|snarryswapmod (snarryswapmod) wrote in snarry_swap,|
@ 2007-01-27 10:19:00
|Entry tags:||bewarethesmirk, creation: fic, rated: nc-17|
Happy Daft Day a_belladonna!
Title: It Began as Revenge
Warnings: Slash, obviously. Dub!con, D/s, inexperienced/virgin!Snape, voyeurism, wanking, exhibitionism, mention of future bondage.
Prompt/Summary: Snape reacts strangely to Harry’s anger, ensuing in strange results and messy revelations.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this! I wanted to write more, but since this was a pinch-hit, I tried my best to satisfy some of your kinks accordingly. This came out more humorous than I intended, but I hope it receives a few chortles and remains hot enough to please. Thank you *so* much to my betas, faynia and caelumi.
By the way, sorry for the American spelling, but I couldn’t find a Brit picker in time.
He was absolutely, to the last degree, fucking violently exasperated with one Severus Snape.
That bastard had made his life miserable for as long as Harry could remember. At first, Harry though their imminent hatred had begun when their eyes had met across the Great Hall during Harry’s Sorting, but there was an even greater reason to hate Snape. This very reason was one revealed the night of Dumbledore’s demise: Snape, even before Pettigrew, had been the one to give his parents away to Voldemort after hearing that fateful prophecy.
Harry didn’t care what the Wizengamot said about Snape’s role in the War, the man was guilty through and through.
Snape was supposedly operating under the late Headmaster Dumbledore’s orders the night he had killed him. True, Snape had found ways of providing hints to the Trio on the Horcruxes’ whereabouts and had turned his wand on many of his fellow Death Eaters within the last moments of the Final Battle. Still, Harry was not convinced. Snape was always out for himself and would go with whatever side seemed to be winning in the moment.
He was nothing but a low-life, greasy, spiteful bastard.
But, this was the last straw. Snape could mess with him, but the vindictive man was not going to cause further harm to his friends and get away with it.
Harry marched, resolved, to the last place he would go willingly: The Apothecary. Capitalized. The owner had enough audacity and arrogance to assume his apothecary was the most privileged of all apothecaries and deserved to be titled as such.
Harry walked briskly through the frigid afternoon air, ignoring the chafing of his jeans against his thighs as always seemed to occur in cold weather.
He was furious in the way that only this man could make him.
There were few people out on the January day, the cold being enough to ward most people away. Those who were out walked by him in quick strides, getting their errands done in as little time as possible. It was easy to get to Snape’s shop, which was just a short walk up Diagon Alley once one entered through The Leaky Cauldron.
His palm found the wooden door (“The Apothecary” he thought with inward snort) and pushed it open, finding some strange pride as the swinging door hit the wall with a resounding bang, and caused the bells to produce a sound that was between a jingle and a screech.
Harry wasted no time.
”SNAPE!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs, some distant part of his brain wondering if he was not the one who was arrogant, believing he could just march into this man’s store and not be murdered for it.
He observed the front counter was empty. At another call – even louder - there was still no answer, so Harry began to march down the aisles, glancing around for his quarry. He searched several more sections of the shop, noticing the meticulous organization all the ingredients lining the shelves. Not a speck of dust.
The awe bubbling within him disgusted him, and he quickly vanquished that, too.
“SNAPE!” he called again.
“Potter, cease your excess yelling,” commanded a bored voice from behind him.
Harry, a bit unnerved by the man’s sudden appearance, turned around to face Snape and found the all-too-familiar figure dressed in shirtsleeves and black trousers. Harry’s eyes ran over the tall figure, mouth dry, feeling suddenly strange.
Ah, he had never seen Snape without anything other than his massive amounts of clothing. No wonder the situation felt so bizarre.
He dragged his eyes from where they had landed at the end of their perusal at Snape’s dragonhide boots to meet eyes. Eyes that were studying him a bit too closely. Not allowing himself to feel a moment of vulnerability, he stepped forward to look up into Snape’s fathomless gaze.
“You have no right to presume to tell me what I will or will not do. I am not your student any longer and you have no authority over me whatsoever, you bastard,” Harry spat out, fists clenching at his sides. The words he had so longed to speak, but not dare say aloud felt delicious on his tongue.
Snape’s face had paled, and he was grinding his teeth together audibly. “How dare you?” was all that escaped his thin lips, in a caressed whisper.
That set Harry off.
“How dare I?” Harry yelled, “What have I done? You are the fucking bastard who sent Hermione back to my flat in tears!” Harry paused to catch his breath, “You can do whatever you want to me, but I will not allow you to bully my friends, especially Hermione, when she has done nothing but be nice to you.”
Snape looked like he was shaking from pure, unadulterated rage. His cheeks were suffused with the lightest of pinks and pants were escaping his lips in loud puffs. Harry felt his gaze pulled down to a noticeable tent in Snape’s trousers.
Hardly realizing what he was seeing or feeling, his hands began to sweat. He couldn’t stop his mind from visualizing the hardness that was tucked away behind the confines of his former professor’s fly.
Harry was more than disturbed to find that he was beginning to pant.
Snape was clearly….aroused. Harry had never considered this man in a sexual light, but suddenly he found he needed to prove that he had been the one to evoke that particular reaction in the austere and sexually repressed older man.
The fact that there might be other customers in the shop did nothing to halt Harry’s forward movement, springing forward with all the agility of some wild cat. He had his wand pulled out of his sleeve and jabbed into the sallow column of Snape’s throat before he had quite processed his actions.
The younger man backed the other man into the stone wall in the back, beyond the shelves.
Harry was more than surprised that Snape, great dueler that he was, had made no effort to pull his wand on Harry or defend himself. He also found it almost impossible to believe that Snape would be walking around his store without his wand. It seemed so unlike him.
Harry felt something powerful surge through him at the realization that he had this particular man trapped at his will. Riding on power that he didn’t attempt to contemplate, Harry tightened his hold around the narrow expanse of the man’s pale wrists. He felt a great sense of satisfaction the harder he squeezed.
Harry was only a few inches shorter than Snape, allowing him to meet his eyes without trouble. “You treated Hermione like shit for no reason whatsoever. She even spoke in your defense at your trial, but – still – you treat her like she is worth nothing. You know what that feels like, don’t you, hmm?”
Snape seemed to summon the ability to speak through whatever condition was generating his dilated eyes and short gasps of breath. “Potter, I don’t know what you think you are doing, but I highly suggest you unhand me at once.”
Hands. That was it, Harry thought. A little experiment to see if he had been the one to arouse Snape. Something a Potions Master should quite enjoy.
The thought of touching Snape was too foreign a concept yet, but there was nothing stopping him from getting Snape to do it for him.
“Take out your cock, Snape,” Harry directed.
Harry watched in absolute delight as Snape’s mouth dropped open slightly before he recovered enough to sneer. “Potter, I didn’t know you felt that way.”
Harry’s hips jerked forward upon hearing the silky voice so close to his ear. What was wrong with him?
“You’re the one who is suffering a huge hard-on, Snape. Take it out. Now. I want to see your pathetic prick. I bet you can’t even get it to work.”
Harry’s taunting had a surprising effect. Severus pushed Harry back, and in his shock, he abided for the moment, watching with widened green eyes as a zipper was lowered and black boxer-briefs pulled down to reveal the most gorgeous cock he had ever seen. Not that he had seen many other than in the showers after Quidditch games, as he had only had two partners since admitting his bisexuality to himself, but he was sure if he had admired a lot of cocks, this one would certainly be among the best.
It was surprisingly circumcised, Harry thought probably owing to the fact he might have been born in a Muggle hospital, with a glistening head, precome already gathered on the tip. From the rose-suffused length to the thatch of black hair, Harry was sure his mouth was watering from the sight.
He wouldn’t be surprised if his gaze ignited the skin under his observation on fire. If he needed any confirmation that Snape was enjoying this, the groan that brought his eyes back up to Snape’s face was more than enough. Yes, the bastard must be reveling in his enemy’s starring just as much as Harry appreciated the sight before him.
“Mmm, you are enjoying this,” Harry bit out, resisting the urge to palm the erection hardening in his own trousers. “Touch your cock.” Harry found it intriguing to note how easily the practice of dominating came to him, especially when telling this man what to do. Snape had held power over him for years in the classroom; it was now his turn to be the victim.
Snape’s hand began to move tentatively back and forth over his cock. A drop of pre-come dribbled onto the floor, and Harry mourned its loss.
What made Harry mourn further was that Snape did not seem to know how to wank properly. Harry would have thought he would be a genius at pleasuring with those long, elegant fingers, but the man stuck to a simplistic stroking of his prick. His hands never touched the head of his cock, and he didn’t even acknowledge the presence of his balls.
“Stop,” Harry mandated. He was not going to watch Snape neglecting that prick one moment longer if he had anything to say about it.
Harry stepped closer, dropping his eyes to the cock before him, looking up to see Snape watching him with wary if not yearning eyes. He reached out a hand to touch the silken skin, but Snape’s hand - the same hand that had just been fisting his cock - stopped him with a light touch to his arm.
“No,” he said. Harry didn’t know why, but as much hatred as he had for Snape he wasn’t going to do anything that the man refused. That would be tantamount to rape.
But that was fine; Harry had a new idea.
Harry unzipped his jeans and pushed them down below his knees before shuffling them off, along with his trousers and socks. His boxers followed his jeans and he gave his cock a few experimental strokes. He moaned aloud, feeling surprisingly little shame at the prospect of wanking off - in front of all people - Snape.
Then again, Snape had resumed wanking in front of him, too. Harry waited, but still the same pace continued. Up and down, up and down, up and down. His hand continued that same monotonous stroke up and down his prick that made Harry’s own cock cry out in sympathy.
“Snape, has no one ever given you a decent hand job?” Harry asked in a sober voice that was a juxtaposition to Snape’s quick, erratic breaths. He looked close to the edge already.
The man, leaning against the wall with his lank hair hanging in front of his eyes, shook his head from side to side in a clear and resolute ‘no.’ Harry was shocked Snape would make such admission, but he reconciled that it must be because he was in a cloud of lust. If he ever needed information from the man, he now knew not to get it with Veritaserum, but with demands to please himself.
Snape must be a power-hungry slut. He enjoyed wielding it over others, but he obviously got off on being yelled at. Maybe that’s why he’d enjoyed having two Masters, but still yearned for his own sense of independent power over others. Yes, a power-hungry little slut. What a Slytherin epitome.
“Rub your thumb across your head, like this,” Harry demonstrated the movement, eliciting a hiss from his own mouth.
He watched as Snape hesitantly swiped his pinky across the head of his cock, his eyes on Harry’s movements, and a low moan escaped his thin lips. The sound went directly to Harry’s lower abdomen and he thought if Snape made one more sound similar to that one, he would surely come from that alone.
“Do it again.”
A low “Potter” from Snape’s throat was all Harry could take. He was on the floor on his knees in front of Snape, looking into startled eyes. Snape massaged the head again, and this time the precome that fell hit Harry’s cheek and trickled its way down into his mouth. He licked his lips with a groan.
Snape looked on the verge of a heart attack by now, and it wasn’t until then that Harry realized. Severus Snape had to be a virgin.
He eased his conscience by assuring himself that his next action would not be borne out of humiliation, because he was going to make sure they both enjoyed themselves. A great portion of him, however, took pleasure in being able to exploit Snape with this new knowledge. He would make sure the bastard’s rough exterior was broken down by Harry Potter.
“You’re not going to last long, Professor,” he taunted, while glancing upward through his eyelashes, doing his best to look coy, pointedly eyeing the cock in front of his face.
“Mr. Potter, you little slut,” Snape bit out before the base of his cock was in Harry’s hand.
“I do think you are the slut. See?” With that, the head was being greedily sucked in by Harry’s warm, wet mouth.
“Fuck,” Snape groaned. “I can’t – fuck – Potter - oh.”
Harry then deep-throated the entirety of Snape’s cock not covered by his hand into his mouth. He put pressure on the top, squeezed one of Snape’s buttocks with the other hand, and hummed. The hand that had rested on Snape’s arse moved to palm his balls appreciatively.
Snape came with a loud cry, spurting come down Harry’s throat.
His still-shuddering body plummeted to the ground and Harry was tackled underneath the warm body. Given only a moment to bask in the warmth of heated thighs against his own, a hand was on his cock, stroking fiercely, while a tongue lapped residual come from his lips. A very sloppy, but nonetheless passionate kiss was shared before Harry succumbed to pleasure, his come filling Snape’s palm.
Their sweaty bodies lay entangled on the floor for only a second, before Snape had looked up and apparently saw something that was enough to incite him to reach for his clothing.
Harry looked at the end of the aisle, mouth dropping open upon seeing Hermione Granger – the person responsible beginning of this entire confrontation – standing with her mouth gaping open. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated with a mixture of shock and arousal.
Harry did not want to know how long she had been there.
He and Hermione exchanged a long look, and he sighed.
He got to his feet and utilized a cleaning charm to rid Snape and himself of the messy aftermath of their…encounter. He tucked his cock back into his jeans and extended his hand for Snape to grab. A black eyebrow arched speculatively, but the older man accepted Harry’s hand and got to his feet.
Harry stepped forward to meet Hermione, pulling her across the store out of Snape’s earshot.
Hermione was still looking at him in shock.
“Hermione, I, - er - came to make sure Snape was sorry for saying what he did to you.”
“Er, well – uh – he kind’ve got aroused when I started to yell at him.” Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. “I think it…turned him on…and stuff just, y’know, happened.”
“I am really sorry he treated you the way he did, but I have an even better way to make sure he learns a lesson now.”
Hermione gave him a blank stare.
“I am going to ensure Professor Snape is thoroughly punished.”
Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
He went on to say something, based on pure speculation from the look he had first seen on Hermione’s face upon her arrival there. “You’re not mad at all, are you? You liked what you saw?”
Hermione’s jaw dropped and her cheeks reddened.
Harry grinned. “I thought so. I’ll be sure to tell you about it later, then. For right now, I need to go back to the git and finish what I started.”
Hermione nodded mutely, and looked at Harry with what he thought might be envy.
Harry returned to where he had left Snape and found him nearby – surprise of surprises – organizing ingredients on a shelf.
Harry coughed to get his attention. Snape looked up and Harry nodded in the direction of the staircase he believed led to Snape’s rooms, and his intentions where understood. He was answered with a small smirk which clearly said Snape did not plan to acquiesce so easily once they got upstairs.
That was okay. Harry already had the Binding charm resting on the edge of his mind, ready to cast.