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Nie wyrażamy zgody na kopiowanie i umieszczanie naszych ficków i tłumaczeń na chomikach itp.
Ariel & Gobuss
| Chapter 5 - "The Cupboard" |
|Translation: Christine & Mary|
5. The cupboard
Maybe just for tonight
We can pretend it's alright
Whats the price I pay
dont care what they say
I want to!*
“I’m a stupid, abnormal, eccentric, fucked up freak! I’m a stupid --”
“For once, you talk with sense, Potter.” The Potions Master’s cold voice pierced through the haze of self-loathing Harry had built up around himself. He froze, stricken by terror.
He closed his eyes, feeling a growing, dull, throbbing pain in his head.
Please, no! he repeated in his mind, afraid to look back. He was afraid that if he turned around, then… What? His dreams would become reality? It was one thing to dream and quite another to meet with one’s dreams eye to eye. Dreams should remain what they are. They shouldn’t suddenly appear behind you, as if they want to be fulfilled. But he had to do something. He could n’t stand there forever, hoping that the dream itself would disappear. It had never disappeared. It was always there.
Swallowing hard, he turned towards the Potions Master standing in the doorway. The dim, cool light coming from the corridor shone on the tall, dark figure and heaved around his cape. Eyes, hidden in the shadow were fixed on Harry and pinned him to the wall, making him unable to perform any gesture. Snape was just standing and watching, bringing to mind a dark phantom, which assessed his future victim. But it was not the phantom from his dreams. Rather, his nightmares. Harry felt like the room had begun to shrink, as if something would suck it up inside itself. Like a menacing aura, the Potions Master himself attracted the darkness, making everything around seem to diminish. Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe; like he had to get out of there now.
“I…” he began with a hoarse voice. “Don’t want to disturb ... I-I’ll just go. I’ll finish later…” He took a step toward the exit, hoping that Snape would move away, but the didn’t. He was still standing there, watching. He didn’t intend to let Harry out of the room.
Feeling the room closing in on him even more, Harry’s heart felt like it would break through his chest as his breath caught in his lungs. He backed up against the wall. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t go. He began to lose his sanity. “I-I just… I had-I had t-to clean th-the cupboards, because Filch o-o-ordered it. After- I-I had beaten M-Malfoy and McGonagall stormed t-to m-me --” he babbled helplessly looking at the floor and not daring to even look at the professor’s black shoes. “I-I didn't know... I-I-I c-can g-go n-now, if...
“Be quiet!” Snape’s steel menacing voice interrupted the torrent of words and made Harry almost bite his tongue.
Yes, he wanted very much to get away, escape from the domination of the viscous, heavy atmosphere. But the only way of retreating was blocked by the Potions Master himself, who apparently had no intention of letting him go. For many days he had managed to avoid meeting Snape alone. Why was Snape looking at him so strangely? Why did his presence make Harry feel like he was paralyzed, unable to move? Why did he feel like his feet were rooted in the stone floor?
Go away, please! Go away! he begged in his mind. But it seemed that all the good spirits had left him, leaving him to the mercy of a man whom, at the moment, he feared more than a whole host of Death Eaters with Voldemort in the lead.
Snape didn't disappear, but went straight into the dark room through the door which – to Harry’s horror – slammed shut behind him, and flashed the pale red glow of the silencing and locking spells.
Outstanding eerie darkness.
He wants to kill me! thought Harry in panic, pushing himself even deeper into the wall. He looked up in the dark, trying to assess the situation, but he didn’t see anything at all. He was surrounded by a vicious darkness, heavy with unspoken intentions. He could tell Snape stopped moving and, after a quick nonverbal spell, a couple of candles standing on the shelves burned with vibrating radiance, illuminating the dark figure that seemed to emerge directly from the pervasive gloom.
Time suddenly stood still.
The light from the candles reflected in the cold eyes that were looking straight at Harry, and seemed to pierce his body and soul, pinning him to the wall and not allowing him to turn his head. Black strands of hair fell on the thin face with the sharp, harsh features and lips were tightened threateningly, although one would have the impression that behind wandered a dark smile. A smile of imminent promise.
Harry knew that he was staring wide-eyed, but he couldn’t help it. He could hear his crazy heartbeat and could barely catch his breath. The blood was pulsing through his veins, engaging the heat in his body and it finally cleared his befuddled mind.
The horror of the whole situation finally sink in.
He and Snape. Alone. In the dark cupboard. The doors magically closed and sealed.
I’m going to die, was what went through his mind when the Potions Master took a step toward him, and Harry felt the familiar spicy scent, reinforced by something bitter and sweet at the same time. Just one more step. And another. The man was already in front of him. Harry could feel the hot breath on his face. The black eyes narrowed dangerously and the dark brows drew together.
Harry thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest. His legs bent under him, and Harry, with the whole strength of his will, forced himself to turn his eyes from the sharp, penetrating gaze. The moment he did, the weight was lifted from his heart ... and loins, but not for long. Hands, like blades, caught his face firmly, which was turned violently towards Snape’s menacing face.
Harry wanted to die.
Instead, he had to stand, pressed against the wall, feeling the hot breath and looking at Snape’s deep, bottomless, eyes, that seemed to tear his soul to pieces, examining each one and penetrating every nook and cranny in search of something that was hidden deep in his frightened heart.
Harry dug his nails into the wall, nearly breaking them, trying to defend himself against this penetrating look. But the only thing he could do was grit his teeth and try not to sink to the floor. He could not allow Snape to find the strange, uncontrollable feeling that dominated all his thoughts and actions. The one that confused him and caused all those dreams haunting him at night, which always ended the same way – with his hand clenched tightly on his cock as it released, overpowering him with pleasure, while his head pressed into the pillow, and tears of dread prickled his eyes. And now, this feeling was awake and it struggled and yanked, trying to get out of him.
He was feeling so many things at once that his senses couldn’t register them all.
The strange coldness of Snape’s body, so close to him.
Harry stifled a groan when a strong tension shook his body.
The black eyes, penetrating his soul. Biting. Hypnotizing.
The smartness of the eyes grew stronger.
The touch of cold hands, holding his face in a strong grip.
Harry’s cock shuddered and made him almost fell over, horrified by the reaction of his own body.
Snape’s hot breath brushing his lips.
Something exploded inside Harry. He moaned protractedly, defeated, and felt tears in his eyes.
He could no longer fight; no longer resist.
Snape’s eyes flashed.
He found what he was looking for.
One of the cool hands released Harry’s face and moved down, stopping for a moment on his heart, which was beating so fast, it felt as if Harry had run at least a few miles.
Harry shut his eyes, feeling his cheeks burning with shame. He gave up and allowed this feeling to possess him. He could feel the heat spreading through his body. In his skin a spark began to roam, and the tension in his loins made his legs buckle under him. His whole body was screaming, begging for the touch. For the relief. When he opened his eyes, there was no longer fear, embarrassment or resentment in them. His misty eyes were burning with lust.
All the masks fell, the chains gave way and the doors were broken and Harry's awareness rushed down to like a roller coaster, unhampered and stormed like a waterfall.
Harry had never, in his whole life, wanted anyone so much as he wanted this man right now.
Snape slid his hand down Harry’s chest, then his stomach, then abdomen, and stopped at his crotch. Harry’s cock, now quite hard, quivered under the material of his trousers and shorts, begging for the touch. Harry held his breath, lost in the fathomless depths of the Potions Master’s eyes. He tried to force his body not to tremble so much because he could barely stand on his feet, his legs bending under him.
As soon as Snape’s fingers began to slowly unbutton his jeans, Harry bit into his lip so hard he almost drew blood in an effort to control himself. He knew that deep under the hard, cold, composed mask, Snape was laughing at him and his weaknesses.
He didn't care about it now, though. He didn't care about anything. He only cared about the man’s hand, which slipped into his pants like a snake and stopped millimeters from Harry’s erection, which was twitching impatiently.
The dark eyes narrowed and in them appeared a new note. A note of expectancy and nonchalance. Snape was playing with him.
Harry groaned, and the desire that had appeared on his face turned to almost demented lust. His blood throbbed in his head, and the surges of burning embers overwhelmed his body, again and again, causing painful cramps in his abdomen. He moved uneasily and pushed his hips, desirous for Snape’s touch. His body was begging. Snape’s hand fell back slightly, gently stroking the material, which under Harry’s painful erection was pulsating. Harry groaned, shutting his eyes with hopeless longing that was burning in him and could not be fulfilled.
He could no longer fight with himself. From his mouth came an anguished, hoarse groan:
Harry raised his full blazing, heated eyes. One of Snape’s eyebrows rose meaningfully in silent question.
Oh, how cruel he was!
“Please, t-touch it…” he stammered incoherently, knowing that if Snape forced him to say it again, he wouldn’t stand it and would draw Snape's hand to his erection.
But it was enough. He saw a demonic gleam in the man’s eyes that seemed to bring out the depths of the darkness of his pupils. Then Snape’s hand immediately slipped under the material of the boxers, cool fingers wrapping around Harry’s hot, pulsating cock and the whole world exploded.
Harry felt like he was drowning in a sea of drunkenness, which flooded his mind and body.
Snape’s hand stroked Harry’s trembling and spasming cock. Harry was dying with pleasure. Strong senses and waves of delight flowed through his body, generated by the cold hand moving faster and faster. Harry opened his mouth in silent screams, greedily grabbing the air, and out of his throat came a prolonged groan that he could not resist. Sunk in the darkness of the Potions Master’s eyes, he was unable to turn his head.
I want to drown in them while you take me…
The echo of the words that he had uttered just a week ago came back to him with such a strong impact that he felt a note of amusement deep in his soul. His inner cool consciousness came suddenly to surprising conclusions: he was standing here in this dark cupboard, in the embrace of Severus Snape – the most hated professor in the school who lead him to delirium with practiced, fast strokes and Harry was letting out gasps and groans, overpowered by the desire he felt for the man. This situation seemed to him so absurd; that if his mind wasn't busied by the feeling of experiencing the pleasure which Snape was giving him, he would have burst out laughing.
Suddenly the hand that was holding Harry’s chin let go and slowly slid down his chest, then slipped under his shirt and gently pinched his nipple.
Harry howled, pierced by sudden pain, and his body bucked again and struck back against the wall. He had never thought that this part of the body could be so sensitive.
At the next pinch he nearly sank in the cold stones, the pain of pleasure was too intense on his feverish body. At the last moment Snape’s arm grabbed him, imprisoning Harry in his strong grip between the cold stones and his cool body.
The memory of his first dream ran through Harry’s mind.
But – sweet Merlin! – it was real!
As Snape’s hand drew him to orgasm, his whole body was flooded with heat. He grabbed at Snapes arm, fisting the black robe in his fingers and pressed his face in Snape’s chest, moaning with anguish and pleasure at the same time.
The titillating scent of Snape’s body pierced his nostrils and made him delightfully dizzy.
Snape, as if sensing that Harry was drawing near, increased his pace, and Harry’s body screamed with impatience. With a last breath, all Harry could think was Snape truly was a Master of more than just Potions.
And then there was an explosion. The explosion of burning fire; the explosion of colors and sounds.
Harry heard his scream when the overwhelming wave of ecstasy flooded his loins. In the blink of an eye, it possessed his slim body and shook him like a puppet. His fingers dug into Snape’s arm and hot tears fell on the Potions Master’s chest. All his muscles tensed, his skin was burning, and his mind was whimpering with pleasure. Harry didn’t think he could endure it; that he would die with delight. He could feel his cock spitting out streams of white heat that coated Snape’s friction warmed hand.
Harry had forgotten how to think. He had completely forgotten where he was or what he was doing. He had forgotten all that he knew so far. Climaxing in Snape's hand, clinging to his robes, he was born again, discovering the wonders of existence of which he had no idea of until now.
When the last wave of vibrating pleasure flowed from his body, Snape let go of him and suddenly stepped back. Harry’s legs buckled under him and he slowly sank to the floor, leaning into Snape as he still held onto the black robes. He fell to his knees and was trembling, unable to breathe or open his eyes.
With difficulty he slowly regained his senses, the echo of his orgasm was still vibrating through his body. He was so stunned that he couldn’t even open his eyes, let alone think of how to calm his rapidly beating heart, or force his exhausted muscles to work. He wanted to get up, he really did, but was unable to. In the end he finally managed to win the battle with his body and lifted his head and opened his eyes.
What he saw made his dread return. He paled and his heart, which had slowly calmed, leaped into his throat.
He looked straight at the Potions Master's turgid, erect penis, which was looming from the black robes.
Boundless surprise struck him and Harry was unable to speak or even think of something to say. His eyes shot up, wishing to read a response from Snape’s face and – to his horror – he found it. Black, burning eyes staring at Harry, and dark eyebrows raised, as if unconsciously giving Harry a message: “What are you waiting for?”
He felt that he was wrapped by a hot surge of shame. He looked back at Snape’s cock and bit his lip as he flushed, trying to quell the growing panic in him.
Did he really want Harry to do it?
He saw the outline of dark hair surrounding Snape’s penis. His eyes were thoroughly examining and greedily absorbing this amazing view, imprinting it into his memory. From the cover of the fear that seemed to have overwhelmed him at first, lust began to appear. He stared at Snape's cock and his eyes glittered feverishly.
Trying to fight back against the shame and fear scraping at the edge of his mind, Harry gulped and his hand went up and carefully wrapped around Snape’s hard, hot cock. To Harry, his hand seemed so small compared to the size of Snape’s erection. He thought for a moment that to cover it all from head to hilt, he would need three hands. This thought sent his head spinning. His eyes carefully studied the red, smooth and thin head of his cock, the swollen veins extending along the length of the flesh. He felt the blood pulsing in his hand, growing hotter and hotter, throbbing.
So hot, Harry breathlessly uttered in his mind, remembering the coolness of the Snape's body from earlier as he’d pressed into him and touched him with his fingers. This was such a stark contrast.
Suddenly Harry found himself wanting to taste Snape’s heat. Acting instinctively, he opened his mouth and licked the head, leaving a wet, shiny trail. He was fascinated as he watched Snape’s cock twitch under his touch and heared Snape’s quiet, muffled groan.
He smiled to himself with satisfaction.
Snape’s cock tasted bitter and salty at the same time, and felt warm and pleasant. Harry’s tongue licked the head again and carefully washed it, but this time the man didn’t make any sound.
Harry’s mind – filled with hazy shame, fear and desire – registered the silence. He had to do better. He wanted to be rewarded with that wonderful moan again.
Blinded by lust, he passed his tongue to Snape’s leaking cock and slid his tongue over the stiffened flesh, from head to hilt and back. He tasted it with every stroke of his tongue and became lost in the sensations. Through his foggy mind tore Snape’s rapid breathing. He liked it!
Harry’s soul plunged into the agony of rapture, absorbing everything from Snape.
Suddenly he felt fingers touching his hair. He softly moaned and Snape bucked his hips a little. A moment later, he pressed his erection to Harry’s lips, demanding entry, to which Harry had no choice but to open his mouth to him and take him in as he frantically wondered how something so big would fit! What did he do?!
Snape’s cock pushed into Harry’s mouth, delving into his throat. Harry choked and tried to pull his head back, but Snape held him tight, fingers fisted in his hair, not allowing any movement. The next thrust sent tears into Harry’s eyes. Coughing, he grabbed onto the black robe and squeezed tightly, wanting to give Snape the sign to stop.
He didn’t want it like this. He didn’t want Snape to just fuck his mouth. But if he had enough strength to resist, then his body was no longer listening to him. It seemed to know exactly what it wanted and Harry briefly wondered what all this would lead to.
Giving in, he loosened his hands and opened his mouth to receive another thrust.
Snape’s cock filled Harry’s mouth. The Potions Master, apparently sensing that he had been able to break him, removed his hand from Harry’s head, but Harry didn’t back away. He caught the hot penis with his fingers and slowly pushed the cock back from his mouth long enough to take a breath and swallow, then he drew it back inside, sucking it into his throat, only this time, not so deep he choked.
He wanted Snape. He wanted to taste him. All of him. He wanted to give him the same pleasure he had experienced just a few moments ago.
Easing back a little, he pleasured the slick head with his lips and sucked on it, wishing to draw from Snape more than he had given him so far. He heard a groan coming from the man’s mouth and Harry felt a thrill of accomplishment.
Yes, he wanted to hear Snape’s groans. Groans and cries of ecstasy he was causing!
Harry sped up his ministrations, wanting to hear more and louder. He thrust Snape's swollen, throbbing cock right up to his throat while sucking it and gently caressed the soft, warm testicles his free hand. The moans increased. Harry’s befuddled mind received them from afar. After a while teeth joined the lips and tongue, carefully teasing the sensitive skin on the wet, hot head. He was awarded a long, dark growl of pleasure.
With hazy, lust-filled eyes, Harry looked up, wanting to see Snape’s face. Snape’s glossy marble eyes looked straight at him and admired the view with hunger and greed that nearly made Harry pass out. Not taking his eyes from the feverish gaze, Harry increased the pace, nearly swallowing Snape’s cock whole, while stroking the lower part of it, which his lips were unable to cover. His tongue and teeth teased the shiny head when Harry took it out for a moment to catch his breath, only to re-dip it in the warm, willing inside of his mouth.
Harry’s vision was blurry, but he watched as the man’s face underwent spasms of pleasure. The ever raw features softened, but his eyes had lost none of their darkness.
Harry shut his eyes, greedily licking the red-hot head before suddenly tasting the sharp, heady flavor of hot come on his tongue. His heart screamed with happiness.
He was already so damn close to bringing the Potions Master to orgasm!
Harry grabbed the black robes at Snape’s hips and, with all his strength, he pulled him close and swallowed the trembling cock, pushing it into his throat as far as it would go. When he heard Snape's loud, hoarse groan, Harry's body shivered as Snape’s shook. Choking, Harry wanted to withdraw his head, but then he felt Snape’s hands gripping him by the hair and holding his head in place. Harry’s mouth filled with the sharp and bitter taste of the man’s come. Tears flowed from his eyes due to lack of air and the flavor, but the grip did not loosen. Trembling with the Potions Master’s body, he gave up and stopped the fight. He began to swallow, feeling tiny spurts of hot liquid continue to flow as Snape’s orgasm ebbed. Some leaked from his unexperienced lips and dribbled down Harry’s chin. At the same moment he felt a painful pull on his hair, with which Snape punished him.
He tilted the head in bewilderment before Snape tugged again until Harry swallowed every last drop.
The moment Harry swallowed the last of it, his head was freed from the iron grip and Snape’s softening cock was removed from his mouth. Harry gasped in a breath and panted, taking in what air he could. He felt a remaining wet trail of come flowing down his chin and throat
When the Potions Master buttoned his trousers, he grabbed Harry’s chin and lifted it up. Green eyes gazed up at Snape’s face, which was painted with an expression of absolute triumph and dark satisfaction. Snape curled his finger up over Harry’s throat and chin, gathering up the warm liquid that had escaped, and slipped it in his mouth. Harry carefully licked his finger, without removing his gaze from Snape’s face. Harry groaned softly when the man took his finger away.
On Snape’s face appeared a cold, calculating smile.
“It was nice, Mr. Potter.”
Harry held his breath. He realized suddenly that they were Snape’s first words since he came to the cupboard. He opened his mouth to say something, but his tongue stuck in his throat. What would he say? No words would be able to express the way he felt now. He was such a mess in his head that he suspected that he would never unravel it.
However, through the noise in his head, dizziness and viscid fog that surrounding his mind, seeped one, clear thought - his dream had come true.
Snape stepped back and threw him an icy, mocking glance.
Harry felt a shiver creep up his spine. It was as if the look whipped him and cut his skin. As if he was viciously bitten.
Something in him began to scream. Beg. But he didn’t know for what. For Snape not to go away? For him to say something else? For him not to leave him here? For him not to look at him like this? For him to do something? Anything?
But it was too late. There was nothing more to add. Snape gave him a last, mocking look, turned away from Harry’s form kneeling on the floor, opened the door and disappeared behind it, leaving him alone in the dark, cold cupboard.
Harry was shocked and confused as he looked at the door to which Snape had disappeared through and tried to understand what had happened. His head was spinning so much that he felt sickeningly dizzy His heart was fluttering violently in his chest and his body was shaking uncontrollably by the alternating hot and cold chills. In his mind confused thoughts churned.
Had it really happened? Had he and Snape just…?
A hot, overwhelming wave of terror painfully pierced his heart.
I just blew Potions Master, he thought, eyes wide in disbelieving horror and shock. He suddenly felt like he’d been burned and, in his throat, the bitter taste of shame, mixed with the still fresh taste of Severus Snape’s come, lingered. His mind couldn’t grasp it all, and Harry wandered in his consciousness, trying to grab pieces of memories and understand where he was, what had just happened, where Snape was, and why he was feeling so badly humiliated.
He clenched his trembling fists and bit his lip as his throat constricted. He swallowed back tears and gazed at the open door.
For some time he sat on the cold stone floor in a dark cupboard and waited hopefully.
Snape didn’t come back.
* "Kinda I want to" by Nine Inch Nails
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