. . . Severus lay her, now clad only only in underwear, stomach down on
the bed, positioning her limbs with tenderness Hermione had never though he
could posses.
She closed her eyes and savoured the feel of his strong, callused hands
expertly sliding beneath her, lifting her entire body with ease.
He allowed the very tips of her fingers to graze her hipbones briefly before removing his hands entirely and positioning himself comfortable, on his knees between Hermione's thighs, with a safe enough distance between his legs and her sex to avoid premature stimulation; he planned to savour every moment, draw it out as long as he could, and, though Hermione unconsciously wriggled experimentally downward, as she felt a sudden thrill when he held her fast, returning his hands to her hips and pinning her firmly, that she found herself, surprisingly, completely content to submit to his ministrations.
Once confident that Hermione understood the unspoken rules, and would not move, lest the contact be removed entirely, Severus grazed the nape of her neck with the pads of his fingertips and deftly pushed them up, through her now tangled mass of hair, to the very crown of her head and splayed his palms across her hair, each finger expertly locating a pressure point on her skull and kneading her scalp gently, his ring fingers boring into her temples, index fingers gliding across her smooth forehead, smoothing away tension she hadn't even realized she possessed.
Hermione's eyelids flickered closed and she allowed herself to be buried in the sensations; the even heat of his hands working methodically, building a steady rhythm for her thoughts to sink into, the faint scent of herbs and woods, combined with the subtle, heady smell of Severus' skin.
Severus, she thought, turning the word over in her mind as she allowed her thoughts to drift together. She was vaguely aware that the entire scenario was completely out of character for both of them, and at this nagging suspicion her thoughts snapped back to reason it's only out of character because I've never even considered the possibilities before. . . and it was true. Hermione had never paid much attention to sensual longing, because there had never been a pressing desire to do so.
Her previous lovers had been only that; Ron and Viktor had, of course, cared for her deeply, but had never given thought to exploring her body further than what fell within traditional sexuality, and the closest thing she had ever received to a romantic massage was a feeble attempt on Ron's part to rid her of a headache, and her excuse for not feeling amorous that particular evening.
She had never given it much thought before, but now, lying beneath Snape, Severus, she felt a keen loss at the thought of never before having had this sort of touch- genuine and pure, but also sensual and filled with desire.
Lazily concluding that all the details could be analyzed and discussed at a later date, she applied herself once again to savouring the feel of his caress, and marveling at the gentleness that was so unexpected, and yet so fitting, of her former professor, the snarky git himself.
Drawing herself back into the moment, she found, with some surprise, that his hands had not yet left her head yet, though his palms were now cradling the base of her skull, the heels of his hands firmly rocking into her neck, applying small waves of pressure that Hermione found to be absolutely hypnotic.
As her muscles unwound themselves beneath his hands, and Hermione found herself in a state of physical relaxation she had never imagined possible; in fact, she rather felt that her muscles had turned to jelly under his attentions, she found herself growing more aware of the actual feel of his hands, and the arousal of earlier was returning to her, although this time the lust was considerably less tainted with nervousness.
As though sensing her mounting desire, Severus shifted gears slightly, kneading more deeply and allowing his hands to roam across her shoulder and arms, fingers curling around her lean biceps and kneading the joints at her elbows; which Hermione found to be curiously erotic.
At this new change of direction, Hermione's body began to respond, with little conscious effort, and Severus once again slid his hands to her hips to still her, silently insisting that she allow him to continue his study of her body at his own pace.
To her great pleasure, however, his hands did not return to her arms and shoulders, but instead began working small circles across her back, evolving into smooth, full strokes of his hands along her sides, just grazing the sides of her breasts.
On the third repetition of these strokes, he allowed two fingertips to mould gently into the curve of her breast, eliciting a soft moan from Hermione, which he ignored, deliberately maintaining what was quickly becoming an agonizingly slow pace.
The second time he repeated this stroke, however, he allowed the two fingers that were cradling her breasts to slide a bit further, catching her now fully erect nipples between his fingers and sliding his hands nonchalantly back down her sides, leaving Hermione caught in a silent gasp, afraid to utter a sound, and provoke his to break the contact.
Clearly, Severus was having similar reaction, and his hands continued down her back, instead of repeating their venture along Hermione's breasts, to her initial disappointment.
But as he slid his fingertips along the elastic band of her knickers, Hermione held herself utterly, almost painfully still, now practically sobbing with anticipation and frustration. Hooking his index fingers beneath the waistband, Severus smoothly slid the garment down her hips, curling his palms around her hips to lift her off the bed just enough to allow the movement, making it silently clear to Hermione that she need do nothing but relax under his touch, although by now this was nearly impossible, as her pulse was racing, all tension returning to her body as she anticipated his touch with a keen sense of desperation that would have embarrassed, no, angered her, had it been any other man, any other situation.
But she understood that she was no damsel in distress nor conquered maiden here, but a true equal, basking in admiration of a remarkable other. Returning to the situation at hand, she found that Severus had threaded an arm beneath her abdomen, cradling her womb, his remaining arm firmly stretched along her back, grasping her shoulder, and she felt herself being gently lifted and placed on her back, without her needing to move a single muscle.
It was strangely satisfying to be held and moved in such a way; she felt perfectly cared for, completely safe, and above all, utterly comfortable, as she had never felt with another person. But suddenly, facing each other, her eyes now wide open, if slightly glazed, they were confronted with the absolute truth of each other; the risk of overexposure; that the other might not share whatever it was that they were feeling.
Severus held her perfectly still for a single beat, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt, or discomfort, and finally relented when Hermione lifted her head just slightly, bring her mouth up to his to kiss, gently at first, then, as she lay her head back on the pillow, satisfied that she had supplied enough encouragement, he followed hungrily, moaning softly into her mouth as her lips parted for him, pulling him into a deep, searching kiss.
He allowed the very tips of her fingers to graze her hipbones briefly before removing his hands entirely and positioning himself comfortable, on his knees between Hermione's thighs, with a safe enough distance between his legs and her sex to avoid premature stimulation; he planned to savour every moment, draw it out as long as he could, and, though Hermione unconsciously wriggled experimentally downward, as she felt a sudden thrill when he held her fast, returning his hands to her hips and pinning her firmly, that she found herself, surprisingly, completely content to submit to his ministrations.
Once confident that Hermione understood the unspoken rules, and would not move, lest the contact be removed entirely, Severus grazed the nape of her neck with the pads of his fingertips and deftly pushed them up, through her now tangled mass of hair, to the very crown of her head and splayed his palms across her hair, each finger expertly locating a pressure point on her skull and kneading her scalp gently, his ring fingers boring into her temples, index fingers gliding across her smooth forehead, smoothing away tension she hadn't even realized she possessed.
Hermione's eyelids flickered closed and she allowed herself to be buried in the sensations; the even heat of his hands working methodically, building a steady rhythm for her thoughts to sink into, the faint scent of herbs and woods, combined with the subtle, heady smell of Severus' skin.
Severus, she thought, turning the word over in her mind as she allowed her thoughts to drift together. She was vaguely aware that the entire scenario was completely out of character for both of them, and at this nagging suspicion her thoughts snapped back to reason it's only out of character because I've never even considered the possibilities before. . . and it was true. Hermione had never paid much attention to sensual longing, because there had never been a pressing desire to do so.
Her previous lovers had been only that; Ron and Viktor had, of course, cared for her deeply, but had never given thought to exploring her body further than what fell within traditional sexuality, and the closest thing she had ever received to a romantic massage was a feeble attempt on Ron's part to rid her of a headache, and her excuse for not feeling amorous that particular evening.
She had never given it much thought before, but now, lying beneath Snape, Severus, she felt a keen loss at the thought of never before having had this sort of touch- genuine and pure, but also sensual and filled with desire.
Lazily concluding that all the details could be analyzed and discussed at a later date, she applied herself once again to savouring the feel of his caress, and marveling at the gentleness that was so unexpected, and yet so fitting, of her former professor, the snarky git himself.
Drawing herself back into the moment, she found, with some surprise, that his hands had not yet left her head yet, though his palms were now cradling the base of her skull, the heels of his hands firmly rocking into her neck, applying small waves of pressure that Hermione found to be absolutely hypnotic.
As her muscles unwound themselves beneath his hands, and Hermione found herself in a state of physical relaxation she had never imagined possible; in fact, she rather felt that her muscles had turned to jelly under his attentions, she found herself growing more aware of the actual feel of his hands, and the arousal of earlier was returning to her, although this time the lust was considerably less tainted with nervousness.
As though sensing her mounting desire, Severus shifted gears slightly, kneading more deeply and allowing his hands to roam across her shoulder and arms, fingers curling around her lean biceps and kneading the joints at her elbows; which Hermione found to be curiously erotic.
At this new change of direction, Hermione's body began to respond, with little conscious effort, and Severus once again slid his hands to her hips to still her, silently insisting that she allow him to continue his study of her body at his own pace.
To her great pleasure, however, his hands did not return to her arms and shoulders, but instead began working small circles across her back, evolving into smooth, full strokes of his hands along her sides, just grazing the sides of her breasts.
On the third repetition of these strokes, he allowed two fingertips to mould gently into the curve of her breast, eliciting a soft moan from Hermione, which he ignored, deliberately maintaining what was quickly becoming an agonizingly slow pace.
The second time he repeated this stroke, however, he allowed the two fingers that were cradling her breasts to slide a bit further, catching her now fully erect nipples between his fingers and sliding his hands nonchalantly back down her sides, leaving Hermione caught in a silent gasp, afraid to utter a sound, and provoke his to break the contact.
Clearly, Severus was having similar reaction, and his hands continued down her back, instead of repeating their venture along Hermione's breasts, to her initial disappointment.
But as he slid his fingertips along the elastic band of her knickers, Hermione held herself utterly, almost painfully still, now practically sobbing with anticipation and frustration. Hooking his index fingers beneath the waistband, Severus smoothly slid the garment down her hips, curling his palms around her hips to lift her off the bed just enough to allow the movement, making it silently clear to Hermione that she need do nothing but relax under his touch, although by now this was nearly impossible, as her pulse was racing, all tension returning to her body as she anticipated his touch with a keen sense of desperation that would have embarrassed, no, angered her, had it been any other man, any other situation.
But she understood that she was no damsel in distress nor conquered maiden here, but a true equal, basking in admiration of a remarkable other. Returning to the situation at hand, she found that Severus had threaded an arm beneath her abdomen, cradling her womb, his remaining arm firmly stretched along her back, grasping her shoulder, and she felt herself being gently lifted and placed on her back, without her needing to move a single muscle.
It was strangely satisfying to be held and moved in such a way; she felt perfectly cared for, completely safe, and above all, utterly comfortable, as she had never felt with another person. But suddenly, facing each other, her eyes now wide open, if slightly glazed, they were confronted with the absolute truth of each other; the risk of overexposure; that the other might not share whatever it was that they were feeling.
Severus held her perfectly still for a single beat, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt, or discomfort, and finally relented when Hermione lifted her head just slightly, bring her mouth up to his to kiss, gently at first, then, as she lay her head back on the pillow, satisfied that she had supplied enough encouragement, he followed hungrily, moaning softly into her mouth as her lips parted for him, pulling him into a deep, searching kiss.