How Do "You" Like It?

I know that after this long of a wait, people think I died and left this all unfinished. I suspect that my eulogie will read, "Damn Her! She left us hanging!" Not so.
I had an encounter with a second childhood of sorts, went back to school and am now swamped by the burdens of this.
I Apologize.
I know that this will not help, as those waiting for this next chapter expect to find out what Harry saw in that film, and here I go, off on a tangent again.
Well, at least it is a chapter with some self-serving smut in it!

Chapter Nine: Roger That!!!

Roger Davies leaned against the wall outside of the potions classroom, debating with himself over what he was there for.
He pushed off the wall and turned to the door, reaching up an arm and rapping lightly on it.
It was only brief wait before the door opened and Roger was face-to-face with his potions professor.
“Mr. Davies, what brings you here?” Snape asked.
“I need to ask you a question. . .it’s kind of personal.” Roger explained.
Snape gave him an odd look, turned to see if there was anyone else nearby then opened the door so the boy could enter. Roger hurried past him.
Snape closed the door and watched Roger as he wandered between the tables.
“You have a question?” Snape asked, pushing away from the door and heading straight for his desk.
When he reached it, he found Roger standing nearby.
“You said you think I’m a talented wizard, . . .tell me why?” Roger asked.
Snape stopped before stepping behind to his chair. He leaned his hip to the desk as he watched the seventh year run a finger across the dust in its surface.
“Perhaps,” Snape said lightly without inflection. “It is because I have been watching you progress for seven years, Mr. Davies. As I have with many of my students.” Roger looked up and glared at the sallow faced man. “And in my observations, you have proved to be quite talented. I suspect you will achieve between twelve and fourteen NEWTS.”
Roger’s eyes had not changed by the time Snape stopped his speech but his hand had stopped its travels on the desk top.
“What is it you expected me to say, Mr. Davies?” Snape asked, his voice still neutral.
“Am I special?” Roger asked.
“Special? How?” Snape said, “Better than others? Exceptionally gifted?"
“Special . . . .to you?” Roger asked, his eyes beseeching.
“To me, Mr. Davies? Do you think I . . . .” Snape’s words stopped when they were blocked by a pair of soft, warm lips as Roger’s hands held tightly to the man’s shoulder and neck and he closed his eyes.
Shock slowed the man’s reaction, but upon full realization, Snape pulled Roger close with one hand around the boy’s back while the other pulled out his wand and waved it toward the door. Once the silent locking spell was complete and the professor was assured there would be no interruptions, he tucked his wand away and pressed his tongue into the space between Roger’s lips, sucking air into his nose as he tipped his head for better access.
Roger melted into his arms and a soft moan leaked from his throat.
When the man pulled away, the boy looked up and a whimper replaced the wanted sound in his voice.
“Yes, Mr. Davies. You are special to me. How did you know?” Snape asked leaning into the boy that was nearly seated on his desk now.
“I wanted to be.” Roger answered as his fingers tangled in the man’s dark hair. He was surprised that it didn’t feel at all greasy to him. “How much of this is a glamour? I know that the skin color is.”
Snape shook his head, reaching for his wand and lifting it slowly.
“Revertum,” he chanted and his face softened and darkened to a warm tan complexion. His hair shone soft and silky and his dark eyes sparkled.
Roger just stared as the greasy, sallow professor became a strong, dark and handsome man.
“No opinion, Mr. Davies?” Snape said and Roger shook his head.
“Not that. I’m just overwhelmed. Why? Why hide this?” the young man asked as he touched the soft tan cheeks with his finger tips.
“I don’t like being distracted from teaching by little girls and boys oggling me. I’m not Gilderoy Lockhart.” Snape said taking hold of the hand and turning his face to lick at the same fingers. “But, you are no child, are you Roger?”
“I turned eighteen, last month.” Roger muttered.
“Not that. This.” Snape said sliding his free hand up Roger’s thigh and cupping his straining bulge. “Yes, this is not the sign of a child’s obsession. Come, Mr. Davies. This is not the place for this discussion.” and the man stepped away, adjusting his robe as he walked toward the door. Roger followed, quickly.
Four doors down the hall, Snape entered and waited for the boy to follow.
Roger stepped in and looked around.
The sitting room was lined by shelves with books and old-looking artifacts.
The couches and chairs were made of the softest suede and the floor was covered by a beautifully detailed oriental rug that seemed to dance under their feet.
Across the room a spiral wrought iron stairs rose to a loft that disappeared between the book shelves at either side.
“Is this a good place?” Roger asked turning back.
“And risk staining my furniture? Follow me.” Snape said grabbing Roger’s hand and pulling him to the stair and up to the loft.
There was an elegant bedroom here, clothed in velvet drapes and spreads of navy blue over cherry wood.
Roger hardly saw this before he was lifted from the floor and into the arms of the potions professor.
“This is the proper place to continue.” Snape said as Roger wrapped his legs around the man’s waist and his arms around a strong neck.
Snape kissed him hard and Roger felt like he had found the last part of his soul. It was a possessive kiss, that told him just how much he was wanted and his body responded, craving more as his hips moved against the professor’s body.
Snape pulled back, breathing hard as he looked into Roger’s eyes and asked a silent question.
Roger nodded his response and his soon-to-be-lover lowered him to the ground.
Four hands moved quickly, shedding layers of clothing until both men were nude. The bigger man lifted the other, laying him on the bed that he had stripped back, before climbing over Roger and reclaiming the puffy lips he had only released to take off a pull-over sweater that the boy had chosen that morning
Roger groaned into the this as the long narrow fingers of the potions master found his entrance and were gently stroking the puckered flesh.
“Ah, Merlin!” the boy cried and the man chuckled.
“No, but close.” Snape said “Hold that thought, while I get something that will help.”
Roger shivered as Snape moved and cool air replaced the warm body that had been pressed against him.
Snape came back with a small vial in his hand and he held it up for the boy. “My own formula. I think you’ll like this.” he said before crawling back over Roger’s prone body.
Roger waited as Severus coated his fingers with the clear liquid and reached between his spread legs.
It was cold when it touched his heated body but immediately started to tingle on his skin and warmed, just a little beyond his body temperature.
“Oh, wow!” Roger said as his hips squirmed in response to the feeling and on this que Snape pressed one finger in. It reached Roger’s tight ring and the heat moved in.
“Wait, is it safe? This won’t make me . . . .?” Roger asked, suddenly very concerned.
“Make you what, Roger?” Snape asked, looking down at the flushed boy in his arms. “Are you concerned about your special new organ? Don’t panic, my little Ravenclaw. There is no connection between the anal cavity and your uterus. No worries that I might impregnate you. If only it were that simple.” Snape said with a sigh.
Roger didn’t bother asking what he meant. “Okay.” the boy said and the man continued.
By the time the professor had three fingers inside of Roger, the Ravenclaw was glowing with warmth and gyrating onto his lover’s hand. Snape thrust his fingers into the young man’s body in a simulation of what he had planned and Roger was near to begging that he move on. Snape had been relentlessly stroking Mr. Davies prostate and it was a merciless pleasure for him.
“Please . . .” Roger begged as he squeezed his eyes shut and rode another wave of sensations from his inner organ’s manipulations.
“Please, Mr. Davies?” Snape asked as he stroked it again.
“Yes, . . .please, do it Severus! Now, please!” Roger cried, jerking with the movement of the man’s middle finger.
Snape smiled as he slowly withdrew his fingers and heard his lover gasp at the loss.
He climbed to his knees and reached for the younger man, pulling him up and turning him in his lap. He managed to get Roger seated against his chest, straddling his thighs and positioned just above his ready organ.
Snape held Roger’s hips and guided him down, impaling the other and lifting his own hips to meet the boy’s ass. Roger groaned and lay his head back against Severus’ chest, his shoulder length hair falling back and draping over the professor’s back and arm.
Severus turned his head and breathed in the boy’s scent even as his hips and arms began to establish a rhythm of movements, lifting as he pulled back and thrusting up as his hands pulled Roger back down. In a matter of minutes they were covered in a layer of perspiration and voicing their enjoyment in throaty moans and breathy gasps.
The world around them was lost as their concentration centered on only their two bodies connected and working toward mutual climax and earth shaking release.
Roger’s hair clung to the wet skin of his face and Snape’s chest, Severus’ hanging damply to his head as sweat dripped down his face and chest.
“Ah, Merlin!” the man cried when Roger shifted and his organ went deeper. This proved his undoing, as he thrust twice more and orgasmed deep in the recesses of his new lover. His teeth sank into Roger’s shoulder, biting back an exclamation and sending the boy over the edge.
“Fuck, Severus!”
“Yes, Roger. I agree!” the potions master said as he dropped to the bed holding the boy close. They fell asleep, still joined as the man’s organ softened slowly.


Still hate me???