Author name: Lovecraft
Author email: starlightstrands@hotmail.com
Category: Slash: Severus/Harry
Keywords: Masterbation, Voyuerism
Rating: Hard R, Soft NC-17.
Spoilers: None, really. Although it'd help to know the books, just for character reference. *rae*
Summary: A Gryffindor watches his Professor.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, and if I did, they'd never leave the bedroom/bathroom (with two-person bathtub, thank-you-very-much).
Archive: Anyone who wants it can have it, so long as I'm informed and my email is listed somewhere.
A/N: Hi. This is my first Potter fic. Pleasedon'trunaway! o.o I'd be very happy if someone read this, liked it, and responded. Positively would be wonderful. Something other than "sparse" would be perfect.
~*~
Craving (Your Touch, Your Taste)
~*~
It's nothing I should know. It's everything I want. It's perfect.
It's the warm candlelight playing over his so-thin body. It's the shadows that cradle him. It's the way his fingertips brush his own lips, feather-light, a mirror image of the kisses I'd lay upon them.
But he doesn't know I'm here, covered and warm beneath the cloak, silent as only a mouse that has lived his life in fear of punishment can be. He doesn't see what I see, the sallow skin faded into gold and the lithe body spread open to welcome the room's warmth. He can't possibly understand how the subtle caress of his finely tapered fingers against his pale nipple entices me.
His body shifts, a knee rises so that one slender foot is braced on the firm bed beneath him. His arousal is like his body, long and sleek and so beautiful I could fall to my knees and worship it, with my hands, or tongue, or...
I ache in tandem with my heartbeat as his fingers slip between his legs and touch the flushed hardness. His moan echoes against the stones of the room and I bite my lip to keep my own moans from singing back. Black eyes narrow as the copper glows in his cheeks. He stares into space, where his dreams fly, with such passion and I want nothing more than to have that intense gaze turned onto me. But I know better than to betray my presence in this shadow. Not even a little Gryffindor like me could be that brave.
A low-pitched groan rumbles into the air and rushes through me, touching, exciting parts of me already over stimulated. A loose fist steadily pumps at his cock, the braced leg flexes as narrow hips rise in controlled, short, thrusts. How would it feel to be above him, to surround him, to feel his flesh rising to meet mine? To be trapped by that wanton look, to feel the silken heat of his skin, to taste his breath and lips?
Muscles tense, his writhing body holds still save for the hand jerking without rhyme, whose only reason is release. Head thrown back, caught in the awesome cusp between the pleasure of climax and the pain of such wonder ending. And all I have is this desire to touch him, mark him as mine, and know with him inside and out, despite the sneering, caustic remarks, despite the sarcastic rebuttal, because I see him here, like this, defenseless in his vulnerability and beautiful in his skin.
Perfect. So perfect. Right here and now, he is my everything, my entire world. But I am invisible to his eyes. I am nothing.
Author email: starlightstrands@hotmail.com
Category: Slash: Severus/Harry
Keywords: Masterbation, Voyuerism
Rating: Hard R, Soft NC-17.
Spoilers: None, really. Although it'd help to know the books, just for character reference. *rae*
Summary: A Gryffindor watches his Professor.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, and if I did, they'd never leave the bedroom/bathroom (with two-person bathtub, thank-you-very-much).
Archive: Anyone who wants it can have it, so long as I'm informed and my email is listed somewhere.
A/N: Hi. This is my first Potter fic. Pleasedon'trunaway! o.o I'd be very happy if someone read this, liked it, and responded. Positively would be wonderful. Something other than "sparse" would be perfect.
~*~
Craving (Your Touch, Your Taste)
~*~
It's nothing I should know. It's everything I want. It's perfect.
It's the warm candlelight playing over his so-thin body. It's the shadows that cradle him. It's the way his fingertips brush his own lips, feather-light, a mirror image of the kisses I'd lay upon them.
But he doesn't know I'm here, covered and warm beneath the cloak, silent as only a mouse that has lived his life in fear of punishment can be. He doesn't see what I see, the sallow skin faded into gold and the lithe body spread open to welcome the room's warmth. He can't possibly understand how the subtle caress of his finely tapered fingers against his pale nipple entices me.
His body shifts, a knee rises so that one slender foot is braced on the firm bed beneath him. His arousal is like his body, long and sleek and so beautiful I could fall to my knees and worship it, with my hands, or tongue, or...
I ache in tandem with my heartbeat as his fingers slip between his legs and touch the flushed hardness. His moan echoes against the stones of the room and I bite my lip to keep my own moans from singing back. Black eyes narrow as the copper glows in his cheeks. He stares into space, where his dreams fly, with such passion and I want nothing more than to have that intense gaze turned onto me. But I know better than to betray my presence in this shadow. Not even a little Gryffindor like me could be that brave.
A low-pitched groan rumbles into the air and rushes through me, touching, exciting parts of me already over stimulated. A loose fist steadily pumps at his cock, the braced leg flexes as narrow hips rise in controlled, short, thrusts. How would it feel to be above him, to surround him, to feel his flesh rising to meet mine? To be trapped by that wanton look, to feel the silken heat of his skin, to taste his breath and lips?
Muscles tense, his writhing body holds still save for the hand jerking without rhyme, whose only reason is release. Head thrown back, caught in the awesome cusp between the pleasure of climax and the pain of such wonder ending. And all I have is this desire to touch him, mark him as mine, and know with him inside and out, despite the sneering, caustic remarks, despite the sarcastic rebuttal, because I see him here, like this, defenseless in his vulnerability and beautiful in his skin.
Perfect. So perfect. Right here and now, he is my everything, my entire world. But I am invisible to his eyes. I am nothing.