The Space Between Failing and Falling • Snarry •

Chapter 19: Insights and Intimacies

Harry Summons lubricant and passes it down, and then he's squirming as Severus presses in a finger.

"Before you ask," Harry says a little breathlessly, "it doesn't hurt."

Severus smiles into Harry's thigh, nuzzles the skin beside his cock, and adds in another finger.

"Stop tickling me with your hair and fuck me."

He quirks his fingers in punishment. "Perhaps this ought to be an education in patience, Mr Potter."

Harry squirms. "I should get a medal. Or they can put it on my gravestone: 'Harry Potter, died of patience'."

Severus ghosts his lips down the side of his cock, and back up again to taste the tip. "Ah—probably best if you stop that," Harry gasps, "—don't want to come yet." He obeys and tastes Harry's leg instead, then adds a third finger.

Impatient, Harry grasps his shoulder, drawing Severus on top of him. Harry licks the corner of Severus's mouth. "Do it now," he pants. Harry pours lubricant into his palm, and Severus shudders when he gathers their cocks into his hand and ruts upwards, and Severus watches, mesmerised. "I want to feel you inside me. I need you to make love to me." Powerless to deny Harry anything, he buries his face in Harry's neck before sucking on the spot behind his ear. The sound Harry makes is delicious.

It's finally happening. He stares intently into Harry's eyes to make sure he understands. "You will tell me. If it hurts. Then we stop."

His breath hitches as Harry rocks backwards and positions Severus's cock at his entrance.

Harry kisses his face, threading his hair out of the way. "I'm a rubbish liar, Sev. You'll know," he says. "And if you don't like it...I'm sure I'll find some other way to satisfy you."

He eases in, ever so slightly, and if it hurts or Harry is unhappy, he can't see anything on his face.

"More," Harry whispers, nodding, eyes half closed.

He's not going to fit.

Harry's legs wrap around him, and he edges further in, and it's too much, too tight, too hot. His desire is so sudden and present that moving and breathing are a chore and he squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught.

Harry bears down on him and draws out an involuntary moan from between Severus's gritted teeth and they are fully joined. He can see from the desire smouldering in Harry's eyes that he wants this. Wants Severus.

"How—does it feel?" Severus asks.

Conversation is almost beyond him.

"Full. Turned on. A bit weird," he says, chest heaving. He cups Severus's cheek with his hand. "Glad it's you, though. So glad." Harry lazily strokes his cock. "You're bloody perfect," he says. "Like some kind of fantasy brought to life."

He rocks into Harry and growls into his ear, "I am no fantasy." He pulls out and in to illustrate his point, and Harry whines. The noises he makes are unmistakably that of pleasure. There are sounds of kissing, moaning, skin slapping together. His heart thunders and sings the sight of Harry. Everything, everything was so much more vivid than his dreams. Brow furrowed in bliss. Black hair a contrast against the white pillowcase. The feel of the hairs on his chest when Severus drags his lips down his breast bone.

With each passing thrust, Severus feels a wedge driving between who he used to be, and who he has now become. Harry's lover, Harry's husband, a good man. They undulate together as two parts of one whole. Harry is loud, they are totally alone, and he explores ways of raising Harry's pleasure by tugging at his earlobe with his teeth, pinching his nipples, and knocking his hand out of the way so that he is the entire source of Harry's gratification.