Painting Fences

Painting Fences

Hermione stared at her husband from the kitchen window in their new home at 10 Rose Garden. They had been married little more than a year, but she still felt like a bride at times. Today however, her loving groom was rather cross with her. The sun beat down on his bare back, tanning his freckled skin.

It was what Hermione called, "Muggle Weekend." They would do without magic for two days so she could keep in touch with her Muggle upbringing. Normally, Ron never minded the non-magic days, he indulged her. Right now, Hermione knew even his dedicated love for her wasn't a strong enough reason for Ron to be happy about painting the fence surrounding their quaint little cottage in the scalding heat.

Inside, the cooling spell was unfairly giving her quite a chill as she painted the trim of the bay window. The magic in use to cool the house wasn't really going against the Muggle Weekend. The spell worked in conjunction with the weather so it was no use removing it only to set it up again on Monday.

Hermione swallowed as she stared at the beautiful form of her husband. Even the back of Ron looked angry. His tight muscles flexed with every stroke of the brush, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat across his broad back.

She set down her brush and decided to make amends or at least try. She prepared a tall glass of iced pumpkin juice then added a few drops of a cooling concoction just for good measure, and headed for the door.

Ron was crouched before the fence, working ardently when Hermione approached. His triceps bulged as he brushed the wooden slats with even strokes. He turned slightly and saw her out of the corner of his eye. His face tightened and he returned to his tedious job. Hermione frowned at his reaction, thinking it might be best to let him use his wand. It wasn't like they live around Muggles, they didn't even have magical neighbors close enough to see them in the yard.

"I brought you something to drink," Hermione said quietly.

She watched his muscles contract as he finished the board he was painting. He dropped the brush in the pan and stood slowly. His faded denims, now soft from wear and tear, hung loosely around his hips, the top button undone. He had flecks of white paint on his chest and one splotch across his cheek that Hermione tried to thumb away but it was dried.

She couldn't stop her eyes from tracing the defined lines of his taut abdomen. It wasn't like she had never touched those smooth ridges or felt them pressed against her own stomach as he sheathed himself inside of her, but she still grew breathless every time she got within close proximity of them.

"Thanks," Ron said through thin lips.

He took the glass from her with his paint speckled hand and guzzled it in less than a minute. He winced as brain-freeze hit him, but Hermione could see the refreshing drink has the desired effect. He handed her the glass and ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair.

It was hotter than she thought, Hermione realized as the sun began cooking her bare arms and legs. They stood quietly for a moment, Ron seemed in no hurry to get back to work. He took a deep breath, looking cooler now as the concoction worked over him.

"I can help, if you like," Hermione said softly.

His eyes narrowed as he looked past her at the rest of the fence. There was more than half left to paint.

"No, thanks," he said sharply. He stooped and picked up his brush then resumed his long careful stokes. "No need for both of us to get skin cancer," he mumbled.

"There's no need to be snarky about it either. If you don't want to do it then don't!" Hermione folded her arms over her chest and glared down on him. When he said nothing, she turned and marched back inside, grumbling all the way. With an angered movement, Hermione grabbed her paint brush and began jabbing sloppily at the windowsill.

He was acting like a little bit of manual labor would kill him. Honestly, Muggles work like this every day—in the heat, rain and cold—so some sun exposure wouldn't be the death of him. She scowled at his back through the bay window.

Ron's shoulders were red, probably already headed for a nasty burn. Had he even put on a sun potion? Probably not, Hermione told herself, he never does what he's supposed to do.

Gritting her teeth, she sighed and sat down the paint brush. No matter how angry Hermione could get with Ron, she never wanted him hurt--besides, the thought of him whining about his burned, peeling skin was not something she was looking forward to.

Reluctantly, she went to a small stand on the other side of the kitchen and broke off a leaf from her aloe plant. This time when she stepped up behind him, he didn't acknowledge her. Hermione snapped the plant in half and squeezed the gel onto her fingers. Ron flinched when her fingers touched his red shoulders, but he kept painting. When she drained all the pulp from the leaf she rubbed her hands together and smoothed them over his hot skin.

"Please stop painting," she whispered.

He finished his stroke and put the brush down. Hermione made small circles over his skin.

"Are you very angry with me?" she asked.

Ron sighed and stood. He turned to her and Hermione placed her aloe coated hands on his chest.

"Not very," he answered.

"Just a little then?"

"I'm hot Hermione, and I could have finished this with one flick of my wand."

"I know," she said.

"I understand about the Muggle thing and normally I'm fine with it, but even Muggles wouldn't pick the hottest day in August to paint a fence--"

"I know."

"And I still have the other side to do--"

"I know."

"So can't I just--"

Hermione grabbed him and crushed her lips to his. It was a hard, tight kiss and when they pulled apart, Ron's eyes were wide with shock.

"I'm sorry, alright?" Hermione said. "Do the rest with magic and come inside out of the heat."

She made to step away, but Ron grabbed her waist and pulled her against him.

"Maybe you ought to stay out here with me and get rid of those tan lines."

His smile was coy and it sent chills over her heated body. Hermione knew the only way she could get rid of her tan lines was to be naked and that would be out of the question in their back yard.

"I'm not getting naked out here."

"Why not?" He hugged her to him tighter and she could feel the muscle in his pants growing as he spoke. It never took much for Ron to get ready. "No one is around," he continued. "And I'll even start."

He stepped back from her and undid another button on his fly. Try as she might, Hermione couldn't take her eyes away. His pelvic muscles beckoned her to them. She wanted, no needed to run her tongue over the lines.

She licked her lips. "Undo another," she whispered, feeling naughty and embarrassed and comfortable all at the same time.

The sun glinted off of his blue eyes as he met her order with one casual twist of the button. She could see the tip of his cock, peeping out of his denims, eager and ready for her mouth.

"Now you," he said.

"I don't have anything to unbutton." Hermione looked down at her orange Cannon's t-shirt and her white pull-up shorts.

"Then take something off. I'm not fussy about top or bottom." He smiled.

She looked around, saw no one. Trees lined the back of their property and the closest neighbor was down the hill. She chewed her lip then gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She thought Ron was going to faint when she revealed that she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Shit," he muttered and undid another button. That seemed to be all gravity could stand and the denims fell to the grass softly. His cock bobbed in the humid air like an angry fist.

Hermione sucked in a breath and then they were on each other. Their tongues danced together in a familiar rhythm that was both comfortable and completely invigorating. His hand cupped her left breast as his mouth broke the kiss to suck at her right breast.

She tossed her head back and moaned. Fired burned though her that had nothing to do with the hot sun beating down on them. Hermione pushed his head away and dropped to her knees. Ron wheezed out a moan when her warm wet tongue licked the head of his cock. She sucked in the length of him and pumped her mouth along his steely shaft.

It was a good thing no one lived near them, because Ron's shrieks of ecstasy were loud enough to wake the dead. He jerked back, removing himself from her skillful mouth. He held his cock in a tight fist with his eyes closed and his lips clenched. Hermione knew her husband well, and he only did that when he was very close to orgasm and wanted to stifle explosion.

Without warning he was on her. She lay sprawled in the grass as Ron tugged her shorts over her thighs taking her knickers along with them. His mouth descended upon her sex like a starved man, but only long enough to work her into a frenzy. He moved up her body, licking and kissing all the way.

"Christ, I love you," he panted as he sheathed his thick cock deep into her.

Hermione cried out, meeting his thrust hungrily. Her hands slid down his sweaty back and gripped his muscular bum. The smell of the grass, and Ron's manly aroma sent her mind reeling. He ground against her, rubbing her center in just the right way.

Her mouth found his as she shattered under him, pulsing and quaking in a way that would have embarrassed her if she wasn't so at home with him. Ron pounded her hard and fast until he shouted out with an explosion that Hermione felt flooded her insides with his warmth.

They panted as their bodies melted into each other. Ron kissed her sweaty neck then rolled slowly off of her.

"Wow," Hermione said breathlessly.

They looked at each other.

"This painting fences thing wasn't actually a bad idea."

Hermione snorted and quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him.

Ron rolled over on top of her again. "Anything that ends with me on you can't be all bad, luv."

And then he kissed her.