Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Debaucery Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 26267 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 12
- 13
- 14
A/N: I hope it was worth the wait ;)
Becca – hahah – it was very much a tease chapter – in preparation for this one :) I hope the naughty scenes don’t disappoint ;)
OO – ‘While satisfying your reader's need for a heroic Snape’ – Ahhh, don’t we all need a heroic Snape in our lives? Well, the excellent background about his upbringing was written by Marriage so I can’t take any credit at all. I loved the smoking connection too. ‘Star Wars Tauntaun belly flashback’ – hahah, that’s hilarious – why would you think that? We are so fucked up. ‘Footsie’ – ahhh, who didn’t love a bit of that. And, yeah, he might have started it, but I’m sure you finished it. ;) ‘Might get all noble on her in the harsh light of sobriety. You never know with him.’ – I like the way you’re thinking. He certainly is unpredictable – debaucherous or noble, which today? And thanks again for the corrections. That’s what happen when you rush! (like I did with this one too!)
Kvarta – The zippo idea was excellent and would certainly add to the ‘Sexy Pants’ persona. He’s just too far down the ‘showing off’ route to return I think ;) ‘Yeah right! What a sacrifice!’ – Hahah – I loved that and used it in this chapter, see if you can pick it. And I must give credit for all of his background to Marriage1988 – she’s done an excellent job and given him a lot of depth that I wouldn’t have been able to. I’ll pass on your kind comments.
Doctor – Let me know if you minded :)
Ali – Sounds like you had a splendid trip (apart from the vomiting husband of course). I just loved all of the background you provided on your part of the world. My father is from Buckinghamshire and we still have many relatives there but I must admit to having a relatively poor knowledge. Now, confession time, the lovely background information on Sev was written by the wonderful person who contacted me with the story premise and some ideas – Marriage1988 – anyway, I just loved it so much that I had to write it but there are certain scenes she has contributed to heavily including all of the beautiful detail around his past and upbringing. I sent on your lovely review to her and she was thrilled to hear all about the accents and region (as was I). I’m glad you don’t totally hate Luna any more (the comparison to Jar-Jar Binks was harsh but hilarious). Well . . . let’s hope Hermione holds up her end of the suicide prevention scheme. Otherwise I anticipate you will be having a firm word with her. Yes, definitely avoid the lurgy at all costs – even if he does have a voice that can . . . well, you know ;)

Chapter 13 - Fornifanfiction
He had a bed. Not a blow up mattress. Or even a transfigured mattress. It was a full king-sized bed, carved from dark wood with a stack of plump pillows and stylish, expensive bedding. Hermione thought about feeling jealous for a millisecond before she realised that there was a good chance she would be rolling all over it in the very near future and so decided to be optimistically excited instead.
But her excitement suddenly abated when she realised what he was doing—reclining seductively on the bed, boots and coat off—reading a book.
“Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?” she inquired, propping a hand on her hip.
“Not yet,” he replied, continuing to read.
Cheeky bastard.
He was wearing that fitted grey top that accentuated the firm contours of his chest and shoulders. Locks of dark hair hung over his face and his lips were pouting slightly, as they did when he was concentrating on something. She remembered the feel of them against hers, her tongue pressing between them into his hot mouth. A breathy, growling sound reverberated in her throat—she was more than ready to give him a good interrupting.
When she saw the smirk pulling at his upper lip, her eyes narrowed. He certainly loved to infuriate her. And she suspected that he was reasserting himself. It wasn’t just about what she wanted. He was making sure that she knew it.
“Well, I guess I’ll just head back to my tent then.” She gave an exaggerated sigh and turned to leave.
In a flash she was caught by the wrist and yanked onto the bed, trapped helplessly under his body.
“Where . . . do you think . . . you’re . . . going?” His dangerously smooth baritone slid over her.
It was just like Little Red Riding Hood being captured by the Big Bad Wolf, thought Hermione. Except that this Little Red Riding Hood had a major wetty for the Big Bad Wolf and would be more than happy for him to eat her . . . out.
“You seemed so engrossed.” Hermione was having trouble drawing a full breath with his weight pressing down on her. “I didn’t wish to interfere.”
He snorted. “First time for everything.”
Before she could retaliate his mouth closed over hers and his tongue blocked off the escape route for anything other than a throaty moan. She took the opportunity to slide her hand up and grope his chest, warm and muscular even through his top. And he obviously considered that a green light to follow suit, as his hand was suddenly on her breast, kneading it gently through her clothing before his thumb flicked back and forth across her nipple, making her writhe beneath him.
He was so adept and so delicious, Hermione decided she would nearly forego the sobriety potion to spend the entire evening just snogging on his bed. He tasted of whisky and smoke, but rather than the dirty, rancid flavour she recalled from one of her very few one-night stands, his was rich and oaky and not at all unpleasant. In fact, she found herself repeatedly plunging into the depths of his mouth to sample more.
Not surprisingly, he was also one of those rare kissers who always happened to know the right thing to do at the right time. There were no teeth clashes or unpleasant abrasions, just a constant flow of smooth, languid and deeply erotic movements that soon had her core throbbing, jealous for the same treatment.
She reached for his cock which was sandwiched between their bodies, dragging her palm along the impressive girth that was straining against the placket of his trousers. Unfortunately her journey was soon cut short as he rolled back and grabbed her by the wrist, pinning it beside her head.
“There’s something that needs to be dealt with before we get into any of that,” he rumbled, continuing to kiss along her jawline and down her neck.
Hermione closed her eyes, revelling in the sensation of his warm breath, its gentle flutter preceding each caress by his silken lips. She just wanted him to keep going, to continue down to melt her nipples which were already singing with arousal. But she knew he wouldn’t do it. Not yet. The potions were needed to restore a sense of propriety to his actions. In the past, he’d drugged women before having sex with them. He didn’t want Hermione to make this decision drunk. She suspected that he’d spent the past days reflecting intensively upon his behaviour and was determined to restore a sense of integrity—even if it was only for this final time. Indeed, this entire suicide mission seemed to be based upon atonement.
Hermione’s heart still ached for him when she thought of his plans, especially as he combed his fingers under her hair and continued his delectable journey around the back of her neck and up to flicker behind her earlobe, sending shivery bursts along her spine. She was panting. She had an immediate and desperate need for him but was hopeful that they could create a moment—something significant enough to make him reconsider.
“Let’s take them now,” Hermione murmured breathily. “Before you drive me fucking insane.”
Laughter rumbled through his chest and she smiled, her eyes still closed. She didn’t think she would ever tire of amusing him. It was such a novelty to think that he had a similar sense of humour to herself.
“Accio,” he commanded and Hermione opened her eyes to see a bottle fly from somewhere across the tent into his hand.
Without fanfare, he flicked off the stopper and downed it. Summoning a second bottle, he removed the stopper and held it to her lips. Looking intently into her eyes, he seemed about to say something before he appeared to change his mind, pouring the liquid down her throat. She swallowed and it was like a veil lifting. A piercing clarity brought her thoughts into instant focus, sharpening her senses. The rosy haze disappeared and the cold of the evening struck her like a quick dip under the waterfall.
He was still lying on top of her but he blinked hesitantly before rolling back.
He’d changed his mind.
“Do you still want to . . . have sex?” she asked. The word ‘fuck’ no longer seemed to want to come out.
“No.”
She felt herself flush, somehow embarrassed to think that it was only the alcohol that had made him want her.
“It would make everything to come much harder for both of us.”
It was true. If he continued with his plan, she would be devastated—for a variety of complex reasons. If they had sex first—shared a deeper level of intimacy—it would be worse. And for him, it would make leaving her more difficult.
“—And yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Why yes?” She was confused.
“Because you are exquisite.” He cupped her cheek with his hand.
It was only one word, and one action, but it was enough.
Hermione rolled out from under him and pushed herself up, kneeling on the edge of the bed.
He gazed at her resignedly, clearly expecting her to leave. But she didn’t. Slipping off her jacket, she tossed it aside, hearing the thud of the potion bottle in her pocket as it hit the tent floor. Both boots followed. Pulling her wand from the sleeve of her top, she cast a warming spell to ward off the chill before throwing that aside and slowly peeling off her top.
He was leaning on one elbow, watching her intently as she casually discarded each layer until she knelt before him in only jeans and a black bra. His molten gaze slithered across her bare skin and she felt a surge of something inside—desire mixed with . . . determination. Did she think they should fuck? She’d show him the answer to that question in no uncertain terms. In fact, she intended to use the remaining time to make it as difficult for him to leave her as possible.
Locking her eyes upon his, she slid both hands down her abdomen to the front of her jeans, where she grasped the button and gradually pulled it through the hole before gripping the zipper and, with excruciating precision, lowered it. He swallowed, his gaze flickering from the exposed triangle of her knickers back to her face. He reminded her of a dog, waiting impatiently to be granted a treat. He might desire a more refined level of decency but he was clearly still operating at the most carnal level. And that excited her even more.
With renewed inspiration, and a wicked internal grin, she slipped a hand back down the soft curve of her belly before dipping her fingers under the elastic of her knickers, delving through her pubic hair to slip them into the groove between her labia. With slow, gratuitous movements, she rubbed her fingers over her clit and down to her sopping hole over and over again until they were soaked in her arousal before she slipped them out and brought them up to her lips, sucking them into her mouth.
Severus’ hooded black gaze simmered under his furrowed brows, an expression of such wanton desire that she couldn’t help smirking around her fingers like a naughty child. Lips still curled into a provocative grin, she reached behind herself and unhooked her bra, slipping it off her shoulders and tossing it over her shoulder in a blatant strip tease emulation that had him shaking his head in distraction, an indication that he was getting close to breaking point. Grasping both areola between her thumbs and middle fingers, she squeezed, protracting her nipples before rotating the sensitive tips with her index fingers. The tightening of his jaw as he watched her pleasuring herself made her moan at her own ministrations and that seemed to be the final straw.
Jaw clenched in a blatant ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression, he leaped up and pulled her down onto the bed, straddling her waist between his knees.
Her eyes shone with excitement as he tore off his top and threw it aside. She groaned, eyelids sinking with ecstasy at having that body finally revealed up-close, clenched and seething above her. Oh my fucking God!
As she watched, he grasped the button of his fly, as she had done, and popped it open before sliding the zipper down in an agonising slow reveal that had her eyes widening in anticipation. At the bottom of its descent, he paused, waiting for her to glance up at him impatiently, before releasing the zipper with both hands allowing his trousers to slide down, his cock springing free. Although she had a sense of his dimensions from handling him earlier, the full magnificence of his member looming over her breasts was enough to shock the air from her in a single explosive breath.
He saw her hands coming this time, and swooped down to snatch them together in one large fist before pinning them both above her head. She gasped in surprise before a petulant pout captured her lips. She knew it was the teasing she deserved but she was itching to get her hands on him. Everything she’d touched of him so far—his lips, his face and his chest, the last only through a layer of clothing, had felt so warm, soft and delicious, and she knew that the impressive member jutting above her wouldn’t disappoint.
But he kept her hands pinned under his fist as he slid one leg and then the other from his trousers so that he was completely, beautifully, naked. Then he brought his knees up further to straddle her breasts before grasping the base of his cock with his free hand and bending it forward to place the head against her cheek. It seemed an odd thing to do but then the intensity of his gaze told her that her response was important.
Then she understood. He’d expected her to flinch—or turn away. To be in that vulnerable a position beneath him after what he’d done to her. To be that intimately close to his cock, which she’d observed being sucked by someone else in an attempt to intimidate her. He’d clearly expected this to be the clincher—the moment that would break her. But it didn’t.
Instead, she remained focused on his intensely serious face, shrouded in dark hair above her, before turning to nuzzle against his softness. She drew the smooth tip of her nose up and down his shaft, inhaling his musky, masculine scent before exhaling gently against him. His jaw slackened. Then she lifted her chin a little to feather her lips against his warm, silken length and she noticed his chest swelling in response. When she parted her lips and placed an open-mouthed kiss against him, flicking her tongue out to taste him, she heard his breath escape and looked up to see a mixture of desire and relief on his face.
And if he was in any doubt about her intentions she quickly dispelled them by lifting her chin further and closing her mouth over the tip of his swollen head, sucking it gently as she slid her tongue into the weeping slit. She looked up into his eyes to make sure the message was clear. His response confirmed that it was.
Withdrawing his cock, he released her hands and slithered down to lay on top of her, his long, lithe body encapsulating hers. Grasping her jaw with strong fingers, he captured her lips in a kiss of such raw passion that it stole her breath away. This exchange, unlike the others, was completely unrestrained. He wasn’t playing or manipulating or even showing off his prowess, he was communicating a deep need and she responded with equal intensity. She might be using sex, his own currency, to communicate, but she couldn’t pretend that she was sacrificing herself.
In her, admittedly limited, sexual experience, she’d never felt so acutely aroused. Her nipples rubbed deliciously against his pectorals as he continued to devour her lips and tongue. And with her throbbing pussy just about ready to burst from her jeans, she was relieved to feel one of his hands slide down her back and slip under the waistband of her jeans and knickers to cup her buttocks. His fingers squeezed and kneaded, pulling and grinding her flesh before he curled his wrist to prop per pelvis forward so that his cock was now rubbing along the seam that pressed between her labia. To feel his hot length sliding against her pussy, muted by the denim, was yet another exquisite torture, but when his other hand closed around her breast and his fingers started on her nipple, she realised that he hadn’t even started.
Those fingers—long, deft, confident and clearly so adept soon had sensations shooting through her body that she’d never thought possible. And when he crawled down until his lips were hovering just above that flushed hyper-sensitised peak, she wondered if yet another stimulation escalation might just about do her in.
Then he took her—tongue scooping into her nub from below, deliciously bowed lips from above, until she hissed her desire, “Severusss,” arching into him. His languidly feline undulations as he tugged and rolled her nipple inside the humid cavern of his mouth had both of her hands tunnelling into his hair and clinging on in desperation. Her pussy was convulsing. He had it on a string, knowing exactly how to evoke the sparking sensations that shot from her breasts down through her core, over and over again.
“Oh Gods, Severus,” she groaned. She’d been the one determined to make some sort of carnal appeal to him, or at least to titillate him sufficiently to get him to reconsider his plans, but it was currently all one-way traffic. Of course women were clamouring for him. Who wouldn’t come back for more of this? But would there be more? Would anything exist beyond this? She knew she shouldn’t let her mind go there—her throat was already constricting with sadness.
Fortunately her thoughts were suddenly dragged off course as he slipped down further, curling his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and knickers and peeling them off her hips. Even before they had reached her knees, he’d buried his nose in her pubic hair, nuzzling down to press into the apex of her slit, squeezing down on her clitoris which was bursting for release from its fleshy entrapment. With her legs still pressed together, his tongue had to work to burrow its way between her lips to her clit, and that insistent wriggling as he tunnelled in to flick against her aching nub was so mind-blowingly erotic that she began thrusting uncontrollably, trying to force greater contact. Yanking her jeans off with a final flourish, he pulled her knees apart and finally buried his face in her glistening folds.
She moaned and writhed against him as his nose slipped up and down between her clitoris and her opening. She’d never be able to look at that beautifully curved proboscis again without imagining it as it was now, a masterful chaperone to his equally adept tongue which vacillated between gentle teasing, head to head with her clitoris, before plunging powerfully into her channel.
Hermione’s own head rocked from side to side. Her tumbleweed must look a fright but she absolutely couldn’t stop, the excruciating relentlessness of his glorious assault was more intense than she’d ever imagined. And then she felt the sensation change, transitioning to a new level of pleasure that continued to build. All that was required was another flicker or two over her clitoris— which he provided on cue, of course he did—and she was there, crying out as she exploded around the tongue that had slithered back down to graciously provide something for her pussy to clamp onto as it surged and stuttered, bucking and thrusting out its release around him.
But even before she’d started to come down, he pulled away and sat back on his knees, lifting her hips off the bed until her pussy was at cock height. Positioning his head at her entrance, he entered with one languid thrust that had Hermione’s jaw dropping open and her eyes rolling back in shocked ecstasy. And clearly the sensation of her still-shuddering pussy grasping his freshly-impaled cock was equally gratifying for him as he released a long, deep grunt of approval before beginning to thrust.
The sensation of his considerable cock reaming the walls of her swollen channel was so deeply fulfilling that Hermione found herself fisting the bedding in an attempt to prevent herself from floating away on a tide of sensorial bliss. And when she cracked her eyes open and saw his abdominal muscles, clenching deliciously at the termination of each thrust, she felt she had indeed died and gone to . . . well, most likely hell . . . she couldn’t imagine a sizzlingly hot, sexy beast like this residing anywhere else.
The swing of his hips was exquisite as his hands clamped around her hips, holding her in perfect position to drive his head along her front wall with each thrust. Hermione’s face was flushed, filled with blood at her inversion and subsequent pummelling, but she was beyond caring. And it became even less important when his thumb slipped around to gently stroke her clitoris. The swollen nub was still sensitive after her previous orgasm and he clearly knew that as he avoided the head, rubbing against the shaft until she was on the verge again.
She’d never been able to bring herself to orgasm twice in a row. Or even really felt compelled to. But here she was in no time at all climbing to another with the most substantial cock she’d ever encountered pleasuring her internally and his beautifully talented fingers working her nerve bundle until her whole body tensed and her legs kicked out behind him.
“Gods, I love thisss,” she hissed before dissolving into fits of breathy grunts as her body jerked in spasmodic waves of release.
Her pussy was squeezing his rigid member mercilessly but he fully intended to make this as memorable for her as possible. And so he gritted his teeth, riding out the temptation to simply blow his load into her enticing depths until the incredible milking sensation of her exquisitely tight muscles had abated.
When he felt that he’d calmed down sufficiently, he lifted both of her ankles onto his shoulders and leaned forward until she was bent almost double. She was as flexible as he’d suspected, so this position wasn’t beyond her. But just to make sure, he shuffled them both down the bed a little further before leaning on her fully. It wasn’t something he often did—this conformation was both exposed and intimate and he rarely wanted to share this level of intimacy with anyone. But she was an exception. She was exceptional—she always had been in many ways. And he wanted her to know it.
Hermione felt like a taco—with its contents about to spill out. His cock was still inside her, fully erect, he hadn’t come. But when he leaned into her, his dark eyes penetrating her just as deeply as his shaft, she felt such an indescribable depth of connection that she quickly put aside any sense of discomfort.
Her mind was threatening to explode with the thoughts she’d buried inside it, with the understanding of what all this really meant. And as the tears threatened to fall, she looked up to see that he was smiling at her, a very slight hitch of his mouth and a relaxing of the prominent line between his brows. It wasn’t what she’d been expecting and it made her suddenly feel that everything was going to be alright. Even though deep-down she knew it wasn’t.
Propping his arms beside her shoulders, he began by withdrawing almost fully before sinking back down into her. Gradually easing in and out, he let her adjust to the position before progressively building until his cock was driving down into her more emphatically.
As the depth and speed of his thrusting increased, Hermione reached up to grasp him around the arms, her thumbs curling around his biceps, fingers digging into his prominent triceps. His cock was now entering absolutely vertically and bottoming out against her cervix each time he slammed into her. The weight of his body had her sinking into the mattress and each time she sprang back, she was met by the next downward thrust of his cock such that she felt like a ball being repeatedly thrown against a wall.
Her whole body was being jolted inside and out and her pussy was already on the verge of a third monumental orgasm. As she felt him thumping into her she realised that this was what it meant to be well and truly fucked. And the best part was that she had a perfect view of everything. With her pelvis curled around, she could see his blushing cock, slick with her juices, flashing in and out of her pussy like a well-oiled piston. It was an image that she would take to her grave. And how anyone else could compete with this she wasn’t sure; she suspected that he may well have ruined her forever.
The effort of fucking her so thoroughly had him panting and a sheen of perspiration coating his entire body including his arms, which flexed beneath her fingers with each forceful impact. Hermione was wheezing from a combination of her crushed lungs and the overwhelming sensation of a third mounting orgasm. His pelvis slammed her clitoris at the same time as his cock butted against her cervix and so, rather than being teased over the precipice, she was pummelled through it, her release bringing with it tears of such complex origin that she couldn’t even explain them to herself.
Severus fixed upon her face as she came, so raw and beautiful. And as her pussy seethed and clutched at his driving cock, he finally let himself go.
“Hermione,” he gasped, before wave after wave of visceral groans accompanied the surges of powerful release that shot from his balls into her quaking channel. He’d never had such a sense of transference, of wanting to deposit himself so deeply inside another, of wanting to bury himself there and remain forever. But he had it now—with her. Hermione. He never wanted to leave her. He wanted to remain attached, inside her, safe.
When he finally pulled his cock from her dripping channel and collapsed onto the bed, she instantly crawled onto his chest, curling under his chin. Moments later she began tracing small, light circles on his billowing chest with her fingertips. Neither spoke. There was too much to say.
When he was on the verge of sleep, her voice, impossibly quiet, came to him.
“This tent is bigger than my bedroom.”
He snorted wearily, stroking her hair.
“I used to hate my bedroom. I thought perhaps I wouldn’t hate it as much if . . . if you were in it.”
He continued to stroke her. He knew exactly what she was saying. What she wanted. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.
***
Hermione shivered as she stepped from the tent. Murmuring quietly, she cast a warming incantation against the bitter cold but stopped as she was about to cast Lumos, realising that the full moon, high and bright in the sky, was already casting a bright milky glow over the entire wilderness. Picking her way through the damp grass, she headed over the bank for a pee. She would normally check to see where Severus had placed his wards to avoid running into them but he’d fallen asleep before he’d had the opportunity.
Squatting down behind a bush, she breathed a sigh of relief, she’d been holding on for way too long, especially considering the pounding she’d received down there—deliciously vicious. She smiled to herself. The sex had been incredible but he’d also promised to keep talking to her. Hopefully, the next conversation would be about when they were leaving; she hoped the answer would be ‘immediately.’ Despite how enjoyable the trip had been, she had no desire to stay out here for a moment longer. He hadn’t responded to her earlier comment, but the sooner she had him tucked up inside her tiny but safe bedroom, the better.
A shadow fell across her. Severus? Before she could turn, a ferocious snarl ripped through the air as razor-sharp claws dragged across her face. A hairy fist stifled her scream before she felt herself being lifted bodily and dragged away across the plain.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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

Debaucery *Complete*

Debaucery Complete