HP: (FIC) Benediction. HP/SS NC-17
Title: Benediction
Pairing: HP/SS (yes, I still write that too)
Rating: Most decidedly NC-17
Warnings: Rimming/Felching.
Disclaimer: JKR owns the Potterverse.
Summary: Severus learns there is salvation in the strangest of places.
Dedicated to: anise_anise who works tirelessly to bring more rimming into the world as well as Harry/Remus.
“Potter,” he gasps as the boy thrusts his length into his arse. “Harder. Fuck me harder.” Potter, for once, is compliant. Thrusting. Pounding. Harder. Deeper. Snape arches his back, knuckles whitened as he fists the sheet beneath him.
“Snape,” Harry whispers into the nape of his neck, nibbling at the skin. Tongue sweeping his shoulders, licking at the wet slick sweat. It shouldn’t feel this good, Snape knows. It shouldn't feel this fucking amazing to have this neophyte pounding relentlessly into his worn body, but god help him, it does. He knows this isn't the punishment that the Dark Lord thinks it is. His body is throbbing, alive, humming. The boy is persistent, kissing, biting, pinching, and wouldn’t want it any other way.
It is a good thing, then, that the Dark Lord thinks that it is most undignified to be on one’s hands and knees allowing some adolescent cretin rut away, Severus muses, because he is in heaven and his body on fire. The boy is draped over him, the tickle of his sparse chest hair tantalises his skin. Every touch of fingers, every touch of tongue, is slowly driving him insane with lust.
The boy reaches down, palming his cock. He fists it slowly, maddeningly so. His grip is too light, and his teeth only just graze his skin. He is dying, drowning, close to begging. And relises, in his foggy state, that begging is exactly what Potter wants.
“Potter,” he breathes out, not caring about how pathetic he sounds. “Fuck me harder. Now. Please,” he barely whispers the last part, but it is enough.
Potter sinks his teeth into the nape of his neck, his pace increasing. Snape almost sighs as he feels the grip on his prick tighten. So good. He keens as he feels the orgasm building throughout his body, skin prickling with the intensity. And he is coming, coming. Finally. Snape collapses onto the bed, barely feeling the boy’s body tense, filling his arse with his seed. He wants to close his eyes, but he can’t. Wincing as the boy pulls out, he tries to clear his head. He needs to finish the assignment. However, he is pulled from his thoughts as he feels the boy grab his hips, forcing him back onto his knees.
He can feel the hot breath on his neck, his ear. “I know what you want, Snape, and you can’t have it.” Harry whispers menacingly into his ear. Fuck. How? How can he know? He tries to cast around for a way out of this when he feels the boy shift lower onto the bed. He is frozen. On his hands and knees, come dripping down his legs.
The boy’s tongue traces the path of his semen from his thigh up until he reaches his hole, still open and twitching. Thumbs spread him farther, hot breath teasing him.
“I’m taking it back, Snape. It’s mine,” Harry states calmly before latching his mouth over his gaping hole. Potter bites, licks kisses the puckered flesh. Reaching, searching, relentlessly swallowing every drop of his come. The tongue dives in, harder, thrusting, tasting. Snape isn’t sure if he can take much more, but Potter’s grasp on his hips is unrelenting.
“Potter, please,” he pleads, dignity forgotten. He pushes back, trying to get more of that maddening tongue inside of him, arching his spine, panting, pleading, begging for release. Sweat dripping off of his body, tension strumming through him and he finds that he doesn’t care that Potter knows everything.
“Snape, I can, I will keep this to myself, for a price,” Harry murmurs, tongue flitting across his perineum.
“What do you want?” Snape pants out, seeing no reason to play ignorant.
“You.”
Harry kisses the swell of his cheeks.
“Loyal.”
He licks a path up his spine.
“Only.”
He bites lightly at his shoulder.
“To me.”
He thrusts back into the loosened hole, wrapping his arms around Snape’s waist, pulling him back onto his lap.
“I want you to be mine,” Harry speaks, punctuating every word with a thrust.
Snape leans his head back, resting on Potter’s shoulder. He knows this boy is powerful. Knows that he is righteous. Knows that he is loyal. Knows that there really isn’t much to debate.
“Yes, anything,” Snape says softly, knowing that this boy has already marked him. Made him his own. Knows that this boy owns him more fully than Dumbledore or Riddle ever had.
Pairing: HP/SS (yes, I still write that too)
Rating: Most decidedly NC-17
Warnings: Rimming/Felching.
Disclaimer: JKR owns the Potterverse.
Summary: Severus learns there is salvation in the strangest of places.
Dedicated to: anise_anise who works tirelessly to bring more rimming into the world as well as Harry/Remus.
“Potter,” he gasps as the boy thrusts his length into his arse. “Harder. Fuck me harder.” Potter, for once, is compliant. Thrusting. Pounding. Harder. Deeper. Snape arches his back, knuckles whitened as he fists the sheet beneath him.
“Snape,” Harry whispers into the nape of his neck, nibbling at the skin. Tongue sweeping his shoulders, licking at the wet slick sweat. It shouldn’t feel this good, Snape knows. It shouldn't feel this fucking amazing to have this neophyte pounding relentlessly into his worn body, but god help him, it does. He knows this isn't the punishment that the Dark Lord thinks it is. His body is throbbing, alive, humming. The boy is persistent, kissing, biting, pinching, and wouldn’t want it any other way.
It is a good thing, then, that the Dark Lord thinks that it is most undignified to be on one’s hands and knees allowing some adolescent cretin rut away, Severus muses, because he is in heaven and his body on fire. The boy is draped over him, the tickle of his sparse chest hair tantalises his skin. Every touch of fingers, every touch of tongue, is slowly driving him insane with lust.
The boy reaches down, palming his cock. He fists it slowly, maddeningly so. His grip is too light, and his teeth only just graze his skin. He is dying, drowning, close to begging. And relises, in his foggy state, that begging is exactly what Potter wants.
“Potter,” he breathes out, not caring about how pathetic he sounds. “Fuck me harder. Now. Please,” he barely whispers the last part, but it is enough.
Potter sinks his teeth into the nape of his neck, his pace increasing. Snape almost sighs as he feels the grip on his prick tighten. So good. He keens as he feels the orgasm building throughout his body, skin prickling with the intensity. And he is coming, coming. Finally. Snape collapses onto the bed, barely feeling the boy’s body tense, filling his arse with his seed. He wants to close his eyes, but he can’t. Wincing as the boy pulls out, he tries to clear his head. He needs to finish the assignment. However, he is pulled from his thoughts as he feels the boy grab his hips, forcing him back onto his knees.
He can feel the hot breath on his neck, his ear. “I know what you want, Snape, and you can’t have it.” Harry whispers menacingly into his ear. Fuck. How? How can he know? He tries to cast around for a way out of this when he feels the boy shift lower onto the bed. He is frozen. On his hands and knees, come dripping down his legs.
The boy’s tongue traces the path of his semen from his thigh up until he reaches his hole, still open and twitching. Thumbs spread him farther, hot breath teasing him.
“I’m taking it back, Snape. It’s mine,” Harry states calmly before latching his mouth over his gaping hole. Potter bites, licks kisses the puckered flesh. Reaching, searching, relentlessly swallowing every drop of his come. The tongue dives in, harder, thrusting, tasting. Snape isn’t sure if he can take much more, but Potter’s grasp on his hips is unrelenting.
“Potter, please,” he pleads, dignity forgotten. He pushes back, trying to get more of that maddening tongue inside of him, arching his spine, panting, pleading, begging for release. Sweat dripping off of his body, tension strumming through him and he finds that he doesn’t care that Potter knows everything.
“Snape, I can, I will keep this to myself, for a price,” Harry murmurs, tongue flitting across his perineum.
“What do you want?” Snape pants out, seeing no reason to play ignorant.
“You.”
Harry kisses the swell of his cheeks.
“Loyal.”
He licks a path up his spine.
“Only.”
He bites lightly at his shoulder.
“To me.”
He thrusts back into the loosened hole, wrapping his arms around Snape’s waist, pulling him back onto his lap.
“I want you to be mine,” Harry speaks, punctuating every word with a thrust.
Snape leans his head back, resting on Potter’s shoulder. He knows this boy is powerful. Knows that he is righteous. Knows that he is loyal. Knows that there really isn’t much to debate.
“Yes, anything,” Snape says softly, knowing that this boy has already marked him. Made him his own. Knows that this boy owns him more fully than Dumbledore or Riddle ever had.