Lifting a Hero's Spirit - 5 (Patreon)

AN: A little embarrassed this took so long to update. Sorry, friends.

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Mirabel broke the kiss eventually. A mercy to let him breathe, leaving him gasping and tense in his seat. 

It floored him, the sheer magnitude of the power she held over him in that moment. A few twirls of her tongue against his and she had made herself into a goddess. Miguel could hardly speak but he’d have begged and pleaded right there on the floor if the Professor had asked.

Every nerve in his body was surging hot, every inch of his cock throbbing like mad, just from her mouth alone. And her hand - her hand was between his legs, tenderly feeling at the bulge tenting his pants. Miguel couldn’t stop the sounds boiling up from his throat, weak groans so thick with need he ought to have been blushing from embarrassment. But the feeling of the Professor’s hand was too soft, too warm, too wonderful for the young hero to care about anything else.

It was a dream, what was happening to him. Kissing his beautiful professor, feeling her body against his, feeling her bare breasts in his hands, her tongue in his mouth. Catching the scent of her long, silky hair, hearing the sound of her little hums and moans…

It was a dream. And it was real. The way she touched his cheek then, the warmth of her hand, it was real. The smile she wore then, with that glimmer of delight in her big eyes, it gave nothing of deceit or trickery… nothing but for the sly amusement that twinkled as she slid down his chest, down between his legs and onto her knees.

“Oh.” Miguel almost choked on the word. “What are you-”

Mirabel shushed him softly and started undoing his belt. Her smile remained, still offering up every bit of warmth it had before, only now there was a trace of devilish excitement. 

She rubbed at his cock again, teasing her fingers along the bulge in his trousers. Miguel decided not to question her. She was the Professor after all.

In no time at all, she had his pants bunched down around his ankles, his bare ass getting the shock of the cold, wooden seat - but Miguel didn’t care. How could he care about anything else now that his cock was out in the open and cradled in Professor Garlick’s hands? Warm fingertips slid around the root of him, steadying his hardness before her gleeful eyes. Her smile had the sweetness of candy as she inspected his manhood and her tender touch was even sweeter, sliding slowly along his aching shaft. Miguel could savor the scene - and the sensation - for only a brief moment before Mirabel dipped down with her pretty mouth and ushered him into a new world of pleasure.

“Uhhng- Oh, Merlin!” He cried, legs shaking as his prick was engulfed in the most wonderful soaking wet heat he had ever felt in his young life.

His nerves were raging through his flesh, a millions sparks all buzzing over his skin, an inferno blazing in his gut and in his balls. And his cock, it was harder than it had ever been. Twitching, quaking, already primed to erupt after a few bobs of Mirabel’s head.

Stiff like a wand as it endured the lashings of her tongue and Miguel was stiff right along with it, his entire body ran through with tension. He gripped the armrests of his seat tightly, until his knuckles were bone white, like he’d melt and get swept away the moment he let go. It was torture, the most amazing sort, agony on his body, on his senses, but Miguel wished it would never end.

Mirabel kept sucking him, bobbing her head in his lap, up, down, up, down, caressing him with her soft, soft lips, so soft that Miguel wanted to howl. Maybe he was howling. The Professor was dragging sounds from him with each stroke of her tongue, each dip of her head. Grunts and groans and trembling whimpers that Miguel tried to stifle - he was the Hero of Hogwarts. Heroes didn’t whimper. Certainly not in front of beautiful witches who were so wonderful as to get on their knees-

She was looking up at him now. Looking up into his eyes as she bathed his cock with another coating of thick, warm spit. Seeing the Professor like that, the vision of her with affection so clear and open, with wisps of her silky red hair falling across her face, taking his manhood into her mouth over and over and over and over… it was spellbinding.

A soft hum sounded from her throat. She started to suck him a bit faster. More eagerly, it seemed to the young hero. She likes making me squirm. The hopeful thought sent a thrum through Miguel’s cock, the length swelling even stiffer in her mouth. The Professor seemed to delight in that too.

“That’s- Uooooh- Just like… Just like that… Sweet Merlin…”

Can’t even speak anymore. I’m melting. Going to melt into a puddle right here in the greenhouse. What an end to the Hero of Hogwarts. Survived trolls, goblins, dragons, dark wizards… Couldn’t endure a woman’s tongue.

It was such an exquisite tongue, in his defense. The warmest, wettest, most perfect thing he had ever enjoyed in his life. Lashing that perfection all over the length of his cock. Some of it was dribbling down to his balls by now. His tight, aching balls. It was unbearable, the pressure in his groin. Like he was a steam pipe ready to burst.

That thought jolted some fright into him. Through the pleasure, clarity managed to slap him about the face. A wizard ought to be a gentleman, his father had once said to him. It would do Miguel no good at all to spill all over Mirabel’s face. Or even worse, in her mouth. All the pleasure she had so graciously given him, repaid with brutish vulgarity. Miguel could not allow that.

“W-wait.” He sputtered, trying to sit upright on the chair. It was a struggle with Mirabel’s mouth still latched to him. “Professor, I- Please, I’m about to- Guh. Uuuuuuuh…”

Too late.

A knot in his gut, white hot and grinding tighter, tighter, until his body could not bear it. He bucked up into Mirabel’s sucking mouth, groaning, shivering as pleasure shot down the length of his cock. His balls clenched, clenched, and clenched again, sending spurt after spurt after tremendous spurt. He might have been able to ride out the sensation despite the intensity, but then the Professor was humming around his manhood as he shot into her mouth and that sapped the rest of his mind. He slumped against the back of the chair, head thrown back, staring groggily into nothing, with only the agony of pleasure to keep him rooted in the world.

Torture and sweetness drenched his cock. It was too much… and somehow also too short. Miguel didn’t know for how long he lay slumped in the seat, enduring the Professor’s torment, but eventually she put an end to it. He felt and heard her slurp away, letting his wet cock slap down between his legs, half-limp and still aching.

The only sound he had the strength to make was a groan. Then came the soft sound of Mirabel’s laughter.

“Mmm. That was quite a lot for a wizard your age.” He heard her titter. The timbre of her voice put a jolt into him, just as he thought his heart was beginning to settle. Miguel found the strength to crane his head up from the backrest, peering at the woman through half-lidded eyes.

Merlin, that smile. The smile to entrance even the mightiest of wizards. But what truly put the fire back into his veins was how pleased she looked, the matter-of-fact pride as she wiped the corner of her mouth and sucked her fingers clean.

She didn’t miss a single drop. Merlin.

“You… Did you…?” Miguel tried to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out. He’d tried to warn her, but failed. That shamed him… even if Mirabel didn’t seem to mind.

“I didn’t want to make a mess of myself.” She explained, ever amused with his stuttering. “A Hogwarts professor must be presentable. Aren’t I presentable, Miguel?”

She was still kneeling between his legs, her blouse still open, her breasts still bare, with flushed cheeks and tousled hair and spit-smeared lips.

“Yes.” He all but croaked. As if he was confessing. “Sweet Merlin, yes.”

That seemed to please her all the more. All the deference he couldn’t keep from spilling into his voice. All the worship.

“You say that for all the witches who get on their knees, I bet.”

“No witches.” Miguel breathed, shifting himself up straight. “Just you.”

Mirabel cocked a brow. “And Miss Sweeting?”

“...I never got her on her knees.”

Mirabel tossed her head back and laughed. It was a rich, beautiful sound… and it made Miguel’s cheeks burn red hot. She stifled her giggling, setting her focus on him again.

“No, I suppose you haven’t.” Her mouth curled impishly. “At least, not yet.”

Miguel’s heart jumped once more, his mind sweeping into a whirlwind of wild imaginings, with Poppy Sweeting the star of each and every one. His young mind was gripped by thoughts of holding Poppy, sharing kisses with Poppy, running his fingers through Poppy’s hair. Unbuttoning Poppy’s blouse, touching Poppy’s soft skin… Poppy getting down onto her knees, the same way Mirabel did, looking up at him with waiting eyes.

Another bout of giggling shook Miguel from his daze. The sweet visions vanished and the dim, musty greenhouse came sweeping back in to take their place. He was back in the chair, half-naked with his trousers down around his ankles, with Mirabel there before him, looking so gleeful and tickled by his fantasizing. 

Miguel gulped, feeling his cheeks burn even hotter. The way she looked at him then… like she knew everything about him, like she knew every single thought that ran through his head, it sent his stomach twisting and turning until his insides were knots over knots within knots. 

The twisting feeling was short-lived. A new sight crept by Miguel’s peripheral, movement up high to the right of them. A shape, smooth and gliding. Miguel froze stiff and the knots in his belly turned to stone, sinking to the pit of his stomach. It was a Hogwarts ghost, humming some tune as it passed in through the greenhouse wall. His blood turning to ice, the young hero didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. He watched the spectre float on by, still humming his tune, before disappearing through the opposite wall.

Gone in seconds. It hadn’t noticed them. Miguel should have felt relief. Instead his body turned to pure nerves. 

Mirabel snorted at his expression, unknowing of the danger that had passed them by.

“It can’t be that terrifying.” She said to him. “After all you’ve already done? She’s only a girl, Miguel.”

“It’s not that.” Miguel quickly pulled his pants back up, stuffing his parts away, uncaring of the smearing of Mirabel’s spit. He lowered his voice. “There was a ghost.”

The Professor’s brow pinched in.

“Just now?”

“It almost saw us.”

Now the Professor looked a bit troubled. She stood up, hastily finishing the buttons of her blouse. Though when she was done, she smoothed her skirts and offered up a little grin.

“Best get presentable then. We don’t want to besmirch the Hero of Hogwarts’ good name.”

Miguel returned her smile despite himself. He eased his breathing and that calm followed to the rest of his body. He buttoned his trousers, closed his belt, ignored the wetness Mirabel’s sweet mouth had left on his manhood, allowing himself to relax. The ghost hadn’t noticed them, he reminded himself. They were fine. There was no trouble to be had.

Still… there was a needling of disappointment. His time with the Professor had come to an end.

Perceptive as she was, Mirabel noticed his look.

“We can continue your lesson later, if you’d like.” She offered much to his shock. “Somewhere more private, perhaps? Where we won’t be so rudely interrupted.”

Miguel just stood there, blinking. He almost didn’t believe the words he had just heard. It was the blessing of Merlin himself that his voice didn’t crack next.

“Really?”

“Of course.” Mirabel nodded, delighting in his disbelief. “I don’t like to leave a job half-finished. You did so well today… but it’s clear to me you have much to learn about witches, Mister Luna.”

Could this really be happening to him? Not just a teacher, but the most beautiful teacher at Hogwarts, eager to spend more time with him? His cock had been in her mouth and somehow things were still getting better.

“Yes.” Miguel nearly shouted. He cleared his throat, blushing mad yet again. “I mean to say… That would be fantastic.”

“Fantastic? I made quite the impression already, it seems.” She sent him a teasing smirk that turned the stones in his gut back into twisting knots. She touched a finger to her chin, tutting in thought. “It will have to be in my bedroom then. It would do me no good to go sneaking into the student dormitories after dark. You’ll have to be careful about the paintings and the ghosts… though that shouldn’t be a problem for you, talented wizard that you are.”

As the Professor was speaking, however, Miguel came to a plan of his own.

“I might have a better idea, Professor.”

Mirabel glanced his way with a mixture of interest and amusement.

“Still so formal?” She asked, smirking. “After all that?”

“I-”

“Go on, Miguel.”

Miguel breathed and nodded, doing his best to focus on his words and not his hammering heart.

“It doesn’t need to be your bedroom. There’s a room that us students have been using, away from the ghosts and the paintings and even the professors. It’s special.”

“Special how?” The Professor asked with growing interest.

“Well… It’s hidden in plain sight, within the very walls of the school. We call it the Room of Requirement.” Miguel confessed, keeping his voice low as if another ghost would pass through the greenhouse at any moment. “And what makes it special is that it reveals itself whenever a witch or a wizard needs it. Hence the name.”

Professor Garlick pursed her lips - her very fine, very soft lips - as she absorbed the information.

“I see. Sounds quite useful.” Her face softened then and she reached out to touch Miguel’s arm. “But we’re looking for privacy, Miguel. If other students know about this room…”

“They won’t use it at night. It’ll be past curfew.”

“Miguel. You’ll be out past curfew.”

“Yes. But I’ll have a reason to be.”

Mirabel stared at him. Then she let out a quick, snorting chuckle.

“I suppose you do. Daring young man. You would have made a fine Gryffindor.”

Miguel wished he was a Ravenclaw for then he might have thought of something witty to say. Instead, he stood there with a dumb, dopey grin on his face - proving the Professor correct in little time.

“So…” Mirabel clasped her hands together over her lap. “How does one find this Room of Requirement?”

“It’ll be on the seventh floor, left corridor. Don’t worry if you can’t find the door. I’ll be there first to let you in.” He told her confidently, even through the nerves and the blood still racing through his veins.

“Mm. I’m excited already.”

“Really?” The question flew out on its own, bringing a bigger smile to the redhead’s pretty face.

She answered him by drawing closer, so close that the scent of her hair tickled his nostrils, and pressing a soft, sweet kiss right on his mouth. It was astonishing what she did to him. A little peck had his cock jumping in his pants.

“I’ll see you tonight, Mister Luna.” She spoke gently against his lips. Her breath was so splendid and warm on his skin. “Don’t leave me waiting in the cold for too long.”

She stole another quick peck for herself and patted him on the shoulder. His signal to head off.

“I won’t.” He replied, dazed and dizzy with excitement. “I promise I won’t!”

He stumbled as he backed towards the door, only barely catching himself. He heard Mirabel giggling as he departed but he didn’t care. There was no shame or embarrassment that could leave a mark on him then. His high was the rush of victory. He never felt more like the Hero of Hogwarts than he did in that moment.

…But that didn’t give him a pass for stupid choices.

This was a mission he absolutely could not fail. It was Mirabel Garlick hanging in the balance. Pretty, lovely Mirabel, with her long red hair, her full, sweet lips, and those plump breasts with pink jewel nipples- 

Miguel was not risking a night with her. And if he snuck out after curfew, there was a chance he might get caught. He couldn’t go back to the dormitories.

That only left him with one option.

The Hero of Hogwarts made for the seventh floor corridor.