Ribbons (bronze_ribbons) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2007-09-27 21:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: bronze_ribbons, kink: fisting, remus/severus |
REPOST: assorted fisting drabbles
[You know, going through my archives for these reposts is unearthing some scary bunny-skeletons. I just came across an old discussion where I'd very briefly considered Lupin/Worf...]
Title: To Live and Add Again
Characters or Pairing: Lupin/Snape
Word Count: nine 100-word drabbles, linked
Rating: NC17
Warnings: fisting and schmoopiness. I think I blamed sor_bet and pixychelle for waking this bunny...
Original Challenge: lupin100's "100" challenge (each drabble had to mention some variation of the word "hundred"). First posted 6/20/2006.
A/N: Title is from Donne's The Anniversarie
Lupin knew that his lover enjoyed quantifying everything. It both baffled and delighted him, and occasionally drove him utterly demented, especially during arguments about household chores. ("I've told you a hundred times--!" "No, this is only the thirty-eighth." "That's still thirty-seven too many!")
He was flummoxed, however, when Severus informed him they were about to celebrate an anniversary. They'd commemorated their first "dinner with sex as dessert" (Severus refused to call it their "first date") earlier that year; the annual celebration of the Order's victory over Voldemort wasn't until November.
"Tonight will be the hundredth time you've fisted me."
~@~
"The-- what? How in the world have you been keeping track of that?"
Snape lazily flicked his wand at the tapestry in their bedroom, which suddenly shone with ninety-nine gleaming stars. Lupin had noticed the rich blue sky of the woven landscape becoming more populated, but he had never dreamed of there being a connection between the wall decoration and their kinkier acts of intimacy.
When he regained the use of his vocal cords, he simply asked, "Why?"
Snape answered, "Every time I allow you in like that-- it requires me trusting you. More than I have trusted anyone else."
~@~
Lupin could not tear his eyes away from the sky. "You-- this-- ninety-nine times. Ninety-nine times you were afraid…"
"Ninety-nine times you've filled me with so much light. More light than I'd thought I could possibly ever hold."
"Severus. I have never known anyone with so much capacity to love."
"Perhaps. You have also known so few people with so much capacity to hurt."
"You say that? Knowing who my friends were? Knowing the hundreds of werewolves I've had to mingle with?"
"Why do you think I hated you so much? That you loved Black and Potter instead of me…"
~@~
"Severus." They'd had this conversation so many times before, but he imagined they would be revisiting it for the rest of their lives. Some wounds never would heal completely.
"Severus," he tried again, placing his hands on the other man's shoulders. "You're here. They're not. And I never slept with either of them at all, never mind going as far as I have with you. Not once. Not ninety-nine times."
"And not a hundred," Snape growled, suddenly pushing Lupin to the bed and climbing on top of him.
"Not a hundred," Lupin agreed breathlessly. "Nor a hundred-and-one, nor a hundred-and-two…"
~@~
They'd made love more than a hundred times before, of course-- sometimes on a rug, sometimes against a wall, once in the snake house of a zoo-- and Remus really did like it best when they were in their own bed, regardless of how athletic or perverse or mundane they felt. He liked being able to sink into the reliable comfort of their mattress, ensconced within their elf-laundered linen sheets. He relished being able to Summon a glass of water or an extra jar of lube as needed. He liked knowing cleaning spells that didn't eradicate Severus's scent from the pillows.
~@~
He tried not to think about these things, however, because Severus had ordered him not to come. So much for tonight being the hundredth fisting, Lupin silently quipped.
Snape bit down on a nipple. "What makes you think we won't get to that tonight?"
Gasping, Lupin stared back at him. "What about those hundred-sickle tickets we'd purchased?"
Snape was not capable of looking innocent, but his expression was as bland as Lupin had ever seen it. "Owled them to Sinistra and her new gentleman."
Lupin rolled his eyes. "I should have wondered at your sudden tolerance for Puccini operas."
~@~
It was so very hard not to come, even with the cock ring tight around his balls. Lupin had already tried counting to a hundred, and counting backwards from a hundred, and concentrating on mentally constructing a list of a hundred things every Gryffindor should have tried by the age of fifty-- not that he himself had managed even half of the list, but most Gryffindors hadn't survived living half a century as a werewolf and a decade-plus as Severus Snape's lover. For that matter, he wasn't sure he would survive the next ten minutes: Severus's smile promised too much.
~@~
An orgasm and an infinity later, Lupin lay against Snape's chest, knowing he had once known how to breathe but remembering it as a faraway, long-forgotten skill. Snape's hands travelled up and down his arms and shoulders, soothing yet possessive. Soothingly possessive.
With James and Sirius and even Tonks, Lupin had felt that they loved him not for himself, but for the way he was a part of the Marauders. With Severus, he felt released from having to represent even a hundredth of someone else's accomplishments or priorities. Severus owned him in spite of the Wolfsbane, not because of it.
~@~
Two hours later, his fingers curled inside Snape's channel, Lupin whispers, "Mine. You, your sky, your sweat, your shivers--"
Snape trembles, taking in every syllable, the slow rotation of Lupin's knuckles an agonizingly exquisite punctuation to the hoarse words. "Yours," he manages to say. "A hundred times over. A hundred times more."
In reply, Lupin presses in even more, even though he is already in as deep as he can go. Snape cannot see Lupin's face, but he can visualize the fierce love that illuminates it.
A love that is entirely for him, he knows, and he cries out.