Not the best of Birthdays.

Disclaimers as in chapter 1.

Smut chapter.....Yay!!!

My muse decided to go on holiday without telling me. He\'s back now, chained securely in a windowless room where I occasionally go to poke him with sticks. :-)

Thank you everyone for your patience and especially : Heather, jessicat1982, giova, oz_angel, MoD, Rilla, Darkfaith, shemhamforash, dradd, Halcyon, Talene, Tigress and Potions Mistress who have reviewed this so nicely.

:-)


******


Chapter 4 - Smut!


I don’t ask him why he’s kissing me back, that would require more coherence than I have right now, that and he\'d have to stop kissing me and I\'ve just found out that his tongue is very much capable of other things than sarcastic comebacks and house point removals. Ok and I think I deserve something back for all the shit he gave me when I was a student.

The fact that he hasn’t thrown me off yet and run screaming from the room, though Lupin might have something to do with that, gives me courage and my hands fly to the water slick buttons at the base of his throat.
Adrenaline, nerves and moisture conspire against my shaking fingers causing me to fumble with the small round discs. Catching my breath I realise somehow he’s manoeuvred me onto the floor under him, when he did that I’ve no idea but right now there’s nowhere I’d rather be and so turn my attention to my previous task. Why the hell does he have to have so many damn buttons!

The contrast of the burning skin of his mouth and cool, damp hair sliding against me shatters any pretence at concentration I hold as he nips his way down to the base of my throat.

Fuck it! The sound of tearing material and the small echoes of buttons hitting the ground are muffled by the growl that vibrates through him as my hips arch against his, even through the barriers of cloth separating us I can feel him hard as granite against me.
The waistcoat lasts less time than the coat and the soft white shirt seems to rip with the barest of touches until my fingertips connect with the hot silky skin of his chest. I drag my nails down his scarred body and he grinds harder into me with a choked gasp.


At some point the hand not supporting him has found its way under my shirt, skilful fingers dance teasingly over the silk of my rather sensible bra. Neither last long, seems I\'m not the only one with no respect for clothes tonight and the feel of his skin against mine is like heaven.
Black eyes glitter in the half-light, raking down me, shivering at the intensity of that gaze, I loose myself in the darkness there as with a breathtakingly wicked grin he leans back down to claim one aching peak with teeth and tongue.


The shifting of his body gives my wandering hands access to the irritating barrier of his trousers and, yay! more buttons. Am sy tey tempted to rip my way through them as well in my haste to get into Snape\'s underwear. Is he even wearing any?. That thought alone makes me redouble my efforts until my wrists are caught and pinned above my head, any protestations are smothered by his mouth.

I sigh at the brush of his fingers under my skirt which travel with agonising slowness up the soft skin of my inner thigh. When they flutter over the damp silk knickers I think I stop breathing, when they burrow beneath the waistband I loose the remaining air in my lungs. finally, after what seems like forever one long, slender finger slides inside me and I have to bite my lip to stop crying out. Nothing can stop my hips moving to grind against his hand as another slips to join it\'s companion about the the same time his teeth scrape across the base of my throat.

He moves his fingers deeper and flicks his thumb over the tight bundle of nerves that are now the centre of my universe, I am only dimly aware of my arching body pinned under his, of the almost incoherent responses torn from my lips and of him releasing my hands and lifting long enough to deal with those last buttons. My disappointment as his fingers leave me is momentary, the feel of the tip of him nudging at my entrance is anticipation drawn too far. I am almost sobbing as his thumb returns to its previous occupation, begging, even if I can\'t hear myself over the pounding of my heart and the hissing of his breath, I can feel it building, coiling low and inexorable and the need to have him inside me when....
Oh YESSSS!!!!
He slams into me so hard I\'m almost lifted off the floor and with a half-scream every nerve explodes as I loose myself completely.


******

I come to in a tangled heap of limbs and torn material, we lie panting but wordless, his hair fanned across my chest where his head rests. Severus gets his breath back first, but then he hasn\'t got someone lying on top of him. One slender hand is wrapped in the curls at the nape of my neck, the other lazily caresses my shoulder, neatly skirting a now painful set of teeth marks that slowly seep blood. Laughing shakily to myself I realise how far gone I must have been not to feel that and move to a slightly more comfortable position.

I don\'t know how long we remain locked together but suddenly he shudders once before moving the hand at my shoulder to join the other, thumbs brushing across my neck with ever more firm sweeps. Something in my head is telling me to get up, to be less vulnerable.

\"Severus?\"

My voice is hoarse as he raises his face to mine. The eyes that open are no longer glittering pools but hold the sickly yellow glow of the others, the hands around my throat tighten steadily, effectively muffling my cries of terror and for help. Still pinned beneath him I can\'t get enough leverage to fight him off but I try, my nails tear at his skin as I squirm and thrash. Even as my vision blurs, I pray to Merlin and all the gods. This. Is. Wrong. My lungs burn as my struggles become weaker, the pain unbearable and my frenzied heartbeat a death knoll.

As I fade light flares behind Snape, I\'m surprised. I would never have thought an angel looked like a House-elf wielding a decanter........


Tbc...