Title: The Ties that Bind
Author: kira-nerys
Pairing: SS/HP
Rating: NC17. Some bondage fun and really only one long, sloppy PWP J
Disclaimer: Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling. I only borrow them for delicious fun and return them relatively unscathed. No infringement is intended and I make no money out of this.
Feedback: Muchly appreciated at kardasi at kardasi.com
Webpage: www.kardasi.com
Summary: Harry gives Severus what he really, really wants.
Challenge scenario – Second Wave Original Scenario #58: This is part of the Snape Fuh-Q-Fest, second wave, and responds to one of my own challenges “Severus Snape has a secret fantasy of being tied up by his lover. One day, he gets his wish.”
A/N: Bondage, BDSM and everything in between is not my forte, so this is an experiment. Please allow me some leeway in this matter. I’m just writing it the way I’d like it. It’s also my very first Potter-slash, so any comments on characterization – what there is of it – are very welcome. Potter in my story has just finished his seventh year at Hogwarts. That would make him what? Eighteen? Old enough in my country, and in England as well if I’m not mistaken.
Dedicated to: Snaples for being such a lovely, naughty person! I’m so grateful for your encouraging words and help throughout the making of this raunchy little piece of fiction.
Thanks to: Titti and Predatrix for betareading, and proofing.
Archiving: The Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest Archive and archives and lists of your choice

THE TIES THAT BIND
By kira-nerys

I walk through the halls after the lesson is over. The final lesson. I can’t believe the school year is ending. It’s hard to understand that this is the last day of my time as a student at Hogwarts, and I’m brimming with excitement – but having gone through school isn’t what my excitement is all about. At least, that’s only a small part of it. My heart thuds in my chest as the chant continues.

I am old enough, old enough, old enough.

Finally.

Even better, Severus Snape is no longer my Potions professor.

“Are you really going to do it?” Hermione whispers theatrically as we leave Professor McGonagall behind us.

Hermione and Ron decided I was completely insane when I told them what I was about to do, but they accepted it, after a few days of trying to talk me out of it. Hermione, obviously, still has problems accepting my plans. I thought I had finally convinced them that it’s my life, this – he – is what I want, and I will do what I want. I think I’ve earned it.

“All right”, she says finally. “But you know where to find us if you...”

I just give her a evil look, and she turns quiet. I’ve seen the way he looks at me, and so have they. Which is probably why she gives up so easily this time.

I’ve seen his face laced with guilt and the slow, barely-restrained fire in his intense, black eyes. I know he wants me, but he’s done nothing about it. Because I was too young, because I was his student. I think that’s why he’s been treating me the way he has. Not because he hates me, but to convince himself that he does. He had almost convinced me too, but then – about three weeks ago, I saw the look on his face as I turned around to get something I’d forgotten in the Potions classroom. He looked at me with such naked ... hunger. That’s when my idea was born, and that’s when I started planning and preparing. Now... before the evening comes, I am going to be his lover.

I shiver at the thought and my step quickens as I walk toward the dungeons. The day’s finally here. I’m all energy and longing and ... a considerable amount of fear fills me. I’ve been working hard at this, and finally the set-up is complete. All I need now is the guest of honour. It hasn’t been easy to keep my plans and preparations from everyone but Ron and Hermione. I’m still not sure how I’ve managed to complete this without Snape noticing. He is after all a powerful wizard, and the dungeon is his turf. But I’ve heard it so many times: “You have the power, Harry Potter.” I suppose my being able to hide my plans from him is one of the many clues that proves it.

My body is brimming with anticipation as I sneak into the shadows outside Snape’s quarters. It’s dark and it’s damp, but I barely notice while I wait for him. He should be here, very soon, and the impatience I feel is almost unbearable. I press myself up against the stone wall, trying to keep my nerves and my breathing under control. I’ve waited so long for this, and now that the moment is here, I can barely keep myself together.

When I hear his soft footfalls as he moves down the stairs, I tense and lift my wand just in case.... I can’t let him see me. I’m going to give him everything he’s ever dreamed of, all the excitement he could ever wish for, but he mustn’t know that it’s me. Not yet.

As I lay my eyes on him, still hidden in the shadows, he pauses on the steps, suspicious and alert. I’m sure he has sensed my presence, but it’s too late. I wave my wand and utter the words necessary to blindfold him.

“What the...!”

He grunts and falls to his knees, grasping for the magic cloth covering his eyes.

“Mobile Severus!” I whisper, feeling guilt rush over me at once. This spell is a little too close to one of the Unforgivable Curses to make me feel completely at ease. Have I made the right choice? What if I’ve misunderstood?

I see Profess.... Severus....  freeze the moment before the second spell takes hold.

“Follow me,” I say, guilt holding me firmly, but it’s too late now. I’ve set things in motion and I can’t go back. I’m sure he doesn’t recognize my voice. It isn’t my own. Magic has seen to that, but it doesn’t matter. If he chooses to hate me for using these spells on him – because in the end he’ll know who cast them – all will be lost. I know it’s more than want for me, more than just hormones, and if this succeeds, I’ll have it all, I’m sure.

Luckily my spells are strong enough to force him to walk with me, but I’m not using the wand to usher him forward. I wrap my fingers around his arm and I can feel the tension in the muscles beneath his black robe. The first touch between us makes me shiver and I try hard to keep him from noticing it. He follows me silently. And I suspect – or is it just hope? – that he wouldn’t have been so easily captured by my trickery if he hadn’t on some level recognized me already. Severus Snape can break the mobile charm. I have seen him do it. Perhaps he knows what I’m planning to do to him? Did he feel my intrusion when I was searching for his hidden desires? It would be odd if he hadn’t felt something.

This is the part I don’t feel entirely comfortable with. But it’s what he wants. When I searched for his deepest cravings, the spells told me that he doesn’t want to know for certain who I am. He might suspect already, but he won’t truly know for a while, because the unfamiliarity of the unknown is a big part of what excites him, and I do want to excite him. I bite back my own arousal as I move forward, entering the place I have set up so carefully.

When we step inside the dungeon I draw a deep breath. The candles I lit earlier are sending flickering light throughout the room, and shadows chase each other around the uneven, cave-like walls. In the centre are the wooden pillars, and the shackles attached to them, that I have put there, just for him. The thought of what I’m going to do makes me shiver, and I can see the excitement in him, tempered but there. I can see the attraction of not knowing. At the same time I’m humbled by the fact that he trusts me even though he doesn’t know that I’m the one who’s with him. The desire is plainly visible to me, in the soft curve of his mouth – such a tempting mouth – and the minute trembling of his hands. I can see it because I’m looking for it. I am already painfully aroused, and he doesn’t even truly know why he is here.

The pillars have been prepared and I wave my wand, forcing him to take his place and then, as he stands there, I utter my next spell.

“Conjungo vinculum!” Chains slither like snakes out of the wood, the shackles creeping around his wrists and ankles, locking as they pull his arms and legs wide open to pleasure. He’s caught and helpless. In my control.

He shivers as the spell leaves my lips. He likes this, I can see it, because he gasps as he hears my words and feels the chains. By then, I know the game has begun. He’s tied now, to this place I’ve created just for him. It’s a magical place, but he could break free if he wants to.

Just to make sure that he knows it, I tell him.

“Severus,” I say; his first name comes out of my mouth, hoarse and unfamiliar even to my own ears. I doubt it is only the magic. My voice didn’t sound like this when I cast the spell to alter it. It’s laden with desire, that’s what makes it sound the way it does.

“Yes,” he hisses.

“There is a word for you to use,” I point out. “A safe-word, and you can get out of this whenever you want.”

He shivers again, and the truth finally dawns on him and settles. He relaxes somewhat. I don’t think I had realized how tense he’d been before now.

“What is it?” he demands, his voice a low purr, and I shiver at the sound of it.

How can he sound so threatening, when he’s the one in shackles, tied up and helpless? The whole idea of it makes me even harder, but I can’t keep the safe-word from him. I have to give him that way out. 

“Dragon, Severus. Say the word ‘dragon’ and I will let you go.”

I wait for a moment, half expecting him to use it immediately, but he doesn’t say anything, he just keeps silent and then after a moment he speaks:

“Well? You are not just going to leave me here, are you?” he snaps.

His voice reveals only the slightest tremble, but it nearly undoes me. He has given his permission for me to do this to him. He wants this – and me – as much as I want him. I think he knows who I am. I hope he does know, for the thought of him letting anyone else do what I’m about to do claws like a trapped animal in my chest.

“No, I’m not,” I say and move closer. I put the wand away. I won’t be needing it for a while.

I let my gaze travel over him as he stands spread and tied up like a feast for me to devour. He’s all dressed in black, as he always is, his beautiful eyes hidden by the magical cloth. Part of me wants to remove it. Another part of me wants to leave it right where it is, and that’s the part of me that wins – for now at least, because I know he wants it. I shiver a little, deciding that these first few moments will be for me, and me alone. I don’t care if my tentative first touches give him pleasure or not. I just want to learn him, learn his face and his body with my hands.

My hands tremble as I reach for his face. I’ve grown taller this last year, and my eyes are nearly level with his. It feels good. He can no longer tower over me, and I suspect that my physical strength closely matches his now, and still the thought of touching him is intimidating for a moment. I hope I can go through with this. I want to give it to him, because he craves it so badly and the thought of it gives me a thrill – more than a thrill, to be truthful. It gives me a soul-deep pleasure that I didn’t realize it would. He’s in my hands, my trembling hands for sure, but still ...

My fingertips move over his face in a feather-light touch. His features are so forbidding and yet a strange vulnerability looms around the corners of his mouth. I’ve never noticed that about him before, but then again, I’ve never had the chance to look at him so closely, so undisturbed before. I take the time to learn all the shadows of his face, the smooth planes and the luscious lips. I want to kiss them, but don’t.

He lets out a soft moan as my thumb moves over the fullness of his lower lip. I repeat the action and his mouth opens slightly, as though wanting to draw my thumb into it, to taste me. I smile. None of that. Not yet.

“No,” I mutter, and am amazed at the strength the word holds. There’s no denying that tone. He obeys by closing his luscious mouth, and my self-confidence grows.

I continue my quest across his face, over the strong chin, and the prominent nose. He recoils a little; as though the touch of my fingertips tickles, but I move my other hand to the back of his head, twining my fingers into the long, black hair. It feels silkier to the touch than I’d expected, soft – perhaps the softest part of him. I will find out in the course of this night. I hold his head still as I allow my other hand to move over his face. Again, I feel impatient at the blindfold, and decide that the situation calls for another spell.

“Obscuro,” I whisper, and pull away the blindfold.

I want to see his eyes, want to see them blacken further as his desire grows, and I want to see all of his face, unobstructed by anything. I want to see his every reaction to my touches. The instant the cloth disappears, he blinks and fear flitters across his features. He understands that I have blinded him. I can see it in the tightening of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes. Even though he knows the spells as well as I do, and that this is only temporary, it must be disconcerting, and I whisper with my mouth so close to his lips, he must feel my body heat:

“Dragon, Severus. Dragon,” I remind him. Then I wait a moment, and he relaxes.

I move to the side, and my lips nearly touch his ear, and I flick my tongue out for just a swift taste of him before I pull back. A tremble travels through his body and he tilts his head to the side, again giving me permission, in fact begging me silently for more of my touch. I continue my exploration of his face, happy that I am doing this right. I must be, for he trusts me.

I ‘m getting a taste for touching him, and I move closer, pressing my body to his, and I hear the shackles clink as he struggles to get closer to me. He doesn’t say anything, or make any more noise. It bothers me; I want to hear his thick, velvety voice express his desire. I’ve heard him throw scathing remarks at me often enough. Now I want to hear something that is pleasurable, something that caresses my ears. But he won’t indulge.

I move my hand over his shoulders to push the cloak aside. It’s annoying the way it won’t fall to the floor, as it catches on his arms. I think for a while. Should I use the wand, or should I make something more fun out of it? I hesitate for a moment, but decide that disrobing him can wait a little while longer. So, instead, I move my hands over his torso, pressing my palms against the taut muscles I can feel under his clothes. He leans his head back, his breathing coming slightly faster now, as though my touch is electrifying, even through the fabric, but he still doesn’t make any noise. I suppose his age has its benefits, and mastering tight control over himself is one of them. His eyes are blank, as if they cannot focus, but still there is a defiant look in them, and I know he has issued the challenge. I will have to work hard to hear him moan and beg for my touch. It excites me.

As my hands move further down his body, over his stomach, and down to his crotch, I can feel the heat of his cock through his pants. He is so hard already. I brush the bulge only lightly before moving on. His breath hitches and I grin to myself. I know where to go when I finally can’t stand his stern silence any longer.

For now, I am content with his silence, but I crave the warmth of his skin seeping through the clothes, inflaming me, even more exciting than his bare flesh. It feels so good to finally touch him, something I’ve dreamed about more often than I can count. My hands on his body alone are a thrill like nothing else I’ve experienced. I’ve had sex before, and it isn’t my first time with a ... well, it is my first time with a man. The others were boys, like I am ... was.

I move closer, inhaling his scent. His hair smells of pine-trees and I draw the scent of him deep into my lungs. He smells good – a sweet smell of clean soap, and underneath it is the musky scent of his arousal, growing stronger at my touch. When I move my hands downward, I enjoy the feel of the rope-like muscles in his thighs, the slenderness of his calves. As I reach his ankles, I crouch at his feet, untying his shoes, taking them off along with the black socks.

I smile when the first part of his body is revealed. He’s got nice feet; his toes are long, the instep is beautifully arched and the skin so pale it’s almost luminescent. I lift his foot and bend my head to kiss the flawless skin. Even here, he smells clean and his skin is a little cool to the touch, and I kiss him some more, licking the sole of his foot.

“Damn you,” he groans.

His voice is soft, velvety, and I shiver. Finally. I swear he could talk me into coming. Does he even know that? Does he realize what his voice can do to me?

My cock swells at the mere thought of it, and I can feel droplets of come leak out of me. I am hard, have been hard for what feels like forever. It’s even a little bit painful, but it’s a good pain, one I don’t want to alleviate just yet. I press the palm of my hand against my cock, ruthlessly, to slow my arousal just a little. It works, for now.

I move on to his other foot, and give it the same treatment as the first. No moan this time, no words, but a soft gasp instead as my tongue swirls across his soft skin. He tastes a little salty and I look up at him, watching his head lean backwards, his pale throat exposed in a gesture of abandon. He’s biting his lip now, to keep the moans from spilling from his mouth. It’s good to see him struggle. He will have to struggle hard tonight to keep his rapturous sounds within. 

I let go of his foot, and Severus lets out a small, disappointed sigh, but I don’t care. I have more things that I want to do to him. I rest my hands lightly at both of his ankles, still crouching on the stone floor. With a wicked smile on my lips I rise and move my hands upwards again, digging my nails into his flesh, on the insides of his thighs. He spreads his legs slightly, as much as the chains around his ankles will allow, and a small thrust of his hips is the only thing hinting at what he wants me to do. I can almost feel the sensation of his cock sliding between my lips, over my tongue at the thought.

As I rise, I slow down the caress and rest my hands on his thighs, rubbing my thumbs in little circles, only inches away from the swell of his cock. The robe really is in the way for what I intend to do now, so I make up my mind finally, rise to my feet and fetch the knife. The wand seems so ... ordinary and fairly dull, and although I know he can’t see what I’m doing, he will hear the slide of the knife under the fabric, he will....

... the knife cuts through and the cloth snaps loose, falling to the floor in a midnight pile around his feet. Underneath, he is wearing a black, buttoned shirt with high collar, black trousers, snug around his thighs and his swollen crotch. I wonder about Severus’ arse, and move around slowly to take a good look at him.

His arms are tense, and the muscles taut beneath the shirt, his fingers clench and release, and I can see his knuckles whiten as he turns his hands into fists. I wonder if his nails are digging into his palms? Is he struggling not to beg me to continue? A surge of power shoots through me and I smile again. He is beautiful; his arse tight and rounded. I want to touch him, and decide that it’s exactly what I’ll do. He’ll enjoy it, I’m sure.

He groans as my hands grasp the tight globes and I squeeze him, gently at first, then harder, and I can feel him clench and unclench under my touch. Muscular. Tense. So aroused. He wants this so much, and I long to feel his body, the naked skin under my fingertips, but I have decided not to rush. I have heard him scold me often enough over my youthful impatience. I’m pretty sure he’d never expected us to be like this, and this time, he’s the one who’s going to have to beg me to move faster. I caress his arse in slow circles, kneading him, and the circles get wider and wider until my thumbs dip between his legs and brush against his balls from the back. He gasps louder this time, and I do it again. The groan that slips out of him is my reward. I want more – more of his voice, and I’m going to have it. Now.

“Does it feel good?” I ask.

There’s no answer and I stop. I don’t take my hands away from him, but I stay silent, waiting. He’ll have to let me know he enjoys it. The challenge he gave me is returned. I’m in control. He will do as I say or I will stop this – if I can. But he doesn’t know what that would cost me; he doesn’t know how hard it would be for me to give this up.

“Yes,” comes the strangled word. His voice is harsh and raspy now, as though he’s forcing himself to use it.

“Yes, what?” I ask.

“It feels good.” The words slip out of him in a low growl. It sounds as though he’s cursing, rather than telling me he wants more of my touch. He doesn’t like being forced to acknowledge that he’s in my hands, and yet, this is exactly what he wants. I know it; he knows it, but he won’t admit it.

“Do you want me to go on?”

He breathes in deeply and then answers. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

He’s silent for a while and I withdraw my hands from his body. Apparently that’s enough. “Please.” I can almost hear the curse he suppresses. “Please, touch me.”

Despite the reluctance, I can feel his voice licking my body like flames. Does he know what it does to me, I wonder again. Does he have an inkling of how much I just want to strip him, untie him and fuck him senseless? Does he know how I have to struggle to give him what he wants, to keep him tied up like this and control every second? He probably does, and he probably doesn’t.

“Please,” he repeats when I don’t move. This time his voice is like a whisper, and I can hear the first sliver of desperation. My pause wasn’t intentional but it gives me a hint that I should do it again. I should withhold my touch and torture him.

I snap out of my own lustful thoughts, and move closer.

“Where do you want me to touch you, Severus?” I ask, and lean over his shoulder. Will he tell me? Will he be blunt? I wait.

“Anywhere, just ... touch me.”

I move around to his front and walk so close to him that the touch of my body is like a whisper against his. It makes both of us shiver with want. I can see his hands move again, as though he wants to break the shackles, grab hold of me and kiss me.

Kiss me. The words make my brain go nearly blank. Does my closeness affect him even nearly as much as his does me?

“Kiss me,” he says, as though he just read my mind.

Yes.

So, I breathe on his face, alerting him that I am much closer now. His tongue darts out, licking his lips as though they have suddenly gone very dry. I know the feeling, and my mouth floods with saliva, the way it does when you are starving and the smell of delicious food wafts by. Oh, I want to taste him, taste his lips and his tongue. So I do.

Our first kiss. Hopefully not our last.

Tied, immovable, his mouth is the only thing that he can use to persuade me to get me closer, and he uses it well. He opens under my lips like a flower, drawing me in, pulling me toward him. His tongue swirls around mine the second I thrust inside his mouth, he sucks at me, eagerly, like he’s starved and this time our moans mingle. I can’t help it. The touch of his lips, his tongue, the taste of him is driving me insane. Little tingles of electricity travel between us, makes my skin sizzle with want. My arms sneak around his body and we’re lost in the haze of desire for long moments. Lips are tasting, kissing, deep and shallow alternating. With effort I pull back, and press my lips against his quickly, lightly just to tease over and over again, to make my lips tingle with the sensation of his against mine, to crank the need up in both of us. I succeed well, as another groan is ripped out of him and he begs me.

“Please... Ha.... Please.”

Oh, he knows. I tremble with the knowledge. He knows it’s me. I can see that the slip of his tongue bothers him, but I reach out and touch his cheek in a soothing gesture. I mentally lift the spell on my voice.

“It’s all right, Severus,” I whisper.

I don’t lift the Obscura though, I don’t want him to see me just yet. I can see he still longs for more of my kisses but I pull away, and I suspect he believes it’s a punishment for nearly saying my name. It isn’t, I just want to taste more of him – and I will. I will.

I walk away for a second or two, pulling a huge, red pillow from the chair at the entrance. I throw it on the floor in front of his feet. I intend to taste him well, and I won’t be hurried. I might as well make myself comfortable while I do.

He holds his breath, expectantly, and I wonder if he suspects what I’m about to do. I wait for a moment, and watch him fidget a little bit, but he can’t move much because of the shackles, and I want this so badly myself I can’t torment him any longer.

I step in front of him, give him a long, hard kiss, while I grasp his cock through his pants one last time before I really get busy.

“Yesss,” he hisses. “Oh, yes.”

“You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he agrees, much more readily now. He’s slipping, or maybe he’s just weakening?

I slide to my knees in front of him, the cushion soft under me, smile at the clinking sound as I unclasp his belt, and slide it out of its hoops. I deliberately brush against his hard cock with my wrists. I can feel the blood throbbing through his veins as quickly as my own.

“Oh, you want this,” I say, this time it’s not a question. “So much.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve wanted this for a very long time.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve wanted me for a very long time.” I hold my breath.

...

“Haven’t you?” I demand. I want to hear him say it. I want to know that he’s wanted me for as long as I’ve wanted him. I need to hear it.

“Yes,” he groans, and the voice is strained as though he’s holding back guilt or maybe even tears. “Yes, I’ve wanted you for so very long, Harry Potter.” The ragged, black hair falls into his face as he lowers his head in what can only be shame.

I swallow hard at that, and close my eyes for a couple of seconds. His admission makes my body tingle as though he has touched me. It takes away the hurt of his scathing words through seven years at Hogwarts.

The strangled voice continues, begging.

“Now, touch me, or you will surely kill me.”

I hold off for a moment longer. I’m sure I want it as much as he does, but I know he craves the torment, the punishment of having to beg. So I wait, but not for long.

“Please,” he whispers. “Potter, please do it.” His voice is shaking now, and so are his legs, as though keeping himself upright is too much effort. I can see his cock, pressing hard against the zipper of his trousers. The button is open, and all I have to do is pull the zipper down, to take him in my hand, and wrap my mouth around him, but I don’t. I don’t like him calling me Potter, and I just sit there, with my hands on his thighs in a firm grip, perfectly still, waiting for him to get it right.

“Please,” he repeats. “I beg of you.”

“What do you want me to do, Snape?” I emphasize the name to give him just the slightest hint. I’m trembling, too, begging inside my mind that he’s going to get it, right away. I don’t think I can keep myself away from him much longer. Without thinking, I wet my lips, lick them to make sure they will slide easily over the tautness of his skin. I want to suck him so badly I can almost taste the salty tang of his semen on my tongue.

And he does get the hint immediately. Thank the lord!

“Harry,” he whispers brokenly. “Please ... suck me.”

I hold back the sigh of relief that almost escapes me. I don’t want to let him know how much I crave this. Pulling down the zipper, I deliberately brush my fingertips along his length. I smile as I realize that the Potions master prefers to forgo underwear. Feeling my briefest touch against his skin, he groans wantonly and it makes my breath hitch. He’s so hard, already leaking, and I wonder for how long he’ll be able to hold back before coming in my mouth. I don’t want this to be over, not yet, not for a long time yet, but another part of me wants to taste him so badly, wants to feel him come inside my mouth and swallow all of it. Maybe that will soothe some of my own insatiable hunger?

“Please,” he repeats.

I lick my lips once more, and shift a little on my knees. Then, I steady his cock with my hand. He’s holding his breath now, in anticipation, waiting for my next move. I glance up at him as I slide my mouth over his hard length, groaning around him. It’s nothing short of bliss to feel the velvety skin of his cock as it glides into my mouth. A flick of my tongue and looking up, I see pure lust flicker across his features when I take him inside. His eyes fall shut and his mouth opens slightly, and his breathing goes shallow and fast.

I move wetly along his shaft, and am not particularly surprised when I can take all of him inside my mouth despite the fact that his cock is big. Not huge, but big. I’ve done this before, and I never had trouble deep-throating.

I realize that fact surprises him because he lets out an unexpected, but approving, noise. I take him in deeply a couple of times, and I can feel him harden further in my mouth. He groans and the shackles clink as he grabs the chains desperately to keep himself upright.

“Oh, yes, Harry,” he grunts. “That’s good, so good.”

He’s finally letting go, not fighting the words that are spilling over his lips, and it pleases me. This is what I was trying to accomplish, this is the answer to his deepest cravings. He wanted this, to be tied up, tormented, pleasured far enough to let go completely and just... feel.

Swirling my tongue around the head, I’m enjoying the noises he makes, and my cock is leaking now, in sympathy. I move my hand to my crotch, holding my cock in my other hand. I want desperately to move it, to give myself some kind of relief, but I’m not going to. Briefly, I wonder if I’m going to come from just sucking him, from just feeling his cock alive in my mouth, twitching at every lick and stroke of my tongue. I pull my mouth off, moving my lips along the side of it. I follow the vein on the underside from top to bottom and back again, flicking my tongue underneath the swollen head. Then I go downward again.

“Oh yesss,” he hisses.

Pulling the balls into my mouth, I suckle at them, and lick them. The hair is coarse against my tongue, but the warmth of his skin beneath it is delicious. His reaction to what I’m doing is driving me half-mad. He’s trying to thrust inside my mouth now, but the shackles allow him little purchase.

I move back up, licking the crown, around and around, back to the tip, dipping my tongue into the small slit, trying to coax that rich fluid out of him. Then I swallow him whole again, feel him nudge the back of my throat, relax and take him all the way inside, swallowing around him over and over again.

“Ahhh, you’re so good at that,” he moans. “Oh, yes.”

As I pull back again, I draw my tongue along his length, and the first taste of his pre-come spills onto my lips. I pull off his cock then, just to savour the taste. It’s a slightly bitter-salty flavour, and I want more of it. I wait, watching him struggle against the shackles. He looks as though he wants loose now. What would he do to me if I set him free? It’s a moot point since I won’t do it, but a guy can fantasize, can’t he?

“Go on, curse you. Go on!” he grunts, and I can feel that he’s close to losing his control. If he weren’t tied, he’d grab my face and fuck my mouth until he’d come, but he can’t do that. He’s struggling to touch me. I suddenly wish he could, but instead I’ll give him what he wants. Watching his face avidly, I slide my mouth down his shaft again, and start sucking him in earnest. The sounds of my mouth are sloppy, wet. I can feel the saliva spilling down my chin, feel the strain in my cheeks and jaw as I go at it, loving the taste of him, the hard smoothness sliding in and out of my mouth. I want to watch him when he comes, and I can see the release closing in, see the tightness of his face, how his teeth are biting into his lower lip, and his eyes screw shut.

“Oh, oh... oh,” he groans and his hips are moving in counterpoint with my sucking. His balls draw up tight against his cock. He’s going to come. Soon. “Harry, stop, stop...please...stop.”

At first, I’m barely aware that he’s talking, and I guess it’s in the nick of time that I pull away because he’s breathing harshly and trembles violently when I pull my mouth off him. He’s fighting against his release, and I don’t understand it. He’s so close to coming, so close.

“Lift the curse, Harry.”

I tremble at the intensity in his voice, and he’s looking down at me as though he can see me, but the focus of his gaze is slightly off.

“Please,” he repeats. ”I want to see you ... I want to watch your face when I come.”

And suddenly, I, too, am tired of this game. He’s tied, isn’t that enough? I want him to see who sucks him off, I want him to see that it’s my lips closing around him, swallowing his semen when he finally climaxes, so I lift the curse.

“Restituo” I whisper. The life comes back into his eyes, and it’s as if an electrical conduit opens between us when we lock gazes. I can’t look away. It’s as though his eyes are those of a snake, hypnotizing me. It makes sense, I can talk to snakes. Snakes like me, and so does Severus Snape. I know that now. He wants me.

And I don’t pull my gaze back even when I move back into position, wrapping my mouth around his cock and go back to sucking him. He keeps watching me, even when his breath is coming in hard gasps, even when I can feel his cock pulse and prepare for release. Even as the semen starts to spurt out of him and he’s moaning, he struggles to keep looking at me.

“Harry,” he moans. “Harry, Harry, Harry...”

When his release finally claims him, he can’t fight it any more and his head tilts to the side, long strands of black hair falls across his cheek and his lips. His mouth goes slack with pleasure and his eyelids close. I fight to watch him but when I feel his seed spurt into my mouth, thick and warm, I close my eyes as well, savouring the taste of him, swallowing every droplet of come that enters my mouth.

He’s spent now and hangs from the shackles like a rag doll.

“Thank you,” he whispers and lifts his head to look at me. 

I love the sight of him, debauched but fully dressed. My cock is hurting in earnest now, and I know that I need my release soon, or I’ll go crazy. I didn’t come from watching him, although it was close, and I’m rather glad I didn’t. I would like to be inside him, his mouth or his arse. It doesn’t matter, but for some reason it would feel best to see him kneel before me, servicing me with his mouth. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I like that idea.

He follows my gaze as I lift the ornate knife from the floor. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t talk. He trusts me, I think. So without another word, I start plucking the buttons off his shirt, one by one. They fall to the floor with muffled clicks, rolling away to finally come to rest on the stone floor around us. The shirt falls open, revealing his chest. It’s covered with fine, coarse hairs. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, and I lean forward. Still holding the knife in my hand I push the lapels of the shirt aside and mouth his skin, lick it. I love the taste. It’s a little saltier now from clean sweat, the soap all but gone. I love the flavour of it, the taste of him. I nuzzle his chest and move to the side to lick at his nipple. He’s silent now, unaroused perhaps, but still enjoying my touch. I’m determined to bring him more pleasure during this night.

“I’m not as young as I once was, Harry Potter,” he states ruefully. “I quite believe I am spent for a while.”

“Shh,” I admonish him. “Don’t worry, Severus. It doesn’t matter. Just let me enjoy this ... you. Don’t think, just feel.”

He grunts then and relaxes. It’s endearing to realize he has insecurities as well. I feel quite confident and at ease now, knowing I’ve given him so much pleasure, but he’s still uncertain, and perhaps even a little frightened that he won’t please me. How could he not please me?

I move back to undress him more. The knife slides through the fabric of his shirt like it was butter. He shudders as the cool blade caresses his skin when I cut through the first sleeve. It falls apart as I reach his wrist. I bend to kiss it, before doing the same to his other sleeve. The knife is so sharp and it gives me a thrill to see it move against his skin, close but not close enough to cut through. I look at him, and I can hear his voice inside, the way he would have spoken to me before ... before this.

“Do be careful with that, Potter.” he would have sneered. “It is my life’s blood you are toying with!”

I smile at that and he arches an eyebrow at me, as though he knows what I’m thinking. But he doesn’t say anything. Only a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and I snap the knife through the last inch of the second sleeve. The silk-like material flutters to the floor slowly as if carried by the Wingardium Leviosa spell. Eventually it touches the floor and lies there, silent and unmoving. I take my eyes off it, and look at Severus. He’s muscular and lithe, and the hair sprinkled across his chest gives him a mature look that I haven’t seen on any of my previous lovers. It gives me another thrill. It’s part of what makes him so attractive – his maturity and severity. I look at the Dark Mark and shudder slightly, but even that fits the image I have of him. I knew it was there, and although marring his skin, it’s part of him, and I ...

I inhale deeply, cutting off that particular thought. It’s too soon to think such things. Too soon.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper. That’s safe to say – and true.

“You do need new spectacles, Harry,” he mutters, but I can see how my words make his eyes light up. He tries to hide his satisfaction behind his usual brusque manners, but I know him too well. I am a Severus-watcher; I have had long experience in learning his every facial expression.

“Beautiful,” I repeat. He’s naked now, save for his trousers, which are hanging precariously off his hips. Instead of using the knife, I put it away, open the shackles and pull off his remaining clothes. He stands there now, free and completely nude, while I am still fully dressed. He looks at me, and I can tell that the circumstances are making him aroused again, slowly but steadily.

“What do you want?” he whispers, the words shaky.

“Your mouth on me.” I’m surprised at the steadiness of my own voice, considering how my knees are about to buckle at the mere thought of Severus’ mouth around my cock.

He nods, and sinks to his knees on the same pillow I used only moments ago. I can’t believe I’m about to have all my dreams fulfilled. I want him so much, have wanted him for so long and I can’t hold back the moan as his hands brush over the fly of my trousers, grasping my belt and unhooking it. With deft hands that aren’t trembling even a little anymore, he opens the button and unzips me. He pulls the trousers down, and the boxers, just enough to pull me out. When his warm hands grip my cock, I hiss.

“Severus,” I moan.

I’m so far gone this isn’t going to take long, and I think he knows it. His hand moves to the base of my cock, long, warm fingers holding me back just a little, and I look at him gratefully. I don’t want to come before even feeling his mouth on me, but the risk is great now. I’m young. I haven’t had sex for a while, not since I started planning this, and my own hand just isn’t the same as his.

His hand. On my cock. Severus’ hand.

I groan.

And his lips. Now. Warm. Wet and so beautiful. I look down at him, bury my hands in his hair, try not to thrust inside that wetness, but unable to hold myself back. He lets me. He just opens wide, carefully making sure I won’t bump into his teeth, and I thrust inside. The tingles that run up and down the length of my body make me shiver.

“Oh, yes...yes... so good.” I’m babbling, I know it, but can’t stop it and I bite my lip as I try so hard to hold back. I don’t want to come. Not yet, not yet. Sweet Merlin, not yet.

My knees are buckling now, and his hands move back on my arse, holding me up, pulling me closer, encouraging me to thrust harder, and I find to my great relief that he’s as good as I am at relaxing his throat, taking me deeply inside him. My world narrows into the sensation of his mouth and nothing else. I barely register the silkiness of his hair around my fingers and the feel of his skull under my hands.

I thrust inside, more frantically, desperate for that sweet release only he can give me, again and again, and I’m gone. Gone. So good.

“Ohh!” I groan as the pleasure ripples through me like liquid fire. He swallows around me, his throat-muscles milking my shaft, massaging the tip of my cock as I thrust to get deeper, and I’m coming, coming so hard that I see stars. He’s taking everything I have to give and then some. I’m so sensitive now, after such an orgasm, but he licks me lightly as if the taste of me is too good to let go, but when I shudder, he rises to his feet and pulls me into his arms. his lips press into mine and I’m enveloped in his arms as his lips take mine in a deep kiss. His lips and his tongue taste of me, but I don’t mind, I just delve deep into the kiss, relishing the feel of his tall body against mine. I still have to tilt my head a little, but not much, and it’s good. So good.

He pulls away, slightly.

“Creative, Harry. Very creative,” he whispers huskily, and the look of contentment in his eyes is deeper than I’ve ever seen it before. This is good. A good start for something new, something that’s not over yet. Not for a long time.

He pulls his robes back on, and takes my hand.

“Let’s go to my dungeon,” he says, his dark, rich voice full of promise and desire. “I have a very comfortable bed.”

END.