Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4189860.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, top_pov, Semi-Negotiated_Consent,
      Nipple_Play, Desperation, Orgasm_Control, Coming_Untouched, Teacher/
      Student, Voyeurism
  Series:
      Part 3 of Lesson_Learned
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-23 Words: 1374
****** Overeager ******
by Spitshine
Summary
     Snape very graciously didn't say anything when Harry snuck in behind
     the Remedial first year students the night before their...
     appointment.
Notes
     A combination of a couple prompts left on earlier installments:
     "harry coming back another time because he couldn't stop thinking
     about it" and "Could you make it so Snape gets Harry to cum or very
     close just by playing with his nipples?"
See the end of the work for more notes
Snape very graciously didn't say anything when Harry snuck in behind the
Remedial first year students the night before their... appointment. In his
cloak, of course, but Snape was a wizard, and there were such things as alarm
spells.
Not that a Gryffindor would notice anything beyond a deafening klaxon.
Ah, well, the boy was impatient. Flattering, if predictable. Snape sighed and
turned his focus to the squirming mass of eleven-year-olds, hoping that perhaps
the tedium of sitting silently through the two hour lesson might remind Harry
to follow instructions a little more closely, next time.
The little brats managed, somehow, to be even more obtuse and irritating than
usual, though if their teacher snapped a little faster and trimmed points a
little more freely, they were at least smart enough not to comment on it within
the walls of his classroom.
The moment the monsters had left, Snape collapsed into his chair and groaned
under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment to collect
himself. “Mr. Potter, you may remove that ridiculous cloak and state your
business.”
“H-how did you-”
Snape allowed himself the luxury of a very ostentatious eyeroll. “I am a
wizard. Though not, thankfully, your charms professor, so if you came here to
be tutored in the art of setting a silent alarm, I'm afraid I'll have to turn
you away.”
“Er. No. I didn't, I mean, I just-”
“It's been a long day. Spit it out or get back to your dorm before curfew.
Either way, stop wasting my time.”
“It's, well, I just... wanted to.”
“To what? Merlin, you know how to drive me up the wall.”
“Just to... see you. Sir.”
Snape felt his expression soften but it was already too late to hide it, his
eyes locked on Harry's. “Oh. Well then.” He didn't want to admit he was thrown,
even to himself, but―well, manufacturing a reason to be held after class was
one thing, but this, this giving up of his entire evening to wait out the
Remedial students, to see him, that was quite another. “Come over here, boy.
You may leave your robes with your cloak.”
Say anything else you like about the boy, he always blushed prettily. “I'm. I'm
not wearing anything under them, sir.”
“And?”
“Well, I've never, I mean, not with-”
“Are you trying to tell me no one has ever seen you naked.”
A shaky nod, eyes cast down.
“Your peers are even stupider than I thought. Still, their lack of insight is
no reason for you to remain clothed.”
Nothing.
“Are you scared, boy?”
“A little.”
“Whatever for?”
“I'm just―what if you don't like it?”
“It? Your body?”
“...Yes.”
“Take those blasted robes off, come here, and I promise I will show you exactly
how much I like it.” Snape didn't take his eyes off Harry once, tracked every
hesitant movement with a hungry expression on his face. The skin was milk-pale,
like it had been kept not only from human eyes but the sun as well, and Snape
wanted nothing so much as to put his mark on it, hot and red, so that no one
would ever be able to touch Harry without seeing that someone, that Snape had
been there first. “Sit on my desk,” he said, voice rough.
Harry did, long slim limbs piled awkwardly just in front of Snape. He'd gotten
tall for his age the last few months, but only for his age, and Snape was just
tall, so when he finally took a deep breath and straightened up, his tiny pink
nipples were on a level with Snape's eyes, and hard in the cold air of the
dungeon.
“Are you still scared, boy?”
“A little.”
Snape allowed himself to look Harry up and down, slowly, obviously. “You are
breathtaking. You are breathtaking, and I'm going to take you apart.”
“Oh—okay.”
“Do you want me to touch you?”
The boy blushed and stammered and said nothing.
“I need you to answer me.”
“Yeah. Yes, I want you, I want that. Touching.”
Snape began slow, careful, one long hand wrapped around Harry's hip, one around
his ribs. “No one's ever seen you like this before. Has anyone ever touched
you?”
“No.”
“Have you thought about it?”
“Yes.”
“When you touch yourself?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think about?” Snape didn't give Harry the time or space to
respond, just a grin more tooth than smile, and started moving his hands. One
up, one down, until he had a nipple gripped between two bony fingers, a thigh
trapped under one strong palm. “Answer me, boy,” he growled, low and
threatening.
“Nothing! I mean, I don't know, I haven't, I just don't know even what it would
be like, I just, I think about what it might be, about being touched, about
bodies.”
“Do you touch yourself here?” Both hands were splayed across Harry's chest now,
petting and pinching in turns.
“No, I just,” a rude gesture. “My dick.”
“I see.” Snape pinched harder. “Do you like this?”
“Yes, fuck, yes!”
“You're not to come until I give you permission, do you understand?”
“Y-yes, sir.” Snape glanced down, gratified to see Harry's cock give a little
twitch as he pledged his obedience, looked up again to see Harry's eyes fall
shut and his mouth fall open, all flushed red cheeks and pale pink lips and
small white teeth, his whole face forming a wide O as the boy gasped out in
surprise and pleasure.
“Be loud for me,” Snape whispered before closing his own mouth around one
peaked nub. He hummed in appreciation when Harry did exactly as directed, his
ragged groan echoing around the empty dungeon.
Snape used his spare hand to pin Harry to the desk, fingers flexing hard
against the thin, breakable ridge of the boy's narrow hip, as he licked and
pinched and bit and kissed.
He did exactly as he'd promised; Harry fell to pieces, and Snape was there to
catch them, to spread them out and examine them. He praised the boy's
responses, his gasping and moaning and squirming. He encouraged him to writhe,
to fight the strong hands holding him down, holding him in place, but wouldn't
let him escape.
Wouldn't touch his cock, no matter how he begged.
Wouldn't let him come.
Once Harry was incoherent and desperate, he pulled back entirely, clasped his
hands in his own lap as he sank into his chair and commented, almost idly,
“You'll come from me touching you like this or not at all,” and then just
watched as Harry reigned himself in, so close to coming undone just from the
idea that he might not be allowed to.
Snape kept watching as he touched every part of Harry, firmly, methodically,
every part of him except his cock, his balls. He watched as Harry spread his
legs, threw back his head, ground his hips wantonly against the desk. He
watched as Harry bit his lips red and swollen, as he begged and begged. As his
dick got harder and darker and wetter without ever once being touched.
He stopped watching to press his mouth against Harry's skin once more, biting,
licking. Biting. He always stayed clean-shaven but by this late hour his face
was rough, brought a beautiful pink glow everywhere he rubbed his chin. He
sucked hard on each nipple, bobbed his head and brought more flesh into his
mouth, again and again until the skin of Harry's chest drew taut and his mouth
full, and then he bit down as hard as he could, listened to Harry's endless
scream, held him close as he shook violently.
Harry had stopped swearing, even stopped begging, reduced to a sweat-drenched
mass of wordless whimpers and aborted attempts to touch himself, by the time
Snape asked, “Are you ready? Answer me. Use your words, or you get nothing.”
“Yes!”
“Do you need it?”
“Yes, yes. Please. Anything.”
“Then come for me, boy.”
Harry did. He squalled and shrieked and thrashed his way through it, arched his
back until his hair nearly brushed the desk behind him, collapsed boneless and
giddy against Snape's chest the moment he was done.
Snape pulled a face. “You've made another mess.”
End Notes
     Yeah, I'm basically the world's biggest bottom so top POV is a weird
     new thing I'm trying as a writer. Lemme know what you think; kudos
     are lovely but concrit much better.
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