Severus Snape One Shots

The Centre of His Singular Attention

(Summary: Originally inspired by an ask on tumblr, Severus is intent on drawing out his friend out of her shyness as their relationship becomes sexual. Content Warnings: Vaginal Fingers, Oral sex receiving.)

Severus and I had been friends for a while, that was clear to me, but not at first. Happy acquaintanceship had slipped into friendship without my initial notice. Then one day we were talking, in spite of the fact that so frequently we would both be silent on the outside of group conversations together. It makes sense then, that the friendship had also slipped into another category without my notice. Slippery little categories.

When he was my acquaintance I'm not sure I noticed his quietly handsome features. The way he carried himself was attractive of course, but I had never thought to think of him as available to me of all people, or to anyone. That man seemed an island unto himself. I am also prone not to notice attractiveness until I know someone deeply. Perhaps I missed the signs of something more due to my density in that regard.

At some point after we had accidentally slipped into friendship, I began to notice how funny he was. That cutting, dry sense of humour that he frequently used to defend himself was present also in friendly conversations begun about books. Somehow these conversations about books had turned into us going to the theatre. Some relationship between the contents of the first book we had talked about and the play. So we went, and that had been pleasant, and suddenly we were seeing plays together.

These plays only seemed to create more discussions. These were not dates; they were mutual explorations of topics through different mediums. After one play we were talking so animatedly that I invited him up to my apartment for a glass of wine so we did not have to cut the dialogue short. When the bottle was long gone, slipped by like the categories of our friendship I found his eyes fixed on me in a way I was not particularly accustomed to.

Perhaps I can pinpoint the moment our friendship slipped. It was that one right there, when he set down his wineglass and fixed me with that determined set of his eyes. It made me feel hot all over. I tried to escape it by taking the glasses to my kitchen sink but when I turned around I found him behind me.

Fleet of foot, he is. Sneaking in around the sides of my heart and the door of my kitchen. Merlin only knows what was said between when I turned around and when his lips met mine, because I do not remember.

His kiss was unlike anything I had ever known to want.

The blood turned around in my veins, seeking the very centre of me. My mind, which had been so occupied by his interesting questions and thoughts had gone suddenly blank except a repeated refrain of wanting more.

I did not over analyse the fact that somehow, I had ended up on my kitchen counter and my legs were around him and I did not doubt myself in my own desirability because it has been so fast. We were both two glasses deep afterall. Unfortunately that fact: those two glasses of wine were the reason he cited for stopping this kiss. He apologised for being too forward, for kissing me without permission. He asked if he had overstepped.

I was all embarrassment at my needy wanting. It was all well and good of him to come to his senses and begin to gather his coat like a gentleman, but Merlin how badly had I not wanted him to. My answers to his worries had been quiet, meek, assurances that his advances had been welcome.

As he went to leave I looked at him for several long seconds and internally screeched at myself for my lack of words. My inability to tell this man that the moment he had looked at me like that I had been instantly made his. I had gulped and run away to the kitchen, yes, but I had also known deep inside myself that I wanted him to pursue me. The escape being only temporary had confirmed the wanting, it was more than a passing glance. He wanted me more than just the wine might have incited.