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Get Back | Tomorrow Never Knows

Because he's Snape.

Snape...

His prey entered the room almost silently, the only sounds the faint creak and click of the door, but even these were enough to bring Sirius back to the present and instantly awake. He had a moment's disoriented panic, eyes sweeping the room before he'd seen enough - leather sofas, a green and silver rug, the fireplace with its huge, slightly tarnished serpent andirons - to remember where, and when, he was. The Slytherin common room. Heretofore uncharted territory, and, ordinarily, not a particularly advisable place for a Gryffindor to be caught napping.

Then he saw Snape, and remembered why he was here, and his heart began to hammer in his throat.

Sirius drew back even further into the shadows, but he needn't have bothered; Snape had his head down, glancing neither left nor right as he headed for the stairs to the dorms above. Sirius watched him all the way up, noting, without any conscious effort to do so, that the third step from the bottom squeaked slightly. Better give that a miss, then. When the Slytherin had disappeared into his room, Sirius uncoiled. He shook the pins and needles from his long limbs and swiftly crossed the room, mounting the staircase as softly as a shadow.

Large chamber. Stone walls, no windows. Fireplace, chairs. Five green-curtained beds. Snape stood beside one of them, apparently undressing, his back to the door when Sirius eased it open. Thanking whatever gods were in charge of protecting children and horny Gryffindors, Sirius pointed his wand at the bed stand and whispered, "Accio!"

"What the--?" Snape spun around just in time to see his own wand sail past and land neatly in Sirius's hand.

"Hey, Snivellus." It was an effort to keep his voice calm; his insides were wild, jumping. "Want to play?"

Snape's lips moved, but no sound came out. A myriad of emotions cascaded over his face: surprise, rage, hate, and - Sirius felt his groin tighten - fear. Fear looked so good on Snivvy. Damned if it didn't make him almost pretty.

"What's the matter, Sniv? You don't seem very happy to see me." He took a few steps into the room, his eyes trying to adjust to the dimmer light. The other boy came into focus gradually, in bits and pieces. Pale face, cheeks a bit flushed; worn, faded green robe, unbuttoned to the waist; long black hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. A few strands clung to his chest, playing hide-and-seek with a sharp nipple, and Sirius wet his lips as a droplet fell free, sliding down the slender torso into the shadowy V of the robe. "You had a bath, I see. And didn't melt," he added with a dark chuckle. "But what's the occasion? Did you get a bar of soap for Christmas? Or were you expecting me all along?"

Snape hissed like a cat. "Get out."

"Not likely. In fact, I plan on staying awhile. Keep you company." He tossed Snape's wand onto the nearest armchair, keeping his own trained on the Slytherin. "I figured since you're the only little snake left in the nest, you might be getting lonesome."

"The fuck! You 'figured' I'd be an easy target."

"That, too."

Snape shifted slightly. He glanced at the door. "How did you get in here?"

"Sorry. That's my secret."

"But the password--"

"Bollocks, the password." Sirius was not in the mood for talk. He was, in fact, hard as a bargepole and nearly dizzy from all the blood pooling in his groin. "And stop stalling, I didn't come here to chat."

Desperation flared in the dark eyes. "What do you want, Black?"

"Take off that rag you're wearing, and I'll show you." His grin widened at the horror on Snape's face, a frozen, big-eyed shock that warmed the Gryffindor to his toes. "Oh, yeah, Snivvy. We're going to have some fun, you and me. Just you and me, for once. But first, you have to be naked, so be a good lad now and chuck the robe."

Snape didn't move.

"Did you hear me? Can you hear anything through that great greasy mop on your head? Take. It. Off. Now."

Snape shook his head.

"Okay," Sirius shrugged. "We'll do it the hard way. Dishabilles!"

Cloth ripped and sailed; buttons flew. Snape snarled a protest, but the force of the spell knocked him back onto the bed, bare-assed and flailing and suddenly with much more pressing concerns than his ratty old dressing gown. He clawed at the coverlet, trying to get up, but Sirius brought his wand to bear once more and soft cords shot from the tip, wrapping around Snape's ankles and yanking his legs apart, tying them to the bedposts. His wrists were bound together, drawn up high above his head, and secured to a stone sconce on the wall. Start to finish, the entire attack took less than a minute.

Sirius moved closer, humming his approval. It wasn't for effect; he'd been dreaming of this moment for months, ever since that day by the lake last summer. The moment when he, not James, would be wielding this kind of power over Snape, controlling him, stripping him bare, stamping shame and fear in those impenetrable black eyes. The moment when it would be just the two of them, master and slave, and Snape would be debased for the private viewing pleasure of Sirius Black alone.

And, sweet Merlin! if Severus Snape wasn't born to be thrown down, trussed up, and forcibly fucked, old Lord Voldemort was a harmless political hack. Limbs stretched taut, back slightly arched, eyes shooting flames through the messy fall of hair, he looked even better than Sirius had imagined he would. He had even put a little meat on his bones since last summer; his legs were still too skinny, but the rest of him was pleasantly lean, the muscles beneath the startlingly white skin long and just barely defined.

And that cock - even soft, it was quite an eyeful. Sirius knew that he was beautiful and Snape was not, but he would have honestly considered trading faces with the Slytherin if only he could have that gorgeous monster cock in the bargain.

"What the bloody fuck?"

It was nearly a shriek. The realization that he couldn't move had pushed Snape past fear into full-blown panic, and he reacted like a wild thing, struggling against the cords so violently that the bed rocked. Sirius watched the show intently - muscles shifting under sweat-glossy skin, hips twisting, cock bouncing - and nothing short of a Castrato Curse could have driven him from the room.

He crossed the chamber as quickly as his erection would allow and sat on the edge of the bed, putting a hand on Snape's chest and stopping his struggles dead.

"You know, that's an interesting choice of words, Snape. 'Bloody fuck'. Are you suggesting something there? Should I actually fuck you bloody, right here in your own bed? I could, you know. I mean, there's nothing to stop me. All of your House mates are gone, and I've sound-warded the walls...you can scream yourself silly and there's no one to hear."

Snape was trembling. "Don't you fucking touch me, you--"

"Oh, shut your gob." Sirius leaned down and kissed him. Snape made a muffled sound of protest and tried to turn his head away, but Sirius grabbed his jaw in digging fingers, holding him still. He forced Snape's mouth open and pushed his tongue deep, so deep it had Snape bucking beneath him, straining for air. By the time Sirius released him, both of them were licking at bruised, stinging lips and Snape was panting like Padfoot on a hot day.

"What...do you...want?" Snape whispered again. There was no sneer, no obscenities, no attempt at bravado now. He was in trouble here, real trouble, the kind he couldn't scheme or lie or hex his way out of, and he clearly knew it. Jesus, he really is scared, Sirius realized, and he didn't know if that thought made him feel guilty or glad or just hornier than ever.

"I want you to like me, Severus." He ran a fingertip along Snape's mouth. "I just want you to like me." The finger continued down, over throat and chest and heaving belly, tickling through dark curls and over the soft shaft of the Slytherin's cock. He wrapped his hand around it and gave it a firm stroke, base to tip, and Snape grunted, hips jerking hard. "I'm going to make you like me."

He tightened his grip and moved in for another kiss. Again Snape pulled his head away, snarling, baring his teeth, but a sudden blinding pressure at his groin made him freeze. He trembled harder as Sirius put warm lips to his ear and whispered, "Do you really want to bite me, Sniv, or do you like your balls where they are?"

Silence.

"You bite me, and I'll hurt you, Snivvy. I'll really hurt you. You can fight me all you want - actually, I think I'd enjoy it if you did - but if you draw one fucking drop of my blood, I'll rip your bits off." His hand tightened fractionally on Snape's sac, eliciting a soft gasp. He knew he wasn't causing Snape any real pain, but he also knew, if he closed his fingers even another half-inch, he would be. "Understand?"

Snape nodded, immediately and vigorously.

Sirius loosened his grip, giving the balls a forgiving little pat before letting go. "Good boy." He claimed the Slytherin's lips once more, even harder than before, tacitly daring Snape to resist him again. Snape did not fight this time, and when he was satisfied he had the Slytherin's obedience, Sirius drew back and studied his face. It was soft, slack, completely blank save for a slightly furrowed brow. His eyes were closed. Sirius traced the curve of one long black lash with his thumb and whispered, "Look at me."

The dark eyes fluttered open, a bit dazed and blacker than ever; a pink tongue snaked out to lick the swollen lips. He's tasting me, Sirius thought, and if he had believed his cock couldn't possibly get any harder, he'd believed wrong. Oh, gods, he's tasting me on his mouth.

"Jesus, look at you," he murmured. "You like this. All of it, just like I knew you would. You're such a hot little bitch down deep, aren't you, Snivvy? I knew you would be. I told James you'd be my bitch before the night was through. Told him it wouldn't take much, either, and look at you. A few ropes, a bit of tongue, and you're hot as a Knockturn whore, just a hot little begging slut--"

Snape spat in his face.

Sirius blinked at him in utter astonishment. Snape's face was dark, twisted with hate and sick fury, and Sirius had a second to be thankful the bastard couldn't reach his wand: that look alone was enough to reduce Sirius Black to a belt buckle and a clump of protoplasmic goo.

Then his own rage swept through him and he backhanded the smaller boy, hard. Snape cried out, yanking at his restraints, panic flooding his eyes. Sirius rolled over on top of him, straddling him, hands grabbing for throat before a modicum of rational thought returned and they dropped, still hooked into claws, onto thin shoulders instead. He squeezed, squeezed until he felt the fine bones grind and heard Snape cry out again, and all he could think was the same thing he'd been thinking for the past six months: What the hell is wrong with you? Why don't you get it? Who do you think you are?

"You sorry little prick!" he growled. "I should beat you fucking bloody for that!"

"You...told...me...to fight...fight you," Snape managed to gasp. His lip was bleeding, a bruise was already blooming on his cheek, and he looked quite properly frightened, but Sirius could have sworn there was a smirk lurking in his eyes. Buck-naked and flat on his back, trussed up like the turkey they had all shared yesterday afternoon, wearing Sirius's handprint across half his face...and he was smirking. Maybe James was right about him after all. Maybe Snape really was not just weird, or different, or difficult, but completely mental.

Then he took another look. No, he decided; mental like a fox, more like. Snape knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew exactly what it was doing to Sirius. What it always did to Sirius. Snape had spit in his face for a reason; Snape had told him, Sirius Black, who could have had half the school in his bed with a snap of his fingers, to take his ropes and his tongue and anything else he might have to offer and shove them up his ass.

It was maddening. It was absurd. It was so perverse Sirius could almost like him for it.

"Yes...Yes, I did say that, didn't I?" He forced himself to let go of Snape's shoulders; he sat back on Snape's thighs, trying to get his breathing under control. He swiped his face with his sleeve and looked at Snape darkly, thoughtfully. "I did."

Keeping his eyes on the boy pinned beneath him, he reached behind him for his wand. Snape looked startled, then scared, and he flinched as the wand's tip touched his face. Sirius resisted the urge to laugh. "Oh, don't worry, Snape. I'm not going to curse you. If I had wanted to kill you, I would have strangled you. You don't know how tempting that was, having your throat so close to my hands."

Even as he threatened, his actions were gentle, the wand barely grazing the livid bruise already forming along the cheekbone. He chanted a simple healing spell, watching the bruise and the cut on Snape's lip disappear, and Snape eyed him with a troubled frown. He seemed confused at this unexpected solicitude, and Sirius had to hide a smirk of his own. Can't figure it out, eh, Sniv? Wondering what I'm up to? Well, too bloody bad. You were the little arsehole who wanted to play games.

"So perhaps I shouldn't have hit you," Sirius continued in that same calm, dry tone. "Perhaps I shouldn't have lost control. But you do need to be punished, I think. Because it isn't nice to spit in someone's face, Snivvy. It isn't nice at all."

He lifted himself up on his knees again, still straddling Snape's body, and unbuckled his belt. The look on Snape's face as it slid free was almost comical.

"What...what are you doing?"

Sirius ignored him. Snape knew very well what he was doing: mental or not, no one had ever accused him of being stupid. Pretending not to notice Snape's scrutiny, Sirius doubled the belt in his hand and tested it lightly against his palm. Snape flinched again at the sound, and Sirius felt a fresh surge of heat between his legs.

"Still too long, I think," he mused. "Too awkward for such close range. But maybe a shrinking spell..." He picked up his wand again and intoned, "Reducio," and the belt began to writhe in his hand, shrinking to a length of about eight inches. Sirius was pleased to note that neither the width nor the thickness were affected at all, and he hoped that Snape, watching with the unblinking attention of the truly terrified, noticed as well.

Sirius shifted to one side. Another spell released Snape's ankles, and even as the Slytherin drew his legs together protectively, Sirius pulled and pushed and rolled him until he had the smaller boy stretched face down across his lap. It was quite a view, and he spared just a moment to run a hand over the twitching buttocks. So pretty, they were. The skin was butter-soft, the flesh firm yet yielding, and they clenched under his touch as if embarrassed. Or afraid.

Should be, Sirius thought, as he raised his transfigured strap. Snape, who had been oddly compliant as Sirius maneuvered him into position, felt the movement and he stiffened, twisting his body, trying to turn his head.

"No...wait...!!!"

His protest was lost as the strap made a slight whistling noise, cutting air before slicing sharply across his ass. He shrieked, writhing and squirming, but his still-bound wrists and Sirius's strong arm around his waist kept him well in place.

"Does that hurt?" Sirius whispered. He raised the strap again and brought it down again, this second blow even harder than the first, and Snape cried out again, a gasp breaking his voice. "Well, it's supposed to hurt, Snivvy. This is punishment. Try to take it like a man."

"Fuck you, you - Oww!"

Sirius clucked his tongue. "Now, there, you see that? 'Fuck you.' What kind of language is that from a Hogwarts student? You foul-mouthed little thing, you."

He brought the strap down again, high across both thighs, painting a wide red stripe on the pale flesh. He thought it looked very sexy. He hit the same place again, trying to make it darker. Oh, yes, that got quite a reaction, didn't it? Made him jump and hiss like a scalded cat, it did.

Sirius gave him a third stroke, and a fourth and a fifth, never straying from that one spot; on the ninth or tenth stroke Snape's broken curses gave way to an actual scream, and it was all Sirius could do not to come in his pants right then and there.

Oh, gods, this was...this was brilliant. He had never done this before, never even thought about it until a few moments ago, and he was completely unprepared for how arousing it was. The sound the leather made when it struck was electric, exciting, and the sounds Snape made were even better. The gorgeous red sheen he was painting on that white flesh - and what Gryffindor could not love that color, especially on a Slytherin? - made his mouth water, as did the deliciously wanton picture Snape made, struggling and sobbing and trying so hard not to, draped like a rag doll over his worst enemy's lap, hot little tail wagging in the air.

I'm good at this, Sirius realized. He had never spanked anyone before, but he'd been on the wrong side of his old man's belt a few times, and he knew what to do. He knew just how hard to hit, how to burn the skin without breaking it, how to space the blows for maximum effect. He knew where to find all the most exquisitely sensitive spots, spots that made even the stubborn Slytherin whimper like a puppy and thrash like a hooked fish: the thighs, the crease where long legs became tight ass, even between the cheeks themselves. He didn't bother to count the blows, or to make Snape do so; he had no intention of stopping until Snape was literally begging for mercy.

He wondered how long it would take. Harsh sobs now shook Snape's whole body, and he was a bright, hot red from the top of his crack to the backs of his knees, but he still wasn't at the pleading stage yet. As much as Sirius was loath to admit it, the little bugger was tougher than he'd thought. His tolerance for pain was quite remarkable, and for the first time Sirius wondered if Snape's father was indeed the abusive prick rumor made him out to be.

"Had enough, Snivvy?" he asked. "Want me to stop?"

Whatever Snape said was lost in the linens.

"Couldn't quite catch that, mate, sorry. Spit out the pillow and try again." Sirius's tone was quite cheerful. His arm moved steadily, relentlessly, as he spoke; his cock ached and wept. Gods, he was close, so bloody close... "Come on, Snape, you're a bright boy. You know what I want to hear."

"Go...to...hell," Snape ground out between gasps.

A stripe, low across his ass. He yelped. Sirius sighed. "Say it, Snape."

Nothing.

Another stripe, same place. Another yelp, again muffled in the bedding. "Say it!"

"NO!"

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! A lot of noise, a few choked words, but none of them the ones Sirius wanted to hear. He felt his own temper rising. Damn Snape anyway! This was just another slap in the face, it was more spit in the eye, it was Snape making him feel the way Snape always made him feel, sooner or later. Rejected. Challenged. Dismissed. Defied.

Defied.

The strap rose and fell faster now, one slashing blow right atop the last. His earlier, deliberate pace was gone, lost to his growing rage and his need, the need to end this, the need to come...the need to win. "Say it!" he hissed. "Gods damn you, say it!"

"Fuck you!"

Thwack!

The rage broke. His focus narrowed pinpoint-fine. Red was all he could see. Pain was all he could hear. His breathing was almost as ragged as Snape's. His heart raced and his cock pulsed. Snape's struggles became violent, his cries frantic, and still, Sirius spared him nothing. He didn't care now. He didn’t care if Snape screamed his throat raw, he didn't care if Snape yanked on his restraints until his wrists were bloody and his arms were broken and the sconce ripped right off the fucking wall, he didn't care if he had to beat a fucking groove in Snape's ass, he wouldn't stop now until the sneering, spitting, stubborn little fuck was not just beaten but broken, crushed like a bug underfoot. Show me your belly, he thought, his lips drawn back from his teeth in an unconscious snarl. Roll over and show me your belly, you bitch.

"...p-please..."

The word escaped on a shuddery breath, so low that Sirius barely heard it. He paused, breathing hard, strap poised shoulder-high. "What did you say?"

Muffled sobs.

"What did you say?" Sirius landed what he hoped was the final blow, brisk and snapping, and Snape nearly flew off his lap.

"PLEASE!" Snape snarled. "Please, I said please, you fucking bastard, all right, you piece of shit, I said it, I said it, now will you please just stop!"

He sounded furious and shrill and anguished and ashamed and oh, it was a symphony to Sirius Black's ears, and it sent him shooting deliriously in his pants, coming so hard his vision greyed out at the edges. The strap slipped from his fingers unnoticed, and Snape's body collapsed across his, as limp and spent as his own.

Panting, shivering, Sirius tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He was trying to recover from shock as much as pleasure - he had had an orgasm without fucking and without being touched, and that was something he had never believed possible, no matter how many of Peter's wank books said otherwise. And no run-of-the-mill, ho-hum, vanilla-type orgasm, either, but the most intense climax of his entire life. Sirius didn't know if it was Snape, or the spanking, or just a natural culmination of five-and-a-half years of verbal foreplay, but he did know he couldn't come much harder than that without dying.

Though he was certainly willing to try.

When the room stopped spinning, he opened his eyes. He looked down. And winced. Merlin! Did I do that? Perhaps he had gotten a bit carried away: Snape's ass looked like a sunset, not an inch of creamy flesh anywhere. Sirius was both surprised and relieved to note that there was very little bruising, but there was no doubt Snape was going to be sitting rather daintily for the next few days. And sleeping on his belly for the next few nights.

Sirius brushed his fingertips over the fevered flesh. So hot, he marveled. Almost too hot to touch, and he wondered, with a thrill, if the spanking had made Snape's ass that hot inside as well. He couldn't wait to find out.

He stroked it again. And again. He liked the way it felt, so soft and warm; he liked even more the way it made Snape squirm and wriggle across his lap. A light caress of one shiny globe made Snape catch his breath; a squeeze made him groan and thrust hard into Sirius's thighs, and Sirius stopped, eyes widening, before a truly evil grin spread across his face.

Well, well, well. It seemed not all of little Snivvy was limp, was it? Indeed, it appeared at least one part of little Snivvy was as excited by all this as Sirius himself was. Oh, his sobs and tears were no doubt real enough, as was his pain, but the hard cock digging into Sirius's lap felt much more real. Not even a Slytherin could hide something that big.

"Merlin, you really are a little Snivellus, aren't you, Snape?" he murmured, his tone easy and almost affectionate in spite of the words. "All that fuss over a little spanking." He stroked the inflamed flesh again, gently, soothingly. "Poor baby. Would you like nasty old Sirius to make it all better?"

"You go to hell, you fucking arsehole, I--uh!" Snape choked off his words as Sirius pressed a warm, wet mouth to his ass. "Wh-wh--?"

"'Wha, wha' yourself," Sirius mocked, but with no real rancor. "Just be quiet." He suckled softly at a fat red welt, nipping at it before licking away the sting. "Looks so good...so bloody good...so red...like a little candy apple..."

Snape flushed with fresh humiliation. "Gods, you're sick," he blurted out.

"Am I?" Sirius laughed outright, still kissing and licking and suckling. "Well, you'd know, I guess. But you seem to be enjoying it. Shit, Snape, haven't you always wanted this? Dreamed about this? A Gryffindor kissing your arse?"

"Black--"

"Quiet, I said. Or I'll spank you again."

He continued to mouth the soft ass cheeks, working his way over them toward the dark cleft between. He snagged his wand without looking and murmured the cleansing spell he had diligently practiced - when his heart was in it, Sirius
Black was as swotty a little book-grind as Snape himself - then tongued the length of the crease. Snape went stiff and shaking across his lap, and Sirius laughed his barking laugh again. "You like that, Sniv?" he whispered between licks. "You like that, you horny twisted sexy little bitch?"

"Oh...ah...mm..." Snape gasped. Sirius took that as a "yes."

He continued to explore. The crisp lime scent of whatever soap Snape had used was getting fainter; the musky arousal smell, his male heat smell, was getting stronger. Sirius licked and nibbled his way up from Snape's sac to the tight pink pucker just above, and the touch of his lips so near to the trembling hole made Snape shudder and moan.

Encouraged, Sirius took a tentative lick. Snape spat out some short piece of gibberish and arched his back, pressing hard into Sirius's lap. Sirius stopped; Snape subsided. Sirius leaned down and did it again, slower this time, making a hot wet circle around the hole, and Snape twitched and humped and babbled/sobbed/whimpered again.

"Black...p-please..."

"Please what, Sniv?" Sirius teased. "'Please more'? 'Please don't stop'? 'Please, Sirius, please keep licking my little fuckhole?' Gods, you're such a whore." He parted the buttocks with both hands and licked all around and over the puckered flesh, tongue moving in slow, firm strokes, coaxing it open. Soon he was fucking the hole hard and fast, relishing the helpless way Snape's whole body jerked in time with the thrusts of the tongue inside him.

Then he had an inspiration, and he closed his mouth over the hole and sucked, sucked as hard as he could, wiggling and twisting his buried tongue at the same time. Snape spasmed violently, shoving his ass up into Sirius's face, and he would have come all over them both if Sirius hadn't grabbed his balls and held on tight. Sirius laughed delightedly. By his reckoning, that was most definitely a "yes."

He continued to squeeze the balls caught in his fist, his other hand stroking Snape's ass in slow circles, until Snape's shuddering ceased. When the Slytherin's orgasm no longer seemed imminent, Sirius let him go. He pushed Snape from his lap and onto his back once more, noting how even the soft touch of the coverlet made the Slytherin hiss and arch again. Snape's cock, harder than ever from his aborted climax and wet and purple and looking utterly delicious, waved in the air less than two inches from Sirius's face.

Was it delicious? Sirius was curious. He leaned over and licked the head, a deliberate stroke with the flat of his tongue, the same technique he'd used on Snape's hole. Snape hissed again. Sirius took the head in his mouth and rolled it around, sucking gently, careful not to scrape or bite. Snape muttered a soft "Fuck!" and his hips tried to buck up again, but Sirius grabbed them and pushed them right back down.

Not bad, he thought. He'd never tasted a cock before. The fluid was a bit salty, the overall flavor less musky than his asshole, but otherwise it tasted no different than other flesh he'd sampled. Necks. Shoulders. Tits. Tasted rather good, actually. And the sounds Snape was making...! Whatever Sirius was doing, despite no experience, he must have been doing it right. He wondered how it felt. For all of his conquests, Sirius had yet to find a girl willing to go down on him, but Snape's reactions made him long to try it from the other side, and he found himself eyeing Snape's pretty, painted-dolly mouth with new interest.

Well, maybe later, if they had time. Or maybe another night, for he had already determined there would be other nights, as many as he could manage. But for now, his own cock was making a record comeback, and it wanted in on the fun.

He clambered off the bed and waved his wand, and Snape's legs were once again bound to the foot posts. Sirius took a good long look. Ankles high, thighs spread wide, cock swaying and streaming above an ass like a red satin heart. No one in the history of sex had ever looked so good.

"You're going to leave me like this," Snape said. His voice was low and flat.

Sirius was startled. It was not a plea. Had it been, Sirius might have done exactly that, and his own desires be damned - the dark part of him, the cruel, playground-bully part of him, would have found it both hilarious and deeply satisfying. But it was not a plea, just a statement, an observation, an expression of determined mistrust...a mistrust, Sirius had to admit, that was hardly misplaced.

"No. No, I'm not." Sirius gave Snape's balls a last reassuring squeeze, then stripped off his jumper and jeans, kicking them aside. He climbed back on the bed and got between Snape's legs again, leaning forward for another biting kiss, grinding their cocks together until they moaned into each other's mouths.

Then he knelt back and fingered the little hole. It was pink and still wet from his deep kisses, twitching as he tickled it, pouting as he rubbed. He pushed just the tip of his finger in and twisted it slowly, testing the texture inside. Oh. Oh. Gods. Hot. Hot, and soft as fresh moss, and so tight - gods, it was actually sucking on his finger.

Suddenly shaking with impatience, Sirius cast a final spell, another he had learned specifically for this night. Snape jumped a bit at the tingle, and the sudden slide of warm oil filling him made him squirm, tightening around the probing finger even harder. Sirius pushed the finger in deep and more oil slid out, into his palm, and he greased his own cock eagerly and lined himself up.

"Let's fuck, Sniv," he whispered, and pushed in.

His prick looked impossibly big sliding into that tiny pucker, like fake magic, like some particularly clever Muggle illusion. Was Snape a virgin? he wondered, watching with equal parts fascination and lust as the flesh stretched and reluctantly swallowed him in. One inch, two inches, three...He pushed with agonizing slowness until he was completely sheathed and then just knelt there, panting, fingers digging into Snape's hips, forehead dripping sweat onto Snape's chest.

Oh, gods, it was tight, far tighter than any girl he'd ever been with, and smoother, and alive in a way he had not in his wildest dreams anticipated. Every inch of the silky passage was clutching at him, flexing and pulsing around him, and he thanked Merlin for his earlier orgasm and the small semblance of control it gave him, or else he would have come immediately at that first ecstatic thrust.

Snape was sobbing again, almost silently, his breath hitching around words Sirius could just barely make out. "Stop...hate you...you bastard...don't... don't want..."

Sirius leaned over again and hushed him with another kiss. He withdrew as slowly as he had entered, until just the head of his prick was buried in Snape's body, and Snape shuddered, his hole clenching hard enough to rip an answering spasm from Sirius. Whether he was trying to expel the intruder or hold it within himself, Sirius didn't know, nor did he care. Whatever the reason, it felt like heaven.

He gave himself a moment to savor the sensation before shifting his hips and pushing back in. Still slow, still careful, but changing his angle slightly, trying to find...well, trying to find something. From what he had read (and he had read everything he could get his hands on), there was supposed to be something up inside there that would drive Snape wild, that would make him forget all about the burn and the stretch and the fact that it was the hated Sirius Black who was lost to the balls in his ass. Something so sensitive and... He shifted again, felt his shaft slide hard across a fleshy little nub inside the other boy, and Snape jackknifed beneath him, nearly throwing him off. "Fuck!"

Sirius smiled against his lips. That's got it, then. He repeated the thrust, same angle, just a bit harder, and Snape bucked up again with a wordless sob.

Bloody hell! Like a little magic button, it was. He rubbed it on every stroke, and on every stroke Snape arched until it looked like his spine would snap, and made hot, helpless, barely-human noises that sent chills down Sirius's spine, and tightened around Sirius as if his ass wanted to suck the Gryffindor's prick right off. Sirius was almost jealous. If getting buggered was even half as much fun as Snape made it look, he was definitely going to have a go on the bottom.

They fell into a hard, slow rhythm, flat bellies clapping, mouths meeting around measured little breaths. Sirius was proud of his skill, proud of the smooth, even, precisely-placed thrusts and deep kisses, and proud of his control, but he knew he was getting close. As was Snape; the pulsing inside him was fierce now, and the cock trapped between them was hard as a pestle. But neither of them could come just yet. Sirius had promised himself two things: that Snape was going to come first, and that he was going to ask nicely - very, very nicely - for the privilege.

Sirius unspelled the ankle restraints. The long legs came down and immediately tried to curl around his waist, but Sirius grabbed them and pulled them up over his shoulders. He leaned forward, putting their bodies flush, supporting his weight on his arms and folding the frantic Snape nearly in half beneath him. He plunged in as far as he could and held perfectly still, his greater weight pinning Snape to the bed. Snape's cock was caught between their bellies; their faces were inches apart.

"You want to come, Snape?" Sirius whispered. He gazed into those black, black eyes and saw lust, and confusion, and frustration, but he didn't see what he wanted to see. What he needed to see. "If you want to come, you tell me. I need to hear it. You tell me what you want."

Snape twisted in response, moving as much as he could, clawing at the cords holding his arms above his head and trying to get some leverage. He was not fighting, Sirius knew, to get the Gryffindor off of him; he was fighting to get him to move. His knees were tight against Sirius's neck, his cock leaking in sticky, steady pulses, and his face, tense and flushed and desperate, said he wanted to come so badly he could taste it.

"No," Sirius chided, holding him still. "You're not in control here, Severus. You don't demand anything." He nipped hard at Snape's lower lip, bit his earlobe, sucked on his long white throat. Snape shivered, raw desire and stubborn shreds of pride fighting in his eyes. "But you can always ask. All you have to say is 'Fuck me, Sirius. Please, please fuck me. Please, Sirius, please make me come.'"

He withdrew slowly and thrust in hard, rotating his hips, grinding into Snape. Snape groaned with relief and pushed up as hard as he could. Sirius withdrew again; Snape fell back with a curse. "It's what we both want." Another grinding thrust. "What we both need." Another lazy withdrawal. "Why fight it?"

More shivers. More slick little bursts against their bellies. That spot inside Snape was quivering wildly. His body was begging already.

Withdrawal. Thrust. Withdrawal. Thrust. Again and again, a slow, building cycle of pleasure granted and pleasure denied, until Snape's gasps and low cries came in an unbroken stream and he was tossing his head restlessly back and forth on the pillows.

"Yes..." he whispered. "Yes...oh, gods, yes..."

"Yes, what?" Sirius demanded. His teeth were gritted, his face taut with strain. He couldn't hold out much longer. "What do you want?"

"Want...oh!...come...want to c-come..."

"Tell me."

Snape shuddered.

"Tell me."


Snape was biting his lip. So was Sirius. Snape's eyes locked on his, wide and blank and dazed. "Fuck me," he panted.

Sirius squeezed his bottom, hard. "'Please fuck me.'"

Snape closed his eyes. Sirius moved his hips again, grinding their loins together again, rubbing his cock into every inch of that smooth, shuddering passage. Gooseflesh rose all over the Slytherin's body, and for a moment, he seemed to stop breathing altogether.

"Oh...! P-please...ah!...please f-fuck me..."

"'Please, Sirius, please make me come,'" Sirius urged. The look on Snape's face, a kind of defiant, miserable hunger, was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

"Fucking...Merlin!...fucking prick...hate...you..."

Another slow rotation, and another, and another, and Sirius could feel Snape crumbling even before he heard it, could feel the tremors building against his belly, under his hands, around his own cock.

"Yes...You...fuck...oh...Make me...come...bastard...want to...need to c--OH!"

The last word was ripped away as Sirius was suddenly pumping hard, short strokes that stabbed That Spot with every thrust and made Snape scream and throw his head back, limbs stiff and jerking, balls drawing up tight--

"Call me names...if you want to...Snape," Sirius panted. "Doesn't matter. I win. You want...this. You begged for this, you...you little...whore..."

--and Snape came with a low, throaty cry. His body tried to arch again and his legs squeezed around Sirius's neck until the Gryffindor saw stars. His ass rippled around Sirius and ripped away the last of his self-control, and Sirius came with his own shout, pumping into the slender body pinned beneath him even after it stopped moving. Then he collapsed.

They lay together in a sweet haze of slowing breath and calming pulses, of sweat drying on cooling skin, of tortured muscles still twitching with strain. Sirius was surprised that it was not at all unpleasant to have Snape under him, his arms around the Slytherin's back, his own head resting on the narrow, hairless chest. It was comfortable, so comfortable that Sirius began to feel drowsy. Perhaps he could close his eyes for just a moment. Surely a moment wouldn't hurt, and he was so tired, so slack and sated and...

He jerked himself awake. Not bloody likely. It would not do to be found here. It would do even less to have Snape somehow get free and be the one to do the finding. He didn't know how Snape would react to this whole thing come sunrise, but if he did decide to be pissed, he would retaliate. Probably in some painfully creative and exotic way that involved the removal of a certain Gryffindor's special parts. For a potion, perhaps. Or as a snack for the giant squid.

How was Snape reacting to this? Sirius lifted his head from Snape's chest and peered at his face. It was dead pale except for two faint brushes of color along his cheekbones, and half-hidden by his long black hair. His eyes were closed, no flutters. His breathing was even, and so quiet that Sirius would have been alarmed if he hadn't felt the strong heartbeat beneath his own cheek just seconds before.

Out cold. I'll be damned, Paddy. The voice in his head was not his own, but James's, James at his most coolly amused. You nailed the little git, mate. You actually fucked him senseless.

He traced a fingertip over the curves and planes of Snape's face. Such an odd face. Some of his features were so fine and even, others so homely, so harsh. Forehead a little too high, with a slight widow's peak; jaw a little too square for such a sharp chin, nose too long and hooked for such delicate cheekbones and lips. Yes, it was the nose, especially, that marred his looks, that kept him from being...well, quite pretty, actually. The rest of his face was very effeminate: large eyes, thin brows, long lashes...and, of course, all that hair, which would probably be Muggle-disco-queen gorgeous if he ever took care of it. Sirius snorted a sudden laugh. Was that why Snape never washed it? Did he know how pretty he'd look, how girly and soft?

"If you cut it, you wouldn't have that problem, would you, Sniv?" Sirius murmured. He reached up and brushed the hair from Snape's face, letting a few strands slide through his fingers. It was clean for once, praise Merlin, thicker than it looked, and soft. He touched it again, carding his whole hand through it this time. Oh, yes, very soft - and, suddenly, very promising. How nice would it feel, he wondered, to rub that silky mess all over his balls while Snape sucked him off? To bury his face in it as he took Snape roughly from behind, or to sink his hands in it and yank Snape's head back, exposing the long taut line of his throat to lips and teeth and tongue?

Oh, yes, Sirius decided. Snape was going to keep right on washing his hair. Even if it made him look like Share. Or Cher. Or whatever that caterwauling Muggle's name was.

He smoothed the dark tresses one last time, kissed the slack lips slow and deep. He untangled himself from Snape's limp legs and rose very slowly, muscles he didn't know he had complaining all the while. He found the strap that was actually his belt and transfigured it back, then loosened the ropes on Snape's wrists, so that he'd be able to escape them shortly after he came around. He found the heap of pants and shirt and shorts half under the bed and pulled them on, conjuring a robe to hide the missing buttons and the gaping fly front of his jeans. He'd apparently destroyed the zipper in his haste to get naked. Oh, well. It was fixed easily enough.

And, gods! had it been worth it.

With a final affectionate pat to Snape's prick, Sirius slipped from the room and began the long and - without the Cloak - rather perilous journey back to Gryffindor Tower.

********************************************************************************

It must have been even later than he thought; the Fat Lady was deeply asleep, soft snores shivering her frame. She awoke fast and mean, giving him the hairy eyeball, and he gave it right back, along with the current password. "Snitch-Snatcher, and don't give me any jib, you old cow. I'm on holiday."

She opened up with an insulted snort, but said nothing as he crawled through the portal and crept quietly past the dying fire.

"Sirius."

The whisper startled him, but he was too tired even to jump. He turned and squinted into the shadows instead. "Moony?"

The room was dim, but not dark; still, he couldn't see anyone. Then there was a slight shimmer in the air over the sofa and Remus appeared, one piece at a time: a fluff of tawny hair, two light brown eyes, a snub nose, a frowning mouth. Sirius blinked. He was quite familiar with James Potter's Invisibility Cloak - indeed, intimately familiar - but it was always a bit disconcerting to see its effects from the outside in. "Yes, it's me. Did I scare you?"

Sirius smirked at him. "'Course you scared me, you wanker," he grumbled. "What the hell are you doing, anyway, just sitting there under that thing?"

"Waiting for you."

"Well, no shit. Thanks, Mum." He leaned against the banister, one foot on the step, hoping Remus would take the hint. He really was exhausted. But Moony remained where he was, sitting on the sofa, studying Sirius with his sad, solemn amber eyes. With a sigh, Sirius plunked himself down on the bottom step and scrubbed a hand over his face. "So. Er. Where did you find the cloak? I looked all over hell. Prongs said he'd leave it under his mattress, but it wasn't there."

"It was there. I took it. This morning."

Sirius squinted a little harder. Moony's voice was strange. Distant. Almost cold. "Something on your mind, Remus? 'Cause I'm a bit shagged for playing games."

"I followed you," Remus said, in that same hollow, chilly tone, and Sirius's stomach dropped into his shoes. "I knew you were going to the dungeons. I knew you were going to Snape. But I never imagined I'd see you - I'd see what I saw."

Even in the sparse light, Sirius caught the small shudder that worked through his friend. "What did you--?" No. That wasn't right. "What do you think you saw?"

Remus gave him a sick look. "I know what I saw, Sirius. I saw everything. Start to finish, blow-by-blow ...everything."

"Everything?" A slideshow of raw images assaulted Sirius - his lips around Snape's cock, his tongue buried in Snape's ass - and he was thankful for the shadows that hid his sudden blush. "Jesus, Moony! You stood there all that time, just, just stood there and watched?"

"Yes."

No hesitation. No evasion. No apology, either, and Sirius felt the first bewildered stirrings of anger. "Well. Okay. Well, I hope you got your money's worth." He grabbed the banister and hauled himself to his feet. "Was it good for you, too?"

"Don't be cute."

"Cute, my arse! Why wouldn't you enjoy it, Remmy? You're the one who's always going on about 'Snape's not so bad', 'maybe we should give him a chance,' 'maybe we should try being nice to him'...Well, I was nice to him, all right? Bloody nice. So fucking nice he'll be walking bowlegged for the next month." He barked a harsh laugh. "Maybe you should give him a chance, Moony, if you lean that way. He's no rose, but he's got an arse like melted butter."

"You think this is funny?" Remus hissed. "This?"

Sirius's irritation evaporated at the expression on Remus's face; it was not disgust or contempt now, but a kind of muted horror. "I...I think you're funny, making such a big thing of it. Gods, Moony. I never knew you were such a prude."

"You raped him, Sirius."

Sirius gaped at him. "I what?"

"You raped him!" Remus shouted. "I saw you! I told you, I followed you. I was in the room, Sirius. I saw the whole thing."

Sirius couldn't seem to close his mouth. Raped? Raped? He could still feel the urgent press of Snape's legs around his neck, the velvet clutch of Snape's ass around his prick; Snape's come was still tacky on his belly. "Remus, what the hell are you on about? I didn't rape him. I fucked him. There's a difference."

"You fucked him without his consent! You took him and he couldn't stop you--"

"He didn't want to stop me! He fucking loved it! I told you, he came like a fucking wildcat, he couldn't get enough--"

"I don't care if he came or not!" Remus shouted. "It doesn't change what you did. You tied him, Sirius, you tied him up and you sp--you beat him, and you raped him."

"Stop saying that!" Sirius snarled. His hands clenched into unconscious fists. "He loved it! He loved every minute of it! I didn't do anything he didn't want me to do!"

"'Should I actually fuck you bloody, right here in your own bed?'" Remus quoted suddenly, softly, and Sirius winced. He hated having his own words thrown back at him, and Remus, who had a memory like a bloody elephant, could throw them like no one else. "'There's nothing to stop me. You can scream yourself silly and there's no one to hear.' That is what you said to him, isn't it, Sirius?"

Sirius sat back down, hard.

"It was a game, Remus," he sighed finally. "A game is all, a bit of kinky sex play." Remus was silent. "Look, I pegged Snape for a right little pervert the minute I saw him; I knew he'd get off on it. And I was right, he did...but if he had really wanted me to stop, I would have."

Remus shook his head. "You couldn't have stopped. You were...you were...You don't know how you looked. How you were. I was actually scared for a bit - right, laugh if you want to, but I was. Game or not, Sirius, I thought you were really going to hurt Snape this time. That you were finally going to go too far."

"You didn't really believe that."

"I did."

"Then why didn't you stop me?"

It was an honest question, not a rhetorical one. Remus looked at the fire. "The same reason I never stop you," he muttered. "You and James and Peter are the only friends I've ever had."

"Then you're not going to do anything?" The words were out before Sirius could stop them, and Remus gave a contemptuous snort.

"What can I do? Report you? Get you expelled? Might as well get us both expelled, because I'm just as guilty as you are. I stood there and did nothing." His eyes flicked over Sirius's face. "But you needn't look so smug. Just because I won't talk doesn't mean Snape won't."

Sirius waved a hand. "I'm not worried about Snape."

Remus narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Sirius blustered. "I didn't do anything to him. I just meant he won't dare say anything. He knows I'll call him out. If he tells anyone I 'raped' him - which I did not - then I'll just have to tell everyone how much he enjoyed it."

Remus colored slightly, no doubt remembering some graphic detail or other. He looked at the fire again and cleared his throat. "Where's Snape now?"

"In bed, where else? Sleeping like a baby, I'd wager, with visions of handsome Gryffindors dancing in his head."

"Is he all right?"

Sirius shrugged. "Well, he'll want to stick to soft foods and soft chairs for the next few days" - here Lupin gave him a very dark look - "but, yeah, he'll live."

"Did you untie him?"

"I loosened the ropes." This conversation was getting positively surreal. "Now, do you have any other questions, Grand Inquisitor, or can I go to bed? It's hard work, this rape stuff."

"Gods damn it, Sirius, don't joke--"

Sirius held up a hand. "Okay, okay, okay. I'm sorry. No more jokes. My word as a Marauder." He got to his feet once more, waiting expectantly, but Remus didn't move. "You coming up?"

"In a bit."

"It's pretty late."

"I know."

Sirius watched him for a moment. "You haven't...you haven't changed your mind, have you?"

Remus snorted again. "What mind?" he spat, and the shame on his face released Sirius on the spot.

"Moony, I swear to you, it wasn't rape. I swear on my life. No matter how it might have looked...Moony, you know me. I'd never do that, not to Snape, not to anybody." Silence. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I do. You're dead wrong - it was rape, no matter what you think - but I believe you." He cocked his head, and that odd, closed look was gone; he looked like mild, dependable, friendly little Moony Lupin again. "That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

Sirius thought about it. "For you, it does," he said finally, and his heart lifted a bit when Remus smiled. But it was a strained smile, and it didn't last very long.

"Go to bed, Sirius," Remus said. "I'll be up soon."

Sirius hesitated. He wanted to say something else; he didn't dare say anything else. Finally, he mumbled an awkward good-night and trudged up the stairs.

********************************************************************************

Ten minutes later, clean and naked and floating between cool, soft sheets, he replayed the conversation. Raped him. Raped him? Ridiculous. He was no rapist; there were too many people, male and female, who wanted him, and he had too much pride to force himself on anyone who didn't. Moony was nuts.

And Snape had wanted it - his body had made its enthusiastic enjoyment quite plain. It wasn't rape when the other party wanted it. Seduction, maybe...Yes. Yes, that was it. It had been a seduction, with a bit of necessary force thrown in.

The matter thus settled, Sirius drifted off to untroubled, uncomplicated dreams.

Chapter Two

Comments

( 4 Things We Said Today — Dear Sir or Madam )
(Anonymous)
Oct. 13th, 2005 12:21 pm (UTC)
You write very well, but Sirius, even during his bully years, didn't strike me as a rapist.
hb_princess
Oct. 18th, 2005 04:31 pm (UTC)
I don't see Sirius as a rapist, either. Nor does Sirius...and that's the problem. He really, truly believes this was just a "seduction" that got a little out of hand; his ego won't allow him to see it as anything else.

If you keep reading, you'll see that aspect of his character again and again. It's his tragic flaw, really.

Thank you for the feedback, though, and the nice compliment. :)
dphearson
Oct. 19th, 2005 10:01 am (UTC)
I was rather hesitant to read at first...

But thisis not just a smutty interlude for yu. You have a way of depicting tension within the Maurader group, and sirius' own sad lack of self reflection- the world revolves around him. Doesn't it?

The scene with Severus really had me on edge- it felt terribly wrong, even as it was sexy.

On to the next part :)

Thank you!
(Anonymous)
Mar. 28th, 2010 09:51 pm (UTC)
I'm writing late, but I do see Sirius as a rapist, classic
rapist, he's already a bully and a criminal with his gang of
accomplices.

He's just like any other rich boy who doesn't know the meaning
of no, with a entire crew of enablers and protection around him.

Why people even like this character I cannot fathom.
Just like some rich boy in college, who wont take no for a answer
and stalks/terrorizes some timid female out of the crowd, and rapes
her and thinks that she wanted it how it different from what he does?

And people who read the story constantly provide excuses for what he did just like they do in real life.
( 4 Things We Said Today — Dear Sir or Madam )