ellid (ellid) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2007-09-17 22:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: ellid, kink: bondage, kink: legilimency sex, remus/severus |
Fic: Knowledge of Desire
Title: Knowledge of Desire
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: what does one buy for the man who hates everything?
Note: this is set during Motherless Child. It was originally posted for the old LJ Pervy Werewolf Valentine's Day Challenge, and is still one of the smuttiest things I've written. Also, those who remember the original story may note that I've corrected the original (very poor) Latin….
Kink: bondage, telepathic sex. :D
What does one buy for a man who hates everything?
That wasn’t strictly true. Severus loved books, the more unusual the better, which was why the built-in shelving in the sitting room was crammed with everything from Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable to crumbling paperback reprints of Dorothy Sayers and Ngaio Marsh. He enjoyed music, especially old torch songs and John Coltrane. And he had a secret passion for Muggle spy movies that Remus had discovered during a visit to Remus's mother in Milwaukee when he had caught Severus raptly watching Goldeneye late at night in the knotty pine horror that Americans called a "rec room.”
No, it was sentimentality that was the problem. Severus did not like cut flowers in the house, unless as a sprig of medicinals hung up to dry in the still room. Stuffed toys gave him as much joy as being informed that Pomona was retiring and he would be responsible for the Hufflepuffs until the end of term. Neither of them enjoyed cross-dressing, so lingerie and make up were out, and Remus had had so much chocolate pressed upon him during the War that he could not tolerate it in the house, let alone anywhere near (or on) Severus. And the mere idea of Severus smiling at a mushy greeting card and tucking it tenderly into his handkerchief drawer was grotesque. It was enough to make Remus dread Valentine’s Day as a sort of lover’s hell.
Nonetheless, it was February 14th, and he had no choice, especially since Severus had succumbed to the holiday spirit enough to owl him a beautiful old copy of The Duino Elegies. Last year Severus had been content with the gift of an African herbal guide and a quiet dinner at their old pub in Mayfair. This year, though -
First Remus had found the pup and brought it home just before pelt hunters killed its mother. Then the auror in charge of the case had decided that the poor mite would be safer at The Copper Beeches than a Ministry-run orphanage. And right after that Remus had gotten an emergency call from Hermione and Neville about possible familial curses laid on a clan of elves that had just been freed by an old Limousine family, and could Remus come help for a few hours? The hours had turned into a day, the day into several, and now it was Valentine’s Day, the shops near Hengewood House were closing, and Remus had the distinct feeling that it would take more than an herbal guide to prevent a truly spectacular explosion when he stepped through the floo.
He pushed through a crowd of shoppers, mostly male, mostly desperate to buy something that would pacify the missus after they stayed too long at the pub watching Aussie rules football. The one floo connection in Hengewood Parva was at the local apothecary’s, and she closed early. Something exotic or thoughtful might buy him enough time to talk Severus out of the inevitable snit so they could have a token celebration.
The wares at Miss Anodyne’s were, alas, mostly ordinary. Remus could make all but a handful of the potions and tinctures on the neat shelves himself, or at least recite the ingredients. The component bins were equally bland: feverfew and comfrey, High Joan the Conqueress root and tara powder, dried billywig legs and jobberknoll feathers and plimpy scales. The proprietress, a placid brunette Remus vaguely remembered as a seventh former when he was in the first, obviously stocked what would appeal to local families, not the best potions brewer in the UK.
God. Why am I even bothering? Remus glanced through the shop window at the florist’s across the street. They would be out of roses by now, but a spray of bird-of-paradise might just be strange enough -
One of the bottles in the window glittered faintly in the dying light. Remus leaned close to the display, pulled out his half-glasses to read the label, and frowned. Surely not!
“Excuse me, miss? That bottle in the window, the third from the right - yes, that one. Could you tell me a bit more about it?”
“Looking for a gift for your lady friend?” Miss Anodyne pulled an identical bottle from the shelf behind her. She smiled faintly as he blushed. “Now this is rather special. Scientia Libidinis - do you know what it does? I have a master brewer in Germany make it for me. You might have heard of him, gentleman by the name of Iheronimous Bruckner?”
Remus all but snatched the bottle from her hand. Yes, that was definitely Bruckner’s mark. He used it on his personal stationery as well as his bottles. “Oh, yes. A friend of mine knows him very well indeed. I’ll take it.”
The price was enough to make the part of him that remembered being poor gasp, but he wasn’t poor anymore. And it certainly made a better Valentine’s gift than a dozen roses that would shrivel inside a week before Severus shredded them and used them in his next batch of skin cream.
Scientia Libidinis. Remus tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace and stepped into the flames. This would be a night to remember.
* * * * *
Severus scowled as he walked into the silent house. The last owl from Remus had all but sworn he would be home sometime today, but of course the bloody Elf Manumission Collective had come first, along with the baby that seemed permanently ensconced in the second-best bedroom along with Barty Crouch’s discharged elf. He glared up at the ceiling, kicked off his boots, and hung up his cloak by the front door.
A plain sheet of paper lay on the stairs to the first storey. Severus closed his eyes and counted to ten in Hebrew before activating the locking spells and kneeling to pick up the note. He already knew it would say, and it was just like Remus to come home long enough to leave an “I’m so sorry they need me I’ll be home as soon as I can” note.
He sighed as he recognized Poppy Pomfrey’s slanted script. Had Remus even set foot in the house? And why was Poppy leaving notes in his foyer?
Dear Severus:
I couldn’t catch you at High Table tonight, so this is let you know that I’ve taken our little guest to the castle for observation. Winky believes he might be getting a cold, and I’d rather not take any chances given the season. I should have him back safe and sound no later than tomorrow evening.
Please give my best to Remus. Enjoy your evening!
Poppy
“’Enjoy your evening.’” Severus lowered himself to the bottom stair. It was Valentine’s Day, and Remus was in Wiltshire with Granger, Longbottom, and two dozen twittering elves. The only way he would enjoy an evening at Hengewood House would be if he drugged himself to the point where he could tolerate Longbottom‘s stuttering attempts at hospitality, and it wouldn’t be worth it. “Damn it, Remus - “
A bottle materialized in front of him with a brilliant flash. A note folded into the shape of a heart fluttered into his hands. He unfolded it and drew a sharp breath as he recognized the angular hand.
Drink the potion for a surprise. I’ve already taken my dose. Then wait for instructions.
He scarcely had time to read it before the note dissolved in a puff of scented air. “Remus?”
The words “DRINK ME” appeared on the potions bottle. “If this is from the Weasleys, Lupin, I will not - “
“DRINK ME” vanished, replaced seconds later by “DRINK ME, YOU PARANOID BUGGER” and a small dancing wolf. Severus could not help smiling slightly. Only Remus would enchant a Valentine’s gift to be sarcastic and enchanting at the same time.
“Very well.” He unscrewed the cap and took a sniff, automatically cataloguing the scents - angelica, rose, mindwort, grain alcohol, cupid pinfeather, pomegranate juice, all harmless - before taking a swallow. The liquid burned slightly going down, just enough to warm his throat and tongue. It tasted of sunlight and summer heat and the lovely dusty smell of a country lane on a hot July afternoon. Severus closed his eyes with a little sigh.
Something slipped across the surface of his mind. He automatically tried to shield, but the touch was so familiar it went straight through his defences. “Remus, what are you doing?”
You’ll find out in a few minutes. He could almost see Remus laughing. Go clean up downstairs. I’ll call you when I’m ready.
He really should ask Remus just how he had suddenly become a skilled legilimens after several years of failed lessons, but that could wait. Right now it was more important to do as Remus asked.
The downstairs bathroom was new, installed last summer after they had exercised their option to buy The Copper Beeches. It was primarily used for showering after a heavy session in the herb garden, although the laundry tub had been used to bathe a fully grown wolf on more than one occasion (or, why Moony now avoided the rare American skunkweed that had gone native in the Dark Forest). It was plain but clean, and had a full set of toiletries in the vanity.
The warm water felt good after a day spent trying to keep his NEWTs class from plying each other with love potions. Severus cleaned himself thoroughly inside and out, turned off the taps, and cast a drying charm on himself and the stall. He vaguely noticed that his spare toothbrush was ready for the dustbin, and that they were nearly out of mouthwash, but those could wait. Right now he wanted to go upstairs.
The laugh rippled across his mind. Ready, love? I am. A phantom hand snaked down his torso and around to his hip, as delicate as spring rains. I’m waiting -
He shuddered at the so-familiar touch. “And I’m coming.”
Oh no, not yet you’re not! The hand smacked him lightly on the rump. Not by yourself! This time soft lips pressed against his throat, and a tongue drew patterns over his skin. I’m in the bedroom -
He nearly lost his footing on the polished floor of the entry hall, right by the ancient sideboard that was one of two pieces remaining from his mother's family home, as another touch eased the trigger point just under his right shoulder. Their bedroom door was wide open, and he focused on it and only it as he somehow climbed the seventeen endless steps to the landing. The hands ghosting over his body were so strong and so insistent and he would never make it, never, not with those hands squeezing and caressing and making his back arch and that mouth nipping and licking and -
The only light in the room was from the fireplace. Severus closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the age-darkened wood of the doorframe to let his vision adjust to the flickering glow. Gentle hands smoothed his hair back from his face, glided across his cheeks to his lips. Open your eyes, love. Don’t be afraid.
“I’m not.“ Severus raised his head and turned toward the opposite corner of the room, where their bed was tucked securely into an alcove on the outside wall. The simple iron bedstead had been their first purchase when they decided to let the house, and despite all the talk of practicality (“my bed is school property and yours isn’t big enough for the long run - I know we have a limited budget, but we really don’t have a choice”) both knew it was as much a commitment as a bed. Other furniture had come later, from second hand shops and Remus’s relatives and the discard sales at Hogwarts, but the bed was completely theirs.
And now Remus lay waiting for him on the clean white sheets, a pillow under his shoulders and another under his hips, smiling and naked and glowing gold in the firelight, eyes molten as they reflected the softly dancing flames. The phoenix tattoo on his right shoulder fluttered its wings as he raised one leg and shifted into a more inviting position. Both hands were tied to the headboard with a loose twist of yellow and rose shot silk.
“Hullo, my love.” His voice was even huskier than usual. Severus shivered at the longing in the sound. “Welcome home.”
“I could say the same.” Severus walked across the cool wooden floor and eased himself onto the edge of the bed. He ran a fingertip along the centre line of Remus’s face, down the faint sun blotches on the forehead that were only visible in summer, the sharp straight nose, the softly curving lips and pointed chin. Remus made a tiny, almost inaudible sound at the touch, his breath catching in his throat. One hand clenched and unclenched on the gauzy silk.
How many times had he dreamed of this? Of Remus bound just enough to control without injury, his pleasure utterly dependent on what Severus would do and when he would do it? Of having all the time he wanted to touch and kiss and claim until the calm façade shattered and Remus thrashed and howled in his arms like a wild creature? How many times had he walked past the ladies’ scarf display at Madam Malkin’s on his way to the fitting rooms and wondered how many filmy lengths it would take to secure those graceful hands to the headboard?
And how many times had he stopped himself before he could suggest it? He had been composing a report near the end of the War when Jones and Fletcher and Nyphadora had burst into Grimmauld Place with Remus a dead weight in their arms, blood dripping onto Molly‘s clean floor from what looked like a hundred whip wheals across his chest and back. MacNair had caught him at last and done his best to see how much abuse a werewolf could take before dying, including tight silver manacles and silver-laced whips. The burns on his wrists had been so bad that Poppy had despaired of saving his hands until Albus had arrived with Fawkes.
Remus had recovered, thank God, and the hideous red scars were gone, spelled away years ago by a specialist from Lyons. But Severus had never dared suggest anything that involved tying Remus down or restricting his movements. The War had done enough damage without reviving memories best consigned to the trash.
“Severus, don’t.” Remus turned his cheek to nuzzle Severus’s right hand. His eyes were very bright. “This is my gift to you. Don‘t you dare reject it.” His lashes scraped lightly over Severus’s palm, the delicate little bristles tickling the skin. “Besides, I know exactly what you want, and why. And now that I know, I want it too.”
His voice had dropped to the low almost-growl that made Severus ache every time. He carefully pulled his legs up onto the mattress and moved to straddle Remus, leaning close enough to kiss the tangled hair. It smelled of spring meadows and fresh herbs.
“Do you now.” It was barely a whisper. “And what, pray tell, do you think I want?”
Remus stretched enough to nip lightly at his throat. “What do you want? You want me bound like this - “ he tugged at the silk “ - just enough to keep me from grabbing you and flipping you over and fucking you senseless. You want to lick every inch of me until I’m sweating and moaning your name and nearly throwing you off the bed, and then - ”
Severus kissed him, long and deep and thorough. Remus shivered and cried out as he carefully began working his way down his throat and shoulders and chest, teasing the phoenix until its wings stretched halfway down his arm, then licking his nipples until they were crinkled and hard.
“Don’t stop, oh God don’t stop don’t stop - “ please please please -
The mental voice sent a jolt straight to his cock. Severus pushed himself up into a crouch and deliberately swished his hair over Remus’s belly and thighs. The too-clean strands crackled with static as they brushed against the smooth golden skin. “What else do you think I want? Say it. Let me hear you say it.”
The next words were almost a sob. “Then you want to suck me until I’m so hard it hurts - “ yes sweet Jesus yes just like that just like that yes yes yes “ - and use your fingers - inside - me - “ oh GOD “ - no spells this time, just you getting me ready - and then - “
Severus spread his fingers by slow, careful increments. He had forgotten what power there was in using nothing but hands and mouth to make Remus arch and twist and cry out. The spells were easy, and perfect after a long day at the school when neither had the energy for more than a quick shag. But this - Remus slick with sweat, back curved enough to hurt, eyes glazing with lust and arousal - what could compare to this?
The salve jar floated over to him from its place in the bedside table, already open. Severus inhaled the heady scent of last summer and rubbed his fingers together to test the consistency. No commercial products would ever appear in their bed, not when he grew his own jasmine and angelica and rendered his own bases. He coated his fingers and slipped them back inside until Remus was all but in tears, then scooped out enough salve to coat himself from root to tip.
He kissed his way back up the slim hips and the flat belly just starting to soften with middle age, up over ribs and inner arms and the fluttering pulse in the throat. Remus moaned and tried to thrust upwards against his weight. “Severus - “
“You know what comes next.” He bit down on the swollen lower lip just enough to make Remus gasp. “You want me, don’t you? Don’t you?” He positioned himself and pressed forward.
Remus gasped at the pressure and tilted his pelvis upwards with a groan. His fingers clawed at the air.
- you’re all slick and ready and all you can think of is fucking me -
“Yes.“ It hurt to breathe, to hold still and listen to the mental voice. “Yes. And then I spread your legs - “
- one around your hips, one over your shoulder - you like it deep and hard and so do I so do I -
“And I kiss you again - “
- and push inside me, at just the right angle -
“And savour it, being inside you, so tight and eager - “
- and then you start to move faster faster harder until I’m begging and pleading -
“- tell me how much you want it - tell me how it feels, say it, say it - “
“ - more than anything, can’t get enough, I’ll die if you stop it feels so good so good so bloody good - “
He wrapped his hand around the pulsing erection and squeezed. Remus threw his head back in ecstasy and tightened the leg wrapped about Severus' waist, the headboard smacking against the wall as he jerked on the silk with both hands. Severus pulled once, twice, and clamped his mouth over Remus’s to swallow the scream as orgasm hit. His own body shook with the vibration of that cry, and he was coming hard, clutching at Remus as if he could somehow merge their flesh.
It seemed ages before he could lift his head and shift some of his weight off the smaller man. The air was heavy with sweat and musk and the echo of that last frenzied shout.
“Exsolve seres.” The silk untwisted and slithered to the floor behind the headboard. Remus whimpered at the loss of support and let his arms fall limp onto the pillows. Severus pulled himself upright and carefully began massaging each wrist in turn until Remus smiled and kissed his palm.
Severus murmured a cleaning spell. He waited for the faint tingle to dissipate before activating the banking charm on the fire and settling down beside Remus. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Remus turned onto his side and drew the bedclothes up over their shoulders. “I wanted to find something special for you this year after all the fuss.“
“Don’t apologize. It was wonderful.” He drew Remus’s head to his shoulder. “Scientia Libidinis? I can‘t think of anything else that would suit.”
“Got it in one. Never thought I’d find it in a little shop in Wiltshire, but there you have it.” Remus yawned and snuggled closer. His skin was still slightly damp to the touch. “Herr Bruckner’s best, or so Miss Anodyne said.”
The fire was warm on his back and shoulders, and the sheets were so soft. “Next year I’ll make it myself. And you’ll see what a real master can do.”
“I can hardly wait.” Remus sighed. “Happy Valentine’s Day?”
“Yes.” Severus closed his eyes. Their breathing fell automatically into sync. “Oh yes - ”