Harry Potter's body wasn't perfect. His skin wasn't milk-white or silk-soft. His ribs showed beneath winter-pale skin, skin as pale as fresh cut ash wood against Severus' dark sheets. A few bruises lingered, greenish shadows above his hipbones and on his shoulder. There was a shiny red patch high on his chest, above his heart, a healed dragon-burn. No, his body wasn't perfect.
It was better.
Harry Potter's body arched beneath his hands, skin rippling over wiry muscles as he shifted, rose and fell according to Severus' touch. His callused hands skimmed up and down the older man's arms, stopping to grip tightly whenever Severus' mouth touched his throat. The third time Severus nipped at the sensitive spot above his collar bone, Harry's hands dug into his hair and yanked the older man's face up. Severus caught a momentary flash of green so dark it seemed black as Harry stared at him, panting and wild, then closed his eyes as he was kissed fiercely. The strong hand that slipped back to cradle his skull made certain that Severus couldn't do anything but be thoroughly kissed. A brief and dizzying moment as they rolled, then Severus was suddenly looking up at his half-naked lover.
Harry Potter was strong and exultant above him, straddling Severus' waist, his face half-shadowed in the firelight. Strong fingers began slipping the buttons of his coat free and Severus felt his chest constrict at the eagerness he saw in Harry's face. He wanted to speak suddenly, to warn him, to protect himself against the disappointment he knew he would see on that young face. There was no chance. Potter sketched one finger over his bottom lip, stroked once, then twice, then slipped his finger into Severus' mouth. The ticklish stroking on his tongue drove every other thought out of his head except the need to hear Harry's gasp when he began suckling on that finger.
He didn't even notice when his shirt slipped over the edge of the bed to join his vest and coat on the floor. The ridiculous business of unbuttoning boots and kicking off trousers finished off Severus' bout of self-consciousness. The smooth curves of Harry Potter's ass as he bent to remove his socks took Severus' attention back to where it ought to have been all along. With one strong hand, he tipped Harry back onto the bed, torn between laughter and lust.
What he noticed was the way Harry loved everything Severus did to him but said nothing, made no sound at all. Instead, his pleasure made itself known in the flex of his thighs against Severus'; in the way he nuzzled his face against Severus', asking for another kiss; in the strong grip of his fingers when they intertwined with Severus'. They rolled and thrashed their way across the bed and back again, striving against one another, sometimes giving control, sometimes taking it, but always silently.
There was, Severus discovered, a hot and shameful joy in being mastered by his former student, even if the illusion was momentary. But it was nothing to the rush of heat when that student knelt between his legs and brought his mouth to touch Severus' cock. And nothing like the tearing tenderness he felt when he had his hand wrapped around Harry's cock and felt the man's moans vibrate against his chest but heard nothing from the panting mouth open beneath his own.
After all the words they had thrown at one another over the years, there were no words for this. Nothing to say when Harry rolled onto his chest and spread his legs. Barely a grunt as Severus sank into heat and rare madness, Harry's fingers gripping the sheets above his head. Wordless as he laid his hands over the younger man's, their fingers interlacing and gripping tightly as he began to move.
They moved together, and it was silent and perfect and he knew it couldn't last very long. He yanked his right hand out of Harry's tangled grasp and wrapped it around his waist, fumbling for a grip on his lover's cock. He had barely touched him when Harry jerked and hissed his name in a long, slow whisper. Then Harry was coming and the very sound of his name from his silent lover's mouth pulled him over the edge.
Severus rested his forehead between Harry's slick shoulder blades and listened to the hitching harmony of their hoarse breathing. An interrogative murmur from beneath him recalled Severus to himself and he slid off of Harry's back, landing face down beside him. He could feel Harry turning to look at him and Severus wanted to groan - this was the part he was always terrible at - pillowtalk. With a sigh, he opened his eye, the other still firmly mashed into the pillow where he had landed.
Harry was looking at him, a faint wicked smile on those debauched lips. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair off of Severus' forehead but said nothing, merely smiled.
Severus finally lost his nerve, waiting for him to say *something* that would ruin the moment. "What?"
Harry said nothing, just hummed happily, kissed Severus on the nose and got up. He listened to the younger man stumble his way to the bathroom and tried to gather enough enthusiasm to turn over. He had barely managed it and was lying with an arm over his face when Harry came back to bed with a thump. A brisk wipe down with a dry washcloth made Severus wince as still-sensitized areas protested the rough treatment.
"A little more gently, Mr. Potter, if you please."
There was a huff of laughter as Harry lay down again, yanking a handful of covers haphazardly over them both. "Are you always so formal after fucking someone, Severus?"
He made no reply. His lips twitched when he heard Harry say in a more hesitant tone, "Severus?"
"Hush, Mr. Potter. I am composing your thank you note."
He defended himself against the offensive tickling fingers by wrapping his arms around his lover and holding him tightly. A few kisses served to distract them both from the battle. Severus Snape fell asleep with a slightly sticky Harry Potter tucked against his side, laughter still echoing in his ears.
It was better.
Harry Potter's body arched beneath his hands, skin rippling over wiry muscles as he shifted, rose and fell according to Severus' touch. His callused hands skimmed up and down the older man's arms, stopping to grip tightly whenever Severus' mouth touched his throat. The third time Severus nipped at the sensitive spot above his collar bone, Harry's hands dug into his hair and yanked the older man's face up. Severus caught a momentary flash of green so dark it seemed black as Harry stared at him, panting and wild, then closed his eyes as he was kissed fiercely. The strong hand that slipped back to cradle his skull made certain that Severus couldn't do anything but be thoroughly kissed. A brief and dizzying moment as they rolled, then Severus was suddenly looking up at his half-naked lover.
Harry Potter was strong and exultant above him, straddling Severus' waist, his face half-shadowed in the firelight. Strong fingers began slipping the buttons of his coat free and Severus felt his chest constrict at the eagerness he saw in Harry's face. He wanted to speak suddenly, to warn him, to protect himself against the disappointment he knew he would see on that young face. There was no chance. Potter sketched one finger over his bottom lip, stroked once, then twice, then slipped his finger into Severus' mouth. The ticklish stroking on his tongue drove every other thought out of his head except the need to hear Harry's gasp when he began suckling on that finger.
He didn't even notice when his shirt slipped over the edge of the bed to join his vest and coat on the floor. The ridiculous business of unbuttoning boots and kicking off trousers finished off Severus' bout of self-consciousness. The smooth curves of Harry Potter's ass as he bent to remove his socks took Severus' attention back to where it ought to have been all along. With one strong hand, he tipped Harry back onto the bed, torn between laughter and lust.
What he noticed was the way Harry loved everything Severus did to him but said nothing, made no sound at all. Instead, his pleasure made itself known in the flex of his thighs against Severus'; in the way he nuzzled his face against Severus', asking for another kiss; in the strong grip of his fingers when they intertwined with Severus'. They rolled and thrashed their way across the bed and back again, striving against one another, sometimes giving control, sometimes taking it, but always silently.
There was, Severus discovered, a hot and shameful joy in being mastered by his former student, even if the illusion was momentary. But it was nothing to the rush of heat when that student knelt between his legs and brought his mouth to touch Severus' cock. And nothing like the tearing tenderness he felt when he had his hand wrapped around Harry's cock and felt the man's moans vibrate against his chest but heard nothing from the panting mouth open beneath his own.
After all the words they had thrown at one another over the years, there were no words for this. Nothing to say when Harry rolled onto his chest and spread his legs. Barely a grunt as Severus sank into heat and rare madness, Harry's fingers gripping the sheets above his head. Wordless as he laid his hands over the younger man's, their fingers interlacing and gripping tightly as he began to move.
They moved together, and it was silent and perfect and he knew it couldn't last very long. He yanked his right hand out of Harry's tangled grasp and wrapped it around his waist, fumbling for a grip on his lover's cock. He had barely touched him when Harry jerked and hissed his name in a long, slow whisper. Then Harry was coming and the very sound of his name from his silent lover's mouth pulled him over the edge.
Severus rested his forehead between Harry's slick shoulder blades and listened to the hitching harmony of their hoarse breathing. An interrogative murmur from beneath him recalled Severus to himself and he slid off of Harry's back, landing face down beside him. He could feel Harry turning to look at him and Severus wanted to groan - this was the part he was always terrible at - pillowtalk. With a sigh, he opened his eye, the other still firmly mashed into the pillow where he had landed.
Harry was looking at him, a faint wicked smile on those debauched lips. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair off of Severus' forehead but said nothing, merely smiled.
Severus finally lost his nerve, waiting for him to say *something* that would ruin the moment. "What?"
Harry said nothing, just hummed happily, kissed Severus on the nose and got up. He listened to the younger man stumble his way to the bathroom and tried to gather enough enthusiasm to turn over. He had barely managed it and was lying with an arm over his face when Harry came back to bed with a thump. A brisk wipe down with a dry washcloth made Severus wince as still-sensitized areas protested the rough treatment.
"A little more gently, Mr. Potter, if you please."
There was a huff of laughter as Harry lay down again, yanking a handful of covers haphazardly over them both. "Are you always so formal after fucking someone, Severus?"
He made no reply. His lips twitched when he heard Harry say in a more hesitant tone, "Severus?"
"Hush, Mr. Potter. I am composing your thank you note."
He defended himself against the offensive tickling fingers by wrapping his arms around his lover and holding him tightly. A few kisses served to distract them both from the battle. Severus Snape fell asleep with a slightly sticky Harry Potter tucked against his side, laughter still echoing in his ears.