When he awoke at dawn on Boxing Day, she was sprawled naked on top of him, lying sideways on the bed with her ear to his chest. Her eyes were open and it was obvious she had been staring at him again while he slept. It was also obvious to him that she had been thinking. He could tell she was confused, and perhaps even a bit disturbed, it seemed, by what had happened between them the previous night.
Snape raised an eyebrow at her, at which her own eyes narrowed slightly.
“Sometimes when you look at me I feel like I’m being x-rayed,” she said. “I don’t like it. I feel all…naked.”
Snape tangled a long finger in her hair. “That is because you are naked,” he said quietly. “And, of course, because I am a Legilimens.”
“Yes, I know,” she huffed. “And considering that you might have the decency not to make me feel so naked when I’m naked.”
Snape chuckled. His hand moved to her shoulder, and began stroking absently there. “Shall I…dress you with my eyes?”
“Yes,” she said, giving him a rather starchy look.
He chuckled again. “And how am I supposed to do that when you wake me up in the middle of the night the way you did just a few short hours ago?”
Jane looked away, her face reddening. In the middle of the night she had awakened him by taking him in her mouth. He would have been perfectly happy to continue sleeping, and told her so. But his resistance hadn’t lasted long, even though she certainly had taken her sweet time about the process. She seemed to take a certain satisfaction in teasing him, in giving back just a bit of what she had gotten from him hours before.
More than a bit, Snape thought. By the time she finished him he had done a fair amount of begging himself. But he did not begrudge her. How could he when it felt so fucking good?
“Well?” Snape prodded. “How am I supposed to look at you if you do things like that to me?”
She made another dismissive noise, but her head was still turned away.
“I might add as well that you should have the decency not to make me hoarse from begging you to let me come,” he intoned. “And if you are going to torture me like that, at least refrain from complaining later about the way that I look at you.”
Her breath quickened, and he smiled to himself. He had aroused and angered her at the same time, which, he thought, was only fair.
“I just wish you would stop…” she said at last, in a very small voice.
Snape’s hand moved to her back, where his fingers began to trace circles on her shoulder blades. Her back arched slightly. “Why? It seems you like this…”
“Not this …” she murmured. “This is actually lovely.”
“Then what?” Snape knew exactly what she meant. But he wanted to listen to her explain. “Stop what?”
She pursed her lips. “This,” she said, making a vague gesture with her hand.
“What, exactly, are you talking about?” Snape’s tone was amused, but Jane frowned.
At this she did look up. “Don’t be willfully dense!”
Snape began to laugh, which only made her more frustrated.
“What are you laughing at?”
“What I am laughing, at, Professor, is the incongruity. The fact that you can use that pretty little mouth” (and at this he ran his thumb over her full lips slowly) “eagerly, wantonly, to do the most intimate things to me…” (his fingers were in her hair, now) “but to use it to talk about doing them suddenly makes you blush like a coy little virgin. Of which I have firsthand knowledge that you most definitely are not.”
The truth was that he found the incongruity terribly arousing. Jane, who was now indeed blushing, had looked away again.
“Look at me,” he said, giving her hair a gentle tug. She complied.
“Now, say what you mean plainly, without resorting to euphemisms or vague gestures.”
She frowned, and her nose rose a bit in the air. “No,” she said primly. “I will not say it. You already know what I’m talking about and I resent you playing dumb just to toy with me for your own amusement.”
Then, with a noise like a “harrumph,” she plopped back down on his chest.
But Snape was still smiling. He did not mind her recalcitrance, but he thought it an odd thing indeed that just when he had, in essence, surrendered himself to her (albeit temporarily), she would attempt to pull away. Still, he continued to stroke her gently. Besides, she was correct. He was playing dumb just to toy with her for his own amusement. He said nothing for awhile, but merely continued to run his talented fingers up and down her back, until Jane’s every breath was a satisfied hum.
“Don’t you think I would stop if I could?” he said quietly, at last. “This is not at all convenient. Not at this time. Not at any time.”
Jane, apparently, had forgiven him. “Maybe it will wear off,” she said sleepily. “Do you think?”
Snape looked away, towards the window. The sky was a muddy pink, now, and glowing brighter. “Yes, unless we actually kill ourselves from it, a prospect I consider highly likely.”
She put her chin on her hands then, and her face grew very earnest. She was looking off away from him somewhere, as if she could not bear to say what she had to say if he pinned her with his stare.
“I don’t think I could take another night like last night, Severus,” she said. “I thought I would die of wanting you, but then when I finally had you at last I thought I would die of that, too.”
Severus Snape had thought exactly the same thing.
She frowned, and looked down in concentration. “I mean it was ten times more intense than when we first…I can’t even describe how…it was like the longing just built up in me and...”
“I know…” he interrupted, because he did.
“It’s just unsettling…how much I…how much you…” She trailed off then, lost for words, and the two of them lay in silence for awhile.
“And what do you suggest we do?” Snape finally asked.
At this she met his stare at last, and Snape saw a fierce determination there. “What else is there to do? Fuck each other all the time until we’re sick of it. Even you have to agree after last night that it’s our only alternative.”
He gave her a half smile. “I would think there are others.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“None that don’t involve one of us leaving Hogwarts entirely.”
Jane bristled at that. “I’m not leaving Hogwarts. I can’t control what you do but certainly you can’t expect me to…”
“Hush….” he soothed. “I wouldn’t ask you to leave. And I have no plans to leave either.”
Truthfully, he didn’t actually know if he was going to stay, at least if he married Princilla. Snape thought he might actually have to leave Hogwarts if he did, because he was beginning to think that he could not bear seeing Jane unless he could sleep with her as well, unless Jane’s plan actually worked, of which he had some doubt. Besides, he’d be rich, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t need to stay at Hogwarts.
Jane looked at him, resigned. “Well it’s settled then,” she said plainly. “We fuck ourselves blue.”
Snape’s brows lowered a bit. “You sound like you’re not looking forward to that…”
“That’s not it, Severus,” she said, shaking her head.
He looked at her, utterly confused. “Well, what is it then? I avoided this for as long as humanly possible, but I think your idea is as good as any, and as long this lasts I intend to enjoy myself. I suggest you do the same.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll enjoy myself plenty,” she told him. “You’ll see to that.”
Yes, Snape thought. Yes, I will.
“It’s just that I…I’m used to being fairly independent. Being with you is the most intense thing that’s ever happened to me, man-wise, and I don’t like feeling so...”
“Helpless…” he finished for her.
Her eyes widened in recognition. “Yes. And well all of a sudden it’s as if…”
“You’ve lost all control…”
The frustration in her eyes had melted now completely, and she was looking at him with grave sympathy. She nodded slowly. “You do understand…”
“I understand because I myself would not be here if I had any other choice, Jane. Any other choice at all.”
Jane considered this. “I don’t know whether I should feel flattered or insulted.”
“You should feel neither. I was not attempting to praise or offend. I was merely offering a fact.”
A wry smile curled at the corner of her lip, then. “You can’t resist me…”
Snape frowned again, because it vexed him that indeed he couldn’t. “And vice-versa,” he said dourly.
Then Jane smiled, her first genuine smile of the morning. She turned over so that her back was on his chest now. She sprawled against him, her breasts beautifully exposed, and sighed.
Snape cupped her breasts in his hands, as she arched her back and nestled her cheek to his. “This business about fucking each other all the time until we’re sick of it…” he began, “do you really think that will work?” His voice sounded husky in his own ears. He was hard again.
“I don’t know,” she breathed, her own hand finding him and gently rubbing him through the sheet. “But, well, not fucking each other didn’t make it better, did it?”
God, her hand felt wonderful. He murmured an agreement, bucking up into her palm, as she gently stroked him up and down, up and down, through the sheet.
“So, does ‘all the time’ include right now?” he murmured.
Apparently, it did. And he found himself quite happy to just lie there as she turned herself over, as she languidly rubbed her wet slit up and down his hard length (god, that’s good, put it in Jane…), as she slid down on him, riding him slowly, rhythmically. He didn’t have to beg, this time. Jane did all the work and didn’t stop, no not even once, not even at the very end, when his hands went to her head, pulling her mouth down to his, as the whole world bloomed a sweet, pulsing white.
She was still gasping on top of him when an owl flew through the open transom. Not Napoleon, though doubtless he would be back soon. But an owl dappled black, with a call that sounded like a bomb falling. He dropped a scroll right on Snape’s head.
A bit too quickly, Snape pushed Jane off him and retrieved it.
“How do you know that’s not for me?” she asked.
Snape noted the initials RG pressed into the seal of silver wax. “It’s not.”
“Oh,” she said, pulling herself up onto her elbow. “Looks important.”
It was understandable that she was curious about the Owl. She wanted to know who had sent it, and why. She was human after all, and there are no secrets more enticing than the ones held by a lover. For a brief moment, Snape felt cornered, and anxiety welled up in him. He had not felt truly anxious since…well, since Voldemort had fallen, and the feeling was no more pleasant now than it had been then.
Surely he should be able to handle an amorous Squib, and an overeager potential father-in-law. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he?
Of course he should. After those few seconds of almost blind panic, Snape grunted dismissively. “Hardly,” he said, retrieving his robes and slipping it into an inner pocket. The sun was fully up now. In fact breakfast would be served in 15 minutes.
“We should get dressed,” he said, “and go to eat. Separately, of course.”
“I’m not hungry,” she told him. There was a note of petulance in her voice. She resented his secrecy, but Snape thought she would resent his forthrightness on the matter of Roland Gash even more.
“You need to eat,” he said plainly, as he pulled on his underclothes. “It’s not like you’ve been sleeping all night.”
“Go on,” she said. “I’m still tired. I promise to take lunch.”
Snape looked at her, feeling himself about to insist that she eat something. But then he stopped himself. “Suit yourself,” he said tonelessly, sliding into his robes.
She was quiet then as Snape pulled on and tied his boots, saying nothing until just as Snape was about to put his hand in the Floo Powder.
“We should just stop right now, you know,” she said, very very softly. “Just vow never to ever be alone together, ever again.”
Snape’s hand fell to his hip, and he pursed his lips in frustration. Were all women like this? Emotionally manipulative little wenches, intent on making a man crazy in every way possible? He turned, marched back to the bed, and took her wrists firmly in his. She turned her face away.
“Look at me!” he demanded yet again. Askance, and from under half-lidded eyes, she did.
“You are an infuriatingly inconsistent creature,” he said angrily. “Just as I agree that we should not put constraints on our liaisons, just when I put aside all considerations of self-restraint, you suggest we don’t see each other at all! Well, which is it, Jane? I’m quite sure you’ll drive me to insanity either way, but at least grant me the small dignity of being able to plan my own madness!”
Jane bit her lip guiltily, and Severus Snape knew which one it was.
“Come by tonight at around ten,” she said, chastened.
Snape’s face softened, and he took her wrists and kissed each one in turn. “That’s better,” he said, moving to the fireplace again. “And if you don’t eat,” he added, “I warn you that you won’t have any strength to endure what I plan to put you through later this evening.”
She did smile at that, a wisp of a smile anyway. “A man of your years has got to tire sometime, Severus. It’s not natural, you fucking like some sixteen-year-old night after night…”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted.”
Jane’s smile deepened. She looked at him smugly. “I was not attempting to praise or offend. I was merely offering a fact.”
Then, as Snape threw the Floo powder into the fireplace, Jane Flintrammel pulled the covers up over her head, and went back to sleep.