Title: Warm
Author: [personal profile] perverse_idyll
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5600 for this part
Summary: Severus still suffers the after-effects of Nagini's venom, especially in winter. Harry knows just how to warm him up.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Highlight for Warnings: *Fingering, rimming, relatively nice Snape*

This is a total PWP originally started more than a year ago for [personal profile] torino10154 in response to a Daily Deviant comment fest and finally being posted for the Bring Back the Porn fest. I apologize for my tardiness, and for the fact that the fic still isn't finished! Although I hope to post the second part later tonight or tomorrow. I hope you enjoy it, Torino!


"Well, that was more fun than a barrel of Boggarts."

Harry bumped the front door shut with the snow-caked heel of his dress shoe and peeled off his gloves, watching Severus prop his cane in a corner and continue stiffly down the hall. He'd rather hoped that once they got home Severus would grab his arse and hump him up against a wall, but he could tell from how he walked that the winter freeze between the Ministry ball and their own doorstep had triggered muscle spasms, the ghost of Nagini's venom still flaring and fading in Severus' body, even several years later.

He set some candles alight and unwound his scarf. "I don't know about you, but I'm half-sozzled from all that infernal back-patting. Three solid hours spent raising cups in season's greetings, Merlin's balls."

He didn't really expect an answer, and when he got what he expected, he merely stamped his feet to restore circulation and ruffled the wet chill of snow from his hair.

Outside, the rising and falling whistle of the wind shrieked past the corners of the house, as desolate as Dementors circling the outer walls.

A welcome swirl of conjured warmth settled suddenly upon him, banishing the memories stirred by the wind's voice. Grateful, Harry glanced up to find Severus tucking his wand away and assessing him from the other end of the hall. In his eyes was the saturnine, heavy-lidded sensuality that sometimes came over him when he'd been drinking, a disturbing effect much like holding a flickering candle under the chin so that all the shadows ran up instead of down. A faint, rapacious smile rippled behind those shadows. Harry's cock jumped at the answering stab of heat.

"Pity you were bored," Severus said at last, supporting his weight against the doorframe that led to the unlit back passageway. "I, on the other hand, enjoyed myself immensely."

"Oh, believe me, I enjoyed you enjoying yourself. " Keeping a hopeful eye on that smile, Harry tossed his scarf over the banister railing and strolled closer. "Surprised we weren't ousted for being a public nuisance, to be honest. Things got a bit – " He palmed his crotch for emphasis. "Warm."

"Hmm." Severus' lids drooped, and he stood absorbed for a moment watching Harry stroke himself, only to turn abruptly away like the cock-teasing git he was. "Yes. Now that you mention it, I could stand to be warmer."

Harry gave his crotch a regretful pat and didn't say a word about his frustrations or his concern that Severus' symptoms were acting up.

Still, when Severus paused on the threshold, it occurred to him that another, slower tease was underway. Severus' leather-gloved hand still bracketed the door frame; the same hand that had sneaked inside Harry's robes earlier and warmly, mercilessly explored the seat of his trousers. It had turned an endless parade of Ministerial puffery into a session of private torture. Needless to say, Harry couldn't remember a single word of any speech made that night, but he had perfect recall of Severus' index finger skimming furtively up and down the seam between his arse cheeks and caressing the indentation above his hole.

"Going for a bath?" he called, doing his best to sound casual. Severus tended to be suspicious of kindness shown, especially toward his post-Nagini weakness. He was quite capable of acting beastly and ruining the evening by accusing Harry of being too solicitous.

Its former silkiness serrated by internal scarring, Severus' voice echoed down the hallway. "I expect it will take me about twenty minutes to soak the ice out of my bones. In the meanwhile, I suggest you build up the fire and put a cauldron of spiced wine on to simmer. Once I join you," he still stood with his back to Harry, but a thin corner of cheekbone and a gold-shadowed eye made a sharp turn into the gap between black hair and black scarf, "I intend to finish what the Ministry started. You deserve a full sozzling tonight, Potter."

A vein in Harry's cock twitched. It was maddening. "I don't think you can use 'sozzling' that way," he said, just to be a berk.

"I'll use words any way I please." Severus never seemed to understand that cutting remarks weren't a normal part of conversation, or more likely, he just didn't care. So verbal flirting was always a bit hit-or-miss. But he could make Harry hard just by staring at him a certain way, so it all evened out. "However, if you want to sober up and spend the rest of the evening unsullied, your loss."

The long, leather-clad fingers released the doorframe, and there was a determined tread up the back staircase as Severus vanished in the direction of the first-floor bath. Smiling, Harry peeled out of his own damp robes and set about doing as he'd been told.

The fire was popping out exuberant sparks, blazing and billowing like dragon's breath by the time Severus re-emerged from the dark hall and entered the drawing room. Wet hair smeared its way down his neck and half-veiled his face, a few lank strands just beginning to straggle outward in the erratic puffs of heat.

"Warm enough for you?" Harry said from his seat on the floor.

Severus pushed his hair back, and his expression was everything Harry had hoped for. "I think we've already covered that, Potter. Your job is to get me hot."

"And what's your job, eh? Sounds like I'm the one doing all the work."

"Get me sweaty and relaxed," Severus murmured with the half-smile, half-sneer that made Harry's cock ache for it, "and you'll bloody well find out."

Stripped down to his vest and a worn-soft pair of joggers, Harry lounged back against the pillows he'd heaped atop the rug and watched him. Early in their relationship, he'd bribed Severus out of his penchant for ugly nightshirts by giving him presents, and was rewarded with seeing him arrive fresh from the bath wearing a quilted dressing gown and a pair of green flannel pyjama bottoms. His feet were bare, the belt of the gown dangling loose. In the restless, swarming golden light, his pale chest gave off a shimmery impression, as if he were still dripping wet and hadn't bothered to towel off.

God. Harry wanted to lick him. He loved the taste and fragrance of clean skin. Even more than that, he loved licking the dirty places still tender and glowing from being soaped in hot water, damp from the tub and smelling only faintly musky. He loved burying his face in freshly washed arses and armpits, in the thin-skinned crease beneath a brace of heavy bollocks.

Which Severus bloody well knew. But he only studied the fire, the pewter goblets steaming with mulled wine, and the piled-up arrangement of thick bedding before lowering himself to the floor without comment. As he shrugged to get his shoulders comfortable against the sofa's edge, his dressing gown pouched open and spread to either side, completely baring his narrow chest.

Harry adjusted his glasses and brushed a prickle of sweat off his hairline. Severus' nipples had been scrubbed, exposed to the cold hallway and ushered back into the draughty heat, and they were standing up in a way impossible to ignore. Not that Harry wanted to. What he wanted was to reach out and give them a sharp pinch. Or a good sucking. Yeah, sucking, that was the ticket.

He waited for Severus to meet his eyes, but either their usual erotic rapport was out of joint or Severus was deliberately affecting not to notice.

Picking up his drink, Harry grumbled, "Cheers," and took a sip. Alcoholic fumes wafted up his nose, and the mouthful of wine smoking its way down his gullet scorched his breath with nutmeg and burgundy. Blowing out to cool his tongue, he got distracted again by the sight of those puckered nipples, not to mention the almost sculptural effect of naked collarbones in the constantly weaving, sunset-coloured light, or how the drier Severus' hair got, the more it revealed faint strands of silver like quartz in coal, and – damn it, the bastard had spent the entire Ministry ball teasing the fuck out of him, and now Harry was tipsy and horny and he wanted nothing more than to turn Severus over on his stomach, this very second, and do him.

It didn't help that even when sitting and basking Severus could look so bloody aloof. The only light in the room ebbed and flowed through the fire screen onto his face, the silhouettes of snapping flames licking its hawkish lines, taunting Harry with his desire to do the same.

He accepted the goblet Harry handed him and tasted it slowly, running his tongue over his lips in a meditative way, his hooded eyes fastened upon the red-hot centre of the burning logs. One pyjama cuff rode up as he stretched his feet to the fire, and the black hairs on his exposed shin glittered.

"Potter," he broke the silence at last. And then nothing.

Right. Two could play that game. "Snape."

"I've been thinking all evening," Severus pursued in his harsh, precise whisper, "about your arse."

Harry swallowed a bit too quickly, and the scalding wine made his eyes water. "Funny thing, that. I've been thinking all evening about your fingers." He cleared his throat. "Quite a coincidence, eh?"

Severus didn't reply at first, but flames caught the lurking shadows of something predatory flickering around his mouth. He turned his head slowly and regarded Harry with the same rapt, feline concentration he'd bent upon the fire. The heat reflected in his eyes brushed over Harry's body as slyly as his hands had earlier insinuated themselves all up and down the seat of his trousers.

"Bring it over here."

It wasn't Harry's style to play hard to get, but sometimes Severus deserved to work for it. "Sorry, what?" he said, as if he hadn't really been listening.

Severus raised one long, thin hand, head tilted as he assessed the state of play. "Your arse," he said slowly. "My fingers. Some unfinished business between them." His gaze sharpened when Harry didn't answer the summons. "Now that I'm no longer homicidally bored by yapping civil servants or in imminent danger of freezing my bollocks off, it's time they renewed their acquaintance."

Harry set his drink on the hearth with a triumphant clink. "My arse thinks that's a bloody brilliant idea."

"Then get off it and lie down across my lap."

Joggers wrestled halfway to his ankles, Harry was briefly tempted to wind Severus up further with a taste of delayed gratification, but never mind. Arse play was on the agenda, and it wasn't worth risking that for a game that consisted of testing each other's tempers. That was more Severus' style.

Severus was resting his head back against the sofa cushion, watching as he kicked his pants off, then removed his glasses and levitated them onto the mantelpiece. A roughly cleared throat urged him to stop mousing about, so he rose onto his knees, naked from the waist down, flaunting the stiffy between his legs. Severus already had a hand down his pyjamas, the soft fabric of his fly rippling as he stroked himself. As Harry stared, he brought his hand back out and passed his fingers beneath his nose, inhaling along their length like a connoisseur of subtle fragrances. Then he dipped three fingers inside his goblet.

Sodding hell. Harry scooped up his cock and held onto it, halfway afraid it might suddenly go off.

Still watching him, Severus stirred the wine clockwise. He lifted his dripping fingers and slowly engulfed each in turn, holding them in his mouth, careless of the dark drops that fell and trickled down his chest.

Harry's heart was pounding hard. "Oh hey, hang on." He clambered bare-arsed over the blankets. "Here. Let me help you with that."

And then he was draped across that bony, sallow body, his open mouth on Severus' skin, warm and humid from his soak, lapping at the dribbles of wine and worrying urgently at a nipple, his touch shaky with lust. A brusque hand slid through his hair and bunched it in a knot, tugging his head up. Then Severus was kissing him with tongue and teeth, sucking fiercely, taking control. Harry struggled to sit up, but Severus held him where he was and pulled away.

"Lie down, Potter," he whispered, letting go of his hair to cup his arse instead, then bending forward, forcing himself back into the wet heat of Harry's mouth.

Harry allowed the deft hands to spread him out and arrange him, with special attention paid to the positioning of his legs and bum. He found himself draped arse-up across Severus' thighs, a couple of pillows stuffed under his head and chest for support. The heat of the fire buffeted his bare flanks, breezing over his skin, followed by the slow glide of strong hands across his bottom. The hands shaped and squeezed, exploring the firm flesh, and Harry stifled a groan. Oh God, yes. A muscle rub might be even better than sex.

He changed his mind about that the second Severus pushed his cheeks apart and started circling and niggling at his hole. Harry thrust his arse up, but the fingertip continued without pause along his cleft, tickling the unshaven hairs and poking at the wrinkles, sweeping back and forth over the most sensitive spot, light and unsatisfying as a feather.

Harry angled his legs wider so he could arch his back, making it obscenely obvious what he wanted.

Fingers dimpling the soft skin of his crease, Severus murmured, "You do like exposing yourself, don't you, Potter? To think I almost missed the chance of seeing you like this. It very nearly compensates for years of putting up with your cheek. Your other cheek. However… "

A sharp cleansing spell whisked through him, and Harry yelped and jerked his bum out of Severus' grasp. "Arsehole," he said, glaring over his shoulder and squeezing his sphincter shut. "Warn a bloke, for fuck's sake."

Severus stared back at him with hot, hot eyes, and Harry huffed into the pillow and cautiously resumed his position. Two blunt-nailed fingers started rubbing the small twitchy muscle at the centre of his arse, sparking the nerves and making foreplay of Severus' calculated malice. Then the forefinger was back, slick and gooey, radiantly warm against his closed pucker.

"Under the circumstances, I rather think you are the arsehole," Severus said under his breath, "whereas I am the one who does this," and with careless ease, he inserted a slender finger into Harry's flinching hole, spearing the fleshy bud and impaling him with a single swift jab.

Gasping, Harry splayed himself, his cock jerking with the sudden stab of lust. Severus knuckled down, drilling as far as he could before sliding his finger out and driving it back in. "Fuck," was the only word that even began to express how good that felt, and Harry swore in short bursts as the long finger pumped in and out, greasy and sinuous and quick. Sod it, it wasn't enough, and he hoisted his hips, rising to meet each thrust. He wanted to be stretched until he almost couldn't stand it, stretched open and stuffed, comfort levels be damned.

Severus slowed down then, utter bastard that he was, wiggling his embedded finger along the hot, silky skin of Harry's insides. Overcome, Harry thrashed against his legs, his cock bouncing and jabbing between Severus' cotton-clad thighs.

"What a shameless display, Mr. Potter." Severus' voice had dropped to a whisper, the way it used to in class when he was either seriously pissed off or dangerously pleased. "I ought to throw you across my lap and stick my hand up your arse more often."

"God, yes," Harry wheezed as two fingertips dug into him, stretching him gloriously, then persisted with delicious force to his very core, straining downward almost painfully as his arse throbbed around them. Severus had spelled homemade lube onto his fingers – probably from a flask in his bathrobe pocket – and as he penetrated Harry, reaming him with sticky, quickening strokes, the visceral rhythm set off a series of contractions in the sensitive, slickly lined membrane of Harry's arse.

Gasping and beginning to run with sweat, he rocked back and forth, hoarse from the sheer intensity of it. The feel of those fingers spitting him, swivelling inside him, overpowered his senses. He could hear the spooky sounds of the night wind quarrelling down the chimney and fluttering the fire, the crack of flames hitting a resin pocket, could smell the sweet, wintry smoke of burning pine hanging in the air. The room wavered with orange-tinted shadows and heat, and his pillow was fever-damp, the blankets wadded in his fists.

But all that really mattered were the fingers pistoning in and out, in-out, in-out, striking him, blunt and hard, building up the unbearable pleasure, a swelling pressure in his balls, along with a speechless, powerless desire to hang suspended on that edge indefinitely, grunting and clenching in a voluptuous daze, completely at Severus' mercy.

They withdrew then, those amazing fingers, slowly and wetly from where they belonged. Harry whimpered in protest, pulled out of his trance, nerves seizing up in an unfinished spasm. Damn it, why had Severus stopped? Too dazed to think clearly, he lay limp, communing with his thudding arse and feeling Severus shift beneath him, rigid cock jutting up under the soft restraint of his pyjama fly.

Harry's own cock was trapped against Severus' leg, leaking onto the fabric. The wanker was going to have a big wet spot there, and it would serve him right.

A humid whiff of semen bypassed his brain and shot straight to his balls, and Harry stopped sulking. He turned his head toward the source and inhaled the intimate stink, mouthwatering and salt-marshy in equal measure.

A hand came up then and smoothed the sodden fringe from his eyes. Grateful, he raised his head. The petting hand drifted down his back to his tailbone, sliding over to grab his left arse cheek and pull it to one side. Startled, Harry stretched like a cat and slung one arm around Severus' waist, his entire body whining for sex.

"Yes. Good. Open up for me, Harry," Severus said softly, and thank Merlin, it wasn't over, the lovely fingers were back, they were back, and this time there were three of them. Slippery and sure, they plucked and massaged his hole, then bore down.

Harry welcomed the intrusion, grovelling as the combined girth of all three fingers wedged inside him, plugging him tight. They twisted slowly back and forth as Severus indulged himself, wringing guttural cries out of him with each helpless clench of his arse.

Patiently, with little pushes and pulses, the fingers worked the widening ring of flesh before sinking firmly down, brooking no resistance, filling and stretching Harry until they were buried full-length in his crack. Then Severus began moving, pulling away from the reflexive suck of moist tissue before sheathing his fingers harder and harder in Harry's quivering hole.

Harry got his wobbly knees under him and bowed his back, inviting the slick hand to breach him. After toying with him for a while, sliding sensuously along the lining of his arse, Severus abruptly let him have it. Harry cried out as the fingers fucked him, rapid and brutal, slamming in and twisting out with almost demented purpose.

Oh God, oh fuck, oh fuck. His cock swung between his thighs, dripping against Severus' leg. A bastard he might be, with his mood swings and his viper's tongue, but Severus was brilliant at giving Harry what he needed. A weird, incoherent, drunken energy lurched through him each time those fingers connected, waves of pleasure hammering at him, battering through to successive levels of intensity, his core molten and slick and utterly yielding.

Arms buckling again, Harry sagged face-down, drooling a little, his cheek shoved rhythmically into the pillow as his body jolted back and forth. The narrow channel of his arse burned with the friction of Severus's bunched fingers whipping in and out, a juicy smack, smack, the force of it jarring his heart, the impact punching the throbbing nerve centre at the deepest part of his arse until Harry felt a convulsion rise toward his loins – not pain, but the straining, near-hallucinatory backlash of too much pleasure.

He was wide open now, split and smoothed for Severus' use. He could hear himself grunting in time with the lewd slurp of that spearing hand. The bump of knuckles against his prostate intensified the sensation to the point of dizziness, and he wallowed, beyond shame, squirming in Severus' lap.

God, he was addicted to this. He loved being taken, drugged with fucking, loved having his arse pried open, plundered, loved shuddering under Severus' hands or on the end of his cock. His hair was soggy with sweat, his face burning, adding to the sense of delirium.

Then some frayed ribbon of control let go, and the pleasure pounding through him slammed loose the cries backed up in his throat. Unable to swallow them, he sobbed a string of muffled fucks into the pillow.

A hand slipped under his jaw then and raised his head. Muscles trembling, mouth slack, he stared blearily up at Severus, whose eyes glistened in the firelight, heavy-lidded and consuming and so dilated they were almost scary.

"Am I hurting you?"

His voice was always husky now, a constant reminder of damage that couldn't be undone. But from the way he breathed the words, Harry could tell how aroused he was. There was a shadow of gloating in it, too, just as there was still a small, cruel part of Severus that got off on fucking James Potter's son.

Harry didn't bother trying to talk, simply braced himself on one shaky arm and reared up for a kiss. Severus dipped his head, his tongue snaking forward to fill Harry's mouth the way his left hand filled Harry's arse. The cleverness of that tongue, oh God. It could feel pointy and insinuating when doing wicked things between his legs, but it was fleshy and firm enough to give him something to suck on, even choke on, when the need arose. Harry sealed his lips around it and moaned through his nose, letting it gorge him, his chin wet, his flushed face partly curtained by Severus' hair.

The hand midway inside him resumed pumping slowly, making screwing motions from side to side to distend the inner muscles of his arse. Holding the kiss in this position was awkward, but it meant Harry was getting plugged fore and aft, and he rocked between those two points, the wet tip of his dick swaying up and down to slap the bulge of Severus' testicles.

A fourth finger wormed its way in, and it was almost too much. Harry grimaced, his jaw clenching, heedless of the second tongue in his mouth. Severus snarled into the kiss and bit him back. Which was brilliant; it resulted in a hand twined around his throat and Severus grinding into the kiss with a violence that had been missing before.

Harry guzzled that passion, gagged on it, only vaguely registering more lube being drizzled into his crack. If not for how silky it felt, how sweetly it burned, how certain he was that Severus would never play him for a fool during sex, the crude, embarrassing slurp of suction would have snapped him out of his erotic daze.

Instead, he writhed. The tapered fingers squelched in and out at a mesmerising pace, a thick, succulent rush of friction in his passage, a euphoric blur. Oh, fuck him. He loved those fingers, loved them in his mouth and his arse and around his cock, breathtakingly singleminded, exactly like every other part of Severus, subtlety and cruelty in their very sinews. Each time they smote him, Harry wanted to double over in a slobbering, grovelling cringe of pleasure. He had a habit of tightening his stomach muscles while being fucked, and his midriff was starting to cramp. He didn't care. Sweat dripped and tickled, slick between his thighs, sopping under his arms, so heavy down his face he sputtered slightly as he breathed.

He didn't care. The sexual incandescence of submitting himself as a burnished vessel for Severus to plunge his fingers in was all that mattered. All the nerves in his flexing hole were ablaze, aching in a way that didn't even seem physical anymore. He wondered hazily if he could have a rectal orgasm completely unrelated to his cock. Everything up inside there was overstimulated and sore, ecstatically so, growing looser and more excruciating with every fresh blow.

Abused into a state of bliss, he rode the edge of endurance, sloppy, lost in time, utterly enslaved to Severus' thrusting hand and trembling with the effort not to lose control.

Merlin, it was agony. He wanted to come. But if he did, it would stop, and he didn't want to stop.

They weren't kissing anymore, just panting messily against each other's faces, their swollen lips bruised by repeated bumping and Harry's blind lunges forward whenever a wrench of sensation shocked his body. Wavering, he clutched a fistful of Severus' hair to keep himself anchored, and the limp, just-washed feel of it, the smoky and oily fragrance, called to a part of him that longed to crawl and hide, unnerved by his own wantonness. He buried his face in it, in those once-despised greasy curtains, and in a fit of sensual desperation rubbed his cheek up along Severus' hooked nose.

A low hiss answered him. A moment later, the grip on his throat shifted and slid downward, raking through his chest hair, and caught his leaking cock mid-swing.

Harry tensed and cried out, his arse squeezing around Severus' rapidfire fingers. The need that hardened his loins threw his hips forward, and he bucked frantically into Severus' other hand. The sensory overload was already so extreme it would only take a few rapid strokes from tip to root to make him see stars.

He grabbed Severus' wrist to stop that from happening. "W-wait."

A second passed before the word sank in and another second before Severus believed him and let go.

The cresting pressure in Harry's stones faded to a less frenzied urge, and he exhaled shakily, shocked at himself. Then he bit his lip as the long fingers eased out of him, leaving the walls of his arse trembling and shrinking in on themselves, unsated. Well, fuck.

"What is it?" Severus demanded, wasting no time cleansing both hands with a stringent spell.

Woozy and still bereft of words, Harry watched him wipe his spit-smeared lips as if disgusted by the act of snogging. But his face gave him away: with his skin's tendency to flush in uneven patches, his mouth's natural inclination to sneer, and the fact that the baleful quality of his eyes got smudgy and drugged under the influence of sex, Severus could hardly have looked more debauched. Once roused to a passion, it wasn't easy for him to step off that emotional high – as anyone who'd experienced his temper had reason to know.

It was a secret, jealous delight of Harry's, how slow Severus was to emerge from a sexual stupor and how quickly Harry could put him there.

Chest still heaving with aftershocks, he raised a finger to stall for time and dragged the hem of his undershirt up to mop his soaked hairline, giving Severus an eyeful of everything underneath.

Doing a passable imitation of Nagini, Severus coiled up and folded both legs under, poised and vaguely menacing. Or he would have been if the dressing gown weren't hanging off the points of his shoulders and his cock weren't listing sideways inside the slack of his pyjama bottoms, seeking a way out.

"If you want me to fuck you," he said sharply, "just say so."

Jesus. Harry's head was still swimming from the rush of his thwarted orgasm. Any other time, he would have pitched forward on the pillows and spread his arse, but –

"Don't tempt me," he panted. "Just lie down, all right? It's your turn. I mean my turn. Your arse's turn. Oh, sod it. Don't sit there smirking at me, you git." Sex gave him a terrible case of smoker's throat; he sounded almost as raspy as Severus.

Being a consummate arsehole, Severus didn't stop silently mocking Harry's tongue-tied attempts to explain himself, but he did shake his wand out of his sleeve and flick it. There was a small crash, and Harry glanced behind him as another log settled on the dying fire. When he turned back, Severus was draining the contents of his cup and using magic to rearrange the pillows. Satisfied, he put wand and goblet aside, then leaned forward to wrap a hand around Harry's neck and snog him breathless. Harry kissed back thirstily, breaking the seal between their lips and sending wine down their chins before either one could finish swallowing the warm mouthful.

The smell of sweat and soap, the heavy taste of hot burgundy, the trickle of it down his wrist when he tried to stem the overflow, the movement of Severus' narrow shoulders under his palms – Merlin, he wanted to flip that wiry body over and have him right now.

He shifted his weight off his sore bum and pushed gently. Severus didn't exactly kiss with finesse, although if he was far gone enough, Harry could slow him down and Severus would follow his lead. But his deepest impulse was to ravish and consume. Times like tonight, when Harry craved that desperation, he'd submit completely to mutual devouring. He groped for the hand clutching his hair and nearly steered it back inside his arse; nearly pawed Severus' pyjamas down and sat on his cock.

He pulled back with a gasp. Following blindly, Severus started to lose his balance and had to slap a hand down to catch himself. He stayed crouched in front of Harry, breathing harshly, a sheen of sweat on the bridge of his nose and shining across his throat, his hair a black cavern around his face. The pinpoint glitter of flames reflected in his pupils, and fucking hell. Harry was aware that human eyes didn't actually smoulder, but if the person they belonged to was a Legilimens, and if there was a fire nearby to blame it on…

Then Severus dragged himself back into cobra position and faced away, the dressing gown folded tightly across his chest.

Oh no, none of that. Harry leaned forward and yanked the collar open, then worked the dressing gown down to reveal the bony line of bare shoulders. Severus' skin was flushed and damp, almost feverish, especially at the nape of his neck. Harry bit him there. He kept biting as Severus fought the sleeves and finally wrenched them inside-out to free his arms. Harry had to pin his wrists quickly to stop him from pushing his pyjama bottoms down.

"Leave those," he muttered, rubbing his sweaty, rucked-up vest and hairy stomach against Severus' naked back. His erection slid up and down the smooth skin, smearing trails of spunk. He reached around and crossed his arms, his fingers seeking out the nipples he'd sucked earlier, twisting them so hard that Severus bucked back against him with a stifled curse, squirming rather than struggling, his head falling onto Harry's shoulder.

Feeling triumphant, Harry thumbed the inflamed nubs in gentle circles, gratified by the shudder that followed his lighter touch. He knew better than to admit how turned on he got from seeing Severus vulnerable, so simply went on toying with the sore-looking nipples, stroking them taut, sunburn-bright through the sparse black chest hair. The acquiescence of Severus' lowered eyelids, the faint quiver of his black lashes against hectic skin, the unspoken protest each time his mouth started to relax, only to open again in a silent, pleading ah, sent a bolt of heat into Harry's lower regions. He rode it out, rising and sinking in steady rhythm and leaking heavily against Severus' back.

Severus's mouth did close then, repressing a smirk. "I thought you wanted me on my stomach," he murmured without opening his eyes.

"Don't push," Harry told him. "My turn, remember? I'll let you know when."

Risking tenderness, he laid his lips against the damp black hair at Severus' temple, then spread his thighs to shimmy as far forward as possible, his cock nestled into the thinly muscled trough along Severus' spine. Experimenting with the line between pleasure and pain, he stretched one nipple to its limits, plucking it repeatedly, while his other hand travelled down to the engorged fork of Severus' groin.

He let go of the nipple and pressed a careful dent into it with the edge of one fingernail. Severus hissed; Harry splayed his other hand between his legs and scooped up everything his fingers could reach, stiff or soft, gradually increasing the squeeze while at the same time grinding his own cock between his belly and Severus' back. The gaunt face tightened, and a meandering drop of sweat glinted across his sallow cheekbone, vanishing briefly into shadow, catching the light again on his jaw, where Harry licked it out of existence. He loosened his hold, then clenched and released in several quick pulses. Severus cried out, practically lurching back in Harry's embrace as he was shoved across the line Harry had been searching for, the one dividing Severus' self-control from loss of inhibition.

"Fucking Christ, I love when you do that," Harry slurred, sucking at the skin around the ragged scar tissue.

Hoping he'd got the timing right, he eased the lean body forward. "Okay, yeah, now you can lie down."


Go to Part Two
pir8fancier: (Default)

From: [personal profile] pir8fancier

No worries! I didn't do anything. The description is so beautiful, with that lush detail that always eludes me. You take a moment and wring all the "tears" out of it. I so envy that. Writing is a bitch. That's all.
dogandmonkeyshow: (Default)

From: [personal profile] dogandmonkeyshow

Hello and welcome back!

This is...sigificantly more enjoyable than how I'd originally planned on spending my Sunday morning! *scampers off to read part 2*


perverse_idyll: (Default)

Most Popular Tags

Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags