Iulia Linnea (iulia_linnea) wrote in snape_potter, @ 2009-03-07 19:30:00 |
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Dear Severus,Severus had never had an erection on stage before. With hammering heart, he hissed an excuse to the speaker sitting next to him and Disapparated.
You asked me why I couldn't tell you what I wanted in bed, why I was so quiet all the time. I don't think that's quite fair because we both know that I'm not quiet, but I think I understand what it is that you want. So here's a fantasy, something I dream about, something I want. I hope it'll be enough. Imagine me with you as you read this, imagine doing this and telling me these things. That's what I want.
You, with your hands in my hair, stroking. You, with your voice like liquid sex, speaking warmly against my ear.
"What? What do you want? Tell me."
Me, restless against you and afraid to speak.
"Open your eyes," you say, and I do.
"Look into mine," you tell me, and I do.
Our bodies, naked and pressed together, your cock against mine, us, twitching, just at the edge. This is how we are, what I need. What I want, even if I can't say it.
"Tell me what you want," you insist, nudging forward, one finger tracing my lips, two pinching my nipple, and I can't speak because you're too much, to breathe you in and feel you so close is too much. Too good.
I can't ask for more. I could drown in the warmth we make. I could get lost in the darkness of us, with no idea what's coming and no care at all because you can have anything that I can give.
You rake your nails in a path over my body from this overwhelming feeling in my heart to the leaking prick between my legs, scratching lightly at my skin and touching everything underneath of it there is to me. With a dry mouth and nipples so hard they hurt, shaking so much I could slide off your strong thigh, I know that I want you inside. I want you to fuck me. I want your love—hard, fast, and unrepentant—I want you to fuck me until I am without rhythm, without sense, without anything but that sensation of need that you make me feel, that you've always made me feel.
It's completely yours, this feeling. My prick is yours, the hot pulsing of it. The squeeze of arse, muscles undulating around your cock—that's yours, too. As I yield to your kiss, my lips bruising under their urgent, tender press, my body, this feeling, our moment together, all are yours.
I want you inside me. I want you to take me. I want you to force all the air out of my body in a deep throaty scream. I want you to make me give you everything that is already yours to you again and again and again—and I don't want you to ask; permission has already been given.
From the first time I saw you see me, see my raw, naked need, you had that permission.
Your voice in my ear, asking, "Is this what you want? Is this what you need?"
Yes. Yes, it is. It's you, you that I want and need.
"Talk to me. Tell me what you want, or I'll stop."
I stop breathing to hear this.
"Tell me that you need me," you urge. "Tell me you love me. Tell me to fuck you, or I'll stop."
You say all this, but you don't stop. You never stop. And I like that you don't.
"Is that it? Is it, Harry? Is this it? Like this? Tell me."
I'll try to tell you, Severus, I will. It's just hard, but I want you to have everything that's yours. All of me is yours. I need you. I wish you were here so that I could show you.
I love you, however quietly. I do.
Your Harry