What He Wants

A/N: Thanks so much for all the kind reviews thus far. Just to address this issue, Hermione is a bit more niave here than she probably is in cannon as it suits my purposes. I just wanted to give her to Severus as untouched as possible, just cause I think he desevers it. As for any HBP references, the first six chapters of this were wrinten before HBP came out, and anyway, I am happily floating upon my barge as I drift gently down DENIAL river.


Now here... enjoy a bit of citrus

*****

Dinner, wrought with heavy innuendo and barely restrained glances, had left Hermione more lightheaded than the glass of Bordeaux he had served her. She didn't know just talking could be so damn stimulating. He was the master of insinuation. But with the buffer of dinner no longer standing between them, she found herself feeling strangely unfettered.

What now?

Would they continue what they started in his office? If so, how far should she let him go? How far did he want to go?

She knew she wanted him to touch her more, to touch her - there.

He rose from the small table, which he had transfigured from the desk that sat in the corner of his sitting room, and moved to stand in front of her.

He held out his hand to her. "Come with me."

Her stomach clinched as she reached for his hand, her earlier anxieties resurfacing enough to make her tremble at what he might have in store for her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.

He held her hand tightly, almost as though he was afraid she might try to run away. She had to admit, it was something she was considering.

"I just want to make you more comfortable," he evaded smoothly, as he pulled her towards the door she had always assumed led to his bedchambers.

She was right, of course.

The room was nearly octagonal in shape, the walls an eclectic mix of rough honed stone, and smoothed marble that matched the walls in his classroom. The floor was stone, but covered mostly by a large, green and silver oriental rug that depicted the Slytherin House shield. However, his bed covered most of the design. The furniture was castle typical, heavy, wooden, and ancient.

Rugged wooden torches sprang to life as they entered, bathing the room in muted light and dark shadows that made it all seem ominous at best.

Again, he followed her through the room.

The sudden appearance of his hands on her shoulders made her jump slightly.

"Don't be afraid, Hermione," he drawled against her ear, his tone a silky whisper playing against her frazzled state. "I promised you nothing would happen that you didn't want, and I have no intention of backing out now. I just want you to relax."

He guided her to the bed, but turned her to face him instead of encouraging her to lie down. His long, elegant fingers touched her cheek as though she might shatter if he applied more pressure.

She wasn't so sure she wouldn't at this point.

"Everything I do tonight will only be for you, Hermione. All for you. I swear it.

Her breath hitched slightly as his lips descended against hers in a slow, achingly soft kiss that matched the tenderness he had used to stroke her cheek.

The fire that had burned deep within her earlier was slowly coming back to life, and she shuddered when he pulled her tightly against his body.



*****


Severus felt the shudder race acutely throughout his whole body. It was an enthralling sensation. If kissing her felt this good, and made her this amenable, he could only imagine what she would be like when he brought her to a climax.

Something he very much wanted to do... now.

He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips as he fumbled briefly with the clasp of her robe. He pushed it from her shoulders without preamble, paying no mind to the way it pooled loosely around her feet. He brushed his fingers lightly up the sides of her breasts, the soft woolen material of her jumper tickling his skin lightly.

She sighed deeply into his mouth at the action, somehow managing to deepen the kiss in the process.

His mind reeled from it.

He had to touch her skin, feel her beneath him.

He had to make her come.

There was a brief struggle of ideas as Severus wrestled with wanting to enjoy peeling away her layers, (noting with amusement that she had as many as he did, and reaffirming in his mind that this only made them more perfect for one another) or simply removing them with a wave of his hand. In the end, he chose the latter.

She gasped, startled by suddenly finding herself naked no doubt.

"Lay with me, Hermione," he rasped heatedly against her lips even as he pushed her in the general direction of his bed.

He moved her onto the satin duvet and covered her completely with his body before she had a chance to protest.

There was something decidedly erotic about having her nude form beneath him while he was still fully clothed. Like wielding the most basic, and powerful magic there was.

It was intoxicating.

She was intoxicating.

He drank her soul in once again from her flushed and swollen lips, touching her everywhere his hands could reach, and grinding his pelvis hard against the radiating heat of her center.

She moaned inarticulate words of encouragement, or perhaps protest, but he was far too gone to care at this point.

"Are you on fire yet, Hermione?" he growled softly against her throat, just before attacking the flesh with gentle nips.

"Gods, yes," she managed between gulps of air. "I feel like I am about to explode."

"You are," he whispered darkly. "And I'm going to take you there." He moved off her body, and allowed his fingers to skim down her front until they reached her most intimate parts. "I do so long to see you explode."



*****


The meaning of his words hit Hermione full on when his fingers brushed lightly against her virgin sex. The sensation sent tendrils of liquid nitrogen to the very center of her being.

She felt like an unstable keg of dynamite.

Severus' fingers become more persistent between her legs, touching her in places she had only ever allowed herself to touch, and even then, it had never felt like this.

She was certain she would blow soon, if he kept up his current actions.

She could tell he was whispering words of encouragement, or something to that effect, but the pounding of her heart managed to drown out all other sounds. Her nerves sizzled, and her blood began to boil and at one point one of her sinuses gave a resounding pop, no doubt from the pressure building inside her head.

She whimpered softly, though she tried desperately to stifle the sound. Truth be told, she wanted to scream her lungs out, and utter every profanity she had ever heard, and praise Jesus, God, and any other deity that wanted to take credit for the amazing things her body was feeling.

"Open your eyes," he demanded softly.

She did, not aware of when she had actually closed them, and met the dark gaze of the man doing these things to her. His eyes held a glimmer she had never noticed before, either by design or by circumstance, she couldn't be sure.

Whatever it was took her breath away.

His fingers took up a frantic pace as they glided with urgent purpose through her slick, swollen flesh. He hit that place again, and she felt her back bow and raised the center of her body into his insistent touch. Her mind whirled out of control and the only thing she could think was 'don't stop, oh god, please don't stop'.

Hermione realized a moment later that she must have voiced the mantra when he chuckled softly, and wondered briefly what other thoughts she may have voiced over the last few moments.

"Never fear, my dear, I have no intentions of stopping now. Not when you are so close to nirvana."

Yes, that was it, that's what she was reaching for, nirvana.

"Take me there, please," she breathed out desperately, no longer too self-conscious to beg.

"Let me taste you, Hermione, and I promise you nirvana and more."

She wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but had a fair enough impression that he meant to give her more pleasure than she was currently experiencing, and that could only be a good thing.

"Yes, please," she responded.

She was somewhat startled when he settled himself between her legs, his head bent reverently over her sex. His face dipped lower still, until his prominent nose grazed against her lightly, inhaling deeply.

The full implications of 'tasting' occurred to her with jarring clarity.

Severus confirmed her suspicions, when his tongue snaked out from between his lips and proceeded to take a long, leisurely stroke through the parted flesh of her vagina. She drew a quick, stabbing breath at the electric contact.

Suddenly, he delved into her with reckless abandon, reminding her very much of the way he had kissed her lips just the night before.

Gods that seemed like ages ago.

Seized by the overwhelming sensations, she quaked and quivered under his talented mouth. That irresistible pressure was back, burning ever brighter, even as her mind climbed higher and higher.

She knew she was reaching some sort of pinnacle, knew that she was on the verge of something monumental. She wondered briefly if she would be able to survive the powerful culmination that threatened to swallow her whole.

She could hear the smooth silken tone of his voice murmuring words, and only had a second to wonder if he were muttering some sort of incantation, when her body suddenly stiffened and rational thought became impossible.

She couldn't breath, and she felt weightless, or boneless, or something else equally disturbing.

He held on to her, grounding her out-of-control senses, and keeping her from slipping off into to some mad dreamscape.

It was enthralling, and intoxicating, and frightening as hell.

He was there, touching her with soft, assured strokes, and talking her back down to earth with whispered encouragements.

She felt him slide up her body. The feel of his rough, woolen trousers brushing against her sensitized skin caused the fine hairs at the base of her neck to stand on end.

He kissed her with slow, languid purpose, the flavor of her passion lingering heavily on his breath. She drank him in, not minding one bit that it was her taste that clung on his swollen lips. The idea that his mouth had just been on her most private of parts and was now plundering her mouth like a roguish pirate on a quest for treasure was decidedly erotic.

She shuddered and sighed all at once at the thought.

Hermione finally found herself coming back to reality. The mind-blowing disturbance of her first orgasm ever left her with a pleasant tingling sensation throughout her body. She stretched, and arched into him, reveling in the way his body felt against her, even if he was fully clothed.

She wondered if she could change that.

He pulled his lips away from hers with a soft pop.

"You are so amazing," he declared into the crook of her neck. "I could do that to you again and again."

Gods, the mere idea of that.

She shuddered for a completely different reason.

"I don't know how you can say that when you did all the work," she replied sheepishly. What she really wanted though, was to touch him, the way he had touched her. She wanted to see his body, explore him, and learn him. "However, I'm willing to put in some work myself." She glanced up at him pre-apologetically. "Though I can't guarantee the quality of the service," she added then looked away.

He snatched her chin, however, forcing her gaze back.

"Never underestimate the power you have over me, Hermione. Nor the desire I have for you." He leaned in and kissed her lips reverently. "You could undo me with the simplest of touches," he assured against her mouth.

"Then let me touch you, Severus."



*****



Her words rang like crystal bells, clear and pure in meaning, to his world-weary ears.

She wanted to touch him.

Severus had not expected this, not her first time with him like this, all foreplay, and no form. He knew even the slightest touch from her would set him so close to the edge that he doubted he would last but a few moments at best under her hands.

Unskilled though they may be a present.

It would be the purest of joys no matter what her skill level, and he did so ache for her to touch him willingly.

She certainly seemed willing enough.

He rolled off her, and onto his back. "Do with me as you will, madam," he said with a wry grin, and stretched open his arms in invitation.

She gave him a look that reminded him vaguely of a third year with their first butterbeer.

It was slightly disconcerting.

She tugged at his robes and the suit beneath them vigorously, undoing buttons and clasps in a random pattern as she struggled to find bits of his skin to run her fingers across.

She growled lightly. "A little help here wouldn't be amiss," she said with a frustrated sigh.

He sat up and took her hands in his. "Relax, silly girl," he chided gently. "I assure you I am nothing special to get so worked up over."

"You just don't know," she replied, her tone a little... manic.

Hermione twisted her hands from his light grasp, and once again attacked the buttons of his frock coat. She found an effective, if not a little frantic, rhythm to getting him out of his clothes, and then leaned in to place quick, fluttering kisses along his jaw in neck.

"I've wanted to do this for the longest time, to see what was under all those layers," she said then ran her tongue from his jaw to his ear. "I want to see the man under all that black," she whispered, nipping gently at his lobe.

Finally, she made it to his bare chest, but did not push the garments away as he had expected her to. Instead, she ran her soft, smooth hands gently beneath them, stroking him with her flat, open palms.

He could not help the shuddered sigh that escaped his slightly parted lips.

"I saw you once you know," she said reflectively, her eyes never leaving the strip of his pale flesh she had worked so hard to reveal. But he had no idea to what she was referring. "I saw you without your shirt once, at Headquarters." Here, her tone took on a dreamy quality. "Just you, in a pair of slacks, and your boots, of course." (Rumor had it, that Snape never took off his boots) "Funny, at the time, I thought it was the most intimate thing I had ever seen, and here I am, and I'm about to strip you naked, and touch you, and I... "She glanced up at him, suddenly shy. "I feel naughty, and... I don't know... " her eyes moved back to his chest, "sexy, I guess."

She murmured that last part breathlessly, her hands continuing their gentle journey across his smooth, hairless chest.

He nearly lost himself in the sensation, before he realized what she just had said. She had seen him, at Headquarters no less. There was only one way that was possible: she spied on him. He never left his chambers in such a state here at Hogwarts, and he was certain that he never would have done such a thing while in residence at the Black family estate.

"Spying on me were you?" he growled with a slight frown.

She had the grace to blush, and keep her eyes lowered in shame.

"Honestly, Professor, it was not intentional."

Her use of his title made him wince slightly.

Did she honestly think he was going to scold her while she was in his bed, naked and eager to touch him?

She lifted her gaze to his through her thick, lush lashes. "I was only there to ask you something, and there you were, and you didn't see me, and I was so stunned that I... "

"Silence," he purred, cutting her off effectively with a finger to her lips. "It is not your excuses, or pitiful apologies that I desire at the moment."

"And what do you desire exactly?" she asked as she ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders.

"You're doing a fine job of figuring that out on your own, my dear. I assure you," he replied, as she finally began pushing his clothing away.

No one had ever touched him in the manner she did. No lover had ever explored his body with such meticulous intensity, not with out finding fault anyway. No one had ever looked at him with such adoration.

Severus was no longer certain what he expected from her. While it was true that he wanted her to feel for him, love him even, he had not imagined that those feelings would be so... vivid. He had to admit he was probably not used to such vibrant emotions after having lived for so long in a dreary, washed-out perspective.

He had expected to find a nice, quiet contentment with her, and a moderately passionate sex life, not the wild fire that had burned so bright within her earlier.

A fire that she seemed intent on igniting him with as well.

She crawled into his lap wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, and bringing her warm center into contact with his wool-covered erection. She pressed her bare breasts into his chest, and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

"This feels so good," she said softly into his neck. "You feel so good against me." She rocked her hips against his hard cock effectively. "Does it feel good to you as well?"

"Yes," he hissed, though he wanted to say something much more... articulate

His hands flew to her hips, digging roughly into her smooth flesh, as he pushed her more forcefully against his aching need.

"Jesus," she yelped out, surprised by his sudden impatience.

He wanted more than anything to feel that moist heat that emanated from between her legs sliding against his cock.

Should he?

He could easily live with just the feeling of her slick, wet folds wrapped around him. He wouldn't have to penetrate her at all. He was certain she wasn't ready for that.

"I want to feel you against me, Hermione," he expressed, in his most melodious tone, before taking her lips in a heated kiss.

He nipped, and bit at her full bottom lips, grinding his pelvis against hers savagely. With an absent wave of his hands, he spelled his pants away, and then there was no barrier between them.

He was suspending in that place between heaven and hell. Fire and brimstone with a spiritually uplifting undertone.

She was as hot and wet as he had imagined she would be, and his cock slid easily against the yielding flesh.

He wouldn't last long like this. The knowledge that he was the first to touch this sacred place on her, that his cock alone would possess her, was nearly enough to sending him flying over the edge.

When her hand reached between them, and pushed his throbbing member more deeply into her heat, he cried out with the pleasure of it.

"Oh gods, I'm going to do it again," she whispered hoarsely against his probing mouth.

He gripped her tighter, and kissed her deeply, preparing to take her over the cliff one more time.

Her release produced enough fluids to make his own friction that much sweeter, and he soon found himself taking that final plunge as well.

They rode the waves of pleasure clutched in each other's arms, their rough and ragged breathing oddly synchronized.