Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/159485.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape
  Stats:
      Published: 2003-11-03 Words: 867
****** Lox and Gre ******
by tradescant_(tofty)
Summary
     Oxidation and Reduction and ammunition.
Notes
     Written, with Nimori's permission, as a sequel to her fandom classic
     "Idle Hands."
See the end of the work for more notes
  This work was inspired by
      Idle_Hands by Nimori
Something about all these extra students everywhere, all these voices speaking
in languages he doesn’t understand, makes Severus feel reckless, off-balance,
and also somehow more protected. All this term he’s been pulling Potter into
empty rooms and unbuttoning his trousers before the door shuts properly, Potter
on his knees before he finishes unbuttoning them, Severus’s potion-slick hands
in Potter’s hair shaping it into something resembling his own as he fucks that
mouth, the mouth of a champion, a hero. Five minutes and it’s over, and Potter
slips out silently, rumpled and probably reeking, although the smell is so
familiar that Severus almost can’t tell any more.
And every longer session is a test of Potter’s resolve. How far, exactly, can
Potter go without giving something up, now? Today, for example. Potter stops
just inside the door, waiting, and Severus could say, “Strip,” and Potter
would. Could sit down in his desk chair and say, “Here,” as if commanding a
dog, and Potter would come stand in front of him. Would stroke himself off,
slowly at Severus’s request; hold obediently still, face flushed and breathing
hard still from coming, as Severus shoved three slippery fingers inside him at
once, and Severus could sit back and order Potter to fuck himself on Severus’s
cock, and Potter would position himself without hesitation. And so he does all
these things, and so Potter does all these things.
And when he strips, skin still shiny in places with dragon scorch marks, Potter
is flushed all over from anticipation, not humiliation. When he jerks on his
own prick, his eyes are not avoiding Severus’s but trained stubbornly on them,
only losing contact when he comes with stuttering breath. The thrust of
Severus’s fingers makes him gasp, but only that, and the whole time, there’s a
little smile on Potter’s face, because Potter thinks he understands this game
now, and Severus doesn’t dare call Potter a little slut, no matter that he is
certainly one, because he knows the smile would only broaden, shimmer and spark
with malice.
(Things have been gained and lost in their nasty little struggles. Severus knew
that Potter would come to understand sooner or later--the boy was naïve and
inexperienced but not, alas, as stupid as Severus once thought--and so he did.
They’re operating on a barter system now, a bit of confidence for a bit of
shame, control for humiliation, skill for innocence, and Severus can see these
transactions as they occur now, because he’s looking for them. And he’s
powerless to stop them taking place; if innocence is assaulted for long enough,
it crumbles irreparably.)
But there’s one thing, still, working in Severus’s favor: as Potter sits slowly
back on Severus’s cock, his hands clenched on the arms of the chair, Severus
can feel knobbly limbs tightening, a shiver running down his spine. Feel the
arse contract involuntarily as it slides down over his prick, and they both
moan. And Potter rides with a complete lack of coordination or rhythm, hard,
getting that prick in him any way he can, and, hard again, he keeps rocking, as
if a prick--Severus’s prick--slamming into him has disconnected him from the
smirk and the mulishness and the insolence and everything else in the world, as
if this is all that matters.
At least now, Severus can say anything he likes to Potter, and does, when you
think of this at night, how hard will you come? When you wank with your
friends, do you think of being fucked, you disgusting whore, do you think of
how your arse opens for me, I wonder how many fingers could I fit now, shall we
try a little later? and Potter responds with a strangled moan and doesn’t stop
moving, and Severus arches back in his chair and his hands clamp Potter down
onto his cock as he comes, and when Severus reaches one hand down to Potter’s
balls to squeeze them and one up to his nipple to pinch it, Potter lets Severus
jerk and mock him into another rough orgasm and curls so tightly up that his
glasses and cheeks come into the line of fire, his teeth grind audibly, and
finally he leans back, come-covered and dazed.
Severus likes Potter best like this, like now, splayed loosely over him,
arsehole still distended around his shrinking cock, flushed and still gasping
for breath, perhaps broken and perhaps not, but not cynical, not fighting, and
he pulls Potter’s head around by the hair, pulls off his glasses, and licks the
splashes of come from his face, and then when all he can see are Potter’s pink
cheeks and his nose with the three faint freckles on, that’s when he licks
softly into his astonished open mouth, sucks on his lower lip, his tongue. And
it’s not that he wants to keep this (Potter sated and open and in thrall), only
that he wants to keep Potter off balance, because that’s the only way to win,
with Potter.
It’s that Severus is determined to win, and he would do this even if the first
taste of Potter’s mouth didn’t make him hot and dizzy all over again. He would.
End Notes
     FAQ (F, F, F AQ): The titles comes from a mnemonic for remembering
     the principles of redox: Oxidation = Loss of electrons (LOx),
     Reduction = Gain of electrons (GRe). A very old friend used it to
     describe the science of the relationship here (the idea that gain
     invariably results in loss somewhere), and the title sort of stuck.
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