Delayed Gratification (NC-17; Snarry; 750): Snape captures Harry's attention.
The silk was from a spider that only wove its web in the twilight. Harry could see the wet shine of the web from his vantage point in the tree he'd climbed; he knew that Snape would be along any time now, and he was nervous.
Their latest meeting hadn't gone well.
"Mr Potter, I've told you before: I have no interest in you."
"Right, that's why you come to every game. That's why you're always standing outside the changing rooms. That's why—"
"I like Quidditch, but what makes you think it's you I go to the games to see?"
"What? Well, I . . . I mean—well, who is it then?"
"Get out, you imbecile!"
Harry sighed, shifting a bit. The branch upon which he was sitting was scratching his bum; it was damp, and, as the shadows of the Forbidden Forest lengthened, he saw no signs of Snape.
But I know he's interested! He's been stalking me for months! And Kent said that—
Looking down at the fallen, criss-crossed trees where the spider of unpronounceable name had spun its web, Harry was surprised to see no silk; Snape had come and gone, it seemed.
"Fuck!" Harry spat, starting as hands fell upon his shoulders.
"Not in a tree," Snape replied, hovering around him from behind to sit on an upper branch. "Who's stalking whom?"
"I am not stalking you! I just wanted—"
"To talk to me, yes, I know. Kent was most forthcoming."
"Kent? It's Kent you're interested in? But you're bent!"
Snape stared balefully at Harry. "Not entirely."
Ew, Harry thought, his feelings, apparently, written across his face.
"Exactly so, Potter. That's why I only watch you."
Flushing, Harry retorted, "Well, I don't like it! You either stop coming to the games or do something!"
Without hesitating, Snape pulled a handful of gossymer thread from his robes and cast, "Engorgio!" moving to seize Harry's wrists and bind them to a branch above him.
"Hey! What do you think you're—oh."
His clothing was gone. The cool evening air tickled across his skin. And Snape had used the webbing to bind his cock to his bollocks.
"Now then," Snape said, his eyes unreadable in the growing darkness, "your verb is incorrect. I've been researching you, Potter, learning your tastes. You haven't any, if what I've seen of your partners, and what my co-worker's son has been good enough to tell me, is any indication, but you are a kinky sod, aren't you?"
Harry swallowed. Fucking Kent never could keep her mouth shut.
"And as much as I'd like to illustrate just how bad your partner selection has been these past three years of our tenuous sport-related connection, given that I know how to dominate a man, I will not fuck you if you can't deal with it. I loved your mother. That appears to give you pause. It's why I haven't tried to bed you since after your first professional match. You remember?"
Harry remembered, and he nodded. He'd been pissed. They'd fought because Snape hadn't wanted to shag unless he sobered up first. And then he'd goaded Snape about his mother, about not being able to get it up because he wasn't his mother. It hadn't been the wisest idea.
"I see that you do. My terms are these: I top. You obey. You are discreet. And you never mention your mother to me again. Acceptable?"
"I . . . if you aren't planning to fuck me, then why am I tied up?" Harry demanded.
"I wanted your undivided attention, Potter. Now tell me what you want."
"I want to be . . . out of my tree, this tree, with you," Harry said, swallowing as Snape pinched a nipple.
"Not an acceptable reply."
"Yeah, all right. I accept. I can't stop thinking about you! I . . . I'll do what you say, whatever you say."
"And you'll call me 'master'," Snape added.
Harry's eyes widened. "The hell I will!"
Snorting, Snape ran a single fingertip over Harry's restricted shaft, smiling when Harry moaned and bucked his hips. "Good answer. I don't want a doormat, just a sub."
"That's great, but do you think there could be less talking and more shagging?"
Without a word, Snape restored Harry to his clothed and unbound state—save his cock. "You will not touch yourself until I direct you to—and we're walking back to Hogsmeade."
Fuck, Harry thought, carefully climbing down the tree after Snape's lowering form.
Given the throb of his cock, however, he knew the wait would be worth it.