Welcome to Chapter 2 of 3 - things got a lot spicier and are only going to get more so. So do mind the tags, but otherwise definitely enjoy! The third and final installment should be out later tonight ? Please let us know what you think! Our first published foray into blatant smut with these two.
~ Kristina & Abby
A Sorted Problem
"Those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained." – William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
Chapter 2
"Miss Granger, are you incapable of controlling yourself around me? Because as it seems, you not only were unable to do so in your younger adult years, but apparently, are also incompetent in bridling your very saturated enthusiasm for my person in the present day. And as you, now, are older, wiser, and more mature, I would hope that you have far more self-control now than you had back then – though that seems to fail to be the case," he scolded dourly, swallowing again as he finally found his egotistical stride and his proclivity for ultimate, carnal dominance was slowly, but surely, beginning to be sated.
Hermione probably would have come undone and laughed triumphantly, at the impromptu rattling of his supplies a few moments prior, had she not been so distracted by the deliciously delayed friction of her fingers – though she definitely flashed him a sultry grin. It was far too early to celebrate a proper victory, however. Until she was being throttled into some sort of surface herself, there were still efforts to be made. Though the sound of his, however muffled utterance of pleasure made her shiver, something she did nothing to hide for it could only assist her endeavours in the long run.
She exhaled a soft moan of her own, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes and scanned his person attentively for any further signs of strain.
"My self-control is just fine, Professor. I'm simply more interested in yours… at the moment," she murmured in determined warning, her fingers circling her clit with tauntingly higher speed. "Disrupting it, perhaps. Though your fingers wouldn't go amiss..."
" S-T-O-P THAT!" Severus Snape snarled with a serpent-like hiss on the 'S' as he utilised his most daunting inflection of academia ascendancy towards her that, for so long, had been retired. As he did so, his right hand grabbed the nearby knife, flipped it in the air to catch skillfully, before plunging the blade into the table's wooden summit for a hyperbolic show to accompany his ordinance. He met her lustful look, wanton as it treaded water in a sea of erotic delerium, and bore metaphorical daggers of his own conflicted concupiscence into her challenging eyes. He stiffly stood to his full height and pursed his lips curtly.
She did halt, if only out of surprise at the sudden outburst. Though instead of showing trepidation, Hermione's brows shot upward in startled but smug amusement that she had retrieved such a display of reaction from him. However, her hand did not remove itself entirely from her centre. Clearly he was... conflicted, and she refused to make it, entirely, easy for him.
"Something wrong, Sir? " She asked in a breathy tone, her weight shitting restlessly in her seat despite her hands' stationed garrison.
"Don't…you…dare eject cheek at me, Miss Granger," Severus grunted out with a stunted delivery as his eyes flashed from her own downwards, his neck muscles convulsing in acute self-possession.
"Remove your hand from your cunt this instant or I will expel you from this classroom, and this school, faster than you can blink an eyelid. Heed. My. Word."
She dwelt upon his eyes in testing defiance for a long moment, trying to decipher which was the wisest next play to make. He was clearly in the mood to be a masochist – and therefore, a sadist by default. Or perhaps, it was the other way round? She could simply refuse...
Though curiosity as to what exactly was running through his mind won out in the end and she, plaintively, exhaled in frustration as her fingers abandoned their post and returned her skirt to a questionably decent position.
"If you insist, Professor…" she replied wryly, holding her dewy fingers up in mock surrender.
"Finally, you've succeeded in doing something correctly, Miss Granger. Every proper Slytherin student knows that all things are fair game for the execution of our ambitions, except when it comes to crossing ME," the former Head of Slytherin House enunciated with a dictatorial sneer of disparagement as he methodically rounded his work station and stalked towards her one step at a time, much like an asp as it strikes from its coiled wait on an unsuspecting mouse.
Once Severus stood before her – the bulge in his trousers straining furiously against the meagre army that was his buttons, and far more pronounced than it was whilst slumbering (for it was always somewhat present) – he extended his right hand out dramatically as his glare, scalding in its starvation, assaulted her flushed, exalted visage with eratz cruelty.
"Give. Me. Your. Wrist. Miss Granger. Now! " he hissed between drawn teeth.
Hermione's focus unapologetically drifted down towards the blatant evidence of his arousal, but with arguably visible force, resisted the urge to make a joke. He did not 'seem' to be in the mood. Instead she let her eyes return to his glaring ones as she offered her already extended hand towards him with playful curiosity.
"Yes, sir…"
"Good girl," Severus barked lowly, though his eyes were certainly anything but lauding. He protracted her arm as far as it would go, sustaining the marriage of their eyes all the while, before he lent over her, his hand tightening around the circumference of her wrist to flex her fingers taunt, until his face was seconds away from her digits. He inhaled slowly, a wry, twisted – almost ambiguous – grin crossing his features before he tutted in private consideration.
"How very, very compelling …" Severus husked, closing the distance between his mouth and her fingers before enveloping them entirely and sucking them with deliberate leisure. He ensured, also, to employ his tongue's tip so as to exhibit a fraction of what it was capable of executing with its robust anatomy.
Teeth digging indents into her lower lip, Hermione watched him with determined, wide-eyed appreciation, though her lids drooped as a phantom wave of sensation seemed to transfer straight from the nerves of her fingers to her clit. She exhaled a soft hiss though took a deep breath to soften its impact. Bastard.
"Am I to take that as a compliment?" She inquired huskily, one brow twitching upward with only half-baked effort, despite unsuccessfully fighting off the urge to rub her throbbing apex against the chair.
Severus grinned wickedly even as her fingers were still snugly lodged in his orifice, then giving their tips one final suckle, twirl of his tongue, and the smallest of nips before retreating his head from their proximity for good. Releasing her wrist with a showy air of insouciance, the Potions Master licked his lips of any residue of her sex that might be lingering there out of refuge preceding a knavish compressing of his lips.
"Take it however you desire, Miss Granger. I'm not about to condemn nor condone you. But do make a deduction. I never sample anything that fails to enthral me. As, apparently, my own fingers do you…?" he tilted a mockingly credulous brow.
"You could say that…" she drawled, her eyes narrowing lightly in suspicion of his exasperation before instinctively shifting to the subject of his comment.
She scooted lower into the chair, her legs crossing beneath the desk and flexing in a clear effort to appease some of her body's demand for contact, though mostly remained still as she permitted her gaze to shoot back to his own.
"Am I that obvious, Professor , or are you making an educated guess based on my prior comment?"
"Decidedly both, Miss Granger. For this entire time, even whilst I chastised you mercilessly, you've been unable to keep your eyes – when not locked with my own – perpetually on them. So, I can only deduce that you must have an affinity for them. An affinity that, apparently, extends to your nether regions," he observed matter-of-factly as his left hand reached behind his back and he softly 'Accio-ed' his wand to his hand's grasp.
Hermione's head tilted in subtle incredulity at the motion of something moving behind him, but patently refocused back on his person with a playfully innocent shrug of one shoulder. He was apparently up to something.
"Perhaps I am guilty in that respect… They are quite distracting."
Severus hummed in somewhat bemused agreement, for even his 'real self' sometimes baulked at her propensity for them. He'd always thought them somewhat too thick and large. But, if she saw the appeal in them, who was he to admonish it – in either 'realm'?
"Well, be that as it may for you, I do regret to inform you that you shan't be receiving their services anytime soon, Miss Granger. This is, after all, meant to be a detention. And as we've already revised your 'punishment' at the start, if you insist on being a brat , then we'll just test your tenacity to become a member of my house another way," Snape explained to her in a simple tone that was laced with lascivious threat, pausing to present his signature, black wand with its Eastern-like etchings ornamenting the handle.
"Right then, Miss Granger, I believe you are more than familiar with each houses' various qualities. And one that is often overlooked thanks to the popularity of 'Cunning' and 'Ambition' is the far more interesting trait of 'Resourcefulness'. Employ it. Now . And don't disappoint."
Her lips twitched in curious amusement at that intriguing choice on his part, for surely there were a great many ways she could employ his wand to serve her purposes, and a great many of them Slytherin-esque in execution, to be sure. Though only one stood out to her in that moment and that did not involve spell casting of any kind. She took the length of wood from him cautiously with a hum of consideration
"I'll do my best…" she articulated steadily, no longer looking at him but at the wand itself, which seemed much larger in her hand than it ever did in his. Then she demonstratively flipped it; her thumb traced the engravings thoughtfully before she uncrossed her legs and pushed her chair back from the desk with the heel of her foot in a single, fluid motion.
Shifting down in the chair, her left hand transgressed southward, flipping up her skirt while her right held the thinner portion of the wand and directed its rigid handle towards her cunt, effectively replacing the occupation that her fingers previously had held. Her eyes only then shifted back to his.
"Mmm," Severus gave a short nod of approval as she had correctly anticipated the manner in which he had wanted her to engage his wand.
"You'll have to do better than that, Miss Granger. Hinting is quite the shameful cocktease, no?" he grunted as his manhood seemed to echo his sentiment as it twitched in his trousers rather indicatively.
"So says you," Hermione shot back huskily, given his constantly teasing demeanour, but it did not stop her from following his direction, the handle of the wand sliding through her folds and over her clit with a visible shiver, which ran through her at the enhanced friction.
She repeated the action again, and again until the very base of the handle hit the entrance of her slit and she began to slowly shift the angle of her hand and of her hips so it would begin to slide inward, her gaze never straying far from his own despite its clear 'distraction'.
His breath hitched audibly as his eyes left hers to pursue the far more interesting spectacle that her hand was providing for them. He swallowed as he watched her sex coat his jet-black wand, making it shine with an alluring gleam that he was utterly transfixed by. Perhaps matte onyx wasn't the best showcasing for it?
His cock pulsed again and Severus had to retain every molecule of self control not to touch himself, or worse for his integrity, request her to do so on his behalf, as he watched the butt end of his most personal instrument disappear into her wet cleft.
"Just until the hilt, Miss Granger, that will suffice…" he drawled deeply, his voice like velvet on steel, or molasses weeping from a tree so thick was it with lust for her.
Hermione's toes curled in her shoes and against the chair legs as she continued to fuck herself with his wand under his strict scrutiny, her breath beginning to come out in short pants. It was both satisfying and immensely frustrating, and made her all the more determined to spur him into more personal involvement. His cock was already violently straining his oft-abused trousers after all…
Hm, but how to prompt him without fail? She pondered for a moment before the answer came to her in a burst of, known, realisation.
" Yes , ' Daddy' ," she snarked abruptly, contextually snipping at his rather obvious command, but openly luring him regardless as she began to both tardy and deepen her strokes.
"That's. Enough , Miss Granger," Severus exhaled breathily, his hand coming up to her forearm to steady it before then pausing her hand's machinations.
"Can't have you making a mess over the entire rod, now can we? I'll barely be able to grip it as it is…" he couldn't help but wink for she was more than aware of just how much of a fetish he had for her juices, and he knew just how much knowing about that fact inspired her to emanate them even more.
Hermione's brows knitted in subtle strain, her stare just as much pleading as it was accusatory, but didn't fight his grip.
"Is it?" She returned with breathless if clearly sardonic scepticism, her lips parting in a soft 'O' as she slowly removed the instrument from inside of her and rather tauntingly offered it back to him, handle-first. "Apologies for the...inconvenience."
Granted, if she knew her husband well, it was anything but. She was honestly surprised he hadn't asked her to 'season it' sooner.
"Not. At. All, Miss Granger. 'Daddy' did insist after all, didn't he? Or, should we stick with 'Professor? '" he bantered back at her, his cock quivering at each moniker in fiesty approval, to be sure. He took the moistened wand from her hand to admire just how slick it had gotten before his eyes darted to hers,
"Though you could, at least, help me to remedy it so that I am able to clutch it properly…?"
Her brow arched at the suggestion, her jaw ticking in teasing rumination before taking the wand once again and drawing it back towards herself, at the very least satisfied that she had seemed to defeat his willful disfavour if only for the time.
"Well, I suppose I could…in a manner of speaking," she replied, angling her head as she met his dark eyes elfishly.
Slowly, she dragged her tongue over one, flat side of its handle, almost testingly with a small hum of consideration before sliding it into her mouth. She gave it a brief suckle, and then slowly let it slide out from between her lips with an audible pop . She offered it back to him once again with a crooked attempt at a smile.
"Good as new, Professor Snape."
Severus observed her with perfervid regard as he contemplated how to proceed given the ample ammunition she had just fired directly at him with an aim better than any Robin Hood.
"If you say so," he answered with a groggy tone, so dropped down was his breath to his diaphragm that his voice was almost as low as when he first awoke in the morning.
"Though, I'm beginning to wonder if it's used condition might have been more…. beneficial. Regardless, Miss Granger, you passed my first little test. Ten points to Slytherin on your behalf. But not for you. You've not been re-sorted yet, do keep in mind."
Her eyes scanned him with ravenous attention as soon as he spoke, his voice plummeting another octave towards the subterranean depths giving her more than eager prompting to her next course of action.
"Of course, Professor. However, an accomplishment is still an accomplishment, whether or not one gets the credit…." She murmured, placing both of her hands flat on the desktop and throwing her weight backwards, driving the chair away from her person before standing to her feet to glare up at him girlishly.
She paced around the obstruction of it until they stood almost toe-to-toe, maintaining their full height difference, granted. She had foregone the urge to wear heels, rather deliberately.
"Though credit is always… preferable."
Staring down at her with a piercing glare of rapacity, Severus discovered the tell-tale indication of the state of his pronounced excitement as the tip of his cock emitted a sudden birth of pre-cum. Enough that it was more pronounced than usual to the outside eye. Even in the dank, dark light of the cellar, and with the protective quality of his black trousers. Evidently, the week's worth of repression had certainly backed up his pipes, as they say.
Bloody fuck.
"Quite true, Miss Granger, quite true you see, I was just like you as a student. Eager to prove that I was the brightest and most adept in the room. Not to mention a prodigy… Still, one can't help it if their professor plays favourites with his house… Now, tell me," he gripped her chin roughly between his forefingers and thumb, tilting her head higher to fully greet his penetrating gaze, "is all of this just so that I'll favour you in my classroom, in my potions classroom? Is all of this just a means to an end in order to give you the final highest mark you need to score perfectly in all of your final classes and exams….?"
Hermione shot him a decidedly stubborn glare, a hint of playful challenge seeping in despite the clear triumph that had loomed there previously.
"Oh, absolutely not! Why would I ever resort to such means when I know I am perfectly capable of doing that on my own merit?" She returned, her brow raising despite the domineering hold he had on her.
Her palms flattened against his chest, and despite deciding not to follow the trek with her eyes, they still managed to journey confidently south towards the straining buttons of his trousers. A fingertip traced the introductory button for a moment before flipping it open with familiar dexterity.
"No, Professor, this is decidedly a very personal curiosity on my part…"
"You. Don't. Say…." Severus drawled, though his speech was getting somewhat muddled as his salacity for refuge in her, whichever the privilege at this bloody moment, was growing exponentially by the millisecond. Still, he urged himself to maintain at least a countenance of abstemiousness for a tad longer….
And, in his effort to do so his left hand dipped craftily to clutch the one of hers that was in the process of relieving the duty of his 'second mate' button as his eyes flashed into her own capriciously.
"Now, now, Miss Granger, that's highly inappropriate, don't you think? Especially if you were under my wardship as your Head of House…. Besides, what would you want with an old snake like me, when there are so many younger ones for corrupting? And don't embarrass yourself by reducing the reason to maturity and brains, Miss Granger. Hypothetically , you're in Slytherin now, we certainly have more of the former than your own house, and definitely the latter…."
"I think that is a rather biassed view of your house… though arguably I have no interest in corrupting anyone when there's a perfectly fine, pre-corrupted specimen in front of me," she replied with knowing lilt, angling her head down slightly despite his grip on her chin as her knees unlocked with the clear threat of bending.
"Besides… is 'propriety' really a Slytherin trait worth having, or simply a 'means to an end', as you so eloquently employed the phrase?"
"Hades, no. Obviously," he rolled his eyes at her directly in larkish critique. The pad of his thumb then tracing along the ridge of her lower lip before he taunted her at his own expense in a mirror-like response.
"My emphasis was on the word 'old' , Miss Granger, do keep up..."
"I didn't feel like designating that with a response," she replied with airy dryness, pulling her chin back from his grip and continuing her initial goal before he had so 'rudely' interrupted her, beginning to truly crouch before him.
"I happen to have a preference for older men, outside of certain inconvenient lapses in judgement… and whilst there's certain advantages to Gryffindor valour, Slytherin merits actually seem far more appealing when it comes to personal priorities…"
Severus' pupils were transfixed on her figure as she began to kneel and his member pulsed accordingly, her fingertips humming over its length as she worked his buttons. Dear Merlin, they had quite the penchant for erudite discourse in the name of provocative foreplay, that was for sure. Bloody witch not only was about to give him a verbal dissertation, but also, head . Actually, what a fucking tantilising idea….
And with that thought, his right hand descended to cradle the periphery of the left side of her visage before travelling to the crown of her head where he knitted his large digits into her hair territoriality as he husked, "Continue, Miss Granger. I fancy I should find the same sentiments on your parchment…. Though do feel free to persuade me with your argument by other means simultaneously… if you fancy. After all, a skillful tongue can persuade even the most hardened of judges... "
She chuckled, but stayed silent for a moment whilst she tugged loose his final buttons and peeled the thinner fabric of his pants back, springing the very hard expanse of his cock free. Her tongue shot outward and dragged eagerly over the whole of it, landing most conspicuously at his engorged, softly weeping tip.
" So I see…. Though I doubt I need to persuade you of your own nature. The stark contrast between sacrifice for glory and pride or for love and the strength of one's own convictions is actually quite vast… Not to mention more unique applications of intelligence…" she murmured almost in thoughtless rumination, her voice losing volume steadily, before she lost patience in her own prattling and could no longer resist taking the whole of his head into her mouth energetically.
Hissing for both the onomatopoeia of the asps' signature modulation, as well as a way to channel his own exhalation at her 'touch', Severus' hands curled tighter into her locks as he resisted the urge to buck into her mouth.
While he would never be one to say that he was healthfully endowed… nor would he be so quick as to admonish the possibility. That title was fully for his wife to gift, and her alone. He did, however, acknowledge that he was far girthier and, even a tad grander than some. Perhaps, despite his other 'disparaging features', he had been given some ounce of – frankly archaic – ego. Stupid, indeed. Still, it did help at times….
Regardless, and as such, he had always been more than hesitant when Hermione orally pleasured him. Insofar as his enthusiasm went in receiving it. He was always delicate, to be sure. She did have a rather small mouth, much like her southern one . At times so tight he was forced to wince in mild discomfort, as he was sure was a shared experience. Though thankfully always a brief instant in time – for with pain, came pleasure. Still he was cautious, nonetheless. But something about this specific scene – about her attire, her longing to be part of a house that for her entire academic career she had had no real respect nor regard for – made him want her to swallow him whole.
However, there was a far more suitable 'entrance' for that. He could wait…. Surely?
Still, Severus had to actively tame himself from using his one and only pet name for her, save 'Miss Granger', which at this point in their relationship was so far removed from their daily dealings that, well, it had suddenly become quite erotic. However , he could not – would not – call her his 'Kitten', for all the 'Daddy's' or 'Professor's' in the world. That would be breaking the fourth wall far, far too much.
"Very…. Good, Miss Granger, " he hissed again, shutting his eyes tightly as he sucked in his cheeks, biting them roughly out of sheer will to keep his physical composure, lest he release himself right then and there in her scrumptious mouth. Not that he would mind, of course. No, indeed. Technically, he reckoned he could go another two times, assuredly. However, despite his vigorous libido, Severus had far raunchier plans in mind to spend his seed upon. Of which, very much required the withholding of the 'consequence' of his climax.
For now.
"If...only you'd had such resolve…. On your last term paper for me…. Of which," he let out a deep moan as he felt her tongue lap up another surrendering of his 'self-made lubrication', "I'll now disclose to you, was….the second best that I've ever read on the subject of anti-venoms… The first – fuck – having been mine . Obviously…"
Whilst Hermione was far from keen to call herself 'subservient' in any proper way, she couldn't deny that she took great pride in the times he'd 'permitted' her to properly get on her knees for him. But her motivations had little to do with the position and everything to do with the impact of her actions.
There was an ever-evolving portion of her, perhaps possessive, or simply a result of the existence of a long-standing desire for praise, that, with him at least, bordered on a kink that, by this era in time, seemed incapable of ever achieving full satiation until she got to witness the – previously unimpeachable – figure of the Potion's Master crumble. Particularly, when he gifted her a bout of dedicated, undeniable enthusiasm whether at her hand, her cunt, or even more sacredly at moments, her mouth.
And so, Mrs Granger-Snape continued drawing her husband's pulsating member further between her thirsty lips. Her hands braced on the gaping expanse of his trousers, and her eyes locked with his as long as they were able, drinking in his physical response, down to the smallest flinch. A moan reverberated in her throat from the tightening grip of his hand in her hair, but it did not deter her. Not at all. Though the specific words he uttered, certainly gave her a brief pause.
Perhaps she was right about that 'praise kink', because hearing him compliment her so highly still always felt like a miraculous blessing, and yet, at the same time, an immediate challenge to be conquered. Because surely, if she could wring that out of him through such – arguably, minimal efforts, at least thus far – it stood to reason the consideration of just what more she might be able to accomplish with a bit more…say, 'Slytherin-like' ambition?
Her eyes bore even more intently into the black expanse of his gaze as she slid his cock almost entirely out of her mouth, sans her lips keeping greedy purchase of his tip, before swiftly sinking her orifice back around his length. She did not halt at her usual 'section', however, no matter the flexing of the cautionary, almost painful grasp of his fingers in her hair. Indeed, Hermione took him in with more depth than she ever had before. She drew the weight of him deeper, slowly but surely, over her tongue until his bulbous head graced the back of her throat, and tactfully…further still .
Severus' eyes rolled staunchly back into his head as his mouth fell agape with awe-inspired supefaction at her emboldened stratagem. His hand, he feared momentarily, might've pulled some hairs by the roots, so aggressively had he tangled them into her curls as his swollen cock's head met the back of her throat – an astonishing, unparalleled feat that was definitely novel to him, and much appreciated (despite any – quite unnecessary – guilt he was sure to self-inflict upon himself), to be sure. Dear gods, what good deed had he done for her recently to prompt that impressive treat?
However, the introduction to her throat, and its physical attribute of being ribbed, hastily reminded him of her southern, inner walls. Those that his cock so adored to be gripped and sheathed by. And with such a reminder, Severus was propelled to make the slightly conflicting decision to further along her Slytherin 'exam'.
In truer terms, the man just needed her – in the biblical sense – and he needed her now. For he wasn't sure how much longer he could last, given their recent respite. Thankfully, er, hopefully , the potion would still be of some assistance, but given what he devised from weeks of coveted fantasy, Severus wanted – no, needed to conserve every ounce of his 'essence' as he could do.
"To. Your. Feet. Miss Granger. Now! " he hissed through gnashed teeth, his jaw growing likely as sore as her own just from clenching it for such a time, lest he had emitted too many moans to her blitheful satisfaction whilst she had been sucking him blissfully, raw.
Hermione managed to portray a smugly victorious look through her eyes alone, despite the fact that they had definitely begun to water some in the corners, as she slowly drew back her head, and in doing so, freed her throat from the strain. Her jaw relaxed incrementally until his member popped back out from between her lips and stood rigid once again before her. She gave a subtle clearing of her throat and swiped beneath her eyes with her fingertips, before trying to do the same with her chin.
"Yes, sir," she voiced, even huskier than she'd sounded previously, and gripped onto his waist band to assist in pulling herself to her feet before him.
Unable to keep from noticing the moisture in her orbs and the clearing of her throat, Severus made a mental note to not only thank her graciously for her stunt, but also to ensure that he certainly wouldn't expect an encore if it had at all been uncomfortable, or displeasing, to her in any way. Afterall, he did pride himself in his holding of both her physical and mental equanimity before anything else, both in the bedroom – or wherever they might be – and out of it. But that was an issue to address at a markedly later time.
"Good girl, Granger. Very well played. Certainly a vigorous performance and one worthy of the Slytherin brand. Therefore, you've passed that particular test – and one of your own making. I dare say you might just be a serpent yet…." he hummed with a rich cadence, his voice even deeper and more velour-like than before.
"Now…. are you ready for your third 'test' before you have your final assessment as to whether you are meritorious enough to be placed into the house of Slytherin? " He queried with a taunting air, employing any and every molecule of fortitude to court a cool, impassive manner of tone despite wanting nothing more than to bend her over the desk without a single warning and plunge himself with greed into her zealous, awaiting folds.
If Hermione weren't losing so much patience herself, she might have been inclined to commend him on his dedication. She even gave him a brief smirk for the trouble, but nothing more. For all she felt was an overwhelming frustration and an all-encompassing tension, the likes of which she hadn't felt since before their consummation. Though, apparently, he had set a standard for stubbornness. She wasn't about to fail in meeting it.
"Ready, willing , and waiting, Professor ," she responded with a determined upward tilt of her chin, her only real tell being the speed at which her pulse was pounding, in her own ears at least.
" Good," he began gruffly, twirling her round by the shoulders unexpectedly, his grip tight, yet controlled.
"This last qualifier before the primary trial will test whether your endurance …." and on that acuminate enunciation Severus dexterously bent her over the length of the desk, her hands thankfully catching her weight with a rather well-punctuated slap of wood against skin, before he leant over her right side to finish with a purr against her ear, "...is as licenced as mine."
Despite having an inkling of what he was about since the moment his hands landed on her shoulders, the realisation of the fruition of it, did not cease to wring a staggered gasp from her, suddenly, laboured lungs. As her position was swiftly reversed and the tangled lengths of her hair partially blocking her vision, she found her chest being pressed with gingered attention into the wooden surface. Her fingertips dug into the desk instinctively for leverage, even though the looming presence of her husband behind her had yet to make any proper contact with anything below her shoulder blades. Her head tilted to the side as much as it was able, shaking her locks out of her face as she desperately sought to catch a glimpse of his movements.
"I think I can manage," she responded breathily, meeting his assignment with confidence, as her hips shifted back and forth in needy encouragement.
"I'm quite pleased to hear so, however, the term does cover a variety of nuances. How would you say your… pain tolerance , for example, is, Miss Granger?" Severus rumbled in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he were merely requesting her to answer how she would brew a simple Hiccoughing Solution. As he questioned her, he abruptly flipped up the grey fabric of her barely modest skirt, thus exposing her round, supple, petite arse-cheeks to the clammy, cool cellar air. He swallowed in lecherous anticipation as his right hand flexed in calculated patience.
"...I would call it adequate…with preparation, even exceptional," Hermione managed to rasp, clearing her throat from the wave of carnal anticipation that hit her and abruptly dried her throat. She could feel the air hit her backside and wick some of the moisture from between her thighs and didn't waste effort fighting the shiver as she braced for whatever he was to do. There were only so many choices, afterall….
Without giving her even a retort in second warning, Severus raised his left hand before landing it down on her left cheek with resounding hiss of skin-on-skin contact. It was a relatively compelling spank, though certainly not severe enough to leave a fully developed print of his paw. No, not yet, anyways. He proclaimed a choked grunt of approval, echoing from the back of his throat as his arousal thrashed its furious, desperate head against the back of her upper, right thigh as it was now pinned between its owner and her person. He chuckled wickedly, still bent over and wooing her ear.
"As cheeky as that tongue of yours is, perhaps you will last longer than any Gryffindor could do…." he commended her towards her initial reception of his execution.
Forcibly muffling a squeak of surprise into a treble grunt, perhaps only because she half-expected it, her nails just beginning to dig into the desk, Hermione expelled a soft curse. Of both appreciation and exasperation. Honestly, she hadn't expected him to drag this out quite so effectively, but she also wasn't about to protest.
"Oh, I plan on it… despite their, sometimes, insipid stubbornness, they often give up too soon…" she prodded back knowingly.
"Indeed, Miss Granger, indeed," he murmured menacingly as his left hand rubbed small circles over the reddening skin before lifting backwards to hit it once, twice, three more times in rapid succession. The last blow landed forcefully enough to leave an outlined tattoo of not only his hand, but also, the indentation of his wedding band. A mark of which he was rather, suddenly fond of – predictably so, might one add. The man was territorial, without a doubt.
"And how was that? Too rough for you?" he leant back and ran his offending hand between her clenched thighs, the border of his index finger just grazing her slick folds.
"Eros' cock, you are pos-i-tiv-e-ly sodden, Miss Granger… I'm rather surprised that last spank didn't send some spatter of your sex onto the nearby wall…. Good thing though, for what a waste that would've been… I wonder, however, if I spanked your cunt, just how drenched my cock might get by the sheer backsplash alone….?"
For all her own ironic stubbornness, digging nigh on skin-breaking indents into her lower lip with her teeth, by his final blow the subtle gasps and hisses she had employed on the prior impacts devolved into a yelp followed by a resounding, whimpering moan. She sucked in a steadying breath to quell it and attempt to respond, though his hand's new focus and the growing heat beneath her skin where the sting had previously been, delayed and distracted her entirely.
" Fuck… Surely that's…not the most efficient way to soak it," she spat back with a pant, though it failed to keep her back from arching, and her stance from widening back to its previous position before she had tightened defensively.
"Of course not, Miss Granger. That will be occurring soon I do applaud your enthusiasm, from both sets of lips…. Certainly a Slytherin attribute, I would say…." he growled against her ear before sucking on its lobe intently.
He bucked his diamond-hard cock softly against the side of her thigh, having shifted his stance to the right some so that he could bring his wedded hand between her spread thighs to clap upwards on her soaking cunt as he had so contemplated doing just moments before. He accosted her vulva so, not once, but thrice as he had with his former engagement of arse-spanking, making special care to ensure that the tips of his fingers located and hit her protruding clit with enough impetus that it would surely give her a healthy wave of convulsing pleasure each and every time.
"Fucking hell…" she expelled in an unsteady groan that contained an edge that sounded far too like a pleaful cry for the likes of her haughty pride as she jolted and pressed herself upward from the desk's surface in antsy, restless determination. She bucked herself backward until she found a part of him to press against and rocked like a cat in heat for any meagre level of friction she could demand, one or her hands reaching backward to tangle in whatever loose fabric she could grasp to tug him forward and further against her body.
"Professor… please… " she finally resigned to beg.
Severus hissed into her early fiercely as she clutched onto him, and he knew that they either were going to make each other climax just by the sheer attraction that they had for the other, by their proxy to each other's sexes, or by their low bloody tolerance after going almost a week without any kind of emancipation from their libidos. As such, he wasn't sure just how much longer he, himself could last despite his perpetual proclivity towards edging her as much, and for as long, as physically possible.
No, indeed, Severus was very soon about to explode and he had to do it inside of her. And so, giving her a quick 'out-of-character' kiss and nip on the neck he righted his posture and ran his hand up and down his moistened cock, from her readiness as well as his own.
Still, could always be wetter, he chuckled to himself internally as he ran the head of his purple, mushroomed crown up and down her sopping folds to collect as much lubrication and marked territory of her that he could find, his hips gyrating slowly by aid of his hand. Once his head made contact with her hardened clit, he let out a moan of utter ecstasy as their most sensitive nerve endings collided and gave them each a jolt of, much, sought after relief – momentarily of course as a far greater one was festering, to be sure.
"Oh, you are appealing , aren't you? I do believe …you are about as erect as I am, Miss Granger. Being able to perform ….on command and when… needed is something that we Slytherins invariably excel at. I surely do…"
Hermione hissed at the sharp pang of pleasure, her hips rocking to and fro instinctively in reckless eagerness to continue the contact, or better yet, redirect it . For as much as her clit appreciated the attention, what she desperately needed was for him to fuck her fully and properly, and not to mention, immediately. So, with a lurid sigh, the hand that had grabbed him tangled in the fabric of his trousers and pulled while she rocked against him.
"Then consider this…a command ," she began in breathless, though no less distinctive authority, playing in utter contrast to their assigned 'roles' thus far.
"Please, just fuck me into this bloody desk until we break it, Professor Snape. Right. Now."
