Summary: Their free time matches today. And she's going to make the most of it. Authors Notes: Everything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling. Thanks to my always awesome beta, V. I hope you enjoy this, subtle_horizon!
Extracurricular Deviancy It's not easy being a Hogwarts professor.
Susan knows because she's just taken over the Ancient Runes position, and she's already figured out why most professors don't marry other professors: there's no privacy. Two nights ago—immediately after dinner and far too early for Neville to ignore—one of his students had knocked on his office door. He'd had to remove his fingers from inside her and she'd smoothed her skirt back down over her legs, moving from the desk to the chair across from Neville's.
She didn't think the student—a first year Hufflepuff—noticed anything, and they'd started again right where they left off. But she didn't like being interrupted.
Susan's determined to find some alone time with Neville.
She peeks through the door of the greenhouse where he's currently teaching his first-year Ravenclaws. Neville's waving his hand at the plant in front of him, explaining the properties of it to his students. Most are yawning, some are diligently taking notes. But all of them perk up when one student asks a question. Susan can tell by the look on Neville's face they've asked about the Final Battle, and what happened with the snake, though it has nothing to do with the lesson.
It's a story the students never grow tired of, because it's full of heroes and bravery, but Susan knows Neville doesn't see it that way. He's tired of telling it to his students, tired of trying to make them understand it was just something that had to be done.
She loves him even more for that.
When his eyes meet hers through the window, she gives a wink and points to the greenhouse next door. He nods, and returns his attention to his students, smiling at them, though they think it's because of the story. She knows better.
Greenhouse Three is empty, and will be for a while. Susan knows this because she's got his schedule memorised and his next class in here is in three hours. She doesn't have any more classes today. Because Ancient Runes isn't compulsory for first and second years, she has more free time than he does.
Their free time matches today. And she's going to make the most of it.
She unbuttons her blouse—just the top two, to show some cleavage—and slips off her glasses, swinging them in her hand. She sits on the table behind her and waits.
Susan's grinning to herself by the time the bell rings, and not two minutes later, Neville's walking through the door, locking it behind him, loosening the tie around his neck. He smiles back at her, and she sees his eyes moving over her hair, to her clothes.
She watches as he walks closer, and when he's in front of her, he places his hands on her face, slides them around to the back of her head, and leans forward. His lips hover, barely touching hers, and he lightly presses his lips to the side of her mouth. Susan sighs and leans closer, and she feels Neville's slight smile just before he pulls back.
"Is this the best place for this?" He asks, and she nods.
"Door's locked," she tells him, running her hands down his back, pulling him closer. "And we have three hours until your class."
"Well then," he says, and she can tell he's trying to suppress a grin, "shall we continue?"
Susan smiles, tilts her head back slightly. "Definitely."
She's surprised when Neville tightens his hands on her head and crushes his mouth to hers, sweeping his tongue inside, and reflexively tightens her hands on his back. Desire swirls into her stomach, and she moans as he sucks on her tongue. They normally start slow, but she's not complaining.
She loves that he's so desperate for her.
Neville, lips moving hungrily down her neck to her collarbone, works on the buttons of her blouse before he gives up. It tears into two pieces and he drops it on the floor.
"You'll have to fix that later," she says, ending on a sigh when he shoves his hand under her bra, cupping her breast. He lightly rubs her nipples, slowing the pace of his kisses.
"Mmm," Neville mutters, sucking lightly on her collarbone, trailing down to slide his tongue along the edge of her bra. "Yeah."
Susan moves her hands to his front, pulling his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers, sliding her hands underneath the fabric. His skin is warm, and his stomach quivers when she runs her nails over it.
"You're wearing too many clothes," she tells him, and Neville's just smiles at her before reaching behind her to unhook her bra.
"So are you," he says, sliding the straps down her arms and letting it fall to the floor.
She's on the table in just her skirt, bare from the waist. His eyes drop to her breasts before he pulls her against him, nibbling lightly on her earlobe. Neville's hands rub her back, creating a mass of sensations wherever they touch.
Susan sighs as the thin material of his dress shirt rubs against her chest. The greenhouse is warm, humid, and the shirt is clinging to his back. She wants him to lose it, dying for the feel of his skin against hers, but he seems content to lightly kiss her neck, underneath her jaw line.
The tickling feeling of Neville's lips against her neck causes her to pull him even closer, wrapping her legs around his waist. Susan tightens her arms around his neck as Neville's hands drift down her back to her bum, hitching her higher off the table and tighter against him. She's close enough that she can feel the erection pressing against her, and Neville groans when she squirms.
"You're going to kill me," he says, and Susan sucks on his earlobe, shifting her weight slightly. She rubs against him, enjoying the sensations shooting through her, and feels him shift to lay her down on the table.
From out of nowhere—she didn't even know he had his wand with him—he Conjures two silk scarves. Neville ties her hands to the posts that he'd added to the table, and looks at her.
Susan thinks she should be embarrassed—she's sprawled on a table, wearing a skirt, stockings, and heels—but the heat in Neville's gaze makes her want to squirm. He runs his hands up her legs, under her skirt, and pulls her knickers down, following with kisses. His lips are warm and soft, and the feel of them against her silk stockings is intoxicating.
Neville adds the knickers to the pile of clothes on the floor, and unzips her skirt. She arches her hips to help him slide it down and off of her, and then she's wearing only her stockings and heels. Neville's still fully clothed, and she opens her mouth to complain about the injustice.
"Fuck," she says instead, as his tongue slides over her clit. Her hips buck, and he murmurs something she doesn't quite catch. Vibrations pulse through her, and she moans. She shifts, pulls at the restraints, wanting to hold him there forever.
Neville's hands are resting on her legs, holding them apart. He's licking, sucking, and Susan wishes she could touch him back. She loves the feel of him, loves how he feels when he's on her, inside her. But she really loves what his tongue is doing, swirling all over before dipping inside her. She's wetter than she's ever been, and Susan thinks she should be embarrassed but he's clearly enjoying himself.
"Neville," she says, though it's more of a moan because now he's added humming to the swirling motion, "please."
He pulls his mouth away from her, replaces it with his fingers. Neville lightly rubs his finger over her, barely touching her. He slides one finger inside as he stands up, moving it in and out as he uses his other hand to unbuckle his belt.
He needs two hands to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, and Susan groans when he removes his hand from her.
"Hurry," she says, though he never does if he can help it. He's slow, thorough, and dedicated.
She loves that about him.
His clothes join hers on the floor, and finally, finally, he's stretched out on top of her, naked skin to naked skin. Her sweat-soaked skin slides against his, the heat of their bodies mixing with the humidity of the greenhouse. He sighs, and she can feel his cock lying against her stomach. He kisses her, slowly, softly, and she can taste herself on his lips. Susan shifts, trying to get him inside her. He grins, a bright, happy smile that always makes her slightly weak in the knees, and pushes himself up to rest on his elbows.
She can't use her hands, but Susan wraps her legs around his, trying to keep him in place. He shifts, and then her hands are loose, and she's sliding them over his back, his bum, his stomach, and grips his cock in her hands.
Susan moves her hand, slowly, up and down, squeezing lightly. He groans against her neck, where he's lazily trailing kisses between her jaw and collarbone. She moves her hand again, faster, and grips his shoulder with the other. Susan tilts her head up and licks and nibbles his earlobe.
Neville moans, crushes his lips to hers, and then he's pushing his cock inside. She tenses for a moment, breath hitching, and they sigh, lips still together, as he settles. He doesn't move for a moment, and his eyes are closed. She knows this is his favourite part, when he's first inside her. Susan slips her arms around him, pulls him to her. She can feel his arms tighten around her, and she tries to move her hips.
Neville surprises her when he flips them over so she's on top, somehow managing to stay inside her. She leans down, smiles. Susan nibbles on his lips, rubs her breast against his chest. The hair abrades her nipples, and the slowly growing tension swirls through her. Sitting up, she braces her hands on Neville's shoulders and begins to move.
It's slow, and smooth, and Neville's eyes are open, his hands on her legs, just at the top of her stockings. He's staring at her breasts, and she feels his hands move up past her hips to high on her back.
"You're so beautiful," he says, and leans up, taking her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it. The answering pull low in her stomach jerks her hips, and she falters a moment, breaking her rhythm. Neville makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and grips her hips. He's raising and bucking against her as she moves up and down, and the tension in her body is getting tighter and tighter as their speed increases. She's almost there, and she knows he is too because he's murmuring her name as if he's drowning and it's his lifeline.
He bites her shoulder and lightly pinches her clit, and the tension bursts, and Susan's shuddering and moaning and relishing the feel of his release inside her and she's pretty sure she's screaming his name, which would be embarrassing if he wasn't doing the same thing.
They collapse onto the table, breathing deeply. Neville wraps his arms around her and Susan lays her head on his chest, enjoying the feeling of him beneath her. She doesn't realise she's cold until he has a blanket draped over both of them, and then with a small sigh, a soft kiss, she falls asleep.