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[clumsy_auror]

It's been a long, long day.

There've been crying jags, squabbles over naptimes, spit-ups, spills, and baths flaily enough to merit an umbrella.

However.

Nymphadora Tonks is a Determined Woman.

And this particular Determined Woman is currently leaning against the open closet door, waiting for her husband to look up.

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[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

And his hands are everywhere, up her thigh, down her ribs, gripping one hip, his own hips tight against hers, and he breaks the kiss finally, cheeks stained red, to leave tiny, roseate marks on her neck. His free hand catches hers, pulling it between them.

[clumsy_auror]

Fingernails lightly scrape his lower belly just before her hand slips beneath the waist of his pajama pants, and her teeth nip sharply at his earlobe.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

A soft, whining growl escapes his throat, and he writhes against her for a moment, mouth open, eyes unseeing.

[clumsy_auror]

"Tell me," she whispers roughly in his ear, punctuating her words with a bite to the hollow of his jaw. "Tell me what you want."

For all the unsteadiness in her voice, her hand is no less sure.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

It's an odd thing for Bernard, having grown to adulthood in the 1960's. For all that he took rather extreme advantage of the sexual revolution, fucking from one continent to another, the concept of, well, vocalizing exactly what you want and how you want it isn't something that really ever occured to him, before.

He normally just... took what he wanted. And most women never complained.

His usual inner reaction to such a request is, Well, duh. But he's a little far gone for derision at this point.

So, it's perhaps understandable that his cheeks flame to an even brighter red when he answers, his voice cracking.

"I want to fuck you senseless." He bends his head to carefully tongue at one nipple, careful not to suck. "Just like this."

[clumsy_auror]

A shuddering breath, and she winces at the contact, riding the knife edge between ache and a delicious pleasure.

For as oddly shy as Bernard sometimes is here with her -- no, not shy, he simply cares for her in a way he didn't, with so many of them -- Nymphadora has grown somehow bolder, more sure of herself than she has ever been.

But hearing it, even if it's something she already knows, is something that always catches her breath.

"I w-want that too," she manages, the fingers of her free hand twining in the hair at the nape of his neck. "I want to feel that, Bernard."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

His hand creeps up to the juncture of her thighs, pressing and circling without hesitation.

He lifts his head to watch her mouth drop open.

His answer is simple, but clear.

[clumsy_auror]

She can't help crying out, can't help fisting her free hand in the duvet at her hips, which roll into his touch.

Half a second later her hand is on his, pressing him closer, pulling him near.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

And his pajamas are long gone, and her thigh is tight around his hip, and her mouth is open under his, and her breasts are soft against his chest, and her hand is tight-- her hand--

[clumsy_auror]

Her teeth catch his lower lip as the kiss breaks, both of them breathless, chests heaving, and she leans her forehead against his.

"I trust you. Please."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He nods once, his gaze never leaving hers, and then he's inside her, his pupils dilating, eyes widening, breath catching.

He waits.

Last time--

He waits. For her.

[clumsy_auror]

And this time, this time--

--her back arches off the bed, hips rising up to meet his, hands scrabbling to pull him closer because it feels--

it feels

(I haven't even got the words, Bernard)

and the relief that floods through her is almost tangible.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

It is. He feels it, too.

And he hasn't got time to grin, and he hasn't got time to ask, to make sure, because she's pulling him and pushing him and it is, and he's moving and

Oh.

Oh, he missed this.

[clumsy_auror]

It's not entirely painless, she's discovering, but that doesn't matter. It's a start, and it's good, and the look on his face is enough for her.

It's always been more than enough.

'Dora's hand slips up his arm, just resting there, feeling the muscles tighten beneath her fingertips.

(You're a bit like a coiled spring.)

She smiles.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard looks down at her through slitted eyes, and smiles back, made impossibly happy by what by most accounts is a very small thing.

Well. Not so small.

He bends his head to kiss her, opening her mouth with his, the pace increasing fractionally.

[clumsy_auror]

Her arms twine around his back, and for a few moments they're pressed together from forehead to hip, not room enough for even a slip of paper between them.

"I love you," she murmurs into his mouth. "I love you and you make me happy. Make all of us so happy."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Breath beginning to hitch, Bernard clutches at her hip, his other hand tangling in her hair, unable to stop kissing her, unable to slow down, because it's been so long.

"Love you, too." A bite to her bottom lip. "Missed you so much. In the cells. Missed your taste. Your smell. Everything."

[clumsy_auror]

She's not as close as he is; she'll be a bit slower for a while, she thinks, but they'll get there in the end.

A slow kiss, heated, growing steadily more frantic with every passing moment.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Well.

It's the journey that's the point, right?

Bernard's mouth stays open as the kiss ends, and he fights to open his eyes, to look at her, to gauge it.

His hand slips down between them, and he bites his lip, trying to concentrate, because he can't hold out forever, but he wants to, but he can't because she feels so--

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora gasps, reaching down to press his fingers closer before leaning up to mouth roughly at his neck, knowing there'll be a mark there come tomorrow and wanting there to be.

Soft moans, low in her throat, hum against his skin.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

A rough groan escapes Bernard before he can stop it, and for a moment, all he can think of is harder, yes, more, please.

And her thighs tighten, and his back arches, and with every movement, they're both moaning, and it's all beginning to--

"Nymphadora--"

[clumsy_auror]

"Please," 'Dora whimpers, suddenly trembling from head to toe, "please just-- need you I'll be okay just--"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard lets out a shaky breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and lets himself push harder, move faster, give more.

He simply lets go.

And it feels better than it ever has. He's got his face buried in her neck, and his mouth open on her skin, and his voice hoarse in her ear, within moments. And she's not holding back either, and it's the two of them as one--

[clumsy_auror]

"Oh--"

She wants him closer, closer, more, and suddenly it's right there and he's right there and everything falls into place, clear as a bell, and everything she's worried about suddenly seems okay and not quite so bad, really, because how could anything be impossible when he's there to help her through it, and--

...And it's right about now that even Nymphadora's inner monologue fails her.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

And it's too much, in the end; he's blind and deaf and dumb with it, nearly dizzy.

As he comes down, trying to relearn how to breathe, Bernard lets one boneless hand slide up her side, and turns his head to kiss whatever's closest; this time it's her ear.

He's a little beyond words just now.