Completely inspired and in honor of @fafodill and their brilliant post about Severus's accent slipping back in during the heat of the moment.
To have Hermione at last, her lips searing a line down his throat, her hands yanking at his clothes, dragged up something raw from deep inside him.
Something that didn’t know how to be gentle. It was a damn good thing she wasn’t being soft about it either as her legs hooked around his waist, pulling him closer on top of her. He wanted to tear her apart and put her back together again.
A lifetime of loneliness, of chasing after rough, empty fucks when the ache got too sharp to stand it anymore, left him needy for this. For her. For something more than the quick, silent, forgettable nights that never truly met his need.
But this? This beautiful, delicious witch he had yearned for since she came back into his life as Healer Granger, the mediwich whose wit and fire drove him mad. The very one tearing at his shirt as if she needed to feel his bare skin as desperately as he needed to feel hers.
Gods fucking above, he would combust if he wasn’t inside her soon.
He groaned, lips crashing back into hers, breaths stolen as he ground her deep into her own mattress, his body making promises he was damn sure to keep. The heat of her soaked through their clothes, his hips thrusting down hard enough to move her and the mattress.
It was out before he could catch it. Thick, rough, and wrong. His accent dragged through every syllable, filthy as the streets he’d come from, betraying the home of his youth in the stretch of his words.
No! The verbal mask slipped for the first time since he was a teen. An utter loss of his control that made Severus stiffen in a whole new way, pulling back quickly to end this all in sheer embarrassment.
The first good thing he had touched in years, and he’d gone and ruined it with that. Made it clear his less than accepted birth in both Muggle and magical societies.
Severus jerked back, pulling away from her as shame clawed up his throat. Almost forcing out a just as foreign apology as his mind scrambled to find some dignified way to end this.
But her fingers curled into his hair, yanking hard enough to catch his attention again. With a whisper, her nails scraped his scalp as she urged him back down to her. He looked down, taking in the flush of her face and the way her lips parted with a breathy whine.
