A Man Cannot Control His Dreams

A/N: I'm on a roll here, people. More soon.
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Knocking Harry’s hands aside, Snape seized the front of the boy’s shirt and pulled him bodily from the table. More of a show of force, than anything else. Harry, who clutched Snape’s wiry arms to keep his balance, saw stars as his the back of head was smacked against a cabinet. Vaguely, he recognized the sound of the bottles within clinking against each other, but the dream didn’t seem important just then. This was the here and the now and he was already too twisted up and provoked to make much sense of his own thoughts anyway.

Snape had already finished unbuttoning Harry’s shirt and was biting a path across the prominent sweep of his exposed collarbones when Harry snapped out of his mind, and he grabbed frantically at the man who’d brought him so close…and then started all over again.

“Professor,” Harry gasped, and fumbled at the bindings of Snape’s heavy black robes. “Please – !” Harry’s belt was stripped from the loops just as he managed to puzzle out the clasps on Severus’ chest, and Severus, caught by the sheer eagerness, allowed his robes to be pushed from his shoulders. However, he caught Harry’s hands before they could reach for the buttons on the tunic he wore beneath. This was not the time for any sort of equality.

“Not today,” he growled, and Harry obeyed, for once, without question. When Severus let go of Harry’s wrists it was simply to finish the job he’d begun. Within moments Harry’s slacks were stripped down, shoes toed off, and underwear tugged free, all cast aside the way of the Potions Master’s robes. Harry had neither the time nor the presence of mind to want to cover himself.

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Snape’s touch was everywhere, Harry, like putty in his hands. Utterly pliable and suppliant. Thoroughly responsive. Wholly addictive. Snape scored his nails down pale ribs, and Harry’s back arched into it. The boy was panting, his erection standing hard and demanding from a thatch of black hair. Snape let his eyes sweep over him with final appraisal. Enough foreplay.

Deftly retrieving his wand from his sleeve, he twirled it momentarily for Harry to see, waiting for the realization of utter forfeit to register in the wild, unfocused green eyes. The boy was wandless, naked, pinned immobile, deep within the castle, at the mercy of a far superior wizard who may or may not be in the market to kill him.

Harry’s blood ran cold, even as his cock throbbed in the chill dungeon air. Snape recognized it all with satisfaction: Didn’t even need to glance into the wide-open mind to read every heady reaction as it came.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured icily, tilting Harry’s head up with the tip of his wand. “You’ll enjoy it.” Harry closed his eyes. “No no,” Snape insisted, splaying a hand on the young, fluttering chest, “don’t try to hide from this, Potter.” Green eyes did as they were bid. “Spread your legs.” The Gryffindor obeyed this order as well, though he couldn’t help but feel like a mouse being tortured with by a sleek, black cat. This thought held his attention just long enough for the hand that grasped his bare, straining flesh to totally shock him. Against his throat, he felt the rumble of incantation spill from Snape’s lips, and all of a sudden he recognized how incredibly tense each of his muscles was as they all relaxed. Harry was flooded with gentle warmth as the lubrication spell took effect.

“Good…” Snape murmured, as he unbuckled his belt, and with no more warning than that, hoisted Harry up against the wooden front of the potions stores, hooking a hand beneath one bare knee and an elbow beneath the other. Harry, alarmed, grabbed Snape’s shoulders and tried to gain some sort of traction, but was left, unstable, to depend solely on the Potions Master’s strength to hold him up. But all such concerns died in his mind as he felt the hot, smooth tip of Snape’s cock stroke against his entrance.

“Oh – “ he gasped, and dug his fingers into Snape’s flexed shoulders. Severus made a small noise of approval.

“I’d ask you if you were sure,” Snape said as he caught and trapped Harry’s eyes with his own, “if I thought it’d make a difference.” Harry’s response was lost as his mind whited-out with disbelief and pleasure.

Snape, buried to the hilt, was both glad he’d thought to administer the cautionary spells, and intrigued as to what sort of sounds would tear themselves from Potter’s throat had he not. Judging by those the boy was already emitting, though, the dead would rise at the racket. The whelp was tight, that was for sure. Virginal. Snape’s vision went red with the thrill of being the first.

Withdrawing just enough, Harry’s heels digging into his back, Snape angled his hips and snapped them back into place, ripping a sound of pure subhuman ecstasy from the figurehead of the Wizarding World. Snape grunted in response, spurred brutally on by the wanton, unfettered reactions.

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Harry felt some secret point of pleasure within him struck again and again as he was penetrated and used – fucked – by his inscrutable Potions Professor. His mind was in turmoil trying to reconcile that, but somehow made no headway when so much of his blood was diverted from his brain. The wood molding of the cabinet he was crushed against dug sharply into his back with each thrust, but that only made him cry out louder, clutch Snape’s neck harder, reach climax faster. It was quick, too quick, but in Harry it’d been building for days – maybe longer.

Through the thick haze of lust in Severus’ mind he again saw the signs of impending orgasm in the raven-haired body. So, suddenly, violently, the Potion’s Master dug deep into Harry’s mind, finding no resistance whatsoever, and flooded it with every fantasy he’d ever had about the boy. Simultaneously seizing Harry’s manhood, he squeezed.

Harry’s body seized up almost to the point of convulsion as his climax hit him, coming totally beyond sound, beyond thought, beyond anything but the unbelievable sensation.

Severus bit down savagely on Harry’s marked neck, as muscles clamped down around him like a vice. Blissfully, excruciatingly tight, speeding him unexpectedly toward orgasm. When the body he was supporting went limp it took him only a few, erratic thrusts to find his own peak, spilling himself with a deep, throaty noise that somehow made Harry’s spine tingle even after all that had been done to him.

****

Snape collapsed forward into Harry, bracing a hand on the top edge of the cabinet and locking his knees to keep them supporting him. They breathed.
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tbc
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