Ten years after I began at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow is back. And he's Professor Sallow now. He disappeared after the fall of Ranrok and Rookwood, after I lost Professor Fig, and after Ominis and I couldn't keep him from losing himself. But I never...
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"Hello, beautiful," growls a luscious, low voice into my ear with a warm breath that sends shivers down my spine and into my heels. His hand replaces mine holding my hair up, and he yanks my head assertively aside to expose my neck as he turns his face into it, inhaling again. Chills.
Between rabid kisses and starved, soft bites he groans, "I've missed you," into my goosebump-riddled neck. I can't keep myself from melting with the relief and satisfaction of it, nor do I fight off the instant tension it elicits between my legs.
In a steady motion, with confident hands, Sebastian spins us out of the doorway and guides our bodies against the shadowy exterior of the castle. I struggle to say much beyond a raspy, "hi," through the deliberate, repeated, deep kisses he gifts upon my lips, alternating between an intent exploration of my mouth and a reverential surveying of my face.
His strong form is leaning over me, bracing his weight on his forearm just above me, the other hand softly caressing my chin, and I can see his muscular silhouette sporting an open, perfectly-tailored overcoat with his hair completely pulled up and back in a knot. With his kisses, I can feel his scruff has continued to grow over the last few days.
From above, he pauses and looks into my eyes as though he were taking in a view from atop some grand vista before he says, "you are a welcome surprise, April Collins." His look turns greedy while he yanks the bottom of my shirt from my waistband to slip his free hand underneath, warming my skin with his touch, and working his way up to my chest to squeeze to his heart's content. I can't hold back the small moan it produces within me which he cuts off with another deep kiss.
And while I don't mind it, I'm a little surprised by his intensity. His instantaneous fervor. The assertiveness of how easily and instantly he helps himself to me. Almost as surprising is how perfectly it matches and indulges my own longing for him that I struggle to keep at bay when we're apart.
"A welcome surprise, indeed," I say into his lips, which linger on my own. His tongue swipes against my bottom lip, as if calling for its playmate, and I gladly accept the invitation, bringing my own tongue to meet his between our still, hovering lips, dancing and sliding and twisting around each other for a moment that can't possibly last long enough. It sends a pristine current of wanting through me that yanks an even more powerful tension up between my legs.
His fingers are tantalizing my skin down my back and I could almost throw all caution away and let him have his way with me here in front of the castle, but my next commitment is cloying in the back of my head. It takes everything within me to calm the pace.
"I'm sorryyyy I wish I didn't have somewhere to be like right this second..." I grumble, offering with a hand on his cheek – as a very mutually beneficial compromise – "come stay with me tonight?"
His hand rests on my waist as he smiles with a million crinkles and dimples, "oh I think we have a few minutes, yet..."
