Softer Sins
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
2,336
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
2,336
Reviews:
6
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.
Softer Sins
Title: Softer Sins
Author name: SuicideParty
Rating: R
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP, HBP
Summary: Harry dreams of a lot of things, but reality isn\'t kind at all.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Softer Sins
He stares down into dark eyes, wondering if his own eyes betray such emotion when they fuck. They are intense. He sees admiration there. Maybe love as well. He doesn’t want to think about that possibility.
He concentrates on rocking slowly, gyrating his hips every so often, keeping the lazy rhythm he knows he won’t be allowed to keep for much longer. He can feel the cock inside of him as it repeatedly brushes against his prostate, causing his own member to swell from the intensity of the sensation.
He sighs in contentment as he feels the hands, with the long, bony fingers, grip his hips, urging him to continue, but faster, harder, wilder. He complies, as he always does, not breaking eye contact with his lover until it becomes too much and he throws his head back, gasping in pleasure and clenching his fists in the sheets.
He feels the muscles in his thighs contract and expand with each bouncing motion he makes, and he starts to roll his hips again, hissing as his motions are met with equal fervor by the man beneath him. He looks down again to see sallow skin stretched taut over muscle and bone, lank hair in a wild disarray, closed eyes on a face that is too thin, too hard, too old for his lover’s age.
He feels his body tense, and his member throbs as he registers the feeling of the cock inside of him pressing mercilessly into that spot that drives him crazy with pleasure. He vaguely registers the hot gush inside of him that marks his lover’s orgasm, and he collapses to the side, wincing when he feels the softening cock slide from within him.
He hears a voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear and the illusion is broken.
He doesn’t hear the voice of his Potions Master, who would alternately berate him and excite him. Instead he hears the voice of the one person he never thought would do this to him.
He make believes the same scenario every time: the fucking, the emotion in his eyes, eyes that were always so shut off. The love he saw when he looked into those eyes. And that was what hurt the most, knowing that Snape didn’t love him. If he had, he would never have let Harry get into the situation he was in now.
Lost in that same fantasy, it was easy to forget the reality of his situation.
He looks to the person laying next to him, taking in the ginger colored hair, the freckled skin, the lanky frame that was so like and so different from the one he wishes was there.
Stretched out like he is, Harry can also see the Dark Mark that shines on the sweat slicked skin of the person that shares his bed.
“I hate you,” he says.
Ron’s blue eyes open, and he smiles.
“I know.”
Author name: SuicideParty
Rating: R
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP, HBP
Summary: Harry dreams of a lot of things, but reality isn\'t kind at all.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Softer Sins
He stares down into dark eyes, wondering if his own eyes betray such emotion when they fuck. They are intense. He sees admiration there. Maybe love as well. He doesn’t want to think about that possibility.
He concentrates on rocking slowly, gyrating his hips every so often, keeping the lazy rhythm he knows he won’t be allowed to keep for much longer. He can feel the cock inside of him as it repeatedly brushes against his prostate, causing his own member to swell from the intensity of the sensation.
He sighs in contentment as he feels the hands, with the long, bony fingers, grip his hips, urging him to continue, but faster, harder, wilder. He complies, as he always does, not breaking eye contact with his lover until it becomes too much and he throws his head back, gasping in pleasure and clenching his fists in the sheets.
He feels the muscles in his thighs contract and expand with each bouncing motion he makes, and he starts to roll his hips again, hissing as his motions are met with equal fervor by the man beneath him. He looks down again to see sallow skin stretched taut over muscle and bone, lank hair in a wild disarray, closed eyes on a face that is too thin, too hard, too old for his lover’s age.
He feels his body tense, and his member throbs as he registers the feeling of the cock inside of him pressing mercilessly into that spot that drives him crazy with pleasure. He vaguely registers the hot gush inside of him that marks his lover’s orgasm, and he collapses to the side, wincing when he feels the softening cock slide from within him.
He hears a voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear and the illusion is broken.
He doesn’t hear the voice of his Potions Master, who would alternately berate him and excite him. Instead he hears the voice of the one person he never thought would do this to him.
He make believes the same scenario every time: the fucking, the emotion in his eyes, eyes that were always so shut off. The love he saw when he looked into those eyes. And that was what hurt the most, knowing that Snape didn’t love him. If he had, he would never have let Harry get into the situation he was in now.
Lost in that same fantasy, it was easy to forget the reality of his situation.
He looks to the person laying next to him, taking in the ginger colored hair, the freckled skin, the lanky frame that was so like and so different from the one he wishes was there.
Stretched out like he is, Harry can also see the Dark Mark that shines on the sweat slicked skin of the person that shares his bed.
“I hate you,” he says.
Ron’s blue eyes open, and he smiles.
“I know.”