Harry woke up screaming. He'd lost count of how many times he'd done that just this week. His skin was flushed and covered in a cold sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly as his tired lungs worked to get air into his body.
He tried to remember what the dream had been this time. At first he'd been having another of Those dreams (The ones that featured him and Snape, usually naked and always touching a lot more than necessary). Honestly, he was sure which he feared more, those dreams or his dreams from Voldemort.
He and Snape had just been getting to the naked part when his dream was interrupted by one of the Voldemort induced variety. Then came more muggles screaming, more blood and torture and watching the grotesque shapes the human body formed when in pain.
He rolled onto his side allowing his eyelid, heavy with fatigue, to slide shut but it was no use. Behind he darkness of his eyelids he only saw the faces of the muggles once more, begging and pleading and he felt sick to his stomach.
He sat up wearily, his sweat soaked t-shirt falling back down from where it had bunched up in his sleep, and stretched widely. The small muscles in his arms moved under the skin and his aching bones gave a tired pop.
Pushing his heavy legs over the edge of the bed he stood, feet cold on the thin, worn carpet. A drink, that was what he needed, A cool glass of water and a sit down to think about all of this and push it away from his mind. Reaching for his glasses from the small bedside table he slipped them on and blinked as his vision corrected.
The hallway was deserted- as is to be expected at this time in the morning- and the stairs groaned in protest with every step he took. Finally he reached the basement kitchen and shuffled over to the shabby cupboard to retrieve a glass, a throat clearing made him jump and bang his head on the roof of the cupboard "Ow!"
"Graceful as ever I see Potter" Came a cool and sarcastic drawl. Harry froze in shock; What was Snape doing here? At this time. He stood slowly, making sure to avoid banging his sore head again, and turned to face his previously most hated (now sexiest) teacher.
"What are you doing here?" He voiced the first thought that came to his head, words coming out sounding panicked and he mentally cursed himself. Snape raised one of those black eyebrows and his eyes flashed with annoyance.
"That is hardly any of your business Potter. What brings you down here at this time?" He expects me to answer when he wouldn't answer me? The git! Harry thought. Yes, he might be attracted to Snape for some unfathomable reason, but he was still annoying as hell.
"Thats hardly any of your business Professor" He said, repeating the mans words right back at him and adding ample sarcasm of his own to the word professor. He really was not in the mood to be infuriated by Snape tonight.
The mans face twisted into one of his trademark scowls but when he spoke it was with a hint of smugness "Do you really believe that I need you to tell me why you are here? It is alarmingly obvious. Scary dreams from the Dark Lord Potter?" There was so much sarcasm in his words it dripped from them and polluted the air.
'Merlin he was infuriating, why did he have to know everything? 'thought Harry as he ignored the professor in favor of fetching a rather chipped glass from the cupboard and walking over to the cold silver taps. He filled the glass and took a gratifying sip, already feeling some better. That is until Snape spoke again "You are aware that if you actually tried with your occlumency you would be unburdened by these dreams".
Harry's scrawny fingers clenched tighter on the cool glass 'Fucking occlumency!' he could not believe that even now, the git was going on about occlumency. He turned to face him slowly and said ,voice trembling with barely restrained anger "well perhaps I would be able to try if you taught me properly."
Snape's fingers tightened their grip on the thick wooden table edge, the only sign of his anger as he replied icily "I assure you, my teaching skills are perfectly adequate. It is your general lack of competence that leaves you unable to master such a complex art".
Harry stormed towards him, this was no good, this close he could smell Snape's scent, the scent of spices and earth and something dark and unidentifiable that had to be Snape. He inhaled deeply before he could stop himself and felt himself become slightly aroused. He was breathing hard as he said "You might be a good teacher but not to me! why do you hate me so much? I am not my father!" by the end he was shouting.
Snape stood, black eyes deep pools of emotions , none of which Harry could decipher, as he hissed " My personal opinion on you is of no matter to this conversation topic". Harry could tell that he'd hit too close to the mark with his comment about his father and he wanted to see Snape worked up, wanted to see the usually so calm man flustered. These thoughts ,however ,lead to thoughts of the older man flustered for totally different reasons and Harry felt himself becoming hard.
"Your personal opinion of me matters very much actually!" Harry found himself saying, so swamped in anger and lust he didn't realise what that sounded like until after the words had tumbled from his slightly chapped lips. His emerald eyes widened in horror and he took a step backwards on the cool tiled floor but suddenly there was a strong, elegant hand gripping his neck.
" You always were entirely too obvious about your emotions Potter" Snape whispered, it was deadly but arousing and Harry barely had time to shiver before cool, thin lips were pressed to his and they may have been cool but Merlin were they soft.
The lips were massaging his, coaxing him into responding and finally, his shock wore of and he did. He kissed back and tried to replace what he lacked in experience with enthusiasm. A warm tongue suddenly ran along the seam of his lips and he gasped then suddenly the slick muscle was in his mouth, tasting and probing and dominating, Harry moaned into Snape's mouth.
Harry felt himself being pushed backwards but he allowed it as long as the skilled tongue continued its work. Finally he was pushed into the hard edge of the table and lifted onto it, he spread his lean legs and slid his arms around Snape's thickly robe clad waist, pulling him closer and allowing their erections to touch.
This forced a moan from both and the moans were swallowed into the kiss, which was building heat, becoming a mess of teeth and tongues and breath and more!. Harry was being pushed back onto the table, his back coming into contact with the hard surface rather harshly but he didn't care, Snape's lips were on his neck and he was gasping, gulping in air and trying desperately to breathe.
His efforts to breathe, however, became useless as he felt those able fingers at the waistband of his pajama bottoms, hooking in and pulling them down, exposing his erection to the cool air of the kitchen and he hissed at the temperature change.
He was covered in sweat again but this was anything but cold, it was heat and fire right from the sun. Flames of desire that ripped through his veins and boiled his blood until he couldn't think, couldn't breath, he just needed Snape and Snape's lips an tongue fingers- fingers that were currently wrapping around his leaking length and 'fuck!'
Who knew that being touched by the object of your secret desires would be so different to being touched by yourself. Snape's hand was so much larger and had a firmer, more confident grip as he stroked Harry's aching shaft.
Harry's hips were rising off the table, causing a strange noise as his sweaty skin stuck and unstuck its self to the wood repeatedly. The older man was happily devouring the golden column of Harry's neck, marking it with hard sucks and licks and bites as his other hand set about undoing his trousers and slipping inside to stroke himself. It wouldn't take long, Harry was making such delectable noises.
Both were lost in pleasure, their minds a whirlwind of need and instinct, bodies acting of their own volition as they searched for a mutual relief. Harry didn't think he would ever feel something as perfect as the grip of Snape's hand around his cock and he was leaking precum copiously.
Pleasure was weighing down on his abdomen in thick, coiling knots and he was so close he could taste it, just a little more, a little more; It felt like he was scaling a cliff and over the edge lay freedom, he just needed a little push and then there was impossible heat and suction around him and 'Merlin! it's Snape's mouth' and he was cumming, screaming with pleasure and sobbing "Severus, Severus yes!".
The sweet, hot and bitter taste of the younger mans seed pushed Severus over the edge and he came all over his hand and the table, splattering his dark robes and moaning around Harry's sensitive cock. Harry whimpered as the vibrations traveled along his spent length and Snape pulled off and slid up slightly to press his sweaty forehead into Harry's stomach.
"Fuck" Harry panted. His ribcage expanding and contracting rapidly and his mind reeling, his skin tingling as he basked in the afterglow of the best orgasm of his life so far. Severus lifted his head from its place on Harry's stomach and said with a smirk "Indeed."
Neither knew how long they lay there recovering for time seemed irrelevant but finally Severus stood and cast strong cleaning charms over both of them and the rather filthy table. Harry also sat and his head felt oddly heavy on his shoulders, he found he wanted nothing more than to sleep and he stood, pulling up his pajama trousers.
He shuffled over to the door but then he realised what would happen now? what did he want to happen now? would this happen again and did he want it to? He found that yes, he did, and he turned to Snape, who was closer than he remembered. His questions must have shown on his face for his lips were captured in a soft kiss.
"Tomorrow evening" Was all the rich, dark chocolate voice said before Snape was gone from the kitchen in a billow of robes. Harry smiled to himself. Maybe, if this is what being with Snape was like, then those dreams weren't so bad.
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