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Craving a desire that won't go to waste

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I've got a pain in my neck, because I keep looking up
I'm searching what's coming next, but it won't come from above
And there's a hole in my chest, like there's a hole in the sun
So tell me, what's coming next? I'm searching, what's coming next?

Take This Lonely Heart, Nothing But Thieves

 

Harry dreams. 

At least, he thinks he dreams. Everything is warm, like when he’s in a bath, and there’s something pleasant going on between his legs. He can never seem to bring himself to look down, though, no matter how much he wants to. His eyes, in this odd dream, are stuck to the ceiling. He thinks perhaps he’s in the Great Hall, because the ceiling is covered in white fluffy clouds. They look so real that Harry wants to reach out to them and let the clouds tickle his fingers. 

A sound escapes him, a gasp or a moan, and once more Harry is desperate to look down. He knows what pleasure is, the boys in his dorms talk about wanking all the time. He’s tried it, of course, but it’s never felt like this. It’s never felt this warm and wet. There’s something prodding behind his balls too, seeking entrance, and before Harry knows what he’s doing, his legs are pulled up against his chest. 

The prodding is more insistent, and he lets out a little whimper at the intrusion. It’s slick and small, maybe the size of a finger. It worms inside him, wiggling around as though in search of something. Then it slides in and out, in and out, until Harry is sure there’s nothing that could ever feel better than this. The pressure increases and the process repeats itself. Over and over. Over and over again. 

Until there’s something much larger than a finger prodding him, something hot and hard. But since this is a dream and Harry’s desperate, he allows the intrusion. He welcomes it. He didn’t know boys could feel like this, but now he wants nothing else. No manner of wanking will ever feel as good.

This time, the in-and-out movement lasts much longer. With every brush against that special spot inside him, Harry’s eyes roll back until he can’t see the clouds anymore. He’s had a dream like this before, he knows it deep inside himself, but he can’t remember it. The slight burn and stretch between his thighs is both familiar and new, like everytime is the first time until he remembers it’s not. 

It goes on for so long that Harry’s sure he’ll wake up soon. He doesn’t want to, though. He never wants to wake up if this kind of dream can replace his usual nightmares. So he takes it, and takes it, and takes it some more until the pressure leaves him empty and cold. The clouds disappear and Harry hopes he can keep dreaming about this. It fills that black pit in his chest, it makes him feel like perhaps this might be love. And Harry wants to be loved more than anything else.

 


 

The boy is flushed and his skin is covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Like this, he looks like a polished tiger’s eye gemstone. His hair surrounds his head like a dark halo, strands sticking to his temples and forehead, and the boy’s never looked more beautiful. Lips kiss bitten and red, neck sporting dark hickies that invitingly trail down his collarbones and all the way to his nipples. The little nubs are pebbled and surrounded by gooseflesh.

The son of James Potter makes an exquisite sight and Severus can never get enough. 

A quick spell heals the marks on the boy’s body and cleans up any traces of Severus’s spend. Another spell sends a few potions of his own design into the boy’s stomach, and he watches, enraptured, as the boy’s arsehole heals and tightens once more. Just like a virgin’s. The sight alone makes him want to go for another round, but it wouldn’t be prudent. The Awake-Asleep potion doesn’t have very long left and the boy needs to be back in his bed in Gryffindor tower. 

“Foxes.” He waits a moment for his personal house-elf to arrive. “Take the boy back to his bed.” 

“Yes, Master Snape,” the elf says, bowing deeply. With a finger snap, the boy is gone and Foxes pops away to carry on his order.

Severus sighs and flicks his wand to refresh his bedsheets. Soon he’ll be able to have the boy full time, but until then he must make do with illicit midnight rendezvous. After Severus paid a visit to Potter’s home and discovered the boy’s living conditions, he succeeded in convincing Albus that the boy would be safer with him, blood wards be damned. No one will be able to find them unless Severus wishes them to, and he has no plans to let anyone visit them over the summer holidays.

Just a few more weeks. That’s all. He can wait until then, and steal small moments of pleasure in the meantime. Showing the boy some little nuggets of tolerance and neutral attention did wonders for the boy’s behaviour. His grades have even improved in Potions, much to Severus’s delight and amusement. He can see the way the boy looks up to him now, eyes bright and every emotion unfiltered in those gorgeous green eyes. He craves his Potions professor’s approval, and Severus makes him work for it. 

Soon, it won’t be the only thing Potter craves from Severus. 

 


 

The first night at their new summer house, secured by Albus and warded by Severus himself, goes exactly as Severus hoped. 

The boy is polite and demure; he unpacks his trunk without being prompted to do so. Dinner goes swiftly, and Potter predictably accepts the hot chocolate before bedtime. Severus has greatly improved his Awake-Asleep potion throughout the year, and he’s positive this version is his best yet. 

The boy falls asleep the moment he crawls into his bed. Severus, with his heart racing and his body thrumming with excitement, divests the boy from his sleep clothes. Barely thirteen and the boy’s body still clings to childish softness. Severus won’t allow him to lose any weight; the boy will never go hungry again. 

He slides his hands up the boy’s flanks and brushes his thumbs against the small nipples. They immediately pebble, and the boy’s cheeks flush a delicious pink. One of the newest changes to Awake-Asleep is a mild lust draught, just enough to arouse the body and make it more responsive. Severus licks his lips and presses his tongue down on one of the nipples. The boy squirms, just a little bit, before arching his back in invitation. 

“Look at you, needy child,” he murmurs against the boy’s skin. 

Severus suckles on the small nipple, teeth holding it in place, while his thumb flicks the boy’s other nipple. Beneath him, the boy is already hard, and it takes a considerable amount of self-control not to abandon everything to suck him dry. Instead, Severus sucks and bites the boy’s chest, leaving behind purple claiming marks. No one but him will ever be allowed near the boy. 

Slowly, he creates a trail of wet bites all the way down to the boy’s narrow hips. The jutting hip bones beg for his attention, so Severus sucks the edges and hollows of them, refusing to leave even an inch of perfect brown skin untouched by his love. There’s no hair yet at the boy’s groin, and that’s exactly how Severus prefers it. 

Before he indulges in the boy’s privates, he returns to the boy’s neck and covers it with more kisses. His own cock is hard, and it feels divine to rub it between the boy’s smooth thighs. Severus pants in the boy’s ear, lips mapping the ridge of his ear. 

“Soon, I’ll make you beg for this, boy,” he promises in a husky voice. Another improvement of his potion is that it now allows the drinker to hear everything that goes on while they sleep. The boy feels everything, hears everything, responds to everything Severus does to him. “Your body is mine.” 

The last word comes out in a growl. Severus bites the soft curve of the boy’s jaw, raking his teeth hard enough to leave behind bright red marks. When he kisses him, the lips aren’t entirely unresponsive, and it sends a jolt of pleasure down his spine. The boy is clearly trying to kiss back in his sleepy and dreamy haze. Severus plunders his mouth with his tongue, tasting the remnants of chocolate on his tongue. 

The things this boy does to him. Severus continues to grind his hips down, slow enough to keep his own pleasure controlled. He could come just from this, just from rutting against this blasted boy who’s ruined him. All because of Lockhart’s insipid comments on the boy’s attributes. All because Severus felt the deadly flames of jealousy possess him like nothing ever had.

The boy is his and no one else may have him. Certainly not a fool like Gilderoy Lockhart. 

Severus pulls away at last, his own thoughts bringing his eagerness to the forefront of his mind. The potion to restore one’s virginity does not work if used too many times, so he hasn’t had the opportunity to deflower the boy since the Easter holidays. But now the boy is here, and he cannot escape from Severus’s clutches. There is no hurry to send the boy back to his dorm.

Once he’s flipped the boy on his stomach, Severus lowers himself until his mouth is just above the boy’s arse. He sends a cleaning charm and arranges the boy’s legs to remain spread and pulled up just enough to leave him space. The tender globes of his arse have a thin layer of muscle, thanks to his year-long Quidditch training regiment. His hole is tight and Severus nearly goes wild with the memory of having that tight arse speared open by his cock. 

He grabs both cheeks and spreads them as far as they can go. His hot breath makes the sensitive skin twitch, and that’s all the invitation he needs. Severus presses his tongue flat against the boy’s hole and licks from perineum to tailbone. His taste is exquisite, full of innocence and promises of perdition. Severus licks along his cleft some more before focusing on the boy’s hole. He pushes his tongue in, over and over, working the muscles loose until he can dip more than just the tip of his tongue. Once the first breach happens, the rest follows easily. He fucks the boy’s arse with his tongue, stretching the tight hole and nipping the rim with his teeth. Potter’s body was made to be ravaged and Severus is only happy to provide.

Once he’s satisfied with the stretch, he Summons a jar of lubricant he’s brewed himself. He begins with one slick finger, rapidly finding the boy’s prostate. Potter moans and his thin hips try to follow Severus’s movement. He fucks the boy slowly with one finger, enthralled by the way his little hole tries to suck his finger back in. When he adds a second finger, the boy whines and it’s all Severus can do not to fuck him right there. 

But there’s a plan, and he must follow his plan. 

Two fingers soon become three, and even this makes the boy’s hole look obscenely stretched. When Severus retrieves his fingers, the rim flutters and the boy lets out a sound that looks quite close to a sob. When Severus reaches beneath the boy to fondle his little erection, he finds out that Potter has climaxed — and perhaps more than once, if the quantity of spend is anything to go by. 

“I knew you loved my fingers, boy,” Severus whispers into Potter’s neck. “Don’t worry, child, you’ll get them plenty of times.” 

He coats his prick with lubricant and positions himself at the boy’s entrance. His cock is thicker than his three fingers, and he has no plan to heal the boy’s arse tonight. The thought of the boy squirming in discomfort tomorrow sends a powerful thrill down his spine. Without further ado, he pushes himself inside the boy, moaning at the tight heat. It always feels better when he’s left the boy just slightly underprepared. It’s tight and slick, and hotter than an arsehole has any right to be. 

“Your arse was made for me,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a little shove up further inside the boy. “I’ve carved you to be mine.” 

Potter moans, back arching and limbs shaking. If Severus wasn’t sure of his own success with the Awake-Asleep potion, he’d be positive the boy was awake. But he’s not. Potter is dreaming of being fucked open by some invisible entity, and it works perfectly with Severus’s plans. The boy will learn to love and need his place as Severus’s bed warmer.

He begins to fuck the boy. He has no compunctions about the boy’s discomfort; he will learn how to take Severus’s cock. The glide is smooth and taut, and it takes no time for Severus to lose himself to the pleasure. He’s used his fair share of students over the years, but there’s something about Potter that makes fucking him so much more satisfying. He’ll find ways to keep the boy small, keep his arse perfect for his cock. Potions, he’ll dedicate the rest of his life to inventing new potions to mould Potter’s body to his every desire.

When his climax shivers through his body, Severus bites down on the boy’s shoulder and empties himself inside him. His hips stutter, but he makes sure to fuck every last drop of his seed inside the boy. Breathing heavily and unwilling to separate himself from the wondrous heat just yet, Severus rocks his hips almost tenderly against the boy’s arse. He could die like this, he could die and come back to life between two lungfuls of the boy’s scent. 

It doesn’t take long for Severus’s potion to take effect. 

Just a minute or two later, he’s back to full hardness and all need for a refractory period is gone. This time, he takes the boy on his side, ensconced in his arms. The boy sleeps on, unaware of how much Severus needs him. He’ll learn, but for now all the boy needs to do is take it. 

And he takes it beautifully. His body is loose and covered in proofs of Severus’s ownership. His head lolls on Severus’s shoulder, little puffs of air the only sign that the boy is being fucked. His cheeks, so red and warm, feel wonderful against Severus’s own cool skin. 

This time, Severus pays attention to the boy’s small cock. He strokes it and pinches the tip, he cups the balls and squeezes them until the boy keens. His hips never pause, never change rhythm. Potter is a sin that must be enjoyed, savoured like a fine wine even when he drives Severus insane with lust. He peppers the boy’s neck and shoulders with butterfly kisses. 

“Precious child,” he murmurs, just a little out of breath, “my precious boy.” 

When he feels Potter come, it’s such a treat. His lithe body shudders and his back arches against Severus’s chest. Clear fluid erupts from his reddened cock, and Severus brings his hand to his mouth to lick it all up. The taste is so pure and delectable that it claims an unexpectedly quick orgasm from Severus, moments later. He moans loudly, hips pressed hard into the boy’s arse. 

“Harry,” he groans, “Oh, Harry.” 

It takes a long moment for Severus to return to himself. Wonderfully sated, he pulls out of the boy and holds him to his body just a little longer. He can’t fall asleep, the boy mustn't wake with Severus naked in bed with him. But he savours this little liberty all the same — something he’s wanted to do ever since that first night at Hogwarts months ago. 

He kisses Potter’s gooseflesh skin and whispers the necessary spells. This is only the beginning. In his private study are dozens of potion vials filled with Awake-Sleep variants. 

Before the summer is over, Potter will willingly be his — one sleep-induced session at a time.