InsaneJournal

I Hate You

                He heard them. His dorm mates would wank too. None of them bothered to use a Silencing Charm. Severus had enough problems already without them hearing him wank, making small little whimpers that completely baffled and shamed him.

                Sometimes they would wank each other off. Mutually. Like very, very good friends would. He and Lily had kissed once, but now they weren't even friends. And Mulciber? Mulciber would never touch him like that.

                One time, Travers even brought in a girl, and in the quiet, in the near-dark, through the crack of the curtain, he'd seen them do . . . things. Things that brought a flush to his face. He could hear them. It would have been necessary to touch himself to rid him of his arousal, were he not so sure it could never, ever happen to him like that that his prick hardened and softened at awkward intervals during the encounter.

                When he was alone, he'd cast a strong Silencing Charm, close the curtains very tightly, and create some lubricant to smooth over himself to prevent chafing. It was methodical. It was impersonal. He wished he had a friend to touch. Maybe it wouldn't be so boring then. Maybe it might be exciting.

                Then again, the other person would probably want to see him in his nakedness, and that was something he always tried to avoid.

                For he hated his body. It was pale and thin and almost sickly in appearance. And his prick disgusted him. He hated it. He avoided looking at it most of the time, when he went about his day, whether pissing or wanking. It stared at him when he wanked, and he'd flush and look away.

                When he came, he would let his come stay for a little while. It was the closest he had to the warmth of another. It was the closest he thought he would ever get to real sex.

                Sometimes when he wanked, he would cry, thinking about the things he didn't have. He wasn't a very positive person. How could he be, about something so futile? He was Severus Snape. Severus Snape would always have to wank alone, avoiding his own prick like the biggest coward in existence.

                He sat in his bed, legs spread, touching the thing, the twitching, snarling thing he was plagued with. He hated his hormones for making him hard at inopportune times, but, then again, was any time opportune? He stared down at it again.

                Furiously, glaring at it, he pumped it until it released, coating him with familiar warmth, with the familiar tang of the scent. "I hate you," he murmured at it. "I hate you."