One Finger

Author's Note: Originally published on May 19, 2010

Ron casually ambled out of the steamy washroom, clad in nothing but his battered watch and a short towel loosely tied at the point of his sharp hipbone.

"You should have seen me in combat training, Hermione. I was bloody brilliant. None of those wankers could take me down."

He ran a hand through his still damp hair, making it stick out wildly in all directions. Hermione gulped as she took in the sight of her freshly showered fiancé.

"It's not nice to call the other trainees wankers, Ron, even if you were better than them. Just like I knew you would be."

"Better doesn't begin to describe it. Robards said I was a natural at physical combat. I must've built up my strength through Quidditch and wrestling with my brothers all those years growing up." He locked eyes with her and smirked. "But I don't need to tell you about my strength, do I?"

She shivered as she recalled how often he manhandled her—in their bed, in their kitchen, at the Ministry, in the back of the shop...

His grin and demeanour took on an even cockier air as her eyes glazed over with lust.

"All right, Hermione?"

"I'm fine," she squeaked out as she refocused on him. Unfortunately, at that very moment, a single drop of water slowly rolled down his long freckled torso. Hermione's eyes followed the wet path down every inch of his body, until it hit the towel.

Ron was observing her as she did this, and noticed that her eyes kept going, lingering on the growing bulge under the terrycloth.

"See something you like?" he asked knowingly, subtly thrusting forward.

She nodded unconsciously before coming to her senses. The look he wore was one of pure arrogance, and she felt the sudden urge to suck his plump lower lip into her mouth and bite it. Hard. She loved it when Ron was confident, but this was a little much.

This won't do, she thought to herself, quickly formulating a plan.

"I bet I could take you down with just this," she said, holding up her index finger.

"Of course you could, that's your wand hand."

"No wands, Ron. Just my finger... this one little finger."

He eyed her suspiciously, and then scoffed in disbelief. "I get it, you're going to use that Kang Fo stuff we saw on the telly, aren't you?"

She fought hard to suppress her laughter. "No, Ron, I don't know Kung Fu. However, I have other weapons at my disposal."

"What other..."

He stopped short when she slid her light blue knickers down her smooth legs, leaving her in just an oversized shirt—one of his. He licked his lips when he saw the small wet patch in the gusset of her underwear.

His prick throbbed, tenting the towel slung around his waist. She smiled and winked at him before proceeding to remove the shirt. Her vision was darkened for a few seconds as she struggled to get the neckline around her bushy ponytail. When she finally regained her sight, he was smirking at her once again. But this time, the towel was gone and his long, thick cock was jutting out at her obscenely, bobbing slightly.

"I have a few weapons of my own."

Hermione moaned and walked towards him, stopping so that the only thing separating them was his hard dick. "Yes, I can see that."

He reached out to cup her pert breast, but she smacked away his hand. He frowned, then crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly.

"So, how exactly are you going to take me down with one finger, Hermione?"

"Like this," she responded before lifting her finger and pressing it to his chest.

He looked down at the finger and then to her, and he knew that he would be in for a fun night if he complied. He fell back onto the bed and she stood over him, triumphant.

"I guess you win, love."

She crawled onto the bed and straddled his body, hovering over him with an arm planted next to his ear. She slowly rocked backwards and slid his entire length into her wet pussy, her mouth opening in a silent scream as he penetrated her deeply.

"No," she whispered as she began rolling her hips in time with his thrusts. "I think we both win."