Chapter Twenty-six: Take off the Invisibility Cloak

You've come so far. Your first name is the password to Snape's room. The throbbing hard on in your pants suggest, you're attracted to this man. You're a bloody Gryffindor and it will not be said that you are scared of a simple human being, even if it's Severus Snape.

You walk up to him and drop the cloak.

The next moment you have a wand against your stomach.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" He snarls.

Apparently, you were wrong about him knowing you are in here, but he still looks half as angry as he should be.

You look down on his body, let your eyes travel down his chest, to his hand that's not inside his pants anymore, but just lies there on his thigh. You stare unabashed at his groin, letting him understand how much you saw.

In return, his eyes roam over you. There is no way your thin cotton pyjama pants could hide your hard on and you don't even cover yourself. You want him to see you like this. Hard and needy – for him.

You answer his question with one of your own. "Why is my name your password?"

You stare at each other. There's a fire in his gaze you're not ready for and it heats up every drop of blood in your veins.

He slowly lowers his wand. Apparently, you seem to silently agree that perhaps some questions don't need to be answered tonight.

When he drops the wand to the couch, you drop to your knees too. You don't tease him much, though you imagine a world where you slowly get to inch closer to his cock until he begs you to touch him.

Your hands come up on his thighs and you press them further apart. You press your mouth against his still covered hardness. You inhale his scent and groan. He smells musky and you can't wait to taste him too.

You suck him through the fabric and he bucks up slightly. You look up at him. Black eyes watch your every move, dark and unreadable. You can't wait to watch him as he comes down your throat.

You drag at the sides of his pants and he lifts his hips. You push and pull the slacks off him until they pool at his ankle.

You touch his cock reverently at first, looking at the hard member first then at his expression. He's long and thick and saliva gathers at the bottom of your mouth, you want to taste him so bad.

Your fingers close around Snape's prick, your hold is still gentle enough but he swears over you when your thumb brushes the tip.

"Fucking hell, Potter…"

You smirk up at him, then give a teasing lick to the head. He squirms in his seat and swears again.

Snape's whole body jerks when you take him in your mouth and starts sucking. Your tongue moves against the swollen tip, swipes across the slit. You hear him cry out and he grabs into your hair. You only go deeper down.

His low growl sends shivers down your spine. You suck even harder, your hand comes up on the long shaft with a firm grip, then you loosen your hold a bit as your fingers move down. You fondle his balls, one of your digits presses against the perineum.

"Bloody fucking ah…" Snape cries and you're glad you closed that door behind you, because he doesn't seem to care about how loud he gets. You don't mind, though. You love hearing how much he enjoys your touch.

You lick his whole length up and down and take him in your mouth again. He's all but balls deep in you, the head of his cock is against the back of your throat and you can barely breath, but if he keeps making those sounds, you're going to come sooner than he will.

You take out your cock too and start stroking it. You use the same rhythm with your mouth as with your hands. When Snape realizes what you're doing, his fingers tense in your hair and his hips bucks up. He seems to find it incredibly arousing that you masturbate while giving him head.

"Fuck Potter…" He growls, "I'm going to come…"

You jerk yourself even harder, hips thrusting forward as you fuck the tight grip of your hand. You're moaning around his cock and you can feel him twitch in your mouth. You come on the palm of your hand and for a second you need to stop and breathe because you're seeing starts and your mind does not seem to function.

You look up at him as you pull yourself together. He has a strangely affectionate look on his face as he strokes your chin and swipes precome and saliva off your lower lip.

You bring your hand up and grab his cock again. Your spunk makes your strokes wet and slippery and he sighs needy. Your mouth is back on him before he could beg because you want to taste every drop of him on your tongue at last.

You pump the full length of his hard cock, while you suck on the soft head, your tongue drawing sounds from him you never imagined he could make. You want to commit this to memory, every taste, every smell, the feel of his fingers, the force of his hold, but by the time it occurs to you, his back arches from the settee and he's shooting come down your throat.

You lick it off to the last drop, clean him and watch as every stroke of your tongue pulls a wild shudder through his body.

You leave him there, leaning against the back of the settee, panting. You grab the cloak and you're out of there before he could come around.

Maybe he'll think it was just a dream.

Fin.