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Sense and Insensibility Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 33531 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- 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
- 13
- 14
- 15
A/N:
OO – ‘I don't see the story as being as bleak for him’ – you’re right, we haven’t really seen as much of the impact of his recent existence upon him, although there is a bit more in this chapter. ‘The pitch is back’ – did it ever go away? Maybe it should :) ‘It's like things changed once he got on his knees’ – that’s interesting. I hadn’t really considered it but you may be right. ‘sexual tension amidst the brewing’ – I suspect there might be a little bit of that on the cards :)
LissaD – ‘hope to keep up a consistent barrage of positive and motivating feedback’ – it was such a treat to receive all your reviews for my past stories and to have you along for the ride on this one. I’m also glad that the hubby is benefiting ;) ‘My favorite part of Hermione in your stories is she is so unware of her beauty and how her intelligence is more of a turn on than anything else’ – thank you! I do like to think that they have a bit more depth, even though it often takes some time to evolve. Lovely to hear from you xx
Fox – ‘I couldn't make myself to read, wasn't sure if I could cope with the intensity of your stories.’ – I totally understand, you need to consider what’s going to be therapeutic at this time. ‘Also it's not easy to let someone to take care of me, when for most of my adult life I was an instigator and carer.’ – that is such a tough role and one that is difficult to relinquish. It sounds like it has taken its toll though. Self-care is more important than any other. X. ‘'Voice Sexifying Potion' -we would make millions of galleons (each!)’ – hahah, the world would be replete with AR’s – what would we do? ‘I love how they appear to chase each other, and the contact between them so faint at first, but so intense at the same time’ – things are gradually building. ‘gave her the release, she has been waiting for -for years’ – I imagine that is going to have a bit of an impact :) ‘Why men like Snape are so rare?’ – because not many of them are Wizards? ;) Look after yourself. More hugs ooxx
Kvarta – I hope you are having a wonderful time in Japan. Send me some sushi! ‘My guess is that he has pretty clear idea that he is her only cure, but, by pushing her to explore he has more to gain than to lose :)’ – more on that in this chapter! ‘sounds sexy, dangerous but most of all gives the air of controlled power, inner strength’ – I do enjoy that part of his character. ‘standing patiently in the queue’ – hahah, I wonder how long you will remain patient? ‘She could be his cure as much as he is hers.’ – hmmmm, interesting thought! Thanks for the typo correction too – excellent! ‘Two of them are so eloquent and in the same time unable to communicate properly.’ – yes the inner voice is so insightful but so little of it is shared. ‘I deem only yours and OO stories as valid reason to take a break’ – I consider that to be entirely appropriate :) Take care xxoo
JadedFate – LOL. ‘These short chapters are killing me!’ – and here’s another one! I promise to make the next one longer but the wait is less so I guess it’s a bit of a balancing act. Keep that fan on!

Chapter 14 – Tit and Tat
“Maybe you should show me again?”
He trails his tongue along his arousal-slicked bottom lip as he appraises her. Despite her decidedly brazen suggestion, he is quite confident from her presiding demeanour of slack-jawed astonishment that she is more than satisfied with the exchange. It wasn’t something he’d planned—although admittedly he’d thought about having sex with her enough times. She might be ill but she was still extremely capable—moreso than he in certain matters—and possessed a determination that continued to impress him. Physically she was slight, but she was also feminine, elegant and sensuous and, from their recent interactions, distinctly sexual, despite its forced repression. That was something that they, at least, had in common.
Indeed, he suspected that this moment—clearly her first orgasm in an extraordinarily long time—would mean a lot to her . . . and he acknowledges now that he wanted it to.
The idea of another man coming on her had seemed theoretically sound but when she’d responded the way she did, and he’d been forced to consider the reality—especially the possibility of it involving someone like that poncey fucker in the restaurant—he’d realised how very much it went against the grain.
He didn’t want her to misinterpret him. He didn’t pity her—she was too strong for that. But if she’d left thinking he was trying to rid himself of her, and found someone else who also happened to be able to heal her, he had little doubt that she would be lost to him. And for someone who’d been unable to sustain more than the occasional fuck as the basis for his closest adult relationship, the idea of finding someone who tolerated him, even when he’d been a veritable bastard on more than one occasion, seemed like an opportunity that he couldn’t afford to pass up.
He was only a few years shy of fifty for fuck’s sake. And while that might be young by Wizarding standards, when one had had to live out every wretched year being traumatised, bored, nearly dead or indiscriminately pissed off with the world . . . it felt far longer than anyone would want to endure.
She’d gone to great lengths to demonstrate that she wasn’t simply after the inexplicably miraculous product of his loins. But in some ways he didn’t care . . . he’d rather she wanted him for that than not at all. And after his little foray downstairs, at least he felt he had a chance of keeping her . . . and the look in her eye suggested that his odds were better than average.
“Scratch that,” she murmurs, focusing on his crotch. “I have a better idea.”
He follows her gaze . . . greeted by the usual trouser distortion that has come to be synonymous with her presence.
“I think perhaps . . .” She places a hand on each of his wrists, planting them firmly on the edge of the desk. “. . . it might be my turn to make a point.”
Suddenly leaning forward, she licks under his bottom lip, swiping away her arousal before dipping her tongue into his mouth. He can taste it. And her tongue prods rhythmically, insistently against his—a firm, moist nub, very much like her clitoris . . . and he knows she knows exactly what she’s doing . . . he’d sensed it . . . a dormant carnality, waiting to be reawakened.
She repeats the process before sucking his entire bottom lip into her mouth, working her tongue over it, thoroughly devouring her essence before biting down into the soft flesh and tugging gently. He allows her to nibble at him, her shining eyes betraying a delicious hunger that he is more than happy to assuage.
Gradually pulling back, she finally lets it pop from her mouth and he feels it throbbing and swollen, a perfect oral emulation of his cock which continues to pulse and strain below.
With an enigmatic glint in her eye, she releases his wrists, slithering down between his arms before proceeding to open his trousers in record time and setting to work on the other.
Sucking air between his teeth, head hanging between his propped arms, he watches her cradle his cock in a manner he’s never encountered before. His past sexual encounters normally involved them grasping the base, a job sometimes requiring two hands, before proceeding to lick or suck—often with a theatrical edge which he found rather disingenuous and off-putting.
But she has both hands arranged, one interleaved in the base of the next as though tenderly enfolding the body of a sleeping animal, and begins gently lapping the underside, nudging it against her palms in such a meticulous, reverential manner that he is quite taken aback.
Her lips saunter unhurriedly over his length as her hands continue their shifting caress around him. It would have been akin to some sort of cock hypnosis if it wasn’t so fucking arousing. As it was, the sight of her tongue dipping and gliding from between soft, sensuous lips, eyes shuttered almost completely in what looked like mesmeric ardour, causes his chest to swell, filling with a prickling ache that he can’t explain . . . or at least he isn’t currently inclined to interrogate.
Gradually, she works her way up to the loose overhang of his frenulum where she delicately prods and tugs with her tongue until he is sure that it must be directly attached to the margins of his mouth and eyebrows, both of which hitch and jerk each time she plucks. Finally, she draws an appreciative gasp from his lips as her tongue proceeds to wiggle into the tapered apex of his corona —there is definitely something to be said for a witch with exceptional senses—her attention to detail is impeccable.
And then that same care and precision is applied to the curve of his head, the flat of her tongue is exposed to him, clenching and furrowing as her tip polishes the underside before swiping up to engage with his glans. And it is the introduction of her moist heat to that most sensitive part of his body that sends his core into meltdown.
With a wilting groan, he clamps his fingers onto the desk even harder. And her eyes are suddenly upon him. No longer lost within herself, rapt in her exploration, she fixes him with her honey-flecked gaze and proceeds to absorb the equally honeyed pearl that glistens on his tip, eyelashes flaring momentarily as it merges with her tongue.
His own eyes fall closed, the intensity too extreme, the need almost too great—clearly he isn’t the only one who enjoys administering the slow tease. Then, with all of the control he can muster, he stills his hips that have started to strain forward of their own volition . . . this is supposed to be her moment after all.
“Gods!” The inadvertent exclamation ends in a hiss between his clenched teeth before he cuts it off with a bite of his lips. He is well aware that she has heard him vocalise before, but that had been when things were far more advanced. She’d barely even started . . . could he really afford to be out of control so early in the proceedings?
But when she makes her next move—engulfing him fully—he groans even louder, eyes flying open. Her lips stretch around him more easily than most, deceptive in their capacity. And with her tongue slithering in a distinctly serpentine fashion as she rocks her elegant jaw, he finds himself now whimpering like a child.
The hands that were cradling him now grasp his shaft and begin pumping expertly. There is none of the ill-directed, nebulous meanderings that he’d occasionally endured—feeble attempts to appear committed. She is working him with such determination that his hips finally break free from their tenuous moorings and thrust into her. Her response is simply to open further, accepting more of him, and the whispered ‘Yes’ that falls from his lips, a tumbling leaf of gratitude, is the last intelligible word that he is able to utter.
Her fist rotates rhythmically, each firm stroke landing emphatically at the base of his cock and setting his balls into motion. Meanwhile her head bobs and undulates, the fine skin of her cheeks intermittently flaring as the head of his cock slides past—a delicious visual that causes his insides to pitch and yaw like a boat in a wild ocean—which is very much how he feels.
He can’t look at her without seeing primal craving etched in the lines of her resolute features, in the bold suction of her lips and vigorous encouragement of her furiously pumping hands. For him, there had never been a site more erotic.
His vocalisations have deteriorated into breathy grunts but he barely hears them—lost in that blissful pre-ejaculatory haze. He focuses on the depth of sensation, the slithery heat of her tongue as it strokes his throbbing glans, her lips and fingers meeting over and again in their impressive coverage of his tumid shaft, the wet moans as he drags the saliva from her with each thrust of his own.
And he’s suddenly there.
He feels her mouth break free and, through shuttered eyes, sees her tear the front of her dress open with one hand. Continuing to pump with the other, she sprays his seed over her bare breasts, groaning in what becomes an ecstatic chorus with his own release. He continues to rock into her fist even as the exuberant spurts diminish into drops. And she carefully takes it all, finally trailing his spent tip against one tight nipple.
The sight of his glistening seed and its erratic expression over her flawless skin is more gratifying than he could have imagined. Normally it would be discreetly deposited into some hole or crevice, but having his mark laying gratuitous claim over her delectably pert breasts reignites that sense of potency that has been building with each encounter. And when she proceeds to massage it into herself, strong fingers smearing the creamy fluid over her mounds and drawing out the points of her nipples, he groans softly. If he hadn’t already come, it would have easily brought him there.
Finally she stands, shaky from squatting before him. She is a veritable mess. Her hair hangs in limp strands against her slick face, her lips are bruised and swollen and her dress gapes around her sticky breasts.
But she doesn’t even need to inquire whether she has made her point. He knows it is written all over his face—the fact that he wants to be the one. And not simply the one to cure her.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Sense and Insensibility *Complete*

Sense and Insensibility Complete