Build Me Up Just to Fall Again

[slytherinsnark]

It felt strange, walking the halls of Hogwarts again. The War behind them, the Castle stood as pristine as it once had. He'd been accepted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts over Snape, for while he also had that scar on his arm, he hadn't been the one to kill Dumbledore. He found teaching surprisingly engaging, except the first years, of course. Bumbling idiots that hardly knew which end of their wand they were supposed to be holding onto.

Draco was older, different. For those that had known him before, his eyes shine darker, ringed in shadows, and he's no longer just arrogant and superior, but fairly distant from most of the other wizards at the school. Snape is the only once he seems able to stand being near; he almost follows him, but even that interaction is tumultuous, conflicted; peppered with snarky comments on the good days, and sneers and insults on both hands.

He's not as well-adjusted from the war as he claims, not even three years later. He still has nightmares, dreams where the scar of the dark mark on his arm turns black, where the snake twists and turns and curls around him, and as his body wracks with pain, he can feel cool scales and hear the hiss and tremble of a forked tongue. It happens during the day, sometimes, not as intense, but the scar bleeding into black, the first hum of pain. He medicates with a Elixir of Dementor's Bane. Before, he'd been buying the ingredients from a woman, and they would arrive by owl, but it's been a week since he's heard from her.

Stealing from Snape's potion cupboard was probably not the best idea, but it was the only one readily available. It was a surprisingly difficult potion, with a few ingredients that were far more exotic than what could be bought from Diagon Alley. Hopefully, he'd blame some upstart, trouble-making Gryffindor. He had to have at least one student that took after Potter and his obnoxious friends.

By the next evening, rested for the first time in the past week, he almost thinks he's gotten away with it. Snape likely docked some hapless student points from their house, and never would have thought about Draco. The ingredients were for Elixir of Dementor's Bane (which wouldn't actually affect a Dementor), but it did have several ingredients in common with the Draught of Living Death. He'd gotten lucky.

At least, so he thought until the Potions Master slid into the classroom where Draco was harshly grading the papers of his First Years, Snape's black robe billowing around him. Draco arched an eyebrow and set down his quill, leaning back in his chair with an arch of a delicate eyebrow.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Comments

[empty_yourself]

The way Draco relaxes into the embrace says that it's enough for now, it's exactly what he'd needed. Snape holds him closer, one arm tight across his shoulders. He feels Draco's fists clinging to his vest, feels his face pressing against his chest, and his expression softens, unseen against neck. He was as much solace to Snape as he was sure he was to Draco. Draco was someone who understood, who was there, who knew. Someone he didn't have to explain himself to, and Snape has been alone for a very long time.

He shivers when he realizes that the brush against his neck is Draco's lips on the collar of his vest and shirt, a tentative next step. He wants those lips on his bare skin, on his own lips, and he wants to touch him everywhere, wants to distract him from the nightmare that brought him here and bring him something that felt good to replace the pain. He shifts, brings a hand up to nudge Draco's chin upwards, guiding their lips together. It's slow and exploring, though it's not quite chaste, somehow manages to communicate that underlying desire to strip him bare and ravish him, worship him.

[slytherinsnark]

The embrace gets tighter, Snape pulling him in closer against his chest, an arm curling around Draco's shoulders. He couldn't help himself, the way he clung to him. Snape was the only one that would understand; not even his parents understood what he'd been through. They might care about him, but they didn't care about others, wouldn't have blinked at killing Dumbledore. They didn't comprehend just how hard it had been on him, how he'd only done it to protect them. The conflict between the fact that he had always wanted so badly to be his father, but he just couldn't. He didn't have the capability to be that cruel no matter how hard he tried. It haunted him, and they'd never understand that. It was the lack of power, their loss of respect that haunted his parents. There had been something in Snape, even before he'd known where his allegiance really lay that had carried him through serving under Voldemort, made it possible to keep from flinching, to hide his terror as he said my Lord.

Snape's fingers touch against his jaw, tilting his face upward as the man leaned in. His body tenses, wide-eyed and breathless, like he can't believe this is hapening. There's a soft murmur, Draco's eyelashes fluttering as their lips touch. Slow, not pushing, not forcing anything, but he can feel the want in the kiss. It's mirrored in how Draco leans in, presses into Snape's lips, clings tighter to his body. He wants it, wants this. He knows they need to talk, but he needs the touch, too. His blue eyes slide shut, breathless as he curls fingers in the cloth. Snape's clothes aren't obviously expensive the way Draco's are, but they accent his body, make him both beautiful and severe in the same breath. Not many seemed to share his opinion, however.

[empty_yourself]

Draco is leaning into him, pushing into the kiss for more, holding on like he's afraid of losing Snape. One hand smoothes down his spine, circling at the small of his back, slow and reassuring. He's not going anywhere.

He wants to start slow, wants to keep his control so tightly locked down, but having Draco finally pressed against his body and wanting is slowly chipping into his resolve. He feels those delicate fingered hands curling into his clothes and it catches his breath. His hands are aching to touch the soft skin beneath this fine fabric. It's hard to say if he wanted it more before he'd had a taste or now that he's already had his hands on Draco's spanked-hot ass. Once wasn't enough, but neither will twice, three times.

The kiss is growing intense, his mouth more insistent. His tongue edges against Draco's lips, and it's less asking admittance and more taking it, tongue flicking its way in between those soft lips. The hand at his back moves around to his hips, and what was once a caress of reassurance is now a hand to guide him. He's urging him to move, wants him… somewhere. Against a wall, maybe. In bed would be better.

[slytherinsnark]

Draco murmurs, soft and quiet as fingers smooth down his spine, reassuring that he's not going to lose this. There's a soft flush at the knowledge of how obvious is, but he can't help himself, his defenses are down, and he needs this, Snape feels so safe, makes him feel like this is all okay. Snape may be trying to start slow, but Draco is just throwing himself into this headlong, taking as much as he can get, soaking up every touch.

Draco's messed around before; handjobs, blowjobs, giving and receiving. But, he'd always stopped it from going further, no matter who it was. Sex has always felt too much about trust, too much about control for it to be something he can just give away to someone that would never understand. Snape is different; here, now, there's not that line, there's nothing he can think of that he doesn't want, that he's unwilling to give. It makes it easy to melt into Snape's body, into the insistent press of his lips. He likes that rough edge, the fact that Snape is willing to push and take, even as it's given to him on eager soft lips and a willing tongue that slides against the man's as it pushes into Draco's mouth.

He lets Snape's fingers at his back guide him. Not sure where they're heading, but, someplace better, hopefully someplace where he can try and work through Snape's innumerable buttons. Of course, Draco doesn't particularly go for easy layers, either.

[empty_yourself]

If Snape had thought he might have been going faster than Draco wanted, those concerns were falling away as the embrace lingered on. Draco is touching, pushing back, opening himself to more without hesitation.

It might be enough for a second time or a third, but this time he needs to say it, they need to, at least briefly, discuss this, what they're doing, where they're headed. He's unwilling to go too far, he cares too much for Draco to take what isn't there for the taking.

"I want you," he breathed against his lips. It's not explicit, but Draco's not naive. He at least understands his meaning, even if he's never done this before. Snape wonders if he has, how far he's gone before, what lines he's drawn and why. He could see it going either way, having sought comfort in sex, explored, distracted himself with it… or having shied away from it, edging towards it but never crossing the line.

He's guiding him to the bedroom, the next room over. It's not far. His chambers are spacious, but compactly laid out, not much hallway between sitting room, study and bedroom. The candles follow them in, pass them by as they make it through the doorway and bob in the center of the room, flaring up for a minute before settling down, burning close to the wick and casting a soft glow around the room. Everything is dark wood, a tall wardrobe and a low trunk with silver accents, the bed a tall four-poster. The bed is made with emerald bedding, silk sheets and a thick, rich looking duvet. His things might not be by and large terribly expensive, but he had fine taste and here, in the bedroom, especially with things that came in contact with his skin, he splurged.

[slytherinsnark]

Draco's breathless when Snape pulls back, whispers those words into the space between their mouths. There's a flush, his eyes looking into Snape's, needing to see him. He lets the older man guide him into the bedroom, the soft light of the floating candles following them, dimming slightly, making it softer, more intimate as he leans into him with a murmur. It's still repeating in his head, the fact that Snape wants him. And he trusts him, believes that it's more than just this once, not just an offer of physicality. "I like you. I want you, I want.. this," he breathes quietly, a shy edge to it. Because he hasn't done this before. Not as far as he wants to.

He hasn't really taken in the room yet, because he's so focused on Snape. He's honest, offering the truth because Snape is the only one that's ever earned it. That doesn't mean he always gives it, but here, now, it needs to be true, honest. He leans in, going up on his toes to press a kiss against his lips, nipping softly. He's shivering, a little bit nervous, because this is new. He's never felt comfortable enough before, never trusted someone like this to where he wanted all of it. It's a few moments before he realizes just how nice the room is, in little ways, like the bed, the emerald sheets, the duvet, things that wouldn't be out of place in his own room.

[empty_yourself]

Hearing the response is reassuring, because it's honest and it's about so much more than tonight. It's shy enough that he still wonders what he's done before, how far he wants to go. Two nights ago he didn't ask, he pushed, he leaned on punishment and after, he'd pushed into his mind for permission. This time he was going to ask…

He opened his mouth to do so, to ask, but Draco leans up, stretches up on his toes and kisses him, nips, and Snape hums softly, voice deep in his throat.

He leans back, "How much do you want?" he breathes, his hands slipping down Draco's back to his hips, tugging up on the jacket and dipping down into the waist of his trousers briefly, before one hand slipped between them, pressed between Draco's thighs through all those layers of clothing. It's tentative, hardly a brush, but there's a slight pressure that's unmistakable.

His lips catch Draco's jaw and kiss their way to his neck, beneath his ear, and he adds softly, "Because I'd like to fuck you…"

This time it's explicit, because he wants to know the answer, but he also wants to see if he can deepen the flush in his cheeks with suggestion.

[slytherinsnark]

Draco's about to answer that question, but there's that catch of his breath as hands move down his back to rest against his hip, tugging against his jacket. His long eyelashes flutter over his pale blues as fingertips briefly tip into his trousers, and he leans in, presses a little closer because he needs to touch, needs to feel. There's a throaty gasp, his lips parted, trembling as Snape's hand presses between them, a light pressure at the apex of his thighs, just a brush of contact that hints at so much more.

His hands slide up Snape's body, hooking against his shoulders, tugging him a little closer as lips brush against his jaw, kissing down his neck to his ear. And then there's those words, dark and vulgar and they send a thrill through his body, even as his face flushes. "I..." His voice catches in his throat as he tries to answer, shy, timid, even through he wants so much. "I want everything," he murmurs, can't quite bring himself to echo Snape's words, not sure just how much he's giving himself away.

[empty_yourself]

Maybe it's not quite fair to ask him questions that require verbal answers while touching him. He remembers the mess of thoughts from two nights before, all the things he wanted, yes this included, though he had to be sure. Draco is still young enough that desire, sensation take the front seat and push cognitive skills off somewhere to the side sometimes, steal speech and intelligent thought. Snape finds it rather endearing, now that he no longer suffers from that same fate.

He turns his hand to cup him, and he watches his face, flushed with color, eyes bright, lips slightly parted.

"You're gorgeous," he murmurs. Snape's aware that he knows as much, as vain as he is, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need to hear it.

His hands come up the front of Draco's body, and then he's skillfully undoing those many buttons, top to bottom. He's making quick work of it, clearly experienced in the doing and undoing of buttons, if his own attire was any testament. The last one undone, his hands slip beneath the lapels and loosen his tie enough to get to the shirt buttons beneath. His hands are working their way down again, but this time, the backs of his fingers, knuckles are brushing the soft skin of his chest and belly. Merlin, he's beautiful, silently to himself as he exposes that pale skin.

[slytherinsnark]

Draco gasps, sucks in a slow, halting breath through his parted lips as Snape's hand cups him through silk boxers and expensive trousers. That declaration makes his eyes flutter, a slight smile curving his lips as he leans into Snape, one hand shifting to brush fingers through his hair. Gorgeous. It seems somehow meaningful coming from Snape. Draco has never been uncertain of his looks, more than a little vain, honestly. But he likes hearing it. He hasn't heard it since before the war, since Pansy and the other Slytherin girls that couldn't get over his fine blond hair, his blue eyes, his cheekbones, his long eyelashes or how kissable his lips were. Snape makes him feel desirable in that intense sort of way all over again, and Draco realizes that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like; words heated on the air, and it runs a slight tremble down his spine.

Hands move up his chest, and Snape makes fast work of his clothes, despite the numerous buttons of his jacket, his shirt, and then fingers are at the knot of his tie, unfastening it. Snape's strong hands move back down Draco's chest, brushing against the exposed pale skin. The more of his skin that's revealed, the more striking the flush of his cheeks becomes. Draco's hand still on Snape's shoulder moves softly to the top of his vest, and slowly pops the button free. He wants to touch, wants everything he wasn't allowed when Snape spanked him bent over a desk.

[empty_yourself]

He likes the reaction his words have on Draco, the gasp, the parted lips as he touches him. He reacts when Draco's fingers slip into his hair. Surprise, he likes being touched almost as much as he likes to touch. His hair is silky smooth, not greasy at all, but inviting and soft.

Snape can't help but notice the flush of his cheeks, its prominence when compared to the rest of his skin. He wonders about his ass, how much red lingers there…

Draco just gets that first button when Snape has finished the last button of his shirt and he pushes shirt and jacket down his arms at once, setting the two garments to find the back of a chair to hang themselves on instead of landing in a heap at their feet.

His hands move down to Draco's waist, rest there at his hips, and at first that's all they do because he's drinking this in. Then Draco's hands are at his neck, at the top of the vest, and he gets just one button free. Snape lifts his chin slightly, gives him room to carry on opening them down the length of his chest, and fingertips dip into the waist of Draco's pants. The drag from hip to center is slow, tugging at the fabric, teasingly urging him a little closer, and it seems as though there's an insinuation that he won't remove much more until Draco undoes a row of buttons. There's definitely that suggestion, if the hand poised at the top button of his fly says anything, applying pressure to pop it open but not quite enough, not just yet…

[slytherinsnark]

Draco does appreciate the fact that this time his clothes end up on the back of the chair. He could easily afford to replace them, on the unlikely chance they were damaged, but Draco does tend to take care of his things. It said one thing when he had his trousers pooled around his ankles, and another when they ended up neatly on the back of a chair. He catches on to that encouragement, that subtle demand to keep working on Snape's buttons. So, he does so.

Or, well, he tries, at any rate. The buttons on Snape's vest are small, slippery, and numerous, and Draco's fingers are shaking from want. There's a soft, breathless murmur when a full minute later he's only improved that count to three. But, his hands slide away, tracing along Snape's side as the buttons suddenly start undoing themselves. In situations like this, some people seemed to count it cheating. Draco normally liked the feel of touching, but at the moment he just needed it off. It doesn't take long, a sly glimmer in his blue eyes as he starts to guide the vest off down his arms.

Draco was not long on patience. This fact hadn't improved much in the past few years.

[empty_yourself]

Draco's hands are shaking, enough that he can't undo the buttons. To be fair, they are difficult, but he still finds it endearing. Frustrating, given the fact that Draco is definitely not the only one whose desire is beginning to wear him thin, but endearing. Then the buttons begin undoing themselves, and Snape can't help the little half grin, corner of his mouth quirking up on one side. It's cheating but Snape doesn't point that out. He doesn't have the patience for Draco to carry on fumbling them off, and he doesn't want this to devolve into joking accusations of cheater and how about you punish me? That kind of playful is something he wouldn't mind, but not tonight. It required too much talking, feeling out what had happened two days prior, what exactly was going on now, so many things there would be time for later.

Now, he simply wanted them undressed. Wanted to press Draco down into the cool satin sheets. He shifted, letting Draco push the vest down his arms, and returned his hand to where it had been, at his waist, and with a purposeful little 'pop' sound, undid the button. He was losing patience, had half a mind to abandon this back and forth and begin to push, begin to take…

He took a deep breath, trying in vain to regain some composure, but his hands are moving almost of their own accord, slipping in and undoing the zip, cupping him through those silk boxers, feeling the way the fabric clung to him. He's moving again, edging them to the bed until Draco's legs brush against it. One hand, at his hip, grips tightly for a moment, and then he's pushing them down Draco's slender hips. He can't see, but his hand skims over his ass on purpose, and it still feels warm, warmer than the rest of his skin, and Snape exhales against his lips, satisfied.

"Lie down," he murmurs, voice low and unwavering.

[slytherinsnark]

Tonight, the accusation of cheater would likely only get a quirk of an eyebrow, Draco defiantly continuing to magic his vest undone because there's too much tension between them. He needs Snape, and fumbling fingertips would take too long on the long line of buttons down his front. His hands coming in to drag it down and off Snape's arms, an unspoken whisper of power walking it over to the chair that his jacket adorns; no reason to leave it on the floor. He trembles as Snape's hands move back to his hips, fingers popping the button of his trousers undone, and then dragging down the zipper. Fingers cupped him through the black silk of his boxers, Draco already half-hard, just from the kisses, the touching, the knowledge of what Snape wanted.

His boxers are slightly fitted, the black silk close around his slender thighs, against his hips, accenting his figure even when he's stripped down almost to his underwear. Snape's pushing him back, guiding him to the bed, and Draco hasn't stopped at the vest, magic undoing that white shirt as surely as it had the black vest. Fingers pull his boxers down with his trousers, and there's a brief, sharp gasp, wide-eyed and trembling as fingers palm over his ass still heated and sensitive from the abuse nights before... He'd always assumed that threat about not sitting down for a week to be hyperbole; apparently not quite. Draco leans in, tip-toes to brush a kiss to his lips, and then moves back with a nod.

He's naked as he gracefully slips his small feet out of his boxers and trousers, the clothes obediently setting themselves on the chair. He settles himself in the middle of the bed, body braced on his elbows, hips lifted slightly, head tilted back to expose his throat. He looks up at Snape through hooded eyes with a smile curving his full lips.

"Like this?" His desire bleeds through those deep blues.

[empty_yourself]

His shirt having unbuttoned itself, is shrugged off and so it can follow the rest of their clothes, neatly folded over a chair. Snape is pale, nearly as much as Draco is, but in the dim of the room much of it is put into shadow, just the contrast of the lightness of skin and the dark of his hair.

If Draco wasn't tempting enough standing and in varying and decreasing levels of undress, then he was unspeakably so spread out for him on the bed. He looked so inviting, muscles flexing beneath his skin as he shifted to the center, posing for him.

"Yes," he says, his voice coming soft and deep, gaze shifting down his body, from the curve of his neck to the tilt of his hips, the slender, no-longer-boyish shape of his thighs.

Snape unfastens his trousers, makes quick work out of them and soon he's stepping from his slippers, trousers and boxers folding themselves as they join the rest of their clothes, and Snape's moving to the bed with him, crawling to the middle where Draco lay waiting, and he came down to press a kiss against his neck before moving up to catch his lips.

[slytherinsnark]

Draco's hands come up, moving to Snape's shoulders, up into his hair, pulling him in and tugging him softly closer, his lips soft and wanting. He pressed back into the kiss, parted lips and his body trembling with how much he felt like he needed this. Snape was like a drug, like the potion in the pocket of his trousers, except different, and he couldn't help the way that he wanted it all, wanted to give it all, have Snape take everything he could offer. Not now, not in this moment so full of feelings Draco hardly knew how to process, but he wanted the hurt and the punishment, the way that his ass was still red from Snape's spanking over his own desk. Snape held everything he craved, eveything Draco considered either too soft or too dark to share with anyone. Snape made it so he hardly had to, the way that the somehow found this space together.

He ran fingers through Snape's longer hair, brought his legs up to catch against the older man's hips. His cock pressing against the potion-master's stomach, drawing the man down aginst him, kissing him hard and needy. He needed this. Maybe they both did; he needed the way that Snape wanted him, even knowing better than anyone how broken he was, the way he thought he was gorgeous, wanted to fuck him. He pulled away, kissing against the side of his neck. "I want you..." Hot and breathy, soft gasps of uneven breath.

[empty_yourself]

As he moved over Draco, his body curled up around him, hands at his shoulders, in his hair, drawing him down as his legs shifted, moved up along his thighs to catch at his hips, resting there. There's a soft moan lost in the kiss as he feels Draco's no longer just half-hard cock pressing against his stomach, and with how they're lined up, his own is nudging between Draco's legs.

Draco wasn't the only one who needed this. Snape's desire was such that it was tearing at his control. If it wasn't difficult enough two days ago, to touch him after he had reddened his ass, and simply leave, that would be impossible now. He wanted more, he wanted an after, wanted to stay and hold Draco while he recovered his senses.

I want you pushed him into action, brought his attention down. He kissed over his neck, his collar bone, and reached down with one hand, catching Draco's knee and urging it down, for his legs to fall open. There was a softly murmured word as Snape moved down a little lower and when his hand brushed between Draco's thighs, his fingertips were cold and slick.

"Relax," he murmured, laying a kiss to the center of his chest and then turning to leave another on his nipple, pausing to catch it with his teeth as his fingertips slowly circled his entrance, applying pressure with one, enough that if Draco managed to relax, it would begin to press inside.

[slytherinsnark]

Draco murmured as Snape's lips kissed against Draco's slender neck, then lower... It ran a shiver through his body, made him arch and press up into Snape, silently begging more-more-touchme. And he did, grabbing Draco's knee, shifting his slender body so that his legs fell open, gave him space to move between them. There was a throaty, audible gasp as those fingers touched between his legs, slick and cool against his flushed skin, and teeth bit shyly at his bottom lip.

There was that word, encouraging in the soft, dim light of fluttering candles and satin sheets that slid soft against silken skin. Kisses pressed fllushed and warm to his chest, then another to the pink peak of his nipple, stealing a moan at the catch teeth. That fingertip moving to circle and press softly against his entrace, and he tried, but it still took him long moments before he relaxed enough for the thin digit to press inside. The sensation was new, and Draco was unprepared for the feel of it. It didn't press much deeper than that first knuckle before he forgot and his body tightened around it. His head thrown back, his eyes closed tight, then fluttering with a low whine from his parted lips as his hips lifted into Snape's fingers.

[empty_yourself]

Finally Draco relaxed enough, but it wasn't long before he tensed again. Snape stopped pushing but kept the pressure steady, gaze cast up along his body as his head fell back against the bed, lips parted. The low sound that tore from his lips tugged at Snape, and he felt his cock twitch, pressed tight against Draco's thigh.

He's so tight, so vocal, and Snape can't help imagining how it will feel to finally be inside him. His voice is soft though the words sound almost like a reprimand as he murmurs against his chest, "I said to relax…"

Draco is so reactive, so sensitive to touch, and he can't resist doing it again, this time flicking his tongue over it and, releasing it from his teeth, swirling slowly. As much as he had wanted to punish him, hurt him as he wanted to be hurt, he wanted to make him feel just as much pleasure. When he feels him relaxing he presses in again.

[slytherinsnark]

Draco can't help it. There's that arrogance, that desire to pretend that he's good at this, that he knows what he's doing, but he can't help himself. There's that reprimand, and it flushes his face, the color caught by the soft light of the floating candlelight, and he nods, "I... yes, alright," he gaps, breathless, useless words, but that need to say something, give something. He tries to relax, to let his body ease into the pressure, but it's difficult to focus, moaning hard as Snape's teeth scrape against his nipple, tongue swirling against the damp flesh, earning another needy moan from pink parted lips.

His body eventually relaxes, gives, but there's a tension, as if he's having to fight it, having trouble keeping from tensing around the intrusion, the feeling that snaps his eyes wide. He's panting for breath, one hand curling tight in Snape's silky hair, the other sliding down against the side of his neck, resting against his shoulder. Gasps and moans stolen from his trembling mouth, his thighs spreading, hips pressing back against Snape's finger as it presses in.

[empty_yourself]

Draco is obvious, and it would be easy to say as much, tell him he knows that he's not that experienced, but he's not stealing that from him, not entirely, not right now. Later, they'll talk, but now he just wants him to relax, wants him to stop thinking and just feel. He relaxes, but it's an uneasy thing, tentative and trembling, and his finger only presses in a little deeper. He feels Draco's hands, one at his shoulder, the other in his hair, gripping tight, and he shifts down as his thighs spread, lips catching the head of his erection. He felt good against his lips, warm and silky slick, and he flicked his tongue slowly over the head.

He waited to feel Draco relax, to feel him stop over thinking this, stop fighting with his body and just give in and let it happen. That's when he tried again, applied pressure, slipped his finger in and curled it slowly, looking up at Draco along the length of his body, watching his reaction, every shift of his hips, arch of his back. He began to withdraw his finger slowly only to press it in again, very slowly beginning to ease him into the sensation of being fucked, waiting until it seemed like he might be ready for more.

[slytherinsnark]

It draws a long, gasping moan from Draco as Snape's lips catch on his erection, his tongue sliding against the tip and there's a shuddering exhale that shakes through his body. He's done this part before, at least; he's even well-behaved enough to not jerk his hips into the hot, damp press of the pleasure of Snape's tongue. It feels so good, and there's a brief, idle thought about returning the favor, later, on his knees, hands on Snape's hips and feeling the slide of his cock against his tongue... But, the thought is gone almost before it has a chance to settle, the press of Snape's finger, the way it curled inside him.

His back arche's, his fingers on Snape's shoulder pressing tighter. His body isn't fighting it quite as intently, the pleasure a suitable distraction, Draco's eyelashes fluttering, his gaze cast down his body, watching Snape with rapt focus. He pulls his finger back, only to press it back in, and Draco's eyes briefly close as his body tenses for a breath; by the next he has his composure back, and he's relaxing into it. His breath coming in rough gasps scattered with moans, his blue eyes dilated, pupils blown.

[empty_yourself]

Snape wonders if Draco has any idea how gorgeous he looks like this, laid out for him and with legs spread, shaking and gasping for air, blue eyes wide. He flicks his tongue over the head again slowly, drawing it along the slit, distracting him as one finger slowly becomes two.

He's pressing in again, two fingers sliding in and curling forwards, and he moves down, taking more of Draco's cock into his mouth, feeling the soft skin of the head brushing over the roof of his mouth, the ends of his hair brushing over Draco's skin. He hums softly, the sound dark and low; he's enjoying himself. Enjoying Draco's body, the taste, how he feels in his mouth, and how he looks as he comes undone. He's moving slowly, not moving his fingers hard or fast, but enough to ease him into this. Now and again, he spread them slowly, making it easier, so that as two became three it wasn't such a stretch.

[slytherinsnark]

Draco finds it hard to focus, think of anything except for the pleasure, the way that Snape's tongue against his cock just accents the slide of his fingers, distracts as he presses in with two fingers this time. The way the long, slender digits curl inside him makes his body shudder, the way that it softly stretches his body, bit by bit.

There's no discomfort, not that he's aware of, not with Snape's mouth wrapping around his cock. Draco twists, squirms a little against the satin sheets from the pleasure of it, from that almost-ticklish sensation as Snape's hair brushes against his thighs. His breath catches, and Draco momentarily forgets to breathe as two fingers stretch to three, and the pleasure keeps him from focusing on the ache of it, but the feeling of being slowly filled still takes his breath away.

"Want.. want you to fuck me," he manages to breathe through pressed lips, slightly flushed with a hint of awkward embarassment. His eyes wide, fingers tense on Snape's shoulder.

[empty_yourself]

He doesn't need to hear more than that. Draco's relaxed into his preparation, stopped tensing with every movement and started squirming, trying to get more. When he asks for it, Snape looks up, sees his flushed he is, more than arousal, a touch of embarrassment, and thinks briefly how he wants to hear him say so much more than that, wants to hear him beg for what he wants… not this time. As soon as the thought appears, it's gone again, and he's withdrawing his fingers, pulling off of his cock with a soft, wet sound, and moving back up his body.

He reaches down between them, spreading the leftover lubricant over himself and moving close, guiding himself against Draco's entrance before reaching for one thigh and urging it up against his hip again, how it had been before.

He catches his lips briefly, kissing him hard as he starts to press down against him, into him. He's starting slow, steady pressure, hips rocking to ease inside.