Sex and Cigarettes

A/N: So this was just supposed to be a one chapter PWP, as most of my pieces with Severus always start out, and yet he somehow always manages to get himself into these situations that trot along, and so with Hooch’s snide comments about the hair washing, how could there not be a follow up? Hope it’s still entertaining.


Bubbles were everywhere. Severus hated bubbles. He sat in the tub, scowl firmly planted on his lips, refusing to look at her as she filled a large glass mason jar with the warm water. It was only at her very realistic threat to tell the other female professors of their encounter that he agreed to having come first and thus allowing her the right to wash his hair. Minerva would find out soon enough, as he was certain the headmaster would not be able to keep his mouth shut about what had inspired the sudden return of his sexual drive.

“There, there, it’s not so bad, Merlin knows you’re not made of sugar, so you don’t have to worry about melting.” She teased and dumped the water over his head. He spluttered and growled, narrowing his eyes at her. “Don’t look at me like that, if you had the control not to go blasting your load off inside of me so quickly you wouldn’t be here.”

“Albus bloody Dumbledore came bursting through the door!” he snapped.

Her gruff chuckle filled the air. “Glad to know the man makes you come, Severus.” Stretching her arms up over her head, she began to undo her shirt and tossed it onto the chair that sat beside the large bathtub. He sat there, brooding, but took notice as she lifted her sports bra, various red marks showing, some distinctively shaped like teeth, littering her breasts like a bad rash.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Well you don’t expect me to do this from the side of the tub on my knees, do you?” she snapped and added her bra to the chair. It took her a good deal longer to unlace her boots and then pull off her socks. Stripping her trousers and knickers, she added them to the pile and then lifted one leg into the tub and climbed in behind him, pressing her torso against his back.

“This was not part of the deal,” he growled, trying to scoot away from her.

“Oh you’re such a baby,” she simpered and tugged him backward. The tub was luxuriously large and she couldn’t fathom how Severus Snape, of all people, had ended up with such a fancy tub in his chambers, especially since it appeared that the man never actually used it.

“You’re going to drive me back to a pack a day, woman,” he growled.

“So long as you’re buying them,” and she found her fingers wrapped around a bottle of shampoo that she’d summoned from her own rooms as he had none handy. Squirting a large dollop of the purplish clear gel into her hands she smirked. “Close your eyes, don’t want to get soap in them…” Her fingers began to massage a thick lather into his tresses.

All in all, the shampooing of his hair felt rather nice, though he’d sooner brew an impotence potion for Albus again than admit to that fact. Her short nails scratching against his scalp was not unpleasant and he found his eyes longing to droop closed as she worked the lather through the length of his tresses. His shoulder fell slack and he leaned back, finding her breasts a welcomed feeling against his felsh.

She chuckled. “Big tough man brought down by simple shampoo,” her lips pressed against the back of his ear, blowing a few bubbles away as she did.

“Watch your mouth, Hooch,” he said, but his voice was hardly angry. It lacked all the normal tones of acid and snark that usually flowed from his mouth and she was almost pleased to feel him leaning even further back against her body. She kept her fingers moving through his hair until they started to ache and then she reached over the edge of the tub and filled the mason jar.

Pouring water over his shampooed head, she cupped one hand over his eyes until she’d flooded every last bit of suds out of his hair. “Excellent. No more grease. Still a right git, but a grease free one.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled abruptly up from her body, turning to face her. “I’ll thank you kindly when pigs fly, Madam, now get your behind out of my tub.”

Her hand was idling through the water, hovering over his thighs. Bright hawk eyes flashed at him and she smirked. “Perhaps I’d like to stay and play a bit longer?” she quirked a silvery brow up onto her forehead, leaning forward a bit so that her breasts floated above the water’s surface.

“Christ, I need another cigarette,” he muttered. He stiffened instantly when he felt her hand coil around his member, stroking it a few times before pulling it back. “Haven’t the strength?” he smirked, feeling his shaft fill with blood.

She shook her head and pursed her lips. “Too much hair,” she turned her hawkish orbs to the water, “Feels like a damn jungle, Severus.” Standing from the tub she shook her hips, water droplets raining down over him. “Don’t you trim?”

“What for?” he asked, feeling a bit taken back by her question. The woman was loopy. Perhaps she spent too much time in the air on her broom.

“Well it’s obvious you don’t do any entertaining,” she snorted and grabbed a long fluffy green towel from the nearby rack. Drying herself off she turned to him with an almost devilish glint in her eyes, matching smirk playing across her lips. “Let me get a pair of scissors, I’ll give you a proper trim.”

He pulled his knees tightly up to his chest all too quickly, splashing water over the side of the tub. “I’ll let you near my crotch with a pair of scissors as soon as you let me near yours with a pair,” he spat and then closed his eyes, massaging his temples.

“Deal. I’m in need of a trim anyhow,” she smirked. “Besides, I trust you enough to know if you nick me I won’t be slicing hair out of your crotch with the scissors…” her intentions were clear enough in her tone of voice. How did he keep finding himself in these situations? Rising slowly from the tub, water poured down his body and his member stood nearly fully erect, jutting out from the dark thicket of black curls.

He was a cleanly man, though he didn’t shampoo his hair, preferring to use soap, though the chemicals from the simmering cauldrons all day long did little to help. But trimming his pubic hair into something desirable by the opposite sex was seldom a thought that crossed his mind as he seldom had need for it to. His curls were thick, very long and scraggly, growing in every direction and made him look much like a primitive man.

She’d moved over to his medicine cabinet, hidden behind the magical mirror and found a small pair of scissors. “Sit on the bed, and lay out a towel,” she said.

“Why on earth would I—”

“Because you agreed to, you can shape me up first if you’d like, I don’t care,” she said casually.

“I am not giving you a trim, Rolanda.” He said flatly, but moved into the bedroom anyhow.

“You afraid, Severus? Scared of the superior sex’s curls, hmm?” she taunted and then chuckled. “Merlin, you’re going to be driving me back up to a pack a day.”

He sneered and then smirked as he laid a towel out across the bed. “Fine, but you’re buying.” Patting the space on the bed just by the towel he motioned for her to come to him. “Go on, big mouth, you said you’d go first.”

She eyed him, narrowing her orbs, and then she frowned. “So help me, Severus, you nick me and I will not hesitate to—”

“They’re scissors, I believe I’m competent enough to manage.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” she snapped.

“Sit down and lie back or go home.” He growled. Why on earth was he letting her manipulate him into this awkward situations? Though he admitted in his mind that he found the whole prospect to be highly arousing if nothing else. “Spread…” he said and watched as she laid back and straddled her legs completely apart, any wider and he was sure each leg would pop from their hip sockets.

Rolanda closed her eyes. She had neglected her bi-weekly trim for several weeks now and felt almost ashamed that her pubic mound looked so unruly. Though in comparison to his, she felt like a sculpted model. “Ah, so you were once a brunette, you old hag,” he teased and began to carefully snip at the ends of the curls, brushing them down onto the towel.

“Yes, well I’m sure you were too before years of grease set in and turned it black,” she snickered to herself. He rolled his eyes but kept quiet, concentrating on the task at hand. After a few more snips, he’d trimmed her down into a relatively small triangle and then nodded. “You done?” she lifted her head to look down her torso. He hadn’t done a bad job. “Lie back, and spread ‘em, if you’re lucky I’ll not shave you clean,” she winked and then rolled off the towel.

He hesitated but her rough hands pushed his chest back before he could protest. With a growl he parted his legs slightly, only to have her push them much further apart. Her hands were soft as they stroked over his semi erect member, tugging it this way and that as she snipped his pubic curls. He’d let the unruly state of his crotch grow for far longer than she had hers and it took her considerably longer until she was satisfied with the neat little triangle she’d formed around the base of his shaft, even trimming the trail that led up to his navel. “There,” she said and let the scissors fall to the floor.

He sat up and eyed her, strangely aware of the fact that he didn’t seem embarrassed around her. “And now?” he asked, letting his eyes roam down her body. She pulled the towel and balled it up, the trimmed hairs tucked neatly inside. Tossing it into the laundry chute, she returned and sat on the edge of his bed.

“I honestly don’t think I can stand another rough go at it,” she said, a bit of sincerity in her voice. “You’ve got bruises all over my bloody body.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wimp.”

“Jerk.”

He placed both hands on her shoulders and pulled her back into his arms, suckling at a reddish purple bruise on the back of her shoulder blade. “We should have another cigarette…”

“Yes, that might be nice,” she said and then wriggled out of his arms to lay flat back on the bed. “Yes, another cigarette, then maybe we can go at it again.”