snarrymod (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} snarrymod) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} snarry_games,@ 2009-09-03 08:06:00 |
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| Entry tags: | cauldron, fic |
Team Cauldron Entry (FIC): "Unrequited" by Nenya Entwhistle
Title: Unrequited
Author: nenyaentwhistle
Team: Cauldron
Genre(s): Historical, Mentor
Prompt(s): Into Temptation
Rating/Warning/Kinks: NC-17; none (Harry is 18+)
Word Count: ~3,250
Beta: Thanks to leela_cat for the quick run through at the very last minute. I do appreciate it.
Author’s Note: I tried my very best to write this fic and make it a somewhat interesting read. I’m not sure I succeeded, as I have not written a Harry Potter fic since the last time - Snarry Games in May 2008! I think I’m rusty and picking a time period, a genre, and a plot I’ve never worked with before was awfully challenging. I have more unusable written material (~3,500) than I do of usable material! I very much enjoyed writing Unrequited and I hope you enjoy reading it! (P.S. I hope it’s not another year + before I can write another fic, but med school sucks the life out of you!)
Summary: Severus Snape is Lord Harry Potter’s tutor.
UNREQUITED
“I can resist anything but temptation.”
— Oscar Wilde
Severus was sinking into the sensation, unable to resist the pull in his groin that tugged him toward ecstasy.
This was wrong on so many levels and yet it felt so right to be thrusting into Potter, to have him on his back in the bed, to see his legs spread so wantonly as he clung to Severus’ neck and cried out, “Snape!”
Feeling Potter squeeze his cock as he came was exquisite. Severus intentionally withdrew fully before driving back into Potter with finality as he too exploded in orgasm. A blinding and extremely satisfying orgasm. Severus dug his nails into Potter’s slender hips, unwilling to let his cock slip out even a little as he rolled onto his back and settled Potter on top of him. They were both sweaty and sticky, but it was the right kind of dirty.
Severus liked the feel of Potter’s head against his chest, the weight of his body on him, the sound of his breathing, but Severus only allowed himself to indulge in that aftermath for a few minutes before he pulled himself out and extricated his body from Potter’s.
“It’s getting late,” Severus said as he got out of bed and started gathering the clothes that had been thrown carelessly on the floor. “You should return to your room, my lord.”
Potter sat up on the bed and Severus could feel his green eyes. Severus tossed Potter his clothes and deliberately avoided meeting his gaze as Potter put on his dress shirt and breeches. Severus only dared to look at Potter once he was fully dressed.
Severus pressed his lips together into a thin line as he took in the sloppy sight that Potter made in his attempt to dress himself. He grabbed Potter’s wrist and stopped him before he could walk out of the bedroom.
“Are you still a child?” Severus snapped. “You should know how to dress yourself properly!”
With practiced ease, Severus smoothed out the wrinkles on Potter’s shirt and retied the crooked cravat in a simple bow and held up his coat. Potter put his arms through one sleeve and then the other. Severus then stepped back to inspect him.
“Your hair is a mess.”
Potter shrugged, running his hand through his dark brown locks. “You know it can’t be helped.”
Severus hated his impertinence. “Go then.”
Potter deliberately walked toward him and leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss the corner of Severus’ mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Severus wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he did not get the chance as Potter had already left, shutting the door and leaving him alone in the empty room.
“Philosophy is at once the most sublime and the most trivial of human pursuits.”
— William James
“Morning,” Potter greeted Severus in a bright, enthusiastic voice as he walked into the library. “How did you sleep?”
Severus glared at him briefly before staring back down at his cup of tea. He was not a morning person and it always irritated him how cheery Potter was at this time of day. He had been Potter’s tutor for seven years… he should realize by now that Severus preferred silence over conversation any day.
“Are you going to answer me?” Potter asked, sitting in the chair next to his, which was close enough that their knees touched.
Severeus was completely aware of Potter’s presence and it annoyed him to no end. They had an implicit agreement not to partake in those activities during lessons. Severus clenched his fist underneath the table, not certain if he wanted to hit Potter or kiss him. Neither was an option.
“Hmm?”
Potter had somehow edged toward him and Severus could distinctively feel their thighs pressed against each other. They had already fucked last night, what more did Potter want? Severus knew he was not old per se, but he was definitely beginning to feel his years. He was no longer controlled by his nether regions anymore, although he was starting to doubt his own self restraint when it came to Potter.
“Snape,” Potter said, which should not have been seductive or tempting.
“Professor Snape,” Severus corrected, not pleased that Potter had addressed him by his surname without his proper title.
“Professor,” Potter said deliberately dropping the surname this time.
Severus glared at him, wanting to communicate all his resentment at him, but utterly failing when Potter simply smiled at him and Severus found his animosity wavering much to his disgust. Just because they fornicated, did not mean he liked the boy. It was merely a mutual release of pent up sexual desires. Nothing more.
“What do you want?” Severus asked sharply.
Potter tilted his head, his fringe falling in front of his eyes and Severus’ fingers twitched as he wanted nothing more than to reach over and brush the hair aside. “Did you sleep well, Professor?”
“Well enough,” Severus responded, already feeling his right eye beginning to spasm.
Potter leaned forward as if moving in for a kiss, but stopping just short of their lips meeting. “Is that so?”
“My lord,” Severus enunciated clearly, “would you like to continue with Milton or would you rather start on Kant?”
“This one,” Potter said, placing his hand on the book. “I want to know more about the sin of man.” He paused, staring intently into Severus’ eyes. “Do you not find it a fascinating topic?”
“As you wish,” Severus replied, averting his eyes to the book. “We will continue with Paradise Lost.”
“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.”
— Oscar Wilde
More more more, Severus chanted mentally as Potter swirled his tongue around the head of Severus’ cock. Severus was so close to release that he almost screamed with frustration when Potter slipped his lips off of his cock and smiled cheekily up at him.
“Potter!” he exclaimed in a strained voice.
“Harry,” Potter corrected. “That’s my name.”
Severus wanted to glare down at Potter, but instead he contained his expression into a blank mask and reached down with his hand to tilt Potter’s chin upward. “My lord,” he said crisply, knowing that it would piss the boy off, “I believe we have exhausted the fund of my knowledge on this matter.”
“Have we?” Potter’s tongue darted out and licked the drops of precome that had beaded at the tip of Severus’ cock. “Perhaps,” he acknowledged, “but repetition is the means to perfection, is it not?”
There was merit to Potter’s words, of that Severus could not deny, for he himself had said those exact words when he had first begun teaching Potter. However, to hear them repeated back to him in such a situation was rather aggravating, but what could he do except allow Potter to continue his ministrations?
It was for the boy’s own good... to gain more experience through practice and for his own sanity… to be allowed the mercy of release.
“Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas.”
— Albert Einstein
If there was one subject matter for which Potter had no aptitude, it was mathematics. He had no head for numbers and Severus found it extremely challenging to understand how someone with a fairly decent mind for philosophy could not grasp the simple art of calculation.
“Professor,” Potter said, causing Severus to pause in pacing the length of the room, “I don’t get this.”
Severus reluctantly headed over to where Potter was seated. “Which one?”
“This one.” Potter pointed to a problem of medium difficulty.
Severus narrowed his eyes. Was the boy serious? This calculation should have been easy enough for him. Why was he so slow? Severus was already exasperated when he leaned over Potter and grabbed the quill from his hand. Severus quickly wrote down step-by-step how to solve the problem before he set the quill down on the desk. Severus was about to withdraw his arm when Potter caught him by the wrist, much to his surprise and agitation.
“My lord,” Severus warned.
Potter knew he did not like such displays during the day when anyone could walk in on them, but of course, Potter kept pushing the issue. Severus attempted unsuccessfully to pull his wrist from Potter’s hold when he saw the boy lower his head as if he was going to kiss Severus’ hand. This was beginning to get out of hand. How Potter could keep doing these things when he knew it was improper behavior? Did he want them to be found out?
It would be disastrous for both of them!
“You don’t have to worry,” Potter said. “No one ever comes in.”
“Kreacher does,” Severus responded sharply.
For a moment, Severus thought Potter was going to make an impertinent retort, but he just let go of Severus’ wrist. Severus ought to feel relieved that Potter had done what he wanted, yet for some reason, he felt strangely disappointed.
“Thank you,” Potter said, pointing at the problem, “for showing me how to do this.”
Severus grunted in response before moving away. He did not resume his pacing. Instead he sat down at the other side of the table, opposite from Potter. Severus made certain not to stare at the boy when he occasionally looked up from his work. However, when Potter was working intently on his problems… Severus allowed himself the luxury of staring to his heart’s content.
“Often the best way to overcome desire is to satisfy it.”
— William Somerset Maugham
This had to stop at some point. This could not keep happening. It was not as if the boy needed to refine his skill any further; it was not as if he could teach him anything more; it was time for reality to set in on this distorted dream. Severus gritted his teeth as Potter’s tight asshole squeezed him deliciously. Although a little more practice would not hurt, would it?
Although, surely, absolutely, most assuredly, he was going to hell.
Severus came hard as Potter clung to him with his arms and legs. There was no escape. And to be honest, Severus wanted nothing more than to sink into this sensation forever and forget that this could not last.
Soon enough the end would come.
“The world makes up for all its follies and injustices by being damnably sentimental.”
— Thomas Huxley
“What’s this?” Potter asked, holding up the wrapped package.
Severus did not look up from the book he was reading. “What day is today?”
“July 31st,” Potter said without hesitation.
Severus waited patiently, knowing it would eventually dawn on him.
“Oh…!” Potter exclaimed before he finished lamely with, “It’s my birthday.”
“Indeed,” Severus said, looking up. “And that would be your present.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Severus would rather not be reminded of the fact that he did not need to perform this unnecessary act. He had, in fact, debated with himself for the last month about whether he should get Potter a present or just ignore this particular day. But why should this year be any different from the previous years? He had always given Potter a little something on this day, just as Potter got Severus something for his birthday. It was, as he continued to tell himself, only fair.
“What is it?” Potter asked, examining the package carefully but not opening it.
“What do you think it is?” Severus responded a little sharply, although he did attempt to temper his impatience.
“A book on philosophy? Hume? Descartes? Locke?”
““It is a book,” he confirmed. “I have given you enough books on philosophy, and I am afraid you will never truly develop a logical mind.”
“Is it so wrong to be illogical?”
“You are impossible.”
“As you always remark on.”
Severus noted to his annoyance that Potter was still looking intently at the present without making the slightest move to unwrap it. “If you don’t want the present, then I will be happy to take it off your hands.”
Potter hugged the book to his chest. “I want it.”
“Then open it and read it!”
Severus refused to let himself watch Potter open the present, although he found himself slipping on occasion and peeking at the flushed excitement on Potter’s cheeks as he carefully unwrapped the book. Severus had thought long and hard about what to get him this year. He had been tempted to just get Potter another text on philosophy because why should he do anything different? They were still bound by the professor-student relationship, no matter what…
And he was not a sentimental man!
Yet he was obviously foolish enough to give Potter a copy of The Raven and Other Poems.
What had possessed him? What was the meaning of this? What did he truly want?
“Edgar Allan Poe,” Potter murmured, looking up at Severus as he fingered the cover of the book. “I have heard of him.”
“I would hope so,” Severus said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “I would hope I have taught you to be both well read and widely read, if only to prevent the stagnation of your ignorant mind.”
“I am sure,” Potter said, tapping on the cover, “this will be the remedy.”
Severus quickly turned away from the evidence of his emotional lability and the source of his greatest frustrations. “There will be no lessons today, my lord,” he declared. “Read at your leisure or waste your time at physical pursuits. I care not.”
Severus had almost left the room when Potter’s voice stopped him at the threshold. “Professor,” he said, “do you really not care?”
Letting his sense of self-preservation take over was almost too easy for Severus. Moving forward, ignoring the boy’s question, leaving the room without so much as a backward glance was natural for him. He had, after all, already indulged in too much, far too much sentimentality.
“Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things.”
— Denis Diderot
“Uuhhh,” Potter moaned as he arched his back, pushing his cock further into Severus’ mouth, “aahhhh… ughhh… uuhhh…”
The sounds coming from Potter’s throat were, as they always were, strangely appealing. Severus should not derive such great pleasure from such depravity, and yet he had stopped contemplating the sinful nature of this coupling. After all, there was mutual consent and attraction.
Although, why him was a question Severus still could not answer.
Severus scraped his tongue against the underside of Potter’s cock, swishing this way and that, knowing that it drove the boy crazy with lust. He enjoyed seeing Potter writhing on the bed, gripping the sheets, trying desperately not to lose control, and yet finding it impossible to resist Severus’ ministrations.
Severus particularly relished watching Potter’s face contort in pleasure as he came in a messy rush. It was not an expression he would have ever imagined seeing, but he had and he was about to… Severus swallowed reflexively, tightening his throat around Potter’s cock and staring with glee as Potter gasped aloud, “Snape!”
The taste was bittersweet.
“Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.”
— Iris Murdoch
One of the many things Severus refused to ponder unless he was dead drunk was whether he had started this affair or if it had been Potter’s folly. Severus gazed blearily at his empty shot glass. He would likely have a massive hangover the next day and he would deserve it after knocking back shot after shot.
But it was only when he got to this state that he dared think about Potter. He, Severus Snape, was fucking Lord Harry Potter. They were mutually consenting to a relationship that should not even exist!
First, they were not social equals!
Second, they had a significant difference in age!
Third — and most importantly — they were both men!
And the worst, Severus grabbed the almost empty bottle of vodka, the absolute worst was this feeling of yearning. He missed the brat when he wasn’t around. Severus wanted Potter to be in the room, to create noise in the silence, to fill up the emptiness, to…
Severus brought the neck of the bottle to his lips and drained the remaining vodka with one long swallow. He winced as the alcohol burned down his throat. It should be regrettable, Severus thought, this thing they had.
And yet, he didn’t regret anything.
Because, because, he loved him.
“The love that lasts the longest is the love that is never returned.”
— William Somerset Maugham
Why did he, at this point, have to realize what he wished he could unrealize? Severus rubbed his aching temples and glanced with exasperated affection at the slumbering form of his charge. Potter, no Harry, had passed out after reaching the point of no return. For tonight, weak from his earlier epiphany, Severus had allowed Harry to sleep on his bed, in his room, without kicking him out — as he should have done.
What was he hoping for?
That Harry would love him back?
It was impossible. He was old and he was ugly and he was Severus Snape. Who could ever love him in return? And it wasn’t as if he'd ever wanted it to begin with, had ever had any ambitious of being loved…
Severus knew when a cause was hopeless.
And yet, as he stared at Harry’s sleeping form, he was utterly, utterly enamoured. How disgusting, how abominable, how completely unlike him.
This was wrong, so wrong.
But… Severus sighed and bent down to brush his lips against Harry’s forehead. For a moment, Severus thought he had woken him, but the boy sighed and turned his face at just the right angle for Severus to gaze fully at his peaceful expression.
“Harry,” Severus murmured his name for the first time, “my Harry.”
It seemed only right then — to commemorate the moment — by gently kissing him.
Maybe this was only one-sided.
Maybe this was truly impossible.
Maybe, in time, all would be forgotten; but here and now, it was unforgettable.
“Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what it loves.”
— Blaise Pascal
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MOD NOTE: POLL IS NOW CLOSED. THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING IN THE SNARRY GAMES.