Disgusting Love

Hot, sour breath whispers into Harry Potter's ear. His eyes are squeezed shut. He's somewhere between wanting to break his bonds and strangle the man above him, and just staying like this and begging for more. He doesn't want to beg for anything, but all that bastard has to fucking do is change his angle just a little bit, and then instant bliss. But, no, the git is going to stay at the wrong angle to prolong all this, breathe on Harry with his nasty breath, and just keep scratching at Harry like he has nothing else to do in the world.

Harry isn't ever going to admit that he likes the feeling of those nails, either. That's disgusting. They're disgusting. He's disgusting.

Actually, all of this is disgusting, but there's just something about it... The utter wrongness, the nastiness, and even the faint hurt attract him. Harry has no idea what's wrong with him, but then Snape--

Snape will do that. Oh, God.

The turmoil in Harry's mind abates as Snape finally changes his angle, and his whole body is smashing into and against Harry making a wonderful smacking sound. Harry groans loudly, and pushes back the best he can while bound. Harry turns his head and opens his eyes, and sees Snape's brows knitted together, as if in deep concentration. His hair is swinging back and forth with his movements, and he's biting his bottom lip. Harry, uncaring and unsure as to why, finds this one of the most erotic expressions he's ever seen. Most people are looking like idiots right now, but he's n--

Harry gasps, eyes shut tight, feeling himself coming in long spurts, and nearly passes out. 'When Snape decides to do it, he bloody well does it,' he thinks wearily.

Snape comes after a couple more thrusts, and rolls off of Harry. Harry whimpers, to his embarrassment. Fortunately, Snape doesn't make a comment.

There's a silence that isn't entirely uncomfortable. On the contrary, though slightly embarrassed, Harry feels almost good just lying beside his ex-professor, just sharing the quiet. Then again, it could just be the afterglow.

Harry's back feels wet, so he tries to touch it to see if he's bleeding, but he can't.

"Hey," Harry manages to get out.

Snape's eyes open, and with a sigh he undoes Harry's binds. "Better?"

Harry doesn't answer him. He reaches back, and finds that he is bleeding a bit. He looks up at Snape.

Snape lifts his wand to heal him, but Harry puts a hand up.

"No, it's fine," he says, and pushes Snape back down.

"You're all right then?" Snape asks, giving Harry an odd glance.

"Great," Harry tells him, and puts his head on Snape's chest.

For a moment Snape tenses, but then lets his hand rest on an uninjured area of Harry's back. Harry makes himself more comfortable, and smiles against Snape's torso. Snape really isn't so bad. He's an ugly old pervert, rude and egocentric, but there's something almost enchanting about his presence. Sort of. It's almost like, he's so bad he's good, except it isn't quite that. And, wait, enchanting? Never mind.

It really wouldn't hurt the man to wax or something, either. Chest hair going up people's noses is undignified and kind of gross. Although, from other experiences he's had he knows it could also cause a feeling of comfort when cuddling, but Harry doubted if any hair on Snape's body could inspire feelings of comfort.

Harry yawns, and grabs at Snape with his other hand.

"What?"

Harry yawns again, and closes his eyes.

"I hope that you're very comfortable," Snape says, with a note of annoyance.

"Yeah, I am. Nice pillow."

"Harry," Snape starts, but he doesn't finish. He moves his hand up to mess Harry's hair, and with something akin to a smile, puts his hand back.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story, and I make no money.