Summer Born (summerborn) wrote in summerfic, @ 2007-09-10 21:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | rated nc-17, remus, remus/various, snape, snape/lupin |
A Page in Your Book, post 1 of 3 (Remus/varius, Snape/Lupin, NC-17)
Originally posted May 1-10, 2007. Part of the Lusty Month of May at LJ:pervy_werewolf.
TITLE: A Page in Your Book
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Remus/Various, eventually Snape/Lupin
CHALLENGE: Lusty Month of May Marathon 2007 at pervy_werewolf: which means 31 entries of 500 or more. Each one must feature some kind of porn or smut.
WORDCOUNT: ~7000 here (1 of 3)
NOTES: Characters belong to JKR. Unbeta'ed (due to the nature of the Marathon).
Original postings (f-locked to the comm)
Part 1 - 750 words (Remus/Scrimgeour imagined)
Part 2 - 775 words (Remus/Kingsley imagined)
Part 3 - 765 words (Remus, Snape, omc/ofc)
Part 4 - 629 words (Remus, thoughts of Severus and Rita Skeeter)
Part 5 - 685 words (Remus, thoughts of Severus)
Part 6 - 625 words (Remus/Charlie remembered)
Part 7 - 635 words (Remus/Severus)
Part 8 - 578 words (Remus/Severus)
Part 9 - 900 words (Remus/Severus)
Part 10 - 587 words (Remus/Severus, past Remus/Tonks)
Chapter 1
Ah, springtime: when a young man's fancy turns to love... and an old werewolf's melancholy turns to the same place.
When Remus Lupin had been a student, he had chased the girls and tussled with the boys just like the rest of his classmates. But as he'd grown into an adult, he had learned that there were certain... differences between werewolves and regular people when it came to love—be it the emotion, or the more fleeting, physical sort of love.
Now that he was a professor (for the second time), he couldn't afford to let his seasonal bleak thoughts get in the way of keeping order in the classroom. So what if he felt depressed? All the students cared about was who was going with whom to Madam Puddifoot's the next Hogsmeade weekend.
"Passing notes, Mr. Williams?" Remus turned at the blackboard and scanned the students. The would-be note-passer had hastily withdrawn the parchment and was looking over the assigned reading with feigned interest.
Remus sighed inwardly. "Next time, I'll have you read it out loud to the class," he said mildly. "Now, to continue. The fourth variety of nettling imp is the double-winged imp, found primarily in... Mr. Williams?"
-:-
The younger students were restless in anticipation of the end of term, and the older students were both restless and anxious about exams. The increased level of energy running through the Great Hall was enough to set Remus' teeth on edge, and he excused himself from the Head Table, telling the Headmistress something about a headache before escaping to his quarters.
He closed the door behind him with a breath of relief, and then shook his head ruefully. "You'd think you'd be used to it after three years of this," he murmured as he shrugged out of his teacher's robes and hung them up.
His small sitting room seemed emptier than normal in the dark, and a glance into the bedroom only made him more aware of his loneliness, so he ducked into the bathroom and ran some cold water to wash his face.
Studying himself in the mirror, Remus reached a hand up to wipe the drops off of his chin. "I think it's time to get the book down, old man," he told his reflection. His reflection said nothing, just sighed and nodded, and Remus turned and went to his bedroom, waving the lights on as he went.
He opened his armoire and pushed aside the hanging clothes and robes, reaching back and digging down until his hands grasped a thick, slightly battered notebook. He lifted it out, closed the armoire, and sat down on the end of his bed. He laid the notebook down on the coverlet next to him and opened it gently, almost reverently.
There was a ribbon marking a page about three-quarters of the way through the book. Remus turned to that page, took a deep breath, and looked.
The weathered but proud face of Rufus Scrimgeour looked back at him, occasionally shaking back a tawny mane of hair and frowning.
"Scrimgeour," Remus said thoughtfully. "Tough one." But then, that was the whole point, wasn't it?
The photo appeared to be some kind of Ministry promotional shoot, with Scrimgeour occasionally turning his head and striking a pose. "I'll have to get a new picture of you," Remus told it. His other hand moved to rest on his own crotch, and his heart started to quicken. If Scrimgeour only knew...
"I'll bet you've got some Playwitch photos in your past, don't you, you randy old man?" His palm pressed down, and his hips shifted. "Something you don't want everyone to know about, eh?" He sighed, undid his fly, slipped a hand inside, and began to stroke himself lightly. "You're probably still as fit as the day you were named Head Auror." His voice had lowered to a rough whisper. He closed his eyes, the better to imagine shoving aside Rufus Scrimgeour's robes, hands wrapping around the other man's wrists, forcing Scrimgeour down to the floor and taking him right there, his own harsh breathing drowning out the sound of any protests.
He came guiltily, gasping, and scrambled for his wand, cleaning himself up almost before he was done.
Carefully, he moved the ribbon to the next page in the book and went to bathe.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he passed. "You're a perverted old werewolf," he said, but without much heat. After all, it was better than the alternative.
Chapter 2
The next morning, Remus replaced the notebook in the bottom of his armoire before heading down to breakfast. He was in a much better mood, thanks to a good night's sleep, he was sure. He managed to dodge both Minerva's concerned look and Snape's suspicious glare, and ended up at the end of the Head Table, wedged between Madam Hooch and Ginny Weasley—who Remus could never bring himself to think of as "Professor Weasley."
But polite conversation with adults—even former students—was easy for Remus. It was his back-to-back sessions with first-years, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs followed by Ravenclaws with Gryffindors, that pushed him over the edge.
Not completely over the edge, of course—Remus never would have agreed to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor if he hadn't been one hundred percent assured of his own self-control. Still, when the last of the students had filed out, pushing each other around and complaining about the essay he'd assigned, Remus took one look at the pile of parchment on his desk and bolted.
Most of the students were in the Great Hall for lunch, and Remus took a moment to bless whoever had drawn up his schedule—Wednesday mornings might be hell, but Wednesday afternoons were free. He hurried through nearly-empty corridors to his private quarters, locked the door behind him, and went straight to the armoire to bring out the notebook.
He hadn't intended on needing it again so soon. Blasted first-years.
The notebook was the product of several years' work, carefully collecting photographs and short bios of wizards and witches from every facet of Remus' life. He didn't like to resort to it, but there were times when he needed the release—and it was much safer to use the notebook than to involve anyone else in his problems.
Remus clutched the book to his chest and headed to the bathroom. A little warm water and scented oil would be a nice change of pace from the bedroom, and he didn't have anywhere he needed to be until dinnertime. Once the bath was started, he drew a small table over to the tub and laid the book on it, turning pages without looking at the contents until he arrived at the ribbon that served as a bookmark.
"Ahh," he breathed when he saw the face that looked back up at him. Kingsley Shacklebolt—black, strong, well-muscled, fiercely competent. Just the kind of man Remus needed to push him around a little bit. Under the picture were a few notes Remus had made the last time around.
Won't take no for an answer, it read. Kingsley will make you do what he wants and leave you still wanting to please him.
Remus slipped his feet into the water, which he'd turned off after the bath was only a few inches deep. His feet were followed slowly by the rest of his body, until he was lying back in the shallow water, the warmth seeping into his skin. He wriggled a bit to splash the water over the top of his body, catching his breath as his cock was first wet, then exposed to the open air again. Slowly, he trailed one finger along it, lightly.
"Won't take no for an answer?" he murmured, imagining Kingsley's thighs trapping his, preventing him from rolling away. "Is that how you are, Kingsley?"
In his mind, he saw Kingsley smile, and wink, as if to say Don't worry, you'll enjoy it, though the vision was silent. In all his fantasies, Remus never imagined anyone actually saying anything. Touching, yes, and he let his hands move over his cock and balls like he dreamed of Kingsley doing, and he could even trick himself into thinking that the brush of his fingertip was something like a tongue across his most sensitive spots. But he never tried to guess what a lover would sound like.
In this case, Kingsley had his way with Remus through physical coercion, not verbal, and Remus protested half-heartedly and tried to move his body away. But shifting his hips back just made Kingsley's thick shaft seek out his hole more eagerly, and Remus shoved three fingers inside himself roughly, his other hand now fisting his cock even as he squirmed.
It only took a few thrusts. Remus yowled wordlessly as he came across his stomach, fingers stretched and pushing into his own body. He sat up quickly, trembling slightly from the force of his orgasm, and reached for a flannel to wash away the evidence.
Chapter 3
After that, Remus didn't even think about the book for several days.
Saturday morning was a Hogsmeade weekend, which meant most of the students would be gone, which meant it was a good day to be outside and walk around the lake. He let his mind wander as he strolled, taking in the warmth and sunshine, and found a place to sit down. Gradually, a sense of peace settled over him.
"Hardly a dignified position, Lupin." A sarcastic voice cut through Remus' relaxed state of mind, and he squinted up at the dark figure looming over him. "Don't you have work to do, or did the Headmistress finally realize that a werewolf is not safe around children?"
Much like a former Death Eater and traitor to the Order. The thought came unbidden, and Remus shrugged it off as uncharitable. Severus had turned out to be a hero.
"Hullo, Severus," he said instead as he got to his feet. "I was just enjoying the spring weather."
Severus scowled. "Perhaps you should do it where you won't be making a spectacle of yourself." He jerked his head towards the castle.
Remus was bemused. There was no one in sight except the two of them, and Severus was making a big deal out of nothing. Some mischievous streak in him wanted to strike back. "Is that an invitation, Severus?"
The potions master stared at him. "What are you talking about?"
"You just asked if I wanted to go somewhere more private, didn't you?" Remus' voice lowered. "I must say I never thought you were the type—"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Severus snarled.
"Your voice says you're angry, but your eyes say—"
Before Remus could complete the thought, Severus whirled and stalked off towards Hogwarts. Remus raised a hand, as if to call after the potions master, but he caught himself in time. What could he say? Severus thought Remus was making fun of him, and in this instance, that was exactly what Remus had been doing.
Wasn't it?
Absently, he dusted off his robes and began to make his way back to the castle. He was going to have to apologize to Severus. It was either that or continue to insist that he had been completely serious... which was out of the question, of course.
Werewolves couldn't afford casual dalliances.
As much as he might wonder about what Severus looked like out of those robes, or what sorts of things he liked to do—or have done to him...
Enough, Remus told himself sternly. He must not let his imagination run away with him, or he would be forced to get the notebook out just to stave off the fantasies of Severus Snape, of all people. Remus was not that desperate.
Suddenly, a strange muffled scraping sound reached his ears, and Remus glanced around. It was coming from around the corner of a building. He paused, wondering if he should investigate.
"Ow!"
That answered that question. Remus drew his wand and moved quietly around the corner, intent on catching the offending students in the act so that he could take points and be done with it. And he caught them in the act, all right, but it was not a fight after all.
A boy—a fifth-year Gryffindor, if memory served—was up against the brick wall, and his blonde-haired companion was kneeling in front of him, one hand wrapped around the erect cock she'd been sucking until a moment ago.
"Sorry," Remus heard her whisper, and then she was lowering her head again. He backed up, breath caught in his throat, and stumbled away blindly until he reached a door, which he opened, went through, pulled shut behind him. He was shaking, and he wasn't exactly sure why except that he should have taken points. He should have interrupted them, and he hadn't.
"Get a grip," Remus told himself, and groaned when his mind was filled with the sight of pink teenage hands sliding along a leaking, teenage erection. That was definitely not what he wanted to be thinking about. Students were strictly and one hundred percent off limits, even for his imagination, and no teenagers appeared in his notebook, either.
His notebook. He shook his head. He was going to need to get the blasted thing out again. First the run-in with Severus, and then running into two children who were having more sex than he was... and there he was, thinking of Severus and sex in the same beat.
Perhaps a cold shower would do.
Chapter 4
Remus had never had much success at forcing himself not to think about something. A cold shower helped calm down his body, but his mind kept returning to the images of soft wet lips encircling that Gryffindor's cock, outside in the middle of the day... He could have stayed and watched, just around the corner. He could have stroked himself off while waiting for the boy to come in that girl's mouth...
The image kept coming back as he lay in the dark on his bed, trying to sleep. Only, after a while, it was his cock being licked and sucked, his hands gripping the blonde hair and thrusting roughly. And then, as he rolled over and covered his head with a pillow, the hair shifted from blonde to jet black and slightly stringy, and the lips were not a teenage girl's but the thin, hard line of a man Remus had known for almost forty years.
Severus' black eyes glittered up at him as he worked over Remus' cock, hungering for something Remus couldn't name. He was too distracted by the swipe of tongue across his throbbing erection, and he gasped as Severus spread long fingers over his belly, down his hip, along the inside of his thigh.
"Please," he choked, almost overcome with need. It burned.
"Please what, Lupin?" came Severus' velvety voice, low and sultry.
Remus bolted upright.
He was alone in his bed—well, him and his erection. The need that had built up as he dreamed about Severus' mouth still gripped him. And his own hand was most definitely not what he wanted.
Shaking a bit, he turned on one of the lights and looked at the time. Just past one in the morning, and he was wide awake. Another cold shower? He shuddered. It would be better to wander the halls under the pretense of looking for students out after curfew, although then there would be the possibility of running into a certain other professor that Remus would much rather avoid, as Severus had a skill at wordless Legilimency that could seriously embarrass Remus right now.
Perhaps the notebook was the better alternative in this case. Reluctantly, he went to the armoire and began to dig it out for the third time this week, when he was struck by a sudden thought.
Scrimgeour... Shacklebolt... it wouldn't be long before he got to Snape, would it? Oh, God. Hurriedly, Remus took the book to the light and turned the pages to the ribbon that marked his place, until he got to...
"Rita Skeeter?" he said aloud, startled. He'd forgotten that he had put witches as well as wizards into the book.
Looking down at the photograph, Remus was strangely disappointed. She was attractive enough, for an older witch, with strong hips and a devious sort of smile. It wouldn't be too difficult for him to construct some kind of scenario... She has information he wants to keep secret, maybe, and in return for her silence she wants to tie him to a bed somewhere, tease him with her quill pen, rub her body against him...
The thought should have been arousing, and not least because Remus had already been hard when he got the book out, but he found himself turned off by the mental image of Rita Skeeter having her way with him.
"I suppose I should be grateful," he told the photo, and closed the book thoughtfully. He was struck by a wave of exhaustion, and without the physical arousal to bother him, he might actually be able to get some sleep. He left the notebook on his bedside table, and slid underneath his sheets to fall into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Chapter 5
The notebook was still sitting on his table when Remus woke up, but he managed to ignore it long enough to bathe, dress, and go down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He couldn't avoid Severus forever, after all, and the sooner he apologized, the sooner he would be able to move on. At least, that was what he hoped.
The potions master was not at breakfast, though, and Remus found himself again filled with a curious kind of disappointment. Surely it was just because he'd wanted to apologize and be done with it.
He made his way to the head table, glad to see that what students had come down were less energetic than they had been in a week—maybe the Hogsmeade trip had been just what they needed. Feeling marginally better, Remus loaded up his plate and set into his breakfast with a will.
He spent most of the day in his office, grading and revising his lesson plans, and decidedly not thinking about Severus or Rita Skeeter or sex at all. Perhaps his spring fever, for lack of a better term, had run its course. Remus found himself cheered at the thought, and even began to whistle as he made his way through the corridors towards his rooms. He would walk in, put the book away, and return to his normal life without all the self-pity and loneliness that had been plaguing him in the past week.
And yet... when he closed the door to his quarters... when he crossed his bedroom and sat on the bed, which dipped slightly under his weight... when his hands reached out and picked up the notebook he'd spent so many years putting together, and so many nights using for comfort...
"I'll just see who was next," he decided. No harm in that, after all. It didn't change anything.
He opened the book to the ribbon and turned the page, to see who was the next guest in his alphabetical list of scheduled fantasies.
Unlike the photographs on the previous pages, this one was a newspaper clipping, and it wasn't animated the way wizarding photos usually were. Instead, the wizard's rather unattractive face was frozen in a scowl, half-hidden by shadows and a curtain of lank, black hair.
"Hello, Severus," Remus murmured, touching the photograph gently with one finger.
Well, he didn't really have much choice at this point, did he? He would probably think about Severus tonight no matter what, so he might as well take advantage of the fact that Severus was next on the schedule and just fantasize about him, already. Normally, he couldn't allow himself to imagine whoever he wanted—it was too important that he not fixate on any single person—but tonight, the notebook was giving him permission, so he may as well enjoy it.
Remus looked at the slightly blurry photo again, his lips pursed in thought. It was almost as if, now that he was giving himself permission, he didn't know where to begin. Oral sex? Severus probably had a skilled tongue—or if not, Remus' imagination could supply him one. There was no doubt that the man's fingers were talented... perhaps he would want to play with Remus a bit before kneeling behind him and fucking him—probably the man made his own lubricant, and maybe other potions as well. That was kind of an exciting thought, but it wasn't one Remus could readily make up an answer for. And he had no intention of finding out what the real Severus stocked in his bedside table.
Better stick to something simple, then. As he started to undress, he decided that Severus would be coming to him for a blowjob—probably heard a rumor about Remus' skill—and afterward, he would be so sated that he would let Remus do what he wished with his body. It was good enough for Remus' body to begin to respond. Afterward, as he was drifting off to sleep, he decided he would have to come up with something better next time.
Chapter 6
Several days passed in relative peace after that. Remus had woken up feeling refreshed, and for the first time the sight of his notebook sitting on the bedside table didn't fill him with a sense of guilt. So he left it sitting there. Each night before he went to bed he considered opening it and moving the ribbon from the page with Severus' picture, and each night he changed his mind, content to just drift off to sleep without any additional physical pleasures.
The peaceful feelings only lasted a few days, though. Each day the students in his classes regained some of that restless energy they'd exhibited the week before, and by the time Remus' Wednesday afternoon break rolled around, he was almost as out of sorts as he had been before getting the notebook out in the first place.
On a whim, he decided to head down to the groundskeeper's hut on his break for a bit of friendly conversation. Charlie Weasley was one of the few people Remus felt he could be himself around, and he was in sore need of a sympathetic ear.
They'd nodded and waved a few times over meals at the Great Hall, but Remus hadn't had a proper chat with his friend in months. He'd been friends with almost all of the Weasleys for several years now, although he and Charlie had had a special kind of bond ever since the two of them had shared a room for a while at Grimmauld Place during the war.
When Charlie had come on to him, late one night, Remus had been flattered. The easy part had been admitting that Remus returned the attraction. The hard part had been explaining about Remus' special complications thanks to the lycanthropy, but showing Charlie the notebook had helped with that.
Charlie's brown eyes had been serious as he turned the pages in the book, and finally he looked up at Remus with understanding—and sympathy.
"Do you think this affects Bill, too?"
Remus had shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "But since he and Fleur are already married, it seems a moot point. He's already made his lifelong commitment."
Charlie nodded thoughtfully. "How many times can you have sex with someone without triggering the... bond-for-life reaction?"
"I'm not sure, exactly. For one werewolf I knew, it only took three times. I'm trying to avoid sleeping with anyone more than once." Talking about it was freeing—for once in his life, Remus didn't feel ashamed of his many different partners. He was, after all, trying to protect the other people as much as himself.
Charlie had set the book aside, crossed to Remus' bed, sat beside him. "I understand," he said. "Remus... I'm not asking to be your life-partner. But we both know war is hell." He reached out and laid his hand on Remus' thigh.
It seemed obvious in retrospect, but at the time Remus had needed it spelled out. "I can't... I mean... Are you sure?"
"One time is better than none, isn't it?" And Charlie had leaned forward, kissed him, and Remus responded. Having someone who understood was amazing, and if Charlie was willing to have a one-night stand, knowing that anything more would risk Remus' wolf side developing a lifelong attachment... Remus wasn't about to turn that down.
He'd thought he would feel guilty afterwards, but Charlie had continued to treat him the same way—as a senior Order member, as a friend, in that same lighthearted friendly way Charlie had with most everyone. Now, as he knocked on the door of Charlie's hut on the grounds of Hogwarts, Remus felt no lingering trace of embarrassment or shame at all over what had passed between them years ago.
Chapter 7
Chapter notes: I just noticed I completely skipped Horace Slughorn in Remus' little notebook. Oh well :) AND! I finally found my notes about this idea from many months ago, and I must say a big thank you to lore because I definitely used an idea she put forth some time ago. So, thank you! Sorry I didn't credit you earlier :)
Remus' plan to have a chat with Charlie was spoiled by the simple fact that the groundskeeper wasn't at home. On top of that, on his way back to the castle Remus stumbled over not one but two pairs of students caught up in the throes of young love. Nothing as... exposed as he'd seen last weekend, thank goodness, but he still had to take points and send the students off to find someplace else to neck.
How easy things were for them! How simple to choose a partner for as long as you wanted, without worrying about being trapped by werewolf physiology—or about trapping someone else, who may or may not return your feelings for them.
Remus had worked himself into a mood by the time dinner rolled around, and for some reason it annoyed him even further that Severus was not in attendance. He considered asking the Headmistress about it, but decided against drawing any attention to the man's absence.
It took him all of about three seconds after dinner to decide he could put off grading the fourth-years' essays for one more day and head straight to his quarters. Not that he was particularly excited about facing the emptiness of his rooms, but it was better than seeing students making moon eyes at each other in some kind of spring courtship ritual.
He had barely closed the door behind him when there was a knock on it. Bemused, he yanked it open, and started with surprise when he saw who was on the other side.
Severus had his black cloak pulled tight around him, and Remus wondered for a confused moment where the man had been. Then he realized the more important question was, what was he doing here?
"Come in, Severus, please." Remus waved him in and watched, fascinated, as Severus peered suspiciously around as he entered, even to the point of giving the sofa a dirty look before perching on the edge of it.
"What can I do for you?"
Severus licked his lips, and Remus understood suddenly that the potions master was not just suspicious: he was nervous about something.
"Last Saturday, when you said—" Severus glanced at his hands, then met Remus' eyes. "Were you serious?"
Remus stared. He'd been meaning to apologize to Severus for teasing him, but if Severus really thought he had been sincere... he must have thought that Remus had been flirting with him. And yet he showed up here, and was now sitting in Remus' sitting room, with that oddly vulnerable look on his face, and Remus was lonely, too lonely, and not strong enough to do the right thing.
Slowly, he nodded.
The tension on Severus' face lessened, almost imperceptibly. Remus felt a momentary pang of conscience, but he pushed it aside. There would be time enough in the morning for regret, but for now he was going to see how the real Severus Snape compared to his fantasies.
He moved to join Severus on the sofa, watching carefully for any signs he should stop. He brushed Severus' hair back from his shoulder, and Severus closed his eyes. Remus took that as a good sign, and leaned in to kiss him.
The first touch of their lips was tentative, on both sides, but Remus was impatient. How long had it been since he'd been with a real person, instead of photographs and fantasies and his own hand? When Severus' mouth opened slightly, Remus pressed forward, his hands going to the fastenings of Severus' robes.
He stilled when Severus' hand closed around his wrist. Don't stop now, been so long, you're the one who came to me... "What is it?" he whispered.
Severus pulled his hand away. "I know a spell for that," he said, and Remus grinned.
Chapter 8
It turned out that Severus knew a lot of spells, which was a good thing, because Remus was far too distracted by the heat of Severus' mouth and the removal of clothing to worry about things like noise-canceling charms.
They stumbled into the still-dark bedroom, Remus threading his fingers through Severus' hair as they kissed. Every touch, every taste, he wanted to burn it into his memory so he could have something new on his cold nights alone. Don't think about it, just feel, just do it...
Severus hit the bed and fell roughly onto it, and Remus let him go, accepting the momentary chill of separation so that he could look at Severus' naked body, sprawled out on his coverlet. Now that was a memory worth saving. He must have made some kind of noise—breathed "God..."—and then Severus was looking down at himself self-consciously.
Their eyes met. In a flash, Remus understood the struggle in Severus' mind. He thought of himself as unattractive, feared rejection, but Remus let his genuine appreciation show as much as he could. Severus was supposed to be a mind-reader—let him see how honestly Remus wanted him.
Remus crawled onto the bed over Severus, letting his eyes trail up as he went, from thighs dusted with dark hair, to Severus' crotch—and the cock that stirred as he looked, now that was gratifying—across Severus' stomach and ribs, where Remus paused to kiss his collarbone before drawing level with Severus, looking directly into his eyes.
They stared at each other for a moment.
Remus considered asking if Severus was sure, but quite honestly at this point he would rather do everything he could to make sure Severus stayed.
So he lowered himself to his elbows, letting their chests rub lightly, and bent his head to kiss along Severus' jaw. It was not the most intimate of moves, and his own cock was already impatient, but it would give Severus a chance to gather himself, if he needed to.
After a moment, one of Severus' hands came up, to the back of Remus' head, and he smiled against Severus' throat. Carefully, he tugged at the soft skin there with his teeth, pausing when Severus stiffened. Remus had no idea why Severus was suddenly willing to consort with a known werewolf, and he didn't want to cross a line that would make the potions master leave, but he couldn't resist just a little bit of playful biting.
Suddenly Severus' other hand was on his arse, pulling him down. One of Remus' knees slipped, and he fell heavily on top of Severus, who dug his nails into Remus' skin at both neck and hip.
"Sorry," Remus said, pulling up a bit, and Severus yanked him down for a kiss. With a groan, Remus responded. Their tongues met; their hips shifted, seeking heat and friction. Remus leaned onto one arm so that he could reach down between their bodies to touch, hold the two cocks against each other as they moved.
He had to fight the urge to pump, had to keep from getting carried away. It was the first time in a long time for Remus, and it may be the last time for just as long, and he intended to go slow, to make it last.
"God, Lupin..." Severus' rich voice interrupted his thoughts. "You are going to fuck me, aren't you?"
Chapter 9
Remus had to close his eyes for a moment. That voice... Was he dreaming?
Fingers brushed his lips, and he looked down at Severus' face. The light coming in from the sitting room was just enough to highlight the lines and creases—Severus was not the most attractive man in the world, but his expression was unmistakably eager, if still a bit wary.
"Well?"
Remus might be dreaming, but he decided he didn't care. If this wasn't real, then he was going to have a very good dream. He bent again to place a reverent kiss on Severus' mouth, surprised all over again at the tingle he felt when their lips touched.
Severus shifted impatiently beneath him, his hard cock jutting into Remus' thigh. "Lupin," he growled. When Remus only smiled and moved to kiss him again, Severus shoved him away. There wasn't quite enough time to register any confusion before Severus had slid further up the bed, turned over onto his hands and knees, and looked back over his shoulder with demand written plainly on his face.
Was this really Severus Snape? Remus had never imagined him to be so forward in bed. Not that he'd imagined him at all, except once in a blue moon when his progression through the notebook brought him around to the "S"es again.
He fumbled for his wand, summoned a bottle from the bath room. It was hard to take his eyes off of the curve of Severus' arse long enough to get the lid off, and then he had to choose between preparing himself or Severus first. After a second's hesitation, he let his slick fingers trail down Severus' back, down the cleft of his arse, and lightly across the soft pucker there. His other hand stroked along his own cock, just enough to tease.
"Mmm, that's it," Severus murmured, pressing back against Remus' hand. With a start, Remus realized that Severus was watching him touch himself, and from the look in his eyes he was getting even more turned on by it.
Right. Much more of this and there wasn't going to be any intercourse to speak of. Remus took a breath and worked one finger into Severus' body, watching the way his face smoothed out, the way his hips shifted. A second finger should be no...
"Do it, for fuck's sake, Lupin."
Remus slid around behind Severus and slid the blunt head of his cock along Severus' skin. "Such a mouth you've got, Severus. I've never—ah!" He bit his lip. Severus was tighter than he'd expected, and he had to stop, petting Severus' back and hips, before pulling back to thrust in again. Slowly, much more slowly than he would like.
Severus growled something incoherent. Remus wasn't sure what he wanted—Severus had seemed almost in a hurry up to now, but he was trembling slightly as Remus pushed deeper inside. Surely if he wanted Remus to stop, he would say so? He pushed forward again; Severus tensed, and he stopped.
The black curtain of hair whipped around as Severus spun to glare at him. "What are you waiting for?" Remus groaned softly and began to move. He tried to keep his thrusts slow, but something about the way Severus pushed back against him, the way those long elegant fingers curled into the sheets, the soft exhalations as Severus' breath was forced out of him... those things set Remus into a rhythm of their own devising, and he was swept away.
Suddenly, mid-thrust, Remus remembered that when you were with another person, you were supposed to be concerned about their pleasure as well as your own—even if you had no intention of sleeping with them a second time. Cursing inwardly, he reached around Severus' thin body to wrap his fingers around his erection. Always an awkward pose, but he had to do something, and anyway Severus didn't seem to mind, the way his breath caught, and his body stiffened, and... oh.
Severus was coming. On Remus' bed. And he'd barely touched him. Now that was hot.
There was another hand at his wrist, pulling it away, and Remus brought his hand up to his face without even thinking about it. The sight and smell of Severus' come pushed him over the edge, and he dug his toes into the bed as he thrust into Severus' arse, erratic now, his whole body tingling as his own climax shook through him.
A moment later, they were lying side by side on the bed, pillows knocked askew and sheets rumpled everywhere. The sound of their breathing was loud and heavy in the otherwise silent room.
Remus wondered if he should say something first. Severus probably wasn't very good at this sort of thing, and while Remus hadn't had a lot of experience, he'd had more than his fair share of one-nighters. After another silent moment passed, he propped himself onto his elbow and looked at Severus, who regarded him with that same wary-but-vulnerable expression he'd had on earlier.
"You, ah..."
Something about his tone must have set off warning bells, for Severus' face closed suddenly. "Save it, Lupin." He started to push himself up, and Remus found himself reaching out, putting a hand on Severus' arm.
"Severus—I was just going to say, you're welcome to stay here tonight, if you like."
Chapter 10
Severus drifted off to sleep not long after, but Remus lay awake for a long while, staring at the ceiling in the dim light. He was going over the series of events that had brought him and Severus to this post-coital slumber—motivated both by a desire to make sure he didn't forget any of it, and also by a sense of something like awe.
A throwaway comment last weekend had somehow spurred Severus to come by, several days later. Then they'd kissed, there on the sofa, and Remus knew they had started undressing there but his memory was already a little hazy on some of the details. But the sight of Severus, kneeling on the bed and staring back at him over his shoulder, was clear as crystal in his mind. He only wished he could put the image into his notebook.
The notebook… Remus frowned. He was going to have to use it soon, just to get past his recent Severus kick and on to someone else. As a werewolf, he couldn't let himself get too involved with one person. Just look at what happened with Tonks.
Not wanting to wake Severus, he slipped out of bed as silently as he could and stepped into the toilet to wash. He was hungry. He decided to send for a platter of something.
But even after he sat down on the sofa with a sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice, he couldn't shake his melancholy mood. He should be feeling great, but the thought of having to find a way to make sure Severus understood this was only a one time thing had put him off any lingering good mood.
That, and thinking about Tonks.
She was the only person he'd ever taken out of his notebook. The point of the thing was to make sure he spent time thinking about a wide variety of witches and wizards, so that he wouldn't become too attached to any one person. It was for his protection as well as others'—for who in their right minds would choose to let themselves be bonded to a werewolf?
Tonks might have, but he had never told her about the bonding. It seemed too... personal, somehow; and that in and of itself was a definite sign he hadn't ever really been comfortable with the relationship. At first he thought they were just comforting each other—a friendly sort of shag. The first time they'd slept together he thought it would be the only time—just like most of his partners.
She hadn't taken his "let's just be friends" speech very well, though. Damn tenacious Hufflepuffs. Remus sighed.
"Lupin."
Severus was standing in the doorway, wrapped in one of Remus' bathrobes. It was short, and Severus had tied the belt rather tightly around his waist. Probably some sort of defensive move, after he'd woken up with Remus missing, but it served to accentuate the shape of his body, and Remus' pulse began to quicken.
"Sandwich?" Remus indicated the platter. It occurred to him, as Severus joined him on the sofa, that he was still entirely nude, and that it would be rather difficult to say "I'm really not interested in anything more" with his cock making a liar out of him.
"I don't think so," Severus murmured. He took the sandwich from Remus' hand, set it on the table, and turned back to him, predatory.
Two times... twice was okay. Remus would just have to break the news to Severus in the morning.
To be continued