Winters Cloak | S.S

45 | Hazy kisses

Severus's lips attached to yours so seamlessly.

His bed felt much softer than usual, and you find your head clouded. Especially with your reaction time—delaying ecstatically when his lips prodded onto your sensitive ones. Working his pure magic.

"I missed doing this." You say. He doesn't respond, rather, let out a strangled moan that sounded desperate.

Flushed skin as his eyes greedily scan your collarbones, drifting downward to your exposed chest. His breath hitches as you land a kiss to his Adams's apple. Your hands pull his robes closer, trying try to pull them off with your freehand.

The temporary high fluctuates between intensity and passion, as chills are sent down your spine when his calloused fingers brush against your back. His lips still guiding yours to a blissful route of ecstasy.

But the surreal moment is shortcut.

His masculine hands reach for yours, clasping them with intent. He gently pushes your body back, away from his feverish one. His hold is strong and too stubborn to let go. Leaving you with no choice but to obey and give in to his direct momentum.

You blink, trying to figure him out without disrespecting his boundaries. Severus's raven eyes were solemn. And your heart skips a beat.

"We need to talk." His voice was sharp. Like a knife had stabbed your minuscule voice out of the way. You could only hum in acknowledgement.

Dread was pooling at your stomach. Had you done something wrong to cater him to stop kissing you? Were you not meeting up to his standards? Was this too much for him to endure as a Professor? Did he finally realise the consequences of such forbidden love?

"Yeah. We can talk." You respond, voice coming out much more hoarser than expected.

You oblige his command, sitting on his bed, gazing downward at your dangling feet. The bed sinks as he sits beside you. Fingers clenching his grey bedsheets. Suddenly, you become all too aware of the current situation of his denial and your breath becomes shaky.

It didn't help that your mind was drifting to all the worst case scenarios possible.

He notices and places a steady hand on your timid shoulder, a warm gesture of comfort. His lips part, unsure of his next few words and his eyebrows furrow. Possibly thinking of all the different ways to implement his speech without hurting you.

"Just say it." You whisper. Lip twitching into a devastated frown and he hadn't even broken the silence yet.

"I need time." He suggests, turning his head away. Maybe the fresh hickey on your neck was too enticing and so you figured, he had to pull back.

"Time? Do you mean...time away from me?" You ask, fragility bouncing off of your ego. A pandering phenomena which was sinking you further down the ashes of hell. "Why do you need time? Talk to me."

He huffs, hand landing on your thigh which a gentle force. His eyes display anguish and he shakes his head and stares back down at his feet. You always knew he was a private person, but this kind of behaviour only set you alert. A hurdle. He probably considered you of some sort of hurdle if he needed time away.

"Your N.E.W.T.s are approaching. I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany you whilst you're in your study period." He says with a blank face. Expecting you to comply.

But you scoff.

"That's such a lame excuse. You've been by my side the entire time this year, even when I was studying." You regurgitate fragments of your isolated memories.