Title: The Alchemy of Gloves--concluded
Title: The Alchemy Of Gloves--concluded
Team: Spy for DEs
Challenge: Smut, First Kiss (in case it's not graphic enough for smut)
Rating: R
Characters: Hermione, Severus
Word Count: 8 X 100
Author's Note: Alright, enough of you dangled plot carrots...
(ok, finally got that darned LJ cut working)
“Again without a chaperone, Miss Granger, people will talk.”
“Must I remind you of my title-“
The alchemist waved a dismissive hand,
“I will not condescend to use it. Now tell me, have you always used rose water?”
He succeeded in making her blush again, as she saw the silk glove left behind the previous day twined in his left fingertips. There was a silent acknowledgement in the meeting of their eyes and he quirked a dramatic eyebrow. With the smallest gesture of his head, he went into the backroom.
“Come.”
Lady Granger hesitated for a moment, and no longer.
***
Lady Granger pointedly ignored the worn bed in the corner of the room, and glared darkly at the alchemist when he was amused by the spectacle. However, contrary to her fears, he also paid it no more attention and instead perused his shelves.
“Rose water is for ladies of delicate dispositions, Miss Granger, and as such, is unsuitable for your use.”
She sniffed,
“I am a delicate woman.”
He drew close to her so quickly her breath hitched in her throat. Their noses were almost touching and his breath was warm and intrusive.
“Indeed? That would disappoint me ever so.”
***
Their gazes were locked for a second longer before the alchemist looked back to his shelves and neatly plucked a crystal phial from its fellows.
Uncorking the tiny phial, he placed a drop on her glove and then gently waved it in the air. Releasing the perfume, he held it under her nose.
It was spicy, almost like the private musk released from one’s skin. She was shamed into closing her eyes to continue to enjoy the audaciously intimate scent. She heard him whisper, somewhere by her ear.
“No flower, no fruit, no fragrance sweeter…than that of the blushing virgin…”
***
Lady Granger raised a hand to slap him for his rudeness, but he quickly caught her wrist. His eyes were smoldering and she felt a throbbing in her sex, and heat unfurl in the pit of her stomach.
“It has a unique taste as well…”
The glove fluttered to the ground, neglected, and he poured more perfume oil onto his fingertips. Her head swam with the fresh musk and she felt a fingertip rub oil on her bottom lip. Her tongue flicked forth nervously, and she immediately pulled away. It was bitter.
His hand still claiming her wrist held fast.
***
He looked at her hungrily, with no more playful façade of his intentions. His fingers were conducting a silent symphony at the pivot of her wrist.
“I could take the taste away.”
“How?”
The word escaped her lips in a sigh, his eyelids fluttered and he leaned forward to press his lips against hers. She hummed against his mouth and yelped when she felt the push of his tongue. His hand pressed against her ribcage, feeling the erratic palpitations of her heart. When her knees buckled he scooped her into his arms.
“No…”
She weakly protested, pushing against his shoulders.
***
“No?”
She was dumped onto the worn bed, and straddled. His fingers danced across her throat, his mouth following close behind. Her breathing became ragged and when her corset couldn’t contain her heaving chest any longer, he severed the laces and ripped it away. The hot kisses left on her stomach made her squirm and she squeezed her eyes shut.
An insistent knee pressed up against her groin and she whimpered in fear. She was suddenly aware of the absence of his hot mouth, his dancing fingers and heard his dark voice somewhere up above her.
“Look at me, Lady.”
***
She couldn’t, her hands twisted the sheets above her head.
“Look at me, or leave.”
His knee withdrew and with it the sweet pressure that had pushed against her neediest place, and she felt a dull ache in its stead. Her eyes tore open and locked with his, glittering, unfathomable.
“I will not have you make me a villainous man, Lady Granger.”
When she realized his intention was to discontinue and leave her virtue intact, she felt her heart constrict and her thighs clench. Desperately, she reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt. He gaped, surprised.
“It’s Hermione.”
***
Free of all restraint they became a tangled helix of limbs and sheets, man undistinguishable from woman undistinguishable from cloth. She heard her name several times over, groaned into her ear and gasped into her hair. He tasted her own perfume when his tongue flicked at the sweat glistening on the back of her knees. She learned of a different sort of alchemy when the clenching of her sex caused his eyes to darken and his mouth to fall open.
He slipped the phial into one glove before dressing her hands himself. A shared, secretive smile was their only goodbye.
Team: Spy for DEs
Challenge: Smut, First Kiss (in case it's not graphic enough for smut)
Rating: R
Characters: Hermione, Severus
Word Count: 8 X 100
Author's Note: Alright, enough of you dangled plot carrots...
(ok, finally got that darned LJ cut working)
“Again without a chaperone, Miss Granger, people will talk.”
“Must I remind you of my title-“
The alchemist waved a dismissive hand,
“I will not condescend to use it. Now tell me, have you always used rose water?”
He succeeded in making her blush again, as she saw the silk glove left behind the previous day twined in his left fingertips. There was a silent acknowledgement in the meeting of their eyes and he quirked a dramatic eyebrow. With the smallest gesture of his head, he went into the backroom.
“Come.”
Lady Granger hesitated for a moment, and no longer.
***
Lady Granger pointedly ignored the worn bed in the corner of the room, and glared darkly at the alchemist when he was amused by the spectacle. However, contrary to her fears, he also paid it no more attention and instead perused his shelves.
“Rose water is for ladies of delicate dispositions, Miss Granger, and as such, is unsuitable for your use.”
She sniffed,
“I am a delicate woman.”
He drew close to her so quickly her breath hitched in her throat. Their noses were almost touching and his breath was warm and intrusive.
“Indeed? That would disappoint me ever so.”
***
Their gazes were locked for a second longer before the alchemist looked back to his shelves and neatly plucked a crystal phial from its fellows.
Uncorking the tiny phial, he placed a drop on her glove and then gently waved it in the air. Releasing the perfume, he held it under her nose.
It was spicy, almost like the private musk released from one’s skin. She was shamed into closing her eyes to continue to enjoy the audaciously intimate scent. She heard him whisper, somewhere by her ear.
“No flower, no fruit, no fragrance sweeter…than that of the blushing virgin…”
***
Lady Granger raised a hand to slap him for his rudeness, but he quickly caught her wrist. His eyes were smoldering and she felt a throbbing in her sex, and heat unfurl in the pit of her stomach.
“It has a unique taste as well…”
The glove fluttered to the ground, neglected, and he poured more perfume oil onto his fingertips. Her head swam with the fresh musk and she felt a fingertip rub oil on her bottom lip. Her tongue flicked forth nervously, and she immediately pulled away. It was bitter.
His hand still claiming her wrist held fast.
***
He looked at her hungrily, with no more playful façade of his intentions. His fingers were conducting a silent symphony at the pivot of her wrist.
“I could take the taste away.”
“How?”
The word escaped her lips in a sigh, his eyelids fluttered and he leaned forward to press his lips against hers. She hummed against his mouth and yelped when she felt the push of his tongue. His hand pressed against her ribcage, feeling the erratic palpitations of her heart. When her knees buckled he scooped her into his arms.
“No…”
She weakly protested, pushing against his shoulders.
***
“No?”
She was dumped onto the worn bed, and straddled. His fingers danced across her throat, his mouth following close behind. Her breathing became ragged and when her corset couldn’t contain her heaving chest any longer, he severed the laces and ripped it away. The hot kisses left on her stomach made her squirm and she squeezed her eyes shut.
An insistent knee pressed up against her groin and she whimpered in fear. She was suddenly aware of the absence of his hot mouth, his dancing fingers and heard his dark voice somewhere up above her.
“Look at me, Lady.”
***
She couldn’t, her hands twisted the sheets above her head.
“Look at me, or leave.”
His knee withdrew and with it the sweet pressure that had pushed against her neediest place, and she felt a dull ache in its stead. Her eyes tore open and locked with his, glittering, unfathomable.
“I will not have you make me a villainous man, Lady Granger.”
When she realized his intention was to discontinue and leave her virtue intact, she felt her heart constrict and her thighs clench. Desperately, she reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt. He gaped, surprised.
“It’s Hermione.”
***
Free of all restraint they became a tangled helix of limbs and sheets, man undistinguishable from woman undistinguishable from cloth. She heard her name several times over, groaned into her ear and gasped into her hair. He tasted her own perfume when his tongue flicked at the sweat glistening on the back of her knees. She learned of a different sort of alchemy when the clenching of her sex caused his eyes to darken and his mouth to fall open.
He slipped the phial into one glove before dressing her hands himself. A shared, secretive smile was their only goodbye.