"Have I ever been afraid of practice?" On the contrary. He was one of the hardest studies he'd ever encountered. And practice made perfect, after all. It was one of Hermes' more Hufflepuff qualities. She was kissing him again, though, and had replied to his latest sentiment.
It was a kiss that was difficult to maintain, what, with their hands tugging the pulling (however unromantically) on each others garments, but he didn't allow her to part from him until he knew she'd had her fill. Wine? Good idea. Though, perhaps it might've been Fizzy Lifting Drink from a Roald Dahl novel and it would've served the same purpose. There was far less gravity in the flat than when he'd first entered. "Good," he breathed, when he finally had the chance to, and he finished Ronnie's task of removing his shirt. Of course, there was another shirt underneath it. Yes, he knew it was July. He pulled the thin t-shirt over his head and looked down at Ronnie once more. "You can leave the socks on, if you'd like," he left the part out about knocking them off of her. He wasn't that cocky (or lame), so why start out on a bad foot? As for the Cannons? He'd be a bit jealous if they lingered in this scenario. His fingers grasped the edges of the jersey and he urged Ronnie to lift her hips in case she was sitting on the thing. No such problem. When it was halfway up, he faltered, staring (lovingly, distractedly) at her exposed and semi-freckled abdomen. He'd seen it before, dozens of times. Now, though, things seemed different... important.
He knew how to have fun, but he wasn't sure he wanted to rush through his first time with Ronnie. His other experiences certainly hadn't been rushed. On the contrary. "We don't have to make up for lost time this second, you know," he offered, eyes raising to look into hers. Had she ever even been with anyone else? The idea of it made him unfairly cross, and it most likely flashed through his brown eyes as he watched the redhead beneath him.