Temptation

simons_flower

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 10/11/2008
Last Updated: 10/11/2008
Status: completed

Hermione's honeymoon is everything she thought it might be.

Chapters

1. Temptation

1. Temptation

author’s note: For my HP ABCs (table here || here || here). This one is annearchy’s request: F – Flesh. Title and some inspiration from “Tempted” and “Time for Temptation” by Duran Duran.

Temptation

Hermione had always appreciated Harry’s body. She had even in school, though she would not have done anything about it. She especially appreciated it once they had stopped dancing around the subject of their attraction to each other and acted. But now, watching him cut through the water after another leap from the diving board while wearing nothing but a tiny Speedo, the only thing preventing her from pouncing and devouring him were the other hotel guests gathered around the pool. Pushing her sunglasses up and tipping her large, floppy hat down to hide her eyes, she watched him hungrily.

In fact, the only reason they were at the pool rather than in their room was that the maid insisted on cleaning their room after three days of being barred access. Hermione made a mental note to give a generous tip to the entire housekeeping staff upon checkout as compensation for the state of their room. Though she was normally fastidious, given the fact she and Harry were on their honeymoon meant keeping a tidy living space was not the primary thing on her mind.

Her heart sped as Harry levered himself over the side of the pool to sit on the edge. Water sluiced down his back from his hair, creating rivulets she itched to follow with her tongue. As if sensing her attention on him, he looked back over his shoulder and smiled. She thought her return smile was shaky, but the smile itself was apparently more important than the steadiness of it, because he gave her a short wave and slid back into the water.

It reminded her of the shower they had shared the night before. Though they had been intimate while they were dating, they had never been as adventurous then as they were now. For Hermione, who had been a virgin before Harry, it was an amazing experience to learn she was just as sexual as her peers. And, if Harry were to be believed, much more willing to try new things. One of the few times he did not tease her about doing research was when she read sex manuals and erotic novels–he appreciated the benefits.

Though she had been a virgin, albeit an extremely well-read and overly-curious virgin, Harry was not. Hermione sometimes wanted to ask just how many women there had been, but when she remembered how he had beamed at her from the altar in the church on their wedding day, the urge passed. He was hers and she was his.

She licked her lips as Harry exited the water again, this time using the steps. Her hunger for him built as she watched him walk toward her. She nearly whimpered when he bent to retrieve his towel from the seat of his chaise, the Speedo framing his ass and leaving little to the imagination from behind.

“Like what you see, Mrs Potter?” he teased, startling her from a fantasy involving the pool and a very public display of affection.

Pulling her sunglasses off, she deliberately eyed him from head to toe and back again. On the return trip, she noted his growing arousal. Her slow smirk was wicked. She stretched, arms wide and chest outthrust, before purring, “Yes, I do, Mr Potter. You have wonderful ... assets.” She drew out the last word, knowing it would affect him.

He blinked, then allowed a smile to curve his lips. “I think we should get out of the sun, Mrs Potter.”

“Mmm,” she murmured. “I believe you are correct, Mr Potter.”

Settling her hat firmly on her head and her sunglasses firmly on her nose once again, she rose. Harry draped his towel across his shoulders. Hermione gathered her bag, shoving her book inside it, and hiked it onto her shoulder.

“Lead the way, Mr Potter,” she said, gesturing for him to precede her. Lowering her voice, she added, “I want to watch your ass.”

Despite the blush rising on his cheeks, Harry grinned. He led the way into the lobby, giving Hermione a show. She was shocked at herself for just how much she enjoyed watching Harry, even when he was clothed. It was a side of herself she had not expected to discover.

They waited patiently for the elevator, standing juxtaposed in the lobby. That changed when they found themselves the only two people on the elevator.

Harry turned to her and, pressing her against the side of the elevator car, devoured her mouth. His hands knocked her hat off and tangled in her hair, tugging loose any pins she had in it.

Their enthusiasm also sent her sunglasses crashing to the floor, breaking one of the lenses.

The car shuddered to a halt and a mellifluous female voice announced their floor. Before the doors could close, Harry stuck a foot between them. A wave of Hermione’s wand had her possessions flying back into her hands. She tucked her wand back into her bag and followed Harry down the corridor to their room.

If she were perfectly honest, she would admit to having seen none of their palatial suite beyond the bedroom and bath. She knew there were other rooms–four others, to be precise–but when presented with the choice of exploring the suite or exploring Harry, it was no contest and the room lost every time.

The door was barely closed before Hermione dropped her bag, hat and glasses–lens repaired–to the foyer floor. Harry dropped his towel and pressed her back against the door.

“I can’t seem to get enough of you,” he murmured, trailing his lips down her neck.

She hiked a leg onto his hip, rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat. “Then take me.”

His eyes darkened and a grin slowly spread across his face. Bending to capture her mouth, he used his hands to slip her cover-up from her shoulders. It fell to the floor with a whisper.

When he dropped to his knees before her, she moaned. He tugged the bottom to her bikini down and, after a quick rearranging of her legs, off. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, moaning softly.

Harry lifted her left leg onto his shoulder, opening her to him. She moaned deeply when he opened her with his fingers and speared her center with his tongue. Though she’d read about the act, cunnilingus had always seemed dirty to her. She was now ecstatic that Harry had taken it upon himself on their honeymoon to prove her wrong. It was one of the few times she had been happy to be wrong.

Harry shifted, sliding his tongue from inside her to her clit. With a shuddering moan, she tangled her hands in his hair and held him tight. When he hummed, she was done for. Trembling, she clutched at him and came, his name a broken cry from her lips.

As the last of her tremors faded, Harry pulled back and smiled. Hermione weakly returned his smile, making him grin.

Straightening, he picked Hermione up, hefted her over his shoulder and took her into the bedroom. She would normally protest the high-handed treatment, but she was boneless from her climax and, besides, the position allowed her to watch his ass as he walked.

He tossed her onto the mattress, covering her body with his before she could bounce twice. Two sharp tugs freed her from her bikini top, leaving her naked beneath him. Dissatisfied with that, Hermione wrapped her legs around Harry’s waist and, hooking her toes around the sides of his Speedo, pushed and tugged it off.

His smile turned dark with barely-restrained arousal as she continued to wiggle against him. “Eager?” he gasped as she gripped his cock with one hand.

“You have no idea,” she murmured in reply.

“Well then, Mrs Potter,” he whispered, mouth hovering just above hers, “let me satisfy that itch.”

Her grin was feral as she shifted her heels to his ass, silently urging him forward. He slide into her as slowly as he could–or so it seemed to Hermione. She tightened her fingernails on his shoulders, shuddering. Though having him inside her was what she wanted, she did not want to be treated like a precious object; she wanted it to be hard and fast.

“Harry,” she growled.

He met her gaze after a moment. The green his eyes was darker than usual and they were slightly unfocused. She delighted in the evidence that he was just as affected by her as she was by him.

“Yes?”

She dug her fingernails in deep enough to break the skin, making him hiss in a combination of pain and delight. “Fuck me,” she hissed.

He blinked, startled, then smiled darkly. “As you wish.”

He shifted positions again, sliding his forearms under her thighs and leaning forward. The position opened her completely to him, but she felt powerful rather than vulnerable. A deep moan escaped when he bent his head to suckle her nipples.

Running her fingernails down his back, she demanded, “More.”

Leaning back, he adjusted her legs, this time onto his shoulders. The change in position meant she could no longer reach his back, so she threw her arms above her head to grab the headboard, bracing herself.

His thrusts jarred her but also aroused her further. Over their panting, she could hear the wet slap of skin with each thrust.

She clenched tightly around his cock, breaking his rhythm. He glared at her, cupping her breast and tweaking her nipple in retaliation. Her grin dissolved into a gasping moan.

“Please, Harry.”

He braced his weight on his knees and one hand, skimming his free hand down her stomach to use his thumb to toy with her clit.

She arched upward, breath caught on a gasp, as fire raced through her. She cried his name before dissolving into the tremors of her climax. At the edges of her awareness, she noted that he followed her into orgasm after a few moments, unable to withstand the way she clenched around him with each tremor.

Several minutes passed before she felt able to move, and then only when Harry rolled off her, causing her legs to fall to the mattress. The backs of her thighs burned, but she did not mind. Glancing over at her husband, she discovered he was face-down on the bed, allowing her to see the bleeding half-moons she had inflicted upon him.

“Do you want me to heal those?” she murmured.

He grunted something into the mattress, but it was too muffled to make out.

“What?”

He turned his head with what seemed like great effort. “You marked me, woman.”

She grinned enthusiastically. “Of course I did.”

He grunted again.

“You’re mine, Harry.”

He smiled. “I know.”