Fic [HP]: Penance (1/1) - HP/SS, NC-17
Title: Penance
Characters: Harry, Severus
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1366
Warning: painslut!Harry
Summary: We all have our methods of dealing
Author's Notes: Written for the Severus*sighs* kink!night. Thanks to WhiteCotton for the excellent beta!
Long-term lovers develop patterns, Severus thinks. Patterns based on want, on comfort, on habit. They make love out of desire, on the bed out of comfort, after dinner out of habit. These things are innocent.
Harry casts a wandless accio, and an object flies across the room.
Then there are those patterns based on need.
Harry presses the item into his hand; it is slim, hard and leather-covered. Severus shivers, aversion clenching in his guts even as his cock hardens and his fingers tighten around the crop.
Harry says nothing, dropping kisses onto Severus' throat and chest as he begins to lever off him. They are beyond having to verbalize what is expected, what is desired. What is needed.
With a growl only half-forced, Severus shoves Harry away. Caught off-balance, Harry sprawls to the mattress before scrambling to right himself, coming to a rest on all fours. He is panting, red cock hanging heavy between his thighs, eyes squeezed shut too tightly.
Severus levers himself off the bed, movements abrupt and without grace. Turning quickly to face his lover, he forces the momentum into his arm, which comes around in a single movement. The crop gives a low whistle and lands with a smack against Harry's arse.
Harry flinches, but it is reflex only, and he gives a snort of disgust. "That wouldn't hurt a baby, Severus," he says. "You know I need more than that."
Snarling, because he knows Harry is right, Severus brings down the crop again. A red stripe appears lengthwise along Harry's back, and he grunts. "Come on, harder!"
Gritting his teeth, Severus changes the angle. The weaving at the tip of the crop is coming undone, exposing the fiberglass underneath. He swings again, and Harry cries out, a sound that pierces Severus' heart even as it makes him harder.
He continues to strike, blood-tinged welts rising against Harry's ribcage, his thighs, his arse. Harry's cries change pitch, a scale Severus plays on his body, and he cannot help but wonder which face Harry sees when each note is hit. Harry shifts, spreading his legs to make room for his heavy balls, and Severus can almost see the throbbing he feels echoed in his own body.
Each sound strikes its own note in Severus' chest, every cry making his heart contract, bringing an itch to his eyes. Even when he feels he can no longer breathe through the tightness in his throat, he does not stop, not until he sees Harry's head begin to fall, moisture dripping from Harry's eyes.
Flinging the hated crop aside, he crawls back onto the bed as Harry collapses onto his side. Severus gathers Harry carefully into his arms, something unclenching inside him as he does so. There is a sharp inhale as Severus touches the swollen patches of abused skin, but despite that, Harry nestles in closely, mouth finding Severus' for a wild kiss.
Harry tastes of salt and bitter regret, and Severus seeks to dispel it, taking it into himself and kissing away the tears that stain Harry's face. Harry shudders as Severus runs hands down him, pressing their hips together. Harry's leg is thrown over Severus' thigh, and Harry strains against him.
"Shhh." Severus runs gentle fingers along Harry's face, soothing the desperate motions. He kisses his younger lover softly, then rolls him to his back, trying not to flinch at Harry's hiss. Harry lifts his legs, clamping them around Severus' waist like a vice, arms twining around his shoulders to pull him close.
"In me," Harry gasps, breath hot and moist against Severus' face. "Want to feel you... in me, around me, on me..." He pulls Severus down, gasping as all the weight comes to rest on him.
Severus reaches for the nightstand where two jars sit, choosing the one he needs now. He plunges his fingers into the lube, the one concession he's wrought from Harry, and slicks himself. He won't do without, he has insisted. To do otherwise feels too much like rape.
"In me, now," Harry says, and Severus aligns himself against Harry's unprepared body, and slowly pushes in.
Harry inhales sharply as he is breached, his fingers digging harshly into Severus' shoulders, face twisted. Severus drops his head to kiss him softly, his lips, his cheek, his nose, making soothing sounds. His own body is on fire, alight with ecstasy as he sinks into the tight warmth of his lover, two pieces sliding slowly together until they reach unison.
Harry releases his breath with a shuddering sigh, body relaxing under Severus and his head thrown back. Severus trembles, raising a hand to brush sweaty strands of hair away, taking in the moment of peace on the young-old face. Viridian eyes blink open, and a gentle hand guides Severus' face down to where their mouths join in languid motion.
When they part, Severus looks at Harry's peaceful features and breathes, "Let me take the pain away. Just this once, let me make love to you without the ghosts."
A shadow flickers over Harry's face, and his eyes move back and forth, studying. "Alright," is the quiet answer.
Severus smiles and kisses him, then reaches for his wand. A quick pain-dampening spell directed at Harry's back, and the wand is returned to the nightstand.
The motion of Severus' body causes Harry to writhe, his hips shifting impatiently, and Severus groans. "Move," Harry pleads, a furrow between his brows, and Severus kisses him lightly before complying. They both moan as Severus begins his rhythm, bodies moving apart and then together, striving towards elusive oneness.
Severus keeps his movements slow, savoring his lover's expression, taut with no more agony than ecstasy as their bodies drive against each other. He knows better than to expect it will always be like this; that the ghosts that haunt them both can be set aside with a word. Though he hopes for such a day, he knows he will be an old man before he sees it.
He leans down, covering Harry's face with lingering kisses, gratified by the carefree way Harry arches into him, mouths joining in a reflection of their lower bodies. And try though he might to prolong their enjoyment, urgency grows, and he gathers Harry into his arms as their bodies pick up speed.
Harry is a symphony of sounds; his low moans sending shivers down Severus' back, punctuated by sharper cries when Severus hits his prostate. He twists and squirms, drawing groans from Severus, encouraging them both towards the inexorable culmination.
When he can hold it back no longer, Severus reaches between them to take hold of Harry, squeezing firmly and pumping until Harry comes with a shout. Severus gives a low groan and finishes, thrusting deep into Harry until he can go no further, filling his lover.
Their chests heave as they slowly unfurl their bodies, hands stroking each other's faces and sides, soft kisses dropped on whatever flesh is available. Rolling onto their sides, Harry winces as he separates from Severus, and burrows into him as if to make up for the loss.
Severus holds him close, fingers trailing over his back, feeling the raised, angry flesh there. Though he knows the welts are not causing much pain, he reaches for the second jar on the nightstand and dips his fingers inside. He then rubs them against Harry's back, making small, soothing circles until the welt beneath his fingers disappears. Reaching again for the jar, he repeats the process, finding another mark and healing it with a soft touch while Harry lies pliant against him.
He closes his eyes as he works on a third, the words rising up inside him, against sense and against his knowledge of Harry. "It's not your fault, you know," slips out quietly.
Harry tenses against him. "Severus, don't," he says, voice low and tight in warning.
"Okay," he replies, expecting this response, and kisses Harry on the temple. He continues the circular motion with his fingers until Harry's body relaxes against him.
He reaches again for the ointment, moving on to the next hurt, wondering if this is the only absolution they will find.
fin.
Characters: Harry, Severus
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1366
Warning: painslut!Harry
Summary: We all have our methods of dealing
Author's Notes: Written for the Severus*sighs* kink!night. Thanks to WhiteCotton for the excellent beta!
Long-term lovers develop patterns, Severus thinks. Patterns based on want, on comfort, on habit. They make love out of desire, on the bed out of comfort, after dinner out of habit. These things are innocent.
Harry casts a wandless accio, and an object flies across the room.
Then there are those patterns based on need.
Harry presses the item into his hand; it is slim, hard and leather-covered. Severus shivers, aversion clenching in his guts even as his cock hardens and his fingers tighten around the crop.
Harry says nothing, dropping kisses onto Severus' throat and chest as he begins to lever off him. They are beyond having to verbalize what is expected, what is desired. What is needed.
With a growl only half-forced, Severus shoves Harry away. Caught off-balance, Harry sprawls to the mattress before scrambling to right himself, coming to a rest on all fours. He is panting, red cock hanging heavy between his thighs, eyes squeezed shut too tightly.
Severus levers himself off the bed, movements abrupt and without grace. Turning quickly to face his lover, he forces the momentum into his arm, which comes around in a single movement. The crop gives a low whistle and lands with a smack against Harry's arse.
Harry flinches, but it is reflex only, and he gives a snort of disgust. "That wouldn't hurt a baby, Severus," he says. "You know I need more than that."
Snarling, because he knows Harry is right, Severus brings down the crop again. A red stripe appears lengthwise along Harry's back, and he grunts. "Come on, harder!"
Gritting his teeth, Severus changes the angle. The weaving at the tip of the crop is coming undone, exposing the fiberglass underneath. He swings again, and Harry cries out, a sound that pierces Severus' heart even as it makes him harder.
He continues to strike, blood-tinged welts rising against Harry's ribcage, his thighs, his arse. Harry's cries change pitch, a scale Severus plays on his body, and he cannot help but wonder which face Harry sees when each note is hit. Harry shifts, spreading his legs to make room for his heavy balls, and Severus can almost see the throbbing he feels echoed in his own body.
Each sound strikes its own note in Severus' chest, every cry making his heart contract, bringing an itch to his eyes. Even when he feels he can no longer breathe through the tightness in his throat, he does not stop, not until he sees Harry's head begin to fall, moisture dripping from Harry's eyes.
Flinging the hated crop aside, he crawls back onto the bed as Harry collapses onto his side. Severus gathers Harry carefully into his arms, something unclenching inside him as he does so. There is a sharp inhale as Severus touches the swollen patches of abused skin, but despite that, Harry nestles in closely, mouth finding Severus' for a wild kiss.
Harry tastes of salt and bitter regret, and Severus seeks to dispel it, taking it into himself and kissing away the tears that stain Harry's face. Harry shudders as Severus runs hands down him, pressing their hips together. Harry's leg is thrown over Severus' thigh, and Harry strains against him.
"Shhh." Severus runs gentle fingers along Harry's face, soothing the desperate motions. He kisses his younger lover softly, then rolls him to his back, trying not to flinch at Harry's hiss. Harry lifts his legs, clamping them around Severus' waist like a vice, arms twining around his shoulders to pull him close.
"In me," Harry gasps, breath hot and moist against Severus' face. "Want to feel you... in me, around me, on me..." He pulls Severus down, gasping as all the weight comes to rest on him.
Severus reaches for the nightstand where two jars sit, choosing the one he needs now. He plunges his fingers into the lube, the one concession he's wrought from Harry, and slicks himself. He won't do without, he has insisted. To do otherwise feels too much like rape.
"In me, now," Harry says, and Severus aligns himself against Harry's unprepared body, and slowly pushes in.
Harry inhales sharply as he is breached, his fingers digging harshly into Severus' shoulders, face twisted. Severus drops his head to kiss him softly, his lips, his cheek, his nose, making soothing sounds. His own body is on fire, alight with ecstasy as he sinks into the tight warmth of his lover, two pieces sliding slowly together until they reach unison.
Harry releases his breath with a shuddering sigh, body relaxing under Severus and his head thrown back. Severus trembles, raising a hand to brush sweaty strands of hair away, taking in the moment of peace on the young-old face. Viridian eyes blink open, and a gentle hand guides Severus' face down to where their mouths join in languid motion.
When they part, Severus looks at Harry's peaceful features and breathes, "Let me take the pain away. Just this once, let me make love to you without the ghosts."
A shadow flickers over Harry's face, and his eyes move back and forth, studying. "Alright," is the quiet answer.
Severus smiles and kisses him, then reaches for his wand. A quick pain-dampening spell directed at Harry's back, and the wand is returned to the nightstand.
The motion of Severus' body causes Harry to writhe, his hips shifting impatiently, and Severus groans. "Move," Harry pleads, a furrow between his brows, and Severus kisses him lightly before complying. They both moan as Severus begins his rhythm, bodies moving apart and then together, striving towards elusive oneness.
Severus keeps his movements slow, savoring his lover's expression, taut with no more agony than ecstasy as their bodies drive against each other. He knows better than to expect it will always be like this; that the ghosts that haunt them both can be set aside with a word. Though he hopes for such a day, he knows he will be an old man before he sees it.
He leans down, covering Harry's face with lingering kisses, gratified by the carefree way Harry arches into him, mouths joining in a reflection of their lower bodies. And try though he might to prolong their enjoyment, urgency grows, and he gathers Harry into his arms as their bodies pick up speed.
Harry is a symphony of sounds; his low moans sending shivers down Severus' back, punctuated by sharper cries when Severus hits his prostate. He twists and squirms, drawing groans from Severus, encouraging them both towards the inexorable culmination.
When he can hold it back no longer, Severus reaches between them to take hold of Harry, squeezing firmly and pumping until Harry comes with a shout. Severus gives a low groan and finishes, thrusting deep into Harry until he can go no further, filling his lover.
Their chests heave as they slowly unfurl their bodies, hands stroking each other's faces and sides, soft kisses dropped on whatever flesh is available. Rolling onto their sides, Harry winces as he separates from Severus, and burrows into him as if to make up for the loss.
Severus holds him close, fingers trailing over his back, feeling the raised, angry flesh there. Though he knows the welts are not causing much pain, he reaches for the second jar on the nightstand and dips his fingers inside. He then rubs them against Harry's back, making small, soothing circles until the welt beneath his fingers disappears. Reaching again for the jar, he repeats the process, finding another mark and healing it with a soft touch while Harry lies pliant against him.
He closes his eyes as he works on a third, the words rising up inside him, against sense and against his knowledge of Harry. "It's not your fault, you know," slips out quietly.
Harry tenses against him. "Severus, don't," he says, voice low and tight in warning.
"Okay," he replies, expecting this response, and kisses Harry on the temple. He continues the circular motion with his fingers until Harry's body relaxes against him.
He reaches again for the ointment, moving on to the next hurt, wondering if this is the only absolution they will find.
fin.