Lubido Comburo Chapter 5
Title: Lubido Comburo
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Chapter: 5
The boy dropped his gaze to the only portion of the girl's torso that wasn't free of the curse. He blew warm air into his hands and placed them both just below the swell of her breasts. Lifting up and taking on the weight of both soft mounds, he cupped them entirely in his hands, and sat completely transfixed for a moment before he seemed to realize his task literally at hand. He slowly moved his fingers, gently kneading her flesh and feeling for the ridges of the rash to dissolve away.
The girl was taking in air in sharp gasps and blowing it out again in soft little sounds, but the boy didn't question her condition. He seemed utterly distracted by the fact that the hearts would not fade.
The boy slid his hand off one breast to reveal the same smattering of rash with a livid concentration of ugly red hearts surrounding the nipple. He gently ran the pad of his thumb around the angry, puckered skin with a sad expression on his face.
The girl sucked in a sharp breath and pushed her chest against his hand.
The boy blinked at her, and swept his thumb around the circle of painfully erect flesh again.
"Twistit."
The room was absolutely silent.
The girl had whispered the command like a faint breath of air, but the boy looked as if she'd struck him. She'd certainly struck him dumb.
With an utterly gormless expression, he stared down at his own thumb and index finger as they grasped the hard peak between them and gave a rolling twist.
The sound of her moan alone might have knocked the girl off the bed. She arched her back like a kneazle nearly sliding to the floor in the process. She gripped the boy's hand to her breast so quickly that his fingers were caught curled under, and his knuckles dug into the swell of pillowy flesh.
The boy made a strangled noise.
The girl clenched her already closed eyes, arched her back wildly and writhed inside the tangle of blankets to free her torso completely. She lurched forward grinding her breast against his hand; It looked, in fact, as though his hand was the only thing bearing her weight and preventing her from slipping off the bed entirely. He reached his other hand up to press against her ribs and hold her upright, but the girl let out a feral, pitiful sound and clawed his hand upwards to her cover other breast.
Then she clutched as far up his sinewy biceps as she could reach, and she scraped her short little nails down his scarred, freckled arms.
The boy's eyes rolled back in his head.
"Shit-I-Felt-It-Too," dropped out of the boy's mouth.
"Shit, what is this, Hermione? What the fucking hell is this?
"S'working…cure… so close," the girl panted out between nonsense sounds and profanity.
With the sweaty tendon in his clenched jaw nearly audibly shifting under his damp skin as he swallowed, the boy nodded to the girl even though she couldn't see him. He blinked sweat out of his eyes and seemed to be trying very hard to focus on the large, pale hands at the ends of his now absolutely quaking arms.
In something like perfect synchronization, he dragged his thumbs in opposing directions, sweeping them across her blood-engorged nipples; clamping the fleshy little knots firmly between knuckles and thumbs, he unrelentingly rolled them until the girl was pumping her hips in helpless delirium. Her breasts were boiling hot, and, inexplicably, still clad in flaming-red hearts.
Her breasts were boiling hot.
He dropped them like fire, and brought his hands up to cup her face.
"Hermione?"
"Hermione?"
"You're burning up," he said almost to himself. "Hermione, speak to me!"
The girl's eyes blinked slowly open.
"S'burning," she slurred and slipped immediately back to sleep.
"No! No! Stay with me, Hermione! Tell me what to do!"
The boy reached down with both hands to shake her by the shoulders.
"They won't go away. Hermione, tell me what to do!"
His hands quaked as he ghosted them across her neck and back up to her flushed red cheeks.
"Make it stop," the girl pleaded out before letting out a long awful groan.
Her hair was wet and matting against her temples as she rolled her head in apparent agony. The boy looked lost and achingly broken when his gaze finally fell back to her chest. The hearts encircling each areola were literally, glowing like embers.
The boy blinked.
A glowing heart against her left nipple burst into flame.
The boy's roar echoed through the girl's chest as he crushed his mouth into her left breast, pinned her to the bed, and sucked as much of the soft flesh into his mouth as he could.
The girl screamed.
The wet nipple popped out of the boy's mouth as he arched back off of her, gripping his chest with a ragged moan.
"Shit. Shit. That's… Fuck," the boy shouted to the room as he heaved in desperate gulps of air.
The girl grabbed the back of his neck with preternatural strength and tugged him toward her.
He took in one more lungful of air before he planted his raw, swollen mouth against her burning breast. His cheeks hollowed and the cords of his neck glistened with sweat as he devoured her. He jolted with her and appeared to be holding on for dear life as she thrashed against him and gripped a fistful of his ginger hair at the base of his neck.
He stopped to pant down air with his stomach concaving in tremors and his skin heaving over ribs. The girl had arched off the bed moaning and fell back limp and shaking. Her left breast was wet and rosy pink with blooming love bites… and nothing else. Not a sign of the curse remained.
The boy laughed out loud, and then he launched himself at her right nipple.
He pressed her into the mattress and held down her arms as she thrashed and moaned half-formed words of pleading and bliss. He laved her dripping wet breast, and pulled it again and again into his mouth… dragging it out through his teeth.
She bucked him off with a throaty wail before she fell back to softly pant. He curled beside her only half lying on the bed. His lanky legs shuffled against each other in the air before finding the rug again. He gripped his own chest as he battled for air.
The boy blinked blearily at her bruised but perfectly healed right breast, and looked happy enough to cry.
"Hermione, can you hear me? I think we've finished it," the boy said happily as he planted a sloppy kiss against her shoulder.
Her shoulder was burning hot.
"Make it stop, Ron!"
The boy's glance flicked toward the girl's face. She was still grimacing in what looked like agony.
"Fuckme…no," the boy whispered, nearly looking sick at his stomach as he spoke the words.
"Hermione," he said loudly as he pulled one of her fretting hands into his.
The girl rolled her wet head against the bed sheet covering the mattress. Wet curls were plastered to her flushed cheeks and her lips were blood red.
"Hermione!"
She turned to face him with wild eyes, but for a moment she seemed to come to herself.
"Ron..."
She spoke his name like desperate plea.
"Where does it hurt, Hermione?"
"Everywhere."
The girl cried out in pain as she bucked her bare hipbone out of the tangle of blankets.
The boy dropped to his knees in the floor in front of her and seemed to fall into a stupor. His horizontal scars were crosshatched with her fresh, bleeding scratches down the length of his spectrally thin arms. Rivulets of sweat traced the bony ridges of his malnourished body. His clenched fists hung down at his hips like blocks of marble.
The boy stared at her like a man condemned. Emotion drained from his pale, young face, as he seemed to breathe out sorrow and breathe in blank, dead rage.
"I'll murder them all," he whispered.
"If I lose y…"
He blinked at her.
"… it won't matter which of them did this."
And with that, the boy dragged every strip of fabric off the convulsing girl. Her legs were dangling off the side of the bed as she trembled against the mattress. Her thighs were clamped together. The small, bare mound pushed into a "v" between her thighs was etched with a single, jagged heart. The soft little seam at its base was still pressed tightly closed, and glowed violently red.
"Make it stop," the girl sobbed out.
The boy looked dead inside as he pushed the girl's thigh's apart and pushed his open mouth against liquid fire.
The boy's face was flushed a raw, splotchy crimson that spread from his scalp to his chest. He opened the girl's thighs impossibly wide as she bucked to close them around his head. He finally pressed one against the bed as he hoisted the other leg over his shoulder, to open her completely to his onslaught. He looked as if he might dislocate his jaw as he gorged himself on her; the tendons straining under his freckled skin stood out in sharp, glistening relief as he swallowed against her. Pink frilly flesh sucked and pulled through his lips and teeth. Liquid dripped down his chin as he buried his face in her scent. His long nose found it's purpose as he tongued into a silkily smooth hollow. When he finally found the erect little nub with his lips, he sucked it like a nipple.
It was impossible to determine who could be heard first when the girl ripped the sheet beneath her and let out a piercing shriek. The boy sounded raw and broken as he heaved out her name. The girl's hips jerked, sliding slick, swollen flesh against his cheek in aftershocks. The boy slumped limp with his face still pressed into her…her leg still draped over his shoulder. A wet stain soaked through the crotch of his denims as his hips thrust against air.
The room smelled sickly sweet with smoke and sex. Tendrils of red vapor curled off of the girl's body and dissipated. In less than a minute, her breathing fell into a deep and even rhythm as she dropped off to sleep - smiling and sprawled out damp and naked like a drowsy water nymph.
The boy ran his hand up the girl's cool thigh, and let out a sobbing breath of happiness.
He blinked tears from his eyes as he turned his head, just a fraction, and pressed a kiss into her slick, pink, perfect skin.
Then the boy sat back on his legs and looked utterly miserable.
With a hard sniff and a rough wipe to each eye with the back of his wrist, the boy stood up.
He averted his eyes as he gathered up the girl's discarded knickers and guided them up her limp legs. He fished out her shirt from a mound of books and an elastic from around a roll of parchment. Gathering her maelstrom of hair into a gentle bundle, he snapped the elastic around it, placed his palm against her cool forehead and smiled. He pulled the worn t-shirt over her head, clumsily leading her arms through the holes, and carefully looking away, he pulled it down over her breasts. He dug under the camp bed for her beaded bag, and found his forgotten socks. After two whispered spells, he pulled the now warmed and tergeoed, knitted wool up each of her legs and over her knees.
With a smile, he pushed to his feet and gently scooped the girl up in his arms. He shifted her onto the bed properly, and slipped a pillow under her magnificently tangled hair. He quietly mended the bed sheet, and as he tucked it and her blanket around her, the girl stirred.
"Ron?"
The girl seemed utterly confused to find the ginger-haired boy leaning over her with red, swollen lips; glistening, wet cheeks; and a hazy smile.
Recognition suddenly flooded her face.
She popped up to a sitting position nearly hitting his head with hers. The boy shifted out of her way and knelt by the bedside as she dug under the sheet to run a frantic hand from her breast to her pelvis.
She turned to stare at him in absolute awe.
"It worked," he said simply.
She blinked her shining eyes at him, and slid her free hand across the blanket to find his. She entangled their fingers, and stared at the streaks of dried blood on his arms.
"I never meant to hurt you," she whispered.
"Can't feel a thing," the boy answered back almost sadly.
She looked into his eyes for a long moment, and slipping her hand from his, she reached up to bury her fingers in the thick red hair at the nape of his neck. The boy closed his eyes. With a breath of pressure, she eased him forward and placed a lingering kiss on his wet, sticky cheek.
She hovered there against his jaw, breathing until she could squeeze back the tears, and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth.
Her eyes opened.
She licked her lips…
swallowed…
blushed in recognition...
and very slightly might have smirked.
With a shaky sigh, she slowly slid her hand down his long neck and brought it to rest at the center of his chest before pulling away and releasing him.
They stared at perpendicular walls of the canvas room for several seconds in silence before the boy began digging through her beaded bag. He yanked out a clean shirt and jumper and pulled them on quickly.
The girl looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face that he must have noticed.
"My turn to take watch," he explained
With a mumbled cleaning spell to his denims and what might have been, "wore 'em yesterday" in whispered defense, the boy stood and pressed a glass jar of thick yellow paste into the girl's hand.
"It's for the… well, there might be… bruises on…some things."
"Thank you," the girl whispered as she flushed pink across her cheeks and pulled her covers up just a bit higher.
They paused, not seeming to know what to say.
"Hermione?"
"Yes," the girl answered a bit too expectantly.
"Have a bit of a lie in today, yeah? I'll take your turn at watch."
She lifted an eyebrow in mild protest.
"I'm helping," he said with what looked like a rather smug grin.
"You are," the girl said softly.
They smiled.
"Well… cheers then," the boy said with an abortive little wave as he backed toward the bedroom entrance.
The girl lifted the spells, and the boy slipped through the doorway, but turned back at the last moment popping his ginger head through the canvas flap. He smiled and whispered much too loudly.
"I'll be right here if you need me."
The girl whispered back almost inaudibly.
"I always will."
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Chapter: 5
The boy dropped his gaze to the only portion of the girl's torso that wasn't free of the curse. He blew warm air into his hands and placed them both just below the swell of her breasts. Lifting up and taking on the weight of both soft mounds, he cupped them entirely in his hands, and sat completely transfixed for a moment before he seemed to realize his task literally at hand. He slowly moved his fingers, gently kneading her flesh and feeling for the ridges of the rash to dissolve away.
The girl was taking in air in sharp gasps and blowing it out again in soft little sounds, but the boy didn't question her condition. He seemed utterly distracted by the fact that the hearts would not fade.
The boy slid his hand off one breast to reveal the same smattering of rash with a livid concentration of ugly red hearts surrounding the nipple. He gently ran the pad of his thumb around the angry, puckered skin with a sad expression on his face.
The girl sucked in a sharp breath and pushed her chest against his hand.
The boy blinked at her, and swept his thumb around the circle of painfully erect flesh again.
"Twistit."
The room was absolutely silent.
The girl had whispered the command like a faint breath of air, but the boy looked as if she'd struck him. She'd certainly struck him dumb.
With an utterly gormless expression, he stared down at his own thumb and index finger as they grasped the hard peak between them and gave a rolling twist.
The sound of her moan alone might have knocked the girl off the bed. She arched her back like a kneazle nearly sliding to the floor in the process. She gripped the boy's hand to her breast so quickly that his fingers were caught curled under, and his knuckles dug into the swell of pillowy flesh.
The boy made a strangled noise.
The girl clenched her already closed eyes, arched her back wildly and writhed inside the tangle of blankets to free her torso completely. She lurched forward grinding her breast against his hand; It looked, in fact, as though his hand was the only thing bearing her weight and preventing her from slipping off the bed entirely. He reached his other hand up to press against her ribs and hold her upright, but the girl let out a feral, pitiful sound and clawed his hand upwards to her cover other breast.
Then she clutched as far up his sinewy biceps as she could reach, and she scraped her short little nails down his scarred, freckled arms.
The boy's eyes rolled back in his head.
"Shit-I-Felt-It-Too," dropped out of the boy's mouth.
"Shit, what is this, Hermione? What the fucking hell is this?
"S'working…cure… so close," the girl panted out between nonsense sounds and profanity.
With the sweaty tendon in his clenched jaw nearly audibly shifting under his damp skin as he swallowed, the boy nodded to the girl even though she couldn't see him. He blinked sweat out of his eyes and seemed to be trying very hard to focus on the large, pale hands at the ends of his now absolutely quaking arms.
In something like perfect synchronization, he dragged his thumbs in opposing directions, sweeping them across her blood-engorged nipples; clamping the fleshy little knots firmly between knuckles and thumbs, he unrelentingly rolled them until the girl was pumping her hips in helpless delirium. Her breasts were boiling hot, and, inexplicably, still clad in flaming-red hearts.
Her breasts were boiling hot.
He dropped them like fire, and brought his hands up to cup her face.
"Hermione?"
"Hermione?"
"You're burning up," he said almost to himself. "Hermione, speak to me!"
The girl's eyes blinked slowly open.
"S'burning," she slurred and slipped immediately back to sleep.
"No! No! Stay with me, Hermione! Tell me what to do!"
The boy reached down with both hands to shake her by the shoulders.
"They won't go away. Hermione, tell me what to do!"
His hands quaked as he ghosted them across her neck and back up to her flushed red cheeks.
"Make it stop," the girl pleaded out before letting out a long awful groan.
Her hair was wet and matting against her temples as she rolled her head in apparent agony. The boy looked lost and achingly broken when his gaze finally fell back to her chest. The hearts encircling each areola were literally, glowing like embers.
The boy blinked.
A glowing heart against her left nipple burst into flame.
The boy's roar echoed through the girl's chest as he crushed his mouth into her left breast, pinned her to the bed, and sucked as much of the soft flesh into his mouth as he could.
The girl screamed.
The wet nipple popped out of the boy's mouth as he arched back off of her, gripping his chest with a ragged moan.
"Shit. Shit. That's… Fuck," the boy shouted to the room as he heaved in desperate gulps of air.
The girl grabbed the back of his neck with preternatural strength and tugged him toward her.
He took in one more lungful of air before he planted his raw, swollen mouth against her burning breast. His cheeks hollowed and the cords of his neck glistened with sweat as he devoured her. He jolted with her and appeared to be holding on for dear life as she thrashed against him and gripped a fistful of his ginger hair at the base of his neck.
He stopped to pant down air with his stomach concaving in tremors and his skin heaving over ribs. The girl had arched off the bed moaning and fell back limp and shaking. Her left breast was wet and rosy pink with blooming love bites… and nothing else. Not a sign of the curse remained.
The boy laughed out loud, and then he launched himself at her right nipple.
He pressed her into the mattress and held down her arms as she thrashed and moaned half-formed words of pleading and bliss. He laved her dripping wet breast, and pulled it again and again into his mouth… dragging it out through his teeth.
She bucked him off with a throaty wail before she fell back to softly pant. He curled beside her only half lying on the bed. His lanky legs shuffled against each other in the air before finding the rug again. He gripped his own chest as he battled for air.
The boy blinked blearily at her bruised but perfectly healed right breast, and looked happy enough to cry.
"Hermione, can you hear me? I think we've finished it," the boy said happily as he planted a sloppy kiss against her shoulder.
Her shoulder was burning hot.
"Make it stop, Ron!"
The boy's glance flicked toward the girl's face. She was still grimacing in what looked like agony.
"Fuckme…no," the boy whispered, nearly looking sick at his stomach as he spoke the words.
"Hermione," he said loudly as he pulled one of her fretting hands into his.
The girl rolled her wet head against the bed sheet covering the mattress. Wet curls were plastered to her flushed cheeks and her lips were blood red.
"Hermione!"
She turned to face him with wild eyes, but for a moment she seemed to come to herself.
"Ron..."
She spoke his name like desperate plea.
"Where does it hurt, Hermione?"
"Everywhere."
The girl cried out in pain as she bucked her bare hipbone out of the tangle of blankets.
The boy dropped to his knees in the floor in front of her and seemed to fall into a stupor. His horizontal scars were crosshatched with her fresh, bleeding scratches down the length of his spectrally thin arms. Rivulets of sweat traced the bony ridges of his malnourished body. His clenched fists hung down at his hips like blocks of marble.
The boy stared at her like a man condemned. Emotion drained from his pale, young face, as he seemed to breathe out sorrow and breathe in blank, dead rage.
"I'll murder them all," he whispered.
"If I lose y…"
He blinked at her.
"… it won't matter which of them did this."
And with that, the boy dragged every strip of fabric off the convulsing girl. Her legs were dangling off the side of the bed as she trembled against the mattress. Her thighs were clamped together. The small, bare mound pushed into a "v" between her thighs was etched with a single, jagged heart. The soft little seam at its base was still pressed tightly closed, and glowed violently red.
"Make it stop," the girl sobbed out.
The boy looked dead inside as he pushed the girl's thigh's apart and pushed his open mouth against liquid fire.
The boy's face was flushed a raw, splotchy crimson that spread from his scalp to his chest. He opened the girl's thighs impossibly wide as she bucked to close them around his head. He finally pressed one against the bed as he hoisted the other leg over his shoulder, to open her completely to his onslaught. He looked as if he might dislocate his jaw as he gorged himself on her; the tendons straining under his freckled skin stood out in sharp, glistening relief as he swallowed against her. Pink frilly flesh sucked and pulled through his lips and teeth. Liquid dripped down his chin as he buried his face in her scent. His long nose found it's purpose as he tongued into a silkily smooth hollow. When he finally found the erect little nub with his lips, he sucked it like a nipple.
It was impossible to determine who could be heard first when the girl ripped the sheet beneath her and let out a piercing shriek. The boy sounded raw and broken as he heaved out her name. The girl's hips jerked, sliding slick, swollen flesh against his cheek in aftershocks. The boy slumped limp with his face still pressed into her…her leg still draped over his shoulder. A wet stain soaked through the crotch of his denims as his hips thrust against air.
The room smelled sickly sweet with smoke and sex. Tendrils of red vapor curled off of the girl's body and dissipated. In less than a minute, her breathing fell into a deep and even rhythm as she dropped off to sleep - smiling and sprawled out damp and naked like a drowsy water nymph.
The boy ran his hand up the girl's cool thigh, and let out a sobbing breath of happiness.
He blinked tears from his eyes as he turned his head, just a fraction, and pressed a kiss into her slick, pink, perfect skin.
Then the boy sat back on his legs and looked utterly miserable.
With a hard sniff and a rough wipe to each eye with the back of his wrist, the boy stood up.
He averted his eyes as he gathered up the girl's discarded knickers and guided them up her limp legs. He fished out her shirt from a mound of books and an elastic from around a roll of parchment. Gathering her maelstrom of hair into a gentle bundle, he snapped the elastic around it, placed his palm against her cool forehead and smiled. He pulled the worn t-shirt over her head, clumsily leading her arms through the holes, and carefully looking away, he pulled it down over her breasts. He dug under the camp bed for her beaded bag, and found his forgotten socks. After two whispered spells, he pulled the now warmed and tergeoed, knitted wool up each of her legs and over her knees.
With a smile, he pushed to his feet and gently scooped the girl up in his arms. He shifted her onto the bed properly, and slipped a pillow under her magnificently tangled hair. He quietly mended the bed sheet, and as he tucked it and her blanket around her, the girl stirred.
"Ron?"
The girl seemed utterly confused to find the ginger-haired boy leaning over her with red, swollen lips; glistening, wet cheeks; and a hazy smile.
Recognition suddenly flooded her face.
She popped up to a sitting position nearly hitting his head with hers. The boy shifted out of her way and knelt by the bedside as she dug under the sheet to run a frantic hand from her breast to her pelvis.
She turned to stare at him in absolute awe.
"It worked," he said simply.
She blinked her shining eyes at him, and slid her free hand across the blanket to find his. She entangled their fingers, and stared at the streaks of dried blood on his arms.
"I never meant to hurt you," she whispered.
"Can't feel a thing," the boy answered back almost sadly.
She looked into his eyes for a long moment, and slipping her hand from his, she reached up to bury her fingers in the thick red hair at the nape of his neck. The boy closed his eyes. With a breath of pressure, she eased him forward and placed a lingering kiss on his wet, sticky cheek.
She hovered there against his jaw, breathing until she could squeeze back the tears, and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth.
Her eyes opened.
She licked her lips…
swallowed…
blushed in recognition...
and very slightly might have smirked.
With a shaky sigh, she slowly slid her hand down his long neck and brought it to rest at the center of his chest before pulling away and releasing him.
They stared at perpendicular walls of the canvas room for several seconds in silence before the boy began digging through her beaded bag. He yanked out a clean shirt and jumper and pulled them on quickly.
The girl looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face that he must have noticed.
"My turn to take watch," he explained
With a mumbled cleaning spell to his denims and what might have been, "wore 'em yesterday" in whispered defense, the boy stood and pressed a glass jar of thick yellow paste into the girl's hand.
"It's for the… well, there might be… bruises on…some things."
"Thank you," the girl whispered as she flushed pink across her cheeks and pulled her covers up just a bit higher.
They paused, not seeming to know what to say.
"Hermione?"
"Yes," the girl answered a bit too expectantly.
"Have a bit of a lie in today, yeah? I'll take your turn at watch."
She lifted an eyebrow in mild protest.
"I'm helping," he said with what looked like a rather smug grin.
"You are," the girl said softly.
They smiled.
"Well… cheers then," the boy said with an abortive little wave as he backed toward the bedroom entrance.
The girl lifted the spells, and the boy slipped through the doorway, but turned back at the last moment popping his ginger head through the canvas flap. He smiled and whispered much too loudly.
"I'll be right here if you need me."
The girl whispered back almost inaudibly.
"I always will."