Happy Christmas, Git.Author: nehaleniaRecipient: r_grayjoyCharacters:
Sirius Black/Severus SnapeRating:
Since this is Snack, and it isn't
hate-sex, I suppose I should put the "sappy romance" warning on it. For Snack, it's positively fluffy, so don't say you haven't been warned. If you ignore it, don't blame me when you claw your eyes out. (Yeah, I'm looking at you, Penny.) ;-)Prompt:
bondage, frottageWord Count:
Nothing but a holiday PWP, folks. Nothing to see here but smex. Many thanks to blpaintchart
for the fabulous Brit picking. All other mistakes are mine. Thank you to the mods for allowing to post late!
Severus Snape wiped the chill mist from the library window with one thin hand and peered down at the carriages lined up in the Hogwart’s courtyard. Even from there he could hear the excited voices of the students as they piled in together, their trunks and valises floating to the racks above and behind the conveyances. He watched until all the doors had slammed shut, and one by one, the carriages creaked and moved forward, processing out of the courtyard until all that was left were the wheel ruts through the patchy snow.
It was the same every Christmas at Hogwarts. Everyone left, and Severus stayed behind; and that was exactly the way he liked it. It was his favourite part of the holiday, in fact. The usual fripperies of Christmas just made him scowl and mutter, but as the castle emptied of loud and over-boisterous students, Severus began to feel lighter himself, almost as if evil humours were leaving his body. As he watched them go, a strange mix of relief and elation would slowly come over him, so that by the time he turned from the window, put his books away and left the library, he was hard put to keep a spring from his step. One time, he had almost started to whistle and had been so appalled at himself that it darkened his mood for an entire day.
This time, though, as he stacked the library’s books in a neat pile on the table and stowed his own in his satchel, he didn’t feel like whistling. The lightness was there – that feeling of being almost alone in the castle, of not being on his guard for every waking moment – but there was an odd tang of the bittersweet to it that had never been there before, and he found he was almost afraid to wonder why.
Why should he feel anything but elation, after all? He had the Slytherin dorm all to himself. Professor Slughorn had given him a permanent pass to the Restricted Section, and even invited him to tea on Boxing Day. And the Marauders, those Gryffindor curses of his existence, were gone until the start of term. Gone.
Each and every one of them.
Severus didn’t know why he sighed as he double-wrapped his scarf around his throat, slung his book satchel over his shoulder and left the library. He didn’t know why his feet seemed to be dragging, either. There was no reason for it – or if there was, perhaps he didn’t care to investigate it.
The echo of his footsteps in the empty corridor, the way the torch-lit shadows danced upon the rough-hewn walls – usually these things comforted him on his journey down to the dungeons, but today they set him oddly on edge. Once again, he felt that bizarre urge to whistle, but not out of any sense of exhilaration; rather, it was the need to hear a human presence, even if it was merely his own.
“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Severus chastised himself, stopping in the middle of the hallway to try and shake off his weird sense of unease.
“Yes, it certainly is,” agreed an all-too-familiar voice behind him. “The lengths I’ll go to wish you a Happy Christmas are bloody well beyond the pale, I’d say.”
“No!” Severus hissed, a shudder snaking up his spine because there was no way that voice
could be speaking to him, yet when he whipped around, there was Sirius Black, lounging against a statue that Severus had walked right past and looking quite pleased with himself. “Black!” he sputtered, his book bag falling from his suddenly nerveless shoulder, too dumbstruck to even reach for his wand. “What are you—but you left
! I saw you—the carriage!”
“Tch! Enough talking,” Sirius said, making a face. “You’re really bollocks at it right now, you know? Besides,” he added, sauntering forward with a merry leer quirking his perfect lips. “I’ve got something better to do with your mouth.” And before Severus could even blink, Sirius had reached out, seized him by the scarf and yanked him into a deep, penetrating, peppermint-flavoured kiss.
This. This was so much worse than wanting to whistle – and so many, many times better – that Severus’ brain simply shut down. He couldn’t resolve the way his body instantly melted against Black’s hard physique, the way his mouth opened without protest to Black’s searching tongue, the way his fingers were digging into Black’s shoulders beneath the smooth leather of his strange Muggle jacket with its silver studs and bright zippers. He couldn’t make sense of the way their hearts galloped against each other, like two carriage thestrals matching gaits, or the way their breath mingled, or the way their hips seemed magnetized, so drawn to each other that before he could even register the need, Sirius’ leg was between his thighs and Severus was humping desperately against the buttons on the fly of his faded jeans. It was all too much to wrap his mind around, so Severus didn’t even try. Instead, he did something wholly uncharacteristic and simply surrendered.
“Oh god!” Sirius was panting into his mouth, pulling at his robes and squirming against him so that he couldn’t tell which of them was more frantic. “God—bloody fuck—yes!” Severus wanted to agree, but he couldn’t form any words. All the blood in his brain had taken passage to his cock the moment Sirius had mashed their lips together, and the hot throb of it was rushing through his balls and swelling his prick so that he thought it would burst through the seam of his uniform trousers. He wanted very badly to know if Sirius was just as hard, but those blasted metal buttons on his jeans were in the way and he couldn’t quite tell. When he managed to wrench a hand away from Sirius’ shoulder and ran it down to his crotch, Black suddenly tore his mouth away, cursed and grabbed both his wrists.
“Don’t!” he growled, slamming them both into the wall so hard that Severus nearly had the breath knocked out of him. Severus felt both his wrists pinned on either side of his head as his body was trapped between the chill stone of the wall and Sirius Black’s urgent heat. “Don’t touch me there,” Sirius panted, softer now, as he gnawed the sharp line of Severus’ jaw and down to his throat. “I’ll come if you touch me,” he explained, breathless. “I swear I’ll come.”
“Fuck—Sirius,” Severus whimpered, writhing against him, because the mere thought of Sirius Black’s hard cock spurting at his touch had his balls tightening and his slit starting to drip with anticipation.
“Yeah, ‘fuck’ is the word, eh?” he almost laughed, biting down hard enough on the tendon in Severus’ throat to make him buck and whine. He tried to go further, but the green and silver scarf was in his way, and he swore into Severus’ skin as he attempted to get beneath it. “Oh, fuck this lot!” he snapped, letting Severus’ wrists go so suddenly that Snape didn’t even let them drop. Sirius pulled back enough to fish his wand out of his jacket, and the next moment Severus found himself tied to the torch brackets with his own scarf.
“Oi!” he started to protest, but it died in his throat when Sirius pressed against him again and sank his teeth into the place where his neck met his shoulder.
“Much better,” Sirius said with a breathless chuckle, lapping at the bite before drawing back. “Hmm. Except for that scarf.”
“What?” Severus blinked, still not processing coherent thought with any speed.
“I still say you’d look much better in Gryffindor colors,” Sirius grinned, eyeing the scarf.
“Don’t you dare!” Snape managed to pant, but Sirius had waved his wand again, and whatever was binding his wrists suddenly felt very different.
“Compromise, eh?” Sirius said, jamming his wand back into a pocket. Severus had only the barest chance to look up and see that his House scarf had become a garland of fresh greenery, all soft, scented needles and milky berries. He didn’t have time to either admire it or protest, however, because now that Sirius’ hands were free, they were moving all over his body, tugging his shirt out of his trousers, sliding up his ribs and delving down under his belt. In fact, Severus couldn’t even think of protesting. All he could do was thrash his head and groan as Sirius Black’s warm fingers plunged into his trousers and palmed his swollen cock.
“Circe’s tits!” Black gasped, his hand curling around Snape’s length. “Your knob’s like a rock!” Severus would have agreed, but before he could, Sirius was yanking at his belt, tearing at his flies and tugging down the waistband of his drawers. “Oh fuck!” Black moaned as he pulled his cock free, and Severus whined and thrust his hips at the feel of the chill air on his swollen flesh.
“Sirius—please!” he panted, not caring that he was using Black’s name, not caring that he was begging for it.
“Fuck yes!” Black was gasping, frantically working at the buttons of his jeans. “Oh, fuck yes, you’re dripping! You’re so hard you’re fucking wet
!” Severus whimpered and rocked his hips in agreement, moisture pulsing from his slit as he watched Sirius shove his jeans down to his thighs. Sirius wasn’t wearing any pants and his prick popped free, hard and thick and with its own bead of moisture showing at the slit.
“Oh Merlin!” Severus groaned, feeling the deep spasms starting under his balls at the sight of Sirius’ cock, but then he was staring up to the vaulted ceiling because Sirius was against him again, warm and desperate, and they were cock to cock, writhing against each other in a frenzy, panting into each other’s shoulders as moisture mingled and hot, silken flesh slid together. Sirius’ breath was loud in his ear, and Sirius fingers were digging into his arse, pulling him into each thrust as he grunted and drove against him.
“So good!” Sirius growled under his jaw, nipping and holding him with his teeth. “God, so fucking hot!”
Severus could feel it starting – feel the muscles in his arse and behind his balls starting to clench, feel the bottom fraying out of his stomach and the top of his head unravelling – and just then, with a throaty growl, Sirius reached between them and grasped their pricks together. Severus felt their foreskins sliding against each other, felt the broad, moist head of Sirius’ cock press into his, felt their slits meet like tiny mouths, and it was too much.
“Sirius!” he howled, arching back and shuddering as he came, straining against his evergreen bonds as the cold fire of his release shocked through him and his cock spurted against Sirius’ soft-hard flesh. It didn’t seem like it would ever stop – his balls contracting again and again, the sweet shock of relief as the semen pulsed out of him – and then Sirius was groaning like something wild and wounded, fingers sinking into him like claws. Severus felt the hot burst of Sirius’ own release pump over – almost into – his own prick, and he nearly fainted with the intensity of it. Another warm spurt of come washed over his slit, and Sirius’ hand was moving, sliding up and down, mingling their releases, and it was too much too much too much
as his legs turned to liquid and he hung, nearly senseless, supported only by the press of Sirius’ body and the garland binding his wrists.
The two of them leaned together – Sirius’ breath still grating through him, Severus barely breathing at all – until Sirius groaned and Snape felt a strong arm encircle his waist to hold him up.
“Fuck,” Sirius was still panting, still trembling. Severus could feel the sweat running down Black’s face, drenching his hair, even falling on his leather jacket like mist. “Bloody—cunting—fuck.”
Severus supposed his brain must have been regaining some function because Sirius just kept repeating the word ‘fuck’ and Severus finally groaned and said “But we didn’t.” That stopped Sirius’ repetition.
“What?” he said instead.
“You keep saying ‘fuck’,” Severus explained, feeling much more like a liquid than a solid at that moment. “But we didn’t.”
Sirius paused, and Severus didn’t have to look at his face to know he was grinning. “Ah, don’t worry. We will.”
“I saw you leave,” Severus mentioned. He was slowly coming back to himself, at least enough to know that he still sounded dazed, and probably a bit stupid. Normally that would have irritated him, but with Black leaning against him, and their half-hard cocks still pressed together, and the musky scent of their releases mingling with the heady fragrance of pine and mistletoe, it was difficult to feel irritated about much of anything.
“Obviously, I must have come back, then,” Sirius grunted.
“What about Potter?” He couldn’t quite manage to keep the sneer out of his voice on that word. It was far too ingrained. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Sirius just chuckled.
“Told him I’d be along tomorrow. Hinted I had to pick up his presie in Diagon Alley. He didn’t fuss too much about it after that.”
“Hmph. Do you?”
“Nah,” Sirius admitted, pulling back and blinking at Snape with heavy, pleasure-glazed eyes. “Only had one Christmas present to see to, really.”
“Oh? Which one?” Severus twisted his arms experimentally, the brush of the pine needles soft against his skin and the fresh burst of fragrance sharp in his nostrils. He had the distinct feeling he’d never again be able to walk through a pine forest without getting hard.
“The one you’re getting right now, ducks,” Sirius snorted. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“I noticed you seem to be rather enjoying it yourself,” Severus remarked, but not very pointedly.
“Works out nicely, eh? So,” Sirius said, tilting his head and almost smiling. “What say we continue our gift exchange some place a bit warmer? Say, my bed in the very empty Gryffindor dorm?”
“Your bed?” Sirius must have interpreted the shock in Snape’s voice as a protest because he rolled his eyes and huffed.
“Or yours, if those cold, draughty dungeons are empty. Wherever you like. We’ve nearly a whole bloody castle to fuck in, name your pleasure.”
“Your cock,” Severus answered immediately, and when Sirius blinked at him, confused, he managed a one-shouldered shrug. “You said ‘name your pleasure’, idiot. I just did.”
“So you did,” chuckled Sirius, and with that he grabbed the back of Snape’s head, pulled him forward and kissed him soundly. “Happy Christmas, git.”
“Happy Christmas, prat.”
Usually, those words were just an empty greeting, but this time, standing half-naked and bound with evergreen in the cold, dank corridor, they made Severus Snape feel rather warm.