Originally posted May 14, 2007Title:
Come Again?Author: r_grayjoyArtist: artisticentropyCharacters:
Large images, like Whoa - This contains a complete comic adaptation of the story so dial-up users beware. Also voyeurism, wanking, and slash.Kinks chosen:
autagonistophilia as defined in Sex-Lexis.com
, and gay men - since it's Snape/SiriusWord Count:
Severus discovers something he isn't meant to see… or is he? Slytherin ambiguity meets Gryffindor roundabout. Author's notes:
Huge thanks to themostepotente
, and everyone who listened to me piss and moan during finals week. Additional thanks to the awesome mods who shuffled the schedule to accommodate this collab.
Despite the external stresses, this project was loads of fun, and I hope we get to do it again some time. Thanks, artisticentropy
! (Sirius + Pillow = OTP!)
Happy National Masturbation Month, everyone! :DArtist's notes:
Many thanks to scribeoffate
for looking at my p0rn and putting up with me working on this every spare moment i've had for two weeks. :P And of course, major kudos to r_grayjoy
who got this banged out with just enough time to spare for me to finish this, even though it was her finals week! I too, hope we get to do it again some time! DD Mods, you rock for rearranging the schedule for us!
As he rose to his feet in the overgrown churchyard, Severus was eminently thankful for the featureless mask that concealed the bitter twist of his lips. He could maintain an impassive expression when need be, of course, but some times required greater effort to do so than others. Having neither the inclination nor the resolve to stay any longer than necessary, he considered his destination for half a heartbeat, then Disapparated, leaving a resounding crack
echoing through the night in his wake.
Arriving in the street in front of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Severus quickly reduced the mask and stashed it in the folds of his robes as he approached the house. The meeting had not been truly awful
as Death Eater assemblies went, but it had not been especially productive either. The Dark Lord had largely ignored Severus, which meant that he had endured no scrutiny or chastisement, but also that he had gained no new insight. Significant information had been frustratingly scarce of late, and he was fed up with navigating a circle of half-mad zealots for little to no gain.
Severus pushed open the front door with its peeling black paint and stepped inside the darkened entryway. He hadn't wished to return to Hogwarts right away. If he encountered one of the students -- Potter especially -- in his present disposition, he wasn't certain he'd be able to prevent himself from hexing them inside out. The dreary hush of Twelve Grimmauld, however, suited his mood perfectly. No one was likely to be around Order Headquarters now, aside from the resident mongrel. Black had been spending most of his time holed up in his room with a bottle of firewhisky, or so rumour had it; the wretched sot was probably passed out by now. And if he didn't have sense enough to stay out of Severus' way… well, Severus wouldn't precisely turn down an opportunity to find out whether the years in Azkaban had dulled Black's dueling reflexes.
Silently, Severus made his way past the portrait of the deceased Black matron and up the stairs. Upon entering the drawing room, he spotted a half-full bottle of firewhisky with an empty tumbler beside it and smirked.
Perhaps his guess as to Black's present condition wasn't entirely unfounded. He considered the tumbler for a moment, then Scourgified it before pouring two fingers of the potent liquid. Picking up the glass, he slumped irritably into the nearest threadbare chair.
For all that he might goad Black for being utterly useless to the Order, Severus' own efforts in recent weeks had been ineffective at best. If he couldn't find a way to gain access to the Dark Lord's inner circle soon, then he was a failure in his role as a spy, and served no purpose. With a venomous snarl, Severus tossed back the firewhisky and set the tumbler down harder than he intended. Rising from his seat, he paced the room restlessly, then stalked back out into the hallway.
Immediately Severus noticed a door, open a few inches, allowing warm light to spill out into the darkened hallway, and he drifted towards it like a troubled spectre in search of life. Hearing a bump and a creak, his mind immediately leapt to Black, his pulse quickening at the thought of confrontation, distraction. Another faint sound, something like a groan, came from beyond the door, and Severus wondered whether Black was now regretting the firewhisky. If so, Severus would be certain to gleefully enhance his misery.
Upon reaching the door and peering inside, Severus froze in surprise at the wholly unexpected sight that greeted him. Sprawled out on a large bed in the middle of a once-opulent bedroom lay Sirius Black, as nude as the day he was born. Although he might have been lying down, he certainly did not appear to be prostrate with drink. Black let out another breathy sound as he ran the tips of his fingers lightly over his thighs and up his torso, and as Severus watched, Black's half-hard cock twitched and thickened, rising up to rest against his stomach.
Standing motionless in the doorway, Severus looked on with the mingled horror and sick curiosity of one watching a high-speed broom collision. The light of a half dozen candles flickered and danced over Black's form as he continued his languid exploration, as yet oblivious to the fact that he had been caught. Although the years spent in Azkaban had clearly left their mark, Black was still far more handsome than he should have been; tall, lean, and moving with the lazy, careless grace that always made Severus want to hex him on principle. He brushed his fingers down the length of his shaft experimentally and gasped as his cock leapt, seeking further friction. At last he wrapped his fingers around himself and began to stroke.
The corner of Severus' mouth slowly curled into a wicked smirk as he realised the potential for blackmail and humiliation -- assuming, of course, Black was even capable of shame. With this thought in mind, he continued observing and began to consider the ways in which he might turn this discovery to his advantage. * * * * *
Sirius set a slow, steady rhythm, rolling his foreskin up over the head of his cock languorously, drawing out his pleasure and that of his watcher. He had known the moment the other had finally come to the door, and he had quickly hardened at the sense of an unseen gaze falling on his heated flesh. Spreading his legs a bit wider, he slid his other hand down to roll his swollen bollocks in his palm. He might no longer be as attractive as he once was, yet if he lacked anything in looks, he knew how to make it up in presence.
As he tilted his head back against the pillows, Sirius' hair fanned out and exposed the line of his neck. He arched his back slightly, putting on his best performance, making it good for his audience. It was the first time in weeks that he hadn't felt invisible, forgotten in this wretched house, and it was intoxicating to be desired, to be desirable
, even if only for a short while. Head swimming with arousal, Sirius bit his lip and groaned with want, shifting his hips and pressing up into his hand. * * * * *
When he grew undeniably, distressingly hard beneath his robes, Severus told himself it was merely an automatic physical reaction to the erotic scene playing out before him; he was absolutely not
attracted to his old adversary. His eyes were drawn to the tip of Black's cock where moisture had begun to bead and glint in the candlelight, and he swallowed thickly and licked his dry lips. Black twisted his fingers in the duvet as he picked up his pace, squeezing his eyes shut and writhing wantonly. Severus' hand seemed to move of its own volition, palm sliding down the front of his robes to press roughly against his hardened length, seeking to take the edge off the ache.
Black was gasping and panting unabashedly now, and Severus found himself breathing raggedly along with him. His fingers absently traced the outline of his cock though the fabric of his clothing, and he felt his pulse beat rapidly in this throat, in his chest, in his groin. His hand moving swiftly, Black rocked his hips up off the surface of the bed in time with his strokes and Severus knew intuitively that it couldn't go on much longer. A low, rich moan turned into a hoarse shout as Black stiffened, his climax pulsing out of him in thick spurts. It was nearly too much, too intense; Severus gripped the doorframe, clenched his teeth, and fought not to come virtually untouched like a boy half his age.
Severus was still struggling to master himself when Black's lazy voice drifted though the doorway. "So, are you going to come in here and join me now? Or do you need more of the liquid courage I left out for you first?" That arrogant bastard!
Severus' head snapped up at Black's words and the implications thereof. For a moment he considered retreating quickly and quietly, leaving the smug prick without an audience and with his own dignity more or less in tact. In the end, however, his desire to get the better of the still-very-nude lout won out.
Grateful for the concealing nature of his robes, Severus threw the bedroom door open and strode purposefully into the room, looking for all the world as though he didn't have a raging erection. "I don't know which is more pathetic, Black; that it requires large quantities of alcohol in order for one to bear seeing you in flagrante delicto
, or that you're aware of it."
Severus would have given a limb in exchange for a wizarding camera at that moment. Letting out a high-pitched squawk, Black vaulted up from the bed. Simultaneously he shot out one arm to snag a gaudy, gold-embroidered pillow which he clutched in front of himself in an absurd attempt to preserve his modesty. Severus pointedly smirked at the streak of come that was still evident on Black's stomach. "You were expecting someone else, I take it?"
"Well I sure as hell wasn't expecting you
!" Black replied defensively, swiping at the moisture and flushing a most brilliant shade of red.
"And yet you got off on being watched by me just the same," Severus remarked. "I always knew you were an indiscriminate exhibitionist, Black."
"Yeah, well you didn't exactly leave in disgust once you saw what was going on," Black shot back. "Liked what you saw, did you, Snape?" The taller man took one aggressive, swaggering step forward, the effect of which was no doubt lessened by the fact that he was still clinging to the ridiculous pillow.
Holding his position, Severus rolled his eyes and replied in a bored tone, "You couldn't turn me on with a lust potion at your disposal."
The corners of Black's mouth curled up into the mocking smile that Severus knew so well. "Yeah? Well it's hardly my fault you're incapable of performing
." He was so wonderfully predictable, Severus thought.
Careful to hold Black's gaze, Severus drawled, "I assure you, I'm more than capable of performing up to your
standards, Black… when properly motivated."
Severus watched his adversary's face closely as the gears turned in his Black's head, and awaited his response. After a long moment, Black took another step forward. He was close enough now that Severus could feel the heat radiating from his bare flesh, and Severus forced himself to maintain an impassive expression even as his pulse raced. "That sounded like a challenge, Snape," Black said in a quiet, dangerous tone.
There was another pregnant pause before Severus cut through the palpable tension with a derisive snort. "I know better than to issue a challenge to a Gryffindor. You lot are physiologically incapable of backing down from one." It was a constant in the universe upon which Severus was counting, in fact.
The gauntlet thrown down, Severus abruptly turned on his heel, the hem of his robes whipping against Black's legs, and strode towards the exit. "Oh, and Black?" Severus shot over his shoulder as he paused in the doorway. "I intend to return on Wednesday. I suggest you either behave accordingly or close the door." * * * * *
After watching Snape sweep from the room like some great, melodramatic bat, Sirius sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Realising he was still holding the pillow, he lobbed it across the room with a snort. "Well, Padfoot, way to make a complete arse of yourself," he muttered in disgust. Although that wasn't precisely what had happened, was it? Confused and disbelieving, he played the last few minutes over again in his mind.
Sirius wasn't accustomed to Slytherin ambiguity, but neither was he an idiot, and the only conclusion he could draw was that Snape - tetchy, skulking, scrawny Snape
-- had been coming on to him. The very idea was positively ludicrous, but there he had it. The question was, what was Sirius going to do about it? Do about it?!
Sirius' mind howled at him. I'm not going to 'do' anything 'about' it! It's
Snape, for fuck's sake!
Yet even as he mentally protested the notion, it felt like a shallow self-deception. After all, he had to admit it would be nice to have it off with someone… and to not be bored and alone in the dismal house for a change. Snape might not be his first choice as companions went, but no one else had come to the door tonight.
Pushing that thought aside quickly, Sirius recalled Snape's parting words. Wednesday. He had plenty of time to consider the ways in which he might deal with Snape before Wednesday came. This time he'd be prepared for the sneaky git. And maybe - just maybe - he'd leave the door cracked.