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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: The majority choice was for both POVs and, of course, I live to serve :). By the way, thanks to all of you who were kind enough to encourage me to continue but, equally, I do hold you partly responsible for this chapter ;) DSx
Anon: ‘Feel free to continue ;)’ – Hahah! You are very kind. I have :)
Dedicated Reader: Well, you will be pleased to know that the deviousness continues. Let me know what you think.
OO: Yes, for some reason Sev’s POV made me all hyper-alliterative. I couldn’t fight it in the end. ‘I'm in the midst of a word wetty.’ – bahahah – the best! ‘People are always getting lost in the kinky kitchen or lacivious living room, but I keep telling them to turn left and go down the stairs. It's the only way to get to the lusty library and Dungeons of Desire.’ – Hahahah! But you did forget the Bawdy Bathroom! ‘Why didn't I come up with it first?’ – I think that about half the stuff you write. ‘Right now it sounds like he's reaming his cock between his fingers and her face’ – Hahah, maybe he was (thanks for the correction btw). ‘Who else would tease us all so mercilessly?’ – Maybe someone who doesn’t release their stories until they are completely finished? Or someone who promises a reward story and doesn’t deliver (even though I didn’t adhere to the conditions of the reward). ‘You're gorging yourself on duck wraps and evilly drumming your fingers together a la Mr. Burns.’ – You know me too well. Those duck wraps didn’t stand a chance . . .
LeWyKi: ‘on the off chance' - You're joking, right?’ – You know me too well too :) ‘show us both perspectives’ – I think I’ve done that although it might be a little lop-sided. ‘I believe they should give verbal a try’ – hahah – I don’t think they quite get there. ‘'Okay, this worked well, wanna repeat it...frequently? On a regular basis? - Yes, let's!'’ – can I quote you? ‘Very kind of you, to let Hermione get to a bed after that workout on some pretty uncomfortable furniture.’ – this is true although comfort is not necessarily guaranteed ;). Thank you for the correction. Don’t ever hesitate to point this sort of thing out if you notice it. ‘Are you competing for some title of 'Queen of Alliterations'? And if so, with whom?’ – hahah! Well picked up. Yes, Oracle Obscured and I often try to out-alliterate each other. I just can’t seem to help it. I have toned it down for this chapter. Sev’s POV just seems to bring it out in me. Have a nice weekend too.
HG4Eva: I love your summation of trust and awe – perfect! Both perspectives delivered. Although I’m not sure if she’s figured out how to keep him just yet!
Anon: Thank you very much!
The Wandering Angel: So lovely to hear from you. I ended up going with the majority thoughts on POV. But I suspect we haven’t quite reached our satisfying conclusion. You are right about being waylaid by RL – work has been hell this past two weeks and I’ve had so little time to write. But thankfully I had a bit of time the past day or so. I hope this is a worthy addition. Are you posted on this site?

Chapter 4 - Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
His frock coat enveloped her, swaddling her in its dark warmth, scuffing gently against the underside of her chin as she drifted on the rhythm of his long, easy strides. She felt slight, almost child-like as she curled into the downy warmth of his chest, enjoying the rumble that vibrated, deep and sonorous, against her cheek as he dealt quiet incantations into the semi-darkness, unlocking and opening the door to his chambers before stepping through and tossing flames into the grate.
Her fingers, that had been prowling the nape of his neck, now slithered upward, combing into his hair. Despite the intimacy of their recent exchanges, she still felt that she hadn’t had enough of him. It was as though the opportunity to touch him had sparked an instant infatuation—an urgent compulsion to explore. And when she should have been revelling in the rare opportunity to survey his private chambers, she found herself more intrigued by the way his fine black locks trickled between her splayed fingers. She gazed dreamily at them. He was so utterly captivating—every part of him. Over the past few hours, she’d been completely overwhelmed by what she’d discovered of him—a man that she had clearly known only in the most superficial terms; and not even that. She hadn’t known him any deeper than she would a performer, or an actor, one whom controls everything that is known of him, manufactures every perception.
She sighed. This powerful wizard trickling deliciously between her fingers definitely had her confounded. He was so deliriously carnal, shocking her repeatedly with his extraordinarily rough and raw brand of sex. But contrasting starkly were the equally passionate acts that were so restrained and exquisitely tender that they made her heart tremble. He was by far the most exhilarating fuck she’d ever had. In fact, he was so much more than a fuck that she wasn’t entirely sure where to catalogue him in her, normally exceedingly organised, mind.
He was her Professor—at least for another few hours. It was a role in which she admired and respected him. But he was also now her lover, if only for an evening, and the fact that he knew more about certain intimate parts of her than just about anyone else, meant that she now inexplicably felt as close to him emotionally as she was physically, lifting her eyes to his, sinking into his dark pools and wondering what he was thinking. Did he actually want her here? Would he fuck her again? He’d said that he loved it, after all. Hadn’t he? Please . . . Please let him fuck her again . . .
Where was she? He watched as the honeyed highlights suddenly reappeared in her eyes, signifying that she’d finally returned. Smirking inwardly, he observed her clear and present gaze now needling at him like a probing finger, cajoling him into servicing her needs once again. Little minx. Delicious little minx. He was still desperate to slip inside her, to discover what drew her so deeply into herself. She’d already revealed much—aspects of herself that were exceedingly personal. But he wanted more. In fact, he sensed that he could spend a lifetime learning about her and still feel that thread of intrigue winding through him, drawing him into her.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
She finally glanced about, taking in the stylish interior of his chambers. It was masculine and surprisingly lavish, not unlike the man whose arms she was getting increasingly used to reclining within.
She did feel like a drink actually. A drink of him—the drink that he’d denied her earlier. But she suspected that he wasn’t on the menu right now. Not after he’d already delivered himself deep inside her three times that evening. In fact, the truth was that she was currently dripping with him and should probably clean herself up first.
“Yes. Anything’s fine. Can I use your bathroom?”
She was still tugging gently at his hair as she spoke and he enjoyed the pleasant familiarity of it. He had always seen her as a sensuous person—her tactile nature was therefore not surprising. But he still couldn’t help revelling in the thought that she was drawn to him. As he was to her.
“Through the door. Room off the bedroom.” He inclined his head as he finally allowed her to slip through his arms.
She pulled his coat around her shoulders, deciding that she could get used to the cosy refuge of it. She understood now why it was a virtually permanent accoutrement—the weight, warmth and copious buttons akin to body armour. She also suspected that, like her, he was not nearly as self-assured as he appeared. It was his security blanket. She understood that.
However, casting a look back as she headed for the door, she decided that for someone with confidence issues, he sure wore stark nakedness, and a not-too-casually draped cock, better than anyone she’d ever seen. He stood with an easy grace as his hands slid behind the polished doors of a handsome walnut cabinet, retrieving crystal glasses. She quickly averted her gaze. She’d been caught—ogling. Sighing, she paused with her hand on the door handle, somehow reluctant to leave. Now that she’d discovered him, she was excruciatingly aware of how little time they had left together. She didn’t want to waste a moment.
When she finally opened the door, she discovered that it led into an equally sumptuous bedroom decorated in rich greens, with fittings of silver and soft furnishings of café au lait. Mmmmm, Creamy Slytherin . . . how appropriate. And topping it all off was an elegant and expansive piece positioned in the centre of the far wall—a four poster bed. He clearly had a penchant for fine furniture and plush furnishings. Again, she thought that perhaps if she’d seen all this earlier, his shrine to sensualism, she may have realised that he was a quite different man to the irascible curmudgeon that she, and most others, had pegged him to be.
The colour theme was carried through to a tasteful bathroom with large tiles and expensive fittings. Did Hogwarts pay for all this? She doubted it. It had likely come from his own pocket. And obviously it wasn’t all for show. She doubted that very much entertaining occurred in this space, if any. No, it seemed that this was for him. Another sanctuary perhaps? A soft landing for a sensitive heart?
Hermione released a long breath as she placed his coat over a wooden cabinet and finally sat to relieve herself of several hours of alcohol and multiple plunderings by his hefty cock. She was certainly going to remember this evening for more reasons than the obvious. Blossoming trails of welts and bruises adorned her body and both openings had been well and truly tenderised. It felt good.
Gazing around the room, her eyes were drawn to an enticingly clean shower. She could really do with one right now but it did feel a little presumptuous. She settled for casting a few simple wandless cleansing spells to remove the strong odours of sex that permeated her skin and nether regions. She didn’t mind it at all but if there was to be any more contact between them she didn’t want to be worrying about it. Although, she did suspect from what they’d shared so far, that he would be equally unconcerned. In fact, he probably liked it.
In the mirror, she noted how particularly well-fucked her hair looked. Bits were sticking out like the wires of a broken appliance. Removing the remaining pins which were doing nothing, she dropped them into the pocket of his frock coat before wrapping it around herself, warding off the creeping chill of the bathroom. A few quick hair straightening spells later and she was ready to return—to him. The unfamiliar surge that captured her chest should have been encouraging—a welcome antidote to the drudgery of her past weeks of exams and packing. But it was more worrying than that; it was almost like she missed him. Fuck! It was probably a good thing she was leaving in the morning—she clearly needed space to get her head right.
Studying her face in the mirror, she noted the healthy flush tinting her cheekbones; the shine in her eyes. It clearly wasn’t all bad. Not bad at all. A wicked grin slid across her lips as she finally turned away.
She’d changed. At least her hair had. She smelled different too. He could tell even as she approached that the musky scent of sex had diminished. It was probably just as well. He found the multi-sensory assault of her silken curves and heady aroma of sex more than a little distracting. Although he doubted she would balk at another round. Even the way she walked, managing to pull off a bare-foot swagger despite the encumbrance of his frock coat, suggested that she already had something else on her mind.
“Your rooms are very attractive,” she commented, but the smoulder in her eyes told him she was suggesting something more.
He inclined his head. “When one’s dwelling is a dungeon, one must take make some attempt to assuage the damp and cold.” He handed her a glass.
She offered him a smile before raising the effervescent liquid to her lips, noting the motes of citrus that danced from its surface. The first sip was slightly dry—definitely alcoholic. Was he trying to get her pissed again? She certainly hoped so.
She took another sip. And another, her eyes wandering over him, drawn to the way his long fingers cradled the glass before lifting it to his lips, kissably pursed, throwing back a long swallow. As she watched, his tongue swiped over the moisture on his upper lip and she found herself suddenly closing the gap between them. In one swift motion, she reached up and grasped his neck as she had a number of times already that evening, guiding him down to her. But before they met, she flicked her tongue out and licked up the shadowed furl under his bottom lip before depositing her mouthful of drink between his parted lips.
What the fuck? He swallowed down the warm intrusion before plunging his tongue into her mouth. She was so blatantly evocative, almost aggressive, inciting him to do things to her.
Hermione was enraptured. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her but her tongue had suddenly wanted to feel the prickle of the tiny bubbles against the rough swathe of dark hairs pressing insistently through his pale skin. It had been delicious—tiny titillating spurs matching the tingling bursts against her sensitive tip. And thank Merlin it turned out he was still hungry for her too. Ravenous in fact.
“Severus, your bed . . . looks so . . . comfortable,” she panted against his marauding lips.
Without looking, he took her glass from her hand, continuing to passionately devour her, before placing both of their drinks on a nearby cabinet, shoving his coat from her shoulders and scooping her up, naked. In swift strides, he had her into the next room and was unfurling her in one decadent wave onto the quilt.
An appreciative moan slipped from her depths.
“Please fuck me again, Severus,” she whispered into his mouth.
He sucked at her lips one last time before propping himself on his outstretched arms, fixing her with his dark gaze.
“No.”
He nearly chuckled. She looked devastated. She clearly wanted him—wanted him to help her cram as much into her final day, and her delectable orifices, as possible. And he would oblige. Of course he would. But he had certain . . . conditions.
“Only if you let me inside you.” His voice was edged with a deep, raw conviction. “I want to trawl your fantasies . . . find one that appeals to my . . . urges . . . And do it to you.”
Her heart dropped. How the fuck did he know? Had her impure thoughts been that obvious? Flapping like dirty washing in his face as he’d tangoed, mauled and fucked her? Or was it the fact that she’d practically begged him to fuck her in the arse? It probably did suggest a slightly non-puritanical mindset.
She gazed at him; his eyes flashed. He was so dangerously sexy. Would she survive the combination of his uncompromising carnality and the extreme fantasies that he would discover romping around, jiggling with unrestrained orgiastic fervour, inside her mind?
In that moment she found that she didn’t care. What she did care about, however, was the lifetime of regret she’d have to live with if she didn’t take this opportunity—if she didn’t let him have his way with her. They were her fantasies after all—everything she wanted done to her. But they were also her most intimate secrets. She couldn’t be more vulnerable but she knew it was already a done deal. She wanted him inside her. In every way.
“I accept.”
She met his penetrating gaze with a sultry determination that made him want to ravage her again. But he needed to bide his time. To save himself. He suspected he would be requiring his energy— every ounce of it.
“Accio!”
His wand flew from somewhere across the room, snapping smartly against his palm before he drew it down to rest against her temple.
Hermione shivered. He was a hugely powerful Legilimens. He didn’t need a wand. The fact that he was using it meant he would be probing her thoughts and emotions as deeply and thoroughly as possible. There would be nowhere to hide.
His other hand suddenly tunnelled into her hair, holding her head in place. With a focused frown, he stared into her and then she felt him enter, rippling through her mind, boring into its depths, sifting through the thousands upon thousands of images that played out inside her. Then she sensed something unexpected, she felt him very strongly, his own mind, his emotions as he explored her. She felt him wanting to be close to her. It was deeply warming despite the intrusion.
And then his face changed. His eyebrows fluttered upward in a mixture of surprise and shock. Fuck. He was there. His mouth ticked up once, twice, before fixing in what could only be described as a wicked grin. A flare of heat surged through her core. She had no idea what he was looking at but the way his lips fell apart so he could draw in a ragged breath suggested it was something that well and truly tapped into his . . . urges.
“I believe I have found just the thing.” The words dripped slowly from his lips, the smooth pads lingering loosely over hers, and she only just managed to stop herself form lunging into them.
“I must make some preparations . . . Make yourself . . . comfortable.”
Then he was gone. In a flash he was up and striding away. And she was left wondering how she could be any more comfortable—lounging on the silkiest linen she’d ever known, on the grandest bed she’d ever enjoyed. He’d ignited the grate and the warmth was instant. If she got any more comfortable she’d be asleep.
Propping herself on one elbow to ensure that sleep didn’t ruin her plans for more sex, she watched with curiosity as he came and left the room. She heard the distinct sound of rattling glass from the lounge area and when he returned, he held three bottles in his hands. Summoning a small table, he placed the bottles on them before standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, wand resting against the crook of his elbow. His eyes were darting about between her body and the bed. What was he planning?
The slow rise of his chin suggested that he’d made up his mind about something. That sexy hitch had also returned to the corner of his lips—he was clearly more than satisfied with what he was about to do. She inhaled deeply, her entire body tightening with anticipation.
“I want you in the middle of the bed. Arms up. Legs open,” he ordered.
It was so instructional, so classroom Snape, that it made her quiver. She was waiting for him to ask her to turn to page three hundred and ninety—
“Now,” he growled.
She scuttled backwards before flopping her arms above her head and sliding her legs apart. Her heart was hammering a hole in her chest. This was one of her favourites. She just couldn’t quite believe that the main protagonist had never been him—not until now. And he couldn’t be more perfect for the role. His cock also seemed to be making preparations, no longer lounging in insouciant indifference but jutting forward, eager and attentive.
It was as her eyes and thoughts lingered on his cock that she felt the flicker. She didn’t react at first—he had his wand out and was weaving it in such a mesmeric pattern that she felt herself drifting. But then it came again, a distinct flutter against her palm. Both palms. And then her feet. She screamed. But it was too late. Quick as a flash, her hands and feet were instantly bound by coil upon coil of writhing bodies. Thrashing around, she took in all four limbs. Each was wrapped tightly in the cool leathery embrace of a black snake. She yanked on her bound limbs before fixing him with a glare.
“I don’t remember any fucking snakes,” she ground out darkly.
His jaw firmed as he flexed the bicep holding his wand, instantly pulling tight the serpentine bodies that stretched between the bed posts and her wrists and ankles.
“No. That was my little touch.”
He didn’t smile. His cock jolted. He was clearly enjoying the sight of her helpless squirming.
“Will they bite?” She grimaced as she strained to look at them.
“Only if I tell them to.”
The threat. The fear. They were present in her fantasies too. He might have used a little artistic licence but she couldn’t deny that he’d read her pretty fucking well. It was creepy as hell but their muscular gyrations, cool and waxen against her flushed skin were suddenly feeding into some extremely primal desires.
Her eyes were glittering, glazed with a sheen of lust. She was fucking loving it. He knew she would. And the sight of the snakes, their ebony coils sinking into her ivory flesh, was making him even harder. He hardly needed the potion but he would take it because he had even grander plans. Something that, with any luck, would blow her mind.
Flicking the stopper off one of the bottles, he threw it back with one gulp before vanishing it like a magician with a deft ripple of his fingers. Hermione had no idea what was in the bottle but it instantly caused his cock to swell, rising to rigid attention like he was preparing for a shoot-out—pistols at dawn—although sunrise was a few hours away. Still, with her limbs comprehensively bound and his weapon drawn, Hermione suspected that she was in for something extraordinary.
And it began with him extending his wand toward her, wrist turned upward as he teased her limbs with a few springy tugs on her live binds. Then he began that hypnotic weaving again, and the snake heads that had been flickering their tongues disconcertingly against her skin, twisted back upon themselves, exchanging places with their tails until they were coiled around the bed posts, continuing to hold her securely.
He murmured quietly as he directed the two snakes at her ankles to wind their way up the posts of the bed. As they climbed, her legs lifted and spread further, tilting her backside up until she felt the blood rushing to her head. The serpents climbed to the top corners of the posts before he directed them to weave along the horizontal rails, taking her ankles with them until her hips were raised over her head, and she was bent at right angles. Her legs were split as far as they would go and her pussy as exposed as it could possibly be.
She gasped, trying to draw in breath against the compression of her own weight but also the exhilaration of how open she was. She could just see his face as he stood over her, his eyes were slightly shuttered; he appeared to be revelling in the view. And just when she was wondering if he planned to leave her like that, he pounced.
There was no casual prowl, no easing into her general vicinity. He was suddenly between her legs, his mouth plundering her pussy.
“Fuck!” she cried, bucking up into him and causing the snakes to tighten their grip.
Using his fingers, he spread her lips apart to expose her clitoris which was raw and sensitive after the previous events of the evening. His scorching mouth now descended over it, his tongue working over the nub until she felt sharp shocks of desire shooting into her channel. It was a delicious view as he leaned over her. She could see what he was doing so closely, his tongue lapping, moist and glistening, between her lips, his hair spilling down her thighs.
But then he slid back a little, licking and probing the opening to her urethra with his writhing tip, building the ache, before finally plunging into her gaping opening. Her pussy seized onto him, clutching at the slick muscle that filled her more than she could have thought possible.
“Severus!” she whimpered, trying to communicate the feelings that he was inciting with each rhythmic curl along her walls.
She would have thought it the most exquisitely intimate indulgence she had ever experienced if he hadn’t suddenly pulled out and continued backwards, licking along the smooth seam of her perineum before wriggling, firm and insistent into her equally exposed back passage.
Her eyes rolled back.
“Ohhhh.” The air escaped her lungs in a long breathy moan as he tickled his way inside her. She felt her ring clenching reflexively, but he maintained the pressure, driving in deeper before pushing against the resistance in her channel.
His fingers, three of them, slipped into her pussy and started rubbing at her back wall as he licked forward.
Both openings were being pressed together until they felt like one single cavernous gap between her legs. It was both disconcerting and utterly divine. Her head was so full of blood and her openings so full of him, she felt herself wanting to drift away but the building pressure inside her was enough to keep her present. She was so close to coming again.
But just when she was approaching the crest, riding toward the point of no return, he pulled out, leaving both openings cool and empty.
That couldn’t be all, could it? His wand was back and he was now directing the snakes around her arms to follow the lead of the others. They slithered in sinuous waves up the bed posts before turning onto the horizontals and pulling her wrists up with them until she was hanging off the bed, her legs and arms spread, her head lolling back.
“You might remember this?” His voice was a wicked purr as he lined the engorged head of his cock up with her pussy.
Of course she fucking did. It was repeated many times and in just as many variations. It was definitely one of hers. She braced herself as he grasped both of her hips. Then he slammed into her.
“Oh Merlin, fuck!” she screamed, her head recoiling with the impact on her entire body.
But he didn’t let up. Pulling out all the way, he rammed into her again. She cried out and convulsed as her cervix shuddered. Swinging her away on her snake binds, he hauled her back to meet his full-cock thrusts over and over again. She moaned with each one as it drove the air from her lungs in violent bursts. But her pussy was delirious, punch drunk by the combination of his pelvis pummelling into her lips and his driving cock spearing into her depths. It was as though he was progressively slamming her toward a full-body orgasm. And as he drove into her, whipping her head back with each forceful impact, she had the vague sense that if her brain actually did get fucked out, at least she would die happy.
And as he swung her away for the last time she knew that, either way, it was going to be an epic release. Ramming himself home to the hilt, his most violent intrusion yet sent shockwaves through her entire abdomen, triggering a series of contractions that exploded through her strained openings. Inhuman shrieks burst from her, leaving her throat raw as she jerked and seized against her binds. Then she could only moan her core collapsed around him in wave after wave, the streams of juice squeezing from her until her pussy was left shuddering, spent and dripping.
Her head hung back in the aftermath, her hair scuffing the bed as she swayed gently on the snakes’ continuous undulations. And finally she felt herself being lowered back down onto the soft quilt, the bodies around her wrists and ankles loosening a little. Blinking, she tried to focus on his form which swam in and out like a pale mirage before she finally fixed upon him; he was breathing lightly, cock still erect and lacquered with her release. Clearly he hadn’t come. He seemed to be waiting for something.
“Have you had enough?” he asked, arms crossed as though he’d been dishing out punishment.
She should have said, ‘Yes’. Any sane person would have. But she was no longer sane. He’d pushed her beyond that. And she hadn’t been exaggerating about her insatiable desires. She’d spent many long nights exploring herself and found that she possessed a surprising level of stamina. And so she said it—the final intelligible thing that she would utter for a considerable length of time.
“No.”
He’d suspected as much. She was courageous but she was also fucking relentless. He hadn’t known anyone like her. But he had a feeling that the final part of his plan would leave her more than satisfied—in fact, he was confident that she would be satiated to the core.
Drawing his wand, he watched her closely as, like a conductor of perversity, he orchestrated his next move. The snakes around her ankles released and rapidly retracted, dissolving into the dark wood of the bed posts. But those binding her wrists slithered upward once again, drawing her arms above her head. This time when they reached the horizontals, they contracted, drawing her higher still until she was kneeling on the bed, her arms held in a Y.
Slowly and deliberately he returned his wand to the small table before grasping the second potion bottle. One eyebrow lifted slightly as he brought it to his lips, teasing her. She hadn’t a clue what he was up to. He threw it back before vanishing the bottle.
Hermione stared at him, looking for the slightest hint of change but there was only one, a satisfied hitch of his mouth as he seemed to stare at her—through her.
What was he doing? Was he expecting her to—
Oh Gods! Oh fuck!
Something slithered around her side before coming to rest against her shivering belly. She looked down. It was a hand. His hand. Whipping her head around, she craned over her shoulder. It was him. He was there—an exact replica, dark eyes burning into her as he lowered his head to graze his lips along her shoulder blade. By the time she looked back, the original Severus had positioned himself on the bed in front of her. He was watching the other, himself, positioned behind her, hand sliding up to grasp one of her breasts.
Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed. She would have collapsed if it weren’t for her serpent manacles. She’d read about it before—extremely advanced magic—the Doppelganger potion. And now she had two of him. Two highly erotic, hyper-sexual Severus Snapes. Both of them groping her gratuitously. And when she cracked her eyes open she saw something so inconceivable that it jolted her to the core. He was feeding her to himself. Severus Two was holding her breast from behind, nipple protracted between his fingers for Severus one to sample, licking and nipping before sucking it into his mouth. They were working together, collaborating, helping themselves to her. Her head fell back and Severus two was instantly upon her, his hot mouth finding her exposed neck—the second mouth, the second set of hungry lips devouring her. Her mind was slowly melting. Then they moved in closer, cocooning her between their warm bodies. And then she felt it—two cocks, two soft satiny batons brushing against her belly and buttocks. It had been one of her most frequent fantasies. But never like this. Never with the best fuck of her life twice over.
Their hands slithered, grasped, pinched and plied her until she was a whimpering mess before she heard Severus One mutter, ‘Accio.’
She managed to pry her eyes open just in time to see him open the third bottle and dig out a significant daub of clear gel. She felt Severus Two move around to her side and when she looked down, Severus One proceeded to grasp the equally magnificent cock of his double, slicking it expertly with the lubricant, dragging his fist up and down his length as Severus two grunted appreciatively. Gods! Hermione felt another piece of her sanity crack and fall away.
Then the third bottle was disappeared and Severus One leaned into her, his mouth tickling her temple as he spoke,
“You should know that I’ve dreamed about fucking you in just about every position conceivable. But the inspiration for this came from you—your deliciously depraved mind. I thank you for showing it to me.”
His warm breath trailed across her cheek as he withdrew. Then she felt his hands, both sets, encircle her thighs and lift her from the bed. As they held her, spread wide, she felt one cock probe at her pussy before pushing inside. She’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had but her channel felt so engorged she was surprised his entry required only a few firm thrusts. With their encouragement, she wrapped her legs around the hips of Severus One, so that she was now hanging from her arms. Then hands were on her buttocks, pulling them apart, and she sensed the smooth helmet of a second cock sliding down her crevice before butting against her tight constriction. She allowed her head to tip forward, resting on Severus One’s shoulder as she felt a more insistent pressure and was forced to stretch around the second solid intrusion into her orifices. She moaned, her face a rictus of effort as she felt herself being filled.
In gradual increments, Severus Two, slid into her. The quality lubricant might have had something to do with it, plus that fact that she’d already been well and truly buggered earlier in the evening, but this time it didn’t seem to take as long to feel him embedded fully inside her. But what struck her was the feeling of completeness as her body adjusted around the double penetration. It was overwhelming but also filled her with a sense of being wanted—he was forcing as much of himself inside her as possible, twice over.
But the feeling of fullness paled in comparison to the sensation that claimed her as the two Severus’ began to thrust. Alternating, in perfect attunement, they slipped in and out of her openings. The way their heads reamed along her walls like well-oiled pistons, and the jolt inside her every time they slipped past the same point was beyond exquisite. Meanwhile, they continued to fondle her, squeezing and tweaking her nipples as their mouths grazed and sucked at her in time with their gathering momentum. She closed her eyes again, her head listing as she felt herself being drawn into a maelstrom of carnal bliss from which she may never return. And, to be honest, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.
Incomprehensible sounds warbled from her lips as the speed and impact of their plunges continued to build. She was sandwiched so securely between their panting breaths and steamy bodies that she felt like she was about to combust. Primal grunts grated against the walls of her throat as she careened toward what may be the last orgasm of her life. They were slamming into her so fast that there was no reprieve from the fullness, it was a constant barrel of sensation that swelled to breaking point, peaked and then shattered.
She cried as she came, hot tears of relief, a catharsis that mirrored the monumental release rolling through her pelvis.
He watched as her tears fell. He wasn’t concerned. He understood how she felt. He wasn’t far off the same. His cock was a throbbing column of ecstasy and the fact that he could feel threads of sensation from his double meant that there was nothing left now than to release himself into her, to simultaneously coat her insides with his seed—his final mark.
“Hermione,” he ground out against her wet cheek as he rammed himself home for the final time, his balls driving exuberant streams of come deep into her pussy. And his double arrived soon after, hissing and grunting as he plunged a second stream into her convulsing passages.
Moments later they collapsed, all three, onto the bed. Severus kissed the rivulets of tears that trailed down her cheeks and watched as a beatific smile flickered across her lips.
As sleep rapidly dragged her into unconsciousness, ensconced between the bodies of two Severuses, Hermione’s final fleeting feelings were ones of gratitude. Severus Snape was utterly magnificent. Both of him.

A/N: Epilogue??
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Tango *Complete*

Tango Complete