Craving

Author\'s Note: Alright, apparently my darling little plot bunnies (*gives them all a swift kick*)don\'t actually care I have a Relativity final tomorrow, and kept me up all night rewriting stuff I\'ve been doing, regardless. So now I\'m going to go study madly.

JTBJAB, Goddess_Snape, thank you for the reviews!
June - Thanks! Unfortunately chapter three of \'Light\' is giving me problems, I\'m on my fifth rewrite, and am still not happy. But I will have out as soon as possible, promise!

And remember, please Feed The Author!

An hour later found them both in his chambers, the classroom now dark and uninhabited. His lounge area, however, was snug from the fire in the hearth, and well lit, decorated in warm creams and yellows, with enough green and silver to establish he was a Slytherin, but not enough to render the room cold and inhospitable. Even his furniture was welcoming, full of plush cushions and tactile velvets wrapped around dark, aged wood. It would have been a lovely place to relax, thought Hermione, sourly, were it not for her current situation.

He was lounging on his favourite chair, another snifter of brandy in his hand, his left ankle resting on his right knee, and while he appeared to be examining her with all seriousness, she swore she could see smug amusement in his eyes.

She was naked, kneeling in the corner diagonally across from him, and her knees were just beginning to complain about the hard stone floor. Both hands were clasped behind her neck, elbows kept up to present her breasts at the best possible angle. Twin nuggets of pain from the clips on her nipples gnawed at her mind, but the main antagonist was the clip between her legs, that he had placed firmly on her clit.

She took a deep breath and arched her back again, trying not to feel it, the tugging, nagging pressure that kept building between her legs. She could feel it building and couldn’t help but whimper, squeezing her eyes shut to push the sensation down. No I won’t-

Barely whispered, she heard “wingardium leviosa” and the clip on her right breast took a sudden jerk upwards. She cried out and arched her back further, trying to minimise the painful pulling. As she did so, her stomach muscles tightened and pulled on the peg between her legs and brought her jerking forward again, crying out for different reasons this time.

He smirked, taking a sip of the brandy, then putting it down on the table beside him, watching her with a predator’s gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to stop her harsh panting. Sweat slicked her body, and the peg that was causing her so much grief tightened and made her eyes snap back open, gazing at him in an open mixture of shock and pleading. He was smirking at her again, his wand clasped loosely in one hand, leaning forward. The look in his eyes could only be described as ‘with intent’. He made a small circle with the tip of the wand, and the peg tightened further, and a near-scream burst from her, leaving her bent over, still on her knees, with her forehead less than an inch away from the floor. Droplets of sweat slipped from between her eyes to drip onto the stones.

She heard him rise, and cross the floor, and grasp her by the hair at the back of her neck, dragging her up to look her in the eye. She met his gaze, still gasping for breath, when he kissed her.

It was like an explosion in her consciousness, the sizzling feeling from her lips and mouth that seemed to shoot straight to her cunt, his tongue thrusting in and out, mimicking the rhythm she so needed to feel from him between her legs-

He pulled her back from his mouth, despite her sound of protest, unwilling as she was to loose his tongue.

“Who do you belong to?” His words were like sandpaper over her skin, the harshness of them making her squirm against him.

“I’m yours, sir.” Her voice was breathy, but then given how she was feeling she was pleased she had been able to speak at all.

He jerked her closer, his free hand coming up to idly twist the peg between her legs, which made her writhe and sob under him, the wetness between her legs getting worse. “Everything of yours is mine, isn’t it, slut?”

She tried to nod, but his hand was still buried deep in her hair. “Yes sir,” she gasped out helplessly, He gave it another twist and she bucked in his grip, so desperate to finish, to stop the pressure inside her. “All of it,” she nearly screamed as he twisted further, “it’s all yours sir!” He let go and she slumped, breathing hard.

“Good girl,” he whispered into her ear, his heated breath making her shiver. She felt one long finger underneath her chin. “Look at me.”

Hopelessly she raised her eyes to meet his. He smirked at her again. “Good girl,” he crooned, and removed one of the pegs on her nipples.

They had been in place for nearly an hour, and the rush of blood back into it felt like someone had skewered the nipple with a red-hot pin. She screamed and twisted away from him, only to find his hand on her chin again, grip as implacable as granite as he drew her down to meet his eyes once more. “Look at me!” He hissed, a tone of command in his voice. She whimpered and tears came unbidden at the ferocity of the pain, but she held his eyes. “Good girl,” he said again, and still smirking into her eyes, removed the second peg.

The pain was worse this time, probably because this nipple had had no stimulation since the peg was placed on it, but despite the red-hot pain, she held his eyes. She cried and screamed a little, and new tears streamed down her cheeks, but she held his eyes.

He smirked at her. “Good girl,” his voice soothed. His hand slowly drifted downwards, almost lazily so, to rest at the apex of her spread thighs. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched as she tried to grasp what was about to happen. “Good girl,” he said again, and removed the final peg.

This time she couldn’t hold his eyes, and her back arched as she screamed, his hand still buried in her hair keeping her in position. But underneath the pain this time, there was the building sensation of pleasure. With the peg removed, her body was physically free to orgasm. As if someone had dumped a bucket of water over her head, it washed the pain away and left her panting, and so, so close to her goal. One twist of her hips, to put the smallest amount of pressure on her clit would be enough to send her screaming over the edge, she realised with joy. She prepared to wriggle in his grip when she heard-

“Petrificus totalis!” And her body ceased to be under her control, frozen on the spot. She could just see his face in the corner of her eye, as he smirked, watching her eyes, how he knew as she pleasure rose like a wave at high tide, and peaked, so near to where it needed to be, but finding nothing to take it higher, fell again. Within five minutes, all she was left with was a gnawing, unfulfilled sensation, sore knees, and the knowledge that she was so wet, she would have ruined her underwear had she been wearing any.

Had she been free to move, she would have wept.

He must have seen the despair in her eyes, because his grin widened. “My, my,” There was a purr in his voice that made her want to smother herself in the sound, “Aren’t we feeling greedy today, pet.” He cancelled the binding casually, as if it had had not effect what so ever.

“Please,” she hadn’t meant to speak, but the words had come unbidden. “Please, please-” He put his fingers over her lips, and she was silent once more.

“Shh.” That smirk was back. God, it made him look sexy. His hand was trailing its way through her hair, distracting her. Silently, he got to his feet, then pulled her to hers, ushering her into the bedroom. Her walk felt strange and liquid, the slippery feeling between her thighs making her mince her hips involuntarily. She knew it was making him stare at her arse, could feel his eyes slide down the curve between her waist and hips.

’Good,’ she couldn’t help but think, somewhat rebelliously, ’maybe it’ll drive him over the edge, just a little.’ She knew, deep down, it was a futile hope. He’d no more loose control than she would forget to study for an exam, but she needed to hang onto the hope right now, or the craving in her belly would drive her insane.