Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is written, invented and/or imagined by J. K. Rowling.
Beta: Kudos to the fabulous Dorothy... You rock girl!
Authors Note: With this little story, I am exercising my English writing skills before I have a go at the larger fic I have planned for this fandom. At the same time, I want to see if I am able to write a seductive PWP while limiting myself to a soft R-rating.

First Time

Lightning forked over the lake, and I automatically counted the seconds until I heard the rumble of thunder. Ten miles or more… It would be a little while before the centre of the storm reached us.

I crept from the room I occupied at number 12 Grimmauld Place, across the hall to Professor Snape's door and stood there for a moment wondering if I was doing the right thing or making a big mistake.

I reached down and placed my hand on the knob, that when finally turned would bring me to him. I turned it slowly and entered his room with the thunder, the sound drowning out the click of the door latch. But he didn't hear me or see me. I knew though that he could feel me there, for I could see his shoulders tighten with sudden awareness.

The thought that we were so attuned to each other might have worried me if I had given it much consideration, but I was not in a contemplative mood at the moment. I watched him turn slowly. He'd left only one small lamp burning beside the bed, and the pool of its light fell far short from where I stood, but his eyes were adjusted to the dimness, and he had no trouble seeing me. I stood there against the door, in my white gown and pale skin stark against the dark wood.

I stayed where I was, letting my eyes adjust to the light. Looking at him. He watched me as my teeth were worrying my lower lip knowing how difficult it had been for me to come to him. He heard my soft little catch of breath, heard it change to a gasp of shock when lightning slashed across the window behind him and at that moment I realized that he wore not a stitch of clothing. Thunder rolled across the room, and he had me in his arms before the echo of it faded, sweeping me up against his already aroused body, his mouth swallowing my startled cry. For the space of a heartbeat, I was stiff in his embrace, and then seemed to dissolve against him, my slighter frame pliant and giving.

Wrapping his arms around me, he lifted me off the floor, crushing me against his hard chest. His tongue plunged into my mouth, tangling with mine, tasting my response, tasting the hunger.

By the time he had walked with me to the bed, he could feel the breath shuddering in and out of me. My fingers were wound in his silky black hair, my back arched to press the fullness of my breasts against his chest. He flattened one hand across my bottom, lifting me up so that the soft core between my legs cradled his erection.

Lightning exploded outside, closer now, the thunder rumbling on its heels, drowning out the roar of our heartbeats, swallowing a soft cry of surprise as he eased my legs apart, sliding his aching flesh between my thighs, supporting me so that I straddled him. The slick moisture of my arousal soothed even as it made the ache worse.

He tortured us both by easing his hips back, then forward again, a teasing hint of what was to come. My head fell back, my breath leaving me on a sob. He could see the taut thrust of my breasts against the fabric of my nightgown. There was something wildly erotic about him holding me like this, a heartbeat away from completing our joining and seeing me still clothed in prim white cotton.

He felt my knee lift against his hip and knew that he could have me right here, my leg wrapping around his hips as I lowered onto his arousal. I let the image roll through my mind as his hand slid downward, drawing my knee higher on his hip, his fingertips brushing the damp juncture of my thighs. He could feel the shiver that ran through me at the light touch. I had known it would be like this with him, known the passion would explode between us, known how I would respond to his touch.

With a soft groan of regret, he eased me down. The hunger was too great this time, too powerful for us to try anything exotic. Later, we promised ourselves as he dragged the nightgown over my head. Once the initial hunger was slaked, there would be time for us to fulfill every fantasy we'd had during these endless weeks of waiting and wanting. But this first time, I wanted to be stretched out beneath him, my hair spread across his pillow, just the way I had imagined a hundred times.

I whispered his name as he eased me onto the bed, following me down, his chest abrading my swollen nipples. I wanted him to taste me, wanted his tongue to explore the indentation of my belly button, wanted him to taste the dampness between my thighs, to hear the cries of pleasure as he brought me to a peak with his mouth and tongue.

But I parted my legs, wanting us to become one. Lightning lit the room as my knees came up on either side of his hips, my soft whimpers urging him to complete our union.

Later, we promised ourselves. Later, there would be time for everything else. This first time, the hunger was too great, the need too powerful. This first time, there was no room for anything else but slaking the elemental hunger that gnawed at both of us.

He caught one of my hands in his, lowering my fingers to where our bodies almost joined. In the darkness, he saw my eyes widen as my fingers closed around him.

Any uncertainty I felt was only momentary. I eased forward, and thought I would surely die from pleasure as my soft folds yielded before the blunt pressure of his erection.

My heat and dampness enfolded him. I closed my eyes and ground my teeth together as he eased himself deeper into my soft sheath.

I was trembling with a sudden, completely unexpected and purely feminine fear. He was so much bigger than I was, stronger, more powerful. There was something a little frightening about the strength, that power. For a panicked second, I wanted to tell him I had changed my mind. I wanted to slide off the big bed and flee to the safety of my room. But the thought of stopping, of not finding out what lay at the end of this path we had started out on, was more than I could bear. I was a Gryffindor after all.

"Please, don't stop" I whispered against his throat. I hardly knew what I was asking for.

At the sound of my plea, I felt him still against me, and for an instant I was afraid he was going to stop after all. With a whimpered protest, I arched my hips, taking him deeper. He groaned, a low guttural sound of pleasure.

"Easy Hermione," he whispered against my temple, his soothing voice barely audible over the hiss of the rain outside. "There's no need to rush." There was a need. I was burning up inside, trembling against him. He caught hold of my arms, sliding his hands down until his fingers were wrapped around mine. I murmured a protest as he pressed them to the pillow on either side of my head.

"Look at me."

As if I had a choice. His eyes glittered in the thin lamplight, and I had the odd feeling that it would be possible to lose my soul in his eyes. However, it was not my soul that concerned me at the moment.

My gaze locked with his, his hands still holding mine, he flexed his hips forward, completing our union with one heavy thrust, filling my emptiness with his solid presence. I forgot how to breathe.

Nothing could have prepared me for the incredible feeling of invasion, the sensation of my body stretching to accommodate his, of sharing myself so intimately with this man. With an inarticulate sound that could have been a protest, could have been an invitation, I arched beneath him, not sure whether I was trying to throw him off or take him deeper.

He groaned, a low, tortured sound from between clenched teeth as he sank fully within me. I was as tight as a glove around him, all heat and dampness. I knew he could feel the faint ripple of tiny muscles as they adjusted to his presence.

I gasped as he eased back, and slid forward again. He lowered his mouth to mine, drinking in my soft moans, tasting them more than hearing them. The storm outside seemed to have stopped directly over us, and the sound of the rain was a constant roar. Or was that the blood rushing in my ears? Lightning flashed almost continuously, illuminating our two figures in the wide bed. He had left the window open a crack, and the smell of rain and damp earth mixed with the musk scent of sweat and sex. His tall body arched over my smaller form, his slow, steady movements becoming less measured as I struggled for control of the moment, struggled for the release I could sense just out of reach.

Tension coiled inside me, tightening with every move he made until I felt as if I might burst. The pleasure was so intense it hovered on the knife edge of pain. He slid his hands under me, his fingers digging into my bottom as he lifted me into his thrusts, controlling the rhythm, controlling my uncertain movements, giving me what I sought.

A bolt of lightning ripped through the air just outside the window. As the fierce, blue-white light slashed across the room, I saw Snape's face above mine, the skin pale and tight across high cheekbones, his black eyes glittering, an expression of abandon softening the normally harsh features of his face. Then the tension within me snapped abruptly, and the resilient waves of pleasure convulsed my body.

Thunder crashed a heartbeat after the lightning, and the room rocked with the force of it. Or was it the bed rocking with the force of our love? I neither knew nor cared. Instinctively, I brought my knees higher up on either side of his hips, taking him deeper still, as my nails dug into the taut muscles of his back. And then he was shuddering in my arms, his harsh groan of fulfillment all but drowned out by the sound of the storm.

We stayed like that entwined in each other arms... content at just listening to the other breathe and the pelting of the rain against the window, spent from our first time together… our first night of passion.

The End

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