Not Yet: Chapter 4
Albus Dumbledore groaned openly with pleasure as he lay on his stomach, his head rested on his arms, Minerva's hands kneading his back through his dressing gown. Her movements were hard and somewhat painful, but their effect was astounding. She had begun with his shoulders and neck, and was now working her way down his left leg. He felt her weight upon him as she worked, her body slight but strong, resting against his own for support as she stretched his limbs further than he had ever thought they could go.
"Ouch!" He protested, jokingly. "Not all of us have an inner cat, you know!"
"Hush!" Minerva held his ankle in her hand and rolled his foot one way and then the other, sitting on his backside as she worked. Then she placed her foot against the back of his thigh and pulled his leg towards her. He let out a sigh as she released him. The entire massage would take about two hours of time that was becoming precious, but she hoped that it would have the desired effect. If he was relaxed enough, perhaps she could take control and release him from his burden.
Minerva had returned from the bathroom remorseful and embarrassed. She had stayed in there for nearly half an hour, trying to wash the redness from her eyes, attempting to control her thoughts and prevent them from straying to the image of his face as she called his name. Was it horror? Irritation? Or confusion? She did not know. But she did know that she was wasting valuable time.
She had emerged from the bathroom to find Albus sitting on the side of the bed that he had chosen, his head in his hands. Her heart was filled with sorrow as she looked at him from across the room. She moved to the bed, climbed on and knelt behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
"I am sorry, Albus. I didn't mean to…" she felt tears threaten her again. "I was just surprised…"
He turned to face her and looked directly into her eyes.
"I do not know how to proceed, Minerva." He said, miserably. "How can I do this without hurting or shaming you?"
The full meaning of his words suddenly impacted on her. He thinks it is all up to him! She realised that he felt he was carrying the burden for both of them. He thought that she would come to hate him for what he would do to her. He did not understand that to her the risk of loosing him was just as terrifying.
She tried to make him understand that the responsibility was theirs, as it had always been. Did they not always do things together? Were they not stronger thus?
He had shaken his head and sighed.
"This is different, Minerva."
She was angry at his self righteousness and unexpected chauvinism. It's the Victorian in him she thought. But she did not have time to explain and argue the finer points of female sexual empowerment. Clearly he would not accept that her task was of an equal difficulty and pain to her as his was to him, nor that the risk she took was the same.
She sat in silence for a moment, smarting at the idea of him regarding her as an object of purity about to be defiled. But as he sighed heavily beside her, she softened a little. She would make him understand. And perhaps, when the door opened tomorrow morning, this issue would put them on the road to recovery. With her heart lightened by such positive thoughts, she set about proving him wrong.
"Where on earth did you learn to do that?" He asked as she stood astride him on the bed and prepared to walk on his back.
"I had a Thai transfiguration student when I was a postgraduate. I taught him transfiguration, he taught me the art of Thai massage."
"He?" Albus stiffened as she began to move her feet across his buttocks.
"Relax, or I'll fall off!" she cried as her cat-like balance was momentarily upset. Albus relaxed and she continued her path.
He received no answer to his question, and he presumed from her silence that he was better off not knowing any more about the mysterious Thai student.
Minerva stepped off his back, sat down against the headboard and placed her pillow between her legs. Albus watched her with curiosity and found himself, again, completely confused.
She patted the pillow.
"Come along," she said in true Professor McGonagall style "do you want your head doing or not?"
Albus shrugged, turned over and lay down between her legs, his head resting on her breasts. He closed his eyes as she massaged his scalp, her nails scratching him ever so lightly and causing him to stir beneath his robe. She smiled as she saw him reach for his own pillow and place it on his stomach to hide himself from her view as he grew in size and desire.
"Am I hurting you?" She asked as she watched his hands clench against the pillow, her own desire flowing as she rubbed his skin and ran her fingers through his soft hair.
"Not at all." He whispered.
As she finished the head massage, she lifted herself and him so that she was kneeling behind him and he was sitting up. Then she put all her weight on his back and bent him forward so that his head was almost between his legs. When she released him, he let out a huge sigh of satisfaction, and flopped back down onto the bed.
"That was wonderful." He said, repositioning his pillow over himself as she gazed down at his body from her position by his side. She slid down to lie beside him and placed a tremulous hand upon his chest and began to stroke the fabric of his dressing gown to the side. She looked into his eyes for permission and he nodded almost imperceptibly. He was relaxed and they were ready.
She pulled the pillow away from him to reveal his hardened need beneath his gown. She stroked his chest gently, savouring the feeling of the hair beneath her hands, the softness of his skin. He lay back in silence and allowed her to give him yet more pleasure. Just a moment longer, he thought and I shall return the favour. No tickling this time.
She gave him no time to think further, however, as she drew back the material of his dressing gown to reveal him completely. He gasped as her hands found him and she skilfully began the last task of her massage.