Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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4th June 2009 09:17 - [fic] What Master Wants (Master Gets) lucius/regulus, severus/regulus
Title: What Master Wants (Master Gets)
Author: [info]iamisaac
Characters: Lucius/Regulus, Severus/Regulus (implied Severus/Narcissa, Lucius/Narcissa)
Rating: NC17
Warnings: D/s, spanking,
Themes/kinks chosen: Swinging
Word Count: ~2900
Summary: Regulus wants nothing more than to do anything Lucius wants. Except one thing...
A/N: Many thanks to [info]drachenmina for some fabulous beta-ing into shape.

“Eager little slut, aren't you?” Lucius mocked, as Regulus almost fell down the stairs in his hurry to kneel at his Master's feet.

“Yes, Master,” Regulus, eyes lowered, assented.

Lucius strolled through to the lounge, Reg following behind, still on his knees.

“So what is it that you want? Do you want to suck me off here and now, the first minute I get in? Do you want to crawl and grovel for me, begging for any scraps of attention I might pay you? Do you want me to push you down and fuck you until you scream?”

“Yes, Master.” Regulus tried with little success to keep the desperate note of need from his voice.

“'Yes, Master' – which?”

Lucius's hand was beneath his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. It was the only time at which Regulus was allowed to meet Lucius's eyes – when Lucius chose to let him. Always he chose moments when Regulus was on the point of begging, ashamed by the strength of his desires. Regulus tried to look away, but Lucius was firm.

“All of them,” Regulus whispered. “Master – please!”

Lucius laughed and let go. “And you beg so prettily,” he drawled. “It seems almost a shame to refuse you.”

“Refuse?” Regulus looked up instinctively, and felt the palm of Lucius's hand hard across his cheek for his temerity.

“You do not look at me unless I allow it,” he hissed.

The blow had been a heavy one, but Regulus dared not raise his hand to press it against his face. He bit deep into his lip, trying not to gasp with the pain. Lucius did not like his slave to complain about his treatment.

“Sorry, Master,” he muttered. “But what...”

The slap was to the same cheek, burning him. “Nor,” said Lucius dangerously, “do you ask questions. Your job, little slut, is to do as I wish. And tonight it is not me whom you will please but another.”

“I don't understand. Master,” Regulus added hastily, fearing he would earn another blow.

Lucius ran a finger over Regulus's silver collar – the sign of his enslavement. “Are you my property?” he demanded.

“You know I am, Master.”

“To do with as I will?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.” And the long fingers caressed the bruised cheek. Regulus leaned into the touch, desperate for any sign of affection from his Master. “You will prove it tonight.”

“Of course!” Regulus remembered to keep his eyes on the floor as he protested his willingness to obey.

“I have...” Lucius paused, apparently searching for the word. “...a friend. Tonight it is my will that you will please him as you have pleased me so often.”

“You mean...”

“I mean” - and Lucius's hand was back on the collar with a firmer grip - “that you will give yourself to him. That you will treat him with the respect you give me, and obey his every whim. If he says jump, little one, you jump. If he wants to whip you until you are crying with the pain, you'll beg him for more. Whatever he wants, my slut, you're going to give it to him. Understood?”

“But Master...” Regulus protested, feeling a freezing fear wash through him. He knew Lucius; knew that Lucius knew his limits and would respect them; trusted Lucius with his life. Someone else, though. Someone who Lucius was clearly anxious to please. Reg thought of Lord Voldemort, thought of those spindle-like fingers against his skin, and only just avoided shuddering.

“Are you going to disobey me?”

“No, Master.”

No, he would not disobey – did not dare, if he wished Lucius to keep him – but oh, how he feared...


When he heard the knock on the door, Reg jumped, obviously enough to be evident to his Master.

“Afraid?” Lucius asked.

“No, Master,” Reg lied.


Lucius laughed as he went to the door, and Regulus felt the clammy fear assault him again. If he messed this up... if Lord Voldemort were not satisfied... it would rebound on Lucius as much as it would on him. Regulus feared bringing disfavour on his Master even more than on himself. He heard the murmur of voices at the front door, and dug his fingernails into his palms in order to prevent his anxiety being clear to both men. The footsteps came closer. Reg had his back to the door, and struggled not to turn, not to look. He dug the nails ever deeper into his flesh.

“Well, my little one?” Lucius's voice was gentle.


Regulus could see no more than the shoes of his prospective lover, yet even there he felt an element of confusion. These were not what he would have expected of the Dark Lord.

“Well, Severus?” Lucius said; and it took all of Reg's self-control to prevent him gasping with shock.



“Well trained, you say?”

And it was Snape's voice, his sneering, cold tone. Regulus had had hatred for this man drilled into him even before he entered Hogwarts's portals. The alienation of Sirius from his family somehow didn't remove the feeling of dislike which Sirius had wrought in Reg, more especially as Severus had done little to endear himself to his fellow Slytherin during their schooldays together. And he was supposed to - was expected to - give himself to this man, to grovel and submit to this half-blood? Lucius... How could Lucius demand this of him? He felt the light touch of Lucius's hand on his head, but for once it didn't soothe. Like an animal, he wanted to hiss and spit at the interloper Severus – the man who dared to push himself between Lucius and him.

“Very well trained.” And the hand on his head was firmer, as if warning Regulus that he must behave, must stay obedient, no matter what his state of outrage.

Reg heard the footsteps as Snape walked around him, inspecting him from every angle. It took every ounce of determination not to look up and glare at him, to wait for Severus’s comments and not to speak.

“Very well. You can leave us now, Lucius.”

A sentence which only outraged Regulus more – that the half-blood should dare to dismiss Lucius in his own house, as if Lucius were nothing but a servant. He felt hatred run through him as Lucius walked to the door, closing it softly behind him. As soon as Lucius had left, Reg raised his head and looked straight at Severus. It was an act of rebellion, of defiance: But this was not Lucius. This was Snape, who after all was nothing more than a dirty half-blood. Regulus despised him and was not afraid to show it. Severus looked back with impassive gaze, not blinking.

“Well trained, your Master said,” Severus murmured dispassionately. “I confess I do not see much evidence of it.”

“For him I am,” Reg retorted.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “And he has ordered you to obey me, has he not?” Regulus's eyes dipped for a hundredth of a second before returning to stare at Snape. “I see he has.” Severus sounded amused. “Are you going to do it?”

With reluctance, Reg lowered his eyes to the floor again. “For him,” he said bitterly, “not for you.”

“It matters not.”

Regulus, his muscles tense with fury, waited for Severus to speak again, to claim his obedience. Nothing happened. When he next raised his eyes a little, subtly trying to work out what the hell was going on, he found that Severus had moved, and was sitting on the sofa - Lucius's sofa, apparently utterly at ease. Damn him.

“Well?” Reg demanded, trying to keep the worst of his aggression out of his voice.

“Not particularly well at all,” Severus said coolly.

Regulus straightened his arms, pressed his hands flat to the floor, eyes still lowered. “What do you want me to do? Beg? For you?” Despite his best intentions, he could not keep the derision out of his voice.

“I expect you to do what Lucius would require of you.”

Reg winced. Lucius. His Master had instructed him to please. He'd been told to bend to Severus's every whim and he couldn't. He couldn't. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of prostrating himself at Snape's feet. Bowing and scraping to a greasy, big nosed, half-blood. He wouldn't do it. He couldn't.

He must.

“Yes,” he said, doing his best to sound subservient.

“Yes what?”

Reg scratched his nails through the carpet. Snape wasn't his Master; he would not call him so.

“I will do as you wish.”

“Very well. Stand.” Regulus got to his feet, his eyes still fixed firmly on the ground. “Look at me,” Severus ordered. Slowly, grudgingly, Regulus looked at Snape. It was hard not to sneer, to keep his gaze subservient. Severus appeared completely oblivious to Reg's fury. “Undress,” he said.


“I believe you understand plain English. Take your clothes off.” Severus paused. “All of them.”

Severus was leaning back in apparent ease in his seat, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. Reg, filled with impotent fury, began to unbutton his robe, shrugging it off his shoulders until he stood naked but for his pants. Snape met his eyes.

“I said 'all of them,'” he said.

Reluctantly, Regulus removed his underwear. “Is that better?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Severus ignored his words, preferring to run his gaze over Regulus's body. He had no embarrassment about lingering on the groin area, apparently fascinated by Reg's flaccid penis.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered. Regulus ran his fingers over his arm, across his chest, and at last got a reaction. Snape leaned forward. “You know exactly what I mean,” he hissed. “I want to see your hand on your cock. I want to watch you make yourself hard, all the time knowing that I'm looking at everything you do, knowing that you're doing this for me. For me. Do you understand?”

If he says jump... you jump.

“Yes,” said Reg, feeling his hatred like a living thing.

And how – how? - could he get hard with that bastard watching him? As if he could produce an erection on the order of a greasy mongrel semi-wizard! He shut his eyes, tried to imagine that it was Lucius sitting in front of him, Lucius's grey eyes raking his body.

“Open your eyes, Black.” And the loathing, oh the loathing, as Snape said that name. Regulus knew why, too.

“I'm not Sirius,” he said as he stared at Severus.

“I know,” Snape said, his mouth curving in a sardonic smile. “But you look like him. And – what do you think your brother would say if he knew you were plying your trade for me? Does he know you're Lucius Malfoy's slave, that you treat him like a god? So much that you'll do everything and anything I say, anything I want, just because he's told you to?”

“None of your business.”

Snape's smile grew. “But it is, Regulus Black. I can say anything I like, and you're just going to stand there and take it. Unless I want you kneeling at my feet – and if I do, you'll do that, too, won't you?”

If he wants to whip you until you are crying with the pain, you'll beg him for more.

This was worse than physical pain, and Reg knew that Severus knew it.

“Yes,” he gritted.

Snape nodded. “Continue,” he said, leaning back again.

Reluctantly, Regulus lowered his hand until it encircled his prick. He moved slowly, unwilling to seem eager, but to his annoyance his cock sprang to life, almost despite himself. Severus's cheeks had a slight stain of colour: they were pinker than Reg had ever seen them in their schooldays; and he was making no attempt to hide his own arousal. Regulus hated him with an ugly passion, and the words were out before he could stop himself.

“When did you last have sex?” he demanded. “Ever?”

Snape's eyes remained fixed on him. “An impertinent question,” he said softly. “But despite that, I shall answer it. Two days ago. A Black then, and a Black now: coincidental, no?”

Reg's expression was as near a snarl as a human face could get. “Sirius would never...”

But Snape cut across him. “If you think,” he hissed, his own face contorting in response, “that I would even consider touching Sirius Black, you are mistaken.”

“You said...”

Severus had regained his composure. “There are other Blacks in this world.” Then, as Regulus looked his question, “Narcissa. A pleasant dalliance” -and Severus's expression was bland as he continued - “I believe Lucius will enjoy her attentions this evening.”

His meaning was evident, but Regulus shook his head angrily. “You're lying!”

“And you have gone too far,” said Severus, his voice dangerously quiet. “Come here.” Reluctantly, Reg walked towards the sofa. “Face down on the sofa,” Snape said. “You are acting like an insolent brat, and that is precisely how you are going to be treated.” Regulus knelt down and buried his head on the sofa. “Oh no.” The sinisterly polite tone was more menacing than any threats or shouting. “I want you across my lap. Act like a spoilt child and I will treat you like one.” There was a moment's pause as Reg took in what was expected of him. His eyes met Severus's. “Now,” said Snape coldly.

Flushed with humiliation, Regulus positioned himself across the sofa and Severus's lap, his arse exposed. He could feel Snape's erection through the man's robes, and had to force himself not to jerk away.

“Like this?” he asked, failing to keep the anger out of his voice.

He got not a spoken answer but a swat on the buttocks which made them sting. Regulus twitched with the shock: although he had known what was coming, the indignity of being spanked was not something he could bear lightly. Even Lucius had never treated him thus - he had been slapped or punished many times before, but never in such a demeaning fashion. Severus did not answer his question, continuing to smack Reg with rhythmic monotony. Each slap thrust Regulus's cock down so that it pushed against Severus's own, and the worst humiliation of all was that Reg could feel himself getting harder as his prick rubbed against Snape's.

His arse tingled from the punishment, and his eyes were watering slightly; yet as the spanking continued, Regulus realised that somewhere inside him, he was getting pleasure – sexual pleasure – out of what was happening to him. And Severus could not be unaware of it, not be unaware that Reg was reaching a point of mortifying ecstasy, to the extent that he could barely keep himself from wriggling in the man's lap, bringing himself off at the same time that Snape was smacking him. He heard himself groan, and hoped that Severus would believe it was from pain.

“You like that, don't you, Regulus Black?”

“No.” It was an instinctive lie.

Severus laughed. “No, you hate it,” he mocked, reaching his other hand under Regulus, holding the almost solid erection. He slapped Reg again, making sure Regulus knew he was aware of the way his cock twitched in his hand. “You hate it.”

“Yes,” muttered Regulus, desperately.

“Whatever I want” - and Snape's voice was amused - “you'll give to me. Lucius told me so.”

“Yes,” said Regulus again; but he had never expected to want to obey. Never expected to be biting back a plea to Severus to fuck him. “Merlin,” he whispered, helplessly.

“And you want to give it to me, Regulus Black. Sirius Black's brother, and you're desperate for me to take you.” Snape's voice was cruel as he made things clear. His hand tightened around Regulus's prick, before he let go entirely.

“Please...” The word forced its way past Reg's lips, unbidden.

“You just need to ask.”

'Just.' When it was utter abasement to a man he despised.

“Please,” Regulus said again, this time knowing what he asked.

“I will,” Severus promised. “I will...”

He rolled Regulus onto his back, pushing his legs in the air. Severus's skill with lubricating spells was unexpected, but so much had been unexpected this evening.

“Oh god,” Reg said, the words turning to a scream as Severus penetrated him, striking his prostate so hard that Regulus nearly fainted from the agony and ecstasy mixed. It took little more for him to come; little more pressure before he found himself crying out Severus's name - begging, screaming, “please – Severus – yes,” over and over.


Lucius married Narcissa.

Regulus died.

Severus, perhaps, would have preferred that fate.
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