Harry's eyes travelled from the ground up, taking in the new "girl" in all his glory. The legs were long and lean rather than skinny, any flaws mostly hidden by the fishnet thigh-highs. Arse narrow and high under the thin skirt that was basically a bit of lingerie, barely covering the rounded flesh, though the garters that pulled it down by attaching it to the stockings kept it from total indecency. Thin back crisscrossed with ribbon and scars beneath, vertebrae visible but not so prominent as to make potential customers worry about health risks. Hair black and glossy, if a bit lank, the ends curling under just enough that it didn't quite touch the shoulder straps of the flimsy top.
The prostitute turned and Harry's eyes dropped, wanting to save the face for last, to savour this new sight as long as possible -- he never bought the boys that gathered outside his flat of a night, but he liked to watch from the balcony and imagine he had the nerve to partake. The stance was firmly supported by the ankle-high, stiletto-heel boots, and then knees that were a bit knobbly from the front but the thighs made up for it, as did the bulge in front of the skirt, especially impressive on a cold day like today. Thin chest, devoid of hair as was everything below the neck, the thin top not enough to hide the pointed nipples. Broad shoulders and that dark hair, and a face that sadly didn't live up to the promise of the body -- it was thin and spare, true, but spoiled by a truly impressive and unpleasantly familiar nose.
Harry thought about his purse, full from a day of futile shopping. He considered Snape out there waiting for his first customer in the cold, and him up here with a nice warm flat. He considered his lonely bed, and how good it would feel to touch someone who would neither be impressed by his history nor inclined to any expectations because of it. Before he knew it, he was leaning out over the balcony, nipples hardening as he left the confines of his warming charm. "Oi, new girl!"
They all looked up, but it was Snape who stepped forward. "I don't give discounts for proximity," he said, the words clearly meaning both physical distance and familiarity.
"How much, if I have you up to the flat for a night?" asked Harry, eyes roaming once more to take in the heavy package of cock and bollocks, which looked just enough bigger that he thought this might work out after all.
"Oooh, you must be something special if our Harry's willing to have you up," said one of the girls, Glinda if he remembered right. She was a good witch, a whole host of kids at home and her out here turning tricks to keep food in their mouths.
"Seven galleons and a hot supper," said Snape, smoothing his hand down the front of his body and looking confident and smug when Harry's eyes followed its path faithfully. Harry knew it was overcharging, especially for a new trick, and didn't care one whit.
"I'll buzz you in," said Harry. He turned back and found the thermos he always gave the girls, a bit of Irish coffee that he usually tossed down mid-shift. "You girls know what to do with this for a night, I hope?" he asked, waving it.
Agatha stepped forward and flicked her wand, stealing it from his grasp. "That we do, love, and never think we don't appreciate it." She turned to Snape and added, "You take good care of our Harry, or we'll make you pick another corner."
"I am certain," said Snape with the same smirking self-assurance he'd always had in class, "he will be well satisfied with his investment."
Harry tapped the ward-charm that would let Snape through, then ducked back inside, glad he'd been keeping the place neat out of habit as much as from any concern for visitors, paid or otherwise. He wiped sweating palms on his jeans, knowing he looked just as nervous as he felt as he let Snape into the flat after a single knock. "You should know, I've never done this before. With a man, paid or not," he said, holding out a hand with nine gold Galleons in it. "But you never bollixed up anything on purpose during the war, so... you're as good a choice as any, I suppose."
"I will do the job I am paid for, and quite well," assured Snape tartly, tucking the Galleons away somewhere improbable, in a fold of clothing that didn't properly exist. "Would you like a blowjob to take the edge off before supper?" he asked, the words bald and devoid of sensuality, as though he was offering a cup of tea, or asking if Harry wanted fries with that.
Harry let out a long, slow breath and nodded. "Yeah, I... Yeah. That would be good." He rubbed his hands on his jeans again, staring at Snape's mouth.
"I suggest you take a seat, then," said Snape impatiently, gesturing to Harry's favourite armchair.
"Er, how about here," countered Harry, sitting on the old chaise instead. If he got his first blowjob from Snape on his chair, he'd never be able to sit in it again without getting hard.
"Acceptable," said Snape, kneeling gracefully down onto the rug and pushing Harry's knees apart. His fingers were cold but not ungentle, slipping up into the warm space between Harry's thighs to cup his bollocks through his jeans.
"I'll be quick," said Harry shyly, fingers clutching at the rough brocade beneath him.
"I swallow," said Snape confidently, and Harry nearly came just from the thought of it. He held back, though an embarrassing moan escaped his lips when his cock sprang free of his jeans and Snape's still-chilled fingertips glided up the length. "Lovely," breathed Snape, leaning in to flick his tongue over the tip once, twice, and then dip it into the slit to gather more of the fluid welling there. "And delicious."
"G-glad you approve," Harry stammered, confused at the foreplay and how much more it aroused him, to think that Snape felt he needed to be wooed, or simply found the compliments deserved. Well, likely not that latter, as Harry couldn't recall a single incident of Snape complimenting him just because he deserved it prior to this one.
That distracted him enough that it was a shock when Snape's mouth engulfed him, one hand gripping the base firmly while those thin lips glided downward, until the whole length of him was wrapped in Snape's fingers and surrounded by his mouth, the head nudging at the soft back of Snape's throat. Harry shivered when Snape began to apply gentle suction, when that agile tongue lashed around and over his prick. Snape began to bob his head, fist following to make incredibly long strokes up and down Harry's cock from root to crown, and he found his hips following along before he could stop himself.
It didn't take long, and he couldn't even bother to be embarrassed as he spilled into Snape's mouth with a whimpering cry. It was his first good blowjob, first ever from a man and only the first of the things they'd do tonight, and just the fact that they'd done it at all was enough. "Brilliant," he said, a languid grin breaking over his features, which was answered with a wry one from Snape.
"I expect you'll be wanting kisses now?" said Snape, a note in his voice that Harry couldn't quite place.
"Oh, yeah," said Harry, tugging Snape upward, leaning back so they were reclined together on the chaise. "Even if it's extra."
Snape chuckled and pressed his mouth to Harry's, and Harry's tongue came out to taste the heady flavour of himself on Snape's lips. "Call it a proximity bonus," said Snape teasingly, kissing away the laugh that bubbled up to Harry's lips.
Dinner was an awkward thing, the taste of Potter's come and kisses lingering in his imagination long past any possible trace of it in his mouth, sweeter than it had any right to be. When Snape had decided that prostituting himself would be, while not ideal, certainly no worse than spying or teaching in its wear and tear on the soul, he hadn't imagined that his trial run would have brought him to Harry Potter's nearly-virgin bed.
"Why is the hero of the war living in a grotty flat above Knockturn Alley's infamous red light district?" asked Snape, once his belly was pleasantly full of the shepherd's pie Potter had produced for them both, and likely bought earlier today from the Leaky Cauldron if Snape was any judge.
Potter shrugged. "My war pension pays for it, the girls are... well, you're the first one I've brought up, but they're nice and I like watching them, and they don't really mind that I'm, you know, who I am. It's not like I'm qualified for a real job other than Being Harry Potter." He resumed the inelegant shovelling of food into his maw, which somehow managed not to put Snape off their later activities, if only due to its familiarity from Potter's school days.
Which also ought to put him off the whole business, but Snape couldn't deny that bending Potter over a desk had been one of his most cherished fantasies, if only because it gave the Dark Lord hours of entertainment during which he wasn't poking around in the rest of Snape's brain. Snape waited until Potter had a nice big mouthful of water before asking, "Do you wish to top or bottom?"
Snape smirked; it was worth getting sprayed to watch Potter splutter.
"I, you... um. Which is easier, you know, the first time?" asked Potter after a moment. He shoved his plate away, clearly ready to exchange one hunger for another, eyes wide and round, cheeks flushed fever-bright, making him look far too much like his schoolboy self.
Snape carefully wiped his mouth on his napkin, unconcerned for his lipstick, which wouldn't smear or fade until the spell was removed. He knew which he'd prefer, and he felt no qualms about manipulating the boy -- well, man, at least nominally -- to get it. "It will be easier to instruct if I am topping, of course," he said. As a further goad, he added, "If you are up for a third round tonight, perhaps you can reciprocate. Or buy yourself a second chance."
"Oh, yeah, all right," said Potter quickly, utterly failing to seem nonchalant.
Snape stood, feeling a surge of warmth for the way Potter's eyes drifted down his body and came to linger on the bulge under the garment that could only loosely be termed a skirt, and only by those feeling as generous with their definition as its maker had been stingy with the fabric. "Shall we proceed to your bedroom," he asked testily, after several seconds of staring, "or would you prefer to be fucked among the remains of our meal?"
Potter's gaze snapped back up to Snape's face, and he swallowed. "Bed, right," he said, waving a negligent hand at the dishes, which obediently danced their way into the sink. He led the way through the only remaining door and into a bedroom that was slightly more comfortable than the sparse and mismatched living room had been, the bed wide and inviting despite the gaudy red and gold theme to the bedclothes. "Do you need the loo for anything?" he asked, gesturing toward the flat's one apparent luxury, a rather nice wizarding bathroom including a tub that might fit the two of them later, were Snape inclined to cuddle or share. Which, disconcertingly, Snape thought he just might be if Potter's wide-eyed enthusiasm held true all the way through the experience.
Snape cleared his throat. "No, I am fully prepared," he said, pulling his wand, a phial of lubricant and an ever-warm box of moist flannels from the hidden pockets in his top. The Galleons he left right where they were, though he knew that Potter would sooner Stun himself than steal back what Snape was about to quite rightfully earn. When Potter continued to shuffle his feet and look unsure, Snape sighed with only slightly exaggerated impatience and added, "You will, however, have to disrobe."
Potter flushed and nodded, then began to inelegantly undress himself, movements made graceful by their very casualness, an unstudied sensuality revealing itself along with Potter's compact body. "You, too," he said, though the traces of resentment were chased away by the brush of fingertips over one thigh, the glimmer of moisture at the tip of his erection.
Snape smiled. "Of course," he said, slipping the straps off his shoulders one by one and letting the satin fall loosely to the ground. Potter's eyes were bright and for once that attention was firmly fixed on Snape, rather than wandering anywhere but. Snape's smile grew smug and sensual as he bent deliberately over to unhook the garters on his left leg, using his hands to slide the fishnet stocking down slowly, slipping his foot out of shoe and stocking in one go. His fingertips trailed up his leg as he stood, and he enjoyed the way Potter's gaze followed their movement unerringly even as he repeated the performance with the other stocking.
Without the pull of garters to keep the hem down, the skirt had already ridden up to expose what Snape considered the piece de resistance of his outfit, a translucent thong in iridescent lace that gently shimmered through all the colours of a peacock's feathers. It barely contained him in front, and he turned to display the way it concealed nothing at all in the back as he bent over to dispose of the skirt, glad to be rid of the awkward thing. There was a little silver bow right above the cleft of his arse that drew the eye, matching the light gilding of silver along the top edge of the lace. They weren't tasteful, precisely, but they showed him off to good advantage, and Snape wasn't about to let go of any advantage he could get.
Especially not with Harry Potter.
"Can you take the makeup off, too?" asked Potter shyly, stepping into Snape's space; the fingers that had just touched Potter's bare thigh were warm as they brushed Snape's lips instead. "I want... you. Not some girl."
Snape wanted to say that Potter had only paid for the girl, the illusion, but the protest died on his lips when Potter kissed him anyway. "All right," he said, snagging his wand and casting the charm, surprised at how much better he felt when the stuff melted away to leave nothing but himself.
"So much better," murmured Potter and suddenly another kiss was pressed to his lips, Potter's body plastered to his.
Snape allowed the kissing to go on far longer than he could justify, even to himself, before pulling away to say dryly, "The bed is much more useful for this sort of thing if one is in it, not next to it."
Potter surprised him one more time by laughing, the sound warm and full of uninhibited pleasure. "You never do stop being you, do you?" he said, throwing back the covers and tugging Snape down into the bed with him. "You'll, er, lose the knickers eventually, right?"
It was Snape's turn to chuckle, low and wicked. "Why, Potter, did you want to borrow them?"
Potter flushed and shook his head, though Snape could see the idea wasn't totally abhorrent to him. "Call me Harry," he said, and Snape blinked and smiled.
"It is traditional to say something foolish like, 'call me anything,' but I believe you'd best stick to Severus," said Snape. He made a show of taking off the knickers, tossing them onto his meagre pile of clothing before slipping between the body-warmed sheets. His voice was embarrassingly breathy when he pulled Potter into his arms and whispered, "Harry."
Potter chose to reply with a kiss, and Snape couldn't blame him. It had been years since Snape had shared kisses so addictive, a sharp reminder of what he was giving away by choosing his new profession. He shoved that out of his mind as unworthy of the moment, taking what Potter was offering by insisting on the man and not the whore, and letting himself be the man he might have been, were the world to align in such a way that he could ever be Potter's lover. He began to caress Potter -- no, Harry, a lover would think of him by his first name, not just speak it -- all over his body, finding the usual sensitive spots and a few surprises, a bit of skin here and there that got an unexpected sigh or moan.
Snape memorized each one, not letting himself think about why except to follow the touches with kisses, licks and small bites, each one designed to drive Harry mad with a need that he intended to fulfil. Skipping over Harry's lovely prick entirely, Snape let his mouth descend, feeling a jolt of lust when Harry lifted and spread his legs eagerly to give Snape better access.
Harry was clean, thankfully, nothing but musk and sweat meeting his tongue as it slid teasingly over the small pucker. Snape had never been one to overvalue purity, but he couldn't deny that it held a certain appeal, knowing no one had touched Harry here before, knowing he would be the first to show Harry these particular pleasures. Harry's cries grew desperate as Snape's tongue worked its way around and inside the tight entrance, and Snape summoned the lubricant with a thought, getting his fingers thoroughly slick before slipping one into Harry's body alongside his tongue.
"Please, oh god, I'm going to c-come," begged Harry, all signs of embarrassment driven away by the pleasure Snape was coaxing out of his body.
"Not until I'm inside you, you won't," said Snape wickedly, replacing his tongue with another finger, and then a third, working Harry open quickly. He didn't have anything with him to prevent it, since he hadn't thought it would be a problem for him if his clients finished quickly. He knew suddenly, looking down at Harry open and writhing for him, that he'd regret it deeply if he were out there tomorrow, offering himself to any buyer but this one.
He swore and shoved the thought away, slicking his cock almost angrily and forcing himself to calm down before he pressed himself down on Harry, lips to lips, chest forcing the strong legs up and wide, cock just kissing the eager opening. "Are you ready?" he asked between kisses, teasing them both with thrusts too shallow to actually breach Harry's body, even as open as he was.
"Yes, oh, please," said Harry, stretching to bring his legs up further and pushing his arse up into Snape's prick. "I never thought it would feel so good."
Snape shoved in, turning Harry's pleas into a satisfied moan. "You knew I'd make it good," said Snape, confident in that, at least. He slowly sank the rest of the way into Harry's arse, finding it far more welcoming than he ever could have imagined.
"So good," said Harry, hands snaking up to twine in Snape's hair, holding him close while their hips found a rhythm, an endless circle of kissing and fucking that Snape could admit, at least to himself, was utterly sublime.
It seemed almost boundless as they moved together, bodies in tune as their minds had never been, finally finding their common ground where Snape had never expected it. "Harry," he said once, and then again and again, finding it worked better than swearing or calling upon gods that had never done anything so exquisite for him as Harry's offering. Harry had long since lost the ability to form complete words, though his moans held enough sibilants for Snape to imagine it was his own name on Harry's lips between kisses. He snaked one hand down to find Harry's cock, long fingers barely wrapping around the straining flesh before it pulsed in his hand as Harry came.
Snape drank down Harry's cries and let them fuel his own fire, thrusting harder, more recklessly now that Harry's pleasure had been seen to and there was only his own remaining. It didn't take long, just enough for Harry to recover his senses and start rocking along with him, arse clenching at the height of each thrust so deliciously that all Snape could do in response was come. He let the sensation wash over him, muscles tightening once, twice, three and four times before he was done and more relaxed than he'd been in years, body draped over Harry's as he claimed a languid kiss for his troubles.
"Mmmmm," purred Harry, grinning as Snape slowly disentangled their limbs, pulling away and gathering Harry in one arm while retrieving a wet, warm flannel from the box with the other. "Brilliant."
Snape chuckled and cleaned them both, the magic on the cloth doing as much work as his hand, though he did enjoy the excuse to touch Harry's body a bit more. "Indeed, Harry, we seem to have finally found an area in which we are exceptionally well matched."
Harry laughed and kissed him. "If I take a nap now, can we try, you know, the other way around in a bit?" he asked, green eyes glazed but earnest.
Snape chuckled. "I suppose I could be persuaded, yes. If you're up to it," he teased, though in truth he was looking forward to their second round nearly as much as Harry.
Harry woke up before Snape -- Severus, he'd said to call him by his first name -- and had plenty of time to work up a good bit of performance anxiety. He lay there remembering how exquisite it had felt to have Severus' agile tongue, experienced fingers and substantial cock inside him. He felt a bit squelchy now, though Severus' surprisingly gentle cleaning had done wonders for that earlier, and he gave a little wriggle of his hips as he recalled the myriad sensations Severus had coaxed from his body mere hours ago. He rocked against Severus' flank, cock hardening as his hand trailed over the hills and valleys of Snape's body, not so much mapping as feeling the warmth of Severus' skin under his fingertips.
"Mmmm," said Severus, rolling back to steal a kiss that didn't taste as bad as Harry had feared. "I take it you're ready to try taking the lead, as it were?"
Harry's fingers skated up Snape's thin chest to pluck at one small nipple, and he nuzzled Severus' cheek idly, listening to the way Severus' breath caught as he tugged and pinched. "Only if you promise not to grade my performance," he teased, swallowing his nervousness and hiding it under audacity.
Severus laughed, and Harry relaxed minutely. "When I'd considered that a client might negotiate for 'no marks', this isn't what I had in mind," he said, turning to thread a hand in Harry's tousled hair and pull him close for a proper kiss.
Harry moaned, finding his hand had spread itself out over Severus' chest and was sneaking its way downward. Severus' hipbone fit in the palm, sharp and oddly comforting, like a puzzle that could only be pieced together with their two bodies. His thumb smudged up and along the hollow, then down, slipping into the soft crease of hip and thigh, finding the skin there hot and so very soft, like he'd always imagined crepe silk should feel. "I never knew to consider this before," he said, not sure if he was making sense and not sure he cared.
The brush of Severus' cock against his wrist decided Harry that words were highly overrated, and he let his mouth wander after his hand, trailing down Severus' neck to detour along one collarbone while brave fingers found and explored the naked skin of Severus' balls. They were large, as everything about this part of Severus was, filling his hand and yet seeming fragile rather than substantial, stripped of the hair that dusted over Harry's smaller bollocks. Harry had a sudden flash of curiosity to know what that would feel like against his tongue, and he bit down on the inviting spot where Severus' neck and shoulder met, moaning at the intensity of his newfound desires.
Severus returned the moan but didn't protest, instead spreading his legs as if beckoning Harry to explore all of his purchase, while he had the chance. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead against Severus' shoulder, trying not to think about his nine Galleons or what would happen come morning. He pushed those thoughts away with another kiss, then skipped his way down to his goal, pausing to taste one nipple, swirl his tongue in Snape's navel and run his teeth along the curve of a hip. He lifted Snape's balls to meet his curious tongue, lapping at the soft skin, sucking one and then the other into his mouth, tasting musk and skin and silk along his tongue. His fingers, relieved of their burden, wandered backwards into Severus' cleft, stroking along tender skin behind his bollocks until they reached the entrance hiding at the end of his path.
Harry felt something tap against his shoulder, and was surprised to find Severus holding out the jar of lubricant with an expression of need that matched the desire burning hot in Harry's belly, impatient and greedy to have all of Severus, even if it was just this once.
"Th-thanks," stammered Harry, and then there was a bit of awkward shifting so that Harry could free up a hand and take the jar, and Severus could shift his hips and legs so Harry was properly between them. He would have thought that a moment like that would spoil the mood, but instead it made the experience seem more real. It brought home the fact that he, Harry, was about to fuck Severus, for nine Galleons and whatever other consideration their history gave him, for the chance at more of those addicting kisses. For more than just his virginity or Snape's availability, but because he wanted to do it, and suddenly he didn't know how long he had wanted it, though he was getting a sneaking suspicion that it was a lot longer ago than a few hours.
"Hurry," said Severus, his voice hoarse with a lust that Harry hoped he couldn't fake, and devoid of the impatience that had marked so many of their encounters.
"I'm working on it," said Harry, dipping into the jar and finding the stuff inside warm and viscous. It clung to his fingers as he pulled back, coating them thickly, and he immediately set to transferring it to where it belonged. He rubbed his fingertips in circles around and around, and then took a deep breath and plunged one inside. "Ohfuck," he murmured, the words spilling out as he felt the tightness give way just enough to admit him, the warmth inside sucking him in. He imagined that on his cock and nearly came on the spot, and only the thought of missing out and having to hear about it from Severus kept his errant prick under control.
"I am quite capable of taking two fingers," said Severus tartly, giving a little thrust of his hips that made his entrance flare.
"Two, got it," said Harry, sliding a second finger in next to the first. He began to thrust them, whimpering at the way Severus' arse seemed to grasp at his fingers when they retreated, as though Severus' body was reluctant to lose even these fumbling touches.
Severus took a deep, shuddery breath, then reached down and stilled Harry's hand with his own. "I'm ready, Harry, but get yourself nice and slick just in case," he said, something in his tone making Harry wonder just when the last time was he'd done this, laid himself out for a lover. Accepted another man inside himself.
Harry dismissed the thought as unworthy of the moment, though he was grateful for the brief cooling of his ardour that allowed him to slide his fingers free and slick up his cock without risk of embarrassing himself. He moved up between Severus' legs and stole a kiss, one leading to two and three and more until he was panting and harder than he could ever remember being. "Can I?" he asked, rubbing himself along Severus' slippery crease.
"I believe I shall have to hex you if you don't," said Severus, one long leg wrapping around Harry's hips and urging him forward. The other found its way to Harry's shoulder, and suddenly the angle was just right and Harry was inside him, a stuttery thrust that ended with him balls-deep in Severus' body.
Harry found himself trembling, and he had to clear his throat twice before he managed to ask, "All right?"
Severus nodded, swallowing thickly and then pulling Harry close for a kiss, more flexible than Harry would have given him credit for. "Quite a bit better than all right," he said, licking along Harry's lips teasingly.
Harry found himself moving without quite having meant to, his hips pulling back just so he could feel the slick glide of Severus all around him, then pushing in to feel it envelop him again. "Why do people ever not do this?" asked Harry stupidly, then shut himself up with more kisses, and something like a rhythm of thrusts, in and out as best as he could manage running on instinct and need.
"No idea," said Severus between one kiss and the next, which made Harry laugh. The motion sent pleasure shooting into his balls and so he did it on purpose, adding a little twist to his thrusts. Severus gasped and Harry grinned and did it again, finding in Severus' reactions the grounding he needed to keep him from losing himself entirely in the feeling of Severus' body.
After all, it took two to do this, and considering how good Severus had made him feel when he'd been on the receiving end, Harry felt he had a lot to live up to.
Harry tried a few different angles and motions until he found one that both made Severus' breath catch with gratifying regularity, and didn't make him feel like he was about to throw a hip out, then he did that over and over just to watch Severus' composure fall apart under the onslaught. Harry used one hand to brace himself against the bed, and sent the other wandering over Severus' body until it found its inevitable way to Severus' cock. It felt shockingly good in Harry's grip, hot and hard with silky skin that just asked to be touched, the tip wet and even softer than the rest. The curve even fit into Harry's palm just like his own, though on a slightly larger scale.
Fortunately for Harry's swiftly eroding control, it didn't take much to make Severus come after that, a few dozen strokes in time with his thrusts, some scattered kisses and a few whispered words of encouragement. It felt almost as good to watch Severus' release as it did to finally let go and find his own, fucking harder and with less finesse now that Severus' pleasure had been seen to. Harry found his mouth full of sibilants, Severus' name or perhaps some sort of foolish declaration thankfully disguised by Harry's tendency to switch to Parseltongue when he came. He closed his eyes and let the sparks turn to fireworks, behind his eyes, in his groin, pleasure spiralling out through his limbs until he was limp, exhausted, and very, very satisfied.
He kept just enough of himself to disengage before he collapsed, first onto the bed and then, once Severus had found the presence of mind to clean them up a bit, snuggling shamelessly. "So," said Harry, giving a big yawn as he got settled into a blatant abuse of Severus' personal space, "I don't suppose you give volume discounts?"
Severus laughed and kissed his hair in an oddly affectionate gesture. "I suppose that depends," he said, tucking the blankets all around them to ward off the night's chill, "on just how much proximity you wish to cultivate."