Who: Hermione Granger and Jim Kirk When: Wednesday night, March 20 Where: Their home What: Jim catches Hermione crying Rating/Warnings: NSFW Status: Complete
Hermione was curled up on her bed. She’d been listening to the wrong kind of music, watching the wrong television, reading the wrong books for the emotional turmoil that she’d been in lately. Not only did she feel like she was losing one of the best friends she’d ever had--or maybe lost already--but she’d had a reality check. Harry had pointed out all of those things she’d worried about in herself, but hadn’t spoken aloud. She was a terrible, terrible friend, and she’d been selfish for almost twelve weeks. Almost three whole months.
Of course, she should have realized that communication is a two-way street. Harry could have called her, or texted, or any of those things he accused her of not doing. But in her self-loathing and despair, she was more obsessed with blaming herself than thinking logically. And the self-loathing, the self-blame, it was manifesting in tears. Lots of them. She was cuddled in their bed, hugging her pillow tightly against her chest and rocking back and forth.
Jim came in late. His mood was high, and he'd had a good day. But all that kind of came crashing down when he heard Hermione crying. He crept into the bedroom, concern on his face, and sat on the bed, before pulling her against him.
Hermione moved when she was pulled, sitting up a little and trying to stop herself. “Jim,” she said, lifting her hands to wipe at her face. It was nearly impossible to stop, though, now she’d gotten going so strong. “...I thought you w-were out l-late tonight,” she mumbled between her tears.
“I was. It is late. Honey what happened? You know you can tell me anything.” Jim sounded worried. He liked to pretend he was any good at comforting crying women. Usually he just kissed them.
While good, kissing probably wasn't the answer to this problem. Hermione was spluttering between words, feeling stupid and childish on top of lonely and horrible. "Harry just. .. I think I lost. .. I've been such a terrible friend, and. .. Now I don't know if he'll ever forgive me."
“Shit....” Jim hung his head a little, and kissed the top of Hermione’s. He’d gotten so wrapped up in everything that he’d never gotten around to any of the plans he’d had. Including a formal wedding for everyone.
Hermione was content to let herself cry. She hadn’t had a good, solid cry in a long time. Probably far too long. She clung to him as the tears came back, then sobbed for a few minutes, unable to stop it.
Jim could only rock her, and feel somewhat guilty. This was in a large part his fault. He’d swept Hermione up. He had promised he’d make sure she had time for other things that weren’t him, but it had been really easy to break that promise.
It took several minutes for Hermione to collect herself enough to speak again. She gave a little cough, then a few deep breaths, and then sat up just a little. “...your shirt,” she said, pointing. It was soaked through with her tears. “I’m sorry,” she added, sounding sincere and sheepish.
“It’s just a shirt.” Jim chuckled, stroking his fingers through Hermione’s hair. “It’ll get dry. Don’t worry about it. We have more important things to fix.”
Hermione nodded, though she was still wading through the fuzziness that was post-cry. Her brain wasn’t quite functioning at full capacity yet. “Right.” She said, nodding. Though, she hadn’t the foggiest idea how they were going to fix the important things. She was fairly convinced that they couldn’t be saved.
“We’ll figure it out. I’m sorry, Hermione. I’m at fault too. I wanted you all to myself.”
“It’s not your fault.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I just... got swept up, you know? I was having fun, and forgot... forgot all about my life.”
“I wasn’t helping,” Jim pointed out. “I promised I wouldn’t do that to you. And then I go and pull that exact crap.” He was upset, with himself, not with Hermione.
Hermione shook her head. “It’s not all your fault, then. And it can’t possibly be all mine. Communication is a two way street. He could very well have texted me just as much as I could have texted him.” She said, then curled against her husband once more. All that crying made her really tired.
“He could have. But maybe he didn’t feel like the channels were open. I don’t know. But I don’t think you should give up on him.” Jim cupped her cheek, and gazed at her. “You’re a good person, Hermione. You’re not a terrible one.”
“I sure feel like a terrible one.” She said. It was hard not to meet his gaze, as they were so close together on the bed. But somehow she managed.
Jim sighed, and closed his eyes, pulling away. “Yeah, you can feel like a bad person. But that doesn’t mean you are.”
Hermione lifted her feet up onto the bed, then wrapped her arms around her knees. She wasn’t sure what to do, or what she was supposed to be feeling. Though, now she desperately wanted ice cream. “...is there any Rocky Road in the freezer?”
“There’s half a bucket,” He assured her.
“I need it.” Hermione said. She lowered her face onto her knees. “Can you bring me some?”
Jim kissed her head, and then got up. He ran out to the kitchen, pulling out the carton, grabbing chocolate syrup and whipped cream, and then the biggest spoon he could find. He ran back and held them out to Hermione.
If it’d been different circumstances, Hermione might have joked about whipped cream and chocolate syrup. She didn’t though, just opened the ice cream, doled out the toppings, and started to eat. She offered Jim a spoonful.
Jim shook his head. He was a cookie dough kind of man. “I think you’ll want all of that to yourself.”
“Okay.” She took the bite, then frowned a little. “I’m going to get fat. All this crying and ice cream eating.”
“We’ll just have to work it off. I’ll make you jog the length of the Enterprise.” Jim took a seat on the bed again and fidgeted with the covers.
Hermione frowned as she watched Jim fidgeting. She swallowed her ice cream. “...please say it. Whatever you’re thinking.”
“I feel terrible.” Jim sighed. “It’s as much my fault as yours, or Harry’s. Maybe more so mine, because I literally beamed you off your feet.”
“I let you do it, Jim.” Hermione argued. “I wanted you to beam me off my feet. I fell in love with you, hard and fast.”
“I know. I think I took advantage, though.” He ruffled fingers through his hair. “I could have been more of an ass. More pushy. Believe me, I wanted to be.”
She set the ice cream aside, and reached one hand out for his arm. “If I didn’t want you, if I didn’t want this, then we wouldn’t be here. Believe me.” Hermione wasn’t the kind of girl that some guy could push around. He had to be a special guy, a one-of-a-kind guy. And she had to be crazy about him to let him tie her down.
“..I know. I’m just...” Jim waved a hand. “I can’t just fix this, and it bothers me that I can’t. I’m a fixer. I fix things. I try to make things better.”
“I’m sure he’ll come around.” Hermione said, though she was anything but sure. She was terrified and nearly convinced that she was going to lose Harry over this. He was such a hothead, almost worse than Ron. She shook her head a little. “You could try reaching out to him. Call him, or send him a message. Maybe we can... maybe we can take him out to dinner, or something.”
"I think dinner might be good. Just the three of us." It might be awkward. But these things usually are.
“I’ll send him a note to invite him over. If he’s had enough time to cool down. Maybe we can salvage this.” Hermione was trying to be optimistic, even though her heart still felt like it was breaking.
“Don’t want to look like we’re bribing him, so maybe a home-cooked type meal.” Though maybe he could replicate the harder stuff. It was cheating, but also so easy, damn it.
It wasn’t like Hermione could cook anything. She was terrible in the kitchen. The girl lived on Ramen and Kool-Aid before they got married. She nodded, “though, we should really try our best not to poison him. That might negate the white-flag we’re trying to fly.”
"I can cook." Jim looked mock hurt. "I promise I won't poison your best friend."
“I was mostly referring to my own cooking.” Hermione said, then moved over toward him and put her arm around him. “Now come here and make me forget my troubles.”
“Let me do the cooking on this,” he started to say, before wrapping his arms around Hermione and kissing her, deeply and hungrily and full of apology.
She was more than willing to let him do the cooking. Really. That part of the discussion was over. Now it was the forgetting her troubles part. The part where she wanted her husband’s tongue in her mouth and his hands on her body. Hermione really was a randy sort, and hungry for love in more than one way.
He didn’t regret awakening that part of her. Jim turned them around and flopped her onto the bed, all without stopping the kiss. She needed him, and he was willing to give. “Love you, Hermione..”
She didn’t regret it, either. Far from regret. She gasped into the kiss, letting him flop her onto her back. “Oh, Jim,” she breathed, her hands moving hungrily over his shoulders and back. “I love you.” And she kissed him again, with passion and need. This wasn’t want, it was need. She needed him now more than ever.
He got her clothing off in record time, trailing kisses down her throat, to her chest as he bared it. Jim’s mouth wrapped around a nipple, and he groaned softly.
Hermione was able to remove his clothing, too, with great skill. Though, when a sleeve didn’t automatically slip off, she gave a hard tug. Her breath hitched at his mouth on her nipple, her back arched, and she closed her eyes. All she wanted was to relax back against the pillows and let him have his way with her. She wanted to quiver, shake and moan at his attentions.
A flick of his tongue, a light nibble, and then Jim was assaulting the other breast with hand and mouth. He moved between them expertly, ignoring their other needs.
He had Hermione gasping and squirming, wet and waiting for him. One of her hands tangled in his hair, the other was tugging at his shoulder, wanting so much more from him. His ignoring her other needs as he played with her breasts was exquisite torture.
He wasn’t done with her. Jim started kissing his way further down, licking and lapping and nuzzling at her stomach, and then her thighs. With no warning, he kissed right dead center, and then flicked his tongue, grinning stupidly as he did so.
“Oh, Jesus,” Hermione moaned, spreading her legs and arching her back at his attentions. She was oh-so wet, oh-so ready for him now. “More,” she pleaded, begged. “Please, Jim. More.”
“Mmm. No.” He nipped at her thigh, then resumed what he was doing with his tongue, adding his fingers to make it much better.
Hermione whimpered, squirming under him. She felt her toes curling. This was the best sort of distraction in the world. Pleasure was already building within her. “You’re amazing,” she breathed, almost laughed. He knew how to play her body like a musical instrument.
"Only cause you are." He couldn't take it any more, and slid up her body. He rolled them suddenly so she was on top.
Hermione took the lead, climbing on top of her husband. They'd done this so many times they were both experts by now. It only took a moment to line their bodies up, and then she was passing down against him, moaning as he filled her from underneath. She started rocking against him right away, riding him with earnest passion and desire.
"God..." He never got enough of this view, or how tight and hot she felt. The way she moved, and looked. The expression on her face.
She didn’t disappoint. Her body moved above him, starting with gentle rocking, slow and easy movements, but growing into hard and fast, grinding thrusting. Her toes curled against the bed. She wasn’t going to take long tonight. Not after the work-up he’d given her.
He arched underneath her reaching up to squeeze her breasts and roll his hips. He helped her speed it up, his thrashing as desperate as his cries.
And she came. Body clenched tight and a cry escaping her as she rolled through it. The movement sent her spiraling over the edge, the climax powerful and wonderful. It was exactly what she needed.
Jim slammed his head back against the bed, panting for air as he came down from his own climax. He forgot his own name, momentarily.
Hermione whimpered, still moving feebly against him. Every motion was ecstasy, every movement sent little tingles of pleasure through her. She collapsed against him eventually, gasping for air. “Oh, Jesus, Jim,” she whispered, reminding him of his own name.
"I can walk on water," he agreed, lazily. He kissed her, then rolled them over so he was on top and grinding into her. He was already ready again.
Hermione gave a little chuckle, returned his kiss, then gasped as he rolled her over for another go. Her body could take it. She was young, and sometimes had several in a row. Without much of a break, she’d come again in moments. Possibly minutes. He was good at reading her signs and manipulating her body to his will.
Jim took longer. He wasn't sure he could even finish a second time but as long as his wife was a puddle of goo, he was happy. Thinking about it, He moved her again, turning her around and bending her over the bed. It might kill him? But he could probably get off this way.
She was absolutely goo. Putty in his hands. When he moved her, she moved, bending down over the bed and giving a gasp when he entered her from behind. A low, deep moan escaped her, something that sounded like “oh, god” only elongated and stretched until it was barely comprehensible. Her body shuddered, and she came again. Hard, clenching around him tightly as pleasure pulsed through her.
He squeezed his eyes shut, to just enjoy the feel of her. Jim dug his nails in and moved, hard, and fast and not nearly as romantic as he’d intended, but he was suddenly desperate for release. He’d lost track of how many times Hermione spasmed around him. That was probably a good thing!
She gasped, clenching around him consciously now, pushing back against him. Hermione was moaning without abandon now, making noises she had only ever made for him before. "Come for me, Jim," she pleaded. She wanted to feel his release. "Please."
Crying out her name, Jim shuddered as his orgasm rippled through him. He pressed her into the bed groaning. That had almost been painful. But worth it.
She felt every muscle in her body go taut, them limp when he released inside her, then he was on top of her, praying her down into the bed. She loved the feel of his weight on her, the sound of his breath, the smell of his skin. She was more in love with him than ever. She belonged to him completely.
"Hermione...." He grinned and nuzzled the side of her neck. "God I love you..." He hoped she felt better. He certainly did.
She did. "I love you," she returned. "So much." She was happy, spent, and already half asleep. Even with his body still pressing down on top of her.
Jim had enough sense to roll off of her, before sleep started to claim him, too. He pulled her against him, arms wrapped around her.
It was the best night of sleep Hermione had had in weeks.