Even as he monitored himself, Harry could feel his brain liquefying under the sheer brilliance of the delight coursing through him. He was beyond lost. Harry felt like his whole world was exploding around him as he came deep inside Snape.
Seconds later, the shaft in his hand convulsed and Snape's gleaming desk was splattered with spurt after spurt of semen. Snape came so hard that it seemed to Harry as if the man ejaculated a year's worth of cum.
Harry sank against Snape, burying his face in that dark hair, nosing through it until he got to the soft, vulnerable nape of Snape's neck. He licked the skin there, feeling Snape shudder in reaction.
A moment later, Snape squeezed him, and Harry felt himself grow hard again.
This round wasn't nearly as wild as last night's second coupling, but Harry rather enjoyed the slower, easy pace. That, too, was something with which he was unfamiliar. His one-night-stands were always rushed and furtive. He'd never met a wizard who luxuriated in being taken the way Snape seemed to, and that was just so not in keeping with what Harry thought he knew of Snape's character that it was difficult to see this passionate lover as the nemesis of his youth.
This climax was a warm, tingling affair rather than the earth-shatteringly erotic one he'd experienced before. Snape barely seemed to produce any semen at all this time, but that was okay. The sounds he made more than demonstrated how much he was enjoying himself.
Orgasm claiming the last of his energy, Harry collapsed onto Snape. He lay there breathing in Snape's warm scent and the more tantalizing musk of sex until Snape gave a tentative push up at him.
Realizing that Snape must be having trouble breathing bent over the desk like that with his weight on his back, Harry quickly stumbled up. He bent to pull up his blue jeans, even as Snape was turning to fish his trousers up from around his ankles.
Once again, Harry hadn't a fucking clue as to what he should say. There wasn't an etiquette manual on the planet that included post-coital conversation with someone you were fairly certain you hated.
Only, Harry didn't hate Snape. Not now. What they shared had nothing to do with anger or revenge or the millions of other unpleasant factors that could have coloured the sex between them. He wasn't sure what it did have to do with; all he knew was that it wasn't hate.
Snape was watching him. Those normally sallow cheeks were still pleasantly flushed, his expression mild and only a little guarded.
"I didn't expect to see you again," Snape said into the silence.
Harry nodded. "I know. It doesn't make a bit of sense, but . . . it's good between us, isn't it?"
Harry braced himself for all manner of rejection.
Snape seemed taken aback by his candidness. After a long pause, he gave a totally wary, "Yes," watching him as though he expected ridicule.
Okay, Harry thought to himself, they were both obviously freaked out by this, but both . . . interested, in spite of themselves. Taking a deep breath, Harry admitted, "I didn't know if you would want to see me again so soon – or at all."
Snape nodded. "I, too, thought the possibility of another such . . . night, unlikely."
"Looks like we were both wrong," Harry said.
"Indeed," Snape answered. He'd been standing straight and stiff as a prisoner facing an execution squad, but at Harry's words, Snape relaxed, leaning his butt back against the semen-splattered desk. He looked more human than Harry had ever seen him before, more approachable.
"Do you think . . . I mean, would you be willing . . . ?" Harry faltered, having no idea how to phrase the question he wanted to ask.
Snape held his gaze and said in a low, tentative tone that clearly revealed his nervousness, "If you were to find yourself at loose ends, you would not be unwelcome here, Potter. I'm home most nights."
Harry couldn't help the grin that claimed his face. "Thanks. That's . . . splendid. I look forward to seeing you again."
"When you're at loose ends," Snape answered.
"Yes, when I'm at loose ends," Harry said, still grinning like an idiot. "Till then, take care."
Snape nodded. "Good night, then."
"Good night," Harry replied, Apparating home with a strange sensation of butterflies in his stomach that had nothing to do with his mode of transportation.
*~*~*
Harry found himself at loose ends the next five nights straight. Remarkably, Snape made no protest about his taking advantage of the unexpected offer. During that time, they made it on every possible surface in the sitting room, and a couple that should have been impossible.
But when Friday morning dawned, Harry found himself in the grips of an unexpected dilemma. The sex was fantastic, like nothing he'd ever known, but . . . the minute they were alone together, they ended up all over each other. As wonderful as that was, Harry really wanted to learn a little bit more about the man he was fucking. With the way things were now between them, he didn't even know if Snape were working freelance or were employed by one of the larger research companies.
So, early Friday morning before he left for work, Harry firecalled Snape. "Severus?"
They spoke so infrequently that the name still felt strange on Harry's lips. As he manifested in Snape's hearth, Harry looked out at the familiar sitting room. Snape was nowhere to be seen.
Harry was just about to give up when a door at the far end of the room that he supposed was Snape's bedroom opened and Snape strode quickly to the hearth. He wasn't fully dressed yet.
Long and lean, hair still damp from the bath, Snape was an oddly sensual sight. Harry's gut clenched when he saw Snape buttoning his white shirt over a crisp white undershirt. Since when was watching someone get dressed sexy?
"Potter?" Snape sounded curious rather than annoyed.
"Hi." Words left his brain as he stared at Snape. He'd never understood the phrase 'dumbstruck' before, but that was definitely the only definition for what he was experiencing as he gaped at Snape's unexpectedly sensual appearance. "Sorry to disturb you so early, but, I, er, was wondering if you had plans tonight?" Harry stammered out before his courage could desert him.
He'd startled Snape again, although Harry could tell that the other man was trying very hard not to show it.
"No, I haven't any plans. Why do you ask? You don't usually . . . ." Snape's words trailed away, as though, he, too, didn't know how to address what they did together at night.
"I know. I just . . . the minute we're together, we always end up . . . in a clinch, and I just thought it'd be nice to see you before we, er . . . well, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner? There's this restaurant called Alfonso's on the corner of Diagon Alley and Widdershins Place that's fantastic. What do you think?" Harry hoped that Severus had been able to understand what he'd said; the words came out in such a nervous rush. He felt like he was fourteen again and inviting Cho to the Yule Ball.
Snape wasn't even attempting to conceal his shock. "You wish to be seen in public with me?"
That wasn't the response he was anticipating. Harry was pretty certain at this point that Snape wouldn't scorn him for asking a question that would have been utterly unthinkable a week ago. He didn't know if Snape wanted to have anything to do with him that didn't involve sex, and he wouldn't have been surprised by a rejection to his dinner invitation, but he didn't understand the 'being seen in public' comment. What it indicated about Severus' previous relationships was fairly disturbing.
Harry met those dark eyes. He could almost feel how hard Snape was working at holding back his suspicion, how carefully he was schooling his features.
Hoping he wasn't about to ruin everything, Harry softly admitted, "I, er, would like to see more of you . . . if that's agreeable to you. We both have to eat, so I figured we might as well do it together. But if the idea makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to. We can just – "
"No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable and, as you say, we both have to eat," Snape answered, his shock still an almost palpable presence.
Hoping to ease Snape's nervousness, Harry smiled. "Fantastic. Does seven work for you? We could meet out in front, if you know where the restaurant is. If not, I could meet you here and we – "
"No, I know where Alfonso's is," Snape answered. "Seven o'clock is fine."
"Good. I'll see you at seven, then," Harry said, still unable to believe that Snape had agreed without an argument.
"Potter?" Snape called as Harry was about to pull back into his own hearth.
"Yes?" he asked, hoping Snape hadn't changed his mind.
For a moment, it seemed as though Snape had forgotten what he was about to say, or perhaps reconsidered whatever he'd planned, but then he seemed to force himself to say, "Thank you."
Confused by the grave tone Snape gave those two words, Harry gave a shy smile and said, "Believe me, the pleasure's all mine. I'll see you at seven."
Because Severus still had a shell-shocked look about him, Harry reached out and gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. What he really wanted to do was kiss that uncertainty away, but he didn't know how Severus would feel about that and didn't want to push things too far. Giving Severus another smile, Harry reluctantly pulled back to his own place and hurried to meet the day.
*~*~*
At exactly seven pm, Severus Apparated to the front of Alfonso's.
Harry, who'd been waiting on the busy, sleet-battered street since a quarter of, relaxed the instant that sombre, black-garbed figure appeared.
"Hello," Harry said, reaching out to touch Severus' arm.
"Potter," Snape replied with a guarded nod. He seemed nervous.
Harry could sympathize. He'd been debating the wisdom of this all day. The sexual chemistry they'd discovered was incredible. He didn't want to do anything to destroy it, and he knew that all it would take would be one of their old rows. But he still wanted to try to get to know this man who brought him such pleasure every night.
"Thanks for coming. I took the liberty of reserving us a table," Harry said, falling into step beside Snape as they moved towards the entrance.
"Harry!" the restaurant's portly, balding owner, Alfonso, exclaimed as they stepped in out of the foul weather.
"Hi, Al," Harry grinned, his stomach growling as he caught a whiff of the delectable, garlic-scented aromas filling the room. This was Harry's favourite London restaurant. The food was beyond compare, and the ambiance pleasantly hokey. Harry loved the human-faced, animated tomatoes painted on the ivory walls and the real grapevines dangling from latticework overhead.
"So good to see you again. And you've brought a guest tonight!" Alfonso's round face lit with delight.
"This is my friend, Severus Snape. Severus, this is Alfonso. He makes the best chicken Parmesan on Earth," Harry said.
"Harry is too kind," Alfonso denied. "My mother made the best chicken Parmesania; bless her soul. I make the second best. If you'll come this way, please."
Alfonso led them to the table Harry had requested, the one right in front of the blazing fireplace. There was a fresh cut rosebud in a small vase on the red and white chequered tablecloth and a merrily dancing votive candle in a crystal holder. The heat of the nearby fireplace quickly dispelled the chill of the sleety night.
Once they were seated, Alfonso gave them their menus and said, "Maria will be by in a moment to take your drinks order. If there's anything you need that's not on the menu, just let me know."
"Thank you, Al," Harry said as the rotund wizard made his way to the kitchen.
Harry looked over to his companion. Severus was gazing curiously around the crowded restaurant. He was dressed in his usual black robes, jacket, and suit, with his long black hair contained in a neat ponytail. Harry couldn't pick out a single thing about Severus that was different from the way he'd appeared in Whispers last Friday. Severus was just as sombre, with that unmistakable air of menace and danger that had always clung to Snape. But for some reason when Harry looked at Severus tonight, none of the usual adjectives passed through his mind. Perhaps it was merely an effect of the flickering candle and firelight, but words like sensual, striking, and mysterious were crowding out the usual insults.
"You come here often, I take it," Severus said when he'd finished taking in his surroundings.
Harry nodded. "Yes. It's one of the few places I feel comfortable. Do you like it?"
"I'll withhold judgment until the food arrives," Severus replied.
Harry chuckled.
"Speaking of food, what would you recommend?" Severus asked.
Alfonso's youngest daughter, the dark-haired, lovely Maria, arrived with a bread basket and took their drink orders. The next ten minutes passed in a pleasant discussion of the menu. Once their dinner choices were passed on to the kitchen, silence fell between them.
"Er, I was wondering what sort of medicinal potions you've been working on?" Harry asked.
Severus appeared startled. After a brief pause, he answered, "I've been researching a tumour reduction potion for the last six months. Before that I was working on a cure for pneumonia. That was my most recent patent."
"Are you working freelance or at one of the research labs?" Harry questioned.
"I'm associated with Greymoore Labs," Snape named the most prestigious and lucrative potion making company in the Wizarding World, "but I do my research in a private lab in my basement."
Harry hadn't really given it much consideration, but he realized now that Snape's house was large enough for him to have a considerable lab in the cellar.
"You mustn't see anyone from one end of the week to the next, in that case. It sounds lonely," Harry couldn't stop himself from commenting.
"I found the solitude comforting after the trials," Snape said.
