Chapter 2: S/M 101
"I am impressed" a hot breath in his ear as the whisper echoed the sensations rioting across his scarlet skin. "Indeed. Though," a reflective note entered the whiskey voice, "I fear we've only begun for the evening…"
As he assimilated that perplexing comment, Harry drew in a deep breath, counted to seven and exhaled slowly, willing himself to soften, to accept, to relax into Severus' touch, and simply exist in this moment.
"Very nice, cat," Severus purred approvingly while he continued to press his weight into the length of Harry's back side which grew more malleable with each calming release of breath. He lay draped for a moment, luxuriating in the muscle tone that rippled beneath his leather clad body. He molded his groin to the small of Harry's back and reveled in the gasp it evoked. He used his shins to trace the contour of calves and joint and thigh. He trailed leather fingertips across peaks and valleys of deltoid muscle, licking droplets of salty sweat down the column of spine that stretched, not imperceptibly, under his attention. He chuckled, before moving aside several locks of hair, and once again applying his lips to the curved shell of a pink ear, "your trances have improved, my love, yet, they do have a rather unsatisfactory tendency to desert you under certain conditions. A most unfortunate reality that we must attempt to remedy, don't you agree?"
Harry concentrated intensely on the words, not allowing himself to savor the acerbic purr that simultaneously stimulated nerve receptors in his head and somewhat, ah, further south. He silently repeated each word in his own voice, and winced at the lengthening silence that preempted his hurried, "Yes, Severus."
It did not required a skilled legilimens to perceive the intensity of Harry's concentration, but the potions master was one, nevertheless. The hedonistic aspect of his renowned and regimented intellect heartily approved Harry's preoccupation with his voice, while the rest of him admired the boy's perseverance amidst the considerable physical distractions he'd proffered. They were one step closer to dinner.
"Now then, I suspect that some additional information about the state of your magical control is in order. If you will permit me?"
Severus felt Harry's mental shields dissolve almost instantaneously with his request. Under most circumstances, he would be frustrated with Harry's lack of guile. But Severus was quite clear on the fact that the stunning openness was exclusively reserved for the Potions Master. Harry might not ever evince the cunning of a true Slytherin, but he could be calculating enough when necessary.
That could not be said of this moment, however. The young man's mind and heart energies were an open book to him, and he paused briefly in gratitude. Harry's magical self was as unsullied as his corporeal self. That both were laid bare and vulnerable before him was a gift whose value was immeasurable. The former death eater felt his spirit expand at being granted such infinite trust. He'd long believed to never again deserve it. Respect, trust, faith, these hadn't seemed so important to him once; he'd sacrificed them recklessly in a moment of youthful hubris that culminated in his branding before the dark lord. It had been a long, arduous path back to each virtue. And now the tangible evidence of his rebirth was before him: his lover's willing vulnerability. Through their union he knew he'd been restored, made whole again.
Severus bent and reverently kissed the head still bowed before him, recommitting himself to the power exchange that offered renewal to them both. Their individual, informed, and as it happened, complementary, choice of paths towards survival and wholeness was Sexual Magic, the consensual exchange of power that involved heart/body/mind/spirit. S/M had followers among the magical and non-magical alike, and Severus had experienced various incarnations, but the most engulfing practice he'd found with Harry. He never ceased to learn through their relationship. Or heal.
Rededicating himself to the task, he immersed his own magical self in Harry's magical channels, navigating the tumult with something less than ease. He wouldn't quite describe Harry's magical state as chaos, but mayhem certainly seemed an adequate characterization. Really, how does one manage to be so irrevocably tangled and stunninglydiffuse at the same time? He was beginning to almost believe the wizarding world's conviction that divinity might be at play. This was certainly a disastrous display of godslike proportions.
More than a modicum of discipline, in the form of restraint and self-control, was in order, although, Severus frequently doubted that Harry would ever manage more than the barest minimum of either. The knots must be coaxed into some kind of compliance, and of course there was the complication that both operations must occur simultaneously without triggering the well of magical energy that had been allowed to run riot for Merlin only knows how long. This appeared to require a bit more attention than Severus had originally anticipated, despite his earlier assertion to the contrary. The intricacies fascinated his legendary intellect, and he swiftly concluded that the focus and perhaps, altered state of consciousness required to restore Harry's magic to a – well, more -- predictable condition required precision and complexity and not least of all, preparation. In essence: they both should eat first. That decision made, he meticulously constructed mental shields within Harry that would permit no residual, displaced energy from his occupation. Only then did he ease his magical sense out of their mental union.
Harry had been floating in a gentle trance during Severus's traversal of his magical channels. The control that man emitted, not to mention his instinctual emotional dampeners, created a sanctuary of sorts, and Harry surrendered to its delights. He felt wrapped, safe, and while not wholly connected to himself, anchored to the commanding presence within him. He was enticed out of his cocoon by the gentle tug of his invited, mental guest. Snape's withdrawl was accompanied by the roar of his magical energy reasserting itself in his mind.
A calming touch stroked his shoulder.
"Harry, I think it's best that we dine before making an attempt to restore your magical control. Unfortunately, I'm not convinced that your magical energies will remain inert." He moved his wand to Harry's temple, "I can suspend your magic for a few hours without incurring damage, if you'd prefer not to take the chance…"
"Please, Severus." And Harry felt the roar subside, he felt lighter, unburdened, but also, more hollow than a moment ago. Hands drifted again to his shoulder, and he was pulled into a hard embrace. Soft kisses touched his hairline, his scar, a cheek.
"Well, my love, you have managed to get yourself into an extraordinary quandary, and that is saying something considering your rare…talent for embroiling yourself in the most improbable predicaments" more kisses, gloveless fingertips now caressing the planes of his face. "Come, let us at least treat ourselves to some sustenance before we tackle the near impossible task of rectifying the disaster your inattention has wrought."
Harry ventured a look up and saw the indulgent smile lurking at the corners of Sev's mouth; another knot of tension unwound itself as he felt himself guided to the kitchen. "I bought fresh pasta, you know."
"Well, I should certainly hope so. The idea. Sullying your exquisite sauce with that dehydrated rubbish." Severus tightened his hold about Harry's shoulders, and they walked together towards the kitchen.
Author's note: So, I'm envisioning slightly more chapters than I'd intended. Severus insisted on exploring the spiritual aspects of sadomasochism, and I don't believe he's finished. It's the mystic in him, I suppose. Anyhoo, the next chapter's dinner and convo, setting up the more intense fourth chapter. Thanks for riding along with me…