REPOST: untitled (snape/lupin)
Yes, this is a snupin (yes, that's snape/lupin) PWP (and disclaimered up the wazoo, believe me), but I want to make it absolutely clear that there are several guilty parties here.
1. algernon_mouse is to blame for squeeing about the yule ball scene in GoF, for being always up for trouble, and for rowing this little tig orgy out of harbour.
2. secrethappiness is to blame for starting a new LJ and thus turning all our minds immediately to comment-porn, for encouraging us to imagine what heretofore undocumented liaisons might have been occurring during said yule ball scene, and for being a dirty dirty dirty girl.
3. buckle_berry is to blame for being too hot for her own shoes, and for being unable to resist Remus Lupin with his trousers down.
um. that's all.
Unbelievably, no one is making any money from this. Who knew?
Anyways, the poll results stand I'm afraid. And so, I'm not going to lie to you, if you click the cut you are going to be reading about Harry Potter characters engaged in several spontaneous acts of dirty sex.
It could have been the night breeze, but only a fool would think that. Snape stops dead in his tracks, his robes flaring in a deep arc about his ankles. He turns his head slowly, ignoring the whisper of apprehension crawling over his skin.
Lupin. He spits the name as much as thinks it, and slips his hand beneath the thick folds of his robe, reaching for his wand.
“Severus,” a voice says mildly from the deep shadows.
Snape turns on his heel. He scans the shrubs tersely, tightening his grip on his wand. “Show yourself, Lupin. I don’t have time for your games.” Lupin laughs softly. The sound has moved further away and Snape fights the step he takes towards it.
Lupin’s voice sounds tired and worn. Weak, Snape thinks as he follows it forwards. They both come to a halt near the corner of a steep stone wall. Lupin leans back. His face is sallow-looking and his hair hangs about it in limp strands. Snape feels a bitter tug in the middle of his chest that swells with satisfaction. His lips curl up in an insincere smile as he reaches out with his wand and traces a slow line around the curve of Lupin’s face.
Lupin's eyelids flicker, and he coughs a little. Snape raises an eyebrow.
"Furball?" he asks. "I have to admit, I wouldn't have expected you up and about so early in the month. Perhaps there’s a little fight in you after all."
The word 'fight' is drawn out, edged with a hiss and a spit, and bolstered with a knee shoved roughly between Lupin's thighs. Lupin's mouth opens on a heavy breath and Severus can see his tongue, twitching and sliding behind his teeth.
"Oh come now, Severus. This is a celebration. They're dancing inside. I'm sure we can afford to be a little more polite."
But already he has a fistful of Snape's robe twisting round his knuckles, and Snape is leaning close enough to hear the wheeze of his breath, always laboured, always quietly furious after a full moon.
And there on his neck two little scratches, an inch long each and set apart like clawmarks. Snape leans in soft with lips, then tongue, just a taste, then clamps hard with teeth, twitching and hardening at Lupin's surprised gasp.
Lupin's free hand slides up to the back of Snape's neck and the sharp scratch of Lupin's fingernails forces Snape to pull back. He pulls Lupin's hands off him and pins them against the wall. Leaning close, Snape murmurs, "It's like that, is it?"
Kicking Snape's leg away, Lupin presses his thigh into Snape's erection and grunts, "Yes."
He twists his leg a bit and it’s just painful enough to be pleasurable. Snape fights to keep his hold on Lupin, thinks briefly of using a binding charm to hold Lupin's hands while he undresses him. Instead, he uses one hand to hold Lupin's wrists and slides the other between their bodies, searching for Lupin's buttons.
After a few moments of searching, rubbing the fabric against Lupin's erection, Snape finally finds the snap. He pulls it open and shoves his hand into Lupin's trousers. Lupin shifts a little and presses his leg harder into Snape.
"Too slow, Severus, much too slow," he gasps.
With an easy movement, Lupin frees his wrists from Snape's hold. One hand is immediately fisted at the shoulder of Snape's robes, preventing him moving forward or back. The other wraps around Snape's hand, in turn wrapped round Lupin's cock.
Without intending to, Snape realises he is looking Lupin directly in the eye. The day after the transformation he is still edged with something feral, and Snape feels a shudder of disgust.
"What the fuck do you think you're playing at, Lupin?"
The question is only there to allow Snape to demonstrate the sneer in his voice. As Lupin works Snape's hand rapidly over his cock, there could be no doubt about his - their - intentions. Lupin smiles a smile that is mainly teeth, breath coming shorter and more desperate. Snape tightens his grip.
Lupin’s eyes widen and slip briefly out of focus. Snape can feel the eager wince of Lupin’s cock in his hand and it causes a thick rush of heat to lick its way around his belly. Snape tilts his head and regards Lupin closely as he arches up into Snape’s palm. He leans forward, pushes his palm down the warm length of Lupin’s cock. His fingers reach further back, curling up between Lupin’s buttocks, searching. The weight of Lupin’s balls is heavy against the heel of his palm, and Severus grinds up against them.
There’s something about Lupin, the way he hinges on it, that always catches Snape off guard. It makes him angry. Angrier. Snape feels for the dark pucker of Lupin’s anus and pushes his way in roughly. Lupin’s breath wheezes out in a low growl. It could even be a hot little gust of submission and Snape smiles triumphantly. With his free hand he grasps at the waistband of Lupin's open trousers and tugs downwards. "Off."
For a moment Lupin doesn't move, just grins that toothy grin, then from twenty or so yards away there is a noise. A giggle. Definitely. A giggle and a murmur, and two despicable brats heading their way. Snape forces a shoulder into Lupin's chest and stands on his foot to immobilise him. Lupin's breathing is heavy and too loud and in a panic Snape pushes the side of his head against Lupin's face.
They wait, chests thudding, hands gripping. Snape feels the sweat starting to seep between his palm and Lupin's cock. The voices come nearer. Snape hopes fervently that they won't choose this rosebush. Not the one right here. As the voices draw level Lupin staggers a little, Snape pushes harder against him, grips harder, and almost yelps when Lupin tugs at his hair to steady himself.
He stares at Lupin with eyes that he feels sure say "I will kill you", and Lupin stares back. Snape swallows a sudden excess of saliva.
"Inside me. Now."
"Shut up," Snape hisses, "shut up," but the two adolescent miscreants have passed on and his hand is already away from Lupin's waistband and fumbling shakily with the buttons of his own trousers.
Lupin tugs his pants down, his cock jutting out, and Snape feels a surge of desire hit him.
"Turn around," he gasps. "Turn around before I think better of it."
Lupin grins and turns to the wall, bracing himself against it, hips shifting a little.
"Keep still," Snape hisses.
"Why do you insist on talking?"
Before he can say anything else, Snape drops to his knees, grabs Lupin's cheeks and jerks them apart. He leans forward and inhales Lupin's scent, a mixture of musk, dirt and animal that is pure Lupin. He plunges his tongue in without warning and Lupin bucks back against his hands.
"Fuck," he moans.
Snape smiles, hearing Lupin break makes it so much more enjoyable. No point in doing a job poorly, he thinks, and dips his tongue down, swirling it, getting as much of Lupin as possible. He slides a finger in next to his tongue and works them in tandem, running his finger over Lupin's prostate while his tongue presses in. Lupin groans and for a moment Snape almost forgets himself, but at the faintest tremor of Lupin's muscles around him, he comes back to his senses, stands up and lines himself against Lupin’s back.
Lupin seems to waver in front of him and glances down just as Snape’s trousers slide to the ground. The hair on the back of Snape’s thighs prickles up in the night air. He nudges Lupin impatiently by the hip. Lupin bends his head against the wall, moaning lowly as Snape tears into him.
It’s like this: cold calculating thrusts. This is a race and Snape will not finish first.
Snape hardens his resolve and ignores the hot twinge warming the base of his spine. He glares tightly at the back of Lupin’s neck and hammers back into him again, and again, and again. He thinks of Lupin’s fangs near his skin, of Potter breaking them up, the blur of that miserable wretch James Potter saving his life. He feels that old wrath growing inside him again, a rage that he wants to beat out of Lupin.
Lupin’s breath is coming in harsh, shuddering sobs, his face scraping against the stone. Snape breaks his rhythm and reaches round to catch Lupin’s cock in his hand.
~
With an animal instinct, Lupin bucks forward, grinding his cock into Snape's hand with enough force to push Snape's knuckles into the wall. Lupin can't tell if it's a defence or an attack, doesn't much care when he's this close. Heat like fever burns in his face.
It has been too long since the last time he had this. Lupin has grown skilled at scanning a crowd with his head down, identifying those who will give him what he wants, something brutal and meaningless. There is little opportunity for such indiscretion in a school rife with paranoia, although Lupin sees the ability to give it blossoming in some of the students.
He sees it in Snape, a cruelty nurtured from a lifetime of disappointment. Snape is a merciless fuck, determined to take his own pleasure by ripping what he wants from Lupin first. Beads of something - sweat, or blood, or both, he can't tell - are rolling into Lupin's eye, and if he could reach any part of Snape, to bite, to scratch, he would.
Suddenly Snape is closer to Lupin's ear; he hears the hiss and catch of breath. Amid the scent of roses and threatening rain, his lupine sense catches a fresh note - the sharp tang of blood flowering on Snape's knuckles. Lupin comes with a groan, splattering the wall and Snape's hand.
~
Snape stops moving when Lupin comes, moves his hand away almost before it's all over, so Lupin's left jerking his hips at nothing, swearing and snarling, his cheek against cold brick. Snape's own balls are tight with the urge to come, his cock aching inside Lupin, his fingers on Lupin's hip pinching and slipping against the sweat, but he's damned if he'll let go like this, all thrashing and hot.
He wipes the blood and semen from his hand on Lupin's shirt, a colourless smudge in the moonlight, then draws his fist tight against the shoulderblade and pushes. Lupin's chest is forced into the wall, the breath still punching through his lungs. Snape waits.
Gradually Lupin begins to settle. He seems to grow shorter, bones relaxing into place, the lurch of his back slowed to a soft in and out. Snape can feel the sweat on his own forehead and neck begin to chill, and he smiles when a breeze blows gently from the side and Lupin shudders. Lupin tries to push himself back from the wall.
"Severus?"
There's an edge of uncertainty, of exhaustion, back in his voice, and it sparks a little coil of adrenalin in Snape's chest. He pushes back with his fist, so Lupin hits the wall with a thump, then flexes his pelvic muscle hard. His cock twitches, more a promise than a threat.
On the side of Lupin's neck, just below his ear, Snape can see the pulse beat back, the raised vein snicked across with those two little scratches. He breathes in solidly, once, twice, chest tightening, like a diver on the board, then fastens his teeth there, and shoves his hips forward with a grunt.
Once, twice, three times - this is his, this is his. His teeth grip tight, his hand flattens and presses against Lupin’s shoulderblade, anchoring both their bodies, then he's coming and there's metal in his mouth and Lupin's shouting and it could be pain and it could be anything and it goes on for ages and blurs into blackness and then suddenly it's over.
The breeze blows Snape's hair against his cheek, where it clings, and every inch of his body is foul with grime and animal smells. He pulls out of Lupin and staggers back a pace. Lupin doesn't move. There's a black smear of blood on his neck and his shirt collar. His eyes are closed.
"You're bleeding," Snape says, and it sounds more tired than he intended.
Lupin huffs quietly, shifts to look back over his shoulder, one eye cracked open. "So are you."
1. algernon_mouse is to blame for squeeing about the yule ball scene in GoF, for being always up for trouble, and for rowing this little tig orgy out of harbour.
2. secrethappiness is to blame for starting a new LJ and thus turning all our minds immediately to comment-porn, for encouraging us to imagine what heretofore undocumented liaisons might have been occurring during said yule ball scene, and for being a dirty dirty dirty girl.
3. buckle_berry is to blame for being too hot for her own shoes, and for being unable to resist Remus Lupin with his trousers down.
um. that's all.
Unbelievably, no one is making any money from this. Who knew?
Anyways, the poll results stand I'm afraid. And so, I'm not going to lie to you, if you click the cut you are going to be reading about Harry Potter characters engaged in several spontaneous acts of dirty sex.
It could have been the night breeze, but only a fool would think that. Snape stops dead in his tracks, his robes flaring in a deep arc about his ankles. He turns his head slowly, ignoring the whisper of apprehension crawling over his skin.
Lupin. He spits the name as much as thinks it, and slips his hand beneath the thick folds of his robe, reaching for his wand.
“Severus,” a voice says mildly from the deep shadows.
Snape turns on his heel. He scans the shrubs tersely, tightening his grip on his wand. “Show yourself, Lupin. I don’t have time for your games.” Lupin laughs softly. The sound has moved further away and Snape fights the step he takes towards it.
Lupin’s voice sounds tired and worn. Weak, Snape thinks as he follows it forwards. They both come to a halt near the corner of a steep stone wall. Lupin leans back. His face is sallow-looking and his hair hangs about it in limp strands. Snape feels a bitter tug in the middle of his chest that swells with satisfaction. His lips curl up in an insincere smile as he reaches out with his wand and traces a slow line around the curve of Lupin’s face.
Lupin's eyelids flicker, and he coughs a little. Snape raises an eyebrow.
"Furball?" he asks. "I have to admit, I wouldn't have expected you up and about so early in the month. Perhaps there’s a little fight in you after all."
The word 'fight' is drawn out, edged with a hiss and a spit, and bolstered with a knee shoved roughly between Lupin's thighs. Lupin's mouth opens on a heavy breath and Severus can see his tongue, twitching and sliding behind his teeth.
"Oh come now, Severus. This is a celebration. They're dancing inside. I'm sure we can afford to be a little more polite."
But already he has a fistful of Snape's robe twisting round his knuckles, and Snape is leaning close enough to hear the wheeze of his breath, always laboured, always quietly furious after a full moon.
And there on his neck two little scratches, an inch long each and set apart like clawmarks. Snape leans in soft with lips, then tongue, just a taste, then clamps hard with teeth, twitching and hardening at Lupin's surprised gasp.
Lupin's free hand slides up to the back of Snape's neck and the sharp scratch of Lupin's fingernails forces Snape to pull back. He pulls Lupin's hands off him and pins them against the wall. Leaning close, Snape murmurs, "It's like that, is it?"
Kicking Snape's leg away, Lupin presses his thigh into Snape's erection and grunts, "Yes."
He twists his leg a bit and it’s just painful enough to be pleasurable. Snape fights to keep his hold on Lupin, thinks briefly of using a binding charm to hold Lupin's hands while he undresses him. Instead, he uses one hand to hold Lupin's wrists and slides the other between their bodies, searching for Lupin's buttons.
After a few moments of searching, rubbing the fabric against Lupin's erection, Snape finally finds the snap. He pulls it open and shoves his hand into Lupin's trousers. Lupin shifts a little and presses his leg harder into Snape.
"Too slow, Severus, much too slow," he gasps.
With an easy movement, Lupin frees his wrists from Snape's hold. One hand is immediately fisted at the shoulder of Snape's robes, preventing him moving forward or back. The other wraps around Snape's hand, in turn wrapped round Lupin's cock.
Without intending to, Snape realises he is looking Lupin directly in the eye. The day after the transformation he is still edged with something feral, and Snape feels a shudder of disgust.
"What the fuck do you think you're playing at, Lupin?"
The question is only there to allow Snape to demonstrate the sneer in his voice. As Lupin works Snape's hand rapidly over his cock, there could be no doubt about his - their - intentions. Lupin smiles a smile that is mainly teeth, breath coming shorter and more desperate. Snape tightens his grip.
Lupin’s eyes widen and slip briefly out of focus. Snape can feel the eager wince of Lupin’s cock in his hand and it causes a thick rush of heat to lick its way around his belly. Snape tilts his head and regards Lupin closely as he arches up into Snape’s palm. He leans forward, pushes his palm down the warm length of Lupin’s cock. His fingers reach further back, curling up between Lupin’s buttocks, searching. The weight of Lupin’s balls is heavy against the heel of his palm, and Severus grinds up against them.
There’s something about Lupin, the way he hinges on it, that always catches Snape off guard. It makes him angry. Angrier. Snape feels for the dark pucker of Lupin’s anus and pushes his way in roughly. Lupin’s breath wheezes out in a low growl. It could even be a hot little gust of submission and Snape smiles triumphantly. With his free hand he grasps at the waistband of Lupin's open trousers and tugs downwards. "Off."
For a moment Lupin doesn't move, just grins that toothy grin, then from twenty or so yards away there is a noise. A giggle. Definitely. A giggle and a murmur, and two despicable brats heading their way. Snape forces a shoulder into Lupin's chest and stands on his foot to immobilise him. Lupin's breathing is heavy and too loud and in a panic Snape pushes the side of his head against Lupin's face.
They wait, chests thudding, hands gripping. Snape feels the sweat starting to seep between his palm and Lupin's cock. The voices come nearer. Snape hopes fervently that they won't choose this rosebush. Not the one right here. As the voices draw level Lupin staggers a little, Snape pushes harder against him, grips harder, and almost yelps when Lupin tugs at his hair to steady himself.
He stares at Lupin with eyes that he feels sure say "I will kill you", and Lupin stares back. Snape swallows a sudden excess of saliva.
"Inside me. Now."
"Shut up," Snape hisses, "shut up," but the two adolescent miscreants have passed on and his hand is already away from Lupin's waistband and fumbling shakily with the buttons of his own trousers.
Lupin tugs his pants down, his cock jutting out, and Snape feels a surge of desire hit him.
"Turn around," he gasps. "Turn around before I think better of it."
Lupin grins and turns to the wall, bracing himself against it, hips shifting a little.
"Keep still," Snape hisses.
"Why do you insist on talking?"
Before he can say anything else, Snape drops to his knees, grabs Lupin's cheeks and jerks them apart. He leans forward and inhales Lupin's scent, a mixture of musk, dirt and animal that is pure Lupin. He plunges his tongue in without warning and Lupin bucks back against his hands.
"Fuck," he moans.
Snape smiles, hearing Lupin break makes it so much more enjoyable. No point in doing a job poorly, he thinks, and dips his tongue down, swirling it, getting as much of Lupin as possible. He slides a finger in next to his tongue and works them in tandem, running his finger over Lupin's prostate while his tongue presses in. Lupin groans and for a moment Snape almost forgets himself, but at the faintest tremor of Lupin's muscles around him, he comes back to his senses, stands up and lines himself against Lupin’s back.
Lupin seems to waver in front of him and glances down just as Snape’s trousers slide to the ground. The hair on the back of Snape’s thighs prickles up in the night air. He nudges Lupin impatiently by the hip. Lupin bends his head against the wall, moaning lowly as Snape tears into him.
It’s like this: cold calculating thrusts. This is a race and Snape will not finish first.
Snape hardens his resolve and ignores the hot twinge warming the base of his spine. He glares tightly at the back of Lupin’s neck and hammers back into him again, and again, and again. He thinks of Lupin’s fangs near his skin, of Potter breaking them up, the blur of that miserable wretch James Potter saving his life. He feels that old wrath growing inside him again, a rage that he wants to beat out of Lupin.
Lupin’s breath is coming in harsh, shuddering sobs, his face scraping against the stone. Snape breaks his rhythm and reaches round to catch Lupin’s cock in his hand.
~
With an animal instinct, Lupin bucks forward, grinding his cock into Snape's hand with enough force to push Snape's knuckles into the wall. Lupin can't tell if it's a defence or an attack, doesn't much care when he's this close. Heat like fever burns in his face.
It has been too long since the last time he had this. Lupin has grown skilled at scanning a crowd with his head down, identifying those who will give him what he wants, something brutal and meaningless. There is little opportunity for such indiscretion in a school rife with paranoia, although Lupin sees the ability to give it blossoming in some of the students.
He sees it in Snape, a cruelty nurtured from a lifetime of disappointment. Snape is a merciless fuck, determined to take his own pleasure by ripping what he wants from Lupin first. Beads of something - sweat, or blood, or both, he can't tell - are rolling into Lupin's eye, and if he could reach any part of Snape, to bite, to scratch, he would.
Suddenly Snape is closer to Lupin's ear; he hears the hiss and catch of breath. Amid the scent of roses and threatening rain, his lupine sense catches a fresh note - the sharp tang of blood flowering on Snape's knuckles. Lupin comes with a groan, splattering the wall and Snape's hand.
~
Snape stops moving when Lupin comes, moves his hand away almost before it's all over, so Lupin's left jerking his hips at nothing, swearing and snarling, his cheek against cold brick. Snape's own balls are tight with the urge to come, his cock aching inside Lupin, his fingers on Lupin's hip pinching and slipping against the sweat, but he's damned if he'll let go like this, all thrashing and hot.
He wipes the blood and semen from his hand on Lupin's shirt, a colourless smudge in the moonlight, then draws his fist tight against the shoulderblade and pushes. Lupin's chest is forced into the wall, the breath still punching through his lungs. Snape waits.
Gradually Lupin begins to settle. He seems to grow shorter, bones relaxing into place, the lurch of his back slowed to a soft in and out. Snape can feel the sweat on his own forehead and neck begin to chill, and he smiles when a breeze blows gently from the side and Lupin shudders. Lupin tries to push himself back from the wall.
"Severus?"
There's an edge of uncertainty, of exhaustion, back in his voice, and it sparks a little coil of adrenalin in Snape's chest. He pushes back with his fist, so Lupin hits the wall with a thump, then flexes his pelvic muscle hard. His cock twitches, more a promise than a threat.
On the side of Lupin's neck, just below his ear, Snape can see the pulse beat back, the raised vein snicked across with those two little scratches. He breathes in solidly, once, twice, chest tightening, like a diver on the board, then fastens his teeth there, and shoves his hips forward with a grunt.
Once, twice, three times - this is his, this is his. His teeth grip tight, his hand flattens and presses against Lupin’s shoulderblade, anchoring both their bodies, then he's coming and there's metal in his mouth and Lupin's shouting and it could be pain and it could be anything and it goes on for ages and blurs into blackness and then suddenly it's over.
The breeze blows Snape's hair against his cheek, where it clings, and every inch of his body is foul with grime and animal smells. He pulls out of Lupin and staggers back a pace. Lupin doesn't move. There's a black smear of blood on his neck and his shirt collar. His eyes are closed.
"You're bleeding," Snape says, and it sounds more tired than he intended.
Lupin huffs quietly, shifts to look back over his shoulder, one eye cracked open. "So are you."