Caroline Lamb (carolinelamb) wrote in snape_potter, @ 2012-09-02 21:49:00 |
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Current mood: | awake |
Entry tags: | carolinelamb, fic, rating: nc-17 |
Fic: Death In The Casbah
Title: Death in the Casbah
Author: carolinelamb
Other pairings/threesome: None
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2300
Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) * Vampire!Harry, major character(un)death, mention of blood and bloodsucking, (yet) un-beta-ed, Bottom!Harry. Also there is no reason why this has to take place in the casbah (so I'll add a warning for unnecessary, exotic location.) And also, it's actually not kinky. Sorry. *
Summary/Prompt: Harry is a vampire, and after tonight so is Severus. Kink!Night submission.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and its characters belong to JKR and her affiliates in its entirety.
At first Severus doesn't know what has woken him up, but then he feels the cool body beside him, the naked, unnaturally smooth skin, a chilling contrast to the heat in the room.
Harry kisses him.
"Tell me of your day," he begs, before he begins to caress him and Severus lets him, thirsting for every touch, for every press of these nimble fingers.
Darkness surrounds Harry, not made from night and the moon, but from the magic he consists of these days, the dark curse that has devoured him.
"Did you lift up your face and bathe it in the light, squinting, as I told you to do?"
Severus did.
When Harry kisses his lips, Severus lets that image slip through the cracks of his mind, and Harry sighs happily.
He smiles, and lifts his head up as if he can feel the dry heat on his eyelids, on his skin.
"Did you walk amongst the people, move through the crowd, let yourself be pushed here and there?"
Severus did and Harry smiles again, watching children play in a small, shadowed courtyard through Severus' eyes.
"Did you watch the sun rise?"
Severus did.
In the morning the sky burnt indigo while the whole world was bathed in orange light, and the wind smelled of dust, faintly of trash, spices, food, heavy perfumes and carried the voices from the people living in the narrow streets.
"Tell me of the sun," he asks in a boy's voice. His eyes gleam in the dark, catlike.
A blinding yellow ball of heat, big and heavy, hanging in the azure sky, greedy and loveless, hostile. The sandy steps, the restless crowd moving through the narrow and steep streets of the casbah, past food stalls and small shops.
Harry hums, pleased by Severus tales, and demands more.
He presses cold kisses onto Severus' skin, poisons him slowly with burning lust. Fire lights up inside him, and Severus only lies there, watches himself burn to cinder.
"Did you stand on the roof to look over the city?" Harry asks softly.
Severus nods, his heart suddenly heavy. A myriad of tiny shacks, tents, colourful roofs, crooked steps, houses built upon houses, stone walls, arched windows, broken pillars, all laid out before his eyes like a magnificent quilt.
And then the dusk brought another cool wind but the ground and the walls of the casbah still breathed heat. For a short while the colours drained, then in the minutes before night fell, a golden glow tinted the desert.
"Second thoughts?" Harry's eyes are wide.
Severus doesn't answer for a long time. Then finally he slowly shakes his head.
"Do it," he says. "I bid the day my farewell."
Harry kisses his lips again, holding his face in his cold hands.
"Have me," he murmurs, "take me tonight, and show me the pretty things you have seen today."
And Severus does.
He lets Harry straddle him and grind against his hard, aching cock, his expression deceptively innocent, but his movements knowing. He presses his entrance just so against Severus' cock.
"I longed for you," he whispers into Severus' ear. "All the time. And now you will be with me."
Severus swallows, then smirks up at him. "Show me how you longed for me," he says, and hands him the little glass bottle from his night stand.
Harry takes the bottle, and pours a little puddle into the palm of his left hand, then pushes himself up on his knees and begins to oil himself.
He teases Severus, catching his lower lip between his teeth, moaning under his breath with his eyes closed.
"Let me hear you," Harry says. "You have to tell me."
Severus knows what Harry wants to hear.
"I need you," Severus says. "Let me be with you."
In the beginning–their beginning–he thought, that uttering these words would choke him, would pull a part of him out of his soul or would perhaps make him less his own man, and he would become Harry's property, and he wouldn't be able to bear it.
He once imagined that saying "I love you" would diminish and weaken him.
It turned out, that he was Harry's anyway. The act of saying the words ... was only an acknowledgement. He had never belonged to himself, and saying these words only forced him to face the unspoken, but irrevocable truth of his life, and somehow his burden became easier to carry, every time Harry asked him to say it.
The realisation did not weaken him. It gave him a strength he didn't know he possessed.
"Please," he says, without hesitation. Harry has taken all fears from him.
Harry, satisfied, smiles and exhales, while grinding down on him. The heat in Severus explodes into wildfire.
They are both alive now, in this moment, and no curse, no matter how dark and how everlasting it is, can take this away from them.
Harry's thighs are gleaming white like marble in the weak moonlight. He lifts himself up, then moves down again, slowly clenching and unclenching around Severus' cock. Harry's own cock is slim and slightly curved and a milky drop of fluid sits on the flushed tip. When Harry follows Severus' riveted gaze he smiles and with his index finger smears the fluid around, spreads it around the head, then offers the finger to Severus, who sucks it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, tasting it hungrily.
Harry stares down at Severus with half-lidded eyes, dark with lust, moves a little faster, shifts, while holding Severus effortlessly down with his thighs.
He reveals the tip of his tongue licking over sharp, little fangs.
"Invite me," Harry whispers.
Severus arches up again, this time to offer his bared neck to him.
"Take it," he whispers. "Devour me. I am yours."
"Forever?"
Severus closes his eyes.
"Forever."
Harry kisses him, opening his lips to him, tasting him. Severus slides his tongue against the razor sharp fangs. The taste of warm blood wells up, and Harry begins growling, suckling hungrily on Severus' tongue. When he draws back, his cheeks are flushed and the gaze of his eyes brighter with borrowed life.
"Yes," Severus whispers, reaching up to touch Harry's cheekbone with a sallow, bony finger.
Harry's eyes turn dark, the entire iris covered by the black, dilated pupil and he presses his hands onto Severus' collar bone. Severus feels his heart beat race, like every time when this moment arrives.
He'll never get used to it.
He has to remind himself, every time, that a part of Harry doesn't belong to himself any longer–the vampire curse brings a demon forth, a greedy, feral spirit, and this spirit uses Harry's form to feed.
Only this time Harry won't merely satisfy his hunger.
Harry stills.
Hushed silence unfurls between them. It's as if the small, cramped room with its creaking floor boards and uneven walls doesn't exist. They're in a cathedral now, with the night sky and its lovely stars being the dome. From tonight on the night will be their kingdom, their territory forever, while the realm of the day will be forbidden.
He will never see the sun again.
Harry swipes the tip of his now warm tongue over that thin, delicate skin above the collar bone, presses his lips against it, feeling the pulse of the jugular.
He moves up and down, very slowly now, and Severus feels open and vulnerable. Harry doesn't need magic to see his heart. He knows all of Severus, and maybe more than Severus himself knows.
When Harry finally takes Severus head, cradles it, Severus closes his eyes to his own fears, and a moment later he feels sharp teeth piercing his flesh, not even painful.
Harry is with him, inside him, and around him. He's all he's ever known, his beginning and his end, his light and his darkness, his sun and his moon.
It feels good.
It feels–Severus' eyes fly open and he begins gasping and panting. The dizziness is familiar, like an old friend. He knows, that Harry has ways to amplify his lust while drinking, but the intensity is new to him.
Harry's hard cock, slick with hot precome is trapped between them, and Harry makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, whenever Severus is moving.
He feels Harry's skin underneath his hands heat, grow supple and soft, humanlike. Harry's chest begins to rise and fall, because he bothers with the pretense of life once he has sustenance and he can afford to waste his energy on efforts like these.
They rock in a slow motion like this, united, giving and taking, flowing into each other. Harry's urgent growls die down and he is sighing softly now, flush against Severus.
Severus never struggles. There is no pain, only acceptance. It should hurt him, but he only feels desire coursing through him. Every inch of his skin is sensitive to the slightest touch.
Harry is writhing on top of him, fucking himself on Severus' cock, with wild abandon. The grip on his shoulders tighten. He reaches for Severus' hands and entwines his fingers with them.
Severus doesn't feel the bed underneath him anymore, or the Algerian summer heat. He is floating.
Harry clenches around him, and Severus cries out. It's too much–it's beautiful and perfect and it's too much.
Severus lays his hands onto Harry's hips and begins to thrust, not gently, but desperate. His body is moving out of its own volition. He is coming–has been for the last few minutes as he realises. He arches up into Harry, buries himself into the tight, slick heat.
It's too much, and it won't ever be enough, it's terrifying and too powerful, and then he feels that final pull over the edge, and he holds Harry closer to him, presses himself against him, and empties himself inside of him.
"Harry," he says, in a voice he doesn't recognise.
He is shivering, with the loss of blood or with post-coital exhaustion he cannot tell.
Slowly he feels his own heart slow down, feels himself leaving his body.
It won't be long and soon he'll be gone.
He is weary, and tired. He feels himself fall asleep in Harry's arms, and thinks that even if he'll never wake up, he won't mind it.
Let it end, he manages to think.
Suddenly Harry pulls away.
Blood is dripping from his lips onto Severus' throat and onto his chest.
He has left his body by now, gazing down at himself, at his pityful shell. These long, bony limbs, the now grey-ish tone of his skin, the black eyes, dull unseeing.
Startled Severus realises he is looking at his own corpse.
Harry is not anxious. He waits one, two heartbeats, then calmly bites his own wrist and presses it onto Severus' lips.
At first Severus continues to watch from above, mildly interested. In the half light of the room, the blood looks black, like ink.
Harry is murmuring and stroking his hair, and all of a sudden, Severus is pulled into his body again. Strangely enough he resists, as if an instinct tells him to let go, to refuse this unholy gift, but then he blinks already with his own eyes, tastes the sweet, heavy taste of his own and Harry's cursed blood.
The hunger is overwhelming.
He feels the onset of pain, but then Harry begins to move again, locking his eyes with his.
"Look at me," Harry says. "Stay with me."
And Severus nods, still swallowing greedily.
He doesn't think he can ever stop.
He is so very hungry.
He is still hard. He only notices when Harry's movements become faster and more urgent.
The blood is flooding his mouth and he can't understand why he ever found the smell or the taste of it repulsive.
Finally Harry pulls his arm away, and when Severus lifts his head to chase after the last drops of blood, Harry bends down and kisses him.
Fascinated Severus stares at the white skin of Harry's wrist as it knits itself together. Not even healing charms are that fast and seamless.
Soon Harry throws his head back, screams out, and his entire body turns rigid. He shakes, then his cock and his balls twitch, and he comes. He arches and writhes and groans, and Severus feels him milking his cock until he thinks he passes out. His stomach is covered in come and Harry begins to languidly spread it onto his chest, then lets Severus lick his fingers clean.
Severus complies like a kitten, and fastidiously takes every finger into his mouth and sucks, cleans even the soft, smooth skin between Harry's fingers and Harry smiles, pleased.
Harry kisses him again and again. This time his lips feel warm and soft.
The room around him has changed in subtle ways that Severus can't describe–the walls, the table, the objects in it look unsubstantial, transparent, oddly immaterial. The smell of the night and the casbah seep through the wooden blinds. He smells turmeric, and honey, and rotten fruit lying on the street, he smells piss and sweat and cinnamon, the heavy musk perfume of a woman walking past.
"Am I dead?" Severus asks, when he has regained his breath.
Harry entwines his fingers with Severus' and lays their hands onto Severus' chest, where his heart should be.
There is nothing, of course.
"Quite so," Harry says.
Instead of fear Severus feels utter, complete faith, something he had never thought he was capable of feeling.
"I always knew, you would be the death of me," he says.
"Did you now?" Harry answers peaceably. "I'll tell Minerva to have that carved on your tomb stone."
end