Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Longest Road	By : WinterRaven Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11234 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and do not have the rights to Harry Potter. This story is written for fun. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Four: Schism

He tried to master his breathing, to steady his rushing heart, but Snape had never encountered such a difficult challenge in all of his life. Keeping himself under control in front of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, spouting lies and putting himself in constant mortal danger, seemed a joke compared to this… this temptation, this boy, so needy and desperate. Quelling fear was one thing; crushing the desire and overwhelming instincts of his lonely body was another.
So there he stood, hovering over Harry, his steady hand outstretched, ready to touch the boy again, to have him bend to his will, to watch him suffer and keen at his touch, unable to do anything against the ropes binding him to the table. How long had Snape fantasized about this? Years, it seemed, and deep within, past the haze of desire, he felt the same harsh twinge of guilt and shame that emerged whenever he had these thoughts.
How could he want a child? A boy? Yes, Potter was nearly of age but the fact remained that the person trapped on his desk was still inexperienced and blinded by lust. Teenage hormones, nothing more.
How long had it been? Perhaps the attraction began during the boy’s forth year. Puberty had hit Harry hard; his height had jumped so he was nearly as tall as Snape himself (this was quite some feat, considering Snape was taller than nearly anyone else in the school); the boy’s body was lithe and sauntering, and though he lacked the elegance Snape normally sought for in men, the boy was dripping with youthful power and energy. Incredible vigor. The boy teemed with it. Harry flowed with a strong, sensual force that he wasn’t aware of…
Snape remembered many, many nights alone, stopping his hand from reaching down to his throbbing length. He remembered the filthy thoughts that broke through his control during Potions classes; his only solution was to be cruel to Harry, cold and cutting, to pretend that he despised the boy solely because he was a near copy of James Potter. But of course, that was not entirely true. How could it be when the true reason was Snape’s desire for Harry?
The boy was whimpering on the desk, attempting to thrust his hips upward so Snape’s hand could clutch the base of the boy's cock.
Should he give in? Should he keep resisting?
His resolve was breaking with every passing second; ever since Dumbledore demanded their closeness. If the Headmaster had been aware of Snape’s motivations, he would have had the man thrown into solitary confinement. If he had any knowledge about the prophecy that had been given to Snape years ago, a prophecy different from Trelawney’s…well, then Dumbledore wouldn’t have so much have appointed Snape on the faculty, let alone allowed him near Harry.
That prophecy. It had haunted Snape for years, determined his fate in countless ways. It most certainly was how he found himself staring at Harry, needing Harry—
No. Snape pushed it from his mind.
He had to focus on the now, on the urgency of the moment.
His ears caught the quiet sound of Harry’s begging; the boy was so lost, so lost. Snape had never seen anything quite like this. He had never been at the command of someone so willing and he made up his mind, prophecy pushed aside.
“Quiet,” he whispered to Harry. The boy fell silent immediately.
Just give in. Give in.
Snape’s hand ran delicately over Harry’s pulsing shaft and the boy rewarded him with a wild groan, so animalistic and gruff. Snape moved slowly, expertly, highly aware that any strong tug would have the boy releasing milky fluid. And Snape couldn’t have that. At least not yet.
Harry’s head was tipped back against the hard surface of the desk. His brow was already shining with sweat and his face tinged red.
Snape said nothing. He stroked Harry quietly, the only sound in the room Harry’s strangled desperation. Snape could not stop his erection from pressing insistently against his pants, tight in the confines and demanding to be taken free.
Give in.
He did.
He pulled away from Harry, needing more. His wand flicked and the ropes vanished. Harry sat bolt upright, staring at Snape was strange expectation. Snape turned and looked away.
“Get on the floor. On your knees,” Snape whispered. “Hands behind your back.”
Harry did as he was told, dropped down and stayed perfectly still, his eyes fixed to the ground. He heard Snape approach him, he could feel his heat, and with a thrill, heard the slow unfurling of Snape’s zipper.
“Look up,” Snape commanded.
The boy stifled a moan. Here was the tangible attraction Snape had for Harry. The boy stared at Snape’s cock with greed. The man was hard. Harry had seen other cocks before, of course. It was almost impossible not to when he lived in a dorm with a bunch of other guys, but Harry had never paused to admire one. He had never been tempted to touch another one, to have it all for himself. Snape walked forward so that his dripping length was aligned perfectly near Harry’s red lips. It was thick and pulsing, as refined and elegant as the man himself. Snape gripped the base with his skilled hand, his nimble fingers stroking with agonizing control. The full tip was purple with blood, calling for Harry to pleasure it and the boy had never wanted anyone more in his life. Harry’s breathing was so constricted he thought he might faint.
Harry glanced up briefly and he and Snape locked eyes. The man stroked his cock again, drinking in Harry’s desperation. Harry’s eyes shot down when he felt Snape’s hot cock nudge his lips.
“Suck the tip only,” Snape whispered.
Harry complied without thinking twice; his tongue lapped the bead of precum leaking from the slit as if this was the most natural thing in the world to him, as if he had always known he needed the man. Harry had never tasted anything of the sort before but he took in Snape’s tang with enthusiasm. Snape was slowly stroking the base of his hardness, watching Harry with a cold look, as if trying to contain his pleasure deep within himself. He couldn’t reveal to Harry the difficulty he was having in stopping himself from grabbing the boy’s head, in ramming his cock down his throat, in grabbing him by the shoulders and fucking him wildly on his desk.
Harry took a deep breath. He knew this was the point of no return. There was something more real about seeing Snape’s arousal than anything else that had transpired between them. And whatever happened after this moment… he and Snape would have to take full responsibility.
The boy leaned forward, his heart exploding in his chest and swallowed the whole of the head of Snape’s cock in his mouth. His eyes rolled in pleasure as he suckled the mushroom tip. But the ministrations didn’t earn so much as a sound from Snape. The man was stubbornly silent except for his labored breathing.
Snape’s hand moved quicker, stroking himself and Harry sucked and sucked, his tongue rolling over the tip like the sweetest dessert. He was moaning around Snape, the vibrations jolting up Snape’s spine. Yet the man contained himself.
But Harry felt a new need frothing within him.
His own hardness was ignored, now engorged to the point of pain. He kept his hands behind his back, just as Snape had instructed, but he was finding it more difficult to resist fisting himself to completion. His knobbly knees smarted against the rough dungeon floor, scraping against the cement. The pleasure of suckling Snape’s cock and sting on his knees mixed within him, rushing through his veins. He needed release.
Without realizing what he was doing, Harry’s hand snaked forth to his throbbing cock and he began stroking himself in earnest, moaning wilder than before. He stopped immediately when Snape’s cock popped out of his mouth.
“Hands off!” Snape snarled, his face livid.
Harry rushed his deviant hand behind his sweaty back, suddenly ashamed.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he gasped, praying Snape wouldn’t stop any of this.
“You are as pathetic as ever, Potter,” the man said. He walked away from Harry and began to circle him, as if hunting prey.
Snape withdrew his wand from the back pocket of his pants and pointed it at Harry’s hands. Once again, thin ropes bounded forth and Harry gasped when he felt the rope bind together at the wrists. His shoulders suddenly stung from the force of his arms twisting behind him.
The man moved back in front of Harry, pocketing his wand as he went. His black eyes flashed dangerously but his cock was throbbing more intensely. With a jolt, Harry saw Snape’s face was flushed. Snape’s hand ran to the base of his cock again, stroking slow and deliberate.
“Watch,” Snape murmured. Harry obeyed.
The boy had never seen anything like it; the erotic need in Snape’s fingers as he played with his balls, cupping and squeezing one at a time. His eyes were focused on Harry’s face but the boy could only stare at Snape’s gorgeous length. He was entranced by the bobbing cock, Snape’s hand now moving up and down the base again. Snape was silent but it was lucky that Harry was so focused on his hardness; he couldn’t see Snape biting his lip, his control slipping as it had been for weeks now.
He couldn’t stop.
“Good,” Snape whispered and he stepped forward again as he said it.
He put the tip of his cock back into Harry’s gasping mouth; the boy instinctively knew he was only allowed to suckle the head and he did, his own erection throbbing desperately. Something told him Snape was close. The man’s breathing had become more ragged, his hand moved with more purpose and Harry kept his gaze focused on the gorgeous length before him.
“Swallow,” Snape growled.
And for the first time, Snape’s voice shook.
Within seconds, he had emptied himself in Harry’s willing, supple mouth. Snape tried to silence himself, and barely succeeded. Harry sucked the tip with more force, taking in as much of Snape’s seed as possible. He couldn’t believe how much cum was spilling onto his tongue, down his throat. It was thick and sour and unctuous and he wanted more, needed more. Harry needed it all over him, down his chest, on his face, deep inside of him—
That last thought frightened him and Harry pulled away quickly. He had nearly forgotten about his weeping hardness. Snape’s eyes were glinting again as he put his softening cock back in his pants and zipped himself up. He was watching Harry with cruel satisfaction.
“You need release,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Harry whispered, nodding in earnest.
“And yet, you will not have any tonight, Potter,” Snape said, smiling at the look of sudden horror on Harry’s red face. “Not only did you disobey me when I told you to keep your hands behind your back, but you attempted to argue with me during our last class. You tried to be a hero in front of those foolish children you call your friends.”
Harry gaped at him, feeling sudden anger and all he wanted was to rip himself from the ropes binding his wrists. He attempted to sputter an apology but Snape silenced him by raising his hand into the air.
“I did not ask you to speak!” Snape snarled.
Harry shut his mouth instantly, his whole body shaking.
“I am going to untie you,” Snape said, matter-of-factly. “You will dress and leave. Under no circumstances are you allowed to touch yourself or release until I deem it prudent.”
There was a pause where Harry glared at Snape with loathing.
“Do not attempt to deceive me, Potter. I will know whether or not you have followed my order.”
With a flick of Snape’s wand, Harry’s wrists were suddenly unbound and he felt the tingling pain of blood rushing back to his fingers. His arms fell limply to his sides. He was angry and confused, naked and overheated.
“Put it away,” Snape said, glancing at Harry’s throbbing hardness with a look of disgust.
Harry stood, his knees shaking as he gathered his clothes and dressed. His cock was flaccid now from the shock of Snape's cruelty. He took his wand from the floor. When he was done, he turned to Snape, who had not moved. The man was glaring at him with chilling intensity.
“Get out of my office. We will reconvene tomorrow evening at eleven.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry responded. His teeth were clenched and he spat as much venom into those two words as he could.
Snape unlocked the door with his wand and Harry bolted, slamming the door as he went. By the time he returned to his bed, he was filled with a hollow horror and disgust. For the first time, he felt used, like garbage crumpled and thrown to the side of a lonely road. Snape’s coldness haunted him throughout the night, breaking through what little sleep he was able to achieve.
Down in the dim office, Snape sat at his chair, head in his hands, filled with the same turbulence that ran through Harry.

~*~
“You look terrible,” Hermione said to Harry the next morning over breakfast.
Ron sat next to her, his eyes just as concerned. He had heard Harry return late the night before but made no mention of it; Ron only assumed that Harry had taken to prowling the castle at night, trying to expel his pent up energy and heavy thoughts that clearly plagued him. Ron could have never dreamed that Harry was attracted to Snape, in need of him, taking sick lessons, craving them with his whole body and soul.
Harry made no comment to Hermione but rubbed his burning eyes in response. He pushed his glasses to the brim of his nose. It was the weekend and Harry did not have to worry about studying for his exams (though Hermione audibly disagreed with this). He tried to focus on his food as he pushed toast down his throat; it was dry and painful to swallow but the boy did anyway, chancing a glance at the near empty faculty table every few minutes. The only professors present were Flitwick and McGonagall, deep in conversation; Harry wondered where Snape was, what he was doing at that very moment.
The trio ate in silence. Harry underestimated how forlorn he looked and continued to ignore Hermione's worry and Ron's insistent glances. When breakfast was over, they returned to the common room, taking homework out onto little round tables. Ron and Hermione immediately went into their studies (though Ron was more distracted then ever, stopping multiple times to draw silly doodles on his parchment). Harry had opened a text and buried his face in it, pretending to read. His eyes did not move over the words and he stared at the letters as though they were foreign and cold.
So cold. He could only think of Snape. Harry remembered Snape's taste, that elegant hand moving over his shaft and the final look of loathing before the boy was kicked out of the office. Harry never wanted to see Snape again, but he knew he had no resolve. He would succumb. He needed to.

~*~
That night's lesson made no mention of what had happened between them the previous evening. Snape was more cruel than ever, his thin lips twisted into a vicious smile every time Harry failed at Occlumency. Snape had pushed his desk to the side so that there was an open space in the chilly dungeons, and they stood many feet apart. Harry wanted so desperately to be pushed against Snape and stay away from him all at the same time, and the conflict was evident in his face.
Snape tore into Harry's mind again and again with absurd ease, and random, painful images rushed through the boy. Crying alone in a corner while Dudley's gang haunted him in elementary school... Pacing through the school halls at night, smothered in darkness, feeling so desperately alone... Sirius, quiet suddenly, tumbling being the veil, his face shocked and expectant all at the same time, body wasted--
By the end of the evening, Harry had been broken emotionally and mentally and little did he know, Snape took note of this as he dismissed him. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when Harry stumbled from the office and into his bed. He thought he had been alone but he didn't realize Snape had followed him, walking with the utmost silence, through the halls and to the portrait hole, waiting patiently for Harry to step inside his common room.
The man would never admit his worry.

~*~
The final exams came and went and soon, students were packing their bags, getting ready for the summer vacation. Harry had countless more lessons with Snape and he still made no mention to Ron and Hermione about what was going on. All they knew was that their friend was pushed to the brink of exhaustion. Harry was infuriated at Snape, and mostly at Dumbledore now, for forcing him to deal with the unpleasant and cruel Potions Master. Even when Dumbledore had summoned Harry the night before the train was to leave, asking Harry to remain at the castle over the summer to train with Snape, Harry had nothing to say to him. The boy left Dumbledore's office in a rush, the Headmaster eyeing him with concern, wondering silently if he had made the right decision in asking Snape to train Harry.
Ron and Hermione parted from Harry and the boy lay idly in his bed that day, reveling in the emptiness of the school and the space of his room. He slept until eleven o'clock came and he went to meet Snape in the dungeon.
As usual, the man was perched behind his desk, but this time, there were no essays to grade or exams to look over. Snape's eyes bore straight into Harry as he walked in, but Harry didn't care. He was exhausted and lonely and desperate to break away from Snape, desperate for Dumbledore to distract him by taking him to find the mysterious Horcrux.
Again and again, night after night, Snape seemed to punish Harry worse then ever, forcing his mind open, forcing the most intimate thoughts to spill forth. Harry had almost given up trying and allowed the man to violate him, not knowing that Snape would always follow him back to his dorm after, waiting by the portrait hole to make sure Harry had entered the tower safely. Harry always fell into restless bouts of sleep, despite his body wanting to shut down completely. He was tormented by the coldness of Snape's eyes.
And yet, despite Snape treating him so poorly, Harry felt strange feelings bubbling within him, feelings different from anger or frustration. Often times, Harry had to quell random thoughts of Snape, the man’s sneer or scowl. Newer thoughts would break into Harry’s mind. Snape’s shaking voice when he came in his mouth… The gaze Snape gave him when he was tied to the man’s desk. The way his eyes roamed over him—
He tried to expel the thoughts by distracting himself with other things, but that was almost impossible. He tried telling himself that he only thought these things because he was alone now that Ron and Hermione were gone. Harry could only think of Dumbledore as an alternative and he was growing more and more impatient with the Headmaster. He was desperate to go on the mission to find the true Horcrux. The Headmaster still refused to take the boy. He insisted that Harry wasn’t yet ready.
Snape was managing to ravage Harry's mind by forcing the boy to remember those lost, erotic moments between them, moments that had passed so many weeks ago. Harry did not bother resisting when Snape pummeled his brain with ease. In a strange way, Harry wanted Snape to continue, so he let him get on with it every evening, like a sick new routine, like a harsh new addiction.

~*~
Soon, Harry came of age.
He woke the morning of his seventeenth birthday, alone on his four-poster. There was a small pile of presents near his bed and he unwrapped each of Ron and Hermione and Hagrid’s letters. A small part of Harry wished that Hagrid was still on the grounds, but the gamekeeper had left on mysterious duties for the Order. Harry absently wondered if Hagrid was trying to uncover more of his giant half-siblings somewhere. The thought of Grawp made Harry smile and his face felt strained at the motion. He realized he hadn’t found any sort of happiness in over a month.
Harry spent most of the day in his room, showering and absently fiddling his wand. He watched the sun rise and begin to set. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he sighed. It would soon be time to go to Snape. What a wonderful birthday gift, getting mentally abused by Snape, the boy thought miserably.
He rose from the bed and ambled through the castle until he found himself sitting standing by the chair by Snape’s desk, the usual spot between them. The two said nothing to each other, but took their positions, standing with a few feet of space between their bodies. Harry felt a strange emptiness when Snape did not wish him a happy birthday, but why would he have expected such a thing? Snape, in all of his cruelty, wouldn’t so much as lend Harry a hand even if he were in terrible danger.
“On the count of three,” Snape said without preamble, his voice bored and his eyes haughty. “Let’s see if you will be more adept tonight, Potter.”
Harry scowled, raising his wand.
Snape counted down but his force was too strong and disoriented thoughts suddenly flashed through Harry’s mind, like a film reel, ready for Snape to see—
He was eight, huddled alone in the cupboard under the stairs, staring blankly ahead… He was staring Aunt Marge in the face, rage flowing through him, watching with grim satisfaction as she began inflating like a massive, grotesque balloon… He was flying through the cool, winter air during Quidditch practice… And quite suddenly, he was up against a wall, Snape’s leg between his hardness—

“No!” Harry shouted, finally cracking.
He found himself doubled over. He had dropped his wand without realizing it and he was covered in sweat. Snape’s eyes narrowed.
“Again, Potter.”
The man had no mercy. For the first time in weeks, Harry felt strong rage boiling within; Harry wanted to rush forward and slap Snape’s haughty face but then he thought of Dumbledore infiltrated his mind. He recalled the mission. The Horcrux. Being away from Snape. Escaping the confines of the castle.
Snape counted down but this time Harry was ready, pulsing with excitement at the thought of uncovering who R.A.B. was—
He heard Snape shout the spell to break into his mind, but Harry steeled himself against it, powered by the desperation to leave Snape's side. Harry felt as though he had been punched in the gut as he managed to resist Snape breaking into him. After weeks of suffering and failing, his mind had finally produced an invisible barrier.
The boy found himself leaning against an empty chair, gasping for breath.
Snape stared. To Harry’s shock, Snape’s lips curled into a slight smile. The boy couldn’t tell if Snape was coldly amused or…happy.
“Good,” Snape said, stepping forward. He placed his wand on the desk behind him.
Harry’s heart stopped when he saw Snape give him a greedy gaze, his eyes soaking in his surprised expression.
“I think you deserve a reward, Potter, don’t you?”
There was restraint in Snape’s voice but Harry sensed something wild beneath it.
“Y-yes, sir,” Harry stammered. He was shocked at Snape's reaction. Harry tried to keep his wits about him; after weeks and weeks of need, he was now going to get release. He knew it deep within.
“On your knees,” Snape commanded.
The boy dropped immediately, forgetting all the days of Snape's cruelty. His only focus was quelling the ache of loneliness. He knocked the chair aside as he moved to the ground. He looked up at Snape, not bothering to conceal his eagerness. He was almost like a lost puppy searching for some sense of direction and Snape observed him for a moment, trying to control his own desire. How he had looked forward to this…
Harry already felt hardness nudge in his pants, tight and calling for a touch. Snape's eyes roamed the tent and he smirked in a satisfied way at the boy's reaction. Snape pushed his long hair from his face. His black eyes were fully visible now and Harry bit back a moan at the hungry look he was getting. Harry wanted so desperately to fist himself to completion; there were so many weeks of want that caused his cock to throb harder and harder, aching with blood. Harry had almost forgotten what arousal felt like, but at this moment, he was thrumming with it. Yet, Snape hadn't told him he was allowed to touch himself and the boy clenched his jaw so tight he thought he felt a molar chip. There was no way he was going to mess up this time by being impulsive.
Snape seemed to be thinking along the same lines and Harry's staunch obedience caused that man's cock to spring eagerly. His pants were uncomfortably tight and hot and he slowly snaked his hand down to palm his crotch, Harry watching desperately. Then, without warning, Snape unzipped his trousers and yanked his cock out into the cool air of the dungeon. Harry gulped at the sight. Snape's cock seemed thicker and more imposing then before. The man stroked himself slowly, his face betraying his need.
"Take it out, Potter," he murmured, his voice even, controlled.
But he watched, fascinated, as Harry fumbled with his own pants. The boy stifled a moan as he touched himself, his cock springing to attention, precum already flowing from the tip. The boy was thanking Snape profusely, hardly aware of what he was doing. His green eyes were glazed over and his body was trembling. Harry rushed his hands to his sides and didn't move; Snape had not told him he could touch himself anymore. The man stiffened in surprise.
"It seems you have learned, after all," the man said, stepping so close to Harry that the tip of his cock was centimeters from Harry's parted, wet lips. "Keep your hands behind your back, Potter."
The boy obeyed, eyes focused on the cock before him.
"Good," Snape whispered.
Harry's reward was Snape brushing the tip of his cock against his lips. The boy's eyes fluttered shut. Seconds later, Snape was slowly breaching all of Harry's mouth, his full length sliding in, throbbing. Harry moaned despite trying not to, loving the feel of the hard, silky member gliding over his tongue. Harry locked eyes with Snape. He couldn't look away; Snape was glinting with an expression much different from anger or cold amusement. There was something else boiling within those depths, but Harry did not know what that emotion was. Perhaps it was only lust. The boy was giving Snape a look of reverence, lost in a look that was nearly worship, lost in the disbelief that Snape was taking him like this, like he owned him. The only thing Harry could think of was that moment, Snape's musky smell, the man holding his head steady as he began to fuck Harry's face with surprisingly gentle tenderness.
Snape's breathing was erratic, his face flushed and his pink lips parted. His knees were trembling and it took sheer force of will to stop himself from falling over. Harry too, was wild with need and despite trying to control his hands, one of them had snaked forth, gripping his hard base, moving with the rhythm as Snape continued to drive his cock into Harry's mouth. But Snape had stopped caring. He could hardly speak, let alone breathe properly, and could not muster the strength to form a coherent sentence. He watched Harry's hand stroking with unabated greed. Snape continued to slide his cock in and out of Harry's hot mouth. Harry, so aroused, had to remove his hand from himself like he had been burned. He was so close to releasing and he couldn't let that happen. Not now.
Instead, he found his hands were gripping Snape's hipbones, his fingernails driving into the skin as he bobbed his head while Snape thrust deeper and deeper. Snape fucked his mouth with wild purpose and they stared at each other.
"Beautiful," was all Snape could growl, his face turning crimson as he said it. His voice was constricted and low and needy and he wasn't aware that the word left his mouth.
Harry flushed at the earnest compliment and sucked with more enthusiasm. Snape thrust his cock in to the hilt, his balls smacking against Harry's chin. Snape's cock was incredibly difficult to swallow whole; Harry choked for a moment, his eyes watering. Snape pulled out almost immediately but left the tip in Harry's mouth. The boy was gasping, his breathing ragged. Snape gave Harry a few seconds to recover, but Harry didn't care for stopping. He needed more. He suckled again faster, taking as much of Snape's cock as he could. Snape began to moan, the sound guttural and uncontrolled. Harry had never heard someone make such a noise, lost and needy. Snape's thin legs were trembling.
Quite suddenly, Snape pulled out of Harry's mouth completely and the boy felt rough hands on his shoulders, yanking him up. The two stared at each other for a long moment, Snape's face blank, his cheeks quite red and his lips parted as he breathed harshly.
"Snape?" Harry whispered cautiously. There was conflict in Snape's face.
But that was gone and Harry was just as suddenly knocked into a wall; Snape was leaning close, their mouths only inches apart and Harry prayed against all hope that Snape would kiss him, take him completely. The man did not and managed to resist this too, confusion in his eyes. One of Snape's strong hands found Harry's shoulder, pressing him against the tile with harsh force, as the other hand snaked to Harry's cock. Harry moaned, his head tipping against a wall, as Snape touched him in earnest.
Shaking now, Harry imitated Snape and reached down for his own cock. Harry's hand was over Snape's as they stroked him in unison. He felt Snape's other hand leave his shoulder, palm his tight, heavy balls, fondling one at a time and the boy cried out. Snape was studying his reaction closely, as if trying to memorize every detail of Harry's face.
"Severus," Harry gasped, knowing full well what he was saying. He didn't know why he was so compelled to use Snape's name, but something deep within told him to. The man shook at the sound of his name.
At that moment, Harry knew that Snape wanted him, perhaps needed him, with as much desperation as the boy held. Harry, filled with sudden courage at this realization, cupped Snape's face in his shaking hands. They moved closer, ever so slowly, lips inching over the other's, hot breath exchanged between them. They were barely a centimeter apart when the conflict reappeared in Snape's eyes and for a heart stopping moment, Snape looked disgusted with himself. He pulled away from Harry without a word, and the boy felt a terrible sense of disappointment at the loss.
It seemed Snape had had enough. He stood there, blank and frozen and his face twisted as if he were wrestling within his own head. He seemed to succumb to his temptation and all was forgotten when Snape slammed Harry back to his knees again. He shoved his cock in Harry's gasping mouth with reckless abandon, thrusting on the edge of desperation. The man was close. Harry felt it deep within his bones and his hand was back on his own cock.
"Come with me," Snape whispered.
Harry obeyed. He fisted his cock once, twice, and he came with a scream around Snape's hardness. Harry's heart skipped in elation and exhaustion and the next moment, Snape stiffened, holding Harry's head close to his warm body. He gently held Harry's face as he gushed thick streams of cum into Harry's mouth. The boy froze as he swallowed; he swore he heard Snape whisper his name, but the man was still pumping more into him, down his throat, and Harry was awed at how much Snape could give him.
"Take it," Snape moaned. "So beautiful."
The boy still tried to suck but eventually there was no more of Snape's seed. Harry conceaded, his heart still thrumming painfully against his chest. He felt limp with exhaustion. As he pulled away from Snape's cock, he noted it was still hard, begging.
Harry looked up and froze.
Snape held a strange gaze that Harry had never seen before. He didn't understand it. Snape's eyes were glazed and he had a look of utter contentment, of completion. He was smiling slightly. The man absently licked his thumb and bent down, running it idly over Harry's raw, red lips, soothing them. Snape then ran his shaking hand through Harry's messy hair, wiped sweat from Harry's forehead. He paused and looked at Harry with uncontained awe. He was lost for a moment, his eyes roaming Harry as the boy stared back, daring to let his face show his own quiet happiness.
At Harry's soft smile, Snape went rigid. It looked as if he had been stabbed. He was clearly horrified.
"Get out," the man snarled, his voice cracking.
"What?" Harry gasped, so taken aback with shock that he didn't realize how pale and clammy he turned all of the sudden.
"Get out!" Snape screamed and he zipped himself up before grabbing Harry by his shoulders.
Harry tried to fight Snape's force but the man was too strong. He was intimidating in his rage and horror and strength. Harry felt Snape forcing his limp cock into his trousers, zipping Harry's pants with brutality, so the boy nearly fell into Snape's chest. They struggled as Harry pushed back, overcome with anger. He wouldn't be used again.
"You're a fucking bastard," Harry snarled.
Snape paused, only for one second, and the look in his eye told Harry that the man agreed. There was shame, awful shame that seemed to simmer through the cold blackness. The boy let himself be pushed toward the door, Snape's strong hands still on him. They were pressed chest to chest again. Harry wanted to cry at his confusion but he stopped himself. He would not give Snape that satisfaction.
The man was trembling, his face blanched.
"I don't ever want to see you in here again," Snape growled, holding Harry hard by the back of his shirt. Snape seemed to be stopping himself from running his hands through Harry's hair again. Neither moved.
"Snape--" Harry started, but the man cut him off with a snarl.
The man looked nauseous and sickened and needy all at the same time. Harry had never felt such rawness seeping through from another human being. Snape was heated with emotion and fear. He needed Harry; the boy knew this. Snape wanted him and by the looks of it, it seemed he wanted to punish himself for even feeling such a thing. Harry felt the turmoil settle within him, and he sighed, feeling sudden pity for Snape. Harry may have found him frustratingly cold and cruel, but there was no conflict in how he felt about being attracted to him.
The boy realized the freedom of his heart's desire; Snape did not and left himself to suffer. Harry pulled away from Snape, gently prying the man's hands from him. He wanted to say so much but did not know where to begin or where to end, so he left instead in silence. Harry knew this was not the end of it. He would be back. He would confront Snape again.
The man understood the same thing. He stifled the sound of whimpering Harry's name.

TBC
Note: I suppose Snape is a little out of character here, showing emotion and all, but Snape's vulnerability is essential to the story. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Thanks to all who reviewed. Comments are always appreciated. More soon.
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The Longest Road