Tel\' Lindar (The Bard)

Your Fantasy. My Body. Merry Christmas.

Author: ZeeDrippyVessel

Misadventure from - Tel' Lindar.

Rated R - for incredibly insinuated hot steamy sex...

Feedback? Hell yes!

Alex beta'd this a long, long time ago.... 2003 to be exact. I had no idea it would be five years before I would actually get to this spot in the story.

***

Snape stood in front of the Muggle Studies Professor's doorway, her
letter clutched in one hand. He perused it a second time.

Your fantasy. My body. Happy Christmas.

The note was short, sweet, and to the point. Things she normally was
not.

Well, she was short...

He arched a sardonic eyebrow. It was after Christmas, her family had
finally left and now... He whispered the password to her door and
after tucking the note into his robes, stepped inside.

"Severus? Is that you?" Bronwyn stepped around the fireplace, draped
in gossamer black... flowing, frothy stuff. She lifted a
mug. "Eggnog? It's loaded."

"No." He made his way forward, eyes focused on his prey. She had the
good sense take a step back and appeared to be slightly alarmed. She
looked around nervously.

"Fruitcake? Figs?" She snatched up a dish from the fireplace with
candied something-or-others. She thrust the dish forward with an
expectant look. "Chestnuts? I just took them from the fire." He could
hear them still sizzling. A silly, annoying song about 'chestnuts
roasting on an open fire' rose in the air. He closed his eyes, in
attempt to ward off one of those spastic headaches she was so adept
at causing. Apparently, she saw the look on his face, as the music
came to an abrupt halt. "Mints?" She attempted to placate. The look
did not suit her.

"No." He was now standing in front of her, coiled inwards, hands
tucked into the crook of his elbows. She set the dish down with a
slight 'bang' and scowled upwards.

"No?"

"No."

"Fine! Mistletoe?" she gritted from clenched teeth, eyes moving to an
area by her doorway. Oh, but she was tart!

"No. I do not 'do' mistletoe."

She settled her fists on her ample hips. "You do not do mistletoe?
Who are you? Severus 'Scrooge' Snape?"

Snape's head tilted. "Ho... Ho... Ho..." he sneered.

"N'uma!" Bronwyn snarled and went to move around him. "Scrooge
says 'Bah Humbug'. Santa Claus says 'Ho Ho Ho'."

He grabbed her arm as she went around, halting her movement. Fiery
brown eyes stared him through. "I have come to collect my gift."

"You took your gifts already. Remember?" She gestured to the
fireplace, emptied stockings - including the one she had hung for
him - still hanging.

"There was one other."

"Oh really? Which gift would that be? Refresh my memory."

The parchment came out of his sleeve with a snap and he read,
decorously. "Your fantasy. My body. Happy Christmas." He rolled it
back up and returned it to its place. "This was in an oversized,
obnoxiously happy wrapped box..."

She grinned snarkily.

"...which turned out to be fourteen wrapped and nested boxes, in
truth, to get to one small envelope with this gift," he continued. "I
singed my fingers attempting to open the boxes it came in."

"Remus did well in warding them then. I do believe I remembered the
note attached to the outside telling you not to use magic on them."
She shrugged elegantly.

His arm whipped out and pulled her roughly against him. "I have
waited patiently," he whispered. "Do you wish to know what my fantasy
is?" Hooded, flaming orbs gazed directly into his. His hand grazed
around her ear, brushed her neck and a single digit stroked between
the slash of the neckline of her gown, gently pushing it to the side
to free one breast. He cupped the heavy underside, thumb gliding over
the hardening nipple. "Do you?" Her breathing quickened. With his
hand still on her breast, he took the other and pulled her flush,
leaning over and grazed her ear. He felt her shiver at his
touch. "For the longest time, I have dreamt of bending you over a
table... a chair... anything, it truly does not matter.. and throwing
your skirts over your head."

"And then?" Her voice was a raspy whisper.

"And then," he leaned over, his lips caressing her ear, "and then, I
am going to make you scream my name."

Bronwyn pulled back and looked up into his eyes. Her tongue touched
the plump bow of her lip. "Do you think you can really make me
scream..." her eyes raked him up and down, "anything?"

Oh, but she was asking for it!

His hand snaked down, cupping her behind and pulled her to him as his
mouth crashed down to hers. She didn't put much of a fight, allowing
him to plunder her, ravish...

He pulled back, eyes slitted and glittering. "You... like this sort
of thing..."

An apologetic grin split her face. "I did say Your Fantasy. Would you
prefer I swoon and cry 'Penelope-style'?" Still in his arms, she
threw the back of her wrist against her forehead and leaned
back. "Oh, you dastardly fiend. How dare-ah..."

"Madam, that is the most despicable Southern accent I have ever
heard." He was rewarded with her deep chuckling.

"Severus," she finally managed to ask. "What would you like? Truly?"
Her eyes were warm and she gently raised her fingers to his stroke
his cheek. Her gaze was loving and hot and he caught himself nipping
at her fingertips as they crossed his lips. He narrowed his eyes as
he sucked one of the digits in. Quickly, he unbuttoned his coat and
shrugged out of it. She caught her breath.

"Unbutton my shirt." he grated, her finger still playing about his
lips.

"I will need my hand back."

He removed the calloused fingertips from his mouth and placed it at
his collar. Deftly, she unbuttoned the starched, pristine shirt,
allowing her fingers to trail gently over his sternum, his chest. Her
fingers loitered over the waistband of his trousers...

"No." He spun her around, her bottom now deliciously against him, and
reaching around, had now exposed the other breast from the confines
of the gossamer negligee, stroking both nipples.

"Severus!" Bronwyn's tone was exasperated, "Your fantasy is to play
with my breasts with your shirt unbuttoned?"

Patience was not her virtue.

"Madam, as I stated, my fantasy is to bend you over anything and have
my way with you. However," he pulled her to him tighter, plying her
nipples into exquisite pain, his lips at her ears. His tongue whipped
out, nipping the tender lobe, his breath, hot against her neck.

His voice was silk and she was melting...

"However," he continued, "it is my deepest desire to watch the
knuckles of your fingers turn white as you hang on for dear life when
I ride you. It is my deepest desire to watch your eyes turn languid
when I touch you between your legs and manipulate your body because I
can. It is my deepest desire to feel the whisper of my shirt tail
feather across my arse as I drive you to that final point. It is my
deepest desire to hear you whisper, scream, call to me when you reach
that pinnacle of ecstasy, not once, not twice and maybe not three
times." He was now totally supporting her body. "And the wretched
thing is, I will do so gently, sweetly, because deep inside, you
think I am incapable of it." He switched ears, her moan rising to a
fever pitch.

She heard the sounds of buttons being undone and material sliding
down legs. She started to look over her shoulder, when his hand
grasped her by the back of her head.

"Bend over and look at your reflection." His hand, still grasping her
firmly by the head, bent her downwards, forcing her to grasp the back
of the sofa, in order to keep from falling over. No sooner than she
focused on the glass door, the voluminous skirts came flying over her
head, blocking her gaze.

"Hey! Wha-"

"Then there is the added thrill of watching your breasts swing-" her
eyes widened in shock. Behind her came a rusty sound, a tune barely
recognizable, humming from vocal chords rarely used for such
nonsense...

"Severus! Are you trying to hum 'Jingle Bells'?" The joke was
momentarily lost on her before her jaw dropped in realization. "You
are sooo bad! You know, two can play that game!" She took a
breath. "Jingle Baaaaaalls! Jingle Baaaaaaa..."

He smacked her arse smartly before continuing. "Silence." He caressed
the reddening spot, admiring the plump curve. "But mostly, I desire
to watch for the simple fact that I am a Voyeur and watching you be
pleasured by me is the greatest fantasy of all."

And with that, his fingers invaded her to the core...

So intent on each other, they did not hear the strange hissing of the
fireplace behind them...

Dumbledore and Gandalf took a step backwards in the Headmaster's
office, Celeborn lingering his spot, as all eyes remained riveted to
the fireplace.

"I think I will send an owl or a house elf down, next time." Albus
whispered, turning away.

"Well," Gandalf finally managed to sputter, "it looks as if they are
getting along well." His eyes slid to the tall Elf Lord still
staring, smiling into the fireplace. "Celeborn?"

Celeborn turned and smiled at the Headmaster. "Can we turn that back
on? Open it back up?" He recoiled in mock horror when the tall Istari
backhanded him on the arm. "I promise not to say a word. They will
not know we watch..."

Gandalf growled and turned away from the Silver Lord.

Bronwyn and Severus never realized they had been glimpsed or seen.
Nor would they have cared. When all was said and done, they lay on
the sofa, Severus between her legs, breathing heavily and wrapped in
each other.

"So, that was your fantasy?" Bronwyn's lips played in the curve of
Severus' throat.

"No, not all." he whispered into her ear. "I am not totally done with
you, yet...".

***

fini?

***