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The first time Snape kissed Harry, they were in the Ministry lift, alone, both in their Auror reds.
It was eight in the morning, and Harry had been daydreaming about his first cup of coffee. He was afraid he had a bit of leftover toothpaste caked on his lip. It tasted extra minty there.
Then Snape had entered the lift, his expression flashing when he spotted Harry.
Harry snapped to attention. “Hello, sir.”
“Potter.”
The DMLE was deep underground, and the lift ride was long. It felt like an eternity standing next to Snape, their shoulders touching.
Snape was breathing roughly. Harry almost asked him if he was ill.
The lift came to a stop, but Snape smacked his wand to the gilded door, not letting it open.
Snape turned to Harry. “I’m your boss.”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer, crowding Harry against the wall. “You hate me.”
“No.”
“I shouldn’t do this,” Snape murmured, but he leaned in and kissed Harry anyway.
Harry moaned deeply. He’d been aching for this for months. For years.
“Tell me to stop.”
“No way.”
This time, Harry initiated the kiss, their bodies now pressed together. He felt every line of Snape, every bulge. Their cocks were waking up.
They kissed and kissed, and Snape’s mouth tasted of tea. Harry smelled his aftershave.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, sir.”
Snape groaned. He shuddered. “We need to stop, or else I’ll mount you. At work.”
“Do it, sir.”
Snape manhandled him until he faced the other way, bent over.
“Don’t test me, Potter.”
Harry laughed breathlessly. He couldn’t believe this was happening. His luck.
“I said do it, sir.”
Snape snarled, his clever fingers already working open Harry’s trousers, his robes hiked up. “You’re asking me to ruin you. Right here in this lift.”
Harry bit his lip. “Just use lube.”
“God, I despise you,” Snape growled, but he shoved down Harry’s trousers and pants, revealing his bare arse. His vulnerable arse.
Snape pressed himself between Harry’s cheeks, teasing his hole, nudging at his bollocks from behind. The heat of him was incredible.
“Oh, fuck, sir. You’re massive.”
“Shut up.” Snape hissed out the incantation for a Lube Spell, and suddenly, Harry’s arse was dripping. The sensation made him moan.
Snape gripped his hip hard as he pressed inside. Harry was no virgin, but the penetration still made him groan in pain.
“Fuck, fuck,” Harry gasped, now wanking himself to take the edge off.
Snape panted behind him. He was quivering. “Take me, damn you.”
“Yes!”
Then Snape was balls-deep. The pressure—the discomfort—was exquisite.
“Oh, sir, sir,” Harry babbled. “I think you were made for my arse.”
“Shut up!”
Snarling again, Snape began to fuck him. He tried to be quick, rough, but Harry was too tight for it. Harry felt how his arse clung to his thick shaft.
“You perfect slag, I told you to take me, take me.” Snape shoved forward, over and over. He screwed in deep, his bollocks now kissing the inside of Harry’s thighs. “That’s an order, damn you. Open up.”
Harry blew out air. He did his best to relax his hole. “It hurts so good, sir.”
“Perfect, perfect,” Snape moaned, sounding as if he were drooling.
Finally, Harry’s arse surrendered to him. It allowed Snape to hump him—hard.
“I’m going to come, sir,” Harry cried, his hand tugging and tugging. He was being brutal with himself.
“Yeah, do it, Auror Potter. Listen to your superior. Come for me.”
Harry let out a high-pitched mewl as he did it. His semen splattered the wall of the lift. The pleasure made him tighten up all over, made his knees give out.
Snape had to hold him up as he used his arse. When he came, he bit down on Harry’s throat. As if to claim him.
Harry was barely able to stand when it was all over. He grinned drunkenly at his boss.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” Snape said, stern, all buttoned up again. He was still rather pink in the face.
“With all due respect, sir, shut up.”
Harry looped his arms around Snape’s neck and kissed him. A lot. He kissed him until Snape lost his footing and toppled back against the wall. Then he continued kissing him.
“Harry,” Snape gasped.
“That’s the spirit, sir.”
“You can’t—we need—”
“Come over to mine,” he murmured, now tasting Snape’ sharp jaw, his tender throat.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Snape shuddered. “Okay.”
Harry pulled back, grinning widely. “Thank you for this opportunity. I won’t disappoint you. Sir.”
Snape looked at him with eyes full of dark heat—and shy hesitancy. Then he snorted. “You are impossible. Always have been.”
“You love it.”
Snape gulped visibly.