"Would you be still? You keep moving and messing up my design.""If you'd stop poking me with a sharp stick, I might stop moving."

"Bill, it's a quill. It's not very sharp and it's certainly not a stick," Hermione corrected him matter-of-factly. "I want this to look perfect."

"Why?" he asked with a hint of a whine. "It feels funny and I'm tired of lying here."

"It's only been ten minutes," she said dryly. "And what do you mean it feels weird? The texture is quiet sensual, actually. You look sexy."

"You say that I like don't always," he muttered.

Hermione put down the quill and smiled. "All done," she told him as she brushed the tip of her finger over the body paint. "Mmm...smells like cinnamon. Wonder if it tastes like it, too."

Bill looked down at her and grinned slowly. He pushed his long hair away from his face and leaned back, feeling her gaze caress the scars on his cheek as surely as if she touched him. She was touching the design she'd painted on his lower abdomen and his cock twitched in appreciation when she licked her lips. "Why don't you find out?" he suggested huskily.

An hour later, she snuggled against him, her breath warm on his chest as she slept. Her final conclusion, after much time devoted to experimenting, was that it did, indeed, taste like cinnamon.