Potter-Boy
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
11,607
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
11,607
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
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.
Potter-Boy (Touching) Part 2/3
Potter-Boy (Touching)
Snape's thoughts had played out liked his dreams: the Potter-boy had fallen, Snape spreading the boy’s creamy thighs, taking him hard and fast against Potter's strangled outcries; and the boy still came back the next day. The Potter-boy had not mumbled any frightened words to Dumbledore, his pride keeping Snape a free man. The next night when Potter hung his head low and walked into the dungeon, his Professor smirked and clutched his face in a thin hand, his quill dotting Potter's face with red ink. “You barely passed yesterday Potter.” Snape said leering, the quill marking a D minus on the boy's face. “May you become well versed in other activities, or your usefulness will cease.”
The Potter-boy shook at these words -- anger took hold, the fear taking shelter. He wanted to yell and pound on the black chest before him, but nothing escaped. Snape held him close whispering everything he hated about the his Potter-boy; taking the boys will and crushing it beneath his weight.
Days passed endlessly, the more meetings the two had together, the farther Potter's will was swept underneath Snape's; hidden beneath a web full of lies: Snape told the Potter-boy one day he would be free.
Potter never freed himself, his mind tied by Snape’s aura, his body tied by the man's hands. When Potter grew old enough to run, he had nowhere else to go.
Snape's hands were his prize, talented in torture of all kinds. He made the Potter-boy scream to stop, to start, and to finish what he began. He locked Potter in his world with no green light, the red always in position. Seeing Potter beg was Snape’s only true delight.
When the lights were out and the Potter-boy lay wasted and cast aside, the boy wondered many things, questions leaving his lips at times. They were never answered, Snape feeling no need to indulge his toy.
As the boy grew, Snape kept him close, using him to his advantage. The Potter-boy did defeat Voldemort in the end and Snape was set free -- his work for Light paying off all his known sins. The Potter-boy never told the press about his ensnarement, how Snape played the sides of Dark and Light like children, feeding them half-truths and lies. He became a puppet craving touch, needing the body heat he knew only his Professor could give him. He needed the wicked hands that made him beg and the only voice who spoke the truth about The Boy Who Lived.
Snape never gauzed his words over with sickening pleasantries; he told Potter the unabridged truth and the boy believed him, seeking the words no one else would feed him -- Snape supporting his own pathetic self-deprecation.
It was like Snape understood how he wanted to be told no; to be stopped and punished for his acts. Slowly he craved more, Snape worming under his skin, his words taking seed and spreading themselves throughout the Potter-boy until they controlled his mind and made him twist around a thin finger; Snape had always sought after hegemony and now he received all he wanted. The Potter-boy fell more deeply under his control and with that came unadulterated rule -- and all he had to do was make the Potter-boy beg for his touch.
Potter fell into the darkness that surrounded Snape, and it expanded with new life.
--------
Last Chapter will be added Thursday :)
Snape's thoughts had played out liked his dreams: the Potter-boy had fallen, Snape spreading the boy’s creamy thighs, taking him hard and fast against Potter's strangled outcries; and the boy still came back the next day. The Potter-boy had not mumbled any frightened words to Dumbledore, his pride keeping Snape a free man. The next night when Potter hung his head low and walked into the dungeon, his Professor smirked and clutched his face in a thin hand, his quill dotting Potter's face with red ink. “You barely passed yesterday Potter.” Snape said leering, the quill marking a D minus on the boy's face. “May you become well versed in other activities, or your usefulness will cease.”
The Potter-boy shook at these words -- anger took hold, the fear taking shelter. He wanted to yell and pound on the black chest before him, but nothing escaped. Snape held him close whispering everything he hated about the his Potter-boy; taking the boys will and crushing it beneath his weight.
Days passed endlessly, the more meetings the two had together, the farther Potter's will was swept underneath Snape's; hidden beneath a web full of lies: Snape told the Potter-boy one day he would be free.
Potter never freed himself, his mind tied by Snape’s aura, his body tied by the man's hands. When Potter grew old enough to run, he had nowhere else to go.
Snape's hands were his prize, talented in torture of all kinds. He made the Potter-boy scream to stop, to start, and to finish what he began. He locked Potter in his world with no green light, the red always in position. Seeing Potter beg was Snape’s only true delight.
When the lights were out and the Potter-boy lay wasted and cast aside, the boy wondered many things, questions leaving his lips at times. They were never answered, Snape feeling no need to indulge his toy.
As the boy grew, Snape kept him close, using him to his advantage. The Potter-boy did defeat Voldemort in the end and Snape was set free -- his work for Light paying off all his known sins. The Potter-boy never told the press about his ensnarement, how Snape played the sides of Dark and Light like children, feeding them half-truths and lies. He became a puppet craving touch, needing the body heat he knew only his Professor could give him. He needed the wicked hands that made him beg and the only voice who spoke the truth about The Boy Who Lived.
Snape never gauzed his words over with sickening pleasantries; he told Potter the unabridged truth and the boy believed him, seeking the words no one else would feed him -- Snape supporting his own pathetic self-deprecation.
It was like Snape understood how he wanted to be told no; to be stopped and punished for his acts. Slowly he craved more, Snape worming under his skin, his words taking seed and spreading themselves throughout the Potter-boy until they controlled his mind and made him twist around a thin finger; Snape had always sought after hegemony and now he received all he wanted. The Potter-boy fell more deeply under his control and with that came unadulterated rule -- and all he had to do was make the Potter-boy beg for his touch.
Potter fell into the darkness that surrounded Snape, and it expanded with new life.
--------
Last Chapter will be added Thursday :)