A Question of Etiquette IV:
A Moment of Privacy
headers and warnings

Snape sagged in the chair, heart beating painfully fast in a chest tight with emotion. Guilt rode him, reining in the wild desire that had overwhelmed them both for those few delicious moments. Underneath lurked the gentle, damning affection he'd felt for the boy for years, despite Harry's infuriating disregard for rules and authority. Snape had managed to stay blissfully unaware of Harry's developing good looks right up until he'd felt that small, lean body pressed up against his own, and of course the hard brand of Harry's cock pressing into his hip.

Snape groaned at the memory. He'd had no idea that the Boy Who Lived would once again go against expectations and turn out homosexual. Snape had actually been glad that there hadn't been any new pupils for this particular set of lessons since the twins left. His self-control could only take so many empty flirtations, and he hadn't felt the touch of another's willing hands in far too long.

"Got yourself in quite a bind, haven't you, my boy?" said the infuriatingly smug painting. "I told you these lessons of yours would come back to bite you in the arse one day!"

"You also agreed that my reasons for offering them are sound and honorable. How was I to know he'd listen to his prick instead of six years of prejudice?" Snape replied wearily. He was used to Austereus' heckling, in fact he found it somewhat comforting most days, but this was a touchy subject, to say the least.

Austereus harrumphed, but fell silent, his usual tactic when he had no answer for Snape's often rhetorical questions. Snape waved his wand at the chess set, watching absently as the pieces put themselves away. He left the rest for the house elves -- they had an uneasy truce: since he wouldn't let them into his potions laboratory, he wasn't allowed to clean up anything in his private quarters. He'd only put the bathroom to rights because the boy was coming over, and the elves wouldn't have had time.

He was fairly sure he'd hear a complaint in the morning anyway. He sighed and stood, intent on disappearing into his bedroom before Austereus could resume his harassment. He walked uncomfortably, back held stiff to disguise the similar state of his prick, and sagged with relief once the heavy door was between himself and the portrait. Normally he enjoyed the small easing of his lonely life it gave, having someone to chat with during the long evenings, but at times it was inconvenient, a bit like having a houseguest you couldn't properly be rid of.

Snape leaned against the door, letting his head rest against the dark wood, not bothering with the lights just yet. He let a hand trail down the front of his pants, let his mind finally dwell on the image of Harry innocently consuming the fortunate raspberry, his pink tongue lapping up the sticky fluid, its juices staining his agile mouth, his fingers disappearing between reddened lips. He'd looked so innocent when he'd finally noticed Snape watching him, one finger still stuck in his mouth and green eyes wide with surprise.

Snape could still have held himself in check and stuck to another mostly-accidental caress had those eyes not darkened with desire at the first brush of Snape's toes. He had no idea what prompted the boy to taunt him into making the first move, but he knew deep down he'd taken exactly as much advantage as he felt he could get away with, both in his own conscience and Harry's naive willingness. Offered a banquet, he'd done well to take only a taste.

It still lingered on his tongue, a faint bitterness mingled with the more mundane flavours of tea and biscuits and fruit, the hint of brine that was most likely more than half imagination at that point. He longed to have it unadulterated, to lick and suck until he was rewarded with a flood straight from the source, as it were. He moaned softly at the image, and again at the knowledge that Harry had gone and had one off the wrist just a few feet and one closed door away from where he'd been blithely arguing with some long-dead portrait.

He wished, now, that he'd paid more attention to the boy's absence. He might've heard a telltale moan, and gone to investigate. Snape stopped that line of thought long enough to strip, leaving his clothing in a trail from door to bed. He climbed the two short steps, setting his wand on the nightstand, and slid between the crisp, cool sheets. He mentally checked his wards, finding everything secure, and then finally let his hands and mind wander.

Had he heard Harry moaning, he might have gone to check on the boy. He'd have closed the bedroom door in case Harry was in some distress, not wanting to shock or endanger Austereus. The loo door would've been slightly ajar, not having latched properly when Harry went in, and Snape would have easily pushed it open. Harry would've been there, flushed and panting, perhaps on his knees on the cold tiles, trousers pooling around him, cock rampant in his fist.

Snape wrapped his own agile fingers around his aching prick, unwilling to wait for a more leisurely exploration. He stroked roughly, frantically, deliberately echoing the motions of Harry's imaginary hand in his little mental play. Harry would be too intent, at first, on what he was doing, eyes closed and lower lip caught between even white teeth. He wouldn't notice until Snape cleared his throat, then those green eyes would fly open, wide and dark and shocked as they'd been over the chessboard.

Snape was already close, and he slid two fingers into his mouth, wetting them briefly before spreading his legs and trailing them down between. He didn't often indulge in this particular activity outside of the bath, but the tingle of Harry's lips on his own demanded no less. He cried out softly as the fingers slipped inside his opening, and his other hand moved faster, stroking him desperately towards release.

In his mind, Harry's hand would have stilled, his mouth moving but no words emerging. Snape would lean against the doorjamb and cross his arms negligently, his own cock pressing obviously against the front of trousers he could admit only to himself had been chosen for just that effect. "Do you require assistance, Harry?" he would say, trying to sound flippant but unable to keep the rising desire out of his voice.

Harry would nod, shocked, and let his hands fall away, giving Snape his first unobstructed view of the boy's prick. It would be thick and possibly a bit short, the foreskin pulled back from a head already slick and shining. "What do you want, Harry?" he would ask, standing up and slinking slowly towards his kneeling student.

Harry's eyes would be riveted on Snape's trousers, and the narrow length pressed against them. Snape allowed his hand to tighten around that length, aware as only men of certain predilections can be that he was quite long as these things go, but barely average in girth, and imagined Harry as his opposite in this as so many other things. Snape was close, and he drove his fingers deep, seeking that spot inside himself and letting his hands and imagination speed him towards completion.

Harry would rub his face against Snape's prick like a cat, then open Snape's trousers without a single word. He would look up with those young eyes asking for permission even as his tongue flicked out for his first taste of his teacher. Snape would nod, unwilling to trust his voice, and then moan as the untutored mouth took him in, scraping ungently with his teeth. Snape moaned in real life, a hoarse echo of his mental self, and felt the building tension snap, breaking him apart.

He let the fantasy spin away in the whirlwind of his very real climax, spine arching off the bed as he spent onto his stomach. He let his fingers slip out of his body, sliding the other hand through the hot seed and, in a conscious echo of Harry's earlier admission, licked his hand clean of the bitter spunk. He lay there for a few long moments, enjoying the post-orgasmic lassitude. He would get himself up and dressed for bed in a few minutes, but for now he wanted to drift on the far side of pleasure.

He was, after all, far too familiar with the feeling of having just tossed off to images of a student for any sort of real guilt. He'd save that for later, when he had to decide whether to admit the indiscretion of their single kiss to Dumbledore, or to just assume the meddlesome old man already knew and let it remain, as so many things, unspoken between them. He sat up, making a face. Nothing like thoughts of Albus to ruin a good afterglow, he thought wryly, making his way into the bathroom to get properly ready for bed.

A Question of Etiquette V: An Entertaining Start


Title: A Question of Etiquette IV: A Moment of Privacy
Author:
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape/Weasley Twins
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, underage (16), twincest, threesomes, BDSM & general kinkiness
Summary: Severus enjoys a moment alone.
Acknowledgements: Thank you to everyone who's beta read, audienced, encouraged or otherwise helped with this fic. It's a long road and miles to go, but I'm getting there!



All of the works contained herein are labours of love, unauthorized by those who hold the rights to such things, and no profit is made from them. No harm is meant, and hopefully no offense given.