Hot Oil
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Harry looked nervously from Snape's face to his hands, which were busy setting up a strange contraption involving a glass bowl suspended over a single candle and filled with fragrant oil. "Um, are you sure this is necessary?"

Snape smirked. "Of course not, but it will enhance the effectiveness of the treatment. Now strip."

Harry shucked his kit quickly and practically threw himself onto the narrow cot, not wanting Snape to see what he really thought of the idea of Snape's hands on his body. "And this'll help the problems I've been having, with aching joints and stuff?"

"Yes. You're experiencing the pains associated with a late growth spurt, caused by the nutrient potions you were taking after the accident. I was unaware you had been so deprived in your youth, or I might have chosen a different dose," said Snape, dipping those long fingers into the oil. "We are quite alone in the infirmary, so you may react naturally. I will not betray your confidence to the other faculty."

Harry blushed; he'd taken on the job of Flying Instructor during Hooch's sabbatical as a favour to McGonagall, and then immediately fallen off his broom trying to rescue a First Year from herself. The child had been fine, but Harry was at the end of a long week of potions and therapy for a broken back. "All right," he said, turning away and shifting his hips surreptitiously, legs spreading just a little as he imagined despite himself what else the hot oil might be used for.

The first thing to touch him was a few drops of the oil, cooled from their fall but still warm enough to soothe rather than startle him. They were followed by Snape's fingers smoothing up his back from the base of his spine all the way to his shoulders, then back down along his sides, spreading the oil in a thin layer over his body and making his cock firm completely. Harry bit his lip and tried not to moan.

"If you hold in your reactions, you will only retain the tension I am attempting to remove," said Snape, hands leaving only to return with a fresh coating of oil, this time rubbing the spicy stuff into his arse and hips.

Harry moaned, not sure if it was from the lust caused by Snape touching his arse, or the delicious pain from having his sore hips massaged. He spread his legs a little more anyway, until his feet were barely on the cot.

"Better," said Snape, his voice a touch rough. Harry hoped Snape wasn't getting a cold for about a millisecond, until those hands smoothed down the back of one thigh and then the other, at which point Harry switched to hoping Snape would never stop doing that.

"Ohhh, that's brilliant," said Harry, shifting his hips just a little to rub himself against the starched infirmary sheets.

"I will do your legs more once you're turned over, when I can better manipulate the joints," said Snape, and Harry hid his face in the pillows.

He hadn't considered what would happen when Snape finished with his back.

Snape's hands disappeared once again, returning to his arse with yet more oil, enough that it pooled in the small of his back and slid down his crease and over his balls tantalisingly. "Just relax," said Snape.

Relax, as if there was anything just about it with Harry sporting wood for a man who, while they weren't exactly enemies anymore, didn't exactly shower him with respect or affection, either. Harry nearly levitated off the bed when Snape started massaging his arse cheeks in broad circles, spreading and squeezing his cheeks, exposing and hiding his winking entrance over and over.

Almost too softly for Harry to hear, Snape said, "One would almost think you wanted a more intimate touch, Potter."

Harry moaned, then gave in and arched up the next time Snape spread him. Instead of finishing the stroke, however, Snape spread him as wide as he would go and blew a soft stream of air over his tender entrance. Harry gasped. "You do want it," said Snape, his tone half lust and half disbelief with just that hint of derision that never quite left it.

Harry buried his face in his arms and moaned. "I'm sorry, I do," he said, panting, lifting his hips up from the bed to keep himself from rubbing off on it while Snape watched.

"Don't be sorry," said Snape silkily, and Harry felt a touch on his entrance, raspy and wet. He moaned when he realized it had to be Snape's tongue, as the man's hands were still quite occupied. "I want to touch you," he said roughly, then licked again.

"Please, oh please, anything," said Harry recklessly. Nothing had ever felt as good as those teasing touches of Snape's wicked tongue, and he had so little shame left at this point it seemed foolish to hold back any part of himself.

"Does 'anything' include fucking you until you're so sore you forget your other aches and pains?" said Snape, his voice like raw silk, rough-smooth and rich with desire.

"Yes, god, perfect," said Harry. He drew his knees up beneath him, thrusting his arse shamelessly into Snape's face. "I'm grown up now, you can fuck me, please, do it."

Snape's tongue tormented him for a few long moments, swirling around and around and then licking in broad cat-stripes from bollocks to tailbone before Snape answered. "If you insist," he said, then returned to Harry's entrance, spearing it with his tongue this time, wriggling into the tight space and making Harry lose all grip on English.

Reduced to incoherent moans and writhing, Harry shoved himself back on Snape's tongue. He could feel the nose he'd mocked in his youth pressing into his crease, those fingers he'd admired longer than he'd care to admit holding him so very wide open, that tongue that had lashed out in anger and hurt him so many ways now giving him the best pleasure of his admittedly limited experience. He mewled like a horny cat when Snape pulled away, the sound cutting off in a yelp when Snape smacked his arse soundly. "Hold yourself open, and I shall prepare you."

This seemed like a fair proposition to Harry, though a corner of his mind screamed at the idea that he'd do something so humiliating in front of Snape, for Snape. He reached back and got a grip on his oil-slicked cheeks, baring himself to Snape's gaze and Snape's touch.

"Perfect," said Snape, an unmistakable satisfaction in his voice. The heavenly mouth returned to suck on Harry's full, greedy bollocks while those fingers dipped into his body. First one and then, finding Harry agreeable, two glided into the recesses of Harry's hungry arse.

Harry felt Snape's moan on his balls and nearly came just from that, and from the gentle, implacable press of a third finger into him. He found the words to say, "Please, now, please," though he whimpered when Snape's touch retreated once again.

"Now," said Snape, and Harry felt Snape's oil-slicked cock slide hotly into him, smooth as a knife into butter.

Harry gasped as Snape hit his apex, the whole shaft huge and thick like nothing Harry had ever felt before, at least not inside him, not with such pleasure. "Oh, god, feels good."

"You're tight as a virgin," said Snape, gently pushing Harry's hands away and replacing them with a firm grip on Harry's hips.

Harry chose not to disabuse Snape of any notions of Harry's virginity or lack thereof, as the point was now moot anyway, and he had much better things to say, like, "Yes," and, "Please," and, "More!"

Snape was uncommonly obliging, fucking Harry harder and faster though he could go no deeper, giving Harry all the more he could handle. His balls slapped against Harry's in a rough sort of caress, one that drove Harry to greater heights of pleasure with each stroke. Harry lost himself in the rhythm of it, each thrust adding another fraction of a degree to the heat building in Harry's bollocks and at the base of his spine. Snape, too, had stopped speaking in more than monosyllables and moans, though his were low and rough where Harry's were embarrassingly high and mewling, just as Snape's hands were sure and firm on Harry's hips, while Harry felt as though his limbs might crumple at any moment.

It all gave way in a rush and Harry slumped forward onto his arms, legs going weak as he came with a cry, pleasure whooshing through him like a flash fire, unbearable heat that poured down his veins and out his cock while Snape kept on through it all, the irresistible force that drove Harry higher and higher.

Harry's weight was almost entirely in Snape's hands after that, as Snape's hips kept moving inexorably in and in toward the inevitable conclusion. Harry could barely find the strength to take a breath, as though all the space inside him was taken up by Snape's cock and nothing else would fit, not even air. It seemed like seconds or maybe hours and then Snape's hands tightened hard enough to bruise and his hips stilled after one last, bone-wrenching thrust, and he moaned something that might have been Harry's name, if Harry were foolish enough to think it mattered whose arse Snape had used to achieve this particular release.

Snape's hands relaxed and Harry's limp body fell away, Snape's cock slipping out easily as it did. Harry gave a languorous little stretch and wriggle and found a smile hiding somewhere inside him, the satisfied smile of a cat who's had a very thorough scratching and no longer minds that it originally came looking for a different sort of treat. "Thank you," said Harry, his voice thick and sleepy. "I feel much better now."

Snape chuckled and gave Harry's arse another swat, making him jump and yelp in protest. "I suspect you'll need another... treatment tomorrow. Come to my quarters after dinner, if you are so inclined."

Harry rolled over and stared, grinning, too shocked to answer at first. Snape's expression began to darken and Harry found some words, saying quickly, "Yes! Yes, I'll be there, I just... I guess I didn't think you'd want to."

Snape's eyebrow went up, but the storm that had been building left his eyes and he said sardonically, "I wouldn't have done it at all if I didn't want to."

Harry flushed. "Yeah, I guess so. Sorry, I wasn't thinking really. So, tomorrow in your quarters? Should I, er, bring anything?"

"Clothing for the day after tomorrow," said Snape, going entirely back to smug and satisfied. "I intend to keep you busy all night."

Harry took a risk and got himself sitting up, then kneeling enough so he could reach Snape's mouth for a kiss that started tentative and turned deliciously warm and sensual. "Sure you don't want to start tonight?" he asked, nuzzling at Snape's cheek.

Snape laughed. "Tonight, then. You'd best wash up and dress, if you're going to make it down to dinner." He paused for another kiss, then pulled back and added, "You'll need the energy."

Title: Hot Oil
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, rimming, PWP
Summary: Harry gets a therapeutic massage.
Acknowledgements: This started as a drabble for dementordelta, and er, grew *shifty eyes* Thanks to clauclauclaudia and juice817 for the betas.

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.