the day before you came - severus snape x reader

Chapter 19 - Honey Honey

A.N.: Explicit juicyness. Enjoy, ya filthy animals. xx

Soft streams of golden sunlight trickle through the heavy, emerald green curtains that cover the windows of Snapes bedroom, and the dim light tickles your nose when your eyelids flutter open.

It's early in the morning, maybe around five-ish, and you yawn quietly, cuddling up against the warm, hard shape beside you.

You're in absolute bliss.

His hand snakes into your hair when he feels you stirring against him, pulling you closer in his sleep, and your stupid hearts swells with joy. How can something this exceptional feel so natural so quick?

You want to wake up in his arms for eternity, you decide.

You brush his naked chest with your lips, tasting his musky, sublime skin with a little sweep of a curious tongue, and grin madly at his sleepy mutter.

He thrills you to no end and makes you absolutely dizzy, weak in your knees and mushy in your head.

His fingers tighten unconsciously in your locks, and your breath falters at the pull, flooding your brain with explicit pictures of the last night – fingers pushing into your wet heat, rough kisses and frantic moans, tongue dancing around your nipples, teeth nipping at your neck and leaving marks, ripped clothes and heavy breathing, buttons, so many buttons- and an electrical tingle surges straight to your core.

Your fingertips rake through the sparse, black hair on his pale chest, stroking the warm skin tenderly, but your eyes flicker down to his navel and the trail of dark hair that disappears under the silken covers – a trail to absolute, rapturous delight.

You wet your lips, slightly and ridiculously drooling at the filthy, obscene thoughts drowning your mind; your breath grows heavier, a quiet whimper slips out of your mouth.

Fuck, you want to feel his delicious cock on your tongue again.

The smaller frame of your body shifts slowly down his chest, lips and teeth pressing open-mouthed kisses along the way, soft enough to not leave a mark, but hard enough to provoke his awakening.

Your hot tongue dips inside his navel, and his hand that is still buried in your hair clenches possessively.

You groan at the rush of want that jolts through your body at his motion.

You bury your nails in his thigh, leaving red, angry marks, before you let the covers fall open.

His cock strains against the heavy fabric, already standing to attention, a tiny pearl of precum enthroned on his swollen head.

"Enjoying yourself?"

His deep grumble is laced with sleep, and he gasps at your responding lick along his shaft.

"Very much, Sir", you chuckle and trail your tongue over his balls, locking eyes with him for the first time – his dark gaze is hooded, sleep and desire mingling in his black eyes. His lashes cast a soft shadow on his face, and he looks positively edible; his features still untouched from the straining mask he puts on through the day.

His long fingers relax in your hair, stroking through your locks, and he sighs quietly, furrowing his distinct brows, a strange motion of wistfulness that absolutely doesn't match the passionate morning sex you had in mind.

"You'll be the death of me", he whispers, voice thick now with bittersweet agony, and the air ultimately shifts around you, growing serious and regretful in a heartbeat.

Well, there goes that, you think, and crawl up to him, your former intention postponed for now at his rueful sigh. You softly pull his wrist to your mouth, placing a kiss on his faded tattoo there to calm him, hopefully.