Clean

The First Time

She wanted more.

She brought Ron's hand down, placing it on the most responsive part of herself, using her hand to guide him. When he seemed to understand, slowly circling the area with the pad of his thumb, she sighed into his mouth. "There," she breathed.

She didn't know how it happened, his hand gripping the curve of her hip. She didn't know if he noticed the pressure he'd put on the small of her back. But his touch had marred her, burned her, so that she didn't know if she'd ever forget where his hands had been. She felt him with her . . . she felt him all over her.

She pulled away from Ron, lying on her back. She didn't know what was worse: what she was doing, or what she was thinking of while she did it. He clambered over her eagerly, and she reached between her thighs to take his full length in her palm. She knew enough about how to do this; she felt a bit of liquid at his tip and instinctively used the pad of her thumb to create broader and broader circles, finally grasping him and dragging her hand up and down his shaft. He groaned loudly.

She had put her hands on his chest as a way to shield herself, but the impact of his ring hitting the desk had startled her, and she dropped them lower. She had felt a jolt of arousal sear through her as she felt the hardened curve of his abs under her touch.

"Now, Ron," she rasped. "Now."

He looked at her nervously. "I haven't . . . I don't know . . . if I . . . "

She didn't know her body, or his, but she was acutely aware of her need, and the fire building inside her. She felt a searing heat in the base of her belly, and instinct told her this would be her release. She drew him in. "It's okay," she said, nodding reassuringly.

He held himself against her, hesitating. She angled her hips upward, pulling the tip of him against her opening. At her second nod, he took a deep breath, entering her slowly. She inhaled sharply, unprepared.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, eyes wide.

"No, no," she said, her voice hoarse. "Keep going. Please don't stop."

She looked into his eyes and she knew he felt it too. His eyes were passionate, darkened. His grip on her had tightened.

When it happened earlier this evening, the moment had ended quickly; he moved away from her, repelled by whatever surge had come between them. But tonight, in her mind . . .

He moved his hand from her hip and reached it up to her face, curving around her jaw, sliding it down her throat, reaching around and grabbing the hair at the nape of her neck, forcing her face towards him. She saw his smirk and heard his growl.

"Granger."

Ron's teeth gnashed into her lip and she cried out. He immediately paused, mid-thrust, looking horrified.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Hermione – "

"It's fine!" She moaned. She thrust her hips forward, reaching around to dig her fingers into his back. "Ron, just – "

He didn't need much prompting; she could see that he was probably close, his expression a mix of effort and pleasure.

"This is – it's so good Hermione, you're so – "

"Shut up," she said breathlessly, yanking his face to hers and kissing him hard. She felt him smile while she shut her eyes, concentrating.

He tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her lips to his, taking her lower lip between his and sucking it lightly.

She whimpered, pulling Ron in further. "More."

He picked her up and deposited her roughly on the desk behind her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, using her heels to pull him closer. He released her hair and moved his fingers lightly up and down her back, floating, while she struggled for breath against his lips. She felt a shudder down her spine, rushing through her body, as she –