"I wish you'd call me Harry."
Severus pointedly ignored the 16-year-old Gryffindor, who was sitting on a stool a few yards from his work station and watching the Potions Master brew a vat of poison for the rats that were encroaching on his area of the dungeons. Harry was rapidly swinging his legs out to the sides and back so that his heels clicked together on every inward swing. The sound was grating on Severus's nerves. He ignored it and pretended to study the recipe in front of him, hands braced on the edge of the worktable. "No, Mr. Potter," he responded firmly.
He could hear the sulky pout in Harry's voice as he stubbornly persisted. "Why not? It doesn't matter if we're alone and no one can hear. I don't understand why you treat me like a kid." The petulant tone cut through the vestiges of Severus's dubious patience.
Squashing the urge to throw a beaker at the brat, Severus replied evenly, "Perhaps I call you Potter because I like to imagine that you are your father while I'm fucking you." He shifted subtly to catch Harry's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Severus would never tire of seeing Harry's face crumple as it only did when he thought Severus wasn't looking, could not imagine a time when he would not relish the pain brightening those beautiful eyes.
"You don't mean that," Harry asserted confidently, the waver in his voice almost undetectable.
"Ah, the boy is a Legilimens now," Severus said mockingly as he turned fully now to face Harry, leaning back against the table and crossing his arms. "Or perhaps you've been studying your tarot cards? I must say, Potter, I never pegged you for a Seer."
Harry flushed, avoiding Severus's amused gaze.
Severus smirked as he turned to lower the heat under the cauldron. It would need to simmer for a few days until it turned a brilliant green. He refused to admit that its colour made it his favorite potion to brew; when asked, he always said that it was because of the way it would melt a human's intestines until they were dripping out the arse like a leaky faucet, and would the questioner like to see some of his personal research photographs? Invariably, the person would turn as green as the potion, back away looking horrified, and not speak to Severus for at least a month. He snorted derisively. Some people had no appreciation for exquisite creations.
Speaking of which… His potion finished for now, he spun quickly to face Harry again and caught the boy surreptitiously wiping tears from his eyes. Beautiful. "Oh, for the love of—Must you be so sensitive, Potter?"
Harry sniffled quietly, staring down at his hands as he twisted them in his robes. "I just wish you wouldn't tease me like that. You don't really think I'm like my dad, do you?" He peered up at Severus through damp lashes in that way, the way that made him look unbearably young and fragile, as though he were seconds away from shattering.
Severus's heart skipped a beat. He slowly approached Harry, who adopted a submissive posture, lowering his head and dropping his gaze to the floor. Severus wondered whether Harry knew what that did to the sadistic part of Severus, the part that the students thought they knew so well but in fact barely knew at all. Did Harry realize how much Severus longed to possess him, to be the only one to touch him, to hurt him, to hold him? Did he suspect that every time Severus saw the Weasley chit hovering around him like a gnat around the sweetest apple, it made the man want to lift her by her obnoxious hair and fling her to the other side of Britain? Did he know that if it were feasible, Severus would chain him to the bed until no one remembered their Saviour enough to want to steal him away?
The thought of anyone else having him… Severus circled behind Harry, and his hands reached out lightning-quick, grabbing Harry's biceps roughly, feeling the jolt of surprise as his small body startled. Just as he began to relax, Severus kicked the stool to the side and pitched Harry forward before his feet could gain purchase on the ground. By the time Harry rolled over onto his back, Severus stood looming over him, rapidly unfastening the long line of buttons on his own outer robes. Harry blinked dazedly and rubbed the bit of forehead that had hit the flagstones when he fell. So much for Seeker reflexes, Severus thought wryly. Harry shakily pulled his glasses off and inspected them for damage before placing them a safe distance away on the floor, then reaching down to unfasten his robes with fumbling fingers.
Severus hoped that the bump on the boy's forehead would be noticeable and that Harry's friends would ask about it within his earshot. He enjoyed listening to Harry's ineloquent stutter as he tried to account for his minor, but numerous and inexplicable injuries. A lovebite on his throat over his adam's apple; bruises in the shape of fingers on his arms, his legs, his neck; red scratches all down his back. His favorite explanation had been last week's—the one for the scratches. He'd almost laughed and given away his hiding place as he listened to Harry's recounting of an imaginary encounter with a feral cat, complete with sound effects and the rustling of flailing arms as the boy demonstrated the crazy animal's attempts to murder him. Granger and Weasley had to suspect something by now; the excuses were becoming less convincing every time.
Gazing down at the rumpled body on the floor below him, Severus drew his wand and impatiently spelled his vest and shirt open, shrugging them off his shoulders and letting them pool messily on the ground along with his robe and wand. Harry seemed to be a bit concussed, still struggling with his robe buttons and making little sounds of frustration at his uncooperative fingers. Severus sighed and knelt down, batting the clumsy hands away and running his hands down Harry's front, smirking with satisfaction as the robes parted to reveal Harry's slim torso, red cotton y-fronts, and coltish legs that reflexively drew up as if to cover his exposed flesh. Forcing those legs down to the floor, Severus crawled up Harry's body, his own legs squeezing the boy's sides to keep him in place. He yanked Harry's arms from their sleeves, leaving the robe spread under them. He sat back and toyed with the fastenings on his trousers, finally opening them and watching with satisfaction as Harry's eyes dilated and his tongue ran along his lower lip, pushing it into his teeth. Such a hungry little whore.
Harry's arms lay on the floor alongside Severus's legs, his entire body limp and unresisting. He knew what would happen if he tried to touch without permission. Severus took a moment to observe the way the boy's cheeks reddened as he panted shallowly, probably unable to take a proper breath with Severus resting his full weight on that slim chest. Severus abruptly lifted his weight, grinning at the immediate, loud intake of breath. Standing briefly, Severus turned and lowered himself onto Harry facing the other way, his knees bracketing Harry's head and his face directly above those nauseatingly red pants. He lowered his face to nuzzle the straining cock encased in soft cotton, humming with pleasure at the warmth and smell of musk. Harry whimpered, trembling with restraint, clenching tight fists at his sides. Severus could feel damp breath hitting his open trouser placket, seeping through the tight black briefs, driving him absolutely mad.
"You may touch," Severus murmured, mouthing the words against Harry's cock. It twitched frantically against his lips. Harry immediately reached up and insinuated his hand into the briefs, drawing out Severus's achingly hard prick and grasping it tightly with both hands. So greedy. Harry rubbed the slick head against his open lips, tonguing the slit and making obscene, wet noises. Severus groaned and dug his fingernails into Harry's thighs, wrenching a stifled sound of pain from Harry's throat, a sound that vibrated across the head of his cock and only made him dig deeper. Severus lifted his head. "Open your mouth, Potter, now," he growled, and as soon as he felt only empty air and hot breaths against his cock, he shoved it almost violently down Harry's throat, groaning at the sound and feel of Harry gagging around it as he struggled to adjust to the intrusion.
When he felt Harry relax around him, he began slowly lifting his hips and thrusting them downward into that impossible heat. He loved this. The sensation of any tight, quivering muscles surrounding his cock was heavenly, but especially when it was accompanied, as now, by the spasmodic grasping of Harry's hands on Severus's legs as he choked around the man's cock. He couldn't see Harry's face, but Severus knew it would be bright red, tears flowing silently down into his messy hair, nostrils flaring as he tried to take in a breath. Severus lowered his head and buried his face in Harry's crotch, mouthing his bollocks and hard length through the fabric. Harry's hands were already going a bit limp, which meant that Severus had about a minute before he passed out. Severus generally tried to stop before that point. If he could. Or more accurately, if he wanted to.
It seemed as though he wouldn't have a choice this time. Severus could feel the euphoria escalating quickly and gasped at a sharp, almost painful twist in the center of his groin. He tried to hold back as long as possible, moaning constantly against Harry's y-fronts, now soaked with precome and spit, concentrating on the rhythmic squeeze of Harry's straining throat, listening to Harry's anguished, choking sobs, until finally he could stand it no longer. Nearly screaming, he shoved his cock as deep as possible and came in long, ecstatic pulses as Harry desperately swallowed around him.
Severus lay heavily on the boy's languid body, no longer possessing the strength to bear any of his own weight. He gently nuzzled his face against Harry's crotch once more. Harry was trying to gasp something around the softening length in his mouth, but the sounds were garbled and unintelligible. Severus continued nuzzling, content to enjoy the sensation of small, shallow breaths of cool air being pulled in around his sensitive prick. After a few moments, Harry managed to prop Severus's hips up with weak arms, gently lifting the damp cock out of his mouth until Severus could finally hear his desperate, sobbing whispers of "please, please, please oh god do something."
Smiling lazily against Harry's throbbing prick, Severus decided that such spectacular fellatio deserved a reward. After all, he hadn't come so hard since their first time, which had resulted from weeks of arguments and pent-up frustration and had finally culminated in his shagging Harry up against his office door in the middle of an Occlumency lesson. This time had been even better, if such a thing were possible. One billion points to Gryffindor, he thought as he propped himself up on his elbows and dragged Harry's y-fronts down the boy's legs. He licked his lips at the sight of the cock pointing straight at his mouth.
Severus took his time despite Harry's continuous whimpers and pleas for him to "hurry, I can't—please touch me, ungh, Severus…" He bit lightly along the side of Harry's prick, ghosted his tongue in tiny flicks over the slit, breathing hotly just to watch the length jump in his hand. Precome was now flowing copiously from the swollen head, and Harry seemed to be going slightly mad, mumbling nonsense that Severus couldn't make out. Finally, he decided to end the delicious torture and abruptly swallowed the entire, pulsing length. He heard a shocked, strangled noise from behind him, followed by an ear-splitting scream and the screeching sound of nails dragging across the flagstones. He swallowed once, then again and again and again as Harry came hard down his throat, shrieking and thrashing uncontrollably.
There was a long moment of complete silence, broken only by Harry's belabored breathing and the rustling of the now slightly disgusting robe as Severus used it to wipe his mouth. He levered himself up and twisted to lay alongside Harry, face to face. As the boy recovered, Severus examined him closely. There were light scratches on Harry's face from Severus's trouser zip, five crescent nail marks oozing a little blood on each leg, and—Severus smothered a smug grin—there opposite his scar, a nice red bump about half the size of a golf ball. Severus wondered how he'd explain that one. Thanks to his relatives' starvation tactics, Harry was at least a head shorter than Severus, and not nearly tall enough to hit his head against one of the high Potions shelves or a low door frame.
The man suddenly noticed that Harry's fingernails apparently hadn't held up very well against the rough floor—they were torn, ragged, and bleeding copiously. Severus immediately turned to dig through his own discarded clothing until he found his wand. Shifting back over to Harry, he gently grasped both of the slim wrists in one hand, pointed his wand at the injured fingertips, and murmured a potent healing spell. A wave of warm, soothing magic washed over Harry's fingers, healing them in the space of a heartbeat. Harry sighed blissfully and wiped the remaining blood on the robes beneath them. Severus quickly cast Cleaning and Cushioning charms on the soiled robes and tossed his wand aside. He removed his trousers and pants and threw them aside as well.
As he settled onto his side, he reached out and tugged a floppy, languid Harry against his body. Severus clutched him tightly, soaking in the warmth and lingering smell of sex. Harry yawned, then smiled and buried his face in Severus's chest, tangling their legs together. "That was amazing," he said happily, their earlier bickering all but forgotten. "I love you, Severus."
Severus pressed a smile into the messy hair. "I love you as well," he said softly, smile widening as Harry wriggled against him, trying to get closer. Severus wondered whether Harry ever thought him insincere. It was true that he was not a very sentimental man—the boy nestled in his arms representing a slight exception—but he was honest about his thoughts, opinions, and feelings. Whether they were negative or positive, he never shied away from expressing them to those select few who would not use them against him. And he was fairly certain that Harry would not.
Harry's breathing slowly evened out as Severus trailed one hand up and down his back and reached for his own robes with the other, pulling the heavy cloth over their entwined bodies. He made sure that they were as close to each other as possible, smoothed down the wild hair tickling his chin, and wrapped his arms securely around Harry's sleeping form before drifting off as well, a smile still lingering on his face.