An Appetite For Submission, for stepmnster Title: An Appetite For Submission Author:rakina Giftee:stepmnster Word Count: 6,884 Rating: NC17 Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter Warnings: BDSM Author's Notes: Dear stepmnster, I found it hard to write such a confident Harry pre-DH, so this is set just after. Also, I tried to include as many of the kinks as I could at short notice. I hope you enjoy it, and Happy Holidays Snarry-style! Written for snarry_holidays. Thank you again to faynia and chiralove for running this wonderful feast of Snarry goodness, it's been a blast.
An Appetite For Submission
Harry Potter had returned for his seventh year at Hogwarts, having missed a whole year fighting and destroying Voldemort. Now he was back in the place he loved, which was still being restored, but was gradually and surely getting back to where it had been. Hogwarts' traditions and practices were unchanged by the minor inconvenience of battling a Dark Lord.
Another person had also returned to this place he'd always felt safe, and like Harry he felt Hogwarts was more of a home to him than his real home. Now fully recovered, Severus Snape had been appointed as the DADA teacher; his beloved subject was now his for as long as he wished. Voldemort's curse on the job had died with its caster, and Snape, now acknowledged as an Order member rather than a Death Eater, was secure in the post. Minerva McGonagall had taken on the headship, and Snape had been glad of it, not wanting the role. He was appointed deputy head instead, with the implicit promise of being headmaster again when Minerva stepped down. Filius Flitwick had announced his retirement at the end of this year and had happily passed the role of deputy to Severus.
And so, although so much – nearly everything – had changed, so much seemed the same; and Harry was glaring up at his DADA master. It was not the first time that he'd glared at Snape by any means, but this time the glare was for a rather different reason than before. Severus Snape, damn him, had invaded Harry's dreams, and Harry didn't know what to make of it, nor quite how to respond.
If they had been normal dreams, even normal erotic dreams, he wouldn't have minded – or not so much. But they weren't. In Harry's dreams he was kneeling, looking up at the man looming above him. Harry was naked, but Snape was not; the man looked down at him with his patented sneer and Harry knew Snape could do whatever he wanted to him, that he was quite helpless before him. And worse, Harry knew that was just what he wanted.
The first time he had woken up from a dream like that Harry had squirmed with embarrassment and fierce denial. The second time he'd been more worried than embarrassed, because he didn't feel so bad about it, not at all. And the last time – the third time's the charm – Harry had just plain loved it. So now, sitting here looking up at the man who was suddenly looming over him in real life just as he had in the dreams, Harry was hard. Snape's voice, his sneer, his iron control over the class, was all making it happen just like it did in the dream. "Sir?" Harry asked, his voice a first year's squeak.
"Not listening again, Potter? No wonder you cannot turn in a decent essay. And here was I attributing your failure to your woeful genes or illiteracy, and all along it has been simple inattention on your part. Well, I know a way to hold your...attention, boy. Detention tonight, eight o'clock in my office! And do not be late. No excuses – Granger can tell you the time if you have not learned to do that yet." Snape whirled away in a familiar billowing cloud of black robes, and Harry watched him go feeling like something very significant had just happened. And yet it was all much the same as before: detention with Snape. Nothing had changed at Hogwarts; and yet everything had changed.
And had Snape really paused after saying 'a way to hold your...' before he had added 'attention'? Or was that simply Harry's dream-fuddled brain imagining things?
What worried Harry most as he approached Snape's office at five minutes to eight that evening was that he had a good idea what had triggered those dreams. It was George's BDSM mag that had done it: all blokes in leather with their 'pets' kneeling in front of them, the masters holding their subs on leather or chain leashes. Those doms were all dressed in black and were tall, scary-looking blokes that had reminded Harry instantly of Snape. But why had his brain put him into the sub's position so readily? He had no desire to kneel in front of a master; he'd always resisted complying with Snape's dominant act in class. He certainly did not want to accede to his dominance in the bedroom. And anyway, Snape would not be interested in taking Harry to his bed. The whole thing was absurd, as surreal as all dreams, and just as unfounded in reality. Harry's face flamed as he remembered these things and approached the dungeons, wishing he was anywhere else but in the realm of Slytherin, where he would be mocked for his obvious embarrassment.
Harry hurried down the dungeon steps, along the corridor and quickly knocked on the closed office door. That voice – the voice he had heard in his dreams telling him to suck him off, just before he always awakened hot and bothered – now told him to enter.
"Potter," Snape said, glancing up from his desk then returning to his work again. "Close the door, you idiot boy. I have no wish to work in a barn."
Harry pushed the door shut, grinding his teeth. It was to be the 'idiot boy' act tonight then. He walked up to Snape's desk and stood in front of it. Snape ignored him.
After what seemed like ten minutes but might have been two, Harry gave up. So Snape didn't like him standing here and was obviously intent on ignoring him. Maybe he'd like it better if...
Harry sank to his knees on the floor beside Snape's desk, and then Snape looked at him.
"Potter," Snape said again, but this time his voice was softer. "That is… somewhat better."
Harry bowed his head and looked down at the floor, as many of the 'pets' in the mag had been doing.
"Yes, that is much better," Snape said in a very satisfied tone.
Out of the side of his eye Harry saw the man put down his quill and take out his wand. Harry tensed, but he discovered the spells Snape had just spoken were locking and warding spells. The door behind him echoed with the sounds of grinding metal and the background sounds made by the Slytherin students were suddenly cut off.
"I wondered when you would have the sense to acknowledge me as your master, Potter," Snape said, getting to his feet. "I am pleased you have done so before we both died of old age, or such activities ceased to become of interest, which I freely admit is just as bad."
Harry didn't reply; he'd read in the article in George's mag that the pet could do nothing without his master's permission. That had seemed horrendous when he first read it – a fate worse than death to Harry's mind. Until in his dreams he'd been silent, acquiescent, and Snape had spoken kindly to him then and run his hands through Harry's messy hair, looking down at him with those glittering, black eyes that were really fixed on him now, making him tremble.
"Mr Potter, I can read your silence in one of two ways: either you are being ignorant and not replying in order to annoy me, or you are being a good little pet. Now which is it, I wonder? If I give you permission to speak, will you answer me? You may speak, Potter."
"Thank you, master," Harry said, and his heart was thudding inside his chest with excitement; he'd read this right, and Snape knew all about being a dominant. After all, Snape dominated his class, ruling it with a rod of iron. It had only been Harry who had resisted his overlordship so far. Now Harry offered his submission and hoped it would be sweet to Snape. He waited with bated breath to see what would happen next.
Snape stood in front of him. Harry looked down at the man's boots, the toes just visible beneath the sweep of long, black robes.
"You may look up, boy."
Harry tilted his head back and looked up into Snape's face, and had to gasp. Snape was smiling at him, his lips curled in a smile that was not a sneer, nor a smirk, but a smile that Harry had never seen on those sharp features before. It was a smile of pleasure that Harry had put there.
"Yes, Potter, you have pleased me, and possibly for the first time in your life. It took you woefully long to realise that what I wanted from you – at least as a start – was your submission. While you were a small boy, your verbal acknowledgment of my mastery was all I required. And yet you would not do it; you fought it all these years. Now, I require a great deal more from you in recompense. Are you willing to give it?"
Harry's throat was dry as he looked up at Snape. In his dreams, he had wanted it, all of it. But if he said 'yes' now, just what was he agreeing to? His sense of adventure kicked in and told him that he had to find out – that if he said 'no' he would go away and regret it, because somehow Harry knew Snape would only ask him once.
Gathering his Gryffindor courage, Harry licked his lips, swallowed, and spoke clearly: "Yes, master."
Snape smiled again, and waved his wand as he whispered words Harry couldn't catch. A leather collar appeared in his hand, its silver studs winking in the candlelight. Another flick, and with the whispered words a leash appeared, long and black, its leather supple, it draped easily over Snape's palm. "Do you know what you are doing, Mr Potter?"
"Not really, but I'm willing to bet you do," Harry replied, his eyes glinting as he defied Snape to make fun of his ignorance.
Snape's expression darkened at these words. "You will call me 'master', Potter. Always."
Harry's frown eased; of course, he'd forgotten one of the first rules. "I'm sorry, master," he said, lowering his eyes submissively.
"Better. Now, you will come to me every evening at eight. You are of age; the choice is yours. But once you wear my collar, whenever you come to me you are mine to do with as I will. I master you, you submit. While you wish for that to continue, the collar remains. Should you wish to end the agreement, the collar will disappear. Do you understand all this?"
"I do. And more besides," Harry said. "I know I am safe with you, master. I discovered after the final battle that I have always been safe with you. And yet I fought that knowledge for the longest time; I fought you. Those days are gone, just as Voldemort is gone, and there is no need to behave that way any more. I will submit to you in class as well, if that would please you."
"It would. Your words please me, Harry. I wish you to stay… as long as you will."
Snape stroked a finger over Harry's reddened lips, the gesture seemed tender. There was no doubt Snape felt protective towards him, and Harry remembered the past and saw it had always been that way, though he had resisted it at the time.
"I will stay for as long as I can foresee," Harry said quietly. "As always, master, you give me what I need. The difference is that now I recognise it."
"To ensure the safety you are already aware of, Harry, you need to choose a safe word for our time together."
Harry remembered reading about safe words in the article in George's mag. After he'd looked at the pictures about a hundred times he'd decided to see what the article was about; it had been surprisingly informative and interesting. He knew the sub's safe word should be something random that he'd never usually say during sex. Harry frowned. "Um…FredandGeorge?"
Snape sneered at that, but he nodded. "That would work; it would certainly make me halt any sexual activity. Now, if you are happy with our arrangement, we shall proceed."
Harry swallowed, feeling like he was on the edge of a cliff as far as his life was concerned. Take that final step, and everything would change. Did he want this? It didn't take much thought before he said, "Yes. I am happy."
Snape moved a little and pushed back his robes so the full material draped behind him. Harry could now see the whole of the foot of Snape's boots, the black leather which elegantly encased his feet. Snape had long, narrow feet, mirrors of his long, elegant hands. Harry stared at them, lost in contemplation and wondering just what the hell was happening to him that he should be so fascinated by Snape's boots. Maybe it was because he was so close to them, maybe it was as simple as that. The smell of warm leather encasing a warm body assailed his nostrils, and Harry breathed deep of it. When Snape's fingers touched his face, Harry jumped a little, startled from his reverie, before controlling himself. The cool fingers slipped lower and Harry watched from his downcast eyes as the black leather collar was slipped around his neck, Snape's fingers moving gracefully as they buckled it. It fitted perfectly, magically, as Snape clipped the leash to the silver ring with a little 'snick'. Snape held the end of the leash in his hands, his long-fingered, elegant hands that were nevertheless strong; Harry knew that without testing it. He was held now, captive and willingly so.
Snape spoke again. He was in total control of this 'detention', which Harry realised was not a detention any more, except in the sense that Snape was detaining him, keeping him here in his locked and warded rooms, holding him captive by his leash, which was clipped on the collar that encircled him, surrounding him with Snape's power and protection. "If you offer yourself, Harry, will you accept whatever I wish to do to you?"
"Yes, maybe..."
A yank of the leash and Harry nearly pitched forward onto the floor. He was closer to Snape's legs now, leaning at an uncomfortable angle. He knew he'd made another mistake, given the wrong answer. He wasn't very good at this, or not naturally so. He had a lot to learn. The feeling of being on his knees, held so close to Snape who was towering over him and making him feel powerless, Snape dominating him just as he had always done in class, was making him hard. Harry wondered at it, then didn't care as his cock throbbed with real and urgent need. Snape would give him what he needed; that was all that mattered. "Yes, master, yes I do. I accept whatever you wish to do to me."
"Look at me." The voice was deep, full of desire and command.
Snape was smirking down at him now, his face full of satisfaction. "Open my robes, Harry."
This stopped Harry in his tracks for a moment or two. Open Snape's robes... so much would follow from that. And Harry. He shivered with a mixture of anticipation and pleasure, and lifted trembling fingers to the front of the black, woollen armour that Snape surrounded himself with.
The buttons only went down to Snape's hips. Harry opened them, working upwards. When his fingers reached Snape's waist, the man said, "Enough. Open my trousers. I am sure you know what to do."
Harry knew. He knew what Snape wanted, and at that thought his mouth filled with saliva, just as if he had been presented with a feast. The straining placket of Snape's trousers was closely fastened and it took Harry a while to undo it, revealing a tented pair of underpants. He pushed the trousers down a little and out of the way, and pulled the pants down. Snape's cock – large and flushed – almost hit him in the face. Harry leaned closer automatically, inhaling the musky scent of the man's arousal. He wanted it, wanted it so much that he licked his lips and began licking the large, tempting cock, swirling his tongue around the purple head and flicking little caresses against the foreskin.
"Good, that's good, Harry," said Snape, the voice coming from what seemed like miles above him. The man's legs were braced apart and he stood as solid as a rock. Harry wondered if he could make Snape lose control, but he really doubted it. This man was so much the dominant that Harry could not imagine him giving anything away, not even in this.
Harry became fixated on earning more praise as he worked; he wanted to hear more of Snape using his name, to make it more like his dream when Snape had caressed him with his fingers in his hair. Because then it had felt like real affection, and not like this, where Harry didn't believe he meant anything to Snape. Tonight, for the first time, he had just done something that made Snape tolerate him instead of kicking him out; and so he must mean next to nothing to his master. He didn't ask himself why Snape would do something as hugely significant as collaring him and telling him to call him 'master' without having any kind of regard for him, for he was truly overwhelmed at the moment. Harry was flying by the seat of his pants with this. He knew how to suck cock, but all he knew of being a sub was what he'd read in that kinky article. Admittedly he'd read it several times, but still...
He began to suck in earnest now. Dropping his mouth open, his lips caressing the cock as he pulled it inside, creating a suction-grip on Snape's engorged flesh. Harry explored the shape, the lines of the veins and the play of the foreskin under his tongue as he slipped his head forward and back, closer to the black nest of hair at the base of the delicious cock with each pass. He was stretching his mouth until his jaw ached, trying not to gag on the large mouthful or choke on his saliva. His efforts were appreciated, because Snape let out a deep moan. The sound sent a jolt down Harry's spine, and he moaned back in reply.
His mouth was full of saliva. He could taste Snape's cock; taste the pre-come forming at the slit. He could smell the musk at the base all around him, the heady aroma of sex was making him a bit mad. He sucked hard; pulling at Snape's cock with his mouth just as his hand would do, moaning with pleasure as he did it.
And then it happened: Snape slipped his fingers into Harry's hair, and the movement was a caress, surely.
And Snape came; a rush of semen, bitter and sudden in Harry's mouth. He swallowed, and again, as quickly as he could for Snape was flooding his mouth, threatening to choke him on his release. Harry couldn't escape for the caressing hand had tensed, holding him there; the other grasping the leash had him tight too, on a short rein. Harry coped, and eventually he swallowed it all, and Snape's softening cock was licked clean before he let it slip out, opening his mouth and pulling back as Snape released his head.
"Yes, very good." And Snape touched Harry's hair again. "Look at me, Harry."
Harry looked up. He was still as hard as a rock and wanted to touch himself, but he knew he must not until his master said he could. Now he remembered clearly how he should behave, and quickly ran over what he had done in his mind; he thought he had done all right.
"Come back tomorrow at the end of my office hours. Eight o'clock, Harry. And do not be late." Snape unclipped Harry's leash and stepped back, draping his black robes around him, appearing academically strait-laced once again. "Now go."
Harry stood up carefully; his legs were feeling far from steady. He was hard and it was difficult to move without wanting to moan as the fabric of his clothes rubbed over his erection. "Please, master," he begged.
Snape looked down at Harry's obvious erection. He smirked. "Ah, so you enjoyed it too?"
"Yes, very much, master. But please, I need-"
Before he finished the sentence Snape waved his wand. Wordless it might have been, but the spell hit and Harry felt a great pulse and gush of fluid as he came in his pants. He was embarrassed and relieved in equal measure.
"Now go. Until tomorrow." Snape whirled and left his office, disappearing down the steps that led to his rooms. Harry just stood by Snape's desk awhile, watching the space where Snape had been and feeling like an idiot. He looked down at the wet patch on his jeans and winced. He took out his wand and cast cleaning and drying spells, which would be enough to get him back to his common room unnoticed. But he was still wearing the leather collar, which was a problem unless he could hide it. He put up his hand and felt it: it was warm and comfortable around his neck, a snug reminder that he was wanted. He smiled at the feel of it. Snape had given it to him, fastened it around Harry's neck himself. Snape had clipped the leash to it and controlled Harry just as he wanted; he could do so in future, whenever he wanted. Snape; Harry's master.
Harry did up his shirt collar. It didn't cover the leather; he could still feel it under his fingers clear of the cloth. He decided he'd have to take it off or everyone in the Gryffindor rooms would see it, and there was no disguising what it meant. The questions would be unbearable. Harry put his fingers to the buckle, but it would not move. He tugged, but it did not give. Harry began to panic, and looked around. A mirror... he needed a mirror. There was a boys' toilet on the way back, there was a mirror in there... Harry left Snape's rooms, the wards falling as he touched the door latch, and resetting as he fastened it again. He hurried out of Snape's office as if the devil was after him.
Crabbe and Goyle, returning from the library, watched him go. Snape had obviously been hard on Potter, so what else was new?
Upstairs in the boys' toilet, Harry stood and looked into the mirror, hardly believing what he saw. Or rather, did not see. The collar was invisible. But he could feel it; it was still there around his neck, the leather fitting close and holding him tight just as Snape had bound Harry to him. Tight.
Shaking his head, he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He could still taste Snape's emission, the bitter taste of a bitter man. Would such a man ever offer him more than the impersonal release he'd received tonight?
***
The door was still closed. It was eight o'clock, office hours were over, and Snape would be waiting. Should he knock or just walk in? Harry closed his eyes, gathering mental strength. He opened the door and walked in. As he closed it behind him the wards fell into place; Harry felt them as a tingle on his skin, heard them as a silencing of the room. Snape was sitting at his desk, writing. The same as yesterday evening and Harry knew it would become a pattern. Because Snape wanted it, and Harry had found he wanted it too. His heart pounded almost painfully against his sternum, making his blood rush around his body as his excitement roared through him. What faced him was the unknown… but not exactly; the hardly-known, more accurately; the world where he would be dominated by Snape. But in here he wanted that, he allowed that; in class he never would. And Snape knew it, and accepted it, and so they were both content.
Harry walked forward and stood in front of the desk, the same as yesterday. Snape ignored him, so Harry lowered himself to his knees on the cold stone floor. Snape looked up, nodded, and returned to his work. So they progressed as Snape taught Harry how to await his master's pleasure, which of course would be his own, Harry knew. It was only minutes, undoubtedly, but to Harry waiting in anticipation, holding himself still, struggling to be patient, it felt like weeks. Please look up, master; I am here for you.
Snape put down his quill, and Harry's heart gave a jolting thump. It began.
Snape moved his wand and Accioed the leash. When it was in his hand he stood and moved around the desk, quickly clipping it to Harry's collar. Harry remained with his eyes downcast, being good, being a pet. And so Snape did not make him wait, but tugged on the leash, pulling toward him and up, and Harry got to his feet and followed his master.
Down the stairs into Snape's secret domain; through one room and into another: a bedroom. Snape's bedroom. And Snape turned to him.
"I have always had a fantasy of being a dominant, Harry. Until now I have never had the chance. I feel fortunate to have found a partner who is willing to explore the more unusual aspects of sexual relations. You, being a Gryffindor, will not lack courage as we journey together through my fantasies, and yours too, of course. So, dear Harry," Snape stroked his long, cool fingers down Harry's cheek at these words, making Harry's cock throb in his pants at both the endearment and the touch, "you are just right for me, and I welcome you as my lover."
A yank on the leash tugged Harry closer to Snape. "You are now my pet," the older wizard said. "You are delightful in my eyes. You have a lovely, ripe cock between your legs; you have such pert little nipples, my Harry. You are my plaything for this evening, and many more to come. Tonight you will fulfil my first fantasy.
"Now, get down on all fours, like the obedient little pet I wish you to be."
Snape yanked the leash again, and Harry dropped into position without questioning his master. For Snape was in control here, that was the whole point of it. His cock still throbbed with need as he positioned himself with his hands on the floor, his arse in the air, and his needy, swollen cock jutting out beneath. He could feel Snape standing behind him, the man was looking, just looking at his pet. Snape's pleasure seemed to surround them both, it seeped into Harry's skin and his mind, making him preen and pose more flagrantly beneath Snape's gaze. Now Snape was talking again, and Harry was happy to listen to his master's voice, the master who had not yet given him permission to talk. He knew he was lucky to have got away with his earlier outburst, and he planned to make up for it.
"I have long dreamed of having you subservient to me, on your knees with your arse in the air." Snape walked around in front of Harry as he talked.
Harry raised his head and looked up.
Snape flicked the end of the leash sharply over Harry's buttocks. It stung. "I did not give you permission to look at me."
Harry dropped his head, startled. He was not able to contradict Snape's dominance in here, and oddly found he did not want to, that leaving the next move to someone else brought a sense of relief, not loss. Here in Snape's room, his bedroom, Harry could not speak until he was spoken to. He had come here in subservience to his master, and Snape was right to chide him for any presumption. He had to learn to do no more than Snape allowed, and so far his punishment had been very light. His master was being kind tonight, holding back as they were new to this. Harry's buttocks tingled where the leash had smacked him, but he had deserved that, and more. He understood, and wished he'd been permitted to talk; he would tell Snape how he much appreciated his forbearance this evening.
"I see you understand me. And so you will feel and appreciate what I am going to do to you… quite… fully."
Snape encouraged Harry to look up with a tug on the leash to prompt movement. Harry's green eyes met Snape's black ones. Snape, so dark and dominating, appearing so harsh as he looked down at his pet. Harry's lips parted, his jaw dropped a little as he appreciated the man, the power of the man. He'd never truly appreciated it before, had always fought it, but now as he let that power wash over him he truly felt it; and fuck, it felt good. Snape's hand ran gently through his hair, petting his head. Snape's fingers felt so good doing that, just as they had in his dream.
"Good boy," Snape purred, his deep voice resonating through Harry's bones, turning him to butter. Warm, melted butter under Snape's heated hands. Whatever the man wanted to do was good, it was all good. He purred back, but it came out as a deep, throaty moan, quite unlike his normal voice.
Snape's hands were running down his sides then back up again, his fingers slipping beneath to tweak the already-hard nubs of Harry's nipples. Harry gave a little yelp.
"Good boy," Snape said again, "you like that, don't you? You are being such a good boy that I am going to reward you a little more."
Harry felt Snape standing behind him, felt the heat of the man's woollen trousers, and yes, the heat of his body, his hard erection pressing against Harry's buttocks, just there, just in the right place, at the right angle, and oh yes… please… Harry spread his legs, thrust back with his hips, open and pleading.
Snape ran his hands around the globes of Harry's arse, and he parted them, the long fingers dipping into the cleft from either side and cool air surrounding his entrance, causing him to tighten it in response; a twitch that Snape saw. Snape chuckled, and oh, his voice was deep and rich.
"In good time, Harry, in good time. I know you want me, but first, I want you to be just as I dreamed."
Snape pulled the leash taut and fastened it with a flick of his wand to the foot of his bed. Harry was on the bedroom carpet tied to Snape's bed now; he was a prisoner who had walked into captivity without trial and without transgression. His punishment was his pleasure, and he was ready for it.
"I have collared you, my pet, but I need to mark you more carefully, more securely. I cannot have my lovely pet running away and finding himself another home, can I? Here, Harry, this is my first step toward keeping you in check."
Harry shivered as Snape's hands left his cleft, where they had been stroking incessantly, running up and down. Snape came around to his head and knelt down. Harry's eyes followed Snape's hands, those fascinating, long-fingered hands as they moved to his collar, the glint of silver as Snape attached… something... to the ring.
"You are mine, Harry, as the disc says. Like the collar, it is fixed to you. Should you wish to end our liaison it will fall off; but as long as you truly desire to be my pet it will stay around your neck, telling you, and anyone to whom you show it, that you are mine.
"Please master, what does it say?"
"Why Harry, it is simplicity itself. It merely says Property of the Half-blood Prince. Words you have appreciated before, I believe."
Harry felt a frisson of excitement, of pleasure, run down his spine. Yes, he had always belonged to the Prince; this merely confirmed the fact. He smiled up at his master. "Thank you."
The hand rand through his hair again and Harry purred at the sensation. Snape smiled at him.
"Good boy. I have other ways to tame you, and other markers more permanent should you wish it, in time. But for now, here is a little taste of what is to come."
Harry was ready; he had already tasted, and he licked his lips in preparation.
Snape laughed at him. "You think you know me so well? Let me tell you that you know nothing yet. You think I would be so predictable as to let you suck me again? Oh, no, that is a trick for another night. For now, I think I will keep your mouth under control."
Snape moved his hand, the movement as intricate and elegant as ever; something made of leather appeared in his hand, all straps and buckles, rings and studs glinting in the candlelight of Snape's bedroom. Harry could not help but try to pull back as Snape came close and the leather touched his face, but the collar and leash held him, and they held him tight.
"FredandGeorge!"
Snape stopped immediately. He crouched beside the tense Harry. "This bothers you?"
"I – what is it?"
"Merely a gag, Harry; the leather and metal are simply decorative, nothing more. You can breathe freely, and even speak if you need to, but the gag is to keep your mouth out of our play for a while. If you will permit it?"
Harry frowned at the contraption in Snape's hands. There was a wide strap that covered his mouth; the narrower straps were buckled around his head, one running up and over his nose to fasten at the crown, two around the sides of his face, and one clipped to the ring of his collar.
"I can still use my word?"
"I will never put you in a situation where you cannot."
Harry nodded. "All right."
Snape slipped the leather over his face. The smell of the new leather was pleasant, but the feeling of his face being encased was not so fine. He moaned a little.
Snape's hand was back in his hair again, the touch a pat, a stroke, and altogether soothing before he resumed fastening the straps. Harry quietened again; this was how Snape wanted him tonight, and he was not being hurt. Snape was merely mastering him, first with the collar, then with his name tag, and now with a gag. And it felt… okay. Harry let it ride, let the scene play out. Because his mind insisted that the outcome would be his pleasure, and if he thought about it, he was enjoying himself already, exploring a different side to himself. He believed that tonight would bring him a better release than yesterday; tonight he was participating much further, making an agreement with Snape. It could only bring him closer to his master.
Snape moved around to his back now, and he was there at his buttocks again, stroking, patting, imparting a little slap now and then. But it felt good, it pulled his concentration back there to where Snape was pulling sensations from him that were wholly good and arousing, and Harry's cock was hard and aching, and he knew he was ready.
"Please…" he moaned, and the word came out clearly, even through the gag. "Oh, please, master."
"Oh, yes, I will certainly do what you wish, my pet," Snape said, and Harry could hear the swish of robes being removed and he tried to turn his head to see the man standing behind him, but the leash held him, and that pleasure was not to be for tonight. The noises continued behind him; Snape was opening something now, setting down a lid with a metallic ching! Noises of slicking, of Snape's long fingers oiling his hard cock, made Harry desperate to see it all, but he was held and he could not. He whimpered again with frustrated need, and Snape's deep laugh caressed his ears as Snape's hands parted his cleft. Slick, oily fingers prepared him.
Harry was not a virgin, and he was truly ready for this to happen, but even so Snape's fingers were long and strong; the preparation swift and efficient. Snape stroked his prostate to stimulate him further and Harry feared he would come before Snape had even entered him. And then it was done, the fingers were removed and instead the unmistakable bluntness and hardness that was Snape's cock pressed against him; delicious pressure. Before he could react Snape pushed in, his movements all efficiency again and so in control. Harry gasped at the feeling of fullness, the burn immediately telling him Snape was big, bigger than he'd had before, and his impression of the size of the cock as he'd sucked Snape last night was not mistaken. Snape was older, he was a man, not a boy, and he was a master.
The sex did not last long. Harry was already nearly there. Despite Snape's finesse and his careful, fine movements that stroked Harry's prostate unhurriedly, surely, Snape did not last long either. Harry hoped it was because his master wanted him so much, because he affected him, and not merely because this fantasy was something Snape had dreamed of for years.
One part of his mind told him that it could have been anyone down here on their knees, but Harry hoped, he really hoped, that Snape was so excited because it was him.
Snape's hand reached under him, grasping his cock which had dribbled a little pre-come underneath him onto the beautiful rug, where it had settled, not soaking into the tight weave, a glistening testament to his need. Snape stroked firmly and Harry cried out, spurting immediately at the touch of those long fingers, that strong hand. Snape groaned into his ear and came inside Harry as the young man's muscles contracted around the fullness. As the climax of their joining pounded through them, Harry felt it: Snape was kissing him now, planting gentle, open-mouthed kisses across his shoulders. His master continued nibbling and licking, tasting Harry's skin; these were their first kisses. This might be fantasy, as all play was, but Harry realised that when Snape was in control there would always be limits, and within those limits he was safe. He saw clearly now that he had always been safe with Snape, why should he be surprised that he still was here?
The straps on his gag unfastened and it dangled from Harry's face; Snape Banished it. His hand came around and released the clip and the leash fell away too. Harry turned his head and met Snape's lips in a kiss. It was entirely satisfactory: deep and loving, Harry was trying to pass along the message that he knew, that he understood what this was truly about, and that he had power, the final power to say yes or no to their play.
Snape's hands caressed him, worshipping his skin as they knelt on the floor. "Come to bed, Harry. Even with cushioning charms this is not the place to be, here on my bedroom floor."
Snape got to his feet, pulling Harry up by his hands. Harry smiled at the man. "Thank you, master."
Snape smiled back. "You are a good pet, Harry Potter, and so you deserve to be in my bed tonight. Amazingly, for I would have found it hard to believe you would ever be of any use to me before last night. And I am glad of it, more than glad."
Their pact was finally sealed that night, and their future was set for however long they felt they needed each other. Early next morning Harry was smiling as he returned to his dorm. He felt as if scales had dropped from his eyes, as if he'd had a revelation like St Paul in the Bible, and like him he felt jubilant about it.
It had been here all along waiting for him: the strength and support he had needed but never found until now, even though it was right under his nose. Even now, with Voldemort dead Harry found he still needed it; perhaps in an odd way he needed it even more, for he felt adrift at times, his life was no longer mapped out, was purposeless. But thank Merlin, he had finally recognised what it was that he needed and who could give it to him: someone to watch over him, to be strong enough to master him and powerful enough to keep him. Ginny was not that person, had never been that person. But there was no question in his mind that Severus Snape was capable of it all. And in return Harry wanted his master to continue being amazed by him, to continue wanting him as his pet for as long as he could have it.
Judging by the pleased glimmer in those obsidian eyes tonight, Harry had achieved just that.