Rating: R to NC-17
Summary: This is the lemon sequel to Subtle Communication. Albus takes it upon himself to make certain that Minerva gets to bed at a reasonable hour.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling. I'm merely imagining some naughty things.
A/N: If you have a problem with anyone over the age of 60 being in love, and expressing that love physically, please do not read any further. If, however, you have an open mind, please continue.
With a mischievous grin, and with an ease that belied his years, Albus scooped Minerva up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. As he gently placed her on the bed, the folds of her dressing gown parted a little, affording him tantalizing glimpses of breast and thigh. It was her face, however, that commanded his full attention. For many years he had been one of the privileged few to know Minerva’s softer side, but her expression now was of completely unguarded adoration, and had he not already been kneeling beside her, he would have been tempted to do something rather excessive, such as fall at her feet. As it was, he did the only rational thing he could possibly do under the circumstances. Lowering himself down, he kissed her slowly, softly, and deeply.
It was the kind of kiss Minerva thought only existed in the imaginations of certain writers. Now, however, she was forced to conclude that she simply hadn’t been kissed properly before. Perhaps it’s a skill one learns with time, she thought muzzily.
Who would have thought that lips which can be set in such stern lines could be this soft, warm, and talented! Albus mused in wonder.
It didn’t take long before they both were aching for more. Having explored her mouth thoroughly, Albus was eager to learn how the rest of her tasted. The first thing he tried was a particularly delectable place just below her ear. He was rewarded with a delighted gasp that was music to his own ears. Encouraged, he continued his explorations, traveling further down her neck, eliciting more soft sighs until he reached the spot where neck and shoulder come together. That looked so tasty that he simply had to nibble on it a little. Her reaction to that was a bit more vocal, so he decided to stay there for awhile.
Minerva arched her back and buried her fingers in his long, silvery hair, delighting in its unexpected softness. When she began to massage his scalp and neck with her nails, the moan she elicited from him reverberated through her body as well.
As Albus worked his way further down, Minerva began to squirm. While that felt rather pleasant to him, the small, strained half-giggle from her indicated that something was amiss. He raised his head and looked at her questioningly.
“I’m a bit ticklish there at the moment,” she breathed.
Albus laid his hand tenderly upon the spot in the middle of her chest where the stunners had hit; the skin was still a little bit pink. “Right here?” he asked.
“It’s only very light touches that tickle,” she explained. “More pressure is fine.”
Albus grinned. “So this,” he stroked the spot gently but firmly, “is all right?” she nodded. “But this,” he ran a few strands of his beard very lightly over it, “tickles?” She squirmed again in response, and as she did so her hip brushed against a very firm portion of his anatomy. He let out a soft groan and, raising himself slightly, undid the sash of her dressing gown and pushed the fabric aside. Her porcelain skin had a few stretch marks, and gravity had begun to make its presence visible, but for Albus she was “Perfect,” he whispered as he lowered himself down to kiss her.
“You’re wearing too much,” she observed huskily.
“I thought you liked the feeling of silk next to your skin,” he was grinning again.
“I want to feel you now,” she dug her nails into his back for emphasis.
Ever willing to oblige a lady, Albus dispensed with their remaining clothing with a wave of his hand. Now that they were skin-to-skin, he felt an overwhelming urge to bury himself in her right then and there, and from the way she was wrapping her arms and legs around him, she obviously wouldn’t have minded in the least. However, he hadn’t tasted nearly enough yet, so he resisted the urge and turned his attention to her breasts instead. He sinuously slid his tongue around the curve of each as if it were an ice cream cone, then gently nibbled and sucked on each nipple until Minerva thought she would go pleasantly mad. Reaching out, she found his nipples, firmly squeezing and rolling each between thumb and forefinger. Letting out a low growl, he looked up at her. “I won’t last long if you keep that up,” he informed her in a ragged voice.
“Really?” she asked coyly, filing this bit of information away for future reference.
“Indeed,” he replied as he wriggled out of her grasp and slowly began kissing a path to her center. When he reached his destination, he gently parted the folds as his tongue began the most intimate of explorations. “Mmm,” he murmured happily, “whipped cream.”
“Hmm?” she queried languidly.
“Right here,” he explained delightedly, “it’s exactly the texture of fresh whipped cream.”
Only Albus Dumbledore would compare her inner lips to whipped cream, and if his sweet-addled tongue hadn’t been distracting her in other ways, Minerva would have laughed out loud. As it was, she wondered hazily if years of sucking on sherbet lemons served quite a different purpose than she had originally supposed. But when he inserted two fingers, and then crooked them upward, she ceased wondering altogether and simply abandoned herself to the sensations.
It wasn’t long before she came, and Albus decided that the sight of Minerva McGonagall in the midst of a toe-curling orgasm - writhing, bucking and crying out his name with those talented lips of hers - was something he wanted to see as often as possible. Kissing his way back up her now flushed torso, he positioned himself at her entrance. His eyes never left hers as he finally buried himself deep inside her moist, welcoming heat. They moved very slowly at first, savoring the moment, but soon the two found their own easy, gentle rhythm. So absorbed was Minerva in the sensation of his lightly-furred chest against hers, the feel of his soft belly, the texture and surprising strength of his back muscles under her hands, and the sheer joy of having him fill her so completely, that her second orgasm almost took her by surprise. For his part, Albus was so overwhelmed by her softness, her spicy scent, the sweet sounds she made, and the exquisite bliss of having her surround him so snugly, that he was almost in a trance. The spasms of her release triggered his, as each called the other’s name into the night.
Exhausted, but not willing to let each other go, they moved apart just enough for Albus to rest his head on a pillow, while Minerva pillowed her head on Albus. “You know,” she murmured contentedly, “I like your way of getting me to go to bed at a reasonable hour.”
Albus chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it,” he responded, kissing her hand, “since I plan on making certain that you get plenty of rest.”
“And what happens when Poppy gives me a clean bill of health?” Minerva asked, smiling.
“By that time,” he assured her, “I will undoubtedly be in need of a good deal of rest myself.”
“Then I’ll have to bring you a cup of hot chocolate to help you sleep,” she countered playfully.
“Only if you add whipped cream.”