wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2009-02-22 21:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, hermione, remus |
Special Delivery For: flaminia_x
Title: On the way to France.
Author/Artist: istalksnape
Recipient's LJ name: flaminia_x.
Rating: Hard R, I should think.
Pairing(s): Remus/Hermione.
Word Count: 1700-ish.
Warnings (if any): Heterosexual sex and the destruction of a book.
Summary: Remus and Hermione enjoy train rides best when they have a compartment to themselves.
Authors notes: Thanks to E. for the quick beta. flaminia_x, I really hope you enjoy this. I tried to get some of your kinks in here, along with the smut, and it was so much fun to write. :D Inspiration strikes best on long train rides.
Remus preferred to take the train, even though he could just as easily close his eyes and apparate to wherever he was going, with a pull on his naval and a bit of a headache for later. Hermione didn't mind, as long as they could get their own car, but last trip they had to share with an older couple who were content to spend the whole trip discussing the economy and those terrible attacks in Africa and, oh dear, the way that some people made them nervous – but not Remus with his scars and tattered clothing, and never Hermione, who looked like the girl to take home to mother. She could never understand why people always chose to sit with them. They were the epitome of an odd couple, but after the ninth trip with him, she realized everyone they encountered thought they were father and daughter. Yes, that was a bit awkward when they kissed for a moment too long and that mother of three left the car.
Remus's parents had left him a house in southern France, right down by the border. It was small, petite, but cozy, and Hermione didn't mind the way that the fireplace couldn't be hooked up to the Floo Network because they didn't like to be bothered anyway. The reason they left was so that Ginny wasn't tempted to visit for two weeks, and so that Neville didn't stop in with his newest tea. They had made the early mistake of opening their house up to everyone, but now that they were ready to have time alone, just the two of them, they had to leave. They couldn't bear to send people away – they refused.
Yes, the train was a nice way to travel, she thought as she leaned into Remus, her hair flying up and into his face. He brushed it down, and then let his hand slide down until his arm wrapped around her body, fingertips resting just under where her sweater changed colors on her waist. He'd been reading some poetry, a collection of Atwood, cummings, and Foss. All of it was about love, in some way or form, and she had been half-listening, half-admiring the scenery the whole trip. She smiled and leaned into him more, nuzzling at his chest, hands working their way lower and lower on his body. She felt his chest hitch in his breathing when her left hand began to work its way under his sweater. She let her nails drag over his skin, and then would drag them down a bit before moving them back up towards his chest. Each inch made him shift a bit more towards her, made him sit up a bit straighter. When a nail scraped across one of his nipples, he hissed and stiffened, arching his back. “Hermione-”
She shushed him quietly and moved her fingers to the other nipple, pinching at it and scratching it lightly.
“Hermione, someone could walk in-”
“I locked the door when you came in from the dining cart.”
She leaned away from him and brought her hand out from under his sweater. Then she leaned forward a bit and started working on his belt. The heavy leather felt smooth in her hand as she slipped the buckle open. When her hand reached for the zip on his pants, Remus made a low sound in his throat, and when she glanced up, she saw that his eyes were closed. He had dropped the book, making a heavy sound on the floor. One of her hands rested on his that was gripping at the cheap fabric on the seat, and the other pulled down the zip and flipped open the button in two short movements. He raised his body up off the seat and shimmied out of the pants, while she tugged down on them along with his boxers. He made the same low growl in his throat again, and leaned down to kiss her. She had to leverage herself up on his knees, hands dripping at his kneecaps, and had overestimated the distance between them. Instead of the light kiss Remus had been intending they collided. She shoved up against him, her lips parting against his. She tasted him, the mixture of salt, jam, and wheat still on his tongue. As he pushed his hand through her hand and grasped the back of her head, bringing her closer to him, she stood up from where she had been kneeling on the floor. One leg on each side of him, she sat on his lap and ground her hips forward, making him pull back from her lips with a sharp intake of air.
Each time she leaned back and pushed forward again he would shift his weight, shoving up against her, trying to create more fiction between them, but she would lift her body away from his just enough to drag lightly across him. She kissed him on the neck, then along his jaw, up by his ear, back down and finally on his lips, where he bit at her lower lip.
“You've-” he said against the corner of her mouth. “You've still got-” he grabbed her hips and when she moved to lift away from him, forced her to stay down, so that he could arch up against her. “Clothes. You've got clothes on.”
“Oh, right,” she said, as if it hadn't already occurred to her. She smiled. “Good thing I'm dating such a sharp man. I wouldn't have noticed.”
“Yes, well, I won't be a sharp man for much longer if you keep that up.”
He grabbed at the bottom of her sweater and pulled it over her head. She put her arms over her head and her body drifted over his as the force of the sweater being lifted from her body pulled her body away from his. He tossed the top somewhere to his left and began working on the buttons at her navel, fingers fumbling as he hurried to get her pants off. She reached between them and opened the buttons easily, sliding out of the pants and letting them fall to the floor. His eyes crinkled in the edges when he smiled. “No underwear today? Did you plan this?”
“Maybe.”
His laugh was warm, and she loved the way his hands gripped at her waist a bit more as he laughed against her mouth, and soon they were running hands up and down the other body. His hovered at her breasts, while hers gripped and clawed at his hips and thighs and the spot just inside, right there, where he was most sensitive. And just as he was going to lift her up and lay her on the bench seat she slid sideways and wrapped her arms under his and brought him down with her. As he tried to balance himself above her, Remus realized he had thought the bench seat was wider. Hermione had obviously thought the same thing, and looked around frantically for something else to lay on.
In one fluid movements, similar to that required of Hermione to fall off a broomstick, they tumbled to the floor, her knee driving against his thigh. She giggled as he winced, and giggled some more until a knock at the door made both of them pause. “Everything okay in there?”
“Oh, yes, splendid,” Remus said, though he was winded. His voice came out in a sputter. “Just dropped the baggage.”
As soon as they heard the person walk away, Hermione laughed, and hid her face in the corner over his neck and shoulders.
“And now for you-”
Remus settled a hand on each side of her, and shifted his knees, before sinking down and forward. She was warm and wet and as he slid into her, her face changed, her cheeks turning a bit more red and her hair splaying out around her as she pushed her head back against the sweater under her head. Just as he was nearly all the way in, she arched up with a soft grunt and brought him fully inside her. The sound in his throat mimicked her and they both paused before he began to pull back out and push back in with a pattern. Each time he pushed forward she pushed back, and the feeling of her so tight around him, tensing around him with each push, makes her smile and make odd little noises in the back of her throat. Soon her breathing changed, and she began to move under him, changing the angle that their bodies made together, her hand grabbing at the carpet under them. Each movement, each slide, each shift from him made a sound erupt from her lips, a sound so filled with want and need that Remus felt his whole body tighten. Two more thrusts and her whole body tensed, and he felt her move around him, heard the sound of her pleasure, a moan of release, and saw her eyes search to meet his. He pushed into her once, twice, three times more, and with the fourth thrust he came, air catching in his throat.
After they had both caught their breath, and he had moved to a kneeling position over her, he looked over at the book he had dropped. It had been under Hermione's hip. His face contracted, his eyes closing for a moment. The pages were crumpled, and the cover was nearly torn off.
“Oh, the poor thing. We've killed it.”
They both began laughing, Hermione's laughter turning into a giggle that continued even as they dressed. Remus picked up the book and placed it gingerly in his bag, his thumb caressing the cover before letting it go.
When they went to exit the train, the man who had showed them to their car earlier smiled and touched his hat, bending at the waist as they stepped down.
“Oh, sir, don't forget to claim your luggage right over there,” he said, gesturing towards the station. Hermione blushed and Remus coughed in response to the way the man's smile extended out, and the way his eyes confirmed what they feared.
“Yes, thank- thank you. We'll be sure to do that.”