But it appeared he'd waited too long. Potter must surely be about to change his mind.
The hand passed his cheek to cup his chin and slowly lift his face upwards. There was just enough light left to see Potter's face. Those eyes, bottomless now that their colour had been lost to the evening shadows, seemed to read straight through him.
Potter's expression was . . . strange. There was lust there, and breathy desire, but at the moment, the overwhelming emotion appeared to be tenderness.
Had anyone ever looked at him with that kind of feeling?
The thunderstruck quality to Potter's attitude, as his fingers settled in Severus' unwashed hair to guide his face carefully forward until his cheek was pressed flat against Potter's stomach and Severus could hear the intimate gurgle of the man's intestines working, stunned him. He was shaking with more than need as Potter just held his face there.
Somehow, Severus drew strength from the contact. He mightn't know how to deal with it, but he could learn. By all that was sacred, he could learn.
His sigh was torn from someplace deep inside him. Most of his fears of immediate disaster were released with that shaky breath.
When he felt more himself, Severus kissed the tight-muscled stomach beneath his cheek and turned back to his earlier pursuit. His nose kept squashing inelegantly into Potter's stomach, but the other man didn't seem to mind his lack of grace.
The skin covering Potter's defined abdominal muscles was warm as he sucked his way down it. He paused to explore the secrets of the concave navel to some very pleasing vocal accompaniment. As he finished there, his chin banged into the next and most formidable barrier – the waistband of Potter's trousers.
There hadn't been any going back since he'd pressed his mouth to Potter's, but somehow, opening those trousers entailed a finality that was staggering. Once he did this, nothing would ever be the same between them again, not ever. The dynamics would change. He'd step firmly into that role of pathetic, aging man desperate to please a younger lover who couldn't possibly need or want him. Severus knew what he was buying into here.
Yet, as he saw Potter bite his full lower lip, and interpreted the other man's wince at his hesitation for the barely masked frustration it was, Severus knew he'd be being as cruel as some of his former housemates if he stopped now. He'd already accepted his doom when he'd initiated that kiss. He would have the courage to follow through now.
So, he reached out to unbutton the black trousers, and then carefully lowered the zipper over the impressive, growing bulge. Potter was wearing crisp white Muggle briefs under his trousers. Severus took hold of the waistband of both trousers and briefs to slowly lower them down Potter's sturdy thighs, past his knees.
Looking back up, the sight of that bare groin stopped him cold. His breath hitched painfully in his chest.
It had been so long since he'd been close to another man, and even then, never had he been graced with a companion of Potter's beauty. Harry was large there, red with need, and uncut. The hair at the base of that throbbing cock was a neat black thatch, the complete antithesis of the shaggy disorder that covered Potter's head.
Even from nearly a foot away, Severus could smell the clean, salty aroma of the other man's arousal. He breathed it deep into his lungs and made it part of him, something to remember and dwell on when Potter came to his senses later.
This beauty being his to touch for the moment, Severus reached out to gather the moist shaft into his hand. He paused to simply contemplate the contrast of that blood filled cock with his yellow-stained fingers wrapped around it. He tried not to acknowledge the wrongness of his own despoiled flesh corrupting that purity, but it was hard to shake the knowledge that he shouldn't be doing this. This . . . Potter . . . wasn't intended for such as he.
He could hear Potter's hoarse, rapid breathing above him, could feel Potter watching him with near palpable need. All hesitation left him, his self-preservation instincts washed away by that old seducer. Power.
In another time, another place, Severus would have glanced up, met the other man's gaze and made Potter beg for it. But . . . he wasn't going to play those kinds of games with Potter. Potter was accepting this from him openly with good will. There had been no compulsion involved, at least no more than in any chance sexual encounter. No blackmail of the emotional or traditional variety. No payment of debt. Potter could have said no at any time, but hadn't.
It wasn't in his nature to be kind or merciful, and yet . . . Severus would not disgrace this man; he would not belittle him. For all the superficial resemblance he bore his sire, this wasn't James.
Severus ran his thumb along the sleek, loose foreskin, making Potter gasp and jerk unsteadily. He could see the blood-red tip of Potter's glistening glans peeking out of its paler protective fold of skin. With all the care he'd use when tending a delicate potion, Severus carefully peeled back the foreskin, lowering his head to lick the beaded moisture off that cock tip as it emerged from its concealment like a serpent sloughing off its skin.
Potter cried out at that. His hands shot forward to brace themselves on Severus' shoulders at whatever sensations played through him.
Potter was a rare elixir, restorative and bracing as his flavour rushed through his mouth. Severus used his tongue to trace a delicate pattern across the head of his companion's cock, eliciting an open whimper that a Slytherin would have died before voicing. Potter gave that sound to him as if it were nothing, as though it were his due.
It made Severus feel like a king, instead of the supplicant he could so easily have been in this situation.
Severus' heart was pounding at an insane pace. His erection was a sharp, constant pain that was accentuated by every stroke he gave to Potter's flesh, every suck. It had been so long that he just wanted to fling himself onto Harry Potter and rut like some wild beast in heat. Only . . . he knew his sexual partners always wanted limited contact with him. Over the years, he'd trained himself to ignore his own needs and concentrate on his partner. And it wasn't as if fellating Harry Potter were an ordeal. He'd never tasted anyone this enticing.
Since Potter clearly enjoyed being sucked, Severus kept at it, making sure he pleasured that sensitive spot on the underside of the cock, until he heard a catch enter Potter's already laboured breathing that told him that something more was required.
Severus didn't know if he were still skilled at this. Potter had been in his nappies the last time he'd done this with any regularity. Although he was fairly certain that Potter wouldn't disparage him if his technique were somewhat lacking, or even if he failed miserably, he was Slytherin enough to want to impress, even if his partner were a Gryffindor who'd been willing to succumb to a seduction that was so crudely executed that a fellow Slytherin would have laughed in his face.
Severus knew how rusty he was, even if Potter seemed oblivious to it. He never thought he'd be grateful for that particular trait in this man.
The instant he took Potter's cock into his mouth and gave a tentative suck, the other man groaned and wobbled.
Severus guided Potter's hips back until his robe-draped bum was resting against the black wetness of the deadfall that Potter had been leaning against earlier. The support took some of the pressure off Potter's wobbly knees. When Severus was convinced that the younger man wouldn't topple over and emasculate himself in the process, he recommenced sucking.
The bulky cock felt enormous. As its musky taste flooded his senses, it was all Severus could do to recall what they were supposed to be doing. He just wanted to kneel here and sample that warm taste for the remainder of the night, or perhaps even his life. It was that good.
The cynic inside him pointed out that after twenty years, even an obnoxious Gryffindor like Potter would seem like nirvana to him, but he'd always been cursed with a clear memory and he knew the difference. He remembered how he'd always enjoyed this particular act – which was a good thing, considering how often in his weak-willed youth he'd found himself on his knees like this before a more powerful wizard – but as pleasing as fellatio had always been, Severus couldn't recall ever wanting to simply suck on another man's penis all night as though it were one of Honeydukes' all day lollipops.
This particular lollipop was attempting to choke him at the moment, however.
After a few tries, Severus remembered the knack of getting his throat to open right and of timing his breathing around the suffocating mass' movements. Potter abandoned his lean on the deadfall to take up a stronger stance from which he was better able to thrust.
As Severus started to deep throat Potter, Potter's hands jumped up to his dirty hair. He expected his actions to be painfully directed thereafter, but instead of tugging the hair, Potter merely clenched the lank locks between his fingers and hung on as they fell into a rhythm.
Severus' face was veiled in the open folds of Potter's robe as Potter thrust forward, then cool air would touch him and there would be a bit more evening light as Potter pulled out of his mouth, only to plunge him into darkness again on his return.
The taste, the smell, the primal sexual energy pulsing off Potter were nearly too much for him. Every time Potter thrust into him, his nose was pushed deep into that crisp, tickly pubic hair. He'd catch a frantic breath on his partner's withdrawal, then open wide to welcome him back again.
Something wild called to him in Potter, an emotion so free, and easy, and so irresistibly pure that Severus found himself pushing to see more of this bright passion. Remarkably, that blinding fire called forth something from within himself. Severus had no such brightness to offer in return, but from the twisted shadows of his soul, a long forgotten spark stirred and reached for Potter's light. And all the while, he pushed Potter to barrel faster and faster into his mouth.
Fellatio was an art form and there were levels to it. A man could take only the tip in his mouth, or let some of the cock slide back into his throat on the in and out glide, or take it all and deep throat, or else move beyond that and allow his partner to fuck his mouth.
Severus had rarely done the latter. With most of his kind, it was too dangerous. But tonight, he found himself encouraging Potter to let go, to free that burning light that he could feel pulsing right beneath the surface.
As Potter's hips thrust forward past his swollen lips to bury his cock deep in his throat, Severus slipped his hands under the robe and around Potter's hips to lay his palms on the luscious curves of Potter's backside. The skin was soft as the moss on the deadfall behind them.
Potter froze at the initial squeeze Severus gave to his bum. A glance at Potter's face showed Severus that this was not a caress Potter enjoyed, but amazingly, there was no protest. Rather than ruin the moment, Severus gave the tense buttocks beneath his hands a light pat, and then rested his hands on Potter's flanks to guide his thrusts into his mouth.
This fierce passion was like stirring a volatile or poisonous brew. Severus knew that every time he forcibly pulled Potter faster into his mouth, that he ran the risk of Potter losing control and choking or injuring him, and that danger wasn't even close to what might befall him if his companion lost control on a magical level, but . . . though Harry moved wild and free, Severus sensed that there was always a certain restraint in how far he allowed himself to let loose. Though that flame he sensed lurking in Potter burned high and bright, igniting Severus' every nerve, it was a controlled hearth flame rather than killing brushfire. Instead of destroying him, it warmed him, seeping through skin and bone, searching out what was hiding in his shadows and offering it light.
All too soon, the blaze peaked. With a final, shattering thrust, Potter rammed deep into his throat and then stilled.
Liquid heat squirted the back of his very sore throat, stinging it. Severus might have recalled how to breathe around a shaft, but he'd apparently forgotten how to swallow around it.
Potter's semen backed up into his mouth. He raised his head up a little to attempt to swallow and was relieved that he was free to do so. Those hands in his hair made no attempt to bind him in place.
Severus sampled the bitter mucousy substance. It was like a mouthful of solidifying seawater, briny, with a bite to it, the essence of, if not life itself, at least of Harry Potter. That was potent enough.
Taking it all in, Severus adjusted to the harsh flavour while his own heart pounded out a wild staccato beat of raw need and his body shook. His erection was trying to force its way out of the front of his trousers. The material felt like an iron vice against his throbbing penis. The pain was fully as intense as any Unforgivable he'd endured.
Potter's cock convulsed two more times, spurting yet more of the thick seed into his mouth and then stilled.
His breaths rasping with embarrassing loudness in the sudden quiet, Severus tried to force a similar stillness onto his trembling form as he awaited Potter's reaction.
The penis between his sore lips deflated. With a sigh, Harry stepped back and Severus immediately freed him from the clasp of his bruised mouth.
Abruptly conscious of the fact that he was on his knees in front of a man he'd all but jumped, with an erection the size of one of Hagrid's pressing against his trouser zipper, Severus knelt there and tried not to either think or breathe too loudly. He was too proud to close his eyes, and too mortified to raise them.
So he stared at the saliva slick penis in front of him, which was less than half the size it had been when he had first made its acquaintance fifteen minutes ago. It didn't help his equilibrium when he realized that it was his spit coating that cock and that, from the feel of them, his lips had to be swollen to three times their normal size. Severus couldn't imagine what his companion was thinking about him or what Potter would say now that the blood heat had been sated. As for any explanations that might be demanded of him, he had no idea how to explain the madness that had come upon him.
Perhaps Potter needn't say anything at all. This situation was humiliating enough.
