Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Scattered	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25019 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I don't make any money from this fiction.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
To The Touch
“Professor…” Her voice was still thick with her previous tears, and with the fear of her own selfish desires.
“Hm?” His head jerked slightly, as though he’d been looking elsewhere, and had looked back to her face when she spoke. She swallowed nervously, and pushed herself to her knees, keeping her eyes from his, knowing that she would be unable to hide her thoughts from him, that she was too anxious.
“Close your eyes, and don’t move.” She ordered, shuffling the short distance into his space. She looked at his chin, and watched from her peripheral as he studied her a moment, and then let his eyes fall closed, protecting her from his searching gaze. She looked into his face fully, then, inspecting the wearied shadows under his eyes, the soft lines that were starting to show on his forehead from years of scowling. His eyelashes were dark, casting more shadows across his bruise-like half-moons of exhaustion. His skin was pale, but clear, no longer having the same oily texture his hair had had. There was slight stubble across his chin, darkening his jawline, and making him seem even more virile. His lips were a pale pink, his nose was prominent, and his brows, she noticed, had a nice shape. They weren’t bushy, or too thin, or patchy. They arched elegantly into the hair that framed his face, and led Hermione’s eyes right to the silky black curtain that looked so soft.
“Keep them closed.” She reminded quietly, lifting her hand. She didn’t want him to read her expressions any more than she wanted him to read her mind. She’d be done for if he knew just how much she enjoyed staring at him, touching him.
Her fingers closed around a small strand of his hair, and she twisted it lightly, feeling the texture. It really did feel like silk. She pushed her hand more fully into his hair, running her fingers along his scalp, and then down to the tips that brushed his shoulders. He gave the tiniest twitch of his head, but no other indication that he even realized she was touching him. His face remained impassive, and his hands stayed on his thighs. She repeated the motion, enjoying the fullness of his soft hair. She buried her other hand in the opposite side of his hair, holding it away from his face, and taking in the view of his high cheekbones, and the tapered ends of his eyebrows. Without his hair in his face, and without a sneer in his features, he looked almost regal. His contrasting hair and skin tones added to the sharp allure of his features. He no longer looked demonic, and without the vicious fear his usual face instilled, he was more attractive than anyone would have ever thought him capable of being.
She kept her thoughts to herself, and pushed his hair back further, revealing white ears from amidst the dark shield of hair. She smiled ruefully, thinking that it might’ve been the first time she’d ever actually seen his ears. She let her right-hand fingers skim the contours of one ear, and his head jerked more violently, his lips twisting in discomfort, his brow creasing for a moment, before he stilled, returning to an impassive statue beneath her touch.
“Do you not like your ears being touched?” She inquired, holding her fingers away from the pale shell, in case he was strangely ticklish. His brow creased, but his eyes stayed closed as he answered.
“I wasn’t expecting it.”
Well, he hadn’t told her not to, so she tested it again, skimming her fingers around the outer curve, and then back up the inner slopes, keeping her fingers feather-light, and watching his face off and on as she searched for any ticklish spots. He didn’t even twitch a muscle, his face as still as ever, his head locked into place. So she searched lower, trailing her nails down the side of his neck, feeling suddenly vengeful. He’d teased her for weeks, and if she could find his most sensitive patch of skin, she could use it against him in future. He didn’t flinch at all, and she frowned, contemplating making a quick lunge for his stomach. He’d likely be furious if she made so bold a move to tickle him. She was rather enjoying him being calm and compliant, and decided against it. She could surreptitiously try tickling his torso if he tried to snog her senseless again. She could claim it was an accident.
She slid her hand back into his hair, feeling rather greedy as she fondled the black locks with enthusiasm. She’d done Ginny’s hair on occasion, but it was a totally different sensation from touching a grown man’s hair simply for the pleasure of feeling it.
“Is this irritating you?” She asked, mildly curious, wondering what his passive mask was hiding. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to enjoy being stroked like a dog.
“No.” He answered, not offering anything else.
“Do you like it?” She attempted to glean more from him, staring at his face once more. His lips twitched with some suppressed thought, before he answered.
“It’s… pleasant.” His brow furrowed, and she could see his eyelids twitch with the desire to open.
“No peeking.” She ordered, pulling her hands away slightly. He gave a short sigh, but kept his eyes closed.
“May I ask why you’re adamant about me keeping my eyes closed?” He sounded a bit peeved, and she understood why without having to see in his head. He was so used to being able to know nearly everything, simply by watching, that without his eyes, he felt nearly bereft. He had no idea what she was thinking, and it was driving him mad.
“For the same reason you want them open. You’re much too good at reading people, even without eye-contact.” She answered honestly, and decided to elaborate a bit to her own embarrassment. “I want to look at you without the embarrassment of you looking back.”
He made a deep noise of understanding in his throat, and made no other move, letting her get back to her inspection without his arguing.
“Did you notice how nice your hair’s started to look?” She asked, partly wanting a real answer, and partly just wanting to hear his voice again. It was deep, nearly as smooth as his hair, and was making her want to kiss his throat, to feel the vibration of his voice against her lips.
“Yes.” His answer was short, and unsatisfying. She frowned at him, thinking quickly of a way to get longer replies, without sounding too interested in making him talk.
“Why was it so oily before?” She knew part of the answer, but congratulated herself on finding a simple interrogation that would garner a multiple word response.
“Side-effect of brewing potions, mostly. Likely also the hempseed oil I combed through it to keep it out of my face.”
“You purposefully made your hair greasy?” She prompted, and saw his eyelids twitch again, but remain closed.
“I don’t particularly care what my hair looks like.” He admitted. Hermione looked him over, and wondered if he was lying.
“Then why do you keep it long?” She asked, watching her fingers play with a portion, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.
“It’s familiar.”
“Have you ever had short hair?” She asked, trying to picture it.
“Once.”
“Show me.” She demanded, pushing her own thoughts back behind a barrier of amusement at the thought of him with cropped hair. His eyes slowly slid open, and she met them, eagerly accepting the memory he was presenting.
He was twelve, and standing in front of a mirror she recognized as the bathroom in Spinner’s End. His face held revulsion, and his fingers touched the black locks that had been sheared to the same length, barely two inches, all across his head, giving him a layered look. The thickness of his hair made it poof out slightly, and whoever had cut it had clipped the fringe into a straight line above his eyebrows.
Hermione let out a sharp bark of laughter, and broke from the memory, clamping her mouth shut, and offering Snape an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” She apologized, unable to wipe the amused smile completely from her face.
“Had it not been my own head, I might find it amusing as well.” He forgave her, and stared up, his eyes searching hers.
“Uh-uh! Eyes closed again.” Hermione ordered, looking away until she was sure he’d complied. When she looked back, his eyes were closed, but his brows were raised in an indication that he wasn’t obeying easily.
“Good.” She praised, and sifted her fingers through his hair gently, as though rewarding a pet for doing a trick. He said nothing, but his brows inched higher. She looked him over, letting her fingertips twine in and out of his hair as she stared down at his muscles encased in black cotton. She refused to pull his shirt up and inspect the area she’d been spying on earlier. Instead, she let her hands drop to his shoulders, and felt her way delicately down to his forearms, sitting back to rest her legs as she went. She lifted one wrist, and held his hand up, investigating the slim fingers that had turned his pages, and the well-kept nails. His hands were a good shape, matching her earlier decision of ‘elegant’. They were the kind of fingers one might see dancing over piano keys, long, and much bigger than her own. She pressed her own palm to his for a comparison, lining their fingers up, pleased that he silently stretched his own digits out willingly for her to play with.
Her fingertips came to barely the second joint of his own fingers, and his palm was a good two centimeters wider. His wrist was fairly slim, and she traced the joint that protruded from the sleeve of his shirt, feeling the thick prickle of his arm hair against her fingertips. She circled her fingers around his wrist, and pushed his sleeve up, not daring to look and see if he was peeking. If he was, he would be able to see her fascination as she skimmed her fingers through the black hair on his forearm, and the horror as she turned his wrist over, and realized it was his left. The Dark Mark glared up at her, and she froze, her eyes locked on it, suddenly worried that if she so much as breathed on it wrong, it would summon the evil who’d put it there.
She noticed that his hand had balled into a fist, and swallowed, forcing her words out.
“Is it safe to touch?” She asked, barely breathing the words.
“With anything but a wand.” He replied shortly, and she glanced up, in case he was peeking. He wasn’t, and she could see no emotions betrayed on his face. She looked back to the black image on his arm, wetting her lips nervously, as her fingers slithered closer to the tail of the snake. He didn’t seem to be breathing, and she realized she was holding her own breath, her fingers hovering just on the edge of the Mark, hesitating.
“Does it hurt to touch?” She asked, looking back at his blank face, watching his lips move in a nearly inaudible ‘no’.
Her eyes fell back to the tattoo, and she brushed her fingers over it with a quick motion, bracing herself for the worst.
Nothing happened, and she let out a soft sigh, skimming her fingers more slowly over it, feeling the smoothness, searching it for any hidden ridges. It was completely flat, but slightly cool to the touch, and she caressed it again, pressing her fingers more firmly into the blackness, feeling the patches of warm pale skin between the lines of cool ink.
“It’s cold.” She observed aloud, hoping for an explanation.
“It’s the magic. It leeches my body heat where it touches, to feed on.”
“It feeds on you?” She asked, suddenly horrified. His eyes opened, and met hers, his right hand moving to cover the mark, hiding it from view.
“Yes. And it’s tied to the Dark Lord, so it’s impossible to remove. It won’t eat you.” His voice was lighter, teasing. Hermione offered a small smile, and pried his fingers off, looking back at the black mark.
“If you touch it with your wand, will he know you’re alive?” She asked, holding his fingers trapped in one hand, and touching the mark again, inspecting the chill in it once more.
“Not by the touch alone. He’s unable to discern the difference of who’s summoned him, but it would bring him right through our wards, and he would see I was alive.”
“Do you wear long sleeves to keep it covered, or because you like them?” She asked, wondering if the black covering him from neck to ankles was really a preference, or a comfort.
“Both. If we’re stuck camping through to August, I may deign to roll them up, though.” He admitted his humanity easily, and she grinned, thinking back to her school years. He never would have admitted that anything made him uncomfortable, even if he were baking in four layers of black under a summer sun, with a warming curse placed on him.
“Why not just wear short sleeves?” She bantered, unable to properly imagine him in something so breezy. Even his cotton sleep shirt was form-hugging, and seemed like one of the least relaxed pajamas he could have worn.
“Short sleeves offer no protection. By rolling my sleeves up instead, I can easily roll them back down, too.” He demonstrated, quickly yanking the fabric over the Dark Mark, hiding it from view.
“Oh.” Hermione nodded, and pulled her hands away, fighting the urge to push his sleeve back up. The Mark stood for everything that was against Muggleborns, and she felt like staring it down until it held no power over her.
“It’s getting late, perhaps we should turn in?” He offered, and she nodded dumbly, keeping her eyes lowered as she scooted back to her roll, and lied down, keeping her eyes from him as she tucked herself into bed.
He kept his own peace, and flicked the lamp off, rustling into his own pile of covers.
“Goodnight.” she whispered through the dark, feeling strange offering the platitude to him.
“Sleep well.” His deep voice replied, making her acutely aware of how very small the tent was. She was suddenly on pins and needles again, her relaxed legs and shoulders having nothing to do with her inability to sleep. Her eyes were wide open, and her lungs couldn’t seem to decide if they wanted to hold her breath, or hyperventilate. She could hear the soft stirring as he shifted, a brief, spartan movement.
She forced her eyes closed, and was greeted with the image of his pale hip revealed by a simple movement, the lines of his hands, the curve of his shoulders as he relaxed under her stare. She rolled to her stomach, her thighs clenching together as she tried to fight off the images of Snape’s hand around a girl’s throat, the pleasure he’d taken in ramming into her. She could almost still feel the quaking bliss of his orgasm, and her center was burning red-hot in seconds. She wanted to bury her face into his chest, and let him rock her into oblivion, just like he’d done for that other woman.
She held back a whimper of despair, and pressed a hand into her shorts, trying to relieve the tension that seemed to ratchet higher with every silent moment she spent dying slowly of her own fiery lust. She rubbed gently, her face an inferno of shame as she realized what she was doing, not four feet from the cause.
“If I’m forced to tie you to a tree to get some sleep, I will.” His voice was mildly peeved, and she swallowed forcefully, stilling her hand, not wanting to be caught in the act of something so humiliating. He was silent a few moments, and the silence pounded at her ears, relieved only by his breathing. Her lungs were burning, and she let her breath go, her hips moving slightly against her palm, her fingertips against her heated crotch making her freeze again.
“For the love of Merlin… Don’t suffocate yourself, it’s not your breathing that keeps me awake.” He muttered as she gasped in another quiet lungful of air. Her face flushed hotter, and his rich, warm voice filling the tent just made her tension even worse. She forced herself to keep breathing, slow, ragged breaths in and out, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she squeezed her eyes closed, and tried to pull her hand away ever so quietly. The sleeping bag rustled damningly, and she winced, making the motion quick, getting it over with. Both hands tucked under her pillow, curled on her side, she faced the wall. Her thighs rubbed together, providing herself with any small modicum of stimulation she could, desperate to ease the swelling discomfort of her nethers. The dark was like a poison, or perhaps an aphrodisiac, making her suddenly unable to think about anything other than her proximity to him, the memories of his pleasure, the experience of looking at him, touching him.
A deep, long sigh sounded from behind her, and she froze, realizing the rustling her thighs had been making a moment too late.
“Sorry.” She muttered, and held herself rigidly still, forcing her thoughts to focus on the sounds around her, trying to clear her mind. She should be exhausted, it was well past midnight, but her body seemed tireless as her mind focused on the soft rustling of sheets behind her.
“Do I need to massage every muscle in your body to get you to sleep?” His voice was quiet and provocative, making her think about just that.
“No, I’m not in pain.” She croaked, desperately willing herself to sleep.
“Then stop moving.” His tone was instantly grouchy, and she grimaced, wondering just how quickly he was able to fall asleep. Would she be able to relieve some portion of her discomfort after he drifted off? She counted slowly to one hundred, and shifted to her back, testing to see if he’d snap at her again. There was silence but for his breathing. She hesitantly slid her hand down her front, and pressed her fingers gently into the pulse between her legs. She was hot, and she gave an experimental swirl of her fingers, noting how strangely the fabric slid around. She was absolutely soaked, and as her fingers pressed into the thin cotton, she could feel the damp seeping through her clothes. She grimaced, and lifted her hand slightly, wondering if it would be worse to continue, or worse to stop. The thumping discomfort that took back over made up her mind, and she slipped her fingers into her shorts, separating the pink from most of the wetness, hoping to salvage some portion of her dignity. Her fingers slid over the wetness that saturated the crotch of her knickers, and she rubbed slightly, ignoring the slight rustle of the sheets, hoping to get close, just once, remembering how much easier the need had been to ignore after the hot flashes of unbearable pleasure.
A soft noise of movement from Snape paused her fingers, and she waited to a count of ten before deciding he’d rolled over in his sleep, and continuing. Her breathing was quick, shallow, and harsh, her tongue darting across her lips with nervousness, and arousal. Her hips were tilting slowly, against her will, shifting the sheets noisily underneath her, though the slow circles of her hand barely disturbed her covers.
The pressure built, higher and higher, and an electric feeling shot through her, making her hips twitch, and her fingers slip away, stopping the pleasure before she truly crested. Hermione dropped her hand, and groaned, realizing that as she’d gotten closer, she’d hoped that she might be able to actually complete her task after all. She glared through the darkness at where she imagined Snape lay hidden in all his black, and muttered a low curse, hating him for his easy sleep.
“It’d be much easier to sleep if you’d keep it down.” His voice shot back, and she felt her face flush as she gasped in surprise.
“You’re awake!?” She was horrified, and sat up, staring in his direction as she considered running from the tent, as far as she could get. She heard the rustle of him sitting up as well, and saw the pale outline of his face in the blackness of the tent.
“Unless this is some cruel dream, yes.” He said dryly, and she glared.
“Well don’t worry, I’m going to sleep now!” She said, feeling like a wooden figure in some poorly scripted game of make-believe. She flopped onto her back, and heard the sigh that escaped his lips.
“Will you let me help you?” His voice was a whisper, but seemed to expand into every crevice of the room, making her flush as she thought of his hands rubbing her.
“I don’t need help falling asleep.” She shot over at him, putting as much acid into her tone as she could.
“Clearly you do, or we’d both be unconscious by now.” His tone returned her venom, and she felt her pride sting at his words. She didn’t need another reminder that she was unable to satisfy herself.
“How exactly will you help me sleep? A nice big club over my head?” She snarked, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling bitter in the wake of her failed orgasm, and willing to lash out at him if he was so eager to argue.
“I don’t have to beat you over the head to knock you out. I could just finish what you started.” His voice was like honey: sweet, tempting, but with all the horror of a hive of bees coming for her. He knew.
She wished desperately for a black hole to open up and swallow her whole, but none appeared, leaving her to the mercy of a much-too perceptive man.
“I wasn’t doing anything!” She denied, hearing the falseness of her own voice, and cringed.
“Mmhm, and would you like me to do ‘nothing’ to you, as well?” He said, his verbal quotations on ‘nothing’ emphasizing his innuendo.
“I doubt you’d be any better at it!” She snapped, feeling her uncooled blood pound through her, making her want to embarrass him as much as he had done to her simply by hearing. There was a brief rustle of movement, and suddenly, he was leaning over her, his face just visible, surrounded by inky blackness.
“Are you willing to bet money on that, Miss Granger?” His voice was a heavenly mixture of sweet and sin, promising her that he’d win any bet she lay down, and promising too, that by the time he’d won, she wouldn’t care about the score.
“N-no.” She stammered, shrinking back into her pillow, unnerved by how he looked looming in the darkness, his lips twisted in an evil smile.
“You’re not? Pity.” His voice was angelic, his head tilted toward her, his hair tickling her face as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I would’ve loved watching you eat your words.” The way he said it made it seem as though he’d found a way to take even the most innocuous sentence and turn it into a double entendre. She had no idea what ‘eat your words’ might otherwise represent, but the imagery of his mouth, biting at a pale thigh was nearly too much. She gasped in a breath, and forced more words out.
“There will be no eating, of anything.” She argued, pushing the thought of him licking his way across her skin away.
“Nothing? Not even a nibble?” He teased, his lips caressing her ear as he spoke, sending a jolt of lightning through her. She jerked away, uncrossing her arms to place her hands on his chest. A chest that was much closer than she’d thought, only a few centimeters from her own. She could see his face above hers again, his black eyes staring down at her through the darkness, seeming to burn with a fire of their own.
“Not even… the smallest… taste?” He practically purred, his face right above hers, his lips close enough to kiss if she leaned up just a little. Her breath was unwilling to cooperate enough for her to form words, and she felt tongue-tied, her heart pounding harder than ever, as he pushed the last inch forward, and kissed her.
Her hands slid up his chest, and into his hair, holding him in place as his lips gently touched hers, the lightness of the touch threatening to end any moment. She’d meant to push his head away, but her fingers tangled in the black silk of his hair, and she pulled him closer, her back arching slightly as she pressed her lips greedily into his. He kissed back earnestly, capturing her lips with his, his hand warm on her hip and trailing heat to her ribs.
His teeth captured her bottom lip, and she clutched him tighter to her, desperate for more of him. His fingers were pushing her shirt up, touching her bare stomach, and revealing the very underside of her bra. She felt like his fingertips were leaving trails of electrical fire in their wake, causing her to arch up into him further, whimpering slightly with need.
“Please…” his voice was a gravelly growl as his fingers slid to her bare hip, and trailed along the top edge of her shorts. “Let me do this for you.”
Several things skimmed through her head; a sarcastic comment that it was really ‘for her’, the familiar fear of a painful, unromantic first time, his earlier promise not to deflower her- yet, and the rarity of him actually saying ‘please’. His fingers felt like a curse, muddling her sanity, and making her want to agree to anything he suggested, regardless of the consequences.
“Look at me.” She panted, holding his face, and staring at his dark eyes, barely able to make them out. But it was enough. She felt the heated red waves that filled him, the glittering yellow of the feel of her underneath him, kissing him back. She could feel the shaking restraint of his arms as he smoothed his fingers over her stomach, keeping the sexual violence in him pushed far back, where it couldn’t escape and frighten her. He wanted to give her what she needed, but knew she’d be too scared if he presented her with the entirety of what he could make her feel. So he focused on what he knew she would appreciate: her first orgasm, unhindered by her own inexperience, and the darkness surrounding them to keep her from feeling humiliation.
“Can you see my thoughts?” He asked, his head cocked slightly to the side, his voice slightly amused.
“Yes.” She panted back, reading his amazement in his thoughts, for a split second, before he descended, kissing her again. His lips were quick, and she could feel his smile as he muttered between kisses.
“You have… no idea… how powerful… you are…” His voice was broken by his lips trailing kisses from her mouth to her neck. She gasped and curled against him as his lips touched the sensitive skin over her pulse, a mixture of tickling and enjoyment as his nose trailed downward, and he lifted his head again.
“You… can’t?” She finally managed to gasp the question, prying her eyes back open to meet his. His thoughts were right there, easy as ever for her to read.
“No.” He answered, squinting down at her, trying, but she could see plainly that he got nothing except the outline of her face, her hair curling across her pillow. He was proud, the rushing emotion filling her with a sense of accomplishment. She could do something he was completely incapable of.
His pride was buffeted away like driftwood on a sea, the sensation of her soft skin under his fingers completely distracting him from her success. She felt his fingers slip a tiny bit under her waistband, trailing across her abdomen with a teasing, begging thought.
“You’d do anything to sleep, wouldn’t you?” She teased trying to alleviate her nerves, and felt the chuckle that rumbled through his chest.
“Absolutely anything.” He agreed easily, his thoughts flashing a flirtatious fuschia before settling back to the heated red passion as he swept her into another searing kiss. Her thoughts scattered again, and her fingers tightened in his hair once more, silently showing her enjoyment of the kiss. Pleasure shot through her, and she groaned aloud, before she realized the cause. He’d settled between her hips again, and had pressed the hardness of his own arousal into her, rubbing in a tantalizing, and gratifying way. Hermione felt her face flush in the dark, and gripped his shoulders tightly, torn between the heat of the pleasure, and the embarrassment of having this man on top of her, rutting against her in a clothed imitation of lovemaking.
“If you’re so sure of yourself, then… You’ll have no problem if we keep our clothes on?” She panted, trying to find a balance between her lust and worry. His thoughts were a swirling haze of emotions and sensations, all his own as he stared through the dark into her eyes.
“None at all.” He purred, his fuschia flirtatiousness darkening into a seductive velvet feeling. “Are my hands restricted to the same, or may they delve beneath a single layer?”
He punctuated the question with a soft caress across her bare stomach, sending shivers up her spine, and encouraging her to let him have his way.
“One layer.” She agreed, finding his teasing thoughts nearly as easy to read as his voice. He was sure he wouldn’t need to get under them, but he definitely believed she’d enjoy it more if he could. His hands slid swiftly to her ribcage, and he kneaded softly down her sides, massaging toward her hips as he took her mouth once more. She fought back another groan as he ground his hips into hers, causing her back to arch, and her arms to wrap around his neck.
She closed her eyes, kissing him back trying not to think about anything other than how wonderful his hands felt on her, how good he was at kissing. Even with his hands wandering lower, and his hips rocking against hers, his lips didn’t falter once. His tongue was sure and gentle as it slid past her own, setting a slow pace for her to respond to. She hardly noticed when his hand slid between her legs, and continued the stimulation his hips had been providing. The only indicator that something had changed was a slight shuffle of his sweats against her thighs, and an instant increase in the pleasure as he focused the circling of his fingers directly where she needed them. Her hips tilted involuntarily, but his hand stayed attached, forcing the feelings to continue through her body’s treacherous attempts to keep her from finishing.
She broke her lips from his, biting her lower one in an attempt to keep quiet, but his mouth descended on her neck, ruining any chance she had of maintaining her dignity. His soft warm lips trailed down from her ear, and she practically squirmed underneath him, her throat catching on her moans, her nails digging into the fabric of his thin black shirt. Her head fell further to the side, offering him more of her throat to nuzzle, and he made his way slowly across what felt like every single inch of exposed skin. The pleasure from his fingers faltered briefly, and she felt his knuckles skimming her bare skin as he slid his hand beneath her shorts, the thin layer of cotton that now separated his skin from hers might not have been there at all, for she could feel the shape of his fingertips against her, the difference between one digit pleasuring her, and two, the heat of his palm cupping her while his fingers worked.
Her toes curled as he pressed harder, and the same lightning sensation came over her, jerking her hips suddenly away from him. To her astonishment, his hand stayed in place, following her hips as though it were glued, forcing the electrifying pleasure to continue beyond the single jolt, making her keen in a high-pitched voice as the feelings overwhelmed her, nearly too much to bear, her pelvis pushing the other direction, and her legs wrapped firmly around his thighs to anchor herself as he tortured her.
She almost couldn’t feel his mouth on her neck through the pleasure he was providing, but a slight tingle kept her attention pulled taut between the two areas he touched, and as his nose slid across her skin, and the soft feeling repeated, she realized belatedly that he was using his teeth, pulling gently at the skin of her neck, as if he knew simple kisses weren’t making it through her electrified skin.
She couldn’t hold her voice in at all as moan after moan filled the tent, her body writhed beneath his ministrations, and the heat filling her reached an inferno. Just as quickly as the feeling had overtaken her, it became too much, the feather light touches of his fingers felt like pure fire, and she pushed vigorously at him, gasping in air to verbalize her needs.
“Stop! Stop…” She managed to yelp, just as he withdrew his hand, his lips pressing once more to her throat before those, too, were removed. Hermione lied completely still, panting, and feeling rather as though she’d just been turned to mush. Her every muscle felt like jelly, and her heart was beating as though she’d just run a marathon. She lay in silence a moment, eyes closed, trying to catch her breath, but she could feel the gentle weight of him still kneeling over her, waiting for her to open her eyes.
She finally managed to pry her eyelids apart, and stared up at the darkness that surrounded his pale face. Her eyes had adjusted just enough that she could make out the difference between his hair, and the top of the tent, the way it fell around his face as he leaned over her made her want to grab it. So she did.
She reached her shaking arms out and pulled his face to hers, not caring if her kiss was inexperienced, unpolished. He was kissing her back, one hand on her hip as he pressed his pelvis down into hers, revealing just how much he appreciated helping her. He was sporting a rock hard erection, and Hermione slowly slid her hand down, feeling emboldened by her satisfaction, and incredibly curious.
The cotton of his sweats was soft against her fingers, but underneath, he felt hard as steel, and astonishingly warm.
He groaned, pushing his hips into her hand for a brief moment, and then pulled back completely, so that all she was touching was his hair with one hand.
“You know you’re playing with fire, don’t you?” He groaned, looking down at her with no small measure of desire.
“What if I like fire?” Hermione heard herself say coyly, emboldened by the dark, by the warmth of his skin, and the heat she found in his thoughts.
“Then I’d suggest you get some sleep, before you burn yourself.” He retorted, drawing one warm finger down her bare thigh, and moved back to his side of the tent. Hermione grinned up at the dark ceiling, her heart thumping madly as she closed her eyes, and got comfortable. Even if she egged him on, it seemed Severus Snape would honor the lines she drew. She could trust him. With everything.
A/N: Very very very very sorry for how long this update took!! Please don't be mad! <3

Owlofpaper: I'm npt sure if it's what you were expecting or not, but please don't die!! Did you see that it had a oneshot for it, too, called "Nana to Kaoru - Arashi" that gives us just a bit more of it the manga! Bit of smut for you. :3

Cheese_And_Crackers: I'm so sorry it took so long to update this one! Did you end up having to reread chapter 11 mor ethan twice??

Lee: There will definitely be more, if I can remember to keep posting it! :)

Haykay22: I'm super happy you're enjoying it, and hope you didn't spend too much time checking back for updates. :(

Trillvia: I'm definitely not quitting, just distracted by work and travel for a few months! I've actually got a few more chapters written that I haven't posted, and a couple more to write!!
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Scattered