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hpkinkfestTitle: When Nightmares Come
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
writcraft
Prompt Number: ### 54 submitted byakatnamedeaster
Kink Showcased: Age play
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sirius Black/Severus Snape, blink and you’ll miss it suggestion of past Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Summary: When Severus Snape is sent to Grimmauld Place to recover after a particularly violent attack by Voldemort, his presence only adds to Sirius Black’s frustrations. But when nightmares come, both men find some surprising common ground.
Warnings: Strong suggestions of past non-con and violence (not between Severus/Sirius), nightmares, references to canon character deaths (not Severus or Sirius), fingering, spanking, references to belting, suggestions of potions and alcohol abuse
Word Count: ~ 6,300
Author's Notes: Akatnamedeaster, you contribute such a lot to fandom and I thought a kink fest was a good place to say thank you for your wonderfully kinky art. I do hope the essence of the pairing I’ve captured here works for you. The scene with Sirius’ dream was very much inspired by your own artwork. The boys wouldn’t behave themselves, and hence the featured kink is just a part of their story which I hope has received enough attention amidst all their arguing. Thank you to A for the SPaG check and to the mods for running this fabulous fest.
“Black.” Snape says Sirius’ name with a sneer. His lip curls and his eyes flash with anger. He clutches his wand tightly in his fist, his bony knuckles whitening with the force of his grip.
Sirius eyes Snape. “You look like shit.”
Snape purses his lips, and his cheeks flare with two deep pink spots. “And you look drunk.”
Sirius snorts and tips his glass of brandy in Snape’s direction. “Not even close.” He takes in Snape’s limp and notices the way it seems to pain him to reach for a glass from the cupboards. “Can’t they fix you? How long do you need to stay here?”
“As long as it takes.” With a growl of frustration, Snape Summons the glass with barely a flick of his wand. It flies across the room and smashes against the wall, smithereens of glass landing on the stone floor. “Fuck.”
“Would you like some help?” Sirius doesn’t move from his seat, and crosses his legs at the ankle. If he’s going to be holed up in this fucking house with Severus Snape, he might as well have some fun. Taunting Snape has always been fun. “Now that you’re so…impotent.”
“I am not...” Snape’s growl catches in his throat as he flicks his wand to clear the glass. His expression flickers with a wince of pain, which he quickly brings under control. Sirius almost feels sorry for him. Almost.
“That’s what you get for wanking yourself stupid over the Dark Arts,” Sirius mutters.
Snape faces Sirius, his lips pressed into a thin line. His face is even paler than usual, and his eyes burn with rage and loathing. “When I am fully cured, I can assure you I will thank you properly for your hospitality.”
“Is that a threat?” Sirius raises his eyebrows, and lets out a bark of laughter. “I’m not frightened of you, Snivellus.”
Snape’s body tenses and he makes his way to the door. His usual smooth stride is marred by the injuries hidden beneath his voluminous robes. His lips pull into a dangerous smile. “I do so enjoy being underestimated. It makes it far easier to take someone by surprise.” His gaze lingers on the bottle of brandy on the table. “Enjoy your drink, Black. I would hate to see you choke on it.”
When Snape leaves the room, Sirius sniffs the brandy cautiously.
With a growl of frustration, he eventually puts the lid back on the bottle and curses Snape under his breath.
“Bloody Slytherin.”
*
Snape keeps himself hidden away for the majority of the day. It’s only on the odd occasion that Sirius finds himself bumping into Snape, somewhere in the shadowy corridors of Grimmauld Place.
“You’re staying in your room an awful lot.” Sirius narrows his eyes at Snape.
Snape’s cool expression flickers. “I was not aware you desired my company, Black. Would you be happier if I joined you for dinner on occasion? We could discuss the war and laugh together, over a glass of brandy.” He snorts and folds his arms. “Move out of my way.”
“Not until you tell me what you’re doing all day.” Sirius grips onto Snape’s arm when he tries to push past.
“Unhand me!” Snape turns to Sirius, his face twisted into a snarl of displeasure. “I am avoiding you, you ignorant cretin. Do you imagine I enjoy being imprisoned here with you?”
“Well I don’t much enjoy having you here, either.” Sirius glares at Snape. “I don’t know why Albus trusts you, but I’m fairly certain you’re up to your old tricks. You’re probably plotting a way to finish me off in my sleep.”
Snape raises his eyes heavenward and lets out a huff of displeasure. “I have more pressing things to attend to these days. An aged mongrel who spends most of his time in a drunken stupor is not exactly high on the Dark Lord’s list of priorities.”
A wave of fury and bitterness crashes over Sirius and he fists his hand in Snape’s robes with a snarl. “The Dark Lord? Listen to yourself, you bloody sycophant. People are going to die, and you still talk about him with reverence. I don’t trust you, Snape. Never have, never will.”
Snape shakes himself free of Sirius’ grasp. He sucks in his cheeks and lets out a hiss of pain, agony marring his features. “As ever, you are utterly blinded by your privilege and prejudice. You have no grasp of the nuances or subtleties involved with fighting a war. You will no doubt blunder recklessly into a dangerous situation, in a desperate show of bravado just to prove that you still have worth.” Snape pauses, his breathing heavy. His eyes glimmer strangely and the shadows stretch over the walls and cover his face. “Your arrogance and ignorance will be your downfall, and I for one will be glad to see it when it happens.”
Sirius steps back, his head throbbing and his body tense with fury. He growls low in his throat and jabs his finger in Snape’s direction. “I want you to do whatever you need to do as quickly as possible and then I want you to fuck off. This is my home, and traitors aren’t welcome here.”
“No?” Snape’s lips curve. “Yet you were a traitor once, were you not? I don’t believe anybody has attempted to throw me into Azkaban. I am not the one wanted for war crimes.”
With a snort of derision, Snape turns and retreats to his room. Sirius watches him, as he reaches for the wall to steady himself. His shoulders hunch briefly and a shudder runs through his body. Without turning, he opens the door and closes it behind him again with a slam.
*
Sirius throws his clothes out of his top drawer, his face hot and slick with perspiration.
He was sure he had enough bottles of Dreamless Sleep to last him for the rest of the month. He was positive he had at least six stashed away somewhere in case of an emergency. Every day’s a fucking emergency now, and he dimly wonders when he last went to sleep without taking potions to push aside his unwelcome dreams.
With another muttered curse, he slowly begins packing his clothes into jumbled piles back into the drawer. Nothing. Not a single, sodding bottle left.
He grimaces and makes his way downstairs, grabbing a bottle of brandy. He opens it roughly and tips his head back, letting the harsh liquor warm his throat.
“Drinking again, Black?”
“Fuck you.” Sirius can’t even be bothered to argue with Snape, and he takes another deep swig of the brandy before putting the lid on and shoving the bottle to the back of the cupboard. He tries to still the shaking in his hands, and pushes them into his trouser pockets.
“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to get in the way of your evening for one.” Snape sneers, and picks up a musty looking text. “I was simply retrieving my book.”
“It looks fascinating.” Sirius wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his heartrate settling a little. “I suppose it’s full of horrible curses?”
“Something like that.” The tips of Snape’s ears turn pink and he turns his back to Sirius. “Sleep tight.”
The door closes behind Snape and a burning anger floods through Sirius’ veins. He yanks open the door and moves swiftly through the halls. “Snape! Get back here.”
“Is there a problem?” Snape turns, his face the picture of innocence. He raises an eyebrow at Sirius and his eyes gleam with malicious glee. “You appear rather…distracted.”
“You took them.” Sirius stares at Snape and he clutches his wand in his pocket. “You took my potions.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” With an unnerving smile, Snape goes into his room and closes the door behind him. Sirius thinks he can hear Snape laugh behind the heavy wooden door – he pictures Snape sitting on his bed with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
With a growl of fury, Sirius punches his fist against the door. The wood splinters, and his knuckles flare with pain.
Clutching his hand, Sirius returns to his room and determines to get Snape for this if it’s the last thing he does.
*
The nightmare comes swiftly, with brutal force. The screams assault his senses, and Sirius twists and turns in his bed.
He curls in upon himself as the shadowy faces move closer.
“Spread them, Black. I’ve always wanted to make an aristocrat scream. Fuck, yeah. That’s the stuff.”
Sweat covers his limbs and Sirius clutches the sheets tightly around his body. The bed is cold, and damp and he’s back in Azkaban.
The guards taunt him and the room sways before his face. His eye is swollen and his lips tainted with the coppery flavour of his own blood.
“He likes it, I reckon.”
An indescribable pain flares through Sirius’ leg and he clutches his thigh with a desperate whimper.
“Don’t – I…don’t.”
A faceless creature drifts over Sirius. Everything is dark, and cold. His body chills and trembles on the stone floor. A boot on his chest presses harder, just over his heart.
“Listen to him beg. Pathetic worm.”
There’s a laugh, and the creature swoops closer. All the happiness he’s ever felt leaves Sirius, and a shudder of revulsion runs through his body from his neck to the base of his spine. He flinches and tries to pull away, but the faceless creature is too close. His mind swims and he tries to clutch onto every last happy memory.
That’s it, Moony. Fuck, you’re brilliant
Kisses and a beating heart. Gryffindor scarves. Warmth, sunshine and broomsticks.
“No, no, no.”
Dead bodies, two of them. Side by side and hands entwined. Fire-red hair, and bloodied chests. A baby cries and Sirius screams.
“That’s right darlin’.” One of the guards’ chuckles. “Give him a Kiss.”
*
“Wake up! You stupid mongrel, wake up.”
Sirius sits up with a start, and finds himself face to face with Snape.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sirius presses his hand to his heart and takes a shuddering breath, his nightmares still fresh in his mind.
“I heard you scream.” Snape purses his lips and gives Sirius a look. “I came to check you weren’t being murdered.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Sirius mutters. He closes his eyes and counts to ten as he struggles to remember how to breathe. He fights back a wave of humiliation at being caught by Snape. “Just…give me my potions back.”
Snape shakes his head. “I didn’t take your potions. However, I would be prepared to brew some if you wish.”
“You expect me to trust you to do that?” Sirius pulls a face and then considers the alternative. “I suppose I don’t have much choice.”
“No.” Snape stands. He pauses in the doorway, a strange expression on his face. “I too, understand nightmares.”
“I’ve never hear you screaming.” With a sigh, Sirius rakes his hand through his hair and meets Snape’s gaze. His cheeks heat and he silently curses his misfortune.
“Indeed.” Snape nods. “Because some of us know how to use magic.”
*
To Sirius’ great surprise, Snape is as good as his word.
After two more nights with little sleep, Sirius wakes to find a set of bottles on his bedside table. He uncorks one and takes an experimental sniff.
“I can assure you, if I wished to poison you I could have done so long ago.” Snape jolts Sirius from his thoughts, and he pushes the cork back onto the bottle.
“I suppose I should thank you.”
Snape rolls his eyes. “I hardly did this for you, Black. I simply wish to have a few nights where my sleep is undisturbed by your caterwauling.”
Sirius grins, thinking he’s beginning to get the measure of Snape. “I’m sure.” He turns the bottle in his hands. “Do you have some for yourself?”
“I have other methods which suffice.” Snape’s cheeks heat and his lips press into a thin line.
“Can I ask what those are?” Sirius studies Snape curiously, and sighs when his expression cools.
“No. You may not.”
*
It’s nearly midnight when Sirius wanders past Snape’s rooms. The door is firmly shut, and not a sound breaks through the thick wood.
He runs his fingers over the name plaque on the door, with a sigh.
Regulus.
His curiosity getting the better of him, Sirius twists the doorknob and pushes open the door.
Snape doesn’t seem to notice when Sirius enters the room. He sits with his back to the door, resting against the bed. He flicks his wand and murmurs a spell, sending a spark into the air.
Sirius edges closer and takes in the items on the floor. There are a couple of books which look like the sort of thing a Muggle child might read. Instead of his thick, black robes, Snape wears deep green pyjamas. They have tiny snakes on them and the bottoms bunch up around his knees, exposing his bony ankles and long, thin toes.
“Snape?” Feeling like a voyeur intruding on an intensely private moment, Sirius clears his throat to announce his presence.
Snape’s shoulders tense and he doesn’t move.
The only sound in the room is the loud tick of the grandfather clock buried in the shadows.
“Get out.” When Snape finally speaks, his voice comes out in a low, furious hiss.
“I just wanted to-”
“GET OUT!” Snape stands with a snarl. His neck and face are bright red with anger and embarrassment. His pyjama sleeves end just before his elbows, and the motion of standing pulls the trousers higher up his calves. Dark hair stands out against the pale skin on his legs, and he advances towards Sirius. “Get out of my room, you have no business being here. Get out!” He brings his wand down with a vicious slice which hurls Sirius backwards. Snape's eyes flash with hatred and his lips twist in shame.
“Steady on, Snape for fucks sake.” Sirius draws his own wand and quickly blocks Snape’s next spell – thrown at him with a violent hiss.
“You didn’t have enough fun with me at Hogwarts, I suppose?” Snape moves closer and he hisses another spell which Sirius blocks again. “You and your idiotic friends didn’t have enough laughs at my expense, is that it, Black? Now you want to find out my secrets so you can enjoy your power – your insufferable superiority.”
“I don’t want to do anything of the sort.” Sirius grips Snape’s wrists in his hands, stopping him from hitting him in the chest. It’s not entirely true. Part of him wants to tell Snape he looks fucking ridiculous. He doesn’t understand why he’s in pyjamas about three sizes too small for him, reading Muggle books fit for a child.
“You made me suffer enough in the past. Leave me alone.” Snape’s wrists are covered in purplish bruises, and a deep welt runs from the crease of his elbow down to the base of his palm, usually covered by long robes.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” Despite himself, Sirius lets his touch linger on Snape’s wrist. Snape’s pulse beats steadily beneath his skin. He brushes his hand over Snape’s pyjama top and pushes it open a little to reveal more deep welts. “What the fuck did they do?”
Snape’s lips twist into a smile which lacks any humour. He pushes Sirius away with a snort. “The Dark Lord isn’t known for his light touch. I displeased him, and this was my reward.”
“How?” His throat dry, Sirius stares at Snape.
“Protecting the boy.” Snape’s shoulders droop and his head drops. His hair falls over his face, hiding it from Sirius’ view. “Get out.”
Sirius casts another swift look around the room and for once, does as he’s told.
*
As with so many things these days, Sirius turns to the bottle for answers.
He keeps Snape’s glass full, until his face flushes from the effects of the liquor. The candles send shadows dancing over the walls, and the sound of their breathing is the only noise in the room.
“When did it start?”
Snape doesn’t look up, and his fingers curl tightly around his glass. “Hogwarts,” he replies, tightly.
“Why?”
Snape purses his lips. “I wished to escape. To be elsewhere. Back in a time before all of this began.”
Sirius remembers the many moments he would shout to Snape as he moved through the halls and the scrawny boy moving through the corridors of Hogwarts with his head bowed, and a look of deep suspicion etched on his narrow features.
A lump rises in his throat and he twists his hands in his lap. “Sorry.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. This has precious little to do with you.” Snape drums his fingers on his leg, a slow tap, tap. Sirius lets his gaze linger on Snape’s slender fingers and feels the strangest desire to reach for his hand. He must be pissed.
“Nevertheless, I would like to understand.”
Snape snorts. “I’m sure you would. I am not a fool, Black. I have no intention of giving you and Lupin more ammunition to use against me.”
Sirius shrugs. “I could help.”
Finally, Snape stares at Sirius. “And how precisely do you think you can help?”
“It’s a kinky thing, isn’t it?”
Snape looks horrified, his cheeks flushing pink. “No, it isn’t, and even if it were do you imagine for one moment I would give you the satisfaction of…helping?”
Sirius studies Snape carefully. “It might help us both.”
Snape licks his lips and his eyes narrow. “I was not aware you were so inclined.”
“I’ve always liked men, if that’s what you mean.” Sirius inches closer to Snape, until he can feel warm breath against his face. “Haven’t you?”
“I have already told you I do not wish to discuss the matter any further.” Snape jabs a bony finger towards Sirius. “You have little comprehension of-”
With a roll of his eyes, Sirius fists his hand into Snape’s hair and closes the distance between them.
They come together with a fierce growl, which Sirius barely realises is his own. Snape responds to the kiss with unpractised hesitancy, and Sirius explores his mouth with an eagerness that surprises him. Snape’s body arches close and Sirius wraps his arms around him. His body shudders with momentary pleasure, and Snape clutches onto him tightly.
It’s been so bloody long since he’s been kissed. So long since he’s had a warm body in his arms – so long with nights full of desperate, lonely dreams. He groans into the kiss and begins to unbutton Snape’s robes. He pushes his free hand beneath the material and finds flesh beneath his fingers, hot and smooth.
“Fuck. You kinky bastard.”
Snape stills and pulls back from Sirius, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He sets his lips into a firm line and shoves Sirius’ hand away.
“You’re drunk. Stop pawing at me, you deranged mutt.”
Sirius stands on unsteady feet, and backs away. “This was a stupid idea.”
“Yes. It was.”
When Snape looks away, Sirius leaves the room and closes the door with a slam.
*
The shouts wake him from his easy sleep at four in the morning.
Sirius jumps from his bed, and pulls on his robe with a muttered curse. He moves swiftly down the corridors and opens the door to Snape’s room.
He finds Snape tangled in the sheets, his face twisted in agony. His slim frame looks even paler against the dark bedding, and the too-short pyjamas barely cover his legs. His hands clutch the sheets, and he arches up with a hiss of anguish.
Sirius approaches with caution, because he’s quite sure Snape can hex his bollocks off in a heartbeat. He settles on the edge of the bed, and pins Snape’s arms down so he won’t find himself on the receiving end of any unwelcome spells.
“Wake up, Snape. It’s only me. The mongrel you love to hate.”
Snape stills and his breathing leaves his mouth in rough, heavy pants. “Let me go. Let me go.”
Sirius gently releases Snape’s wrists but maintains his seat on the side of the bed. Eventually, Snape opens his eyes. His breathing steadies before a shudder passes through his body.
“Okay?”
“Do I look okay you pillock?” Snape reaches for his water with a trembling hand, and drinks it slowly. His eyes close momentarily and he breathes out with a hiss.
Sirius takes in the daft pyjamas, and Snape’s bare torso which is covered with a light smattering of inky black hair. Deep scars run in angry patterns on Snape’s chest. The Mark on his arm burns fiercely, the skull and snake illuminated in the moonlight.
Sirius shifts onto the bed and speaks gruffly. “Budge up, you bloody idiot.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Snape moves nevertheless, making room for Sirius.
Sirius opens his arms and lets Snape move warily into them. He closes them around Snape’s thin frame and strokes his hand through his hair until he settles.
“Taking care of you.”
Sirius holds his breath, but Snape doesn’t respond.
*
The next evening, Sirius knocks on Snape’s door to find him getting ready for bed. “Not wearing the pyjamas tonight?”
“No. Not that it’s any of your business.” Snape glares at Sirius, and his hand hovers over the towel he has wrapped around his waist. “Do you intend to stand there ogling me all evening?”
“I hoped I could do more than ogle.” Aware there’s no going back after this, Sirius closes the distance between them and grips the towel in his hands. “Much more than ogle.”
“You’re drunk,” Snape mutters.
“Not in the slightest.” Sirius breathes on Snape’s face, drawing an aggravated huff. “You see? Minty fresh.”
“Then why are you here?” Snape’s voice dips and his eyes narrow.
“Because I want to fuck.” Sirius tugs Snape closer and flicks his tongue over the shell of Snape’s ear.
“Horny bloody mongrel.” Despite his words, Snape doesn’t push Sirius away. “And what if I wish to fuck you?”
Sirius groans at the thought, which is far from unappealing. “I don’t give a rat’s arse how we do it, as long as you make me see stars.”
“I should hex you for coming into my room uninvited.” Snape shoves Sirius away, hard. For a moment Sirius thinks that’s the end of it, until the back of his knees connect with the bed and he falls back onto the mattress. Snape moves over him, with a predatory look in his eyes. “But I am feeling rather generous.”
“Is that right?” Sirius snorts, before pulling Snape into a deep kiss.
If Snape’s brandy-soaked kiss had been messy and unpractised, this is anything but. Snape’s fingers work with deft confidence to relieve Sirius of his clothes with such speed, Sirius thinks maybe he’s not the only one that hasn’t had sex for a while.
When Sirius is finally naked, Snape sits back on his heels and looks pleased with himself. He removes his towel to reveal a very satisfying prick, which is already hard with arousal. Sirius licks his lips and bites back a groan, imagining Snape’s cock buried deep inside his mouth – or his arse.
“I trust you have some lubricant?”
“I trust you have some of your own?” Sirius responds, quickly. “Not that I’m calling you a tosser.” He flicks his wand and three bottles in different shapes and sizes clatter together on the bed. “Your lube, I believe.”
Snape glares at Sirius and pushes two of the bottles out of the way. He reaches for one and uncorks it, the scent of mint filling the room. He slicks his fingers quickly before clearly the bottles away with a flick of his wand.
With a low groan, Snape captures Sirius’ lips once again and pushes his legs firmly apart.
Sirius runs his hands down Snape’s back, feeling every sinewy line of his slender frame. He pushes his hands into Snape’s hair when he feels long fingers – one, then two – working inside his body. His breath leaves him in a rush when Snape begins to fuck him slowly with his fingers, staring into his eyes with the strangest expression.
“Why did you come here?” Snape’s voice is rough and he twists his fingers inside Sirius. Perhaps he thinks fucking Sirius is the way to get him to spill his secrets.
“Because you intrigue me.” It’s the best Sirius can do, as close to the truth as he dares to get and not so far away as to be an untruth. Snape seems satisfied by the response, and slides his fingers out of Sirius slowly. “Do I intrigue you?”
Snape snorts. “Not in the slightest. You are painfully easy to read.” He leaves it at that and swats Sirius’ on the thigh. “Hands and knees would be best. I don’t believe we need to whisper sweet nothings and stare lovingly into one another’s eyes.”
“Definitely not.” Sirius rolls over with a grin, and props himself up. The sensation of Snape’s hands parting his arse cheeks makes him groan and he presses back against Snape’s hands. “Come on, then. Get on with it.”
“Patience.” Snape sounds like he’s smirking, and when Sirius feels a tongue pushing against his entrance he understands exactly why. He clutches onto the sheets tightly and resists the urge to cry out. Snape is driving him bloody insane. Sirius can’t remember the last time his prick was this hard and he wonders if Snape’s insistent tongue will make him come like a teenager without being touched.
Just when Sirius thinks he’s going to explode, Snape pulls back and rubs his cock against Sirius. With a deep thrust he enters him, clutching onto his hips tightly.
Sirius arches his neck and groans, rocking back on Snape once he adjusts to the intrusion. “So fucking long. Too long.”
Snape responds with a grunt, and fucks Sirius steadily. By the time Snape wraps his hand around Sirius’ cock and shifts his angle, Sirius is already close to coming.
The combined movements push him over the edge and he comes hard, clenching around Snape who comes shortly afterwards. They collapse onto the bed, and stare at the ceiling.
“What now?” Sirius tips his head to look at Snape.
Snape stares back, his expression unreadable. “I suppose we should sleep.”
Sirius contemplates going back to his own bed, but Snape’s bed is comfortable and smells like Snape’s spicy cologne. His legs still aren’t working properly after his decent shag, and he can’t really be arsed to move. He rolls over and slips under the duvet.
“I hope you don’t snore.”
The only response from Snape is a soft snort, followed by a rustle of the duvet and a dip in the mattress as he edges closer to Sirius.
*
When Sirius asks for some new pyjamas, Arthur, bless him, doesn’t ask a single question. He simply responds with an owl, and a package neatly wrapped in brown paper.
“Gravy bones?” Snape looks up from his paper and arches an eyebrow at Sirius, his lips twitching.
“Piss off.” Sirius pushes the parcel towards Snape. “A gift. Don’t worry, I told Arthur it was for me.”
Snape’s hand hovers over the parcel, and he narrows his eyes. “A gift?”
“Hasn’t anyone given you a present before?” Sirius laughs and nudges the parcel closer to Snape. “Go on, then. Open it.”
Still looking uncertain, Snape tugs on the string. The paper falls open and Snape carefully extracts the burgundy pyjamas covered with little lions. He stares at them as heat creeps from his neck to his cheeks. When he looks up, his eyes are dark and his expression furious.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“Far from it.” Sirius resists the urge to roll his eyes, wondering if he’ll always have to approach Snape with the same kind of caution one would take when approaching a Hippogriff. “The other ones are a bit small. Not to mention a bit Slytherin. I thought these might be more your size.”
Snape swallows and his throat bobs.
Sirius has to strain to hear the barely perceptible thank you, which falls from Snape’s lips in a whisper.
He sits back with a grin. “You’re welcome.”
*
When Snape wakes with a shout, Sirius is ready.
He hands Snape the new pyjamas and nuzzles his neck, breathing in his scent. “Put them on, will you?”
Snape hesitates, then nods. He takes the pyjamas from Sirius with a shudder which seems to shake him to the core. He throws back the sheets and disappears into the bathroom. Sirius hears the tap running and pictures Snape splashing cool water on his face.
He waits.
Eventually, the door opens. The pyjamas reach to Snape’s wrists and pool just below his ankles, over his feet. They are a little big but fit far better than the small, threadbare set Snape had almost worn through.
He’s not sure what to call Snape. The usual barbed insults don’t seem right, and boy sounds harsh and impersonal. Sirius looks into Snape’s eyes and tries to read his expression, wondering where he is. Wherever it is, it’s not Grimmauld Place and Snape is far away from being over thirty with a war and multiple deaths behind him.
“Severus.” It’s the first thing Sirius thinks of and he stretches out his hand. “Come here.”
Snape takes tentative steps towards the bed. His wand is nowhere to be seen, and his eyes fill with uncertainty. He climbs onto the bed as if it’s taller than him, and the move is both heart breaking and ridiculous all at once.
Sirius knows he could break Snape now, in this moment. He could make one comment which would send Snape into a spiral of anger and hurt, but he doesn’t. He’s surprised to find the thought of hurting Snape now fills him with disgust. It would be like kicking a crup, he tells himself. It’s not because he cares or anything. It’s definitely not because of that.
“I want my book,” Snape (Severus) demands. He looks angrily at Sirius and folds his arms. “Where’s my book?”
“Trust you to be a brat.” Sirius snorts and holds up the book he selected from the small pile on the bedside table. “This one?”
Severus narrows his eyes at the cover as if it displeases him. His eyes still have that hollow, lost sort of look which makes Sirius’ chest ache. “I suppose that will do.”
He enunciates his words more carefully like this, and there’s the faintest trace of a regional accent. Sirius arches his eyebrow at Severus and pats the spot on the bed beside him. “Why don’t you sit next to me, and I’ll read to you for a while?”
It should be peculiar, having Severus curl up next to him as if he’s half the size he really is. It should be fucking hilarious when Severus starts demanding Sirius tries harder to make the characters in his story sound different to one another. It should be the perfect opportunity for Sirius to say something cruel enough to get rid of Severus out of his house and his life completely.
Instead, it’s none of those things.
It’s a warm bed, and long toes poking against his shins. It’s flannel pyjamas and the surprising realisation that Severus looks good in burgundy. It’s a million miles away from Azkaban, and it’s just two people – reading a story.
It’s also the first night Sirius sleeps through until dawn, without so much as a sniff of brandy or a drop of Dreamless Sleep.
*
It soon becomes apparent that Severus doesn’t just enjoy being looked after when his nightmares are at their worst. On occasion, he gives Sirius a fiery look and makes a show of arguing about anything under the sun. He doesn’t look terribly fierce, with little lions running all over his pyjamas but Sirius appreciates him giving it his best shot.
Those nights, Sirius pats his lap and waits for Severus to stretch over his thighs. He tugs roughly at the elasticated band on the waist of Severus’ trousers and pushes them down to his knees. Although Severus is tall, Sirius is taller and with a double bed the position isn’t entirely awkward.
Sometimes he uses one of the plain slippers Severus keeps by the foot of the bed, and enjoys the way Severus turns bright red at the idea of being spanked with his own footwear. Once or twice Sirius uses his belt, and has Severus strip and bend over the side of the bed. He’s not sure he likes where Severus goes in those moments and the next day Severus is grouchier than usual, and sits in near silence with his lips pressed in a firm line.
They learn how to manage it. Kisses here and there, a cup of hot tea with sugar and some buttered crumpets do the trick. Then there’s the affection which comes strangely easily to Sirius and seems to ease Severus’ mood the next day. It’s not much more than teasing and lazy mornings lounging in bed with the paper, but it helps.
But when Severus really asks for a spanking, there’s nothing Sirius prefers using than his hand. It gives him access to all the right places. He teases Severus by sliding his slick fingers into the crease of his arse cheeks, and rubbing them over his hole without pushing inside.
“That’s a reward for good boys.”
“Get on with it, Black.” Severus huffs and wriggles on his lap.
With a deep laugh, Sirius brings his hand down with a thwack. Severus doesn’t really like gentle spankings, so Sirius spanks him thoroughly right from the start. He loves the way Severus’ backside blooms under his palm, taking on a pink and then a reddish hue. He keeps going until Severus’ eyes water and he flinches away from Sirius.
“Let me put the lotion on.”
“Leave me alone, you imbecile.” Severus grouches and pulls away from Sirius, rolling onto his front. He rocks against the sheets so slightly, Sirius supposes Severus thinks he doesn’t even notice.
“Not yet. I’m not finished with you.”
The lotion is the perfect excuse, and they both know it. It’s slick and oil based, and it allows Sirius to slip his fingers deep inside Severus as if that’s going to help to soothe anything other than Snape’s hard cock.
When Severus is ready, Sirius nudges him up onto his hands and knees. He presses into him with a hard thrust, and they both groan. He wraps his still slick hand around Severus’ cock and slides in a perfect rhythm until they’re both sweaty and gasping for breath. On one occasion he fucks Severus so roughly, they tumble off the bed onto the floor in a mess of sweaty limbs and half-hard cocks.
Severus gets mightily pissed off about that particular incident, until Sirius starts sucking his cock to shut him up.
Severus never packs up his things, even when he’s fully recovered. It doesn’t take much than a quick stay over a mouthful of spaghetti.
It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough. More than good enough, if Sirius is honest with himself.
The sky is thick with rain clouds these days, and there are times when a chill settles over the air and all of the happiness seems to leave the house in a rush.
There’s a war coming.
There are meetings Severus attends which make Sirius wonder if he’s ever coming back.
There are the times they fuck like their life might depend upon it.
There are the moments late at night – when it’s hard to breathe and everything is just too much – when warm bodies press close together and lips find one another at last.
And it’s giving in to those moments that might just change the world.
~Fin~
Author:
writcraftPrompt Number: ### 54 submitted by
akatnamedeasterKink Showcased: Age play
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sirius Black/Severus Snape, blink and you’ll miss it suggestion of past Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Summary: When Severus Snape is sent to Grimmauld Place to recover after a particularly violent attack by Voldemort, his presence only adds to Sirius Black’s frustrations. But when nightmares come, both men find some surprising common ground.
Warnings: Strong suggestions of past non-con and violence (not between Severus/Sirius), nightmares, references to canon character deaths (not Severus or Sirius), fingering, spanking, references to belting, suggestions of potions and alcohol abuse
Word Count: ~ 6,300
Author's Notes: Akatnamedeaster, you contribute such a lot to fandom and I thought a kink fest was a good place to say thank you for your wonderfully kinky art. I do hope the essence of the pairing I’ve captured here works for you. The scene with Sirius’ dream was very much inspired by your own artwork. The boys wouldn’t behave themselves, and hence the featured kink is just a part of their story which I hope has received enough attention amidst all their arguing. Thank you to A for the SPaG check and to the mods for running this fabulous fest.
“Black.” Snape says Sirius’ name with a sneer. His lip curls and his eyes flash with anger. He clutches his wand tightly in his fist, his bony knuckles whitening with the force of his grip.
Sirius eyes Snape. “You look like shit.”
Snape purses his lips, and his cheeks flare with two deep pink spots. “And you look drunk.”
Sirius snorts and tips his glass of brandy in Snape’s direction. “Not even close.” He takes in Snape’s limp and notices the way it seems to pain him to reach for a glass from the cupboards. “Can’t they fix you? How long do you need to stay here?”
“As long as it takes.” With a growl of frustration, Snape Summons the glass with barely a flick of his wand. It flies across the room and smashes against the wall, smithereens of glass landing on the stone floor. “Fuck.”
“Would you like some help?” Sirius doesn’t move from his seat, and crosses his legs at the ankle. If he’s going to be holed up in this fucking house with Severus Snape, he might as well have some fun. Taunting Snape has always been fun. “Now that you’re so…impotent.”
“I am not...” Snape’s growl catches in his throat as he flicks his wand to clear the glass. His expression flickers with a wince of pain, which he quickly brings under control. Sirius almost feels sorry for him. Almost.
“That’s what you get for wanking yourself stupid over the Dark Arts,” Sirius mutters.
Snape faces Sirius, his lips pressed into a thin line. His face is even paler than usual, and his eyes burn with rage and loathing. “When I am fully cured, I can assure you I will thank you properly for your hospitality.”
“Is that a threat?” Sirius raises his eyebrows, and lets out a bark of laughter. “I’m not frightened of you, Snivellus.”
Snape’s body tenses and he makes his way to the door. His usual smooth stride is marred by the injuries hidden beneath his voluminous robes. His lips pull into a dangerous smile. “I do so enjoy being underestimated. It makes it far easier to take someone by surprise.” His gaze lingers on the bottle of brandy on the table. “Enjoy your drink, Black. I would hate to see you choke on it.”
When Snape leaves the room, Sirius sniffs the brandy cautiously.
With a growl of frustration, he eventually puts the lid back on the bottle and curses Snape under his breath.
“Bloody Slytherin.”
Snape keeps himself hidden away for the majority of the day. It’s only on the odd occasion that Sirius finds himself bumping into Snape, somewhere in the shadowy corridors of Grimmauld Place.
“You’re staying in your room an awful lot.” Sirius narrows his eyes at Snape.
Snape’s cool expression flickers. “I was not aware you desired my company, Black. Would you be happier if I joined you for dinner on occasion? We could discuss the war and laugh together, over a glass of brandy.” He snorts and folds his arms. “Move out of my way.”
“Not until you tell me what you’re doing all day.” Sirius grips onto Snape’s arm when he tries to push past.
“Unhand me!” Snape turns to Sirius, his face twisted into a snarl of displeasure. “I am avoiding you, you ignorant cretin. Do you imagine I enjoy being imprisoned here with you?”
“Well I don’t much enjoy having you here, either.” Sirius glares at Snape. “I don’t know why Albus trusts you, but I’m fairly certain you’re up to your old tricks. You’re probably plotting a way to finish me off in my sleep.”
Snape raises his eyes heavenward and lets out a huff of displeasure. “I have more pressing things to attend to these days. An aged mongrel who spends most of his time in a drunken stupor is not exactly high on the Dark Lord’s list of priorities.”
A wave of fury and bitterness crashes over Sirius and he fists his hand in Snape’s robes with a snarl. “The Dark Lord? Listen to yourself, you bloody sycophant. People are going to die, and you still talk about him with reverence. I don’t trust you, Snape. Never have, never will.”
Snape shakes himself free of Sirius’ grasp. He sucks in his cheeks and lets out a hiss of pain, agony marring his features. “As ever, you are utterly blinded by your privilege and prejudice. You have no grasp of the nuances or subtleties involved with fighting a war. You will no doubt blunder recklessly into a dangerous situation, in a desperate show of bravado just to prove that you still have worth.” Snape pauses, his breathing heavy. His eyes glimmer strangely and the shadows stretch over the walls and cover his face. “Your arrogance and ignorance will be your downfall, and I for one will be glad to see it when it happens.”
Sirius steps back, his head throbbing and his body tense with fury. He growls low in his throat and jabs his finger in Snape’s direction. “I want you to do whatever you need to do as quickly as possible and then I want you to fuck off. This is my home, and traitors aren’t welcome here.”
“No?” Snape’s lips curve. “Yet you were a traitor once, were you not? I don’t believe anybody has attempted to throw me into Azkaban. I am not the one wanted for war crimes.”
With a snort of derision, Snape turns and retreats to his room. Sirius watches him, as he reaches for the wall to steady himself. His shoulders hunch briefly and a shudder runs through his body. Without turning, he opens the door and closes it behind him again with a slam.
Sirius throws his clothes out of his top drawer, his face hot and slick with perspiration.
He was sure he had enough bottles of Dreamless Sleep to last him for the rest of the month. He was positive he had at least six stashed away somewhere in case of an emergency. Every day’s a fucking emergency now, and he dimly wonders when he last went to sleep without taking potions to push aside his unwelcome dreams.
With another muttered curse, he slowly begins packing his clothes into jumbled piles back into the drawer. Nothing. Not a single, sodding bottle left.
He grimaces and makes his way downstairs, grabbing a bottle of brandy. He opens it roughly and tips his head back, letting the harsh liquor warm his throat.
“Drinking again, Black?”
“Fuck you.” Sirius can’t even be bothered to argue with Snape, and he takes another deep swig of the brandy before putting the lid on and shoving the bottle to the back of the cupboard. He tries to still the shaking in his hands, and pushes them into his trouser pockets.
“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to get in the way of your evening for one.” Snape sneers, and picks up a musty looking text. “I was simply retrieving my book.”
“It looks fascinating.” Sirius wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his heartrate settling a little. “I suppose it’s full of horrible curses?”
“Something like that.” The tips of Snape’s ears turn pink and he turns his back to Sirius. “Sleep tight.”
The door closes behind Snape and a burning anger floods through Sirius’ veins. He yanks open the door and moves swiftly through the halls. “Snape! Get back here.”
“Is there a problem?” Snape turns, his face the picture of innocence. He raises an eyebrow at Sirius and his eyes gleam with malicious glee. “You appear rather…distracted.”
“You took them.” Sirius stares at Snape and he clutches his wand in his pocket. “You took my potions.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” With an unnerving smile, Snape goes into his room and closes the door behind him. Sirius thinks he can hear Snape laugh behind the heavy wooden door – he pictures Snape sitting on his bed with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
With a growl of fury, Sirius punches his fist against the door. The wood splinters, and his knuckles flare with pain.
Clutching his hand, Sirius returns to his room and determines to get Snape for this if it’s the last thing he does.
The nightmare comes swiftly, with brutal force. The screams assault his senses, and Sirius twists and turns in his bed.
He curls in upon himself as the shadowy faces move closer.
“Spread them, Black. I’ve always wanted to make an aristocrat scream. Fuck, yeah. That’s the stuff.”
Sweat covers his limbs and Sirius clutches the sheets tightly around his body. The bed is cold, and damp and he’s back in Azkaban.
The guards taunt him and the room sways before his face. His eye is swollen and his lips tainted with the coppery flavour of his own blood.
“He likes it, I reckon.”
An indescribable pain flares through Sirius’ leg and he clutches his thigh with a desperate whimper.
“Don’t – I…don’t.”
A faceless creature drifts over Sirius. Everything is dark, and cold. His body chills and trembles on the stone floor. A boot on his chest presses harder, just over his heart.
“Listen to him beg. Pathetic worm.”
There’s a laugh, and the creature swoops closer. All the happiness he’s ever felt leaves Sirius, and a shudder of revulsion runs through his body from his neck to the base of his spine. He flinches and tries to pull away, but the faceless creature is too close. His mind swims and he tries to clutch onto every last happy memory.
That’s it, Moony. Fuck, you’re brilliant
Kisses and a beating heart. Gryffindor scarves. Warmth, sunshine and broomsticks.
“No, no, no.”
Dead bodies, two of them. Side by side and hands entwined. Fire-red hair, and bloodied chests. A baby cries and Sirius screams.
“That’s right darlin’.” One of the guards’ chuckles. “Give him a Kiss.”
“Wake up! You stupid mongrel, wake up.”
Sirius sits up with a start, and finds himself face to face with Snape.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sirius presses his hand to his heart and takes a shuddering breath, his nightmares still fresh in his mind.
“I heard you scream.” Snape purses his lips and gives Sirius a look. “I came to check you weren’t being murdered.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Sirius mutters. He closes his eyes and counts to ten as he struggles to remember how to breathe. He fights back a wave of humiliation at being caught by Snape. “Just…give me my potions back.”
Snape shakes his head. “I didn’t take your potions. However, I would be prepared to brew some if you wish.”
“You expect me to trust you to do that?” Sirius pulls a face and then considers the alternative. “I suppose I don’t have much choice.”
“No.” Snape stands. He pauses in the doorway, a strange expression on his face. “I too, understand nightmares.”
“I’ve never hear you screaming.” With a sigh, Sirius rakes his hand through his hair and meets Snape’s gaze. His cheeks heat and he silently curses his misfortune.
“Indeed.” Snape nods. “Because some of us know how to use magic.”
To Sirius’ great surprise, Snape is as good as his word.
After two more nights with little sleep, Sirius wakes to find a set of bottles on his bedside table. He uncorks one and takes an experimental sniff.
“I can assure you, if I wished to poison you I could have done so long ago.” Snape jolts Sirius from his thoughts, and he pushes the cork back onto the bottle.
“I suppose I should thank you.”
Snape rolls his eyes. “I hardly did this for you, Black. I simply wish to have a few nights where my sleep is undisturbed by your caterwauling.”
Sirius grins, thinking he’s beginning to get the measure of Snape. “I’m sure.” He turns the bottle in his hands. “Do you have some for yourself?”
“I have other methods which suffice.” Snape’s cheeks heat and his lips press into a thin line.
“Can I ask what those are?” Sirius studies Snape curiously, and sighs when his expression cools.
“No. You may not.”
It’s nearly midnight when Sirius wanders past Snape’s rooms. The door is firmly shut, and not a sound breaks through the thick wood.
He runs his fingers over the name plaque on the door, with a sigh.
Regulus.
His curiosity getting the better of him, Sirius twists the doorknob and pushes open the door.
Snape doesn’t seem to notice when Sirius enters the room. He sits with his back to the door, resting against the bed. He flicks his wand and murmurs a spell, sending a spark into the air.
Sirius edges closer and takes in the items on the floor. There are a couple of books which look like the sort of thing a Muggle child might read. Instead of his thick, black robes, Snape wears deep green pyjamas. They have tiny snakes on them and the bottoms bunch up around his knees, exposing his bony ankles and long, thin toes.
“Snape?” Feeling like a voyeur intruding on an intensely private moment, Sirius clears his throat to announce his presence.
Snape’s shoulders tense and he doesn’t move.
The only sound in the room is the loud tick of the grandfather clock buried in the shadows.
“Get out.” When Snape finally speaks, his voice comes out in a low, furious hiss.
“I just wanted to-”
“GET OUT!” Snape stands with a snarl. His neck and face are bright red with anger and embarrassment. His pyjama sleeves end just before his elbows, and the motion of standing pulls the trousers higher up his calves. Dark hair stands out against the pale skin on his legs, and he advances towards Sirius. “Get out of my room, you have no business being here. Get out!” He brings his wand down with a vicious slice which hurls Sirius backwards. Snape's eyes flash with hatred and his lips twist in shame.
“Steady on, Snape for fucks sake.” Sirius draws his own wand and quickly blocks Snape’s next spell – thrown at him with a violent hiss.
“You didn’t have enough fun with me at Hogwarts, I suppose?” Snape moves closer and he hisses another spell which Sirius blocks again. “You and your idiotic friends didn’t have enough laughs at my expense, is that it, Black? Now you want to find out my secrets so you can enjoy your power – your insufferable superiority.”
“I don’t want to do anything of the sort.” Sirius grips Snape’s wrists in his hands, stopping him from hitting him in the chest. It’s not entirely true. Part of him wants to tell Snape he looks fucking ridiculous. He doesn’t understand why he’s in pyjamas about three sizes too small for him, reading Muggle books fit for a child.
“You made me suffer enough in the past. Leave me alone.” Snape’s wrists are covered in purplish bruises, and a deep welt runs from the crease of his elbow down to the base of his palm, usually covered by long robes.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” Despite himself, Sirius lets his touch linger on Snape’s wrist. Snape’s pulse beats steadily beneath his skin. He brushes his hand over Snape’s pyjama top and pushes it open a little to reveal more deep welts. “What the fuck did they do?”
Snape’s lips twist into a smile which lacks any humour. He pushes Sirius away with a snort. “The Dark Lord isn’t known for his light touch. I displeased him, and this was my reward.”
“How?” His throat dry, Sirius stares at Snape.
“Protecting the boy.” Snape’s shoulders droop and his head drops. His hair falls over his face, hiding it from Sirius’ view. “Get out.”
Sirius casts another swift look around the room and for once, does as he’s told.
As with so many things these days, Sirius turns to the bottle for answers.
He keeps Snape’s glass full, until his face flushes from the effects of the liquor. The candles send shadows dancing over the walls, and the sound of their breathing is the only noise in the room.
“When did it start?”
Snape doesn’t look up, and his fingers curl tightly around his glass. “Hogwarts,” he replies, tightly.
“Why?”
Snape purses his lips. “I wished to escape. To be elsewhere. Back in a time before all of this began.”
Sirius remembers the many moments he would shout to Snape as he moved through the halls and the scrawny boy moving through the corridors of Hogwarts with his head bowed, and a look of deep suspicion etched on his narrow features.
A lump rises in his throat and he twists his hands in his lap. “Sorry.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. This has precious little to do with you.” Snape drums his fingers on his leg, a slow tap, tap. Sirius lets his gaze linger on Snape’s slender fingers and feels the strangest desire to reach for his hand. He must be pissed.
“Nevertheless, I would like to understand.”
Snape snorts. “I’m sure you would. I am not a fool, Black. I have no intention of giving you and Lupin more ammunition to use against me.”
Sirius shrugs. “I could help.”
Finally, Snape stares at Sirius. “And how precisely do you think you can help?”
“It’s a kinky thing, isn’t it?”
Snape looks horrified, his cheeks flushing pink. “No, it isn’t, and even if it were do you imagine for one moment I would give you the satisfaction of…helping?”
Sirius studies Snape carefully. “It might help us both.”
Snape licks his lips and his eyes narrow. “I was not aware you were so inclined.”
“I’ve always liked men, if that’s what you mean.” Sirius inches closer to Snape, until he can feel warm breath against his face. “Haven’t you?”
“I have already told you I do not wish to discuss the matter any further.” Snape jabs a bony finger towards Sirius. “You have little comprehension of-”
With a roll of his eyes, Sirius fists his hand into Snape’s hair and closes the distance between them.
They come together with a fierce growl, which Sirius barely realises is his own. Snape responds to the kiss with unpractised hesitancy, and Sirius explores his mouth with an eagerness that surprises him. Snape’s body arches close and Sirius wraps his arms around him. His body shudders with momentary pleasure, and Snape clutches onto him tightly.
It’s been so bloody long since he’s been kissed. So long since he’s had a warm body in his arms – so long with nights full of desperate, lonely dreams. He groans into the kiss and begins to unbutton Snape’s robes. He pushes his free hand beneath the material and finds flesh beneath his fingers, hot and smooth.
“Fuck. You kinky bastard.”
Snape stills and pulls back from Sirius, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He sets his lips into a firm line and shoves Sirius’ hand away.
“You’re drunk. Stop pawing at me, you deranged mutt.”
Sirius stands on unsteady feet, and backs away. “This was a stupid idea.”
“Yes. It was.”
When Snape looks away, Sirius leaves the room and closes the door with a slam.
The shouts wake him from his easy sleep at four in the morning.
Sirius jumps from his bed, and pulls on his robe with a muttered curse. He moves swiftly down the corridors and opens the door to Snape’s room.
He finds Snape tangled in the sheets, his face twisted in agony. His slim frame looks even paler against the dark bedding, and the too-short pyjamas barely cover his legs. His hands clutch the sheets, and he arches up with a hiss of anguish.
Sirius approaches with caution, because he’s quite sure Snape can hex his bollocks off in a heartbeat. He settles on the edge of the bed, and pins Snape’s arms down so he won’t find himself on the receiving end of any unwelcome spells.
“Wake up, Snape. It’s only me. The mongrel you love to hate.”
Snape stills and his breathing leaves his mouth in rough, heavy pants. “Let me go. Let me go.”
Sirius gently releases Snape’s wrists but maintains his seat on the side of the bed. Eventually, Snape opens his eyes. His breathing steadies before a shudder passes through his body.
“Okay?”
“Do I look okay you pillock?” Snape reaches for his water with a trembling hand, and drinks it slowly. His eyes close momentarily and he breathes out with a hiss.
Sirius takes in the daft pyjamas, and Snape’s bare torso which is covered with a light smattering of inky black hair. Deep scars run in angry patterns on Snape’s chest. The Mark on his arm burns fiercely, the skull and snake illuminated in the moonlight.
Sirius shifts onto the bed and speaks gruffly. “Budge up, you bloody idiot.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Snape moves nevertheless, making room for Sirius.
Sirius opens his arms and lets Snape move warily into them. He closes them around Snape’s thin frame and strokes his hand through his hair until he settles.
“Taking care of you.”
Sirius holds his breath, but Snape doesn’t respond.
The next evening, Sirius knocks on Snape’s door to find him getting ready for bed. “Not wearing the pyjamas tonight?”
“No. Not that it’s any of your business.” Snape glares at Sirius, and his hand hovers over the towel he has wrapped around his waist. “Do you intend to stand there ogling me all evening?”
“I hoped I could do more than ogle.” Aware there’s no going back after this, Sirius closes the distance between them and grips the towel in his hands. “Much more than ogle.”
“You’re drunk,” Snape mutters.
“Not in the slightest.” Sirius breathes on Snape’s face, drawing an aggravated huff. “You see? Minty fresh.”
“Then why are you here?” Snape’s voice dips and his eyes narrow.
“Because I want to fuck.” Sirius tugs Snape closer and flicks his tongue over the shell of Snape’s ear.
“Horny bloody mongrel.” Despite his words, Snape doesn’t push Sirius away. “And what if I wish to fuck you?”
Sirius groans at the thought, which is far from unappealing. “I don’t give a rat’s arse how we do it, as long as you make me see stars.”
“I should hex you for coming into my room uninvited.” Snape shoves Sirius away, hard. For a moment Sirius thinks that’s the end of it, until the back of his knees connect with the bed and he falls back onto the mattress. Snape moves over him, with a predatory look in his eyes. “But I am feeling rather generous.”
“Is that right?” Sirius snorts, before pulling Snape into a deep kiss.
If Snape’s brandy-soaked kiss had been messy and unpractised, this is anything but. Snape’s fingers work with deft confidence to relieve Sirius of his clothes with such speed, Sirius thinks maybe he’s not the only one that hasn’t had sex for a while.
When Sirius is finally naked, Snape sits back on his heels and looks pleased with himself. He removes his towel to reveal a very satisfying prick, which is already hard with arousal. Sirius licks his lips and bites back a groan, imagining Snape’s cock buried deep inside his mouth – or his arse.
“I trust you have some lubricant?”
“I trust you have some of your own?” Sirius responds, quickly. “Not that I’m calling you a tosser.” He flicks his wand and three bottles in different shapes and sizes clatter together on the bed. “Your lube, I believe.”
Snape glares at Sirius and pushes two of the bottles out of the way. He reaches for one and uncorks it, the scent of mint filling the room. He slicks his fingers quickly before clearly the bottles away with a flick of his wand.
With a low groan, Snape captures Sirius’ lips once again and pushes his legs firmly apart.
Sirius runs his hands down Snape’s back, feeling every sinewy line of his slender frame. He pushes his hands into Snape’s hair when he feels long fingers – one, then two – working inside his body. His breath leaves him in a rush when Snape begins to fuck him slowly with his fingers, staring into his eyes with the strangest expression.
“Why did you come here?” Snape’s voice is rough and he twists his fingers inside Sirius. Perhaps he thinks fucking Sirius is the way to get him to spill his secrets.
“Because you intrigue me.” It’s the best Sirius can do, as close to the truth as he dares to get and not so far away as to be an untruth. Snape seems satisfied by the response, and slides his fingers out of Sirius slowly. “Do I intrigue you?”
Snape snorts. “Not in the slightest. You are painfully easy to read.” He leaves it at that and swats Sirius’ on the thigh. “Hands and knees would be best. I don’t believe we need to whisper sweet nothings and stare lovingly into one another’s eyes.”
“Definitely not.” Sirius rolls over with a grin, and props himself up. The sensation of Snape’s hands parting his arse cheeks makes him groan and he presses back against Snape’s hands. “Come on, then. Get on with it.”
“Patience.” Snape sounds like he’s smirking, and when Sirius feels a tongue pushing against his entrance he understands exactly why. He clutches onto the sheets tightly and resists the urge to cry out. Snape is driving him bloody insane. Sirius can’t remember the last time his prick was this hard and he wonders if Snape’s insistent tongue will make him come like a teenager without being touched.
Just when Sirius thinks he’s going to explode, Snape pulls back and rubs his cock against Sirius. With a deep thrust he enters him, clutching onto his hips tightly.
Sirius arches his neck and groans, rocking back on Snape once he adjusts to the intrusion. “So fucking long. Too long.”
Snape responds with a grunt, and fucks Sirius steadily. By the time Snape wraps his hand around Sirius’ cock and shifts his angle, Sirius is already close to coming.
The combined movements push him over the edge and he comes hard, clenching around Snape who comes shortly afterwards. They collapse onto the bed, and stare at the ceiling.
“What now?” Sirius tips his head to look at Snape.
Snape stares back, his expression unreadable. “I suppose we should sleep.”
Sirius contemplates going back to his own bed, but Snape’s bed is comfortable and smells like Snape’s spicy cologne. His legs still aren’t working properly after his decent shag, and he can’t really be arsed to move. He rolls over and slips under the duvet.
“I hope you don’t snore.”
The only response from Snape is a soft snort, followed by a rustle of the duvet and a dip in the mattress as he edges closer to Sirius.
When Sirius asks for some new pyjamas, Arthur, bless him, doesn’t ask a single question. He simply responds with an owl, and a package neatly wrapped in brown paper.
“Gravy bones?” Snape looks up from his paper and arches an eyebrow at Sirius, his lips twitching.
“Piss off.” Sirius pushes the parcel towards Snape. “A gift. Don’t worry, I told Arthur it was for me.”
Snape’s hand hovers over the parcel, and he narrows his eyes. “A gift?”
“Hasn’t anyone given you a present before?” Sirius laughs and nudges the parcel closer to Snape. “Go on, then. Open it.”
Still looking uncertain, Snape tugs on the string. The paper falls open and Snape carefully extracts the burgundy pyjamas covered with little lions. He stares at them as heat creeps from his neck to his cheeks. When he looks up, his eyes are dark and his expression furious.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“Far from it.” Sirius resists the urge to roll his eyes, wondering if he’ll always have to approach Snape with the same kind of caution one would take when approaching a Hippogriff. “The other ones are a bit small. Not to mention a bit Slytherin. I thought these might be more your size.”
Snape swallows and his throat bobs.
Sirius has to strain to hear the barely perceptible thank you, which falls from Snape’s lips in a whisper.
He sits back with a grin. “You’re welcome.”
When Snape wakes with a shout, Sirius is ready.
He hands Snape the new pyjamas and nuzzles his neck, breathing in his scent. “Put them on, will you?”
Snape hesitates, then nods. He takes the pyjamas from Sirius with a shudder which seems to shake him to the core. He throws back the sheets and disappears into the bathroom. Sirius hears the tap running and pictures Snape splashing cool water on his face.
He waits.
Eventually, the door opens. The pyjamas reach to Snape’s wrists and pool just below his ankles, over his feet. They are a little big but fit far better than the small, threadbare set Snape had almost worn through.
He’s not sure what to call Snape. The usual barbed insults don’t seem right, and boy sounds harsh and impersonal. Sirius looks into Snape’s eyes and tries to read his expression, wondering where he is. Wherever it is, it’s not Grimmauld Place and Snape is far away from being over thirty with a war and multiple deaths behind him.
“Severus.” It’s the first thing Sirius thinks of and he stretches out his hand. “Come here.”
Snape takes tentative steps towards the bed. His wand is nowhere to be seen, and his eyes fill with uncertainty. He climbs onto the bed as if it’s taller than him, and the move is both heart breaking and ridiculous all at once.
Sirius knows he could break Snape now, in this moment. He could make one comment which would send Snape into a spiral of anger and hurt, but he doesn’t. He’s surprised to find the thought of hurting Snape now fills him with disgust. It would be like kicking a crup, he tells himself. It’s not because he cares or anything. It’s definitely not because of that.
“I want my book,” Snape (Severus) demands. He looks angrily at Sirius and folds his arms. “Where’s my book?”
“Trust you to be a brat.” Sirius snorts and holds up the book he selected from the small pile on the bedside table. “This one?”
Severus narrows his eyes at the cover as if it displeases him. His eyes still have that hollow, lost sort of look which makes Sirius’ chest ache. “I suppose that will do.”
He enunciates his words more carefully like this, and there’s the faintest trace of a regional accent. Sirius arches his eyebrow at Severus and pats the spot on the bed beside him. “Why don’t you sit next to me, and I’ll read to you for a while?”
It should be peculiar, having Severus curl up next to him as if he’s half the size he really is. It should be fucking hilarious when Severus starts demanding Sirius tries harder to make the characters in his story sound different to one another. It should be the perfect opportunity for Sirius to say something cruel enough to get rid of Severus out of his house and his life completely.
Instead, it’s none of those things.
It’s a warm bed, and long toes poking against his shins. It’s flannel pyjamas and the surprising realisation that Severus looks good in burgundy. It’s a million miles away from Azkaban, and it’s just two people – reading a story.
It’s also the first night Sirius sleeps through until dawn, without so much as a sniff of brandy or a drop of Dreamless Sleep.
It soon becomes apparent that Severus doesn’t just enjoy being looked after when his nightmares are at their worst. On occasion, he gives Sirius a fiery look and makes a show of arguing about anything under the sun. He doesn’t look terribly fierce, with little lions running all over his pyjamas but Sirius appreciates him giving it his best shot.
Those nights, Sirius pats his lap and waits for Severus to stretch over his thighs. He tugs roughly at the elasticated band on the waist of Severus’ trousers and pushes them down to his knees. Although Severus is tall, Sirius is taller and with a double bed the position isn’t entirely awkward.
Sometimes he uses one of the plain slippers Severus keeps by the foot of the bed, and enjoys the way Severus turns bright red at the idea of being spanked with his own footwear. Once or twice Sirius uses his belt, and has Severus strip and bend over the side of the bed. He’s not sure he likes where Severus goes in those moments and the next day Severus is grouchier than usual, and sits in near silence with his lips pressed in a firm line.
They learn how to manage it. Kisses here and there, a cup of hot tea with sugar and some buttered crumpets do the trick. Then there’s the affection which comes strangely easily to Sirius and seems to ease Severus’ mood the next day. It’s not much more than teasing and lazy mornings lounging in bed with the paper, but it helps.
But when Severus really asks for a spanking, there’s nothing Sirius prefers using than his hand. It gives him access to all the right places. He teases Severus by sliding his slick fingers into the crease of his arse cheeks, and rubbing them over his hole without pushing inside.
“That’s a reward for good boys.”
“Get on with it, Black.” Severus huffs and wriggles on his lap.
With a deep laugh, Sirius brings his hand down with a thwack. Severus doesn’t really like gentle spankings, so Sirius spanks him thoroughly right from the start. He loves the way Severus’ backside blooms under his palm, taking on a pink and then a reddish hue. He keeps going until Severus’ eyes water and he flinches away from Sirius.
“Let me put the lotion on.”
“Leave me alone, you imbecile.” Severus grouches and pulls away from Sirius, rolling onto his front. He rocks against the sheets so slightly, Sirius supposes Severus thinks he doesn’t even notice.
“Not yet. I’m not finished with you.”
The lotion is the perfect excuse, and they both know it. It’s slick and oil based, and it allows Sirius to slip his fingers deep inside Severus as if that’s going to help to soothe anything other than Snape’s hard cock.
When Severus is ready, Sirius nudges him up onto his hands and knees. He presses into him with a hard thrust, and they both groan. He wraps his still slick hand around Severus’ cock and slides in a perfect rhythm until they’re both sweaty and gasping for breath. On one occasion he fucks Severus so roughly, they tumble off the bed onto the floor in a mess of sweaty limbs and half-hard cocks.
Severus gets mightily pissed off about that particular incident, until Sirius starts sucking his cock to shut him up.
Severus never packs up his things, even when he’s fully recovered. It doesn’t take much than a quick stay over a mouthful of spaghetti.
It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough. More than good enough, if Sirius is honest with himself.
The sky is thick with rain clouds these days, and there are times when a chill settles over the air and all of the happiness seems to leave the house in a rush.
There’s a war coming.
There are meetings Severus attends which make Sirius wonder if he’s ever coming back.
There are the times they fuck like their life might depend upon it.
There are the moments late at night – when it’s hard to breathe and everything is just too much – when warm bodies press close together and lips find one another at last.
And it’s giving in to those moments that might just change the world.
~Fin~
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Date: 2015-03-04 09:02 am (UTC)