Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 18:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic harry/severus, hp fic he plays at hazard |
HP fic: He Plays at Hazard, chs. 4-5 [Harry/Severus, adult]
Title: He Plays at Hazard
chapter 4, "Thou My Oblation"; chapter 5, "My Purpose Holds"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Rating: adult
Summary: Sometimes the risk is worth the gain. Harry makes Snape an offer he hopes cannot be refused.
Thou My Oblation
Snape accepts Harry's offering. The title is from Shakespeare's sonnet 125.
Snape's body was bony under the fabric of his robes. He had driven himself hard, just as Harry had, in pursuing Voldemort's destruction. Tentatively, Harry ran his hands down Snape's back, feeling the stiff angles as their lips came together in a first, awkward kiss.
It felt right, somehow, as none of the kisses Harry had given or received before had done. Awkward, yes, until Harry turned his head and squirmed to get into a better angle, and urgent, yet somehow unhurried. Neither of them was going anywhere. Snape had said that he had intended to refuse Harry, but he had changed his mind, and clearly that meant a complete change. He kissed as if he didn't care whether anything more ever happened between them. Harry shivered with the intensity of it, focusing on each movement of Snape's lips and tongue against his own.
He didn't know how long they simply lay there on the sofa, embraced, tasting each other's mouths. His glasses came askew within moments, but when the poke of the earpiece became too uncomfortable and he finally reached to pull them off, Snape did it for him, lifting them gently. They caught on one ear and Snape gave a little grunt as if he were afraid he had hurt Harry. He set them on the table beyond Harry's head.
"Severus." He spoke the name in a half-whisper, still finding it strange on his tongue.
Dark hooded eyes met his own. "Yes?"
"I... I want..." Harry faltered, unsure of what he did want, of how to say it. "I want to know what you want," he hedged in the end, convinced that the expression on Snape's face was sufferance, not patience. He could no longer reach past the cool surface into the memories the other man had shared so briefly.
"What I want?" A sardonic smile touched those thin lips. "Surely that is obvious." Snape twisted, the firmness of his cock pressing against Harry's leg.
Harry lifted his hand, rubbing his thumb over the faint stubble as he traced the line of Snape's jaw and then swept up to his mouth. "I mean, how." He felt his face grow warm. "I offered to do anything you want. I hoped you would want something like this, but... I need to know just what that is."
"You'll do anything I want," repeated Snape, his fingers tightening on Harry's shoulders. "Anything at all?"
Fear touched him. What if Snape wanted something extreme, perhaps to beat Harry, or worse? That wasn't impossible; Snape's emotions toward him had been so complex that Harry could not disentangle them. But he had promised, and he would not renege. He steeled himself to say it, though he could not entirely control the tremor in his voice.. "Anything."
Snape sighed and pulled away, sitting up. "I prefer my partners to be enthusiastic, not merely willing. I should not have accepted your offer."
"No!" Harry spoke without thought or hesitation. "I want this. I do." He reached to touch Snape's leg, sliding up along the dark fabric until he reached Snape's cock. "Please. It's not because I'm... I mean, it's been a long time since I've been with anyone, and I know you might think I made this offer because I'm desperate for some kind of acceptance, but that's not the reason. I don't want to be with just anyone I want you."
Snape's face was composed. "So you're asking what I want so that you know how to act." It was not a question, but Harry answered it as one nonetheless.
"Well... yeah, that's more or less what I meant," said Harry, now embarrassed. Should he have simply started to undo that long line of buttons and let events take their course, instead of speaking?
"Harry." Snape looked serious, even stern, almost as if he were about to take points from Gryffindor. "I thought you didn't want to be treated as a hero."
"I don't!" Harry protested. "What does that have to do with it?"
"You need to allow yourself to make mistakes, then," said Snape. "It's not necessary that this... encounter... be perfect, is it?"
Harry bit his lip. "It is if it's the only one that there will be between us." He hadn't wanted to admit that he cared.
"Ah. That concerns you." Snape raised one eyebrow. "And if I say that I do not intend for this to be our only evening together, will you be reassured?"
"Yes," said Harry, relief flooding through him. Snape wasn't treating this as a casual fling. Not that Snape was ever casual. And if he wanted Harry to be not just willing but passionate, then he wouldn't ask for something Harry didn't want to give, would he? It would be all right. He sat up and leaned against Snape's shoulder, pressing his nose against Snape's neck under his ear and breathing in the scent of his skin, noticing once more the bitter herbal odor of something he could not quite place.
An arm came around him, and then they were kissing again, but this time Harry retained enough of his wits to reach for the throat of Snape's robes and start unbuttoning. He himself was wearing a jumper – one of Mrs. Weasley's creations – with a t-shirt under it, and Snape slipped one hand below the jumper to pull his shirt free from his trousers and slide along the skin of Harry's back, drawing him closer.
"Mmm," breathed Snape into Harry's ear, his fingertips tracing along Harry's side and up to his armpit, tugging gently at the hair there. It very nearly tickled, but not quite, and rather to his own shock Harry found it intensely erotic. He squirmed as every drop of blood in his body seemed to rush straight to his prick, which was pressed most uncomfortably against the zip of his jeans. He stopped fumbling with Snape's buttons and tried to adjust the fabric binding his crotch, twisting until he could bring one knee underneath him, and then swinging his other leg around to nestle into Snape's lap.
"Do you need some assistance?" Snape's voice was smooth and dark, and despite the implicit sarcasm the sound of it sent tendrils of warmth through Harry's body.
"No, thank you," he said, returning to his self-imposed task of removing Snape's robes, as much of them as he could now reach, at least. When he had unbuttoned them to the point where his own body prevented him from going further, he eased the heavy dark cloth aside and saw pale skin liberally strewn with coarse black hair. He touched it, his fingers tentative, moving to find the moist heat of Snape's armpit, to see if he could make Snape feel the same arousal he did.
Snape gasped; a glance at his face, eyes closed, head thrown back, told Harry that his efforts were, if not entirely successful, at least on the right track. He bent down to suck fiercely at the hollow of Snape's throat.
Without warning Snape pushed Harry away, just far enough to yank Harry's jumper over his head, then took his wand from a pocket in his robes and tapped the sofa, Transfiguring it into a bed and causing several tables to be knocked aside in the process. Before he quite knew how it had happened Harry found himself sprawled out, naked to the waist, with Snape undoing his jeans as if any delay might be more dangerous to life and sanity than Voldemort ever had been.
A muttered spell, and Snape was leaning over Harry, unable to conceal a thread of anxiety in his voice. "You did say that you were... not inexperienced, with men?"
Harry shook his head, unable to speak. Snape's hand closed around the base of Harry's cock, guiding him into tight clenching heat.
"Let me..." Snape began to press down, his robes bunched around his waist. When his arse was brushing Harry's thighs, he held still for a minute. Harry was surprised, but he supposed that Snape must be accustoming himself to the feel of Harry's prick inside his body. He had only rarely been the bottom in his previous encounters with men, but he had expected that Snape would want to fuck him, and had in fact looked forward to it, to Snape taking him that way. This was unexpected, and if Snape had begun to move immediately Harry doubted that he could have held back at all.
Instead he looked up, running his gaze along the length of Snape's body. What he had felt through the heavy robes earlier was more than confirmed. Snape was thin to the point of gauntness; his belly was soft but almost nonexistent, and Harry could count his ribs under the tufts of dark hair. His Adam's apple jutted out, emphasizing the thinness of his neck, and his beaky nose dominated a face that was at present tense, poised between distress and pleasure at the feel of Harry's cock inside him. Any objective viewer would have described him as ugly, but Harry thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
As his eyes met Snape's, the other man began to move, flexing his thighs to rise up and down, letting Harry's cock thrust into his body. In those dark eyes Harry caught his own reflection – and then once again the barriers fell and he knew that Snape would allow him to see inside his thoughts. Astonished pleasure was the first impression that Harry sensed. He wasn't sure why the surprise; surely Snape had done such things before as well, or he would not have accepted Harry's offer? But Harry was glad to know that Snape found it so enjoyable. Perhaps the surprise was simply being with Harry at all. Harry allowed himself to think of how good it felt to him, too, the way that Snape's arse squeezed him as he moved rhythmically, rippling along his prick. All of a sudden he not only sensed Snape's pleasure, he felt it, as if he were Snape, as if he were fucking himself. He could feel the penetration, the way that the head of his prick slid past Snape's prostate, stimulating it almost unbearably . Harry reached to touch Snape's jutting prick, feeling the dampness at its head and starting to move his hand in time with Snape's own movements, letting Snape be the one to set the rhythm for them both.
"Harry," Snape whispered, his voice so low it was very nearly a groan.
"Severus," Harry choked out in return.
He saw Snape's eyes widen and worried for an instant that Snape found the use of his first name too intimate, though he hadn't objected earlier, but then Snape nodded, and paused in his rocking to lean forward and kiss Harry in a tangle of tongues and lips, rough and hard. His cock pulsed, trapped between them.
Snape bit at Harry's jaw at his ear, murmuring, "Come for me, Harry, it's all right... come for me," as he rocked now deeper, pressing Harry as far inside as he could.
Harry felt Snape's prick quiver beneath his hand, felt Snape's arse flexing around his prick. At the quiet command he came, whimpering, his eyes seeking out Snape's gaze once again, recognizing the triumph that Snape felt – a pleasure that was more than that of the body. Snape rocked up and down a few more times, his hand closing over Harry's on his own prick, moving them together until he too was splashing and spattering across Harry's chest, then letting himself fall forward, turning his head away to rest on Harry's shoulder with Harry's prick still inside him. He was so emaciated that it was not uncomfortable.
Hesitantly Harry smoothed his hand along Snape's spine. Even now Snape felt stiff, awkward. Harry did too. He wasn't sure what to say.
"Would you like to stay here tonight?" he asked hesitantly at last. "There are guest bedrooms. The beds are made," he added when Snape lifted his head to look at him with an odd expression.
Snape took a deep breath as he were going to say something, then let it out without speaking, examining Harry's face as if he were trying to read an answer there.
"Or... you could sleep in my bed," said Harry softly, with hope.
Snape nodded. "I would... I would like that, I think."