26: Rung Twelve – Her

Disclaimer: Not mine. No money. Special thanks go to JKR for sanctioning HP fanfic.

Thanks go again to the wonderful JoyCrux, who made this lovely banner! I really like its ethereal quality. Thank you JoyCrux!

26: Rung Twelve – Her

September 30th, 7:35 pm

Pulling back from the kiss, he murmurs, "Contraception?"

"I took a dose of Strigo Conceptus Potion an hour ago. It should be effective for an entire month."

He smirks. "And priced accordingly. You were so convinced of this evening's outcome?"

That hopeful.

But I practice a smirk of my own and reply, "Yes."

Voice low and rough, he says, "Then I suppose we should endeavor to get your money's worth."

His mouth is hot on mine as we move towards the bedroom. When my back hits the doorframe, we pivot around that point instead of losing momentum so that he becomes the one backing towards the bed.

By the time his legs hit its edge, I've pulled my mouth from his, and I'm about to growl at the prolonged effort of unbuttoning his frock coat.

Why didn't I research a charm to do this?

He laughs, a dark shiver down my spine, and presses my fingers away to run his through the buttons quickly. How deliciously dexterous! Tossing the coat onto a chair, he turns his attention to his shirt.

Once it similarly hangs open, I reach to push it from his body, trailing my hands across his skin. This much, I long to do. I lean in to place a kiss on his chest, breathing in the scent of skin unmasked by the vetiver that clings to his clothes, nuzzling the hair dusted across his pectorals.

Then his hands strip me seemingly effortlessly of my robes, sliding down my back and cupping my arse. When we come together this time, there is the sensation of skin on skin and warmth radiates through me from everywhere we touch, and my heart, already quickened, speeds yet another bit. Wetness tickles across my labia.

Hunger underlies the play of tongues, the glide of lips, and the nip I make before pulling back to stretch awkwardly for my bra clasp.

Shite! Why didn't I wear a front-closing one? I want more skin – now!

Then, those capable fingers glide up my back and dispose of the problem readily, continuing forward to palm my breasts as the cups drape loose. I shiver. He squeezes, nipples clasped between thumbs and index fingers, and a flurry of electrical impulses race along nerves from pebbled flesh to pulsing clit.

I shrug the bra off, pushing forward, and his hands drop to my hips so that I can drag my breasts back and forth across his chest, reveling in the feel of hair and skin and him.

He gives a low moan and his fingers tighten on my hips.

Yet the scratch of wool against my lower abdomen becomes an irritant, and I push back to remove the offending garment, tugging on his waistband. There are only five of these buttons, and I actually linger a bit longer than necessary undoing them, allowing the backs of my fingers to tease his cock through his pants, enjoying his indrawn breaths and the hunger in his eyes when I take a quick glance at his face.

One small shove, and the trousers pool around his ankles, leaving only tented black boxers and damp red knickers separating us. I step back. Our last bits of cloth slide off quickly, removed by our own hand.

I'd probably be more self-conscious if it weren't for the intensity of his expression – concerns over breast and buttock size melt under its heat.

And then there's the fact that I'm fairly distracted by seeing him naked for the first time.

Thin yet toned – all muscles standing out in relief, starkly defined. There isn't an ounce of spare flesh to be found.

Perhaps because it's all in his cock?

Said organ is a good seven inches in length and of a nice thickness. It's also already so erect that the foreskin has almost completely pulled back from the tip, exposing the darker, more sensitive flesh.

Stepping forward, I lick my palm and run its flat wetness over the head, smiling to hear him hiss as his hips buck slightly. My clit pulses in response. After a few such swipes, I raise my hand to rewet it, tasting him for the first time – salt with a tinge of bitter.

Yet as I move to touch him again, he stops me. Looking up from his cock, I see his face wears the carefully neutral look I've come to associate with him hiding something. "Hermione." It comes out a bit strangled, and he clears his throat. "Hermione, I am afraid that I will not be able to withstand a great deal of preliminary stimulation this evening."

Oh.

Oh.

I smile and mount the bed, turning to beckon him.

Lying side by side, we kiss in a swirl of tongues while touching freely. I wrap one hand around his cock, enjoying the feel of the slide of skin over hard core. His hips jerk, and suddenly fingers that had been on my nipples magically reappear to stroke my labia, circling teasingly around clitoris without providing satisfaction. My hand tightens on him, and I whimper into his mouth, sparking an answering groan.

His mouth traces a burning path down my throat to my left breast. As his tongue flicks across my nipple, I emit a little grunt and arch at the sensation, causing his fingers to brush across my clit. An electric arc leaps between the two points.

Circe!

My fingers tighten on him, causing his cock to twitch and his breath to catch.

Switching between running his tongue over one breast and then the other, he sets his fingers to teasing my entrance, and when I wiggle to hint that I want penetration, he chuckles and lifts his head to rumble, "Not tonight, my dear. Tonight nothing shall be inside of you until my cock has had the privilege."

Shite! Could he be any sexier?

My gasp of excitement causes him to smirk smugly before lowering his head to tongue my right nipple once more.

"Severus."

Goddess, could I sound more breathless?

Another pass of tongue and twirl of finger, and I arch off the bed again. "Severus."

He stops and raises his head to look at me.

"Don't hold me to this in the future, but you're not the only one who doesn't need a lot of foreplay tonight." I stretch my other hand down to cup his bollocks and roll them slightly.

Groaning, his eyes shut briefly, and when he opens them again, he smirks with amusement, his voice emerging a smoky rumble. "I do hope this does not indicate that I will have to provide another eighteen months worth of such in order to be inside of you again."

"Circe, no!"

"Good." The smirk fades, leaving behind hunger as his voice drops to a low rumble. "Because I do not think myself capable of such forbearance a second time."

His cock twitches again, and as if it flipped a switch, suddenly he's moving. I roll onto my back, and he props up my hips and slides a pillow under my arse, raising me so that my legs splay open, fully exposed. Kneeling, he uses his right hand to run the head of his erection up and down me, coating it in wetness before teasing my swollen nub.

"Severus." I reach out to him through the haze of tingling pleasure, running my hands across his chest, rubbing against his nipples.

Smirking faintly, he places himself at my entrance and pauses. Once our eyes meet, he gives the slightest push of his hips, and the head slides into me. He holds himself rigid for a few moments – mouth open, eyes drifting shut.

It feels wonderful, the stretch, but it's not nearly enough. I wiggle again and squeeze my muscles around him, making his eyes fly open, dark and intent.

Still holding his cock in place, he leans forward, placing his hands on the bed on either side of my shoulders and lowering himself for a kiss. His weight a wonderful pressure on my breasts.

As our lips meet, he slides into me ever so slowly for only a short distance. Then back out with equal deliberation, setting a torturous pace. Each thrust places him a little deeper, his cock stretching my entrance, the ridge of his head scrapping against my flesh with every withdrawal.

Tilting my hips even more, I wrap my legs around him, locking ankles at his lower back while my hands clutch the upper.

"Hermione." My name a groan.

I feel I'll go mad at the slowly building warmth, so perfect because it makes me long for more, more, more while I also never want it to end.

Until he reaches the point where he begins to stroke my G-spot.

Goddess!

My muscles clamp in response as the pleasant sensation of being filled is overwhelmed by a more intense tingling. Every slow withdrawal amps the sensation higher. Each pause he makes before entering again maddening. The return slide so deliciously slow that every nerve ending hums with a sensation that only builds as he touches the sensitive bundle of nerves, sliding over it again and again.

He's panting into my neck and across my ear as he places wet kisses every few strokes. The sound of his arousal is heady, and I turn my head, nuzzling sweat-scented skin, to capture his lips again, licking at them with fervency.

I begin to pulse my muscles rhythmically – opening for penetration, tightening for withdrawal, making him hiss an indrawn breath as I do. Always increasing my own pleasure as well.

He raises up to a kneel, and my legs unwrap to spread back instead, changing the angle once more. I can also look down to watch his cock as it slides in and out of me, my labia pulling after it as if reluctant for it to go, a visual expression of my body's hunger for him. The sight amps the tingling warmth centered in my clitoris.

Then he grasps my right hand in his left and brings it to his lips. Sucking on my fingers, he laves them with his tongue, coating them with wetness. Once finished with this assault, he whispers, "Touch yourself."

Thumb pulling back the hood, I run a saliva-slicked middle finger across my clit.

Ah, Circe!

A flash of fire from the swollen bundle of nerves and a spasm runs through my center, making my muscles clench, forcing his head even more firmly against my G-spot.

Our moans are simultaneous, even if his is lower of pitch.

Placing his hands on the underside of my knees, he pushes my thighs back even farther, stretching tight the skin of my groin, opening my labia more fully. It concentrates the sensation of his cock inside of me, and I groan in appreciation, finger moving more rapidly across clitoris. I'm panting now, breathing more and more shallowly.

I look up to see him also watching where our bodies are joined, the open-mouthed look on his face one of pleasure and fascinated concentration.

As each stroke takes him deeper, he begins edging towards full penetration, and a third feeling adds to the tingling already emanating from my clit and G-spot.

Then the three places begin to merge into one overwhelming sensation. My legs begin to shake. He pulls almost all the way out, the delicious withdrawal amazingly intense, and I feel the first pre-spasm of orgasm.

He must have felt it as well, for he meets my eyes as he slowly slides into me – this time until I feel his head bump against my cervix. A flash of pleasure shoots through me and my muscles clench around him as tightly as possible, unwilling to let go. Watching me, he pulls back only a bit and then moves forward again. Pulse. I stop breathing. Another short withdrawal, and this time he pushes against my cervix and remains pressed firmly against it as my finger blurs on my clit.

Oh, oh, oh, shite ... Severus!

An exploding vibration spirals outwards from my core – a wash of energy that tingles out to fingers and curling toes; my cunt spasms frantically as my entire center burns in blazing sensation; my mouth gapes open, and my upper body arches, yet I struggle to maintain eye contact with him even as darkness fills the edges of my vision; and my throat emits a high keen while a rushing hum fills my ears.

Aftershocks work through me as he moves again, speeding his rhythm until his hips jerk, burying his cock as his entire body tenses forward; mouth open, expression one of shock, he groans loudly. Yet his eyes remain with mine.

He is beautiful in that unguarded moment when he comes.

~~~

I'm walking a corridor of Hogwarts, looking for something important, through I'm not sure what it is; abruptly I'm standing on a stage, Severus beside me. Most of the audience is a blur, but I recognize one small gathering in front – Ginny, Tonks, and Minerva, all smiling and waving. Then a rather important-looking wizard is handing me a large trophy that strangely looks like the one given at Hogwarts for the House Cup. But I know it isn't – it's a Potions award of some sort. As I try to read the inscription, however, my hair falls across my face as it often does, and I frown, unable to move arms weighted by the prize.

Then warm fingers are on my cheek, pushing the tickling mass away, and I know they belong to Severus.

And I know that the award was both dream and waking reality.

Opening my eyes, I see Severus lying in my bed, watching me with a face once more carefully neutral.

He's still beside me.

I reach out to touch him, smiling with joy at finding him here, and his façade cracks, a softening around the eyes just before his lips twitch upwards.

I already treasure his rare smiles.