Authors notes: Terms: Judy is a dress form, we do not call them 'mannequins'. Placket is a part of clothing that has two layers like the opening of a shirt front or cuffs.
On my OC name. I chose the name of my oc when I was about 12 and I have never changed it even though Ivysil is not the best last name ever. It's just embedded in my brain at this point. I struggled with this last part which is why it took so long to come out. In the end I realised this story is about not only bringing my sewing occupation into my stories but also examining my complicated relationship with Severus as I became an adult and there was more to him than first meets the eye. Part 3 starts right where part 2 ends. Enjoy!
I locked the shop and lowered the lights. We returned to the fitting room. "I believe it's my turn first" he said as we approached the pedestal in the middle of the room. He guided me to stand there looking in the mirror with him just like we had been a few moments before while examining his new waistcoat. "Do you often slip notes into customer's pockets?"
"Never."
"Why mine?"
"When I had your old clothes on the stand I was nearly constantly overwhelmed by the urge to be near them. That's never happened to me before. I do not usually get butterflies when moving a judy across the room."
"How interesting." He responded, he stood behind me, draping his forearms over my shoulders, wrists resting on my upper chest he brought his fingers together to work the button at my throat between my lace edged collar. As he slips the little pearl button through its slot I breath out a very sexual sigh. Something is coming undone inside me along with that button. I pray I will maintain composure as he continues.
With his left hand he fingers the small exposure of flesh at my throat and with his right he skips down my front counting buttons out loud. "One down, five more to go." He informs me into my ear and I shiver in anticipation.
He takes the next pearl between his fingers and examines it over my shoulder before flicking it through its slot. "Four more." He growls into my ear and I have to remember to breathe and not to lock my knees as I stand still.
The next one is right at my bust point. I'm waiting for him to find out I have two secret extra clasps to keep this blouse from pulling open where the fullest part of my chest strains the fabric. He finds them when he pushes the pearl through and it does not release.
"Sneaky." He whispers. "These were not included in my count."
"They are not buttons. But they are necessary to stop my breasts from popping out of this shirt."
As he undid the two small clasps to reveal my lace bra he intoned sarcastically "What a tragedy that would be." His fingertips explore my collar bones and then the edge of the lace bra cups.
We stare at each other in the mirror. His breath passing my ear is making my heart race. His fingers travel to the next button and I feel quite certain I am slightly shaking with excitement. He opens it and leans very slightly closer as he does. "Two more" his lips grazed my ear.
"One left..." he warns as his fingers get the penultimate button in his grasp. He slides it through. Then he pulls my hair away from my face and carefully presses his lips to my jaw under my ear. My breath breaks into little shards and scatters out of my mouth. His right fingers skate over the lace of my bra.
"My turn." I breathe.
I step out of the centre of the pedestal so he is in the focus of the mirror. He watches me with a bemused expression as I circle him in my open blouse. I choose to start on one of his cuffs. I pick up his left hand. I explore where the linen shirt cuff ends and his palm flesh begins. I slip my fingers inside this cuff and feel his pulse in the veins of his wrist, they are fitted so tightly there is barely room for my invading finger tips.
I start undoing wrist buttons. I want to be slow and methodical like he had been and yet he had so many more buttons than me that I felt some abandon as I opened one after another. When I've made enough of an opening I slide my hand inside the cuff and squeeze his wrist. "I'm inside with you."
"Why does it excite you so, to invade my sleeve?"
"Well I figure with all these buttons you're either trying to keep someone out. Or keep yourself held in. Either way... I'm excited to be given access."
"Just this once, Miss Ivysil. As a trade."
I smile. "An excellent trade." I undo the two little white buttons on his shirt cuff and pull his hand up to my face, kissing between the open cuff plackets. I think I might hear him draw in breath a little rougher.
I move to repeat my actions on his other wrist. "Professor-"
"Severus. Please."
"Severus..." I test the name. Never having said it in front of its owner.
"Miss Ivysil?"
"Anna." I correct him back. "May I move over to the centre front buttons?" I ask.
"No" he answers firmly "Because it is my turn once more." He takes me by the shoulders and puts me in the middle again. He surprises me by kneeling down in front of me.
My skirt has a wide waistband with grommets and lacing at the front. He makes short work of my double knotted bow. He pulls the lace out of every eyelet and drops it to the floor, helping the skirt over my hips to pool around my feet.
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it surely wasn't him leaning forward to kiss the fullest part of my belly, sliding his hands over the plump sections I am most nervous about showing people.
I am much more undressed than him now. I have only an unbuttoned blouse over my underthings. It's surely my turn once more but I look down in silence as he kisses over my belly and up, slowly rising off the ground to eventually kiss the deep cleavage at the top of bra as he returns to his feet.
When he gets to my face he raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for my command. So I point at the lilac velvet sofa that spans one end of the fitting area. It's tufted, overstuffed, and it has seen some things. It belongs to Marie Malkin, it is the site of many love affairs. I figure it's good luck at this point.
He obligingly sits in the middle and I straddle him. I begin to work that central column of fastenings free. Stopping to untie a black cravat as I uncover it, the sound of that silk as I draw it against itself and off of him is zippy and cloying. I will have him, not this silk neck binding. I discard it with vigour.
I look down. I have only five more buttons before he is free of his cassock. I do them slowly, looking into his eyes as I do them. Since he is sitting now I cannot slip this cassock off his shoulders, so when I am done with those buttons I have no choice but to take the two small white ones at his shirt collar and guide them through the thread loops I made for them. His neck finally free of all its restrictions I lean in and kiss him there, flicking my tongue over his flesh. He makes a satisfying noise as I do.
When I stop and come eye to eye with him again his hand slides up my back and into my hair, pulling me in close to his face and at last we kiss. I have never had a first kiss where I was so naked. I was very aware of his hardness in his trousers pressing into my core which was clothed only in some lace knickers. As our lips pressed together I arched my back, pressing myself against him as much as I could. Grinding against him madly, I felt how the sturdy black wool I had chosen for these trousers, while soft on my fingertips was rough against my inner thighs.
Severus is tugging my blouse off me and I don't protest. I am thrilled he wants to divest me of it. This game of taking turns with clothing is fun, but the growing urgency with which we are rolling our hips against one another is becoming the focus.
I feel his hand slide up my back and find the clasp of my bra. He undoes it, then pushes my torso away from him a bit while he slowly pulls it away from me. His eyes take in my breasts then his hands come to examine them further. Of any part of my body, they are the part I have the most confidence in. The part I know beyond a doubt is desirable. As he takes the weight of each one into his hands he smiles slightly, each of his thumbs rests against my nipples.
"How have you taken so much of my clothing and remained so dressed yourself?" I ask, trying to take his focus off looking at me so intensely.
"It's not my fault that you can't count. You knew I had more buttons than you when you agreed to trade." He grinned.
"Does that mean you aren't going to allow me to take anything else off you because I have no buttons left to open?"
"On the contrary, I think your brassiere is worth you opening my trousers."
"Ah. How nice of you to offer." I respond. Getting off his lap and sliding down to the floor between his knees where I might be able to prise open these last few fastenings. I relish having my hands so close to his hardness as I open each tiny button in the fly. My fingers skate over the securing stitches I've placed between each one. It's odd, I've never had my hands on a fly I've made with the gentleman's cock pressing back out at me. I find the cotton layer of his underthings and notice there is yet one more button left before I can have him free. "What's the toll for this button?" I ask, fingering the round white button and teasing the hardness under it at the same time.
He points at my knickers. It hardly seems fair. He has a shirt, a cassock (albeit unbuttoned), trousers, and undershorts still on his body. I have paid the price to open each button but apparently not to remove any of the clothing. He is asking for my last remaining garment. "I think these are worth more than one little button." I inform him.
"I get to name the price. Don't try to barter with me."
"But it's my last bargaining chip."
"I want them." He is holding out his hand and I can't say no. I stand up to slip them off. The feeling of them falling down my legs was more noticeable than usual. I hand them over. "Proceed." He says as his fingers close around them.
I get back down between his knees to open that last button. When he is released I pet his hardness lightly. The hot skin was soft and enticing. I was suddenly happy that he had so much clothing on. I ran my hands down from his chest and along his thighs to his knees. His clothes were so much a part of what turned me on about him. Having just enough access to him to hold this private part of him and put my mouth on him was perfection.
He didn't let me linger there. He pulled me up by my arms and put me on the sofa, pushing me down onto the seat and leaning over me. His open cassock fell on either side of me and suddenly he was laying on top of me and I was inside his clothes with him. The thin white linen shirt tickled along my bare belly as he lowered himself down to kiss me again. My legs were parted and the heat of his erection was pressing against my core.
As he moved to kiss my neck I could see us in the mirror, I was completely covered by his clothing. He looked completely dressed from here and as he pressed that one bare part against me I threw my head onto the couch in pleasure.
"My little tailor..." He growled into my ear. "I've let you inside my buttons."His teeth grazed my neck and I gasped. He moved his hips, the tip of him pressed into my most sensitive spot and I moaned and he kissed my lower lip. "Is that all you wanted?" He asks.
"No." I groan.
"What else did you want?"
"You inside me."
"Ah...well we shall have to see if I... fit." He chuckles into my ear and I return his laughter for a moment. He draws back and puts his hand between us. His fingers find my centre. "Undoing my buttons has certainly excited you, hasn't it?" He asks as he draws his fingertips through my wetness.
I let myself close my eyes and give in to the sensation of him touching me. I try not to get caught up in my own head. Inside his clothes I feel warm and comfortable, it's safe enough to not curate my reactions, I just let the sensation wash over me.
He is on an elbow over me while he teases me with his fingers and it turns me on so much when I open my eyes and he is looming over me. My breathing is loud and ragged as my need is mounting. When he presses a finger into me, I watch a little smile curl the corners of his mouth.
"What?" I breathe.
"I can't believe how wet you are for me."
"Don't make fun of me. This is something I've fantasised about for a while."
"I'm not teasing you. It genuinely excites me that you are so aroused from undoing my buttons. I'm not sure what I've done to attract your attention but I'm grateful." He hisses as he grasps his cock and rubs it up and down my sex. I arch up against him.
"I'm attracted to personalities. Leaves one terribly confused about dating. Can never put my finger on what I find attractive. I just know in my bones that whatever it is... you have in spades." I tell him, a little disjointed because I'm so eager to have him push inside.
"You're sure you want this?" He asks once more. I hear real doubt in his voice.
"Yes." I breathe, opening myself as much as I can to him. "As long as you do too?" I ask him back.
"Oh little seamstress, can't you feel how much I want you?" He moans in my ear as he presses into me. I've never had a man have that response. I slide my hands around under his shirt so I can feel his back. It's all so intense, I can't quite believe it's happening.
Now that I'm inside his clothes with him I start to get a completely different sense of him. I realise the man I was so afraid of as a child is just flesh, and as I listen to his ragged breaths in my ear while we are together like this I suddenly feel he isn't the hard wall he dresses like, inside these buttons he is something else. Something soft.
I hold him as close as I can, weaving my limbs about him while trying not to impede his progress. When we began this little trade of buttons for button I had assumed we would be having very different sex. This had become some kind of love making. It was unexpected but wonderful.
I cherish every moment we spend together, being enveloped with the heat of him. I think we are exactly what the other one might have needed, someone in the universe reaching out to tell the other they are desirable. The slow and steady movements of an unhurried connection rather than hard and fast pleasure for pleasure's sake.
In the afterglow of it, we kiss repeatedly, our arms wrapped around each other. When we can't ignore that probably too much time has passed this way and we each become self conscious of taking up the other's time we separate ourselves. The shop feels freezing outside of his cassock. We dress quietly, half shy, half not. On our way back to the front door he stops me for a moment.
"I know I said this would be a one time trade, Miss Ivysil. I have to ask-"
"I live above the ice cream shop. Any time you find yourself in the alley you can drop by." I cut off his question with the answer.
He smiles and leans in, gives me a peck goodbye. "A pleasure, doing business with you." He says as he leaves the shop and I am left standing there with my fingertips pressed to my lips and I hope he is well around the corner and out of view of me when I do a little happy dance before counting the till. Never have I been inside a client's clothing with them. I hope I will remember it forever.