Author's Note:
I know that this story was WAY overdue for completion. For that, I am so very apologetic. I have worked very hard on this chapter and I am SO LOOKING FORWARD to reading what you think! Please - if you read and you liked OR if you read and did NOT like - offer your thoughts!
Chapter 5: Passion's Maelstrom
Overhead, the third storm of the night descended on the far side of the valley.
Faster moving and more powerful than its predecessors, the effects of this squall would have students pressing their noses to the windowpanes as they were awakened from a heat and humidity-induced lethargy.
Lightening chased Thunder. Rain and Wind played a ferocious game of tag. Nature's on-coming vortex was on a collision course with a maelstrom of passion generated by two seventeen year-olds who were drawn together by circumstance, magic and desire.
Fingers made it a hobby to form rivulets of rainwater to tease the skin. Splayed hands glided over body parts and committed contours to memory. Kisses paved and smoothed the way to increased levels of pleasure.
That unnamed feeling pulsed with power underneath his skin. What ever it was, it was capable of stealing words from his tongue, robbing him of all modesty and stripping him of any selfishness.
The grove had no shadows as thousands of water droplets glowed with living, shimmering silver. Words had no place on the bank of the lakeshore. Looking down at where his hands came to rest, Harry knew that adjectives, similes and metaphors would be trite. Modesty was a substitute for fear. There was nothing to be afraid of: he knew what he wanted. How could he justify selfishness now that he had been presented with the most amazing gift of all: the opportunity to love and be loved?
A sensual game of 'Do as I Do' began. Harry mimicked every tender caress Hermione placed on his body. Where her lips touched his skin, he emulated the amount of time and pressure she spent. She ran her hands through his sodden hair and raked the nape of his neck. He wrapped her locks around the back of his hand and fashioned the second game of the night. Pressing hot, opened mouth kisses to all her pulse points between the hollow of her throat and the back of her ear, he wanted to see just how long his heated applications would last before he would have the privilege of re-warming the same spots. Not that he was a connoisseur of sexual pleasure, but just because he couldn't speak did not mean that he was deaf to Hermione's moans of approval or blind to the way she twisted her head to offer him increased access to places that she enjoyed having him touch. Trading the right side of her neck for the neglected left section coincided with her fingers reaching around his leg and stroking the most personal area of his inner thigh.
His knees buckled. So did hers. Her right hand stayed where it was - he caught a glimpse of her left wrist dancing in the air. Suddenly, the speed of their fall diminished as they both came to rest on the blanket.
This is dry! Harry's surprise did not last long. After all - look at whom I am with! Recalling the murmuring that was unintelligible earlier now made sense to the dark haired boy. So THAT was the spell she cast when she snapped her ground covering.
Pushing her shoulders back onto the softly woven blanket, Hermione's cushion was the richly piled moss that grew above the sandy lakeshore. Pressing her hands down when she went to reach for him, he let her taste a little of the strength his arms possessed when he once again denied her access. Her eyes flared wickedly as she tested the grip he had on her wrists. For the moment that is, he promised.
Looking up, he saw the tops of the trees begin to sway. A telling grip on his forearm brought his gaze to Hermione's face - which was transfixed by something going on behind him. The only thing behind me is the lake, he thought. Craning his neck, he followed Hermione's line-of-sight.
The entire surface of the lake seemed to be rising and falling to the cadence of the wind. There were no whitecaps transferring their angry, foamy tips across the breadth of the lake. Instead, he and Hermione watched in awe as great, beautiful crests and troughs of silver rose, fell and splashed against each other. The effect would be the same if someone had strewn a million moonstones into the lake only to have the creamy glow of the stones burst from the water in a sparkling silver upsurge.
Movement caught his right eye. Hermione had settled her shoulders flat against the blanket. He smiled as she lifted her neck and tried to free her hair from her collarbones. Releasing her wrists, Harry leaned forward. Using the pads of his thumbs, he glided over her mouth, nose, and eyebrows and pushed the rainwater off her face before lifting her drenched locks from underneath her body and arraying the tendrils on the ground covering.
There were no words to convey how her body was aglow from the silver all around them, a language to translate the expression on her face as she looked up at him, or explain the sensations of increasingly harder falling pellets of rain running off his back nor the way the element driven globules made her skin jump as the drops fell on her skin. That unnamed feeling pressed his fingernails deeper into his cuticles and had replaced his bright green eyes with the colour of the storm-whipped lake.
Harry felt Hermione's lesson rush through his body. Recalling his own words as they pertained to Hermione and Crookshanks, the lesson was immediately personified. The simple actions of bestowing the gift of pure pleasure and affection without looking for anything in return solely because I want to physically manifest the feelings I have for Hermione.
Prior experience in pleasing a woman did not exist for Harry Potter. However, he was a Grand Master in the area of self-gratification. Taking a cue from what pleased him, that was the reference point he used for Hermione.
Spreading the fingers of one hand wide, all five tips traced the graceful lines of her throat. Bringing the same digits together at where her heartbeat could visibly be seen, he twisted his wrist. Following the midline of her body, the back of his hand only stopped when her body dipped inward instead of down. Her knees fell slack and the hinged joints rested flat against the woven ground covering. Her head was tilted to the side and her mouth had started to form words that the wind flung to the treetops.
Resurrecting what he enjoyed when he had the dorm room himself or an empty shower room, Harry lavished on Hermione all the pleasures he had ever heaped upon his own body. Recalling the sensual feeling of cool air on his cock, he reached down and spread her nether lips wide. Her head twisted from side to side as the influx of cool air wafted over her liquid heat. Not really understanding all the he was looking at, he was able to cobble together a similarity between his erections and the way Hermione swelled with the impact of hard, heavy raindrops against her protected cove. Knowing that he enjoyed the way his hand massaged his balls, he covered her entire mound and applied pressure. Remembering how good it feels when a wet thumb circles the head of a flaccid penis, he slid the same digit against the bundle of nerves that had escaped it's mooring. Reliving the sensations of rolling and pulling his own nipples when he slid his own hand up and down his cock, Harry reached forward and swapped twisting for squeezing as each of Hermione's hard peaks were given their sensual due. He exchanged five fingers for two fingers and treated the girl lying on the blanket to the rhythms that sent him over the edge time and again.
Momentarily closing his eyes to make sure he got the sequence correct, Harry looked down and seized Hermione's centre. He stroked her like he stroked himself: sliding from the base to the very top, circling the top and squeezing the soft, pulpy flesh with a firm forefinger and thumb. His other hand was not idle - it was busy 'harvesting' the life-ripened raspberries perched on a pair of beautiful breasts.
The storm was almost on them; Hermione was thrashing. The lightening, the thunder, the earth and rain; her cries united the four elements.
Insight flared as he watched her climb to higher sensual peaks every time lightening blazed a path across the clouds. That unnamed power roared with approval as Hermione reacted to Harry pinching a nipple and her clit at the same time a flash of lightening split the sky. Instinctively, he pressed down - HARD - on her clit with his whole palm when the thunder rumbled. The way she pulled on her hair and reached for his body was enough to convey that she was close to coming undone. Her fingers rolling the twin treasures encased in their thickening, protective sack told Hermione that Harry was just strokes away from his own climax.
FLASH! That unnamed feeling was now talking to him. Pinch her clit, Potter!
RUMBLE! Grind her pussy - see, she loves it!
Orion's Eye, Hermione - don't do that! Her mind mastered his contribution to her pleasure and she was now translating it to a language her hand taught his cock. NOT YET! His body barely heeded the command not to erupt.
FLASH! FLASH! RUMBLE! FLASH! RUMBLE!
Pinch! Pinch! Grind! Pinch! Grind!
CRACK!
The sky was rent as a bolt of lightening pierced the thundercloud that broke over their heads.
Hermione SCREAMED with the onslaught of sensations that broke over her body.
Harry HOWELED because the unnamed feeling broke through its chains of restraint as it refused to be caged for another moment as the woman in Hermione was unleashed.
Rapture in the moment unified the thunder, lightening, wind, rain, and passion into a maelstrom that was barely hinted at in the footnotes of the Annuls of Love.
That unnamed feeling that replaced blood in Harry's veins was PASSION.
Passion had led him to the lakeshore. Passion had unveiled the ability to receive and give love. Passion activated the man inside Harry James Potter.
Swiftly changing position, Harry was between Hermione's legs. Pressing his own calves flat against the blanket, he tugged Hermione to her knees. His legs were slick with rainwater. Her body had heated the moisture on her skin to a scalding temperature. Spreading her thighs, he reached for her waist and lifted her so that she could find balance on her toes. He had her opening lined up with his erection, but this part she would have to do herself. The passion was all encompassing but not blinding. Kisses tucked apprehensions aside. Caresses eased trembling limbs. Feeling her take a deep breath, Harry made good on his promise to sample Hermione's raspberries.
Looking up from where he had one nipple stretched between her breast and his teeth, he heard the growl of clashing lions just as another sequence of lightening fired the sky. Biting down, he felt Hermione's heat kiss his cock. Switching to her other nipple, he pulled on the ends of her hair that trailed down her back. Letting her lean back just a bit, Harry used the hand tangled in her hair to support her while he snaked his other hand between their wet bodies.
FLASH! Pinch.
Rumble! Grind.
Lips came together. Abdomens pressed together. Harry inhaled when he could as her wet breast sealed his nose time and again.
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! Pinch. Pinch. Pinch.
Oh Holy Merlin!
She was all the way down - he was fully imbedded in her. His fingers were still gripped around her clit; her nipple had slipped from his mouth. Her mouth was wide open and he could see when she swallowed the falling rain. Rising and crashing down as the wind whipped their hair in every direction, the full-fledged fury of the storm had arrived.
She looked down at him from her perch. Shifting a hand from his shoulder where she braced herself against her undulations, she yanked the hand from her kittie. Pulling his wrinkled fingers to her mouth, he watched as she ran her tongue - in one continuous swipe - from the base of his palm to the top of his middle finger. Incapable of slowing down, it was all Harry could do to clap his hand together with hers and intertwine their fingers. Let alone have the ability to repeat the same action.
He felt her toes brace themselves against the underside of his thighs. He wondered how she was going to continue if she kept leaning back the way she did - until he felt her strength press against his palms as she began to post with more intensity. He was thrusting harder than before because just as she pushed against him, he could press against her and they would both find the necessary leverage pushing against each other. The brightest witch of our age is also the most cunning lover of our age.
His hair was whipped in every direction. Her hair was streaming in the direction of the wind. Harry watched rain drip from every part of both their bodies. She was rising and falling in direct opposition to his thrusts. Their hands were at shoulder height and they clung to each other as much as they used each other for purchase.
He lapped in earnest at the steady flow of rainwater off Hermione's breasts. He groaned into those sopping raspberries when her posting took on a more circular pattern and he felt her scalding heat against the seam that ran up his scrotum and separated his balls. His eyelashes were spiky with the rain that clumped them together. He could see the underside of Hermione's jaw as her head was thrown back. He could feel the rainwater that ran off the ends of her hair as it dripped on his knees. He tasted his own sweat as the boiling in his sack reached the same fervour as the kisses her kittie gave his cock. Somewhere, the smell of the lake merged with the scent of the forest only to become one with the aroma of love. Every sound had its own identity as much as it was fused with the cacophony of the storm and their passion.
Harry had no more time for thought. The passion inside him had put a mantra in his head that was impossible to overcome: thrust, thrust, thrust! Hermione's breasts were bouncing so hard that they started to take on an elliptical course. Her fingers spread. His hand opened to lock her into place.
CRACK! Simultaneously, lightening challenged thunder for supremacy.
CRACK! Grappling with the very foundations of the earth, neither giant was going to back down.
C R A C K! ! A clash of wills between giants that have been around since the birth of the world took place as two seventeen year-olds made love.
A tree branch was severed to their right and crashed to the forest floor. Somewhere to their left Harry heard a great rock splash in to the lake - it's stabilizing soil washed away by the torrential rains that fell from the sky. Behind them, great upsurges of silver cast silver sparkles into the air, as the droplets of living, shimmering silver took longer to fall into the churning water.
Hermione came undone with a cry that not only shook her body but vibrated the more than six feet that made up Harry. A near sob broke from Harry's chest as his head swept from side to side when the intensity of his orgasm launched him upright. He pulled Hermione's body tightly against his thrumming, trembling person.
The storm that had ravaged the countryside was THEIR STORM. THEY, they were the storm. What had been waiting on change was directly linked to Harry and Hermione. Denial, sidestepping, faked ignorance and all the other pretences they presented to each other and the worlds they lived in had stifled the very air that they breathed. Passion, desire, true friendship, respect, love, lust, separation, anxiety and need are all volatile ingredients unto themselves. But coupled with longing, denial, forbiddance and fear - the meaning of the word volatile becomes the understatement for explosive.
That was the last cognizant thought Harry had as the storm slackened around he and Hermione. There was no more room for thought as he wiped tears of joy from his love's face.
Joyous giggles - apparently boys DO giggle! - accompanied him loosing his balance toppling over with Hermione onto her blanket. Kisses were the best apologies he knew for breaking their intimate connection.
Pausing from kissing for just a moment, Harry had the strength to manage a wry smile when Hermione promised, "Next time, it is your turn Mr. Potter."