Filthy, Gorgeous

Title: Filthy, Gorgeous
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Summary: After the incident in fouth year, Harry seeks to continue what Snape unwittingly started. SEQUEL TO PLEASURES OF THE SLEEPING BOY
Warnings: Chan, Sex, Slash, Language, Dubious Consent

Disclaimer:All recognised characters are property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury publishing and anyone else I have inadvertently missed out. No profit is being made from this endeavour.


AN:Hey!! Thanks to those of who reviewed, I love you all! ^__^

On another note... I apologise for the long wait, but life has been sooo hectic at the moment! I've been hunting for a new place to live, and found one, yay! And am now in the process or moving... eurg.

Gotta start uni on the 20th of Feb- gulp. That's gonna be scary. I hope they're not all school-leavers, since I've been out of school for 2 years! Ahh well, I'm sure all will be good!

Thanks so much for reading, I'm doing the best I can to get these chapters out!!

Filthy, Gorgeous

..oo00@ PART: one @00oo..


School was a complete drag.

Harry was bored. He was sick and tired and bored of everything. He knew his attitude was darkening, but there was to be no resistance from his conscious. But then again, how could he resist? It was inevitable that the day should come where he snapped and snarled like any old Snape, what with the Dursley's being his main influence during his pitiful childhood. There were other factors too- Voldemort, for instance, just to name one.

Ron and Hermione were simply Ron and Hermione, as he knew they always would be, not that that was their fault. Hermione would always be strong-willed, intelligent, and just that little bit annoying (ok, so a lot at times) and Ron would be the jealous side-kick who would never really make anything of himself, always in shadow of his siblings. It was harsh, and Harry knew it, but he couldn't fault himself for wanting something else- something that he could control.

Now, control was another story. Never would he ever dream of controlling Snape, especially sexually, if his prior experience with the man was anything to go by, but Harry knew he could control whether or not there was a He and Snape. In fact, he had to know that he could control it because he was aggrieved to admit that most things in his life were decided by the 'higher powers' (Dumbledore, Voldemort).

What Snape had done to him was a complete eye-opener, not to mention a means of getting aroused, and something that he thought of almost more than anything else. It hadn't just been a dirty old man getting his jollies from a sleeping boy, no, but Snape, Hogwarts resident bastard and potions master, doing something he knew was completely forbidden.

And it completely inspired Harry.

Harry hated Snape, hated him with a passion. He was ugly, greasy, a Death Eater and a criminal. But he had gall, Harry had to give him that. He was compelling in a way that really shouldn't be at all appealing, yet was; to someone like Harry.

All that was needed to be done was to convince Snape that yes, a union between the two of them would be more than beneficial for both parties, and that, really, nothing much had to change. After all, Snape had already fucked Harry through the mattress, lived with him in close confines, and saved his life numerous times- what else was needed? Harry certainly could take a few well-aimed insults, silent moodiness, and an obsession for potions.

~

During the next few days a few things happened. Snape stared at Harry more, yelled at him with increasing ferocity and deducted his house of so many points that people were beginning to talk. So, it was beginning. Harry had gotten under the old mans oily, translucent skin. He'd made a mark, which was exactly what he wanted.

He knew that he was, if not already, becoming steadily more obsessed with Hogwarts' illustrious Potions Master. It wasn't a romantic obsession either, for Harry knew not to romanticise Snape in any way. They would never be together like any conventional couple, would never agree to live together happily, nor admit to a relationship of any sort other than that of enmity. It was perfect; it was just what Harry needed.

And it wouldn't matter if Voldemort killed him off, since no love would be lost.

It was beyond perfect.

All that had to be done now, especially since the wheels had been set in motion, was to continue it on.

Harry's way.

~

The first time Harry knocked on Snape's door, he was nervous. But then again, he had reason to be. He'd been fucked, while asleep, but had never actually been the person doing the fucking. He supposed he should've gotten some experience under his belt before seeking out this little endeavour, but it would just have to suffice the way it was.

When Snape answered, Harry's breath was taken away from him completely.

The man looked marvellous. Edible.

Actually, in all honesty, he looked like he usually did. But with the way Harry was feeling, Snape may as well have been served up on a pewter platter, or in a cauldron for that matter.

"Are you going to invite me in, or do you want to draw attention to ourselves?" Harry asked pompously, raising a brow in Snape-fashion.

"Get in, then." Snape moved away, plonking himself down in a worn, leather recliner. He picked up a glass from the table beside him, swirled its amber liquid, before downing the whole glass in one long swallow that Harry followed completely.

Licking his lips, Harry advanced, his eyes slitted predatorily, before coming to a halt right in front of the man.

"Make yourself useful and pour me another one, Potter. The bottle is over there on the shelf, even your blind eyes can't miss it." Snape said nastily, but Harry obeyed, thinking that if the man had a couple of drinks in him it might make things slightly easier. But who was to know? Perhaps Snape was one of those violent drunks. Harry hoped not.

Harry diligently poured the man another drink, be that his second or twenty-second, and thought to himself that tonight he would not be taking any more orders. He'd be making Snape take orders from him. And that though alone send a pleasant thrum of pleasure straight to his cock, making it twitch almost noticeably in his baggy jeans. Harry sucked in a harsh breath.

Snape studied him intensely for a moment, before a smirk curved his thin lips. "I don't think you'll make it past the next five minutes, Potter. You're about to come in your pants as it is."

Glaring, Harry threw himself down in the other seat opposite Snape and re-adjusted himself without preamble. "We'll see, old man."

"Hmm yes, I do suppose I am an old man in the eyes of a dunderhead sixteen year old. Tell me Potter; if your father were alive and he took advantage of you as I did, would you fuck him too? Or do I alone hold that special privilege." Snape poured himself another half-glass, his eyes slightly glazed, focused intently upon Harry.

Knowing that Snape was baiting him, and forcing himself not to rise to the occasion, in any more ways, Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. I've never known my father, as you very well know. Why are you asking? Was it from your own father that you got your perverse, yet pleasant, ideas?"

A moment passed, and Snape's eye twitched, before the man stood and literally roared in Harry's face like a great grizzly bear. "How dare you insinuate anything about my father! You know nothing Potter, absolutely nothing!" He spat, out of breath, his eyes fierce and full of passion like never before.

Harry hardened in a second at the display. He jumped from his seat, pushed Snape forcefully back into his own, and was only able to do it as he'd caught the man off guard, before sitting on his lap and kissing him for the first time.

Apparently he'd stunned the Potion's Master even more, as he merely sat still, in a complete stupor, while Harry lapped at his thin lips. Then suddenly, he was spurred into action.

"Off!" Snape grunted, almost biting Harry's poor tongue, as he pushed the boy off his lap. Harry fell hard to the ground, cringing as his bottom hit the hard, stone floor. He hadn't planned on this part of his body being sore after tonight.

Snape stalked off towards what Harry assumed to be the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. His arousal hadn't diminished in the slightest, and his cock was throbbing unpleasantly against his underpants- he really should start wearing boxers like all the other boys, but the thing was, Harry actually enjoyed the firm presence of his underpants throughout the day.

Walking like he'd had an accident, and probably would at some point, Harry waddled over to the door and pressed his ear against it.

Nothing.

Oh... Harry realised it must be under a silencing charm. He wondered if Snape could still hear him, and figured that the possibility of that was quite high.

"Snape." Harry said, his voice huskier than usual, probably due to arousal. There was no response. "Snape!" He repeated, much louder. "I think you can hear me, and I'm wondering why you've gone and barricaded yourself in there..."

After waiting a moment, Harry continued. "I..." he hesitated, not really wanting to do so, but feeling the need. "I'm sorry for mentioning your father. It was uncalled for."

Apologising had never been part of any of Harry's plans but, well, he knew how it felt to have your father belittled, and it certainly wasn't a pleasant feeling. About to give up, he was taken by surprise as the door swung open, revealing a completely composed Snape, if not for the slightly alcohol(?) reddened eyes.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to talk, he was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and pushed against the wall, his spine grating uncomfortably, and assaulted by Snape's hot mouth. It was barely a kiss, more like murder, rough and heady and desperate and nothing Harry ever associated with Snape. Well, except perhaps the murder part.

When Snape finally pulled away, Harry could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, and noticed the red tint to his Professor's lips. His lip was also tingling, probably the source of the blood.

"Get out Potter, before I do some serious damage." He growled, looking more like a predator, and Harry figured that tonight was not the night to carry out his plans. Snape glared at him once more, before turning and stalking out again through another door, this one probably leading to his bedroom.

Sighing, and still rock hard, Harry made his way to the door, relishing the taste of Snape in his mouth, and mourning the loss of opportunity of fucking Snape.

Well.

~

Snape paced in his bedroom, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself down. He was infuriated with the boy, and himself, and just couldn't comprehend his actions. What was he doing? He was being ridiculous, and he knew it.

But next time, as he knew there would be, since the boy seemed infatuated in one way or another, Snape knew they'd each get what they sought. He wasn't going to fall victim to petty words again. And so what if he had learnt all his tricks from his father? What business was that of Potter's?

Hmm. Well, perhaps the boy would have to be punished.

Next time.

~