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Savage Seduction	By : mad4moony Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Fenrir Views: 30148 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this. :(

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Savage Seduction

8

You’re scared to be loved

You know that’s your way

Your youth has made you too tough

You’re hurting for love in so many ways

****

Hermione was moaning with delight until suddenly the door burst open and the bookcase toppled forward on the floor. Her hand pulled at the vase in shock but it was wet and slipped right out of her hands and flew towards the werewolf standing at the door, hitting him square in the shin. She pulled up the covers to hide her naked body from him.

Fenrir stared transfixed at her, his hand still on the door handle, his eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth as the bottle hit him in the leg. Hermione didn’t know what to think, the minute seemed like an hour. Then the werewolf looked away and walked towards the fire, laughing gruffly and when his back was turned he said, “Having fun are we?” In a sinister voice that made the hair on Hermione’s neck to stand up.

The witch didn’t say anything; she gripped the covers so tight her knuckles turned white. She peered over the bed to look at the hunched up werewolf. He had taken his coat off, and she could see his wand protruded from his trouser pocket. A knot in her stomach tightened, if only she could get it and make her escape.

The witch wrapped the bed sheet around her in a make-shift toga as she approached the werewolf from behind. He was lighting the remains of an old newspaper, honestly why didn’t he just use his wand? She bent down directly behind him, her lips dangerously close to his ear. The witch pulled a face, God what was she thinking? “Just passing the time,” she hissed her late reply seductively in his ear. At the same time, her hands ran down his shoulders, she could feel his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his shirt, she ran them down his arms and then let go, but her left hand was hovering just above his wand. He growled inaudibly and turned his head closer to her mouth. “It’s not like you’ve given me anything to do,” she purred slowly, her hand wrapping itself ever so gently around his wand. She pulled at it slightly but at once she felt his hand tighten around her wrist. In one swift movement he threw her on her back by her arm and she yelped in pain. He had his wand drawn against her throat as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“You think I’m stupid,” he snarled, sliding the wand up her throat. “You think it wise to steal my wand?”

“Well you hardly use it yourself!”

Fenrir flourished his wand at the witch and she went rigid. The witch gasped and struggled to move, that bloody beast had put a body-bind curse on her! He broke into a cruel laugh, “Oh really?” The werewolf leaned over her; the plaits of his beard tickling the witches chin annoyingly.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself there without me,” he pointed his wand at the vase lying at the door and it flew through the air and into his hand. He immediately threw it at the wall beside them and it smashed. “Can’t have none of that now, can we?” he rasped in her ear. Hermione whimpered a little under the invisible restraint, Fenrir tutted and released her from the bind.

“Can’t have you all wrap—,” he was cut off by a blow to the head. The witch had struck him as hard as she could.

“That was for ignoring me all week!” She hissed, and clouted him again, “And that was for messing up the kitchen floor,” She had managed to straddle him now but she wasn’t quite intent on hurting him like last week. She slapped him instead, and the werewolf winced but laughed sadistically. “That was for the dead cow,” she slapped him with her other hand, but it was a weaker aim. “And that was for the hexing me!” He continued to laugh, and she felt warmth spread across her cheeks, she obviously hadn’t sounded as threatening as she had hoped. His cackle got louder, and it reminded her of a horny, perverted old man. The werewolf growled and pushed her aside with ease, she was feather-light to him. They tousled on the floor, rolling around fighting for the top position. Of course, the werewolf was just toying with her; he could flatten her with one hand. But her rage always turned him on; he couldn’t help but wind her up.

“I thought you wanted me to ignore you,” Fenrir revealed as she had pinned him down on the floor. He saw the witch blush, and all she did was scowl and attempt to wrestle his arms down beside him. He had hit a heartstring. He effortlessly pinned her down next, making sure he didn’t lean all of his weight on the petite witch, “Oh so you wanted my company?” He grinned, and she said nothing, and attempted to throw him off but she couldn’t.

“Let me get this straight,” he said crossing his arms as he pinned her down with his legs. She struggled profusely underneath him, but it was useless. “You don’t want me anywhere near you, then...get this,” he smirked, as if she didn’t already know the story, “You make a move on me, you...want me now?” His cobalt eyes settled on hers, “Then you go off in a fit of tears again. Can you ever make up your mind? Are you always this mental?”

Hermione made every attempt to avoid his gaze; she really had hoped he would have forgotten all about that evening where she had so foolishly tried it on with him. She had been lulled by the carnal ritual they had performed. Right now he was repulsing her. She wriggled around underneath him trying to get away from his gaze, and him. He laughed again and put more weight on her, pinning her effortlessly to the floor. The witch gasped, trying to steady herself under his crushing weight, and the fact she could now feel something hard press against her stomach. She grimaced, remembering what was under there, trying to displace the image of him naked. She gagged silently, and hoped that if she fainted from disgust that she would not vomit in her own mouth and choke to death.

But who was she kidding? His body wasn’t that disgusting, it was pretty impressive from the neck down. It was just his mannerisms that sucked, and his personality, she hated that too. The werewolf watched the witch silently as she contemplated. He had been ignoring her because he was angry with her. And he didn’t react to anger well, he couldn’t control it. He was angry with her because she wouldn’t make up her mind about whether she wanted him or didn’t. (Either way Fenrir was still intent on having her ultimately). The wench had lured him into thinking she wanted him, actually wanted him. That made him feel ecstatic, but then she had changed her mind again, and he had been ignoring her for her own good, although he was sure the witch would not believe it. He had no intention of biting her, but when anger got in the way of the werewolf things often went pear-shaped.

Hermione’s thoughts drifted back to the bedroom and she realised Fenrir was watching her. She shifted under his glare, “What do you want from me Fenrir?” she said plainly. The werewolf looked at the ceiling and hummed, “I want a lot of things.” His arms had folded comically and he was stroking the plaits of his beard. “I want you to stop crying.” Hermione blinked, colour flowing to her cheeks. The werewolf had said it the same way a parent would tell a child that they were disappointed in them.

The werewolf lifted his leg and released the little witch. She watched him with wide eyes as he clasped his hands together and outstretched them until all his fingers had cracked, then with one rapid movement he tugged at her toga. In a whirl of white sheets and pink flesh she rolled over the floor, as the sheet unravelled around her. The witch was sprawled out on her stomach, she clutched her chest in modesty and the werewolf laughed before lunging at her. Hermione scrambled to her feet as he chased her to the corner of the room, the witch feigned a dash to the left and narrowly escaped the werewolf before heading towards the en-suite.

But a powerful grip tightened around her arm and she could feel herself getting pulled back. She tried in earnest to grip onto the door frame and through the sound of her own frustration she could hear him laughing maniacally, she heaved but could not pull away from him. Then suddenly she felt his grip slacken and she gave one final pull in a bid to release her arm but he wouldn’t let go and came crashing into the wall against her.

“You’re hurting me,” she squealed, as his full weight pinned her up against the wall. His hand still gripped her arm and the other was firmly splayed out on the wall behind them. He had no intention of backing up; his nose was almost touching hers.

“You pulled me,” he said suavely, she could feel his breath on her face, and it smelt vaguely like peppermints. For one second the witch had a delirious thought that the beast may have actually brushed his teeth. In another feverish action Hermione barred her teeth and growled at him furiously, something he would understand – she hated the awkward situations he would put her in. It was obviously the wrong thing to do, the werewolf’s eyes lit up and he cupped her head in both hands before the witch could protest and licked the side of her face.

Hermione closed her eyes in ambivalent disgust as his hot tongue lashed against her. She gripped both of his arms and pushed him away, and he edged back willingly, but only so he could get enough leeway to turn her around and push her over the bed. As the werewolf let go the witch fell back on the bed, and he lurched over her. He dragged a finger from her neck towards her chest, admiring her body but the witch retaliated and grabbed his hand and bit down on the extended digit as hard as she could. Fenrir roared in pain, and instantly grabbed her by the throat with his free hand, in a swift reflex-like movement. But he let go just as quick and wrenched himself from the bed, turning away from her.

Hermione watched, propped up on her elbows – the werewolf was acting strange. He was heaving heavily and his head kept twitching to one side, she was suddenly aware of the noises he was making, strangled cries – as if he was being stabbed. She saw his hands flex into unnatural poses and looked on horrified, it was as if he was being tortured. It suddenly dawned on her what might happen as she stared in disbelief at his face; it was almost frozen in a grotesque growl, his teeth were barred and his mouth wide open in a snarl. She gripped the bed-sheets in anticipation as he seemed to be battling an unseen adversary, she had seen this once before in her third year. It was all so horribly real it frightened her and then he burst out into a snarl that echoed around the room and chilled her to the core, but still he remained human. He rasped suddenly and it made her jump, “You are trying my patience girl.”

Fenrir turned around ever so slowly, his blue eyes made her shiver, he flexed his shoulders and craned his neck to either side, the witch heard it crack faintly and she curled up even more on the bed. She threw up a hand to her throat where he had throttled her. But it didn’t hurt, he had let go before she could really feel his intentions. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said without any sound of real remorse.

“You didn’t,” she croaked, sliding a pillow in front of her as he sat on the bed facing the other way, he relaxed his muscles.

“The meat has been taken care of, there’s steaks downstairs.” He said inanimately. Hermione gave a weak smile from behind him.

“I didn’t mean to shout.” She referred to earlier, “I just can’t believe you would eat a whole cow raw.” The witch gave a weak smile. The werewolf turned towards her, but he kept his gaze low.

“You know what I can’t believe?” He chuckled, “I can’t believe you used that old piss jar to masturbate with,” The witch’s eyes widened and her face crumpled in mortification. A smirk appeared on his face, “I’m just kidding,” he said matter-of-factly. The witch’s face instantly turned into a rather hazardous frown.

“Oh Fenrir, I didn’t realise you had a sense of humour,” she retorted blandly, throwing a pillow at him. It caught him in the face and she could still hear his husky barks underneath it, “You old fart!” She added completely humiliated.

After a few minutes of her silent fuming the werewolf looked up from the pillow, “You don’t hate me like you think you do,” He said quietly. She gave him a rather savage look and rolled her eyes, but he continued unfazed. “I know you don’t really. Otherwise we wouldn’t be in this situation now, you wouldn’t have come on to me-”

“I did not come onto you!” Hermione barked.

“I’m sorry, but I think I know a ‘Come Hither’ look when I see one,” he smirked.

“You do, do you?” The witch said unconvinced, Fenrir shot her a filthy look and continued.

“Yes I do, now anyway as I was saying, YOU wouldn’t have come on to me,” he paused, “We wouldn’t have kissed (And we did on more than one occasion I might add), and you would have stopped following me around already.” Hermione gritted her teeth in response.

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I can tell when females hate me. Face it Hermione, you don’t hate me. You want me.”

Hermione threw him a rather disgusted look, but her stomach fluttered at the sound of her name, only once before had he said it. “As if,” she muttered with as much iteration as she could. He broke out into a gruff laugh which made her shiver slightly and the witch was more aware of her nakedness and clung to the bed sheet she had pulled around her.

“You don’t sound too sure about that, but don’t worry,” he added gruffly, “I’m going to fuck your brains out sooner or later, even if it takes all year.”

Hermione eyes widened at his proposition, he was so vulgar. It wasn’t really news to her she had known his intentions would have been something like this, but she grimaced anyway and replied sarcastically, “Oh how nice, we’re not even going to ‘make-love’ first - just going to fuck like animals are we?”

“You walked right into that one I’m afraid,” he remarked, “We can make love right now if you want.” He sidled closer to the naked witch and lay down on his side, propping his head up with his hand. The witch couldn’t help but stare at his biceps through his shirt, but she grimaced – he was right. She really should have foreseen that.

“No thank you,” she said coldly, making sure not to get too comfortable.

“You weren’t saying ‘no’ the other night,” the werewolf crooned. Hermione blushed profusely, gripping the bed sheets tighter. The werewolf laid his head down on the bed but she could still feel his eyes boring into the side of her head, she was surprised though that he was keeping them on her face and not the rest of her body.

“Don’t you want more of what I gave you already?” He spoke smoothly; he was neither begging nor hassling her, just giving her something to think about. The witch was silent; he gave a noiseless grin and continued. “You said that hadn’t happened before, I could make it happen again. Wasn’t that what you were trying to achieve with my ornaments?” He purred, reaching forward to put his hand on her elbow but she viciously shrugged it off.

The werewolf sighed heavily and spoke again, his eyes lingering on the back of her head. He knew she was trying very hard not to succumb to him. “That redhead mate of yours neglects you Hermione,” he commiserated. “He doesn’t make you feel like this.”

He heard the witch sniff softly and she lay down and curled up on the bed, the corner of his mouth twitched. Who was he to say what Ron did and did not do? She felt guilty, all week she had barely sparred her fiancé a thought, it was as if ‘they’ never existed. She pulled on the bed sheet tighter and a few hot tears leaked out from her tightly shut eyes.

An arm snaked around her waist and she could feel the werewolf pull himself closer to her so that his chest was firmly against her back. She shuddered with exhaustion, and did not complain at his advances. She held back only half the tears she wished to spill; she was confused and angry at herself but she did not want to make a fuss around the werewolf. She was angry because she had almost forgotten Ron, confused because Fenrir had made a very good point, guilty because of what she had let the werewolf do to her and sinful because of how she felt about the man behind her.

All the thoughts kept running through her head that she hardly noticed the werewolf’s cheeks pressed against hers, his stubble tickling under her ear. He hushed her and she hung onto his arm that gripped her. After what seemed like an eternity her tears dried up, she still sniffed occasionally, the werewolf however had taken that to be a full recovery.

He was still holding on to her, and from what Hermione felt, he must have been sniffing her hair – which made the corners of her mouth twitch. She could feel his head on the side of hers, but couldn’t see what he was doing. Then he moved his arm from her waist and a part of her whined for it back, he placed it lightly on her shoulder and trailed it down her arm. She shivered at his touch, and realised he was tracing his lips against her neck.

“Going to fuck my brains out now are we?” She said sardonically with as much effort as she could muster. She felt the werewolf smile against her skin.

“I was going to make love to you actually,” he said wryly, before lowering his head again into the crook of her neck. Hermione’s body stiffened at the thought, and hoped he hadn’t noticed. She felt abashed, but fervent all the same. What on earth was she thinking? She couldn’t let him go through with this? Her mind screamed the questions at her, but it made no real attempt to stop them from happening.

Fenrir let his hands glide down her sides and up again, the witch’s body twitched delightfully at his touch. He couldn’t suppress a grin, as he licked along her shoulders. He felt the witch gasp, and then try to recover. “How did you get so good?” The witch whispered and her eyes widened as she spoke what she was only meant to say in her head.

“I don’t know, I’ve never done this before,” he stated before giving another soft kiss to her shoulders. The witch turned her head in disbelief; the werewolf looked up at her with a penetrating stare.

“What?” She said in disbelief.

“I’ve never...made-love before,” he said in earnest. It made the witch shiver with unease, since when did Fenrir become so meaningful? Where was his blatantly obnoxious, obscene vulgar charm?

“I’ve fucked plenty, but since you insist on making-love first I’ll have to give it a go.” He added, sensing her apprehension.

Oh there it was.

“Oh please,” the witch said, unconvinced, before turning around again.

“But it’s true. I see myself as quite a stallion but I have absolutely no idea-” he said nipping her neck gently, “-how I am supposed to go about this ‘making-love’ business. I feel funny inside, like I’m going to vomit.” He thought carefully about the words he had chosen before the witch spoke.

“Oh lovely,” she gritted her teeth, but she knew what he had meant. She felt the butterflies in her stomach too, “They’re butterflies you dork.” She was never one for grotesque swearing.

The werewolf frowned but decided it better not to press further on the matter, “Hmm, well these butterflies. They’re making me want to vomit. But in a good way.” He slowed down, thinking about them, “I think it means I have to do it like this. So that you understand..” He strained to find words for what he wanted to say.

“Understand what?” Hermione panicked. The werewolf didn’t answer, he ran his hand down her side again and she gasped as her skin tingled at his touch. He traced over her shoulder with his fingers harsher than before and felt the witch arch her back. He growled lustfully and rolled the witch over.

She watched the werewolf as he moved closer to her, their faces were dangerously close. The witch’s eyes swept over his face, key earring swinging back and forth before coming to a stand-still, his beard which needed another trim now, his hair which was tied back roughly. The werewolf gazed at her with his azure eyes which she thought were so tempting. She found herself reaching up to kiss his lips. The witch felt her body shiver with anticipation as they kissed, his rough tongue edging its way into her mouth. She let it enter and marveled at the sheer bliss she was feeling. Her eyes were closed tight, but she could see him in front of her still, she could feel his stubble scratch her chin, feel the plaits in his beard tickle her neck.

The werewolf’s hands wandered over her body, pulling the bed sheet away from her, feeling for her breasts he ran his thumbs over the witches hard nipples. She ached with delight, her own hands reaching up to unbutton his shirt. Oh god, she grimaced trying to stop herself from what she was doing.

The witch closed her eyes and her body convulsed with bliss, her hands slid under his opened shirt and around his shoulders, and every time she gripped him harder she felt the werewolf heave a sigh. It carried on like this for awhile, as they shared tender kisses. To Hermione’s amusement the werewolf had slid a leg in between hers and was grinding slowly against her body. She giggled, “Dry humping me now are you?”

The werewolf didn’t answer, but he sat up on his knees and tore of the rest of his shirt, which by now had slid down to his arms and was causing a lot of restricted movement. Hermione bit her lip as she looked up at the werewolf. He was clearly three times her size, his broad chest and hulking shoulders scared the pants off her but they turned her on as well. A smile crept on her lips, and he smirked, lying down beside her again.

The witch placed a hand on his chest, as their lips met briefly in a short kiss. Their noses rubbed against each other, and she traced his lips with hers and down his chin and along his jaw. She could feel him shiver with satisfaction as she reached the werewolf’s ears. The witch felt his breath on her neck, and she dug her fingernails into his chest.

Fenrir pulled back to look at Hermione’s face, he growled lustfully at her and she grinned. Feeling his whole body convulse with want, she couldn’t help but pout a little, knowing she could bring this upon him. Her hand trailed circles down his chest and around his belly button, and as he left kisses down her neck he placed his hand on hers. The butterflies in her stomach squirmed as he directed her hand further down past his belly button and underneath his trousers. She held back a gasp as she felt his hard member beneath her fingertips. The werewolf retracted his hand, and groaned faintly as the witch traced a finger along his cock.

Hermione gasped, this was the first time she had been in such close proximity with his nether regions. Well, at least with her hands anyway. She felt the werewolf shudder every time she stroked back and forth, and his member twitched with excitement. Feeling a bit braver now that he seemed content with what she was doing the witch curled her fingers around his organ. Instantly Fenrir went rigid and gripped onto the witch tighter. His head was buried in the crook of her neck and she gasped as she felt the werewolf nip at her gently. She moved her hand fluidly along the length of his shaft, and twitched in surprise when her fingers ran against something wet.

The werewolf growled, his hands trailed down her chest and cupped her breasts firmly. He groaned, his mouth watering – she was so appetizing. And god, did she know how to wield a sword. He felt the witch gasp as he licked over her breasts and stomach before sliding a hand down between her legs. The witch tightened her grip as soon as Fenrir’s fingers hit her pink jewel. She groaned faintly as he edged in a finger, and then another one. She noticed his breathing get heavier, his mouth stayed open as he gasped, she was the same. Her chest heaved as her body convulsed with pleasure. Their bodies were pressed together, and the witch could feel his heartbeat through her chest. She tucked her head under his chin, and she could hear the strain in his breath, apart from that they were in silence.

Hermione could feel his rhythm get faster; she moaned softly, he was terribly good at this. She tightened her grip on his member but she was constricted by the material. The werewolf groaned and pulled apart from her. It startled the witch, she thought there was something wrong, but the werewolf had only got up to unbuckle his belt and tear off his trousers. He bent over the witch, and fell into a zealous kiss, a hand trailed down again to her sex. She was so wet, it made him salivate. He climbed over her leg and settled in the middle, his kisses becoming more dominant but still not over-bearing.

“Wait,” Hermione whispered. Her caramel coloured eyes looked up at him, she was getting uneasy again. Did she really want to do this? He growled, but it was more frustrated than anything. He sat up on his knees and pointed at her.

“Hermione,” he said slowly taking a deep breath, “I am at the point of no return. If you don’t let me continue again – so help me Merlin, I will not be liable for my actions.” The werewolf’s chest heaved up and down, his hand dropped down by his side again. He whined now, even more frustrated – “Trust me.”

Hermione’s eyes swept over his face, he looked pretty crestfallen. She sat forward and crossed her legs momentarily, “Ok, but just this once,” she grinned, god she really really did want to do this. Her body quaked with anticipation.

Fenrir growled and pushed her shoulder with his fingertips and she fell back gently towards the bed. She pulled his head up to her face and kissed him, her tongue delving further into his mouth. She moaned a little as his fingers stroked her clit, and then she felt his member pressing against her and she gasped. Fenrir grunted as the tip of his cock rubbed against her sex, she was so delectable. But he had said he would take it slow, damn promises. He wanted to fuck her brains out but he knew that would have to wait.

He pushed his organ further into her, and felt the little witch squirm with delight. Slowly he let the rest slid in, admiring the sight he withdrew it, and the witch gasped and looked up at him. A smirk crept on his face, it felt so good, he let the head slip back in, hearing the witch purr beneath him.

He lowered himself down and thrust gently, propping himself up on his elbows. Hermione snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. But it was awkward and definitely sloppier now he was occupied. As he began to thrust harder she settled for resting her chin on his shoulder as he was holding her so close. Their bodies pressed into each other, he was heavy but she was too delirious from the pleasure to ask him to move. Every thrust moved her slightly up the bed, and cut off her air supply making her gasp. She moaned, and he groaned back at her but all in all they were still silent.

The werewolf thrust slowly, but with harder force, he clutched the witch in his arms and she clung to him with every advance. God, he thought sex was good before, but nothing like this. The witch’s hands dug into his back and he lifted his head up in a fervent moan. He wanted to be closer to her, but he was already as near as could be, but it was still not close enough.

The witch moaned as Fenrir’s head brushed against the side of hers, she could hear him groaning very faintly with each breath, she dug her fingernails into his back and he rammed into her harder and she purred. Well this was a lot more pleasurable than the past events, she thought.

The werewolf groaned and tried to plant kisses along her lips and neck with each thrust, his hand snaked its way up her face and into her hair the other gripped underneath him for her breasts and he kneaded them rapidly. Making-love wasn’t so bad. He took one hand and hoisted her leg up so her foot sat on his back as he bent over her, and she lifted the other one to cross over at the ankles. The witch gasped, it was even better this way. He could thrust deeper and Hermione started to moan louder as his cock rubbed against her insides.

“Fenrir,” she said in a hushed whisper. He bent lower to kiss her again and she moaned, arching her back. “Can you make me do that thing you did the other night,” she whispered in his ear. She sounded just like a little schoolgirl, and he had this horrible realisation that that was all she was to him, for all her age. But he mentally shrugged it off and continued.

The werewolf smirked and thrust deeper into her, and attempting to lick over her breasts but it was very hard with all the movement going on. He could feel the witch’s breathing speed up, and she arched her back as he nipped at her breasts. Her moaning got louder, but it was obscured by the thrusting, which knocked the breath out of her, it almost sounded as if she was crying now. She dug her nails into his back as she felt a tingling sensation arise in her nether regions. God, it was so good it was hurting. Every thrust she could feel him inside of her, it felt almost if it was too deep, but then it was when it got to the very end of the thrust that it also felt very, very good. Every time it hit that point it felt as if her insides were going to shatter in agony, but that her brain was going to explode with pleasure.

She was unaware that she was moaning very, very loud now, too distracted with what was happening. She clutched onto the werewolf, now his growls had become louder and more fervid than before. “Fenrir,” she purred, “It’s gonna’ happen soon. Fenrir...” Her voice became hurried, her mind was fraught with anxiety and anticipation, orgasms were wonderful things, euphoric but borderline agonizing too. Her eyes rolled in her head, and her body shook with rapture as she lifted up in search for the best position. Fenrir clutched her in his arms, still thrusting into her as she moaned. Now he was on his haunches and the witch had pulled herself up to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands clutched her butt cheeks so she wouldn’t fall back. The witch moaned as he thrust harder into her, orgasm only seconds away. Everything inside her ached.

“Hermione,” he rasped as her back arched and she slid harder down onto him, she moaned vociferously and dug her nails into his back as she reached her peak as he came into her with one last deep thrust, Hermione’s eyes rolled up in her head and she went limp in his arms. The werewolf bent over slowly, with the witch in his arms, laying her back down on the bed. He gasped for air, laying his forehead against hers; the sweat ran down his arms and forehead. He pulled out of the witch and pushed a sweaty strand of hair from her eyes.

He shook her gently, and she opened her eyes hazily. “You blacked out,” he grinned, lying down beside her, spreading his arms and legs wide across the bed. He was still panting from overexertion. The witch watched him; sweat ran down in beads from his forehead down to his ears now. His hair was stuck to him, and he lay with his eyes closed, and his mouth open still breathing heavily.

She moved closer, kissing him, and although his eyes were closed his lips responded. She lay down in the crook of his arm and put her head on his chest. His heart was beating very fast. Did she really black out from all of that?

“I think that’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had,” growled the werewolf lustfully. Hermione broke out into a grin, pulling the bed sheet up around them. Her toes traced down his legs, which were so furry but Hermione loved the feeling of it. She peeled herself away from the sticky werewolf and turning over she pulled his arm over her side. Taking that as an invitation to some after-sex cuddling he rolled over and pressed up against her, his head just behind hers – she smelt so sweet.

The witch sighed peacefully, forgetting any feelings or qualms she might have had earlier in the day. The werewolf stroked her stomach with his thumb, and yawned. Hermione grinned, thinking about what had just happened.

Her voice pierced the silence. “You have a very nice piece of equipment you know.” The witch bit her tongue, what on earth compelled her to say that? Fenrir grinned from behind her; she could feel his lips against her neck.

“Thank you, his name is Vlad the Impaler by the way.” He planted a kiss on her neck.

Hermione laughed, sincerely hoping he was kidding. But she heard him convulse a silent laugh as well. “Naming your pecker, what next?” She said.

“Pecker?” Fenrir whispered with a snort. “Well thanks anyway,” he retorted, “And might I add you have a very nice snatch.”

He heard the witch complain audibly, and she dug an elbow into his ribs. He clutched them in pain and she reminded him that he needed to work on his manners before he growled playfully and wrestled with her under the bedsheets.

****

A/N: AWWW :) Sorry couldn’t help the humour there!! Hope you enjoyed!! Don’t fear, theres still a whhhhhooollllleee lot of twists and turns in the story. So for any of you guys that hate this lovey-dovey crap then don’t worry :D We are only nearly halfway through what I have planned! This is not the end, nor is this a glimpse of what the rest of the story will be like? Or is it, gosh it’s very hard to keep people entertained. Some people want it like this and some don’t. Well you will just have to read on!

Thanks to all the people who reviewed! Please review this chapter too!

*Lyrics - Simply Red
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Savage Seduction