REPOST FIC: The Collar (RL/SS)
Title: The Collar Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Snape/Lupin Kink(s): girlbits!Snape and clothing relevant to same, orally and digitally adept!Lupin, misuse of Broadway musicals, wandplay Words: 7,000-ish Challenge: Repost. Originally posted April 2006 for LJ:Lupin_Snape's Fantasy Fest. Summary: When Remus Lupin stops in on Severus Snape, more than the past needs to be addressed. Notes: rexluscus had begged for a story in which "a spell or potion gives Snape girl bits. Details up to you. Pages and pages of explicit Lupin/girlbits!Snape sex. Again, details up to you. No MPREG, please." Beta'd by the goddess of gingerSnapes and eradication of unnecessary spaces, aunty_marion. The vision of Pilate in a lavender bustier is not original to me, alas -- I saw a production in Ann Arbor years ago featuring a female Pilate, and OMG was she hot. Ahem. Summary: When Remus Lupin stops in on Severus Snape, more than the past needs to be addressed. Disclaimer: No malice intended, no profit expected.
"That was the hottest Pontius Pilate I've seen in years," Remus Lupin said, "but I would have cast you as Jesus instead."
Severus Snape halted in mid-swipe and scowled at Lupin's reflection in his dressing-room mirror. "Because you would have enjoyed watching me take the forty lashes instead of ordering them, I'm sure. Are you going to let me finish with my makeup before you arrest me?"
Lupin's reflection frowned at him. "Why would I arrest you? I'm not here on behalf of the Order, and I'd prefer not to be on the wrong side of your wand anyhow."
Snape tossed the used towel into a bin and reached for a clean one. Smearing it with a fresh dollop of cold cream, he muttered, "I have no wands at hand. Literal or figurative."
"What!?" Dammit, Lupin looked sexy even with his jaw halfway to the floor. Especially with his jaw halfway to the floor, actually.
Snape turned to face his unexpected visitor. Without ceremony, he yanked down the elaborate lavender bodice covering his chest; it had been meant to pass as a corset without constricting his actual ability to sing.
Lupin retained his composure, but his eyes narrowed. "Finite incantantem."
When nothing happened, Snape was disappointed in spite of himself. "Do you know, for just a moment I was hoping against hope it would have been different when you said it. And princesses are resurrected every day by princes who happen along."
Lupin croaked, "For the love of Nimue, Severus, how did you end up with... that kind of endowment?"
Snape growled, "I don't know how. If I knew how, I could figure out how to fix it. All I know is that the damned gown didn't give Goldie Pleasam gonads when she played Lady Bracknell, so how was I supposed to know it would --" he gestured helplessly at his breasts. His unquestionably soft and inarguably female breasts.
Lupin looked both appalled and amused. "How would you have known whether it gave Goldie gonads or not?"
"There are no secrets in the Ontario theatre community, Lupin. If there'd been any untoward stretching of her pantyhose, every crew between here and Stratford would have been blabbering about it within thirty minutes."
Lupin leaned against the doorjamb, none too subtly eyeing Snape's groin and watching the other man flush as he did so. Finally, Lupin slowly said, "Have they at least been kind to your face?"
Severus instantly retorted, "Lupin, would anyone ever be kind to a face like this?"
"Oh, for pity's sake," Lupin said. "Why do you think I wanted to see you as Jesus?"
Snape shook his head, bemused. "I have never understood you. Anyone else would have slotted me in as Judas."
Lupin's smile tightened a fraction. "But 'so calm, so cool' fits me so much better, wouldn't you say?"
"You always were more like a woman than the rest of us," Snape jibed. "Plus, last I checked, you were some 'lover's fool.' Nymphadora Tonks's, to be precise."
"To be precise," Remus said, his smile still failing to reach his eyes, "she was the fool. To her credit, it didn't take martyrdom on her part or mine for her to finally realize it. Painful monthly indispositions on both our parts notwithstanding."
Snape opened his mouth -- and then shut it. He really didn't want to know. He really didn't want to care, either. But here was Remus Lupin in his dressing room -- and here he was, having literally just bared his breasts to the man.
Who was not as calm and cool as he was pretending to be. To his credit, however, Lupin merely said, "I take it they have been an inconvenience?"
Snape nodded. "To say the least. Lost my ideal role once word sped around about my new bust size."
"What would that have been? Brutus?"
Snape hurled the towel at him. "Salieri."
"With Harry as Amadeus," Remus stated, easily ducking the wad and letting it fall to the floor.
Snape glared. "You make it sound like a cliché."
Lupin shrugged a little too casually. "I knew Albus's God-complex was going to get us in trouble someday. Especially his penchant for inscrutability."
"Especially his penchant for playing favourites," Snape snarled.
Snape caught his breath, ambushed by the sudden quotation. "Where did you hear that?"
Lupin’s demeanour was still artificially casual. "What, Severus, are you the only half-blood entitled to enjoy classic Muggle poetry?"
"Lupin, cut line. Familiarity with West End hits is one thing. Familiarity with metaphysical poetry, no."
Lupin looked directly at him. "You left your books behind. I spent a fair amount of time with them."
Snape involuntarily flinched. It had been two years. "Better you than a bonfire, I suppose."
"Better than sighing and pining for what could not be," Lupin insisted.
"So why are you here?" Snape demanded. "There is no harvest here for you."
"All blasted, Severus? All wasted?" The faintest glimmer of wickedness appeared in Lupin’s eyes.
Snape started to say, "All, you bloody prick!" – but an almost imperceptible tremor in Lupin’s hands arrested him. He stared at his visitor, suddenly dumbstruck with a possibility he hadn’t allowed himself to contemplate before.
Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood, and not restore What I have lost with cordial fruit?
Aloud, he said, "but there is fruit, / And thou hast hands."
Watching Lupin closely, he did not miss the wild, terrible hope that suddenly illuminated the man’s face. It was there only for a fraction of a second, and then it was merely Lupin again, so determinedly flippant it made Snape’s teeth hurt.
"Ah, but I am ill-prepared for this, Severus."
"Do you know your contraception spells or not, Lupin?"
Lupin flushed. "I would have thought you would have wanted extra protection."
Snape stepped forward and breathed against Lupin’s ear. "A tree in the path of a tornado… what difference does it make what I catch from you?"
Lupin pulled back. "Are you so far gone that you don’t care at all!?"
Snape smirked, not pleasantly. "Au contraire. I’m not gone enough to recall you sowing any wild oats at all. I’d probably be more at risk doing a tumble with, say, Granger."
He could feel Lupin restrain himself from lunging at Snape, even though they were not yet touching. When the man managed to speak again, the words were rough with pain. "What do you want from me, Severus? Is this your idea of seduction or penance?"
Snape halted. That question sounded honest. "I don’t know if I want you to want me. But it matters to me that you do."
Lupin’s hand trembled as he lifted it up to Snape’s cheek. "I don’t know if you want my kind of wanting. But I do know that I want you."
"Then," Snape began, and drew Lupin’s other hand to his waistband.
Lupin’s hand automatically slipped underneath the cloth, gliding towards Snape’s cunt. Snape breathed in deeply as the unfamiliar fingers tentatively touched him between his legs.
"You’re dry," Lupin said, in an even, non-accusatory tone.
"Not from lack of desire," Snape answered. "Some…" he broke off, hearing the defensive note in his voice in spite of himself.
"It’s okay," Lupin soothed. "I’m not wholly inexperienced, Severus." His fingers continued to flicker lightly between Snape’s legs. "In fact," he murmured, "if you’re willing…"
Snape kept his voice as soft as Lupin’s. "Why does it matter so much to you, whether I’m willing?"
Lupin spoke against Snape’s collarbone, his fingers still playing underneath Snape’s knickers. "Because you have had so little in the way of choice. And because I prefer to be someone's choice."
"You were Nymphadora's," Snape pointed out.
"No," Lupin objected. "To fantasize is not to choose."
"So this is therefore not a fantasy," Snape answered, pressing his hand against the front of Lupin's trousers. "Most reassuring." As Lupin sharply inhaled, Snape lifted his arms to circle Lupin’s shoulders. "I choose you," he said, and sealed his mouth over Lupin’s as he thrust against the elusive fingers.
He could feel Lupin's smile begin to bloom even before they broke apart for air. "Like that, is it," Lupin said – and then he felt his hips and arse being bared to the skin as Lupin stripped away the bodice, knickers, and leggings that had constituted his costume.
The look in Lupin's eyes was wholly appreciative. As he ran a hand along Snape's thigh, he confessed, "If I thought there was anyone you could tell about this, I wouldn’t dare admit I’ve dreamed about this for years."
"You--" Snape swallowed the rest of his sentence as Lupin's mouth closed over a nipple. Oh, God. Lupin's tongue was flicking firmly over the nub, teasing it, bathing it, tugging on it – as his knees buckled, Lupin eased them both to the floor, settling Snape on top of him so that he sat on Lupin's lap, his crotch on top of Lupin’s groin, legs to either side of Lupin’s back.
He cried out as Lupin's teeth tugged more firmly on the nipple. Lupin's fingers slid up to his mouth and he desperately sucked on them as Lupin continued to tease his left breast with a combination of nips, tugs, and caresses. Just as he was beginning to float on the ache – not yet satisfied, but no longer in full command of his senses – Lupin drew his fingers away and swept them over the nipple of Snape’s right breast.
No longer afloat. Now drenched, Snape thought – drenched with desire. That was what it felt like, what those wet fingers were doing to him. And now Lupin was dampening the fingers of his other hand – the hand was splayed across Snape's left breast, and Lupin was licking each finger and licking between each finger at the breast exposed underneath, and alternating between each breast with his teeth and tongue in an irregular, irresistible feasting upon their fullness that was going to bring Snape to climax within moments. He arched against Lupin’s mouth and hands, seeking satiation, seeking oblivion –
And then Lupin wrapped an arm around his lifted arse and thrust a damp finger inside his folds. Snape gasped and bucked at the contact, but Lupin held him firm, rotating the finger against Snape’s vaginal walls before sliding in a second.
"I--" Snape wanted to thrash the man. So, so close. So, so tense. So ready to –-
"No harvest but a thorn, Severus," Lupin whispered, his voice hoarse, his fingers maddeningly steady. "No restoring of cordial fruit."
"Yes, yes, I know," Severus panted. "Take it -- it's yours -- it’s of no use to me!" Before the frown could fully materialize on Lupin’s face, Snape seized him and claimed his mouth once more, writhing against Lupin's hands.
When Severus released him, Lupin breathed, "Mine, then," and brought up his knees such that it forced Severus to drape backwards over them, lifting Severus’s vagina close to Lupin’s face. His fingers still sliding in and out of the slit, Lupin fastened his lips to Snape’s clit, massaging the nub with his tongue in tandem with his thrusting fingers.
"Oh my fucking--" Snape scrabbled wildly for something to scream into, but everything was out of reach – his clothes, the cushions, the chair – he couldn’t even bite Lupin, the way the man had him splayed and exposed on top of him. Helpless, he sank his teeth into his own fist as his body surrendered to Lupin’s ministrations, flailing and bucking against the possessive mouth and fingers.
Good God, he thought, dazed, as Lupin pulled out now-slippery fingers and pulled Snape close, cradling him. To think I used to call him "weak." More than once… He pressed his face into Lupin’s shirt and inhaled, trying to steady himself. But he has been weak, his ruthless internal scorekeeper continued. For he didst wink, and would not see…
As if he could overhear Snape's thoughts, Lupin's arms tightened around him. Snape let himself be enclosed in the embrace. This is not forever. This is not a debt. This is two grown men making the best of a situation that’s now a fraction less intolerable, thanks to sex.
He could feel Lupin's erection against his shoulderblade. He started to reach up to bring Lupin's face down to his, but Lupin’s attention had been caught by his bitten hand.
"Thoughtless," Lupin said. "I am sorry, Severus. Next time I will remember the silencing spells." He drew out his wand from his jacket and healed the marks.
Snape felt annoyed by Lupin's apology – so much so that he automatically snapped, "Yes, with you it’s always the forgetting something vital, isn’t it?"
Lupin stiffened, and Severus froze. For a long, terrible moment he wondered if Lupin was going to shove him out of his lap and flee.
Then Lupin’s shoulders sagged and he reached for Severus's hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the now-healed knuckles. His voice was almost inaudible as he answered, "I have tried to do better, Severus. I cannot help what is past help."
Severus opened his hand against Lupin's, twining their fingers together. He captured Lupin’s eyes with his own, willing him to see past the "hurt or be hurt" still driving him.
"Take heed, I will abroad," Lupin said, his voice thick.
"We are abroad," Snape whispered, raising himself up to a sitting position. Lupin still did not smile, but Snape fancied he saw the corner of an eye crinkle a fraction more. And when he pressed his lips once more to Lupin's, Lupin neither flinched nor held back.
* * *
Everytime I look at you I don't understand Why you let the things you did get so out of hand…
Severus Snape was aware that Remus Lupin couldn't sing, having endured the man's efforts to chant-speak his way through mandatory faculty Christmas caroling. Thanks to their conversation the previous night, however, his brain had decided to bedevil him with Judas's lines -- sung in a voice that sounded like Lupin's might have done, had he been able to carry more than half a note:
You sad pathetic man -- see where you've brought us to Our ideals die around us all because of you And now the saddest cut of all -- Someone has to turn you in Like a common criminal, like a wounded animal --
Only, Lupin hadn't. Lupin hadn't treated him as sad or pathetic, not even after Snape's current lack of both manhood and magic had been made plain to him. Lupin also hadn't acted as though he'd intended to drag Snape back to Britain, or to otherwise disrupt the minor acting career Snape had developed during his exile here in North America.
I have no thought at all about my own reward I really didn't come here of my own accord
Snape frowned, scrubbing away the age-lines he'd etched on his face for portraying Roxana's nurse in Cyrano de Bergerac. In general, he liked performing in repertory -- as with potions-work and defence-practice, there were always new insights to be gained from the juxtaposition of different components and styles. On the other hand, when he allowed himself to dwell too much on Cyrano and Superstar 's celebrations of uncelebrated self-sacrifice…
Then I saw thousands of millions Crying for this man And then I heard them mentioning my name And leaving me the blame
When he looked up, Remus Lupin was hovering in the doorway as he had the night before, his expression concerned yet guarded. Always holding something back, Snape thought resentfully. He would have felt off-kilter regardless: to be treated to multiple, masterfully elicited orgasms would have been an unusual occurrence any day of his life, let alone as a new-minted, still-ugly Squib. To be given such pleasure without expectation of return seriously unsettled him: Lupin had returned his kisses ardently enough, but had forestalled him from undoing Lupin's trousers -- had not allowed Snape to bestow upon him the same overwhelming bliss he'd lavished upon Snape's body. Snape did not care for this sense he now had of owing Lupin --
"Should I not have come back, Severus?" Lupin softly asked.
"I would hate to think I'd given myself to a coward," Snape replied.
"No regrets about the giving, then?" Lupin said.
"It depends," Snape said. "Are you going to allow me to take as you gave?"
Lupin's eyes flashed with startled comprehension. "Oh, sweet Godric. Did -- you thought I didn't trust your ability to pleasure me? Oh my fucking God."
"Well, what was it then?" Snape demanded. "I'd told you I didn't care about what I caught --"
"Severus," Lupin interrupted, his voice suddenly steely. "Whether you care or not, I do."
"Lupin, the time to worry about what you were going to catch from me was two sequences of muff-diving ago."
"Oh, Merlin," Lupin swore. Not turning his back on Severus, he kicked the door shut and muttered a silencing spell before throwing himself onto the couch to the side of Snape's makeup table. He glared at Snape for a long moment before visibly composing himself.
"I'd like to blame your sudden idiocy on hormones," he informed Snape, "but that would be an insult to all of the levelheaded witches I know. What do you think it would have done to your chances of reversing the spell if I had made love to you?"
What we did was making love! Snape's brain screamed back. Just because there was no semen --
Oh, dear God. How did I manage to lose sight of that? No wonder Lupin hadn't let him provide any relief. There were entire volumes in the annals of the Dark Arts devoted to how the presence of sperm could irrevocably alter the results of a potion or spell. For ones as sophisticated as the dress that had infected him, even trace amounts on one's hands or in one's hair could trigger certain chemi-magical reactions, cementing key processes beyond reversibility.
Snape wanted nothing more than to bury his face in his hands and not emerge for -- oh, a couple of decades, minimum. Instead, he reluctantly looked at Lupin. "I am clearly no one to talk about remembering vital information."
Lupin's lips twisted. "You are as harsh with yourself as everyone else. It is why I have never hated you." He drew a slim volume out of his jacket and held it out to Snape. "That, and I'm a sucker for someone who misses their books as much as you do."
Snape stared at his beloved copy of The Temple in disbelief. "You have been carrying this around all this time?"
"Hardly," Lupin said. "I retrieved it from storage this morning, back in Scotland. That, and I felt a need to research fashion-related curses."
Snape's lungs felt tight as he stretched forward to accept the book. On his palms, it felt far heavier than its actual weight; he felt an irrational fear that it would crumble into nothingness as soon as he took his eyes off of it. "What did you find?"
Lupin released the book and settled back on the chaise. "Nothing of practical use. Most of the poisoned robe tradition is Medean, you know -- jilted wives, overpriced fleece, that sort of thing. In those stories, everyone either dies or ends up fornicating with dragons."
Snape sighed. "Even I have my limits. I refuse to sleep with the governor-general just to play Cyrano."
A hoot of laughter escaped Lupin's lips. "Pity, that. You'd be better at it than the overemoting poseur -- "
"Don't get me started, Lupin. I have to share the stage with him, remember?"
"Actually," Lupin said, "I think that's what happened with your dress. There is a long tradition of backstage backstabbing among you thespian types, and -- there were a lot of actresses who would have wanted to play Lady Bracknell, were there not?"
"There always are," Snape replied. "One of the best roles available to older women --" His eyes widened.
"Yes," Lupin confirmed, watching him. "So when you were cast instead -- when the part wasn't even made available for audition -- someone got way too hot under their collar. And decided that if you were going to steal parts that belonged to women, you ought to be cursed to live as one."
"Bloody hell," Snape muttered. "It's more plausible than anything else that's come to mind -- "
" -- and it's still not readily solvable," Lupin finished. "Anyone could have got into the warehouse or workshops. Not just crews and casts but tour groups and patrons. The person wouldn't have had to break in magically to do the deed. If we wanted to start an international incident, we could take this to the Canadian ministry and start an all-points wand-search -- if it was even cast with a wand --"
" -- at which point, Remus Lupin would be credited with collaring long-sought fugitive Severus Snape, and I'd not only end up in Azkaban, I'd be subject to Ministry-issued mini-pads. No thanks. I'd rather play nurses and schoolmarms for the rest of my life."
"Severus," Lupin said. "It's only been one day. Do you think I'm just going to abandon you to this 'for the rest of your life'?"
Snape carefully set the book down on his dressing table. Then he stood up, stalked to the couch, and straddled Lupin's legs, letting his loosely-knot gown fall open as he leaned forward.
"I'm not overly familiar with your … staying power… with any one project," Snape purred. "Other than your sojourn with the werewolves three years ago. But what I do know is that I want you inside of me, and I wanted it last night, and if I have to wait even one more day for it -- "
"Severus," Lupin pleaded. "For the love of God, think. Don't throw yourself away on -- "
Snape slapped him, hard. "Who are you to say I don't know my own mind?"
Lupin blazed back, "How am I to know you won't hate us both for this?"
Snape planted his hands on Lupin's chest. "You can't know, Lupin. It's not for you to decide. Either trust me to be your equal or get the hell out of here."
"God!" Lupin strained against Snape's palms and then fell back into the cushions. His breathing had become ragged and his eyes were haunted. "God, you have no idea --"
"Stop insulting me, Lupin!" Snape roared. "I used to be a man, too!"
Lupin caught his breath and ceased resisting. "You -- " He stared into Severus's eyes as if sheer force of will could trigger Legilimency. Then he released a shuddering sigh and stretched his fingers up to Snape's face.
Snape captured Lupin's travelling hand with his mouth and began to suck on the fingers and knuckles, tracing each fingernail with his tongue and pressing his teeth lightly against each joint a second too long. He licked at the lifelines on Lupin's palm and closed his mouth on Lupin's wrist, tasting the warm, slightly sweaty skin against the edge of the man's shirt-cuff. Undoing the button of the cuff with both teeth and fingers, Snape kissed and tasted his way up Lupin's arm as his other hand fumbled with the buttons in front of Lupin's shirt.
Lupin groaned as Snape's palms met the front of his bare chest. He looked so close to undone, even though his shirt and jacket were still on, as were his pants and shoes. Snape leaned forward, bringing his breasts closer to Lupin's face as his hands splayed over warm flesh.
Lupin whispered, "It won't take much at all. You wouldn't even have to touch me -- "
Snape reared back and slapped him again. "Is my body so repulsive to you -- "
"Christ!" Lupin surged up and hauled Snape into his arms, his hands suddenly impatient and demanding, yanking at buttons and belts and zips. His face had turned red -- more red, in fact, than the marks Snape had inflicted. "To think how hard -- " Lupin threw Snape's robe to the floor and arched up to push his own pants out of the way.
"Stop thinking," Snape ordered. He heard the drop of shoes and clothing over the edge of the sofa, and wriggled his cunt up against Lupin's shaft. "Think of me."
Lupin groaned again and lifted his head up to claim a nipple. As he laved the sensitive nub with hot wetness, he levered himself up to a half-sitting position so that Snape could finally shove the shirt and jacket off of Lupin's arms and fling them aside.
Now fully naked, they attacked each other with the entirety of their bodies. Snape caressed Lupin's calves with his feet and the insides of Lupin's elbows with the back of his hands. Lupin's groans grew more hungry and desperate as Snape teased him mercilessly, grinding the softness of his crotch against Lupin's balls and penis while mapping the man's ribs and circling his nipples with damp, delirium-fueled strokes.
"Can't last," Lupin gasped, his hands groping for Snape's hips. "Should bring you -- "
Snape undulated out of reach and wrapped his hand around Lupin's cock. As soon as he added his mouth, closing his lips over the thick, already-slick head, Lupin shouted "Severus!" and howled his release, his entire body wracked with the force of the long-delayed orgasm. Severus rode Lupin's knees, enjoying the vibration of bone and muscle against his inner thighs and devouring the sight and sounds of the other man so consumed.
When Lupin quieted, Severus leaned over the edge of the sofa and grabbed a sock that had remained within reach. He used it to wipe up the drips and puddles of semen on his hands and on Lupin, and then threw it back on the floor.
He aimed a defiant look at Lupin. "Recover all thy sigh-blown age / On double pleasure: leave thy cold dispute / Of what is fit and not -- "
"My 'petty thoughts' and 'ropes of sand'?" Lupin replied, dreamily. His body was completely inert, as if his climax had cast liquefied Immobilus through all his veins.
"Thy cage," Snape said, looking at him intently.
Lupin opened his eyes. His voice deepened, his next words already infused with reviving passion. "It takes two to harvest a double pleasure, Severus."
As he stretched out to cover Lupin -- cheek to lip, breast to chest, hip to groin -- Severus couldn't quite suppress the satisfaction in his answer. "He that forebears / To suit and serve his need / Deserves his load."
"You are more than I deserve," Lupin choked out, and thrust his fingers into Severus's waiting heat.
* * *
Severus Snape was thankful that Upwing Street's run of Jesus Christ Superstar was almost over. He was not immune to the weariness that so often plagued actors during extended engagements, and he was ready to lose himself in something far fluffier than his current material, which held far too many echoes of why he'd had to flee Britain in the first place.
Don't let me stop your great self-destruction Die if you want to you misguided martyr I wash my hands of your demolition Die if you want to you innocent puppet!
Performance after performance, Snape had found himself unable to sing those lines without his voice breaking; fortunately, the director had seen his distress not as a sign of past sins, but merely a manifestation of phenomenal technique. Snape reflected that he had been a far better actor during his time as a spy: he'd had to be. Now that it was only his own life at stake, he simply couldn't call up the extra effort required to conquer his voice's betrayal in those four lines.
At least he was too old to play Judas:
When he's cold and dead will he let me be? Does he love me too? Does he care for me?
Albus Dumbledore had not been an innocent. Albus Dumbledore had manipulated more strings and curtains than anyone else in the cast of The Wars. Albus Dumbledore had directed them all as he saw fit, and Severus Snape knew damn bloody well why he'd been chosen for the foul tasks he'd carried out as requested. He'd done the Headmaster's bidding, and he'd adhered to his vow to Narcissa Malfoy, protecting her son until he'd vanished with Millicent Bulstrode. Although Draco's elopement had been a blow to his professional pride, the more rational part of his brain had rejoiced: it was too much to ask of anyone -- even him –- to masquerade as the Dark Lord's right-hand man, funnel secret tips to the Order, and babysit a spoiled, adolescent aristocrat. He was glad the powers enforcing the Vow recognised this, ultimately leaving him free to slip away to Canada and devise this alternate identity; most of the Wizarding World believed Severus Snape had perished with the Dark Lord, and he'd had nothing he could expect to gain or retrieve by acting otherwise.
He had certainly never dreamed of seeing any of his books again. Tracing the gilt-and-ebony embossing on the volume Lupin had brought to him, Snape wondered anew at the werewolf's kindness to him. Lifting the book from the table, he let it fall open to a familiar page:
…The world and I will quarrel; and the year Shall not perceive, that I am here.
A hoarse voice from the doorway continued:
My music shall find thee, and ev'ry string Shall have his attribute to sing; That all together may accord in thee --
As Lupin spoke, he shut the door and dispelled the glamour he'd been wearing. "I thought it unwise," he explained, "to keep visiting here as myself. There are sometimes official parties who become a little too interested in my… movements, shall we say."
Snape shut the book and placed it back on his dressing table. "I still don't know what brought you here in the first place."
Lupin leaned against the closed door. "I'm a private investigator. Mostly for Granger and Shacklebolt. I was trailing a fenced Francis Quarles manuscript when I saw the posters for your shows."
"So," Snape slowly said, "these visits have been purely for pleasure?"
Lupin's lips quirked. "I'm no expert on purity," he quipped, "but they certainly have been a pleasure."
Snape studied him. "Why… did you say you would have cast me as Jesus?"
Lupin hesitated, clearly sifting through possible responses. Then he abruptly walked forward, knelt in front of Snape, and attempted to sing:
I don't know how to love you I don't know why you move me --
Snape winced in spite of himself. "Stop," he said, his hands squeezing Lupin's.
Lupin shook his head, frustrated. "You aren't Pilate, or Judas," he insisted. "You could have washed your hands of us so many times, but you didn't."
"There is no 'us,' " Snape replied. He watched the answering flash of pain in Lupin's eyes deepen into hope as he continued, "There is only you, and me, and what we intend to do next."
Lupin said, "I don't know about next-with-a-capital-N, forever and amen. But, for tonight, I thought we could perhaps go to your rooms, or mine, instead of remaining here?"
Snape raised his eyebrows. "You haven't been Apparating back home each night?"
Lupin answered with a sheepish smile. "That would be my usual style, yes… but I nearly splinched myself after last night's . . . glorious harvests."
Thy strokes… my stroking. Thy thorn, my flower, Snape thought to himself, inwardly triumphant. Aloud, he said, "So. How dreadfully 'economical' are your lodgings?"
Lupin accepted the question in good humour. "I'm earning decent money these days." He added, with a trace of hesitation, "And… I didn't want to presume, but I had hope."
"Indeed?" Snape leaned forward and firmly kissed Lupin's brow. "Then let us go and transform hopes to deeds."
* * *
Lupin's room at the bed-and-breakfast turned out to be a spacious, tastefully decorated affair: its shelves were stocked with books and there was a bowl of fresh fruit on the dresser. The bed was large and its sheets well-woven; Snape fingered the hem of an elegantly monogrammed pillowcase as Lupin busied himself with security wards and silencing spells.
It was different, he thought, stepping into Lupin's arms in such a room. Different, to be carefully and lovingly undressed, Lupin sliding open-mouthed kisses along his throat and shoulders and arms while removing his blouse and his bra, and then tonguing the faint imprints left by elastics and straps and seams. Different, to be spread open on such a broad bed –- to be finger-fucked and then eaten out of so slowly and so exquisitely that he was in genuine danger of fainting.
How had Lupin learned to savour a woman's body like that –- to run his forefinger just inside and around a labia just so? To rub each fold between his fingers with such torturous care? To tease the clit with light flicks and firm licks –- to angle his fingers deep inside, touching and tugging Snape toward the brink of a delicious madness? To arouse every millimetre of skin with the wet warmth of his mouth –- the join of thigh to crotch, the swell of labia and clit, the wrinkle between vagina and anus –- and then to plunge his tongue inside, deliberately swirling it against the delicate flesh until Snape was a moaning, writhing tangle of need?
It was different to be pinned down like this, to be a willing captive underneath Lupin's lean limbs, every nerve still reeling in post-orgasmic bliss as Lupin drove into him, not letting him recover, not letting him breathe, Lupin's mouth ravishing his as his body trembled under Lupin's pounding. Snape knew that he was raving –- that they were both gasping out half-coherent words of yearning and claiming as their bodies strained for release, Lupin's eyes as fierce and wild as he knew his own to be. Even as their climaxes finally, finally overtook them –- Lupin's teeth in Snape's neck, Snape's nails tearing at Lupin's back –- a soft voice at the back of Snape's brain insisted on murmuring, You have given what's left of your soul to this man.
I don't care, Snape answered the voice. If he can transform my body thus… He felt Lupin's fingers idly detangling a snarl in his hair.
Aloud, he said, "Make no mistake. I will never answer to child."
Lupin raised himself up onto his elbows, the better to gaze at Snape with sombre affection. "I never expected you to. I've no ambition to be your Lord."
Snape heaved a sigh. "A fine thing, this sweet accord. I could get used to it."
Lupin lay a palm against his now-flat chest. "Did you know this would happen, this third night of joining?"
"Did I --?" Snape caught his breath, only now realising the changes in his body as Lupin rolled to his side. He ran his own hand down his torso: flat chest... wiry curls... half-erect cock.
And the vagina still there as well. "No. No, I didn't know." Then, inanely, he added, "The costume designer is going to kill me."
Lupin rolled his eyes, but his voice was gentle. "Nothing some padding and banding can't remedy." He paused. "Or magic?"
"Accio apple," Snape whispered. A red, ripe fruit bounced onto the bed. "Sectumpomum."
Lupin reached for a slice of fruit and began to trace around Snape's nipples with its tip, his expression unreadable. Snape gripped his wrist and demanded, "Did you foresee something like this taking place?"
Lupin quietly nodded. "There was a story... in another one of your books," he said. "The hero was worthy of his lover… only when he gave her full freedom to choose which form suited her best."
Snape didn't release him. "And did you think this form would suit me best?"
Lupin's voice grew even softer. "That wasn't for me to know. Or to decide." He paused. "Nor is what you might wish to choose next."
Snape stared hard at him, and then Summoned a second slice of the apple. He parted his legs, pressed the piece of fruit deep inside, and then challenged Lupin: "What if I were to tell you... that this knowledge is now yours to seize?"
Lupin responded by rolling Snape over and running his hand from the base of Snape's neck to the cleft of his buttocks. His fingers dallying at the pucker of Snape's rear entrance, he murmured, "What if I... were to possess you here... with my wand?"
Snape stilled, not believing what he had heard. "You would... ? You can't be serious." To bring another wizard to orgasm with one's wand was an act far more intimate than ordinary sex. To share one's wand in such a fashion was to steep the other person in one's magic –- and in doing so, to create an indelible bond between the owner of the wand and the recipient of such attention. It was considered Dark, dancing-with-razors magic -– enough that even adolescent wizards seldom dared to mess with it, and those who did seldom got it right, inadvertently inflicting open sores or grotesquely fused limbs upon their object of lust.
Lupin slid a hand underneath Snape's belly and pushed up, such that the other man instinctively responded by hunching up onto his hands and knees. Parting the folds of Snape's now-exposed vagina, Lupin tenderly lapped up the sticky and slippery fluids within reach of his tongue, and then reached in to withdraw the slice of apple.
His eyes meeting Snape's, he deliberately bit into the slice. As he chewed and swallowed each bite, he thrust his fingers in and out of Snape in a steady, easy rhythm that belied the raw intensity of his gaze.
"I have never been more serious in my life," he said.
"Stop," Snape said. The fingers instantly ceased moving. Ignoring his body's protests, Snape pulled away from Lupin's hand and unsteadily made his way to the bathroom. He washed his hands and his face, and then he pressed his hands just above each opening and spoke the charms for flushing out each canal.
So good to have this back. Even so -- though he knew the magic had done its work -- Snape nevertheless ran the water until it was warm and worked a dollop of wisteria-scented soap into a lather. He slathered the fragrant suds across his skin and into its crevices, and then rinsed himself thoroughly.
Lupin was standing by the window as Snape stepped out of the bathroom, even though the view consisted mainly of the white pine tree that had grown right against the side of the house. Lupin did not immediately turn around, but Snape could see their images in the windowpane: he watched Lupin watching his reflection as he dropped his towel and bent over the foot of the bed, arse high in the air.
Lupin let out a low whistle and uncoiled himself from the wall he had been half-leaning against. He stepped up to Snape, admiring and caressing the angles exposed by this new position.
"Understand," he emphasised, "I've no wish to chain you. Or leash you. Or make you any less than who you've become."
"Neither covenant nor collar?" Snape replied. "If I thought you did, Remus, I would not trust your magic."
His lover rewarded him with a startled, gratified smile, and then reached for the remains of the apple, Transfiguring it into an amber gel that sparkled and dripped from his hands as he coated the walls of Severus's vagina and drove his cock home. Severus luxuriated in being filled once more; neither he nor Remus moved a muscle for a long, breathless moment. Then Remus carefully began to work both the gel and his wand into Severus's hole, and Severus clutched the sheets and clamped around Remus's cock as his body thrilled to the strange, sinewy magic that was unmistakably of Remus's essence.
When the tip of the wand connected with Severus's prostate, his entire body convulsed with pleasure and Remus began to fuck him in earnest. There was no way his bones and blood could absorb so much fire, so much heat, so much power in the way Remus was filling his cunt and fisting his cock and funnelling yet more lightning through his wand --
Severus gasped, "So much –- so much you -- can't hold it in –-"