Nothing better to do
Yesterday I watched the GoF Trailer. Cedric left me drooling So I wrote this.<
One more kiss could be the best thing
Or one more lie could be the worst
And all these thoughts are never resting
And your not something I deserve
Cedric forced himself to smile in return, desperately fighting to hide the sudden pounding of his heart, the roaring in his ears as his blood flowed screaming through his veins, no more denial of emotion. One simple moment without a single word and all of his careful illusions had come crashing down.
He had been lying to her for a long time. At first it didn’t seen to matter, he had gotten so good pretending he was someone else that he almost didn’t remember what he had been before. It had all started a few months ago. He had woken in the middle of that decrepit graveyard confused and aching all over. It was night and Harry was nowhere to be found, his clothes were covered in mud.
When he found out what was happening in the wizard world he was scared, what could a boy like him do? So he left and started doing small jobs in the muggle world, never stopping in the same place for too long. So he left the country, always planning to return soon, his parents needed to know, and every day he found a new thing for which he could not go back and face his old life.
In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world there's real and make believe
And this seems real to me
And you love me but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you don't know who I am
So let me go, let me go
She was feeling completely wicked, if Harry or Ron could see her now they would be horrified and darkly amused at the same time, She, Hermione Granger was having a summer fling with a handsome bartender she had met in Spain. Of course the fact that she had fallen in love with him was quite an inconvenience.
There was something familiar about him, the way he moved and talked, but she could not place him as much as she tried, if he wasn’t the same age as her she would think that he had been a Hogwarts student but she knew everyone in her year.
She watched every fluid motion of those strong, clever hands with fascination, knowing that in a moment they would reach out for her.
He was very, very good at this, she realized. He knew just how to hold her, just how to use his lips and tongue to make her mouth open against his, just where to run his fingers along her exposed flesh to make her move closer to him, how to make her whole body react to a simple touch .
Encouraged by her enthusiastic reaction to his first efforts, he pulled her onto his lap, settling her astride him, one hand at the nape of her neck to guide her lips and the other against the small of her back, pulling her closer until her hips ground against his.
And against something that wasn't his hips. Hermione gave a little gasp at the sensation, at the very prominent evidence of his arousal. Had she thought about it, she might have pulled away, but she wasn't thinking this encounter through at all, and instead she rubbed herself against him experimentally, enjoying the sensation.
He growled approval, and his tongue probed her mouth more deeply. The hand that had been against her back began to wander, not the least bit aimlessly, finding nerve-endings whose existence Hermione had not discovered in her own wanderings. She realized that her fingers were entangled in the short, curly locks of his hair, and she disengaged them to send them on their own expedition, seeking more interesting topographical features.
And no matter how hard I try
I can't escape these things inside
I know, I know
But all the pieces fall apart
You will be the only one who knows, who knows
In the End it was of course his fault, when he saw the girl he knew who she was, the teachers at Hogwarts always talked about the brilliant muggleborn girl that with her mere existence denied what all the purebloods of old believed. At the same time he thought that maybe it was time, there was a familiar face, someone who played a part in all the important events that were taking place in his world. But she never discovered who he was, only that he was a young wizard working in summer.
Hermione reached her hands down to her waist and pulled off her shirt, tossing it aside quickly. Her bra followed a moment later. Then she was sliding her jeans down over her hips, stepping out of them and standing before him naked.
She was in his embrace before she realized he had begun to move. If their kisses had been passionate before, now they were overwhelming in their urgency. She began to tug at his shirt. Then she felt his arms shift around her, and he was holding her easily in his arms.
"I've been swept off my feet!" she said, realizing with astonishment that she was laughing. Her head was spinning, but not from the speed with which he had swung her into the air. She was giddy with the courage of her decision; she felt as if she had released some wild avatar of herself into the real world.
She discovered then how goddesses were treated. She learned that a touch of hands or lips could be insistent and worshipful at the same time. And he was clever as well as devoted, translating his idol's every move and utterance into instructions on how to increase her pleasure. Hermione came at last, not in sweet release, but in a crescendo of passion, crying aloud as his hands, lips and tongue continued to worship her.
You love me but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you don't know who I am
So let me go, just let me go
She called his name. That seemed to surprise him; he looked up at her, and then brought his lips to hers quickly, his skin gliding smoothly against hers as he moved above her, his eyes darker even than when he had started.
Turnabout is fair play.
"Now it's your turn to be inside," she whispered, opening her legs wider, reaching up to touch the smooth muscles of his arms, enjoying the novelty of that hard flesh under her fingertips.
Suddenly, he was tentative again. "Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely. "You said once that you'd never-I want this night to be perfect for you."
She smiled, and watched his eyes lighten at the sight. "Then don't argue with me," she said, trying for a stern tone, but collapsing into quiet laughter. He accepted her invitation without further argument, sliding into her smoothly but not deeply, supporting himself on his hands, at first carefully reading her expression, but then closing into himself in concentration.
He's holding back. Hermione felt a surge of irrational anger at this. How dare he let her feel just how fierce and dangerous he could be and then pull away from her now, when she wanted him to release that part of him? She bent her knees, pressing the soles of her feet into the mattress and thrusting her hips upwards, flinging herself into this new experience, heedless of the knowledge that giving him pleasure could cause her a bit of pain.
He moved his hand from her face, trailing it down the side of her body in a teasingly light caress. He lifted himself just a small amount, just just enough to allow his hand to slip in between them. When she felt the touch of his fingers, her eyes flew open wide and stared up into his. Their mouths separated, and Hermione arched her back. "Oh...oh, Merlin" she whimpered, helpless beneath the assault of pleasure.
He began moving, each gentle thrust burying him deeper into her body as well as her heart. Although there was a lingering ache between her legs, the sharpness of the initial pain had begun to fade. As it left, she was able to concentrate on the other sensations her body was telegraphing to her brain. Every time he entered her, he rubbed himself in just the right spot, creating the most delicious friction exactly where she needed it. Unknowingly, she raised her legs and wrapped them around his hips as he increased his rhythm.
He kissed her once more, quick and hard. He leaned on one arm and moved his free hand around to hold her soft bottom, fondling it and squeezing it firmly as he lifted her into his own strokes. It was so good now that she didn't know how to articulate it. The pain had turned to pleasure and the pleasure was all encompassing. How had she lived without this?
Obeying her instincts one more time, she unwrapped her legs from around him and planted her feet flat on the mattress, then lifted her hips up into him, meeting each increasingly strong and demanding thrust. He went wild, growling deep in his throat, pumping faster and harder. Burying his face against the side of her neck, he felt the beginning of her climax.
It was time to tell her the truth, who he was, he was not going to wait till she let him go, what did it matter if he couldn’t be with her again? She was his hope.
The End.
One more kiss could be the best thing
Or one more lie could be the worst
And all these thoughts are never resting
And your not something I deserve
Cedric forced himself to smile in return, desperately fighting to hide the sudden pounding of his heart, the roaring in his ears as his blood flowed screaming through his veins, no more denial of emotion. One simple moment without a single word and all of his careful illusions had come crashing down.
He had been lying to her for a long time. At first it didn’t seen to matter, he had gotten so good pretending he was someone else that he almost didn’t remember what he had been before. It had all started a few months ago. He had woken in the middle of that decrepit graveyard confused and aching all over. It was night and Harry was nowhere to be found, his clothes were covered in mud.
When he found out what was happening in the wizard world he was scared, what could a boy like him do? So he left and started doing small jobs in the muggle world, never stopping in the same place for too long. So he left the country, always planning to return soon, his parents needed to know, and every day he found a new thing for which he could not go back and face his old life.
In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world there's real and make believe
And this seems real to me
And you love me but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you don't know who I am
So let me go, let me go
She was feeling completely wicked, if Harry or Ron could see her now they would be horrified and darkly amused at the same time, She, Hermione Granger was having a summer fling with a handsome bartender she had met in Spain. Of course the fact that she had fallen in love with him was quite an inconvenience.
There was something familiar about him, the way he moved and talked, but she could not place him as much as she tried, if he wasn’t the same age as her she would think that he had been a Hogwarts student but she knew everyone in her year.
She watched every fluid motion of those strong, clever hands with fascination, knowing that in a moment they would reach out for her.
He was very, very good at this, she realized. He knew just how to hold her, just how to use his lips and tongue to make her mouth open against his, just where to run his fingers along her exposed flesh to make her move closer to him, how to make her whole body react to a simple touch .
Encouraged by her enthusiastic reaction to his first efforts, he pulled her onto his lap, settling her astride him, one hand at the nape of her neck to guide her lips and the other against the small of her back, pulling her closer until her hips ground against his.
And against something that wasn't his hips. Hermione gave a little gasp at the sensation, at the very prominent evidence of his arousal. Had she thought about it, she might have pulled away, but she wasn't thinking this encounter through at all, and instead she rubbed herself against him experimentally, enjoying the sensation.
He growled approval, and his tongue probed her mouth more deeply. The hand that had been against her back began to wander, not the least bit aimlessly, finding nerve-endings whose existence Hermione had not discovered in her own wanderings. She realized that her fingers were entangled in the short, curly locks of his hair, and she disengaged them to send them on their own expedition, seeking more interesting topographical features.
And no matter how hard I try
I can't escape these things inside
I know, I know
But all the pieces fall apart
You will be the only one who knows, who knows
In the End it was of course his fault, when he saw the girl he knew who she was, the teachers at Hogwarts always talked about the brilliant muggleborn girl that with her mere existence denied what all the purebloods of old believed. At the same time he thought that maybe it was time, there was a familiar face, someone who played a part in all the important events that were taking place in his world. But she never discovered who he was, only that he was a young wizard working in summer.
Hermione reached her hands down to her waist and pulled off her shirt, tossing it aside quickly. Her bra followed a moment later. Then she was sliding her jeans down over her hips, stepping out of them and standing before him naked.
She was in his embrace before she realized he had begun to move. If their kisses had been passionate before, now they were overwhelming in their urgency. She began to tug at his shirt. Then she felt his arms shift around her, and he was holding her easily in his arms.
"I've been swept off my feet!" she said, realizing with astonishment that she was laughing. Her head was spinning, but not from the speed with which he had swung her into the air. She was giddy with the courage of her decision; she felt as if she had released some wild avatar of herself into the real world.
She discovered then how goddesses were treated. She learned that a touch of hands or lips could be insistent and worshipful at the same time. And he was clever as well as devoted, translating his idol's every move and utterance into instructions on how to increase her pleasure. Hermione came at last, not in sweet release, but in a crescendo of passion, crying aloud as his hands, lips and tongue continued to worship her.
You love me but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you don't know who I am
So let me go, just let me go
She called his name. That seemed to surprise him; he looked up at her, and then brought his lips to hers quickly, his skin gliding smoothly against hers as he moved above her, his eyes darker even than when he had started.
Turnabout is fair play.
"Now it's your turn to be inside," she whispered, opening her legs wider, reaching up to touch the smooth muscles of his arms, enjoying the novelty of that hard flesh under her fingertips.
Suddenly, he was tentative again. "Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely. "You said once that you'd never-I want this night to be perfect for you."
She smiled, and watched his eyes lighten at the sight. "Then don't argue with me," she said, trying for a stern tone, but collapsing into quiet laughter. He accepted her invitation without further argument, sliding into her smoothly but not deeply, supporting himself on his hands, at first carefully reading her expression, but then closing into himself in concentration.
He's holding back. Hermione felt a surge of irrational anger at this. How dare he let her feel just how fierce and dangerous he could be and then pull away from her now, when she wanted him to release that part of him? She bent her knees, pressing the soles of her feet into the mattress and thrusting her hips upwards, flinging herself into this new experience, heedless of the knowledge that giving him pleasure could cause her a bit of pain.
He moved his hand from her face, trailing it down the side of her body in a teasingly light caress. He lifted himself just a small amount, just just enough to allow his hand to slip in between them. When she felt the touch of his fingers, her eyes flew open wide and stared up into his. Their mouths separated, and Hermione arched her back. "Oh...oh, Merlin" she whimpered, helpless beneath the assault of pleasure.
He began moving, each gentle thrust burying him deeper into her body as well as her heart. Although there was a lingering ache between her legs, the sharpness of the initial pain had begun to fade. As it left, she was able to concentrate on the other sensations her body was telegraphing to her brain. Every time he entered her, he rubbed himself in just the right spot, creating the most delicious friction exactly where she needed it. Unknowingly, she raised her legs and wrapped them around his hips as he increased his rhythm.
He kissed her once more, quick and hard. He leaned on one arm and moved his free hand around to hold her soft bottom, fondling it and squeezing it firmly as he lifted her into his own strokes. It was so good now that she didn't know how to articulate it. The pain had turned to pleasure and the pleasure was all encompassing. How had she lived without this?
Obeying her instincts one more time, she unwrapped her legs from around him and planted her feet flat on the mattress, then lifted her hips up into him, meeting each increasingly strong and demanding thrust. He went wild, growling deep in his throat, pumping faster and harder. Burying his face against the side of her neck, he felt the beginning of her climax.
It was time to tell her the truth, who he was, he was not going to wait till she let him go, what did it matter if he couldn’t be with her again? She was his hope.
The End.