For dreamsofdramione (Bugggghead).
My first Muggle AU! I took inspiration from conversations had within the #TeamAphrodite chat about the men we all love (and sometimes want to strangle).
Alpha/Beta love go to msmerlin and ThorneAndRose!
He's lucky he's cute, Hermione thinks, rolling her eyes as she bends down to get his dirty jeans off of the floor.
What was it with men and not being capable of putting their dirty clothes in the hamper? The man could take apart and rebuild motorcycles with seemingly no effort for fucks sake, but putting his socks in the laundry hamper...well that was just too much.
After following the trail of grease smudged clothing to his bedroom door, Hermione knocks lightly before poking her head into his room. He looks like he's asleep so she steps in as quietly as she can to gather the rest of his laundry.
She's searching the floor around his bed, muttering curses under her breath while picking up a damp towel and a pair of ratty sweatpants when an arm swiftly wraps around her waist and hauls her backward onto the bed.
Her arms flail wildly, the clothes flying out of her arms scattering across the room and her startled scream is quickly silenced with a deep, toe-curling kiss.
"What have I told you about sneaking around in my room, kitten?"
Hermione huffs, as she tries and fails to ignore the gravelly tone of his voice. "I wouldn't have to come into your room if you'd clean up after yourself you overgrown toddler."
He chuckles lowly, pinning her wrists above her head and trails his lips slowly down her neck. Her breathing stutters and her eyes close at the feeling of his tongue laving at her skin.
"Mmm, I really like these little tank tops you wear."
"Do you? I had no idea," she says sarcastically and he bites down just enough to sting and make her whimper.
"They look better on the floor."
Goddamn right they do, she thinks to herself arching her back, eager to give him what he wants. He's running his hands up her stomach, lifting the fabric of her top with them when the dryer buzzes from the other room. The sound effectively ruins the mood and she drops back down onto the bed with a frustrated groan.
"Let me up, Sirius. Remus and Tonks will be here in an hour and the flat is a wreck."
In the darkness, she can barely make out the pout on his face, but she knows it's there; the bastard perfected puppy dog eyes a long time ago and he knows just what to do to make her cave.
"I'm not giving in this time, Sirius Black!" She says, trying not to smile.
Attempting another tactic, he lays his head on her chest and smiles up at her when she glances at him... goddamnit. She's wavering and judging by the wicked look in his eyes, he knows it. His hands continue their ascent over her ribs but she grabs his wrists before they can get any further.
"Sirius!" She laughs, "we can't. Now get your arse up and help me clean this place before your friends get here."
Sirius's annoyed growl does nothing to suppress the arousal he kick-started and when he swoops in for another kiss, Hermione is done for.
The sting of his teeth nipping at her breast over her shirt has all thoughts of responsibility disappearing from her mind—Surely Remus and Tonks wouldn't care about the mess—
and she buries her fingers in his hair to hold him closer. He moves down her body, kissing and touching her in all of the right places, lighting her body on fire while he murmurs all of the filthy things he wants to do to her. She is certain she could come just like this, with only the sound of his voice and the feel of his lips, but as soon as the thought enters her mind, he stops.
Her head is foggy with need and the ache between her thighs is almost unbearable. When she lifts her head to see what he's doing she finds him smirking up at her.
"What the fuck?!" she says, panting.
He sits up then, patting her knee and purses his lips, "Sorry, kitten. I've gotta get this mess cleaned up before Remus and Tonks get here."
Her head falls back to the pillow and he chuckles, standing up.
"Oh, you are such an arsehole…"
Reluctantly, she climbs out of the bed fixing her top and glares at her very smug-looking roommate. She bends down, doing her best to ignore him and swipes the dropped laundry off of the floor.
"Oh don't be mad, kitten, I promise I'll make it up to you," he says as he saunters over to her and smacks her on the arse.
"Sirius, I'm going to murder you. If you're not going to shag me, leave me be and go clean your mess."
His barking laughter follows her out of his bedroom and she has to bite her lips to stop herself from laughing when he appears a few minutes later, basket in hand and dumps it into the washing machine looking super proud of himself.
Later that night, perched on top of the dryer with her legs wrapped around his waist and his cock pounding into her, she decides she doesn't mind doing his laundry if this is how he's going to thank her for it.