Lilies

Thanks for reviewing! *hug* Never fear, one cannot live as long as Severus has and be TOTALLY ignorant of the act… he’ll be fine. Only minimal reassurance is required.

Chapter Five
The Fine Line: Feeling Good and Feeling Awkward
(In which Hermione uses her mouth to multiple ends, some more pleasurable than others)

Severus blinked, certain he had misunderstood her. It could have been a trick in his mind. He couldn’t really hear much over his own heart beat and respiration.

“Unless there’s some place else you’d rather—”

He didn’t let her finish that thought.

“No—ah—no.” True, this kind of situation had never been his forte (not that he had invested much practice). Still, Severus felt the need to make up for his earlier lack of debonair; he thought fast.

“Not immediately, at any rate,” he added in a silky tone, checking her response a little too overtly.

Hermione did not notice. That he had just intimated there would be multiple… engagements, and the proposal of alternate locations had her light-headed and weak-kneed. Sure, she had always had a little “thing” for him—usually that meant defending him to her friends, or holding her tongue when she would have argued any other professor; it was not necessarily unlike the “thing” she had for all the misunderstood, underappreciated creatures of the world. Over the past few days, however, it had extended to graphic fantasies involving desks, niches, supply closets, step ladders… gods, she was a freak. An aroused freak.

He had taken advantage of her momentary distraction to draw her into the bedroom, close the door and press her against it, drawing her into a deep kiss. This time, his hand went to her breast of its own accord, snaking up under her shirt, teasing the nipple through her bra. He felt her pelvis twisting, desperate to find contact. He insinuated one of his legs between hers and was rewarded by the sound of relief and pleasure she made at the contact.

All things considered, Severus figured this was going rather well. Anyone who was marginally observant could manage to do well enough. How long had his ability to read subtle body language kept him alive? Long enough for this, and now he considered all his sufferings mere preparation. It was more than worth it, he thought as he considered the shuddering witch in his arms.

He broke the kiss suddenly, overwhelmed. His head fell against her neck, resting on her shoulder as he tried to gain control of his wildly over-stimulated body. He failed miserably, forgetting everything when he heard her, in her passion and desire, moan his name.

“Severus,” she said breathlessly, tangling her fingers in his hair.

He trailed kisses up her neck and rested his lips on her ear, first sucking on the lobe, then tonguing the shell.

“What do you want, Hermione?”

There was just no way she could speak, so by way of answering him, she started undressing him. The best thing he could think to do was help. Before, the volume of clothing he wore had been a security measure for him; he was more comfortable when less of him was discernable. Now, they were a pain, and needed to be gone. As he finished unbuttoning his shirt, he noted with exhilaration she was removing his belt and trousers. He sat on the bed to aid in the removal of trousers and pants.

Once he was completely nude, she stood up and walked half way across the bedroom. He was confused and embarrassed; that was not what he had been expecting. He started to say something angry to make her feel as vulnerable and exposed and awful as he did, but then he noticed the strangest thing.

Hermione’s hands were on the hem of her sweater, and she was slowly lifting it to expose her belly. His erection, which had threatened to disappear when he thought she had been leaving, returned with a vengeance. His hands fisted in the bed linens as he stared at the sight before him, trying not to drool.

Her sweater was now gone, discarded on the floor somewhere. Her hands stroked her belly lightly, working their way up toward her breasts. An uncontrolled noise issued forth from the back of his throat as she unhooked her bra, and slowly—very slowly—removed it, leaving her naked from the waist up.

She approached him with a sexy, sauntering gait. He was transfixed by motion of her breasts, though a voice in the back of his head suggested that perhaps he ought to look her in the face, he found he was unable. When she stopped, his head was on level with her chest. Her hands went to his, and she started to move them.

“It’s alright to touch yourself, Severus. I want you to.”

He did as she asked, and was treated to the very stimulating image of her backside and her skirt riding up her thighs as she retrieved her sweater and threw it over some kind of furniture—neither was paying attention to the sweater. When she turned around, what she saw took her breath away. He was beautiful—he was stroking his own cock and it was turning her on. She turned so that her side, opposite the skirt zipper, was facing him. She used a bit more force than was strictly necessary so that he could hear what she was doing. Hermione had not overestimated the effect this would have; she saw Severus fall utterly still when confronted with this auditory stimulus.

Slowly, she lowered her skirt and stepped out of it, now clad only in her pale pink knickers. She turned on the spot slowly, then brought her hands to her legs. She ran her fingers up her thighs. He watched her touch herself lightly through her knickers, he heard her sigh. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her knickers and pulled them slowly down, making a great production of finally revealing herself to him.

Severus acted on impulse when Hermione threw her knickers to him, and caught them. He noticed the evidence of her arousal that had collected there during her strip-tease, and brought them to his nose to inhale the scent.

“Do you like that?” she asked huskily.

The only response he could muster was, “Hmmm.”

“I thought you might… you know what else I thought you might like?”

He was afraid to speculate and therefore did not respond.

Hermione knelt by the edge of the bed, between his legs. He was still engrossed in her knickers and did not notice her until lips closed around his erection. Severus let out a yelp of surprise. She went to take him deeper into her mouth when his hands tangled in her hair and pulled her away.

“You, you can’t do that!” he exclaimed in horror.

“Actually, Severus, you’ll find that I can. In fact, I’m quite adept at it,” she purred.

“No, you don’t understand. You can’t—we can’t—I can’t… last.”

He hung his head, blushing, humiliated.

She brought her hand to his face and forced him to meet his eyes.

“Just trust me,” she said, lowering herself back into a kneeling position. “Relax,” she coaxed in a calming voice.

It was easy to trust her, less easy to relax, but he did his best as she took him in her mouth again. She seemed to know his most sensitive spots and she focused on them as her tongue found every inch of his cock. She took her time licking the underside of his cock while fondling his balls with the perfect amount of pressure. It dawned on him then—this was why she had wanted to watch him masturbate, so she would know how to make him feel best. As she applied strong suction to him, he couldn’t hold on any longer. He came hard, and Hermione swallowed everything. It was sexy, it was amazing, it was… sleepy.

As Severus lay back on the bed, he felt Hermione join him. She rose on her elbows and moved to straddle him. They shared a long kiss, during the course of which Severus felt consciousness return fully.

Breathlessly, Hermione broke the kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he said softly, bringing his hands up to caress her back.

“Can I ask you something?” she spoke slowly, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Anything,” he breathed.

“When you said you didn’t have ‘much of any experience’—exactly how much did you mean?”

Severus recoiled. He had not been expecting this line of questioning.

When it was obvious no answer was forthcoming, Hermione rested more of her weight on him and resigned to questioning him.

“Well, how many partners have you had?” she asked matter-of-factly.

“One… sort of.” He was intentionally being vague. It would likely be more than a little embarrassing to both of them if he were to mention that the ‘one’ was in fact her best friend’s mummy.

“How does one ‘sort of’ have a sexual partner?” It was a curious thing. She hadn’t meant to say it so badly, but Hermione was intrigued.

“We didn’t actually… do everything.”

“What did you do?”

“We kissed. And touched each other. She wanted to do more, but I wasn’t comfortable.” He spoke very softly and seemed to be choosing his words with great care. Strong emotion filled his eyes.

“When was this?” she asked, now bursting with curiosity.

“When I was a little younger than you. Is all this really necessary?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I just want to know. You can ask me anything you like, if it makes you feel better—who was she?”

“That is out of line,” he growled.

“I’m sorry. Did you love her?”

“Very much.” Was that the beginning of a tear?

“What have you done since?”

“Very little. Not that there was no opportunity. Revels provided… an outlet, if one was interested. When I was younger, I took a… performance inhibiting potion. When I was older, there was not need. I no longer reacted to the mere presence of a nude female. The situation, setting, and the acts of others were disgusting.” The most frightening part of Severus’ narrative was the casual tone.

“I’m sure I can’t even imagine.”

Silence fell between them for a few moments. Finally, Hermione broke it.

“Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

“How many wizards have you been with?” She should have expected that.

“Two wizards, one muggle,” she answered easily enough.

“Did you love them?” Was this revenge?

“Not really. I had feelings for a few of them, but I didn’t love any of them.”

“Why?” he asked, bewildered. “Why, if you didn’t love them?”

It would have been easy for her to take offense, but she didn’t think he was trying to make a point. He seemed honestly curious.

“Well, I wanted to know what it was like. They were a diverse, if small group. There was something about each that… intrigued me.”

“So it was an intellectual pursuit, then?” he asked, bemused.

“You could say that,” she said with a hint of a smile.

“How do you feel about me?”

She had not been expecting that. She didn’t know the answer or the “right” answer.

“Do I intrigue you?” He was persistent.

“I respect you,” she answered carefully. Noting his disappointment, she added, “You intrigue me very much. More than anyone else.”