In the Dungeon Damp and Dark

“I will not wait forever, Severus.” She added his name deliberately, drawing out each syllable in a low purr.

He didn’t answer, simply dropped both hands to his silver belt buckle, and slid the tongue of the black leather free. A grin of triumph spread over her face.

“Allow me?” she offered, stepping forward to drop to her knees in front of the not-so-dour-looking Professor, guiding him to sit again.

Victoriously, she buried her face in his crotch and moaned as she rubbed her cheek against his rigid cock -- hard, pulsing and hot while hiding in his dungeon damp and dark.

She sighed, smiling against him, her eyelashes softly brushing against his groin as she closed her eyes and inhaled, long and deep, drawing cool air around his testicles. She exhaled, warm air to ghost over his skin. She inhaled again, deeply, and canted her head to peer up at him. As he stared down his long nose, the sheer lust radiating back up at him stunned the breath from his lungs. She rubbed her nose along the smooth skin of his turgid shaft. He smelled of sweat, man, wool, and daisies? She sniffed again, her mind briefly engaged with deciphering the scents rather than her ever-increasing need.

Curiously, he watched her, aware of the gears of her mind turning behind those eyes, her equally fathomless eyes.

“Daisies, shrivelfig …” she paused to sniff again. “Leeches, caterpillar and …” she hesitated, inhaling deeply once more, “Ah, rat -- spleen, I believe. Third years attempting Shrinking Solution?”

“Yes,” he grudgingly acknowledged her assertion as he remembered the dunderheaded hapless Hufflepuff who had dropped his vial, spilling the potion across his work table and splashing the Potions Master himself.

“No detrimental effects here,” she purred, returning her attention to the body part she had so boldly pursued.

His fingers clenched into fists around the arms of his office chair. She locked gazes with him as she reached the fluted head of his cock. Smiling crookedly, her lips tingling with need, she flicked her tongue, gently far too gently against his tip, earning an expectant jump and a tiny, barely audible gasp. Her grin grew wider and she licked the ridge marking the difference between his head and his shaft. Snape hissed his pleasure, slumping slightly to force his penis forward, relishing the sensation of his hot skin brushing over her tongue.

She opened her mouth wide, cushioned her teeth, and swallowed him, allowing him to bump against the back of her throat. Heavy on her tongue, his shaft pulsed with the blood pounding in the vein. Her small hands on his lean-muscled thighs restrained him from bucking and strangling her. Her low moan of pleasure vibrated around his cock, ramping up his own desire for completion. Muscles clenching, voluntarily in hands, involuntarily in their groins, the unlikely duo reached agreement in tempo as she would plunge down over him and pull back while sucking wetly.

“Madam!” he spoke sharply in warning as his balls tightened closer to his body. In response, she sucked harder, humming her own satisfaction until he spurt his long-trapped seed into her greedy mouth. She continued to suck and swallow, groaning as her breasts heaved against his inner thighs with her heavy, uncontrolled breathing.

Finally, she relinquished her hold on his cock, licking her lips clean before she tucked him neatly away. She urged him silently to stand then finished re-wrapping the gift he had not so willingly given to her. Fluidly, she stood. Staring him directly in the eye, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered in a low, orgasm-husky voice. “May I escort you to the hall for the evening meal.”

“Certainly,” she replied. “But, I have already eaten.”

He graced her with a tight-lipped, nearly unnoticeable smile and a nod of acknowledgment. She stepped out of his way and towards the door. He quickly followed, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow as he ushered her out of the office in the dungeon damp and dark.

“Nox,” he hissed at his wall sconces which instantly blinked out. His heavy wooden door automatically slammed shut behind them.

“Perhaps, I may interest you in enjoying a private dessert?” he tendered smoothly to the woman in the pale blue-grey robes easily matching his gliding steps.

“I do enjoy sweet cream concoctions,” she bandied back in all seriousness.

“Indeed.”

“Vraiment,” she responded, licking her lips coyly, much like a cat would clean itself after finding the elusive canary.