Fred's hands moved along her arms, his hard chest behind her back, and his breath warm against her neck. Hermione shifted against him, but didn't try to get away. His fingers lightly caressed the curve of her breasts as he nibbled her neck. Their attention was completely focused on the naked redhead currently lying between her legs.
George smirked at her as he spread her legs wider, moving them to straddle Fred's legs and give him better access to her. She wanted to ask what he was doing with the jar of cinnamon and the bottle of honey but had a pretty idea what his intentions must be. George squeezes the bottle, his long fingers curved around the silly plastic bear as he poured it directly onto her wet lips, not seeming to care that he was making a mess on the sheets.
"Sweet," he said after he takes a long lick, his smile smug as he watched Fred's hand squeeze her breasts. She was between them, just as she had been for the last two years, and can think of nowhere else she'd rather be. She can feel Fred hard behind her arse, watching as George rolls his hips to rub against the mattress.
The cinnamon is added to the honey. The logical part of her mind wondered if this is healthy at all, to have honey and cinnamon spread upon one's private bits in this way. Then George leaned forward and licked the spice with a lazy brush of his tongue that made questions of sanitary practices involving food stuffs not so important. He stopped his teasing and began to lick in earnest while Fred squeezed her breasts.
Really, she only had herself to blame. After all, she was the one who woke them early and asked if they wanted breakfast. She should have realized that she was the only thing they'd want to eat enough to get out of bed so early.
The End
Breakfast
Story Notes:
3/12/06