| Snape sighed. |
Harry sighed. |
| Now Voldemort was, as one might say, conclusively dissolved (and then swallowed by a nine-foot green glowing bear-thing with, according to Hagrid, a lead-lined magic-resistant stomach) he had apparently enough spare time for the sort of unproductive pointless dithering he hadn't engaged in in years. |
Now Voldemort was turned into a puddle of goo for all time, and one of Hagrid’s monsters had eaten the goo without even getting a stomach-ache, it gave him time to worry about other less threatening things. Well, the sorts of things that any normal 17-year-old would worry about. |
| About sex, among other things. |
Like people. Well, sex, really. |
| Well, he’d had a few offers not to consider. |
Who was going to...if anyone at all, of course. |
| Ha! “Ex-Death-Eater War Hero Snape” groupies... or even “Arrogant Bastard Potions Master” groupies—not in his bed, thank you very much! |
He really didn’t want any of that Boy-Who-Lived stuff in the bedroom. Or even “Quidditch Hero Potter". |
| He wanted to forget about all of that. |
He wanted to forget about all of that. |
| He wanted to be bent helplessly over his desk by a strong capable dominant, get shagged senseless, and then finally get his first decent night’s sleep in years. |
He wanted to crawl into bed with someone who didn’t give a flying fuck about any of it, shag them senseless, and have a decent night’s sleep. |
| Unfortunately, he hadn’t even met somebody who knew how to play that particular game for years (apart from Lucius, and Snape hadn’t the taste for actual pain and torture as opposed to erotic submission). |
Unfortunately, people who didn’t give a flying fuck about any of it were in very short supply (apart from Draco, who was putting on the Potter-is-a-terrible-bore stuff like mad and eaten up with envy). |
| Well, hadn’t met apart from... |
In short supply apart from... |
| He’d already found someone whose natural dominance gave him a rather nice tingle. |
He had found someone who didn’t give a fuck about any of it. Well, he knew the person already. |
| Unfortunately, it was Potter. |
Unfortunately, it was Snape. |
| Harry (unexpectedly handsome now) had been standing up to Dumbledore, telling him what he thought of him: “You use people, sir. It’s for the best of motives, agreed, but it’s not right.” His expression was a piquant mixture of nervousness and Gryffindor boneheaded courage. |
He’d been telling Dumbledore off, sort of. Standing up on his toes (wishing he were taller) and explaining that there were limits in what he was going to do for the war, clenching his stomach at the thought that Dumbledore was going to turn him into a frog. |
| Snape had been aroused, and disgusted with himself. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the boy. |
Then he’d noticed Snape. Staring at him. With hatred and disgust, as usual. Absolutely quivering with it. |
| Found a natural dominant at last—and it’s Potter! It’s Potter! his mind gibbered. |
Somebody who doesn’t let all that shit alter their attitude to me. And it has to be Snape! |
| Potter was in his charge. A student. What sort of sick bastard had such thoughts about a boy half his age? Well, him, obviously. |
And yet, Snape was quite... attractive, in a weird sort of way, now he thought about the concept. What an extremely sick thought. |
| God, I’m a pervert! |
God, I’m a pervert! |
| He’d turned tail and run, when he could. |
Harry had run like hell as soon as he could. |
| He couldn’t run away from himself, though. Because he knew. |
Not far enough to get away from the idea, though. |
| Angrier and angrier and guiltier as it went on, he raged against Harry whenever he could. It was that or beg. He safeguarded himself from that by being even more appalling than usual. |
It was damn unpleasant being turned-on by somebody who hated his guts. Somebody who wouldn’t even speak politely to him. Somebody who detested him. |
| All his Potions lessons with Potter had him rock-hard, now, thinking of Potter just bending him over the desk and doing him. Potter hated him, which was perfectly well-deserved, and he couldn’t see any way they could approach each other. |
About the only way he’d ever have him would be to tie him up, gag him, push his robes up, and fuck him. Whether he used magic or rope for the bondage, it wasn’t something he was going to do. No matter how often he wanted it. |
| Unless I rape him. Not only is that a moral sticking-point, but I don’t quite see how it’s possible from underneath. I’ll just dream. Nobody can stop that. And it’s one of my few pleasures. |
That would be—let me see—rape, wouldn’t it? And I don’t want to rape anyone, even if I wake up at night having wet dreams about it. Not that he seems exactly reluctant in the dreams.. |
| The dreams were satisfying. Potter would come up to him, stare coolly into his face while he argued, and then just push his robes up and tip him gently over the desk. Since it was a dream, he was wearing absolutely nothing under his robes, and since it was a dream, Potter just shoved it in effortlessly. |
He liked the dreams. They nipped quickly over however he managed to overpower Snape (probably because he had no idea), and settled into the pleasure of hard, rutting sex. He’d make Snape wear no underclothes if he ever had the chance; he had no idea how all of that fitted together. |
| It would all be a lot more endurable if Potter hadn’t taken to practically following him about. Staring at him. When he started noticing it, he thought there was a smudge on his nose from the last batch of Potions (there often was) but Potter seemed to be looking at his lips. He licked his own lips involuntarily. |
He had a nasty feeling that Snape had noticed his tendency to follow him. His interest was a weakness, and Snape treated weakness the way a shark did. If he wasn’t careful, Snape would notice the way he was staring. But his dreams had been so busy at the other end, he hadn’t really explored the mouth. |
| All he wanted was some sort of excuse. |
All he wanted was some sort of excuse. |
| Didn’t the years of experience he had over Potter count for anything? He must know how to approach someone by now. He was old enough. |
He’d like to know how he was supposed to come up with something, with his lack of experience. Have to do it on nerve. |
| Whatever was going to happen, or not happen, had to be this week. There was one revision week left before final exams. He shouldn’t do this at all, but if he did, it would have to be now. Last chance. |
If he had been able to think of something, it would be this week to try it out. It was, after all, traditional to think about non-academic things in revision week, unless you were Hermione. |
| Snape decided on the only approach he’d never tried. Manners. |
Harry prodded his own thoughts for days with no result and gave up. |
| He picked an evening when Potter appeared to have enough free time to be gazing aimlessly out of the window. However much he hates Potions, he never stared out of the window. |
Snape picked on Harry one evening when he was doing nothing more offensive than staring out of the window. Maybe windows are a strange exotic thing to him, Harry thought |
| Then he invited Potter to the dungeon. A welcoming fire was burning in the grate, most of the Potion stains had been cleaned off the surfaces, and he’d put cloths over the gurgly thing in the aquarium and the many slimy things in jars. |
Instead of punishing him, Snape invited Harry to the dungeon. It looked almost cosy, with a roaring fire and no visible revolting things. He picked up the corner of a cloth. Something gurgled at him. He put it down again hurriedly. |
| Snape sat down, without speaking, in one tall chair by the fire, and picked up his glass of whisky. He watched Potter pick his up, eyeing it mistrustfully. |
The proper thing—the adult thing—to do, would be to take his tone from Snape. Harry sat down opposite him and picked up his drink mistrustfully. |
| “It’s single malt. I would never poison a student,” Snape said wearily, sipping slowly. |
Whisky, apparently. It gave you a funny feeling, but it wasn’t bad. He drank it slowly. |
| “Even one you hate?” asked Potter. Snape glared at him. |
“Even one you hate?” Harry asked. Snape glared back. |
| “I don’t hate you, Potter. You merely irritate me.” Sparks were practically flying from Potter’s eyes. Irritate me and tempt me almost unendurably, Snape thought. |
Not even important enough to hate. I’d like to teach him a lesson. That and screw him silly. Harry admired those dark shadowed eyes. I could get lost in those eyes. |
| Snape raised an eyebrow. |
“Well, you don’t like me.” |
| Snape could feel his face taking on that expression halfway between a sneer and a smile, as if merely waiting for Potter to dig a big enough hole for himself with his words. |
“But you don’t like it when people stand up to you, sir! You like people to be respectful.” Harry had stood up to Snape regularly, maybe once a lesson or so. |
| “I prefer people not to in a class, that is correct. Simply because it makes my job easier. Do not generalise from the specific to the particular unless you have a reason to.” Snape gave him a particularly piercing glare. “Recreationally, my interests are different.” |
Now that could be interesting...but he can’t mean... Harry couldn’t look away from those dark eyes. And whether Snape wanted to give tantalising hints about his private life or not, Harry was already finding out quite a bit about him. |
| I don’t need to explore that side of my personality. It gets enough play every day of my life. |
“You can’t pretend you don’t like having power over people.” And if you did, I wouldn’t believe you. |
| “Ambition and power are the air a Slytherin breathes. The occasional dive into the opposite can be refreshing.” |
A quick, hot, sly glance, and Snape was admitting to—Harry didn’t quite know what, but it was interesting. |
| Potter said something naïve, but admirably logical. Of course, Lucius and the other Death Eaters would have been glad to help him explore the parameters of submission, degradation and pain. It would be getting out of that game again unmarked that would be more difficult. |
“I would have thought that... your acquaintances would have been quite keen on that side of things.” After all, nobody says they’re not kinky. Everyone says Malfoy Manor’s full of dungeons and stuff. This wasn’t exactly something he’d ever thought of talking to Snape about. |
| “My associates considered my tastes altogether too limited.” |
Is he saying he was too nice for them? Too kind? My god. |
| Impudent puppy! But he has a point. It’s as well to know. |
“That’s a point, Severus. What exactly are your tastes?” |
| “Mild humiliation, passive sodomy, submission. All strictly limited to within sexual activity.” Snape kept his voice absolutely steady and cool as he watched Potter stand up, looking confident and relaxed and alarmingly sexy. |
Yes! We are talking about sex! But I wish he’d given me some warning before saying that. It’s a bit of a shock all at once. Harry got up, stood there with his arm leaning gently against the chair, hoping he looked self-confident. |
| Does he have any idea what he looks like when he stands there like that? Snape thought. The power he has over me? |
Hope I look dominant enough, Harry thought, doing his damnedest to look as if he knew what he was doing. |
| Potter said, “Why me, though? If it’s some sick thing about me being your worst enemy, no.” |
Why me? Harry thought. Just because you’re my worst enemy—no, I don’t think I like that. |
| “Be assured, Mr Potter, I have a number of worst enemies higher on the list. About sixty percent of my behaviour towards you in the last few months has been an attempt to drive you away because I should not want to involve myself sexually with someone so young. It does not appear to have worked,” he added dryly, resigned to the truth. |
S’pose I was under Voldemort, Sirius Black, Pettigrew and so on. Probably a long list. Probably regularly updated, as well. So when I was thinking ‛I can’t want him—he’s a bastard!’ he was thinking ‛I can’t want him—he’s my student!’ The look of resigned humour on Snape’s face was surprisingly attractive. |
| He’s wondering... |
“What’s the other forty percent?” |
| “Malice,” said Snape calmly. |
Well, at least he’s honest.. |
| “As for why you, Mr Potter, I trust you.” |
What sort of game is he playing with me now? |
| Silence. |
Silence. |
| “This is not some perverse Slytherin mind-fuck, Mr Potter. It is more of a question of what I can trust you not to do.” Snape said seriously. |
First time he’s mentioned trusting me with anything. I’m amazed. Who are you and what have you done with Professor Snape? |
| “Which is?” |
“Which is?” |
| “If you do not want to do such a thing, I suspect it would go against your peculiarly touchy sense of ethics to use the knowledge against me. If you do, I trust you to keep it to this room and tell nobody. So leave or stay.” |
I’m amazed I believe that. But it makes sense. I’d use any number of other things against him, but I’m flattered he’s being honest. If I found out something against him, I might gossip, but not this way. And he’s given me the choice. |
| Snape bowed his head, very slightly. He was sitting down, while Potter was in, if he had the wit to realise it, a dominant position. |
Harry had never quite seen that sort of body language from Snape. It almost looked subtly submissive. Waiting. For him? |
| Oh... he thought, as Potter said: “Take your clothes off. Everything.” Some beneficent deity had handed Potter at least half a clue, he decided happily. |
Harry told him to take his clothes off. Even when Snape stumbled up off the chair and put his wand carefully on a desk, he wasn’t sure whether Snape was going to obey. |
| Snape stripped clumsily, hands shaking on his many buttons, only just remembering to get his boots off before struggling with his underwear (which was bad enough considering his prick felt about three times as big as usual). Oh, this was so humiliating! He blushed, for the first time in ages. |
Who would have thought that’d work? Well, he’s not joking about wanting it. Harry could see the long hands trembling a little, oddly clumsy. Snape’s face was still pale, but with a spot of red on each cheek. Looked as if all the blood in that body were burning in face and prick. |
| Potter seemed to like that. “Do it slowly.” He had the audacity to fondle himself as if Snape were putting on some sort of sleazy display for him. This was infuriating—Potter was nicely well-built and Snape wanted to have a really good look himself. Oh—now bend over. Good boy, Potter! |
It looked as though Snape liked that. “Do it slowly,” said Harry, rubbing his own cock through his trousers. He had no idea whether this would ever happen again, but his childhood had given him the trick of snatching enjoyment when he could. “Then bend over that desk.” |
| The more quotidian reactions were still there, of course. He was quite as embarrassed and furiously irritated as he would be if someone was doing this in his day-to-day life. The difference was simply that now he wanted it. Very much. |
That vein in Snape’s forehead was throbbing again. Harry wasn’t quite sure that it was for simple rage, this time: Snape looked as though embarrassment, lust and irritation were fighting it out for control. He hoped lust would win. |
| Why hadn’t he thought about how uncomfortable the desk was going to be? All very well to enjoy the thought of it... His erection felt as if it would be capable of drilling a hole in the wooden desk at present, but that wouldn’t last. He wished he were enough of a physical masochist to actually get some fun out of it. It was infuriating not having his wand and being powerless to do anything to get comfortable. |
Bending someone over his desk was all very well, Harry decided, but if Snape wasn’t keen on real pain, it might ruin the fun. Harry intended to have fun. If you looked at it one way, Snape sort-of owed him some enjoyment after all the mental torture. However, Flitwick had capitalised on the broom-obsession of most of the school to get them interested in Cushioning Charms, and Harry could manage that. |
| However, Potter had his out already, and was using it. |
What price ’foolish wand-waving’ now! |
| “I hope you’ve prepared yourself,” Potter said, slapping him on the rump. He had in fact done quite a bit (cleaning up the desks, making his rooms look vaguely cosy, drinking a certain Potion), but he’d certainly done that more personal preparation that Potter was referring to. |
“I hope you’ve prepared yourself...” Because I’m not that sure I know what to do if you haven’t, Harry thought. But if it had occurred to Snape to prepare his rooms and let him know his attentions might be appreciated, it would probably have occurred to him to do that. |
| Potter slid a finger in, with no warning. Telling me I have no say in the matter, or maybe it doesn’t occur to him to make it a dialogue. Snape gasped, and rubbed back on the finger. There was an answering gasp from behind him, and the finger began to move, stretching him slowly. |
He put a finger in, having a vague clue what went first. He expected Snape to stay still and wait, but Snape behaved as if he actually liked it. He moved the finger around, and Snape groaned a little and pushed back. Either he enjoys that or he’s suggesting I hurry up. |
| Another finger went into him, rather tentatively exploring. Both of them had him very ready indeed. I shouldn’t have bothered to wash the desk—I’m probably dripping on it. Still, he could rely on a young man not to take all night about it. Potter must be getting eager, too. |
Wanting to find out which, he slid another finger in, slowly. Snape groaned, pushed, opened for him. Harry could see underneath him now as he pushed up and back, and he definitely was enjoying it. I’d like to watch this some more. If I could stand it! |
| Now! |
Now! |
| He only just had time to relax. Only just had time to enjoy the first—and last—stroke, as Potter came helplessly as soon as he was in. He searched the recesses of his brain for something awful enough to say to Potter, and failed. His life was rich with pain, suffering, undeserved cosmic irony, and despair. Merely missing a good shag shouldn’t figure largely on his list of woes. But now he was going to have to say something appalling again, and Potter was going to hate him, and he wasn’t even going to get to come. Potter would be nauseatingly apologetic, and it would all be over. |
Oh god. This feels wonderful—oh! Harry thought, closely followed by: Oh god. This is the most embarrassing moment of my life. Ever, as he realised that his reactions had got away from him. A fraction of a second of hot pleasure wasn’t even close to being what he wanted. And as if Snape would ever come near him now he’d fucked it up. Maybe he should cut his own balls off pre-emptively before Snape did. Snape was going to open his mouth and say something, and he’d be done for. Pure desperation gave him a stratagem and the courage to use it. |
| “Did I say you could move?” Potter whispered. Not a fraction of embarrassment, just menace and absolute dominance—even without an erection to back it up. He gave Potter the benefit of the doubt. |
“Did I say you could move?” He’d learned that particular technique from the object of it, and judging by the way Snape went still, he was interested enough to stay still and not try to maim him immediately. |
| Snape felt the warmth of fingers rubbing away at his thighs and arse. Well, it wasn’t the real thing, but it might just do for now. “Touch yourself,” Potter ordered him, and three fingers went right in. How dare he—ordering me to masturbate—and I wouldn’t have to if it weren’t for... |
He withdrew and went to work with three fingers, rubbing and stroking. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, keeping his voice bored. Snape seemed to tense up at the assault on his dignity, but he soon began to masturbate greedily as Harry shoved the wedge of fingers in. |
| It didn’t take long. He’d have wanted a fast fuck anyway, just more than about three seconds of it. He was achingly randy, and the thought of someone else seeing his inner depravity drove him wild. He was stretched—gloriously debauched and dying for a good fucking—over a wooden desk while one of his own pupils fingerfucked him to the point of insanity. He’d never had an erotic dream about this situation. Or at least not yet. |
This wasn’t, Harry suspected, going to take long. He still wished he’d managed to do it properly, the way Snape wanted, but judging by the noises Snape was making, he’d found an acceptable substitute. He tried to move the fingers like a cock, thrusting them suggestively in and out. Actually, this way of masturbating Snape was probably going to make it onto his list of fantasies if he was likely to get a reaction like this for it. |
| Snape groaned and snarled and impaled himself as far as he could get, going quite still. One hand worked his prick frantically, and he grabbed fiercely at Harry’s wrist, trying to get more into him, wanted more, had to have it, had to—ah, that was it!—fast hard bursts of pleasure jolting out of his prick and leaving him weak and shaking and happy. |
Snape was hurting Harry’s wrist a little—not intentionally, he thought—just out of his mind with need. Harry thought he was going to find that thought very erotic the next time he was capable. Snape went quite still, apart from his hands; fist flying up and down on his own prick, other hand clamped viciously on Harry’s wrist, and came helplessly. |
| Still blankly, he allowed himself to be led to a chair and cuddled. Picking up the exploded shards of his dignity, he managed to put himself together enough to say. “An interesting technique, Potter. What gave you the idea?” |
Snape was mumbling something about his technique. What technique? thought Harry. Snape looked as close as he ever got to shocked, though. Harry cuddled up rather protectively and stroked his hair. |
| He was mildly surprised (he only had the energy for ’mildly’) to find that Potter hadn’t been quite as confident as he appeared. Reckless nerve was part of it, of course. Hmph. Not-quite-fucked my brains out. The boy has a turn of phrase. |
“Actually,” said Harry, “if I dropped the reins you’d never let me back in the saddle again, so I had to guess out of pure desperation. Very Gryffindor-ish, you’d probably say if I hadn’t just not-quite-fucked your brains out.” |
| Snape dozed off, there in his chair, in a not-entirely-comfortable position with a warm body on top of him. When did ’where Harry Potter is’ start to feel like safety? He must have lost his mind to find that acceptable. When he woke up—well, part of him did—by the time he opened his eyes, he was grinding his renewed erection against Potter’s hip, and moaning. |
Harry fell asleep there and then. A few years ago, he’d have liked nothing better than the chance to frustrate any of Severus Snape’s desires with impunity. He certainly wouldn’t have taken the effort to make him happy, then dragged him round in the chair so that the bony bits weren’t pressing against anything awkward, and held him. |
| “How long have we been asleep?” Potter asked dozily. |
Harry wondered how long they’d been asleep, and asked. |
| “Ten minutes.” |
Only ten minutes? |
| “You can’t deny that you set a record for speed, Potter,” Snape told him. |
I’d apologise, except I think that would be a strategic mistake. |
| Nothing wrong with his powers of observation, at least. I only wish he’d ever used them in lessons, Snape thought. |
Potter looked embarrassed. “You’re ready again as quickly as I am. Thought an older man wouldn’t be, is all.” |
| “I dosed myself up. On something to help my antique blood crawl faster through my age-weakened veins,” Snape remarked acidly. |
A Potion for everything, Harry thought, bemused, noticing that Snape had woken up enough to manage to sound sarcastic again. |
| Snape raised an eyebrow to suggest: when would one of my Potions not work? |
“Mm. Well, whatever it was, it worked,” Harry said, enjoying the feel of Snape’s cock against him. |
| The boy had the unmitigated cheek to suggest going to bed. |
“Severus. Wouldn’t we both be more comfortable in bed?” |
| “I refuse to let your incompetence cheat me out of being fucked over a desk if I so wish, Potter,” Snape said in his most dangerous tone. |
God, he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch, actually, Harry thought. All right, let him choose this one, and I’ll have him in bed later. |
| Snape was in such a haze of lust that he bent over the wrong desk to start with. |
“Bend over, Severus. Not that desk, cretin! Wasting my careful preparation.” |
| Snape went to the table with the Cushioning Charm, and looked for a cloth or his wand, but Potter said not to clean it up. He lay down. |
“Bend over now, Severus. There’s no point cleaning up your mess if you’re just going to come all over it again. Dirty slut,” Harry added, with relish. |
| Snape couldn’t quite feel anything... squelchy, what with the Cushioning Charm, but he was quite aware that he was randy and desperate enough to lie down right on top of the mess he’d made. “No fingers, just fuck me!” he gasped, wrenching himself open, “and I’ll make you suffer if you don’t last at least five minutes.” |
Harry watched Snape wriggle and pull himself open, ordering Harry to do what he wanted now! in a very familiarly Snape-like fashion. Where did all that dominance go—oh well never mind! decided Harry, realising he had important fucking to be getting on with. He only hoped he’d last out. |
| Potter looked hesitant. |
I wish I hadn’t thought of that. |
| “Don’t think yourself out of the mood, Potter. I don’t expect wonders, just a moderate ability.” |
Bastard. How dare he? I’ll just have to show him! Harry thought, clenching his teeth. |
| Snape relaxed as Potter breached him thoroughly. He groaned deeply and pushed back and up to get as much in as possible. Potter was still angry at something; short aggressive jabs at first, which wasn’t nearly enough. “More! Now!” Then he had that long satisfying prick stuffed right up him, and he just wriggled and shuddered and sobbed for breath. |
Harry shoved himself in, which didn’t seem to bother his opponent too much. Quick, angry little thrusts at first: that did seem to bother Snape, who just wanted more. It was difficult to stay angry with someone who wanted him so much, so Harry just crammed in, hoping he wasn’t hurting Snape too much, and held still for a moment as Snape gasped. |
| Now that’s more like it! |
Am I hurting him? |
| “Angle yourself a bit better, you’ve got it nearly right.” |
Bastard! There I was worrying about him, and... |
“No, not like that you
idio—yess! Right there! Harder!” God, it’s taken six years to discover the boy can follow simple instructions! |
Harry pulled halfway out, and more by luck than judgement got it right as he rammed back in. Snape told him so. Loudly. |
| A warm fist slid tightly round his cock. Since he’d been at absolute bursting-point for the last few minutes, that did it. Well, that and the internal stimulation. "Fuck me!” he yelled. Wave after wave of pleasure started where Potter’s magnificent length rubbed him relentlessly inside, and streamed out of his own prick in fierce lightning-bolts of sensation. |
Harry slipped his hand round Snape’s cock. He was so aroused it felt very like masturbating himself, especially since the tight grateful muscles inside passed on every quiver of reaction to him. Snape bellowed something and came. Thank god for that! Harry thought, and plunged in one last time, pouring every drop of himself out into Snape. |
| He’d needed that rather badly. |
Mm. I think I needed that. |
| “Potter?” |
Harry sighed. |
| Idiot. I can’t believe he blames himself for that. Oh hell, now I need to have a serious conversation about two minutes after we’ve both come. I asked him for sex, not introspection |
"I’m just pissed-off that nothing’s changed, sir,” Harry said, wearily. He sighed. “I’m not strong enough. I couldn’t even hold on to that moment of dominance.” |
| “Potter, you’re an idiot. I got over-excited and lost control of the game I was playing.” He glared at Potter. “Yes, even I, Severus Snape, with my age and experience, am not in total and absolute control sexually. And if I’m not, I certainly don’t see why you should be.” He paused. |
Harry tried to run that through in his mind. Maybe Snape was right: he hadn’t been grabbing control from a mere boy, he’d just been... desperate. But it’s typical he starts a conversation about how I’m not such a bad dominant with ’Potter, you’re an idiot’. |
| “You managed to recover your nerve after premature ejaculation a damn sight better than I did at your age. Although Malfoy père’s mocking laughter is not conducive to keeping control of the situation.” Snape glared. |
My god. Was he ever my age? Well, he must have been. I am an idiot. And there are worse people I could have shagged than Snape. I can be truly thankful for that. Harry couldn’t stop himself giggling even though Snape was glaring at him. |
| Snape glared harder. |
Harry stopped laughing. |
| Potter said something about an even worse choice of partner. Snape surprised himself by laughing at the image. |
“Sorry, sir,” Harry said. “I just realised how much worse it would have been if I’d shagged the ferre—er, Malfoy fils.” |
| “He’d be prettier than me.” Most people are. |
Well, I can’t deny that. Just...revolting. |
| Thank god for that. Snape thought. |
“Yes, but I don’t fancy him,” Harry said. |
| “I find myself unwilling to spend any more of my time than I have to thinking about either Malfoy,” Snape said repressively, shivering. |
He’s shivering slightly. Probably thinking about Mr Malfoy. Nasty piece of work. To think I thought he was a nasty piece of work once. |
| “Chilly in here,” said Potter. “I bet you’d rather be in a nice warm bed.” Snape glared at him, on general principles, but it was a chilly dungeon, and now he would rather be in a nice warm bed. “In here?” Potter asked, pushing open the door to Snape’s bedroom. I agreed to let him shag me, not to let him enter my private space! Snape thought crossly. |
“Chilly in here,” Harry said, inviting Snape to bed. Snape glared, but didn’t actually disagree with him, so Harry pushed open the door to what looked like Snape’s bedroom, and went inside. Despite Snape’s pretensions to asceticism, his bed was large and soft. Harry settled down in it, stretching and luxuriating in the comfort. |
| “And what are you doing in here?” Snape asked softly. |
Snape, of course, asked what he was doing there. Harry just smiled. |
| “You wanted someone who isn’t easily frightened,” said Potter. “You’ve got me. Anyway, I thought we could try a bed for the third time round.” He pushed the bedclothes off. “I’m up for another go, if you are.” |
Snape wasn’t hard for him yet. Harry regarded that as a challenge. By the time he’d admitted he was ready for another round, there were definite stirrings to be seen. Snape liked his cock. |
| “What exactly are you looking for in this relationship? The odd rough-and-tumble may be regarded as a momentary aberration, Potter. Bed is premeditated.” |
Snape was looking at him very directly. He’d have to answer that one carefully, and fairly honestly. And hope he had the right answer to get himself more of this. |
| “What did you want, sir? When you thought of me?” Potter asked. “Shall we compare notes?” |
Harry was buying himself time. He also wanted to know. “Shall we compare notes?” |
| “I wanted to forget about the whole bloody mess with Voldemort, Potter.” |
Harry nodded. Who would have thought they’d have so much in common! |
| “I wanted someone to bend me over my desk and fuck the living daylights out of me. Then perhaps I’d have a really good night’s sleep.” |
Warn me before you say something like that! Harry thought, cock leaping. It couldn’t have been long since he had, and it had been good. |
| “I wanted,” said Potter, “to find someone who just saw me. Not the hero, not the scar, not even the Quidditch player. Just the man.” Snape understood what he saw in Potter’s eyes. |
I suppose he’s the same. The Death Eaters wanted him to do things for them. So did Dumbledore, really. His eyes met Snape’s in a moment of perfect understanding. |
| Potter’s requirements weren’t, he thought, all that unmanageable. Maybe he’d got a touch of late-onset common-sense. Wouldn’t that be delightful. |
“I wanted,” Harry continued, “to crawl into bed with the person who wanted me, and have a good fuck, and have a really good night’s sleep.” |
| “Seems to me,” said Potter, “that our requirements aren’t that different apart from the furniture?” |
Fucking and good-night’s-sleep is the same for both of us, it’s really only the question of whether it’s over a bed or a desk. |
| “Shut up, Potter,” said Snape, getting into bed beside him. “No rough stuff, though.” He yawned, and took Potter in his arms. |
Gosh. That seems to have worked. Except— “I haven’t put you off playing that game, have I?” he asked, rather worriedly. |
| “Potter, not for the third round when I’m already nearly worn-out. Next week, perhaps. Get on with it, while I’m still awake.” Too tired to snap at Potter. |
Not quite as peremptory as usual, and rather tired. Damn the man, he’s practically saying ’shove it up me and let me get some sleep, there’s a good lad.’ |
| Potter rolled over and sulked, and did an amateurish imitation of snoring. |
Irritably, Harry gave up on the whole idea. Eventually, he pretended to sleep. |
| “Oh, seventeen-year-old dignity, what a nuisance it is,” muttered Snape into the darkness. “Honesty is really less complicated. And more likely to get you what you want.” |
Snape appeared to have noticed he wasn’t asleep. Furiously, Harry tried to snore more convincingly, and then the snore turned into an unwilling laugh. |
| "How hard do I have to shag you to shut you up?” Potter demanded, mock-angrily. |
Harry took an armful of squirming Snape. "How hard do I have to shag you to shut you up?” |
| Snape lifted his legs and handed Potter some lubricant. Potter looked slightly flummoxed by that, and asked him a stupid question. |
Harry did his damnedest to look worldly. “You want me to do you face to face? As if you like me?” But the surprise might have shown. |
| I do like him. Not that I’d ever tell him. He’d be quite unbearable. I mean, more so. |
I like him. Not that I’d ever tell him. He’d be quite unbearable. I mean, more so. |
| “Think of it as an extra perversion, Potter,” Snape drawled wearily, lips twitching into a slight smile. Potter kissed him. It wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. |
He’s damn good at kissing. There’s something I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t tried it, Harry thought, slipping his tongue in and wriggling it. |
| Still kissing, Snape guided Potter’s hand to his arse. He moaned a little as Potter got him ready. It didn’t take much to have him wide open again. |
My god, he’s wide open. Well, considering I’ve had his arse twice tonight it must have given him a bit of a stretch, Harry thought. |
| Potter slipped in. Effortless, gloriously painless, and filling his greedy arse the way fingers never quite could. Then he just stayed still. Well, I suppose I could be generous. He’s done all the work so far. |
He slipped in. One long, effortless, greedy slide, and he was all the way in. He couldn’t quite move. He’d come if he moved, and he might be too fast again. Better stay still. Feels very good. |
| Snape clamped himself down, almost losing his mind in the pleasure of it, and began to work himself very slowly in place. His soaking cock brushed deliciously against Potter’s belly every time he moved, while the friction of Potter’s cock grinding slowly against his prostate was exquisitely satisfying. Mm. He absolutely had to just collapse and indulge himself. Potter took the hint and just fell on him, deep as he could go. |
Oh, that feels wonderful. Sneaky bastard—it’s not so much that I’m fucking him as that he’s wanking himself on me. But he loves it so much I don’t really mind. Do that again! Snape’s head fell back against the pillow in a sweaty tangle of hair: evidently he was concentrating so much on what the lower half of his body was doing that he couldn’t lift his head up. Good. So was Harry. Hope I’m not too heavy on him. |
| He really ought to start thinking about what Harry would like, as well. But that cock felt so good, so hugely, sumptuously, satisfyingly... fucking... good, he was... coming in a long slow sweet surge of pleasure before he could think to do anything. Harry seemed to be managing quite well for himself, though. Snape wriggled encouragingly. |
Snape came a lot quieter the third time round. He just gasped, caught his breath, and pulsed slowly against Harry. Harry wondered what it was polite to do if one’s partner came first, and then said to himself: oh-for-god’s-sake, this is Snape I’m thinking about! and just finished off fast and hard the way he wanted. |
| Oh, that was so good... |
Oh, that was so good... |
| Snape sighed. He was going to miss this. |
"Now what’s the matter?” muttered Harry. |
| Too tired to prevaricate, Snape fell back on the truth. “That was perfect. Why do you have to leave Hogwarts just when I’ve found somebody who does it the way I like it.” |
My god. He’d actually miss me. Harry flung his arms around Snape and hugged him until he complained rather breathlessly. Typical picky bastard, of course. |
| Something about his tone tells me I am not quite going to like this. |
“You don’t know about my plans for my future. Well, of course not.” |
| He might stay here? What was left of Snape’s libido did a rather stumbling victory dance up and down his spine. |
“I might come to work at Hogwarts. Hooch has offered me assistant Quidditch coach, or...” All right so far. |
| “...Professor Dumbledore has offered me the Defence against the Dark Arts position,” said Potter worriedly. |
Oh shit. I was really enjoying spending time with him without the hysterical rages, Harry thought. |
| Snape snorted. “Good. About time Albus bucked the trend and tried somebody halfway competent.” |
Harry couldn’t decide whether he was more startled at the compliment or the fact that Snape wasn’t angry. |
| “Oh I see,” drawled Snape, with familiar sarcasm. “You actually believed the gossip spread by one or other Weasley. Tell me, have I ever given you any rational reason to believe I would like to leave my Potions and go in search of rather flashy fame and glory rather than getting on with my job?” |
But...everybody says. All the Weasley kids, and they’ve been here for ages. And he has always hated the Dark-Arts teachers. But I bet Lupin and Moody were on his list of enemies (though I don’t think Lupin deserved it) and all the other ones were just crap. And I’m not going to be crap at it. |
| “No, sir.” |
Think I believe him. |
| “Though I will delight in being unspeakable to you in public,” Snape said. “Because I enjoy it, and because if you become annoyed, you can fuck it all out of me in private. |
Well, it’s still definitely Snape. Some things do not change, thought Harry, rather relieved at that. He smiled. Won’t be too difficult, then. Might even be rather...fun |
| “Until then,” said Potter, “you can come and visit me. It’ll annoy my godfather, of course.” Snape knew he was grinning. |
Well, he looks happy at the thought. Probably let me shag him on Sirius’s best rug, just to annoy him. Harry grinned back cheerfully. |
| “I can live with that.” |
What a surprise. |
| “Can we go on to the ’good night’s sleep’ part of the plan now we’ve settled the next few months?” Snape said, with a yawn. |
Now he mentions it, I’m shagged-out. And I bet he is, thought Harry, yawning too. But I’m glad we’ve got that sorted. |
| He hadn’t relaxed like this for years. It was heaven to have had enough at last, and to know he could let himself fall asleep without anything more serious than simple day-to-day idiocies to worry him. |
Voldemort’s dead, and all’s right with the world, thought Harry, blissfully happy after all the shagging and at not having all that responsibility on his shoulders. He was just a man, now. |
| “Good night, Harry.” He yawned even more excessively, and cuddled up. God, who would have thought his erstwhile nemesis would be such a comfortable armful? |
“Good night, Severus,” mumbled Harry, as he cuddled up. God, who would have thought his erstwhile nemesis would be such a comfortable armful? |