Her knees ached, in direct contact with the stone floor, and the blowjob was getting messy, spittle and drool dribbling from her mouth, but she persevered. With each passing second, Snape appeared to lose more of his composure, half-moans escaping him, his thighs trembling, his hands flexing. She held his gaze, relishing the way his pupils glowed with feral yearning.