Tequila
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
28,055
Reviews:
80
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
28,055
Reviews:
80
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
tequila
**** The first chapter is quite tame but the reason for the NC-17 rating may become evident in future chapters should I decide (from your gracious reviews) to write any more.****
Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to J.K. Rowling and association. I am making no money from this and do not mean to use the maliciously.
Chapter 1
Harry Potter tried to open his eyes and found that he couldn’t. They felt glued shut. He looked at the inside of his eyelids trying to ignore the headache he could feel starting just behind his left eye and knew it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to get up today. As his conssnessness moved slowly outward he felt the dryness in his mouth, the ache in his back and the churning of his stomach.
// So this is what a hangover feels like? // he thought
He lay there trying not to move, knowing that even twitching his fingers would cause great agony in places he didn’t even know he had. His memories from last night, somewhat grudgingly, were coming back to him: he could remember the party, he remembered the drinking. A muggle drink he’d never tried before. Tequila…
// It’s not making me feel so fucking happy, // he thought grumpily as the song came unbidden into his mind.
He could remember talking to someone, lots of someones, although if someone put a gun to his head, he still couldn’t tell them who. And he remembered being poured into bed, again by some unknown person.
He groaned in self-pity and tried to lift his arm over his face, the sunlight was splitting the trees, curtains, his head, his eyes….. and found he couldn’t move. Something had pinned down his arm. Something was lying on top of him. Something large and human and definitely male judging by the rippling muscles of the chest pressed against him.
Still unable and unwilling to open his eyes, Harry used his body to try and determine the identity of the person sharing his bed. He could feel the smooth legs pressed against his own, although the feet were definitely not on his.
// Someone taller than me // he concluded.
He could feel the hard muscles of the thighs wrapped gently around one of his own.
// Someone lean and muscular // he thought with a little shiver.
e coe could feel the slightly erect ‘morning-wood’ ast hst his hip.
// Oh yes, definitely male // he noted with a little smirk.
He felt the smooth taut abdomen and the arms wrapped around his back and neck.
// Someone gentle //
The finger entwined loosely with his own,
// Someone caring //
and the lips pressed gently against his neck,
// Someone passionate //
The person on top of him groanuietuietly, and moved his head slightly, obviously also feeling a hangover. As Harry lay there, he felt the longish,t hat hair of his mysterious lover brush against his chest. It felt nice, it felt warm, it felt…greasy?
With a flash of inspiration and, he hoped, madness, Harry knew who was lying on top of him. He didn’t want to open his eyes, couldn’t open his eyes, didn’t want to know the truth, didn’t want to know if the person gently holding his hand was the person he really thought it could be, he wouldn’t open his eyes.
He opened his eyes, bright emerald green ones looked into the dark black obsidian eyes of Professor Snape.
Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to J.K. Rowling and association. I am making no money from this and do not mean to use the maliciously.
Chapter 1
Harry Potter tried to open his eyes and found that he couldn’t. They felt glued shut. He looked at the inside of his eyelids trying to ignore the headache he could feel starting just behind his left eye and knew it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to get up today. As his conssnessness moved slowly outward he felt the dryness in his mouth, the ache in his back and the churning of his stomach.
// So this is what a hangover feels like? // he thought
He lay there trying not to move, knowing that even twitching his fingers would cause great agony in places he didn’t even know he had. His memories from last night, somewhat grudgingly, were coming back to him: he could remember the party, he remembered the drinking. A muggle drink he’d never tried before. Tequila…
// It’s not making me feel so fucking happy, // he thought grumpily as the song came unbidden into his mind.
He could remember talking to someone, lots of someones, although if someone put a gun to his head, he still couldn’t tell them who. And he remembered being poured into bed, again by some unknown person.
He groaned in self-pity and tried to lift his arm over his face, the sunlight was splitting the trees, curtains, his head, his eyes….. and found he couldn’t move. Something had pinned down his arm. Something was lying on top of him. Something large and human and definitely male judging by the rippling muscles of the chest pressed against him.
Still unable and unwilling to open his eyes, Harry used his body to try and determine the identity of the person sharing his bed. He could feel the smooth legs pressed against his own, although the feet were definitely not on his.
// Someone taller than me // he concluded.
He could feel the hard muscles of the thighs wrapped gently around one of his own.
// Someone lean and muscular // he thought with a little shiver.
e coe could feel the slightly erect ‘morning-wood’ ast hst his hip.
// Oh yes, definitely male // he noted with a little smirk.
He felt the smooth taut abdomen and the arms wrapped around his back and neck.
// Someone gentle //
The finger entwined loosely with his own,
// Someone caring //
and the lips pressed gently against his neck,
// Someone passionate //
The person on top of him groanuietuietly, and moved his head slightly, obviously also feeling a hangover. As Harry lay there, he felt the longish,t hat hair of his mysterious lover brush against his chest. It felt nice, it felt warm, it felt…greasy?
With a flash of inspiration and, he hoped, madness, Harry knew who was lying on top of him. He didn’t want to open his eyes, couldn’t open his eyes, didn’t want to know the truth, didn’t want to know if the person gently holding his hand was the person he really thought it could be, he wouldn’t open his eyes.
He opened his eyes, bright emerald green ones looked into the dark black obsidian eyes of Professor Snape.