Chapter 9

Harry woke up to the delicious smell of waffles.

It had been three days since Ron's fateful decision to leave them, and he had to admit, he was getting some incredible benefits out of it.

After that shower they first shared, where Hermione decided to add blowjobs to the list of acceptable moves during their little game, things got even more fun, especially since she chose to use that with a surprising frequency.

Admittedly, with a great effect, allowing her to acquire a truly amazing winning streak in their little game. Were those wins about him letting her win to encourage her to act even wilder the next time?

Maybe, not that he wanted to admit that detail to her.

He stood up, fully naked, but didn't bother to put on anything other than his glasses as he walked toward the living room, as their occupancy had implicitly turned clothing-optional.

When he arrived at the door and saw her, however, he realized that she didn't pick the nudity option. However, considering that she was wearing a kitchen apron, and only an apron, he wasn't willing to classify it as a problem.

He wished that he had a camera to immortalize that amazing moment, her sexy body contrasting with her serious expression as she cooked. He walked toward her with a smile on his face, but he didn't bother hiding his steps — cooking was hardly the safest thing, even with magic.

Her attitude shuffled slightly, showing that his approach was noticed, but that was the extent of her reaction, as she tried to hide her awareness. Harry chuckled as he walked close, then hugged her from behind.

"Harry, I'm cooking," she whined, her playful tone enough to give him an erection if he wasn't already at his limit.

"Yeah, pause it, then, I have other things to eat," he growled into her ear, dragging her away, giving her just enough time to cast a spell to turn off the fire.

"Harry," Hermione gasped as he continued to drag her away, her tone throaty yet shocked. After all, since the beginning, he had always been reactive to her actions, limiting himself to subtle tricks and following her lead. Throwing her against the couch and hovering above her was certainly out of their little game.

Just not as much as the following action, leaning down to steal a kiss off her beautiful lips. She froze under him, her shock clear. Her shock silenced her for a moment, then his tongue took over that act.

"W-what was that," she gasped once he pulled back.

"A kiss, of course," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, and when she opened her mouth, he repeated it, his tongue invading her mouth once more. And again, until he made sure to answer her arguments properly. Just not by words.

He only pulled back when she had a dazed expression on her face. She shifted, her confusion beautiful. "Harry?" she whispered.

Rather than answering directly, he leaned down, and started kissing all along her neck, his hands already busy untying her apron. "Yeah," he said as he pulled back, ripping off her apron as well.

She didn't say anything about her nudity. It was hardly something unusual in their new balance, especially contrasted with the kiss.

The kiss that she showed no resistance to.

"What was that kiss?" she asked.

"I said that I'm going to eat you, didn't I," he answered.

"Well, I thought you meant…" she said as she dipped her gaze down, right at her naked legs, where Harry would position himself to reward her for her frequent victories. The fact that she felt trouble speaking about it was endearing, just like how much she felt frustration she felt from a little kiss.

Well, not so little, he corrected himself as he leaned forward, once again invading her mouth with a merciless tongue assault. "Would you prefer that instead of a kiss?" he asked.

Her silence stretched for a while as her blush intensified. "Not particularly, no," she admitted as she grabbed his neck, and pulled him for a kiss, a gasp escaping her mouth.

/\\/\\/\

As Harry pulled back once more, Hermione was gasping desperately, trying to control her beating heart. A simple kiss shouldn't have had such an impact, especially after everything else they had done to … relieve the stress of their difficult mission.

She resolutely avoided the question where that heated kiss landed on the spectrum of stress relief, not the first inconvenient question she asked. A little whine escaped her mouth as he leaned forward once more, protesting the kiss.

And, if he tried to say that kiss only started because she pulled him down … he would cost himself an amazing breakfast. Luckily, he was smart enough not to respond to her protesting whine while their tongues danced, allowing her to focus on the present. Her hands reached down, and caressed her back.

"What do you want to do?" she asked throatily once he pulled back, biting her lips desperately.

"Well, unless you have an argument against it, I'm going to make you scream until … you're relieved of your stress, of course."

"Good plan—" she said, which was all she was able to say before his hand landed on her core, dancing around her clit skillfully, applying all the tricks he had discovered during their three-day adventure.

She could swear that she could hear the dance of his fingers circling her, rubbing her to ecstasy, no matter how unrealistic it was among her loud cries and his enthusiastic grunts. She once again become a prisoner, and even worse, his kisses stole her greatest weapon to gain an advantage. She could try to use her hands to make him cum, but if those three days taught her anything, it was not a good way to counter his hands, which were clearly more skilled in bringing her to completion.

Yet, as the kiss continued, she realized one thing. Her lips weren't the greatest weapon. No, that honor went to a different part of her anatomy, currently being treated by his fingers. A part she never used before.

Yet, she shifted her hips, then wrapped them around his waist, pulling him closer. "Don't move," she warned as she engulfed the tip.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She paused for a moment, before whispering. "There's no harm in just the tip, right?" she whispered. His response was a smirk, which gave her all the encouragement she needed. There was clearly no harm in that. It was still friendly assistance, and nothing more.

Clearly.

She was very careful as she moved her hips back and forth, determined to avoid an accident as she only devoured the tip. His tongue still invaded her mouth, trying to distract her, but she was confident in her concentration.

When he raised her head, she focused on his neck, pattering with kisses as she tried to drive him crazy before he could do so with his fingers, still dancing around her clit skillfully.

Her enjoyment only rose when his other hand dived into her hair, pulling hard, the contrast giving her a burst of pleasure. Hermione let her hips move, still careful not to pass the barriers even as she earned another charged grunt from him. "Tell me, what will be my reward when I win this time," Hermione found herself gasping.

Harry chucked. "Are you that confident?"

"Of course," she said as she pulled him inside more. A bit dangerous, but it was enough to see his eyes widen with desire.

"Pride comes before the fall," he reminded her even as he pulled her hair more, which gave him amazing pleasure.

"Don't worry, I know exactly what I'm doing. Otherwise, how can I win that often," she said, following that with a moan — realizing that her best weapon was a bit of a double-edged sword.

"How can I doubt someone as smart and beautiful as you," he said, and while she wanted to admonish him for teasing, his lips sealed hers once more, making such a thing impossible.

She whimpered, which evoked a deep, guttural sound from Harry, as he proceeded to stop grabbing her hair, only to grab her wrists, pinning her even greater. Her hips were her only remaining weapon, but she was still confident of her success, and started moving her hips even faster.

"You're so fucking hot," he whispered between kisses. Which was right, Hermione accepted, though in a different sense of the word. His throaty tone left her body burning desperately as she wallowed in the taste of his tongue. She was about to go crazy as his lips moved down to her chin, then her neck, his lips and tongue playful while his hands continued pinning her in place.

The defeat was not too far away, she realized, her making her move faster and faster, confident that she would avoid the risk.

Then, a guttural grunt escapes his throat, alighting her whole being on fire, and her hips moved even faster. And faster.

Until then, an accident she was trying to avoid happened as her hips twitched, taking him deep inside her, well past the place she could argue that it didn't count…