| That's
What I Want for Christmas by McAmy
A/N: This expanded scene is rated a strong R for graphic sex.
He loved her laugh. And indeed, the prospect of Severus Snape working with Bill Geurin (Gryffindor, of course, with no interest whatsoever in Potions)--or Greg McDaniels (also Gryffindor, but had proved adequate in class), for that matter--on a surprise for his…girlfriend? No, he couldn't use that word. Had to be…partner. These thoughts flashed through Severus's mind as Hermione giggled at his news that her friend Bill had helped him bring Christmas music into the dungeon. It was a gift for himself, as much as it was for her. It was the best excuse he could find to hold her in his arms for an indefinite length of time. The most amazing thing of all was that he had suddenly realized that he probably didn't need the excuse… He drew Hermione closer, bending his head down to hers and feeling the warmth of her cheek against his. He heard her sigh. And, sometime after the music changed to the second song, she nestled her head against his shoulder, and his mind screamed, "My Gods, how I want her…" Repressing the thought quickly, knowing that there were things she had to know, things he had to ask, before they could…and he had promised himself he would not rush her. He had vowed that she would set the pace. After all, he would be happy simply to dance with her forever… He brought the hand he was holding to his lips, and kissed her palm gently. The song changed again.
When she nuzzled her nose against his collar, he let out a sigh.
And when she trailed kisses across his neck, jaw, cheek…he felt his body begin to respond…. True to his vow, he had never let himself fantasize (at least freely; he couldn't control his dreams), and this…this had not been a problem until now. Sitting together contentedly, kissing tenderly--that had been enough. But her lips were so soft…so insistent…so warm and sweet…
He couldn't help himself; he captured her lips with his, felt his restraint slipping…
As their kisses grew more passionate, she encircled his neck with her arms, and he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest…he moved his hand to the back of her neck and all but groaned at the feel of her hair on his hands. He wanted so much to take it down, to let it cascade freely down her back…
This was too soon…too much…but he felt her lips part, and then flicked his tongue out to taste them…and found her mouth open, welcoming…Gods, she was delicious…
As he broke off the kiss, Hermione pressed against him, her breathing uneven, her face hot, and he knew that he had to find some measure of control…before his body betrayed him…. He concentrated on tracing a path down her neck with his lips…tried not to feel her warm breath on his ear… But then she said his name… "Severus…" He had not imagined that she would want this so soon. The fact that she wanted him at all still came as a surprise. And they had only been together, romantically (he also refused the word "dating"), for less than two months. Surely this was too fast? Not that he had any real basis for comparison… He pulled back to look at her…her gently parted lips, lightly swollen…her eyes, gazing at him with…desire. That was the only word for it. He touched her cheek. But he had paused a moment too long, and the look had been replaced by one that was both slightly guarded and definitely anxious. He stammered out something about not realizing that she wanted this, about needing to talk, to ask questions, and he flicked his wand to end the music. She still looked…maybe he had been wrong. Gods. "Or maybe I've just misread your intentions completely." "No…" she insisted, "no…you haven't." She paused, and he had no idea what to say. "That is…I didn't plan…" The thought that she would have planned any such thing made him smile. "Didn't plan to seduce me for Christmas? No, I didn't think that you had. But I didn't expect…" Searching for the right words, he was surprised to feel her hand in his. "You said that there were things you needed to tell me, questions...ask me now, Severus." Her calm, sure responses made him feel normal again. "This will not be a particularly romantic conversation, my love. We could wait until after the holiday." "No," she said, and all reserve and worry had passed from her face. "Let's have the conversation now, and then…then I'll tell you if I still want to stay tonight." She was amazing, and he laughed softly at her practicality, even in such things as this. "Fair enough."
She had answered his questions--how relieved he was that she didn't want children. He honestly would have sent her away; he could not let himself have her, knowing that she would someday leave him for a man who could provide her with a family. She was young; she might yet change her mind. But he suspected that she knew her mind quite well, in this as in all things. He had laughed out loud when she told him that she was scared he'd want children. The very idea. It made him more comfortable, though, to see that she was nervous as well, that she hadn't quite been certain of his answer, but had been honest nonetheless. She had made it very clear that nobody's opinion of him--of them--would stand in her way. Probably, he had thought with a smile, not even his. And then he had told her about his past…indiscretions. He told her all of it, and she had made no sounds of disgust, no move to leave. She had simply…listened, a look of concentration and concern on her face. Had encouraged him to continue when he wasn't sure that he could. When she did not respond at the end of his tale, however, he gave her the opportunity to go. "I will understand if you leave." But he had a fleeting thought that he would die if she did. She came to stand beside him. "It doesn't matter to me," she began, and when she laid her hand on his cheek, he looked away. She trapped his face between her hands, gazed into his eyes. "It doesn't matter to me," she repeated, "except for the fact that you carry it with you--that it still has the power to hurt you. I'm sorry for that." Now he looked into her eyes. Now he would see her pity. But he saw only…love, caring, understanding…forgiveness. "I love you," she said, and he believed her. Utterly and completely, he believed her. As she kissed him, he felt the weight of the ages lift from his chest. After a moment, she said softly, "I don't want to leave…" "Then stay."
Hermione smiled, and kissed him. In the back of her mind, a small voice asked if this wasn't too soon, if she was sure, if perhaps she should wait a while…maybe Easter? Severus pulled her close, and as she felt his hands gliding over the velvet of her dress to press at her back, she told the little voice to take a hike. She was still nervous, but his kisses were slow and sure, his hands comforting even as they excited her, and she felt completely safe--completely certain. Opening her lips to his, she caught her breath as his tongue began a careful exploration of her mouth. She did her best to keep up, but she found that she couldn't put together a conscious thought. The warmth, the taste of him…after a minute or two she did manage to think that the sofa might not be a bad choice. Her knees actually were getting weak. And then she realized that one of the lovely hands that had been caressing her back had moved to her side and was resting on her hip. It paused there, briefly, before the fingers ran slowly up her side. She shivered. And when that same hand came around to cup her breast, kneading ever so slightly, the thumb finding her nipple and beginning to circle, she really thought she might faint. About the time she realized that she had a death grip on his other shoulder, he took his mouth away, leaving her gasping for breath. His hands went around her waist, and she rested her head on his chest. "You must tell me if you want to stop, Hermione, though there will come a point after which I won't be able to do so…" He rested his chin on the top of her head. "I want to stay," she murmured, realizing too late that he hadn't asked a question. He chuckled. "You've made that perfectly clear." A pause; breath slowing slightly. Hermione…" his arms tightened briefly, his lips brushed her hair, "I don't want to hurt you…" Now she tilted her head back to smile at him. "I want to stay," she said, and gave him a kiss.
"You know, I always loved this suit, with all of its buttons, but now I just think it's some form of torture," Hermione announced, working to loosen one cuff as he unhooked the other. She needed a minute of calm, needed to focus on the row of intricate buttons. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she realized that she was beginning to babble. When she had succeeded in undoing a few buttons, he took her hands in his. Holding them to his chest, he leaned down to kiss her. When his hands moved to her neck, her fingers moved to his collar. "Too many damned buttons," she teased, in between his kisses, and felt him smile. They kissed as she unbuttoned, and at some point he chuckled. "Perhaps we should sit down. How long will this take, do you think?" She did her best not to smile. "Do it yourself, then, if you think you can be quicker about it." He raised an eyebrow, and, not moving away, quickly released the remaining buttons. As he took the jacket off and turned to lay it over the end of the sofa, she said, "Oh, for the Gods' sakes!" The shirt had a similar row of buttons. He smiled, beginning with the left cuff. "Don't worry. If I loosen the cuffs and collar, the shirt will come off over my head without undoing the rest." "Really…" Hermione drawled, a gleam in her eye. "How convenient…" She moved closer, beginning to gently pull the ends of the shirt out of his trousers. She tugged on the waistband and noted wryly, "And don't tell me. More buttons?" "Yes, my love, but those promise to be much more fun…"
He had needed the insanity of the buttons as well. He could tell that she was still nervous, but when he had offered her the chance to stop, it was clear that she had no intention of doing so. Though his words were measured and his amusement at her attempt to undress him genuine, he needed a moment to catch his breath. He still didn't want to rush her. At least his body was cooperating on that front…so far. When she had pulled his shirt off over his head, only to rest one hand on his rib cage while she began with the other one to track tentative circles across his chest, any calm he had regained quickly vanished. He closed his eyes, content to let her explore. At the feeling of her mouth on his nipple, however, his eyes shot open again. He looked down at her to see her grinning mischievously. "Are you positive that you haven't done this before?" he teased, buying himself another moment to regroup. She giggled. "Positive." She kissed his chest, and then gave him another look. "But I have always been a quick learner." Placing his hands on her hips, he raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Then perhaps a little quiz…shall we say, Latin? The phrase I want you to translate is quid pro quo. Sadly, I think you only know the answer from some movie or other." As she giggled, he turned her around, taking the opportunity to kiss the back of her neck.
He began with her hair. His hands quickly found the combs that held it atop her head, and as he pulled them out gently, the curls fell down her back. He let his hands roam through them for a few moments, and she leaned back against him. With one hand, he stroked her hair and then pulled the mass of it aside. With the other, he found the top of the zipper and slowly began to move it downwards. Letting her hair fall, he put the first hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "I'm a little disappointed that you couldn't find a dress with…buttons." He smiled at the shiver that ran through her frame. Drawing the zipper even more slowly, he ran his tongue around the rim of her ear, stopping to catch the lobe in his teeth for a moment. She whimpered. Smiling to himself, he noticed that the zipper had finally reached the end of its track. He reached a hand inside the fabric to rest it at her waist. With a kiss on her neck, he moved both hands to her shoulders, and she reached up to help him guide the dress to the floor. She shivered, either from cold or excitement, and he took her in his arms, closing his eyes… He felt her move, shifting away from him, and he looked at her then. She turned, slowly, to face him, and blushed as his gaze traveled the length of her. "You are…exquisite…" he whispered.
As his eyes trailed back up her body, Hermione decided that she couldn't stand it; she simply had to explain. "I…really didn't plan this," she noted, trying to ignore the smile she saw flickering at the edge of his mouth. "I just…well, I was trying things out for…future reference." "Hmm." An approving glance. "No, I wouldn't have expected you to wear such…elaborate underthings…" he moved to embrace her, adding, "not that I mind…" He ran a finger over her shoulder and beneath the strap of her bra, causing her to shudder again. "Cold?" he asked, and she couldn't tell if he was joking. She answered by shifting closer. Suddenly, she found she couldn't stand for him to keep his beautiful hands still…she needed him to touch her. She kissed him as passionately as she knew how, pressing herself against him, feeling his growing hardness against her stomach, even through the layers that still separated them, and moaned as his hands began to caress her body…her back, her hips, her shoulders…finally he turned her around with her back to him, and both of his hands claimed a breast as he kissed her neck. About the time her knees were threatening to weaken again, he murmured in her ear, "We've reached the limit of what I can do standing up…at least what I can do well…" She turned to face him with a little smile, and, moving her hands to his waistband again, said, "Well, then. We'd better take care of the rest of these buttons…"
Feeling her feathery touch at the front of his trousers (she seemed to have gotten the knack of those buttons, he noted to himself), Severus thought he would lose control. She undid the fastenings, sliding the garment down past his knees to the floor, and, on her way back up, ran her hand along the soft grey material at his hip. If she was startled at the sight of his erection straining against his underpants, she didn't show it. She smiled at him, took his hand, and moved to the bed. She pulled back the covers and then turned to him; he said simply, "sit." The bed was tall, so he placed a hand on either side of her waist to help lift her up. She sat on the edge, and he came to stand in front of her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. His fingers trailed down her shoulder, her arm, to her thigh, where they dexterously unclasped her right stocking from its garters. Releasing her lips, he moved both hands to slowly peel the stocking from her leg, occasionally kissing the newly uncovered skin on his path to her toes.
As Severus kissed her inner thigh, Hermione let herself sink backwards onto the bed. And as his hands and lips returned to repeat their treatment on her other leg, the feel of his breath caused a spark of flame to shoot from her womb up into her chest. She felt herself run wet, and thought that she had never been this aroused. Gods, this was incredible. Her stockings gone, she felt Severus guiding her legs onto the bed and she turned herself to lie down properly. He lay beside her, and she put a hand to his neck and drew his mouth down to hers. As they kissed, his hand found her breast, beginning again that lovely caress; she could feel her erect nipple chafing against the ivory satin. His mouth replaced his hand, tongue trailing across the top of a breast, tracing the edge of her bra, while his hand moved to caress her inner thigh. She couldn't help it; she began to writhe beneath his touch. "Severus…I…" And then his face was above hers, his hand in her hair, his eyes searching hers. "What is it?" She kissed him deeply. "I love you." He smiled. "I love you, too."
Still smiling, his hand moved now to her shoulder, sliding the strap of her bra from the smooth skin. She rolled towards him, allowing him to reach behind and unhook the garment, and he slowly pulled the satin away. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of her. Smooth, creamy skin; dark, round aureoles; nipples hard and sensitive to his touch. He leaned down to the closest one and tasted it with his tongue. She moaned, moved her hand to wind her fingers through his hair. He thought he could stay there forever, suckling, listening to the sounds of her labored breathing, her soft moans. "Severus…" This time, he knew better than to think that she was going to ask him to stop, and so did not pause in his ministrations. "Hmm…" he murmured against her flesh. "…I want…I want to see you…"
She surprised herself with that request, and for a moment worried what he would say. But he simply rolled away from her slightly, and said, "Whatever you want…" Hermione smiled, primarily out of nerves, and reached out a hand to stroke his chest. Raising herself to her knees, she allowed herself a good, long look at him--thin, but with lean muscle under the pale surface. She ran her hand through the dusting of hair on his chest, and then down across his stomach, delighting in the gooseflesh that resulted from her touch. She leaned down to kiss his abdomen, and then, with a quick glance at his face--no sign of the wry Potions Master now, and it startled her to see his response to her attempts, since she hadn't really thought she'd know how to please him--she hooked her fingers over the waistband of his underpants and pulled them gently down… Though she had seen photos before, the other girls' comments about penises ("Eww…they're so gross…all red and hairy and…bumpy!" Parvati had declared as they put their heads together over a Muggle magazine the girl had smuggled into school in their sixth year) had left her unsure of what her reaction might be to seeing one…well, up close and personal. With a smile to herself, she thought, "Not so bad…" Though it did seem a little…larger…than she had imagined. Not-so-innocent curiosity got the better of her, and, after giving it a questioning stroke with one finger, she wrapped her hand around him, reveling in the warm paradox of soft hardness. "Merlin's beard…" he groaned. She knew she'd done something--right or wrong, she couldn't exactly tell--because he never invoked Merlin, if he could help it…
Severus had watched her explorations in silence, his growing desire mixed with curiosity. The touch of her finger had been torture enough, but when she held him in her hand, he thought he would explode. There was patience, and then there was patience…and he was quickly running out of both. "Merlin's beard…" he groaned. At the look on her face, he drew her back down to lie beside him. Rolling towards her, he brushed her hair from her face with one hand while the other roamed to her waist. "I'm afraid I don't have the…endurance to let you play as you will…not this time…" he said, and she giggled. He never thought he'd actually like the sound of a giggle… Silencing her with a kiss, his hand passed underneath the top of her panties, pausing for a moment when she gasped. He continued his path downwards, trailing the tips of his fingers through her curls, cupping her with his palm, and then allowing one tapered finger to slide within her folds. He was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath and the sound of his name, and as his finger toyed with its prize, she began to shift her hips. He removed his finger--she gave a shuddering sigh--and rose to his knees. He pulled the now-damp material down over her legs, lowering his mouth to run his tongue around her navel. Her hands fastened themselves in his hair, and he continued to kiss her stomach as his finger returned to its previous activity.
Hermione had never, even in her most successful attempts at self-stimulation, felt like this. Her whole body tingled, and the slow, steady motion of his hand at her clitoris made her want to scream. "Severus…please…I need you…" He raised his head to look at her, and the darkness of his eyes matched the huskiness of his voice. "Are you sure you're ready?" She could only nod, and catch her breath as that same long, lovely finger entered her. "Gods…yes…please…" she moaned…
Kissing his way back up to her mouth, Severus moved so that he was lying cradled between her legs. He felt her instinctively shift beneath him, and her legs came up to encircle his hips…perhaps leaving him a little less room than he needed to maneuver…at least at first. He kissed her deeply, gauging her reaction as his erection pressed against her opening. Her legs relaxed a little, and he paused for a moment to whisper, "It will only hurt for a moment…" He felt her nod, felt her hand grip his shoulder a little more tightly. Reaching down, he guided himself into her, placing only the tip of his penis inside at first, letting her get used to the feeling--letting himself get used to it, for that matter. Slowly, he pushed further; gradually he felt her relax. At the point of no return, his lips sought hers. He kissed her deeply as he broke through her barrier; she whimpered a little into his mouth. He put his cheek to hers, lying very still (though he thought he might pass out with the effort) and supporting himself on his elbows so as not to rest his full weight upon her, until he felt her shift underneath him. She drew her breath to speak, but instead kissed his shoulder. Her hand ran down his back, and as he began to thrust, gently, it caressed his hip, and then his buttock. "Severus…" she whispered, "I love you."
The feeling of him inside her--filling her--wasn't at all what she had expected. The pain was sharp, but quick, and whatever soreness she felt now was a distant second to the sweet, building tension inside of her. In the back of her mind, a doubt still lurked: she had wondered if she would be able to come to orgasm her first time with a man. This felt lovely, but she still wasn't sure…oh…my…Gods… Severus had begun to move a little faster, shifting just a bit every few strokes…now she realized why. "Oh…Gods…" she moaned, and her hips began to move in earnest, matching his rhythm instinctively. Her hands clutched at his back, she felt her eyelids flutter, heard him saying her name into her hair as he found that same delicious spot again and again. Faster now, and she was moaning with every thrust. She heard his breathing, ragged, heard him groan, and the sound of him put her over the edge. She grabbed at the headboard above her…she needed to hold onto something steady…. She came hard, her legs quivering, her vagina contracting…that same spark, magnified, shooting through her entire body…she screamed his name…
Her contractions brought Severus to his climax as well, and he groaned as she called out his name, spilling into her. He could not support his own weight anymore, and began to roll to his side. "No," she said softly. "Not yet…" So he remained where he was, letting himself relax, and her arms came around him. Still joined, for a minute they stayed there, their heartbeats returning to normal. He heard her sniffle, and shifted onto his side then, concerned. "Hermione…" She covered her eyes with her hand. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to cry…" "Did I hurt you…what's wrong? What is it?" "Nothing…I…" she looked at him, embarrassed, and choked out, "I'm just happy…" Kissing her forehead, he rose just long enough to pull the covers up over them both, and then held her as she cried softly.
"Better?" he asked gently. "Better," she answered. After a long pause, she spoke hesitantly. "I thought…well, I wasn't sure I would…but that was…good. Wasn't it?" He chuckled despite himself. "Yes, love. Very good." She seemed to relax with that reassurance, nestling in a little closer. A few minutes later, he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him so that she was resting with her head on his shoulder, held safely under his arm. Her hand moved lightly across his chest underneath the covers, but now it was far from torture. It was peace, contentment, belonging…something he had never thought to have. As he drifted off to sleep, he heard her whisper…"I love you, Severus…"
A/N: The song is "That's What I Want For Christmas," with lyrics by E. E. Lawrence. The "quid pro quo" reference is to Silence of the Lambs, a movie Hermione has watched with Bill and Greg. The idea of the Latin "lesson" comes from the stage play Les Liaisons Dangereuses--or, rather, the film version, Dangerous Liaisons, since I didn't get the chance to see Rickman as Valmont. ;) Valmont seems to suggest a different phrase, but maybe we'll get to that in another scene…. Oh, and the word "play" is a nod to Riley. Thanks to Catherine and Kathy for their help with this scene.
|
