![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themostepotenteTitle: How the Cookie Crumbles
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Severus and Harry break bread -- or rather cookies :-)
Kinks: Bathroom stall sex. Angst.
Length Long
Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine. This market's been cornered.
A/N: This is a gift for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snapetoy and dementordelta in appreciation for bringing such lovely Snarryness to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
restituere. Happy belated birthday, snapetoy!
Additional comments found here.
How the Cookie Crumbles
The table was a mess of dirty dishes and empty platters. The celebratory feast of Dim Sum, Chow Mein, and Egg Foo Young had been devoured in record time. Even the steamed rice, every last grain, had fallen victim to their stomachs -- only the husks of baby corn and a few sprigs of decorative parsley remained.
Professors Severus Snape and Harry Potter hadn't eaten in days. Both staunch workaholics, their clinical research interfered with their three square meals. And their discipline in the pursuit of knowledge rivaled that of a Tibetan monk. The scientific breakthrough after several disappointing setbacks came as a surprise to Professor Potter, but less of a surprise than the invitation that brought him here for dinner at Yang's Eatery -- at the request of Severus Snape.
An uncomfortable silence descended between the two to the accompaniment of a Chinese lute playing elsewhere in the restaurant, but their cheque would soon arrive, thus concluding the evening. Severus didn't want the evening to end. He very much wanted to tell Harry how he felt, and so he tried to stall for time. Harry was clearly fatigued -- Severus could see that much in his eyes. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I will tell him.
When their cheque did arrive, both men slapped a hand on top to claim financial responsibility. In his haste to beat Harry, Severus knocked over the porcelain decanter that held his rice wine. Severus had already emptied three. Harry never drank. No. Not him. Severus, however, was more than a little soused. He'd wanted the drink to loosen his tongue when the time came, but found it did just the opposite. Harry laughed, rescuing the decanter before it did any real damage. "You're drunk, Severus, and this one's on me. We should get you into bed."
I want nothing more than to get into bed -- your bed.
"Very well," Severus said, letting go, "but the next one is on me."
Harry slid from the red vinyl booth, or so he tried, stopping when Snape grabbed the back of his shirt unceremoniously.
"The meal has not concluded until you're taken your cookie." Severus gestured very carefully. In this state, he was terribly accident-prone.
"Oh right," Harry apologised, taking the cookie closest to Severus.
"No," Severus said sharply. "Tradition dictates that you take the one closest to you." He gave Harry a stern look. "Now that you've manhandled mine..."
"Sorry." Harry placed the cookie back on the plate and took the one indicated. He broke the cookie in half, sliding out the fortune, clearing his throat before reading aloud. "Confucius say -- Man who put hand in pocket feel cocky all day." Of course, it didn't say this.
"That's not what it says." Snape smiled in spite of himself.
"No," Harry said quietly, "but it made you smile. And I know you haven't had much reason to lately."
"Harry, I-" The urge to express his feelings was overwhelming, but he was abruptly cut off.
"Listen, Severus, nature calls. Can you tell me when I get back?" Harry was already shifting awkwardly. "You'll be all right for a few moments? Won't fall over or anything?"
"I'll be fine. Go."
Snape watched as Harry made haste for the men's room, breaking his own cookie in half when Harry was out of sight. The typeface on the fortune was so small, and Snape was without his reading monocle. It appeared to read;
Toilet. Fuck. Numb.
Snape squinted, unable to believe a Chinese fortune could be so crude. Being farsighted on top of being inebriated wasn't helping. And it wasn't like he could just ask. Left with little alternative, he made his way to the door marked 'man' in Kanji, palming it open.
The bathroom was empty and church-mouse quiet -- no Harry at the row of sinks. Snape looked under the stalls next, but he did not see the familiar brown loafers. He tried the stall doors, finding the first three empty. When he approached the fourth, he gently pushed the door open with his fingertips. There, sitting atop the ceramic tank, was Harry, feet resting on the toilet seat. His trousers were unbuttoned, and he was quietly wanking. He looked up at Snape briefly, scuffing the side of the bowl with his heel when it slipped.
"I see you got my invitation, Severus," Harry said between strokes. "I was hoping you weren't too drunk to decipher the fortune. Step into my office, won't you?"
Snape stepped inside, latching the door behind him with a feeling of unreality. "I suspect you are the figment of too much rice wine. How else would I get my wish?"
"Our wish," Harry corrected. Rock hard and throbbing, Harry stopped stroking his cock, pulling Snape to him by the sides of his cloak. He slowly undid Snape's trousers, pushing them down his wraith-slender hips. Harry pulled the drawstring on Snape's braies until the knot untied.
"You deserve better than some drunken hard-featured man," Snape said, running the backs of his fingers down Harry's cheek. "If this is to be--" Snape slid the tortoise shell glasses off Harry's face, the stems tugging at his ears. "--Then please imagine it with someone beautiful."
"But I can't see without them, Severus."
"Precisely my point."
"But I want to see you. I need to see you."
"What you want is to come. What you need doesn't matter. Don't force me to turn out the lights." Snape pocketed Harry's glasses. For the moment, they were lost in the folds of his robe.
Harry tried to retrieve them, but Snape's pocket was bottomless.
"Now then," Snape said, slightly irritated at Harry's defiance. "I see you use a lubricant when you masturbate to alleviate chafing. Hand it to me."
Harry uncurled the fingers of his left hand, proffering the tube. He watched as the blur of Snape's hand took it from him. The slathering noises that followed made Harry arch, leaning his head up against the graffitied wall.
"Are you ready for me?" Snape said, inching his way toward Harry bowlegged to accommodate for the base of the toilet he'd need to stand over.
"Yes, Gods yes," Harry panted. He spread his legs and parted his cheeks eagerly, locking his ankles around Snape's waist. The first press of Snape's cock against his entrance made Harry tense. Even properly lubricated, Snape's girth was too great to ease himself into Harry without hurting him.
"If this is your first time, I shall try to be gentle," Snape said reassuringly. "First things first -- you must relax. We mustn't rush." Little by little, Snape's cock began to fill Harry while he talked him down from the pain that accompanied each grunt until Snape was buried a few inches deep.
"All the way, Severus. Force yourself inside. I want to feel you stretching me." All or nothing -- that's how Harry liked things.
"Like this?" he said, spearing Harry's arsehole slowly without stopping.
"Fuck yes. Just like that." Snape's own scent of sandalwood permeated Harry's senses as Snape loomed over him. The feeling of penetration reminded Harry of dipping his toes in icy waters, the cold slowly spreading throughout his body. Once the pain spikes subsided, he was ready to be pounded, driven into the wall behind him.
Snape's thrusts into Harry were hard but paced. He forced Harry to hold tightly to the lid underneath him when he began to slide off the slippery porcelain. The bowl wasn't secured as tightly as it should have been, and each drive into Harry's depths had it banging against the wall -- the other side being the restaurant's kitchen. Their heavy breathing, however, drowned out the sounds of frantically spoken, but muffled Chinese.
"Stroke yourself," Snape ordered, watching Harry's neglected cock ooze pre-come on his taut belly. "But you are not to come until I say."
Harry grasped his cock tightly, sliding it through his fist. He dug the edge of his heels into Snape's back when his thumb caressed the uncut foreskin of his cock on the upstroke. Frantic hand movements sent droplets of pre-come pitter-pattering down on the shaven areas surrounding his cock.
"Mmm, I like you smooth, Harry. Makes me think of you as younger. And I like fucking younger boys." Snape was so enraptured by the thought of this, he didn't notice how hard he was pummeling Harry, knocking him back into the flushing button. The rushing water was so loud, they didn't hear the sounds of someone occupying the space next to them.
After six successions, the water stopped circulating inside the bowl. Humming -- where was it coming from? Snape's head snapped to the right, clamping a hand over Harry's mouth. "There's someone to the right of us," Snape mouthed, now motionless inside Harry. When Snape got his message about Harry's being silent across, he released his hold.
"I don't fucking care," Harry mouthed back. "Fuck me, or I'll scream like a banshee."
Snape wasn't an expert lip reader, but he could read a silent threat from the creases on Harry's brow. The infuriated look he gave Harry said Fine! as the hand went back over Harry's mouth. Snape resumed his thrusting, a little harder now that they had fucked the lubricant clean off Snape's cock. They'd both be sore the next morning, but by Merlin, Harry would be feeling it just a little more than he.
To retaliate, Harry slipped his tongue through the cracks in Snape's fingers, licking a path to the centre of Snape's palm.
Snape melted at the soft flutter of Harry's tongue on his hand, envisioning it on his cock. He loosened his hold somewhat, encouraging Harry to tongue fuck the gap between his thumb and index fingers. "When I get you home," Snape said between frustrated grunts, "I want that tongue wrapped around my cock -- unh! -- You bloody tease." By the time he realized he slipped, it was too late and he didn't much care. Harry had him mad with want.
Their bathroom visitor had exited, and, after hearing Snape's filthy request, was watching from the crack in the door. Harry was too busy stroking himself to feel an unwanted presence. His arsehole was tingling, and the heat-induced friction from his hand was driving him clear out of his mind. He swung his leg wildly, kicking and opening the poorly latched door. The voyeuristic stranger, who couldn't have paid for a better peep show, left before the encore pinching his bloodied nose.
Harry shook his head violently from side to side to free himself of Snape's hand. He was ready to come, and more than ready to express his pleasure with vocal outcry. "Yours -- so yours. I'm coming, Severus." Harry came brutally, decorating the front of Snape's dark robe with pearly strands of come.
A master of delaying his own orgasm, Snape turned his head to muffle his cry on the shoulder of his robe, caught their reflection in the mirror above the last sink. It was as it was in his dreams -- bittersweet. He pressed achingly into Harry, clinging for dear life, the hems of his robe dragging the water. "Yours too -- I'm coming, Harry."
* * *
"--I'm coming, Harry."
"Well, if you're coming, then why are you still sitting?" Harry asked, slightly perturbed.
Snape didn't move, paralyzed by his drunken stupor.
"Severus?" Nothing.
"Severus?" Still nothing.
"SEVERUS!" Harry shouted. He picked up his still full water glass and threw it in Snape's face.
"What? Dammit, I said I was coming!" Snape snarled. He flung his wet hair back, spraying the boy busing the table behind them.
"I leave you for ten bloody minutes, and you're passed out." Harry upturned the other water glass that had flooded the table, water falling down Snape's leg. "You couldn't feel this? Honestly, Severus," Harry said, peering under the tablecloth, "your robe hems are soaked."
"All right, so I overindulged...a little. I'm an adult -- I'm entitled. And that doesn't give you the right to douse me!"
"I didn't think it would much matter. You're already wet," Harry said, thinking it made Snape's hair appear cleaner. "Can you walk on your own?" He proceeded to help Severus out of the booth.
"I'm drunk, Potter, not old and decrepit," Snape said, shrugging off Harry's good samaritanism. Snape stood, albeit shaky, dumping a lapful of water. He followed Harry out, toweling off with several bar napkins.
* * *
Harry saw Severus to his quarters, making sure he made it there in one piece. "I was just looking at the Chinese zodiac on the restaurant placement," Harry said. "It says here that the Monkey, that's me, is very compatible with the Rat. You were born in nineteen sixty, weren't you?"
"Yes," Snape said hurriedly. He had this overwhelming urge to wank before collapsing.
"I guess that makes you a Rat. Compatible -- rubbish, eh?"
"Indeed," Snape lied.
"Well, goodnight Severus. See you bright and early."
"Thank you for dinner, Potter."
"You're wel-" Harry started, but Snape had closed the door on him midsentence.
Once inside, Severus took the fortune out of his pocket and read it.
Blood, sweat, and toil let's you accomplish your goals. Lucky numbers; 6 9
He sighed audibly, slipping the fortune inside a wooden box that sat atop his nightstand.
Toilet. Fuck. Numb. How could he be so foolish?
But sometimes -- sometimes, we want so much to believe.
Fin
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Severus and Harry break bread -- or rather cookies :-)
Kinks: Bathroom stall sex. Angst.
Length Long
Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine. This market's been cornered.
A/N: This is a gift for
snapetoy and dementordelta in appreciation for bringing such lovely Snarryness to restituere. Happy belated birthday, snapetoy!Additional comments found here.
The table was a mess of dirty dishes and empty platters. The celebratory feast of Dim Sum, Chow Mein, and Egg Foo Young had been devoured in record time. Even the steamed rice, every last grain, had fallen victim to their stomachs -- only the husks of baby corn and a few sprigs of decorative parsley remained.
Professors Severus Snape and Harry Potter hadn't eaten in days. Both staunch workaholics, their clinical research interfered with their three square meals. And their discipline in the pursuit of knowledge rivaled that of a Tibetan monk. The scientific breakthrough after several disappointing setbacks came as a surprise to Professor Potter, but less of a surprise than the invitation that brought him here for dinner at Yang's Eatery -- at the request of Severus Snape.
An uncomfortable silence descended between the two to the accompaniment of a Chinese lute playing elsewhere in the restaurant, but their cheque would soon arrive, thus concluding the evening. Severus didn't want the evening to end. He very much wanted to tell Harry how he felt, and so he tried to stall for time. Harry was clearly fatigued -- Severus could see that much in his eyes. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I will tell him.
When their cheque did arrive, both men slapped a hand on top to claim financial responsibility. In his haste to beat Harry, Severus knocked over the porcelain decanter that held his rice wine. Severus had already emptied three. Harry never drank. No. Not him. Severus, however, was more than a little soused. He'd wanted the drink to loosen his tongue when the time came, but found it did just the opposite. Harry laughed, rescuing the decanter before it did any real damage. "You're drunk, Severus, and this one's on me. We should get you into bed."
I want nothing more than to get into bed -- your bed.
"Very well," Severus said, letting go, "but the next one is on me."
Harry slid from the red vinyl booth, or so he tried, stopping when Snape grabbed the back of his shirt unceremoniously.
"The meal has not concluded until you're taken your cookie." Severus gestured very carefully. In this state, he was terribly accident-prone.
"Oh right," Harry apologised, taking the cookie closest to Severus.
"No," Severus said sharply. "Tradition dictates that you take the one closest to you." He gave Harry a stern look. "Now that you've manhandled mine..."
"Sorry." Harry placed the cookie back on the plate and took the one indicated. He broke the cookie in half, sliding out the fortune, clearing his throat before reading aloud. "Confucius say -- Man who put hand in pocket feel cocky all day." Of course, it didn't say this.
"That's not what it says." Snape smiled in spite of himself.
"No," Harry said quietly, "but it made you smile. And I know you haven't had much reason to lately."
"Harry, I-" The urge to express his feelings was overwhelming, but he was abruptly cut off.
"Listen, Severus, nature calls. Can you tell me when I get back?" Harry was already shifting awkwardly. "You'll be all right for a few moments? Won't fall over or anything?"
"I'll be fine. Go."
Snape watched as Harry made haste for the men's room, breaking his own cookie in half when Harry was out of sight. The typeface on the fortune was so small, and Snape was without his reading monocle. It appeared to read;
Toilet. Fuck. Numb.
Snape squinted, unable to believe a Chinese fortune could be so crude. Being farsighted on top of being inebriated wasn't helping. And it wasn't like he could just ask. Left with little alternative, he made his way to the door marked 'man' in Kanji, palming it open.
The bathroom was empty and church-mouse quiet -- no Harry at the row of sinks. Snape looked under the stalls next, but he did not see the familiar brown loafers. He tried the stall doors, finding the first three empty. When he approached the fourth, he gently pushed the door open with his fingertips. There, sitting atop the ceramic tank, was Harry, feet resting on the toilet seat. His trousers were unbuttoned, and he was quietly wanking. He looked up at Snape briefly, scuffing the side of the bowl with his heel when it slipped.
"I see you got my invitation, Severus," Harry said between strokes. "I was hoping you weren't too drunk to decipher the fortune. Step into my office, won't you?"
Snape stepped inside, latching the door behind him with a feeling of unreality. "I suspect you are the figment of too much rice wine. How else would I get my wish?"
"Our wish," Harry corrected. Rock hard and throbbing, Harry stopped stroking his cock, pulling Snape to him by the sides of his cloak. He slowly undid Snape's trousers, pushing them down his wraith-slender hips. Harry pulled the drawstring on Snape's braies until the knot untied.
"You deserve better than some drunken hard-featured man," Snape said, running the backs of his fingers down Harry's cheek. "If this is to be--" Snape slid the tortoise shell glasses off Harry's face, the stems tugging at his ears. "--Then please imagine it with someone beautiful."
"But I can't see without them, Severus."
"Precisely my point."
"But I want to see you. I need to see you."
"What you want is to come. What you need doesn't matter. Don't force me to turn out the lights." Snape pocketed Harry's glasses. For the moment, they were lost in the folds of his robe.
Harry tried to retrieve them, but Snape's pocket was bottomless.
"Now then," Snape said, slightly irritated at Harry's defiance. "I see you use a lubricant when you masturbate to alleviate chafing. Hand it to me."
Harry uncurled the fingers of his left hand, proffering the tube. He watched as the blur of Snape's hand took it from him. The slathering noises that followed made Harry arch, leaning his head up against the graffitied wall.
"Are you ready for me?" Snape said, inching his way toward Harry bowlegged to accommodate for the base of the toilet he'd need to stand over.
"Yes, Gods yes," Harry panted. He spread his legs and parted his cheeks eagerly, locking his ankles around Snape's waist. The first press of Snape's cock against his entrance made Harry tense. Even properly lubricated, Snape's girth was too great to ease himself into Harry without hurting him.
"If this is your first time, I shall try to be gentle," Snape said reassuringly. "First things first -- you must relax. We mustn't rush." Little by little, Snape's cock began to fill Harry while he talked him down from the pain that accompanied each grunt until Snape was buried a few inches deep.
"All the way, Severus. Force yourself inside. I want to feel you stretching me." All or nothing -- that's how Harry liked things.
"Like this?" he said, spearing Harry's arsehole slowly without stopping.
"Fuck yes. Just like that." Snape's own scent of sandalwood permeated Harry's senses as Snape loomed over him. The feeling of penetration reminded Harry of dipping his toes in icy waters, the cold slowly spreading throughout his body. Once the pain spikes subsided, he was ready to be pounded, driven into the wall behind him.
Snape's thrusts into Harry were hard but paced. He forced Harry to hold tightly to the lid underneath him when he began to slide off the slippery porcelain. The bowl wasn't secured as tightly as it should have been, and each drive into Harry's depths had it banging against the wall -- the other side being the restaurant's kitchen. Their heavy breathing, however, drowned out the sounds of frantically spoken, but muffled Chinese.
"Stroke yourself," Snape ordered, watching Harry's neglected cock ooze pre-come on his taut belly. "But you are not to come until I say."
Harry grasped his cock tightly, sliding it through his fist. He dug the edge of his heels into Snape's back when his thumb caressed the uncut foreskin of his cock on the upstroke. Frantic hand movements sent droplets of pre-come pitter-pattering down on the shaven areas surrounding his cock.
"Mmm, I like you smooth, Harry. Makes me think of you as younger. And I like fucking younger boys." Snape was so enraptured by the thought of this, he didn't notice how hard he was pummeling Harry, knocking him back into the flushing button. The rushing water was so loud, they didn't hear the sounds of someone occupying the space next to them.
After six successions, the water stopped circulating inside the bowl. Humming -- where was it coming from? Snape's head snapped to the right, clamping a hand over Harry's mouth. "There's someone to the right of us," Snape mouthed, now motionless inside Harry. When Snape got his message about Harry's being silent across, he released his hold.
"I don't fucking care," Harry mouthed back. "Fuck me, or I'll scream like a banshee."
Snape wasn't an expert lip reader, but he could read a silent threat from the creases on Harry's brow. The infuriated look he gave Harry said Fine! as the hand went back over Harry's mouth. Snape resumed his thrusting, a little harder now that they had fucked the lubricant clean off Snape's cock. They'd both be sore the next morning, but by Merlin, Harry would be feeling it just a little more than he.
To retaliate, Harry slipped his tongue through the cracks in Snape's fingers, licking a path to the centre of Snape's palm.
Snape melted at the soft flutter of Harry's tongue on his hand, envisioning it on his cock. He loosened his hold somewhat, encouraging Harry to tongue fuck the gap between his thumb and index fingers. "When I get you home," Snape said between frustrated grunts, "I want that tongue wrapped around my cock -- unh! -- You bloody tease." By the time he realized he slipped, it was too late and he didn't much care. Harry had him mad with want.
Their bathroom visitor had exited, and, after hearing Snape's filthy request, was watching from the crack in the door. Harry was too busy stroking himself to feel an unwanted presence. His arsehole was tingling, and the heat-induced friction from his hand was driving him clear out of his mind. He swung his leg wildly, kicking and opening the poorly latched door. The voyeuristic stranger, who couldn't have paid for a better peep show, left before the encore pinching his bloodied nose.
Harry shook his head violently from side to side to free himself of Snape's hand. He was ready to come, and more than ready to express his pleasure with vocal outcry. "Yours -- so yours. I'm coming, Severus." Harry came brutally, decorating the front of Snape's dark robe with pearly strands of come.
A master of delaying his own orgasm, Snape turned his head to muffle his cry on the shoulder of his robe, caught their reflection in the mirror above the last sink. It was as it was in his dreams -- bittersweet. He pressed achingly into Harry, clinging for dear life, the hems of his robe dragging the water. "Yours too -- I'm coming, Harry."
"--I'm coming, Harry."
"Well, if you're coming, then why are you still sitting?" Harry asked, slightly perturbed.
Snape didn't move, paralyzed by his drunken stupor.
"Severus?" Nothing.
"Severus?" Still nothing.
"SEVERUS!" Harry shouted. He picked up his still full water glass and threw it in Snape's face.
"What? Dammit, I said I was coming!" Snape snarled. He flung his wet hair back, spraying the boy busing the table behind them.
"I leave you for ten bloody minutes, and you're passed out." Harry upturned the other water glass that had flooded the table, water falling down Snape's leg. "You couldn't feel this? Honestly, Severus," Harry said, peering under the tablecloth, "your robe hems are soaked."
"All right, so I overindulged...a little. I'm an adult -- I'm entitled. And that doesn't give you the right to douse me!"
"I didn't think it would much matter. You're already wet," Harry said, thinking it made Snape's hair appear cleaner. "Can you walk on your own?" He proceeded to help Severus out of the booth.
"I'm drunk, Potter, not old and decrepit," Snape said, shrugging off Harry's good samaritanism. Snape stood, albeit shaky, dumping a lapful of water. He followed Harry out, toweling off with several bar napkins.
Harry saw Severus to his quarters, making sure he made it there in one piece. "I was just looking at the Chinese zodiac on the restaurant placement," Harry said. "It says here that the Monkey, that's me, is very compatible with the Rat. You were born in nineteen sixty, weren't you?"
"Yes," Snape said hurriedly. He had this overwhelming urge to wank before collapsing.
"I guess that makes you a Rat. Compatible -- rubbish, eh?"
"Indeed," Snape lied.
"Well, goodnight Severus. See you bright and early."
"Thank you for dinner, Potter."
"You're wel-" Harry started, but Snape had closed the door on him midsentence.
Once inside, Severus took the fortune out of his pocket and read it.
Blood, sweat, and toil let's you accomplish your goals. Lucky numbers; 6 9
He sighed audibly, slipping the fortune inside a wooden box that sat atop his nightstand.
Toilet. Fuck. Numb. How could he be so foolish?
But sometimes -- sometimes, we want so much to believe.
Fin
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-05-25 07:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-26 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-26 05:31 pm (UTC)