Suspected

Chapter Eight: It Feels Like This

When Rita entered the bedroom, Severus Snape looked like he had fallen asleep with a thick novel in his hand. She closed the door behind her, sauntered to her side of the bed.

So, I'm teaching the students the Unforgiveable Curses after all…against normal curriculum for seventh years. A few thoughts entered her mind: she knew how Bellatrix taught her the Curses, each with their own personal act of cruelty attached to it in order to drive home the severity of using the spells on the people who "most likely deserve it". Demonstrating them, though, was always against the curriculum. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers could explain them, define the Latin terms, describe the long-lasting effects of being under the influence—but to demonstrate them had always been illegal.

Rita couldn't contain the inner excitement that now clutched her stomach, though, at the thought of an audience—No, I can't be the one to demonstrate the Curses…And Dumbledore had good reason to enter that condition in the lesson. Susceptible to the Dark Arts like an alcoholic hanging around in a bar, Rita would get a taste of it, and she wouldn't be able to stop. Much like her activities in the Forbidden Forest. She could admit to herself that she craved that gratification that came with the Dark Arts—if it didn't feel good, it wouldn't explain why many Dark Wizards joined the Dark Lord when He rose to power, offering all of his recruits a lick of satisfaction at the trickling tip of Dark Magic's dick—

Wow, Rita…

Rita cleared her throat. Her face flushed, and her heart pounded. Perhaps Moody had good reason not to trust her after all.

Observing her snoozing husband, aided with a wandering dirty thought of knowing that Severus Snape had once been a ruthless Death Eater no doubt—callous, detached, accosted by a lifetime of grudges and disappointment, a forlorn unrequited love from Lily Potter, and a hatred toward her husband—Rita disrobed clothes and all and slid under the covers onto her side of the bed. She carefully removed the book from Snape's hands and placed it on his end table.

His sleeping patterns varied, following Rita's insomnia or heavy-drunk naps. It didn't shock her that he was as tired as he was. For some reason, he always slept soundly at Hogwarts. But tonight, Rita wanted gratification—and if she couldn't find it in Forbidden Forest, this was the alternative.

She slid a hand under the blanket, all the while her dark eyes gazed down at the unsuspecting man in her bed. She hoped he wouldn't wake too early, allowing her some fun. Usually, he slept in a long night shirt; however, tonight, he wore only a pair of his boxers, for Rita felt the skin of his stomach and chest—He was warm in comparison to the drafty temperature of the dungeons. Snape wasn't a fool; he had cast a utility charm on the blanket.

Rita bit her lip to stifle the butterflies in her stomach as her hand slid down the waistband of his boxers, finding his relaxed cock. She edged closer to him, hiking up her elbow for support to lean over him, to watch his facial expression contort against the feeling of her probing fingers. He was warm in the palm of her hand as she began to stroke him—against her touch, his muscle hardened—

A small moan came from Severus Snape's lips, and his brow furrowed. She saw his mouth open slightly—

Rita lowered her mouth to the nape of his neck, finding the sensitive spot of his jugular and nipped him. When he didn't react to it, she nipped him again. Rita glanced down at the moving blanket, felt his cock hardening under the strain of her heavy petting. Snape's eyes squinted, and he uttered her name… "Rita." She was mildly surprised that he hadn't called out Lily's name, but found it satisfying regardless.

The heat in her cheeks burned as she felt his hand capture her wrist,

"No." Rita breathed against Snape's neck. "Let me."

Snape opened his eyes and although he released her wrist and even as a breathless moan escaped his lips, his eyes bored straight into hers,

"You've got a strange look on your face," he told her. "Should I be worried?"

"I'm handling it," Rita breathed. "This is the best alternative."

Snape nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about, willingly conceded.

"Watch," commanded Rita in a soft voice as she pulled the blanket off him. "Don't touch."

Snape smirked slightly at the sight of his wife's domineering voice, and he placed his hands on either side of him to show her that he complied, though when he noticed that Rita was stark naked, he wanted to reach out to her—Rita could see it in his eyes. She reached her hand into his boxers and pulled his cock out through the slit of his boxers. He'd have preferred her to pull them all the way off, but no, this was her game. Her rules.

The sight of his erection was gratifying, yes, but the look on his face as Rita licked the head of his cock felt better. She'd have him squirming like a worm on a hook—It's the best alternative. She gave his cock another flick of her tongue, just giving him a taste of what he knew that she could do, but only just. She stroked him once and gave the head a small suckle—all her actions were paused and then done with a sudden haste; Rita felt her stomach flip as she noticed his hands tangle in the bedsheets.

Snape was talented in compartmentalizing, though; he only uttered slighted groans in response to her touch.

If Snape had been doing the same to her, she'd have been mewling for him to take her. Not unlike her response to Bellatrix's touch—The edging was incredible…

"I want to hear you," whispered Rita against the head of his cock, holding it in her palm, and then firmly grasped it.

Snape's eyes clenched shut, and his mouth fell open with a gasp—Rita nodded, and to reward his audible response, she began to stroke him slowly. She bit her lip as she heard his low baritone echo a guttural moan. But she was never a patient woman—Rita wrapped her lips around his cock and shoved him inside her mouth, sucking him generously—

Snape's fingers entwined in the sheets, white knuckled, and she heard him: a rumbling moan from his throat and—

"Good girl," was what he uttered under his breath.

Rita felt the growing ache between her legs and the sound of his small word of praise. As dominating as Rita wished she could be, her favorite role was always submission. She attempted to steady her pace, removing her mouth from his cock and trying to reorganize her thoughts: No, I have to be in charge, I do…

But…

She heard him gasp at her withdrawal. Rita felt the blood rush down to her core. So much for teasing. She straddled his waist, panting, her chest slightly heaving; Snape gazed up at her. He'd like to hold her hips steady. She hesitated to mount him; Rita wasn't done yet.

"Want a taste, Darling?" Rita said quietly. She took her husband's hand in her own and guided his fingers to her sopping wet entrance. He saw the glint in her eyes, the desire to take control.

Rita rolled off him and onto her back. Snape shuffled his body to position his head between her legs, his mouth inches away from heated flesh. His hands found her thighs, latching onto them to keep her smooth legs open. Snape wordlessly lowered his lips to the small bud, swollen and begging for attention. A quirk smirk on his face, Snape flicked his tongue lightly against her clit…

He heard her, a whimper of a moan escaping her lips. She immediately bit her bottom lip to stifle it.

"Taste me, I said," Rita said as dominantly as she could, but it came out as a breathless command.

Snape suddenly slid his tongue against her slick folds, and Rita's back arched in response. Her hands found the sheets, desperately wrapped in the linen as a way to silence a wanton moan. Snape removed a hand from one of her legs and, to Rita's surprise, slowly slid a finger inside her—

"Severus, that's not what…" Rita's attempt at scolding fell with a low moan of pleasure, her body betraying her, and she widened her stance to accompany his access. "That's not…"

"Not what you wanted?" said Snape skeptically, his deep voice vibrating against her clit. He slid a second finger inside her, slowly thrusting both digits to penetrate just an inch into her entrance. "Rita, I know you."

"Stop talking…" Rita breathed, for his voice sent shivers through her spine, edging a climax that was coming too soon. "No…"

Snape propped himself up, leaning over Rita with a small smile on his face; his fingers still prodded the threshold of her entrance, and his thumb found her clit, making torturous circles around her swollen bud.

"Edging, Darling?" he said quietly. "Is that what you want?"

Rita's mouth, slack-jawed as her walls clenched tightly around his probing digits, uttered a small plea. Snape lowered his face to her neck, "Don't move, lie still as possible."

Rita nodded; she felt her climax building. She wanted to thrust her hips against his fingers, to make him reach her sweet spot, and the ache became deliciously painful. Reducing to a harmony of panting and her hips rebelliously bucking against his circling thumb, Rita clenched her eyes shut—

Then he removed his touch all together.

Rita moaned loudly at his withdrawal. Snape watched her attempt to calm her nerve, for it looked like she was going to slap him. He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her gently. Rita remained still, leaving her hands on the mattress, never closing her legs. Snape made a trail with his hand from her neck, along one of her breasts, making small circles around a peaked nipple—to her stomach…and hovered his palm over her needing sex, not touching her, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off her.

"Severus, I…Mmm." She began to say something, but trailed off as he teased her entrance with his middle finger.

"So instead of practicing Dark Magic, this was your solution, hm?" said Snape curiously against her jawline. "I suppose it does give the same feeling, but not quite."

Rita's eyes rolled back in her head as his thumb found her clit.

"Mm-hm," Snape pulled his hand away again. "Not yet."

Rita uttered a whimpering cry, "It feels like this…"

Snape's eyes widened slightly, not at her cry, but the comparison of being wet with arousal and not reaching climax to not being able to practice the Dark Arts was something that he had not expected her to say. Definitely not in the heat of passion. That would explain the need to dominate.

Rita remained still, legs apart and arms at her side, and looked up at Snape with a pained expression on her face.

"Make me come…" Rita pleaded. "I want to come."

Snape slid a finger inside of her, slowly just as the first time—Rita moaned his name, her back arching in response to his ministration, and he brought her close to climax but then withdrew once more. He watched her recoil, mewling, her body shaking in desperation. Squirming. Like a worm on a hook.

"This is what you wanted," he said into her ear in his low baritone. "I'm giving you what you want."

His fingers resumed their position, burying deep inside her, and Rita gasped as his thrusts quickened—Surely, he'd let her orgasm—

Rita called out as he withdrew his touch. She was ready to take matters in her own hand until Snape crawled out of his boxers and positioned himself between her legs. He was hard as stone, and he felt his erection throbbing—Rita smiled weakly, a hot mess of sweat and nerve. Snape wrapped his fingers around her wrists; and as he mounted her, he pinned them above her head.

Snape slowly penetrated her with his cock, pushing through her wet, clenched muscles—Rita's eyes rolled back into her head, mouth agape as she acclimated to him. She went to wrap her legs around his waist— "No" was Snape's word to her in a low growl. Rita kept her legs flat on the bed, and he moved inside of her, using her body to his own whim—There he is again, his darker side.

Rita's moans grew loud in the echoing chamber, bouncing off the walls as Snape made his slow thrusts inside of her—Aching for relief, her back arched up into him, her legs shaking as he paced her climax to the surface.

"Oh, please, don't stop…" Rita's begging was sincere, as every muscle in her body tightened. "Please."

Snape heard her desperate, wanton moans in his ear; the breathless whimpers as he could feel her walls clenching tightly around him. He moaned in response, aroused by her body shaking underneath him.

"Does practicing Dark Magic feel like this to you, Rita?" asked Snape in her ear.

"Yes," Rita answered him, and he made a hard thrust into her where she moaned her reply rather than simply state it.

"And when it's done and the forest is dead from Fiendfyre?" Snape whispered, biting down on her neck, remembering his visit to the Forbidden Forest where he had seen her display of power.

Rita suddenly scrambled out from underneath her husband; but not to get away, she pushed him onto his back and slipped him inside her, pinning his wrists above his head—the expression on her face—

And she slammed down onto him, sending his cock through clenched muscle and to her sweet spot. Rita called out to the ceiling, wearing a savage grin. Snape stared up at her, watching her ride his thrusts with need; her hips swayed quickly, her pace inconsistent and sloppy. However, despite her movement, Snape felt his climax build as she swallowed his cock with every movement.

Rita uttered a hilted gasp, and collapsed on top of his chest, her body squirming on top of him—her pussy bit down hard around him, pushing away whatever restraint that Snape had left—

She rolled off him, dripping in sweat, and gazed at him with a look of gratification…

"It feels…like this…" Rita breathed.