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Tango Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 19079 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: And here it is. Only because you asked/begged so nicely :)
I still wonder if we are finished yet. What do you think?
To all the lovely Anons, I adored hearing from you. Thank you so much for your support and kind words.
MzPearlz – No I had no idea of how to dance the tango. I did have to watch a hell of a lot of ‘In Demand’ (damn it!).
Dezzu – Yes I agree, dance lessons with Snape all round!
OO – You guessed it, how could one not be inspired by AR in ‘In Demand’. Thanks for the heads up about the confusing intro too. I’m glad it’s been clarified. I’m not sure why I went all ‘nor’ on the last chapter - I might have been channelling an ancient Englishman perhaps. ‘And pitch-filled’ – Hahah, aren’t they always? ‘You're going to have a lot of angry clits on your hand (so to speak)’ – Indeed, one would not wish to incite such an uprising!
LeWyKi – I’m going to be able to remove the UST after this chapter – Yay! Actually, I might be speaking too soon, let me know if I can remove it ;)
Lin – ‘She has to know quality men aren't easy to come by. After all she did date Ron Weasley.’ – Bahahah, love that! Yes, I know what you mean by ‘In Demand’ happiness and sadness. I managed to objectify pretty well when researching but it has made me sad in the past. I’m still getting over it too – writing is my therapy.

Tango-ing On
Barely a moment had elapsed before his lithe form had melted away into the shadows, taking the music with it. Hermione stood, barefoot, listening to the silence. If her body hadn’t continued to extol the symphony of sensations he’d invoked, she might well have considered that she’d imagined the whole thing. But she was still wet. Sopping. The foot rub had had been exquisite but a vagina rub, she decided, was probably what she needed more.
Snape had asked her if she’d had ‘unfinished business’ at Hogwarts. The answer had been ‘no’—not until now. Now she felt it with excruciating certainty—the sense that she’d let a prime opportunity, an irretrievable moment, slip through her fingers. And she also knew that, when she eventually drifted back to her room, no amount of fantasizing was ever going to satisfy her needs; that cavernous well of desire was going to continue to bubble away deep inside.
The truth was that she wanted a taste of the real thing. Desperately. But did he want her? She’d given him the opportunity to say as much and he’d simply played with her words, returning them to her wrapped in more excruciating layers of enigma. If only he’d given her a little hint, a tiny inference—apart from almost grinding her to orgasm of course.
And then she saw it. His coat. Lying like a black calling card on the floor. Had he left it deliberately? She couldn’t imagine him forgetting such a thing—it was like a second skin after all. And while the hall had been magically warmed, the dungeons would be brass monkey cold. No, he wouldn’t have left it unless . . . She bit her lip, turning to gaze at the shadowed arch through which he’d disappeared. Had he left it for her? A not-so-subtle invitation to follow?
Crouching down, she picked it up and folded it neatly over her arm. She joggled it a little, testing its considerable weight before plucking a piece of confetti from the sleeve. Who was she kidding? She suddenly grabbed the thick wool in both hands and buried her face in it, inhaling deeply. The aroma was rich and fragrant, that delicious scent of his skin. She was instantly transported back to the intimacy of their exchange—she could feel him between her legs, rubbing sensuously against her. And she knew then that she would either be returning his coat to him or she would be taking it to her room and doing unmentionable things to it. She’d try for the former but she’d put up with the latter. Those shiny black buttons did look rather enticing after all—she was positive her clitoris would enjoy the opportunity to admire its reflection in each and every one of them.
Hermione wasn’t particularly shocked by where her mind had decided to go. She was far from the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor that most assumed her to be. What happened in the privacy of her own room and her own head would shock many of her friends. But if her own mind wasn’t hers to do with as she wished, then where else could she safely live out her many and varied fantasies? She might be the brightest witch of her age, but she suspected she was also one of the dirtiest witches of her age—at least in her mind. Although, admittedly, on this occasion her vivid imagination wasn’t going to be nearly sufficient; she would be looking to enact this particular fantasy in the flesh. Wrapping the oversized garment around her shoulders, she grabbed her heels and purse and headed for the dungeons.
She was right. The dank dungeon corridors were bone-chillingly cold. She pulled the heavy coat around her shoulders as she tottered along the stone flags. This journey was definitely something she wouldn’t miss. In fact, it was only the promise of Snape’s class that had come to make the subterranean trip bearable. She’d actually enjoyed her final year of Potions with him and the opportunity to appreciate him as a scholar and not simply a cantankerous killjoy.
Now, as she headed for the Potions classroom, her stomach churned with a mixture of anticipation and dread. What if she’d totally misread the cues? What if he really had left his coat behind by accident? Or what if he’d planned to return for it? He could have simply headed off to complete his rounds and expected to retrieve it upon his return. He might be quite miffed to find it currently occupied.
Withdrawing her wand from her purse, she tentatively approached the classroom door. Another wave of doubt captured her but she managed to swallow it down before reaching for the handle, worn smooth by years of terrified hands. Turning the knob, she was surprised to find that it was already unlocked. Most unusual. Again, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was expected. As she leaned her full weight against the door, it suddenly fell open, almost sending her sprawling into the pitch darkness that lay beyond. She tried to peer into the gloom but it was devoid of even the faintest hint of light. The door to his chambers, she knew, was somewhere in the rear wall but there didn’t seem to be any illumination from that direction either.
‘Lumos,’ she whispered, immediately casting a ghostly blue glow over the nearby desks, their shadows shimmering against the grey walls as she swept her wand in a slow arc.
Her teeth were suddenly chattering. And it wasn’t just the breath-stealing cold. This place was positively creepy. She was also struck by a sobering reality. Now that she’d danced off most of the alcohol, her brazen mission to find and seduce Snape seemed ambitious to say the least. Perhaps she should just turn around and—
Strong arms suddenly grabbed her from behind, sending her purse and wand tumbling to the ground.
His honeyed baritone purred against her ear.
“You appear to have something of mine . . . Miss . . . Granger.”
She nodded hurriedly, not daring to turn. “Your . . . your coat.”
“Yessss.” The serpentine sibilance of the word shivered down her neck. Then his lower hand proceeded to glide down the front of her silky dress before slowing to an agonising stutter over her pelvic bone.
“And thisss,” he whispered, his long fingers curling over her mons.
Merlin’s bollocks! That was a hint that even she couldn’t miss.
What could she say? Snape capturing her in the darkness of his lair was so at odds with his gentlemanly foot rubbing and hand pecking, it was almost impossible to reconcile. She suspected now that he’d been holding back, trying not to force himself upon her—giving her the choice. And they’d been in the public space of the Great Hall after all. If she’d returned directly to her room, he would have left her feeling genuinely respected, even nurtured.
But she hadn’t. She’d come looking for him. It seemed that his coat had indeed been left in case she’d wanted more. And once she’d accepted his invitation, she had the feeling that a whole different set of rules applied.
“Have you brought this for me?” he murmured, tapping his fingertips against the flesh of her labia.
Something slid down the back of her ear. It felt like the tip of his nose.
“Yes,” she replied huskily, trying to swallow down the constriction in her throat.
“Mmmmm.”
He began tracing lazy circles, tickling his fingers over the material covering her mound, drawing out a quiet gasp, while his other hand slithered beneath the neckline of her dress, skimming inside her bra to clamp onto one puckered bud.
“There’s a great deal I could do . . . with . . . these.” His voice dropped even lower as he increased the pressure of the digits sliding over her lips and rolling her aching nipples.
She sighed in response. This was like all of her fantasies rolled into one. She suspected that, like her, he could do a pretty convincing job of covering up his carnal intentions. But when the charade was dispensed of, as it was now, he could be capable of . . . extraordinary things. At least she dearly hoped so.
“What do you need?” His breath ghosted against the back of her neck, tickling under her hairline as he delicately milked one nipple between his fingertips.
It didn’t take a genius to work that out. Just dancing with him had nearly made her come.
“You know why I’m here,” she rasped, inhaling quickly as he pinched her nipple. Was that the wrong answer?
“What . . . do you want me to do . . . to you?” He drew out each word, the final one had his parted lips trailing sensuously down the ridgeline of her clenched jaw.
She was considering the truth, ‘whatever you want,’ but couldn’t risk losing her nipple altogether. If he wanted straight talking, he would get it.
“I want your cock.” The word clicked inside her throat. It felt impossibly surreal but also deeply erotic to be practically growling her desire to her Potions Professor, feeling her cheek brushing against his silky lips with every word. “I want to suck it. I want to use my mouth to convince you of how grateful I am. For everything.”
His breath came out in a warm sigh.
“Your presence here is enough. I do not need your gratitude.”
Perhaps she needed to elucidate.
“I also want the satisfaction of you coming in my mouth. I’d like to leave here with the knowledge that this mouth that has brought you so much grief, can also bring you the greatest of pleasure.”
The rapid burst of breath and slow rolling rumble from his chest told her he was laughing.
“Your mouth is all that has kept me sane this past year,” he muttered. “Demonstrating, amongst other things, that I’m not completely wasting my time.” His gravelly tone held a forthright honesty. “I find your knowledge and aptitude most . . . beguiling. In fact, you’ve made me hard on more than one occasion. Hearing my words trip from your lips, enhanced and enriched by your own, has been deeply arousing. But imagining my cock sliding into your brilliant mouth at the same time has made it even more so.”
Hermione’s next breath was a moan. She couldn’t help it. She found intelligence a huge turn-on herself. That’s why she’d enjoyed his lessons so much despite consistently having to deny her feelings. But the thought that he’d fantasised about her in class was almost too much.
“I want you to fuck me too.” She emphasised the ‘fuck’ as she turned her face into his cheek. “This is my last night here. Fuck me hard. Give me something to remember.”
The next sound from him was a throaty growl. Deep and animalistic. He flatted both palms, grasping her entire breast in one and pressing the other against her labia, pulling her possessively into him.
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he murmured huskily, flicking his tongue into her ear.
She shuddered, leaning into him, burying him deeper in her.
“Please,” she whimpered, eyes falling closed. “I really fucking want you.”
With a rough yank, he dragged the coat from her shoulders before his mouth was on her again, searingly hot against the chill of the dungeons. Her breath hitched at the startling juxtaposition of sensations that assailed the gentle rise of her neck. Soft, pliable lips, a probing, wet tongue and then the shivery graze of his teeth. She groaned as his fingers delved into her hair, tugging her head aside, exposing her further to him.
He alternated between sensuously laving her flesh and capturing it in ravenous mouthfuls, hands continuing to slither and grind against her, working her body into a frenzy of desire. His natural aroma and the heat of his breath combined to create a humid chamber of heady scent that flooded her sinuses as his mouth assaulted her, hard and hungry. Then, without warning, he sank his teeth into the back of her neck. Her entire body surged against him, a bolt of electricity shooting through her spine and fizzing into her scalp. He twisted her nipple at the same time and she cried out, her core burning with indescribable need.
Dragging his hands down her abdomen, leaving her muscles quivering in their wake, he leaned against her to grasp the fronts of her thighs, rubbing the sheer dress against them before slithering the material slowly up her skin. In agonising increments, he revealed her pale flesh, luminous in the light from her abandoned wand. Drawing his hands together, he pooled the material at her pelvis before twisting it around one fist to fully expose her tiny G-string. It had made her feel sexy to wear it. Now seeing the thin Y of cloth emblazoned against her glowing skin, the fingers of his free hand curling around to grasp the front, it looked fucking sexy too.
Suddenly, he yanked up the material so that it sliced between her buttocks and levered apart her labia, roughly abrading her clit.
She moaned and twisted her head, biting at his chin.
He dropped her dress and grasped her jaw with strong fingers.
“So you want something in your mouth do you?” he growled, lips twisted into a sexy snarl, before wrenching the G-string forcefully into her slit, and plunging his tongue into her open mouth when she cried out.
If he’d thought she would be intimidated by such a move, he was wrong. She twisted her body around, ignoring the painful bite of the G-string into her nether regions. Digging her fingernails into the back of his neck, she dragged him down into her, hungrily sucking at his tongue, drinking deeply as she’d wanted to do almost from the start. He tasted fresh and a little spicy but rather than quenching her thirst, sucking on him just seemed to heighten it. Her carnal desire was playing out explicitly through her mouth but she was beyond trying to play hard to get. And as she began returning his thrusts, matching the serpentine undulations of his tongue with her own, she heard a deliciously low groan of desire rumble deep in his throat.
Sucking and lapping at his engorged lips, she felt his hands slither around to the bare globes of her buttocks, palming them with increasing intensity before suddenly grasping them to lift her against his body.
It was the tango all over again but this time there was no mistake, his rock-hard erection was more than evident, bowing like the trunk of a sapling under her weight, and grinding emphatically enough to make her G-string floss like a fan-belt against her throbbing clitoris.
And just like the tango, she was suddenly only a few short thrusts from orgasm. But she didn’t want to. Not like this.
Tearing her mouth away from his, panting heavily, she fixed him with her fiercest expression.
“There’s something else I want in my mouth. Right . . . now.”
He slowed his movements but continued to grind excruciatingly against her, knowing full well she was close. She tried to keep her eyes focused on him but she could feel them wanting to roll back, to slide away into ecstasy.
There was only one thing she could think to do.
“It’s my last night here,” she gasped, trying to hold on. “You might never see me again. Let me have it.”
His eyes shuttered slightly at her wheedling voice. She could tell he liked it.
“Please let me have it,” she crooned, kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth. “Let me taste it. Feel how hot . . . and wet . . . I am.” She suddenly engulfed his lips in hers and his breath hissed into her mouth before he dropped her to the ground.
She sighed with a mixture of relief and frustration. That was the second time she’d been on the cusp of orgasm that night. When it finally happened, she would be absolutely making the most of it. Until then, she was going to enjoy a little oral indulgence.
Stepping away from him she retrieved her wand from the ground and began by casting a warming charm on both of them. Even though her pussy was on fire, her feet, hands and nipples were freezing. And he was still without his coat—no doubt he would appreciate a little reprieve. Then she shot magical flames into the torches around the room before transfiguring her purse into a large flat pad. Her knees were going to need it.
“Professor, can I have you over here please?” She indicated his desk at the front of the room with a formal wave of her hand.
Frowning, he eyed her warily before acquiescing. She noted the prominent tenting of his trousers as he sauntered over and her mouth began to water in anticipation.
“If you would just rest your backside against the front of the desk. That’s it. Now cross your arms and keep frowning.”
His lip twitched momentarily before his practised frown returned.
“Now spread your legs apart, if you would be so kind.”
She revelled in the stark contrast between her politeness and her intentions. It clearly wasn’t lost on him either as one ironic eyebrow slid up. He did, however, do as requested, leaning against the desk with his legs spread wide enough for her to nestle in close.
“Perfect,” she breathed.
Then she approached and dropped her purse on the ground between his large boots, kicking off her own heels before kneeling before him. She placed her hands on his thighs, sliding them upwards as she tilted her head back to appraise him. It couldn’t be better—his classroom face scrutinising her, broad shoulders defiantly retracted, arms crossed expectantly. But all of this betrayed by small hints of impropriety, his tousled hair casting a shadow over one cheek, white shirt casually open at the neck, lips swollen and rouged from their exchange. And of course, veiled cock jutting into her face. Delicious.
Very slowly she edged her fingertips up to his groin, watching him closely. His nostrils flared as she brushed the contours of his prominent bulge but otherwise he maintained his impressive composure. At his fly, she found more buttons of course, but was happy to take her time. Starting at the top, she undid one, and then a second, revelling in the slow reveal of her Potions Professor’s most highly tuned instrument. Another button, then another. Her fingertips trickled from one to the next until they were all undone.
She could have yanked his trousers down right then but she didn’t want to ruin the illusion. She wanted him to look as proper as possible. At least at the beginning.
Instead, she pulled his fly apart for a look, only to discover still more material. Black silk boxers. What else? Reaching in, she found the slit at the front of them, slithered her small hand through the dark opening like some sort of intrepid snake wrangler and closed in on the prize. She could tell by just the feel—warm and velvety but with a throbbing core, fully engorged—it was going to be a succulent indulgence.
With a small amount of rummaging, she managed to line up his cock with the opening and finally liberate it from its confines. His dick was even more impressive in person, a thick fleshy bar, cast in gold by the torchlight. She heard him snort faintly above her. No doubt it was the expression on her face. She was ogling and fondling his silken shaft even more gratuitously than she’d been ogled and fondled throughout the evening. She felt a bit hypocritical but clearly he didn’t mind.
Hermione had to tilt her head a little to get the right angle but she was determined to watch his face as she took him. She would be able to tell a lot in that moment. Grasping the base, she tested her action, stroking him gently. That same humming vibration was there, singing faintly against her palm. She wondered what it would feel like against her tongue and maybe even rubbing in other places. Her insides surged again at the thought, but she needed to deal with the first thing first.
She was far from an expert at sucking cocks but was confident she would make up for any shortfall with enthusiasm. After all, there was absolutely nothing and no one she could imagine wanting more in that moment. Years of history had been compressed into this singular exchange and there was unlikely to be another opportunity for her to express the complex mixture of emotions that now consumed her.
With that in mind, she fixed her eyes on his as her lips fell apart and she placed a wet kiss against the underside of his member. Its immediate twitch in her hand mimicked the tiny spasm that ticked through his cheek. Her next kiss included a lot more tongue and trailed up his warm contours before ending with her lips loosely nipping him. His chest expanded far beyond resting and his lips moved slightly in time with hers, as one sometimes does when feeding another. It was so endearing she found her mouth curling into a smile as her tongue flicked out to taste his smooth head. The warm muskiness against her tongue was both intimate and raw and she heard her own satisfied sigh as she laved forward to sample the golden pearl crowning his tip.
She witnessed his faltering frown as she withdrew her tongue and closed her eyes to focus on remembering his special taste. When she opened them again, his frown had been replaced by an expression of such naked desire that she decided she’d better start sucking before he determined that he needed to ravage her again.
Tipping his cock toward her, she lowered her mouth over his head, watching his eyes shutter and jaw go slack. He was in ecstasy and she found herself loving it. She loved that she was responsible for doing it to him. Her writhing tongue explored every firm bulge and taut ridge as she suctioned around him, sliding her hand in rhythmic strokes up and down his velvety length. His shoulders sagged forward and his arms were no longer rigidly folded. It was as though he was melting under the heat of her hungry mouth.
Leaning over him, she lowered her jaw and took him more deeply into her. After a few languorous nods of her head, her tight lips sliding over his slippery skin, she opened her throat to accommodate a little more, her tongue pulsing him against her soft palate. And then he fell apart altogether. His hands were on her, surging into her hair, grasping at her—the hands of a man consumed with desire.
And he was vocalising with abandon, each of her movements drawing a fresh grunt or moan. They were sounds she’d never heard him make in eight years—sounds that very few would have heard and yet she was fortunate enough to hear them now. They drove her to bob faster, to force him deeper.
“Fuck!” The tight expletive tore from somewhere throaty and raw and she knew he was close.
Just a few more—
“Hermione,” he rasped, grabbing the sides of her jaw with both hands to pull her back.
She looked up at him in confusion. He was breathing heavily.
“If I come in your mouth,” he swallowed, shaking his head apologetically, “I’m not going to be much good for anything else.”
She didn’t particularly care at that point. She had wanted to take him—to have a forever moment that she could look upon and remember.
Suddenly his mouth curled up in a surprisingly boyish grin and he chuckled down at her. “Don’t look so disappointed.”
He grabbed her hands that were still on his cock and pulled her up to standing. Drawing her close, he threaded his fingers into her hair.
“Since this is your last evening, there are a few things I would like to leave you with.”
He’d regained control of his delicious voice and it would, of course, be enough to convince her of anything.
“Although I must admit,” he continued to caress her, “that these thoughts weren’t devised this evening. Or even recently. You must know that . . .”
Hermione was stunned. Did she know that? Maybe she did. Again, denial was a powerful thing. She’d surprisingly easily fallen into wanting and chasing him this evening. Perhaps it had been building to this all along. She searched his face, struggling to reconcile the thought of him desiring her with his behaviour throughout the past year. He hadn’t just been holding back this evening, he’d clearly been restraining himself so comprehensively for so long that he’d been positively distant.
She sighed, wondering if things might have been different between them. But, in reality, there was no point lamenting what could have been. He was here now, in the flesh, and it was time to give herself to him—to what had been simmering within him, within both of them, for longer than either of them was possibly aware. And she was more than ready. Sucking him had driven her back to the edge again. It wouldn’t take much.
“I’m all yours,” she murmured, gazing up at him with an expression that she hoped communicated her honest, unfettered desire for him.
The hot embers that suddenly flared in his black orbs and the intensity that captured his jaw told her that it did, and that he was absolutely planning to give her something to remember. He started by placing one large hand on each of her shoulders and hooking his thumbs under the thin straps of her dress, gradually sliding them over her smooth curves before dragging the sheer material down her body, allowing it to drop in a satiny pool at her feet. Then in one smooth movement, he reached behind her and flicked the clasp on her strapless bra, letting it fall away to reveal her pert breasts, warmed by the incantation but still straining towards him. She was now completely naked except for her very brief G-string. He was the opposite, fully dressed except for his deliciously tumescent cock that stood in stark relief against his black trousers. As it bobbed toward her, she had to consciously stay herself; it was his turn, she would have to wait.
Dark eyes roving hungrily over her skin, he suddenly raised his hand.
“Accio!”
His coat, which had been discarded just inside the classroom door, flew into his fist and he proceeded to lay it on the desk behind him before lifting her easily and placing her on top of it. It seemed she was going to get a chance to become intimate with that particular garment after all.
From her slightly surreal position reclining on his desk, she watched his face closely as he leaned over her before placing both hands on her warm skin, skimming them over her naked body as though he couldn’t quite believe he had her there, taking stock of every inch of what she was offering him. When he reached her face, he cupped her so tenderly that she was quite overcome. He did nothing but look into her eyes for so long that she wondered, despite his desirous expression, if he might be having second thoughts. Then he unleashed himself on her.
Like a serpent striking, he captured her lips, driving his tongue passionately into her mouth and twining his fingers into her thick locks. Simultaneously, she slid her hands around his neck, pulling him into her. She was equally desperate, determined to savour his taste as she planned to rely heavily upon her wicked imagination in the months to come.
His mouth seized her bottom lip, sucking it into a swollen bud, before sliding off and ravenously plundering her neck as his hands grasped both breasts. She arched back with a needy moan as his teeth grazed against her throat, deft fingers rolling and plucking at her aching nipples which hummed with magical energy. Only seconds later, one sensitised nipple was completely engulfed by his warm, wet mouth and it spoke directly to her pussy as he sucked and flicked it forcefully with his powerful tongue.
Hermione threaded her fingers into his raven hair, encouraging him with needy pressure. She didn’t ever want him to let up—this was utterly divine.
He seemed to be gaining just as much pleasure from the experience as his sighs and moans matched hers in both frequency and intensity. Then his lips dragged from her breasts down her clenching abdomen, licking, sucking and nipping at her as his fingers trailed ahead, sliding under the thin elastic of her G-string, teasing it down over her hips but leaving a small window of fabric over her lips.
When he suddenly stood, Hermione released a small cry of disappointment which had him smirking again—a sexy little curl of his upper lip, before he placed two fingers on her abdomen, sliding them down toward her pussy as he worked his way from the side of the desk, around to the end where he could now position himself between her bent knees. He flashed her a dangerous look before lowering his face and tickling a trail of soft, warm kisses up her inner thigh. Hermione balled her fists over her eyes, unable to withstand his sensuous teasing.
“Severus?” The word came to her surprisingly easily, as did the whimpering need in her voice. “Please don’t make me wait any more . . . it’s been too long.”
The low vibration in his throat as he licked out into the crevice between her inner thigh and her labia told her that he more than agreed.
Then he was tonguing her lips through the fabric, sucking the pulsing flesh into his mouth. She could feel the damp and heat but not the sensation of skin on skin and it nearly drove her insane. Her hands dove into his hair again, nails grazing his scalp in proportion to the desire she felt for his tongue to be inside her.
Suddenly his teeth grazed against the skin over her pubic bone before clamping onto the elastic of the G-string and tearing the entire thing off her. The raw carnality of it was like a red hot rod driven up her core. And it was lucky that his tongue suddenly returned to delve between her lips, otherwise she would be impaling herself upon any part of him that she could find.
“Unnhhhh,” she moaned, spreading her legs apart and tilting her hips to allow him better access to her aching channel. But he didn’t go there immediately, instead flicking his tongue over and around the throbbing nub of her clitoris. She arched into him, trying to create a little more friction and he chuckled again, warm gushes of breath flooding over her clit before his tongue finally slid down, licking around her dripping opening before finally plunging inside.
“Yessss,” she hissed, inhaling deeply as though she could suck him even further into her.
His tongue was exquisite; she’d never known anything like it. Each powerful stroke was both an emphatic expression of his deep desire, as well as an intimate caress of her womanhood. She rocked her hips against him, her mouth falling open as his penetrating thrusts became more forceful. The tension in her core was back—building quickly around his deliciously adept muscle. His thumb was on her clitoris, rubbing it gently as his tongue continued to lave against her tightening walls.
He was going to taste her as she came. She knew it was a deliberate choice—she didn’t need to warn him. And so she just let it happen. The swelling balloon of tension rapidly built in her core, tipping her past the point of no return. And she was gone.
“Gods!” A bucking frenzy captured her hips and she lost all sense of where he was as she slammed her pussy into his face. Her muscles had been edged so many times already that evening that they clamped and seized in a frenzy of waves more violent than she could ever remember. As the guttural cry died in her throat, she was dimly aware of a stream of juice squirting from her and running down her backside onto his coat beneath her. Drawing in heaving breaths, she eventually blinked herself back to awareness, feeling the final contractions rolling through her pelvis and realising with some surprise that he was still with her, drawing out the final waves of her orgasm with his tongue and fingers.
She watched him as he finished between her thighs then, before rising, place a single gentle kiss at the apex of her labia. It was an incredibly intimate gesture and certainly not for her viewing benefit. More like a private farewell than anything else.
Well if he thought that was the case, he had another thing coming. She might be in the throes of some serious aftershocks from her last orgasm but there was no way she was leaving without having his cock inside her. She pushed herself up on the desk and, with a surprising amount of strength, driven no doubt by a desperate desire not to miss out on another opportunity, grabbed him by the shirt front and dragged him up onto the desk with her.
“Miss Granger.” He smirked, propping himself on his arms over her as he watched her fingers frantically pulling open his shirt buttons. “Am I to assume that you weren’t satisfied by my . . . approach?”
“You are to assume,” she murmured breathily, tearing the final buttons open before straining up to push his trousers down over his hips, “that for some things and . . . certain people . . . my appetite is rather . . . insatiable.”
“Really?” He inhaled deeply as her hand closed around his liberated cock.
“Yes, really,” she grunted as she hooked her foot into his trousers and pushed them down the rest of the way, forcing them under his knees before kicking them onto the ground.
“Come here, you,” she muttered, hooking one hand around his neck and pulling his mouth down onto hers at the same time as she clutched his buttocks and forced his hips forward, driving his cock into her sopping channel.
“Oh God, that’s good,” she breathed into his mouth.
“Exquisite,” he sighed against her lips as he settled himself around her and began thrusting deeply.
Hermione closed her eyes to absorb every delicious sensation of him filling her. His cock alone was impressive enough but those hips that had expertly ground and swivelled against her earlier in the evening were beyond incredible. Every thrust was perfection, hitting her in the sweet spot, rekindling her arousal with a few short minutes. Soon her thighs were wrapped around his pumping hips and her arms around his shoulders as through she were determined to consume him whole. And in some ways she was. She wanted to capture the entirety of him and how he felt against her, inside her, around her. For later on when . . . well, just for later.
Unfortunately she had to stop kissing him as she was finding it hard to breathe as he brought her closer to orgasm.
“Severus,” she ground out. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
He lifted his head to look her in the eyes, continuing to drive himself deeply into her.
“I was unsure of how I would be . . . received.” His voice held a tight honesty.
A wave of sadness and a strange possessiveness suddenly swamped her.
“This is how you would have been received,” she rasped, tilting her pelvis and squeezing his cock inside her as hard as she could.
His jaw dropped open and his eyelashes fluttered closed as a needy groan escaped his chest. After a few long moments his eyes reopened and found hers.
“Then this is how I would have responded,” he murmured thickly as he propped himself up, grabbing her under one knee and pushing her leg back against her chest until her pelvis was tilted at an acute angle, enabling him to use the impeccable swing of his hips to ream and penetrate her so completely that it made her head spin.
No longer capable of speaking, she simply moaned with each thrust, clinging to his broad shoulders as he drove her over the edge into oblivion.
“Severus!” she cried out, exalting in the sensation of her muscles finally coming around a firm, deeply-embedded cock and especially the knowledge of whose cock it was. And as she bucked against him, she was captured with an even greater euphoria as she felt him driving into her harder and harder until he suddenly choked out a final word, “Hermione!” before his cock began jerking and pulsing inside her. He ground his pelvis against her as he drove his come home and her muscles sucked at it gratefully before she finally collapsed back onto the desk, a smile of deep satisfaction on her face.
He smiled down at her in return, his chest rising and falling against hers.
“It would seem that satiation has finally been achieved,” he purred before gently kissing her smiling lips.
“Perhaps,” she whispered against him. “Although I am wondering if you have any other . . . unfinished . . . business?”
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Tango *Complete*

Tango Complete