Soul Searching

Soul Searching Soul Searching By Quillusion    A/N: We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news. A band of wild lemons has just been reported loose in this area. They have been in enforced captivity for some time, and consequently are juicy and rather frisky. They will probably approach yo the they spot you, but DO NOT PANIC. Just let them do their thing, and they will not harm you. If you have an allergy to lemons, or are averse to descriptions of consensual adult sexual behavior, you might want to consider closing all doors and windows, including the one containing this story.   And now, we return you to your regularly scheduled program.   Chapter 29 "Doing a little light bedtime reading, Miss Granger?"     "Y- yes, why- well, a little, I mean, I- there hasn't been much time to- erm- wh-?" I articulate, my heart's pounding getting in the way of normal speech.   Severus is leaning against the frame of my door, his pose casual, but his eyes are glittering.   "You didn't close your door properly," he says offhandedly. "There were no wards either. But then, I expect you're accustomed to having to share quarters with a roommate." He steps into the room, his movements somewhere between stealthy and sauntering. There is something dangerous beneath his polite words, but I don't know what it is. "I knocked, but there was no answer. I was just stopping by to ask if you wanted to go see the fireworks that Professor Flitwick is putting on."   "Oh," I manage. "Er, thank you, no. I'm rather fatigued."   He looks down at the floor, where the Little Green Book has slid off my lap and down the bed covers, set in motion by my startled jump. It lies fawn, wn, mercifully, and half-hidden by the dust ruffle, lost in dimness which I fervently hope disguises its color as well as its title. Perhaps Severus will think it's just a Mills and Boone novel- although the leather cover makes such an assumption on his part rather unlikely. Whatever he thinks, I'd better pick it up now, or at least kick it under the bed and out of his line of sight.   He gets there first, three strides of his long legs bringing him to tower over the book before I can even grasp the covers to flip them off my legs.   Just as well. I've just remembered the length- or lack of length- of my nightshirt.   He picks the book up, but does not turn it over to look at the cover. I'm so busy thanking the gods for this that I almost miss his next words.   "I should think you'd go right to sleep if you're tired," he remarks, cocking his head to one side and looking at me.   "I like to read," I say, trying not to sound defensive. I don't ask for the book back; doing so would make him curious about what it is. Seven years in his class have taught me that disinterest is the best defense where he's involved. I'm lucky enough that he hasn't even looked at it yet- he probably does think it's some silly little claptrap romance novel. I continue with my unconcerned explanation. "And my mind isn't as tired as my body. I need to slow it down a little before it will go to sleep."   Severus makes no immediate reply, but instead turns to look at my new quarters. Book still in hand, apparently forgotten, he takes a short walk to the window.   "Lovely view," he says, peering up toward the Astronomy tower. "You can actually see where the fireworks will be from here, Hermione. You could watch them without having to go out." A short pause. "Unless this book is so engrossing that you'd rather read it than do anything else?" There's a faint hint of interest in his voice now, and that makes me nervous. Echoes of the past flit through my mind: Ah… reading magazines under the table as well? A further ten points from Gryffindor… I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives.   The last time he commented on my love life, he thought it was funny. I doubt he'll be so amused if he sees that cover. I hop out of bed, short nightie or no, and walk over to get my book back before he takes his long-delayed look at the cover and sends every dream I have straight to hell.   Because if he sees the cover of The WIKTT Archives, he'll immediately decide that everything he knows about me is a lie, a charade constructed to make sport of him or to play out a fantasy for me. That none of this is real, because I read about it first in a book.   "It's an excellent book," I reply, reaching for it. "I really do think I'd rather read it than watch fireworks. I've had enough of crowds tonight."   He withdraws the arm holding the book.   "That good, is it?" he asks. "What could possibly interest Hermione Granger enough to take her away from a celebration in her honor?"   "It's in your honor too, and you're not there," I point out as I try to reach for the book again. He lifts it a little higher.   "I only came to get you," he replies with a hint of mischief in his voice.   I frown at him, jump at the book- my fingers make contact with the cover, but he easily gets away from my grasp.   "Give me my book, Severus. I'm very tired, and I'd like to read for a bit and then go to sleep."   His reply tells me he's noticed my anxiety and my inconsistencies.   "Indeed," he says, his expressive voice rich with disbelief. "And does this book, which you are so clearly enamored of reading, put you to sleep, Miss Granger?"   He is utterly still now, all traces of humor gone, his face burning with something intense. His expression is carefully controlled, smooth and emotionless, and he studies me for a long moment, as if looking for something. Immobilized beneath that weighty stare, I cannot find breath to answer him, nor to ask what it is he seeks.   Whatever it is, apparently he hasn't found it. He slowly hands me the book without looking at its cover, his eyes never leaving mine. Relieved, I clutch the book to my chest, cover hidden against my shirnd snd stare up at him, still utterly unable to look away from the intensity of those dark eyes.   "You haven't answered my question, Hermione." His soft baritone is slightly husky with the quietness of his speech. He's not a foot away from me now, and his eyes flick from my own eyes down to my mouth. I feel a thrill run down my spine, and my heart rate doubles again at the sight of him. He sounds tender, and even though I know this man has used a soft voice like this to make his harshest words all the more stinging in the past, I don't think that's what I'm hearing now. The deliberate, hypnotic murmur is stealing into my brain, slithering down my spine, and awakening my body to respond to it. And oh, it's responding….   "Does this book-" he taps the cover against my chest- "put you to sleep?"   I draw breath to answer, scrambling for words, but I never find them. He advances a step, and I retreat. He moves again, and I give way before him. Within six steps, I'm backed up against my bed. Startled, I sit, and a faint hint of smile curves one corner of his mouth. Pressing his advantage, he leans forward.   Still retreating, still not sure why, I lie back, and within seconds he is over me, on my bed, his hands braced against the covers on eithede ode of my head. I can feel the warmth of his body along mine, and realize that he's also braced one knee on the bed. He lets a wicked smile cross his face, and I shiver. I've seen that smile only a handful of times, and it frightened me then. It unnerves me now- but I'm not scared. Fear wouldn't make me so aware of the heartbeat between my legs, of the slickness gathering there. Of the heat pooling in my belly, coiling out to make me want to writhe under him. Fear wouldn't make my nipples tighten beneath the cover of the book I'm still holding.   Severus reaches between us and pulls the book out of my nerveless fingers. Eyes never leaving mine for an instant, he puts it on my nightstand with a sure movement. That intensity is growing, and I feel like the mouse caught by the snake- helpless to look away, knowing the strike is about to come. His ignoring the book tells my intellect what my body has already figured out.   He knows.   No wonder he hasn't looked at the cover. He doesn't need to. He knew what the book was when he saw it in my hands. How many books have such a characteristic leather tooled pattern on them, after all? Such a precise weight and texture in the hand?   I'm definitely shaking now, my nerve endings overloaded with equal parts fear, excitement, despair, and desperation. And yet I am still unable to reply, my throat constricted with emotion. I shake my head the slightest bit, not sure whether I'm answering him or denying the explosion I can sense building.   "I certainly hope that it does not put you to sleep, Hermione Granger." His voice is a sensual growl now, his words murmured a mere inch from my left ear. The scent of him fills my awareness, and my mouth waters fiercely.   He turns his head the slightest bit, brushing my cheek with his hair, then leans just a little closer to speak right against my skin, his voice dropping to a low purr, his words measured and slowly delivered.   "Because what is in this book has kept me awake nights for the last two years. And I know exactly how you got this copy. So if you tell me again that you read it to fall asleep, I'll call you a liar to your face."   He backs up just enough to look me in the eye again, and the fire in his gaze singes me as his breath fans my cheek with his next words.   " And then I'll prove it to you."   Then Severus Snape's mouth is on mine, hard and demanding and utterly irresistiblhe she suddenness of the kiss startles me, and for a moment I am passive under his touch, but such desire as this cannot go unanswered for long. My arms curl around his neck in desperation, fingers scrabbling for purchase on any part of him, trying to pull him closer, and I whimper softly with pleasure. The combination of his delicious assault on my senses and my own relief that he is not angry is enough to fan the smoldering desire in my body into full flame.   My response seems to release some hold he was keeping on himself, and he deepens the kiss, slanting his mouth possessively over mine and leaning into me with his whole body. He lowers his weight to his right elbow, his left hand sliding behind my head to take control of the kiss. His left leg slips between mine, unconscious echo of my own movement on the dance floor earlier, and ancient instincts rise in my mind, female response to male blossoming in my blood.   I twine my legs around his, clenching his thigh between mine, writhing against it, riding it. I can feel every inch of him pressed against me, hot and hard, and I'm suddenly aware of just how much I have needed this. Of just how much he needs it. The kiss mounts to a frenzied blending of mouths, both of us gasping and fighting for breath as we cling to each other in our eagerness. His hands are shaking, mine clumsy; this has been building for months, and it's almost too much to contain in vessels of flesh and blood.   "Tell me to stop, Hermione, or this happens here and now," Severus pants raggedly. His mouth fastens onto my neck as he waits for a reply, and I let out a strangled moan, hoping I'll be able to see his mark on me there in the morning.   "Now," I gasp in agreement. "Here." Putting words to actions, I fumble for my wand on the nightstand. Aiming as carefully as I can, I lock, and ward the already closed door, and cast a silencing spell on the room as well.   He lets go of me for a moment, sitting up on the bed and starting to struggle with his clothing. I sit up to help, suddenly amused at all the buttons.   "Oh, Severus, how can you do these damn things up every day? They're sexy as hell, but- ow!" I pull my hand back after getting my finger snapped by a button coming through a hole at great speed.   He's undone just enough to shuck the jacket off over his head, then fights a few buttons at each cuff to get the lovely black fabric off his arms.   "Like that," he gasps, laughing a little bit himself. He's standing now, stripping off trousers and socks and shoes, tossing his shirt to the floor, and a moment later he's staring at me with naked eyes and naked body, longing written in every line of him.   He's marvelous, everything I ever thought he would be- lean, and long, pale from living in the cold of Scotland for years, lightly dusted with dark hair. I can see the fine tremor his arousal has raised in his limbs, and I shiver to think of the force of will it takes to restrain that kif waf wanting. And of the fury when it is let loose.   Suddenly knowing what he wants, what he needs, I hol arm arms out. "Come to bed," I murmur, and a moment later he's beside me on the bed, gathering me close. The interruption of removing our clothes has slowed us down a bit once more.   I'm amazed at how comfortable Severus is in his own skin. I had imagined that he would be self-conscious, or shy, or in some way embarrassed. Like he was in a few of the stories I've read- endearingly awkward. Oh, I loved reading about him that way. I loved reading about him any way I could get him. But right now he seems content- and far more interested in me than in himself. He reaches for my T-shirt, and with a smile I flip it off and toss it to lie atop his own clothes on the floor. Turning back to him, I smile with what I hope looks like a dash of confidence.   "Beautiful," he whispers, touching my face with his fingertips. "So beautiful."   I'm not accustomed to hearing a man say that to me, and it flusters me a bit. He smiles at the sight, but doesn't tease me. I move to kiss him this time, and it's a new experience altogether. Skin to skin, the soft friction of our palms giving way to the rougher stimulation of his legs tangling in mine, the hair on his belly and chest scrubbing my skin sensually. His tongue is soft and gentle, and yet his mouth is voracious as it devours me. He kisses with an incredible enthusiasm that is more arousing than a hundred love potions, and he touches me with such hunger that I can't imagine any man on earth ever wanting me more. His desire thrums through me like a low electric current, and it makes me want him all the more fiercely.   "Severus," I whisper, suddenly wanting to please him first.   "Hmm?" he replies, his mouth feathering soft licks and kisses over my collarbone again.   "Let me?" My hand smoothes down his flank in elaboration.   He does, lying back with effort, fighting the trembling of his hands to a standstill. I slide my hands over his body, thrilling at the sight of it, feeling a strange delight at the thought that it's all mine tonight. He lets out a low moan, eyes fixed on me, pupils dilated until there's almost no iris visible. His eyes look liquid, and I know that he's mightily aroused already. I'll have to keep my play short.   Well, if I can only have a little bit, I'll take what I can get. This will be for him.   I trace my fingers along his features, memorizing the feel of his face, and with gentle hands, I repeat the caresses I gave him the night I healed his wounds. Only this time, there is no pain, no fear, no fatigue. Only pleasure, and light, and tenderness. And, I hope, love.   Time enough for that later.   I feather my hands across his chest, lightly tickling his nipples, and he chuckles and squirms a bit.   "Hermione," he protests faintly, and I love thety sty sound of his voice. Gone is the smooth, urbane weapon he wields with such precision; what is left is the bare, raw essence of Severus, honest and open and- yes, perhaps here is the hesitance I expected when he undressed, expressed more in his emotional nakedness than physical lack of clothing. I lean down to kiss him again, clothing him in affection, and after a long, thorough exploration of the softness of his mouth, I sit up and let my hands wander further.   When at last I reach his pelvis, he groans softly as I swirl my fingertips everywhere except for the place that most wants my touch. I lean forward and place the lightest kiss on the tip of his erection, smiling and licking my lips at the salty taste of the pearl I find there. That gets a gasp and a soft expletive from him.   "Well," I laugh huskily. "I'm certainly glad I took the time to heal this part of you."   Severus laughs as well, the sound creaking out of him as if it's painful.   "Oh, so am I," he agrees, then hisses and arches up as I thread my fingers through his pubic hair. I tease him for a long moment before finally sliding my hand up to grasp him in my palm.   It seems so long ago that I saw him do this for himself, that night I hid in his wardrobe to avoid being caught in the process of theft. The wanting I felt then is just as strong now, only now I can indulge. I can touch, and caress, and lavish attention on him. And it won't just be in a book- it will be for him, for me, for both of us, and very, VERY real.   I move my hand just the slightest bit, and Severus arches into my touch, only half-smothering a ragged cry of astonished pleasure. I laugh low and sweet, and with a wicked grin, I lean over to whisper in his ear,   "Be loud. I like the sounds you make."   Which knowledge seems to excite him almost beyond endurance. His eyes widen on me, and then his head falls back and he lets out a harsh groan. He's writhing now, moaning and panting as I touch him, and I wistfully think about telling him that I've seen him do this before. But I don't want to spoil the moment. He's beautiful in his passion, male body taut as a bow, face somewhere between slack and twisted with unbearable pleasure. His eyes are alive, bright, and full of a multitude of desires.   "Tell me what you want, Severus," I whisper in his ear as I stroke his erection with sure fingers. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."   "Oh, gods," he groans, struggling for speech, licking his dry lips. "Hermione- I want you to touch me. Just the way you are, touch me…." His hips are thrusting now, up into my hand, and I feel an incredible rush of feminine power and desire. My free hand traces over his belly, as I watched him do that night, and his hands clench spasmodically in the bedclothes as he cries out harshly at the familiar and yet foreign stimulus.   "Merlin's- oh, where did you learn- how did you- oh, Gods!"   Suddenly he's got his hand on my wrists, carefully wrenching me free, and he's looking at me with wild eyes. His breath is coming in ragged gusts.   "Now, Hermione. I want you now. Please."   He doesn't have to ask- my body has told him nearly all my secrets- but because he does, I love him all the more. I obey the tug on my wrist that pulls me into his arms, and a moment later my mouth is filled with his tongue as Severus Snape pours all of his want, his lust, his loneliness, his passion into me. He's still moaning, still breathing harshly, and for a moment I fear that I've pushed him too far- but no, he's trailing one shaking hand down between my thighs to touch me where I've only dreamt of his caress before. It takes him only a brief moment to dispense with the cotton of my underwear, and then I'm bare beneath his hand.   My thighs part with a willingness that speaks volumes, and he chuckles darkly as his fingertips spread the wetness around.   "Lusty little thing, aren't you?" he teases in the raspy voice to which I am rapidly becoming addicted.   "Yes," I gasp as his thumb brushes my clitoris, and I twist in his arms to increase the contact.   But it's his turn now, and he finds the control to put his own need on hold for a moment in order to torture me. His hands, those lovely hands I've admired so many times, are trailing sparks of fire along my nerves, coaxing responses from me I had thought were only possible in books like The WIKTT Archives. Now I'm the one moaning, letting soft screams fill the air around me to tell Severus how he makes me feel. His mouth follows his hands, and in a moment I'm arching into the touch of his lips and tongue on my breast.   "Please," I beg when it's too much to take any longer. I'm wet, and swollen, and desperate for the release I know he can give me. I know my body won't be satisfied by anything less than him inside me, and I can't stand to prolong this, as delightful as it has been.   "Please what?" he asks in a low murmur, the smile in his voice evident.   "Make love to me," I manage to whisper, and he chuckles this time.   "I thought I was."   "Ooh," I moan as he hits a sensitive spot. That's it. No more playing fair.   When I roll to one side, tilting my pelvis ahead of me to get my body weight in the right place, I take him with me, pushing him onto his back. We end up sprawled slightly off-center on the bed, my legs uncoiling to lie along his, our pelvises perfectly aligned now. I prop myself up on my hands, smiling down at him wickedly. He blinks up at me in surprise for a moment before laughing, that passion-roughened voice still playing my nerves like the strings of a violin.   I love the feeling of our pubic hair mingling, the soft caress of the wiry strands against less sensitive skin having the same effect as a whisper across acutely awakened flesh. The novel feeling distracts me from my high pitch of arousal, and I take another moment to torture him in turn. I roll my hips a little, savoring our contact, and Severus groans, tossing his head back. I take the offer, sucking on his neck now, leaving a mark- his collars are so high, I doubt anyone else will see it, but I will know it is there.   His hands, free now that he's on his back, reach up to tangle in my hair, gather my breasts in his palms. The nipples tighten briefly before relaxing into his touch, and I let out a groan of appreciation before I shift myself a bit to accommodate the thick ridge of his erection between us. He laughs a little at my serious expression as I move, and I know it must remind him of my student days, but it doesn't seem to disturb him in the least. Good.   I settle the head of his cock into the soft skin just above my clitoris, where every movement will pull on the flesh and indirectly stimulate me where I need it the most. I can feel the softness of his balls lower down, just against my labia, and it's a lovely sensation. With a few gentle movements, I experiment until I find a rocking motion that sets us both on fire. Suddenly, my patience is gone, drowned in the rising tide of hormones and need that covers us both.   Severus is rocking beneath me now, his hands on my hips guiding me to move quicker. "Like that," he growls in affirmation, "just like that- Oh-" and he shudders with pleasure.   "Hermione." My name has never sounded so beautiful as it does on Severus Snape's lips, in the throes of passion. "Gods, I never dreamed-" He doesn't finish, instead taking one breast into his mouth and suckling, feasting on me as if I am all that stands between him and starvation.   And in a way, perhaps I am. Given how long I think it's been since he's been with a woman, he's held out admirably. Given how long I know it’s been for me, I'm going to have to take things slowly- but I think it's time to take them. Or shall I say, it.   I lift myself, mourning the lack of contact as his cock springs free, but with a subtle shift of my hips, I have him right where I him him- nudging against me, begging entrance, pressing the advantage as far as possible. Severus whimpers with something like agony as I linger there, and at last I have mercy on him- on both of us. I slowly ease down, feeling the thickness of him coat itself with my wetness as it slides into me. It's slow, and marvelous, and far too restrained for what I want.   At last our bodies touch again, and I realize that Severus is trembling beneath me. His eyes are soft, and glassy, and there is more emotion in them now than I have ever seen there before in my life.   "Hermione," he whispers, and with a badly shaking hand, reaches up to catch the back of my head so he can pull me down into a kiss.   This kiss beggars the others for passion, demanding all that I am in return for all that he is, fusing us for one bright moment- one body, one soul, one being. I fall onto his chest, the movement shifting his erection inside me, and with a strangled cry, he crushes me to him.   "I can't," he starts, his entire body stiff, and then he shakes his head once. "Hermione- oh, gods, love, you're so tight- I can't stop now. I- it won't- Oh!"   And then he rolls me onto my back again, coming to rest over me, my hips cradling his, and he's moving with utterly male insistence that the woman in me recognizes and answers. The powerful muscles of his back are flexing and arcing, driving his shaft against me in the most delicious way possible, and his skin is slick with the effort. His palms cradle the back of my head, firm but gentle, the incredibly tender gesture of protection adding to the already escalating sense of rightness that suffuses me. The short, uneven gusts of his breathing are intensely erotic, and I spend several moments just drinking in the arousing sound.   He raises his head to meet my gaze, and I can see concern mingled with the lust in their depths. I wrap my arms and legs around him, arching to meet his thrusts, and his name falls from my lips in a litany of desire.   I can feel the spiral tightening, feel the throb of impending orgasm building deep in my pelvis, and just as I start to climax, his thrusts intensify.   Severus looks down at me, almost beyond words, hopelessly consumed by passion. He stares, transfixed, as the fireworks he has set off explode within my body, and my voice fills the room with rough cries of completion. I open my eyes just in time to see his own orgasm overtake him, and as his eyes widen, I feel a renewal of my own orgasm hit.   With one last thrust that buries him completely, nudging my cervix, he shudders and reaches down to lift me into his arms, climaxing with something very like a sob.   "Hermione," he groans into my ear as the spasms wrack him, his hips still circling slightly with each contraction. "Oh, Hermione." My body squeezes his in echoed delight, and I groan with pleasure at the sensation. It's less intense without his movement, but still marvelous.   We drift for a long moment, his arms holding me up, our bodies still joined. When at last he settles me back on the comforter, I smile and strip back the covers to make room for him.   He comes to curl around me, his arms still trembling with effort, his heartbeat still thunderous against my side as he holds me tightly.   Here's the fun part. What does one say at a time like this?   Severus chuckles as if he's reading my mind.   "I don't suppose we would have gotten that sort of a fireworks display from the Astronomy Tower tonight," he observes.   The comment breaks the thin ice we've felt forming over the last few moments, and I laugh warmly as I pull the sheet up over us. "I told you I'd rather stay here," I murmur tenderly as I brush the hair away from his cheeks.   He sighs. "I'm not very well versed in this sort of thing," he ventures hesitantly, almost by way of apology.   I chuckle. "If you're trying to give an oblique apology for being an incredibly passionate man, then don't. I told you once before- I like you just the way you are."   Severus snorts then, and turns me over to face him. "Until now, you've never known this particular aspect of 'the way I am'. I didn't want to make any assumptions."   Snuggling down into the covers, I stifle a yawn. It's 2 AM; we've been busy for two hours. No wonder those orgasms registered on the Richter scale. "We'll have to test all the options," I say suggestively. "For the sake of scientific inquiry, of course."   "Oh, naturally," he agrees dryly as he puts a possessive arm over my side and pulls me close into the curve of his body.   "Told you the book puts me to sleep," I murmur at last, before sleep claims me at last. My last waking memory is of Severus's sleepy reply:   "Hmm. It always gives me erotic dreams."   And two hours later, he proves it to me.