Author's Notes: Written for Sin Serial and Smut challenges at GrangerSnape100. Thanks to ubiquirk for beta reading.
His Adam's apple catches in his throat as he watches through half-lidded eyes the sight of his beautiful witch spread before him, his tongue thick and heavy with unspoken words of reverence, desire and absolute need.
She smiles her sleepy, secret smile for him and him alone. The one that sends his heart racing triple time, makes his cock tighten and ache for sweet release as his mind clouds with thoughts of long, slow fucks against the cool stone of the dungeon walls. The one that sets his blood afire with a lust so powerful it could shake the ages.
Starting with the elegant arches of her feet, he glides his sinfully skilled hands along the well-defined curves of her body, stopping only to breathe in her scent or apply soft, wet kisses to her calves, the hollows just behind her knees, the insides of her thighs.
Before long, he arrives at the promised land of her cunt, the honeyed fountain from which he could drink forever and never sate his thirst. He is a glutton and would gladly drown within the depths of her essence. Severus could think of no more magnificent way for him to meet his end.
He fits his hands to cup and lift her arse, leaning in to slowly, painstakingly devour her. He swipes the flat of his tongue along her fevered flesh, varying the pressure and rhythm, teasing her with promises that only his wicked mouth can possibly fulfil.
She calls his name, her voice strained and rough, laced with a slight admonishment for keeping her so very close to the edge of completion. Greedily, he files away the sound with all the other mewls and gasps he's elicited from her over the years. Before night's end, he will make his name her mantra.
He ghosts his tongue lazily over her clit, drawing patterns of her favourite alchemical symbols and naughty endearments as he savours the sweetness of her heat. He groans deep and slow, lost in the feel and taste of her when his ministrations are rewarded with hitches of breath, followed by shudders and a rush of wetness.
A sigh of satisfaction escapes her as her eyes flutter closed. She reaches for him and pulls him down to lay beside her, face to face. She touches her fingers to his lips, languidly tracing their thin lines before lowering her mouth to his.
Severus relishes the feel of her delicious mouth against his, the slide of her hands across the sinewy planes of his shoulders as they come to rest on his chest. He gently cradles her face in his hands, the roughened pads of his thumbs mapping the breadth of her forehead, nose and cheekbones.
As he breaks the kiss to nuzzle her neck, a wave of ferocity overtakes him when he discovers the evidence of Bellatrix's handiwork. What he wouldn't give to master the art of Necromancy and resurrect that maniacal bitch, simply to have the pleasure of killing her himself.
Briefly losing himself within that disturbing fantasy, he's jolted back to reality when Hermione brushes her hands along his pubis and expertly grasps his cock, stroking him with agonising precision.
Circe! If Lucius only knew what he's missing. That'll teach him to decline a threesome invitation on principle simply because Hermione didn't wish to play Lord and Lady. He's going to be one envious bugger when I send him a patented Weasley Pensieve Message.
Severus' body tenses as she changes the pressure and angle of her grip. He thrusts in earnest as the heat of her mouth closes over him.
He comes undone, physically, figuratively. There's no more shame to fill him, no pride to hide behind. All that he is, all that he has, he gives to this woman freely to be with her—complete, whole and one with her.
As they lay wrapped in one another's arms, he silently wonders how the gods could be so foolish in allowing him this woman, how he could be so damned lucky when his life is littered with remnants of deadly sins committed daily.
Whatever their maddening reasons, he gladly takes it, for even sinners deserve the gift of a saint.