Their eyes met and Harry found himself mesmerized by the heat in Snape's eyes. He leaned closer, being pulled in by the desire in them. He shifted, now face to face with Snape, inches apart, shuddering under the hot breath on his skin. Harry slid his hand caressingly over Snape's five o'clock stubble into his lank hair. He licked his lips.

Snape, watching Harry's pink tongue peek out from between his chapped lips, swallowed, breath shallow and ragged, the urge to reach out, take control, plain on his face, but he remained still, waiting for Harry's next move.

Harry cradled the back of Snape's head, urging him forwards, towards him, and briefly brushing their lips together. Pulling back, he cocked his head, giving Snape an expectant look.

The gentle touch of lips against lips was all the permission Snape needed. Harry found his head held in a vise-like grip, Snape's lips crushing against his, his tongue wet, hot, his lips forcefully demanding to be kissed. Teeth clinked, bit, opening up under the force of pent up passion, of lust denied too long.

Harry felt like falling, and maybe he was, soothing whispers and kisses taking away the pain of being pushed roughly to the hard floor. Snape's leg between his, pressed down in delicious friction, pinning him.

"I know what you want..." he said, fingernails ghosting teasingly up the inside of Harry's thigh, locking eyes with him. "Legilimens!"

Harry's brain was flooded with a whirlwind of memories and emotions. Strands upon strands of his mind, were pulled to the foreground, dissected, discarded, till only the erotic ones were left. Lust, hunger, longing. Overlapping, interweaving, amplifying, leaving nothing but hot red lust. Harry moaned.

"This," Snape's sharp yellow nails raked over the coarse material of Harry's jeans, making him shudder in pleasure. "You want this, don't you Potter? And this…"

Harry found himself captured in another hot kiss, full of teeth and desperation and want.

His jeans were unzipped and hastily yanked down. Snape seized him and began stroking leisurely. Harry moaned and buried his face in Snape neck, his palm flat on Snape's chest.

"Tell me, Hannah, is it just as good as boy..."

"No!" Harry gasped and pushed him away. "NO! Don't. Not like this… I am not her! You sick bastard."

Harry got up from the ground, steading himself on the wall.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape sneered, trying to loom over him. "Your crush on the Half-Blood Prince not living up to reality? And here I thought you were all ready to bend over for me. All willing and nubile. Just like you were in the pub."

Snape muttered something and Harry's arse suddenly felt slippery, tingly, stretched. The sensation made Harry weak in the knees. He advanced on Harry, his voice low and dangerous. "You know you want me, Potter!"

"Shut up. Shut up. For once just shut the fuck up!" Why did the bastard always have to have the last word? Harry grabbed him by the shoulders, his face red with anger. He spun Snape around, pinning him against the wall again. Better, much better. "Why, do you fucking have to do this every bloody time? Things would be so much easier if you weren't such an arse!"

Snape glared down at him and pulled him closer, holding him tight, running his hand suggestively over Harry's arse. And Harry let him. They stood in silence for a while, intensely aware of the other's presence. Snape rested his head on Harry's shoulder, his voice was hot and soft against Harry's skin. "What are we doing here, Potter?"

Harry shrugged and wiggled closer and before Snape could ruin the mood again, shut that annoying mouth the only way he knew how to: with a kiss.

Snape's shirt was ripped open, his protests kissed, licked, bitten away. Harry did not quite remember how he ended up semi-naked, face down and draped over the side of the armchair, but Snape's fingers and tongue made up for any complaints he might have had.

And when Snape's voice, hot and tingling, asked him if he was sure, Harry had but one answer.

"Yes! Oh my god, yes!" Harry wriggled backward, not wanting those talented fingers to stop. Ever. "Dammit, get on with it. I want you! NOW!"

He did.

:::

Snape pressed his heaving chest tight against Harry as they sank into a heap on the ground, fingers entwined, his head cushioned on Harry's shoulder. After a while, Harry removed a shoe from under his back.

"We really have to stop doing this." Harry stood up and popped his shoulders, offering Snape his hand. He wanted this, wanted Snape he suddenly realized. Not that this was sane, or healthy, or that he had any idea why Snape was into this, but it was... a start.

"This?" Snape looked up at him from the floor. There was a slight hint of danger, of uncertainty in his voice.

"Walls!" Harry said and grinned. "I want a bed next time. And you owe me a drink."

"Yes, you do owe me a drink. "

"Still not buying your own drinks?"

Snape smiled as he accepted Harry's proffered hand.

"Why would I if you are so willing. Friday at half seven?"

Harry nodded and returned the smile. It felt good.

-end.