A/N: There's two different 'Topless's here because I liked both.
Topless
Fruit on the vine
You got yours
And I got mine
Meat on your bones
They won't know
They won't know!
I love your face
Just get away
I'm on my knees
Fuck you
Fuck me
I'm on my way
To feel you
Dislocate
Safe in your space
I'm open
Wide open!
I love your face
Just get away
I'm on my knees
Fuck you
Fuck me
Like me
Like me
Like me
Like me!
I love your face
Just get away
I'm on my knees
Fuck you
Fuck me
*~*!*~*
Fruit on the vine
You got yours
And I got mine
They both knew why they were here.
Meat on your bones
They won't know
They won't know!
"They won't know," he had said. "They will never know. You are mine," the first night he was down here. The memory felt old—was it truly that long ago?
Every night he found himself down here. Against his will? It could be called that. He never allowed the man to take him willingly, that was true. Pain and blood and sex. Violent and angry, all the time. This seemed to be a game they played. Or perhaps it was a game that played him. Repeatedly.
I love your face
Just get away
The crux of the thing was, he mused, that he had grown accustomed to the man's face. He wanted him and longed for him. But he just wanted him gone.
I'm on my knees
Fuck you
Fuck me
On his knees, his back, his stomach. It didn't mater. Anger and loathing boiled inside of him so strongly, he hated this man.
"Well, well, Potter. It seems you've found your way yet again into my classroom,"
"Fuck you," quiet malice and deepest loathing so very evident.
Later, he was saying quite the opposite.
"Fuck me," he would growl, just loud enough for the opposing body to oblige.
It was so painful, harsh, and cruel; it felt as if Snape drove towards something when they were pressed harshly against the dungeon wall. Like his violent thrusts brought him closer to Harry's brutal demise.
I'm on my way
To feel you
Dislocate
What he loathed the most, beyond the violent rapes and scathing remarks, bruises, cuts, and dirty floor, was Snape himself. So controlled, together, and placid in and of himself. It was true, he lost control when he had Harry against every imaginable surface, but still, in that, he was hidden.
Safe in your space
Whereas Harry, never the good occlumence, was wide open. His vulnerability so evident, his pain and loathing, desire and motivation, so clear for the man to see.
I'm open
Wide open!
While it wasn't consensual in the least, while Snape took him and had him whenever and however he wanted, regardless of Harrys pleas or protests, there was something more. Harry hid what he had left of his unsettling emotion better than he had ever before. It was detected in his eyes as desire, but it ran far deeper than even that could reach.
And he hid it exceptionally well. For who loved their rapist? None but him, right? The freak? Yeah.
I love your face
Just get away
I'm on my knees
Fuck you
Fuck me
"There is nothing akin to the likes of you, Potter. Nothing so vile and wrong," the man had once snarled. Oh, how he was right. Rage at the fact that it was true, rage and loathing for the man himself, welled up inside him as he remembered.
Like me
Like me
Like me
Like me!
Neither of them saw the letter opener until it was in Harry's hand, covered in red. Neither knew quite what had happened until Harry spoke, and shattered the suspended reality.
I love your face
Just get away
Naked, Harry kneeled beside the dying man, clutching his forearm with one hand, the letter holder with the other. He felt the oddest feeling of septicemia take hold, and he wondered if such things happened when this type of situation occurred.
However, he stayed stagnant, unmoving as he watched the man's life drain from his body.
"Fuck you," he whispered vehemently, his anger misplaced and seething.
I'm on my knees
Fuck you
Fuck me
Topless Take Two:
Fruit on the vine
You got yours
And I got mine
Meat on your bones
Harry stood in front of the man's mahogany desk; face conflicted as he gave up midnight to be where he was.
"Please," Harry looked down, voice soft. "I want this,"
"Do you, now? One would think, with all the people to choose from, your preference would differ quite drastically. However, Mister Potter, it is simply out of the question."
They won't know
They won't know!
"They won't know. They won't know!" Harry yelled, almost desperately, but too angry for it to be considered weak.
"Irrelevant."
Harry brought his eyes up slowly to watch the man speak, mesmerized by his strong surge of feelings as he looked on. Hate and longing raged between him so fiercely that he mistook passion for some form of violence at first consideration.
I love your face
Just get away
As Snape came around the side of the desk to stand in front of Harry, close to him, Harry lashed out, pushing his palms against the man's chest and thrusting forwards.
"Just get away!" he screamed at the man, who stood unfazed.
"My, aren't we full of contradictions. I'm afraid Potter, that you have already made your choice," And he had. Really, contradictions aside, his initial choice was what fueled his anger now. And his anger made him so vulnerable.
I'm on my knees
Fuck you
Fuck me
Luckily, vulnerability was not an issue at that precise moment. Snape gave him what he wanted. Pain and pleasure would forever be mixed for him, it seemed, and he left the dungeons with a strong sense of satisfaction and unresolved anger.
"Potter…Back so soon?" Snape's mocking sarcasm dripped venom, causing Harry to mutter quietly, with incensed force, "Fuck you."
Later, he was saying quite the opposite.
"Fuck me," he growled, just loud enough for the opposing body to oblige.
Brought to his knees and still filled with unquenched anger and loathing. Broken wide open yet still hidden rage.
As he continued to make nightly visits to the dungeons, his anger and hate grew by multitudes. He wanted to rip the other man apart, to feel him break as he had broken, to savage his self control and wreak havoc on his own inner darkness.
I'm on my way
To feel you
Dislocate
The man was so damn controlled! Safe in his own self, hidden behind whatever mask he used. Whatever reason he allowed this to continue, was his to know, and his alone.
Safe in your space
Whereas with him, he was open, vulnerable, and easy to read, making him incensed beyond reason and positively insane.
Wasn't it obvious he loved the man? As plain was it was obvious he loathed him as well. Rage was all he could muster at the situation, and rage was all he ever showed. Sex was painful and cruel, but it was far better than nothing at all.
Every time he wanted to run, wanted to push the other away. But he was so very infatuated with him; with the thoughts…he was incapable of doing it.
I'm open
Wide open
I love your face
Just get away
So it would continue.
Rage, pain, loathing, fucking against a cold stone wall was all they would ever be, or do. So he took it, hated it, hated him, and loved it all.
He wanted to be there. Loathed himself. Loathed Snape. And loathed what went on, those cold nights alone.
So fuck it all, his rage so venomous and complete in it entirety. Fuck it all.
I'm on my knees
Fuck you
Fuck me