Inell's Fanfiction Archive

At that precise moment in time, Ron decided that he’d do just about anything to trade places with that cube of ice. He’d play Quidditch naked. He’d proclaim Draco bleeding Malfoy the king of the world to all who would listen. He’d read bloody Hogwarts: A History and write scroll after scroll reciting his opinions (boring and redundant) of what he read. Short of bringing back Voldemort and declaring his devotion to the pile of bones that was now the former Dark Lord, there wasn’t anything he could think of he wouldn’t do to become that piece of ice.

Intense blue eyes watched the lucky cube in question, dripping water as it slowly melted in the warm summer air. The water was dripping onto her chin, lazily cascading down smooth skin past the three freckles he knew lay beneath her jaw on the left side, sliding along her pale neck before mixing with sweat that was dripping into the collar of her skimpy white shirt. Sweat had made the shirt nearly transparent, dusky nipples evident, hard against the thin fabric.

His gaze lingered there, his tongue licking his bottom lip slowly, practically able to taste her in his mouth. He supposed her breasts were a bit small, but he thought they were perfect. Round and full, a handful of sensitive skin with the most beautiful nipples imaginable. She was so responsive, though slow to make burn. She could resist even his most wicked teasing, arching a brow and giving him that look, the one that made him feel like he was back at Hogwarts getting scolded for not doing his reading, and continuing about her work as if he weren’t attempting to get into her knickers.

He, however, had no trouble burning for her. Just watching her make notes for work, tucking an errant curl behind her ear, fingers stained with ink, that little frown on her lips that she always got when she was concentrating…all of it made his body burn and his cock hard regardless of whether she was wearing her thickest jumper and trousers or wearing nothing at all. When she decided to tease him, resistance was futile. He was a quivering mess of hormones in no time, ready to do anything to feel her body against his. He wasn’t sure if he was lucky or not that she happened to like playing some times.

It was never predictable, when she’d get into one of those moods. They had a great sex life, albeit not quite as exciting and vigorous as it had been a few years ago. And, okay, so they used to make love a few times a week and now two times a week was a cause for celebration, but that was understandable. They were older, hitting the thirty mark several years ago, both working full-time, often long hours at random times of the year depending on projects and schedules.

Not to mention that the birth of their daughter two years ago had definitely hindered spontaneous shagging and seemed to suck their energy to a point where it was bloody amazing just to feel her tight and hot around him as they’d shag sleepily after a long day of life. Embarrassingly enough, he’d fallen asleep still inside her several times in the past few years, and she’d started snoring in the middle of sex more than once.

However, Ron knew he was in trouble when she got into one of those moods. By the time she was finished with him, he always felt like he was fifteen again, hard and aching at every little thing, ready to come in his shorts, never lasting long once she finally took pity and let him shag her. His wife might be a bit of a boring swot who considered alphabetizing her library fun times, but she was also the sexiest woman he’d ever met and an expert at teasing him, knowing exactly what to do to get to him every single bloody time.

“Ron, you‘re not paying attention.”

“Huh?” His eyes reluctantly looked up from her breasts, his cheeks turning pink as he got caught ogling her. When he saw her amused eyes and the sexy little half-smile on her lips, he wanted to jump for joy at the sign that she was finished playing with him. He would have, too, except she had his wrists tied to the arms of his chair with her stockings so he couldn’t get up. Deciding to test his luck, he said, “Was too paying attention, Hermione.”

“Oh really?” she drawled as she leaned back in her chair, moving that blasted cube of ice along her full lips before dragging it ever so slowly down her neck. He whimpered, trying to turn it into a more manly cough, when the cube of ice circled her hard nipple. “What was I saying then, Ronald?”

“Uh, you were saying, um, nipple,” Ron stammered, eyes widened as he quickly continued, “I mean, that is, damn it, Hermione. Quit being such a bloody tease! Course I wasn’t listening to you. How could I when you’re wearing that scrap of fabric and no knickers and I can see how bloody wet you are from here!”

“Language,” she snapped sharply, giving him that look, the one that said ‘if you don’t watch it, you’ll only be shagging your hand tonight, mister’. Needless to say, it was a look he found quite frightening.

“Sorry, love,” he said in his most sincere ‘I’m really sorry, can we shag now, please?’ voice.

Hermione got up from her chair and walked towards him. Ron could feel his erection throbbing and twitching, practically bouncing in time with each step she took, his eyes again looking at her breasts as they shifted beneath her shirt. Breasts. Beautiful bouncing breasts.

“Really, Ron. If you start drooling over them, I’ll be forced to blindfold you,” she said primly, a wicked smile on her lips as she straddled his lap.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teased with a wicked smile of his own, raising his hips enough for her to feel proof that her teasing had been a success. He groaned as he touched wet heat, his head falling forward to suck her nipple through her shirt, laving it with his tongue, rubbing the wet material against one then the other.

She pulled back from him, resting her arse against his knees, her legs going on either side of the chair. He watched her move the cube of ice, that blasted cube of ice, down her stomach and then lower. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open in a manner he was sure must look ridiculous but, really, like he could keep it closed when she was doing such naughty things?

His wrists strained at the stockings, unable to break the charm she’d placed on them, one he’d never heard of but was certain she must have read in a book called Ways to Torture the Man Who Loves You, his eyes watching her move the ice up and down and inside and around and she was moaning and moving against her hand and he could smell her, sex and lemons and flour and sweat, and he couldn’t bloody touch!

Next thing he knew she was making the little gasps that were all too familiar, her cheeks flushed, wild hair surrounding a face that was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen despite the faint lines beginning to form around her eyes and lips. She shuddered and moaned and kept moving that ice until he was begging. Then she smiled, lazy and sexy and just a tad smug, before sinking down on his erection, cold heat enveloping him as her legs moved between his and the arms of the chair.

He opened his mouth, eagerly sucking the remains of the cube of ice, tasting her mixing with the melting water. Her shirt was pulled off breasts, gorgeous breasts and she was riding him, up and down bouncing breasts, deeper and deeper until he was grunting and coming and spilling inside her. She kissed him then, her tongue curling around the small bit of ice that remained, sucking it until it disappeared, deepening their kiss as they shuddered together.

The End