Drabbles

“Swirl around the tip a little more…yeah…yeah, exactly like that.” Fred cleared his throat. “Okay, that’s enough. Give it a try?” 

It was entirely possible that Fred was having a fever-dream. He discretely touched the back of his hand to his forehead, but nope…not hot. Not because of an illness, anyway. If he was hot over anything, it was the sight of Hermione Granger obediently swirling her tongue around the tip of his latest invention: a Speak-Easy Stylus, an elocution-perfector.

She drew off, dabbing her mouth with the back of her wrist in a move so casual, it killed him, and then cleared her throat. 

“The classification of Mimbulus mimbletonia puts its taxonomy in the upper left-quadrant of the graph shown here, a modern travesty given both the utility and incomparable functionality of its lesser known characteristics.” She beamed up at him. “That’s incredible! I always fumble over ‘incomparable functionality’, but the Stylus made it so easy!”

“Brilliant.” Fred made a note.

And then discretely adjusted his trousers. 

It hadn’t been his intention to design all his latest products to be suspiciously phallic-shaped, but after Hermione had volunteered to help him with product testing, his brain had sort of…broken. 

It seemed that there was no limit to the sort of testing Hermione was willing to conduct, and he couldn’t deny her feedback was both invaluable and…incredibly motivating. 

So his products had gotten more and more cock-like, just like he had. It was wrong, probably, to take a certain amount of satisfaction in watching the way her brain worked almost as hard as her lips, postulating how he’d made each product work, experiencing the effects, and then offering him suggestions for improvement. 

But Merlin…

Sitting across from her in his workshop, the open space between them making it so he could see absolutely everything she was doing, was a lesson in self-control he found himself woefully underprepared for. 

Watching her happily lapping at his prototype for a Divining Rod – a bastardization of the original, this one functioning more as a kitschy fortune-teller that predicted one’s future based on a small range in the pH of their saliva – had him casually crossing an ankle over his knee. 

While she adamantly stroked the Brain Buster – a product for the prank line designed to cause dizziness in the unsuspecting victim – he found it was aptly named for observers as much as enacter. Seeing the dazed expression that came over her as her fist worked steady up and down the metal rod certainly didn’t help the near-dire situation in his trousers.

Seeing how deftly she rolled the Onomatopoeia Orbs in her palm required he literally look away, the sounds of coughing and slurping and gargling haunting him as he pretended to make a very detailed note, the edge of his clipboard pressed against his erection with enough biting force to somewhat scare it away.

In the end, it was the Throat-Coat Column that finally did him in. Watching her cheeks hollow around the cylindrical apparatus in order to deliver the soothing effect for a sore throat had his cock thickening with unrepentant eagerness that even the hard edge of his clipboard couldn’t quell. 

But honestly, he’d been in a near-constant state of arousal for hours…he simply couldn’t help it. 

And so he groaned. Loudly.

Her eyes cut to his, still sucking on the Column, and Fred experienced a flash of panic akin to the first time he’d been caught wanking. She tugged the Column out with an audible pop and, shit, the second groan was as uncontrollable as the first. He fanned himself with his clipboard, needing the rush of coolness over his suddenly flaming cheeks.

“Are you alright?” Her voice was a little hoarse.

That concern for him was her first reaction sent another wave of guilt through him. He was about to reply – to deny – when her eyes dropped to his lap. They widened, drawing his own gaze south to the absolutely undeniable bulge now revealed. Why on earth had he worn tracksuit bottoms, knowing what he was in for? Saturday or not, this sort of testing required his sturdiest pair of jeans. 

“Oh!” The exclamation was coupled with a small sound at the back of her throat, and their eyes met. “I’m–I’m sorry.”

He stopped fanning himself, brows knitting. “What’re you sorry for?” 

“I…” She blinked, eyes flicking down once more before fixing more adamantly on his. “For looking.”

“For looking?” he repeated, dumbstruck. 

She’d caught him with a hard-on, one he’d gotten while watching her doing him a professional damn favor, and she was apologizing?

“Well, I expect you didn’t mean for that to happen. Nor that you’d…erm, choose for me to be privy to it…I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with me personally, so it’s a bit rude of me to have…” 

She faded off, but he hardly noticed, the way her teeth snagged on her bottom lip, highlighting just how plush it was, having diverted his full attention. It popped free a moment later and he remembered himself enough to bring his eyes back to hers.

She was looking at him with an uncertainty that flayed him open. Honestly, then, the reckless sort. He’d always been good at that. 

“Hermione,” he said, voice amused if not a little strained, “it’s got everything to do with you. You can look at it, if you want to.”

It seemed unbelievable that she would, except that, with his permission, she did. 

He could practically feel the weight of her gaze on him, her innate curiosity at how something worked, how the mechanics of it functioned, plainly visible in her features. 

It was unhealthy, inappropriate, how badly he wanted her to test him out next.

It seemed her thoughts were similarly aligned. She set the Column aside and stood, brushing off her bum with an absent gesture and then walking to stand in front of him.

“I’ve never…” She bit her lip again, and he realized it wasn’t shyness but as a form of self-restraint. 

The sight along with the implication of her words made his third groan the most chest-deep of all. Her eyes flared.

“You can,” he offered, moving his hands off his lap to hang limply at his sides. “Anything you want.”

She lowered to her knees between his thighs, hands rising to push them wider so she could shuffle close enough to get her body almost flush with his. He shifted his hips forward on the chair, right to the edge, his spine curling in as he tucked his chin to watch her. 

He’d gotten head before but the way Hermione was situating herself between his legs with genuine eagerness had his heart pumping hard to send all available blood surging south with an insistence that left him dizzy.

When she stroked her hand exploratorily over his cock, the clipboard clattered to the floor.

“You’ve seriously never touched a cock?” he muttered. He didn’t exactly want to hear about her presumed exploits with his little brother but still, it seemed unbelievable that she’d reached twenty-two years without ever having explored.

“I’ve touched a cock,” she corrected. “I’ve just never had one in my mouth.”

Gods. He swallowed thickly, watching as she mapped the length of him with her fingers. 

“Want to try?”

She tilted her head, watching as she caged her fingertips over the sensitive tip where it rested by his hip, stroking in little teasing plucks that had him throbbing through the layers of fabric. 

“I’m not sure what to do.”

Yes you are, he thought dazedly. You’ll be a fucking master at it.

“I’ll help you. If you need it.” He was certain he was pink right to the tips of his ears – a miracle, given how little extra blood was circling his system – but the way she was toying with him was making him wild.

“Okay.” She stroked down the length of him once more, then back up to curl her fingers under the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms. “Thank you.”

He helped her strip his trousers and pants down just low enough for his cock to bounce free, full and proud. The release of pressure was a relief; the exposure to the cool air of the room and the hot weight of her gaze was a rush. 

“Wow.” With a boldness befitting her house, she wrapped her hand around his shaft, lifting him perpendicular to his body then stroking once. “You’re bigger than I expected.”

He barked a laugh. “Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not…?”

She rolled her eyes, meeting his for a moment of shared amusement before refocusing on his cock. “I just mean, compared to…well…you’re just bigger than I expected, alright?”

The light pink tinge to her cheeks made his chest warm, and the suggestion that he beat out at least one of his brothers gave him a little surge of victory. 

“Out of curiosity, how many of them...?” he asked casually, and then laughed when she gave him a flat look.

“You won’t be the first,” she quipped, then grinned a little wickedly. “Nor the second. But that’s all I’m saying. Now, can I get on with it, please? Or did you not want to be the first for something?”

He nodded without hesitation, any thoughts of his familial competition pushed to the side. “Absolutely.”

She wet her lips, then looked unsure again. “I’m not sure how to start.”

“You really can’t go wrong, I promise, but you could start by just…kissing over it? Licking? Whatever you want.”

She hummed a contemplative sound, fist stroking slowly up to the tip and then dropping back down. She steadied him at the base then leaned forward to press a kiss to the head. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying not to overreact and spook her. “Like that. Gimme another?”

She repeated the kiss, eyes cutting up to his when she chased the kiss with a soft, wet lick. His eyelids dropped to half-mast, a blink he resisted given it would break his sight of Hermione on her knees for him. He nodded encouragingly. 

She licked him softly again and then swirled her tongue instinctively. Her brows lifted as her tongue completed the circle and she sat back, staring first at his cock and then at him.

“Oh,” she said, like she’d just figured out the answer to something. 

She looked back at his cock and then leaned forward, lapping at the underside exactly as she had the Divining Rod prototype. He hissed a breath in, the slick friction making him want to thrust up; making him want to reach down to hold her jaw steady and–

“Fred Weasley,” she admonished, and Godric smite him, his balls pulled tight at the chastisement in her tone. “Have you been subtly teaching me how to give head?”

His laugh was strained, given that she was now working her spit over his cock with her fist. “Not intentionally,” he managed.

“Hmm.” She inspected him with narrowed eyes for another moment then watched herself pumping him. “Well then. Let’s see how much I’ve retained.”

He had half a moment to brace himself for it before she was raising up on her knees to suck his cock into her mouth, first just the thick head and then the first few inches of his shaft. 

“Oh fucking hell,” he blurted, hands scrabbling for the seat of the chair. He wanted to fuck into the warmth and wet so badly, sweat began to bead at his temples. He’d hold it together. He would.

She hummed a knowing sound around him, drawing back only to sink lower. 

“Shit, Hermione.” 

And then she hollowed her cheeks, and stroked with her fist, and brought her other hand up to find and then cup his balls, and he was done for. His head fell back, throat bared and bobbing as he swallowed hard and then let his mouth fall open on a deep groan.

“Fuck.” 

She kept it up, sucking and stroking and fondling, until his hips disobeyed him, rising purely on instinct. She leaned into it, letting him deeper, and he felt his orgasm rise hotly.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he warned, chin dropping to his chest to make sure she heard him. Her eyes flicked up to meet his but she didn’t stop. 

“Soon,” he emphasized. It was tightening through him, his thighs bracing for it. “Really fucking soon.”

She tugged on his balls and his eyes rolled shut as his orgasm hit, heat surging as his cock throbbed and then pulsed. 

She coughed on the first pulse, drawing back enough that he shot the second onto the soft pad of her tongue. 

The third pulse he had the privilege of watching stripe up her cheek, and then she was gasping in a breath and sinking him back into her mouth. 

The sudden pressure had him jerking forward, hands burying in her curls to hold her head still as he finally, finally, allowed himself a single, deep thrust into her mouth. She choked, then swallowed, and he swore.

“Oh my god, Hermione. Fuck, baby, that’s so good. So good.” He kept his hands in her hair but gentled his touch until he was just rubbing curls between his fingers, his body slumping back in the chair as the final aftershocks juddered through him. 

She sucked on his cock until the pleasure shifted to sensitivity and he finally encouraged her off with a gentle tug on her hair. 

She swiped at her mouth, managing to smear saliva and cum across her cheek, the effect both adorable and erotic.

“That was alright?” she asked. Her voice was even hoarser now.

“Incredible.” He caught his breath, taking her in with hungry eyes. “Did you…what did you think of it?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Hmm…I’m not sure. I think further testing might be required.”

“Yeah?” He reached down to tug her up, pulling her to straddle him and then wrapping his arms around her hips. He dared to palm her bum, something she marked with an arch of her brow.

“Yeah,” she mimicked, then shifted her hips forward. In his current slumped position, she rubbed against his lower abs. He flexed them for her. “Perhaps you can have a turn testing something first? While we wait?”

The glint in her eye indicated exactly what she was waiting for, and given what she’d just offered, he suspected his refractory period would be the shortest of his life.

“What’d you have in mind?” he inquired, hands sliding to her hips to encourage another grind. “Because I’m sorry to inform you, but there’s not much I need to test. I’m rather good at all of it.”

She scoffed, amused. “Oh really? Care to prove it?”

He tucked his hands under her thighs, lifting her as he stood and shuffled the few steps to the work surface, his trousers and pants sliding to his ankles. 

She squeaked as he deposited her on the scrubbed wood, clearing the surface behind her with a sweep of his hand and then laying her down. 

“Help me, if I need it?” he teased, then dropped to his knees.