Cake

Its two days after the first snowfall of the season when Sirius Black, The Order’s lead singer, is arrested on drug charges and promptly released on a bail set by the judge. At the request of his (and the group’s) legal representation, The Order postpones two big shows, one in Seattle, the other in Albuquerque, to go on a mini “sabbatical”. Remus Lupin, the band’s bassist and back-up singer accompanies him while drummer James and keyboardist Peter, make themselves scarce. This only leaves lead guitarist Severus Snape to ponder alone in his modest lakefront home in upper New York. He’d rather be at his permanent home in London, but here is fine. Solitude is always welcome. No matter what part of the globe.

His house is dark and he’d just spent the last four hours practicing a few rifs and drinking, making a few phone calls, drinking, wondering about Harry…drinking….Harry…
Hmm…
Snape is dressed in a black terrycloth robe and black socks. Beneath that is his black T-shirt and black shorts. He’s comfy here, but unsettled. Especially now. Thinking of Harry, the forbidden sex backstage. The soft voice attached to the defiant personality. He’d been charmed by the boy, but he knew it could never evolve into anything worthwhile because of that fact. Harry is a boy. Not legal by any means – especially here in the states. His fingers ache to dial the number programmed into his phone, but he mustn’t. Considering the trouble Sirius has – and the already bad-boy image attached to James, the fuck-up drummer, Snape has to keep his nose cleaned – and there are plenty of men out here if all he needs is to suck somebody off or get himself rimmed. Then again, with Harry it had seemed like more. Not just fucking. It had been fun, and Severus didn’t have much of that in his life. Not now and not much in the past. It almost seemed worth it to get into trouble just to see the boy again.

Its cold outside after Snape gets showered and dressed and hastily goes outside to his barn. Its empty there except for an old white mare that belonged to his mother before she’d passed away. The stable hand comes everyday to brush, exercise and feed her and is gone without so much as a hello, as per Snape’s request because he doesn’t like much contact with the help. Other than that, he doesn’t hire many people for assistance. If he wants to eat, he makes his own food (or orders out). If he needs his clothes cleaned, he sends them to the drycleaners. If he needs sex, he pays for it – or handles his own needs. It isn’t difficult. Damn, he can’t stop thinking of Harry and goes to the back of the stable in search of what brought him here in the first place. For some reason, there is a working phone line outside, and Snape glances at his cell phone and scrolls down to find Harry’ number before branding it to his memory and dialing it on the real phone. This way, there won’t be any open-air waves, etc.

The voice on the phone sounds far away. The number is in London. There is static on the line threaded with her contrite voice.
“Yes? Hello?”
“Hello…” Snape is never comfortable with this and hadn’t even considered getting someone on the line besides Harry himself. “…uh…is Harry available?”
The other party seems to be considering it, maybe considering asking who Snape is and what he wants with her boy, but instead, she calls out his name in the background, summoning him to the phone. Snape can hear footsteps against the sound of her voice.
“Who’s calling?” The female voice asks.
Snape feels conflicted for an instant. Should he lie? “Severus.” He says simply, deciding that if more questions come, he’ll simply hang up the phone. But after a second, Harry’s voice is on, and Snape inwardly chastises himself for feeling so elated. He has to suppress the smile.
“Snape?” Harry sounds disbelieving.
“Yes. Snape.” Snape answers, softly. “What are you doing?”
Harry chuckles quietly. “She’s standing right beside me.”
Snape blushes angrily. “Tell her to leave.”
Another chuckle from Harry. “What are you doing? I can’t believe you’ve called me! I mean…wow!”
“I want to see you tonight. I’ll purchase you a plane ticket. You need only go and collect it.”
Harry snorts a laugh. “Are you joking? I mean…I want to, but…”
Severus is getting impatient. “Is your mother still there?”
“She isn’t my mother.” He says quickly. “She’s my aunt and she’s really strict and she’s right in the other room.”
“Tell her to bring you to the airport. I must see you.”

Harry is smiling. He’s wearing jeans and a baby-t shirt. His flat belly is showing beneath it, and his aunt casts uncertain glances in his direction when he dresses this way. Yeah, it’s pretty obvious he’s a bugger, but she hates for him to act so blatant.
“My aunt would sooner let me roller blade naked through the Louvre than fly to where you are…” Harry whispers. “…besides, I think she suspects something. She turned out my pockets from last time I saw you – in Phoenix and she saw the ticket stub and match book...”
Severus feels his eyes slide shut. It almost seems like more trouble than its worth, but still, he presses onward.

“I’ll have a car come and pick you up.” He pauses. “If you’re up for it.”
Harry makes a face, fearful of the consequences, but also dying to see Snape.
“Okay. What time?” He says, focusing on the older man’s embrace and how good it’ll feel.

By 1:20pm, Harry is boarding a plane in London that arrives at 4:30pm at JFK in New York City. A driver is there, waiting for Harry to transport him to Snape’s home and they arrive there in almost record time. Harry has never been inside a limo before now.
After they pull to the front of Snape’s home and Harry is told to go up to the front door, he finds he is suddenly overcome with anxiety. The door pushes open and Snape is standing there, looking down at him with a mixture of indifference and adoration.

“Hi.” Harry says, breathlessly. “I …I made it.”
Snape nods, and replies in a soft silky voice. “Yes. I can see that.” His lips curl upward on one side and he tugs the boy inside. “Well, come on, then.”

nts nts later, Snape is inside him, trailing a large pale hand down an equally pale back before bending to plant a soft kiss between the sharp shoulder blades. Harry makes a soft sound and Snape wonders if he has hurt him.
“Are you…alright?” He murmurs, inching out a bit.
Harry sighs and nods his messy dark head. “Y-yeah…it just…it just feels so…so…Uuhnn…”
Snape smiles to himself. “I know, Harry. It feels like euphoria.”
They move in sync, Snape driving slowly in and out while Harry moves forward and back with each thrust until he begins to whimper and tremble and tighten around Snape’s cock. Snape soon follows, emptying himself inside the boy with a low moan. They collapse together in a sweaty heap on Snape’s kitchen table.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Severus has showered and is walking around in his terrycloth robe as Harry stretches naked on the couch. His eyes follow Snape around the room, admiring the gorgeous celebrity. His black eyes betray nothing, his curtain of black hair frames his face and he seems to be a little distant.
“Sure.” Harry replies quietly. “Can I have a gin and tonic?”
Snape eyes him curiously before smirking. “Sure. Whatever you like.”

When they are sitting side by side on the couch, Harry feels self-conscious, but Severus assures him, there is nothing to be ashamed of.
“You look lovely. Your skin is like milk, so healthy and opaque.”
Harry shivers at the words, spoken in the deep, satin voice. He turns his green eyes down into his own lap.
“Tell me about you family.” Harry practically whispers it, catching Snape off guard with not only the words but also the delivery.
He eyes the boy before taking a swallow of his Vodka Neat. “What do you want to know?”
Harry isn’t sure. “Um. Tell me about your parents. What are they like?”
Snape clears his throat and makes a face. “They’re dead.” He turns his eyes back on Harry, endlessly deep black eyes. Harry has to lower his gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
Snape snorts. “I’m not.” He stands abruptly. “Are you hungry, Harry? I have…uh…leftover take-out. Or, I could order something new…”
Harry looks up at Severus, afraid he has ruined the mood. “I’m sorry.”
Snape doesn’t respond at first, then shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t be.”

Later, they are in Snape’s bed, drunk. Snape is rambling on in a deep voice, serious as cancer as Harry giggles uncontrollably into a pillow.
“…I swear to God, the old woman tried to accost me, and she was wearing a band shirt and throwing her oversized large white cotton knickers onto the stage, tugging mercilessly at my slacks, trying to pull them off, I think, looking back on it now…” he turns his black orbs to Harry. “…what are you on about, anyway? You think it’s funny?”

Harry can barely answer for laughing. It’s the way Snape speaks in that deadly voice about something so ridiculous as being molested by a granny at one of his shows and then his large hand is coursing through Harry’s hair.

“Ah well…” he murmurs as the boy quiets himself. “…it seemed like something serious at the time. I was actually quite frightened.”
Harry finally focuses his eyes on the older man, watching the worry lines crease his forehead. He is absolutely smitten with him. The words slip out before he has a chance to sensor them. “I love you.”
Snape eyes him, black hair hanging in his face, straight, dark tendrils.

“What did you say?”
Harry clears his throat and chews his lip. “Um. I…love you. I really do. You don’t have to love me back. I know it’s soon. I’m probably not your only…”
“Don’t.” Snape says quietly. They both seem to be sobering quickly. Then Snape says something strange.

“Where are your parents?”

Harry’s emotions make the slow transformation from quiet happiness to deep, aching, sadness.
“They’re dead. I don’t remember them.”

Snape nods, slowly. “Oh.” His voice doesn’t sound especially sympathetic or even regretful, but he seems to be pondering it.
Harry rests his head in his hand, his elbow buried in the pillow.

“How did you get in the band?” Harry asks when the conversation seems to reach a standstill.
Severus pushes a dark lock of hair behind his ear and regards the boy. “I met Sirius. In school. We all knew each other, actually. He needed a guitarist. We hated each other, but Lupin convinced me –, as did my agent, Albus. We…” He takes a pause, looking into space. “…Uh…we made great music together.”
For some odd reason, Harry feels a pang of jealousy. To make himself feel better, he reaches for Snape and kisses his lips, gently.

When he reaches beneath the comforter, he feels that Snape is already half-erect. The older man groans softly. His hand buries itself in the unruly dark hair. Harry bends his head and plants soft kisses on the man’s torso and along the thin trail of dark hair leading from his chest down to where his hand is pumping slowly. When his lips meet the hot member, he slips his mouth around it and begins to suckle the head. Severus has his eyes closed and is arching his back, wordlessly. Harry seems to have done this before.
The boy swirls his tongue agonizingly slow around the head before engulfing the entire shaft and Snape gasps, quietly. Harry loves hearing him make little subtle noises.
“That feels…so good, Harry, don’t stop…not yet…”
Harry is sucking him deep down into his throat, his right hand yanking at his own erection, roughly.
Before long, he is swallowing Snape’s load and shooting onto his own hand, whimpering, chest heaving.

Snape lets an arm drape over his eyes as his breathing comes back to normal before pulling Harry back up to lie beside him.
“You are…a naughty boy.” The words, spoken in the deep, silken voice perk Harry’s dick back up. He marvels in this phenomenon as Severus smirks in his direction.

“I don’t want to leave.” Harry blurts as he snuggles next to the older man.
Snape settles back on his pillow. “So don’t.”
Harry stares at him with wide disbelieving eyes. “Are you serious?”
Snape nods, wearily. “Yes. I am serious. If anyone asks, you’re my nephew.”
Harry wonders, briefly, if his aunt will alert the authorities. Then, he realizes she wouldn’t know where to find him anyway. It doesn’t matter because Harry is where he has always wanted to be, in Severus Snape’s arms. In his bed. Beside him. Their hearts find and match the same steady drum as Harry drifts contentedly off, joining Snape in dreamland.