In between running Hogwarts, being a Death Eater, and helping the Chosen One, Severus has one more little thing to do ...
In the final, desperate year of the Second Wizarding War, Hogwarts Headmaster and double agent Severus Snape has never been mor...
Minerva sat up to pull the coverlet up over them, and they lay still, not speaking. She felt Severus shift, and when he shifted again a minute or two later, she moved deliberately against him. Yes, he was still hard, and possibly uncomfortable.
She asked herself if she wanted to fuck him again—she wouldn't think of it as "making love"—and decided that she wouldn't mind. Not at all, in fact.
The first coupling had been heated, but it was over quickly, and though he had brought her to orgasm first, she still felt vaguely unsatisfied. She'd been spoiled, she supposed, both by her last real lover—a man with the stamina of a Jarvey and the cock of an Abraxan—and, it must be said, by Albus, with whom she had spent several fairly hedonistic Samhains in the decade before his death. Truth be told, she had learned quite a bit about sex from him over the years. As wonderful as it could be with someone with whom one was in love—a thing she had really experienced only once in her sixty-two years—there was something to be said for sex without love, but with great affection and with a wizard of tremendous magical talent and vast imagination.
When she looked over at Severus, she was flooded with the memory of Alastor lying next to her on the blanket in the damp field after making love to her for the first time—the first time for both of them, as a matter of fact. It had been fast then too; Alastor had only stroked in her a few times before he climaxed, the tears leaking from his eyes and a look of bewildered wonder on his face that Minerva would never forget. He too had been quiet afterwards, and sprawled out on his back, unashamed and golden-beautiful in the mid-day sun. His had been a contented, peaceful silence, whereas the man next to her now was doubtless quiet out of wariness and self-recrimination.
And yet Severus had surprised her. As he had touched her, his elegant fingers, sometimes ghosting lightly, sometimes pressing firmly from here to there over her skin, had been full of curiosity, which she might have expected from him, and tenderness, which she certainly hadn't. And it had excited her. By the time those long fingers had reached between her legs, she'd been near to begging him to fuck her, something that had never happened, either with her lovers or with Albus. She wondered for a moment if she should tell him.
Instead, she said, "Severus?"
He turned his head toward her, and on impulse, she moved toward him and kissed his mouth. She was not surprised when he reached for her, rolling on top of her and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. It was not an especially pleasant kiss, but she tolerated it and moved her legs apart to cradle him between them.
He was moaning and trembling, and she reached between them and guided him into her again. She was surprised when he took up a slow, rolling rhythm this time rather than the wild thrusting from before. Ah, well. He'd always been a quick study.
She manoeuvred her hips into the position that felt best, and almost immediately, an orgasm started to blossom deep within her. When he began to move faster, it broke over her, and she cried out.
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