Chapter Thirty: France Is Overrated, I Want a Tour of You

There's no please.

There's no what do you want this time.

There's no whatever you want, goes.

As if the playing fields have finally been perfectly levelled, Severus asks for what he wants with the same ease Harry did from the very beginning – and with much more confidence, which is pretty much the hottest thing Harry has experienced all his life.

The next second he's on his knees in front of Snape, who stands there leaning against a light blue cupboard with an untucked shirt and a glass of whiskey in one hand, dark eyes following Harry's every move.

"How long have you wanted to tell me to do that?" Harry asks with a smirk.

"Probably longer than I dare to admit," Snape says as he cards his fingers through Harry's hair. "I definitely recall an occasion or two in your seventh year." He drives his thumb over Harry's lower lip, which makes Harry open his mouth. The finger slips inside, brushes over the edge of his teeth. "Your defiance. Your sheer power. Half the time I didn't know if I wanted to kill you, or –" Smirking, he falls silent even if Harry would give up his inheritance to hear him say it.

"And here I was almost feeling sorry for you for having to live with me these past months."

"You've been testing my limits all my life; living under the same roof as you wasn't supposed to be any different."

Harry drives a hand up on the side of Snape's leg. "And yet, look at us now: I'm on my knees, and you…" his hand slides over Snape's cock, hard against his palm. "You're already in such a state."

Snape's hips rolls forward, and he presses against Harry's fingers slightly. "Indeed," he says, voice strangely calm as he takes another sip. Harry can tell it's all a pretence, though. Severus is right there on the edge with him. "Do you need a step-by-step guide for that?" he nods down towards his mid-section, where Harry's fingers move slowly, almost tentatively for now.

Harry only smirks at the offer. "If I recall correctly, I did pretty well even for my first time. I don't need guidance. I'm just… taking my time."

"You have time until I finish this glass." Snape says darkly as he sloshes the golden liquid around.

Harry's breath catches slightly before he asks, "And then?"

Thin lips pull into a smirk. His free hand moves to the top button on his shirt. "Then I'll show you the bedroom," he says as he undoes it.

He doesn't stop there; button by button, his hand drops lower and lower. His fingers move with effortless ease until they reach the very bottom of the white fabric.

Harry does not help him, but he doesn't stay idle either. He strokes the man through his jeans, maps out the full length of his cock. He follows its line with the tips of his fingers, brushes his thumb over and over the bulge of the tip.

Snape grunts, which sounds indecently loud in the silent kitchen. While at Grimmauld place the constant sound of London could be heard even at night, here in the countryside, there is nothing but silence.

Silence and Severus' quickening breathing, the sound of a zip sliding on the teeth, Harry's fidgeting on the cold stone ground.

His hand moves up on bare skin, travels on familiar grounds, revisits blue rivers twining under skin, and long scars etched in there like a landmark from a different time. He wonders if he'll ever get used to them all, get bored by the sight of veins, if there will come a time when he does not want to mark off each and every birthmark with the tip of his tongue.

Today is not that day yet, and perhaps the moment will never come either, because there's always something new to discover on this body, something exquisite and intriguing. The way muscles contort when Harry's hand finds its way beneath his jeans. The almost heart shaped mole under Snape's left hip, right in that little dip.

Fingers twine in his hair, careful and gentle, as he licks the member all the way up. His tongue slithers softly from root to top, then he takes the head in his mouth.

Over him, Snape sighs; the sound is deep and coarse. He takes a sip of whiskey, his black eyes never leaving Harry. His gaze is not just intense, it makes Harry's whole body prickle as if those eyes held some strange sort of magic, too.

Harry's cock tenses against his pants, and he dies to touch himself, to come to this lavish sight, but he denies himself the pleasure for now. He knows he will have plenty of chance for that later tonight.

"Fuck…" Severus murmurs, trying to hold still and control himself.

The hand in Harry's mess of a hair moves again, drives to the back of his head. Nails scrape against his nape, which makes him shiver, then scratch along the side of his neck.

Harry moans as he takes Severus in deeper, moves his tongue against the slit over and over in small circles until he feels the man's hold tighten slightly. He lets go then, pulls back only so he can swipe his tongue up on thick veins on the underside over and over again.

The impassive stare boils his blood, because it's the furthest from uncaring. Snape's falling apart in his own kitchen, every small jerk of Harry's hand around the base of his cock takes from the composure he tries to maintain. Harry dies to see it happen, but when long, thin fingers push into his mouth, his eyes close momentarily.

There's something in the sensation of fingers pressing against his teeth to better open him up that makes his stomach twist with need.

He keens, kneeling there on the kitchen floor, begging without words, with his eyes only. It seems to work, because Snape's mouth twitches in the corner.

Severus licks his lower lip slowly as if he were imagining licking inside Harry's mouth, then takes another small sip of the whiskey.

He could gulp it all down and put both of them out of misery, but he takes it easy, small sips, measured.

The fingers slide deep into Harry's mouth, press down on his tongue, and the little depraved whine that slips out of him seem to set Severus on fire.

The hand is gone, but Harry's mouth doesn't remain empty for long. He grunts as Snape pushes in deep, the tip of his cock pressing against the back of Harry's throat.

"Fucking hell, Harry," Severus groans as his head falls back. He grasps the edge of the counter with one hand, but the other around the tumbler tightens too. Harry seems to hear the sound of glass cracking, but he might be mistaken since the blood in his ears is pulsing with the rhythm of his motions, only much louder.

One of his hands moves around the base, the other sets to explore the slim body in front of him. It doesn't get far though, settles on Snape's arse, grasps him through his jeans and tries to get him to move.

It takes a minute for Severus to understand, or perhaps even to just feel the continuous pressure on his bottom, and when he realizes what Harry wants, something seems to snap in him, and he shoves forward, hips moving with harsh jerks.

Harry grunts, whines almost, as if he were in pain, but misery is the furthest from his mind right now. He nearly comes just from this, just from sucking, untouched, but there is something so intense and lustful in watching Snape react to him like this, in being wanted, craved, that simply puts him right at the edge.

He could move, drop his hand in his own lap and the small friction would probably be enough, but he doesn't allow himself it. Instead, he caresses the back of Severus' thigh with firm moves, drives his finger between his legs.

Severus' mouth falls open on a sigh and stays like that as he gasps for air. When his eyebrows knot and the muscles on his stomach tighten, Harry pulls back, just to ask, "Are you going to come in my mouth?"

For a moment it seems Snape going to come then and there, but then he just growls, "Fuck yes," and presses himself straight back between Harry's lips.

He lifts the glass of whiskey slightly, but it seems his muscles are not willing to cooperate because instead of drinking the rest of the amber liquid, he smashes the tumbler into the sink where the glass shatters into tiny pieces along with Severus' restraint, too.

He grabs into Harry's hair, pulls on it as he tries to get him closer. Harry can do nothing, just moan as he presses his tongue against the underside of that hard cock, against veins and soft skin, and sucks it deeper into his mouth.

A few more thrusts and Severus cries out, shoves his head back as he comes down Harry's throat. He pants heavily, his nails nearly carve into the top of the counter. His legs shake, Harry's can feel them buckle slightly, and he stands up after a few seconds and presses Severus against the counter to keep him upright.

"You…" Snape grunts, voice still laden with desire. He doesn't get any further, though, because he kisses Harry, thrusts his tongue straight into his mouth as if his goal was to taste himself on Harry's tongue.

Harry's mind is still short-circuited by that kiss when they are turned around, and he's lifted onto the counter. He's not left there for long. Severus tucks himself away then draws Harry's legs around his waist, and the next moment Harry's being carried away. All the while, the feverish kisses never stop.

Harry gets reassured of the existence of the bedroom when he's unceremoniously dropped on the bed.

He spots antique furniture and a big window, but the room is quite dark and besides, Harry's much more interested in the man that kneels between his legs, than the décor.

The fireplace comes alive, along with Harry's body. Fire roars up in both as Severus takes off his shirt and chucks it away somewhere in the darkness. Harry does the same with his own, then his hand goes to his belt.

Snape grins wolfishly as he tugs and pulls Harry's jeans off him, and the smile doesn't waver even when he gets down on all fours above Harry.

But then he stops and with that the moments seems to freeze too. Black eyes try to take in the shape of Harry by the thin orange flames that now light up the small room. It's hard since his long black hair, like a waterfall of ink, falls down around them.

Severus brushes a lock of hair away from Harry's forehead, and his gaze softens.

He nearly smiles when he quietly says, "How on earth did I ever think I could give you up?" Apparently, it is merely a poetic question, because the next moment, he leans down and slowly kisses Harry.

Harry keens to touch and feel everything, all at the same time. His hands roam between bare back and thin, hairy chest, explore the rolling hills of the ribs and the thundering rhythm of Severus' heartbeat. They sink into black river, get nicked on sharp cheekbones, but it's never enough.

Harry only realizes they are both completely undressed when he feels a naked body press down and slide against his hardness.

"It killed me, you know," Snape murmurs in a secretive voice against Harry's ear, "when I watched you die…"

A hand slides up to Harry's chest, traces the lightning bolt over his heart blindly, as if already Severus knew its shape and exact location by heart, by memory. And maybe he does. Maybe the sight has burnt into him, or perhaps, later on when Harry lied unconsciously in the Infirmary, and he dressed the wound, he kept staring at it, followed the thin scar with his fingertip just hovering above Harry's skin.

"I was ready to die…" Snape whispers.

"Severus…" Harry says trying to tell him, there's no need for words, he knows, he knows exactly the pain Severus had gone through because if not for Fawkes, Harry would have experienced it, too.

"Let me finish," Snape asks, voice still low. He doesn't pull away from Harry's ear, his lips practically move against Harry's cheek. His hand slides longingly up and down Harry's body as if he could feel the life underneath it, the beating heart, the pulsing veins.

Harry nods, but he's unable to say more.

"I was ready to die that night." Severus confesses what Harry had already known. "I didn't want the pain of losing you. But then just as I healed, he…" his voice cracks then, and he has to swallow before he can continue. "He killed you. That moment, my heart was ripped from my chest."

Harry's hand is taken, guided over Severus' heart. It's not broken, it's beating a wild rhythm, mad, nearly crazed, as if he'd be afraid to find out where the hushed words will take him.

"I only got it back, when you showed up here today."

Harry tries to swallow back his gasp, but it slips out, sounds way too loud and shocked in their intimate closeness.

"I feel its weight now more than ever before." Snape whispers. There's a desperate edge to his tone as he adds, "How can something so fragile feel so heavy?"

Harry wants to take that heart and place it under a glass dome that would never allow harm to come to it, but unfortunately that would rob Severus of all the good, too.

Instead, he says, "I love you, Severus." The true depth of his words is not lost by the ease with which they fall from his lips. "Do you believe me now?"

"How could I not?" Snape asks, and pulls back just enough, so he can look Harry in the eyes. "You came back from the dead for me."

"Then trust me when I say, I will take care of your heart."

"I believe you, Harry Potter." Snape whispers, then leans down and kisses Harry. His lips are still against Harry's when he adds, "And because of that, it will belong to you as long as it beats."

The kisses that follow are sweet and slow, made tender by that confession. The loving touches that slide along the lines of Harry's body evoke a warmth in his core, different from desire, tamer than lust, yet still getting his heart racing.

"Are you ready?" Snape whispers after a while, when it seems the air is thin in the room, while the heat has been turned on.

Words suddenly stuck at the base of his throat, Harry only nods. The apprehension that has built in him all night seems to peak. His hand shakes as he lets go of Severus who rolls onto his side next to Harry.

He leans up on his elbow and kisses Harry's shoulder, but when Snape touches the side of his leg, Harry's body jerks.

"Sorry," Harry says when he notices Severus' questioning eyebrow.

"I am not going to do anything without telling you," Severus says, calmingly.

The palm moves on Harry's leg, slides up and down his thigh, rubbing hard. It occasionally dips towards the inner side, but Severus only caresses him for now, his touch remains innocent.

His mouth however latches onto Harry's nipple, raspy tongue licks over it in small circles. Harry would almost ease into the careful ministration, when suddenly, Severus' teeth close around the small nib, and he pulls on it.

Harry cries out, then immediately feels warmth flush his cheeks at his enthusiasm. Severus only smirks, his hand now resolutely moving on Harry's inner thigh, just merely gracing his bottom and dragging up on his balls, over his hard erection.

He sighs, when fingers twine around his length, but the touch doesn't stay for long.

"It's okay, you can do it…" He says, but his voice has a little tremor in it.

Severus actually chuckles, but only answers, "We are in no hurry," then kisses Harry once more.

It takes Harry a while to realize, he's not being teased, he's being eased into it. Small kisses on his neck, whispered encouragements, gentle strokes over his cock, a light pull on his balls. Severus barely touches his bottom, it feels even the oil he uses is more for the hardness dripping onto Harry's abdomen.

"I'm not going to push it inside," Snape tells Harry, who's panting already.

He only realizes there's a wet finger at his entrance then. He gasps as he feels it circle him, feels some gentle pressure, but nothing more.

It's so much different than a tongue, less flexible, and definitely not as blunt either. It's firm as it presses against Harry's hole, but Severus doesn't force it. He moves away the next moment, slippery fingers caressing Harry's bullocks, running down on his taint then making a circle again.

Harry keens, mouth open, but Severus knows no mercy. He only kisses him, pressing his tongue inside his mouth, licks against him.

Hand fisted in black tresses, Harry tries to give back at least a little. His fingers slide on bare chest and taut abdomen, and finds Severus half-hard already. He strokes him, maps his length with his palm, with the tips of his fingers. He wipes away the wetness and rubs the soft head until he hears Severus gasp.

A mouth latches onto his throat, sucks on his Adam's apple, the side of his neck. He barely feels the circling digit at his entrance until Severus whispers against his ear, "I'm going to press a finger in now, alright?"

Harry whines, clutches Severus' upper arm, but nods. The desire that curses in his veins makes the whole experience feel otherworldly, and yet still apprehension holds him all tensed up.

He feels the pressure build, it's almost too much for a moment, but then Severus pulls back his hand.

"You're very tight, Harry," he notes, and Harry's cheeks start burning suddenly. "Any reason in particular?"

Harry shakes his head, tries to calm his hectic breathing.

"It will feel strange, but it won't hurt, I promise," Severus tells him. He nuzzles Harry's neck, kisses his cheek. "You're doing very good so far. I am not going to hurt you. Just ease up a little, concentrate on me for a moment. Listen to my voice, and not to your body."

And Harry does. He tries to focus, watches Snape's mouth form the words, lets the deep sounds reach his ears, wash over his whole body.

The moment he realizes what's happening, it's done already. His mouth widens as he feels Severus press inside, but it doesn't hurt, it's merely the alien sensation that has him gasp.

"That's it," Snape drawls softly. "Very good, Harry. See, it doesn't hurt, does it?" He asks sweetly and Harry shakes his head again because truly there's no way he can form proper words right now.

Yet still, when Severus starts pulling back, a broken moan breaks out of him. "Holy shit, Severus!"

Snape smirks, pulls out completely. "Do you want it back?" he asks, and Harry feels his stomach twist with need.

"Yeah… yeah, I do…" he breathes, then pulls Severus down for a shameless kiss.

There's more oil and the finger is back inside him. This time it slides in a lot smoother and when Severus moves it around, Harry grunts with evident pleasure.

Every touch down there seems to wring a pulse of pleasure from him. He tries to do anything besides blindly gripping at Severus' arm, but in vain; the sensations are just too overwhelming.

"Do you think you're ready for one more?" Severus asks and Harry can tell his voice trembles too now a little. It's rough, scratches against his ear, and yet shivers run up and down his whole body the moment Snape utters a word.

"Yeah, I can take it," Harry whimpers and almost immediately, he can feel the prodding of another finger there, as well. "Oh my god," he gasps. "Fuck, Severus, so good…"

The two fingers stretch him already, but Severus is nearly torturingly patient, allows him to adjust completely, before he introduces anything new.

"Is it good? Do you like it?" Severus asks softly, and Harry can only stare at him. "Would you like to see how it can be better?"

Harry expects a third digit, but instead, Snape curls his fingers and Harry cries out softly as a bubble of electricity explodes in his groin.

Severus moans with him, as if he could feel it, too.

"That's it, Harry," he growls then thrusts his fingers in again and when Harry's mouth opens wide with pleasure, he licks in there, thrusts his tongue deep in there at the same time as his digits.

"My god, you're so gorgeous," Snape hums against Harry's lips as his hand moves, the rhythm becoming slightly faster. "Tell me you like this…" He grunts. "Tell me you want more…"

Harry wants to tell him, that yes, he wants more, that every motion Severus makes rips something inside him, tears at his inhibitions, pulls him wide open until his veins leak liquid desire, until every touch brushes against his white bones, and his very soul is exposed, bright, and wild like a miniature sun.

Snape murmurs something against his ear, but Harry's mind is overrun with sheer need, and he cannot hear much at the moment. He only realizes what it might have been when Severus pulls away his hand. Harry's about to protest, to whine and plead if need be, but then the fingers are back, this time all three, and he wants to scream, but not from pain.

He craves more already, even as the digits slowly enter him he wants to beg for something else, but not a word comes out of him, nothing coherent, only low whimpers and high-pitched grunts.

His straining cock leaks a pool of precome onto his stomach, but his body is not the only one begging for something else. He can feel Severus, too, fully hard and wet against his hip, and he wants to touch him, make him feel this maddening pleasure, too.

His eyes open, hazy in the midst of pleasure, and he notices black eyes stuck on him, watching him eagerly as if he were nothing but a volatile and instable potion, that is about to blow up.

Snape catches Harry's lower lip with his teeth and pulls on it gently to get his attention to focus on him.

"Are you ready for me?" he asks with a shaking voice.

"Yes, Severus… please…"

Snape pushes himself back up, only to kneel between Harry's legs once again. He leans with a hand next to Harry's head, but his other is between their bodies.

He says nothing, he doesn't need to. Harry feels the blunt head of Snape's cock at his entrance, sees the black eyes flash with want as he starts pushing in. He wants to say a few encouraging words, tell Severus it doesn't hurt, tell him how much he loves him, but then Severus kisses him and the words are stolen from Harry's tongue.

He's not sure which of them falls apart at that moment, or perhaps it's the whole world that shatters. The tear that gathers at the corner of Harry's eyes has nothing to do with pain, merely with the overwhelming sensation of slowly being filled up completely.

When he's sheathed fully inside, Severus drops his head onto Harry's shoulder and breathes in a few times until his heartbeat calms down enough that Harry can't feel it against his chest.

"Good god, Harry," Severus moans. "Tell me, I'm not hurting you because you feel insanely tight."

Harry sighs, head dropping back. "Feels so good, Severus…"

Snape hums pleased and the sound vibrates between them. Harry groans needily and bucks up against the man's abdomen.

Severus grabs Harry's thigh and lifts the leg around his own waist. He pulls back a little then eases back, the motion just a small prod, but Harry's tightly shut eyes snap open.

He gasps for air as if he's finally remembered how to inhale. "Please do that again…" he begs keenly.

"With pleasure," Snape growls as he thrust in again.

He keeps his motions slow and leisurely and Harry is certain, it is not just for his own sake. He can feel Snape's body shudder with every motion, can feel his fingers tighten on the side of Harry's neck when he slides back inside the wild heat. He hears his breathless moans against his ear, can all but sense his shivering soul above his own.

Harry twines his arms around the man, pulls him down as he clings to him with his legs, too. His fingers card through long black curls, slither easily on sweaty skin. His nails bite into flesh, scrape bones and draw shivers from every inch of Snape.

"Fucking god, Harry," he hears the whispered words against his lips just before he's kissed again, sweetly, lovingly. "You were made for me," Severus breathes and Harry's not sure if he was meant to hear that. "How else could you be so perfect?"

Severus does not expect an answer; he kisses Harry before words could form in his mind, then kisses his collarbone, his shoulder, the line of his neck.

Harry has never felt himself this close to a human being. He does not feel his own legs and arm, he cannot tell where he ends and Severus begins. It's as if they have fused, two legs and two arms, one heart and one soul.

He's fine with it, being welded into another being, not just Harry Potter any more, but not even Severus Snape, an amalgamated version of the two, not alone any more, never alone. He's perfectly fine with that, indeed.

Slowly, with every motion, every passing second, their moves become just a little bit more fierce, the kisses just a tad wilder, the bites just a tiny bit harsher and suddenly Harry doesn't know any more what he's been so anxious about, because this is amazing.

Snape's body all but slams against his own, and he grinds up to meet him, and it's a glorious mess of sweat and musky scents, of limbs and whispered words, of kisses and bites and an occasional glance into black eyes with pupils blown wide where Harry can see nothing but the reflection of the sheer desire that claws at his insides with every move.

Harry reaches a point and there's no beyond that. He's only half-aware that he begs, loud and keen. Roughly grunted words, stuttered and incomprehensible, are swallowed straight from his lips, but still Severus understands.

He presses down more firmly and every deep thrust has him slide against Harry's cock too, all hard and wet now, twitching with their every move, craving release.

It's all too much and Harry can't take it any more. He cries out and Severus cries with him. Their mingled bodies thresh around, merged into one. They share not just a soul at that moment, but their pleasure too, drink it off the other's lips, inhale it with every shuddering breath, immense, unending.

It's half a millennium before they come around, and another eternity until they can move. But it's all right, there's no rush. They can take their time getting to know each other, every inch of the other's body, every landmark and every story of every scar, every spot that tickles, every tendon that hurts.

They will have years to decide what they want to do with their future, decades to learn how to handle mood-swings, to find the perfect Christmas gift and a whole lifetime to truly cherish what's important: each other.

They will have plenty of time for everything.

After all, it's not like they will be dead in a year.