Harry woke at the break of dawn to gentle hands caressing his body, teasing lips ghosting over his skin. The drowsy haze of sleep mingled pleasantly with the arousal of his lover's tender touch.

Harry moaned when slippery fingers ran down his spine, teased between his cheeks, the tip of one breaching him, barely, deliciously pushing in.

Harry wriggled back against Snape's finger, wanting it all the way in, willing it to press just there. He moaned and arched his back, begging for more. "Severus, please."

Harry's quiet moan echoed loud in the hush of dawn. He felt Snape draw back and stiffen as if the sound had broken a spell. Harry turned his head to press a tender kiss to Snape's shoulder, flicking his tongue over the velvety skin. Finally, after one long hesitant moment, he felt Snape's leg nudge between his, pushing it up, Snape pushing into Harry, onto Harry until Harry lay face down on the bed moaning in pleasure.

Snape nuzzled his neck, his hands gliding over Harry's body, as if to memorize the feel of the soft hair on his arms, the crisp curls of the wiry hair leading to his cock, of every curve, every scar.

Snape's ragged breath slid like burning silk over Harry's skin when those fingers press against Harry's lips. Tasting himself on Snape's middle-finger, he sucked it in to the second knuckle, running his tongue over the length of it, teasing the tender skin where it dipped in to join the hand. Snape's moan was hot and heavy on his skin and Harry found himself desperately, passionately kissed.

Snape started to move with the rhythm his tongue dictated, slow and deep and oh so good. Harry never would have thought Snape to be capable of such tenderness and caring.

Slow and sensual turned into hot and passionate. Snape's hand joined his and Harry's last thought before he losing consciousness to glorious white hot orgasm was that sex had never felt this right, this perfect before.

He felt the gentle caress of a wordless cleaning charm whisper over his skin. Sleep claimed him again not long after, his head resting in the crock of Snape's shoulder, where it belonged.

When Harry awoke again, he was alone.

He rolled over and yawned, lazily stretching in the Sunday morning sun, basking in the heady buzz glow that a really good fuck will leave behind. He reached over and pulled the other pillow close, burring his face in it.

Snape had left. He wasn't that surprised. It was such a Snape-ish thing to do, too. Sneaking out in the dead of night... For all that the idea of having Snape here with him did have erotic merits, Harry could not, for the life of him, picture Snape having breakfast in bed. He accioed his bathrobe and went into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee. Waiting for the kettle to boil he flipped through the Sunday edition of the Prophet, noting with a grin that Snape had pinched the entertainment section with the crossword.

His stomach grumbled. He really needed to start shopping for groceries at one point. Chucking back his coffee decided to have a quick shower and grab lunch at the Three Bs. He penned a short noticed to Ron to meet him there if he is free and flooed it over. Even years later he still could not get himself to replace Hedwig.

:::

Stepping under the warm spray he let the warm water run over his face, down his chest and felt it glide sensuously over his body. He moaned, exposing his neck to the smooth flow, falling on his face, catching on his lower lip, filling his mouth, reviving in delicious aftershocks the feeling of Snape's fingers, mouth, tongue on his skin.

Harry reached for the soap, the motion of his hand covering his body in sudsy white lather, bubbles following the flow of the water, dripping, mingling dancing in creamy swirls towards the drain. Harry caught some of them in the hollow of his hand, smoothing them down his chest, imagining the silky friction to be Snape's hands, Snape's mouth. Harry moaned, steadying himself on the white tiled wall. He reached past the shower curtain, fumbling for his wand on the little wooden stool next to the bathtub. With a swish and flick and a muttered word the terry-cloth started to slide over the ivory bar, gently lathering his neck and shoulders.

Enjoying the feel of invisible fingers massaging his back, Harry let the memory of last night seduce him into orgasm.

:::

On Monday, Harry entered the staff room carrying a big paper bag with iced buns, whistling a virulently obnoxious tune he had picked up - and strapped to his back, lacking the ability to carry one - this morning from the wireless. Emptying the pastries into a large wooden bowl, he stuffed one in his mouth and stepped over to the counter to pour himself a cup of the ever present, ever mediocre office coffee, adding two spoonful of sugar and, after giving it a haphazard taste, adding three more and some milk for good measure.

Snape had made the coffee, he was pretty certain of that. Snape was... standing in the corner clutching a mug, no, striding past Harry with a curt nod and a 'Morning Potter'. Snape was ...gone.

Harry watched the door slam shut and realized that Snape, once again, had stolen his breakfast. For some reason it made him smile.

:::

At lunch Harry barely saw so much as Snape's back before the older man practically grabbed his tray and fled from the room. It took two casual strolls past Snape's cubicle that had the man suspiciously absent for it to dawn on Harry that Snape was avoiding him.

So it was that Snape found himself pulled into the stationary store room not far from Potter's office and trapped against the door.

"What the hell.."

Harry grinned up at him. "I think that's my question, Severus. I was starting to get the impression that you are avoiding me."

"What ever gave you that impression?" Snape tried to say with unconvincing nonchalance. It would have worked better without the blush creeping onto his cheek.

"Let's start with you being gone Sunday morning." Harry nuzzled his neck. "Another go would have been nice."

"Potter!"

Harry ran his lips teasingly over Snape's, his tongue flickering the tiniest bit between Snape's lips. Snape's breathing became more ragged, his hands like claws on Harry's shoulders.

"If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so."

"If this is a joke Potter..."

Harry kissed him. With lips and teeth and tongue.

"No," he sighed as he pulled Severus's shirt out of his trousers and slid his hands up his chest, "This," he kissed him again, "is a beginning."

-end