This story is rated NC-17 (adults only). It includes explicit male/male sex. If this is what you came for, scroll down. If it isn't, hit the Back button.




















by Resonant

"Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Oh, stop!"

"What, again?"

Harry's not coming, but it's a near thing. He's hanging on by the thinnest of threads, and Snape actually sounds bored. The bastard hasn't even broken a sweat.

He never says anything about Harry's unfortunate speed problem, and Harry always does his best to make it up to him after. But nobody could call Snape a tolerant man (not without laughing until they swallowed their own tongues), and if Harry doesn't make the grade, he'll think nothing of going off to someone older with better control.

But, damn it, what does Snape think will happen when he leans over Harry's trembling body and breathes something like that into his ear?

"I can't -- if you say things like that --"

"If I talk about it, this renders you incapable of performing it?" Snape says in a tone of mild inquiry, and he hasn't taken his hand off Harry's cock, though at least he's stopped moving. So Harry should be all right if he doesn't look at Snape's white hand holding onto his blood-flushed cock -- oh, or think about it, damn, or think about much of anything --

He grabs Snape's wrist and pulls his hand away savagely. Snape doesn't bat an eye, just transfers his caresses to Harry's palm, his wrist, the inside of his arm -- god, and it's his wand hand, too, always so sensitive --

"You do understand, do you not," Snape says, low but not whispering, "that I want you to come."

God, god. "Not yet!" he wails. He's shaking with the effort. "I can't hold off, don't know how you can --"

Snape's fingertips make their way up his arm and down his torso, over all the sensitive spots that are already thrumming with energy. Down between his legs, around the edges of the hair, with tantalizing slowness.

"I believe," he says, and now he's running the tips of his fingers over the insides of Harry's thighs, "that I have duration under control. As for you --"

He suddenly wraps his hand loosely around Harry's cock. Harry can feel every fingertip. His smile is the smuggest Harry has ever seen, and on Snape, that's saying something.

"Why don't you just focus on frequency," Snape says, and closes his fist.














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July 20, 2004