27: Rung Twelve – Him

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27: Rung Twelve – Him

September 30th, 7:35 pm

In order to spare the distraction of mundanities at a more crucial moment, I query, "Contraception?"

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

"And priced accordingly. You were so convinced of this evening's outcome?" My smirk may be somewhat smug.

Perfect.

Her return smile seems more sardonic than usual. "Yes."

"Then I suppose we should endeavor to get your money's worth." My mouth meets hers.

The dance to the bedroom is a flurry of lips, tongues, and hands complete with a half-twirl that changes who leads whom midway, though my erection, dousing rod that it is, remains fully fixed in its focus upon her.

It is not until our momentum is halted by my impact with the bed that we break apart enough to begin the suddenly serious task of disrobing.

Yet her face forms a moue of frustration before her hands are able to venture any lower than the region of my neck.

Laughing, I relieve her of the tedious task of unbuttoning my frock coat – a matter I have ample practice with – and similarly dispense with opening the front of my shirt.

The time for dalliance ends.

Especially once her hands are upon my skin, her lips brushing over my chest. Such simple actions, yet already I find my pulse speeding, my breath quickening, my cock growing insistent.

Even more quickly than I divested myself, I remove her robes, slipping them from her form and following their path with my hands until I encounter her silk-clad buttocks, which I clasp almost involuntarily.

It is of little consequence who pulls whom in for this kiss. Its import comes from its fervency – the sheer hunger of bathing in heat and wetness and striving effort. The warmth building in my erection begins to expand to encompass my bollocks, and my cock twitches as she gently bites my lower lip.

Steady, old man. Remember the reward of patience.

When she attempts to rid herself of her brassiere, I glide my hands up her back, slip the clasp, and continue forward. Soft – so soft, her skin brushed silk beneath my fingertips, her breasts a pleasant weight in my hands, her nipples hardened to sensitivity as I squeeze.

Her tremor prefaces a quick movement to fully discard the garment before she moves into me to rub breasts across me, nipples tracing paths of fire.

Merlin, how exquisite.

A moan escapes me, and I pull her closer, ever closer, relishing the pressure against my cock, the intensified tingling sensation along its length.

She breaks the kiss to step back, but only with the best of intentions. Her fingers caress my straining erection as she slowly unbuttons my trousers, and even through the fabric of my pants, I feel the heat of her fingers. Each brush sends a rush of warmth sparking along my cock as I find my breathing somewhat labored.

It is almost as titillating to observe her hands doing so, and adrenaline incites a vibration that oscillates through the long muscles of my body.

Once the rather bulky woolen garment has been disposed of, she retreats a step farther.

In unspoken accord, we remove our own remaining undergarments, eyes fixed upon the other, staring as we both bend to stand upright again.

Finally free, my erection hangs with the familiar feeling of heaviness my body associates with incipient gratification.

Yet my physical pleasure fades for a moment – always present, but no longer in my forethoughts – for Hermione stands before me fully unclothed.

Her breasts are modestly sized yet pert, nipples erect; her hips flare nicely, framing a trimmed triangle I have not yet seen from this angle; her skin is pale yet flushed across cheeks and décolletage.

She is beautiful. Beautiful in her arousal. Beautiful in her response to me.

And let there be no doubt that I will have her respond.

Before I can set any such plans in motion, she steps close to slide one deliciously wet palm across the very tip of my cock.

Bloody hell!

My body bucks to her repeated touch as the bursts of energy flash from the head of my cock across bollocks and upwards along my spine, and I feel a responding tightening in my sac.

The intensity of my arousal barely lessens as she ceases touching me in order to rewet her palm with swipes from her tongue. My eyes track every motion of the wet, red appendage as it dances across her flesh as it could dance across mine. My cock leaps.

This will be over somewhat less than impressively if we continue on this exact course.

Halting her next reach for me, I croak out, "Hermione," before clearing my throat to begin again. "Hermione, I am afraid that I will not be able to withstand a great deal of preliminary stimulation this evening."

A flash of comprehension chases the confusion from her face, followed by a genuine smile instead of amusement or derision.

Thank Merlin.

Facing, reclined upon the bed, we meet in a flurry of tongues, lips, and hands. I cradle one breast, caressing the curve of it before fingers move to pinch and stroke the nipple. Her hand grasps my cock, sliding up and down its length, inciting another involuntary spasm of pleasure to run through my body. In order to reciprocate, I relocate my hand to her center, finding her wet and trembling. Her responsiveness ever delightful, she whimpers into our kiss as my fingers tease her clitoris, causing me to moan as well. It is as if we find ourselves caught in a delicious feedback loop of hands and genitalia, lips and sounds.

Yet I break the circuit to venture into new territory, licking my way from lips to breast with a swirl of tongue and a nip of teeth.

She still smells faintly of petitgrain, but it is overwhelmed by the scent of her skin, and I find I prefer this new ratio instead – ever more Hermione.

As my tongue first courses across one tightened nipple, she emits a low-pitched sound of want and strains up from the bed, her back a bow. My fingers slide firmly over the slick nub of nerves I have been heretofore teasing, and she arches even higher.

Utterly delightful!

Just as I am about to chuckle in smugness, she clutches my erection in a firmer grip, causing me to hold my breath while the sensation of added pressure washes through me.

Deciding to increase her pleasure to bring it closer to the level I feel my own has obtained, I lave both of her breasts alternately while stroking across the wet flesh of labia, teasing her entrance. She shifts impatiently, attempting to make my finger penetrate, and I laugh lightly. "Not tonight, my dear. Tonight nothing shall be inside of you until my cock has had the privilege."

I am afraid I smirk somewhat as I observe her flush of arousal, her biting of lower lip, her hitched breathing.

Her hand continues to play over me, and my cock is finally moving past its initial extreme sensitivity and into the state where endurance becomes somewhat less of an issue.

As I return attention to her breasts, she says, "Severus."

Continuing my ministrations, I amplify a finger swirl so as to cause her to arch off of the bed again.

"Severus." Her voice sounds pleasantly strained and wanting, so I pause to offer her the chance to speak.

"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." Her other hand shifts to cradle my bollocks, rolling them in the heat of her palm and fingers.

The sensation of added tingling combines with the warmth of her hand, and I groan as the feelings merge with those from my cock.

Bloody hell, I want her.

I lower my voice, smirking as I say, "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."

For I want her for more than this once.

"Because I do not think myself capable of such forbearance a second time." Seriousness gravels my tone.

I retreat from her grasp to shift down the bed as she rearranges herself to rest in a supine position. Elevating her bottom upon a cushion so that I will be certain to stimulate her G-spot more fully, I come to kneel between her parted thighs, delighting in the display she makes: the glistening wetness, the dark pink of blood-swollen flesh. I breathe deeply to take in her scent – a scent I have missed these long months, a scent never captured in the Pensieve.

Cock in hand, I run its tip along the crease of her, circling her clitoris before teasing her entrance. Simultaneously, I glory in the feel of her wetness and the warmth I can already feel radiating from her.

"Severus." Her fingers play across my nipples, streaks of sensation adding to that already emanating from the head of my erection.

And I can wait no longer, no matter the build of pleasure such patience brings.

Catching her eyes – for I want there to be no doubt of who is with her – I push forwards with my hips, head breaching her.

Damn, how exquisite!

I freeze, held by the searing heat of her around my tip contrasting with the relative coolness of the room air on the remainder of my cock.

The differentiation is glorious.

Then she clenches her muscles around me, and I am brought back to the immediacy of the act. Seeing the look of frustrated pleasure on her face, I lower myself to rest upon her, sucking on her tooth-tortured lip, reveling in the feel of her breasts against me, nipples hard and insistent.

My shallow advance forwards is purposefully leisurely, as is the withdrawal. Continuing this routine, I find the extreme tingling focuses entirely on the sensitive head of my cock.

Her legs enfold me, heels pressed into lower back, as her fingers dig into the flesh between my shoulder blades.

Bloody hell!

Feeling her with me, around me, accepting me is heady. Voice rough, I groan her name into her mouth. "Hermione."

I continue this torturous pace for long, timeless moments, pushing ever more deeply into her body with each thrust. Then her hips give a small jerk simultaneously with her cunny clenching tightly around me.

Ah, her G-spot.

Our lips part, allowing me to hear her mewls of pleasure as I continue to stroke across the sensitive flesh. Yet her needy sounds are only part of my reward – the increased tightness of her the remainder: she pulses her muscles around me, easing as I move in, clasping as I draw out.

The slowed speed of this rhythm also serves to enhance my pleasure – each withdrawal extremely intense, amplifying the drag of the ridge of my head, sending bolts of sensation shooting back to tighten my already tingling sac.

Burying my head in her hair, I breathe her in for a time before turning my attention to placing little kisses across the shell of her ear, the arch of her neck. She turns to me and we kiss, licking and nipping, building urgency.

Merlin, I need more!

I pull back from her enough that she unwraps from me, allowing me to kneel again. Watching the slide of my cock in and out of her cunny, I realize I will not be able to maintain this level of arousal for long. The tingling of my bollocks has expanded past my perineum – the feeling of tightening pulling the skin around my anus, adding to the delightful sensations.

Drawing her right hand to my mouth, I suck in her three middle fingers, swirling tongue-drawn dampness across them until they positively drip. I lower her hand towards her center, whispering, "Touch yourself."

At that first swipe of finger across clitoris, she spasms around me, muscles working at my cock until the increase in pressure is almost too titillating.

I groan in tune with her throaty exhalation.

Slowly, old man, ever slowly.

Yet she does not unclench – the tightness almost maddening no matter how many times I attempt to school myself to patience.

Hands at her knees, I spread her wide and back, opening her more fully, and she moans approval. The combined sight of her fingers working her nub and my cock sliding in and out of her, disappearing and reappearing in synch with the pressure and heat of her wrapping around me, shoots fire through up my spine.

I am unable to determine who pants more quickly or loudly at this juncture.

As I work myself ever more deeply into her, the pause between withdrawal and penetration becomes ever more exquisite. That small amount of time allows the air to slightly cool my cock so that pushing back in is the heady sensation of diving into heat.

Over and over again, I dive.

Until she shakes under me, legs trembling, cunny clenching in the flutter of orgasmic harbinger.

I look to her face again, capturing her eyes for the length of this slow slide. Finally, I am fully seated within her, my head tapping against a firmness.

Cervix.

Her muscles clasp me so firmly that I feel I can come from that pressure alone, pleasure shooting through my cock and bollocks to linger up my spine.

But she is not quite ready.

Gritting my teeth, I pull back only an inch – I can bear no more – before returning to the full heat of her. Her grip on my cock sparking energy across the head.

And again I withdraw a short distance before pressing forwards, into her, pressing with a force that I maintain as she crescendos, her cunny spasming rapidly around me, her body arching, voice high and drawn tight, her mouth open in a surprised O, her eyes on mine.

Hermione ...

Beautiful...

I can withhold my own orgasm no longer.

My sac tightens to the point that the pressure of it merges with that of her tightness surrounding my cock, the head adding the most intense tingling sensation. My hips snap forwards one, two, three more times, implanting myself as deeply as possible into her hot wetness. The charge stored in my spine uncoils to shoot energy from my bollocks through my cock in a seemingly timeless, ongoing flow. I groan involuntarily as the rush of sensation crests to leave my entire body tingling, toes and fingers curling, breath stopped, back and legs straining, heart pounding, vision blurring.

All as I strive to maintain eye contact with her.

~~~

My entire body aches pleasantly from exertion, even my cock feeling slightly sore after the night's activities.

I remember waking periodically throughout the early morning – unused to the presence of another in the same bed – to find us sometimes pressed tightly together, sometimes sprawled further apart, yet always touching, even if only the contact of knee brushing knee, hand against torso.

We now lie with legs entangled, facing, yet upper bodies removed enough that I can observe her countenance in the faint light making its way around the edges of the curtains.

She is lovely, her swollen lips parted in relaxation, her eyelashes fluttering across the tops of her cheeks in dream, her hair a veritable lion's mane around her.

For once, even an internal sneer at the Gryffindor imagery fails me.

Beautiful. Beautiful and brilliant, and I ...

Stirring, she gives a faint moue of discomfort as a lock of hair falls across her face.

I reach out and brush it aside, the skin of her cheek soft beneath my fingertips.

Her smile upon waking to see me is glorious, and my heart trips its timing momentarily.

Thank Merlin, she has no regrets.

Reaching out to place a hand on my chest, she says a bright, "Good morning."

Lingering remnants of long-held tension uncoil, and I cover her hand with mine. "Yes. Yes, it is."

AN: A swot to the end, I did research to write this chapter! My thanks go to K, a truly delightful ex-lover who willingly answered my questions about what sex feels like for a man. I hope I did his impressions justice, even though I claim poetic license for the final result.

Thank you, everyone, for making this climb with me! I have truly appreciated all of the feedback and will continue to do so. Thanks as well for humoring my experimentation with POV and form.