn't move, she only watched as Hermione stared back at her with a blank expression. That look on her tanned features wasn't unusual, in fact, Minerva had seen it many times before. It was the look that she made when her mind came screeching to a halt and she didn't know what to say or do. The Headmistress stood her ground, unblinking, unwavering, patiently waiting for the wheels and the cogs to begin working. It took time, but Hermione then realized that Minerva was quite serious.
"No." Hermione stated softly, at long last, as her fingers sprung into action once more and removed her earring. As much as she hated to see that cloud that passed over Minerva's features, she dealt with it as best she could. She may as well have slapped the woman. Green eyes grew steadily more unreadable with the passing of minutes.
"You called me your wife."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"When?"
Minerva sighed heavily, her head tilting back until her gaze met the ceiling, she closed her eyes briefly, and then spoke.
"You said 'I think we will be going to bed, if I stand on this leg any longer I'm going to be a bitch to deal with tomorrow and I'd rather not put my wife through that…' which is why I'm asking… Would you marry me?" As Hermione listened, the fog in her brain grew less dense and she realized, quite truly, that was exactly what she had said. Chocolate brown eyes narrowed at her own reflection.
Her heart pumped wildly, it said yes… A million times, yes. Her head, however, had sirens of warning. She remembered what she had said that night as they lay in bed, she had been so young… But, perhaps, she had been right the night they had slept together for the first time in this very room. Why put a label on something that was already just fine? They were together… And despite the fact that her heart wanted nothing more than to believe in the ideals, her uncertainty still remained.
"I was exhausted, it was a slip… " Unusually stern, Hermione's eyes drifted from the mirror as she followed the line of her own hands tucking her earrings into a small drawer of a jewelry box. She didn't witness the other figure rounding the edge of the bed, and could have jumped at the sight of pale skin out of the corner of her eye when it came into view. Fingertips brushed her hair and tucked it behind her ear, her lover leaning in to kiss the edge of her jaw. The words that parted those lips, what was said next, furthered her surprise when she found determination, sadness… Desperation weaving between pointed syllables.
"What must I do to show you, what can I do to prove to you that this won't fail?" The woman rested her forehead against Hermione's hair, her fingers threaded through the strands at the nape of her neck. Brown eyes could only train on the sight of the mirror; trained on the woman standing at her shoulder. "Call me controlling all you damn well please, but it will never compare to the power, the control, you have over me or my heart without even lifting a singular finger..."
She felt breath on her ear as Minerva spoke, despite herself she shivered. The weighty words that filtered through her mind amped her anticipation, her questioning, and elicited a deep sigh. Power, control, that she had over Minerva… Power and control that she didn't see, she found it hard to believe it existed in the first place. Neither witch moved.
"I have no power over you, Headmistress." Whispered the brunette, watching the figure in the mirror closely.
"You do, dear fucking Merlin, you absolutely do… Try me, test me, I'm yours." Minerva begged, the quiver in her throat unmistakable. Pleadingly, the woman wanted her young lover to speak in the language they had grown quite fluent in over the course of months, even years, even with the gap in between, it seemed, at some point they had become acutely aware that some conversations were beyond words. Anything Hermione asked of her, she'd do it, without hesitation or a singular moment of contemplation. For the rest of her life she'd bend to the will of her lover if this woman pleased, as Hermione had bent to her will without being given any option. It was wrong, it was the mistake she repeated, but no more. The dance had proven enough for the ebony haired woman to realize in the arms of this witch, she could be led anywhere, and never astray.
For a moment, Hermione was struck dumb. Whatever she had been expecting to be her night was forcibly thrown out the window of their tower when Minerva's statements and pleas entered her mind and settled there. She was stunned for a minute. But then, suddenly quite awake, instinct overrode sensibility. Before she realized or even really settled to think about it, her lips began moving.
"Turn around." Was her whispered reply. Minerva obediently did as she was asked, and lifted her head when her eyes could cast through their open bedroom door, missing the view of her lover's darkened orbs entirely. The women stood apart, but only by a little, and suddenly the pain she had felt in her thigh and knee was entirely forgotten. Reaching for Minerva's wand on the vanity, Hermione turned to face the woman's back, her hand twisting behind her own back and aiming wand tip at the zipper of her own ruby dress to guide that zipper down and open. Minerva heard the faint sound, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as heightened senses took in every slight movement or noise from steady breath to the more obvious sound of fabric falling to the floor. She wished she could see it, toned tanned flesh, those inches of skin that her lips had graced so many times before. Hermione replaced Minerva's wand on the vanity softly, stepping out and partially on top of the fabric that had pooled on the floor around her ankles, and reached with a hand to take the zipper of Minerva's dress between her thumb and index. There she paused.
"Whatever I say you will do? Anything?" Minerva heard her ask, the question drying her lips and mouth further. Swallowing the lump in her throat, the ebony haired woman answered.
"Anything." She replied, that three syllable response, airily spoken, rewarding her with the delicious feeling of a tug at the back of fabric, the zipper of her dress being effectively, slowly, unzipped. The weight of a hand fell 'way.
"Take off your gown," Pale hand immediately shot to her shoulder to begin, although the second her fingers felt fabric she heard a continuation of instruction. "Take it off slowly." The anticipation was as gripping as the tone the brunette was using with her; authoritative, yet, encouraging. Still, Minerva wasn't aware of exactly how slow was slow or how fast was too fast, testingly, while taking a steadying breath, she began to deliberately slide the shoulder strap of her gown off in slow motion, warranting a hum of approval from somewhere behind. That small, short, rich sound granted her the confidence to continue at the similar pace until her back was entirely exposed, her shoulders bare, although the fabric still clung to her hips. With two hands, she gripped the top of her gown skirt and slid the fabric down further in a fashion so agonizingly slow, that all Hermione could do was watch the woman's silken clad ass and thighs, calves, grow more exposed, muscle working beneath inches of pale skin, feeling arousal pool and soak between her own legs. Never in a million years did the young woman believe that she would find a night or day when Minerva relinquished to her the same command she held. But to witness it, even if only in the confines of their bedroom to begin with, blanked her mind entirely.
The woman in front of her straightened, her arms at her sides as she stood in the circle of emerald gown around her feet on the floor, unmoving. Enticed to touch skin, Hermione stepped forward lightly and reached with the tips of her fingers and drew a languid line down the spin of her lover's back, elated by the shiver such a small touch produced. Such a small touch, yet, her eyes were drawn downward to one of the hands at this woman's side, watching as fingers flexed and balled into a fist, then released. She could hear Minerva's breath become laboured and it pleased her beyond measure. Delicately, the young woman unclasped her lover's bra and took a great amount of time to slide its straps from Minerva's arms, downward, until it, too, fell to the floor. The ebony haired witch immediately felt the cold, nipples hardening by the chill and the arousal of what was transpiring between them. Still, she didn't utter a word or make a sound, and chose only to focus on the rise and fall of her chest.
Thumbs hooked the elastic waistband of the final piece of fabric standing between Minerva and complete nudity. Those digits lingered for a moment and then a sharp tug brought them down, so unexpected, that she gasped, much to the brunette's delight. With black cotton knickers around her ankles, she felt hands running themselves up her legs, from ankle to calf, calf to thigh, at the top of which nails dug and dragged downward. She moaned at long last, a sound that was strangled when the touch of lips made her all too aware of the fact that Hermione was on her knees behind her. Kisses were pressed to her legs, her hips, across her lower back. She savoured them. She wanted them. Needed. And then they were gone.
Rising to her feet once more, Hermione took in the sight of her lover standing there, completely bare, before her, raking her gaze over Minerva's toned back and the curve of her waist, her hips, and she felt the corner of her mouth twitch into a small crooked smile. All of it, every inch, hers. Always.
"Lay down in the middle of the bed." Ordered the young witch who watched her lover turn and round to the edge of the bedframe on her side, and slip with ease onto the crimson comforter they shared. Finally, their eyes met, darkened by arousal that was evident and clearly displayed, unabashed. Minerva's gaze traveled over Hermione's partially dressed figure, wonderment etched upon features at the body her gaze was graced with. Even if they had explored one another many times before, the sheer beauty of her witch would always strike her down where she stood. She thanked Merlin, in this case, she was offered to be struck to the center of their large bed…
"How much do you trust me?" Hermione asked, her voice lowered. Her lover watched as she neared the foot of the bed, her hands working to remove her own bra. Minerva seemed to swallow, hard.
"Wholly." Croaked the emerald eyed woman, her eyes trained on the face opposite her own, despite the urge to shift her sight down upon the reveal of breasts displayed before her. Instead, she was granted the ghost of a smile.
"I'm glad."
And that was around the time that something happened that Minerva had not expected. It was no surprise that her lover was a witch who was powerful, her magic was strong, and Hermione was all too aware of how to use it. But never had she brought it into their bedroom. The young woman raised her hand and Minerva felt a sensation, a warmth, like heated linen, wrapping itself around her thighs and about her wrists. Bewilderment and a slightly furrowed brow washed over her features where she lay, her heart beginning to pump faster than it had moments prior.
"Remember that you trust me." Hermione murmured, her outstretched hand pausing. Her lover's lips parted fractionally. In an instant, Minerva felt those invisible binds tighten and before she could utter a single word, Hermione's hand twisted as though she were swiping something unseen briskly away, the motion caused the Headmistress great shock as her knees raised and parted of their own accord, spreading, while she found her wrists snapped to the spaces on either side of her head, sinking into the pillows, held tightly by… Nothing at all. Completely exposed, her sex on display, the woman standing at the edge of the bed, framed by her spread knees, hummed her pleasure. Predatory and feral, Hermione's gaze traced her outline and settled on her center. Minerva was speechless.
"I've been wanting this for a very… long… time." Breathed the brunette, her teeth catching her lower lip as words faded, biting down on supple skin to suppress her ever growing grin. She could see Minerva was struggling to comprehend her predicament, she was certain that the woman had never experienced being victim to such utter helplessness. However, by the look of things, it did nothing to quell her need. She was wet… Ready and glistening.
"Waiting for?" The woman asked, only partially succumbing to her fate as she attempted in vain to slightly fidget, move her wrists, or her legs, to no avail. She was stuck. Her question only afforded her a darkened look over shoulder from her lover, who casually wandered to the vanity and the wand which laid there; her wand. With a flick, she watched Hermione's own knickers disappear, and with another Minerva felt her abdomen tighten at the sight of what was beginning to lengthen and grow. A grimace passed tanned features as an appendage grew more prevalent, imposing, and erect. Large. Emerald eyes widened.
"So… Tell me again, do you want me to have complete control? Are you willing to share it? Not only now, but for the rest of your life?" With wand still in hand, the woman circled round to the foot of the bed, her lover almost gasping for air as she realized just what was about to transpire, if she so willed it to. Without waiting for reply, Hermione began to crawl toward her, between her legs, until Minerva was forced to peer upward into chocolate brown eyes. Beads of sweat already formed on her chest and brow, the older woman licked her lips at the feel of something foreign bumping lightly against the back of her thighs with such minimal movement. There, the brunette waited, watching the ebony haired beauty beneath draw upon her own conclusion. It was the only bit of power she would give, the power to confirm or deny. For as much as she wanted to take without asking what had always been informed was solely her own, the want to give Minerva one final chance to say yes or no outweighed her greed. Momentarily, at least.
With a fogged brain, and a misty mind, her body aching for something she didn't know, Minerva gazed into her lover's eyes and whispered.
"Please." One syllable. It was all Hermione needed to hear for her own desire, her own want, to skyrocket and explode. She claimed her lover's lips and aligned herself with Minerva's entrance, listening to the moan of pleasure her witch made when her tongue forced itself to taste her awaiting mouth. The feeling of helplessness Minerva had felt dissolved into a wanton desire for this creature to claim her as her own, in this way… She had never truly allowed it. The woman wanted her partner to force her way inside, be one, in a way they had never explored. It was beyond fingers and lips, it was a piece of her, and a piece that she was shocked to find she needed.
A sharp roll of hips matched a sound that she had never heard, a voice that Minerva hadn't known existed, tore through her young lover's throat as she was entered by Hermione's length, an attack upon her own senses which left her gulping for air. It happened in what felt like a second, one moment empty and filled painfully the next. Despite the initial shock and discomfort, as her lover withdrew and once again thrust herself deep, the feeling was replaced by something else, something she'd never felt before, and her body sang. She realized that her legs and wrists had been freed and found herself reaching, unrestrained, to hold on to her lover for dear life as suddenly she was being pumped into, Hermione's voice rising with her own. Crying their passion, sound was swallowed by heated mouths aching to kiss eternally. Then something changed. With kiss held, Minerva felt Hermione still her movement inside her, buried entirely, and eyes found eyes. Reduced to a quivering pile of flesh, Minerva brushed her lover's hair from her face and gazed into the loving eyes inspecting her own. With a shift in gear she had not expected, tenderly, Hermione's greedy ministrations morphed into the most tender love making she had ever been witness to. Her thrusting grew languid and slow, almost entirely pulling out before sinking herself back in, fueling the fire that was building in depth of Minerva's stomach.
Sex was a language. It wasn't purely relief, although it could be at times, for the brunette, something Minerva had noticed over the course of months, it was different. It was a way to communicate something that mere words couldn't seem to express. And the way she was being made love to now spoke volumes as to what was running through the brunette's mind - she needed certainty. Hermione needed to be matched beyond the level of previous. Her very soul ached to be touched, she wanted Minerva to feel every modicum of desire, and she wanted Minerva to be still, take it, and understand it. She needed to feel the potential. She needed to feel trusted.
"Ask me again…" Hermione moaned, her hand squeezing the hip it gripped to. The green eyed woman could barely think, nevermind form coherent sentences. Rolling her hips to match her young lover, giving greater access to her depths, Minerva held Hermione closely, her own fingers digging into the blades of strong shoulders.
"Will you marry me?" She asked breathlessly, her forehead pressed against the brunette's. Driving her further, the woman above began to slowly pick up pace, causing her lover to whimper, deliberate strokes in relation to the grinding of her clit against Hermione's mound making her see stars.
"Again…" Hermione pleaded, feeling her own release building as she became hyper aware of her lover's walls beginning to squeeze her length, feeling Minerva was nearing the same end. To have the woman beneath her begging for the commitment she, in her heart, so desired, it blew back the veil on her own need to express the same commitment, even as climax approached. A sharp intake of breath filled her ear as Minerva's lips drew away from her own and Hermione's head dropped, resting in the crook of the woman's neck.
"Dearest, marry me… Please, marry me?" It was no longer a question as their mutual orgasm built, but an order that was imploringly whispered, an order that caused that release to swell until once again, Hermione's onslaught continued, feverish with need. Brown eyes were shut tight as her body began to shake.
"Yes!" Gasped the young witch before the woman beneath her clung fiercely, crying out, a sound that forcibly had her tumbling over the edge. How could she deny? Say no? When she knew that, reservations aside, she ached to listen to her heart, rather than her head which would always make up an excuse as to why they would never truly be happy… They were already so very happy. Whatever reservations she might have had, dissipated as her partner dug her fingernails into her back and shook ardently through orgasm, Hermione felt all of it. She lived for it. As conversations they seemed to have in the heat of love making often translated to life out of their bedroom, she could feel in her heart that Minerva was ready to walk alongside her, all it took was a turn of the unexpected.
And a dance.
TBC...