Step Seven: Enjoy with Company

"A cup of tea?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Just that," Promised Hermione. "No attachments. And he's a Muggle, so no magic either. That does simplify things, doesn't it?" She chipped brightly.

"How do you know this guy again?" Asked Harry trying to find any excuse to not go on this date, though Hermione stated a million times it wasn't a blind date.

"We met at St. Mungo's. His sister is my co-worker and she is pregnant. She's alone and he apparently made a promise to take care of them, but knows barely anything about the Wizarding World. I thought, you could guide him around."

"You are a Muggle born, Hermione, you would be the perfect person to introduce someone to our world. Admit it, this is just an excuse to get me to forget the Snape-incident." Harry shook his head, ignoring the girl's blush. "Besides, what were you doing at St. Mungo's?"

"Visiting Melanie," answered Hermione. "Will you go out with him, then?"

Harry raised his eyes at the slip and Hermione covered her mouth quickly once she realized what she had said. "Just go, you won't regret it, I promise. He's really handsome," she whispered, so that Ron wouldn't hear her, but it seemed she was out of luck.

"Who's handsome?" Ron asked walking in from the kitchen, and sitting down next to Hermione on the settee.

"You," grinned Harry, eyeing his friend as he was licking the remnants of what once might have been a cherry pie from his fingers.

"Very funny," muttered Ron. "Seriously, who are you talking about? This better not be about that Muggle, 'Mione."

"You know him?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Never met the guy, but she's been gabbing about him for a week. He sounds too good to be true." Ron sighed, looking at Hermione. "She said, he's handsome," he ticked off a finger on his hand, "clever," one more finger, "loves animals, has a good soul, whatever that means, and has a great ass." He lifted his hand to show Harry how many good features this stranger had. "See, too good to be true."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Never you mind this blabbing idiot," Hermione smiled, taking glaring glances at Ron. "You go, have a cup with him and see for yourself."

Sighing in acceptance of his defeat, Harry nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

***HPSS***

"No, Ma'am, I'm afraid, the seat is taken. I'm waiting for someone, you see."

The sentence made Harry look towards the table next to the window, where a well-dressed, pretty lady stood over a man. He couldn't make out the man's face as a large ficus hid him and half the table where he was seated, however Harry could clearly see the woman's disappointed face, as she walked away. Gulping he moved further into the little café, glad to finally get away from the heat outside, but once again, before he could spot the gentleman's face a hostess stopped him.

"Hello, I'm here to meet someone," He said quickly, forgoing her question.

"Good evening, sir. May I have a name?" She asked.

"Holland," Answered Harry. "Michael Holland."

He heard scraping of a chair and the next moment the man from behind the ficus walked to them. "That would be me," said a deep, serene tone.

Harry looked up, eyes taking in the handsome features. He understood all of a sudden, why the woman looked so disappointed: a male specimen like this surely hold the attention of many women. Even as Harry welcomed the man and they shook hands, several heads turned towards him.

Hermione didn't lie. Michael was tall, taller than Harry in fact, with short brown hair, and a commanding expression, that was softened only by his plump lips. His blue eyes seemed kind and interested as he took in Harry while they sat down. He had a strong jawline, and he was slightly more muscular than Harry in his build. He wore tight blue jeans, that didn't manage to hide his round bottom, and long legs. The top bottom of his white shirt was left undone. His simple elegance charmed Harry right away.

Harry understood why Hermione insisted that he come to this date. A man like his was surely able to make him forget about Snape. Better looking than the freelancer had ever been, Holland didn't even need to be a good conversationalist, most men (and, apparently, women) would want to have some steaming tea with him.

To Harry's great disappointment however, Michael turned out to be a great conversationalist and not only that, he was also a veterinarian, and about to be a proud uncle to a little girl, after his sister had tragically lost her husband in a potion accident.

"We haven't been much in contact you see," he explained, his hands around a mug of hot masala chai blend. The vanilla aroma of the tea wafted over to Harry making him think of cold winter nights, he could spend cuddled up against this man, if this went right. "I've been living in Germany in the past years, assisting the police and working with K9 dogs mostly. When she told me, what had happened, I came back here right away. I never imagined experimenting could be that dangerous, though I imagine your… uhm… magical ways are not any easier than our scientific experiments." He looked ruefully up at Harry. "I apologize, I am not quite sure how to express myself. Melanie is the only witch in the family and I admit I'm not familiar with your world. Mel tells me, I have a lot to learn…" He smiled a brilliant smile and Harry found himself forgiving him deeds he had not even committed.

"Is there anything you want to know about us specifically?" He asked. "I just don't know how could I be of any help."

Holland chuckled sensually and he leaned closer to Harry over the table. "There is something I must confess. We've met before, you and me. I saw you once when you came to pick Hermione up after she had a couple of drinks with my sister. I was here for a Christmas visit, waiting for Mel in the car. You looked really handsome with a green scarf around your neck. I've been asking Mel ever since to get me your number. Apparently, you don't have one." There was a mischievous smile lurking around his lips. "I just thought, if I have to adjust into the British Wizarding World, why not ask you to help me. Or is that too foregoing of me?"

Suddenly Harry felt picking a hot tea might have been a bad choice. Though the café was air-conditioned against the awful heat outside that raged on even at night now, he felt suddenly as if all the warmth of the summer evening had rushed in through the window. He had just turned to check it, making sure it was still locked and this sudden heatwave had nothing to do with any gap, when he saw it.

A man stood out there frozen in the middle of the sidewalk across the street. Cars passed him, bringing light to his face for seconds, yet it was still unreadable.

The sensation felt a lot like getting hit by a spell square in the chest. Harry suddenly couldn't breathe. Panicking, he looked at the man in front of him, who was frowning, looking out there, blue eyes scanning the street for anything that might have scared Harry but of course he could not see the dark man among the others and Harry was sure, he was long gone by now.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Holland asked.

"No," Harry breathed and stood up.

This was a mistake. Just one look at Snape had told him that. Perfect Michael Holland or anyone else might be, they were not Severus Snape, they could never be like him. He apologized swiftly and rushed out hoping to find Snape on the street still.

But Snape was nowhere, it was only the heat that welcomed him and made his clothe cling to his body right away. London had been unliveable in the last couple of days – a heatwave worse than anything had hit the city, but Harry now knew his discomfort was a lot more than that.

He ran, shouting the man's name, his mind reeling around the past week. It had been almost seven days since he had last seen the man in his office, nearly a week of Hermione's supporting "You'll get over him"-s and Ron's "He's a git, Harry,"-s but of course he did not get over him, could not get over Snape just like that.

It also had been a week since Edward Flannigan, a man he only met a couple of times asked the question none had ever thought of asking, not his best friends, not even himself. It had been a week since Harry tried to take back that answer, tried to erase it from ever happening, from ever feeling it, but of course, he could not do that.

Holland wasn't more than just an extreme way of dealing with all this, of making himself forget the other man, the one that mattered, the only that had ever mattered.

"Snape!" He screamed again as his steps slowly faltered and he stopped, panting.

Suddenly, many things happened at the same time: there was a loud crack up in the sky, and in the corner of his eyes, he saw something move right next to him in a darkness of the alley what the lightning's brightness managed to penetrate for a short moment. He felt the magic first, then the scent that was stronger than the smell of heated asphalt. Then he felt the hand grip his lower arm and pull him inside the darkness.

His back collided with brick wall, then a lithe body pressed against him holding him at place.

"What do you want, Potter?" Snarled a deep baritone right into his ear and Harry moaned in delight.

Then, his anger took over. "You god damn know what I want, Snape!" He shouted.

A wand was suddenly pressed against his skin, and staring at the burning dark eyes his heart did miss a beat, but then Snape stepped away, backing against the opposite wall.

"IT'S BEEN A YEAR!" Snape cried looking mad all of a sudden. His wand was gone once again and he ran his hands through his hair, his expression turning wild. "Why do you torment me, Potter? Why come to my office? Why all the invitations? Why seek me out? Why take me to the theatre? Why, Potter, WHY?" He demanded enraged. "If not revenge what is it, Potter? To drive me mad? Because you have excelled at that!"

"I drove you mad?" Harry yelled pointing an accusatory finger at Snape. "You make me question my sanity all the time! I must have been insane to believe you would come back the next night for the rest of your story! I waited for you, Snape! What an idiot I was! No doubt you were laughing in your office! Was kissing me part of your god damn revenge, or just a spur of the moment thing?" Harry asked in a low but threatening voice, pressing that judgemental finger onto Snape's chest. When did he come so close to the man?

"My revenge? You lunatic, what are you talking about? And besides," Snape growled wildly, fingers gripping into Harry's shirt over his ferociously beating heart. "it was you, who kissed me!"

The world turned and Harry found himself smashed against the wall yet again.

"Why?" Came Snape's soft voice from close enough that he could feel hot air ghosting on his lips. "Why?" The man growled again in a low, animalistic tone.

Snape towered over him, so close, shaking with uncontrolled rage, hands fisted in Harry's shirt, his magic vibrating under the surface like a boiling cauldron about to explode and all Harry could think of that moment was how ironic this all was really.

The revelation was bright and took his anger with him. He thought of Michael Holland, a perfect, kind man, handsome, and Muggle enough to not judge him by his fame, someone who fancied him enough to beg for a stranger for a meeting. But of course, he didn't want anything to do with Michael Holland or his long legs and round arse.

He wanted lanky Snape – lean, bony, long haired, crooked nosed Snape. It had always been Snape.

He grabbed the man, angry again, but this time at himself, for being such a coward for so long. Hands fisted in Snape's expensive suit he cried, "I – JUST – WANTED – TO HAVE – SOME – BLOODY – FUCKING – TEA – WITH YOU!"

The next moment he was kissing Snape wildly as if there was no tomorrow. And perhaps he had none, given at any moment, Snape would push him away and curse him out of existence. Desperately he moved his lips against thin lips, tracing the sweet skin with his tongue and only faltered for a moment when Snape let out a rough sound. Then suddenly there were teeth biting him and Snape was sucking his tongue inside his mouth – the sweetest invitation Harry had ever gotten.

Snape tasted of something so familiar, Harry wasn't sure where to put it. Then it hit him, just as a hard body pressed more firmly against him: Earl Grey – though why Snape would have drunk that eluded Harry. The man preferred English Breakfast; and just as the thought had crossed his mind, Snape's lips moved over his neck, tongue dragging down on a line that wasn't unfamiliar to the older man.

"Fucking hell, Potter, I told you to mind what you're bathing with, if you want me to behave around you," grunted the man, lips against Harry's skin.

"This is the only way I want you to act around me, you bastard…" Hissed Harry. "Why don't you bloody get it?"

"This?" Snape asked dangerously. "This is what you want?"

His fingers went around Harry's hand and his achingly strong grip forced Harry to let him go. His hand however, was soon back on Snape's body, only much, much lower.

"Good god, Snape…" Harry moaned, his fingers skimming Snape's hard cock through the thin material of his suit.

"I don't even care what stupid game you're playing, Potter…" Snape breathed against his ear then claimed his mouth in another fiery kiss. "But you'll regret it tonight for sure."

"Regret? This?" Chuckled Harry lightheaded. "Hardly…"

His lips were attacked again, hands skimming his body, moving from his neck to his hair, from his back to his waist. He moved too, though one of his hands was stuck to Snape's hardness, skimming it with rough strokes, the other did not stay put only for mere seconds as he clung to the man by his suit, then grabbed into firm arse only to press their bodies closer.

Rain started to fall and they pulled apart. Harry looked up at the dark sky, revelling in the cold drops of rain on his face and the warm – hot, almost burning – body against him. Snape, too had his face turned towards the moonless night, though with his eyes closed he could not see anything.

One single drop caught Harry's attention among the millions of others. Its journey had been stopped before it could reach the ground and evaporate on the hot asphalt. It was Snape's long, black hair that halted it, but the little droplet had fought for its destiny. It rolled down Snape's forehead, over the line of his hooked nose, slid onto his red upper lip and almost victoriously passed onto the lower one. Harry, however could not let it move on. He pushed himself away from the wall and caught Snape by surprise when he kissed him softly on the lips, tongue flickering over soft flesh, licking away the tiny waterdrops.

The whole city had waited and waited for the precious rain to cool it down finally, to wash away even the last remnants of the last week's heat and to finally bring back the reasonably warm, English summer days. Which is why, Harry did not understand, why it wasn't working. Why he still felt this unbearable heat in the pit of his stomach, why his lips on Snape's felt like he was kissing a freshly brewed cup of Earl Grey.

It was like a spell – he could not move away, could not move an inch of his body to get further away from the man. Closer seemed to be the only direction he was able to move, no matter what he tried, all he achieved was an inch closer, a hand moving from chest to arm, a leg pressing between thighs.

Snape seemed to be fighting the same battles as Harry, as he, too, grunted and whimpered, trying to put some distance between them, trying and failing just like Harry. He pushed and pulled Harry, one hand on his shoulder almost dislocating his bone was pushing so hard, while the other fisted into his shirt did not let him leave. He clung to Harry's lips with his mouth, and when he found it wasn't enough, he anchored himself to Harry by biting his neck and sucking the rain off his skin.

People cried, shouted delighted on the streets and ran for safety, for cover against the very thing they needed, they wanted. But not them – Harry and Snape disregarded the continuous attack of raindrops, Harry doubted they even managed to reach his skin at all, though Snape seemed adamant to capture all of them with his tongue. Harry was burning alive and no rain could cool him off – they all evaporated before they would manage to touch him.

The voices of the people became more and more distracting, then suddenly Harry heard his own name being cried into the thundering night. In response, Snape went wild again. They pushed and pulled each other further away from the mouth of the alley just to be sure they were alone and nothing on this planet would disturb them, especially not Michael Holland.

Lighting scarred the sky with its forks for a second, just as Harry looked up, trying to make out Snape's face through the wet lenses of his glasses. He managed to see for a flicker of a second the man's messy hair, the raindrops like tiny rivers drawing zigzagging lines onto his face, black eyes bearing not just lust and need, but a lot more.

Harry couldn't take it; the lie that this rain was here to cool the world, how could it be when all it did so far was to make things even worse. He took his anger out on Snape. He traced his neck, slowly and taking his time to lap at all the enemy. He reached a collar bone, then realized, the rain had eluded him, drops had been sneakily slithering to places he had been denied. He tore at Snape's white shirt in pure rage, claiming his territory.

Snape only moaned under the attack on his body and so, Harry did his best to clear off all the enemy troops by moving slowly further down. Inch by inch he got rid of them, but others came and soon the battle seemed unwinnable. Just as Harry took a perked little nipple into his mouth and Snape let out a short cry, he understood, he could not give up, Snape was counting on him. He called the last remnants of his strength and brushed away relentless soldiers with only a sweep of his palm. For a second, the battlefield was cleared but then, the rain rallied all its forces once again and the ongoing, never-ending assault had conquered Harry: he fell to his knees.

But defeat was far from his mind. He clawed at Snape's skin, hands on the man's waist, fingertips and nails dashing into soft skin. Snape was losing a battle too, at least that was what his sudden cries told Harry.

Another thunder rambled through London, and Harry realised what he was doing. He felt all of a sudden how his sodden pants that were ruined by kneeling in a puddle (all the lost soldiers, the thought crossed his mind), the shirt that had clang to his body was tepid, too uncomfortable (he should get rid of it soon, he thought), Snape's hand unbuckling his belt (hurry up, god damn you, hurry up was all he could think of).

He wasn't sure whether it was another thunder or just Snape's deep moan when his cock was finally freed and Harry wrapped his mouth around it.

"You're so fucking delicious, Snape," he grunted before he gave a long lick to the thick cock (the rain's troops had beat him to this too, and he swore a sacred oath to devour each and every one of them in revenge).

"Fucking hell, Potter," Snape growled, fisting one hand in Harry's hair, the other in his own. "You raving lunatic… you wish to suck my soul out through that?"

Harry wanted to say yes, yes, yes, indeed it was Snape's soul he was after, his heart too and his body as well, but yes, mostly, right now, he would be satisfied with only his soul, Snape was correct. But his mouth full, he only sucked harder, lips pressing against the underside of the long shaft, tracing invisible veins, getting rid of those awful little solders who dared claim his territory as theirs. But this war he was winning, and once the full length of Snape cock was down his throat, once he knew all the troops had been destroyed, he revelled.

Snape whimpered too, and Harry looked up to see his bare chest was once again another battle to be won. Raindrops clung to that alabaster skin, rolled on it like if they owned every inch of hairless skin there. They sat snuggly on pink nipples, until another came and took over their lookout.

Harry reached up sending half the army to its devastation as he slowly slithered a hand up on Snape's chest. Once he reached a nipple he crushed the enemy between his thumb and pointing finger. Snape cried in relief, cock twitching in Harry's mouth, but it wasn't enough. Harry pulled back slightly and watched in horror as the troops flooded the surface of the red, throbbing cock. He drew it deeper into his mouth once more, then out again to see if it was alright now, and for a full second it was, then more and more drops of the blasted rain formed so Harry had to move forward again. He tried again and again and again, but it wasn't working. Snape on the other hand seemed to be under even greater distress. His voice under control, was now a mix of continuous whimpers and swearwords, grunts and moans and "Mmm, Potter… oh gods… so good…"-s.

The rain was relentless but so was Harry. He caressed the smooth body in front of him, hand moving on long legs, clutching tight buttocks, skimming bony hips, flat stomach, perky nipples. Lips, a tight ring around a hard member, his tongue just a teasing little muscle, yet so much more, making Snape scream – would he take his blasted fist out of his mouth.

"Potter," the warning edge to his voice was lost, as Snape grabbed into Harry's hair once more. Harry let himself be pulled back just at the last moment – sacrifices were ought to be made in war – but the victory was his. Snape cried his name as he came, not even the thundering sky loud enough to dampen the sound of it.

The many cries of "Potter…" echoed from wall to wall as Snape shot his come onto Harry's face. White drops of semen dripped from Harry's lips until he licked it off satisfied. He craned his neck to reach Snape's cock, sucking the last drops out of its purple tip with a needy whimper of his own.

The rain continued to fall, but Harry didn't care. Victory was his and his alone.

***HPSS***

The rain continued to fall, but Severus didn't care. Potter was his and his alone for the time being and he intended to do everything with this occasion that was humanly possible. He couldn't tell how long Potter's madness would hold, he only hoped this wasn't over yet.

It didn't seem to be. As he looked down he saw Potter, still staring up at him through raindrops covered lenses, as the pouring rain slowly washed away the come from his face. Potter didn't move, he just kept kneeling in the puddle, looking up, waiting, waiting.

But Severus had waited enough, he didn't have patience anymore. He grabbed Potter by the jaw and pulled him up with one swift jerk. Once back on his feet, he backed Potter against the brick wall yet again, not taking his eyes from the lust filled green orbs.

No matter how hard the rain was falling, it simply couldn't wash away the scent of English Breakfast from Potter. It was everywhere, it clung to his skin, came from his pores, dripped from his hair. Severus leant closer and tasted it everywhere. His mind needed some more time to regain its composure, his orgasm making a whole lot of mess in there. He bought some more time with tasting the young Auror here and there, curious how down the scent would reach.

One would think, the rain was there to cool him down, but instead, it made everything a thousand times worse – or better. Potter's soaked through shirt clang to his body like a second layer of skin, hair flat, lips covered in tiny drops begging to be kissed away.

Potter had enough it seemed – either of the waiting or perhaps it was the heat that got to him as well. He pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the ground. Not even the darkness of the night would stop Severus from exploring the young body in front of him. If he couldn't see it with his eyes, he would see every inch with his palm.

He didn't hesitate and spread his hands over Potter's waist, moving them up on his bare, wet chest. Potter sighed in response, dropping his head back against the warm brick wall.

Another flash of lightning brought brightness to their lewd, stolen moments shadowed by the storm's dark clouds. Severus looked down on the lithe body in front of him, legs spread slightly, wide chest rising and falling rapidly even during those few seconds while the light illuminated their lustful duet. Potter looked edible against the red brick, his green eyes a flash of dare for Severus to reach and touch – wherever he wanted.

The bulge in Potter's pants looked tempting and inviting, and Severus smiled to himself as he undid the buttons on the black jeans but did not yet touch the young man. Instead his hands went to Potter's back, roaming the broad shoulders, the muscular back, the narrow waist. Potter just keened pushing closer but Severus didn't let him rut against his leg just yet.

He kissed the other, wildly, teeth, tongue lips in a battle against each other – he kissed Potter until the Auror realized, what he had done and pulled away with a wild moan, once Severus' finger circled his hole through his shorts.

"Not what you want anymore, Potter?" Severus teased, hands firmly sliding against firm buttocks.

"Here?" Potter breathed against Severus' ear, his voice filled with aching lust.

Severus pulled him closer and pressed a leg against his hardness. He all but mounted Potter on his thigh, and he guided him in his languid thrusts.

"As if you could go anywhere in your current state…" He chuckled against the Auror's ear.

"I'm more worried about your state," Potter stated, voice firm regardless his actions. His hand skimmed Severus' front, and he smirked, biting the older man's chin softly.

"Oh, don't be…" Severus whispered dangerously. "By the time, I'm done with you, we're both going to be dripping with…" he pushed his hand deep into Potter's pants, this time exploring the front. He pulled out the hard member that pulsed on his palm, then drew a single finger over the leaking tip. "…this..." He finished his sentence with lifting his finger to Potter's mouth, and caressing the young man's lower lip, leaving a wet trail of precome there.

Potter moaned, wanton and needy, and licked his lips, eyes closing, then took Severus' finger into his mouth sucking on it. Once it was released, Severus guided it back to Potter's arse and traced the wet finger against puckered skin.

"Bloody tease…" Potter moaned not at all irritated, and started moving between probing finger and pressing down onto firm thigh.

"Me?" Severus murmured, fingertips dancing on ribcage, his mouth sucking red marks to Potter's collarbone. "You're lucky that kettle boiled, otherwise I would have had you on that table at the lighthouse."

"If I had been lucky, you would have had me the night you first came to my apartment." Told him Potter. "Or you would have that finger up my arse already."

"This," answered Severus, pressing down said finger harder for a moment, "has nothing to do with luck." He kissed Potter hard on the lips, then pulled back. "Turn around." He ordered.

Even through the wet lenses Severus could see the green eyes glint in pleasure at that and then Potter turned without a word. Severus eyed him, hands drifting down on the bare back. Once he reached Potter's pants he pushed it down, just enough so that the tight jeans were under the round buttocks.

He didn't say anything as he knelt down and spread the arse cheeks apart. Potter looked over his shoulder and tried to glimpse what he was doing. He must have noticed that Severus was on his knees, because a desperate moan left his parted lips and he all but moaned, "Snape what… oh god, what are you-"

Severus didn't let him finish the sentence, he leant forward and made sure Potter understood what he was doing. He pressed his tongue against the little hole, wriggling it eagerly against the sensitive skin.

Potter shouted into the rain, another bout of thunder rumbling over them just at the right time so that no one would hear his ardent cry – only Severus. He drove his tongue over the crack once again, this time slower, and not stopping at the pink little hole, but he still managed to make Potter whimper, head against the brick wall, nails scratching away the mortar.

His tongue wouldn't stop. He licked up all the way to Potter's spine just to go down again, making a couple of circles around the sensitive area. Potter whimpered, not knowing what was about to come. The next time his tongue swiped over the tight hole, it dipped in, just a quick move surprising enough to make the Auror clench hard on him, while fervent moans left his mouth.

"Mmmm… fuck…" Potter sobbed and Severus pitied him for only a moment. He smiled, lips against Potter's arse, as one of his hands, unoccupied at the moment, slithered silently forward. He pushed in his tongue once again, just as he skimmed Potter's hard cock with his palm. If the previous moans were desperate, these ones were hushed pleas of mercy.

Potter was delicious on his tongue; no trace of English Breakfast anymore, his nose was buried just into Potter's unique scent. He wondered if his come would taste like this too, but told himself he would have to taste that some other time. A hand grasped around his hand on Potter's cock and moved with him in a slow tempo.

"Don't you dare make yourself come, Potter." He murmured kissing into the little dimples on Potter's back. While his mouth was away he teased the young man with his hand, moving it slowly up and down over the crease, caressing him with only the tip of one of his fingers. "Only when I'm inside you, Potter. Only then…"

"God damn you," Potter hissed and grasped down on his hand, his hips thrusting forth but then let go and reached behind instead. He buried his fingers into Severus' wet hair. "What are you waiting for, then?" He groaned.

Severus swiped his tongue along the rim again and Potter keened, fingers tightening in his hair. This was what he waited for, at least one thing on the list. He wanted to hear every sound Potter was capable of producing in his lewd state. He pressed his tongue inside, fingers sliding over the wet tip of Potter's erection. It wasn't just rain that made it so smooth to the touch; precome dropped to the dirty ground among the millions of raindrops. Severus fingered the slit, tongue ramming inside Potter's hole, then pulling out as if he would be fucking him already.

Too easy; Potter was close enough to beg him, he was purring like a lost kitten in his hands. Severus could hear him panting through the drumming rain, even though he suspected Potter was biting into his forearm to dampen the sound of his vulgar cries.

The channel through the pink rim was too hot and Severus couldn't help but press a finger in there too. He himself turned hard just thinking about pressing through that tight ring, he didn't even have to think about Potter clenching around him – it would be too much, he would come again.

Potter hissed over him like a snake, the sound coming out desperate between sobs of pleasure. His relentlessly moving hand around the hard prick slid wetly now, and the little hole became looser with every thrust of his finger and tongue. He didn't understand how Potter could still hold on, he would have come already, he almost did now even though Potter only touched his hair and nothing else. Yet the eager, encouraging sounds that flew from Potter's lips, his scent, his wildly jerking body every time Severus pressed his wriggling tongue deeper inside, made him wild with need.

The hissing soon turned into almost comprehensive words.

"Please, Severus…" Potter begged frantically and when Severus realized it was his name on those lips, that Potter had been silently begging for him, he couldn't take it any longer. He stood and nudged Potter gently with hands on the Auror's waist.

"Turn," He said breathlessly. "Face me."

Potter did so and Severus' heart clenched by the lascivious sight. Potter was hazy with desire, he seemed feverish, even in the darkness. His hair a wet mess, dripping tresses fell to his face, lips parted and almost bit raw to keep himself from coming. Green eyes were clouded with sheer need that Severus fully intended to service.

He kissed Potter soft and steady this time, though the Auror wanted to bite, he was eager and rash, but Severus didn't allow him.

"It's alright," he whispered against swollen lips. They were breathing the same air, the rain fell from one of them to the other.

He pushed the tight jeans further down and Potter hitched a leg around him. He had done his best but he knew Potter would be still too tight for his aching hard cock. He grabbed the other's firm erection that was pressing against his stomach, searching for contact – any contact – and pulled on it with a firm hold just as he pushed inside. The blunt head of his cock pierced Potter and they both shouted into each other's mouth.

Thankfully, Potter's voice was anything but painful. He managed to turn Potter's attention from the penetration but Severus' was right there feeling vividly every inch. He almost came, and still felt like he would burst any moment if he moved.

He forced earie calmness on his mind and hoped for the best as he thrusted forward. Potter clutched into him, both arms going around Severus' shoulder, he buried his head against the crook of Severus' neck. Severus could hear his uneven breathing, moans, ragged whimpers. The side of Potter's glasses were cutting into his cheek but he was holding onto the young man strongly, never letting him go.

Potter was so hot and being inside him made Severus feel like someone was pressing a burning iron brand against his heart and once again the rain did nothing to cool them off. Their skin seemed as if it would be smoking by the irregular flashes of lightning that became more and more frequent as the eye of the storm had reached them.

Potter's lifted leg drew him nearer and he too, barely able to hold himself up, let their bodies collide against the wall and relied on the brick to keep them up as he clutched Potter's arse with a hand. He could almost feel with his forefinger as he relentlessly ploughed the young body, and he was tempted to press his finger in there as well but suspected that tonight it would be just too much.

The fingers on his other hand were buried in the unruly mop of black hair, his mouth open and pressed onto Potter's neck. A string of swear words mixed with Potter's name over and over again, but by the time they reached his mouth they were nothing more than groaning pleas whimpered into the rainy night.

"Fuck, you're clenching around me so hard, Potter…" he couldn't help but whisper as he felt the tight muscles sporadically become even tighter. It drove him mad with lust and he knew he wouldn't hold on much longer.

Potter's cock trapped between their bodies twitched.

"You're in too deep," Potter managed to press out through tight lips and for a second Severus got scared that maybe, maybe what he thought were moans of pleasure were instead gasps of pain, but then Potter whimpered again after a harder thrust. "You're hitting my-" he couldn't finish the sentence, another harsh roll of Severus' hips sent him hard against the wall.

Severus understood finally and with clarity came another rush of desire. Wild and ardent he pressed inside with fast strokes trying to hit the same spot but managed only occasionally. Not that Potter seemed to mind, he fell against the wall, back arching, wet chest glistering in yet another flash of lighting.

Potter's whole body went rigid for a moment then, his cock was suddenly spurting hot come over Severus' bare chest and white shirt. The sensation went through Severus as well and he too fell forward, unable to hold it any longer. His second orgasm brought another rush of delight and for minutes he couldn't feel, see, hear a thing.

***HPSS***

Slowly, Harry could hear things. However, it seemed even the rain was quieter now as if the whole world had pulled back to wait in silence: what would happen next?

Harry listened to the knocking of waterdrops on metal rain pipes over their heads and wondered maybe the world was the same, the storm still raging around them, and it was just their heartbeats that tuned out everything else.

"Can you stand?" he could hear that too, though it only made his heart beat even faster.

"Yeah," he answered and Snape let go of his leg gently. Harry was about to start dressing when Snape stopped him with a hand on his.

"Wait," he said quietly, his tone barely above the volume of the distant thunders. His hand went between Harry's leg and spread them a bit by pushing one further to the side. Harry obeyed, though he didn't understand what was going on. Then he felt a finger at his arse, the tip pressing back inside him.

"Good lord," Harry moaned legs buckling under him. "Don't tell me you're ready for another round already."

"Not just yet," Snape said, lips sliding sensually against Harry's neck. "But I did leave something in here…"

"What are you- oh-ooh my god!" Potter groaned once he understood what Snape insinuated.

Snape circled his finger once more before, pressing it against the tight rim. "Unless of course, you want to walk around with my come inside you."

"Bastard," Harry grunted when the fingers slipped inside him. "You could have used a spell."

"Could have, yes," Harry could feel Snape's lips pull into a grin against skin. "But that would defeat the purpose."

"What is your pur-" Fingers skimmed his prostate and he cried out again, unable to finish the sentence, not that he needed to. He soon felt something slowly stream down his inner thigh and felt more embarrassed than ever in his whole life before.

"Oh god…" He whimpered. "What have I gotten myself into…?"

"What indeed?" Snape agreed with him with a smirk.

A warm spell washed over him and he felt clean. His clothes too were dry once he pulled them back on and it seemed Snape was in the same pristine condition as always within five minutes.

"We should get some cover," suggested Harry looking up at the still quietly falling rain.

"Harry," Snape said, hesitant. "There's something I need to ask you. Or rather, Edward Flannigan had a question to you. What was it?"

Harry headed towards the mouth of the alley, knowing Snape was right behind him.

"Oh, it was a simple question actually." Harry chuckled. "One I should have asked myself a long, long time ago."

"What was it?" Asked Snape stopping Harry by grabbing his hand. They were close to the street now and Harry could see the worry on his face.

"Do you love Severus Snape?" Harry repeated the question.

"And your answer was?" Snape inquired calmly, though his hand that was holding Harry shook slightly.

Harry just leaned up to him and kissed him softy. "Why don't we talk about this over a nice cup of tea?" He smiled.

"Mmm," Snape purred, kissing back. "Tea… I love tea."

The End

And thus concludes another one of my stories. I do hope that you, my reader, had a fun experience, that tea now and forever will mean a lot more to you, and that sometimes when you sit there on your bed, in a chair, on a train or wherever in the World sipping your lovely English Breakfast or Earl Grey, you will think of this little tale.

On an another note, given International Mental Health Day was this month, I want to put this out here: Take care of yourself. It is important. We all feel low sometimes, but it does not dwell to accept that and live your life in a gray haze of nothingness. You deserve to be happy, to feel content in your life, and if you think you are alone, you are not, not ever. We are here, as a community. It is not just stories and reviews back and forth, but more than that. Friendships are made here, and even if you dont think of me as your friend, I am here for you. I am not a professional, but I'll offer up a cute, fluffy story to cheer you up when you're down, or listening ears when that is all you need. Just as you were here for me now.

Thank you all for the helpful advises, personal experiences and reassurance that I am not alone.