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Harry knew many things about himself, and one of those things was that he under no circumstances found Hermione sexy. He loved her undoubtedly, but he could not imagine ever wanting her like that. So if he found his cock hard and aching after watching Snape make Hermione come against the kitchen wall in Grimmauld Place, it could not be from watching her. The trouble was that the remaining possibility was not one he had ever wanted to contemplate either.
He realized that he was staring at Hermione’s counterpart with an open mouth. He closed it carefully, swallowing, and very glad he was sitting so that no one could see the bulge in his jeans. Very deliberately he did not shift in his seat.
“You… that’s… did you curse her?” Ron seethed.
Harry rolled his eyes while next to him George spoke. “Ronnikins if you think you need a spell to make a woman moan like that you must be one sad lay.”
Harry had not so much as kissed a woman, but even he knew that. He pitied Ron who was quickly turning a very unhealthy color. The last time he had seen a person turn that particular shade, he had thought Uncle Vernon was going to have an aneurism. He tried not to laugh at Ron’s expression.
Snape was speaking to Hermione. “Whenever you are ready to proceed, Miss Granger, you know where to find me.”
Hermione watched the potions master sweep out of the kitchen, astonished and breathless. She wasn’t the only one, Harry admitted. He wondered how soon he could excuse himself to go up to his room.
To be fair after that display most meetings would struggle to get back on topic—what that topic was Harry no longer knew or cared—and the Order was no different. The meeting broke up with most of the adults leaving until Harry was free to dash up to his bedroom. Thank Merlin for long robes which concealed a multitude of sins including hard ons in jeans.
He locked and silenced his door, thankful that Ron no longer shared a room with him here, and quickly stripped off his clothes. He was still hard, his cock throbbing, begging for attention. Well, if it liked Snape, Harry wasn’t going to argue too hard with it. It wasn’t like he had to cop to it in public.
Falling naked onto his bed, Harry palmed his cock and began to stroke slowly. This promised to be a good fantasy, so he had no intention of rushing it. With his free hand he opened the nightstand drawer and retrieved the bottle of lube he had stashed there.
Right so how would this fantasy start?
“Come here, Harry,” said his fantasy Snape with false sweetness.
Harry shuddered. Gods, no that was terrible. Maybe if he combined this fantasy with another.
“When you are ready to proceed, Mr. Potter, you know what you must do,” said fantasy-Snape.
“Yes sir,” replied fantasy-Harry.
Harry’s cock jumped at the word ‘sir’. Okay, he could work with that.
“Please, sir,” said fantasy-Harry meekly. “May I come?”
“That depends, Mr. Potter,” fantasy-Snape said darkly. “Have you been good today?”
“Yes sir, I promise I have.”
“I do not think I believe you. But perhaps if you are good for me now, I will grant permission.”
“Please, sir,” Harry begged. He was kneeling naked at Snape, er, his master’s feet with his hands behind his back. His cock was hard and jutting from between his legs.
“On the bed, Mr. Potter. Hands over your head and spread your legs.”
Harry rushed to comply. As soon as his hands were raised, he felt silk bindings secure his wrists. He pulled a little just to test them, and he groaned at finding them too tight to pull free. His master was walking towards the bed, a dark imposing figure.
“Such a pretty boy, aren’t you?” he purred, his voice going straight to Harry’s balls.
A long-fingered alabaster hand reached out to grip his swollen erection, and Harry yelped at the cold touch. He shivered as the hand released him and trailed down to cup his sac, rolling his testicles firmly, just barely the right side of uncomfortable.
“Do you remember the rules, Mr. Potter?”
“Yes sir,” Harry got out between his teeth. The hand kneading his testicles had begun to pull on them, and it took everything Harry had not to spill right then and there.
“Do you? Perhaps you will tell me then, Mr. Potter.”
“I… I am not to come until you say I can. I am not allowed to ask for anything I want you to do. I am not to touch myself unless you say I c, can. I am not allowed to make more noise than a moan. If I do any of these things, I will be punished with ten hits with the crop wherever you choose.” Harry was panting by the time he finished.
“And?” his master prompted.
“If I have to stop, I am supposed to say expecto patronum.”
The hand torturing him (in the best way) paused. “Perhaps you do remember. Are you going to follow these rules, Mr. Potter?”
“Yes, yes sir, please, I’ll be good,” Harry cried.
Merlin that voice would be the death of him, the Harry on his bed in Grimmauld Place decided. Some other time he would see if he could use just that voice to come, but right now he had other things in mind.
“Do not come, Mr. Potter,” said fantasy-Snape in a dangerous voice. Harry’s mouth fell open as his master bent over him and, oh Merlin… took the swollen head of Harry’s cock in his mouth.
Harry bucked, struggling not to cry out. His master played gently with his foreskin, teasing it with his tongue before swallowing Harry down. His hands continued to knead Harry’s testicles as he closed his lips around the base of Harry’s erection. The sensation as he swallowed Harry to the root was the most incredible thing Harry had ever felt.
The hot mouth sucked him hard, the skilled tongue playing along the vein in the underside of his shaft. A whimper escaped his mouth, and a moment later he groaned wantonly as Snape pressed his crown against the roof of his mouth, massaging his throbbing cock with his tongue. Warmth began to pool in his groin, and his cock jumped enthusiastically in his master’s throat.
Snape gripped him around the base as his hips jerked again. “Mr. Potter.”
Harry gasped for breath desperately trying to control himself. He would not come, not yet, not without permission.
“Perhaps if your control is so lacking, we should forego extra stimulation,” said his master scathingly.
Blushing hot, Harry felt mortification wash through him, and his body pulsed with arousal. Gods, humiliation spoken in that voice was spectacular. He twisted his thumb over the head of his cock and let out a throaty moan. With one hand he popped the cap on his bottle of lube and squeezed a generous amount into his palm.
Long talented fingers breached him, one at a time, stretching his rim with maddening slowness. Now instead of teasing his balls, a strong thumb pressed into his perineum. Harry lost all ability to think coherently, adrift in his consuming fantasy, and the imagined sensation of Snape’s fingers curled within his body and hooked his prostate.
He almost lost control but stilled his own hand so he could pant. Harry moaned, leaking copiously onto his stomach, flushed and desperate. When was the last time he had been this aroused? He twisted his fingers inside him, searching but not yet finding the perfect spot.
“I don’t think you have earned a reward, Mr. Potter,” said his master with a sneer. “Clearly you are incapable of control.”
“Master,” Harry heard himself beg. “I won’t come until you say, I swear. I promise I won’t. Please, please, don’t stop.” By now his voice was frantic with need.
Snape arched a characteristic brow, his fingers motionless but still buried deep in Harry’s arse. The boy whimpered pathetically, attempting to rock his hips, seeking movement, any movement rather than the agony of waiting. Having those long fingers breeching him but unmoving was the purest and worst torture he knew.
“I think you have not learned your lesson, Mr. Potter,” his master murmured in admonishment, slowly extracting his fingers. Harry clenched tightly, desperate not to lose the feeling, but no matter how hard he tried, Snape left him empty and wanting.
“Please,” Harry begged, reduced to a single drawn-out word. His cock was so stiff it had begun to physically hurt. He would do anything, anything at all if only his master would just keep touching him.
A firm hand gripped the base of his erection with terrible intensity. An instant later Harry felt a blunt pressure against his slick rim. He nearly screamed with elation but bit his lip instead as the sensation dragged at his insides. Slowly, so so slowly, Snape pushed into him, brushing agonizingly across his prostate until Harry could feel that he was buried to the hilt.
He could not help the vulgar moan that escaped his lips, unspeakably thankful for the silencing spell on the door. He stroked his prostate as Snape started to fuck him, dragging out torturously then pushing back irresistibly. Harry was starting to see stars despite the hand closed around his cock. He wanted to come, wanted it so much he thought he might explode. Every time Snape bottomed out Harry felt his hips buck without his intent. He didn’t know how long he could handle this.
The thrusts were gradually increasing in both speed and strengthen. Harry bit his fist to keep from crying out as Snape’s thick cock rammed into his prostate. Against his ear his master whispered filthy unintelligible suggestions, the voice alone heating Harry’s groin to an unbearable peak.
Harry felt his balls begin to draw up to his body, and he fought it with all his might even as he longed to come.
“Mr. Potter,” Snape warned in a voice that threatened to undo him.
Harry whined, arching off the bed. Snape’s hand squeezed his cock warningly, and Harry felt another plea leave his mouth.
“Please.”
“Come. Now, Mr. Potter!”
Two firm strokes across his cock, and he was lost. Harry threw back his head moaning with ecstasy as hot release rushed through his abdomen. His hands stilled around his shaft and inside himself as he savored the burning rush that culminated in warm liquid splashing against his chest. Delicious tingles spread through his groin as he came, eyes squeezed shut to milk the last dregs of ecstasy from his fantasy.
Panting, he slowly removed his hand from his arse and play gently with his aching testicles. Harry sighed. Reluctantly he got up and went to the bathroom to clean up. He always felt better using water than a scourgify for his skin, but when he came back to his bed, he used his wand to clean the sheets.
Harry lied down and stared at the ceiling. That might have to go in the headspace with fantasies to revisit. He could still feel the tightness in his lower abdomen, the sweet tension that had bled from his body with release. Yeah, he might like to come back to this fantasy again. It was a good one to keep for nights when he really needed to relax.
But unquestionably it went into the group with fantasies that he would never, ever let out of his head.