A Lesson in ScentualityAuthor: sweetsorceryCharacters/Pairings:
Severus Snape/Harry PotterRating:
Set during Year 6. Anal. Teacher/Student. Messy.Word Count:
Harry doesn't have much of a sense of smell until, one day, absolutely everything changes.Author's Notes:
I thought I might actually be late with my very first monthly post. Just skidded in on time. I think? Anyway, thanks for having me! :)A Lesson in Scentuality
They had been brewing with frankincense that day. It had started like any other Potions class of the past six years, with Snape's deep, commanding voice telling them what they were to brew that day: a Relaxation and Soothing Potion this time, and a long finger pointing to the blackboard, which had showed a list of ingredients in Snape's sharp handwriting.
Brewing Relaxation Potion with Snape grimly staring them into submission had seemed rather amusing to Harry at the time. At least until the first few pieces of the chopped up frankincense resin had dropped into the milky, bubbling fluid made up of largely scentless ingredients. At once, his eyes had widened as the warm, spicy scent had begun to rise up. He had never smelled anything like it and, until that moment, had not believed claims that of all the senses, the sense of smell could have the strongest effect on the emotions. This was in part due to the fact that his sense of smell was usually really bad. But the rich scent had seemed to envelop him like an embrace, while at the same time transporting him to another time and place he couldn't even name.
He had looked around at his classmates to see their reactions. Most of them had been busy just concentrating on getting the potion right; there had been a look of bafflement on Neville's face - likely due to the fact that his potion had been lime green rather than a pale gold, and Seamus had been madly batting away the thick cloud of smoke rising from his cauldron. There had been some appreciative murmurs as well, but no one had looked as overwhelmed by it as Harry had felt.
"Do get on with it, Potter!" Snape had hissed at him suddenly, and he had nearly dropped his ladle.
"Yes, sir." He had glanced up at the looming figure and hurriedly kept stirring, well aware he had remained under observation, but unaware of the rapture on his own face and the fact that he had been inhaling deeply and audibly over the gently simmering liquid. It was only when he was sternly told the potion was for topical application only, not for ingestion, that he realised his face was already well inside the steam.
~ ~ ~
It was nearly midnight now, and Harry - wearing his invisibility cloak - couldn't quite believe he was sneaking down to the Potions lab, of all places. The memory of the scent had remained with him all day, and this was one potion he wished they'd been allowed to take away with them. He had almost considered begging for it, but could well imagine the sneer and scoffing that would have ensued.
He made it inside with only the barest squeaking of the heavy doors, sniffing deeply and unsuccessfully for even the faintest hint of remaining scent from hours ago, and hurried to the front of the classroom. He had watched Snape's every move as he had taken the tray of potion vials to the small adjacent storeroom and work space, and he just hoped the room wasn't locked. When he tried the door knob, it wouldn't budge.
He cursed and flung off his cloak, staring at the locked door angrily. He was vaguely aware that he was acting like a thwarted drug addict, but he couldn't help it. He needed
that potion. He wanted to smother himself in it and remember something wonderful he couldn't even describe.
Looking around wildly for at least some remnants of the frankincense resin, he spotted a small dish with tiny crumbs of it beside Snape's cauldron. He picked it up and sniffed at it, but the scent like this was too weak for his sense of smell. With a sigh, he sat down on the teacher's chair and let his head drop over the high back in defeat. And that's when he smelled it: the frankincense he craved so much and something else - something which was, astonishingly, even more potent. He turned his head and realised he was resting against Snape's outer robes, folded over the back of the teacher's chair. That scent came from the robes!
Harry rose and turned. He grasped the robes with both hands, raising them to his face, and inhaled. He was barely even aware of the drawn out moan escaping his lips, or that he staggered until his backside hit the desk. He clutched the robes to his face, rubbing his cheek against the surprisingly soft and luxurious black wool, and became vaguely aware he was getting very, very hard.
Unconsciously, he pressed the length of the robes against himself, cupping his erection with it. God, was this what Snape smelled like? The man never let anyone close enough to tell and, most of the time, his potions smelled so vile, there was little incentive to try and catch remnants of their scent on his robes. Were it not for the lingering frankincense...
are you doing to my robes, Potter?"
Harry opened his eyes, unaware he had even closed them, and he knew that, were he not positively drowsy with the mix of frankincense and Snape, he might have sunk into the ground through a trapdoor of shame. He found himself staring up into a pair of eyes looking almost entirely black save for a glint; it probably came from the cone of light falling across the floor from the storeroom door, which had opened silently. He couldn't really define Snape's expression, which didn't appear as murderous as one might expect, but Harry was well aware he was in no state to be analytical.
"Sir, I..." His voice was muffled, and he quickly lowered the hand pressing the intoxicating fabric to his face.
Snape's eyes had dropped from his face to the hand palming Harry's fully clothed bulge through the folds of his robes. He smirked and met Harry's eyes. "I should give you ten years' worth of detention for this, Potter."
While those words should probably have driven fear into Harry's heart, the low, warning tone of Snape's voice had quite a different effect. And not, if he was honest with himself, for the first time. Before he could think better of it, he murmured, "I wish you would, sir."
If the response baffled or shocked Snape, he covered it well. "Really, Potter?" He took a step closer, and Harry swallowed hard. "And just what would I do with you in all that time?"
It was amazing. Even with Harry still clutching Snape's robes like a treasure he had a right to, the increased closeness of the man intensified the scent already driving him crazy. "I'm sure you could think of something," he said, his voice cracking slightly on the last word.
"Indeed." Snape watched him closely while he spoke. "I have a lot of cauldrons in regular need of scrubbing. Or I suppose I could make you scrub every inch of my floor. On all fours...", when Harry inhaled sharply, he added, "... in the nude." Looking into the widened but far from fearful eyes, he continued, "I like the space around my desk scrupulously clean, Potter. You'd have to work especially hard." Harry nodded jerkily. Snape's face was suddenly very close; he had leaned into Harry's personal space with both palms firmly placed on the desk on either side of Harry. "I do reward hard work, Harry." The low voice had taken on a deep rumble Harry felt right down to his toes. The use of his first name didn't help. "I might even consent to letting you benefit from your favourite potion."
Harry moaned softly. "How? I mean... where?" He flushed when Snape chuckled.
"Where? Why, Harry, where you would need relaxing the most, of course."
Harry gasped when, before the words had quite sunk in, Snape was pressed hard against him while one hand, without Harry having realised it, had lifted off the desk and was now between Harry and the desk, cupping his arse. He never got the chance to close his mouth again because, in that moment, it was covered by Snape's, and he was being kissed senseless. The robes firmly wedged between them did not budge when Harry released them to reach up around the back of Snape's neck. Of course his other hand was trapped between them, and he felt Snape hard and hot against the back of it. He clumsily tried to turn it so he could cup him, but his teacher's next forward thrust dislodged it and they were now pressing hard against each other with only the robes and their clothes between them.
Harry groaned around the tongue exploring his mouth, feeling the effect of his groan on them both at once. He hung onto Snape with both arms around his neck now. A suddenly impatient hand tore the robes from between them and dropped them carelessly, then went to work on his jeans. The relief when the constraint of fabric was peeled hurriedly away from him was almost enough to make Harry come, but when the anticipated touch didn't happen, he mewled discontentedly into Snape's mouth.
Their lips separated for a moment while Snape hissed, "Patience, Harry." And then he thrust forward, and Harry realised he had undone and pushed down his own trousers. He bit down on the tongue in his mouth, and Snape pulled him forward and applied a hard slap to his backside, before grasping it again, this time with his long fingers curving down along the crack.
Harry shuddered hard, returning the thrusts. His senses were reeling with the scents of Snape and frankincense, and the feel of slickening skin and crisp hair, and then the scent assault grew stronger as a soft popping sound indicated that Snape had undone a potion vial. Harry's fingers clutched the sleek black hair at the back of Snape's neck hard when slick fingers applied his new favourite potion to his cock, stroking it in firmly. He head dropped back and he groaned, and Snape's lips were at once on his neck. Meanwhile, the man had pushed the open jeans and boxers down over Harry's hips and, after an endless moment of breathless inactivity, slickened fingers travelled down his now bare crack, even as the delicious friction on his cock returned.
"Oh sir, professor, please..."
"Do you want me to fuck you, Harry?"
The words, in that voice, raspy and breathless and deep, were almost enough to do Harry in, and he could only mewl something incomprehensible.
"I will, but only if you come for me first," Snape murmured close to Harry's ear. "Now, Harry, come right now." He bit down on the side of Harry's neck while giving him a few last hard, rapid strokes and, with a shudder and a stifled cry, Harry did just that.
"Well done," Snape whispered into his ear while Harry slumped against him. "You see, you can do as you're told."
A soft chuckle escaped Harry unbidden and, to his surprise, he felt Snape smile against the side of his face. "It depends on what I'm told, sir."
"Is that so?" Snape murmured. "Turn around, Harry."
Harry obeyed at once, even while he realised his legs were far from steady. Without even being told, he leaned forward until his cheek lay against the tall desk, knowing how wanton he looked with his bare arse up in the air, his pants halfway down his legs, and his now soft cock smearing a mix of semen and potion on the edge of Snape's desk.
"I'm tempted to give you house points," Snape said surprisingly.
Harry grinned. "I'd rather have a good buggering, sir."
Snape chuckled, even while he held the open vial above Harry's backside and began to let the thick, spicy smelling fluid drizzle over his cheeks and between them.
Harry inhaled and closed his eyes, biting his lip when Snape's warm hands swept a thin layer of potion over his arse, before his long fingers concentrated on the trickle quickly vanishing towards the dark space between his legs. They smoothed it up and down, working it towards his hole from both sides, and then his middle finger slipped inside.
Harry moaned out a soft encouragement, parting his legs further awkwardly, and the finger began to thrust in and out, soon joined by a second, then a third. Between the slickness and the scent of the potion, as well as his recent release, the thought of pain barely entered Harry's mind and, when Snape's voice asked if he was ready, he could only manage a desperate, "Please!"
The pain, when it came, was numbed by the potion and very brief, and then there was only the slapping sound of skin on skin, the intoxicating scent, and the slickness of Snape... god, Snape!... thrusting into him over and over, his fingers digging into Harry's hips while he angled each thrust a little differently, until Harry cried out and shuddered, and then the angle remained constant, the thrusts increasing in speed and depth, and Harry wanted to push back against them, but he didn't dare upset the rhythm which was perfect, so perfect, and his cock had been filling again, to his amazement, trickling now and twitching against the solid wood of the desk. Harry vaguely wondered if he was forever staining it for Snape to remember this, but then his thoughts went flying in all directions when Snape suddenly reached under him and drew him up off the desk and back against himself, thrusting into him hard a few more times while breathing hotly into his ear, one hand toying with Harry's half hard, dripping cock.
Harry's second, less explosive orgasm coincided with the gush of Snape's climax in his arse, and they remained frozen like that until it was over, and Harry slowly turned around in the enveloping arms and rested his head on Snape's shoulder.
There was a brief hesitation of surprise, and then the arms tightened around him and held him close while Snape leaned his head down on Harry's.
"This really is a relaxing potion," Harry murmured with a deep, contented sigh. "You never mentioned the aphrodisiac effect when combining it with you, sir."
Snape chuckled. "That particular side effect is extremely rare."
Harry, while doubting that, grinned against the warm, delicious smelling skin. "Good," he said, holding on tighter.