(one-shot)
Chapter 1 of 2
notsosaintlyNo, dog is NOT man's best friend.
ReviewedMAN’S BEST FRIEND
~ notsosaintly ~
The photo still moved, even though the edges were worn and it had been folded in a couple places. He had found it in a discarded issue of The Daily Prophet soon after the Final Battle. Someone had tossed it aside at a faculty meeting. Probably Minerva, he thought. Hermione had always been her favorite student.
At the time he didn’t quite understand why he had torn the page free and stuffed it in his pocket. He had done the deed quickly and felt guilty when Albus wandered by only a couple seconds after he had tossed the evidence into the trash.
It had stayed in his pocket for days. He even managed to switch it from robe to robe before the house elves took away his dirty laundry. It seemed to burn a hole in his pocket. He felt its heat through the many layers of clothing.
Every night he would take it out and stare at her face, smiling up at him and waving, next to the Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again and the ever-present Red-Haired Sidekick. They had not been back to Hogwarts since the battle on the night of their graduation. But he did not miss them. No, indeed.
How many days had it been of staring at her picture before the realization hit him, he was not aware. There was always the telltale tightness in the pit of his stomach, but he hadn’t felt that in so many years so it was no wonder he didn’t recognize it any longer.
The night he caught himself running a finger across her smiling face, he dropped the photo. It wafted toward the fireplace, attracted by the roaring flames. Perhaps he should have just let it burn, but his hands functioned separately from his brain and they caught it just in time.
Collapsing on the settee, photo in hand, he stared into her beautiful brown eyes. Her windblown hair and confident stance made him want to jump right into the moving picture and take her in his arms and... but she was a pretty young girl and he was an ugly old man.
Yet their obvious differences did nothing to quell the desire that surged within. His brain, always logical, told him it could never happen, but his body betrayed him. An old dance mind and body had played for years.
His treasonous hand trailed down his stomach until it reached the tip of that which tormented every cell of his body from the tip of his toes to the very last brain cell. Every thought was saturated with images of her, of that smiling mouth performing miraculous deeds upon his body.
The swelling beneath his hand increased, if such a thing were possible. He pushed down harder, stretching it to the side, feeling the ache grow even deeper for the girl in the photo.
Oh, how would it feel to have her hand upon him instead of his? Would she know what to do? He preferred to believe her relatively inexperienced, a novice who was very willing to learn.
Into her tight fist, he could feel himself push over and over, reveling in the slight pain caused as she pulled too sharply on his tender skin.
Imagining her wondering remarks upon the hardness of the muscle beneath the satin-smooth skin that slid so easily back and forth, his own hand traveled along her supposed path. Her gasps of pleasure at his size, at the beauty of the flesh before her, forced the tempo higher.
Such thoughts only increased his pleasure, lubricating the way. He groaned as her insubstantial tongue tentatively tasted the drop of fluid that had escaped. The shy flick of that tongue, the graze of her teeth as she took the head of his engorged erection between her lips and sucked it in.
His fingers squeezed around its edge and slid down partway in imitation of those imaginary lips. He reached lower with his other hand, photo forgotten, and cradled the heaviness that lay further below, rolling the sac in his palm and pushing it up into his body. They tightened within.
Skillfully, more so than her mouth would be, his fingers grasped and released over the top of his cock. The pressure increased the fever in his brain, the lust for the girl.
“Severus,” her misty voice echoed among the walls of his mind. And he thrusted harder, hips reflexively moving as though he were actually burying himself deep in her throat.
Her lips just barely reached around his girth, and she swallowed with each blow. How she learned this, he no longer cared. He was lost in the heat of her mouth and the tightness of her throat and the tearing of her sharp teeth.
Forward he pushed, one hand massaging his length while the other pulsed over his head, milking his desire.
The girl was no longer just in his mind. She was real. She was kneeling before him with her mouth agape, accepting him as though his essence was her lifeblood.
Her fingers dug into his hips as she pulled him into her again...and again. Harder each time. Her inexperience transformed into a skill he had not known before from any other woman. He could feel the scream of passion building from deep inside her throat as it vibrated through his skin and up his shaft, through his abdomen and exiting straight out the top of his head.
Her cry became his own as his pleasure overwhelmed him and his hand completed her task. Thrusting hips no longer moved in rhythm but jerked at incoherent intervals.
The pressure built to the point where control was simply an hallucination and he felt himself pause at the crest for a brief moment before he came tumbling down. And he fell and fell and kept falling as he emptied himself within the fleeting memory of her glorious mouth.
When he came to, the picture lay upon the floor, forgotten. And the girl still smiled and waved, oblivious to the fresh marks that streaked across her face.
~fin
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Latest 25 Reviews for Man's Best Friend
6 Reviews | 6.67/10 Average
Loneliness is always so sad, and to realize 'too late' that one is in love with someone who is out of reach is the worst kind of loneliness. Nicely written.Elura
Response from notsosaintly (Author of Man's Best Friend)
There are so many reasons to feel sorry for Severus, isn't there. Sometimes I feel bad that he was made out to be such an evil character.
I'm doing that smirking thing again that your writing is always making me do. Woman's best friend???
heheh Yes indeed...a hand is a man's best friend.. :) Very funny!
Response from notsosaintly (Author of Man's Best Friend)
No kidding, huh? *lol*
Response from notsosaintly (Author of Man's Best Friend)
No kidding, huh? *lol*
Erotic yet bittersweet, thank you!
Your right there is some really good one. Hand, damn I thought it was his penis. Oh well, either or. lolTamara
Response from notsosaintly (Author of Man's Best Friend)
You mean there's a difference?
Response from Arabella Bloodgood (Reviewer)
I thought so. I mean if he didn't have a penis what's the point. He could use anything to get off. Feet, hole in whole, etc. lol
Response from notsosaintly (Author of Man's Best Friend)
True. I just get this feeling sometimes that a man is just one giant penis. Sort of like when it takes over, there is nothing else. *snicker*
Response from Arabella Bloodgood (Reviewer)
ROFLMAO OMG so true. How ever did you get into a man's mind? LOL
Response from notsosaintly (Author of Man's Best Friend)
Maybe it's an insane wish to have tidbits to play with at times ... who really knows.
I always thought the third leg was a man true best friend. lol Some treat it like a dog tho. Tamara
Response from notsosaintly (Author of Man's Best Friend)
*snort* Ya think?