The Speed of Thought
Processing...
He coolly rose an eyebrow at her, his face giving away nothing. “Is there…a problem, Miss Granger?” he asked in a cold, bored tone, careful to not give any indication that he knew EXACTLY what she was concerned about. Oh, he knew…Merlin’s Beard…he knew…She continued to stare at him, her face going blank, as though unsure of how to respond----unsure of whether or not he had actually seen anything... Internally wincing at the timing of the clearly necessary snarkiness, Snape sneered at her, “Or, perhaps, are you hoping that the universe will open up at the sudden acknowledgement of your sheer brilliance, and simply hand you the rest of your assigned essay?” ouch…All of the Slytherins in the classroom broke out into riotous snickers and Hermione’s face flushed bright red. She snapped her gaze back down to the parchment before her, quill scribbling furiously. Quite a few..colorful words and phrases flew through her mind with such ferocity that Snape couldn’t help but overhear.
He laughed internally at her frustrated phrases, and went back to grading the papers on his desk. He didn't dare take the time to process what had just happened--- at least, not until he was alone...
The rest of the class went as it normally did --- full of disappointment as he graded each atrocious paper, and full of the anticipation of more disappointment as the students all handed in their freshly-written parchments and filed out of the room. He was particularly careful to not make physical contact with Hermione as she handed in her paper and walked away. As soon as the students had all left the room, Snape turned around and pressed his hand to a stone on one of the walls near his desk. Uttering the passphrase, he gained access to his personal chambers.
Stalking into his bathroom, he threw up a spell warding against intruders and observants, soundproofing the room for good measure as well. He then stormed over to his large shower and turned the cold water on full-blast. With a roughly whispered “divesto,” he was suddenly nude. He looked down at his visibly throbbing erection and cursed, before stepping into the icy stream................
...
After about 10 minutes’ of determined endurance of the arctic chill, Snape gave up on deterring his mind from following the line of thinking; his body was not cooperating, it seemed. He turned on the hot water, making the shower significantly more pleasant, and decided to give in to the urge. He pictured the scene he had glimpsed from her thoughts: Hermione, over his knee, sopping wet, begging him desperately for release, over and over, as he plunged his fingers in and out of her…over..and over…gripping his erection, he began stroking ferociously in time with his fingers from the memory…up and down, fast and hard…imagining that it was his cock plunging in and out of the wet heat instead of his fingers…hearing her pleas ringing in his ears…hearing her begging…hearing her crying out, saying his name…imagining how she would actually taste under his tongue----------------he suddenly exploded into orgasm with a deep, guttural groan. The thought of his head buried between her thighs; the soft, wet flesh directly under his tongue, had sent him soaring over the edge. He collapsed against the wall of the shower, leaning against it while the water poured over him. The image that he’d created for himself --- him delving deeply into her sweetness as she cried out and bucked against his face, her hands buried in his hair, his hands about her thighs and hips, holding her down ---- he knew, would come back to haunt him…and he was right…..