Custard

AN: Comment porn

DISCLAIMER: Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and her business partners. Plot (what plot?) is my own. I make no money from this or anything else.

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Snape stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen, wearing nothing more than a look of utter disgust.

"What appalling culinary disaster are you engaged in this time?" he sneered.

Harry looked up from the odd assortment of food items he had laid out on the counter, and smiled saucily at the naked Snape. "I'm making you dessert."

"We haven't even had dinner."

"No, you misunderstand me. I'm not making dessert for you. I'm making you dessert."

"You're being even more incomprehensible than usual, Potter."

Harry dipped two fingers into a bowl of custard and, carrying the bowl with him, advanced on the wary Potions master. "You're not the only one who can get surprising results from an unlikely combination of ingredients."

Snape might claim to not comprehend Potter, but his cock began to swell as if it understood very well indeed.

A foolish grin threatened to cleave Harry's face in two. He dropped to his knees in front of Snape. "I love custard almost as much as I love you."

Snape crossed his hands over his genitals, vainly attempting to hide his tumescence. "Don't touch me, you irritating whelp."

Harry stroked a custardy finger up and down Snape's thigh. His tongue soon followed in its path. "Mmmm. Sweeeet."

"That's revolting, Potter. It's cold. It's messy. It's sticky."

"Sounds rather like you on a good night, Snape."

Snape gave a startlingly high pitched yelp as Harry raised the bowl of custard with one hand, and pushed the Potions Mister firmly into the pale yellow mixture.

"You're disgusting, and completely insane."

"Am I?" Harry asked around a mouthful of erect cock. He used his tongue to push custard into the tiny slit at the tip, and then pursed his lips and sucked it all back out again.

"With your haphazard cooking. . .Merlin!. . .I'll probably get some kind . . . fuck! Do that again! . . .parasite from undercooked. . . actually that feels rather amazing . . . eggs."

Harry chuckled as Snape struggled to remain coherent. He slowly ran a fingernail over each prominent vein on Snape's shaft, lightly scraping away the custard, and then used his tongue and lips to smear them with the eggy sweet again.

"Guh." Snape swallowed audibly. "Is that . . . oh my God! Again!. . . nutmeg I detect?"

Harry looked up at his professor, admiration clear in his eyes. "Your nose is astounding."

"This is hardly the time . . . No! Don't stop, you idiot child!. . .to insult my . . . Harder! You'll never bring me off that way!. . . features."

"You're the idiot. I wasn't insulting you. I was commenting on your amazing sense of smell. How you can smell the tiny amount I used all the way up there. . ."

Harry spun Snape around abruptly, leaving custard fingerprints on narrow hips. Snape's snarl of displeasure turned to a whimper as a hand moved between his legs and began to massage custard into his balls. A low whine was pulled from his lungs when he felt the first brush of Potter's tongue along his cleft.

"Ah. My mistake. You're not an idiot. . . Ahhh. Faster, please!. . . I can't smell it, Potter. I can feel it. a little firmer, if you would. . . Nutmeg has warming properties. Which you would know. . .FUCK! Again, do that again!"


Harry's tongue painted Snape's cleft with sticky goodness. He gave the tight puckered rosebud the same treatment he had used on Snape's cock slit, pushing custard in as deep as he could.

"Ngggg!. . .which you would know if you had . . .ohgodohgodogodohGOD!!! paid the least attention in CLASS!"

Harry had reached between Snape's legs and taken his sticky cock in hand. The boy's fingers slid easily up and down the shaft, pushing the foreskin over the glans, and tugging it back sharply. His pointed tongue continued to fuck rapidly into Snape's arse.

Snape's ball sack tightened and his whole body arched tensely as his orgasm took him. Five, six, seven pulses of hot, creamy wetness splattered the kitchen floor - little white exclamation points atop globs of spilt custard. Chest heaving and legs near collapse, he leaned heavily against the doorjamb, almost crushing Harry's head against the painted wood.

"I hope," he panted, "you haven't used all of the eggs. I was planning on making a nice Chicken Mayonnaise later."

"We don't have any chicken." Harry said suspiciously.

A slim eyebrow arched up Snape's forehead. His gaze traveled lasciviously up and down the teenager's body and he smiled wickedly. "I be dif differ, Mr Potter."

~Fin~