"Studying Love", Snape/Harry, NC-17
Jan. 29th, 2012 01:31 pmTitle: Studying Love
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
phoenixtears
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC-17
225 words
Prompt: bonds/silken/shiver bystarcrossedgirl .
Warnings/Enticements: Dub-con/Non-con, Rimming
The bonds wound round his wrists like slow snakes, alive and fulfilling their Master’s intent. It was Severus’s intent to bind Harry. It was Severus’s intent to hold him down until he’d known what it meant to love. He was studying love. He studied it along Harry’s spine, the way his skin shivered, the way he arched, an involuntary, plaintive, soundless cry. He followed love along the tips of Harry’s fingers until they’d all clenched into fists, denying his touch, his eyes closing, denying his own sight. Denying the sight of Severus studying him.
Severus tongued love into the crevice of Harry’s bottom and watched the body buck off the table, into his mouth. He watched Harry attempt to still, to bite his own arm to stop this thing. Severus tasted along the thin, shivering line – into the dark, the silken dark of him – and Harry fought against – and then for – the tongue entering him. Severus tasted love, and his thumbs parted the way more completely. The snakes wound tighter, but it was Harry that hissed, and then he was shaking and it was coming out of him, and Severus kept his tongue shallow inside to feel the shivers. He ran cold hands up Harry’s back, and there was no resistance. Severus decided that’s what love must be: the inability to do anything except surrender.
Author:
phoenixtears Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC-17
225 words
Prompt: bonds/silken/shiver by
starcrossedgirl .Warnings/Enticements: Dub-con/Non-con, Rimming
The bonds wound round his wrists like slow snakes, alive and fulfilling their Master’s intent. It was Severus’s intent to bind Harry. It was Severus’s intent to hold him down until he’d known what it meant to love. He was studying love. He studied it along Harry’s spine, the way his skin shivered, the way he arched, an involuntary, plaintive, soundless cry. He followed love along the tips of Harry’s fingers until they’d all clenched into fists, denying his touch, his eyes closing, denying his own sight. Denying the sight of Severus studying him.
Severus tongued love into the crevice of Harry’s bottom and watched the body buck off the table, into his mouth. He watched Harry attempt to still, to bite his own arm to stop this thing. Severus tasted along the thin, shivering line – into the dark, the silken dark of him – and Harry fought against – and then for – the tongue entering him. Severus tasted love, and his thumbs parted the way more completely. The snakes wound tighter, but it was Harry that hissed, and then he was shaking and it was coming out of him, and Severus kept his tongue shallow inside to feel the shivers. He ran cold hands up Harry’s back, and there was no resistance. Severus decided that’s what love must be: the inability to do anything except surrender.
