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I want to Snape you like an animal complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 16931 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A/N: I need to thank Ailosacath for the excellent chapter title. I’ve finally managed a longer chapter for you all. I hope it was worth the wait ;) DSxx
OO – So pleased you enjoyed the mini-feels in this one. ‘The unsure nervousness melting to desire was so delicious’ – ooh I love that xx
SnapeLove – You are so kind to find time in your busy schedule to review. I am the worst person for that at the moment. ‘tender, romantic, heartbreaking and hot’ – aww, thank you! x
LDeetz – Hahah! You got me :) More delivered!

Chapter 10 - Get a Snape-ing room
It turned out that Snape didn’t need any guidance in Boggarty sex, or any other sex tips at all for that matter. In fact, within moments of her wedging his fingers into the sweltering cleft between her legs, he had already taken the lead in their exchange. Hermione wasn’t entirely sure how he managed it but, in the process of resuming kissing her, plumbing her depths as deeply and passionately as she’d ever thought possible, Snape was somehow able to remove her jeans, jumper and shirt, as well as his own coat, leaving her shivering with a thrilling mixture of exposure and anticipation.
One strong arm cradling her back, he lifted her easily and carried her bodily to a large desk nearby. Hermione only knew of their destination when she felt the cold ridge of it against her backside, but she was oblivious to practically anything else, fixating instead upon his mouth and attempting to know him through it.
It was such an intimate exchange, to taste one another in the way that they were, to share their secret interiors so openly. And she happened to find him absolutely delicious, surprisingly so, not at all bland and stale as she might have imagined him to be. And he seemed to find her equally appealing, if the amount of time that his tongue spent inside her, exploring her with deep moaning thrusts, was anything to go by.
It was well known that Hermione was intense—confirmed by practically everyone who came into contact with her. But Snape was infinitely more intense. In fact, as he probed and plied her, his supple lips and plunging tongue fierce with desire, she could hear herself responding with what could only be described as a torrent of frenzied whimpering. It was overwhelming. He was overwhelming. And when he pressed closer, forcing her legs apart, leaning her back ever so slightly for even more direct access, she wondered how much more she could take before she would need the relief of his, equally overwhelming, cock inside the aching depths of her pussy.
But, with a sense of mounting wonder, and more than a dash of relief, Hermione quickly became distracted by the sense that Snape was capable of channelling his soul bond. Either that or he just happened to be particularly Boggarty in his sexual inclinations. Whichever it was, his next actions were not the least bit timid, his hand gliding gratuitously along her inner thigh, threading around the clingy contours of her knickers, until his thumb was nestled in the damp cleft of her pussy lips. He held it there, rotating ever so faintly, causing her swollen clitoris to strain forward, trying desperately to be involved. Then she caught her breath as the tip of his tongue entered her, beginning to stroke the underside of her own tongue, gentle revolutions, exquisitely restrained and perfectly synchronised with the undulations barely grazing her clitoris. He worked her like that until she began to shudder with the strain.
Then he tore her knickers off.
In one swift motion, they were gone, the shock causing her to cry out. But his mouth was there, smothering hers as his fingers instantly found her generously lubricated opening and, without hesitation, slid home.
“Unnnhhhh,” she moaned, her head pitching backwards as he began pumping, delving into her with deep purposeful strokes. “Oh, Gods.” Her pussy automatically clamped onto him and she felt herself being shunted backwards and forwards, her backside squeaking crudely against the desk. She propped an unsteady hand behind herself, trying to find some sort of solid purchase in order to ride him. Eventually she gripped the side of the desk, lifting herself a little to allow her pelvis to curl, meeting each of his bold, insistent intrusions with her own desperate thrusts. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she moaned, long and deep, feeling his strong fingers pumping harder, pushing her gradually, inexorably, toward a place of no return.
Then he stopped. And withdrew.
With a gasp, she lifted her head to confront him but what she saw caused a small groan of need to slip between her lips instead. His fingers, coated with her glistening secretions were resting lightly against his lips and he was inhaling deeply, eyes closed. It was so reminiscent of the classroom—that memory she had trawled over countless times, wishing it was her—that she knew this moment would imprint upon her mind forever. And when his eyes opened to penetrate her and he whispered in words softer than silk, “Sweet Water Seductress”, before opening his mouth to engulf both long digits, she thought her twitching pussy might well spill over on the spot.
He took his time sucking every drop from his immersed digits, his eyes never deviating from hers, until she found herself swallowing when he did.
“Sublime.” The word drizzled like warmed honey from his lips. That same word the Boggart had used—the only one he’d ever spoken. But before she could consider it further, he lunged at her, his mouth crushing into hers as his fingers simultaneously plunged back into her seething depths.
An escalation from the previous seemed impossible but somehow he managed it. Tilting his hand to a more vertical angle, he now targeted a specific spot, stimulating her front wall in a way that made her screw her eyes closed against the mounting sensations. She was no longer rocking. She wasn’t doing anything at all except hyperventilating and unsuccessfully trying to fortify herself against the intensity of what was going on inside her. Her legs were already beginning to shake. As his hand sped up, she jerked her head around, delivering a sharp nip to his jaw, like an animal caught between encouragement and instinctive self-preservation. She had never felt more out of control on the verge of orgasm in her life.
And yet his words, when they rumbled like the ocean in her ear, were as calm and commanding as ever. The same words that had accompanied her to orgasm alone in her room.
“It is time for you to come . . . for me.”
She couldn’t even respond in the affirmative this time, her mouth frozen open as her entire body shuddered on the precipice. His fingers slowed to almost stillness, holding her over the edge. Then he gradually began moving inside her, beckoning, curling his fingertips against her front wall, commanding her to ‘come for him’.
Reaching up, she fisted his hair in one hand, her chin burrowing into her chest as a strangled cry emerged, a staccato rhythm wrung out by the impact of each explosive convulsion. The pulses that ricocheted through her pelvis were so powerful that they simultaneously ejected small surges of fluid, impossible to contain, but a sensation that made her release feel all the more visceral and extreme. His continued agitation of that spot inside her while his other hand, clamped around the back of her neck, held her in place, prolonged her fitful jerking for far longer than any orgasm she’d ever experienced until she collapsed with a dying cry, boneless.
And then he held her.
Pulling her to his chest, he clamped his arms tightly around her as she choked and gasped, as though she’d been only moments from drowning.
It had only been an orgasm and yet she felt like she’d been struck with the Cruciatus, her body continuing to hitch and tic with the aftershocks.
Finally, after a prolonged period of feeble moaning and clinging to him, she dared to look up, trying to focus from under heavy lids.
The corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. “Was that . . . Boggarty . . . enough for you?”
Hermione’s breaths were still laboured, her shoulders rising and falling as she considered him.
Then she gathered together the most defiant smile she could muster. It was foolhardy, particularly considering how pathetically weak she felt. But it was also in her nature. “Almost.”
He lifted one eyebrow and his chin at the same time. He didn’t even need to say ‘Oh, really?’ as the rhetorical question was clearly imprinted on his features.
And when he lowered his nose again, levelling it at her as his intense gaze focused, bringing her squarely into his sights once again. She felt her breath catch.
What the fuck had she just asked for?!
With a brief flick of his hand, he rendered the desk top malleable, the hard surface sinking like a cushion beneath her buttocks. Then he guided her backwards, laying her down upon it before dragging her to the edge and spreading her legs.
The last thing she saw was the glint of fire in his dark irises, the determined set of his jaw, before he descended, burying his face in her pussy.
“Uhhhh, Gods!” One flailing hand struck the side of the desk as the other clawed at his shoulder.
Her entire nether regions were still singing after her previous orgasm and now the sensation of his tongue lapping at the glaze of juices that had been wrung from her had her writhing and moaning with a mixture of humiliation and ecstasy. It was so raw and carnal. So animalistic—as though he were somehow cleansing and restoring her, and revelling in the process as much as she was, brief enthusiastic grunts attesting to his enjoyment.
Then, when the cool damp between her legs had been replaced entirely by a coating of his own essence, as though that region were now marked as his, he began priming her once again. It started with her clitoris, his lips latching onto her swollen bundle as his tongue swirled and stroked. After a few slow, languorous undulations, he began to move his head rapidly from side to side. It pulled and pushed at her sensitive nub in a way she had never been able to achieve while masturbating. Soon she was jiggling uncontrollably beneath him, her hips on a hair-trigger that seemed to detonate every time he ground in close.
Her hand instinctively moved to the back of his head, clenching his soft tresses, encouraging him despite the fact that she was already trembling from his efforts. It didn’t escape her that this was exactly the position she’d imagined him in while masturbating, although now she realised that her imagination hadn’t come close to the intensity of feeling he was able to induce in her.
And when he suddenly shifted down, spreading her pussy folds with his fingers before plunging his tongue inside, she made it clear just how deeply she felt his impact, releasing what could only be described as a gut-clenching growl, drawn from some place deep within.
It might have sounded like she was starting to channel the Boggart, herself, but Snape appeared to be spurred on by her primal vocalisations, delving his tongue even deeper, nudging her clitoris back and forth with his nose.
Hermione felt herself building again until, with a throaty whine, she realised she was almost there.
“Uh . . . Professor you’re going to make me . . . unnnhhhh.” Her head rocked back and forth in disbelief. She didn’t even have something sensible to call him. How could she call him ‘Professor’ when his tongue had almost taken root inside her most intimate opening?
She strained forward, glimpsing his, notoriously stern, features now steeped in her glistening folds and the visual was enough . . . more than enough. “Yessss,” she hissed as she came hard.
Her thighs clenched but he was ready, pressing her open, holding her down as he continued to work her with his tongue throughout the clutching waves of her orgasm. Her hand on his head fisted and released over and over until she shuddered to a panting stop, then it relaxed, gently smoothing his locks down, acknowledging the delicious relief that now immersed her, thanks to him.
When he finally lifted his head to look at her, she leaned forward, propping herself on her elbows. “I take it back,” she said, with a weary smile. “That was more than Boggarty enough. In fact, that was . . . sublime.” His eyes shuttered slightly as he dragged a palm across his chin. There was something there, in his eyes. Something . . . unreadable. “But I have a sense that there might still be some . . . unfinished business?” She nodded at what could only be described as an obelisk tenting his crotch. His gaze heated up once again, burning her anew. “I’m ready for that when you are,” she murmured breathily, wiggling her buttocks in preparation for the onslaught. “As hard as you like.”
He growled. A low rumble in the back of his throat making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. The animal was well and truly alive. An anticipatory shiver tickled down her spine, shaking out any remaining fatigue.
With a casual flourish, he removed his trousers, tossing them aside as his erect cock ticked back and forth like some sort of erotic metronome.
Hermione couldn’t suppress her tiny whimper of excitement. She’d been worried that Neville’s imagination had been just that. But projecting magnificently toward her now, lining her up like a heat-seeking missile, was the same delicious cock she had sampled only days earlier.
He sauntered forward with a lithe grace that would make her want to fuck him if that weren’t already overwhelmingly imminent. Then, pressing a splayed hand across her inner thigh, pinning her open, he guided his cock between her legs. Hermione watched as his eyes lifted and locked with hers, dark cauldrons of simmering lust that made her feel more desirable and more desired than she could ever remember. And that sense was only heightened by the solid pressure that now urged her to open, that pressed her to accept him, that sought to fill her with fierce pleasure.
Spreading herself wider, she reached down to touch the unique blend of soft and hard between her legs, guiding him gently into her resistance. She was already incredibly swollen, but even if she’d been limbering up for hours, she doubted this would ever be anything but a tight fit. She’d thrown down a pretty brazen gauntlet earlier but was secretly glad that he was giving her time.
Rocking his hips a little, he leaned in, causing her to shudder from the acute pressure and exquisite stretch. It was beyond anything she’d ever felt before, making tears spring to her eyes.
Suddenly he stopped.
Blinking rapidly to clear the blur, she saw his tender expression and managed a reassuring smile. “Don’t stop,” she murmured. “Please.”
Brow cinching into a frown, he grasped her ankles, propping her legs up so that her heels rested on the edge of the desk, knees bent. Then he reached under each leg and gripped her by the forearms. She naturally grabbed his wrists in return, locking them into the position of the unbreakable vow.
Both arms firmly braced in his, she closed her eyes, finally allowing him to enter. How did he know? How could he tell that she simply needed his reassurance?
Moaning with ecstasy, his long, slow thrusts lifted Hermione to what felt like a new plane of awareness, one where she sensed an inexplicably cosmic level of connection with him, with this wizard that she was now blissfully adoring from under her lashes, wondering at how it could have come to this in such a short time.
His vocalisations were deep and breathy as he stroked into her, and the acute desire that was etched into his features made her wonder if he might well feel the same.
Instead of speeding up, he altered the angle of his pelvis to dig even deeper, pulling her firmly into him by the arms. He was hitting a spot deep inside her, awakening what felt like a dormant organ, nudging it into life, making it spark and flare with a wellspring of power, previously untapped.
She loved that he could do this to her. That he could open her up to parts of herself she had never known. It felt almost too good . . . too perfect.
“Are we connected?” she whispered.
“Of course.”
“Have you always known?”
“I have . . . sensed it.”
She swallowed. Breathing was becoming difficult as bubbles of fear tried desperately to surface. She swallowed again before gathering the courage to ask, “Will we stay connected?”
“I may be that fortunate.”
She stared up at him.
Him? Fortunate? To be connected to her?
It was too much.
Yanking her wrists out of his grasp, she pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck, covering his jaw and mouth with needy kisses. He gripped her around the waist, lifting and holding her as he continued to thrust.
They writhed and moaned together, one seething, flexing body, two heads drawing from one another.
Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him down to murmur urgently against his cheek.
“It is your turn to come for me now. Inside me. I want to feel you. Please.”
His rasping breaths turned more strident as he surged into her.
“Come for me . . . Severus,” she urged.
He cried out as he came, his hips stuttering and jerking against her buttocks as his tightly embedded cock shot pulse after pulse of hot seed into her deepest recesses.
She clung to him throughout before straining up to kiss his trembling lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he whispered.
“For fucking me like . . . you.”
- 9
- 10
- 11
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I want to Snape you like an animal *complete*

I want to Snape you like an animal complete