Author Notes: Characters belong to JK Rowling. This story was written for stress relief and shared for the same reason and because there's not a lot of R in Remus/Tonks ship at

WARNING: Rated R because of the sexual content.

This story is meant to present chapters that provide more "adult" details of Remus' lessons with Tonks. I don't get into course language, just emphasize the sensations. The chapters won't really expand the original stories, so skip them if they're not your cup of tea. I don't even expect reviews.

Updates will depend on whether a story needs embellishment. The source stories (whose title can be found at the start of the chapter) I intend to keep at a PG-13 rating so that younger readers will have access to the humor, fluff and occasional action found in the series. If you are new to the way I've been playing with the characters, hit Queriusole and you'll find the list.

Preface: Tonks is experienced, but has been celibate since she began her Auror training. Remus has been celibate all his life (yup, a virgin) because his draining transformations have given him more pain than libido until the Wolfsbane potion was available. And meeting Tonks provides the final stimulus. The two have created the Chocolate Lovers Without Lovers Club, limited the membership to two, and have initiated seduction lessons so that the club can "evolve." This is the story of that evolution.

Here's the rest of the story for the first one.


Can't Hurry Love: Lesson 1

I trace the contours of her face again before my fingers release the last buttons of her shirt. She is an Auror and could hex me with a multitude of curses. The woman carries powerful magic, but there she lies under my touch, trusting me to value what she offers.

So I touch her face because she has become so precious to me. I don't want her to think that I take for granted the access she is offering me to her body. It's never been just about lust, although the heat that rises in me when I touch her certainly isn't fueled by chaste aspirations. I kiss her with the need inside of me and bring her onto my lap.

I kiss her neck again and my lips travel to the curve of her breasts while my hand caresses her smooth back. How can someone have such perfect skin? It fascinates me and I want to explore it unimpeded. I hear her chuckle softly in the back of her throat as she realizes I've undone her bra.

A brief flash of victory swells in me. I suppose I'm just like any other man after all and my reactions are all too human. The thought actually comforts me. But now I can have my fill of her soft skin, so I waste no time in pushing away her shirt and pulling away the bra.

I am eager to take her in my mouth, never having experienced this first hand, but her shoulders catch the light and the flesh invites exploration. My lips trace the lines, my tongue tastes her skin and my hands seem to have a mind of their own as they move from her back to cup her breasts. I find that my fingers are tracing the circle of her aureole even as I'm testing the texture of the skin on her shoulder with my teeth.

Gentle bites, nothing that will harm her, I tell myself. But even in this she trusts me. I nibble along her shoulders just like she did along my jaw earlier. Practical lessons, she said, and I intend to follow my tutor.

I feel her fingers rubbing against my scalp and again get a surge of pleasure when she presses me against her body when my lips finally arrive at her breasts. She arches into me as I suckle and let my tongue swirl around the nipples. I have discovered another taste that is uniquely Nymphadora. I try to be fair and attend equally to both, but it's so easy to lose track of sequence. I press the mounds together and just rub my face against her for a moment, licking at her nipples when they are accessible. She moans softly and straddles my lap so she can offer herself to me more fully.

My hands catch her back and I begin to explore the curve of her body through the fabric that encases it while I'm still greedily feasting on her breasts. My hand rolls along the contours of her hips and her thighs, but then I deliberately let my hand follow the seam of her trousers.

I can feel the heat, I can feel her moving her pelvis so she thrusts against my hand to add to the pressure. How far does she intend we go in this first lesson?

I kiss her mouth again as I consider this and move my hand to just caress her back. If this were only about lust, it would be simple, but it's not. I know I lack the confidence to pursue intercourse. How can I know enough about her body to please her? What if I fumble and wind up hurting her? What if I can't control myself and waste the moment? I don't want to feel awkward around her. I don't want to disappoint her. I never want her pity.

The tendril of fear begins to fill me and I consider retreat. She releases the kiss and my heart drops as she shifts in my lap so that her back is to me. Lesson over?

But then she's pressing her hips against my arousal and bringing my left hand to cup her breasts.

She leans her head back and whispers, "Touch me, Remus. I love your hands on me. Let me feel your hands."

"Nymphadora." I don't recognize my voice as her name comes out in a sigh. My Nymphadora, I say to myself. Mine. My hand trails down her abdomen as my lips explore the smooth skin of her back. I feel her shiver, but the motion ends with another quick rub of her hips against me.

That's all the encouragement I need to release the clasp of her trousers and delve along the top of her waistband. She leans back to grab my head as if hungry for another kiss and suddenly I feel like I am desirable. My woman wants me, needs me, and the thought thrills my heart. Can she feel how fast it's beating?

I pull down the zipper and plunge into the soft discovery that awaits me. I hear her gasp in delight at the touch. Just a simple touch, but it tells me so much. I think I know what to expect, after all, I didn't spend all those years listening to Sirius without learning something. But I never imagined the textures, the heat, or the intense need to bring pleasure to a woman, my woman.

Yes, I feel her hips against my arousal and realize I'm pressing into her from behind while my hand is caressing her in front. Still, I feel her own hand on top of mine as she adjusts me over her. What are her secrets? Will I be able to discover them? She removes her hand to allow me free access and I commit all to memory, knowing that my thoughts of Nymphadora will be forever changed. She is not an untouchable goddess; she is not a cold, chaste statue; she is not a whimsical fantasy. Nymphadora is my woman.

Am I actually biting her shoulder, trying to mark her as mine? I didn't realize what I was doing, so I move my head to kiss the nape of her neck. She's holding onto my thighs now and I smile when she moans as my fingers brush against her breasts. My other hand finds its rhythm in her moist folds and I change my strategy as my nuckles now offer the pressure she seeks.

The pace quickens and I can feel a grin arising as Nymphadora catches her breath. She's thrusting her pelvis against my hand while her hands are clutching my thighs. I can feel her fingernails through the fabric.

But I feel no pain, I only feel satisfaction and power when she moans and arches her back. Her head is rolling against my shoulder and I can lean in to kiss her deeply. She clutches at my hand, still rolling against her, as a signal to stop and so we are still. Another strong shudder racks her body and my grin is back. I chide myself for acting like a typical male, but with Nymphadora, I'm just a man, not a monster, not untouchable. Damn, what's she going to say when she hears me chuckling in delight?

Nothing, because I hear the laughter in her voice as she says my name. "Oh, Remus."

There is joy in her voice and again I feel the surge of power to think I caused it. I hold her closely to me as she comes down and again we are lying on the sofa. There is no greater magic than this. I feel my arousal pressing against her, but I'm content just to hold her. I'm accustomed to self-denial. Besides, I think I just got high marks for my first lesson and I can be satisfied with that.

Nymphadora adjusts so that she faces me. I kiss her quickly on the lips, but she immediately whispers, "It's my turn now."

I frown because this is supposed to be about seducing my Nymph. And a sudden fear fills me. "Nym--"

I feel her fingers pressing gently against my lips as she says, "It's only fair, Remus."

Her mouth is warm and still hungry with her tongue darting at every sensitive spot in my mouth. Before I know it, she's moved her lips to my throat while I feel her hands brushing against the fabric that still covers my chest. She pushes my shirt open at the neck and I feel her tongue along my collarbone. More buttons are released and I feel her mouth along my shoulder. There is so much scarring there that I wonder that I can feel anything, but the small bites feel delicious and prove to me there are ways around insensitive areas left by my scars.

She kisses a path across my chest and I grunt like some early hominid when I feel her warm mouth teasing my nipples. Yes, I knew men were responsive, but it's like trying to describe the delights of chocolate to a novice. I can't think now, I can only feel. My woman has reduced me to nothing but pleasurable sensations.

But reality comes back to me when I feel her trying to tug my shirt off my shoulders. I can't prevent the shrug that counters her movements. My torso is not like hers, with its smooth perfection. I don't feel comfortable, I don't feel confident yet about exposing myself to her. I know it's foolish, but she doesn't rise in disgust at my actions.

Instead my Nymphadora kisses me deeply, lets me relax, lets me bring my focus back to our touch. Instead I feel her hands running up my back under my shirt. The slow circles she creates with her fingers on my back and her tongue in my mouth are soothing.

And then I feel her full embrace, the contact of skin to skin that has been the focus of this first lesson. We lie still for a moment, but it serves to intensify the nature of our contact. Was that moan from me? She's pressing fully against me and I'm incapable of little more than caressing the smooth expanse of her back. My chin is rubbing against her soft hair and I feel like a brainless idiot who's become incapable of speech.

Just when I think I'm capable of coherent thought, she rubs her breasts against me and I can feel her nipples teasing mine. I'm onto her plan now. She does intend to turn my brain into a bowl of pudding. I can think of no better way to lose my mind.

I have a flash of coherency so that I can capture her mouth again. I know that I reveal how hungry I am for her. I'm pressing against her and my need is clear. I release her as I feel her hand sweeping across my belly because I'm shivering at the contact.

She kisses my neck, she bites at my shoulder while she caresses my back and all I can do is thread my fingers through her hair. I feel her release my trousers and hear the zipper go down. I feel her fingers touching me and can't prevent the way I thrust at her at the contact. Her hand wraps around me and I am totally lost.

I want this release so badly, but I know that I don't deserve this, that I don't deserve her attention. Why should she minister to me?

"Do you think about me when you do this, Remus?" Nymphadora whispers as she sets her rhythm.

Should I confess my sin? Should I confess that she invades my fantasies? Does she realize how often I have had to find release since I discovered Nymphadora Tonks, the woman? Me, Remus Lupin, a man who could live in comfort in a celibate life for all these years?

But I can't talk, I can barely manage a grunt. I hear her whisper again, "Do you think about me, Remus?"

"Yesss," I manage to hiss out. She was teasing my nipples with her tongue to wring the confession out of me. My woman shows no mercy! And I'm lucky to suffer this sweet torment at her hands.

"Good." Her voice seems breathless and I finally register how she's pressing against my thigh even as she takes control of me. "Think about me now. Think about what you can do to me"

Her voice is sweetly taunting and I again can hear her moans, I can remember the sensation of her womanhood against my fingers, I can see her arching her back as she finds climax.

"Think about that feeling and surrender to me."

Surrender? I can't think anymore. I can only register the pressure of her hand and my mind is gone again as I think about how I gave her pleasure. The thoughts seem to explode into a memory of sounds and images. I surrender to the sweet oblivion of my woman, probably grunting like some prehistoric man. I barely register the shiver that runs through her again, but then Nymphadora also becomes still at the end of her sigh.

We're holding each other tightly. And I don't worry about being as inexperienced as a schoolboy. This is just my first lesson with my beautiful tutor, after all. I kiss the top of her head and think that being mindless is a very nice change from carrying the worries of real life.

Do I love Nymphadora Tonks? For the first time in my life, I let myself consider the possibility without fear.

End of Lesson 1