Title: Beautiful Stranger
Author:![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
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Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Hermione/? Male (highlight if you need to know, though it will spoil the story) *Hermione/Harry*
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Genre: Naughty
Length/Word Count: One-Shot, 1507 words
Warnings: Semi-public sex, anonymous sex
Summary: It's utterly irresponsible and completely foolish, Hermione's rational mind would say, but her rational mind has been drowned out in a sea of desire ever since the moment he first caught her gaze across the Atrium.
Notes: Thank you so much toredcouchaddict and torino10154 for their support and encouragement and to samedy, ragdoll and roozetter for their most excellent beta skills. Written for samhain_smut 2010 on LJ.
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters that I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world that I didn't create. No copyright infringement intended, no money's being made.
Originally posted here.
Beautiful Stranger
This is absurd, Hermione knows. Her heart thumps in her throat, her skin buzzes with a desire she can't quantify and Merlin help her, even her knees are weak. She feels every bit the cliché of a school girl with a massive love-at-first-sight complex, and yet, even when she was that school girl, she never behaved like this.
It's utterly irresponsible and completely foolish, her rational mind would say, but her rational mind has been drowned out in a sea of desire ever since the moment he first caught her gaze across the Atrium, ever since he took her hand in his and led her around the dance floor in a waltz, holding her far closer than propriety allowed, sure to send the Ministry gossips' tongues wagging for days. The only comfort is their identities are hidden, hers behind a white mask and his behind a black one with a subtle sheen of green to match his robes. Only his lips and his jaw are exposed and that isn't enough to tell who he really is.
Hermione doesn't normally dance with strange men, doesn't press against them, her heart racing with just a light touch to her waist, but she certainly would never dream of dragging one into an alcove just off the main Atrium where the Ministry's Halloween Masquerade Ball is going full swing. And yet, here they are, only a few steps away from where others are still dancing. The shadows don't hide them nearly well enough, but she can't find the strength to care. Not when she's so close to him, enveloped by his scent.
He smells freshly scrubbed with just a hint of sweat and something else she can't place, something that must be wholly and truly him and she finds herself intoxicated by it, daring to dart her tongue out along his neck to taste him. She feels a faint gasp against her ear and she smiles. He's hard against her; it makes her want to groan despite who might hear; it makes her want to rip off his robes and make this gorgeous man fall apart in her arms, but she only has a moment to indulge in her fantasy when the tables are suddenly turned.
He dips down low and grazes his lips along the column of her neck; his fingers trace the low vee down the back of her gown, and for the first time, Hermione is grateful Ginny talked her into buying this ridiculous dress because she can't stand the thought of fabric dulling the heat of his touch. She wants to touch him too, feel the burn of his skin against her palms, but he's wearing far too many layers and so she has to find her satisfaction in smoothing her hands against his chest, mapping out the lean hard muscles beneath the soft fabric. His fingers dance along her spine, sending promising tingles in their wake and she shoves a thigh between his legs, a thrill of satisfaction pulsing through her as he draws a quick intake of breath and leans into the contact.
"Silencing spell?" he whispers, but he doesn't go for his wand--his hands are too full of her, wandering over her back freely now, dipping below the hem, skimming along the swell of her bottom. Hermione's smile turns wicked.
"Let's just be very, very quiet," she murmurs, and he chuckles low in his throat until she rolls her hips just so, and the friction from her thigh against his groin turns his laugh into a faint moan.
His mouth is moving now along her jaw and she gives a soft whine of disappointment as his hands leave her bared back, but her complaints vanish as his fingers tease the side of her breast just how she likes to be touched, his other hand wandering down, gathering the length of her skirt, sliding the fabric up her thigh. She tightens in excitement, and she's ashamed that all she can do is cling to him as a knot of pure need pulses low in her stomach, wanting his hands to move faster and stop taunting her. She's already so wet for him. She can feel her knickers cling to her skin, and she trembles as his fingers make the slow ascent up her inner thigh until they are so close, skimming the elastic hem of her panties.
"God, yes please-" She groans, forgetting where they are until he whispers, "Shhhh" against her ear. She hears the dull roar of the party then, faint and insignificant, drowning in the loud drumming of her heart, and she wonders what they look like together, what would happen if someone were to see. It gives her a thrill to think about it, someone watching them right now, seeing her spread her legs wantonly in invitation, encouraging him as he finally touches her where she needs it the most.
But he still torments her, his fingers tracing the outline of her folds through the damp cloth of her knickers. She thrusts against his touch, and a fingertip barely slips inside, frustratingly kept at bay by cotton. If she could only get hold of her wand, she would banish her troublesome knickers away, but soon he gives in and shoves the crotch aside, two fingers sliding easily inside her wet heat.
The elastic chafes her inner thigh, but Hermione barely notices, her entire being focused on where they're joined together. She's awash in sensation as he slides his other hand around to cup her breast, two fingers coming up to trap her nipple in a tight pinch just as he finds her clit below with his thumb. She has to bite down on her lip hard to stifle a moan, her hands balled up in the fabric stretching across his chest, and all she can do is hang on and rut against him, begging him with her body to go faster, now--please.
His eyes glitter behind his mask and she snakes one hand up into his hair, feeling the thin strings that hold it in place. The tingling of magic flows over her fingers, letting her know that she'd need her wand if she wanted to attempt to rip it off. His lips pull into a sly smile, his tongue slips out to wet his lower lip and his fingers are going faster, her hips pumping in time with his rhythm. Her whole existence narrows to a tight coil low in her belly and suddenly his mouth covers hers and she's coming in great gasps, riding his fingers in wild abandon. He continues to stroke her, drawing out her pleasure, until her trembles subside and she collapses against him, breathless and flushed, satisfaction flooding her veins.
He carefully withdraws, slides her knickers back into place and lets her gown fall to the floor once more. Hermione can still feel him hard against her thigh and she feels vaguely guilty for being unable to reciprocate while she is so thoroughly satisfied and bathed in post-orgasmic bliss, but she's more than willing to make it up to him. Before she can even go for his trousers though, he places a gentle kiss on her lips, steps back, and is suddenly gone, swallowed up in the throng of partygoers.
--
Hermione Apparates to the end of her street, wanting to spend the last leg of her journey home outside under the stars, with the moonlight shining brightly overhead. She can't remember the last time she felt this relaxed and completely content. And she's boneless still, even though it's been close to a half hour since her dalliance with the "mystery" man at the ball.
She strolls along the cobblestone walk, enjoying the fresh air against her skin, forgetting all about her charmed mask until she reaches her house. With a flick of her wand, it vanishes and she unlocks her door, finding Harry lounging on the couch in the front room, his outer robes draped over an arm chair, his black-green tinted mask laying on the end table beside it.
"I can't believe you, Harry Potter."
For a moment he looks worried, but her amusement must have shown in her eyes because his expression melts into a cheeky smile.
"If I hadn't left, I would have taken you right there--and I'm not quite sure we would have been able to hide that."
"I wouldn't have cared," she admits, plopping down on the sofa next to him. She reaches to play with his loosened collar, though her eyes drift to his groin where it's clear his arousal hasn't abated at all since their encounter.
"I can take care of you now." She slides a hand to his thigh. Harry grins, suddenly grabbing her by the waist and pulling her until she straddles his lap.
"I wouldn't say no." He leans up, his lips ghosting over hers, though they both can't stop smiling for a proper kiss. "So...new Halloween tradition?"
"Yes," she whispers, brushing her mouth over his. "Definitely."
-Fin-
Fic Index
Author:
sdkFandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Hermione/? Male (highlight if you need to know, though it will spoil the story) *Hermione/Harry*
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Genre: Naughty
Length/Word Count: One-Shot, 1507 words
Warnings: Semi-public sex, anonymous sex
Summary: It's utterly irresponsible and completely foolish, Hermione's rational mind would say, but her rational mind has been drowned out in a sea of desire ever since the moment he first caught her gaze across the Atrium.
Notes: Thank you so much to
redcouchaddict and torino10154 for their support and encouragement and to samedy, ragdoll and roozetter for their most excellent beta skills. Written for samhain_smut 2010 on LJ.Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters that I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world that I didn't create. No copyright infringement intended, no money's being made.
Originally posted here.
Beautiful Stranger
This is absurd, Hermione knows. Her heart thumps in her throat, her skin buzzes with a desire she can't quantify and Merlin help her, even her knees are weak. She feels every bit the cliché of a school girl with a massive love-at-first-sight complex, and yet, even when she was that school girl, she never behaved like this.
It's utterly irresponsible and completely foolish, her rational mind would say, but her rational mind has been drowned out in a sea of desire ever since the moment he first caught her gaze across the Atrium, ever since he took her hand in his and led her around the dance floor in a waltz, holding her far closer than propriety allowed, sure to send the Ministry gossips' tongues wagging for days. The only comfort is their identities are hidden, hers behind a white mask and his behind a black one with a subtle sheen of green to match his robes. Only his lips and his jaw are exposed and that isn't enough to tell who he really is.
Hermione doesn't normally dance with strange men, doesn't press against them, her heart racing with just a light touch to her waist, but she certainly would never dream of dragging one into an alcove just off the main Atrium where the Ministry's Halloween Masquerade Ball is going full swing. And yet, here they are, only a few steps away from where others are still dancing. The shadows don't hide them nearly well enough, but she can't find the strength to care. Not when she's so close to him, enveloped by his scent.
He smells freshly scrubbed with just a hint of sweat and something else she can't place, something that must be wholly and truly him and she finds herself intoxicated by it, daring to dart her tongue out along his neck to taste him. She feels a faint gasp against her ear and she smiles. He's hard against her; it makes her want to groan despite who might hear; it makes her want to rip off his robes and make this gorgeous man fall apart in her arms, but she only has a moment to indulge in her fantasy when the tables are suddenly turned.
He dips down low and grazes his lips along the column of her neck; his fingers trace the low vee down the back of her gown, and for the first time, Hermione is grateful Ginny talked her into buying this ridiculous dress because she can't stand the thought of fabric dulling the heat of his touch. She wants to touch him too, feel the burn of his skin against her palms, but he's wearing far too many layers and so she has to find her satisfaction in smoothing her hands against his chest, mapping out the lean hard muscles beneath the soft fabric. His fingers dance along her spine, sending promising tingles in their wake and she shoves a thigh between his legs, a thrill of satisfaction pulsing through her as he draws a quick intake of breath and leans into the contact.
"Silencing spell?" he whispers, but he doesn't go for his wand--his hands are too full of her, wandering over her back freely now, dipping below the hem, skimming along the swell of her bottom. Hermione's smile turns wicked.
"Let's just be very, very quiet," she murmurs, and he chuckles low in his throat until she rolls her hips just so, and the friction from her thigh against his groin turns his laugh into a faint moan.
His mouth is moving now along her jaw and she gives a soft whine of disappointment as his hands leave her bared back, but her complaints vanish as his fingers tease the side of her breast just how she likes to be touched, his other hand wandering down, gathering the length of her skirt, sliding the fabric up her thigh. She tightens in excitement, and she's ashamed that all she can do is cling to him as a knot of pure need pulses low in her stomach, wanting his hands to move faster and stop taunting her. She's already so wet for him. She can feel her knickers cling to her skin, and she trembles as his fingers make the slow ascent up her inner thigh until they are so close, skimming the elastic hem of her panties.
"God, yes please-" She groans, forgetting where they are until he whispers, "Shhhh" against her ear. She hears the dull roar of the party then, faint and insignificant, drowning in the loud drumming of her heart, and she wonders what they look like together, what would happen if someone were to see. It gives her a thrill to think about it, someone watching them right now, seeing her spread her legs wantonly in invitation, encouraging him as he finally touches her where she needs it the most.
But he still torments her, his fingers tracing the outline of her folds through the damp cloth of her knickers. She thrusts against his touch, and a fingertip barely slips inside, frustratingly kept at bay by cotton. If she could only get hold of her wand, she would banish her troublesome knickers away, but soon he gives in and shoves the crotch aside, two fingers sliding easily inside her wet heat.
The elastic chafes her inner thigh, but Hermione barely notices, her entire being focused on where they're joined together. She's awash in sensation as he slides his other hand around to cup her breast, two fingers coming up to trap her nipple in a tight pinch just as he finds her clit below with his thumb. She has to bite down on her lip hard to stifle a moan, her hands balled up in the fabric stretching across his chest, and all she can do is hang on and rut against him, begging him with her body to go faster, now--please.
His eyes glitter behind his mask and she snakes one hand up into his hair, feeling the thin strings that hold it in place. The tingling of magic flows over her fingers, letting her know that she'd need her wand if she wanted to attempt to rip it off. His lips pull into a sly smile, his tongue slips out to wet his lower lip and his fingers are going faster, her hips pumping in time with his rhythm. Her whole existence narrows to a tight coil low in her belly and suddenly his mouth covers hers and she's coming in great gasps, riding his fingers in wild abandon. He continues to stroke her, drawing out her pleasure, until her trembles subside and she collapses against him, breathless and flushed, satisfaction flooding her veins.
He carefully withdraws, slides her knickers back into place and lets her gown fall to the floor once more. Hermione can still feel him hard against her thigh and she feels vaguely guilty for being unable to reciprocate while she is so thoroughly satisfied and bathed in post-orgasmic bliss, but she's more than willing to make it up to him. Before she can even go for his trousers though, he places a gentle kiss on her lips, steps back, and is suddenly gone, swallowed up in the throng of partygoers.
Hermione Apparates to the end of her street, wanting to spend the last leg of her journey home outside under the stars, with the moonlight shining brightly overhead. She can't remember the last time she felt this relaxed and completely content. And she's boneless still, even though it's been close to a half hour since her dalliance with the "mystery" man at the ball.
She strolls along the cobblestone walk, enjoying the fresh air against her skin, forgetting all about her charmed mask until she reaches her house. With a flick of her wand, it vanishes and she unlocks her door, finding Harry lounging on the couch in the front room, his outer robes draped over an arm chair, his black-green tinted mask laying on the end table beside it.
"I can't believe you, Harry Potter."
For a moment he looks worried, but her amusement must have shown in her eyes because his expression melts into a cheeky smile.
"If I hadn't left, I would have taken you right there--and I'm not quite sure we would have been able to hide that."
"I wouldn't have cared," she admits, plopping down on the sofa next to him. She reaches to play with his loosened collar, though her eyes drift to his groin where it's clear his arousal hasn't abated at all since their encounter.
"I can take care of you now." She slides a hand to his thigh. Harry grins, suddenly grabbing her by the waist and pulling her until she straddles his lap.
"I wouldn't say no." He leans up, his lips ghosting over hers, though they both can't stop smiling for a proper kiss. "So...new Halloween tradition?"
"Yes," she whispers, brushing her mouth over his. "Definitely."
-Fin-
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