Harry Potter: S*x Oriented Hogwarts

Warning - Lucifer, the Devil is Billions of years old. 

Hermione with multiple personalities, her character's real age during sexual intercourse is 18+

(Hermione - Blessed by Amenadiel, time works differently for her, she has already surpassed age of 18+)

___________

After doing his enchantments, Lucifer got early at the Great Hall, there were only a few students around, but his eyes immediately went towards Angelina who was munching on oyesters.

She noticed his curious gaze, “Limited offer for Early 15 Gryffindor's, just write down the stuff you want on this parchment, McGonagall distributed it!

Lucifer gratefully took it from her, and started to read, making a suitable private breakfast for Hermione at the corner of the table.

30 Minutes Later.

Hermione glanced at the boy nervously, her gaze searching his, asking if it was safe to eat now.

Lucifer shrugged.

'It seemed legit....'

Scooping a hearty serving onto her plate, and then stared at the chocolate mound as if gathering her courage.

With a final deep breath, Hermione felt around the edges of her plate and tipped her head sideways, peering under the table as if she’d dropped something. “I don’t seem to have any cutlery.”

Lucifer’s gracious smile curled to a wicked grin. “I recalled your fondness for using your hands and planned the menu accordingly.”

Her ears went pink, but she didn’t appear upset by the comment. “I see. How considerate.”

Unfolding her napkin with a graceful whip of her wrist, she placed the linen over her lap like a proper lady.

Then, as if to obliterate that image with stark contradiction, Hermione swirled one finger through the custard, drawing small spirals over its rolling peaks with a sensual finesse that made his scrotum tighten with anticipation.

In the blink of an eye, she’d become the badass dominatrix of desserts, and Lucifer’s cock stood on tiptoe to see what she’d do next.

Lifting her finger, Hermione studied the glistening chocolate with detached interest.

Lucifer longed to lick her clean, but using his girlfriend on their 1st Date as a utensil might be considered bad manners.

Instead, he watched with bated breath as she lapped the custard from her finger like a lascivious lioness, the dark dessert disappearing on her tongue in erotic increments.

She gave Lucifer a triumphant smirk and stuck her whole finger in her mouth, pulling the remains from the digit with a prurient pop of suction.

Lucifer’s knob attempted to batter its way past his zip, heedless of the grating metal teeth barring the way.

How was he supposed to function, let alone eat, with her fellating her food like that?

Hermione’s expression shifted from coquettish pride to pure surprise.

“Oh! This really is amazing.” She scooped up another dollop and began her ritual anew.

“I think this might be the best chocolate I’ve ever had,” she muttered between licks. “What on earth did you add into this, Lucifer?”

Lucifer cocked one eyebrow. “Sugar and Semen,” he replied dryly.

“...Bloody hell,” Hermione moaned hearing that, her eyes rolling back as she swallowed another bite. “You should definitely make it more often!”

“Try it with the strawberries,” Lucifer told her.

He dished out several red berries, arranging them on his plate as on an artist’s palette.

Swiping one through the custard, he held it out to her in offering.

“Thank you.” Hermione pinched the leafy, green top between two fingers so she could bite off the end . . . but not before her pink tongue tapped the tip for another quick taste.

Then her plump lips wrapped around the circumference as if latching onto an enormous nipple, and when she took a bite, those lips followed the curve of the red dimpled skin, dragging over its flesh like a hungry lover.

Lucifer was getting worried he wouldn’t have any usable cock left by the time breakfast was over; his trousers had worn off the first layer of skin, and he was almost down to the quick.

But, he tried to compose himself and move on with it.

Her tongue reappeared to gather a speck of chocolate from the corner of her mouth, and Lucifer had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming all over himself.

“These are so ripe,” she said as she lapped up a stream of juice that had run down her thumb. “Where did you find fresh strawberries at this time of year?”

Lucifer answered even though his dick seemed to be crying in a lost battle, “There’s a produce patch in greenhouse three.”

“Did Madam Sprout grow these?”

He nodded.

“This is so good—especially compared to the ham sandwiches, and omelette I've been eating all week for breakfast!”

Lucifer passed her the bowl. “Please, indulge. I need to keep up your strength for today.”

Hermione shook her head but smiled faintly. “I’m not likely to last long on custard and strawberries.”

“I have oysters as well,” Lucifer said, while passing over the dish.

“Is there any lemon?”

“Of course, I have pickles too.”

“I’m sure this lemon will work just fine,” Hermione replied, her smile betraying her amusement. “But if you have the urge to lick pickles between courses, I have no objection.”

Lucifer snorted into his pumpkin juice, impressed she’d volleyed the serve.

“Or is that just a library snack?” She asked with a sweet smile.

“Not at all,” Lucifer shot back. “Pickles are a palate cleanser in any room of the house. That would be like saying you could only shuck your oyster when hiding behind a bookcase.”

Hermione blushed brightly, but a chagrined smile lit her face. “Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do when faced with an impromptu breakfast theatre.” She tipped back an oyster and gave him a daring smile.

“Go ahead and swallow, Hermione. I know how much you enjoy that part.”

A flood of red suffused her cheeks, and it took her a few seconds to chew and gulp down the mollusk.

“Mmmm,” she purred, fighting tooth and nail to appear unaffected.

She had to take a sip of her pumpkin juice to gather her wits, but then she came out swinging.

Swiping her finger through the whipped cream that clung to her strawberries, Hermione brought it to her lips and began to clean it away with delicate touches of her tongue.

“Can I assume, from the showcase of talents you displayed, that you creamed these berries by hand?”

“That I did, but since the berries never screamed my name like a banshee, I can only surmise that they weren’t as satisfied by the experience as some.”

Lucifer wanted to see if Hermione had a comeback for that.

Choosing another lemon from the bowl, she suggestively wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed.

Lucifer’s cock throbbed at the memory of her gripping him in a similar fashion.

In a blatant simulation, her hand slid down, following an imaginary shaft, and she ejected the lemon’s juice all over her oyster without breaking eye contact with her boyfriend.

“I’m sure if you had just used the proper tool, you would have had those berries singing your praises.”

“Some berries can’t handle professional equipment,” Lucifer said, enunciating the last word, which added a fresh coat of blush to her cheeks.

He slurped back his oyster and chewed it slowly, never looking away.

“You just need a heartier variety,” Hermione assured him. “Some berries appreciate a good hulling.”

Lucifer’s left eyebrow quirked. “Is that what had the juices running down your legs right now, dire need of a decent hulling?”

Smiling broadly, Hermione's gaze lowered downwards under the table, and replied, “I am not the only one with marinated meat.”

“That wasn’t marinade,” Lucifer said haughtily.

“No? What was it?”

“A vintage I keep in reserve for my girlfriend.”

Hermione returned his sly smile. “Is that on the menu today as well?”

“It’s dessert. But only if you clean your plate.”

Unable to maintain her cool facade, Hermione threw back her head and laughed riotously. “Oh gods,” she gasped, wiping her eyes. “This is getting hilarious!”

“In that case, you’d better pass me those lemons. I don’t want chocolate oysters on my tongue if I’m going to have Granger pie later.” Lucifer said, with a cool expression.

Grinning, Hermione pushed the bowl toward him.

Their hands touched, and she traced the backs of his fingers, lingering far longer than necessary.

“Hmm. Why don't we go outside, and just taste each other?”

“It seems like a brilliant id-”

xxxxxx

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