“Sounds like another storm is coming.”


“Hmm,” Charlie said in agreement, his eyes focused on the telly. He shifted his position on the sofa, his head lying on Hermione’s lap as her fingers gently brushed through his hair. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and he had spent the day being rather lazy. They had done some cleaning that morning, but the majority of the day had been spent snuggling close to Hermione watching the telly while she read a new book she had just bought. He loved days like this, just sitting with her and enjoying each other’s company. It didn’t hurt that he had quickly grown addicted to the Muggle television she had brought when they had moved in together years ago.


“Have you seen Crookshanks?”


“Not since you let him out earlier,” Charlie recalled, nearly purring when her fingers brushed against his neck.


“Could you go let him in? I don’t want him outside if it’s going to rain.”


“He’s a smart cat. He’ll find shelter if necessary,” Charlie told her confidently.


“Charlie!”


“What?” He rolled his head when the program had a break for advertisements. Blinking up at her, he stretched lazily, his feet hanging off the edge of the sofa that wasn’t long enough for his tall frame.


“You lazy arse,” she insulted before smacking his arm. “Go let Crookshanks in for me.”


“It’s your cat,” he reminded as he played with a loose curl that had fallen from the hastily put up ponytail she had fixed that morning.


“He’s our cat,” she corrected sharply, her annoyance evident as she scowled.


“He’s only our cat when you don’t feel like letting him in or out or feeding him. Otherwise, he’s your cat. Damn possessive feline, I might add.”


“Hmph,” she snorted, giving him that look. The look that said ‘I’m not amused, mister, so you’d better start being charming soon or I’m gonna hex you silly’.


“Hermione, love, my program is nearly over. That skinny bloke is about to find out that the old geezer is the pervy wanker who has been killing people. I want to see him get caught. It‘s not raining yet so that ball of orange fluff can wait a bit.”


“It won’t take you five seconds to open the door and let Crookshanks in before it starts raining. I would do it but I’m tired from cleaning today. You, however, lazed around most of the morning.”


“It’s not my fault you stubbornly refuse to use magic and insist on cleaning the Muggle way,” he teased, finding her rather adorable when she was scowling at him like this.


“Fine, I’ll let him in,” she snapped finally after they had a staring contest that left him somewhat aroused.


“No, I’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes as he stood. Running his hand through his red hair, he yawned as he walked to the back door. Opening it, he made a face. “Stupid cat isn’t here.”


“Well, maybe he’s hiding in the garden. He loves to play like that,” Hermione said from her position on the cozy sofa.


“Damn it, Hermione. I’m not traipsing around the muddy garden playing hide and seek with your bloody cat. I want to see the end of my program.”


“Don’t curse at me, Charles Weasley!”


“Fuck,” he cursed as he glared at her before stepping outside. “Crookshanks, if you want catnip when I go shopping this week, you’d better get your arse here now!”


“And you wonder why he likes to torment you so,” she sniffed from behind him. “You’re lucky he seems to find your brutish rudeness charming because I certainly couldn’t have been involved with you if he’d not approved.”


“Brutish rudeness?” He turned quickly to glare at her, eyes widening when he lost his balance. Grabbing at air, he fell backwards, landing in a huge mud puddle at the edge of the garden. “Bloody fucking hell.”


He heard a giggle, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the brunette witch standing in the doorway holding her mouth. Her amber eyes were dancing with mischief, her hand unable to cover the laughter, and he found himself torn between simply looking at her and getting her back for his current predicament. The deciding factor occurred when that orange beast she called a cat appeared from behind her, looking out from the warmth of their house and seemingly taunting him.


Standing up, he was careful not to touch the puddle of mud, knowing it was covering the arse of his trousers. His lips curved into a predatory smile as he advanced on Hermione. “Funny, is it?”


“Now, Charlie. If it had been me, you’d have been laughing, too,” she said as she started to back up, a smile on her lips as she tried to stop laughing. “After all, I think mud is a very attractive accessory. Makes you look manly and daring.”


“That’s it!” He growled as he chased after her, not caring that he was tracking in mud as she squealed and ran from him.


“Catch me if you can!” She taunted as she darted behind the sofa, keeping it between them. Her hair had come loose, tumbling around her face in wild curls, and she was doing her best not to smile. Her eyes were watching him closely, trying to determine his next move, but she should know better.


He would catch her, just as he always did, just as he had done for the last five years. Since she was twenty and had attended his mum’s birthday party, their eyes meeting across the room like some silly cliché and her lips curving into a slight smile that had transformed her in his eyes, she had been his. She was no longer that prissy little friend of his baby brother. No, she had grown up, becoming a very sensual and attractive young woman. At least, he thought she was bloody beautiful and one of the sexiest creatures he’d ever seen. Others might not see it, but he had always found beauty in what others tended to ignore.


That night, that moment, that was when he had realized he wanted her and set about catching her. It hadn’t been that easy, seducing this gorgeous vixen who was not only brilliant but had little interest in having a relationship with anyone. Luckily, she had felt it, too, her eyes hungrily moving over him during that party even as she laughed with his mum or teased his brothers. It had surprised them both when they’d found themselves in the tiny hallway upstairs, so close he could feel her breath on his neck.


To this day, they didn’t know who moved first but one moment they were exchanging pleasantries and the next she was on the counter in the loo with her knickers dangling from her ankle as he shagged her desperately. The shagging had been the easy part. It had been convincing her that she had time for a real relationship that had taken a lot of patience and effort. It had taken a year of casual dating and explosive shagging before she’d admitted she loved him.


Six months later, he was moving into her flat and commuting to Romania. Another three years and he’d proposed, realizing that life without Hermione was just unthinkable. She’d accepted and they were married six months ago, moving to this house near the preserve once she found a position that allowed her to do research from home and only go into the office a few times a month. In the years since he’d actually seen her, he had caught her many times, but the silly girl still thought she had a chance to avoid capture. It was rather enchanting, in a way, and he indulged her often by letting her think she might escape his arms whenever they played this game.


Looking at her now, mud and water dripping from his back, he was not distracted from his goal no matter how cute she looked trying to avoid his revenge. “You are going to pay for laughing at your handsome husband’s misfortune, love.”


“Charlie, really, aren’t we a bit old for this?” Her eyes darted around the room, looking for a way to escape, and he smiled as he moved to the right, giving her a chance to run past and fall directly into his trap.


“You started it,” he said with a grin, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he waited, waited, and there she went. With five steps, his long arm was wrapped around her waist. “Caught you.”


“You’re getting mud all over the place,” she reprimanded, her body struggling to break free.


“Well, you see, I have no problems using magic to clean so I can take care of it easily after I punish you for being such an uncaring wife.”


“I am not uncaring!” she protested with the adorable glare that had his cock twitching in his trousers.


“Ah, I see. Now that I’ve caught you, you change your tune.” He moved to sit on their stairs, pulling her to lie across his lap.


“Let me up, you wicked man,” she said as his hand moved along the back of her legs. Her voice was husky as she demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”


“Bad girls who laugh at their husbands have to be punished,” he purred as their eyes met, his hand caressing her arse. He waited a moment, giving her time to protest since this particular act wasn’t something they’d ever done before. Their sex life was very satisfying. Even when they went more than a week without doing more than cuddling as they slept, he was completely happy. However, they never shied away from trying new things when the urge hit them, and, surprisingly, Hermione was very adventurous when it came to sex. Yet another reason he loved her more than he’d ever imagined loving someone.


“Punished?” she repeated slowly, her tongue moving over her lips as she shifted on his lap. His erection was pressing against her stomach, too hard for her to ignore, and he watched her eyes soften.


“Maybe I should just go take a shower,” he said after a moment of silence, feeling a bit awkward for suggesting what he had since she now probably thought he was as big a pervy wanker as that bloke on his telly program.


“A good wife would have offered assistance as well as laughing,” she declared suddenly. “I don’t apologize for finding it funny, Charlie. It was rather justified considering your laziness all day.”


“It was funny,” he smiled sheepishly. “However, the mud is starting to harden and my hair feels weird so I should hit the shower. Scourgify would only clean so much.”


“I thought, I mean,” she stammered, her cheeks turning pink as she looked at the wall. “Nevermind.”


“Wait a moment, love,” he held her tightly when she started to get up from his lap. He knew that blush, finding it incredibly sweet that she still got a bit embarrassed when it came to sex, especially considering that first night in his family’s loo. He unbuttoned her trousers, wishing she’d worn a skirt. Pulling them down a bit, his hand moved between them and her knickers, fingers brushing against the cotton material and finding them damp. “I haven’t punished you yet.”


“Charlie, maybe we shouldn’t do-oh God!” Hermione’s voice caught as his palm came down on her cotton covered arse.


“Count for me, love,” he said as he hit her again.


“Two,” she said slowly, her voice a bit uncertain as she wiggling on his lap.


He adjusted his position on the stairs, leaning back so she had more room. Long fingers slid beneath the elastic waist of her knickers and he pulled them down, baring her arse to his heated gaze. Pulling them and her jeans off, he tossed the clothes over the rail, watching them settle in a pile on the floor. Her head was resting against the stair, her hair tumbling around her face so he couldn’t see her as his hand squeezed the cheeks of her firm bottom. Moving his other hand beneath her, he unbuttoned her shirt, pushing her brassiere up until her breasts were free and dangling into his palm. He caressed them as his palm struck her again.


“Three,” she squeaked, voice growing heavy with desire, body still squirming against his erection.


He began to spank her in earnest, her voice breathless as she continued counting the strokes. Biting his lower lip, he watched as her arse turned a pale pink from his slaps. He wasn’t hitting her hard, just enough to cause her to gasp and moan, her nipples hard against his hand as her fingernails dug into her palms. After more than a dozen hits, his finger moved along her pussy, finding her soaking wet.


“Charlie,” she moaned wantonly as she pressed back against his fingers, her arousal evident in the way she was writhing on his lap and the juices leaking from her cunt.


“I love when you say my name like that,” he whispered before spanking her again. His wet fingers left her juices on her cheek before plunging inside her again. Two fingers stroked her cunt as his thumb rubbed against her arse before slowly sliding inside her. She whimpered, her head snapping back as he fucked her with his hand. Pulling his fingers out, he spanked her again.


“God,” she moaned as her hand joined his on her breast, their fingers entwining as he spanked her again. “Twenty-one.”


“You’re so wet,” he informed her as his fingers thrust back into her. “You like this, don’t you?”


“Yes,” she hissed when he moved his fingers over her clit before they snaked back inside her.


“Such a naughty little thing,” he chuckled huskily, grinning when she looked over her shoulder and gave him a warning glare.


“Stop teasing, you bastard.”


“My parents might object to that,” he said cheekily before spanking her again.


“Ow!” she exclaimed breathlessly as his wet fingers hit her tender skin. “I’m tired of this game.”


“You look beautiful when you sulk,” he teased before spanking her again.


“And you look evil when you’re being a stubborn prat,” she shot back playfully before wiggling her bum at him. “Finish this spanking and fuck me, damn it!”


“Hermione! Tsk, tsk. Such vulgar language.”


“I learned it from my husband,” she said dryly, her body raising up as her hand moved beneath her. Smiling innocently, her fingers squeezed his erection through the material of his trousers. “He also taught me everything I know about teasing.”


“I resent that allegation,” he said hoarsely, his finger and thumb twisting her nipple as he arched against her hand. “You were a tease before we ever shagged. Your hungry eyes following me while I was merely trying to enjoy my mum’s birthday celebration, that crooked smile on your lips just begging me to kiss it off, and don’t even think I’ve forgotten those teasing touches as you reached for more pudding and juice.”


“How can you possibly think right now?” She grumbled playfully, her hand tightening its grip. “Please, Charlie.”


“God,” he groaned as his hand tangled in her hair. Raising her head, she moved to straddle him, her hands eagerly pulling his muddy jumper over his head. Her lips moved against his freckled skin, licking and sucking as he raised his hips to remove his trousers. He got them as far as his knees before her hand was stroking his erection.


Gripping her hips, he pulled her down. She rubbed her wet pussy against his cock, nuzzling his neck as he kissed her shoulders. “Need you,” she moaned, her hands pulling at his red hair as she nibbled his earlobe.


Charlie held his cock as she slid down, grunting as her tight heat surrounded him. She was so wet, he entered her easily, a cringe crossing her pretty face when her arse rubbed against his legs. “You okay, love?”


“Bit sore,” she admitted. “Some lecherous prat spanked me, you know?”


“Lecherous?” He arched a brow and grinned as she began to move up and down slowly. “Compliments will get you anywhere.”


“Really?” She brushed her lips against his, biting his lower lip, her breasts pressed against his chest as she moved back and forth. “I’ll remember that,” she purred before kissing him deeply.


They began to move, his body reclining against the stairs. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but he was oblivious to the wood poking into his back as his lips left hers, moving to lick her nipples. She was grinding her clit against him on each stroke downward, his hands caressed her arse, earning him soft gasps each time he squeezed. He began to move his hips, arching into her, groaning when her nails scratched his abdomen, tracing the tattoo on his lower stomach.


Too soon, he felt the familiar tightening in his body. Moving his fingers between them, he twisted her clit as he fucked her, going as deep as possible in their current position. He watched her lean back, her hand gripping his arm as her other held his leg. She looked gorgeous, her face flushed and sweaty, her hair tangled and wild around her face and shoulders. He could see that her skin was pink where his unshaven chin had rubbed her pale flesh, his lips curving into a possessive smile at seeing his mark on her.


She came with a soft cry, falling forward against him as her orgasm spread throughout her body. Her muscles tightened around him, her hands holding him tight as she continued riding him. It wasn’t long before he was thrusting up, his cock sinking into her as he came with a low grunt. Lying back against the stairs, she rested her cheek against his chest, her breath warm against his skin.


“Bloody hell, that was smashing,” he sighed, grinning when she looked up at him.


“You smell like the muddy garden,” she said primly, a sated smile on her lips as she snuggled closer.


“You smell like sex,” he said with a leer, earning him a slap against his chest.


“Guess we both need a shower,” she declared sweetly.


“Insatiable wench,” he muttered playfully.


“I am simply suggesting that we conserve water by showering together.” Her eyes flashed with mischief as she said, “After all, I know you’re too old for twice in one day. Just a simple shower to relax your muscles, old man.”


“Old man?” His eyes narrowed as he swatted her arse. “I am only thirty-two, which does not make me old. I’ll show you old.”


“Promise?” She squealed when he stood up, staying inside her, his hands holding her arse. “Charlie! Put me down!”


“Nope,” he smiled crookedly, brushing his lips against hers before he started up the stairs. “We’re taking a shower and I plan to shag you rotten. Then, we’re going to order some pizza for dinner and watch the telly before I shag you again. Old my arse. We’ll see who gets tired first, love.”


“Charlie,” she cooed in his ear, her fingernails rubbing against his back.


“Yes, Hermione?” He paused when they reached the landing, leaning against the wall as he kicked off his trousers and shorts, rather proud that he managed to do so without dropping her.


Their eyes met, a smile crossing her lips as she said, “I’ll wash your front if you wash mine.”


The End