Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Too Much of A Good Thing	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 36039 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I'm not making any money off of portraying them as gay and extremely slutty—that's just for my own twisted amusement.

Chapter List
- 1-Too Much of A Good Thing
- 1
WARNINGS:

Slash

that means two guys. Don't like it, stop reading. Right now. It's
only going to get worse.

Snarry

the featured pairing involves Harry Potter and Severus Snape—age
difference in tact. If it creeps you out, stop reading. Now. It's not
going to get any better as you go.

bottom Snape!

Snape is the submissive partner in this fic. If you only like him as
a top, stop reading, you're going to be disappointed.

PWP

Don't think about the plot. There is no plot. It's just one
incredibly long sex scene chock full of my usual amount of
monologuing and my bizarre sense of humor. Some of it may well be
physically impossible. Try not to think about that too hard and just
enjoy the general raunchiness.

OTHER
STUFF

I chose to be as vague as I could about Harry's age. I would rather
let the reader imagine him as whatever age seems appropriate, but
some vague age references are in place just for sake of what limited
amount of plot may be present. So don't ask how old he is. He's as
old as you want him to be.

I don't do any serious grammar
checking on fanfiction. I save my serious editing for my serious
writing—and PWP is about as far from serious as it gets. The
most you can hope for is a spellcheck and a quick skim, so yeah,
there are probably some grammar errors. You can comment on them if
it makes you that happy, but you'll be wasting your time if you think
it's going to make me change my ways. I'm an old dog; I don't do
tricks.

Characters may
be somewhat OOC. I did the best I could, but I decided to write this
as a bottom Snape story (which I've never done before) and as he has
such a dominant personality I'm not very confident in my portrayals.

Too Much of a Good
Thing

It wasn't pity, Snape reminded himself for the twentieth time in the
past ten minutes. And it had nothing to do with the fact that if
Dumbledore's precious Golden Boy didn't manage at least a tolerably
respectable grade in Potions, the one who would be getting the
lecture about it would be him, not Potter. And it most definitely
wasn't a sort of reward for Harry's, as of late, unusually good
behavior in class. It was just that, well, he felt like it, dammit!

Professor Snape snapped his book shut. Every student in the room
jumped slightly, which was always dismally satisfying. He had so
little control over his own life that being able to provoke knee-jerk
reactions in others quenched a certain basic need buried deep within
his psyche. On some level, he knew it was hardly the way a teacher
ought to behave, but on a more immediate level he thought that as
long as the students were learning, it didn't much matter if
unadulterated fear was their motivation to do so. It didn't make him
a sadist, as Harry Potter so liked to claim—it just made him,
perhaps, a bit temperamental.

He cleared his throat as the students bustled to produce their putrid
vials of predominantly horrifying excuses for potions and quickly
clean up their mess—the snapping of his book generally
signified the end of the lecture. The room stilled almost instantly.
No one ever knew what kind of mood Snape was in, but his students
generally figured it either had to be 'bad, worse, or
run-for-your-life' and acted accordingly. Not all of his students,
mind you—there was Harry, insufferable little brat. No, that
wasn't fair—Harry wasn't quite so little anymore.

“Page
337 in your textbook, for those of you who know what a textbook is,
contains the ingredients and methodology for an excessively
simple duplicating
potion. Those of you who are otherwise unteachable,” he gave a
pointed look to a choice few Gryffindors, starting with Neville,
landing on a slightly charred Seamus, and stopping, finally on Harry,
“You may, if you've the least bit of concern for your final
grade, wish to submit a sample as extra
credit.
You have two days, which is being excessively generous, on my part. I
suggest you take advantage of the opportunity to actually learn
something, for once, before I change my mind. Class dismissed.”

*

“He's
so...argh!” Harry declared over lunch with Hermione and Ron.
“Just, you know, frustrating!”
He'd been ranting about Snape for twenty minutes. Now, ranting about
Snape was one of their favorite pastimes, but lately even Ron was
starting to feel like enough was enough. It was the quality of
Harry's rants that was changing. “I mean, blimey, he's a damned
perfectionist! My vanishing potion was perfectly tolerable—or
at least tolerable enough to earn
some
points,
way better than Ron's –no offense Ron, but your rat kind of
turned pink--”

“None
taken,” Ron sighed at the reminder of the fiasco. “I was
there, mate. You could see through your rat, mine could stop traffic,
I remember.”

“Well,
potions just isn't everyone's subject, Ron. With a bit more
studying...” Hermione tried to cheer him, but the last word
threw him into a fit.

“Blast,
Hermione! If I study anymore my brain is going to explode,” he
wailed.

Hermione knew it was time to divert the subject. “Anyway,
Harry, I've had a look at this duplicating potion and it's quite
simple, won't take more than an hour or two to make, so you should do
it. Mine's back in the room brewing, already. After all, you don't
want to give Professor Snape any more excuses than you have to,
right?”

Harry groaned. “Just when I thought maybe, deep down, under
layers and layers of emo angst and bad attitude, he might just be a
decent guy...” he griped. “Fine,” he sighed. “I'll
do the damn extra credit. Quidditch practice is canceled over the
rotten weather anyway.” It was raining cats and dogs—literally,
a prank that the teachers hadn't yet been able to figure out how to
undo. After Colin Creevy almost lost an eye to a orange tabby, the
students had been ordered to stay inside of Hogwarts until further
notice. If Harry couldn't play Quidditch, he might as well do the
extra credit assignment to kill some time.

*

Everyone had gone down to the Great
Hall to watch some stupid play about a witch and a wizard reunited
after two hundred years apart. Harry hated movies like that—they
were just so contrived. Real love didn't work that way. It was
grittier, and harder, and left a raw feeling in your throat. Real
love made you do extra credit in hopes of earning just the tiniest
glimmer of an almost-smile. 'That rotten bastard,'
Harry thought for the tenth time in
as many minutes. Snape was probably sitting in front of the fireplace
relaxing with a book—Harry imagined that's the type of thing
Snape would do—and what was Harry doing? He was trying to
gather up the jumping beans he'd just spilled all over the floor
while waiting for his duplicating potion to turn. Predictably, they
were jumping. One nearly took out his eye, another leaped up the leg
of his pants. He stumbled, dropping the bag of beans he'd managed to
collect, and they all went flying again. The bean in his pants made
it all the way up his leg and into his boxers.

“Damn
it all to hell,” he griped and, seeing as he was alone decided
to go about it the easy way and tugged his pants and shorts down to
get the damned thing out. The bean jumped out of his shorts, now
around his knees, to ricochet off the desk. Another bean smashed into
the cauldron. In a moment of pure horror, Harry saw the steaming
purple liquid fly from the cauldron towards his torso. He tried to
scramble away, but with his pants around his ankles only managed to
fall on his arse. The liquid splashed thickly against his bare lap.
'Oh for the love
of Merlin!'
Harry thought, not quite realizing the uniqueness of his predicament
in those first moments. His groin started to feel rather...tingly.
Pleasant, in a way, but heavy.

That's when the warning bells went off in his head and he looked
down. The beans jumping carelessly about the room no longer had his
attention.

“...er...”
He quirked a brow. Well, safe to say his potion was a complete
success, he supposed. He found himself rather curiously down at
his...uh...twins. Identical twins, if you must know, resting neatly
at the juncture of his thighs as if it was perfectly ordinary that he
have two...uh, two...well, you know...

'Oh for pity's sake, Harry!' He
thought at his own awkwardness. 'You're not twelve anymore.
And you're totally alone. So why the hell are you so flustered? You
can't even admit in the privacy of your own brain that you just went
and clumsily gave yourself a second cock?' There,
now that he thought it, he felt much less awkward. “Really,
it's rather funny,” he confirmed aloud to himself. Yes. Funny.
And it dawned on him that, of course, the book would probably have an
antidote that was, hopefully, as easy as the potion had been—minus
the damned beans. He got up and grabbed a t-shirt he'd tossed on the
bed to dry himself off carefully—last thing he needed was an
extra hand or two for his troubles—and then threw it aside
before pulling up his pants again. He wriggled a bit. Carrying the
extra baggage has made his shorts feel a little tighter than they
ought to be. It was an unusual feeling—his clothes were usually
all but hanging off of him, so to find himself feeling a little
cramped was certainly...unique. The the way the cotton rubbed against
him (both of him) made
him bite his lip for a moment before he could wholly get his
attention onto the task at hand.

'Get your mind out of the gutter, Harry. This is serious,' he
told himself, but being a teenage boy, he couldn't help but feel a
little curious about the extra length between his thighs. 'No,
no, no. Geez, Potter. You're turning into a total perv. First ogling
Snape's delectable arse and now this.' He
shook his head. “...well, Snape does have an amazing arse,
though,” he mumbled, lips quirking into a sly grin. 'So
tight and firm and...' And he so
totally wasn't thinking of just
how much abuse he could put that arse through with two
cocks. That was definitely
the realm of fantasy land. There was
no way in hell Snape was a bottom anyway. 'Well, a guy can
dream, can't he? Snape naked and splayed out before me, arse up in
the air, just begging me
to shag him until he can't feel his spine. Over and over again...'
“Mmn...blimey, that would
be excellent.” He
had to adjust himself in his pants at the flurry of mental images. He
really couldn't resist. He knew there was no way it would ever
happen, but he'd come to see Snape with new eyes. And those new eyes
wanted him stripped down and begging for it. Lust wasn't all there
was to it. Ever since he'd caught a glimpse of some of Snape's
memories during Legilimency, he'd wondered if there wasn't more to
the man than he's at first thought. It had been an idle curiosity at
first, but it had grown and grown until Snape's existence had somehow
become the center of his universe. Being a teenage boy, that
naturally meant he spent at least half of his day thinking about
shagging his Professor senseless.

Harry shook his head. He could waste time fantasizing about Snape
later. Right now he had bigger problems. He flipped through the book
with a look of consternation on his face. It would be more than a
little humiliating to take a piss and yank the twins out to do it.
Harry snickered. Ron would have a fit. The look on his face would be
priceless. Harry was sure he'd enjoy it, but probably not enough to
quell his own embarrassment when they had to explain to Hermione what
had happened so she could somehow find a way to fix it. No. No,
definitely not. Ron couldn't find out because if Hermione knew what
he'd done to himself he would just die—turn into a blushing
puddle of gelatinous ooze and just die. On the spot. She would,
doubtless, resurrect him just to give him a good lecture, too.

Ah! There! '...for
accidental spills...' Yes,
that's exactly what this was, an accidental spill. Wait, better read
the whole sentence. You never know when there's a dangling participle
that changes the entire meaning. Wizards don't always have the best
control of the English Language; Harry had learned that one the hard
way. 'Warning: Duplicating Potion is extremely volatile in
the final stages of brewing. Wear protective clothing at all
times...' ('Now they
tell me,' Harry thought.) '...If
accidental spillage occurs, consult a professional.' Harry
read that sentence again. A professional? Brilliant. There was just
no way he could go up to some stranger and drop his pants. He may be
a Gryffindor, but he wasn't that brave.
He could see the conversation now: 'Hi,
I accidentally gave myself two cocks and need someone to fix it.'
Right. It'd be plastered all over the prophet by morning. The
headline would be: 'Boy-Who-Lived Twice the Man he Used to Be'. No
freaking way. He read the sentence in the text book a third time. It
still said, '...If accidental spillage occurs, consult a
professional. Effects may vary based on potency. If potion makes
direct contact with skin, additional body parts may
grow.' May? May!
Definitely do, thank you very much! Harry raged internally, but
figured at this point he might as well finish the so far completely
useless paragraph. '...Amputation may be required.' Harry
winced. Even if he didn't strictly need two dicks, the thought of
having one of them lopped off made him twitch in agony. '...Consult
a professional immediately after the incident to avoid drastic
measures.' Well, castration was
about as serious as it got, as far as he was concerned.

Harry slammed the book shut in annoyance. “And where the hell
am I supposed to find a professio—oh.” Snape. “Oh!”
Harry's eyes widened in horror. Snape was going to give him hell
about how inept he was for this one, but what choice did he have?
Hermione? He could see her now, steeling herself to tell him, 'well,
Harry, I suppose we're just going to have to chop it off.' For
the sake of his manhood—and his dignity—he'd take Snape's
scathing jibes over Hermione with a knife any day of the week. 'If
I'm incredibly lucky, maybe he'll have to touch them.' No,
actually, that would be bad. He could take being assaulted for being
inept, but he loathed to think of what Snape would do if he found two
big, teenage erections staring him in the face. Lop them both off,
probably.

He threw on his robes and—wincing a bit as he moved and the
cloth slid incessantly across his groin--'Ignore it, Harry. Just
ignore it...' made straight for the dungeons. If he got there
before anyone left the Great Hall, he was sure he'd somehow get
through this with very few incidents. He left his extra credit potion
in the cauldron and the trouble-making beans to jump about to their
hearts' content. He had bigger problems.

*

Severus had never had anything against the dungeons, but he'd never
found them so pleasant as he did this evening. From the castle proper
you could hear the barking and yowling of the cats and dogs falling
from the sky, down here in the dungeons it was quiet, even more so
with nearly the entire campus up in the Great Hall.

It was quiet, and no one would be bothering him. He'd been so busy
lately that he was in dire need of some relaxation, and it was Friday
night, so he was also in dire need of clean clothing. He sent his
wardrobe off to cycle in the restroom. The only thing he wasn't
washing was the bedding, and the black satin briefs he was wearing.
He remembered opening them a few years ago for Christmas, and nearly
murdering Dumbledore for the joke at his expense. He'd never buy
something so flamboyant himself, but he grudgingly admitted now that
they were comfortable, and he found them perfectly acceptable
to wear about his personal quarters on laundry day. It was either the
satin briefs, or walking around starkers. He may be alone and not
expecting company, but he wasn't a nudist.

He settled down into a comfortable armchair before the fire, propping
his feet up on the ottoman and opening a novel—some light
reading was fine when no one was watching. Muggle romances were a
sort of guilty pleasure. As long as no one found out about it, his
reputation would remain in tact. Alas, his peaceful evening was not
meant to be. About half an hour into his reading, just when the two
men in the book were beginning to get friendly, there was an infernal
knocking at his door. He slammed the book shut and kicked it under
the ottoman where it wouldn't be seen and pulled the door open with a
look of supreme annoyance on his face. “What?!” he
barked.

Harry blinked. Then he rubbed his eyes and blinked again. There was a
twinge of excitement that took root in the pit of his stomach and
pressed downward so that he had to bite the inside of his cheek
momentarily and clear his throat. Why the hell was Professor
Snape answering the door in his underwear? And underwear that left
precious little to the imagination at that. His own imagination
threatened to undo him for a moment, but he somehow managed to
control himself.

Snape quirked a brow. “Potter. What do you want?” 'To
demolish my peace of mind once again, no doubt,' he thought
dryly.

“I,
well, that's, you see,” Harry stumbled. “...er...don't
you want to put on some pants, sir?”

“Oh
for pity's...” Snape started to mutter, then sighed in
annoyance and flung the door wide open, gesturing Harry inside with a
look of supreme annoyance. “Surely you've seen men in their
underwear before, Potter. You're not a child.”

“So...you,”
Harry gulped a bit, trying to occupy his vision with the room and not
ogling his potions professor, “...don't
want to put on pants then, sir?”

“You
have caught me in the middle of laundry, Potter. If it makes you
uncomfortable, then you are by all means welcome to leave.”

“Oh.
I...sir...uhm...” His groin twitched again. Even if he wasn't
looking at Snape, it was hard to ignore the fact that a very grown,
very naked man was standing not four feet away. It was even harder
since that man was the one who had the starring role in every one of
his fantasies for months. Harry steeled himself. “I'm afraid I
can't do that, sir. You see, I've hit a bit of a snag, you know, with
the extra credit assignment.”

Severus sat down again, trying to look as dignified as one possibly
can with near half of their arse exposed in front of a student. 'Of
all people, why the hell did it have to be Potter?' Severus
wondered irritably. The indignity was almost crippling. “I see,
so you're as inept as I expected then. Well, I suppose I have no
choice but to acknowledge that you're at least making an effort,
unlike your friend Finnigan. What did you do this time, Potter?”

Damn, Snape was such a bastard. Sure, he was a sexy, intensely
fascinating bastard, but a bastard nonetheless. “Well I...see,
I...the jumping beans...and then...er...and...” He took a deep
breath. “I spilled some on myself, sir.”

Snape took in Harry's outer appearance. He didn't seem to have any
extra fingers, no extra arms, only the appropriate amount of noses
and eyes... “It appears to have been ineffective, then, Potter.
For once, your complete lack of concentration has done you a favor.”

“Er,
well, no, not exactly, sir. I mean...the potion worked just fine. Uh,
too fine, probably, so...”

Now Severus' curiosity piqued . Giving oneself an extra toe or two
wouldn't be cause for such stumbling. “What precisely
did you spill it on, Potter?”

Harry took a measured breath. He just had to show him. Get it over
with. Snape would laugh, chide him for being intensely stupid—which
this time he kind of deserved—and then fix it. Snape was a lot
of things—most of them swear words, but he was also a genius.
Harry had never denied that. He figured Snape was hard on his
students because he didn't understand how they couldn't understand
something he thought was plain as day. At least, when Harry was being
generous he liked to think that way. When he wasn't being generous,
Harry still thought Snape had the most gorgeous arse he'd ever seen.
Teenage hormones are a nightmare, really.

Harry took a deep breath and managed to calm himself. 'Right then,
just, you know, okay, here I go, with the...and...oh for pity's sake,
Harry! You're a Gryffindor, aren't you?' he thought and quickly
tugged his pants down. They fell in a pool around his ankles and,
unable to form words about the rather mortifying accident, he made a
squeaking noise and gestured impotently at the problem area. His
humiliation managed to—for the moment—dampen the
stirrings of arousal at seeing his professor in those tiny black
underwear. He just hoped that humiliation won out, because god!
The arse wasn't all Snape had going for him by a long shot.

Severus quirked a brow. 'So...his diminutive stature does not
extend to all aspects of his anatomy, then,' he thought dryly
before cutting that stream of consciousness right there. No, he was
not going to think about a student's...wand..., least of all Harry
Potter's. Just no. And he was not going to ogle the long,
thick shaft--either one of them. The fact that he was staring
intensely at Harry Potter's crotch was strictly academic. “I
see,” he said, measuring his response. Yes, he saw quite well,
and Merlin! did he want to do more than just look. It had been
far, far too long, and his last bedmate hadn't been nearly as
well-equipped. Where in the wizarding world was he letting his mind
wander off to? It's fine to indulge a fantasy in private, but he was
not honestly considering Harry Potter a potential
bedmate...even if it was so, so tempting. He pressed his lips tightly
together in one of his best looks of disdain and forced that thought
out of his mind. He wasn't sure how he should proceed. He would have
to...gulp. Somehow he managed to maintain his composure.

“Take
a seat, Potter. I am going to have to inspect the affected area to
determine how much damage you've done.”

Harry's knees felt weak. “I-inspect...”

“Well,
yes, of course,” Snape answered tersely. “Do you expect
me to know what you've done to yourself on instinct alone? Any potion
you've made
is bound to be full of flaws. Inspecting the infected area for
discrepancies is the only way for me to tell you anything.” Ah,
there, snapping at Harry, that was far more normal behavior.

“Oh.
Right,” Harry answered. He fell back into the nearby armchair,
finding his legs had all but given out anyway. Snape was going to
inspect
his cock. And when he was done, he was going to inspect
the other one. Or maybe both at the same time, while wearing nothing
but those tiny black satin underwear. Harry bit the inside of his
cheek to distract himself. Snape hadn't even touched him yet and...

Somehow, Harry knew he was going to have to perform a miracle and
keep himself from getting an erection. Lately, even his dark,
penetrating gaze was enough to send ripples down Harry's spine. He
wanted to run his fingers through that long, dark hair and see if it
was actually as greasy as everyone said. And those tight, pursed
lips, the hint of a tongue. His deep, evocative voice. Everything
about the man was so infuriating and so very, very perfect. 'That's
just your hormones, talking, Harry. This is Snape, for crying out
loud! Professor Snape...who's pushing the ottoman out of the way, and
kneeling down between your thighs and...oh god! Don't look!' He
squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away in a moment of panic,
but that was even worse because the first touch of Severus's
finger—just the barest grazing of his nail—caught Harry
off guard and he nearly jumped out of his skin. When he opened his
eyes again, Snape was smirking up at him.

“My,
my. Sensitive, aren't we, Potter?” Severus teased. He was
trying to find the best way to begin while keeping this strictly
professional, but as he was about to take Harry's cock in hand, it
really didn't seem there was any way to be professional about
it—especially with Harry being so cute and jittery. Honestly,
he was a teenage boy. Was he honestly afraid that Severus would hold
something as ordinary as a boner against him? 'I'm
not some kind of monster,'
Snape thought irritably.

“..ah,
er, I...s-sir?” Harry could see something in Snape's dark eyes
twinkling. Was that...he looked sort of...amused. He'd always thought
of Snape's eyes as being ominous. But here in the firelight, with his
head tilted up towards Harry they seemed so intensely expressive
where the rest of his face was kept static. Was Snape
actually...entertained?

“Calm
yourself,” Snape told him seriously. “You have nothing to
be ashamed of. It may seem highly inappropriate, but given the
current circumstances, I am going to have to induce an erection in
order to determine just how similar your phalli are to one another.”

“Wh-what?!”
Erection? Snape was going to...oh god. Harry shifted awkwardly,
cheeks aflame. He could already feel the arousal stirring in the pit
of his stomach. Really, it was a miracle he didn't have a pair of
boners staring watery-eyed at Snape already.

“Relax,
Potter. It is necessary to gage the reactions of both in order to
determine which one is the duplicate, and how accurate the
duplication. If you'd replicated your hand, I'd be telling you to
move your fingers. Perhaps this will teach you to keep your pants on
next time you're doing your potions homework.” Snape still
couldn't figure out the precise course of actions that would cause
Harry to have splashed his bared penis with the potion, but he
decided not to ask—the stupidity might make his brain implode.

Harry turned rather red in the face, but Severus ignored this as he
continued his explanation. “If one phallus does not become
erect, I will know rather quickly that it is an imperfect copy. It
will be the most effective, and least time-consuming course of
action. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to induce the erection
yourself.”

Harry nodded dumbly, his throat suddenly very, very dry. Well, at
least he didn't have to resist, but if Snape had any idea how often
he'd wanked to fantasies of this very professor bending over for him
these past weeks, he might not be so quick to testing Harry's
resolve. Wait, self-induce. He shook his head vehemently. “Ah!
N-no sir, that's okay sir. I—I trust you,” he sputtered.
He wasn't going to masturbate in front of Snape. No, that was far
more embarrassing than letting Snape touch him. Besides, there was an
evil little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that this was
the closest to any of his fantasies about the man he was ever going
to get.

'Oh god...he's touching me...' Harry
let out a shaky breath against his will as Severus' calloused hand
wrapped around one of the shafts. The grip was firm, and the hand so
much larger than his own, calloused--probably from years of working
with disagreeable ingredients if he were to wager a guess. Whatever
the reason for the callouses, they felt amazing against his heated
flesh. He felt his groin tingling, pleasure racing from one synapse
to the next until he felt feverish. Being so easily stimulated was
humiliating, sure, but feeling Snape caressing him so intimately was
worth any price. Harry was unable to bite back a sultry moan. Was it
getting hot in here?

'I trust you.' The words,
uttered in Harry's nervous ramble, echoed through Severus' mind.
Harry had no idea that nothing, nothing he
could have said would have been more enticing. Snape felt his own
groin twitch and did everything he could to beat back any possible
signs of arousal. He was good at controlling his own thoughts and
feelings—he had to be—but when kneeling in front of a
pair of the most impressive phalli he'd ever seen, he found his
resolve was disappointingly weak. He took one in hand and began to
stroke it gently. No, he decided, firmly. The more quickly Harry
became aroused, the sooner he could stop—and the sooner he
stopped the less likely he was to do something they would both later
regret. He ran his thumb over the head and Harry dropped his head
back and moaned. The sound went straight to Snape's groin. He wasn't
able to completely restrain the swell of desire, and his member had
begun to bulge against the soft satin. Shit. No, this didn't have to
be a problem. Harry wouldn't see it from here, and he was so lost to
desire as long as Severus managed to curb his lust before the
teenager came, Harry never had to know.

He steadied himself and tried to look at Harry's groin as clinically
as possible—which, as it turned out, wasn't possible at all.
One was growing hard in his hand, the other was growing hard just
because the boy was so turned on by being touched. Finding that they
were in fact quite a well-matched pair, Severus allowed himself to
lift his other hand and stroke them in tandem. The flesh was so hot
and the scent coming off of Harry's dual-arousals so enticingly
musky. Severus allowed himself to toy with them a bit, just enjoy the
silky weight of them in his hands. He doubted Harry would notice
anything changed about the way he was being fondled—he seemed
lost in the sensations already, but if he did, Snape knew he could
come up with some perfectly logical excuse later. For now, if he was
going to jerk the boy off he might as well enjoy doing it.

A loud moan tore from Harry's mouth and he bucked. Double the penis
apparently meant double the pleasure. When Snape took them both in
hand, it was like a fire shot up his spine. He shuddered. He knew he
was fully erect now—he must be if he felt this good—and
while there was a dim voice somewhere in the back of his
passion-fogged brain telling him he ought to be ashamed of himself
for giving Snape the satisfaction of seeing him so unwound, he
couldn't bring himself to care. The rest of his mind seemed to be
torn between a number of different fantasies—most of which
involved Severus Snape bent over and screaming Harry's name in
passion. That wasn't likely to happen, he knew, but a guy could
dream, right? He no longer tried to drown out his moans. His fingers
dug into the arms of the chair and he couldn't keep his hips from
bucking a bit in response to the touch.

Harry's eagerness was Severus' undoing. He continued stroking the boy
even though he well-knew both members were fully erect and in no need
of further encouragement. It was a combination of the bucking moans
and the musky scent and the fact that Severus wasn't really the type
that people made a habit of approaching for sexual favors and hadn't
gotten any offers in quite a while. That's what he told himself,
anyway. Certainly, it had nothing to do with the fact that he had
been obsessed with this boy in one way or another as long as he'd
known him and now Harry was writhing wantonly in his armchair.

The Potions Master was hit by a
sudden epiphany. This wasn't an opportunity he could let slip by.
There was no telling when the next time he'd be able to enjoy the
presence of a half-naked man in his chambers again, and he so badly
wanted to do more than just stroke Harry to completion. He felt
himself compromising with his desires. No, he would not let
the boy fuck him. That would be going too far for his pride to bear.
...but perhaps oral sex would be perfectly acceptable to both of
them. Yes, surely there was nothing pride-bashing about that. He
didn't have to try very hard to convince himself. He wanted to suck,
and lick and nibble and swallow—badly. They were just so
alluring. The thought of tasting them was too much for Severus to
resist. He leaned in, continuing to use his hand on one shaft, and
tilting the other slightly towards his mouth. He ran his tongue
languidly over the sensitive pink head. 'Bloody hell...'
His own cock jerked in arousal and
he realized he was fully erect and probably had been for quite some
time. No matter. Harry would hardly be concerned about the state of
anyone's arousal but his own at the moment, and the taste of the
boy's flesh on his tongue...delicious. He let his tongue glide over
the soft flesh again.

Harry cried out loudly at the moist,
wet heat that suddenly touched him and jerked his head downward in
shock. Snape was languidly dragging his tongue over the tip of his
cock. If Harry didn't know better, he'd think that the older man
seemed to be enjoying himself, but that couldn't be, surely. He made
a choked sound as Severus closed his mouth and began to descend over
his shaft. “Aah. Fuck!” 'Oh holy hell! This
can't be happening, can it?' “Hahnnn,
aaah, ooohhh..!” he rasped, tossing his head, trying to control
himself. “P-Profess-sor, w-what are you...oh god!” He
shivered. Damn it all. No fantasy he'd ever had about Snape had ever
come close to the reality. 'Balls! I want to fuck him so
hard...' He knew that wasn't
going to happen, but a blow job was the next best thing. “Wh-what..?”
he tried again, but still couldn't get a full sentence past his
parched lips.

Severus pulled back slowly. The
gentle glide of his teeth and tongue were almost more than Harry
could bear. “I believe, Mr. Potter, that it is called oral
sex.” 'Amazing. I actually got that sentence out
without stuttering,' he thought.

“B-but...why?”
Harry rasped. Why in the hell did Snape have to look up at him with
those deep, black pools of desire. 'Desire?
Does he...? No, he can't right? Why would Snape want me?'

“Obviously,
the inspection is not yet complete,” Severus said. It was the
first excuse that came to mind. It was complete bull—he knew
already that the duplicating potion was a complete success if this
was the result, but Harry didn't need to know that. “Both
members become erect when stimulated, which is a good sign, but to
fully understand the extent of the duplication, I must also monitor
the ejaculation, to consider how accurate the replica is to the
original.” Mind you, there was really no way to tell which one
was which, but that hardly mattered anyway—they both looked
delectable and he would enjoy thoroughly tasting both. “All
aspects of the duplication are important—the way it feels,
reacts, smells, tastes.”
He'd put emphasis on the last word. He hadn't meant to, but he
supposed it didn't mean anything.

Harry didn't read too far into it.
He just squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he quivered. 'Tastes.
Oh...oh god...I'm fucked...' Harry
thought as Snape swallowed him again. He braced himself as the mouth
descended over his turgid flesh and couldn't repress a soft sob as he
felt the man's tongue roaming over it. If that wasn't bad enough,
Snape's other hand was still just barely working on the other shaft,
thumb swirling the precum at his tip. His eyes began to tear and he
lifted his legs—thighs spread wide, to press his feet into the
seat of the chair. He had to brace himself somehow. Severus didn't
seem to mind having his head positioned between Harry's thighs in the
slightest. In fact, as the bobbing of his head became more insistent,
Harry couldn't help but feel like Snape was enjoying
himself. If this was purely experimental, surely he could be more
straight-forward, go for the jugular as it were, not toy with him in
such a roundabout way. And oh, did Harry love how he was being toyed
with—the way the tongue pressed and swirled, the tortuously
slow bobbing of his head—the way the sleek black hair ran along
the insides of his thighs. Snape must be
enjoying himself. It wasn't like Harry's obsession with the older
man, surely, but if someone stuck two big cocks in his face, he
probably wouldn't be able to resist playing with them a bit either.
He liked it better that way, really. If Snape was enjoying himself,
Harry could let himself go a little. He stopped tearing apart the
arms of the chair and succumbed to some of his more base urges.

The first urge was to curl his fingers in that long, dark hair. He
did so, albeit a bit roughly in his haste. Snape showed no real sign
of discomfort. 'Not greasy at all—satin, like those damned
sexy underwear.' “Aah...” he rasped. Snape was
sucking him more firmly now. He must like a firm grip.

The second urge was much more of an impulse—a basic bodily
reaction he couldn't hold back. He bucked his hips against Snape's
face, and, much to his surprise, Snape moaned.

'Damn it!' He hadn't been
able to hold that moan in. He was intensely aroused—his cock
ached with need, and what his cock needed was the least of his
worries. He wanted to be fucked, and badly. He wanted to feel this
big, juicy cock pounding in and out of his tight ass. No, he'd told
himself, absolutely not. Not with Potter.

Harry's grip in Snape's hair
tightened and the older man lost whatever train of thought he'd been
in the middle of. The grip was firm and possessive—Severus
loved that. But that wasn't enough for Harry. Moments later the boy
thrust his cock roughly down Severus's throat. Severus couldn't help
but moan. He'd never admit to having such a strange fetish, but the
feeling of a cock being forcefully thrust in and out of his mouth—he
couldn't help but find it intensely satisfying. It spoke to a basic
emotional need. His life was such a disaster that it had always felt
reassuring to have someone tell him what to do. Perhaps that was why
he never thought badly of Lucius for ordering him around when they
were young. Being dominated in sexual situations spoke to that same
need. It meant he could let go, if only for a little while, and let
someone else worry about the details. And so, he moaned.

He wanted so badly to just let go,
but his position and his pride wouldn't allow him to cave in,
especially not to Harry. Oh, but he was so close to giving the boy
whatever he wanted! Harry only needed to man up and take control and
Severus knew his pride would be battered, his reputation lost. Part
of him didn't care. It was so hard, always having the answers, always
worrying that one mis-step could see your world fall apart. On some
level, he wanted to lose to Harry once and for all, if only to end
the suspense of wondering when it would happen, but he would never,
never intentionally
give in. He swore to himself that he wouldn't moan again.

The boy bucked against his face
again. 'Shit.' Severus
could already feel another moan forming around the thick shaft
penetrating his throat. He tried not to react, but he shuddered.
Harry thrust again and the moan that tore from Snape's throat caused
Harry's entire shaft to vibrate. It also confirmed what Harry
half-suspected when he'd thrust the second time.

“Fuck,”
Harry rasped. “Kind of kinky, aren't you, Professor?” He
thrust again, harder this time, though he hadn't meant to, and
Snape's will snapped. Another moan issued from his throat. Trying to
resist them was obviously futile anyway.

“Shit,”
Harry muttered. He couldn't hold his own desire in any longer.
Really, it was Snape's own fault for being so amazingly sexy and so
damn good at giving head, so he hoped the man didn't murder him
later. He clutched the back of Snape's head firmly, just enough to
steady himself, and began thrusting more earnestly against his
teacher's face. He moaned his pleasure out with lustful abandon as
Severus willingly took it. He felt Snape's fingers quivering against
the second shaft.

Severus couldn't hold onto the second cock anymore and braced himself
by grabbing the arms of the chair as Harry fucked his face. It was
the most wonderfully perverse sensation—Harry's fingertips
digging into his head, his cock penetrating his throat over and over
again, the second cock turgid and slapping against his cheek, Harry's
deep, guttural moans...his own moans replying...

...and then the hot, thick splash of semen filling his mouth. It was
all he could do to swallow Harry's bittersweet essence without
choking—and that, well, that was sexy too. He pulled back as
Harry fell limp against the chair for a moment, catching his breath.
Severus licked his lips as Harry watched him out of lidded eyes.

The second cock was still hard. Severus felt his own cock twitch in
response. He knew there had to be a pool of moisture at the front of
his briefs, but that no longer mattered. All that mattered to Snape
now was the taste of Harry's release on his tongue, and that there
was a second strained erection ready to give him another taste of it.
The cock was turgid, quivering, practically purple with need. Harry
watched Snape as those molten black eyes bore into it, shivered when
the older man dragged a fingernail down the underside of the shaft,
and whimpered in pleasure. “P-Professor, w-wait,” he
rasped, but Severus wasn't having it.

“What?
Is that much all you're capable of, Potter?” he drawled.
“Surely the boy-who-lived is not so weak that one little orgasm
is all it takes to usher in an utter defeat.” Snape dragged his
nail around the tender flesh as he antagonized Harry.

“As
if!” Harry defended. He couldn't bear the thought of losing to
Snape—even if the man was some kind of sex god. There had been
nothing little
about
that orgasm. “I just thought you might want a chance to catch
your breath before getting your face fucked like a whore again.”

Miraculously, Snape's jibes were
more than enough to give him all of his energy back and he stood up.
Something about standing over his tousled Professor was incredibly
vindicating. From this angle, he couldn't help but notice his
professor's erection pressing outward against the underwear, and it
was a delicious sight the way the man didn't try to hide it, looking
up at him, face level with his cock. Harry let out a shaking breath
and smirked. He dragged a finger lightly along Severus' lips, and the
man opened his mouth and bit it lightly, but it was all in play and
they both knew it. They stayed like that for a moment before Harry
drew his finger back. “I think you said, Professor, that you
had to make sure that they're the same in every way. Feel,” he
echoed what Severus had said at the start of their game, “...taste.”
He pressed the head to Snape's lips and was surprised to find that
his Professor accepted it without any scathing commentary.

He'd lost. Utterly and completely. Somehow, knowing that was more of
a relief than a trauma. Finally, he could just give in. Giving in to
Harry would be so much easier than battling him at every turn, even
if it was just for tonight. He opened his mouth, languidly dragged
his tongue around the wonderfully thick shaft as Harry laced his
fingers through his hair almost tenderly and pressed the member
deeper and deeper into his mouth. There was no reason to fight it,
and he allowed himself a soft moan as it penetrated his throat. Harry
pulled back slowly, then pressed back in. Then again. Again. Again.
Again! He could feel the cock pulsing in his mouth and knew it
wouldn't last as long this time, but that didn't matter. He wanted
nothing more than to feel the boy's seed gushing down his throat a
second time. It was so pleasant, knowing that as long as he was
granted that much, nothing else mattered.

“Severus,”
Harry said slowly, letting the name roll over his tongue. He felt
like, if he was going to fuck the man's face (again), he should at
least be calling him by his first name. Snape moaned a soft reply. No
complaints then. “Severus,” he said more firmly,
thrusting his cock in a little more forcefully this time. He was
answered by a more eager moan. “Mmn, fuck...Severus...”
Harry let go of any remaining uncertainty he may have had and thrust
in faster. Severus hadn't choked once. He seemed to want it harder,
faster, more rough. “Fuck, yes, Severusss...”

Severus moaned in reply, hands resting on Harry's hips as Harry
abused his mouth. Delicious. Wonderful. Perfect. He could feel the
other cock already stirring with arousal again as it slapped lightly
against his throat.

Harry's blood was boiling at how
sexy and how willing Professor
Snape was. As he flooded Snape's mouth with a second orgasm, suddenly
he just knew—he
was going to fuck him. It wasn't a desire any longer, but a simple
and irrefutable fact. He was going to fuck Snape. He was going to do
it tonight, and he was going to do it multiple times. And Severus
Snape was going to let him. Not only was he going to let him, but he
was going to want it. He
cried out Severus' name as he climaxed down his throat, as Severus
swallowed his seed greedily.

Greedily. That was his
confirmation. They were going to shag. Severus didn't quite know it
yet, but it was going to happen, and he wasn't even going to try to
stop it. They had to shag.
All that had happened between them, all the years spent antagonizing
one another...it had always been about sex. Always. Even before Harry
had known or understood anything about sex, it was still
about sex then. Sex was about desire
and pure, unabashed need. It didn't matter if it was right or wrong.
It just had to be Severus. Anyone else paled by comparison and became
nothing but another botched relationship for the list. 'It
was always you, wasn't it, you bastard,' Harry
thought, amused by how blind he'd been as he pulled Severus to his
feet. 'So many years, and look how long it took me to
realize I love you. Need you. Need to be with you. Absolutely have to
have you. You're right, I'm a bloody fool.'

Severus was surprised when Harry pulled his head down and kissed him,
moaning at the taste of his own seed on his Professor's mouth. He was
just as startled when the boy abruptly yanked down his underwear and
shoved him forcefully into the armchair. “Harry, what...?”
He didn't know what Harry was up to, but he seemed to have lost his
awkwardness. Severus failed to notice that he'd just called the boy
'Harry'.

Harry's eyes widened marginally at the name, and he grinned impishly,
taking off his t-shirt and tossing it across the room. “So, you
do know my name isn't James, then?” Harry teased.

Snape wrinkled his nose. “Obviously. James never had
your...endowments.”

Harry quirked a brow. Oh, now he had to ask. “Oh, so you were
ogling my father's 'endowments', were you?”

“Of
course not,” Severus rolled his eyes. “Teenage boys just
notice these things. The bathroom, the locker room. We may not have
been in the same house, but you must know by now what a braggart your
father was. I was not impressed.”

Harry relented that logic. He hadn't
been going out of his way to look, but he knew how big Ron's was, and
Seamus too, and he remembered once in the bathroom thinking that
Neville had gotten taller everywhere over
the summer. Heh. Well, boys will be boys. He smirked. “But you
are impressed with
me,” he teased.

Severus found his eyes wandering down the slender body to the heavy
package. “Impressed that at your stature you can carry all of
that around without slouching, in any case,” he retorted.

Harry grinned as he caught Snape still staring. He knew he was
already half-hard again, but he couldn't help it when he had the man
he fantasized about just where wanted him, and with such a bulging
erection, too.

Severus was badly in need of some attention. Harry intended to give
it to him. He leaned over and tilted Snape's chin up, kissing him
deeply again. After a brief hesitation, Snape resigned himself to
respond. He was a good kisser, Harry thought. His mind went numb as
their tongues tangled, and he forgot what he was planning until they
parted. When they did, he dropped to his knees before he could forget
again and eagerly deep-throated Severus' needy member. He moaned
appreciatively.

“Harry!”
Severus gasped. He hadn't been expecting that at all, and to suddenly
be encased by all that heat was more than a little shocking. But once
he realized what happened he couldn't help a small, exasperated
laugh. “Honestly, no subtlety at all.”

Harry pulled back and grinned up at him. “Turnabout is fair
play, Professor,” he joked. He opened his mouth wide and made a
show of licking Snape's erection all over. He wanted Snape to see
that pink tongue dragging across his flesh—just a bit of
revenge. But he had as little patience as he had subtlety and soon
encased the cock again, sucking and bobbing his head. He held
Severus' hips down firmly. He'd never had his face fucked before and
didn't want to choke and ruin the mood. It was bad enough that he
seemed to be kneeling on something—felt like a book, but he
didn't want to interrupt his attentions to move it.

As aroused as Severus had been by
his own attentions to Harry, it didn't take long. He tried to keep
his breathing measured, but he hadn't had an orgasm that wasn't
self-induced in years and
he was rather looking forward to it. He didn't try over-hard to hold
it back.

Harry moaned as the hot liquid shot into his mouth. Like Severus, he
swallowed it eagerly. Excellent. He'd never understood why people
were so adverse to the taste of cum—salty, sure, but not
otherwise unpleasant. In fact, he sort of liked it. If Snape's
earlier actions were any sign, that was one thing the two men had in
common. He drank down the man's release, licked every last drop off
the shaft, and rose. He shamelessly let Severus see that both of his
cocks were fully erect again. He kicked the book—whatever it
was—aside, and held out his hand.

There was so much symbolism in that
gesture. Severus knew if he took it, that was his unspoken
compliance. If he took that hand now, Harry was going to claim him.
If he reached out and took that hand, then whatever happened after
this was something he had chosen for himself. It would have been
better if Harry just tugged him to his feet, threw him on the bed,
and had his way with him—then he didn't have to admit to
wanting it later. But he also knew that's why Harry was waiting for
him now. He didn't want to take Severus. He wanted Severus to give
himself to him. If he took that hand now, that's exactly what Severus
would be doing—giving himself. Completely. And so, Severus
hesitated. It was his last chance to pick up his battered dignity,
dust it off, and somehow emerge from this in one piece. If he denied
Harry now, he could become his teacher again, tell him what to do
about his little...accident...and return to life as it was, as if
tonight had never happened. As he thought about that, he realized
that he had to take
Harry's hand. There was never any choice. He had to, because more
than reclaiming his battered pride, he needed Harry.
He always had. The years of battles between them had come down to
this, and it was time to wave the white flag if he wanted to survive.

He reached out and took it, let Harry gently pull him to his feet.

Harry's grin brightened the entire room. He'd been worried that
Severus would be, well, himself. He was terrified, during that
hesitation, that he'd turn his back and it would all be over. He was
relieved that he was right about what had passed between them
tonight, a change at the root of their relationship from which there
was no going back. And Severus Snape, albeit grudgingly, had
acknowledged that.

“Shall
we continue the inspection, Professor?” he asked with a smirk.

What more was there to inspect? Severus wondered. He was sure he knew
every dip and crease of Harry's cock by now. He quirked an elegant
brow.

Harry gave him an impish grin. His
eyes sparkled mischievously. “You said you
needed to be sure they both feel the
same, didn't you, Professor Snape? Do you really think you can
accurately determine that with just your hands?”

Oh. So that was
the game. “Well, I suppose there are certain areas of my
anatomy that would be able to get a firmer grip on
your situation.”

Harry's grin brightened. “Yeah,
I think a firm grip is
what's needed most, in this sort of situation. If we don't understand
the problem intimately,
we could end up thrust into a
bigger problem.”

Ah, double entendre. Maybe Harry had
a bit of subtlety
after all, Snape mused. Just a bit, though. He let the young man lead
him by the wrist to a closed door—his bedroom.

Harry smirked at the sight of the room. Perfect. A large four-poster
bed with a sturdy oak frame, the mattress set high to accommodate
Snape's height. It would also make violating his Professor much
easier. “Not bad,” Harry mused.

Snape looked at him, not quite able to read his expression or what he
was thinking. He knew he was going to be fucked—at least
twice—that much was rather obvious. He just didn't know the
manner of it, and Severus had never been a very big fan of surprises.
“I don't believe I asked for your approval,” he quipped.
That snappish comment had managed to regain him some of his
equilibrium, but not enough.

Harry leaned up, pressed his palms lightly to Snape's shoulders, and
took his earlobe between his teeth, suckling for a moment. Severus
hissed. His body had apparently completely forgotten his recent
orgasm—his nipples were still painfully tight and his cock was
twitching in eager anticipation. “Get on the bed, love,”
Harry murmured, giving Severus' ass a playful slap. “Up on your
knees.”

Severus shuddered at both the order and the unexpected slap. He found
he liked both and did as he was told without a word. Not facing Harry
had its own drawbacks—for starters, he had no idea what the boy
was doing behind him. He also, he realized, had no idea how much
experience the boy had or if he knew to prepare him properly so it
didn't hurt. Harry talked as if he knew what he was doing, but did he
really have a clue?

'Holy...' Harry had to reach
down with both hands and give himself a brief squeeze to curb his
hormones. He never thought in a million years that Snape would
obligingly get up on his bed on his knees and spread his creamy
thighs like that without the least bit of argument or coaxing. He had
to admit, he rather liked this more submissive side. He also rather
liked the view. For a long few moments, he just stared. He watched as
Snape tried in vain to anticipate what he was going to do without
moving or showing any sign of weakness. 'Heh. Even when
he's submitting, he can't stand the thought of not knowing what's
going to happen,' Harry thought,
amused. But...Merlin! That
arse! Naked and spread open it was even more enticing. He battled
with two conflicting feelings. On the one hand, he wanted to ravage
that tight hole and he wanted to do it now. On
the other, there was no way he was going to do anything that he
thought might damage something so perfect.

Harry moved forward and smoothed his hands over the cheeks, smirking
when Severus jumped in surprise at the sudden contact. “Has
anyone ever told you you have the world's most gorgeous arse?”
Harry asked.

Severus was now glad that they weren't looking at one another,
because his cheeks colored a bit. “I believe you're the first,”
he answered, surprising himself with how steady his voice was through
the intense waves of lust flooding through his body.

“Hm,
well, then you've been neglected,” Harry answered. Severus
could feel Harry's body heat. He could tell he was close, but had no
idea what the boy was planning. “Because you really do have the
most gorgeous arse I've ever seen. Do you remember last month, when
Seamus set your cloak on fire?”

Ah yes, Finnigan and his penchant for setting things aflame. That
cloak had been utterly destroyed. “Unfortunately,” he
answered dryly.

“That's
the first time I got a real
good look.
Merlin,
I made such a mess of my potion that day. Sorry about that. It was
just...watching this tight arse striding up and down the isles...I
couldn't keep my eyes off of it. I was severely distracted.”
Harry gave it a squeeze that made Severus jump slightly. “Ever
since then...” Severus shuddered. He realized their positioning
then. Due to the unusual height of the bed and Harry's small stature,
this position put his ass and Harry's head at exactly the same level.
Harry could toy with him and not have to bend into any unusual
positions to do it. This meant he wouldn't be getting any cramps, and
could torment Severus longer. Damn brat. He had it all planned out
after all. Severus could feel Harry's hot breath now, cascading over
his buttocks. It was a rather pleasant sensation.

“...I've
been fantasizing about it every night.”

Wait, huh? Fantasizing about what, Snape wondered. Oh, right, his
arse. Severus found his cheeks coloring briefly again. The hot breath
tickled his entrance.

“Thinking
about what it would look like spread open before me,” Harry
whispered. “Mmn...imagining sliding my dick inside...how tight
it would be, how it would pull me in...I never came so hard as I did
thinking about this perfect arse.” He slipped his tongue out
and licked Severus's pucker, just once. Severus nearly jumped out of
his skin in pleasant surprise.

“Harry!”

Harry smiled behind him and laughed. “Never. Not once. Until
tonight. If your mouth can turn me into such a wanton beast, then
your ass is going to devastate me.” This time, when he leaned
into to lick Severus's anus he stayed there, circled it with his
tongue, lapped at it, moaned as if sampling the finest delicacy. He
smiled against Severus' arse, feeling the pucker twitch in
anticipation as the older man rasped, “Harry!” as if all
he'd just said was too undignified to be spoken aloud.

“What?”
he asked, pulling back briefly, but not so far that Severus wouldn't
feel his hot breath against the moist pucker. “I'm rather
looking forward to being devastated by you.”

Severus opened his mouth to issue some further protest, but it died
in his throat as Harry's tongue began to molest him again. The boy
wasted no time. The idle licking and circling quickly became
penetration. He felt the tongue breach his pucker and wiggle inside.
He moaned.

Harry moaned, too. This bed was
perfect, just as he'd
suspected when he saw it. He could stand here with normal posture and
just by pulling Snape's hips back a bit his mouth was perfectly lined
up with the man's hole. No straining, bending or shifting positions.
He licked eagerly at the older man's innards and listened as the
normally domineering Potion Master rasped and groaned in pleasure. He
pulled the tongue out, pushed in in, repeated it firmly and quickly,
then replaced it with slow, long, languid licks. Circled the outer
ring, then plunged in again. He was severely turned on, but no longer
in any rush. He wanted to make sure Severus was very, very well
prepared before he fucked him. And he hoped his ass turned out to be
just as gluttonous as his mouth had been. Harry shuddered at that
thought.

By the time Harry pulled his mouth
away, Severus was sure he was little more than a whimpering pile of
goo. To be pleasured in such a way! And for so long! Harry must have
wasted close to half an hour just...licking. Licking and dipping and
suckling and nibbling at his entrance. Playing with
it. With his tongue.
When the mouth disappeared Severus had no idea whether to scream with
frustration or relief. He wanted to be shagged. Badly. He wanted it
to be fast, and hard, and he wanted it to last all night. Nothing
less would satisfy him. But more than anything else, he wanted
something -anything- up
his hole and he wanted it now.
Anything except the icy tendrils of liquid that Harry proceeded to
pour inside. His body spasmed—the difference between the cold
fluid and his overheated innards was so shocking he forgot for a
moment how to breathe. When he remembered, he realized how amazing
the contrast felt. His entire body quivered, but the bitter chill
inside of his anus brought all of his attention to a tight point
there and reminded him how badly he wanted to be filled. It wasn't
enough.“H-Harry!
Please...” He hated that he was begging, but he needed. He
needed so badly.

Harry grinned, laughing again, and licked the abused pucker
playfully. “Mm. I love cinnamon,” he said.

“Th-that
was wholly unnecessary!” Of course it was necessary, he knew
lubricant was necessary, but did Harry have to pick one like that? He
knew it had to have been laced with an aphrodisiac of some kind,
because his desperate need felt more now like a burning, unquenchable
desire. And he knew that Harry knew that he knew. He could kill the
boy—if he didn't want him so badly.

“Don't
be such a stick in the mud, Professor,” Harry laughed, and
Snape could just feel
the
stupid grin the boy was wearing. Damn him! “Tomorrow is
Saturday,
after all.”

Severus opened his mouth again,
intent on barking something about idiot students doing whatever they
please, but just then Harry rammed his middle finger abruptly into
him. Severus bucked, moaned, and sobbed softly, resting his head
against the mattress. The only word of his tirade that managed to
escape was the “please!” He'd instantly been turned into
a sobbing, lusty mess. He was through. There was nothing left of him
but a body connected to a series of nerve endings and Harry Potter's
sexual whims. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but in the back
of his mind he knew that if Harry asked him to dress in a
cheerleader's costume, go out to the Quidditch pitch and conduct a
cheer dedicated to the wonders of his two beautiful cocks, he'd do it
in a heartbeat right now if it meant Harry would just shag
him already! The pleasure and
sexual frustration was more than he could bear, surely. His pulse
thundered in his ears. The sound of his panting, raspy moans seemed
to drown out all other noise.

Hey, when did Harry slip that second finger in? Severus hadn't even
noticed it. Oh, it must have been a while, because here comes the
third. He moaned out his pleasure, hoping to encourage Harry to get
on with it already, but Harry was in no rush. He slid three fingers
in and out of Snape's tight hole at an even pace, enjoying the way
Severus bucked back against them without seeming to notice he was
doing it.

When he let a fourth finger slip in
and pressed his hand forward to breach Severus fully, jabbing his
prostate, the loud sob of ecstasy that escaped his teacher's lips
almost made Harry lose himself just from the sound. He had to take a
moment to steady his breathing. His cocks were in agony—both
of them so hard he felt like they would shatter if so much as a
gentle breeze touched them.

“For
Merlin's sake, Harry, shag
me already!
What the hell are you waiting for?” Snape rasped, unable to
take the idle toying for another instant.

The biting plea made Harry moan, but
when he managed to collect his wits, he couldn't help but smirk.
“Impatient, aren't we?” he teased, though found his voice
husky with desire. “In case you haven't noticed, Professor,
even when there's only one, I have...”

“A
penis the size of a Burmese Python, yes, I'd rather noticed that,
Potter.”
The sheer size of Harry's member, given his otherwise diminutive
stature, somehow made it even sexier than it would have been
otherwise. He had been ravenous by the time Harry had shoved it deep
down his throat even though he wasn't sure he would be able to
swallow it all—he'd been pleasantly surprised with himself. It
had felt wonderful. He knew feeling it shoved deep inside of his arse
was going to be exponentially better, but Harry insisted on teasing.

Harry couldn't help but grin at how
wanton Snape had
become. He knew that it was at least in part due to the aphrodisiac,
but he was getting the impression that the man's perpetual bad mood
might be the outward manifestation of a desperate need to get laid.
Well, if that was the case, Harry would be the first to volunteer as
stress relief when his professor had a bad day in the future.

“Size
whore,” he teased, but he knew he couldn't really wait to be
inside that tight, suctioning heat any longer anyway. He pulled his
fingers out—smirking at the little sigh that escaped his
lover's lips at his hole being empty—and nudged Severus
forward.

Catching on, Severus didn't delay in giving Harry room behind him. He
spread his legs as wide as they would go. His pride had long since
been forgotten, his dignity left in tatters somewhere on the living
room floor. Neither held any value any longer. He shuddered as he
felt Harry climb up onto the bed.

“Ready
or not,” Harry rasped. The first head pressed against the
stretched entrance and Harry bit his lip as he plunged in.

Severus opened his mouth in a silent scream, not of agony, but
ecstasy. He arched his back, then buried his face against his arm. So
thick, and pressed so deep inside. He thought he'd go mad from the
pleasure. “Harry...” he rasped weakly. He could feel the
other turgid length resting in his crack.

“P-pro...aahn...Se—Sev.”
Professor was way
too
big a word to get out right now, with this tight heat engulfing him,
with the man beneath him rather obviously enjoying how it felt as
much as he did. And god!
That
aphrodisiac he'd lubed Snape up with was now seeping into his own
body via his cock and setting his body aflame. Maybe it was a bit too
strong, but it hardly mattered now. They were both maddened with
desire at this point anyway. He began thrusting. He couldn't contain
himself enough to start slow. His balls slapped against Snape's ass,
and with the added pleasure of the second shaft rubbing against
Severus' heated flesh, it didn't take either of them long.

Severus couldn't bear the intense pleasure. He tried desperately to
hold on and not embarrass himself, but his body was shuddering, his
entrance spasming around the intrusion. It was a shame, really—it
felt so good inside that he wanted to keep it there as long as
possible, but the thick rod slammed into him over and over again,
decimating his resolve. He arched once more, cried out, and came
harder than he thought he could.

Harry wasn't far behind. He managed only two more strong thrusts
before flooding Snape with his release. He pulled out reluctantly—it
felt so good being buried to the hilt in an older man, especially one
who was normally so abrasive, but he had to. The lube apparently
worked like a charm—even though he'd just filled Severus he was
still half hard. His other cock was pulsing, ready to climax at any
moment.

Severus rolled to his back, panting, as Harry decided to finish
himself off. He wanted it to last longer the next time, and he was
practically bursting already. Three firm strokes were all it took. He
threw his head back and moaned, hot seed splattering across Snape's
abdomen.

Snape felt a twinge of lust at
this—amazing. How could he want more? Hadn't they already
exhausted themselves? Oddly, he didn't feel exhausted at all. He felt
downright energetic, really. Energetic, and lusty. He moaned softly
when Harry smirked down at him and got it in his head to lean down
and lick the semen off of his stomach. Was the boy really
this experienced? Or did he just
have unbelievable instincts?

Harry just couldn't help himself,
really. Snape was laying there looking so sated and so generally
pleased with the entire situation, and so unbelievably sexy, that one
second he thought, 'Merlin, I could lick that cum right off
of him and he'd let me,' and the
next second he was doing it. Once he'd adequately lapped up the milk,
he continued licking his way up Severus' body. He gave pause to lathe
affection over a nipple—pleased to hear Snape's satisfied moan
and feel his groin hardening between them—before continuing
upward and laying a passionate kiss on his Professor. “Mmm...Merlin,
you're sexy.”

Severus knew on one level that he ought to be bothered by the fact
that Harry was presumptuous enough to kiss him after they were both
well aware of where his mouth had been, but then again, he'd forsaken
his dignity for the night and decided to just enjoy it. He wrapped
his arms around Harry's back and kissed back eagerly. The feeling of
their groins (all three of them) sliding along one another was
delightful. And Harry just had to go and call him sexy. He rolled his
eyes. “I'm sure you say that to all the boys who let you shag
them senseless,” he answered as Harry placed nibbles and kisses
down along his jaw and throat.

The boy paused to smirk up at him.
“Just how many boys do you think I've got lining up, huh?”
Harry laughed. “I mean, sure, I've had two or three, but not
with any frequency. And none of them even come close to
you. Blimey, Severus, you're positively lascivious.”

“And
who's to blame for that?” Severus quipped, arching a brow. It
no longer mattered that as they bantered they were rocking their hips
against one another, suckling a lip here, nibbling an earlobe there.

“Hmm,”
Harry mused in that mischievous way he had. “I'm thinking you,
probably, for giving me the best blow job of my life. God! This
mouth. Have I mentioned how much I love
this
mouth?” He dragged his fingers along Severus' lips and then
kissed him eagerly again. Their tongues tangled for quite some time
before they broke apart.

“Only
slightly less than you seem to love my anus, I'd imagine,”
Severus quipped.

“Ah,
yes, your anus,” Harry mused. “I suppose it's about time
I got back to that.” He grinned that stupid grin. Severus had
always hated that grin, but now? Now he found it intoxicating.

“Yes,
I suppose you should,” he answered. “We are
still
inspecting your rather unique situation, after all. You'd better put
the second inside before I forget how the first felt.”

Harry's grin widened and he kissed
Severus eagerly again. He didn't break the kiss as he lifted Snape's
thighs up and around his hips. “You're right, of course,
Professor.” He
didn't give his newfound lover any time to prepare now. If he wasn't
stretched and lubed enough at this point, he never would be. He
rammed himself inside. The second shaft slid forward between Snape's
legs to rub along his groin. Both men moaned in delight. They felt
aroused and the pleasure was intense, but not all-consuming. This
time they could go more slowly, enjoy the sensation of their heated
flesh pressing and rubbing together, and look into one another's
eyes.

Harry leaned down and Snape found
himself wrapping his arms around the young man's shoulders. They
kissed, more slowly this time. Harry pulled his hips back almost all
the way, slowly, and slid in just as slowly. Snape moaned at the
agonizing pace, but this time enjoyed being teased a bit. He rocked
his hips up against his lover. The previous, frenzied round had been
amazing, but if he had to choose between that and this, he would
easily choose this. Somehow, the way Harry looked at him made it feel
as if it were about more than just the sex. Oh, it was definitely
about the sex, but he just felt so
loved. He knew that
wasn't real, but he adored it, even if he knew it wouldn't last past
the night. He was no fool. He knew a one night stand when he was in
the middle of it—but oh,
what a night it was turning out to be!

Harry kissed him passionately again. He laced his fingers through the
boy's messy hair and moaned into his mouth when they became more
needy, their thrusting more eager. He could feel the steady build of
yet another orgasm. (How many had he had now? He had a feeling he
might need to take a semen-regenerating draught when this night was
over, though for now he was completely content to make a mess of his
comforter.) “Nngh. Harry...”

“Fuck,
Sev...” Harry responded hoarsely. “Why are you so
addictive?”
Harry didn't know what it was. The aphrodisiac must be wearing off by
now—it wasn't supposed to be very potent, and yet, the more he
shagged his potions professor the more he wanted to shag him. Just
once more, and once more, and once more. He felt like he was going to
die having sex with this man—but he could really think of no
way he'd rather go than buried deep inside of Severus Snape's arse.

“Mmn,”
Severus replied languidly. “An untapped talent, apparently,”
he answered.

Harry smirked a bit. “Well,
it's quite a talent,”
he replied. He could hear their flesh slapping together eagerly now.
His orgasm was only moments away. He could tell from the look in his
love's eye that he was hitting the man's sweet spot each and every
time. Wait, what was that thought just now? It took him a moment to
find it again. 'My love? Ah, right, that's why. It's not
the aphrodisiac at all. It's just because I love the bastard so damn
much.'

He arched, moaned Snape's name
again, and shuddered as he came—hot seed filling his love
once again and splattering out onto
the older man's torso from the other member. If it took two cocks to
keep the man interested and beside him, Harry thought dimly, then
maybe he wouldn't mind keeping both of them. “Aahn, Severus!”

Something in the way Harry was
looking at him had changed. It became deeper.
Severus could easily imagine, even if he knew he was only fooling
himself—that it was love. That would have been rather nice, he
thought, to be loved. At his age, he'd more or less given up on it.
But feeling loved, and feeling that perfect shaft skewering him so
eagerly...and then Harry tensed...it pulled him over the edge, crying
out the boy's name. Again. “Harry! Oooh, Harrryyy! Harry!
Ha-harry!!!”

Harry fell against Severus' chest. He didn't slip out of the man
right away this time, but rested his head. He needed a minute. The
thing of it was—he knew what had him so riled now was his
emotions, not the aphrodisiac. It was a typical case of accidental
magic—he was staying hard because he didn't want this night to
end. It was his love for Snape that made him want to keep having sex
so badly. It had nothing to do with some potion. But knowing that
wasn't good enough to stop it. He was still mostly hard. He still
wanted to shag Snape again—once he caught his breath. And he
could feel Snape's spent package against his stomach—he
was still mostly hard too. He would blame it on the potion, of
course. And it was probably just because he hadn't gotten any in a
really long time, but Harry entertained the fantasy for a few silent
minutes that it was because Snape loved him too and wanted this night
to last forever just as much.

Harry lifted his head and smiled bemusedly up at the older man,
resting his chin on the back of his hands. He slipped out but kept
himself cuddled close. “So?” he asked. “What's the
verdict?”

“Hm?”
Severus asked. He'd been so enjoying this unexpected little fantasy
where later they fall asleep, and he wakes up to find Harry still
cuddled against his chest just like this. That fantasy, he knew, had
nothing to do with the sex. It was dangerous to even consider it, but
pleasant all the same.

“Do
they feel
the
same?” Harry asked, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Are there
any discrepancies?”

Snape had this impression that once
he gave a definitive answer to that question, it was all over. He
hated the thought of it being over. 'Just once more. If I
can convince him to shag me just...once more, maybe I'll be able to
get him out of my system.' He
knew even as he thought it that he was lying to himself, but even so,
couldn't bear for the night to end like this. “Hmmm,” he
said slowly as if he were compiling data. “It's rather
difficult to tell,” he answered with a mischievous expression
of his own. “The first one you moved so fast, and the second so
slow...” Then he got an idea. It was a very kinky idea, but he
had the feeling it would be intensely pleasurable for both of
them...if Harry would go for it. “Perhaps one more test,”
he said.

Harry perked up at that. Severus was actually proposing they have sex
again? Bloody hell, the man was just as insatiable as (apparently) he
was. He had been upset about the night ending here, but if Severus
suggested another round, he didn't have to feel guilty. “What
did you have in mind?” he asked with a playful smirk, pinching
a nearby nipple and giving it a good twist, causing Severus to hiss
slightly and arch into the touch.

Severus was barely able to hold onto the string of thought with Harry
toying with him like that. He relented willingly enough. Harry seemed
intent at the moment to pinch and twist his nipples. He twisted quite
hard. Perhaps, Snape thought, he was a bit of a masochist, but he
loved it—a mixture of intense pleasure and slight pain. Harry
leaned down and licked one nipple apologetically, suckled on it while
twisting the other as roughly as he could. By the time he turned to
give the other the same apologetic treatment, Severus found he was
once again severely aroused.

“Well?”
Harry asked when he was done with his teasing.

“What?”
Severus asked before he realized he'd proposed another test. “Oh.
The test.”

Harry laughed. “Yes, scatterbrain, the test.” Oh, he was
just too fun to tease.

“Perhaps
if you put them inside of me once more,” Severus answered.
“...simultaneously, this time.”

Harry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. This time, Severus was
the one to laugh softly.

“Sev!
Are you serious? That's, I mean...can you...I mean...that's a lot of
cock...”

“Yes,
I think I'm well aware of just how much cock it is—it's been
shoved inside of my various orifices enough times tonight, hasn't
it?”

Both of Harry's erections became suddenly so tight he forgot for a
moment how to breathe. Severus actually wanted...was actually willing
to...take both of them at once? That was the sexiest thing he'd ever
heard. “You're absolutely sure? I don't want to hurt you.”

“I
should think I'm rather well-lubricated at this point,” Severus
quipped. “Unless you don't want...”

“No!
No! Merlin! God! Yes, I want.
I definitely want.
Balls, you really are a kinky bastard. You're incredible. If this is
the reward I get every time I duplicate my dick, I may have to make
it a habit.” He propped himself up over Severus. He found
himself eager to get started before Snape changed his mind. “But
if it's too much, if you want me to stop, you'd better say so! I'll
definitely stop, Sev. I swear.”

Harry had these rare moments when he
was oddly sweet. Severus cupped his cheeks and pulled him into a
deep, lingering kiss. “I'm yours for the taking, Harry. All
that's left is for you to take me.”
He meant it on so many more levels than sex, but that didn't matter.
As long as Harry caught the fact that he wanted Harry to fuck him
until he could no longer move his body, that was good enough.

Harry nodded dumbly. He adjusted himself between Severus' thighs
again and lifted one leg over his shoulder, then the other. He was
about to begin, but Snape had to know. He had to tell him. “Severus,
the potion. Uh, I mean...the aphrodisiac in the lubricant, uhm...”

“It
wore off quite some time ago. Yes, I'm aware of that, Harry.”

Harry's
eyes widened. He felt like an idiot. Potions were Snape's thing.
Of course he knew. Of course. He nodded stiffly and leaned down to
lazily kiss Severus again. He didn't know if the older man could feel
his adoration in that kiss, or if he wanted him to feel it, but when
he pulled back, Severus was giving him the strangest look. He decided
not to wait—lest his one last chance to shag the man (and
in such a way!) be forfeit. He
pressed one head into the pucker, then adjusted, locking Snape's gaze
as he positioned the other.

Snape nodded. “Do
it, Harry.”

Harry
pushed the second in. Even just barely breaching the man's entrance,
he shuddered and moaned. So tight. Oh, it was so tight.
Whatever Snape said, he knew he had to be careful, as gentle as he
could. He pressed in slightly, then waited. He pulled back. He
pressed in slightly more, waited, repeated the process.

Severus
fisted the comforter. It wasn't the pain—there was a bit of
pain, of course, though not much considering how much they'd already
put his arse through tonight—but the agonizing pace
Harry had chosen. Just barely, then
out, and just barely more. He could almost cry. He wanted to be
filled to the brim and he wanted it now,
but Harry just had to be
cautious. He could repair any damage with the proper spell, damn it!
Intellectually he knew it was better that Harry take his time, but he
wasn't feeling very patient. It was torture, waiting as Harry
gradually, oh so gradually, edged into him. It must have taken the
boy half an hour to fully sheathe himself. When he did, he panted
heavily from the exertion of trying to maintain control.

Severus
arched his back and shifted his hips, pulling a long moan from
Harry's lips at the friction. There was a slight sting, but nothing
substantial. Overall, Severus felt...extremely good. He panted
hoarsely for a moment. “For the love of Merlin, Harry, move,
please.”

Harry didn't need
to be asked twice. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, forcing
Snape's thighs back further towards his chest and opening him up a
bit more, then pulled his hips back—only part way at first—and
pushed back in. He tried a few careful, uncertain strokes, but it
wasn't long before he felt the familiar lust coiling in his belly.
Snape had a way of driving him mad with desire with only a glance, or
the way he tilted his head. The softest of moans could be his
undoing. It wasn't long before he worked up a rhythm of long, fierce
thrusts pounding his lover's prostate.

Severus
cried out his pleasure with each thrust. “Fuuck. Yes. Oh. Yes
Harry, take me, Harry. Oooh. For pity's sake, Harry, I'm not made of
glass. Aaah, Harder. Faster. Oooh. Yessss. Harder. Harder. Harry. Oh,
Harry! More..!” If he'd had any restraint left, it was gone
now. He didn't care. It felt wonderful to let go. He was pretty sure
he'd dug his nails into Harry's back without meaning to, but the boy
didn't seem to have any complaints. He pounded Snape's arse eagerly,
moaning and rasping and swearing in response to each phrase that
passed Severus' lips. It didn't matter what they were saying anymore,
and mostly it was strings of nonsense, but they were talking
to each other, expressing their
pleasure, holding nothing back of their need for these rendezvous to
continue after tonight. Harry left a few marks on Snape's throat that
would remind the man of their encounter for days, and he knew he'd
feel the spots where Snape dug into the flesh on his back and bum for
just as many days. It would be wonderful, Harry thought, if they
could stay trapped in this moment forever, this pre-climactic
moment...

...but such things
are not meant to last. They were so lost in the pure feel of one
another that the climax crept up on them. One moment, they were
mumbling and moaning and rocking against one another in a desperate
need for completion—the next, both suddenly gasped in surprise,
moaned loudly, and released at the exact same instant. It was the
biggest orgasm yet. It was sloppy and sweaty and messy and exhausting
and there was a moment halfway through that Severus felt certain that
he was going to be releasing his load forever. Tears of bliss formed
in the corners of his eyes.

And then it was
over. They'd finally gone limp. There was nothing left to give. Harry
collapsed against Severus. He no longer had the energy to even pull
out of the man's hole. He would. In a minute. He just needed to lay
there for a while and remember that his spine wasn't made of gelatin.

When
he did, he managed just enough strength to curl against the older
man's side and rest his head on his shoulder. Severus winced a bit at
being unplugged, as it were, but otherwise had no complaints. The
warmth of Harry against him still felt nice, even if they'd made a
disaster of the bedding. He managed to stretch just enough to grab
his wand off the nightstand. “Scourgify,” he muttered. It
wasn't the best cleaning job, but it was at least good enough that
they wouldn't be a sticky, gooey mess in the morning. 'When
did I decide to let him stay the night?' Snape
wondered. He didn't let himself dwell on it. He didn't think Harry
would be physically able to leave even if he asked. He flicked his
wrist once more, weakly and said, “accio, blanket.” The
blanket resting over the back of the couch in the other room fell
over their bared bodies. Ah, that felt rather nice. He let the wand
drop back on the nightstand and curled comfortably against the
younger man. He knew he shouldn't—now that they weren't
shagging it was entirely inappropriate to cuddle, but Harry's warmth
was too much to resist.

Harry lifted his
head lazily. He wasn't sure what he should call Snape now and fell
back on the old familiar. “...er...Professor?”

“Hm.
Oh.” Right. He was supposed to tell Harry what to do about his
duplication problem. “I believe you've more than earned your
extra credit. The duplication, I must admit, was perfect.” And
fun, too. Very, very fun. “You've nothing to worry about,
Harry. The extra will disappear on its own in a few hours. It will
probably be gone when you wake up in the morning.”

That hadn't really
been what Harry was planning to ask, but that was what started all of
this, and it was a bit of a relief to know he wasn't going to be
carrying around all that extra weight for the rest of his life. As
fun as tonight was, he thought that it was also evidence of what too
much of a good thing could do. Now that it was over, his entire body
ached. He was hoping Snape was going to let him sleep in and wander
away giving some lame excuse about a detention if anyone saw him
leaving, because he honestly didn't think he was going to be able to
move his body again until at least noon. He decided to be daring even
at the risk of his continued comfort. “No, I mean...well,
that's good to know, of course but I was going to ask something
else?”

Did
the boy have to talk
now? What was with talking after sex, anyway? “Hm?”
Severus asked. Well, let him say what he wanted. Might as well get it
over with so they could both get some sleep.

“...er...from
now on...if we're alone...uhm...can I call you Severus?”

Wait, what was
this? Severus quirked a brow. Was this more than a one night stand,
after all? Was that okay? Is that what he wanted? The question had
flitted through his mind once or twice in the midst of their passion,
but he'd let it drift away without giving it any real thought. Now
that they were finished, he had to somehow figure out the answer. The
problem was that he didn't know what he wanted. Now that the sex was
over, he thought he'd better dust off his battered pride, glue
together whatever was left of his dignity, and move on. But Harry?
Harry wanted to be on a first name basis. And when had he stopped
thinking of the boy as 'Potter' and started thinking of him as
'Harry' anyway?

“Only
if you're absolutely certain we are completely alone,” he said
after far too long a delay.

Harry smirked. “So
only in here, then, or if I have detention.” Which really
happened more frequently, but might be a lot more fun, now. Harry
hoped so, anyway. “I can live with that,” he declared,
curling more firmly against Snape. He knew now wasn't the time for
confessions of love. He wasn't ready to share them yet, and he knew
Severus wouldn't believe him anyway. He would keep the inner workings
of his heart to himself for now.

Severus sighed
softly. “That's nice,” he said dryly. “Go to
sleep.” How could Harry still have enough energy to hold a
conversation when Severus could barely remain conscious?

Harry burrowed a
bit against him and closed his eyes. “Sleep. Right.” He
didn't really want to sleep. Sure, he was exhausted, but once he
slept what they'd shared tonight would be over, and he didn't want
that. He was silent for a few tense minutes of Snape pretending to be
asleep and Harry pretending to not know he was pretending before he
piped up again, “Severus, you're still awake, right?”

'Oh for the love of...!' “You're
making sure of that, aren't you?” he snipped.

Harry
smirked. Normally he'd have jumped at any accusation pointed his way,
but he knew Snape didn't have enough energy to do anything about it
for now. Maybe that's why he didn't feel the least bit threatened.
Well, either that or the fact that they were both naked, sated, and
sleepy. Whatever. “We, can do this again, can't we?” he
began. “I mean, not the duplicating potion, maybe—that
was a bit much—but the sex? And the sleeping together? I mean,
you seemed to enjoy yourself, and I know I really
enjoyed myself, so...” Severus
was going to say no, wasn't he? This was a really weak argument.
“...I mean, we can't just...pretend this never happened, right?
I...I'd rather like it to happen again sometime, personally. Whenever
you want is fine. Just...please? You don't have to feel committed, or
anything. But, you know, if you're feeling horny and stuff, maybe...I
could lend a hand...or some other part of the male anatomy?”

Severus
found himself amused at Harry's rambling. Normally, he'd be annoyed,
but it had been a pleasant night, so for a time, it was rather
entertaining to listen to him stumble awkwardly, trying to be as
convincing as possible. “I'll take it into consideration,”
Severus answered. He didn't want to commit to anything—not
tonight, when he was feeling so content. If this was going to happen
again, he wanted it to be on his terms. He needed some time to think
and decide just what those terms were going to be. “Now for
heavens' sake, go to sleep,
Harry.”

“Right.”
Harry knew better than to try Snape's patience again before morning.

*

But
in the morning, all bets were off. Snape had stumbled blindly out of
bed, not conscious enough yet to have any real memory of the previous
night other than the fact that absolutely everything ached—which
reinstated his memories of the previous night. He stumbled into the
bathroom, thinking Harry had already gone. A bit disappointing, but
better, he decided. It was much easier to not have to deal with Harry
Potter the day after such a salacious affair. He took his time
showering and applied a salve to some of the more abused areas of his
anatomy. Pleasantly abused, mind—as indecorous as the entire
thing was, he knew he wouldn't change a thing about it. 'I've
become a lecherous old man. Such a thing, and with a student. What
was I thinking?'

But
Severus knew exactly what he was thinking, or to be more precise,
that he wasn't thinking at all. He snatched a pair of trousers from
the clean, dry pile sitting neatly now in the corner of the restroom
and pulled them on carelessly before stepping out into the living
room.

When his
eyes landed on Harry standing there, dressed (thank Merlin!) and
smirking at something he was reading, a wave of inevitability hit him
square in the chest. What happened last night wasn't some fluke, and
it wasn't the result of his life spiraling out of his control. He and
Harry had been dancing this dance since the day they'd met. There
were only ever two ways it could end, and killing each other had been
ruled out long ago. That only left sex—a build-up of pure need
and desire that, eventually, had to be sated. Now that it had, was
there anything left between them? Severus thought not. Pretending
there was would only delude and eventually disappoint. Harry wanted
to hang onto last night. He wanted to relive it, but it was gone now.
There was no more bitterness, no more agony and angst. Watching
Harry, he realized there wasn't even the slightest hint of righteous
anger about how unfair the world was left in him now. Without that,
what could they possibly have to say to one another? It depressed
him, but he found a subtle irony to it all. The mother had lost
interest in him over time. Now the son would do the same. Somehow,
Harry felt like the greater loss. And the worst of it was that Harry
hadn't figured it out yet.

Harry
heard him and spun about with a stupid grin on his face. He cleared
his throat and began reading the passage that had him so entertained:

'Colin dragged his tongue
along Derick's shaft, thinking that, in two years apart, even the
taste of his lover was just the same as it had always been. He
wondered how much he had changed in Derick's eyes. Not enough to
matter for the moment, it seemed. Derick laced his finger's in
Colin's hair and cried out. “Colin, please, fuck me.”...'

Realizing
what Harry had in his hand made Severus pale. “It isn't mine,”
Severus instantly defended. Damn it, that stupid novel, had it come
out of hiding some time last night, and he'd been enjoying himself
too much to notice? He'd forgotten it completely.

Harry
smirked. “Oh really? So things that aren't yours typically just
appear on your floor when you're getting a blow job, then?” he
quipped playfully, stepping back when Severus made a move to snatch
it. He kissed a flushed cheek.

“That's
not what I meant. It was a matter of curiosity. I was curious to see
the kind of things muggles were reading. It had to do with a
discussion amongst the teachers and I realized, in spite of being a
half-blood, I am surprisingly ignorant about the subject. I thought
it would be worthwhile to read a few muggle novels to rectify my lack
of information.”

“An
academic interest?” Harry asked bemusedly as he sidestepped
Severus's grip once again.

“Of
course,” Snape answered tightly.

“And
it just so happens, by pure accident, that you're academically
interested in gay men having sex?” Harry quipped.

“That
wasn't the part that...”

“And
you were reading this when I came by last night,” Harry added.
“Am I right? Reading gay muggle porn in your
underwear.”

“I
was doing laundry! And that's not the part that...”

Harry
stopped Severus' weak protests by pulling him down into a deep kiss.
“You really are amazingly cute when you're flustered.”

“Damn
you, Harry Potter.”

Harry
pushed the book gently to Snape's chest. “We all have our
embarrassing little secrets,” Harry said. “I won't tell
anyone. You know I won't.”

Snape
found himself covering Harry's hands with his own. He shouldn't. Why
did he feel such affection for Harry now, after so many years of
utter disdain. It was only sex—the best sex of his life, mind
you, but just sex. “I know,” he answered, then changed
the subject before the tender moment made him kiss Harry again. If he
kissed Harry now, he was sure, somehow, that all hope was lost. Hope
for what, he didn't have a clue, but he was sure the situation was
dire. “Your...problem.
It's been resolved?”

Harry
laughed lightly and nodded, stepping back. “All back to normal,
wanna see?” he said, fingers coming to the waistband of his
jeans.

“That
wouldn't be ill-advised. I'll take your word for it.”

Harry
gave him that cheerful grin again.

“You
should go,” Severus said. Yes, he definitely had to go. Now.
Before there was any further smiling, or innuendo, or kissing, or
sex. Things had already gotten way out of hand.

Harry's
cheer dampened instantly. “Right. If I run into anyone when I'm
leaving, I'll tell them I had detention. That's what you want,
right?”

'That's what you want,
right?' It sounded so much like
an accusation, but Harry didn't understand. If he let this continue,
he'd be the one who suffered most. It wouldn't take long at all for
Harry to grow bored with him. He too old, and uninteresting, and not
the least bit attractive. They had almost nothing in common.

“That
will do,” Severus answered tightly. He watched Harry slump a
bit as he made for the door. No matter how he looked at it, any kind
of relationship between them could only end badly. It was better to
just hold onto the memory of the night they'd spent together. If it
continued, even that would no longer be precious, buried by all the
things that would go terribly wrong between them in due course.

“...right,”
Harry said. “See you in class, then, Professor.”

Damn it,
now the boy had gone and gotten all depressed. Why did he have to
make Severus feel like the bad guy in this? It was for the best that
this didn't continue, right?

“Harry.”
The name had passed his lips right when Harry was opening the door.
Snape didn't remember making a choice to speak. Even now he wasn't
sure what he was about to say, but Harry looked over his shoulder
with this expression somewhere between misery and hope and suddenly
he found himself saying, “I do laundry on Friday nights.”

“Huh?”
Was that an invitation.

Oh,
damn it all to hell. Harry's adorable idiocy had defeated him. Again.
“I said, I do laundry on Friday nights. Every Friday night,
without exception. I haven't got many outfits—never saw the
need for having more than a week's worth. By Friday night, all I've
got left is a pair of underwear, if even that.”

Harry's
eyes widened and his grin spread across his face. “Right,”
he said happily. “So uh...maybe I'll come by next Friday,
to...you know...help you with the laundry.”

“I'll
be here regardless of what you decide.”

“Well,
yeah,” Harry answered with a soft laugh. “Where else are
you going to go starkers?”

“Idiot
boy,” Snape chided.

“I
love you too, Professor Snape,” Harry answered with a laugh
before he shut the door between them.

Severus
collapsed into a chair. This was a disaster. Why the hell had he just
told Harry that he would be waiting for him every Friday night,
naked? And why did that word—love—ripple through his body
like fire? His eyes widened in shock as he realized the reason. He
was in love with the insufferable brat! That's why.
The simplest answer is often the correct answer—he was always
telling students that in his best scathingly insulting tone of voice.
He was in love...and hadn't even noticed. “Bloody hell,”
he complained. “What a mess.”

*

Meanwhile,
Harry whistled happily as he entered Gryffindor Tower. Hermione
leaped up. “Harry, where have you been all night?!”

“I...”

“Oh,
no, never mind, tell me later! We have a crisis.”

“A
crisis?”

“Oh
Harry, it's awful! The
boys went back to their dorms last night and, well I'm not sure
precisely what happened, but Ron has two heads, and Neville has a
second nose, and Seamus...”

Harry
got the picture. He felt a little guilty for not cleaning up those
damn beans, now. But just a little. He laughed. “Hermione,
relax. They'll all be back to normal in a few hours. Just trust me.”

“Oh.
Oh that's good,” she sighed in relief. “I really wasn't
looking forward to the idea of decapitating Ron at all.”

Harry
laughed. Hermione laughed. And much to his relief, she was far too
preoccupied to ask him again where he'd been all night. He honestly
had no idea what he would have told her.

~ The
End ~
- 1
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Too Much of A Good Thing