Please Please Me

Chapter 6: Please Please Me

Notwithstanding the mid-air rescue, Severus had never before flown with another person. His experience whilst saving Hermione could hardly be relied upon as sufficient research, other than the fact it proved he could support both their weights quite easily. He hadn’t actually flown with her into the clearing; it had been a simple matter of landing her safely upon the ground. Any study he might have accomplished during the brief journey had been moot anyway. His attention had been unfairly diverted by the sight of her rather amazing arse and a pair of silky blue knickers. Therefore, he hadn’t quite known what to expect when he’d granted her request for transport to Fieldstone.

Snape’s Taxi Service, he thought. Always ready to assist the stranded witch in need.

The clinical, detached part of his mind contemplated a cause for the powerful, physical reaction he’d had the moment she’d wrapped her arms around his neck. A different part—the part he rarely listened to—acknowledged no other woman had ever made his body react so violently. She possessed a unique ability to stir his senses. The first part got to work formulating several excellent, precise reasons for his body’s sudden desire: scientific explanations involving pheromones; biological reasons regarding the laws of nature and the need to copulate; magical explanations like the power he channelled manifesting in new ways at her proximity. He’d even considered the fact that it had been quite some time since he’d pleasured himself with a woman. The hero title had made it easy to find a willing woman to bed, but he had quickly tired of shallow sex. Well… Perhaps not all that quickly, but he’d certainly become more selective. He rejected each of these possibilities, however, since none could account for his unique history with Hermione or things like admiration and respect.

Or those damn knickers.

He caressed her back, unwilling to accept the reality of how perfectly she fit into his embrace. He could feel her chest moving fast against his, rising and falling with each short, shallow gulp of air. He wondered if her fear of flying was to blame or if, perhaps, she was just as affected by their physical contact. The prospect of her responding with even half the force of what he felt caused the erection that had been steadily straining against his pants to surge upwards. He quickly shifted her higher. Her startled gasp made his body shake with need until he felt both incredibly strong and weak at the same time. Energy and desire coursed through his veins. His body burned everywhere she touched him. He searched the horizon for the rooftops of Fieldstone, desperate to set her down and do something—anything—to relieve this sudden ache.

At last he glimpsed small cottages and a tiny village. He scanned the area for a likely landing spot and chose a narrow, deserted lane behind the inn. His feet touched the ground close to the whitewashed stone building, and he stepped forward as her long, smooth legs uncoiled from his waist. By the time they stilled, he had manoeuvred them against the building, her back to the wall.

He drew away, just far enough to look down into her face. She seemed reluctant to remove her arms from his neck. He knew at once he had not imagined her state of arousal: her face was flushed; her eyes were enormous, the pupils enlarged to the point where very little light brown pigment remained. Her lips parted, full and soft and begging to be kissed. He watched her tongue swipe her lower lip as thoughts of how she would taste tortured him.

He looked into her eyes again, and although he’d given his body no command to move, his face lowered. She was breathing impossibly fast now, quick breaths fanning his face as he drew nearer. Her hands tightened behind his neck, as if urging him forward. His hands moved of their own accord, sliding from her back to the sides of her waist, drifting up over her ribs, until he felt the gentle swell of breasts against his palms. The sound of her breath catching in her throat had him stepping forward, pinning her body against the building with his chest.

Her arms moved, and he experienced a sudden flash of fear that she would push him away. But one hand trailed along his neck while the other sought his temple and delved into his hair. She seemed to be fascinated by her own movements. Then her eyes returned to his. The warm brown depths flashed with hints of gold. Her lids grew heavy when his hands moved to cup her breasts.

“Severus…” It was spoken like a plea, her voice rough.

Hearing his name on her lips broke him. He prided himself on control, but he could almost hear it snapping in two. He was barely aware of his mouth descending upon hers, feeling nothing but her lips. They were warm and lush, firm and yet impossibly yielding to his demands. She tasted sweet and young and perhaps just a little salty—like crisps—and the odd mixture heated his blood. Her mouth opened to him. He explored and devoured, unfiltered lust stabbing him when she captured his tongue in her mouth and alternately stroked and sucked it until he lost the power to think.

Desire turned the edges of his vision red. His ears rang with the sound of rushing blood. He used his chest to hold her against the wall while he grabbed her thighs, yanking her legs back up and around him. She pulled her mouth away, her frantic gasp echoing in the quiet alley. Her head turned and exposed the creamy skin of her neck. He feasted on the delicate expanse, his lips possessive as they trailed down her throat. He was only vaguely aware of his hips grinding against her in a rhythm older than time. Skilled fingers travelled along her thighs, wending beneath her skirt. Soon he encountered the little blue knickers: his hands cupped and squeezed the fine arse he’d glimpsed earlier in perfect timing to the rocking of his hips. Her pure, female moan of pleasure wrapped around him, spurring him on while demanding fulfilment. She was his, and he had to claim her as such. He had to have her. Now. His fingers tugged at silk, his teeth scraped her neck. He was going to fuck her. Right here. Broad daylight, completely exposed, against a wall—he didn’t care. All that mattered was losing himself inside her. The sound of fabric tearing heralded his success. Nothing could stop him now.

Nothing, that is, except the back door of the inn slamming open and one very large, very irate innkeeper screaming at them. Hermione shrieked and scrambled away, clawing to climb up and over him like a cat about to be skinned.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” shouted the innkeeper.

Severus held up his hands in a placating fashion, but he had difficulty grasping what had just happened. His mind and body were far more focused on protesting the loss of the woman than worrying about the man lumbering closer. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her fleeing around the side of the building. He snorted.

So much for Gryffindor bravery.

“You think this is funny?” asked the innkeeper. “What’s the matter with you, eh? There are children inside!”

He muttered a hasty apology and headed in the direction he’d last seen Hermione. More than likely, she had already Apparated far away. He rounded the corner and searched anyway.

A/N: Karelia was especially kind and never once complained about having to beta 90 pages of Exchange fic with two days of lead-time. I don't deserve her!