"Don't," he gasped out, angry and rough, and Hermione dragged his head down to her, buried his face into her neck and the shift angled her them so that his next thrust went even deeper, and they moaned in unison. It was joining and clinging and falling, and if she pushed up, just like – ah – that then there was pressure rocking and bumping against her clit, enough to bring her to orgasm maybe, and Hermione's mouth parted and trembled open in a soundless cry as her pleasure rushed and grew, and grew.