Iulia Linnea (iulia_linnea) wrote,
Iulia Linnea

The Enchantment, Part Ten (NC-17; Snarry; 3311 words)

Complete header information may be found in Part One. You may find all parts of this story by clicking the The Enchantment tag.

The Enchantment, Part Ten

Severus woke up with his his prick against a thigh—a hard thigh. It worked! he thought, tightening his arms around the lithe young man he held. "It worked. Harry, are you—"

"Awake?" came the throaty reply, as Harry rolled over to gaze at Severus. "Mm hmm. I have been for a while."

"How do you feel?"

In answer, Harry slid one leg through Severus' and brought their cocks together, wriggling a bit.

"Oh, that's—" 

"Mine," Harry interrupted, snaking a hand between their bodies to grasp Severus' erection and slowly stroke it.

"P—put them together."

"Like this?" Harry asked, widening her grip to allow Severus to press his cock against his own, and laughing when his husband's hand closed over his to form a tight column of fingers into which they both could thrust. "God, that feels so good."

Severus' breath hitched. "Yes, yes, but . . . oh, but I want to—wait. Harry, wait."

Harry did not wait, but he did jerk his hips back so that only Severus' prick was trapped within their intertwined fingers.

"You'll finish me," Severus protested, "and I want to—"

"I know what you want," Harry replied, increasing the pressure of his hand and moving it more quickly, "but it's my turn."

Panting, Severus threw himself on his back and thrust his hips up to meet Harry's hand. His turn for what? "Gods!"

Harry laughed, and again rubbed his palm over the leaking head of Severus' prick, delighting in the moans of the other wizard. "Spread your legs a bit more," he ordered, murmuring something as he pushed himself up and moved to kneel between Severus' legs without relenting in his ministrations.

"What was . . . that? Par—parseltongue?"

"Oh, no," Harry purred. "That was part of Fred and George's wedding gift."

Suddenly, Severus felt a slickness in his newly loosened arse. "Wha—"

Harry did not allow him to complete his question. He leaned over Severus' body and lowered his own on top of it, silencing his husband with a deep kiss, his tongue moving with Severus' in time with his hand's stroking. "You like that," he said, moments later, kneeling back up and moving his free hand down to tease the dusky hole between Severus' legs.

"Fuck!" Severus yelled, as he felt the pad of Harry's thumb press inside of his entrance.

"That's the idea," Harry replied, grasping the base of Severus' prick firmly. "Give me your hand."

Severus whimpered. "I'm c—close."

"I know. That's why I want your hand," Harry replied, moving the hand he had wrapped around Severus' prick so that his husband could hold himself. "Good. Now, don't move."


"Trust me," Harry whispered, "and don't come."

How can you ask that? Severus asked silently, for he could feel the internal lubrication of Harry's charm begin to heat up and grow more slick. "What are you doing?" he asked, as not one but two thumbs entered him and began to teasingly stretch him.

"I'm getting you ready," Harry breathed against Severus' thighs, before tracing his tongue over his thumbs and then dipping it into the excited, puckered flesh underneath them.

"GODS! Oh, Harry . . . Harry . . . that's so—FUCK!" Severus screamed, losing all control and releasing his hold on his cock, which shot a thick, salty syrup of come all over his belly as he jerked his hips erratically.

The maddening, welcome, torturous invasion of Harry's tongue was something he had read about, but Severus had never imagined that someone might do it to him.

Harry felt drunk with the elation of causing Severus so much pleasure. I never thought he'd be so . . . so abandoned, he thought, forcing his tongue more deeply into the spasming ring of muscle while his cock throbbed in emphatic appreciation. Got to . . . got to get inside. "Se—Severus, I'm," Harry panted, "I'm going to fuck you," he promised, hastily repositioning himself and murmuring the spell he had used earlier as he prepared his erection.

"Your turn," Severus gasped in permission, shuddering through the last of his orgasm as the head of Harry's prick pressed itself against his arse.

"You're sure?"

Severus locked eyes with Harry. Harry, my . . . my— "My husband," he managed to say, drawing up his shaking legs against his chest in approval. "Yes. Yes, I want—oh."

The long, thick, slow slide of Harry sheathing himself inside of Severus stopped his mouth, and it was all he could do to breath as his interior muscles gripped Harry's cock.

"F—fuck, yes," Harry groaned. "So fucking tight, so hot, so . . . mine." Severus . . . Severus is mine, mine, mine, he thought, reveling in the impossibly tight friction that drove his hips to piston more deeply with every thrust. Faster, deeper, closer, so tight, so—God! God, I . . . I . . . . "Oh, I . . . yes, I—love, love, LOVE YOU!" he exclaimed, as his orgasm rushed through his body and he collapsed atop Severus, whose mouth was open in a wordless exclamation of joy—one that had little to do with the physical ecstasy he had just experienced.

He truly loves me. Harry loves me, Severus thought, fighting to control his breathing as an inexorable languor overtook him.

It was almost too much happiness for one heretofore solitary to bear.

But I'll learn. I will learn to bear it, Severus told himself, permitting himself to laugh as the sounds of Harry's light snores reached his ears, and wincing slightly as he moved to separate their bodies. "Show off," he murmured, positioning Harry to spoon against him, and then, too sated to care about a cleaning charm, he followed his husband into sleep.

And while Severus slept, he planned.


When Harry woke up, he was clean, warm, bound, and blindfolded.

Struggling against his restraints, he called, "Severus?"

"Do you trust me?" asked a deep, sultry voice.

Harry's cock twitched.

"I see that you do, my little dominant. Just what did the Misters Weasley give you for a wedding gift?"

Harry shivered in anticipation. "C—contract. It was in the contract."

"Ah," Severus replied, ghosting his fingertips lightly up and down Harry's chest. "I thought as much. You were to top?"

"You're not mad, are you?" Harry asked, jerking in surprise as fingernails were drawn over his hardening nipples.

"No. But I want a turn."

"Tha—at seems fair," Harry told Severus, who had begun to place tiny bites on his torso. "But—oh! But why am I blindfolded? And where are you? I don't feel you on the bed."

"That's because I'm hovering above it," Severus whispered, his lips lightly grazing Harry's own as he spoke. "The Misters Weasley saw fit to present me with particularly enlightening volume of bedroom enchantments as my wedding gift, and I think you'll find that I'm as quick a study as you."


"Sex has ruined your memory," Severus replied, chuckling softly. "Besides, it's a gift to both of us, I think," he continued, reaching for something that Harry could not see.

"Right. Ma—marriage is a partnership!" Harry exclaimed.

He had not expected the wax.

"Severus, what is . . . oh, I . . . I like that," he moaned, writhing in the security of his bonds.

"I thought you might," Severus purred, running a fingertip through the wax to make patterns on Harry's chest. "The beeswax is charmed."

"So . . . so I feel. It's . . . it's like hands caressing me, caressing me everywhere."

Severus smirked. "Not everywhere," he said, allowing the wax pouring from the candle he held to drip onto Harry's taut nipples, dabbing a bit of it on Harry's lips, trailing it over Harry's thighs—but not permitting any of the substance to touch Harry's cock, which thrust up from the nest of dusky curls between his legs in a gorgeous testament to his need.

"P—please," Harry said, half gasping, half giggling. "Please, I can't . . . it's too much . . . it's not enough. Oh, please, Severus! The hands. They're—"

"All you're going to feel—until you come, Harry," Severus told him, setting aside the candle and tonguing the wax trails decorating his husband's body. That is, if I can stand to wait that long.

Harry shuddered and struggled harder, almost freeing one of his ankles.

"Oh, dear. We can't have that," Severus admonished. "Perhaps I should cast a stronger binding charm—or, perhaps, something to prevent your movement altogether?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, more alarmed by the strong surge of arousal he felt to hear Severus' suggestion than by the idea itself.

In fact, the idea of not being able to move, but to be able to feel that much more intensely what his husband was doing to him was intriguing.

But I'm not ready for that, he thought, as something dark pressed against his mind—a memory he would not, could not allow himself to contemplate. "Tie me tighter, but let me move," Harry begged.

"Are you certain?" Severus asked. "Are you certain you don't like the idea of being thoroughly stilled?"

The sensations coursing through Harry's body made him careless. Without thinking of the consequences, he asked, "Can you do that?"

"Of course I can. Ask me, and I will."

Harry's breath caught. He wanted to ask. He wanted to beg. But something would not allow him to vocalize his desire. Still me, still me, still me, ran the litany in his mind.


Every muscle in Harry's body corded as he felt the presence of Severus in his mind, but he made no attempt to repel him.

"I see what you want," Severus said softly, dripping yet more wax over Harry's upper thighs and dragging some of it down to coat his perineum, "and I want to give it to you."

Harry bucked to feel the magical "fingers" massaging him. Do it. God, please just do it!

"But I won't—not until you ask."

"Wh—why? Why, Severus?"

Because I know why you're afraid, Severus thought, remembering from his Occlumency sessions with Harry how terrified the younger wizard had been when the Dark Lord had held him bound and hostage against a tombstone.

The circumstances of that event closely mirrored the bondage fantasies he had seen in Harry's mind on more than one occasion, and he was not certain he could fulfil those fantasies without Harry's full consent. When Harry had left him after their first, aborted sexual encounter, Severus had been filled with guilt at his stupidity in not remembering something so important.

But I'm not too drunk to forget now, and I know he wants this—I know he needs this. "Ask me," he urged, setting aside his candle and rubbing his hands through the wax that coated Harry's nipples.

Harry was so hard it was painful. Every nerve in his body felt as if they were firing at once. He could not stop thrashing against the soft ropes that were holding him down, even though he craved their restraint—and in spite of the fact that the thought of that restraint made him fearful. But when the bespelled wax began to rub its way inside his body, he could no longer bear his unwelcome freedom of movement.

"Still me. Do it, Severus. I want you to—"

Severus' more complex binding charm was wordless and effective. A sense of complete stillness overtook Harry's limbs, but he was not afraid. He could still feel.

And I don't feel trapped, he marveled, before the wax began to drip down upon him again and he realized that he could still moan.

"I'm going to coat your entire body," Severus promised, in response to Harry's keening cry. "Every inch of this luscious flesh will receive the attention of the wax. You'll be touched, Harry, taken—loved—and when you feel you can bear no more pleasure, I'll give you more," Severus explained, stopping for a moment to lay a trail of sharp nips from Harry's collarbone to his navel.

More. Please, more!

Oh, yes. There's more, Severus thought, shaking from the effort of weightlessly pleasuring his husband while denying himself. "And Harry," he said, coaxing a wax-coated finger more deeply inside the grasping channel of Harry's arse, "when you're as nearer to madness than you've ever dreamed of being, I'll give you me."

Please, please, please, Harry silently begged, as what felt like hundreds of hands caressed him, squeezed him, pinched him nearer to release. God, please! Touch my cock! Put the wax—cock—Severus—on my—oh, I CAN'T!

Harry was certain that he could stand no more of the wax's attention. Severus knew this, and chose that moment to release himself from the levitation spell. Coming to rest gently atop Harry, he undulated his body against his bound husband and coated them both in the wax."It's . . . oh, Harry," Severus gasped, "it's better than I ever imagined it would be." Even if I did brew the potion myself, he thought, glorying in the feel of Harry's heated flesh and waiting.

He was more grateful than he could express when he "heard" the tenor of Harry's thoughts change from coherent begging to inchoate, chaotic impressions of desperation.

All Harry knew was that he was empty, and he wanted to be filled.

"You're ready. You're ready for me," Severus told him, releasing the binding charm at the same moment he grasped Harry's hips, threw him on his belly, and thrust himself inside of him in one smooth stroke.

"UH—UH—UCK!" Harry yelled, slamming his body back into Severus', laughing and crying and moving in time with the hands on him and inside him in an inexorably rhythm over which he had no control.

As if the slick heat of Harry was not enough, the wax coating his tight channel "seized" Severus' prick as if it were fisting his cock in time with his thrusts into Harry, and Severus feared for the strength of his legs. He barely had time to wonder what Harry was feeling when his husband's pleas reached his ears.

"Just you! Oh, Severus, just you! It's too much, too much, oh, God."

A groan rolled up from deep within Severus and formed itself into words. "It is me, Harry. It is—I made the wa—ax."

For me, for me—he made it for me. "For me—oh—you—you made it for me!" Harry keened, collapsing as his pleasure throes overwhelmed him.

At this same moment, the silken flesh surrounding Severus' prick began to squeeze him in a frantic vibration of ecstasy that he, too, could not deny. "HARRY!" he called, giving in to the rush of his orgasm and following his husband into blissful unconsciousness.~*~

Harry awoke to the soundsof giggling and realized, after a moment, that it was his own.

Shit. I still giggle, he thought, feeling no real annoyance as he shakily rose from the bed and groped blindly about the night table for his wand. "Finite incantatem!" he cast, pointing the wand at himself.

The lingering traces of the wax immediately ceased to tease him, but, where the wax remained on his body, it itched, so he cast a cleaning charm on himself. Turning to regard Severus, who was moving slightly as if in irritation, he cast both charms on his husband for good measure before setting his wand aside and climbing back into bed.

"Show off," Harry murmured, pressing light kisses over Severus' face until the wizard's eyes fluttered open.


"What's good?"

Stretching indolently before replying, Severus said, "You. Here. Us."

"Never in a million detentions of watching you could I have imagined you like this."

"No," Severus replied, smirking. "You always envisioned my bending you over my desk, didn't you?"

"You spied on my thoughts during detentions?" Harry asked, feigning outrage.

For far longer than I'll ever admit, Severus thought, worrying about how to phrase his response and settling for, "I desperately fantasized about you for years."

"That's not an answer."

"Of course it is, Harry."

"You don't seem at all penitent."


"No, but I'm glad," Harry said, pushing himself up so that he was leaning on one elbow.

"Are you?"

The hint of concern in Severus' tone gave Harry pause.

"I'm glad that you know me—that you know what I need. God, last night . . . last night was brilliant."

Severus reached up to pull Harry down for a deep kiss, thrusting his tongue into his husband's mouth and twirling it slowly over the soft, responsive muscle he found waiting for him. "Harry," he breathed out, breaking the kiss, "Harry, I'm glad you think so. I wanted . . . to make it perfect for you."

"It was. I was perfect and . . . and a little frightening, too, for a while, but I pushed past that—you helped me past my fear. Thank you for that, Severus."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Severus asked, his voice conveying his continued uncertainty.

Harry laughed, a dark sound. "You know, Voldemort was a sick fuck. He was in my head. He knew. He knew what I dreamed about, and he . . . he made the ropes tighten before he touched me in the cemetery."

"He wanted to weaken you through humiliation. That was a favored method of the Dark Lord."

"Yeah," Harry agreed quietly. "I know. It . . . it worked. For a long time, it worked."

"Is that . . . why you never allowed anyone to . . . ."

Harry sighed and snuggled into Severus' body. "I was scared. I thought maybe I was a freak, for liking, for wanting—but I'm not, not anymore. I like who I am now. I like who I am with you, Severus. And last night it was as if a spell had been lifted from me."

"One was."

"I don't just mean the enchantment."

"I know," Severus replied, holding Harry more firmly. "I'm glad. I . . . I love you, Harry."

"I love you, Severus, my husband. God, that feels good to say. My husband, Severus Snape."

Severus smiled into Harry's hair, feeling an all-pervading contentment. "My husband, Harry Snape."

Harry laughed softly. "I'd ask you if you minded my being a wizard again, but I suppose you taught me to understand your feelings as to that in a particularly thorough way, earlier."

"Perhaps I should reinforce the lesson. You have been known to forget things without benefit of repetition," Severus teased.

"That's very true, Mr. Snape," Harry agreed. "And if we want to start our family, I suppose we'll have to get in some practice of the 'traditional' ways of beginning one."

Severus snorted. "There is nothing at all traditional about wizarding pregnancy, no matter what that book of yours says—but," he continued, before Harry could speak, "I'm feeling inclined to try new things, and I want a large family."

"Do you?"

"How else am I going to keep you out of trouble? Yes, you should become pregnant immediately, I think."

"How many children do you want?" Harry asked, a bit worried.

"How does starting our own Quidditch team sound?" Severus asked, unable to keep the amusement he felt from coloring his tone.

"You—you're teasing me!"

When the pillow hit him, Severus reached out to subdue Harry by rolling over atop him and growled, "Oh, yes. I'm going to that and more to you, Harry Snape—because you're mine."

"Yes," Harry hissed, yielding at once as Severus pinned his wrists above his head. "Oh yes, Severus. I'm yours."

To see the absolute trust shining from Harry's eyes meant more to Severus than to know he had his husband's love. He suddenly felt at peace, complete, forgiven.

Ignoring how his own eyes burned, Severus choked out, "Harry, you know . . . you know that I am yours."

Harry struggled expectantly and smirked. "Well, I guess it's good that we're married, then, isn't it? The enchantment's broken, you're mine, I'm yours—what should two married wizards do with themselves?"

"Everything, Harry," Severus replied, giving in to the renewed desire that flared through his body as he felt his husband writhing beneath him. "Everything and anything you want."

"Anything I want? But I'm the one pinned to the bed," Harry replied, grinning impishly. "Of course, it is my turn."

"So it is, but you're right."

"About what?"

"You are pinned to the bed," Severus replied, pushing his advantage.

Harry found that he did not mind. After all, I do like Quidditch, myself . . . .


Tags: 300 friends, fic, girl!harry, girl!harry/severus, harry potter, severus snape, snarry, the enchantment

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