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Later, Ron would say he didn’t know what came over him.
One minute his hands were gripping the soft flesh of Hermione’s arse cheeks, spreading them as he watched his aching cock disappear into the wet folds of her cunt as he fucked her from behind, utterly mesmerized at how even now, after over ten years of marriage and two kids together, she still had the power to drive him to the edge within minutes.
And the next minute, as he felt his balls tighten and a tingling began at the base of his spine, he wondered, fleetingly, how fucking pretty her arse, skin still tan from their trip to the Curaceo last month for their tenth anniversary, would look with his handprint.
He heard the slap of skin against skin as his hand came down on her arse a moment later.
He heard the way Hermione choked, the sound a mixture of a gasp and a moan, as her cunt clenched around him.
“Fuck Hermione!” he groaned as her cunt threatened to strangle his cock and all at once he lost control.
He grunted as he moved against her, once, twice more before his pace stuttered and he came.
His orgasm triggered her own and her body seized beneath him, her back arched and Ron felt a gush of wetness from her cunt cover his shaft, his balls and his thighs.
“Did you just—?” He huffed in amazement.
It was something that hadn’t happened often during their ten-year marriage.
Mostly it had happened before the kids, when they’d had the luxury to lounge in bed all day and night worried about nothing except for how much recovery time Ron needed before they could go again.
Hermione collapsed on the bed, a satisfied “Mhm,” coming muffled from where her face lay buried in her pillow.
She looked utterly debauched even facing away from him and as Ron sat back in his calves and allowed his eyes to roam over her naked body appreciatively, he felt a second wind.
“Roll over,” he said hoarsely.
Hermione lifted her head just so and glanced at him over her shoulder.
“What?”
Her voice was breathy, the way it always was when they were in bed. Her curls were damp, stuck to her forehead. She brought a hand up to brush them a way and he caught it in one of his.
“I said, roll over love, we’re not finished yet,” he said before brushing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, gently grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin.
Hermione’s eyes widened briefly at his tone and he was hardly surprised, he never spoke to her like that. With such authority.
He hesitated, wondering if he’s gone too far, but before his thoughts could spiral any further, she was scrambling over, flipping onto her back.
Her eagerness made his cock twitch where it hung soft between his legs.
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t quite ready yet.
This was about her.
His wife.
His beautiful, brilliant wife.
Ron’s hands found her waist and he hauled her closer.
He used his grip to spread her thighs apart where she’d clamped them together and he pressed them into the mattress.
His eyes found her pretty pink cunt at once.
The skin of her folds were puffy from their fucking, and there, at her opening, he stared at the white trickle of fluid that slowly leaked down her thighs.
Though the angle wasn’t quite right, he could also see the edges of his handprint on the curve of her arse and he groaned, unable to stop himself from tracing the tip of his index finger over it where he could reach.
“So fucking pretty, Hermione,” he murmured.
She squirmed where she lay and tried to close her legs.
His grip on her upper thighs stopped her and he glanced up at her only to see her eyes fixed in the ceiling, her cheeks bright pink.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
He felt her hesitation until finally, honey brown eyes snapped to his.
“I like looking at you Hermione,” he said. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and I want to make you feel good again but not if you don’t want that.”
“That isn’t—erm…I want…” she trailed off, the pink in her cheeks turning bright red.
Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention back to her cunt where her own arousal joined his and leaked out of her.
“What do you want, Hermione?” He all but groaned.
“I kind of liked it when you spanked me,” she blurted out. “I want you to do it again.”
Ron blinked, once and then twice.
“Thank fuck,” he swore and then he dove forward, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking as he used one finger to scoop up his spend and push it back inside of her.
Hermione cried out, her hands going to his hair where she gripped the short strands and pulled. Ron grunted at the sharp pinpricks of pain that spread across his scalp but ignored it as he focused all of his attention on making her come against his mouth as quickly as possible.
It didn’t take long.
The combined efforts of his lips, tongue and finger had her writhing against him, bucking her hips up in time with his movements, his name a chant on her lips.
Her thighs clamped around his head, and it only served to have him lap at her more fervently.
She came with a shrill scream a few minutes later and Ron eagerly licked up the fluid that gushed out of her.
He kept at it until her hold on him loosened and she sank limply, boneless and sated, into the mattress.
He pressed kisses to the insides of her thighs, to the top of her mound and across her stomach as he moved up her body.
He laid beside her and pulled her into his side.
Hermione nuzzled into his chest and slung her legs over his.
“What’s got into you this morning?” She asked sleepily.
He chuckled.
“I’ve no idea,” he admitted. “Was it alright?”
She laughed.
“More than alright.”
Later, Ron woke up alone.
He looked around bleary eyed and confused until the sounds of Hermione’s humming from the kitchen floated up the stairs.
He lay back into his pillow for a moment as he stretched, his arms above his head.
He thought about what they had planned for the day, chores and grocery shopping and then dinner with Harry and Gin.
Even with their kids spending the weekend with his parents, it still felt as though they never got a break.
None of those were even remotely close to what he’d rather spend the day doing, which was getting tangled up in his sheets all day with his wife.
Ron sighed before rolling out of bed.
He pulled on his sleep pants, not bothering with a shirt as he made his way downstairs.
Hermione’s humming grew louder as he padded into the kitchen.
He paused in the doorway, his lips quirking up as he watched her sway her hips as she stood at the stove with her back to him.
She wore a thin gray robe that hardly covered her, and Ron had a fleeting thought wondering how put out she would be if he threw her over his shoulder and took her back upstairs.
He walked up behind her, his hands gently squeezing her waist as he bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of her shoulder.
“There’s coffee,” she murmured.
He kissed the side of her neck before stepping back, going to the far counter where he set about making himself a cuppa.
He picked up the Prophet as he sat down at the table and flipped to the sports section.
He could hardly focus on the article about the Canon’s upcoming match against the Falcons, his eyes flicking up to Hermione every few sentences.
His eyes were stuck on the bareness of her legs, the curve of her shoulder, the way her curls were twisted up off her neck around her wand.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” he said suddenly.
Hermione paused where she’d leaned up on tiptoe to reach for a plate inside the cupboard.
She looked at him over her shoulder, blushing.
“I probably don’t tell you enough, but you are,” he insisted, seeing the way she opened her mouth to argue. “I mean it, Hermione, you’re fucking gorgeous. I’m the luckiest bloke in England.”
“Oh shush,” she murmured before using a spatula to plate up their breakfast.
He frowned. She didn't believe him.
“It makes it difficult to get things done sometimes,” he went on, folding up the paper and tossing it on the table, “When I’m so fucking hard thinking about you that I can’t bloody concentrate on anything else.”
“Ron!” She gasped, spinning around. “What are you—” she broke off when her eyes landed on where he held himself over his pants, stroking slowly over his rapidly hardening cock.
She watched him, utterly transfixed as he stroked himself.
He saw her nipples as they hardened beneath the thin material of her robe. Saw the way she pressed her thighs together.
“Come here,” he rasped when he was so hard it bordered on painful.
Hermione crossed the small kitchen at once, straddling his lap and kissing him deeply before he could say anything else.
They kissed and kissed, her hips rolling over his and he realized with a grunt that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath her robe.
He didn’t know which one of them did it, his mind was so consumed with the feel and taste of her that he could have done magic subconsciously he supposed, all he knew was that their clothes, what little they wore, were suddenly vanished.
He helped her over him, lifting her up as she reached between their bodies and grasped his cock.
He hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking up.
She stroked him lightly, her fingers curling around his shaft as much as they could, but not quite managing to touch.
“If you keep that up, this is going to be embarrassingly short, ‘Mione,” he muttered as he mouthed at the skin of her neck.
“Not until you’re inside me,” she whispered in his ear.
Her words affected him deeply and all at once, he was surging up, thrusting inside of her as he used his grip on her shoulders to pull her down.
She moaned loudly, her head dropping back, thrusting her chest into his face.
He latched onto one of her nipples and sucked as she moved over him, her pace building.
“Ron,” she panted. “Do it again. Please.”
He didn’t need her to say what she meant, though he certainly wouldn’t have minded.
He grasped her arsecheeks in both hands, kneading the flesh and then, with his right hand, he drew back before bringing it down with a loud smack.
Hermione cried out and began to tremble, her fingers raking down his shoulders, his arms, every bit of him she could reach, her body moving frantically against his.
He could feel how close she was.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he grunted, his eyes rolling back as her inner walls squeezed around his shaft.
“Again,” she moaned before lifting her head and kissing him.
It was messy. Hungry. Desperate.
He brought his hand down on her other cheek and she shattered.
Hermione’s entire body went taut as she came and he moved them quickly, splaying her out on top of the table.
Plates and cups clattered to the ground, but Ron barely noticed them.
He grabbed the wood of the table above her head for purchase and began to fuck into her hard.
He slipped his hand between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit and he began to rub quick circles the way she liked as he worked her back up again.
“Ron–please…I’m–oh Gods, don’t stop–please don’t stop!” Hermione cried, curling herself around him.
“Again, Hermione,” he grunted. “Come for me, again.”
His thrusts were hard, his pace brutal as he snapped his hips against hers, over and over again.
He could feel his balls tightening and increased the ministrations of his thumb.
He felt her clench around him and dropped his head to her chest, pulling her nipple between his teeth before biting down hard.
They came together, Ron jerking against her as nonsensical praises fell out of his mouth, his mind going completely static as pleasure overwhelmed his ability to think. Hermione was shaking uncontrollably as the waves of her own release pulsed through her body.
He hardly remembered slumping against her. He vaguely was aware of her hands as they moved in slow strokes up and down his spine.
Eventually, he came back to his senses and peeled himself off her enough to look at her.
“Alright?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.
Hermione giggled.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you Ronald Weasley but everything you do to me is more than alright. Always.”
He grinned before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.
“Oh fuck, the bacon’s burning!” his eyes grew wide as the smell in the room finally registered.
Hermione giggled again, twining her arms around his neck to stop him from pushing himself off of her.
“Sod the bloody bacon,” she declared.
Ron looked at her, wondering if she’d lost her mind.
She should be lecturing him on how difficult burnt grease is to get out of a frying pan, not looking at him like he hung the moon.
“Hermione, you alright?” he asked tentatively.
She laughed again and kissed him sweetly.
“Four orgasms in one morning and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”
Heat crept up the sides of his neck.
“Can we have a go in the shower next?” she asked.
Ron nearly choked on his tongue.
“Yeah…sure,” he managed. “Just give me…a minute…or thirty. Maybe no more than an hour?”
Hermione’s loud peals of laughter filled the room, and he realized she was teasing him.
“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” he said before digging his fingers into her sides.
She shrieked and tried to push him off.
“Ronald Weasley, don't you dare!”