A Man Cannot Control His Dreams
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
59,057
Reviews:
275
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
59,057
Reviews:
275
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
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.
Exsensus Beneplaceo
A/N i actually am editing chapter 18 now - it's just pouring out of me! So i apologize for today's cliffhanger. Itis....pretty bad.
Love you all! Oh, and i'm just about to hit 20k words!
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“There it is,” Snape said, reaching out and testing the spell’s development, scratching his fingernails across the back of Harry’s neck. The sharp points of sensation hit the Gryffindor like ecstasy. He arched helplessly into it, and Snape murmured a gravelly, “yes,” before catching him up in a kiss. This meeting of lips, their second, Harry thought distantly, was infinitely more arousing than the first (something he would have thought impossible only thirty seconds before). Teeth raked over his lip, a hand pulled his hair. The sensations were familiar, but multiplied a hundred fold, and Harry was awash in it: devastatingly aroused.
He couldn’t for the life of him comprehend the electricity that spiderwebbed from every point of contact – every inch of Professor Snape pressed against him – but then, he didn’t have to. The spell, whatever it was, was certainly not conducive to thought. Severus bit into his neck, and Harry felt dizzy with stimulation, breath coming far too fast for any oxygen to reach his brain and do any good. But, somewhere within the tornado of nerves his body had become, there was the impression of possibility.
“More,” Harry keened, hands fisting in black cotton, urging Snape closer, closer. Severus was flooded with heat at the sound, even as his arousal peaked at the mere sight of Potter so beleaguered – begging for him.
“How much?” he demanded harshly, grabbing Harry’s hips and pulling them flush against him. Harry’s vision tunneled, colors fading to a minimalist grey as the tactile surged.
“…What?”
Leaning down, Severus bit into Harry’s earlobe before repeating himself at a hiss:
“How. Much. More?” Seeker-nimble fingers clawed at him, young hips thrusting in arousal.
Harry’s eyes, heavy-lidded when they met his, were nearly eclipsed by wide, black pupils. His voice was shaky, but certain, in the way only one totally out of his mind could be. Intoxicating.
“Anything,” Harry said, and pulled their mouths back together for one volatile moment, before Severus broke away, dragging his lips back up to Harry’s ear. He would not deny the request.
“Trust me,” he whispered. The span of a single breath passed, and then, “Crucio.” Harry’s heart stutter-stepped in the millisecond it took for the spell to hit him.
His body arched like a drawn bow. He’d experienced the Cruciatus before, yes, but this…the pain – it wasn’t…. it wasn’t right. Shocks surged through him, pinpricks and scratches and burns that stripped across his nerves and shot right past pain and into something else. Something that coiled like a fiery serpent in his stomach and made his every muscle go taut.
Severus knew the experience. The… unique effect of his incantation - Exsensus Beneplaceo - and the Cruciatus in combination had been discovered (quite by accident) on him, after all. He knew the mad dichotomy of feeling – skinned alive yet in rapture – the excruciating euphoria. Harry’s eyes rolled to the whites.
****
His mind was drowned black: awash in Snape’s darkness, Snape’s cruel precision, body a chaos of pleasure with Snape’s spells.
****
Noting the signs of impending unconsciousness, Severus lifted the Cruciatus with a jerk of his hand, and Harry collapsed limply against him, mouth open and gasping, breath coming fast and heavy. The Gryffindor panted for a time, then, using Severus’ shirt to pull himself upright, looked into the dark, inscrutable eyes of the Potions Master. And at that moment, they were the most pitiless, beautiful things Harry had ever seen.
Severus started at the unnaturally luminous, uneven green of Harry’s irises. One pupil was tiny, the other wide. It gave him a crazed look, one that was not ill-suited in such an innocent face.
“Again,” Harry murmured, voice a mere husk, and pushed himself up for another kiss, moaning low in his throat at the brush of tongues.
“I think not,” Severus replied, once able. Harry’s eyes flashed.
“Professor!” The boy was not asking, nor begging, but telling him. Severus’ temper flickered.
“Potter I will hardly r-“ but Severus broke off mid-word. Had that been…? Yes.
Three short knocks on his lab door. Snape clapped a hand over Harry’s mouth at once, and jerked them behind an armoire, trapping him there with a firm arm around the chest.
“Don’t make a sound,” he hissed. Unfortunately for stealth, The Gryffindor was still senseless with the effects of Snape’s primary incantations, and the voice in his ear, the hand over his mouth, and the body pressed against his back only made him whimper and twist. “Shhh!” Snape insisted.
And then, through the thick haze in his mind Harry heard it too: another trio of taps. But it was meaningless to him in that state. The only things of any importance at the moment were the sinuous length of Snape pressed against him, and the hard bulge at the small of his back. And, of course, the all-encompassing desire to be touched.
The hinges squeaked out a warning as the door was cracked open, and the pair was hidden from its view, but only just.
“Severus?” called a pleasant, aged voice.
‘Albus? Gods be damned could there be a worse moment?!’ Snape raged, silently. Harry was twisting and arching in his arms, grabbing at his legs, bunching the fabric in frantic fists. Severus tried to hold him faster, but to no avail. Harry was set on rubbing back against him, even as the headmaster called out again.
“Severus my boy, I know you’re in here somewhere!”
Why was he here? For the love of Merlin, why? Harry’s breath huffed hot against his hand, and Severus choked back a moan at the friction the boy was inflicting on him.
“I was hoping to get your report on the recent gathering!”
Oh, of course. Severus had been Called and had yet to account for the reason. How hadn’t he anticipated this? Severus, mind flying, shot over possible ways out of this potentially horrendous situation. But Potter’s over-heated body and barely audible mewlings easily derailed each even as they occurred to him. Perhaps Albus would just go away. Or perhaps this was his last day in the castle. He was too valuable to banish entirely, of course, but whisked away from the school? Quite probable.
“Severus!” Dumbledore called out again, and began to hum to himself. Snape heard the soft clinks of a vial being picked up, inspected, and replaced. Of course, Albus. Please make yourself at home.
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TBC
*runs away*
Love you all! Oh, and i'm just about to hit 20k words!
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“There it is,” Snape said, reaching out and testing the spell’s development, scratching his fingernails across the back of Harry’s neck. The sharp points of sensation hit the Gryffindor like ecstasy. He arched helplessly into it, and Snape murmured a gravelly, “yes,” before catching him up in a kiss. This meeting of lips, their second, Harry thought distantly, was infinitely more arousing than the first (something he would have thought impossible only thirty seconds before). Teeth raked over his lip, a hand pulled his hair. The sensations were familiar, but multiplied a hundred fold, and Harry was awash in it: devastatingly aroused.
He couldn’t for the life of him comprehend the electricity that spiderwebbed from every point of contact – every inch of Professor Snape pressed against him – but then, he didn’t have to. The spell, whatever it was, was certainly not conducive to thought. Severus bit into his neck, and Harry felt dizzy with stimulation, breath coming far too fast for any oxygen to reach his brain and do any good. But, somewhere within the tornado of nerves his body had become, there was the impression of possibility.
“More,” Harry keened, hands fisting in black cotton, urging Snape closer, closer. Severus was flooded with heat at the sound, even as his arousal peaked at the mere sight of Potter so beleaguered – begging for him.
“How much?” he demanded harshly, grabbing Harry’s hips and pulling them flush against him. Harry’s vision tunneled, colors fading to a minimalist grey as the tactile surged.
“…What?”
Leaning down, Severus bit into Harry’s earlobe before repeating himself at a hiss:
“How. Much. More?” Seeker-nimble fingers clawed at him, young hips thrusting in arousal.
Harry’s eyes, heavy-lidded when they met his, were nearly eclipsed by wide, black pupils. His voice was shaky, but certain, in the way only one totally out of his mind could be. Intoxicating.
“Anything,” Harry said, and pulled their mouths back together for one volatile moment, before Severus broke away, dragging his lips back up to Harry’s ear. He would not deny the request.
“Trust me,” he whispered. The span of a single breath passed, and then, “Crucio.” Harry’s heart stutter-stepped in the millisecond it took for the spell to hit him.
His body arched like a drawn bow. He’d experienced the Cruciatus before, yes, but this…the pain – it wasn’t…. it wasn’t right. Shocks surged through him, pinpricks and scratches and burns that stripped across his nerves and shot right past pain and into something else. Something that coiled like a fiery serpent in his stomach and made his every muscle go taut.
Severus knew the experience. The… unique effect of his incantation - Exsensus Beneplaceo - and the Cruciatus in combination had been discovered (quite by accident) on him, after all. He knew the mad dichotomy of feeling – skinned alive yet in rapture – the excruciating euphoria. Harry’s eyes rolled to the whites.
****
His mind was drowned black: awash in Snape’s darkness, Snape’s cruel precision, body a chaos of pleasure with Snape’s spells.
****
Noting the signs of impending unconsciousness, Severus lifted the Cruciatus with a jerk of his hand, and Harry collapsed limply against him, mouth open and gasping, breath coming fast and heavy. The Gryffindor panted for a time, then, using Severus’ shirt to pull himself upright, looked into the dark, inscrutable eyes of the Potions Master. And at that moment, they were the most pitiless, beautiful things Harry had ever seen.
Severus started at the unnaturally luminous, uneven green of Harry’s irises. One pupil was tiny, the other wide. It gave him a crazed look, one that was not ill-suited in such an innocent face.
“Again,” Harry murmured, voice a mere husk, and pushed himself up for another kiss, moaning low in his throat at the brush of tongues.
“I think not,” Severus replied, once able. Harry’s eyes flashed.
“Professor!” The boy was not asking, nor begging, but telling him. Severus’ temper flickered.
“Potter I will hardly r-“ but Severus broke off mid-word. Had that been…? Yes.
Three short knocks on his lab door. Snape clapped a hand over Harry’s mouth at once, and jerked them behind an armoire, trapping him there with a firm arm around the chest.
“Don’t make a sound,” he hissed. Unfortunately for stealth, The Gryffindor was still senseless with the effects of Snape’s primary incantations, and the voice in his ear, the hand over his mouth, and the body pressed against his back only made him whimper and twist. “Shhh!” Snape insisted.
And then, through the thick haze in his mind Harry heard it too: another trio of taps. But it was meaningless to him in that state. The only things of any importance at the moment were the sinuous length of Snape pressed against him, and the hard bulge at the small of his back. And, of course, the all-encompassing desire to be touched.
The hinges squeaked out a warning as the door was cracked open, and the pair was hidden from its view, but only just.
“Severus?” called a pleasant, aged voice.
‘Albus? Gods be damned could there be a worse moment?!’ Snape raged, silently. Harry was twisting and arching in his arms, grabbing at his legs, bunching the fabric in frantic fists. Severus tried to hold him faster, but to no avail. Harry was set on rubbing back against him, even as the headmaster called out again.
“Severus my boy, I know you’re in here somewhere!”
Why was he here? For the love of Merlin, why? Harry’s breath huffed hot against his hand, and Severus choked back a moan at the friction the boy was inflicting on him.
“I was hoping to get your report on the recent gathering!”
Oh, of course. Severus had been Called and had yet to account for the reason. How hadn’t he anticipated this? Severus, mind flying, shot over possible ways out of this potentially horrendous situation. But Potter’s over-heated body and barely audible mewlings easily derailed each even as they occurred to him. Perhaps Albus would just go away. Or perhaps this was his last day in the castle. He was too valuable to banish entirely, of course, but whisked away from the school? Quite probable.
“Severus!” Dumbledore called out again, and began to hum to himself. Snape heard the soft clinks of a vial being picked up, inspected, and replaced. Of course, Albus. Please make yourself at home.
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TBC
*runs away*