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asimplechordTitle: The Prefects' Bath (redux)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
irisgirl12000
Rating: M+/NC-17
Notes: Written as an out-take forlilyeyes's Sentinel in the Shadows, with her permission. It stands alone, but some of the context is explained over in her story, and in my previous post, In the Prefects' Bath. This story takes place a year after Harry's defeat of the Dark Lord and his graduation from Hogwarts.
A response to: For a bloody ghost, a teenaged female at that, Myrtle seemed to have a craving for watching men together, or, as he had found out to his horror, someone pleasuring himself. “Not this time, Myrtle, but if you leave us alone to figure this out and not tell anyone, I promise to bring him back so that you can watch.”
“Harry, is there a reason you led me up six flights of stairs for a bath?”
“Are you peeking, Severus? You promised to keep your eyes closed. It was supposed to be a surprise!” Harry’s disappointment was audible. He knew that Severus was quite wary of surprises, but he had hoped that he trusted Harry enough to cooperate without trolling their bond for information.
“I hardly need to cheat to know that. I can tell we are in a bathroom by the sound of our heels on the tile and the drip of water, not to mention the feel of humid air on my face.”
“Oh. Good.”
Harry guided Snape to the edge of the sunken tub; standing behind him, he removed the blindfold and stepped back. Snape’s dark eyes opened to see a huge bathing pool filled with blue-tinted water. Tendrils of scented steam rose sinuously from its surface.
Turning to face his spouse, Snape raised one shapely eyebrow. “Mr. Potter, I repeat, why did you bring me up six flights of stairs for a bath? There’s a perfectly serviceable room for that very purpose in our chambers.”
“But our bath isn’t nearly as nice as the Prefects’, even since we expanded it in wizard space. Besides....”
“Yes?”
A devilish glint lit Harry’s green eyes.
“You made a promise four years ago, Severus. I think it’s time you kept it.”
With that, Harry flicked his wand in his husband’s direction, and his heavy potions-brewing robes vanished.
“Those had better not be gone permanently, brat! And I’ve made no promises that I haven’t kept.” Arms crossed, Snape tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for a response.
Not intimidated in the slightest by Snape’s dark scowl, Harry grinned.
“Keep thinking about it. It’ll come to you.”
But he didn’t give Snape much of a chance for focused thought. Stepping closer, Harry wrapped his arms around the slim waist, invading Snape’s space to plant a kiss at the point where his jaw met his ear. Trailing his lips down the pale neck, he nipped and sucked, leaving a path of pinkened skin in his wake. He continued down to the collarbone, which he worried delicately, enjoying the shudder it caused. Eventually his lips moved upward again, cruising up to the Adam’s apple, where they paused for a kiss, then up over the chin to press against the thin, flexible mouth Harry so adored.
“Mmm.” Snape leaned closer and tilted his head, shifting so that his nose didn’t bump Harry’s and opening his lips at the first probe of an insistent tongue.
Harry’s hands deftly unbuttoned Snape’s shirt, then slid up to push it off his shoulders. Quidditch-roughened palms followed the path of the shirt, ghosting down arms until the sleeves were free, then clasping Snape’s wrists. Never interrupting their kiss, which had become a duel of nipping teeth and swiping tongues, Harry released Snape’s wrists, settling his hands on the waist-band, then the placket of his trousers instead. He cupped the growing hardness there, then unzipped the trousers and slid his hand into the opening, through the slit in the pants to wrap around Snape’s prick. One stroke, two. His movement was hampered by the constricting fabric, but he shifted his grip and continued until he could feel moisture forming at the head on the end of each stroke.
Snape pulled away with a groan and rested his forehead on Harry’s. With an impatient huff of breath, he kicked off his shoes and shoved his trousers and pants down. While he toed the garments aside, he busied his hands with Harry’s clothing, peeling them off and dropping them carelessly to the tiles to join his own rumpled pile.
When Harry was naked, Severus breathed a deep, appreciative sigh.
“So beautiful.” It was a nearly silent whisper.
Harry smiled indulgently. “Only you think that, Severus. And you’re just as beautiful to me.” He wrapped Snape in his arms and held him close, enjoying the warmth of his skin and the scent of him. Citrus and musk underneath dandelion stems and Erumpent horn, which he must have been preparing this afternoon.
Harry dropped his arms and moved to the bath. He sat on the submerged stone bench, enjoying the lap of the softened, oiled water against his skin, and gestured to Snape. When his hand was grasped, he pulled Snape into the tub and settled him in the vee of his legs, his back to Harry’s front. Snape relaxed as Harry soaped and rinsed all the parts that he could reach.
Once the suds had trickled away, magically popping the instant they hit the surface of the water, Harry began the next phase of Snape’s pampering. Fingers and hands were kneaded and rubbed, dissolving knots earned by chopping potions ingredients for hours. From the tips of his fingers to the fleshy heels, Snape’s hands tingled with pleasure by the time Harry was done with them. Then Harry’s adroit hands moved up to his biceps and triceps, rubbing and massaging them rhythmically until his arms were as limp as noodles before moving to the Galleon-sized knots in his shoulders. Harry wrestled with them for long minutes before finally subduing the most persistent aches. By then, another ache had developed. Harry’s touch had had a curious effect on Snape’s erection; it had decreased with the first twinge of pain -- Harry’s massage had not been gentle, and the first contact with tight muscles had drained some of his initial arousal. It had returned as tension vanished, leaving lovely, relaxed muscles in its wake.
The caressing touch went from soothing to arousing in a heartbeat when fingertips brushed across Snape’s pectoral muscles to pinch his nipples. His left hand stayed there, toying with the hardening nubs, while the right followed the arrow of sparse, dark hair down Snape’s belly to his groin. Wrapping around the shaft, the hand picked up where it had left off earlier. With the first stroke, Severus’s hips reflexively pushed back into the cradle of Harry’s thighs, pressing Harry’s erection against the small of his back.
“Mmm, more.”
Harry wasn’t certain if Snape had spoken or communicated the thought nonverbally, but he was happy to oblige. He pressed a kiss to the shoulder in front of him, then allowed his lips to drift over to the nape of Snape’s neck and up to his ear, leaving a damp trail in their wake. Snape turned his head, pulling his earlobe from Harry’s mouth and replacing it with his own.
At that, Harry’s left hand fell from the nipple it had been plucking, moving to play with the dark red head while the stroking continued. It didn’t stay there long; instead, it dropped lower to roll the balls slightly and cup them in their protective sac. That pleasure, too, was short-lived. Bollocks were abandoned for exploration of the tender skin beyond, and the tightly guarded hole was circled before the fingers retreated back to stroke soft skin.
Severus was torn: should he press back into the caress, moving to get those twisting, petting fingers where he wanted them, or move forward in the fist milking his cock? His indecision was rewarded when gentle fingers drifted backwards again, circling, then increasing pressure to barely breach the ring of muscle.
Snape ripped his mouth away from Harry, unable to suppress the moan that accompanied his unexpected, and unexpectedly intense, climax. When it was over, he collapsed back against Harry’s chest.
“What did you put in the bath? I haven’t lost control with so little provocation in--ever.”
“It’s part of the Weasley twins’ new sex toy line. Bath oil that enhances sensation and lubricates.” Harry kissed Severus languidly, enjoying the sensation of supporting his spouse as he recovered. “I take it you liked it?”
“I believe that is obvious.”
The twins’ potion was having a secondary effect, and already Snape could feel his desire returning and his cock perking up. He shifted, brushing against Harry’s erection. He tried to turn, to take Harry in hand, but firm hands stopped him.
“No, like this.” Harry propped Snape up, rearranging him so that Snape straddled his lap, still facing away. He flexed his grip on the hips above and in front of his, then leaned closer to nip sharply at an earlobe. Easing the sting with an apologetic swipe of his tongue, Harry whispered, “Touch yourself.”
The authority in the commanding voice had him obeying immediately. With Harry at his back, the warm, potioned water surrounding him, and the grip of his own stroking, pulling hand, it was not long before Snape was on edge again, straining with a desire for something, anything to push him over it.
Harry’s hands trailed down Snape’s sides, then up. Back down, and one rested on Snape’s hip while the other moved around to his back. He trailed fingertips down the crevice, probing and circling the sphincter, then pressed one finger inward. It went easily enough, so he added another. Harry crooked his fingers, looking for the prostate, and was rewarded with a muffled groan.
“Get on with it, Potter, before I perish with want.”
“But I’ve only just--”
“Just do it.”
Harry aligned himself and pushed in. He knew it had to burn. Two fingers soaked in massage oil and lubricating bath potion could not be a complete substitution for proper preparation. He hoped it was enough that they did not cause damage they would later regret.
Snape held his breath until Harry was fully seated; then he relaxed, widening his stance and letting his weight resettle on his knees. This redistribution drew a moan from Harry, who held his pelvis pressed tight against Snape’s buttocks for a long moment while he thought cold thoughts. His hands flexed on the hips before him and his mouth dropped desperate kisses on the parts of Snape's shoulder blades, back and neck that he could reach.
“Ungh. Severus--I can’t--”
Without waiting for permission, Harry began rocking his hips, the motion barely creating waves in the bath water. It wasn’t long before he was using his grip on Snape’s torso to force him down to meet increasingly vigorous thrusts.
The increased movement changed Harry’s angle, and he brushed against Snape’s prostate on one thrust. This resulted in a moan and muscles clenching to keep the intruder where Snape knew it would give the most pleasure. With a helpless groan, Harry held Severus close while he spurted once, twice, again and again... it seemed to go on forever.
Harry held himself there, still, not withdrawing when his orgasm was finished. He slid a hand around to join Snape’s, stroking and squeezing him to a second shattering climax.
“Harry!” Snape whispered when he came. He thought he heard a feminine moan echoing his own, but he was nearly incoherent with pleasure. The muscles holding his body upright melted, and Snape dropped backwards, collapsing against Harry again.
“Well done, Harry. I think you’ve worn him out.”
Severus stiffened. That was definitely a female voice. A familiar female voice.
“Thank you, Myrtle. Have you been here long?”
“Oh yes, I enjoyed the show. Thank you for the invitation. And thank you for remembering, Professor Snape.”
That had Snape’s eyes widening, and he looked at Harry with dawning understanding and amusement.
“A promise is a promise, Myrtle.”
Author:
irisgirl12000Rating: M+/NC-17
Notes: Written as an out-take for
lilyeyes's Sentinel in the Shadows, with her permission. It stands alone, but some of the context is explained over in her story, and in my previous post, In the Prefects' Bath. This story takes place a year after Harry's defeat of the Dark Lord and his graduation from Hogwarts.A response to: For a bloody ghost, a teenaged female at that, Myrtle seemed to have a craving for watching men together, or, as he had found out to his horror, someone pleasuring himself. “Not this time, Myrtle, but if you leave us alone to figure this out and not tell anyone, I promise to bring him back so that you can watch.”
“Harry, is there a reason you led me up six flights of stairs for a bath?”
“Are you peeking, Severus? You promised to keep your eyes closed. It was supposed to be a surprise!” Harry’s disappointment was audible. He knew that Severus was quite wary of surprises, but he had hoped that he trusted Harry enough to cooperate without trolling their bond for information.
“I hardly need to cheat to know that. I can tell we are in a bathroom by the sound of our heels on the tile and the drip of water, not to mention the feel of humid air on my face.”
“Oh. Good.”
Harry guided Snape to the edge of the sunken tub; standing behind him, he removed the blindfold and stepped back. Snape’s dark eyes opened to see a huge bathing pool filled with blue-tinted water. Tendrils of scented steam rose sinuously from its surface.
Turning to face his spouse, Snape raised one shapely eyebrow. “Mr. Potter, I repeat, why did you bring me up six flights of stairs for a bath? There’s a perfectly serviceable room for that very purpose in our chambers.”
“But our bath isn’t nearly as nice as the Prefects’, even since we expanded it in wizard space. Besides....”
“Yes?”
A devilish glint lit Harry’s green eyes.
“You made a promise four years ago, Severus. I think it’s time you kept it.”
With that, Harry flicked his wand in his husband’s direction, and his heavy potions-brewing robes vanished.
“Those had better not be gone permanently, brat! And I’ve made no promises that I haven’t kept.” Arms crossed, Snape tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for a response.
Not intimidated in the slightest by Snape’s dark scowl, Harry grinned.
“Keep thinking about it. It’ll come to you.”
But he didn’t give Snape much of a chance for focused thought. Stepping closer, Harry wrapped his arms around the slim waist, invading Snape’s space to plant a kiss at the point where his jaw met his ear. Trailing his lips down the pale neck, he nipped and sucked, leaving a path of pinkened skin in his wake. He continued down to the collarbone, which he worried delicately, enjoying the shudder it caused. Eventually his lips moved upward again, cruising up to the Adam’s apple, where they paused for a kiss, then up over the chin to press against the thin, flexible mouth Harry so adored.
“Mmm.” Snape leaned closer and tilted his head, shifting so that his nose didn’t bump Harry’s and opening his lips at the first probe of an insistent tongue.
Harry’s hands deftly unbuttoned Snape’s shirt, then slid up to push it off his shoulders. Quidditch-roughened palms followed the path of the shirt, ghosting down arms until the sleeves were free, then clasping Snape’s wrists. Never interrupting their kiss, which had become a duel of nipping teeth and swiping tongues, Harry released Snape’s wrists, settling his hands on the waist-band, then the placket of his trousers instead. He cupped the growing hardness there, then unzipped the trousers and slid his hand into the opening, through the slit in the pants to wrap around Snape’s prick. One stroke, two. His movement was hampered by the constricting fabric, but he shifted his grip and continued until he could feel moisture forming at the head on the end of each stroke.
Snape pulled away with a groan and rested his forehead on Harry’s. With an impatient huff of breath, he kicked off his shoes and shoved his trousers and pants down. While he toed the garments aside, he busied his hands with Harry’s clothing, peeling them off and dropping them carelessly to the tiles to join his own rumpled pile.
When Harry was naked, Severus breathed a deep, appreciative sigh.
“So beautiful.” It was a nearly silent whisper.
Harry smiled indulgently. “Only you think that, Severus. And you’re just as beautiful to me.” He wrapped Snape in his arms and held him close, enjoying the warmth of his skin and the scent of him. Citrus and musk underneath dandelion stems and Erumpent horn, which he must have been preparing this afternoon.
Harry dropped his arms and moved to the bath. He sat on the submerged stone bench, enjoying the lap of the softened, oiled water against his skin, and gestured to Snape. When his hand was grasped, he pulled Snape into the tub and settled him in the vee of his legs, his back to Harry’s front. Snape relaxed as Harry soaped and rinsed all the parts that he could reach.
Once the suds had trickled away, magically popping the instant they hit the surface of the water, Harry began the next phase of Snape’s pampering. Fingers and hands were kneaded and rubbed, dissolving knots earned by chopping potions ingredients for hours. From the tips of his fingers to the fleshy heels, Snape’s hands tingled with pleasure by the time Harry was done with them. Then Harry’s adroit hands moved up to his biceps and triceps, rubbing and massaging them rhythmically until his arms were as limp as noodles before moving to the Galleon-sized knots in his shoulders. Harry wrestled with them for long minutes before finally subduing the most persistent aches. By then, another ache had developed. Harry’s touch had had a curious effect on Snape’s erection; it had decreased with the first twinge of pain -- Harry’s massage had not been gentle, and the first contact with tight muscles had drained some of his initial arousal. It had returned as tension vanished, leaving lovely, relaxed muscles in its wake.
The caressing touch went from soothing to arousing in a heartbeat when fingertips brushed across Snape’s pectoral muscles to pinch his nipples. His left hand stayed there, toying with the hardening nubs, while the right followed the arrow of sparse, dark hair down Snape’s belly to his groin. Wrapping around the shaft, the hand picked up where it had left off earlier. With the first stroke, Severus’s hips reflexively pushed back into the cradle of Harry’s thighs, pressing Harry’s erection against the small of his back.
“Mmm, more.”
Harry wasn’t certain if Snape had spoken or communicated the thought nonverbally, but he was happy to oblige. He pressed a kiss to the shoulder in front of him, then allowed his lips to drift over to the nape of Snape’s neck and up to his ear, leaving a damp trail in their wake. Snape turned his head, pulling his earlobe from Harry’s mouth and replacing it with his own.
At that, Harry’s left hand fell from the nipple it had been plucking, moving to play with the dark red head while the stroking continued. It didn’t stay there long; instead, it dropped lower to roll the balls slightly and cup them in their protective sac. That pleasure, too, was short-lived. Bollocks were abandoned for exploration of the tender skin beyond, and the tightly guarded hole was circled before the fingers retreated back to stroke soft skin.
Severus was torn: should he press back into the caress, moving to get those twisting, petting fingers where he wanted them, or move forward in the fist milking his cock? His indecision was rewarded when gentle fingers drifted backwards again, circling, then increasing pressure to barely breach the ring of muscle.
Snape ripped his mouth away from Harry, unable to suppress the moan that accompanied his unexpected, and unexpectedly intense, climax. When it was over, he collapsed back against Harry’s chest.
“What did you put in the bath? I haven’t lost control with so little provocation in--ever.”
“It’s part of the Weasley twins’ new sex toy line. Bath oil that enhances sensation and lubricates.” Harry kissed Severus languidly, enjoying the sensation of supporting his spouse as he recovered. “I take it you liked it?”
“I believe that is obvious.”
The twins’ potion was having a secondary effect, and already Snape could feel his desire returning and his cock perking up. He shifted, brushing against Harry’s erection. He tried to turn, to take Harry in hand, but firm hands stopped him.
“No, like this.” Harry propped Snape up, rearranging him so that Snape straddled his lap, still facing away. He flexed his grip on the hips above and in front of his, then leaned closer to nip sharply at an earlobe. Easing the sting with an apologetic swipe of his tongue, Harry whispered, “Touch yourself.”
The authority in the commanding voice had him obeying immediately. With Harry at his back, the warm, potioned water surrounding him, and the grip of his own stroking, pulling hand, it was not long before Snape was on edge again, straining with a desire for something, anything to push him over it.
Harry’s hands trailed down Snape’s sides, then up. Back down, and one rested on Snape’s hip while the other moved around to his back. He trailed fingertips down the crevice, probing and circling the sphincter, then pressed one finger inward. It went easily enough, so he added another. Harry crooked his fingers, looking for the prostate, and was rewarded with a muffled groan.
“Get on with it, Potter, before I perish with want.”
“But I’ve only just--”
“Just do it.”
Harry aligned himself and pushed in. He knew it had to burn. Two fingers soaked in massage oil and lubricating bath potion could not be a complete substitution for proper preparation. He hoped it was enough that they did not cause damage they would later regret.
Snape held his breath until Harry was fully seated; then he relaxed, widening his stance and letting his weight resettle on his knees. This redistribution drew a moan from Harry, who held his pelvis pressed tight against Snape’s buttocks for a long moment while he thought cold thoughts. His hands flexed on the hips before him and his mouth dropped desperate kisses on the parts of Snape's shoulder blades, back and neck that he could reach.
“Ungh. Severus--I can’t--”
Without waiting for permission, Harry began rocking his hips, the motion barely creating waves in the bath water. It wasn’t long before he was using his grip on Snape’s torso to force him down to meet increasingly vigorous thrusts.
The increased movement changed Harry’s angle, and he brushed against Snape’s prostate on one thrust. This resulted in a moan and muscles clenching to keep the intruder where Snape knew it would give the most pleasure. With a helpless groan, Harry held Severus close while he spurted once, twice, again and again... it seemed to go on forever.
Harry held himself there, still, not withdrawing when his orgasm was finished. He slid a hand around to join Snape’s, stroking and squeezing him to a second shattering climax.
“Harry!” Snape whispered when he came. He thought he heard a feminine moan echoing his own, but he was nearly incoherent with pleasure. The muscles holding his body upright melted, and Snape dropped backwards, collapsing against Harry again.
“Well done, Harry. I think you’ve worn him out.”
Severus stiffened. That was definitely a female voice. A familiar female voice.
“Thank you, Myrtle. Have you been here long?”
“Oh yes, I enjoyed the show. Thank you for the invitation. And thank you for remembering, Professor Snape.”
That had Snape’s eyes widening, and he looked at Harry with dawning understanding and amusement.
“A promise is a promise, Myrtle.”
