The Space Between Failing and Falling • Snarry •

Chapter 19: Insights and Intimacies

Harry divests himself of his robes and pants with breathless haste. Nude, he lies down again, tugging Severus down. Harry strokes from his ribs to the top of his underpants and then pulls him into another kiss, fingertips resting at the base of his spine.

Severus reaches out to trace the edge of his throat, jaw, up around his ear and temple, then his lips follow his hand along his bared neck, the side of his face, to finally rest in tamed black hair.

Harry guides him down so they face each other on their sides, and slings his leg over Severus's hip. "Got to be quite close. 'Cos I can't see you properly without my glasses." His breath hitches when Severus grazes his fingertips down the line of his spine, and cups the swell of his buttock.

Severus's arms encircle Harry's shoulders to pull the warm weight on top of him, and Harry huffs a sigh into his ear, and lifts his mouth for another kiss. Harry's cock drags wetly over his hip, and he reaches for it, letting it paint runes on his palm, then closes his fingers and drinks in Harry's sigh.

He plays gently with the foreskin for a while, before Harry sits up a bit to look at Severus's chest, and touch the horrible scars on his neck. He says, "Your skin, it's..." Pasty? Awful? "...incredible."

At Severus's bafflement, he grimaces and continues, "I've made you feel uncomfortable. When I want to make you happy. If I put you off, I know I say a lot of rubbish during er, sex, just Silencio me or something, I probably won't be offended if you do—"

He quiets Harry with a finger to his lips. "I am happy," he breathes. "Be yourself."

He works his hands down Harry's broad back whilst Harry presses kisses onto his cheekbone, his chin, his scars—and then Harry licks along his collarbone, and Severus pushes up and rolls on top of him, kissing him fiercely. Harry's fingers scrabble over Severus's sharp shoulder blades, and Severus presses Harry's shoulders into the mattress so he can take stock: perfect legs, thick and hairy; chest, solid and damp with perspiration; cock, standing hard for him; arms lightly dusted with black hairs. He follows a path with his fingers from a vein on his forearm down to I must not tell lies.

The nerves are still there, yet the feel of Harry's bare skin under his fingertips is an incendiary. Harry tastes him everywhere—temple, the underside of his jaw, the space behind his ear. "Harry—" he begins, but has no plan.

"Severus?" he purrs, and Severus turns to find his mouth.

Harry sinks his hands in Severus's hair, legs wide, his bare cock rubbing against Severus's underwear like a firebrand, and he looks so lovely in the fading light.

Then, Harry pushes his hand down Severus's chest, stomach, and stops, questioning. Severus nods almost imperceptibly, and Harry slips inside his boxers. He watches Harry's face as he works him with certainty, the pitch soaring to near unbearable heights without ever varying the pace. He pauses Harry with a touch to his wrist, because he knows what Harry wants and plans to give him anything he asks.

Harry's eyes are on him like coals when he pushes Harry onto his back. He gets a pillow to prop up Harry's hips, and commands, "You'll tell me if you don't like it."

Bypassing Harry's cock, legs, and stomach, Severus murmurs a cleaning spell, and presses his tongue around the rim. They've danced around each other for too long, and waiting is no longer a priority.

Wizards Under the Sheets really doesn't warn you about the noises another man makes, their scent or taste, the fear in your heart that they might not be enjoying themselves. Harry makes a strangled sound, and he only stops to check Harry's face, whose eyes are wide and jaw slack. He's probably enjoying it.