(Please note I've changed the rating of the story to M.
There is sex in this chapter, explicit. I've marked where it starts and ends.
please forgive me if updates become a bit slow. I've just been diagnosed with arthritis in my left, dominant, hand. fortunately i have some chapters prepared. but even editing is difficult. work is also picking up. please be patient.
also please review. writing a good sex scene, one that isn't just about sex, can be a challenge and id like feedback. warning, like most of the story, it may be a bit dark.
also, typing with 1 hand or talk to text is rather difficult. forgive errors please. it keeps auto capitalizing things)
Snape whisked out of the house the next evening. He had spent the day trying to sense the boy… Potter… through his blood after having another sip from the vial. He had no such luck besides a slight tug in one direction that faded quickly. Nothing else. It annoyed him. He was out of practice on many fronts, slipping in others, and plain inexperienced in some.
So, tonight, there would be no distractions. Tonight he was going to test his willpower and skills. Tonight he was going to hunt with the intent to eat for the first time in over 8 years. For the first time on his own, ever. Most importantly, he was going to attempt to leave his meals alive, though he had 'no reason' to.
With his colleagues and students there were ample reasons not to kill. It would cause distrust in his workplace. It would be bad for his career as a spy. It would be harder to find meals in the future. It would change people's opinion of him which would mean adjustments in his lifestyle. He also didn't want to kill them, being tolerant of his colleagues, fond of some, and not supportive of killing students in most situations.
However, feelings and emotions were irrelevant in this case. The fact that he himself did not particularly care for wanton murder, especially of children, was irrelevant. Remorse was irrelevant. All those were easily twisted or even completely thrown away by the red mist. Hard facts, ones that were hard to manipulate or even made a case for future hunts being more difficult, those were needed to maintain control here. Emotional and moral reasons could come to the fore once he built up his shields again. His sense of self had to be strong so he could build that false layer and make a shield.
These people, these unknowns, it would be quite easy for them to vanish into the night with no one the wiser. He would of course eventually head to a town a bit farther away so if acquaintances happened to, for some unknown reason, find out, it wouldn't be connected with him. He needed as few reasons as possible to leave these people alive. If there was a single fact to bolster his willpower, he could use it to build up Occlumency shields.
He needed to be at his weakest so he could build up his willpower and Occlumency based around literally nothing besides himself. Anything else could be picked apart by the red mist. There had to be no weak points. Morals could be twisted, emotions were a weakness already. He had to start with nothing.
The worst that would happen is he would shrink and pocket a few bodies tonight. He did not like that thought, well the red mist did, but he did not. His body count never sat well with him in the late hours. He did not enjoy killing, well part of him did, but he did not. He had to believe that, he had to nail that down as Fact to live with himself from day to day. He was quite sure that if he was human he would have 'grown out of' that phase, grown sick of the killing. He had started to, before he was turned; however he had seen no way out that ended in something besides a very painful death that prevented him from protecting those he cared for; which at the time consisted of Lily.
He had received it anyway, that painful death, and survived. …Mostly.
He smirked as he trudged under the lamplight that was not yet cutting through the night, but mingling with the red of a painted sky. He was kidding himself. All of him had survived that ordeal, but the part of him that told him darkness was safe had been twisted, engorged, made rabid. It whispered to him. Loudly when he was first turned, then quietly in the late hours at Hogwarts, and more recently, urgently in the back of his skull. If the red mist had a will of its own he'd say it was angry at being put in a small mental box and swept under the rug for years, besides being let out for the occasional late night fantasy. Even then it was tightly chained. These days, the chain had grown weak from rust caused by that Damned Fucking Potion. Not to mention emotions and hunger being pent up for over 10 years.
Snape swallowed, calming himself with a few breaths and thoughts of the truths his shields were based on. His anger was always the hardest emotion for him to control, fortunately it was also one that wasn't contrary to any of his personas or jobs. It was propitious, for his anger was a vital part of him; a tool, a shield as much as his Occlumency was.
He could use it to cover up his unwillingness to torture the undeserving, his regrets, his remorse. Even his longing and what remained of his ability to love were easily pushed aside by his vindictive anger. So that emotion was allowed to come through his shields more than others. Although the rest of his emotions seemed to, recently, be as angry as the red mist at being locked away. They had gained a bad habit of sneaking out alongside his infuriating vampiric proclivities… Despite the fact that the mist and his more benign emotions were often at odds.
These emotions might be helpful in curtailing the mist, if it weren't for the fact that actually showing or acting on such emotions would most definitely garner attention after all these years. Thinking on memories and emotions, detached and clinical, was one thing, acting on them was another.
Whether they were ones of Lily, murdering muggles in a back alley, or trying not to throw up while pretending to enjoy torture, it didn't matter. Control, discipline, at all times. Some emotions would betray the truth of his allegiances, others could cause him to betray the allegiances themselves. He almost had in these past months.
So, tonight was for letting that red mist out, for him to listen to the whispers and see what they said. For instance, now they were saying that if he hopped too and from enough towns, far enough apart, it could be far more than dinner tonight. A feast. His pockets near leaden with meaty paper weights.
Yes. These were the thoughts causing those damn chinks in his shields, caused by them. A vicious cycle. The red mist, his darker vampiric tendencies, caused such thoughts. Such thoughts strengthened that side of him, making the cracks grow, meaning more thoughts, red mist, and other unwanted emotions, escaped.
He had a tendency toward the dark already, he needed no more reasons to sink further. He needed reasons to stay here, ones that he could think on without hinting at his true motives. He had no right to call on pure tools though. There may be reasons for his actions, but to call on righteousness, the triumph of good over evil? These were not his to rely on. Redemption might ring true, but it felt wrong to call such a goal his own, despite his wants. He had no right. He could quote it to Minerva or Dumbledore, but it was not his. No matter how much he wanted it.
No. Remorse. Revenge. Rage. Those were his. These grey words were his impetus. He would never be redeemed. That was impossible for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was his condition. He had done far too much wrong for his own betterment, safety, and amusement before he came to his senses. Far too much wrong to talk of some selfish goal of false redemption that would allow him to walk into the light, even without his affliction. So, he toed the grey line, always at the risk of tripping over the edge into darkness.
Tonight he might very well do so.
Better here, killed by aurors for his failure, than in the school. For that would surely be what happened if he failed this exercise of self control. He could not allow that to happen.
He stalked down the sidewalk. The houses in this industrial town were all identical. Everything was soot grey, it suited him. Made him feel welcome. Yes, this place was nothing. One person missing here, if he failed, would be acceptable. This was an overlooked town, nothing happened here. One disappearance wouldn't raise a head, more than that would. He'd need to choose carefully who he was going to risk… killing. The thought felt heavy, sunk like a stone in his stomach while the mist urged him on.
He got a few glances from some young couples taking a stroll. He checked his attire. No, it wasn't that, it was decidedly muggle. Black pants, black shoes, a grey dress shirt, and a black coat. No, distinctly disgustingly muggle. Except of course his long hair. Most respectable men didn't wear their hair long in the muggle world. Perhaps it was that mixed with his respectable attire. Or his posture. Or his scowl. Or his gait.
He slowed his pace. He was not in a hurry tonight. He took a breath and focused. Who was here in this maze of back streets? Alone preferably. He had been meandering in thought for at least a half an hour or so, and it was now near dark. Who was out? There was one heartbeat nearby, alone, slow. He turned a corner and made his way toward it, toward the newer part of town that didn't look quite so uniform. The smell from the woman was strong, cigarettes and makeup nearly covered up her natural scent of spice and oranges. He turned another corner.
He was on the main street. He didn't like that, but it's where the woman was, and she wasn't moving. Leaning against the street lamp. Shit. A lady of the night. A prostitute, and she had seen him.
"Ello. Lonely this ev'nin?"
She had shoulder length black hair with grey eyes looking at him from a round face. Her chest was very openly displayed. Most of her was very openly displayed. There was nothing left to the imagination as tight leather stretched over her hips and a shiny clinging red fabric barely contained her breasts. Her boots went up to above the knee with numerous buckles that shone in the light of the outdated lamp she stood under. It wasn't what he usually liked, but she had a heartbeat, which was very much his type this evening.
He weighed pros and cons as he walked towards her down the block.
Cons. If he did not ask for something sexual she would grow suspicious. Perhaps enough to break out of a thrall. He could obliviate her after the fact but it did not help in the now. An imperio would work, but the fewer unforgivables recorded on his wand the better. So, he would need to do something resembling sexual besides 'kissing her neck'... which meant he might kill her if it went too far. Control during an orgasm was difficult, especially if he was eating. It was the excuse he gave the Dark Lord; to avoid joining in the 'festivities', not wishing to end his 'comrades' fun prematurely. He sometimes wondered if he should 'join', to end their pain; just pretend to engage and quickly kill them instead. There was no good option there. He was trying to avoid death tonight though. Which brought him to…
Pros. If he did mess up, most likely few people in a position to do anything about it would care. Especially since open solicitation in one area was illegal. Looking at her, considering how comfortable the woman looked here this was obviously a frequent spot of hers. He vaguely recalled his father complaining about the legality of it, he couldn't remember if he was in favor or against though. Anyway, if she did end up a cold corpse in his pocket, it would be no problem as long as no evidence of his actions remained. This would also be a very good test of his skills, he had hoped to work up to this, but it could be a valuable comparison for the rest of the night. That is, if he didn't manage to take a meal before they started.
Decided, he stopped in front of the woman and raised a brow.
"If you have an adequate location I might be… persuaded."
"Well aren't you all proper. Sure, back alley or room? Room is extra 'less we go to your place."
"And the cost for the former?"
"Two hundred fifty pound for somethin' quick."
Merlin, he hated this culture. It was, however, going to get him a meal, so he nodded and followed the woman down a side street. The meager center of town that Spinner's End sported had one main street of shops with a few eateries, an antique store, pharmacy, and general store. He wondered briefly if Clara's restaurant was on the street as he followed the woman under an overhang and around a dumpster.
What an utterly disgusting place to have sexual relations of any kind. He was surprised when he was led further past it and around to a door barely illuminated by a very old almost faded bulb.
"And we are sure the residents are absent?" He asked. It wouldn't do to be caught doing any of the things that might happen.
"One hundred percent." Said the woman as she backed him against the wall. He almost gasped as she roughly grabbed his groin. "Not excited yet, are we?" She mused at feeling his currently disinterested member.
He sneered his response. "It takes a tad more than a pretty face and some bare skin to pique my interest. You want your money? Work for it."
"Well aren't you a fun one?" She grinned and spit out some gum on the ground nearby. Mint, from its smell, no it was too strong for that. It was gum that had bits of a crushed mint in it. An odd choice, but everyone had their own quirks he supposed.
Snape was about to reach forward and start enthralling her when she squatted down. The woman was fast, very fast for a human. She was certainly adept with her fingers by how quickly she had his pants open in the front and how suddenly he felt cold air on a spot that hadn't seen the night sky since before he'd died.
(Explicit Sex scene)
And then he was in her mouth. He gasped. It was cold and warm at the same time, a unique sensation that sent shivers up his spine. The mint. It was the mint. It tingled across the sensitive skin even as her tongue worked the underside of his quickly hardening- oh gods. It'd been so long. Her hands were deftly stroking and he was suddenly in her throat and not her mouth.
The mint was everywhere, tingling and cold like he hadn't felt cold in ages. His tip was hitting what had to be the back of her throat as she teased him, just touching him with her mouth and hinting that there could be so much more. His breathing was growing uneven, as in he was forgetting to. He could feel his concentration slipping, those deeper urges straining forward with each movement of her lips as red mist tickled the edge of his mind. There was silent noise, one only in his mind as he felt a crack widen and his mind was flooded with thoughts telling him to return the favor until she died breathless and panting with pleasure as- No. No deaths. Blood, yes, no deaths. Had to get her throat close-
The thought was cut off when she dragged a highly manicured nail down the side of his quickly hardening member and he had to actively concentrate on not digging his nails into the brick behind him and cracking it. He allowed himself to groan instead. She noticed and, encouraged, did it again, harder. She pulled back her mouth and let her teeth lightly catch every bump and vein till they hit the tip and he gasped.
The pain. It was the pain that did it. So small and white hot, mixing with the fading mint and rising pleasure. He grabbed her hair to stop her movement and slowly pulled her off of him, tilting her head so her eyes met his.
"And what does the room cost?" He asked far more raggedly than he would have liked. She grinned. Oh, he wanted to wipe that grin off her face. He most definitely would.
"Yeah, they usually ask that. Five hundred pounds."
He nodded. He'd worry about that if she survived the night. She most likely wouldn't, but if she did, he had had the presence of mind to leave his house with three hundred pounds. He also had one hundred galleons, real gold. A quick spell earlier hiding their face value meant they could be easily pawned. They would find their way back to his world eventually, they always did. Ancient goblin magic saw to that.
The woman nodded and reached in between her breasts and pulled out a key, which she inserted into the door behind them. Ah. Well then. That explained why she liked this corner.
He pushed her through the door and closed it behind them, locking it quickly. He pressed his mouth to hers, a distraction while he threw up a basic alerting ward around the door. She responded, and tried to push her tongue between his lips. He pulled away, there was no way he'd be able to hide his rather sharp canines if she did that. They were as eager as the flesh she had gripped in her left hand.
He instead trailed his lips under her chin to leave a kiss on her throat. Her flesh, soft and warm, a small pulse beating against his lips. He stayed there, feeling that gentle beat, resisting the urge to draw it into his mouth. The woman's hands moved downward, fist gripping his now fully hard shaft, pulling and pushing the soft skin and he gasped. The scent of her skin flew over his tongue; he opened his mouth a bit wider, ready to-
The woman pulled away, the hand on his dick bidding him follow. She took a step and squeezed as her hand left him, fingers finding every curve of his glans. He nearly groaned again at the sweet pressure.
She smiled and led him through a small sitting room with a couch and a table that had a pot of irises. She led him through a small kitchenette that was painted blue and yellow. She led him through a door and into the bedroom that had a king sized bed with red sheets.
And she stopped.
"Money and condom first."
Snape blinked. A what? She reached to the dresser behind him and opened the top drawer and pulled out something small in plastic.
"Look, I can't be on contraceptives because of reasons I don't have to share, and STD's are not fun. Condom, or we stop here."
Ah. Muggle safe sex. How inelegant. "You've already had me in your mouth, anything I've got you already have. However, you can rest assured I have nothing, and fortunately for you I am quite sterile."
She ignored the comment with a roll of her eyes. "Look, I Don't get clients by asking them to put on a condom first thing. I tried it. And you men aren't exactly known for bein truthful, when you want to raw dog me from behind and have me call you daddy."
Snape raised a brow at that but let her continue.
"Condom and money or no further."
He had no clue how to use this item, at all. He was sure he could figure it out, but it was easily rectified in another way. "Very well. Put it on me, with your mouth." He said as he placed two hundred fifty pounds on the dresser. At her frown he sneered again. "If I find you satisfactory I'll pay you the remaining two hundred fifty at the end." He let a slight bit of allure behind his words, insisting she trust him, that he would surely follow through. He would, if she lived.
She smirked and mirrored his raised brow. She opened the tiny package and the smell of chemicals filled his nose, most likely some muggle type of spermicide and lubricant. It was rancid. He'd just have to fill the room with the smell of her bl-
No. He'd cooled down a bit since the pain. He pushed down the thought and focused on the sensation of the plastic being rolled up his prick with her mouth. As soon as she reached his base he gave a sharp thrust and then began slowly pumping his hips. The sensation compared to before was slightly duller. That was good. Perhaps she might survive this. Or perhaps that would mean he'd be more frenzied by the time he eventually reached release.
He'd find out.
But for now her warm mouth on his cold skin felt so very good. So… very good. Thank Merlin he'd had actual meals recently. It was so much more difficult to do anything with his potion. The body required blood to do what he was doing after all.
Gods, she was sucking now, not just moving up and down and toying with him. Her lips a tight ring that led to a throat that threatened to pull what remained of his soul out if she didn't stop. No, no. That was his purview. He pulled out and away and, after flicking off the lightswitch and closing the door so only a slim pillar of light broke the darkness, lifted her quickly over to the bed. He threw her on it and followed after, his shoes and socks discreetly left on the floor with a bit of wandless magic.
"I am going to bite you. Do not worry."
She didn't react to the command, he had no idea if it had affected her. He didn't much care.
"How bout we shed our clothes first, luv?"
Snape prided himself on his patience in most things, but after over 10 years of celibacy, Merlin's balls, he wished he could use magic to do that to her. He didn't want to wait. However, there was no way he was taking off his clothes. This was someone who might solicit another wizard and possibly talk about the man with the hooked nose and the odd tattoo, if she broke through his later commands. He shook his head. Caution was what kept him alive.
"Not for myself, but you…" He peeled her shirt off over her head and dropped it on the floor next to them. He crawled down a bit and did the same with her skirt. He felt like he was peeling the skin off a snake. He dropped the skirt beside the shirt and then slowly pulled off the boots. She was bare to the world, no undergarments to hinder him.
He paused and looked down at the flower beneath him, and then to his right. The femoral artery. He wanted to lick and suck and taste both, to drive his tongue and teeth into her until she squealed. He could hear the beat in that vein, practically see it pulse, smell the musk next to him. No. No, too risky. The femoral artery was a rather heady experience Besides, he wanted to be in her in other ways. His cock throbbed at the thought and he moved upward after one caress of her thigh, a single finger drawn slowly up over that tempting vein.
She reached downward as he hung over her and he shook his head.
"Not yet. Do you like feeling pain as much as you seem to enjoy inflicting it?"
"Don't matter what I like tonight-"
"Answer the question." He interrupted and reached up, dragging a single nail from the tip of her chin down the right side of her neck. He watched as she shivered slightly. Her answer would determine how he treated the bite, which would help her fall into the allure more. He however, had a feeling about her answer.
"Yeah, I do."
"Good. I'm going to bite you, and you're going to like it."
"Whatever you say luv."
He ignored her. He hadn't done either of these things in a while, sex or fed to bring pleasure. Slowly, he had to go slowly or he'd drink till she was dead.
He might do that anyway.
He leaned down and breathed in her scent, his nose touching her neck. Oranges and spice, a hint of lightning now that he was closer. This was what he wanted to make sanguinaccio dolce out of. He pressed his lips to her neck and stayed there a moment, pushing back the urge to just bite and kill her, focusing on himself. Severus Snape. Potions Master. Spy. Vampire. Vampire was last. It was the least important aspect of himself. He felt the urge fade and he opened his lips, tip of his tongue against her neck.
The need came back with a vengeance. He growled and she jumped a bit at the unhappy sound. Distraction. He needed a distraction.
"Touch me, and yourself." He said, and as he was paying, she complied. He didn't want to go in dry, despite the Muggle condom being mildly lubricated. He was thankful for his near inability to deeply taste most things besides blood, he couldn't imagine what that plastic had tasted like when she fellated him. She might have even gotten rid of the lubricant he had smelled.
Her hand closed around him and he thrust into it involuntarily. He scowled into her neck. That would not do. Control, at all times, at least until the end, and even then, there would be some control. There had to be, despite what he told Minerva.
He began a steady movement and she played with his tip each time he thrust down, her other hand ministering to herself.
He started to lick and nibble at her neck and a small gasp from her broke the silence. It was obviously fake, it'd be real soon enough. He could always tell when it was fake, and the sounds turned him off as much as the real ones turned him on. The knowledge that he had control and was the cause of his partner making those noises. He could smell her growing wetness as he licked and nibbled at her external jugular vein.
"Guide me."
Her hands pulled him downward, positioning him against her now moist entrance. He fought down a groan. So long. It'd been so long. He sat up as she let go and he remained there for a moment. Another moment. Another. Enjoying the anticipation, the knowledge of what was coming.
"Are you-"
As soon as she spoke he took both her hands and carefully pulled them above her head, a small jerk asserting false control when he got there. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, his voice slow and soft like satin.
"I'm going to bite you,-"
"Then get on with it luv, I've been waitin for hours."
With a small curl of his lip that might have been a smile he thrust in and bit down.
Ecstasy. Pure unadulterated bliss. The memory of a summer storm, made more real by the warm wet heat surrounding him. Spiced oranges, simmering in cloves and wine paired with the regular taste of copper pouring into his mouth. She gasped, for real. For him. In his throat and mouth and with each thrust he pulled at her neck and with each pull out he savored the taste. All his. He licked and sucked at the wound, pulling life past his lips and licking at the end of each swallow.
He had read that vampires preferred to bite and then remove their fangs to suck on the wound. He usually made a slightly bigger wound, pulling his razor teeth through flesh a bit so blood flowed around them. It meant his teeth were firmly ensconced if his meal tried to run. Tonight however, he removed them, and ravished the wound with his mouth. Tender ministrations and licks amidst a slow sensual siphoning of life.
His meal moaned with pleasure and he ground his hips against her briefly before slowly pushing in as far as he could, only to pull out and return to the position with fervor. She moaned again. It was delicious, it made his veins and groin ache. He wanted more of that noise, any noise she could make. There was another way to do that. He plunged in once more and as he pulled out with the rocking of her body he pulled his mouth away as well.
"No, don't sto-'' She began to voice her discontent but he quieted her with the rocking of his hips. He brought one hand to his mouth, leaving the other up above her head to loosely hold her wrists. He held his jaw still, dragging a fang across the tips of his fingers. Blood welled up. His meal panted a bit beneath him, eyes looking through lids heavy with pleasure from his love bite. Good, he had been able to provide that, he still knew how to treat a wound to bring bliss. And he would continue to.
"Who… what… are…" The voice was breathy and filled with want. He concentrated on himself instead of plunging his teeth back in to fulfill that want to the point where she would never want again. No. No death. None except the little one. La Petite mort.
He was Professor Severus Snape. He was a spy. He was a vampire last. He looked down at her as the scent of her blood mingled with his own rotting licorice scented blood in the air.
"Suck." He brought his thumb up to her mouth and she took it, dazed by his bite as she was. He didn't fight back the groan as she sucked, her tongue exploring his finger tip and her walls tightening around him down below. He thrust harder, and leaned down once again to her neck, his senses assaulted on three fronts now.
She pulled and his aphrodisiac blood made her entire body shiver. Whines and whimpers flew from her lips like escaping birds. He was building quickly, but he could hold on, slow down, make this last. He wanted to enjoy this. He wasn't hungry right now, feeding was the only time when he wasn't. The relief as his stomach and veins filled was brought to new heights as he was surrounded by warmth, her body heated with euphoria and exertion beneath him.
More, he wanted more than whimpers and moans. He withdrew his thumb despite her protests and stuck his pointer and middle fingers in, allowing her tongue to explore them as he explored her neck, her constant attention keeping his wounds from closing. He would keep her wound open too, flowing until- no. He was the spy Severus Snape. He was a vampire last.
He was not a gentle lover, it seemed neither was this woman as she bit down on his slender fingers and drug her teeth down as if she could pull the blood out of him by doing so. He gasped, the slight pain making him buck forward and hit a spot that made her much more vocal than she had been previously. He pulled back and endeavored to hit that spot again, and again, and again. She was indeed genuinely gasping now. He'd make her gasp for air until she couldn't breathe.
She was warm, her blood was warm, he almost felt alive with her velvet wet flesh around him and her blood in him. He could feel her fast desperate heartbeat in his mouth, and as she pulled his fingers in with her lips and his hips in with her legs he felt he was sinking in a warm ocean. He wanted more, he wanted everything. She moaned, and cried out. Screaming her pleasure. Screams, screams were so tantalizing, even more so as they faded into pleading whimpers of pleasure. Faded- No. No. He tried to think about who he was. He had been thinking about it only moments ago.
He was Severus Snape. A vampire... Last. At last. He was here, he was in ecstasy, so was his prey and her warm blood was in his mouth and throat and veins and he was ramming himself against that spot that made her walls close around him as she gasped and moaned. Who cared if she died? She'd die in rapture and he'd find another in a few hours. More to coat his throat. More. Perhaps that one would scream for a different reason, but for now, screams of ecstasy. He pushed his teeth into her flesh and she groaned. She stopped exploring every wrinkle on his knuckles and removed her mouth to make a request.
"More." The request was a demand that devolved into a pleading stutter in the seconds it took to utter that one syllable. The woman was a masochist, surely. He pulled his fangs down ever so slightly and she screamed.
"Oh god, yes. Yes. Ye-"
He began to suck again, hard swallows taking as much as he could from wounds that were far too small. He could make them bigger, but that would increase the blood flow, he wouldn't have to fight her veins so much, and the sounds she was making when he did were too enticing.
"Fuck, yes. Harder. Don't stop. Harder!"
He changed his pace so each thrust pushed deep inside before he slowly removed himself to repeat the process. His leaking fingers played at the corner of her mouth, painting it crimson and her tongue reached out to steal his own life. He knew it tasted different to mortals, he wondered briefly what his tasted like before he let her take his fingers once more into her mouth.
He vaguely remembered wanting to leave her alive, why? That was not what monsters did. He surely was one after all, look what he had done, the deaths he had caused merely by accident, and the ones he'd caused on purpose, willing or not. He was meant for this and nothing more, to bring pain or pleasure before the release of death. It was the only thing he was good for, he had failed at everything else after all. Why just recently look at what he had done to his colleagues! Oh if he had finished them! He almost had Hagrid. That dream, perhaps he could have another tonight. Many more. That was peace, the only peace he deserved. He was a monster after all, they did not get to experience joy except in what they stole from others. He had to be a monster, if he was willing to do such despicable things to those he cared about.
He thrust forward, hard and fast now, the woman panting around his fingers as her pleasure grew. She was his sheath, and every part that slid into her felt at home, felt warm and right and alive. He didn't care about her, but she was perfect, as perfect as all mortals were when they were fulfilling him in any number of ways.
He could remember the taste of each one, pine, gold, a memory of sun, but he had his favorites. Minerva had been glorious. After all his efforts and that damn itching; to drink that energy, to feel her drum in his mouth like he felt this woman's, had been bliss. He could go back and finish the job, but what sort of end should he give her?
Suddenly in the back of his mind he could hear the faint half dead voice of Minerva McGonagall.
"What would Lily think, Severus?"
His eyes flashed open and his teeth scraped across the wound painfully as he gasped for air he didn't need. Memories of his greatest regret and closest friend flooding him and ruining his rhythm. He felt himself flagging at the sudden intense bout of self loathing. Memories of who he was, what he was, and why, assaulted him in seconds.
Unaware of his turmoil and apparently sent over the brink by the pain from his teeth the woman beneath him gasped and she tightened as ripples of pleasure sent sparks through her. She moved her attention to his no longer bleeding ring and pinky finger. She bit, the fading cuts reopening at her direction, and she placed them near the back of her throat and sucked, hard, enclosing them in warmth and biting their base.
Snape groaned, and felt himself harden again, it had been too long for him not to. He began to move his hips faster, needing that increased friction, the distraction from his past failure, and the one that had almost just happened. He resisted the temptation to lean back down and bite her neck. He wanted more though. Elsewhere, less blood flow. Less tempting. She would survive this. She would. He was not a monster, not completely. He refused. He was in control dammit!
He leaned down, ignoring her protests through his fingers, and began to suckle her collar bone. He made a cut with his teeth and did what his lowly cousins did, lapped at the blood pooling in the little cup made by that bone and the surrounding tendons and muscles. He let go of her hands and with his now unoccupied he laid it on her left breast. It was firm, natural, and felt soft to the touch, her nipple raised from lust. He dragged his tongue across the thin layer of skin atop her collarbone. Nibbled at the flesh there, and was rewarded with another tantalizing moan. He bottomed out and each thrust to that wall sent shocks of sensation up every nerve.
He lapped at the blood that pooled in the hollow near her neck, tempting himself and pushing the want away. He would resist. He licked the last of the blood away and trailed kisses and bites down toward the other side of her chest. He slowed his pace below, teasing her with a circular motion and she whimpered in displeasure as the second burgeoning pressure in her nethers slowed.
He was Professor Severus Snape, Spy, Potions Master, and he was indeed a vampire. And he was in control.
He took one nipple in his mouth and the other between his thumb and pointer finger, and squeezed them both. She gasped. Such a glorious sound, it made him want to thrust in hard and hot, bite down and drink until the gasps came constantly, until her breath faded like a summer breeze. Like the end of the storm that her blood whispered of. He twisted his fingers slightly and she moaned. That sound, Merlin. That sound…
He took his mouth away and stopped moving.
"Be quiet for me." He whispered into her chest as she panted. "If you make a noise, I will stop." If she made too many noises, he'd kill her in a blur of pleasure and blood. Perhaps silence would help. It had to. She would survive this. He would not fail. He could not. He was in control.
She nodded and grabbed his hand with her own, massaging the palm. She pulled the other through his hair. He began to slowly move in and out, making sure not to hit that point of pleasure inside her, building them both up slowly again. He had ground to regain since his colleague mentally interrupted, and saved the girl's life. He wanted this to last. He wanted more to eat. He'd barely had a pint. It didn't matter that he was planning on hunting more after this, he wanted to taste a summer storm that rained citrus and wine.
He trailed his teeth down the side of her breast and bit down; suckling till warmth filled his mouth once again. She gasped, and he stopped all movement. When there was silence once again he continued. And he picked up his pace.
He was Professor Severus Snape, Spy, Potions Master. He was a vampire, and he was in control.
He drank, stole her life as she happily struggled and squirmed beneath him. He changed his angle to hit that spot that made her cry out before. There was a small sound, but she stayed silent otherwise. He continued to hit it, he could feel the muscles on her stomach tighten, the ones around him tighten. He took one more pull and licked at the bite, cleaning away the blood that was left there. He kept up his pace as he moved up toward her collarbone again, he could feel pressure building for him, his bollocks tightening. Soon. His mouth would need to be off her then, it was safest.
He was Professor Severus Snape, Spy, Potions Master. He was a vampire, and he was in control.
He withdrew his hand from her soft lips and unyielding teeth and hissed a bit at the mild pain as some skin was left behind. He put both hands on the bed and as he made sure her collarbone was clean he began to move in earnest, with force afforded him by hands and knees digging into sheets and cloth. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Well done. You can listen." And he slammed into her with a vengeance as he licked once at her neck and removed his mouth from her flesh. He removed himself completely, and slammed in again. And again. And again until there was a rhythm and her hips bucked up to meet him and her heels dug into his back as she held on.
There was sound now, panting. He could deal with that. He was Professor Severus Snape, Spy, Potions Master. He was a vampire, and he… was in…control.
Faster, friction and warmth creating a facsimile of life. Harder, hitting spots that made her warm flesh tighten and quiver. Nearly there. Nearly there. He grabbed her bottom and pulled it up to meet him, angling her and thrusting down. He felt her tightening. He could feel, smell fresh blood as she bit her lip in an attempt not to make a sound. He was close, she was closer.
"You may speak now."
She did. A sea wizard would be proud of the profanity that came from her bloody lips. He cut off the noise by covering them with his own, and as he licked off the blood she tightened around him briefly and then melted, reaching her peak for the second time that night. She screamed into his mouth, almost making his teeth vibrate and he pulled away. He was nearly there himself, and he was reluctant to have his fangs near her flesh when he finished.
He continued his pace, faster and harder than humanly possible. Thrusting and snapping his hips to get that sweet friction against soft velvet flesh. He was so close, so close, but without that red life in his mouth there seemed a block. Perhaps because it was so near and he was refusing it, a punishment from that red mist that sought to control him. A punishment for all his deeds, for stealing her life. But he was so close. So close. So close. Perhaps just a tas-
No. He was Professor Severus Snape, Spy, Potions Master. He was a vampire, he was in control, he was so close-
And then she grabbed his arm and nipped hard at his wrist.
Release! His bollocks tightened, sending shooting pleasure down his prick and groin. Sensations ran through him with an intensity he had not felt for years. Normal everyday joys and pleasures eluded him more often than not as he occluded and pushed the red mist away. But this, this he could feel. The strangled cry as he came to his conclusion was barely human. He was a vampire, but he was still in control.
(End explicit scene)
He felt limp and weak, relaxed like he hadn't felt in years. Aftershocks of white hot pleasure shot through him, and they continued after he extricated himself and fell down beside her, breathing heavy false breaths, fingers twitching every so slightly. There was silence except for her heart and the movement of exhausted satisfied muscles pushing air around. He closed his eyes and breathed, feeling the life moving in him, filling him. Warmth. The memory of a summer storm and citrus. The warm living creature next to him, her deep breaths a small reminder of the tumultuous storm that lived in her blood, and would briefly live in his.
He smirked in the darkness. He had succeeded. The woman beside him was alive. His smirk faded quickly, he hadn't succeeded through his own occlumency skills alone though, he'd been pushed by a memory. He had, however, controlled the situation and found out a trigger. Sound. Sound was a big trigger it seemed, at least in this situation.
He would need to find out if it was the same in less sexual situations as well. His body cried out for more. He'd satisfy those urges tonight, as much as he was able. He'd hunt, eat, stalk, and drink his way through the suburbs until he could rely on the strength of his occlumency again. The fact that he was going to enjoy it, was besides the point. He had already begun to. He had no desire to turn back now.
"Wow. That… That was intense. Been a while for you?"
The woman's voice brought him out of his reverie. He ignored her and in the dark rolled over on his side so his actions were hidden even more. He grabbed his wand and vanished the condom. It could complicate matters if she saw that it was filled with blood instead of what was normally there. He then stood up and situated himself, buttoning up his trousers and then magicking his socks and shoes on before sheathing his wand in the dark.
"You could say that. I am paying the remainder of your fee in gold, I'm sure that is not a problem." He said, putting 50 galleons on the dresser.
"Wait. I… I don't normally ask this-"
"Then you should probably continue that practice. And tell no one about me." The command lay in the air and he watched her nod her assent.
"But…will I see you again?"
Godsdamnit. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. Muggles were so much more susceptible to vampiric blood, of course she'd want more, want him again by proxy. However, oranges and spice and wine… that's the flavor he'd wanted. He let his eyes wander up and down the woman before him, tired and tangled in sheets, covered in sweat and teeth marks. This had been a pleasurable encounter. And she was alive. If he could manage to control himself, rebuild his shields, perhaps this could be a reward.
He let his wand fall into his hand and flicked it. Her wounds healed slightly, not too much as to be odd though. He then twisted his wrist so the wand jumped back into the holster. Opening the door so his face was visible he nodded to her.
"You indeed may. I had a surprisingly enjoyable evening."