Birthday Blues

Hi lovely readers!! It was my 30th birthday on 12th June, so I wrote this fic as a present to you all (and er, kind of like self help really too, LOL. Harry and I have a very similar outlook on turning 30 ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoy a little bit of Snarry humour and smut.

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“Go AWAY!”

Snape sneered at the lump cowering under the blankets. “I will not go away. Cease acting like a recalcitrant child and get out of bed this instant.”

Harry’s response, for all that it was muffled, was unarguably rude.

“Potter,” Snape warned, “do not make me come in there and retrieve you. We are expecting over three hundred guests to arrive in less than six hours, and I have forty house-elves rolling out seventy metres of vol-au-vent pastry as we speak. And believe me, threats of resurrecting the long dead French chef Carême who one has to thank for the most favoured party snack of all time, does nothing to chivvy them along!”

“I told you I didn’t want a party! Why can’t I be left alone to die in peace?”

Snape sighed loudly and sat on the edge of the bed. “You are not even close to extinction, you ungrateful brat, merely experiencing melancholy at the thought of turning thirty. If anyone is about to expire from this mortal plane it is me! Do you have any idea how tedious it is to construct six hundred salmon and cream cheese parcels? By hand? Get up and assist!”

Snape made a sudden lunge for the covers, but Harry had already anticipated such a move.

“Potter! Surrender immediately!”

“No!”

“Relinquish the bedclothes or I shall not be responsible for my actions!”

Snape gave one last yank just as Harry let go, the sudden loss of tension catapulting him backwards to land in a heap on the bedroom floor.

Harry sat bolt upright and peered over the mattress edge. “Oh shit, are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Snape mimicked, fighting with a sheet that had somehow tangled around his ankles, “No, Potter, I am most certainly not bloody well okay! I have spent the past month listening to you whining about how bloody unfair your life is and how tragic it is that you are to celebrate surviving yet another year of existence. Some of us have long since surpassed the comfort of that particular epoch and do not appreciate listening to such asinine tales of woe! You are but an infant in the grand scheme of Wizarding years! Which, given your childish attitude, makes perfect sense!”

Rant over, Snape was no closer to untying the knot that kept him floor-bound. Matters were not improved by the fact that his fingers were still oily from handling the smoked salmon.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, shuffling over to hang off the edge, “here, let me help.”

“Oh now he deigns to be of assistance,” Snape grumbled, brushing back a loose strand of hair in irritation.

Harry grinned and began to pick at the knot. “Whatever can I do to make it up to you?” he purred, slithering fully off the bed to the floor.

Snape snorted. “Eight hundred mini sausages? Twelve hundred microscopic cuboids of cheese and pineapple that required acute precision with a cocktail stick?”

Harry hummed thoughtfully as the knot loosened. “There must be something I can do to relieve all that stress.”

Snape leaned back and propped himself on an elbow. “Arranging for Oliver Wood to jump out of a ten foot double-chocolate sponge cake? That isn’t stress, Potter, that is a recipe for a heart attack. Do you have any idea how dreadful that man’s management company is?”

Running his hands up Snape’s mysteriously now parted legs, Harry replied, “you’ve paid for the most famous Quidditch star in the country to degrade himself, just for me?”

Snape swallowed as Harry’s fingers reached the crease of his thighs. “Not entirely for you, no. I myself am rather enamoured with the idea of seeing a former student debase himself purely for our mutual entertainment. It is absurd what the possession of wealth can accomplish.”

Harry fondled the hardening lump before moving on to Snape’s shirt, sliding his hands underneath to stroke the wiry hairs around his navel. “Should have saved your money, Severus. The only wood I want jumping out at me on my birthday is already in your pants and raring to go.”

Snape leaned forward and seized Harry’s wrists, pulling him forward until he straddled his lap. “This?” he said silkily, rolling his hips to slide his erection along Harry’s cleft.

“Mmm, yeah, that. Don’t want to wait, either.”

Harry rose to his knees and unzipped Snape’s trousers, the caged cock within needing very little encouragement to be released.

“At least let me prepare you, first,” Snape hissed. Harry’s fingers closed around the thick shaft and guided it to nestle against the damp cotton of his underpants.

“Already done,” he whispered seductively, pulling the material aside and shuffling his knees further apart, “knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me, whether I’m decrepit or not.”

Snape felt the slick hole briefly stretching under the pressure before giving way, engulfing his cock in latent heat as Harry lowered himself down, a loud groan escaping his lips. “You seem to have – an exceedingly high opinion of yourself,” he grunted, redoubling his grip on the tanned, toned waist.

Harry smiled down at him and traced the uneven line of dark hair across his chest, running the pad of his thumb first across one nipple, and then the other. It was maddening, only being able to see the outline of Harry’s swollen prick, still tightly packed into his undershorts. Snape kept one hand on Harry’s hip and moved the other down to tease the elasticated waistband, dipping his fingers inside and combing them through the thatch of dark pubic hair.

“Fuck, yeah,” Harry gasped, pushing into the touch. Snape let a finger brush lightly across the leaking tip then withdrew it, the elastic snapping back into place.

“Severus!” Harry whined in protest.

“Do you promise to help with the preparations, and engage in civil conversation later?”

“Gods, yes! Anything, just touch me, please!”

Snape smirked and returned his hand, though this time he cupped Harry’s cock through the fabric instead.

“We’ll never stop doing this, will we?” Harry panted, shifting his hips and riding Snape harder, “tell me we’ll never be too old for this.”

“No, never,” Snape agreed hoarsely, finally slipping his hand inside Harry’s pants when a wet patch formed and began to spread.

“Good, then I don’t care how old I get.”

Bracing himself on Snape’s shoulders, Harry sped up, repeatedly dropping his arse down to meet the impatient thrusts, each one propelling Snape’s cock between tight, ridged walls and dragging them with him when Harry bucked up again.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Harry moaned, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead, “want you to come inside me.”

Snape very much wanted to as well, but he needed to see Harry orgasm first. He tugged the waistband away and carefully slid it down, exposing the flushed length to his gaze before hooking the elastic underneath his lover’s full, heavy balls.

The taut pressure darkened Harry’s testicles to a bruised purple. Snape had barely made a strong fist around his shaft when Harry jerked suddenly and his breath shortened, harsh little pants that caused a blush to appear.

“Oh God,” he gasped, dropping his chin to watch Snape fisting his cock, “look what you do to me.”

Snape felt the fat vein throb manically as Harry began to shudder, the friction of their skin together increasing each violent pulse. Their eyes met briefly, his own pleasure and longing reflected back in hues of green.

“Come inside me,” Harry urged, as the first spray of semen landed on the soft white flesh of Snape’s belly. Snape drove upwards, burying himself as deeply as he could and stilled.

“Oh yeah,” Harry cried, grinding frantically, “yeah, yeah, yeah.”

The lightning bolt climax shot through Snape’s cock and struck Harry’s prostrate, a low cry of pleasure underscoring his lover’s higher pitched mantra of yeses. Before the last pulse had left Snape’s body, Harry fell forward onto his lips, forcing them apart with wild teeth and a hungry tongue. Snape submitted to the ferocious invasion, his own tongue meeting and tangling wetly with Harry’s.

“That was the best birthday present ever,” Harry sighed happily when they finally broke apart, the kiss interrupted by Snape’s softened cock slipping out.

“Even if that were true, which I find highly unlikely knowing what Mr and Mrs Granger have procured for you this year, you are still obligated to attend your party.”

Harry buried his face in Snape’s chest. “That sucks.”

“Indeed. But so shall I when we are finally alone tonight, if you behave accordingly.” Snape smirked into the messy black hair.

“Fine. As long as I get to cheat at pass-the-parcel.”

“I believe that can be arranged.”

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