Nothing As It Seems

10/22/08

Chapter 1 - And in Dreams

Whether it came on suddenly or weaved itself slowly through his subconscious, Severus didn’t know. For that was the way of dreams.

All he knew now, all he could think about or care about at this moment was that this was the most thrilling dream he had had in months. Erotic and intoxicating, the young, firm body cloaked in darkness moved over him, gentle hands gliding down his body, and the creamy smoothness of her skin hot against his own.

He had let the dream wash over him, taking him away from the harsh reality that was his life. As he became more aware of the dream, he knew he was in a darkened room, his sight blinded in the darkness of night. He let his senses tell him the story, give him the setting. He could feel the atmosphere and the echo of the room and he knew he was in his own darkened chambers, the moonless night leaving not even a hint of light through his windows. The crisp familiar scent of the silken bed linens was fresh and clean, the scent of pine, and he knew they were wrapped in the sheets of his own bed.

Other sensations tantalized him as he strained to see the face of his seductress in the pitch blackness. A hot wet tongue seared his flesh and traveled down the length of his chest, then stomach, and then moving lower. He imagined pale pink lips pressed against his flesh and shivered.

Soft scented tendrils of what he imagined to be cascading waves of curls brushed lightly against his skin wrenching wonderfully agonizing tremors from him, and he wondered what color the mane might be. He had always preferred cinnamon tones. But the thought was fleeting, and it crumbled all together as soft, moist lips captured the head of his aching manhood and slowly, so slowly, slipped over his shaft.

Struggling, he strained to keep himself in check as the phantom of his dreams sucked him into her mouth again and again, and he ached to thrust into that slick mouth as her tongue swirled over his head again and again.

He did not dare touch her yet. No, not yet. Though he wanted to tangle his fingers into those loose curls brushing against his thighs, and jam himself into her mouth reaching his release, he knew he would surely choke her if he even moved so much as a muscle while he was barely hanging onto his control.

Sweet Goddess! His body cried for almost immediate release and he knew he couldn’t take much more of this, but he didn’t want it to end yet.

He didn’t want to wake.

He didn’t want the scent of her…the feel, of this incredibly bewitching phantom to fade into the nothingness of morning.

Not yet.

Roughly he sat up and grabbed her, pulling her up and rolling over her. He thought he heard her gasp in surprise, but he didn’t stop to ponder the sound or apologize. He knew what he wanted and he would have it before this dream faded.

He pressed her into his cool sheets and dragged his callused hands down her body, feeling the curvaceous length of her, and then lowered his head to breath hot breath against damp skin before taking first one firm nipple into his eager mouth, licking and sucking, and then the other. Dainty fingers wound into his hair and she arched her back and moaned the most erotic sound he had ever heard as he tasted her. For a fleeting whisp of a moment, his mind told him he knew the sensual tones of the voice behind that moan, but he pushed it away, unwilling to put a real face to the erotic dream.

And yet, he wished fervently that he could see her in that moment, watch her writhe in pleasure with his touch. He imagined warm brown eyes, heavy lidded with delirious pleasure. He had always been partial to long lashed brown eyes. He considered briefly a lighting charm, to see what his mind had conjured for his sweet escape, but he didn’t want to spend even a second’s worth of energy on anything other than this tantalizing creature.

Slowly he moved down her body, licking as he went, and enjoying how she shivered. In his mind’s eye, he knew her silky skin would be slightly freckled. He had always liked freckles. All of his fantasy women were spiced with a dash of summery light brown freckles.

Cinnamon and cream. That’s what she would be.

When he reached her junction, he buried his nose and mouth between the folds of her softness and licked from her secret center all the way up to her sensitive bud in one thick, heavy stroke. She jerked and cried out in her throaty feminine voice and he closed his eyes trying to soak in every sound, every scent, every feel, and then continued his ministrations in circles and strokes, soft and hard, fast and slow.

She gasped, and moaned, thrust her hips up and arched her back again and again, and when her body began to tremble and her heavy gasping breath caught, fingers grasping his hair firmly, he concentrated all of his attentions on that one sensitive point, sucking and flicking, coaxing out what he was striving for. With a straggled cry, she jerked and he felt her spasms of ecstasy wash through her in tremors.

He let the waves of pleasure roll over her for a moment and then moved back up over her trembling body, settling between her legs. Her hands moved smoothly over his shoulders to his back, and he noted how small and dainty they felt against him. He imagined long, nimble fingers, full of power and grace as she ran her hands back up to his shoulders once more. Strong, slender legs wrapped around his hips holding him firmly in place, as though he had belonged there. He could feel her slick opening and rubbed the tip of his shaft up and down her folds, spreading her wetness over her and she shivered as he brushed her clit briefly before he thrust hard into her.

He felt her whole body stiffen for an instant, but he didn’t stop to ponder this. He had been thrown over the edge of a great precipice as she engulfed him and he felt he was barely clinging to his very soul as he moved into her, deeper, more firmly with every thrust. It only took a moment for him to fall. And when he hit the wall of his own ecstasy, his whole being seemed to shatter. He flew into a million pieces all at once.

He shook with such force as he poured into her, he couldn’t breath. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think.

When his heart started beating again and he was finally able to draw breath, he has aware of his arms trembling as he held himself over her, her legs still firmly wrapped around him. In his fantasies, she would whisper his name longingly as she drifted off to sleep and he would have the ultimate satisfaction of her being his and only his.

He had an overwhelming urge to whisper her name, but he did not. Would not.

Exhausted, he collapsed to her side and pulled her roughly to him, almost desperately wishing he could keep her with him a little longer before drowning in the darkness of his now dreamless sleep.

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Hermione stirred slowly at first, taking a deep refreshing breath as her mind woke from her slumber. She rolled, moaning and stretching her aching muscles and not wanting to open her eyes to the bright daylight.

She felt rejuvenated this morning. That surprised her a little. She hadn’t expected to have energy after…she blushed, remembering her night’s activities.

And it’s Saturday!

But as she remembered the freedom the weekend offered, she suddenly also remembered that she had forgotten one very, very important thing.

Her eyes shot open and she sat up in alarm, clutching the sheets to her naked breasts, her heart suddenly pounding desperately in her chest.

Oh my gods and goddesses! Please, no! No, no, no, no, Hermione, no!

But almost as soon as her eyes had flown open, and even as she was begging reality to please give her one last second, she found herself staring at the motionless form standing at the doorway of the room, leaning against the door jam, staring right back at her. The form of one Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

And he did not look pleased to see her wrapped in his sheets.

She had forgotten to sneak out of his chambers before the light of morning came.

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