InsaneJournal

Original poster: isidore13

Title: Private Lessons In Piety
Authors: isidore13 and dementordelta
Pairing: Harry Potter (an altar boy)/Severus Snape (a priest)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, blatant disrespect of religion, CHAN!
Disclaimer: So disclaimed
Notes: Beta by the Incomparable venivincere

"Come in," Father Severus Snape called at the knock on his office door, clearing his throat and closing the old textbook in front of him, wanting all his attention on young Harry Potter. "Have a seat," he instructed as Harry entered, not taking his eyes from the small boy. He leaned forward and settled his forearms on to the desk once Harry was seated. "Have you any idea why I called you in here?" he asked silkily, staring into the boy's bright eyes, letting them glisten with dark intent – the look never failed to unnerve.

Harry shuffled into the office, careful not to drag the too-big robe on the floor, lest he compound whatever sin he'd committed now. He climbed into the heavy wooden chair, trying not to look at Father Snape, who always made him feel clumsier and stupider whenever Harry stared at him.

"No, Father," he said with a sigh.

Snape smirked. "I have been... not displeased... with your accomplishments, your obvious intelligence while in this school, Mr. Potter." He leaned forward, affecting a serious, stern expression. "Every few years, I choose a young man for... special services to the church. Would you be interested in the chance to participate?"

Harry brightened. A chance to spend more time with Father Snape? Maybe his impure soul could be saved after all. He'd try not to be so clumsy and awkward around the priest. "Yes, Father, I'd be honored to be chosen."

"Excellent," Snape murmured silkily, and his cock twitched in anticipation. He patted it soothingly. "I trust you set aside the entire day?" At Harry's tentative nod, he smirked again. "Such an obedient boy," he praised, a little mockingly. "Now, this will be difficult. If you think I was strict with you before, it will be nothing compared to how exacting I shall be now.

"Now, Mr. Potter." He sighed softly and could not keep the smirk from escaping. "Remove your robes, I wish to have a look at you properly." The very idea of it made his cock fill; he could feel himself harden inside his trousers, and let out another soft sigh, eager to finally see this boy for whom he'd spent three years in carnal admiration.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Y-yes, sir," he said, sliding off the edge of the chair. His fingers were slightly dirty - no matter how many times the sisters told him to wash up, he still seemed to stay dirtier than the other boys. He plucked open the buttons of his robe and slid it off his shoulders, folding it neatly over the arm of the chair.

Without his school robe, Harry felt odd in the Father's company. As though Father Snape could see right through him.

Snape curled his lip at the sight of Harry's horrid clothes and rose. "Your clothes are filthy," he observed, "and far too large." He came around to the front of the desk and leaned on it, his arms crossed authoritatively. "I expect your clothing to fit properly if you're gong to have private lessons, boy. Remove your shirt; it offends my sight."

He held his breath as he waited. This was the moment when Harry would make his choice: He would either accept his place in these private sessions and remove his shirt obediently, or he would run off back to the dorms, fearful and anxious, and too uncertain to tell anyone what had happened, ever.

Nodding past the lump in his throat, Harry started unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. The other boys always teased him about how large his clothes were, but he was too ashamed of his cousin's cast offs, which arrived in a box from his Aunt Petunia every start of term here at school, to explain.

It was cold in Father Snape's office, and chill bumps appeared on Harry's thin shoulders as soon as he slid the shirt off. He was skinnier than the other boys too, but hoped Father Snape wouldn't notice and disapprove. He looked around, then draped the shirt over his robe on the arm of the chair, resisting the urge to fold his arms over his chest.

Snape glanced over the boy, lip curling just slightly in his typical expression of disdain. He took in the thin, short form, the developing shoulders and arms, the tiny nipples that were hardening in the cold of Snape's office. "Turn around," he ordered, already a bit breathless with arousal, the head of his cock pressing insistently at the fly of his trousers, as it always did with a new boy - although he'd never had one quite so innocently lovely and compliant as young Harry. "I wish to see your back."

This was easier, not facing the imposing cleric. Harry stared at the stone wall, and the painting of John the Baptist high up on the wall. He heard the father moving behind him, felt movement but was too afraid of punishment by the strap to turn around. The idea of the strap brought back all the old fears and shames. None of the other boys found themselves getting hard when they were whipped. Harry hated being a freak.

Snape sighed softly. "You'll do, Potter," he temporized, blood thrumming through his veins to his cock at the sight of him, slight, small, so slender his shoulder blades made sharp bumps at the top of his back. Even the back of him looked young and smooth and untouched, and Snape's breath caught in his throat, his cock beginning to ache in his trousers. He ignored it in favour of reaching out to turn the boy around, holding his breath until Harry looked up at him.

Harry let out a relieved sigh, full of happiness at having Father Snape's approval. "Thank you, sir," he said, then nearly bit his tongue. "Father, I mean. Father, sir." Harry shivered, rubbing his legs together. Harry looked at Father Snape briefly, then lost his nerve and stared at the floor.

"Look at me," Snape ordered softly, tilting Harry's head up with one finger under his chin. He ran his eyes over the too-thin face, even thinner now than before, as Harry had lost the layer of baby fat, his cheekbones sharp as Snape traced them with the tips of his fingers, his jaw curving to fit Snape's palm as he cupped it. "Such a lovely boy you are," he praised softly, watching as the cheeks reddened.

"T-thank you, Father," Harry said, feeling heat flood into his face and down his chest. Father Snape scared a lot of the boys on Harry's ward, and he did Harry too a bit, but there was something about the dark eyes, and the way they lingered on Harry's face during mass, or on his mouth when he was taking communion that had always made Harry feel different. Father Snape's fingers warmed his chin quickly, and Harry wondered briefly how they would feel on the rest of his body, then quashed the impure thought.

Snape turned quickly, striding to the fire to stoke it. "Remove your trousers as well, Mr. Potter," he said nonchalantly, clearly expecting the boy to obey. He turned around slowly and raised a disdainful eyebrow, smirking, his eyes heavy on the boy's firm young body.

Confusion made Harry frown. He never took off his trousers except just before bed. And never in front of anyone if he could help it. His fingers trembled as he slid open the button at his waist, then slid the zip down. "Shoes, too, father?" he said, not certain how to proceed.

Snape sneered. "Of course, take your shoes off," he said scathingly. "Have you never removed your clothing before? It would be a pity to report to your guardians that you need assistance to complete the simple task of undressing yourself," Snape dissembled.

Harry forced his eyes down as he toed off his shoes, then slid his trousers down over his feet. He was really cold now and embarrassed as he folded his discarded clothes and added them to the pile on the chair. His prick was ignoring the chill in the air and Harry dropped his hands in front of his underpants, interlocking his fingers in front.

He looked up uncertainly, waiting for Father to speak.

"Cold, are we?" Snape smirked. He took a seat in the chair next to the fire. "Come and have a seat, then," he sighed, leaving it up to Harry where he might sit; on the cold floor, or, if he was brave, on Snape's warm, comfortable lap, just before the toasty fire. Not one single boy had ever guessed that this was why Snape's office was always cold.

Harry looked at father, then at the cold floor beside the chair. Surely Father Snape didn't mean--

Still keeping his hands firmly in front of his crotch, Harry followed Father Snape over to the chair by the fire. The warmth was already seeping into his limbs. Biting his lip in indecision, Harry looked to the older man for some clue as to what he should do. But he didn't want to be yelled at again for being stupid, so he slid onto one of Snape's knees, grabbing a handful of the heavy priestly vestment to haul himself up.

Snape blinked, surprised that this slip of a boy would be so brave. "Warmer now?" he asked, voice a low purr against Harry's ear. He resisted the urge to lick the flushed pink earlobe and tilted his hips backward rather regretfully: it wouldn't due to have Harry find his Father hard, not yet.

"Y-yes, father," Harry said, careful to keep his feet from knocking against Snape's long legs. His fingers still clung to the thick robes. Using his grip, Harry shifted slightly, lest he betray the slow swell of his prick. He'd had thoughts like this, of being this close to the comfort and strength of the man of God, but only in the privacy of his bed. His prick, however, didn't seem to know the difference.

"There, then," Snape said, putting his arms around the boy. "This is very nice, isn't it, Harry?" he asked, and meant it. He always enjoyed simply cuddling with his boys, holding them soft and warm and tight against himself, caressing, petting, soothing before the session began.

It was nice but Harry couldn't make himself relax. His prick was swelling against his hand, reacting to all that lovely, warm Father around him. Father Snape's arms were so nice around him, heavy and comforting. If only he weren't so naughty, such a freak and could just accept this without thinking all the impure thoughts that sent conflicting impulses through his body.

"Y-yes, Father," he said again, leaning back slightly in the father's arms.

Snape smiled and knowingly settled his hands on top of Harry's. He brushed the tip of his large nose against Harry's throat, inhaling the sweet smell of boy; dirt and soap and sweat and heat. Gently he stroked his thumbs over the backs of Harry's hands. "Such a lovely boy," he murmured again. "How are your studies going, Mr. Potter?" he asked, almost as though he wasn't nuzzling the boy's neck, lips moving over the soft flesh to taste him just the littlest bit.

Harry's breath came in short little gasps as Father Snape's mouth moved over his neck. This couldn't be happening. He forced himself to think. "Very well, sir." He bit his lip as Snape's tongue moved down the side of his throat, then up into his hairline. "But I'd rather be studying with you, Father," he said, looking up into Snape's dark eyes.

Snape stroked Harry's side lightly in reward, then, as if by accident, Snape let his hand brush over Harry's small erection, feeling his own pulse with desire in response. "What's this?" he purred dangerously, tightening his hold on the boy when he might have scrambled away. "What impure thoughts are running through your sinful little mind?"

Panic rose in Harry's throat. "N-nothing, oh, F-father, please. I can't help it," Harry said. "I try not to think of - of things, but I can't help it." His fingers bunched themselves together over his belly. "Not when you, I mean, when--" Only Harry couldn't think of anything else he thought about as much as Father Snape. He squirmed on the priest's lap, sure he'd bollixed up any chance he had for advanced lessons.

"What things do you think of, my son?" Snape asked in a low, soothing confessional tone, stroking Harry's cock very lightly and trying to keep himself from coming as he imagined all the sinful thoughts that could be parading through Harry's hormone-addled little mind.

Harry swayed, leaning onto Father Snape's shoulder, and managed to get his fingers untangled. He grabbed at the thick robes again to steady himself and closed his eyes, conjuring up the images he only allowed himself to watch at night or in private. Or sometimes, when the mass was really, really long, during the prayers in the large nave of the church.

"About having s-someone touch my prick," Harry confessed, breath hitching as Snape did just that. "Of touching one, s-sucking one like an ice lolly." He closed his eyes tighter. "I'm going to burn in hell, aren't I, Father?"

Snape sighed sorrowfully. "Very probably. Although -- " He stopped, shaking his head. "No, you wouldn't want to do that," he sighed regretfully, as if thinking of all the torments Harry would be forced to suffer in Hell - when in reality, of course, he was thinking of Harry, spread wide and draped over Snape's desk like a particularly succulent offering to some heathen god. His prick twitched happily at the image.

Harry squirmed, grabbing a stiff handful of the father's robe. "Anything, Father," he said, voice full of hope. "I don't want to burn in hell for thinking about y-about bad stuff."

Snape nodded seriously, hiding a smug smirk. "Hail Marys won't do the trick here, my son. You must be punished severely for thinking such impure thoughts about your Father, punished until no such thoughts enter your sinful, licentious, incorrigible little mind." He slid one hand around Harry's slender wrists, pinning them together in front of him. "Do you think you can withstand my punishment, or would you rather wait for the torments of Hell?"

Father Snape's grip was tight on his wrist, and Harry squirmed to resist pulling away. "Yes, Father," he said, feeling an enormous sense of relief, as though the confession had already been cleansed of sin. "I can take it." He'd taken much worse from his aunt and uncle. "I want to be transported to heaven."

"Good boy," Snape praised. He picked Harry up as he stood, heading through the hidden door in his office that led to his chambers with Harry clinging to his neck. Once there, he set Harry on his feet. "I need to see that you are not becoming hard during your punishment, my son," he said, his own cock twitching needily again. "Remove your underpants so that I may see your cock."

Those few moments in Father Snape's arms hadn't made his erection go away--not at all. But he was used to obeying, so he slipped his fingers along the elastic waistband of his pants. He lifted them over the front first, thinking to get the worst out of the way, since he was already at punishable status already. Father Snape made no comment as Harry slid the underpants off his thin legs, and stood, nervous and more erect than he could ever remember being, in front of the father.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Snape began, taking a seat in his desk chair. He crossed his legs and looked steadily at Harry. "In order to punish you properly for your sinful thoughts, I must know what they are. Therefore, you must confess to all of them. You will leave none out. You must also be pure when we begin, Mr. Potter, so while you tell me about your piacular thoughts-"

"What sort of thoughts, Father?" Harry asked, confused.

"Wicked, Mr. Potter. Now if I may continue without further interruption?" He looked pointedly at young Harry, who nodded solemnly. "You will tell me about your wicked thoughts, and you will relieve yourself of that erection. Is that clear, or do I need to explain further?"

Distress furrowed Harry's brow at what he thought Father Snape was asking him to do. But he didn't want to risk losing the father's faith in his intelligence by asking for clarification again. Biting his bottom lip, Harry nodded, and slid his hand down around his cock, waiting for rebuke. He must have understood correctly then, for none came when he eased his fingers down under his balls, rolling them into the sparse patch of pubic hair nesting the base of his shaft.

"I think about s-someone coming into my room, sir," he said, letting out a little gasp as his prick twitched at exactly who that someone was. "They catch me t-touching myself. Doing this." Another slow stroke and Harry could almost feel like he was back in his own bed instead of standing here in Father Snape's office, touching himself and confessing.

"And about whom do you think, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, his voice deceptively soft. "Remember, God is listening. I may not know if you lie to me, but He will." He was so hard it almost hurt, watching Harry's lewd little display, listening to that soft young voice. His cock was pounding and twitching in his trousers eagerly, commanding him to slide inside Harry and just take the boy, pound him into the nearest hard surface. Instead, he patted himself soothingly, making promises for later.

Harry's hand seemed to move faster without him actually telling it to. He was so hard, needed to come so badly, that even confessing to Father Snape, knowing he would be punished for his dirty, wicked thoughts, wasn't enough to stop the heated rush of his hand.

"I think about a-about the priests, Father, with their heavy black robes, lying beside me, putting their hands on mine, while I'm touching my m-my cock." He stroked hard then, rubbing his thumb over the exposed head, catching the clear stuff that leaked out of the end.

"That's very wicked indeed, Mr. Potter," Snape said, watching for a moment as Harry lost his place, so caught up was the boy in touching himself, his pink little mouth open and gasping. "I believe I made it clear that you must confess your thoughts fully in order to receive your penance. Delay will only earn you more punishment."

Father Snape's rich, warm voice, even tinged as it was with anger and disapproval, washed over Harry as it did so often in Mass. How many times had he sat on the hard benches during the homily, wishing he could excuse himself to go wank while Father Snape's voice was still fresh in his mind.

"I let the priest touch my cock, Father, even though I know it's wrong, because it feels so good when you, I mean, when he strokes me." Heat flushed up into his cheeks at the slip, but when Snape didn't seem to notice, Harry went on. "I want to touch his cock too, so I open his robes. He's a man, Father, bigger than me, but -" Harry's strokes slowed down, letting the memory of his fantasy settle firmly in his brain. "But I want to suck it, Father. I don't know why but I do."

"Go on," Snape replied evenly, modulating his voice to keep his arousal from seeping through in his tone. "What else does... the priest... do to you, my son?" he murmured, voice low as he imagined what he'd like to do to the pristinely innocent boy.

Harry was amazed that his dirty secrets hadn't made Father Snape punish him. He rubbed the soft skin behind his balls, letting his fingers slide over the shifting surfaces of his sac before twisting up his hard prick. "He sees that I'm just a kid and that I don't know what to do, so he shows me." More clear fluid dribbled down his cock and Harry used it to wet his fingers as they caressed his cock. "He wraps his mouth around the top of it." Harry rubbed his thumb over the place to demonstrate. "Then slides his mouth down."

Harry's other hand slid over his thin chest, just the way it did when he was alone in bed, touching the new hair that had grown there, pinching the nipples while he stroked himself. "It feels so good, Father," Harry said breathlessly. "I want to show him how good it feels, see, so I do the same on his cock." Harry liked saying the word 'cock' aloud. "Only his is so much bigger than mine that I choke a little."

Snape sucked in his breath sharply, thinking of Harry's small mouth wrapped around his cock. He gave a soft sigh and patted his aching cock again, letting his hand stay lying heavily on the bulge under his trousers. "Do go on, Mr. Potter," he said dryly. "You're to keep talking until you've relieved yourself. I'm sure there are enough licentious thoughts in your sinful brain to last that long."

Harry wasn't quite sure what 'licentious' meant, but he was sure that if Father Snape used it, it must be all right. "I'm sucking and sucking, Father, because I want him to come. I love him so much, you see, though I ask God every day to make me love a girl." Once again, Harry slowed his hand, twisting his balls, a little tighter than necessary, letting the tiny jolt of pain ease the urgency.

"He's sucking me too," Harry said, "And I fit all the way inside his mouth, even though there's no way I can get all of his prick inside mine." He pinched his nipple again, harder than last time, leaving a little red mark. "I try though, Father, I lick his balls and touch him. I love the way he smells and the way he tastes. I wonder if he'll let me taste his come."

"You love your Father, do you, my son?" Snape asked, breathless now, balls tingling and trembling, he was so close. "You'd like to taste him? What would you do for him, in order to taste him?" He rubbed his cock through his trousers, pressing the heel of his palm hard against his cock.

"Yes, Father, yes," Harry said, hand moving faster now. Though he wanted to make this last as long as possible, he was so lost in the hot images his brain was supplying to remember why he should be prudent. "I'd do anything to suck you," he said, not even noticing his slip. "Anything, Father, anything." Harry opened his eyes suddenly, not sure even what he was saying, only that he was saying it to Snape, Snape who was watching him wank and who wanted him to go to heaven like all good boys.

"Anything, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked silkily. "You'd do anything to taste my cock, to be on your knees in front of me, sucking me?" Snape moaned, spilling himself quite shamefully inside his trousers, supremely grateful for the black clothes that would hide his loss of control. "You're a very naughty little boy, Harry," he panted huskily, "to have such thoughts."

"I know, Father," Harry said, the sudden bright image that Snape was conjuring up burning into his brain with heated clarity. "I'm so very wicked, Father!" he said, mouth dropping open as the thing he'd been needing and dreading happened. Pleasure and release shot out through his cock, into his hand, onto Father's worn carpet but still Harry couldn't stop stroking his throbbing prick, using the thick stuff to slick down himself, threading come-soaked fingers into the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.

"So wicked," he panted.

"Additional punishment, Mr. Potter, for soiling my carpet," Snape panted. "You must be taught not to think such dirty thoughts. Bend over my lap." Snape shifted in the chair and licked his lips, loving this first punishment in its own special way, feeling his way around the young boy. How much could Harry take, for how long? He'd soon find out.

It was no more than he'd expected. Harry nodded, wishing he had his bedclothes to wipe his hand on. He rubbed it surreptitiously on his hip as he crossed the room. Keeping his eyes downcast, Harry bent low over Father Snape's lap. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scents he loved that clung to the priest's robes. Anointing oil and holy incense. Communion wine and the smoke from the Psalters. And somewhere, something that coiled into Harry's brain like Eve's serpent. The all too familiar scent of arousal.

"I counted ten sinful thoughts. I think you deserve two smacks for every sinful thought. But I won't make you count, Mr. Potter," he said. He brought his hand down on Harry's arse in two sharp, quick swats. "One, two for thinking about touching yourself," he said with a practiced, soothing tone, as if he weren't thrashing the boy – as if every smack wasn't pressing Harry's small erection against his own, still quiescent cock.

Harry wriggled against the sharp stings, hearing Father Snape grunt as he brushed against something hard in his lap. If it were anyone else, Harry would think the father had an erection, but Harry knew Father Snape could only be disgusted by such things.

Harry braced for the next slaps, ashamed that he was not really dreading them, not when it meant Father Snape's hand on his bare arse. His prick gave a little twitch at the idea.

Two more hard smacks, Snape hiding a small moan in the sound of flesh on flesh as Harry's young cock twitched against his thigh. "For thinking about your father in such a filthy manner."

It hurt more, the soft flesh of his arse growing more heated and sensitive with every smack, but Harry didn't mind. Lying over Father Snape's long legs, arse high in the air was one of the dirtier fantasies he'd had--one he hadn't confessed yet. His cock was trapped between his body and Snape's trousers, but the pain wasn't unpleasant, not yet. Harry spread his legs just a little, feeling his balls shift and drop along Snape's leg.

Snape gasped as Harry spread his legs, and rubbed the small, tight arse soothingly, letting his fingers fall between the boy's legs to brush over Harry's young balls, running his fingertips over the tiny new hairs growing there. His fingertips slid up to brush over Harry's hole, dipping inside just the slightest bit. So tight and warm and welcoming, and he let out a shuddery sigh as his cock began hardening again.

Harry whimpered as the priest's fingers trailed along his backside, in a way he'd only ever imagined. And it felt as good as he'd imagined, alone in the privacy of his bed. His cock, which had been hardening against Father Snape's leg, sprang to full attention and Harry whimpered again. If this was the punishment for soiling Snape's rug, he could be certain the punishment for soiling his trousers would be much worse.

Snape smiled and rubbed his cock gently against the small swell of hip, even as he smacked Harry's arse once again. "For thinking about someone else touching you," he snarled, and smacked him once more at the idea. Mine, he thought savagely.

The slaps were definitely hurting now, even though Harry wasn't struggling to get away. Far from it. He felt the bluntness of Father Snape's cock poking into him and wished he were naughty enough to act out even the smallest of his unholy desires. Harry squirmed, not with the idea of getting loose, but because the motion rubbed his swollen cock against Snape's leg just so.

Snape smirked as Harry rubbed his cock against Snape's thigh. "I'm afraid you're enjoying your penance too much, Mr. Potter. You certainly are a willful, recalcitrant boy." He settled his hand on Harry's arse as if without thought, squeezing, while he pulled a paddle from his desk. "We'll have to move on to something a bit more painful, and see if you can't resist temptation."

He brought the paddle down hard on Harry's reddening arse. "For thinking about touching someone else."

Tears burned behind Harry's eyes at the sharp sting of the paddle. "No," he whimpered, "Never thought about anyone else, Father," he said in a strangled voice. Then his eyes opened as the import of his confession hit him. He looked over his shoulder to see if perhaps Father hadn't heard him. Father Snape would be disgusted if he knew the object of Harry's lustful affections was himself.

Snape schooled his reaction under Harry's nervous, watchful eye, though he could feel his blood thrumming, flowing right to his cock, getting harder at the blunt, tearful admission. He rubbed Harry's red backside gently, soothing some of the burn away, before bringing the paddle down again. "Nine, ten, for thinking about licking my cock." Saying the words sent a thrill of pleasure down his spine.

Father Snape had heard him! Harry moaned and thrashed against the strong hands on his bottom. "I can't help it, Father!" he panted, every little movement sending spikes of pleasure into his prick. "Forgive me, please, oh, please," he begged, not certain what absolution he was begging for.

Snape stroked down Harry's spine, feeling the boy's back slick with sweat. "Shh," he soothed. "Such an obedient boy," he praised, sensing that Harry needed a bit of comfort before they finished.

Harry quieted at the soothing strokes. Father Snape was so good and kind and wise to be troubling himself over such a naughty boy as Harry. "'m sorry, Father," he said, pushing back into the soft, gentle fingers. His arse was burning, his prick near to bursting again as Harry rocked himself ever so slightly on the priest's lap.

"Mmm," Snape murmured, wrapping his sweaty fingers more firmly around the paddle's handle, smiling inwardly at Harry's delicious thrusting, the red little arse wriggling and wiggling as Harry rubbed his cock against Snape's thigh. Snape licked his lips and smacked the boy's arse again, hard. "For thinking about touching my cock," he said, though he feared his tone was more approving than reproachful.

Harry loved the way Father Snape said the word 'cock' in that honey-through- velvet voice. It was one of the many things about his special session with the priest he knew he would savor in the darkness of his room, late at night.

For, despite Harry's pleas to be a good boy, he knew he was very wicked, and wanted to be naughty and touch his prick again very soon. The sting of the paddle made his arse burn, but still Harry arched into it.

Snape smirked and brought the paddle down, hard, to meet Harry's arse as it swung up, then smacked him again, sharply. "For thinking about my cock at all."

Harry's cock was rubbing against Father's thigh with every movement of Harry's hips and every stroke of the paddle, and Snape smirked, intentionally moving his thigh back and forth.

It was heaven. It was hell. Harry's prick was trapped beneath his body and the father's leg, solid and pulsing, needing to come again, but quite unable to get the proper stroke, the right angle. No amount of squirming granted him absolution.

Tears of pain were running freely down his cheeks now, but Harry still met the strokes of the paddle. He was naughty. He was wicked. He was thinking about touching Father Snape's cock, and more than touching too, but of sucking it, as in his fantasies, or more. Of doing the things he'd only heard whispers about--of letting Father Snape to put his thick cock *back there*. The sheer wickedness of the idea drew a long moan out of Harry.

Snape paused at the long, pleasured moan. "Six more strokes," he informed, "but already you're hard again, aren't you, you wicked, sinful little boy?" He abandoned the paddle with a clatter and smacked Harry's arse with his bare hand once more, striking hard, harder than he had before, feeling the heat of Harry's arse against his palm. "For thinking about sucking my cock," he intoned harshly.

"I'm sorry, Father," Harry said, mouth full of unshed tears. "I c-can't help thinking about your c-cock. S-sucking it," he went on, lost in the lust created by the closeness to the object of his youthful adoration. "Sucking it h-hard!"

Snape smacked the tempting little arse again, hard, not stopping with just one. "You. Are. A. Naughty. Naughty. Boy. I'll. Teach. You!" he growled, punctuating each word with such hard spanks he left handprints. "Two for thinking about me sucking your cock!" he snarled, and smacked Harry again. "Two for thinking about tasting me." He swatted Harry's firm young arse twice more. "Five for soiling my carpet!" he spat, smacking him two mores times, "And a further five to teach you to watch your pretty little mouth!" His cock throbbed in his trousers and he bit his lip hard to keep from moaning.

By the time it was over Harry was whimpering, clutching Father Snape's trouser leg, arse stinging worse than it ever had. But still, his prick didn't care, digging into the rough wool of the priest's garments, needy and desperate, much like Harry himself.

He let the tears of pain flow unchecked, small shoulders heaving, but knowing the wickedness still lay within him. He still wanted the dark things. The images of men's pricks, large and hard, swirled in his brain. He wanted to touch them and almost he reached out, as though having a vision of the virgin. But the only virgin here was Harry. And even the sweet virgin Mary could not save him from his wickedness.

"I'm sorry, Father," he sobbed, not sure if he were sorry for still knowing he was wicked, or for the punishment not working to cleanse him.

"Shh," Snape soothed immediately, gathering Harry up against him and holding him close, with a gentleness that belied the earlier punishment. He threaded his fingers through Harry's perpetually unruly hair and just held the boy close while he sobbed. "You're my naughty little boy," he promised. "I'll take care of you; we'll make you a good boy." He stroked Harry's back soothingly and rocked the teenager as though he were a small child - though the hard little prick poking into his stomach signified that young Harry was anything but. He rubbed his own aching cock against Harry's arse lightly - Harry would never notice.

Even though his arse was burning, Harry leaned into Father Snape, sliding his arms blindly around his neck, laying his head on his shoulder. "I want to be good, Father," he said, feeling his tears drying around his eyes. "I want to be a good boy." For you, he added silently. He wanted to hide the evidence of his impure thoughts, but his cock had other ideas.

Snape nodded and moved the hand on Harry's back in slow circles toward the needy cock poking into his stomach. "I'll take care of you," he promised again in a whisper, as his hand closed around Harry's cock. He stroked firmly and pulled Harry's head away from his shoulder, cradling it in his palm, wanting to see the boy's face as he came all over his Father's hands.

Harry gasped as Father Snape's soft hand closed over his prick. What was happening? Was Father Snape trying to save his immortal soul by saving Harry from touching himself? Whatever it was, it felt too good to question. Snape's fingers were sure, as though he knew just how hard to stroke just there, or where to put his thumb like that to catch the runnel of clear come from the end of Harry's cock.

But that was impossible, wasn't it? Priests took vows of chastity. And chastity was something Harry didn't understand. He pushed himself into Father Snape's hand. "T-thank you, Father," he said, biting back a gasp.

Snape stroked the small, hard cock with a steady rhythm. "Come, Harry," he urged softly. "Such a beautiful boy," he breathed. "Want to watch you come." He bent his head and captured the panting mouth with his, thrusting his tongue into Harry's mouth as he stroked his cock, his hips jutting up against Harry's against his will.

Harry had never been kissed, not even on the forehead by Aunt Petunia as she'd dropped him off at the Seminary school. He whimpered as Father Snape's tongue surged into his mouth, his mouth going slack, unsure how to respond. Luckily, his cock had no such scruples, arching into Snape's moving fingers again and again until Harry was panting into Snape's mouth with need. "Want to--"

"Want to what, Harry?" Snape prompted. "Want to come?" He spat into his palm and stroked Harry's cock more firmly.

"Yes, Father!" Harry said, fingers clenching into Snape's vestments. "Want to, yes, want to come." He looked down at the priest's large hand, the same hand that handed him communion wafers, wrapped around his cock, pumping him. He couldn't wait anymore; Harry gasped and surrendered to the holy spirit, coming in lush spurts all over Father Snape's fist.

Snape gasped, Harry's beautiful, ecstatic face triggering his own release for the second time, and he held his boy close and tight. "So beautiful," he whispered, gathering his strength and rising, still holding the small boy against his body as he carried Harry to his bed. Usually, he'd clean the boy up and send him back to his dormitory with an admonishment to return tomorrow evening for more penance, but Harry was so beautiful and small and perfect, he wanted to see that tiny form in a drowsy lump beneath his covers.

He cuddled Harry close once they'd got in bed, stroking gentle fingertips across the ribs that were too visible. Not for the first time, he wondered how his boy was treated in his relative's home, recalling dimly the lack of care packages and Harry, taking lonely walks through the snow on winter hols when everyone else had gone home. He bent his head and kissed the scarred forehead lovingly.

Harry wiggled closer to Father Snape, letting the luxurious warmth of another body seep into his naked skin. He never slept in anything but school-issued nightshirts, and never in such a comfortable bed. And never, ever with anyone else. He nearly held his breath when Father Snape's mouth brushed over his forehead. His second kiss and just as sweet as his first.

"Can I stay here with you, Father?" Harry asked, his legs rubbing against Snape's longer ones.

Snape nodded, unsmiling, reveling in the feel of Harry's small, warm body against his, separated only by Snape's vestments - which he should probably remove lest they get wrinkled, but just at this moment he was loathe to move. "Mmm," he murmured affirmatively, closing his eyes and laying down, still holding Harry close.

Harry slid his fingers inside Father Snape's robes, seeking warmth and something more, something only the older priest could give him. "I want t-to touch you, Father," he said, letting his hands roam slowly over the prone form beside him.

Snape raised an eyebrow and looked down at the boy at his chest. "If you like," he replied, offering no further instruction, simply staring down at his boy though his cock was aching for Harry's touch again already. He'd be rather sore tomorrow but it would be worth it.

Taking this as permission, Harry's fingers began to slide the heavy robes off Father Snape's body. If he was to burn in hell, at least it would be for more than impure thoughts. The outer robe slid away, then Harry began working on the thinner tunic beneath. Harry peeled away each layer, always afraid of being told to stop, to slink back to his own bed.

"M-may I kiss you, Father?" Harry asked, running his hands over Father Snape's pale chest.

"You may," Snape answered, amused. Harry seemed so very nervous, as if he would be shoved away at any moment - it was terribly charming and unbearably arousing to watch.

Unsure of how to do it, only that he wanted to, Harry moved his mouth over Father Snape's shoulder. It was cool, like the statues of the saints out in the vestibule. But as Harry let his tongue trail over it, he felt the skin warm, could feel the pulse of blood in a vein beneath his tongue. Father Snape was a real man. Not a fantasy figure, but one of fallible flesh, like Harry himself.

His body slipped around to the front, moving slowly around the curve of his shoulder until he was face to face with Father Snape's nipple. As if in a dream he lowered his mouth and closed his mouth around it, feeling the tiny bud stiffen beneath his tongue.

Snape groaned at the tentative touch of lips to his skin. "Very good, Harry," he breathed softly, his hand coming up to cup Harry's bruised arse gingerly. He arched up into the warm mouth that was sucking at his nipple rather hesitantly. "You've got it; feels so good," he encouraged.

Could it be true? Could he be giving Father Snape as much pleasure as he'd given to Harry? He kept sucking, wishing he was brave enough to touch the sticky places between Snape's legs. He kissed his way down the pale chest, getting better, he thought, at kissing with each practice. Coming up short against the formidable barrier of Snape's trousers, Harry leaned back slightly into the leisurely fingers trailing along his arse.

"I'm okay, Father," he assured the priest.

Snape almost smiled, and cupped Harry's arse more firmly, squeezing very gently and feeling the soft skin against his fingers. "I believe you wanted to touch me, Mr. Potter?" he prompted, amused and eager to feel those hesitant hands and warm lips on his skin once more.

The fingers on his arse soothed over the bruises Harry knew would be there tomorrow. He looked at Father Snape again to see if permission had well and truly been given. Sliding down the wide bed, Harry let his fingers rub over the slack front of Snape's trousers. There was a patch of dampness on the front, as though the priest had spilled holy water during mass. Harry lay his head against it, inhaling the salty scent before easing his fingers over the simple zip in front. A priest's robes should have angels holding flaming swords at their portals. Luckily for Harry the zip came down with a simple hiss.

Snape sighed as trembling fingers opened his zip and lifted his hips cooperatively as tentative hands slid the trousers down his legs. He spread his legs, leaving himself available to the young boy, tacitly allowing him to do whatever he was brave enough to do. He felt his quiescent cock limp against his thigh and resisted the urge to touch himself, wanting to let Harry take care of him if the boy wanted.

While he was concentrating on getting Father Snape's clothes off, Harry didn't have to think. Once Snape was as naked as he was his brain kicked in, and he found himself suddenly shy. It was dim in the bedroom but not completely dark. He could see the shadowed contours of Snape's cock, lying flaccid against his thigh when he spread his legs.

One hand slid up Snape's thigh. "M-may I kiss you there, sir?"

Snape sucked in a sharp breath. "O-only if you want," he said distantly. He was constantly impressed with the young boy's courage. "Your mouth, oh, my Harry, it would feel so good if you kissed me there," he moaned, hips thrusting gently, cock filling fast.

It was like all his fantasies come to life all at once. Harry hung, poised over the length of flesh, then licked just the tip with his tongue. Snape's cock twitched and Harry nearly jumped back. Then, eyes widening in delight, he licked it again, tasting the drying residue along the firming flesh. With every stroke, he dug his mouth deeper along the priest's shifting prick. This was addictive.

Snape sighed and settled firmly into the soft mattress. "That's it, Harry, feels so good...." He fought to keep his hips still, not wanting to scare the brave but apparently hesitant child away. "You're doing such a good job...." he breathed, trailing off, watching his boy avidly as the small pink tongue flicked over the head of his cock.

"I've never--" Harry said, giving the now-leaking tip of Father Snape's prick one delicious suck, before looking up again. "Never done this for real." He bit his bottom lip. "You'll tell me if I'm doing it wrong?"

"Mr. Potter," Snape said, amused, "have I ever allowed a student who is doing something incorrectly to continue without telling him so in the most scathing language possible?"

Harry actually smiled at this, despite being nervous and uncertain. He settled himself with his feet dangling off the bed so he could reach the no longer quiescent cock. He began to lick and suck in earnest, letting his tongue slide over anything it could reach, not thinking. If he thought about what he was doing he wouldn't dare rasp the flat of his tongue over the rounded hillocks of Father's balls. Or follow the darkened trail past his balls into the soft area in between. No sweet skin was off limits to his mindless mouth.

He let his hands roam everywhere they could reach as well. This was so much better than anything he'd ever dreamed of in the dark of his room. That his own cock was reacting was almost secondary.

Snape groaned as Harry's sweet, agile tongue mapped his cock and balls with the randomness of youthful, eager desire, the unpredictability making it that much sweeter, making raw, hot desire spark into his cock with almost alarming intensity. "Good boy," he moaned mindlessly. "Such a good boy!"

The praise sent warmth into Harry's blood, and happiness into his veins. "Yes, Father, yes," he panted, using one hand to prop one pale leg up so he could see where the interesting path led. All of a sudden he was at the puckered hole behind Father Snape's cock. Experimentally, Harry gave it a lick, intrigued by the soft moan from above.

Snape groaned and reached one shaking hand to stroke Harry's head gently, not pressing, just needing to touch, to reassure himself that this was real, that Harry was there with him, that he was not lost in dreams once again. "You can if you want," he assured breathlessly, fingers threaded in the soft strands of Harry's hair to pet his boy.

Almost without thinking, Harry shifted in the bed, letting his instincts guide him. He wanted to taste Father Snape everywhere, to think of all the myriad tastes lingering on his tongue the next time he took communion. *This* was their own private communion, and Harry intended to worship at this particular altar until God or Beelzebub himself commanded him to stop.

Shaking with need, Harry burrowed his face in between Snape's flanks, sliding his tongue along the curves, swirling around the tight, tight hole.

Snape groaned and twisted his fingers into the sheets, trying to keep himself from bucking his hips up to get more of that warm, wet tongue inside him. "Turn around," he ordered sharply, wanting to kiss and lick at Harry's tiny hole in return, to give himself something to focus on.

Bewildered, Harry thought for a moment he'd done something wrong, but he obeyed, because he didn't want to risk Father's wrath. Then something wet and hot touched his arse and Harry would have come again on the spot if he hadn't already come twice this evening. "Oh! Oh Father!" he whimpered.

Snape flicked his tongue across the tiny entrance in short little licks, lapping up the heady, earthy taste of the boy, before sliding his tongue from Harry's balls to the top of the cleft in one long, slow, wet glide. He focused on the tiny, wrinkled entrance once more, coaxing it open, wanting to slide his tongue inside.

Surely this was what the Bible meant when it spoke of heaven! For Harry had never felt anything so amazingly heavenly in his short life. Using his own tongue, he mimicked Father Snape's actions, pressing in where he would have been too shy before, licking and tasting, going beyond any night time fantasy he'd ever had.

Snape sighed against Harry's entrance as the eager, young tongue slid inside him. He thrust his tongue gently and chuckled inwardly as Harry tentatively but earnestly copied the movements of his tongue. "Good boy," he purred, then moaned at Harry's eager little noises.

Harry couldn't help the noises that came out of his throat, summoned from some inner realm of pleasure he'd never tapped, not even when Father Snape had assumed the forefront in his lusty visions. Whatever the priest was doing to him 'back there' Harry wanted more of it. He sank his tongue into the tightness of Father's hole, sliding inside as far as he could reach, closing his eyes in satisfaction when a tongue arched into him as well.

Harry spread his legs further, needing movement now against his prick, which was showing him in the most fundamental way possible, that it liked what they were doing.

Harry spread his legs a bit plaintively, slender thighs quivering, trembling, and if Snape were willing to take his mouth from Harry's tender entrance, he was sure Harry's cock would be hard as a rock and dripping needily. Instead, he wrapped one hand around the base of the small erection and began working one finger into Harry's entrance, working the finger in more deeply with each thrust.

With the first harder intrusion into his arse, Harry felt like howling with relief. Yes--this was what he'd never let himself think about, the dirty wrong thing that the other boys whispered about, but never said. This sin of the flesh, the downfall of many a priest. It felt so right that Harry could see why any man would risk those vows of chastity for this tiny glimpse of heaven. He pushed himself onto the thick finger inside him and against the skilled hand on his cock.

He raised his head from Father's cleft, lifting his face in supplication as though for a blessing. "Feels so good, Father," he said, inhaling deeply of the fresh air. Then he buried himself between Father Snape's legs again, slipping his own finger around the moist hole, edging just the tip inside.

Snape drove his finger more deeply into Harry, searching for the tiny gland and brushing the tip of his finger over it rhythmically. He pulled his head back to stare at his long, pale finger buried inside Harry, and moaned, feeling the tight, silky walls around his finger.

Harry's moan echoed Father Snape's as something jolted through his body, something that could only be a miracle. Surely the human body was not meant to know such exquisite pleasure. His own finger slipped involuntarily deeper into the musky depths, even while he moved himself into that small miracle of pleasure. "Father, oh--" he moaned, wanting more, but not knowing exactly what.

Slowly, Snape pulled his entire finger out of Harry, until only the tip remained inside, and then he lined a second finger up and worked both fingers into the tiny hole, flicking back and forth inside his boy, once again brushing over the prostate, only this time, he began pulling his fingers out and sliding them back in with each small stroke over Harry's sensitive little gland. "You like this?" he whispered gently.

"Yes, Father, yes!" Harry gasped, "W-want more, s-sir!" A shiver went through him with the deep strokes. Harry licked his own finger, then rubbed the tip around the tightness of Father Snape's arse. "More, please," he pleaded, slicking one finger inside the grasping heat within.

Snape groaned. "Such a good boy," he breathed again, thrusting his fingers more roughly into his boy, feeling the tight muscles loosening around his fingers. He groaned again, and slowly brought his fingers to a stop, until they were resting deep inside Harry, his palm cupping the boy's cheek, his thumb stroking warm skin.

One hand clutched the bed covers, steadying himself against the sweet shockwaves going through him. He licked around the damp crease before laying his head on the fleshy part of Father Snape's arse. "What should I d-do now, Father?" From this angle he could watch his own finger sliding in and out, not as deep as Father was inside him, but he could see two knuckles being sucked inside. Harry gasped as Father duplicated the motion.

Snape stroked almost thoughtfully over Harry's prostate. "Would you like to try something else new?" he asked gently, and gave a firm stroke to Harry's cock to convince his boy that yes, he might.

Harry closed his eyes in pleasure, then opened them slowly at Father Snape's question. He looked over his shoulder and smiled languidly. "I'd like that, Father," he said, then, feeling shy, despite the fact that he was two knuckles deep in the priest's arse, said, "I'd like anything you teach me."

Snape smirked and gave a sharp pat to Harry's bottom. "Lay down on your stomach," he ordered crisply, digging in his drawer for the lube.

Harry wiggled into the duvet, pressing his prick deliciously into the mattress. Anticipation sang in his veins, at what he hoped Father Snape would teach him. "Like this, Father?" he asked, looking over his shoulder again.

"Oh, yes," Snape said, drawing out the sibilant like a snake. He petted down Harry's spine with slick fingers, drawing large but intricate designs in shiny slick on the expanse of moonstone-pale flesh. "Do you know what a lovely young man you are, Harry?" he asked softly.

Harry blushed to the roots of his hair. "I'm no such thing, Father," Harry said, then shivered as one slippery finger slicked between his cheeks. "A-are you going to fuck me?" he asked, hoping to divert Father Snape from his appearance in case Father Snape looked more closely at how skinny and awkward Harry was.

Snape smacked Harry's arse sharply. "Every time you say such a thing about yourself, you will receive one stroke with the strap, Mr. Potter," he hissed harshly, and smacked the firm arse again, hard. "Hopefully that will teach you not to believe such lies.

"Now," Snape said more kindly, stroking his hand over Harry's arse, letting slick fingers slide into the cleft to brush the fluttering entrance, "would you like me to fuck you, Harry?" he asked.

Bewilderment shot across Harry's face, though he tried to conceal it. He felt himself blushing, and dropped his gaze down to the thick duvet. "I think so," he said. "If you want to, that is." He looked back up, admiring the sharp lines of Father Snape's body. He wanted to tell the priest how beautiful he thought he was, but the words got held up on his tongue.

Snape smirked and began working three fingers into Harry, thrusting gently. He bent and pressed a small kiss to Harry's shoulder. "All right?" he whispered, and licked the back of Harry's neck, still thrusting his fingers into the tight, yielding hole.

A shaky laugh escaped Harry's mouth. "Better than all right, Father," he said. Harry missed being able to lick Father's arse, but the slick fingers inside him more than made up for it. He spread his legs wide on the bed, lifting slightly, so that his cock swelled against his belly, full and damp again.

Snape gasped softly as Harry spread his legs wide and gently pulled his fingers from his boy's arse, then lined the head of his cock up with the fluttering entrance. "Harry," he murmured softly, stroking one hand down Harry's spine and rocking his hips against the boy.

His name, on those lips, made Harry shiver in delight. There was something pressing against his hole, thicker than a finger. Harry lifted his arse higher, pushing back against Father, prostrating himself like the novitiates did. "Yours, Father," he whispered, "Yours."

"Mine," Snape growled possessively. The worshipful tone in Harry's sweet young voice made him forget himself, and he entered him in one sharp thrust, gripping those slender hips so tightly there would be marks. He thrust hard, twice, before he remembered that the boy beneath him was, had been, a virgin. "Harry," he moaned, forcing his hips to still, trembling with the effort of not moving inside that tight body.

Tears sprang into Harry's eyes at the sharp, hot pain. His hands formed claws, digging into the bed clothes as the pain arched inside him, spreading deeper, until it felt his backbone was going to explode. Then Father said his name again and stilled. Harry waited, but Father didn't say anything else.

Only, during the scant space of time, something eased inside Harry. It didn't feel good, not like their earlier touches had, but he didn't suppose he was supposed to feel pleasure from this. All that mattered was that Father had chosen *him* to fuck. "I'm all right, Father," he said, moving slightly as though to prove it. His arse burned anew at even the slight movement, but he would endure it.

Snape shut his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry, love," he whispered, shocking himself. He didn't usually apologise for hurting his boys, and he'd never used terms of endearment.

To distract himself from this new development, he reached beneath Harry to curl his fingers around the flagging erection, stroking lovingly, coaxing it back to full hardness. "That's it, such a good boy," he murmured softly, hips as still as he could make them.

Harry's forehead dipped onto the duvet as Father Snape's fingers wrapped around his prick. He'd been ashamed that he hadn't been able to stay hard when the priest's cock had slid inside him. The ache of it was still there, but slowly being overlaid, like the leaded colored panes in a stained glass window, with ease, then, something almost like pleasure. "Want to be your good boy, Father," he said, releasing his desperate hold on Father's sheets.

"You are my good boy," Snape breathed. He judged that Harry was relaxing enough, and thrust his cock slowly, angling once more for the tiny gland.

Harry yelped softly, and Snape smirked, thrusting his cock over his boy's prostate again, and again, and again, all the while stroking Harry's cock.

Before he could have accounted for it, Harry was sliding himself faster and faster through Father's fingers, moving himself on the prick inside him. The strangeness of it was slowly being offset with each thrust, as that something inside him began telling his body this wasn't so bad, in fact, was bloody good. His prick agreed in the only way it knew how, obeying Father's skilled commands. "Yes, Father, yes," Harry moaned, as that hardness speared into him once again, balls hitting his thighs with the impatient motion of it.

Snape groaned, forcing himself to stay still, allowing Harry to figure out what felt best as the boy humped against his cock and hand. Forced himself to just feel those muscles clench around him as Harry moaned wantonly, to feel Harry's small, tight arse squeezing his cock rhythmically, mercilessly.

"Don't stop, Father, please," Harry panted. "Need--" He wriggled under the priest's strong fingers clutching his hips. Snape remained still, save for his hand, pumping Harry's cock.

Snape stroked Harry's cock more firmly. "You need what?" he asked gently.

Deep, halting breaths came out of Harry's chest. "To come, only--" He closed his eyes, then whimpered as Snape's fingers curled around his balls, pressing them up into the base of his cock. "I want you to--to come inside me."

Gasping, losing control once more, Snape thrust into Harry and tightened his fingers around the base of his boy's cock, preventing his climax. "Ask and you shall receive," he quoted, thrusting carefully into the tight arse, feeling his balls tingle. He did not hold back, but spilled himself inside his lovely boy.

Harry sagged as heat flooded inside him. Even though he hadn't come himself, Father Snape had blessed him in this way. "Thank you, Father," he whispered, as if in prayer.

Gently, Snape pulled his cock from Harry, careful to brace the boy's arse, his palms cupping Harry, for the subsequent emptiness. Harry let out a little moan and Snape grasped his waist and turned him onto his back, taking in the sight of the aroused adolescent cock, so wet and slick with lube and pre-come. Snape moaned softly and bent down, taking the sweet, musky cock into his mouth, licking all around the head and sucking strongly, intent on his boy's pleasure. He grasped Harry's balls gently, massaging them as he pressed them against the base of Harry's needy little prick.

Harry tried to look, tried to watch the same mouth he'd seen saying mass in the high nave of the church wrap around his prick. It was the sweetest possible benediction. He watched as long as he could, warm, red lips suckling him, strong, skilled fingers caressing him, then his eyes rolled back, toward heaven, as the music of a thousand angels sang into his brain. Harry clung to his heavenly vision, bucked into Father's mouth and came harder than he'd ever come in his life.

Snape didn't swallow straight away, instead tasting Harry's adolescent come eagerly. Salty, slightly bitter as it always was in boys Harry's age. He sighed, swallowed, and moved up to kiss Harry softly and gather the limp form close against him.

Sliding his arms through Father Snape's, Harry nuzzled into a mouth tasting of himself, of sin, tinged with redemption. They stretched out in the bed, and Harry eagerly wrapped himself around Snape. It didn't feel like a sin, what they'd done. How could something that felt so right, be cause for eternal damnation? Harry pulled Father Snape closer, afraid suddenly of facing the gates of hell. His only hope was that Father Snape would be there to save him.