Punish me, Professor, I dare you.

Chapter 27: Overwritten Scars

On rare occasions though, this also serves as a small foreplay. Whenever Sev's eyes get tired of reading, he just hoists me up, and walks up with me to the bedroom, placing me under the covers gently. The bat likes to keep the room dark, the Moon serving as our singular light source, but I never complain, because I love the atmosphere like this. Seeing his black silhouette approach the bed and feeling his weight sink in the mattress next to me as he crawls in is the best goddamn thing to make my heart flutter in excitement. I let out the most content sigh as his arm pulls my back flush to his chest, and as his scent floods my nose, I melt into him. There are nights where he cheekily slides his hand between my legs under the blanket, and I can hear from the change of his breathing that he's aroused—of course, I can never resist him, so I end up utterly consumed and satisfied.

Other nights (quite rarely), Severus has an odd but fascinating— let's call it 'ritual'— where out of the blue, he peels my nightgown and panties off me in the dark, leaving me naked, then he starts tracing his fingertips all over my body, slowly, savoring. This is not foreplay or arousing, this is something much more pure than that. These are the nights where the potion master just simply wants to worship my body, to pay his respect to every inch of my flesh, to truly show his adoration towards my being.

And the most beautiful thing about this, is that during this ritual of his, the man changes entirely. His movements and behavior hold great depth, I can't see his face fully in the darkness usually, but it's like he's in a trance as he caresses my whole body, taking care to leave his touch everywhere. From the tips of my toes to the top of my head, Severus says a silent prayer to my every cell, and people can call me crazy, but I genuinely feel his energy flowing into my being as he lingers on me.

His ritual is serious and holds so much love, Snape starts off from my toes, touching them, drawing circles over them, then he drags his fingertips over to my calves, slightly massaging them but only with featherlike touches. My thighs are ticklish, so I try to stifle my giggles to not interrupt him in his concentration. Then, comes one of the parts I adore most, the teacher covers my whole pussy with his hand, palm resting at my opening, and I feel him press his forehead to the skin below my navel.

This movement for me is so pure, almost sacred; this is the clearest evidence that shows just how deeply the bat's emotions run, this shows just how much Snape can value something and how grateful he is for what life offered him. He appreciates the woman in his life. He appreciates the feminine energy he gets through me, and he gives plenty of his masculine one in return. Breathtaking.

After long minutes of focused breathing, his now wet palm slides up to my chest (naturally his warm hand over my labia turns me on, so I always leave a wet patch on his skin), and stops exactly above my heart, nestling his hand between my breasts. His other hand snakes its way under my back, keeping my torso sandwiched between his arms. Severus feels out my heartbeat like this, keeping his position, and sometimes I copy his move, placing my palm on his chest, to feel the rhythmic thump under my digits. Slowly and surely, we synchronize our hearts, and press our foreheads together, our auras melting together on top of the comfy bedding, and we don't need anything else in this world, but to hear each other's calm breaths. Silent adoration between tranquil minds.

When the professor finished drawing the map of every nook and cranny on me, I receive the best cunnilingus he can offer; he is well aware that after he satisfied our souls, the aroused body must also receive clemency. So, Snape makes sure to steal my breath with his tongue, my feverish body thrashing under his blessed flesh and fingers. I don't leave him hanging either, always serving the master with my eager mouth until I squeeze the last drop of his life juice out of him, then, it's time to cuddle up, and let sleep steal our conscience from us, bodies still twitching with the tremors of the afterglow in the starry night...