alisanne: (Snarry hug)
[personal profile] alisanne
Title: Eggnog Season
Author: [personal profile] alisanne
Pairing/Characters: Severus Snape/Harry Potter.
Word Count: 100 x 3
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Written for [community profile] snarry100/[insanejournal.com profile] snarry100/[livejournal.com profile] snarry100's prompt #554: 'Tis the Season, and for [insanejournal.com profile] adventdrabbles's prompt #9: Eggnog.
Warning(s): None
Beta(s): [personal profile] sevfan and [personal profile] emynn.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.


~

Eggnog Season

~

“Severus? Try the kitchen,” said Molly.

Severus contemplated hiding, but before he could spell himself invisible, Potter was there.

“How’s the eggnog?” he asked, eyeing the glass in Severus’ hand.

“It’s making this event tolerable.” Severus poured himself another.

“Ah.” Potter leaned over, sniffing the bowl. “Whew, that’s…rummy.”

“As I said…tolerable.”

Potter smiled. “Personally, I’m finding the company…tolerable.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Careful. One could interpret that as a desire to spend more time with me.”

“Would that be so bad?” Potter murmured, sidling closer. “’Tis the season, after all.”

Severus knocked back his drink. “Shall we?”

~

The porch was cold, but Severus didn’t care, not with Potter pressed up against him. The eggnog-flavoured kisses didn’t hurt either. And it was private, meaning that when he cupped Potter’s arse with his hands, and Potter mewled, trying to get closer, no one was the wiser.

“Fuck,” Potter whispered against Severus’ lips, his hands burrowing beneath Severus’ robes. “Let’s…move this someplace more comfortable.”

Severus drew back, staring into Potter’s face. “You’re sure?”

“’Tis the season,” murmured Potter, rocking against him. Severus could feel his erection. “Definitely.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Don’t care.”

Severus smiled. “Very well. Mine it is.”

~

Having Potter spread out before him like a veritable feast was heady. As was how responsive he was, reacting to every caress, every swipe of Severus’ tongue, the insistent press of his cock.

When, later, Potter straddled him, riding him until they both fell apart, Severus wondered if he was in an eggnog fueled dream.

Potter’s weight lying on top of him felt real enough, however. As did the way he curled into Severus, as if he enjoyed being there.

Outside, carollers sang, “…the season to be jolly—”

“Happy Christmas,” Potter whispered.

Severus hummed. Evidently, it was going to be.

~

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