A/N: LEMONS! OK, not so lemony, as this is an intimate scene between two married adults… but, still: lemons.
This is the kind of thing the story is rated MA for, and it WILL happen again. Please do NOT read this if this kind of thing makes you unhappy.
She reclined in his - their - bed, glowing with satisfaction. He had been animalistic under a veneer of calm control. She sensed he wanted to rip through her bridal gown upon crossing the threshold of his rooms, but instead he placed her on his bed, lit a fire, warded and soundproofed the room, and sat beside her, taking her hand and gently kissing her, asking if she were certain that this - that he - was what she wanted. That he was old, scarred - all nonsense to her ears and she'd told him so. Then, she'd gently begun to unbutton his clothes, taking her time, tracing each and every scar with her lips or her fingers. She watched his face from time to time, and his expression was beyond deep; it was an outpouring of emotion that had everything to do with her, and her own emotions began to shine in her eyes.
His eyes narrowed, but her warm expression, though wetted by unshed tears… he understood! His shaky smile turned into a Cheshire grin when she softly said, "I love you Severus Snape." All the hope in his eyes! All for her.
She thought of the hours spent in close quarters, filled with experimentation and discussion, heated and lively. His face took on a healthy glow when debating with her, and his flashing eyes could sometimes fill with the mirth his mouth would not willingly express. His gaze sometimes tracked her when she knew he thought she wasn't paying attention, and she knew that when he saw another man seated near her, he grew uneasy.
But not today: today, he finally knew her as his, and nothing in the world would take her away from him. She had assuaged his lingering fears with her loving eyes and honest words… and now, he was whole.
"I have a gift for you, my bride", he whispered, and used his wand to levitate to her a small, heavy box.
She opened it, and her forehead wrinkled with a sudden memory, an image she recalled from many shadowy dreams. The box contained an unusual figurine: a silver serpent wrapped around a golden lioness. The jeweled eyes - emerald and ruby - bore into each other in a frozen tableau. But this cold war was no battle: she blushed to realize that they were locked in an altogether more personal embrace. Her color deepened as she thought of the legendary quarrelling between their two houses: would that rivalry be rendered onto a new battlefield? Or would they find a way to circumvent the House affiliations that both had served since turning eleven - a perception that he'd been subjected to for many more years than she?
"It's exquisite," she murmured, letting her new spouse take her in his arms.
The dark head now stirred next to her, and her gaze refocused on his sleep-relaxed face. The small ghost of a smile played at his lips, and she was unable to resist kissing it. His eyes opened slightly, then wider, and the ghost disappeared to be replaced by a gently sexy smile.
"You look much more rested than I thought you would, Wife" his deep voice vibrated towards her, causing her sheet-covered nipples to stiffen.
"I slept very deeply, and very comfortably, thanks to you." She replied, and leaned in to rest her head and hand on his chest.
His voice resonated in every fiber of her being as he said, "I will never forget last night. You were… a fantasy come to reality."
She looked up into his face, and licked her lips in response. Impishly grinning, eyes sparkling, she crooked an eyebrow at him. "I'm not real quite yet." With that, she dove under the covers, and all he could do was gasp and moan her name as her deft fingers and wet mouth brought him to full mast in a matter of seconds.
His thrusting response to her actions made her grin, and made her wetter than she'd been when she awoke. Her mumbled responses vibrated on his staft, and he did not know how he managed to stay in control.
Then she wiggled her rear a little closer, and his hand snaked out to grasp her buttock. His surprise attack made her suck in, and that only brought him closer to the edge. His finger plunged into her moisture with no preamble, and he was able to add another two before her muffled scream pushed him dangerously close to filling her mouth with his seed. His fingers found that spot inside her, that special spot, and her shaking and moaning precipitated the juices that coated his fingers, slicked his palm, and ran down his wrist.
When he raised his forearm to taste her, she suddenly swallowed him whole, and he lost it: with a grunting scream of her name, he spasmed and spurted directly down her throat; he came and came as he felt her drinking his essence down. He regained the presence of mind to continue stroking her after the most intense part of his orgasm had subsided, and was rewarded with a writhing woman moaning and gasping his name as release after release was granted her. He moved her so that he could stroke her pert breasts and give her a deeper penetration.
"Scream for me," he spoke darkly into her ear as his fingers twisted and stroked her inner depths, his other hand now grasping her body to his. "Scream my name when I make you come."
"Sh - AH! - SEVERUS!" her face, contorted by her orgasm, was a stunning, terrifying, immensely arousing sight, and he stroked her one last time before replacing his hand with his newly hard phallus, shifting her shuddering body to plunge into her pulsing depths.
He rode her like a dying man, wanting to penetrate her as deeply as humanly possible. Her ankles he lifted over his shoulders, and her constant screams of pleasure goaded him to pound into her harder, deeper, faster.
When she came, his vision went white, and he joined her as she dragged the last of his essence into her waiting heat. Her breathing matched his: exhausted, sated, panting breaths, calming to whispered moans and satisfied whimpers as he slid out of her and cradled her in his arms.
They drifted off in each other's embrace, soft smiles gracing their faces.