
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6534862.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      Slash, Male_Slash, Romance, Olfactophilia, Kink, Light_Dom/sub, Some
      Humor, Anal_Sex, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Scent_Kink, Scents_&
      Smells, Potions, Potions_Class, Caught, Desk_Sex, Messy, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-12 Words: 2396
****** A Lesson in Scentuality ******
by SweetSorcery
Summary
     Harry doesn't have much of a sense of smell until, one day,
     absolutely everything changes.
     Warning: Harry is in year 6 here. If that makes him underage in your
     locality, you should know whether or not to avoid reading.
Notes
     Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to JK Rowling,
     Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bros.
     Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-
     profit, non-infringement entertainment.
     Archiving: Nowhere except here, and not in translated form either.
     Notes: Written for a Kink/Theme on the Daily Deviant community:
     Olfactophilia (a philia for, or sexual arousal due to, certain
     scents, especially those emanating from the human body)
They had been brewing with frankincense that day. It had started like any other
Potions class of the past six years, with Snape's deep, commanding voice
telling them what they were to brew that day: a Relaxation and Soothing Potion
this time, and a long finger pointing to the blackboard, which had showed a
list of ingredients in Snape's sharp handwriting.
Brewing Relaxation Potion with Snape grimly staring them into submission had
seemed rather amusing to Harry at the time. At least until the first few pieces
of the chopped up frankincense resin had dropped into the milky, bubbling fluid
made up of largely scentless ingredients. At once, his eyes had widened as the
warm, spicy scent had begun to rise up. He had never smelled anything like it
and, until that moment, had not believed claims that of all the senses, the
sense of smell could have the strongest effect on the emotions. This was in
part due to the fact that his sense of smell was usually really bad. But the
rich scent had seemed to envelop him like an embrace, while at the same time
transporting him to another time and place he couldn't even name.
He had looked around at his classmates to see their reactions. Most of them had
been busy just concentrating on getting the potion right; there had been a look
of bafflement on Neville's face - likely due to the fact that his potion had
been lime green rather than a pale gold, and Seamus had been madly batting away
the thick cloud of smoke rising from his cauldron. There had been some
appreciative murmurs as well, but no one had looked as overwhelmed by it as
Harry had felt.
"Do get on with it, Potter!" Snape had hissed at him suddenly, and he had
nearly dropped his ladle.
"Yes, sir." He had glanced up at the looming figure and hurriedly kept
stirring, well aware he had remained under observation, but unaware of the
rapture on his own face and the fact that he had been inhaling deeply and
audibly over the gently simmering liquid. It was only when he was sternly told
the potion was for topical application only, not for ingestion, that he
realised his face was already well inside the steam.
~ ~ ~
It was nearly midnight now, and Harry - wearing his invisibility cloak -
couldn't quite believe he was sneaking down to the Potions lab, of all places.
The memory of the scent had remained with him all day, and this was one potion
he wished they'd been allowed to take away with them. He had almost considered
begging for it, but could well imagine the sneer and scoffing that would have
ensued.
He made it inside with only the barest squeaking of the heavy doors, sniffing
deeply and unsuccessfully for even the faintest hint of remaining scent from
hours ago, and hurried to the front of the classroom. He had watched Snape's
every move as he had taken the tray of potion vials to the small adjacent
storeroom and work space, and he just hoped the room wasn't locked. When he
tried the door knob, it wouldn't budge.
He cursed and flung off his cloak, staring at the locked door angrily. He was
vaguely aware that he was acting like a thwarted drug addict, but he couldn't
help it. He needed that potion. He wanted to smother himself in it and remember
something wonderful he couldn't even describe.
Looking around wildly for at least some remnants of the frankincense resin, he
spotted a small dish with tiny crumbs of it beside Snape's cauldron. He picked
it up and sniffed at it, but the scent like this was too weak for his sense of
smell. With a sigh, he sat down on the teacher's chair and let his head drop
over the high back in defeat. And that's when he smelled it: the frankincense
he craved so much and something else - something which was, astonishingly, even
more potent. He turned his head and realised he was resting against Snape's
outer robes, folded over the back of the teacher's chair. That scent came from
the robes!
Harry rose and turned. He grasped the robes with both hands, raising them to
his face, and inhaled. He was barely even aware of the drawn out moan escaping
his lips, or that he staggered until his backside hit the desk. He clutched the
robes to his face, rubbing his cheek against the surprisingly soft and
luxurious black wool, and became vaguely aware he was getting very, very hard.
Unconsciously, he pressed the length of the robes against himself, cupping his
erection with it. God, was this what Snape smelled like? The man never let
anyone close enough to tell and, most of the time, his potions smelled so vile,
there was little incentive to try and catch remnants of their scent on his
robes. Were it not for the lingering frankincense...
"What are you doing to my robes, Potter?"
Harry opened his eyes, unaware he had even closed them, and he knew that, were
he not positively drowsy with the mix of frankincense and Snape, he might have
sunk into the ground through a trapdoor of shame. He found himself staring up
into a pair of eyes looking almost entirely black save for a glint; it probably
came from the cone of light falling across the floor from the storeroom door,
which had opened silently. He couldn't really define Snape's expression, which
didn't appear as murderous as one might expect, but Harry was well aware he was
in no state to be analytical.
"Sir, I..." His voice was muffled, and he quickly lowered the hand pressing the
intoxicating fabric to his face.
Snape's eyes had dropped from his face to the hand palming Harry's fully
clothed bulge through the folds of his robes. He smirked and met Harry's eyes.
"I should give you ten years' worth of detention for this, Potter."
While those words should probably have driven fear into Harry's heart, the low,
warning tone of Snape's voice had quite a different effect. And not, if he was
honest with himself, for the first time. Before he could think better of it, he
murmured, "I wish you would, sir."
If the response baffled or shocked Snape, he covered it well. "Really, Potter?"
He took a step closer, and Harry swallowed hard. "And just what would I do with
you in all that time?"
It was amazing. Even with Harry still clutching Snape's robes like a treasure
he had a right to, the increased closeness of the man intensified the scent
already driving him crazy. "I'm sure you could think of something," he said,
his voice cracking slightly on the last word.
"Indeed." Snape watched him closely while he spoke. "I have a lot of cauldrons
in regular need of scrubbing. Or I suppose I could make you scrub every inch of
my floor. On all fours...", when Harry inhaled sharply, he added, "... in the
nude." Looking into the widened but far from fearful eyes, he continued, "I
like the space around my desk scrupulously clean, Potter. You'd have to work
especially hard." Harry nodded jerkily. Snape's face was suddenly very close;
he had leaned into Harry's personal space with both palms firmly placed on the
desk on either side of Harry. "I do reward hard work, Harry." The low voice had
taken on a deep rumble Harry felt right down to his toes. The use of his first
name didn't help. "I might even consent to letting you benefit from your
favourite potion."
Harry moaned softly. "How? I mean... where?" He flushed when Snape chuckled.
"Where? Why, Harry, where you would need relaxing the most, of course."
Harry gasped when, before the words had quite sunk in, Snape was pressed hard
against him while one hand, without Harry having realised it, had lifted off
the desk and was now between Harry and the desk, cupping his arse. He never got
the chance to close his mouth again because, in that moment, it was covered by
Snape's, and he was being kissed senseless. The robes firmly wedged between
them did not budge when Harry released them to reach up around the back of
Snape's neck. Of course his other hand was trapped between them, and he felt
Snape hard and hot against the back of it. He clumsily tried to turn it so he
could cup him, but his teacher's next forward thrust dislodged it and they were
now pressing hard against each other with only the robes and their clothes
between them.
Harry groaned around the tongue exploring his mouth, feeling the effect of his
groan on them both at once. He hung onto Snape with both arms around his neck
now. A suddenly impatient hand tore the robes from between them and dropped
them carelessly, then went to work on his jeans. The relief when the constraint
of fabric was peeled hurriedly away from him was almost enough to make Harry
come, but when the anticipated touch didn't happen, he mewled discontentedly
into Snape's mouth.
Their lips separated for a moment while Snape hissed, "Patience, Harry." And
then he thrust forward, and Harry realised he had undone and pushed down his
own trousers. He bit down on the tongue in his mouth, and Snape pulled him
forward and applied a hard slap to his backside, before grasping it again, this
time with his long fingers curving down along the crack.
Harry shuddered hard, returning the thrusts. His senses were reeling with the
scents of Snape and frankincense, and the feel of slickening skin and crisp
hair, and then the scent assault grew stronger as a soft popping sound
indicated that Snape had undone a potion vial. Harry's fingers clutched the
sleek black hair at the back of Snape's neck hard when slick fingers applied
his new favourite potion to his cock, stroking it in firmly. He head dropped
back and he groaned, and Snape's lips were at once on his neck. Meanwhile, the
man had pushed the open jeans and boxers down over Harry's hips and, after an
endless moment of breathless inactivity, slickened fingers travelled down his
now bare crack, even as the delicious friction on his cock returned.
"Oh sir, professor, please..."
"Do you want me to fuck you, Harry?"
The words, in that voice, raspy and breathless and deep, were almost enough to
do Harry in, and he could only mewl something incomprehensible.
"I will, but only if you come for me first," Snape murmured close to Harry's
ear. "Now, Harry, come right now." He bit down on the side of Harry's neck
while giving him a few last hard, rapid strokes and, with a shudder and a
stifled cry, Harry did just that.
"Well done," Snape whispered into his ear while Harry slumped against him. "You
see, you can do as you're told."
A soft chuckle escaped Harry unbidden and, to his surprise, he felt Snape smile
against the side of his face. "It depends on what I'm told, sir."
"Is that so?" Snape murmured. "Turn around, Harry."
Harry obeyed at once, even while he realised his legs were far from steady.
Without even being told, he leaned forward until his cheek lay against the tall
desk, knowing how wanton he looked with his bare arse up in the air, his pants
halfway down his legs, and his now soft cock smearing a mix of semen and potion
on the edge of Snape's desk.
"I'm tempted to give you house points," Snape said surprisingly.
Harry grinned. "I'd rather have a good buggering, sir."
Snape chuckled, even while he held the open vial above Harry's backside and
began to let the thick, spicy smelling fluid drizzle over his cheeks and
between them.
Harry inhaled and closed his eyes, biting his lip when Snape's warm hands swept
a thin layer of potion over his arse, before his long fingers concentrated on
the trickle quickly vanishing towards the dark space between his legs. They
smoothed it up and down, working it towards his hole from both sides, and then
his middle finger slipped inside.
Harry moaned out a soft encouragement, parting his legs further awkwardly, and
the finger began to thrust in and out, soon joined by a second, then a third.
Between the slickness and the scent of the potion, as well as his recent
release, the thought of pain barely entered Harry's mind and, when Snape's
voice asked if he was ready, he could only manage a desperate, "Please!"
The pain, when it came, was numbed by the potion and very brief, and then there
was only the slapping sound of skin on skin, the intoxicating scent, and the
slickness of Snape... god, Snape!... thrusting into him over and over, his
fingers digging into Harry's hips while he angled each thrust a little
differently, until Harry cried out and shuddered, and then the angle remained
constant, the thrusts increasing in speed and depth, and Harry wanted to push
back against them, but he didn't dare upset the rhythm which was perfect, so
perfect, and his cock had been filling again, to his amazement, trickling now
and twitching against the solid wood of the desk. Harry vaguely wondered if he
was forever staining it for Snape to remember this, but then his thoughts went
flying in all directions when Snape suddenly reached under him and drew him up
off the desk and back against himself, thrusting into him hard a few more times
while breathing hotly into his ear, one hand toying with Harry's half hard,
dripping cock.
Harry's second, less explosive orgasm coincided with the gush of Snape's climax
in his arse, and they remained frozen like that until it was over, and Harry
slowly turned around in the enveloping arms and rested his head on Snape's
shoulder.
There was a brief hesitation of surprise, and then the arms tightened around
him and held him close while Snape leaned his head down on Harry's.
"This really is a relaxing potion," Harry murmured with a deep, contented sigh.
"You never mentioned the aphrodisiac effect when combining it with you, sir."
Snape chuckled. "That particular side effect is extremely rare."
Harry, while doubting that, grinned against the warm, delicious smelling skin.
"Good," he said, holding on tighter.
 
THE END
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