'Boy,' he says, making a fist in his boy's hair, loving the softness of it against his palm, loving the way it makes the boy gasp and twist under him, 'boy, be my boy, be my good boy.'
'Yes,' says the boy, 'yes, sir.' He arches his body up against sir's and holds perfectly, gracefully, still, like a dancer, balancing on the edge of something that will happen next, something that is not in his control. His eyes are dark and wide and waiting, looking up, so that the two of them are connected by the weight of sir's body pinning the boy down, by the head of his cock butting the soft skin on the boy's stomach, but most of all by this waiting gaze.
The moment stretches and holds.
Harry dips his head down to kiss Snape's lips, making it a snatched, greedy kiss, pulling away again as the tip of Snape's tongue slips into his mouth, then dipping back for little quick kisses, half-bites, until Snape is panting and pushing up hard against him. He shifts his weight, disentangling his right hand from Snape's hair and trailing it down his chest, his hips, to wrap it round his cock.
'Oh,' says Snape. Harry grins at him, fierce, showing his teeth, and lets his fingertips draw patterns, rubbing and stroking, on the smooth, warm surface of Snape's thick cock, on the soft, loose skin and the prickly hair of his balls, before closing his fingers tight and strong around the shaft and beginning to jerk him off.
'Good boy,' he is saying, all the time. 'Good boy, that's right, you're so hard for me, let me touch you, let me help you, you feel so good...'
It's a secret, how much Snape likes this, how much he needs it. He puts his hands up above his head, holding onto the bars at the head of the bed, exposing the vulnerable arches of his throat, his armpits, his belly. He shuts his eyes. His face is as empty and pure as a sleeping child's, and all his secrets are in Harry's hands, and Harry could do anything, anything, anything.
Harry squeezes Snape's cock, half-gently, just below the head, and rolls off him. He leans over to reach the box on the bedside table, balancing on one knee and one hand, and collects a condom and a little bottle of lubricant from the box. He moves Snape's legs, bending them, spreading them out, and kneels between them. He wraps his cock and lubes it, then puts his hands on Snape's knees and pushes them up against his chest, rocking him back on the curve of his spine. There is a tangle of black hair around Snape's arsehole, then a pucker of dark skin, then – as Harry spreads Snape with slippery fingers – the neat, pink centre.
'Please,' says Snape, as Harry coaxes one finger in, then two, and his cock twitches as Harry finds the right spot to rub, and rubs it.
Then he takes his fingers out, and pulls Snape down the bed, and shuffles forward until the tip of his cock is kissing the pink dot of Snape's arse.
Then he stops.
'Ask me for it,' he says.
Snape opens his eyes, and his gaze pins Harry.
'Fuck me,' he says. That rusty voice. 'Make me your boy. Please. Fuck me. Sir.'
Harry gasps and trembles and begins to push the head of his cock through the tight ring of muscle, and wants to push harder, and stops himself. He is strong enough to stop himself. He is strong enough to take good care of his boy.
Nothing has ever felt as clean as this.
At last he is deep inside Snape, held tight and warm inside and against him. He arranges his weight carefully on knees and elbows and strokes Snape's face.
'Is it all right?' he whispers, and Snape nods.
'I love you,' says Harry, beginning to move, rocking back and forth in tiny movements, watching Snape. 'I love you, my boy.'
Snape bites his lip and struggles and pushes against Harry, desperate, and finally says: 'Harder. Oh, please, sir, harder.'
And Harry lets go, lets himself fall into the place he only knows from fucking Snape, in control but out of control at the same time, slamming into Snape as hard as he can, over and over again. And Snape takes it: he takes it from Harry, he catches it, he catches the rhythm, so that there is no violence in it, except the violence of their need, of their love. And power pours through Harry, as he takes Snape's hand and puts it on his cock, as he whispers 'Do it for me, boy, come for me, boy'; power pours through him and fountains out in Snape's orgasm, and then in his own, as he jolts and bucks in Snape's pleasure.
It's a secret, how much Harry likes this, how much he needs it.
Boy by Dolores Crane
Story Notes:
Short PWP. Some role-playing. No BDSM. No age indicators in-story but Harry is certainly in his late teens (this is probably set in the same universe as the novel I'm working on, 'In Loco Parentis', which departs from canon after Order of the Phoenix). No spoilers.
Also, this is where I apologize profusely for never responding to feedback in the past. I promise to do so in future.
Also, this is where I apologize profusely for never responding to feedback in the past. I promise to do so in future.
