Snamione >^.^<
Hermione lay sprawled on her bed, her towel hanging from the doorknob of her closet. She'd heard Severus's door open and close, and knew he was in there. She was arguing with herself, back and forth, getting nowhere, as her circular debates about Snape usually went. Was she really ready to do this with him? What they'd done so far indicated she wouldn't mind, but it was also its own situation altogether. But was it really?
She rolled off of the bed, taking a deep calming breath. After he'd taken the time to brew her the potion, she couldn't just NOT show up. Even if it was simply to explain why she couldn't go through with it. She tiptoed across the hall, her bare feet making not a sound on the carpet, and knocked on his door gently. It opened, and she stepped inside, closing it quickly after her. The last thing she'd need was for Shroge to see her standing at his door in barely anything but a thin silk nightgown.
She froze, looking around the room, awed by the transformation of the space. Nothing had really been changed, but there were white candles flickering, instead of the overhead light, casting an orange glow on the whole room, rose petals scattered across the floor and bed, and Snape, standing before her, wearing his usual black, but not at all intimidating. It was like something out of a fantasy, she thought. Or a romance novel. She looked up at him, sputtering a bit, trying to form a question.
"I've been in your head enough to know what you thought this night would be like. If it makes you happy, I'm more than willing to cater to your fantasies." He explained, smirking at her in a way that made her stomach jerk. She looked around the romantic scene, feeling tears prick her eyes. It was exactly how she'd imagined it looking, though the more experience she'd gained with Snape, the more she realized it had been just that. Pure fantasy, and not likely to be accurate.
"You're just trying to make me pliant, so I'll go along with this." She teased, forcing humor through the wash of emotions that was filling her. But he was staring into her eyes, and could likely tell exactly how overwhelmed she was by his gesture.
"I don't need to make you pliant, you've already made your mind up." He said, full of confidence, stepping towards her. His hands rested comfortably on her hips, and she found her arms twining around his neck, even as they bantered.
"And what makes you think I've decided anything?"
"You came in here after I told you my intentions. You're not demanding I retreat so we can discuss this superfluously. You're wearing a nightdress that just begs to be peeled off and left in a fancy pile on the floor..." He trailed off, his fingers skimming toward the rather short hem of the nightgown she'd transfigured just for this. For him. She bit her lip, her cheeks heating at the thought that any second now, he'd discover that she wasn't wearing anything else.
He bent to kiss her, muddling her thoughts, and pulled her farther into the room. He pulled her right onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, one thigh on either side of his, his hands gripping her bare skin, sliding up, and squeezing her bum gently. She let her fingers find his hair, combing through the slightly damp locks. She could already feel his erection pressing up through his trousers, and she tilted her hips, grinding gently against him. A low groan echoed out of his throat as he kissed his way down the length of her neck, and she slid her hands from his hair, down to his chest, fumbling with his buttons. Her fingers were shaking slightly, but one after the other, the buttons down his front popped open, and exposed his chest, and when every button had been yanked free, she pushed the sleeves from his arms, and tossed the material aside. She let her hands wander over his skin, feeling the hardness of muscle underneath.
He seemed to be touching just as much of her, letting his hands wander, exploring her waist, rubbing against the stiffening peaks of her nipples, brushing her hair back so he could nip at her collarbone. He seemed to be surrounding her, his hands everywhere, his lips distracting, and when he pulled her against him, and stood, she barely noticed. He turned, and laid her out on the bed, kneeling above her, his lips never leaving her skin as he pushed her thighs apart, and settled between them. She brushed his silky black hair from his face, and pulled his lips back to hers. All intelligent thoughts had stopped, and all she could manage to comprehend was that she wanted this, and he was still wearing far too many clothes for that to happen. She had his pants undone much quicker than his shirt, and pushed them down his hips impatiently. He slid out of them easily, leaving himself bare as the day he was born, holding himself above her. She could feel the slightly bobbing weight of his shaft against her thigh, and pulled his hips toward hers, needing the friction that would bring her to climax. He acquiesced, entirely happy to pleasure them both with the action.
"Please tell me you want this. It would be torture to have to leave you now." He whispered against her lips, sliding his shaft in long strokes along her most sensitive nerves.
"I want this." She panted back, her fingers scraping at his back slightly as he pulled away, anyway. He leaned even farther over her, the head of his cock trailing up her belly a bit as he stretched to reach the small bottle on the nightstand. She watched as he sat up a bit, bottle in hand, cock pulsing with his heartbeat, hair disheveled from her grabbing it. She couldn't really tell why they'd thought he was ugly as children, or so sour. He seemed like a raven-haired god, kneeling between her legs, confident that he'd please her. Even though he'd seemed desperate to find his own release just moments ago, when she met his eyes, all she could see was herself. He had a very firm idea of what he wanted to do to her, how he was going to make her writhe, how to keep her from feeling uncomfortable, and an amazing grasp on what she must be feeling, even though he could barely read her thoughts in the flickering candlelight.
She found herself unwilling to protest as he adjusted his position, getting comfortable between her legs, his face close enough she could feel his breath against her thighs. She heard the quiet pop of the bottle being uncorked, and closed her eyes, trying not to focus on the contents, or what was coming, or exactly what the plan was. It was better, she'd found, to simply get swept away.
He feel of his mouth kissing along her thigh made her gasp, and she felt each press of his lips, each subtle swipe of his tongue with mounting anticipation as he came closer and closer to the apex of her need. She wanted this. She needed this.
His tongue was skilled as he finally kissed her sex, and when he added a finger, a moan slid from her mouth. She felt the slight stretch as he added another finger, pumping them into that perfect spot, his tongue sweeping her into a quick orgasm as she clutched at his hair, her back arching off the bed.
"I love how easy it is to make you cum." He growled, kissing his way up her stomach, pushing the thin fabric of her nightgown up, until he'd exposed her breasts to his ministrations. She couldn't form a reply as he suckled and nipped at first one nipple, then the other, his fingers still sliding in and out of her slowly. When he pulled his fingers free, she groaned at the loss, wanting him to continue pleasuring her until she turned into a formless puddle, but he paused, his eyes staring down into her as the much larger promise of his cock pressed against her entrance instead.
"Tell me what you want, Hermione." He panted, his eyes taking in her face, the slight part of her lips, the flush of her cheeks, her bright, yet hazy eyes.
"I want you." She breathed, trying to pick from his thoughts what he wanted her to say. It wasn't easy, she was too unfocused, and his mind was too hectic, a mishmash of sensations and desires all running together to confuse with her own.
"What do you want me to do?" He teased, rubbing the head of his member up and down, muddling her thoughts even more. She wasn't afraid this time, she knew it shouldn't hurt. She was more than okay with losing her virginity to this man. But what was he asking for?
"I want you to make love to me." She demanded breathily, pulling him in for a kiss. He kissed her gently, appeasing her request, and she felt the strangest, most pleasurable sensation. He was sliding into her, she could feel the unfamiliar stretch of something so large, but there wasn't even a tingle of discomfort. With one easy movement, she was no longer a virgin. She gasped against his lips as he kept filling her, well beyond where his fingers had stopped, making her feel full in a new way.
"Does it hurt at all?" He asked, finally stopping, his hips pressed to her thighs. She shook her head, unable to form words. It was the strangest feeling, having so much of him inside of her, it brought more meaning to the word 'intimate'. When he kissed her again, she could feel him roll his hips, both against her legs, and her inner walls. She gasped as he moved slowly, trying to categorize the shockwaves that seemed to resonate from the movement. He kissed her again, a slow deep kiss that matched the pace of his hips.
With only a few thrusts, she felt herself reaching that peak again, shaking slightly against him as he kept up a steady pace. His lips pressed into her throat as she came, delivering whisper soft kisses to her warm skin. She didn't realize she was making mewling noises until his lips found hers again, muffling the sound. She was clutching onto his shoulders, hair, back. Anything she could to anchor herself to the mortal world as she was swept away on an unbelievable wave of feeling.
Severus shifted, leaning more to one side, freeing an arm from his weight, so he could pull his hand in, massaging her breast, rolling the stiff nipple between his fingers. She could feel his breath on her again, the warmth of his skin against hers, and the slight damp of sweat. The way he'd shifted changed how his thrusts felt, and her eyes rolled closed, leaving her with only the feeling of him against her, inside her, surrounding her.
Her mind felt scrambled, and suddenly, he was going faster, making her world implode into another wave of numbing pleasure, until he finally slowed, and stopped, simply lying atop her, breathing heavily, nuzzling the side of her neck.
"Are... are you finished?" She panted, a bit disappointed, daring to wiggle her hips against his, enticing more from him.
"I'm close, but no... not finished. Not even close to finished." He growled, sliding his hands under her, and rolled onto his back, pulling her atop him easily, though his manhood slipped out, as he shifted, leaving her straddling his hips, his erection lying against his belly, just underneath her. She stared down at him, the straining cock that twitched under her gaze, the pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his arms outstretched so his hands rested on her hips. He looked like the embodiment of male sexuality, and she couldn't help the smile that stretched her lips as she met his eyes. She wanted him, and he knew it. She knew exactly what he wanted, too.
She took his shaft in hand, and held it in place, lowering herself onto it, relishing the satisfying feeling of him inside her. He was staring transfixed as she impaled herself on him, eyes darting between his disappearing cock, and her twisting expression. He seemed to be content to simply lie there, and watch her enjoy herself on top of him. His scrutiny made her face heat with a self-conscious blush, but she couldn't bring herself to look away from him. With every small movement of her hips, his expression would change, just so slightly, his fingers would squeeze her hips when he particularly enjoyed a movement, and his blazing eyes made her feel bold, and beautiful.
Hermione rested her hands on his chest, using his body as leverage to bounce slightly up and down on top of him. This pulled a groan from him, and a triumphant, breathy chuckle from her as she brought him that much closer to his own climax. It was a strange power she felt, bringing him off by simply indulging her own pleasure, having him at her mercy as she slowed to a teasing movement. She loved the way his hips bucked, trying to keep the ecstasy going as Hermione tormented him. She loved the way his eyes fell closed, and he growled quietly, his hands skimmed down her thighs. She loved the way he seemed to know exactly what it took to get her worked back into a frenzy, his fingers delving between them to coerce another climax from her, and the irritating way her hips bucked back and forth seemed to be exactly what he'd wanted as her involuntary movements drew him toward his own edge. He flipped her roughly back to the bed, kissing her mindlessly as his hips snapped fiercely against hers.
Hermione savored the weight of him over her as he finally rested, his breathing hard, his shoulders trembling slightly as he held himself up just enough to let her breathe. She let her fingers rake through his hair, memorizing the dampness from the sweat, the sound of his overworked breathing, and the warmth of his skin against hers.
Severus rolled to the side, heaving a sigh of satisfaction while he propped his head up on his arm, looking down at the thoroughly shagged witch under his other arm. He was pleased with the way she looked, with his possessive limb as her only covering, cheeks flushed, and lips reddened from his kisses.
Hermione rolled into the embrace, hiding from his thoughts in his chest, and borrowing his warmth to stave of the sudden chill that was creeping across her bare skin. She could feel his face press into the top of her head, and then, to her embarrassment, she felt a warmth trickle down the back of her thigh. She pulled away, her face burning, as she tried to think of a way to politely excuse herself to the toilet.
She made the mistake of meeting his eyes, her flaming flace, awkwardly placed arms as she sat up, and firmly held together legs, seemed to give away exactly what she was trying to hide.
"You won't conceive, the Virgin's Balm prevents it." He said, drawing the wrong conclusion, his hand trying to pull her gently back down. She pulled further away, her face feeling as if it were on fire, unable to meet his eyes again.
"I know. I'd still like to erm... clean up a bit." She muttered, scooting away, and scanning the floor for her nightgown. No way was she walking to the loo starkers, with semen dripping down her thighs.
"Don't bother." His voice was serene, calming, despite her sudden humiliation. "There are spells we can use when we're done."
"Like scourgify?" She asked, curious, before the oddness of his words registered. "Are we not done?"
"Just catching my breath. I'm not as young as I once was, but I'll be damned if that's all I have in me." He smirked, making her giggle nervously. "Not scourgify, but I will teach you." He promised, finally managing to drag her into his chest. "There are a few other things I want to teach you, first, though."
She looked up at him, feeling a small curl of worry in her belly.
"Was it not... good?" She asked, not sure if she should sound more offended than hurt.
"You were fantastic. But I was holding back, to cater to your fantasy. Now, however, I think I'll cater to one or two of my own." It sounded more like a warning than a promise, and she shivered against him, swallowing nervously at the thought of the many fantasies he might pull inspiration from.
It was looking to be a much longer night than she anticipated, but as she looked up into his onyx stare, she couldn't find one thing that would scare her off anytime soon...
(2867 words)