A/N: This piece was originally published as a chapter in my ao3 collection for Kinkuary, a daily prompt based kink fest for February. I liked this one so much I wanted to publish it here by itself. To see the other pieces, check out my work over there. Also, this is unbeta'd as I am doing Kinkuary as a writing exercise for myself and to try to get out of my own head.
content warnings: sensory deprivation, wax play, ice play, BDSM dynamics, blindfolds, cum play, breeding kink
Note: everyone is of age in this fic
Also: If you are doing any of these things IRL, especially wax play, please do your research for how to play safely. The characters in here would have negotiated limits beforehand and established safe words. I just chose to leave that part out.
She felt the leather warm under her skin, the veins in the table's textured material pressing against her skin. The back of her heels, her calves, her thighs. Her arse, her shoulder blades, her palms. Everywhere that made a point of contact, she felt them.
The faint scent of rose oil became stronger the longer she focused on it; there was little else she could do at that moment. It was comforting. The natural fibers of the rope prickled her wrists where they were bound to the table.
The silk of the scarf around her eyes was soft and cool.
There was no sound, no light, no worries. Nothing she had to do except wait.
The longer she lay there the more even and relaxed her breathing became as everything from the day melted away. He must have sensed the change too; she heard the creak of the wooden chair, the soft scrape of feet against the floor deadened by the plush carpet she knew to be underneath them.
The table must have come up about to his waist, but she could feel his breath on her ear. Was he kneeling?
"Are you ready, Miss Granger?"
She inhaled sharply; his velvety voice even smoother to her ears after such prolonged silence.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good girl."
She felt the smile spread across her face, all tension gone from her body except where a small pool of heat pulsed low inside her core.
The gentlest sensation crossed the skin over her stomach—fingertips grazing light as air. They traversed her body, up and down. Softly towards the insides of her thighs and back up to her breasts, avoiding the spots she most longed for contact. If she focused, she could feel the smallest hint of callouses where they touched her, rough from years of growing, cutting, preparing, brewing.
The heat in her abdomen spread.
The sensation ceased, and she groaned at the loss of contact. She heard a soft chuckle from somewhere beside her, above her; he must be standing again.
And then the sharp bite of cold stung her nipple and she gasped, pulling against the binds that held her wrists and ankles in place.
As soon as the cold touched her, it had moved, trailing a wet cool path along one breast and to the other. It touched her nipple again, the cold hardening the bud into a stiff peak, and was almost immediately replaced with a soft, warm mouth.
Hermione moaned as Severus sucked her breast into his mouth, the deep pressure the strongest sense in her awareness at that moment.
Until the ice touched her clit.
She nearly bucked off the table, would have fallen off the leather surface if not for the jute fibers holding her in place as his mouth popped off of her. The sharp pull against her limbs stilled her once again, and all she could focus on was the single point where the ice was pressed against her sensitive bundle of nerves, the only other feeling the warm rush of arousal leaking from her slit.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You're leaking all over the leather, pet."
She felt her face heat, grateful for the blindfold.
"I will give you two choices. Either we can clean that up now, but you are not allowed to come, or we can leave your pussy a sticky little mess until later, but you don't get your treat."
She held her breath. Both terrible, delicious options and he knew it. If he touched her there now, the edging would surely throw her entire body into a state of hypersensitivity. But if she chose not to let him edge her, then she wouldn't get what she wanted most...
"I'd like to be cleaned now, Sir. Please."
"As you wish, pet."
His warm tongue was flat against her cunt seconds later, and the sensation was so much, after so long of feeling only concentrated areas of touch, that she almost came immediately. He must have known she'd get close; he pulled back, using the tip of his tongue to circle her clit, carefully taking the hood between his teeth and rolling the skin between them as he nibbled on the most sensitive area of her body. Her mouth was open, breath held, waiting, always just waiting, as he pierced her slit with his tongue, fucking her with it the way she wished his cock would slide into her.
"Please."
"No, pet," he said sternly. "Do not come."
She whined but gritted her teeth, willing her aching body not to reach for release.
She felt one more swipe of his wide tongue cover the length of her pussy before he blessedly, thankfully, stopped.
She exhaled, feeling her body sink back into the leather beneath her, the scent of rose oil returning once again as her body calmed.
"Almond or coconut?"
She appreciated that even when she was divested of most choice, when she was at his whim, he gave her options. She liked feeling included, knowing that he wanted the experience to be tailored to her desire.
"Almond, please."
She heard the sound of it hit his hand before the warm oil was being rubbed into her skin, massaged into her calves, thighs, the dips of her hips, up over her breasts. His hands were rough and smooth at once and the sensation of having him everywhere after so little was overwhelming, pleasurable to the point of release that was just out of reach, her skin sensitized from the ministrations of his tongue moments earlier.
He spent a considerable time massaging her breasts, catching her nipples between his fingers unexpectedly, the surprise making her breath catch as well. And then his hands were gone, and his voice was next to her ear.
"Do you want me to paint you, Miss Granger?"
"Yes," she hissed. "Please, Sir."
She felt the soft breeze from his clothing pass her cheek as he stood.
He dragged one finger down from her stomach through the soft patch of curls to her clit, circling around where she wanted him to touch, over and over again.
"Shall I make you my own personal work of art?"
"Yesss," she begged, trying to reach towards his finger with her hips.
"Safe word, Miss Granger?"
"Red," she breathed. She knew if he was asking, this would be more intense than the ice.
Her nerves were singing, reaching out for stimulation.
He did not disappoint.
She felt the first splashes of the wax hit her thighs, melted pillars poured directly from their glass containers onto her slicked skin, the heat diffuse and arousing. So close to her center, but still so far.
Beads of heat began to hit her, dotting the mound of hair covering her cunt, dappling her skin, up, up her stomach, her tits, hardening around her nipples. The smell of the warm almond oil and the heat of the candle wax were heady; she took a deep breath.
"Severus." It was almost a whisper, but his hand was gently brushing the back of her cheek in an instant.
"Yes, my love?"
"I need you."
"Almost, sweet girl. You're doing so well."
She loved his praise, his words all the more powerful as the only sound, the only source of information in her world at the moment. Just words and touch and candle wax on her overstrung body.
She felt the wax hardening, the skin under it drawing tighter. Her cunt was pulsing, trying to close around nothing and she was nearly ready to cry from need.
"There we go, it's all dry. Would you like to see it, or would you like your reward with the blindfold on?"
Hermione paused. She wanted to see how he'd decorated her skin, but she knew that her reward would feel better if she couldn't see. It would be stronger, like everything else that night.
"The blindfold on, Sir."
She felt his lips press gently against hers and he said against her mouth, "You're such a good girl, do you know that?"
She keened and smiled against his kiss. And then she was alone at the top of the table again, his hands on her thighs as he slowly, slowly slid his hands up, under the wax, peeling it against the oil painlessly.
She felt made new, recast in his desire, elementally made of submission and sensation and want.
As he pushed off the last of the wax on her stomach and kissed around several spots of it on her breasts, she could take it no longer.
"Please, Sir, I need you now."
"Yes, pet." He kissed her nipple and she could feel the smile in his kiss.
He unbound her ankles, gently massaging life back into her legs before he spread them further, pushing them back towards her body so she was bent in half and open to him. Hermione knew she was so exposed in that position, and was glad again for the inability to see it. Like this, she could feel no embarrassment. She was made of want, receiving the pleasure he gave her.
She felt the tip of his cock brush her soaked slit and pushed her head further back into the table. They were nothing but sensation as he notched the head inside the opening of her tight, hot channel and her walls began gripping in anticipation.
His thumb pressed into her clit, rubbing gentle circles against it, the pressure making her tighten and relax at once as he slid the rest of the way inside her.
They both groaned at the heat, the contact. Hermione's entire existence, every bit of awareness was concentrated in the way his cock stretched her aching cunt, the slightest drag of his skin against her walls nearly sending her screaming in overwhelming bliss.
"Not yet," he reminded her.
She nodded fervently even as she licked her lips, biting them to hold back, to wait, to be his good girl.
He held her hips; she could feel the pads of his fingertips pressing into her skin and just the slight cut of his short, trimmed nails for how hard he was gripping her as he sunk into her over and over again.
"Gods, witch," she heard him murmur, his gravely voice peppering her senses like a pleasant buzz, each stroke winding the coil inside of her tighter and tighter.
"Please, Severus," she begged, her breathy moans in time with his thrusts. Even with the scarf over her eyes, her vision was starting to speckle, her cunt tightening around him without her control.
"Tell me what you want, witch. Ask for it." He pulled her thighs tight together, lying her legs against his chest, and wrapped his arm around them so he could fuck her faster and harder.
Hermione clawed at the leather table, the texture arousing against her skin, the smell of rose and almond oil filling her nose, the tight drops of wax on her nipples, and opened her mouth. "Please," she breathed in benediction, "please come inside me."
She couldn't see it, but she would bet he was smirking. "You naughty little girl, you want to be filled up don't you?"
"Yes," she gasped.
"You want to come with me inside you?"
"Yes!"
He thrust faster, harder, slipping his hand just over her clit but not touching.
"Then come for me, witch, come for me and milk my cock inside that tight little pussy and you can keep it all, it's all yours. Take it from me, Hermione."
He pinched her clit and she exploded around him, saw the stars she was sure should have been busy dotting the night sky behind her eyes, felt her core clench around him as if it would never let go. Every sense she had was heightened beyond her expectations, the smallest sounds from his lips pure music as he fucked her through the longest orgasm of her life.
And then she got her reward. Finally, she thought as she sank into a blissed out state, feeling his cock harden impossibly further and then he groaned her name and his warm seed filled her up, deep, deep inside her body. She could feel the pressure, feel it sinking into her, right where it belonged. She smiled; perfect.
He lowered her legs and untied her wrists, lifting her up even as his breathing still returned to normal, carrying her to a soft chair and wrapping her in a blanket, her skin against his. Every new touch and sensation was slightly overstimulating, but she was too happy to care. She let him move her and wrap her up and care for her and she was boneless with pure joy.
Tranquility settled over them both as he stroked her hair, gentle kisses pressed to her forehead.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
She nodded, her arms still wrapped around him, and he removed the blindfold.
The light wasn't too overwhelming as he'd dimmed them to a soft glow. She blinked as she looked around, seeing the state of the massage table. Looked down at her own wax-covered tits and giggled.
"I do look pretty."
"You are beautiful." He kissed her hair.
She hummed against his chest, content. He had promised to make it memorable, and he had delivered.
In nine months, so would she.