Warnings: Voyeurism, suggested non-con
A/N: I actually wrote this last year for Severus' 50th, but for whatever reason never posted it, so I thought I'd revisit it for Severus' 51st (for those who aren't aware, January 9 is his birthday). Cheers to WhiteCotton for the beta all those many months ago. Any remaining issues are my own. Originally posted on Severus Sighs.
~ Minutes to Midnight ~
Being alone in the dormitory had its advantages.
For starters, everyone was still away on Christmas break, not due to return until tomorrow, and so it was quiet. The four weeks of blessed solitude always afforded Harry many opportunities for adventure and to try new things, for which he was grateful. Now that it was his last night alone, he wasn't going to waste it.
With his fellow Gryffindors gone, it was easy to masturbate – any time and in any way that suited him. No need to draw the curtains around the bed and cast silencing charms. No need to hide the toys he had procured, thanks to that catalog Fred and George had been keen to lend him. No need to continue muffling his pleasure for fear that, despite setting a charm, it would one day fail – and at the most inopportune moment.
After all, Harry had found he didn't like being quiet.
Lying back on his bed, a content smile gracing his lips, he regarded the underside of his bed's canopy with unfocused eyes. Trailing the fingers of his right hand slowly along his bare chest, he tweaked his nipples between his fingers, pinching hard, and then smoothed his palm over them to soothe the raised nubs.
As his eyes lidded, he imagined the fingers touching him were not his own; they were long and pale instead, the tips stained and lightly calloused. He knew these hands well, for they often invaded his fantasies. He could almost see their swift and graceful movement over him, like the virtuoso ready to tune his instrument.
Arching into the phantom lover, Harry moved his hand down over his abdomen, feeling his skin tensing and shivering with anticipation. Sliding further, he slipped under the waistband of his pajama bottoms and rubbed along the top of his cock. A small sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes.
When he withdrew his hand to adjust the pillow under his head, the fabric of his pants began to tent slightly, silhouetting his growing arousal.
Rubbing his cock through the fabric of his pajamas, he rolled his hips to press up into his hand. He liked the way the textured fabric felt as it pulled across his glans, the cotton soft and sensual. Sucking his lower lip into his mouth, he bit lightly with his teeth as he palmed his shaft through the pants.
He remembered how the rich baritones of that voice had electrified his every sense, often sparking a bodily interest most inconvenient for the classroom. How the words that voice carried seemed to melt into indefinable sounds, or how the cadence lulled his mind adrift so far that he served many a detention for his lack of focus on academic pursuits.
Sliding his pajama bottoms off, he kicked them aside. As he looked at his cock, not quiet fully erect and lying heavy against his thigh, he pressed an open palm along the length of the shaft. Curling his fingers tightly around it, he thought of thin lips and crooked teeth and wet heat.
He felt the rush of arousal ripple down his body then, the tingling sensation spreading a light layer of gooseflesh across his arms and legs. There was always something so primal about touching himself, pleasuring himself. But now it was time to feel more.
Hastily wetting two fingers in his mouth, he pulled his knees back to spread his legs. Pressing one slicked finger in, he teased open the tight ring of muscle. Once inside, he hooked his finger and grazed his prostrate.
"Uhhh," he moaned into the silence, his toes curling into the sheets. The only other sounds in the room were the pull of his right hand on his cock, lubricated as it was by a quick lave of his tongue, and the rhythmic pants of his breath as he exhaled through his nose.
Harry thrust his finger in and out of his arse a few times in quick succession and then pressed in a second one. Spreading them, scissoring the opening, he threw his head back against the pillow. With his eyes pinched shut and his mouth lax, he rocked his hips firmly between his fist and his two fingers, the alternating sensations pulling low noises from his throat.
He began to wonder how the man's tongue would feel sliding into him, wet and insistent, probing his depths with tantalizing precision. Mewling, Harry ground his hips against the sheets, darting his tongue out to lick his lips before resuming an uneven panting.
He knew it wasn't going to take long to reach his orgasm now. As though he was a willing captive in some feverish race, he stroked his cock faster, matching the pace with his fingers until his back arched and he cried out in a loud groan.
Come spurted out all over his abdomen, his chest heaving with deep breaths, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat.
Too busy floating in his afterglow, Harry didn't notice when a tall figure, clad in layers of black robes, emerged from the shadows. The scant moonlight in the dormitory illuminated only half of his face, but it hardly mattered, for once his voice rang into the silence – cutting and stern – his identity was unmistakable.
Jolted out of his post-orgasmic stupor with Quidditch-born reflexes, Harry instinctively pulled the sheets up around him. Blinking into the darkened room, he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
"Professor Snape? What... why are you... what are you doing in my dormitory?"
"I don't believe that is your concern."
"But..." Harry gasped, trying to regain his breathing. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough. Detention! Now!" Snape barked, pointing to the door.
In their hasty retreat – one in which he was not allowed to grab any clothing or even a sheet from the bed – Harry also failed to notice the none-too-subtle bulge in the front of Snape's robes.
As soon as they reached the dungeons, Harry was pushed into Snape's office, the door slamming behind them. Before he could figure out what was happening, Snape grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall, Harry's body and arms pinned under the wool robes of his professor's heated body.
Harry tried to fight back, but it was no use: Snape was much taller and stronger. He dared a look into the black eyes above him and gasped to find they were blazing down at him. Not one to wait for an invitation, Snape lurched forward and kissed Harry roughly, forcing his tongue into Harry's surprised mouth, instantly stifling any objections.
Reaching down, Snape grabbed Harry's naked arse and jerked him forwards so he could rub the toned, lithe body against his erection. Harry's breathing hitched, knowing what was coming next – and knowing he would also be powerless to stop it.
Within moments, Harry was down on the floor on his hands and knees, his legs spread and Snape's hands slowly tracing the curve of his arse. Snape hummed appreciatively, the noise low in the back of his throat.
Unzipping his trousers, Snape stroked his cock a few times, coating it with lubricant, and then without much warning, grabbed Harry's hips and plunged inside. He went about halfway in at first, pausing for only a moment before pulling out, and then buried himself to the hilt in one long stroke.
Harry inhaled sharply with a soft cry, but as Snape started to pound into him, it quickly dissolved into a guttural growl. Harry pushed his hips back against Snape and they fucked, roughly, hotly, both panting from the exertion.
Digging his fingernails firmly into Harry's hips, Snape pulled him forcibly on and off his cock, their skin slapping together, until he felt the heat pooling in his groin. Harry was moaning and squirming by now, but Snape ignored it, bent as he was on only satisfying his own pleasure.
When he came, he let an uncharacteristically loud groan escape his lips, and then fell forward on top of Harry, spent and sweaty.
When the afterglow finally gave way to the first shreds of coherency, Severus rolled onto his side to face Harry and began peppering soft kisses around his face. "Did I hurt you?"
Harry's mouth spread into a debauched sort of smile as he lay on his back. He licked his lips. "A bit, but it was worth it. I'll let you make it up to me."
"You do not need to indulge me with these antics, you know."
Harry lifted his head, a pout fashioned on his lips. "But it's your birthday!"
"Yes, so you've mentioned," Severus deadpanned.
Harry grinned. "I thought you'd enjoy playing the pervy old professor who finally gets to fuck his delectable, yet naughty, student."
"Mmm…" Severus reflected. "Indeed. About time I taught that brat a lesson."
Matching Severus grin for grin, Harry pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. Leaning over, he pressed deep, trenchant kisses onto parted lips. "What about your delectable, yet naughty, husband then?"
"What of him? Apparently he learned nothing from his detention tonight."
"Seems not," Harry agreed, rutting his cock against Severus' to punctuate his point.
Severus grabbed Harry's hips, stilling his frottage. "However, I think I quite like him wanton and needy. Perhaps I will tie him to the bed and watch him squirm for awhile. You did say it was my birthday, after all."
Harry moaned and tried to move his hips against Severus' hold. "Want you now," he whimpered. His cock was throbbing and in need of release again, glistening with pre-come.
Severus watched with amusement as Harry strained to make purchase with his pale, thin form. He smirked then, his eyes glinting with renewed hunger.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. Detention again tomorrow, I should think. Perhaps even for the foreseeable future."
"Tomorrow!" Harry whined. "What about..." He licked his lips desperately, once again pushing his hips forward.
"Tonight, yes. About that..." Severus paused mid-thought to watch Harry's mouth drop open, hopelessly panting. "Tonight I had planned to suck you and taste you." He trailed a lone finger all the way down Harry's chest as he spoke. Then he swiped it through the slippery, white drops on the tip of Harry's cock and brought it to his mouth, flicking his tongue out to sample it suggestively. "It is the least I can do, I suppose, for your thoughtful birthday gift."
Harry groaned. "Merlin, you are one sexy bastard. With an even sexier tongue."
Severus chuckled dangerously, the sound of which always went straight to Harry's groin.
"You don't know the half of it," he purred. "Now roll over."
Harry didn't think he could ever remember moving so fast in his life. Oh yes, he thought, once he was flat on the floor, his hips pushed up and wiggling in invitation, he loved the quiet peace of the holidays.