WTR #34: Delectation (Hermione/Teddy)
Title: Delectation (Worth the Risk #34)
Pairing: Hermione/Teddy
Summary: Waking up with Teddy might be even better than coffee
Word Count: 3940
Rating: Adult
Betas: florahart & heather11483
Note: This contains spoilers for Deathly Hallows. Previous chapters of Worth the Risk can be found here .
Something tickles.
Hermione wrinkles her nose and shifts beneath the covers as she slowly begins to wake up. Her nose itches again, and she idly swats with her hand, because it feels like something is brushing against her nose. When she makes contact with a feather, her eyes open immediately in surprise. She blinks at the quill before she moves her gaze up its length to stare at the large, and very familiar, hand holding it.
“Why are you rubbing a quill against my nose?” she asks in an early morning tone that is possibly sharper due to the annoying way she just woke up. As well as not having had any coffee yet.
“Wasn’t just your nose,” Teddy points out in a very ‘I was awake before you’ tone. “Was also your forehead, your cheeks, your cute little chin, that graceful neck, and, uh, other parts.”
“Other parts?” She rolls her head to the left so she can look at him. His hair is burnt orange this morning, and it’s falling across his eyes, which makes her fingers twitch with the urge to brush it aside. “Why are you brushing a quill against my face and other parts, Lupin?”
He mumbles something as he ducks his head but it’s impossible to hear him.
“What was that?”
“I woke up before you, for once, and was just lying here staring at you, watching you sleep, and then I, uh, got bored.”
“You got bored?” she repeats slowly. “So you decided to play with your quill?”
He snorts and then looks up at her with a sheepish smile. “Um, I guess you might say that.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mean that, brat. Though, I suppose it is an accurate description of the events that transpired in this bed prior to my waking.”
“If you keep sounding so clever and using all those big words, the quill isn’t all I’ll be playing with.”
It’s tempting to test his comment, but she’s just woken up and is trying to acclimate herself to her current situation. She’s in Teddy’s bed, and she’s rather sore in areas that remind her exactly how they spent most of last night after they resolved to give this relationship thing a chance. He seemed determined to make up for the last week, and she certainly wasn’t inclined to protest. This morning, however, her body is reminding her that she’s nearly forty and just not cut out for shagging several times during the span of a few hours.
“You know, when a bloke makes such a statement, he sort of expects his woman to either give encouragement or make it clear that he’s fending for himself when he showers.”
“His woman?” She narrows her eyes and looks at him. “You do realize that such a statement is possessive and archaic. It also harkens back to a day when women were considered second-class citizens and nothing more than property, don’t you? Do you consider me property, Ted?”
“God, you’re cranky in the mornings,” he mutters, running his fingers through his hair before he smiles. “It’s actually pretty adorable, at least, it would be if you weren’t looking at me like you’re considering whether I deserve to keep my bollocks or not.”
“You’re avoiding the question. And, yes, I am, especially without coffee or after being woken up by having my nose tickled.”
“I don’t consider you property, Hermione. Nor do I believe in any of that second-class nonsense. I love women, as you fully know, and I’ve always been around such strong, amazing, clever ones that I can’t imagine anyone ever dismissing them in such a manner. Gram would kick anyone’s arse who tried such a thing, and I think all of us blokes know your fondness for aiming where it really hurts with hexes.”
“Three incidents involving hexes at bollocks, and I’m somehow known for having an obsession,” she mutters crossly.
“And the threats. Anything involving sensitive bits of our anatomy and a jar? Isn’t something we’re likely to forget.”
“Hmph.” She stares at him and reaches up to brush his hair back from his eyes. “And how would you feel if I walked around calling you ‘my man’ in such a controlling way?”
“Well, I’d be thrilled that it wasn’t ‘my boy’,” he says thoughtfully as he reaches up to capture her hand. He kisses her palm and smiles against it before he slowly licks her fingers one by one. “And, I don’t know. Not really a fair comparison considering all that second-class stuff. True, my father’s condition makes me somewhat lower socially than other blokes, but you’d never mean it in such a way.” He sucks her pointer finger into his mouth while he looks at her, curling his tongue around it as he licks in a way that is most distracting.
“I wouldn’t,” she agrees, trying for a tone that suggests she’s still cranky but only managing husky and aroused.
He lets her finger slide out of his mouth and smiles. “So, I’d actually preen a little, because you chose me for such a distinction and I could brag to anyone who ever wondered what you were like in bed, and possibly mention a fantasy involving you telling me what to do to please you while calling me, uh, well, nevermind. No fantasy talk this early in the morning.”
The tips of his ears are pink again as is his hair, which intrigues her. “Calling you what, Teddy?”
“Boy,” he mumbles. “You call me Boy and make me please you and earn an orgasm. It, uh, isn’t anything I’d ever want to do routinely, but, yeah. What can I say? I obviously read too much.”
She feels warmth spread over her at the very idea of playing such a game, which is something she’s fantasized about once or twice when she’s been in a particular mood. Not that she’ll admit that, of course. “You have quite a few fantasies. I wonder if that’s to be attributed to your vast reading experience or your age or a combination of both.”
“You know, I think I realized that I was a goner when I had to accept that your being all clever and talky in bed actually arouses me instead of turning me off,” he muses. “As does the fact that you just blushed when hearing about my little fantasy and had no comment as to the actual details, which makes me wonder if that means it’s one you’ve had, too.” He grins. “And, for the record, I think it can be attributed to a combination as well as your influence, because the largest portion of said fantasies since I was maybe fourteen have involved you.”
“Unlike you, I don’t find discussing my private fantasies to be suitable morning conversation, so you’ll have to keep wondering.” She pauses. “And I’m not really sure if I should be flattered or disturbed about you having such thoughts about me when you were fourteen.”
“Flattered.” He kisses her palm. “I don’t want you to ever be disturbed about anything involving us, and especially not sex.”
She moves her fingers over his lips and smiles. “I’m not disturbed about us, Teddy. If I were, I wouldn’t be here with you now.”
“I just---okay, we said we’d be honest and communicate so this will work out between us, yeah?” He ducks his head and his hair changes from orange to dark purple. “I just don’t want you suddenly feeling bothered like that and deciding we’re not worth it or, uh, something. I’ve been lying here this morning watching you sleep, and I’m sort of amazed that you’re really here, that we’re really going to give it a chance, and I’m scared that you’ll change your mind.”
“Yes, we did say that,” she agrees. “And I’m glad you told me about this instead of keeping it inside and letting it gnaw on your subconscious until you wanted to scream.” She considers what he said before she speaks. “There are no definite guarantees in life. Any relationship, I think, has that sort of fear. I know from experience that the dizzying emotions can fade in time and become something else, so what makes sense now might not in a month, six months, a year, six years, or even fifteen years. That’s just reality, though, and it’s a price that all of us pay in exchange for having what we can now.”
He listens carefully and nods. “Right. I mean, I understand that on a lot of levels based on what Gram and Harry have told me about my parents. My father resisted the happiness that he could have had with my mum for ages because of fear, and I can’t help thinking that he realized that what he did have with her, however fleeting, was worth it in the end. And you---you wouldn’t change you and Ron, would you? If you knew then how it would go?”
“Not at all,” she says honestly. “Oh, there was a time when we were drifting and knew it was over but were just too, well, scared to admit it out loud, I guess, when I was hurting and upset and I considered the idea of wishing I could go back and change things. Go back and not fall for him and not spend so many happy years only to fail in the end. But, you know, I realized almost immediately that I could never do such a thing. We didn’t work out, but, when we were good, it was great, and we have two amazing children, so it was worth it, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, even knowing that it wouldn’t last in that ‘happily ever after’ way they love to write about in books.”
“Why do you think we’re worth the risk?” he asks. His voice is so soft that she’s not entirely sure she heard him correctly, but he’s looking at her intently.
“Because I care about you and you make me happy in a way that I haven’t been in awhile. I also don’t want regrets, to look back in another fifty years and wish I’d been brave enough to try or wonder what might have been. Life’s just too short, even with our longer life expectancy, to not actually live.”
He seems to relax and nods. “I, uh, care about you, too. And, God, you make me so happy. Even with the worries and thinking too much, I just enjoy being with you.” He grins. “It’s not just the mind-blowing sex, either. Though that is definitely enjoyable. Speaking of, uh, you any less cranky now?”
When he asks his question, he presses closer, and she can feel his erection against her hip. “Bloody hell, Lupin. Don’t you ever get tired?” she asks, debating whether she needs to use the loo first or not.
“I’m just making up for lost time and preparing for the upcoming week when Hugo will be home and we’ll be limited on time. Besides, I seem to remember a certain beautiful brunette being the one to instigate wickedness earlier this morning, so maybe I’m not the only one who doesn’t get tired.”
“Oh, yes, that was all my fault,” she says dryly. “I woke up with your erection rubbing against me while you slept, so it was only practical to get a little something out of whatever dream you were having.”
“Practical includes straddling me and waking me up as you slide down onto me?” He smiles widely and winks. “I like your definition of practical.”
“You would.” Since she doesn’t really feel the need to rush off to the toilet yet, she decides that morning sex is a suitable alternative to coffee. She reaches for the quill that Teddy dropped and rolls over onto her side. After a moment of deliberation, she decides to be daring and do something a little different. It isn’t extremely outrageous, not like some of those fantasies Teddy loves to tease her with, but she thinks he’ll enjoy it, nonetheless.
“What’cha doing with that?”
“An experiment.”
“I’m not entirely sure I like the sound of that coupled with the look in your eyes, Hermione.”
“You seemed to enjoy using this quill earlier to wake me up, Lupin, so it’s only fair that I have a chance to use it, too.”
Before he can say anything, she moves the feather along his jaw, tracing the curves and angles of his face as he rolls over onto his back and inhales sharply. “Um, okay. Feels nice,” he murmurs while continuing to look at her suspiciously.
“You said you touched my face and neck, right?” she asks innocently, leaning over him as she touches his face with the feather. Her hair falls down around them, brushing against his chest as she focuses on her task.
“Right. But it wasn’t like this.”
“It wasn’t?” She smiles mischievously as she lightly drags the feather over his lips, teasing him with the soft barely-there touch. Her nipples are hard and rubbing against the cotton of the T-shirt she’s wearing, and she feels arousal coiling in her belly as she torments him for a change.
“I was bored and trying to wake you up. Not turn you into a pile of quivering flesh.”
“Oh, I like quivering. Shall we see what it takes to make you quiver, Teddy?”
He curses under his breath and his hair flashes through several colors before it settles on green. “Won’t take a lot when you’re pressed against me like that and I’m already so fucking hard. Can smell you, Hermione. Bet you’re so bloody wet.”
His words excite her even as she tries to deny finding such common vulgarity arousing. It took Ron months to figure out that she disliked the use of foul language unless it was the bedroom, but Teddy has already seemed to figured that out. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to go beyond what she feels comfortable hearing because there are limits. She moves the quill down his throat and brushes it over one hard nipple and then the other. Looking up at him, she tries for sultry but mostly sounds hoarse as she says, “Why don’t you find out?”
“Evil,” he accuses in a low voice that’s almost a growl. He moves his hand to her leg, stroking her thigh as he eases his hand higher. When he reaches the hem of the T-shirt, he raises her leg and moves it over his before he brushes his hand against her damp curls. He tries to tease her, but only manages a few light touches before he slides two fingers into her. “So wet.”
She moans and tries to stay focused. The quill shakes slightly as she moves it down his chest and traces it along the path of hair on his lower abdomen. He tenses when she reaches his cock, and she smiles as she lightly drags the quill over it. “So very hard.”
“I’m never going to be able to write again without getting hard,” he groans, hips rolling up to meet her hand and the quill. At the sound of her laugh, he tries to glare at her. “Just remember that turnabout is also fair, Granger-Weasley.”
“I look forward to it,” she says boldly. She leans down and licks his nipple while she shifts and rocks against his hand. She tries to keep her licks in time with the brushes from the feather, but she’s just not that coordinated. Instead, she nips at the hardened bud in her mouth and traces the feather over the head of his cock until his breathing is more ragged.
“Enough,” he finally growls, removing his wet fingers from her and reaching for her wrist. She finds herself pinned against the bed with him over her, his eyes even darker than usual and his face flushed and sweaty. He kisses her hard while he pushes her legs up and moves between them.
She drops the quill and tangles her fingers in his hair as she drapes her legs over his shoulders. When he enters her, she’s ready for it to not be gentle and careful like usual. It’s not. It’s rough and deep and exactly what they both need right now. He bites her lip as he shoves the T-shirt up so he can reach her breast. “Yes,” she hisses when he squeezes her breast, just hard enough to get her attention without actually being painful.
“So. Fucking. Wet.” He punctuates his words with a deep thrust inside her, breath warm against her cheek as he keeps moving. “Such. A. Bloody. Tease.”
It doesn’t take long for either of them. She isn’t even sure who comes first because she’s so caught up in the sensations that it’s difficult to pay attention to anything except the feel of him inside her. Her orgasm spreads over her, making her whimper and shudder, and he starts to tremble as he spills inside her and keeps moving until he’s spent. When it’s over, he eases out of her, and she moves her legs from his shoulders, lying straight as she stares at the peeling white paint on his ceiling. They’re both panting, and he nuzzles her neck as he moves his arm around her waist.
“You okay?”
“I think that should be my question. After all, I’m the one who pounced on you and got a little rough. Didn’t mean to bite your lip.”
“It’s fine.” She looks at him and smiles. “Besides, I pulled your hair.”
“Yeah, you did.” He grins and kisses her lightly. “I think you’ve worn me out now, though. Twenty years old or not, I think I need time to recover from the last twelve hours.”
“I warned you that I might,” she reminds him, thinking about that first night and her taunt. “You should have listened.”
“You were just flirting, or so I thought. Never had any idea you’d shag me into exhaustion.” He sighs dramatically. “I suppose it’s the price I pay for dating an older woman. Really good price, that.”
“And my current state of soreness in personal areas is obviously the price I pay for dating a younger man with a lot of stamina.” She kisses the tip of his nose. “I need to use the toilet and then take a shower. I’m all sticky and wet.”
“If you’re sore, make it a warm bath,” he tells her seriously. “I know we sort of, uh, went overboard since last night, and I don’t want you hurting over something so bloody enjoyable.”
“That’s very sweet.” She smiles and caresses his cheek. “Okay. I’ll take a bath, but I won’t be very long.”
“Let me use the toilet and take a quick shower, then I’ll make something for breakfast while you soak and ease that soreness.” He kisses her again before he rolls out of bed. She watches his arse as he leaves the room to cross the hall to his small bathroom and then lies back. He really needs to paint his ceiling, she thinks idly as she listens to the toilet flush before the shower starts.
It’s nice hearing these noises again, the morning and night noises that so many people seem to take for granted when they’re involved. After Ron left, she missed the sound of him brushing his teeth before bed and the sound of the shower in the morning while she got dressed. Those sounds become so routine over time, though, that it’s easy to start taking them for granted. It's like a lot of other things that are gradually ignored or grow to be annoying over time.
She doesn’t know Teddy’s routines anymore than he really knows hers, but she wants him to learn that she generally prefers coffee before conversation in the morning and that sex upon waking up is occasional and not habitual, and that she won‘t want anything except chocolate and possibly a back rub for a few days every month, though he might have started to learn the latter last month when he tried touching and she just practically growled at him. And she wants to learn his routines, both good and bad, because she was too scared before to pay too much attention.
The fact that she can actually admit that to herself is a rather big step, as is him actually understanding many of her concerns that he didn’t really seem to hear before. It would have been much simpler if they’d been this way from the start, but she doesn’t think either of them was ready to deal with it back then. They needed time and to see how things went between them before they could figure out what they wanted. It makes it easier because they’re actually talking now, even when it’s about something uncomfortable or scary, and that gives her hope that they’ll be stronger together.
“Shower’s yours,” Teddy says as he enters the room. His hair is turquoise now, darker than usual since it’s wet, and it’s dripping water down his chest as he walks. He’s naked save for a towel wrapped around his waist, and she takes a moment to ogle and wish she had a camera because, God, he’s lovely. He grins. “I can turn around and wiggle my bum a little if you want. Strike a pose?” He tosses his wet hair and raises his arm as if he’s going to flex.
“Incorrigible,” she mutters as she gets out of bed. She pulls his T-shirt off and smirks when he stares. “I can bounce a little if you want to see them move.”
“I’d say yes, but then you’d probably go into some sexist rant and accuse me of being possessive of your jiggling bits, so I‘ll clean up in here and make coffee so you can avoid any morning post-shower crankiness while we discuss our day.”
“Our day?” She arches a brow. “I don’t recall you asking if I’d spend the day with you, Lupin. Rather presumptuous of you.”
“What can I say? I’m confident,” he says, shrugging a shoulder in a way that causes his towel to slide down just a little. Damn him for having such distracting hipbones. “I also thought that approaching it as if you had already agreed might confuse you into thinking maybe you had at some point.”
“Oh, so it was one of your sneaky plans. I see now. Fortunately for you, Hugo’s visiting Ron this weekend, so I do happen to have a free day. Though I should make you wait for an answer just because you actually called my breasts ‘jiggling bits’.”
“Ah, but making me wait would just be cruel. You might be evil, but you’re not cruel.” He grins and leers at her chest. “Besides, your tits are bits that jiggle, so it’s a perfectly suitable description.”
“It better be bloody excellent coffee,“ she warns as she rolls her eyes. She leaves the room and stops at the door to the bathroom. “And, yes, I’ll spend the day with you, but I do have a few errands I need to run and grocery shopping to get done, just as a warning.”
“Consider me warned and willing to carry whatever bags you need carried,” he calls after her.
“I’ll hold you to that, Ted.“ She shakes her head and smiles as she enters the bathroom. As she shuts the door, she has to acknowledge that she‘s in a good mood and hasn‘t even had caffeine. Maybe, just maybe since she‘d need to analyze it further, waking up with Teddy is better than a strong cup of coffee.
End Chapter 34
WTR #33: Restoration. Adult. | WTR #35: Impression. Teen.
Pairing: Hermione/Teddy
Summary: Waking up with Teddy might be even better than coffee
Word Count: 3940
Rating: Adult
Betas: florahart & heather11483
Note: This contains spoilers for Deathly Hallows. Previous chapters of Worth the Risk can be found here .
Something tickles.
Hermione wrinkles her nose and shifts beneath the covers as she slowly begins to wake up. Her nose itches again, and she idly swats with her hand, because it feels like something is brushing against her nose. When she makes contact with a feather, her eyes open immediately in surprise. She blinks at the quill before she moves her gaze up its length to stare at the large, and very familiar, hand holding it.
“Why are you rubbing a quill against my nose?” she asks in an early morning tone that is possibly sharper due to the annoying way she just woke up. As well as not having had any coffee yet.
“Wasn’t just your nose,” Teddy points out in a very ‘I was awake before you’ tone. “Was also your forehead, your cheeks, your cute little chin, that graceful neck, and, uh, other parts.”
“Other parts?” She rolls her head to the left so she can look at him. His hair is burnt orange this morning, and it’s falling across his eyes, which makes her fingers twitch with the urge to brush it aside. “Why are you brushing a quill against my face and other parts, Lupin?”
He mumbles something as he ducks his head but it’s impossible to hear him.
“What was that?”
“I woke up before you, for once, and was just lying here staring at you, watching you sleep, and then I, uh, got bored.”
“You got bored?” she repeats slowly. “So you decided to play with your quill?”
He snorts and then looks up at her with a sheepish smile. “Um, I guess you might say that.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mean that, brat. Though, I suppose it is an accurate description of the events that transpired in this bed prior to my waking.”
“If you keep sounding so clever and using all those big words, the quill isn’t all I’ll be playing with.”
It’s tempting to test his comment, but she’s just woken up and is trying to acclimate herself to her current situation. She’s in Teddy’s bed, and she’s rather sore in areas that remind her exactly how they spent most of last night after they resolved to give this relationship thing a chance. He seemed determined to make up for the last week, and she certainly wasn’t inclined to protest. This morning, however, her body is reminding her that she’s nearly forty and just not cut out for shagging several times during the span of a few hours.
“You know, when a bloke makes such a statement, he sort of expects his woman to either give encouragement or make it clear that he’s fending for himself when he showers.”
“His woman?” She narrows her eyes and looks at him. “You do realize that such a statement is possessive and archaic. It also harkens back to a day when women were considered second-class citizens and nothing more than property, don’t you? Do you consider me property, Ted?”
“God, you’re cranky in the mornings,” he mutters, running his fingers through his hair before he smiles. “It’s actually pretty adorable, at least, it would be if you weren’t looking at me like you’re considering whether I deserve to keep my bollocks or not.”
“You’re avoiding the question. And, yes, I am, especially without coffee or after being woken up by having my nose tickled.”
“I don’t consider you property, Hermione. Nor do I believe in any of that second-class nonsense. I love women, as you fully know, and I’ve always been around such strong, amazing, clever ones that I can’t imagine anyone ever dismissing them in such a manner. Gram would kick anyone’s arse who tried such a thing, and I think all of us blokes know your fondness for aiming where it really hurts with hexes.”
“Three incidents involving hexes at bollocks, and I’m somehow known for having an obsession,” she mutters crossly.
“And the threats. Anything involving sensitive bits of our anatomy and a jar? Isn’t something we’re likely to forget.”
“Hmph.” She stares at him and reaches up to brush his hair back from his eyes. “And how would you feel if I walked around calling you ‘my man’ in such a controlling way?”
“Well, I’d be thrilled that it wasn’t ‘my boy’,” he says thoughtfully as he reaches up to capture her hand. He kisses her palm and smiles against it before he slowly licks her fingers one by one. “And, I don’t know. Not really a fair comparison considering all that second-class stuff. True, my father’s condition makes me somewhat lower socially than other blokes, but you’d never mean it in such a way.” He sucks her pointer finger into his mouth while he looks at her, curling his tongue around it as he licks in a way that is most distracting.
“I wouldn’t,” she agrees, trying for a tone that suggests she’s still cranky but only managing husky and aroused.
He lets her finger slide out of his mouth and smiles. “So, I’d actually preen a little, because you chose me for such a distinction and I could brag to anyone who ever wondered what you were like in bed, and possibly mention a fantasy involving you telling me what to do to please you while calling me, uh, well, nevermind. No fantasy talk this early in the morning.”
The tips of his ears are pink again as is his hair, which intrigues her. “Calling you what, Teddy?”
“Boy,” he mumbles. “You call me Boy and make me please you and earn an orgasm. It, uh, isn’t anything I’d ever want to do routinely, but, yeah. What can I say? I obviously read too much.”
She feels warmth spread over her at the very idea of playing such a game, which is something she’s fantasized about once or twice when she’s been in a particular mood. Not that she’ll admit that, of course. “You have quite a few fantasies. I wonder if that’s to be attributed to your vast reading experience or your age or a combination of both.”
“You know, I think I realized that I was a goner when I had to accept that your being all clever and talky in bed actually arouses me instead of turning me off,” he muses. “As does the fact that you just blushed when hearing about my little fantasy and had no comment as to the actual details, which makes me wonder if that means it’s one you’ve had, too.” He grins. “And, for the record, I think it can be attributed to a combination as well as your influence, because the largest portion of said fantasies since I was maybe fourteen have involved you.”
“Unlike you, I don’t find discussing my private fantasies to be suitable morning conversation, so you’ll have to keep wondering.” She pauses. “And I’m not really sure if I should be flattered or disturbed about you having such thoughts about me when you were fourteen.”
“Flattered.” He kisses her palm. “I don’t want you to ever be disturbed about anything involving us, and especially not sex.”
She moves her fingers over his lips and smiles. “I’m not disturbed about us, Teddy. If I were, I wouldn’t be here with you now.”
“I just---okay, we said we’d be honest and communicate so this will work out between us, yeah?” He ducks his head and his hair changes from orange to dark purple. “I just don’t want you suddenly feeling bothered like that and deciding we’re not worth it or, uh, something. I’ve been lying here this morning watching you sleep, and I’m sort of amazed that you’re really here, that we’re really going to give it a chance, and I’m scared that you’ll change your mind.”
“Yes, we did say that,” she agrees. “And I’m glad you told me about this instead of keeping it inside and letting it gnaw on your subconscious until you wanted to scream.” She considers what he said before she speaks. “There are no definite guarantees in life. Any relationship, I think, has that sort of fear. I know from experience that the dizzying emotions can fade in time and become something else, so what makes sense now might not in a month, six months, a year, six years, or even fifteen years. That’s just reality, though, and it’s a price that all of us pay in exchange for having what we can now.”
He listens carefully and nods. “Right. I mean, I understand that on a lot of levels based on what Gram and Harry have told me about my parents. My father resisted the happiness that he could have had with my mum for ages because of fear, and I can’t help thinking that he realized that what he did have with her, however fleeting, was worth it in the end. And you---you wouldn’t change you and Ron, would you? If you knew then how it would go?”
“Not at all,” she says honestly. “Oh, there was a time when we were drifting and knew it was over but were just too, well, scared to admit it out loud, I guess, when I was hurting and upset and I considered the idea of wishing I could go back and change things. Go back and not fall for him and not spend so many happy years only to fail in the end. But, you know, I realized almost immediately that I could never do such a thing. We didn’t work out, but, when we were good, it was great, and we have two amazing children, so it was worth it, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, even knowing that it wouldn’t last in that ‘happily ever after’ way they love to write about in books.”
“Why do you think we’re worth the risk?” he asks. His voice is so soft that she’s not entirely sure she heard him correctly, but he’s looking at her intently.
“Because I care about you and you make me happy in a way that I haven’t been in awhile. I also don’t want regrets, to look back in another fifty years and wish I’d been brave enough to try or wonder what might have been. Life’s just too short, even with our longer life expectancy, to not actually live.”
He seems to relax and nods. “I, uh, care about you, too. And, God, you make me so happy. Even with the worries and thinking too much, I just enjoy being with you.” He grins. “It’s not just the mind-blowing sex, either. Though that is definitely enjoyable. Speaking of, uh, you any less cranky now?”
When he asks his question, he presses closer, and she can feel his erection against her hip. “Bloody hell, Lupin. Don’t you ever get tired?” she asks, debating whether she needs to use the loo first or not.
“I’m just making up for lost time and preparing for the upcoming week when Hugo will be home and we’ll be limited on time. Besides, I seem to remember a certain beautiful brunette being the one to instigate wickedness earlier this morning, so maybe I’m not the only one who doesn’t get tired.”
“Oh, yes, that was all my fault,” she says dryly. “I woke up with your erection rubbing against me while you slept, so it was only practical to get a little something out of whatever dream you were having.”
“Practical includes straddling me and waking me up as you slide down onto me?” He smiles widely and winks. “I like your definition of practical.”
“You would.” Since she doesn’t really feel the need to rush off to the toilet yet, she decides that morning sex is a suitable alternative to coffee. She reaches for the quill that Teddy dropped and rolls over onto her side. After a moment of deliberation, she decides to be daring and do something a little different. It isn’t extremely outrageous, not like some of those fantasies Teddy loves to tease her with, but she thinks he’ll enjoy it, nonetheless.
“What’cha doing with that?”
“An experiment.”
“I’m not entirely sure I like the sound of that coupled with the look in your eyes, Hermione.”
“You seemed to enjoy using this quill earlier to wake me up, Lupin, so it’s only fair that I have a chance to use it, too.”
Before he can say anything, she moves the feather along his jaw, tracing the curves and angles of his face as he rolls over onto his back and inhales sharply. “Um, okay. Feels nice,” he murmurs while continuing to look at her suspiciously.
“You said you touched my face and neck, right?” she asks innocently, leaning over him as she touches his face with the feather. Her hair falls down around them, brushing against his chest as she focuses on her task.
“Right. But it wasn’t like this.”
“It wasn’t?” She smiles mischievously as she lightly drags the feather over his lips, teasing him with the soft barely-there touch. Her nipples are hard and rubbing against the cotton of the T-shirt she’s wearing, and she feels arousal coiling in her belly as she torments him for a change.
“I was bored and trying to wake you up. Not turn you into a pile of quivering flesh.”
“Oh, I like quivering. Shall we see what it takes to make you quiver, Teddy?”
He curses under his breath and his hair flashes through several colors before it settles on green. “Won’t take a lot when you’re pressed against me like that and I’m already so fucking hard. Can smell you, Hermione. Bet you’re so bloody wet.”
His words excite her even as she tries to deny finding such common vulgarity arousing. It took Ron months to figure out that she disliked the use of foul language unless it was the bedroom, but Teddy has already seemed to figured that out. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to go beyond what she feels comfortable hearing because there are limits. She moves the quill down his throat and brushes it over one hard nipple and then the other. Looking up at him, she tries for sultry but mostly sounds hoarse as she says, “Why don’t you find out?”
“Evil,” he accuses in a low voice that’s almost a growl. He moves his hand to her leg, stroking her thigh as he eases his hand higher. When he reaches the hem of the T-shirt, he raises her leg and moves it over his before he brushes his hand against her damp curls. He tries to tease her, but only manages a few light touches before he slides two fingers into her. “So wet.”
She moans and tries to stay focused. The quill shakes slightly as she moves it down his chest and traces it along the path of hair on his lower abdomen. He tenses when she reaches his cock, and she smiles as she lightly drags the quill over it. “So very hard.”
“I’m never going to be able to write again without getting hard,” he groans, hips rolling up to meet her hand and the quill. At the sound of her laugh, he tries to glare at her. “Just remember that turnabout is also fair, Granger-Weasley.”
“I look forward to it,” she says boldly. She leans down and licks his nipple while she shifts and rocks against his hand. She tries to keep her licks in time with the brushes from the feather, but she’s just not that coordinated. Instead, she nips at the hardened bud in her mouth and traces the feather over the head of his cock until his breathing is more ragged.
“Enough,” he finally growls, removing his wet fingers from her and reaching for her wrist. She finds herself pinned against the bed with him over her, his eyes even darker than usual and his face flushed and sweaty. He kisses her hard while he pushes her legs up and moves between them.
She drops the quill and tangles her fingers in his hair as she drapes her legs over his shoulders. When he enters her, she’s ready for it to not be gentle and careful like usual. It’s not. It’s rough and deep and exactly what they both need right now. He bites her lip as he shoves the T-shirt up so he can reach her breast. “Yes,” she hisses when he squeezes her breast, just hard enough to get her attention without actually being painful.
“So. Fucking. Wet.” He punctuates his words with a deep thrust inside her, breath warm against her cheek as he keeps moving. “Such. A. Bloody. Tease.”
It doesn’t take long for either of them. She isn’t even sure who comes first because she’s so caught up in the sensations that it’s difficult to pay attention to anything except the feel of him inside her. Her orgasm spreads over her, making her whimper and shudder, and he starts to tremble as he spills inside her and keeps moving until he’s spent. When it’s over, he eases out of her, and she moves her legs from his shoulders, lying straight as she stares at the peeling white paint on his ceiling. They’re both panting, and he nuzzles her neck as he moves his arm around her waist.
“You okay?”
“I think that should be my question. After all, I’m the one who pounced on you and got a little rough. Didn’t mean to bite your lip.”
“It’s fine.” She looks at him and smiles. “Besides, I pulled your hair.”
“Yeah, you did.” He grins and kisses her lightly. “I think you’ve worn me out now, though. Twenty years old or not, I think I need time to recover from the last twelve hours.”
“I warned you that I might,” she reminds him, thinking about that first night and her taunt. “You should have listened.”
“You were just flirting, or so I thought. Never had any idea you’d shag me into exhaustion.” He sighs dramatically. “I suppose it’s the price I pay for dating an older woman. Really good price, that.”
“And my current state of soreness in personal areas is obviously the price I pay for dating a younger man with a lot of stamina.” She kisses the tip of his nose. “I need to use the toilet and then take a shower. I’m all sticky and wet.”
“If you’re sore, make it a warm bath,” he tells her seriously. “I know we sort of, uh, went overboard since last night, and I don’t want you hurting over something so bloody enjoyable.”
“That’s very sweet.” She smiles and caresses his cheek. “Okay. I’ll take a bath, but I won’t be very long.”
“Let me use the toilet and take a quick shower, then I’ll make something for breakfast while you soak and ease that soreness.” He kisses her again before he rolls out of bed. She watches his arse as he leaves the room to cross the hall to his small bathroom and then lies back. He really needs to paint his ceiling, she thinks idly as she listens to the toilet flush before the shower starts.
It’s nice hearing these noises again, the morning and night noises that so many people seem to take for granted when they’re involved. After Ron left, she missed the sound of him brushing his teeth before bed and the sound of the shower in the morning while she got dressed. Those sounds become so routine over time, though, that it’s easy to start taking them for granted. It's like a lot of other things that are gradually ignored or grow to be annoying over time.
She doesn’t know Teddy’s routines anymore than he really knows hers, but she wants him to learn that she generally prefers coffee before conversation in the morning and that sex upon waking up is occasional and not habitual, and that she won‘t want anything except chocolate and possibly a back rub for a few days every month, though he might have started to learn the latter last month when he tried touching and she just practically growled at him. And she wants to learn his routines, both good and bad, because she was too scared before to pay too much attention.
The fact that she can actually admit that to herself is a rather big step, as is him actually understanding many of her concerns that he didn’t really seem to hear before. It would have been much simpler if they’d been this way from the start, but she doesn’t think either of them was ready to deal with it back then. They needed time and to see how things went between them before they could figure out what they wanted. It makes it easier because they’re actually talking now, even when it’s about something uncomfortable or scary, and that gives her hope that they’ll be stronger together.
“Shower’s yours,” Teddy says as he enters the room. His hair is turquoise now, darker than usual since it’s wet, and it’s dripping water down his chest as he walks. He’s naked save for a towel wrapped around his waist, and she takes a moment to ogle and wish she had a camera because, God, he’s lovely. He grins. “I can turn around and wiggle my bum a little if you want. Strike a pose?” He tosses his wet hair and raises his arm as if he’s going to flex.
“Incorrigible,” she mutters as she gets out of bed. She pulls his T-shirt off and smirks when he stares. “I can bounce a little if you want to see them move.”
“I’d say yes, but then you’d probably go into some sexist rant and accuse me of being possessive of your jiggling bits, so I‘ll clean up in here and make coffee so you can avoid any morning post-shower crankiness while we discuss our day.”
“Our day?” She arches a brow. “I don’t recall you asking if I’d spend the day with you, Lupin. Rather presumptuous of you.”
“What can I say? I’m confident,” he says, shrugging a shoulder in a way that causes his towel to slide down just a little. Damn him for having such distracting hipbones. “I also thought that approaching it as if you had already agreed might confuse you into thinking maybe you had at some point.”
“Oh, so it was one of your sneaky plans. I see now. Fortunately for you, Hugo’s visiting Ron this weekend, so I do happen to have a free day. Though I should make you wait for an answer just because you actually called my breasts ‘jiggling bits’.”
“Ah, but making me wait would just be cruel. You might be evil, but you’re not cruel.” He grins and leers at her chest. “Besides, your tits are bits that jiggle, so it’s a perfectly suitable description.”
“It better be bloody excellent coffee,“ she warns as she rolls her eyes. She leaves the room and stops at the door to the bathroom. “And, yes, I’ll spend the day with you, but I do have a few errands I need to run and grocery shopping to get done, just as a warning.”
“Consider me warned and willing to carry whatever bags you need carried,” he calls after her.
“I’ll hold you to that, Ted.“ She shakes her head and smiles as she enters the bathroom. As she shuts the door, she has to acknowledge that she‘s in a good mood and hasn‘t even had caffeine. Maybe, just maybe since she‘d need to analyze it further, waking up with Teddy is better than a strong cup of coffee.
End Chapter 34
WTR #33: Restoration. Adult. | WTR #35: Impression. Teen.