Work Text:
The dungeons have never felt so warm before, in fact, it’s nearly stifling.
He suspects, with his limited capability to string together a coherent thought right now, it has more to do with his current company and situation than the temperature. This part of the castle is cold no matter what time of the year it is. He isn’t about to complain, however, as his fingers bury deeper into the soft brown curls of the woman who is the current reason for the rise in heat.
Hermione’s lips, pink and plump, are wrapped firmly around his cock which glistens with a mixture of his arousal and her saliva. Watching his length disappear with every descent of her mouth is almost torture, and he grips the bedsheets with his other hand and resists the urge to thrust his hips or push her head down further. She’s taking him so well, swallowing him to the root, and while a part of him wishes she’d speed up, he also wants this to last.
Her tongue traces along the underside, tickling the frenulum and this time Severus groans, unable to muffle his pleasure. Where the hell had she learned to suck cock so well? He’s not certain he actually wants to know. All he cares about is the fact that she’s currently bestowing the gift of her talents upon him.
The breath flees his chest as she looks up at him. One of her hands is wrapped around the base, and she strokes him in counterpoint to the movement of her mouth. Right then he catches a glimpse of the same determination he’d seen in her honeyed eyes the moment before she’d kissed him at the school gates only thirty minutes earlier.
Severus still isn’t quite clear on how he’d gone from having a miserable night at the pub while his colleagues “celebrated” his birth, to now.
Watching her—feeling the exquisite slip and slide—causes his nostrils to flare and the pleasure threatens to overwhelm him. He quickly turns his thoughts back to earlier in the evening at the pub, summoning images of Minerva and Pomona nagging him about being a miserable sod to distract himself from coming too soon.
This entire evening had been their idea. Little had he known, this birthday would prove to be most fortuitous indeed, but he’d been surly about it right up until Hermione’s booted foot had slid up the front of his shin beneath the table. He’d been certain their banter—the daily to-and-fro he’d become accustomed to—was simply her way of being friendly. Severus never once imagined she had actually been flirting.
With him, no less.
In the past he’s learned not to accept anything at face value, and that the women he desired rarely wanted him back. It’s an assumption that is safe and avoids disappointment. Becoming friends with Granger—Hermione—had been entirely unintentional. Growing feelings for her over the past twelve months had been unacceptable.
But she’d left the pub, with him.
Walked back to the castle, with him.
She’d kissed him, first.
Just thinking about her boldness—about her sweet tongue pushing past his lips to tangle with his—has him swiftly on edge again. He senses his balls beginning to draw closer as his body prepares to find release, and Severus tugs at her hair, pulling her away from his ruddy prick.
“Why’d you stop me?” Hermione asks, breathless.
Seeing her like this, her hair mussed with barely a ring of her honey irises visible around her dilated pupils, tempts him to allow her to continue. But now that he has her, here and in his chambers, he isn’t about to let the opportunity to have her properly pass. Not where there is no guarantee this will happen again. In fact, he’s rather certain she’ll be horrified when she comes to her senses.
Instead of speaking, he gently eases her hand off his cock and sits up, tugging her to join him on the bed and straddle his lap. Burying his hand in her curls, he pulls her into a deep kiss, enjoying the weight of her upon him. Her pesky underthings are in the way, and once he draws back for breath, Severus traces a finger along the waistband as he murmurs the spell to remove them, the scrap of lace disappearing.
Hermione squeaks in surprise before batting his shoulder lightly with a pout. “That was my favourite pair,” she complains.
He chuckles, letting his hand drift between them, gravity and all the other forces working together for him to draw his long fingers through her sopping quim. “Circe, you’re wet,” he says, the words coming out more husky than intended. Her desire is gratifying, and he feels a little less like she’s doing this out of misplaced pity.
Severus circles her clit, enjoying the way her breath and entire body shudders from the light touch. He presses against it more firmly, and her hips buck against him.
“Severus,” she moans, her voice breathy. Her body rocks into his touch, and he slips two fingers inside her, groaning at the snug fit, imagine how she will feel around his—
“Please,” Hermione says, her fingers carding through his hair, “don’t make me wait.”
He smirks but doesn’t cease the movement of his fingers or stop grinding his thumb against her clit. After a few more strokes, Severus finally replaces his fingers with the blunt end of his shaft, rubbing it through her damp folds to lubricate it. Hermione’s descent is slow, and when her tight little snatch fully envelops him, he has to pause to catch his breath.
She doesn’t wait for him to move, raising herself up before she slams back down, rolling her hips as she does.
“Fuck,” he curses, not expecting her to be so assertive. But of course she is. This is Hermione Granger, after all.
Grabbing her hips, he digs his heels into the mattress for leverage so he can thrust up to meet her, pulling her down into him. Even with her bra still on, her tits bounce and he reaches up to draw down a lacy cup so he can lean forward to take one of the tightly puckered nipples into his mouth.
“Yes,” she sighs, one of her hands drifting to cup the back of his head to hold it against her.
The room is filled with the sounds of their heavy breaths, the slap of their skin as they come together over and over, and her mewls of gratification. He senses that Hermione is approaching climax from the way her walls begin to undulate, her movements shorter and faster and she grinds down on him.
“Come for me, witch,” he growls, kissing a path from her breasts up to her throat. “Come on my cock.”
His eyes practically roll back in his skull as he does his best not to immediately flood her the moment her orgasm hits, the squeeze of her body, unlike any touch from his own hand. He can’t remember the last time he’d made a woman climax and it damn near causes him to lose it. When she swiftly dislodges him and slips down to kneel on the floor beside the bed, Severus is left stunned, his bollocks about ready to burst, cock straining towards her.
Hermione’s fingers slip into his hand, and she tries to tug him to stand before her. Frowning, he begins to argue, but she shakes her head, staring up at him with a pretty smile.
“I want to, Severus,” she implores, urging him onto his feet and running her hands up and down his lightly furred thighs. “It’s your birthday, after all. Please let me just—”
Before she can say another word, her lips are wrapped around his weeping prick again, and she’s swirling her tongue over the head. Any words of protest immediately flee at the glorious feeling of of suction combined with how eagerly she applies herself. This time he knows he won’t be able to hold off his climax again, his testes almost in pain from how long he has denied himself relief.
“Gods, Hermione.” He cups her cheek, trying to maintain eye contact with her as this unbelievable witch gives him the best blowjob of his entire life.
It isn’t long before he is babbling praise near-incoherently, finally giving into the demands of his autonomic nervous system, flooding her mouth with his seed. She slows but doesn’t stop, and if he hadn’t just spent himself already, watching her throat work as she swallows might have triggered another release.
When he can breathe again, he watches as she releases his slowly softening cock from her mouth, and looking up at him with a cheeky grin, she leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip before standing on shaky legs. Severus reaches for her, dragging her against him and leaning down to claim her mouth in an aggressive kiss, his crooked teeth catching her bottom lip. He doesn’t give a flying fuck that she tastes like the salty bitter of his seed, in fact, it makes his spent cock stir a little.
To exhausted for another round right now, Severus wills the errant feeling away, drawing back to catch his breath and lead them back to his bed to collapse upon it. She curls into his side in a way that causes his heart to thump hard in his chest, and his mouth to go dry.
“That was…” Words fail him, and he simply gestures in the air vaguely, hoping she will understand his meaning.
Hermione chuckles. “I agree.”
After a few minutes, he turns his head to look at her. “I insist you allow me to return the favour,” Severus tells her seriously. “I mean it.”
“Is that a threat?” she teases.
“It’s a promise, Miss Granger.”
“Oh, I like it when you call me that,” she laughs.
He snorts. “Cheeky little succubus.”
She grins without remorse. “Severus?”
“Mmm?”
“Happy Birthday.”
