To Close For Comfort

Young teacher the subject
Of schoolgirl fantasy
She wants him so badly
Knows what she wants to be
Inside her there\'s longing
This girl\'s an open page
Book marking She\'s so close now
This girl is half his age

- “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” (The Police)

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Being a werewolf, Remus Lupin was familiar with many different kinds of suffering. The guilt of knowing that he could unconsciously hurt or even kill someone during the full moon. The pain of the transformation itself, feeling as if his body was being split apart and shredded with knives. The frustration of being in a constant state of arousal days before and during the full moon, his werewolf senses heightened to an almost painful degree.

A situation that had become nearly unbearable during the past few months of teaching at Hogwarts--mainly because of one stubborn, beautiful, vexing woman bringing out his baser instincts, teasing and tormenting him to near levels of insanity.

And worst of all, she had absolutely no idea she was affecting him in such a way. Which was a very, very good thing because she was the best friend/surrogate sister to the young man he considered almost a son. The young man who would surely kill him if he knew that his teacher, his somewhat of a father figure, was having illicit thoughts about what could or could not be done on his desk at the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Preferably with very little clothing and plenty of silencing charms on the room.

He had a feeling Hermione would be a screamer.

He groaned as he rubbed his forehead, pushing away the papers covering his desk. It was no good; he couldn’t concentrate on grading papers when his mind was on Hermione Granger. Really, it was sick, to even think of her like that--she was 20 years younger than he was, although mentally, she was closer to his age than most of the people he knew.

/You’re trying to find a bloody reason to justify seducing a girl young enough to be your daughter/

Right. That he was. He should not even be thinking like this. It was wrong. Hermione was Harry’s best friend, she was an attractive, intelligent girl who should be worried about boys her own age and first kisses and great loves. Although, from what he’d managed to observe, and to hear from Harry, Hermione was not one for dating. Really, he needed to talk to Hermione herself, to see if Harry was simply coloring his words through the filter of friendship and as such, couldn’t see her for the beautiful, sexy woman she was.

/Right. Let\'s encourage Hermione to experiment with other boys because having to watch her do \"It\" will surely not drive you crazy or insane/

He groaned and put his head in his hands, feeling the man and wolf inside reacting to the thought of Hermione with another man. It made him want to hunt down and hurt, perhaps permanently maim, whoever it might be that would stir her desires. Awaking that delicious, ripe body to the pleasures of love making in all its ways, shapes and forms.

/Get off of it man! She is your student! If all else, think of what it would do to you and to her if someone found out you were shagging a student. Think man!/

“I know, I know,” he muttered into his hands, trying to picture the shock and horror on Harry or Ron’s faces, the disappointment in Dumbledore’s eyes, the sly satisfaction in Snape’s gleeful gaze. But those thoughts faded as he imagined her standing up to them, defending their relationship, explaining that she didn’t want a boy, she wanted a man, and Remus Lupin was exactly the man for the job.

Because he knew that he could teach her things that no 17 year old should know. Ways of prolonging pleasure and withholding ecstasy until the very last second. Ways to make both wolf, man and woman howl with pleasure and rut with extreme intensity for hours on end.

And he knew Hermione would be receptive, even eager to learn all he had to teach. He could tell it by the way she soaked up all information and knowledge. Not to mention the fact that he could sense, especially during the days before the full moon, her arousal. Sense the dissatisfaction emanating in waves from a body that was tight with sexual tension. He could see it in the way she shifted in her seat, obviously trying to ease the ache he knew must be growing between her thighs. The way her eyes would go unfocused and her heartbeat would quicken slightly as she obviously lost herself in some erotic dream.

/Probably of Harry, or Ron, or someone of her class and age. Not a perverted old werewolf/

And why shouldn’t she be dreaming of young men of her age and experiencing the joy of a relationship and sex? After all, Hermione had developed into quite a remarkable woman, a curvy figure with ample breasts and long legs that he could only imagine would feel heavenly wrapped around his wais shs she arched against him in ecstasy--

“Professor Lupin?”

He nearly jumped out of his seat as he heard her voice. His heart was racing, his body was hard with arousal and the woman who had caused it all was standing demurely in his office doorway. Gathering all the wits he could, he managed to adopt what he hoped was a neutral expression.

“Hermione, what can I do for you tonight?” He didn’t even stop to consider the fact it was well past 10PM and she should have been snuggled up in bed, perhaps with an eager Gryffindor or Hufflepuff--

“Actually, I couldn’t sleep and decided to do some work on a special project I\'m working on for my Potions N.E.W.T.” She paused, and he couldn’t help but wonder why in the world such a beautiful creature would want to be involved in a project overseen by Snape. He knew they didn’t get on, Snape could barely stand the girl, and yet he’d agreed to work with her?

“And just what would this project be, and how can I be of help?” He swallowed as she moved into the room, walking directly towards him and pulling up a chair next to him. His body was screaming that she had not put the desk between them, but was now sitting close enough to touch. He wondered if someone up there was determined to test his willpower--and he had a serious suspicion he would fail that test miserably.

“I’m supposed to write a three-foot parchment on the mating habits of the werewolf.”

If he had been drinking something he would have choked. His eyes went wide however as he looked at her demure expression, unable to sense if she was toying with him.

“You cannot be serious?\" He almost whispered. \"Professor Snape would not have the audacity to assign such a project--”

“I didn’t exactly say that he assigned it.”

He wondered how long a man, or wolf for that matter, could go without breathing. Because if what he had just heard was correct, Hermione Granger, object of his lustful fantasies, had just told him she was independently working on a project involving the mating habits of the werewolf.

His mind reeled as he realized the endless possible ways of interpreting her request for help. Naturally, his mind went first to the gutter. Trying not to blush, he pulled his thoughts together, although not without difficulty.

“So, Miss Granger, what, um, ah, are you looking for from me?” He tried to keep his voice calm, but he could not meet her gaze, fiddling with a piece of parchment on his desk. He was almost terrified to look into her eyes because of what he might see.

“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me a little more about, well, what types of urges and such you feel when you are the werewolf. I don’t know if you have a mate, much less go searching for one--”

“Miss Granger, I respect your desire to learn about this--this--unusual topic, but I, ah, I think it might be inappropriate for you, a student, to be asking me, your teacher, about such things--”

“Oh, but Professor, you are the only one who can answer my questions. And if you won’t tell, I certainly won’t. It could be our secret.”

It was a struggle to breathe, considering she was now nearly leaning over him, her eyes glued to his with an expression that definitely did not scream innocent little girl. Her breathing was faster than normal, he could sense her elevated heartbeat and she kept licking her lips, focusing her gaze on his. No, if he was correct, and he now knew that he was, the woman looking back at him had one thing on her mind.

The exact same thing that was on his.

It was at this point in time that his brain reminded him of a line from a Muggle movie he\'d seen years ago.

Resistance was definitely futile.

“Say I were to agree to this, Hermione.” He deliberately used her first name as he felt his control slipping. Leaning forward, he made sure their noses were almost touching, their eyes locked together in a battle of wills that could only have one outcome, leaving both, he suspected, the victors. “What exactly do you want me to tell you?”

Her sly smile sent a jolt of desire straight through his body and directly to his groin. He caught his breath as she placed her hand on his arm, sliding it gently up and over the thin sweater he wore, allowing it to entangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. Unconsciously, he felt his own hand bury itself in the chestnut masses of her curls, drawing her face even closer to his own.

“Every, last little detail. What you feel when making love, or fucking--\" The coarse word from her lips sent another tangible jolt through his over-stimulated body. \"Or simply rutting as animals do. What your mate, or the woman you’re with sounds like as you take her over the edge. What the wolf and the man feel, what it\'s like to be ravished by the wolf or made love to by the man, perhaps a combination of both.”

He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as her lips brushed over his. In that moment, all thought shattered and the man and wolf merged to claim what they’d wanted for far to long.

“Why don’t I show you instead?\" He growled.

With that, he took her lips with a force and passion that stunned even himself. She whimpered against him and opened her mouth to his as he triumphantly slid his tongue to tangle with hers. She tasted of strawberries and chocolate and the combination nearly had him moaning in ecstasy. Two of his favorite foods, mixed with the delicious taste of Hermione, was almost his undoing.

He pulled her closer, feeling her rise and move to straddle him in his chair, her hips pressing down into his erection, drawing moans from them both as he instinctively thrust against her, able to feel the warmth and heat of her through his slacks and her robes. His hands roved over her back, angling her so they had complete body contact, all while his lips ravished hers.

Pulling apart for breath, he saw Hermione’s eyes filled with a desire that he’d only dreamt about. Reaching for the zip of her robes, she quickly pushed them off until they puddled on the floor.

Leaving her completely naked in his lap.

“Merlin, Hermione!” It came out as more of a gasping groan as he took in the sight of her full breasts, her dusky nipples peaked and hard with arousal. His hands instinctively lifted to them, moaning as he caressed the soft globes, using his fingers to twist and shape them into hard little buds just begging for his lips.

“Remus,” her voice was breathy as he turned his attention to her face. She wore a Cheshire like smile, her eyes filled with a desire that incited him even more. “Tell me what you’d do as well as show me. I need to make sure I get it right,” she said, primly reminding Remus that this goddess of a woman pressed so close to him was the same precocious little girl he\'d taught just four years ago.

She was truly going to be the death of him, but there was no way in hell he was moving now. Every decent and noble thought he had flew from his mind as she shifted against his lap, rubbing and pressing against him while making small little whimpers that drove him mad.

“My mate would have to be able to stand the passion of the wolf and the man--one violent, one gentle, but both with more intensity than anything you’d ever feel in your life. The wolf will possess, claim and mark every part of his mate. The man will do the same but with a more tender mixture of devotion.\" Was he trying to explain, apologize, warn or brag? He was no longer sure--except of one thing. He wanted this girl/woman in the most intimate of ways.

His voice was growing raspy as he continued to play with her breasts, moving his lips over and around her nipples as he talked, feeling her shiver with the brush of air his words sent over the straining tips.

“What would you do, Remus? To claim your mate?”

He groaned as he gave into temptation and wrapped his lips around her nipple, using his tongue and his fingers to draw increasingly raw moans from her throat. Pulling back, he felt her hands pushing him forward, begging him without words to resume his actions. Struggling for control, he decided to play by her rules, and give her a little taste of her own medicine.

The rational thoughtfulness of Professor Lupin was gone. Now, there was only man--and wolf. Liberation from guilt freed his tongue as his hands and body had already been freed by a heady lust.

“The first time, I would have to take her, hard and fast, pounding into her, against a wall, on the floor, but not a bed. The bed is for the man, the wolf will want the elements of nature, the passion of violent penetration with nothing but release the goal. I would fuck her again and again until she couldn’t stand, and the wolf was completely sated, which,\" amusement flickered in his lust-filled eyes, \"I can tell you takes hours, sometimes even days.”

He felt her shudder at his words, pressing harder against his crotch, even as he slid his hands down to her waist and over her stomach.

“And the man?”

He sighed, gentling his strokes as he reached the springy curls between her thighs. Her sharp intake of breath encouraged his probing as he reveled in the whimpers and groans his actions drew from her throat. Forcing the wolf to heel, he allowed the man to take over.

“The man would make sure his partner felt how much he adored her. I would take you slow and long, worshipping your body with kisses until you were begging me for release. I would be slow and thorough, sending you over the edge several times before allowing myself to be buried inside you. Then, I would make love to you for hours and hours, proving ovnd ond over again that you were mine and mine alone.”

He was completely unaware that he’d switched tenses, his fingers having found the small nub between her thighs, pressing against it as he slid two fingers inside her dripping wetness. The sweet scent and touch of her reminded him of less bestial feelings and he desired her to know that he thought and spoke of, and to, her alone.

“Please, Remus, I want you. The man and wolf. Take me.”

He wanted to howl with something like satisfaction at her words, at the way she pushed herself against him, begging in broken words and pleas to be rough with her, to bury himself inside her, to take her over the int into an ecstasy neither had ever known.

How was a man, much less a werewolf, supposed to resist?

“Whatever the lady wants.” With that, he felt her hands reaching for his rumpled jumper and he helped her divest him of it, moaning as he felt her palms make heated contact with his bare chest. She stroked the muscles and contours, and he felt as if trails of fire covered his skin where she touched. He growled as her lips suddenly pressed themselves to his collarbone, nipping teasingly at the skin. He quickened his pace, his fingers moving in and out of her with a rapid motion, distracting her as she clung and shuddered against him.

“Touch me, Hermione.” He demanded in gentle tones, although passion lurked beneath.

He cried out as he felt her small palm cup his raging erection through the cloth of his trousers. He arched against her as he felt her stroking him through the fabric, measuring him as she pressed and stroked along his length.

“Shall I see if werewolves are really as, ample, as legend supposes them to be?”

If he had any coherent thought left, he would have laughed at her quip. However, all he could do was move against her as she unzipped him. He hissed in a breath as she began to stroke him, her eyes focused on her hands.

“Remus, I need you!”

The words did it and without further ado, he pulled his fingers from her wetness and positioned her over his body. The tip of his erection just brushed the slick wetness of her center and her whimper nearly sent him over the edge.

“Shall I show you now how a werewolf and a man claim their mate?”

“Gods, yes!”

Her cry was barely uttered before he slammed her down onto him, crying out as he was immersed in fire and heat. Her broken whispers told him that she loved the feel of him inside her, begging him to move with circles of her hips and moans against his ear.

Unable to resist, he began to move, struggling to hold onto some control as he felt her inner walls clamp down on him, drawing him deeper it seemed with every thrust. He was panting against her neck, using his hands to hold her on top of him as they thrust violently into each other.

“Remus, Gods, so good, so bloody good--”

He couldn’t speak, feeling the animal and the man reaching for a peak they had never experienced. No one had been able to satisfy both at once, not in all his nearly 40 years. It seemed that was about to change.

“Hermione!”

With a cry of her name, he felt himself explode inside her, feeling her muscles clamp hard around him as she howled her release along with his. The waves went on forever as she milked him of everything he had.

Tired, breathless, and completely sated, he finally drifted back to earth, his mind focusing on how beautiful Hermione looked sprawled across his chest, her hair spread out like a curtain against his paler skin.

He knew he should be feeling guilt, should be writing his resignation papers as he thought, but he remained where he was, unable to give up the warmth of her body, or the joy of knowing he had finally found his mate. Age was truly only a number, because he knew for a fact that after tonight, the wolf and the man would accept no other. It was a weighty knowledge, but in his defense, he’d been coming to the realization for months, perhaps years now.

“It’s all right, Remus. I want to be yours. I always have.”

Her words stirred something in his heart that he’d feared dead forever. Tilting her chin to meet his gaze, he swallowed hard before replying.

“Why me, Hermione? I’m not only your teacher, but I’m an old man, not to mention a werewolf.”

The look in her eyes stole his breath away as she leaned up to kiss him.

“Because I’ve been in love with you for years and I was sick and tired of waiting for you to get over your issues about our positions and our ages.”

He gaped at her for a moment, before giving a tired laugh, pulling her back to his chest. “So are you really writing a paper, or was that simply an excuse to come in here and have your wicked way with me?”

He could feel her lips curve into a smile against his chest.

“Well, I am interested in writing the paper, if only for myself, and perhaps your amusement in the future.”

He grinned against the top of her head. “That’s just as well, because I sincerely doubt I could have allowed anyone other than myself to read it.” He felt her lift her head, her eyes sparkling into his.

“Then it’ll be another of our little secrets. And I promise, you’ll be the first to read it when I\'ve finished.\" He knew he’d stumbled into something extraordinary when she smiled and leaned up to kiss him again.

“Now then, I fear we have a lot of research to conduct before I am even remotely capable of writing this all down knowledgeably.” Her prim, oh so Hermione tone had returned. To Lupin, it was entirely amusing, at odds with her disheveled and desirable appearance.

He groaned as he captured her lips and for the rest of the night, set about providing all the information she could desire to complete her assignment.

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