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Practice	By : FJH Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 8382 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Practice
- 1
Warning: This story is NC-17, written in response to a WIKTT challenge. Contains non-consensual sex, BDSM overtones, and disturbing images. All characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling.

Practice
by MonteLukast

Whoever said it, wherever he had read it, it was right. Kids were getting stupider every year.
This one didn't know what would happen if you added mugwort to an infusion of calendula and heliotrope. That one couldn't name three uses for asphodel besides the Draught of Living Death.
And they were all just plain irritating. Their mannerisms, their pudgy little faces, clammy and clumsy little hands, and dull, glazed little eyes.
*How possessors of flabby minds come to actually look that way.*
No matter. He would be free from these torturous tasks soon. At least for another evening.
He unlocked the back door to his storeroom. The one whose true purpose only he knew about; even Dumbledore had thought it to be merely a repository for severely restricted potions. *My aching back,* he thought as he crept down the steps with lit wand in hand. *My head* He was going to need an especially long session tonight.
He increased the brightness of his wand and set it up in the corner of the room. Her hair glinted in its light, a flowing copper and caramel cascade. As he muttered the spell to unlock the door, she did not lift her head.
"Hey," he said sharply. After a few long seconds, she turned to face him. Her eyes, unlike her hair, were dull and expressionless.
"It's been a long day," he said, already doffing his robes, "and I need as much relaxation as I can get tonight."
Her expression did not change, though she kept her eyes on him. He hung his robes on a hook on the wall and turned to face her again. "Come here," he said, taking her hand. She stiffly got to her feet.
He pulled her to the center of the room, cupped her chin and gazed at her face for a moment. Her eyes were the only part of her that lacked luster; everything else was ineffably healthy and glowing. From her translucent skin to her pearly teeth to her slightly parted, coral lips
Her bent his head and kissed her. *Watermelon. Today she tastes of watermelon*
She did not move, barely breathed as he wrapped his arms around her, tasting of her, exploring every inch of soft mouth with his tongue. Mostly watermelon with a few pockets of strawberries along her cheeks and coconut along her teeth but he met with an unpleasant sensation back by her tonsils, almost tasting of vomit, so he pulled back to concentrate on the sweeter areas. His exploration took nearly three minutes nonstop, and she breathed through her nose all this time, never changing her rate or rhythm.
He suddenly slid his hand down to cup her breast, kneading its softness through the starched black fabric, running his thumb over where her areola and nipple should have been. Within seconds the tissue hardened and swelled as he paid the same attention to her other breast, he moved his lips to her neck, tasting of her there as well, running up and down her throat *Odd. She tastes of roast chicken here. Not altogether unpleasant.*
He circled both nipples with his thumbs, feeling them tighten even more, before swooping down and mouthing first one and then the other though her rough, simple robe. It was a pleasurable sensation apart from the taste of mold on the fabric.
"I think," he said through a mouthful of luscious collarbone, "the wall would be an excellent idea." She did not respond, did not close her lips.
He placed her back to the wall, took out his wand and murmured a spell. Instantly her arms spread straight out to the sides, and black cords sprang from the wall, wrapping around her wrists, anchoring her and making her look vaguely like that very common Muggle religious symbol. She closed her mouth, but her eyes never lost their glassy, unfocused appearance.
Another incantation and her robe was gone, exposing her luminous flesh, made twice as provocative by the awkward position he had placed her in. He stood back for a minute, taking in the sight before his eyes, trying to decide. Fast or slow?
He opted for slow, knowing that he needed long relief. After removing his own garments, he closed the gap between them and pressed his body against hers, lips to lips, her nipples each a couple of inches inward from his nipples, her hips about six inches above his, her smooth legs sandwiched between his thighs covered with downy black hair. He spread his arms out to the sides, covering hers. *I have a good hand's length on her That's not even counting the length of my fingers*
He wormed his tongue inside her mouth, twirling it around hers though her knew hers would be unresponsive. He shifted himself up and down, rubbing her with his whole body, enjoying the scrape of her peaked nipples on his chest. He passed his hands between them to massage her breasts more thoroughly, and after a minute of this task he slid his right hand down to the triangle of hair between her thighs. He kneaded the mound with the palm of his hand, his middle finger circling and ssinssing her clitoris, which hardened by the second just as her nipples had.
At the first sensation of moisture on his fingertips, he slid his hand further downward and plunged his index and middle fingers into a veritable well of slick juices. Never breaking the motion of either of his hands - his left was passing from one breast to the other, alternating between rough tweaks and almost soothing squeezes - he stroked and stroked, feeling the flow run over his probing fingers, down his thumb, over his palm
*For all they do to you, they still leave your sexual responses intact. Am I the only person who knows this? *
He brought his hand back to his mouth and licked it off. Salty, musky, yet sweet *Gods, she still tastes the same as if she were *
He didn't want to drink of her directly just yet. He liked to watch her too much There was something all too satisfying about seeing her flow, knowing he was able to make her do that. He settled for partaking of her breasts. He took whole mouthfuls of creamy flesh, gave the merest nibbles and nips to the already sensitized, reddened tips, and took all other sizes of bite and suck in between. He slid his fingers back into her and ran them back and forth, back and forth, crooking them so they would graze that spongy, semi-rough area that was supposed to be the deepest center of a woman's pleasure. He paid hearty attention to this little spot, wanting to see if the theory was correct.
She abruptly shuddered and he pulled back from her breasts, pushing his fingers all the way inside her. He stretched as far as he could and found the little sunken area, almost like a tiny doughnut, at the highest end of her canal. He stroked it softly with the tip of his middle finger as he gazed up into her eyes.
They were still as glassy as before, but there was a spark, very faint, a mere fraction of the one she used to have when she still had a soul; but a spark nonetheless. Her chest rose and fell with her heavy sighs, her thoroughly lavished breasts pink and tender. He leaned in, planting a line of wet kisses down her abdomen, ready for the piéce de résistance
He sank to his knees and clamped his mouth over the entrance to her sex, taking it as he took her mouth, with swirling tongue and taste buds on high alert. She tasted so much sweeter when he was sipping right from her. The saltiness had to have mostly come from his hand
He left no crevice unattended, not wanting to waste a drop of her. His hand came down to wrap around his erection, almost forgotten in the enjoyment of his feast. Keeping his mouth locked on her, lips to nether lips, he stroked himself with increasing pressure, feeling the heat rise. He lashed her clitoris with his tongue, suckled it with almost brute force, losing all restraint now.
He repositioned himself and pushed the fingers of his free hand inside her, stroking in time with the strokes on his own organ. He could, out of the corner of his eye, see her toes curling and uncurling, her calves twitching. *As close to an orgasm as a woman who's had a run-in with dementors can have, I guess.*
He then pulled his mouth back, but kept his fingers inside to coax more juice from her. He brought his other hand to his mouth, wetted it, and resumed the attentions to his cock. The combination of his saliva and her wetness left an incredibly exciting coolness on the hot, pulsing skin. He reached back farther and smeared a little on his balls. *Aaaahhh. So close*
In about thirty seconds he was too close. One glance downward convinced him he had to take his opportunity now. He squeezed the purple-red tip of his now extremely rigid erection to insure the least possible chance of losing it too soon. Standing up and positioning himself flush against her, he hiked up her hips and thrust home. A soft, deadpan moan escaped from her lips. Curiously, despite the sudden pressure, he remained silent.
He wrapped her legs around his hips and locked his arms around her waist as he went in for the kill, having had enough of nice and slow. He could thrust as roughly as he wanted, just as he could suck on her clit as hard as he wanted. It wasn't as if she'd protest. *I don't want to see blood though. Leave that to Neanderthals like Philip Crabbe*
It didn't take long for him to achieve release. Gripping her hips firmly, thrusting his hardest, he exploded into her. No groan rumbled from his throat, only raspy, labored breathing. It somehow seemed more appropriate.
The last of his spasms subsided as he slipped out of her, letting her legs hang down to touch the floor. He put his weight back on his heels and ran a hand through his sweat-soaked locks. With his other hand he reached down and grasped his now-soft cock. There was still a glistening drop at the tip of it. The aroma hung heavy in the air. *I feel much better now.*
Finding his wand in the fold of his robe, he pointed it at the girl on the wall, and the black cords released her. She slid down to the ground, mouth open again, the same faint spark still in her eyes, her cheeks flushed and her lips even brighter. Her eyelids drooped in an air that would have been sensual, in other circumstances.
"Up," he said to her. As if pulled by strings, she rose to her feet. So far gone she doesn't even need the Imperius Curse. He took a cloth to wipe off her mound and the tops of her thighs. An incantation clothed her back in her black robe, and another banished the mats and tangles from her hair.
"Fortunately you're not difficult to keep," he said, leading her back to her room and sitting her down. Conjuring a flask in his hand, he tipped her head back, opened her mouth and poured its contents down her throat. "One pint of nutrient potion a day and a roof over your head is all you need." He wiped her mouth and permitted himself a small smile. "Lie down," he said, pushing her down on the cot. She stretched out, placed her head on the pillow and closed her eyes as he shut the door and warded it behind her.
He picked up his wand, dimming it somewhat, as he walked away from the soulless girl. He did not put it out completely until he reached the outer door. Thirty days in total darkness was said to make Muggles go blind; he presumed it was the same with witches but it was not as if she needed her sight anyway. Pretty much everything was gone; it was incredible that sex sexual sensitivity was spared. She, whom he had once considered to be as nonsexual as they come. *The irony.*
After he was safely back in his office, he could breathe easy again. Everyone else presumed Hermione Granger to be dead; he didn't know what the penalty was for keeping a dementor victim when you were not an employee of St. Mungo's, but he was sure it had to be stiff. All he really knew at this moment was that he was feeling much more energetic now.
*Over half an hour erect before I came. My endurance is improving.*
*~*~*~*
Some time later
"He just doesn't make me feel the way you make me feel."
"He doesn't deserve you," said Snape. "Sadly, but truly, he doesn't."
"You know there are rumors that he's impotent?"
"It wouldn't surprise me in the least. Going around with that attitude, like the world should bend down and kiss his feet for merely existing." Gazing into her blue-gray eyes, he slid his hand under the table, below the skirt of her pine-green velvet dress. He passed his hand up the soft skin of her thigh and felt her shudder. "He's trying to compensate for something."
"Severus?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm" She blushed. "I'm not wearing knickers." Her cheeks turned even redder.
"Even better," he said as he suddenly cupped her mound, making her gasp. He moved his hand in circles, fondling the delicate hairs and relishing her little tremors. He murmured a concealment charm, then bent toward her and took one velvet-covered nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling gently, and then moving on to its neighbor. Obviously, she was not wearing a bra either.
He moved up and lavished her neck and throat with his mouth and tongue, his insistent hand never leaving her, feeling with delight the beginnings of sticky moisture. He remained like this for the next few minutes, moving his mouth back and forth between her breasts and neck.
He then got up from his chair and crawled underneath the table, and gathered up the folds of her skirt. With lightning speed, he slithered up and slipped his tongue into her. Lapping at her nether lips, he felt her hands clutch at his head through the fabric and her harsh moan of his name.
"Oh Merlin. Oh Gods. Ohhh" she moaned as he continued to work at her. Relentlessly he flicked at her nub, swirled inside her opening, bringing her just to the edge, before moving out from under the table, sitting down again and probing her with his fingers.
The caress of his fingers deep inside her, coupled with the sudden plunging of his tongue into her mouth, sent her over the brink, groaning into his mouth and clawing at his back with her long nails. After a long moment he pulled away from the kiss and let them both catch their breaths.
"Ahhh," Narcissa sighed. "Oh, Gods. That was incredible. Lucius never does that."
"I'm sorry to hear."
"You must have been practicing quite a bit," she said, reaching underneath the table herself and petting his growing erection through his trousers.
Snape shivered inwardly, both from arousal and from wondering how he was to answer that. "Let's just say, I'm intelligent enough to know what I'm doing."
"I like that," said Narcissa, petting faster.
*Good.*

THE END
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