Author's Note: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest (response to: Scenario #32: Hogwarts holds some sort of quiz/comp/gameshow. How competitive is Snape, and who is his rival? What will he do to make sure he wins?; and Easy Pairing #23: Snape/Avery.) I have taken Certain Liberties with the canon timeline. Specifically, Rita Skeeter is now a year younger than Our Boys. I don't hear her complaining.
DISCLAIMER: I don't owns 'em. That's J.K. Rowling, don'chaknow. I just slips 'em out in the dead of night and makes 'em have little tea parties. Don't sue me. It'll all done in fun, I don't make a penny from my efforts (as the world at large seems so intent to remind me), and the most valuable thing I have is a kitten. If you sue me, she'll be sad. Do you hate kittens?
Part 14 - Until The End Of The World
The last Saturday in March was warm and bright. Severus sat on the sidelines, watching Potter score point after point after point while Ryan reached for the Quaffle half a second late. He dropped his head in disgust.
Forty minutes into the heated second and final match against Gryffindor, the pain in his limbs knocked him off his broom. Literally. He'd unbalanced in a hard dive and tipped face-first towards the ground. Only a lucky elbow kept him aloft; pain shooting through his arm threatened to make him pass out. Madam Hooch called a time out, and moments later sent him off the pitch.
They'd been ahead until that happened.
Severus sighed. He ignored yet more abnormally nasty looks from Black and Potter. Especially Potter. If looks could cast, Severus would have long since fallen to the Killing Curse. Frowning, he leaned back on the bench a safe distance from the reserve players. His eyes fluttered shut; his mind wandered. He had good reason to be a bit tender that day.
... As soon as the door opened, Tom cupped his face and kissed him. It was a pleasant greeting that sent tingles down Severus' spine. He returned it. One hand gingerly came to rest on Tom's side; when it wasn't shaken off, Severus' slid it around to his back. He supposed his newfound hesitation was due to fear. After all, he'd never done anything like this before.
Tom nipped his lower lip and pulled back. "Come inside, you'll catch your death."
Severus did. The long, delicate hands that took his cloak slid smoothly over his shoulders as they did. He was very aware of a warm body just behind him, of the soft pulse it gave that might have been power and might have been life. Severus left his shoes and his hat with his cloak. He was shattered and relieved to be led to the sitting room again.
There were two chairs there, this time, across the table from one another. As always, Tom poured Severus a cup of tea before making his own. The rich, brown smell of Darjeeling saturated the air. There was something infinitely calming about it. Severus set the cup and saucer on his knee. He fidgeted with it.
"How has your week been?" Tom smiled warmly. "It seems like longer."
Severus nodded. It certainly did. "Fine, I suppose."
"Tell me about it?"
This certainly wasn't what Severus expected. "Are you sure?"
Tom nodded. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "I enjoy hearing your voice. If magic were judged by the voice of the wizard, the world would bow before you." One eyelid cracked open. "Not that it won't as things are."
"Oh." Severus felt his skin grow hot.
Tom chuckled. "Your eloquence is truly unsurpassed," he said dryly. "Has Lucius given you any trouble?"
"No. He's adopted a Gryffindor, though."
"Dear, dear, dear, that won't do. Won't do at all." Tom shook his head lightly. His closed eyes were crinkled by his smile. "What variety of Gryffindor are we talking about? The big, brave sort who get eaten by dragons, or the strong, silent type who wet themselves when a shadow moves?"
Severus snorted. "The short, fat, rat-faced sort who wouldn't know a spine if it hit him in the tackle."
"Are you sure he has any tackle?"
An eye opened and fixed on Severus.
"It was an experiment that went horribly wrong," Snape said wearily.
"Ah. Tell me, does this 'experiment' have a small but persistent group of friends who are convinced that their mission in life is to make you see an early grave?"
Severus stared. "Yes."
A wide and beautiful smile turned chalky skin to flawless alabaster in the firelight. Tom rolled his eyes whimsically, white teeth opening to speak. "Verrucus Preston the Third. He was fat, buck-toothed, spotty, and had all the natural grace of a toad. I can only suppose the first two Verrucus Prestons were slightly more attractive for there to even be a third. And he whinged." Tom rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. "Gods and demons, that walking suet could have played for England if whinging were a sport. In my infinite wisdom, I seduced him in order to eke information on his overbearing herd of friends."
Severus laughed under his breath. "Sounds familiar. What happened?"
Tom shrugged. "He decided he loved me. My seventh year was Hell, what with him following me around like some sort of puppy. Between his moaning and jumping me every time the door closed, and wanting to know when he could tell his friends about us, I don't know how I made it through the year without transfiguring his vocal cords into wine gums."
A knot of apprehension in Severus' stomach relaxed. He smiled softly. "What did you do?"
"What could I do? I told the entire school he was a bloody tart who'd shag anything that stayed still long enough, and learned to run faster than his friends."
Severus laughed out loud. "Didn't it hurt your reputation?"
Tom shook his head, smirking mysteriously. "I never said how I knew. Hearsay was that I'd overheard him with someone while I was studying in the Astronomy Tower."
Severus shook his head. "You've got balls, Tom Riddle."
Tom preened. "Wouldn't you love to know?"
Severus arched an eyebrow. "That almost sounds like a challenge. You ought to know I'd take it if it were."
"Perhaps it is." A teasing smirk made pleasant sparks burrow their way through Snape's gut. Tom's eyes narrowed happily. "But enough about that. How are my other three drones treating you?"
Severus pushed aside his pang of disappointment. "Evan and Adam won't even undress in the room anymore. Emeric's paying a sixth year twenty Galleons a week to keep quiet."
"I thought it was ten?"
"She upped it a few weeks ago. He's hocked the broom he got for Christmas, told his parents it was stolen." Severus was surprised at how well versed Tom was. He leaned back, though, and smiled smugly at the memory of the Howler Avery's mum sent that Tuesday. When it exploded in an apocalypse of flame and screaming it set Avery's robe on fire and he spent the entire tirade running in circles with his mum's voice demanding to know when he'd begun to think so little of her that he couldn't take care of his things. It had been all Severus could do not to injure himself, holding in his laughter.
Tom shook his head. "Pathetic, aren't they? Not a scrap of fortitude in the lot." His eyes came to rest on Severus. "Unlike you." His voice was soft and reverent, and Severus had the sudden urge to curl up in his lap. He might have blushed.
They looked at each other silently for a minute. Severus longed to move closer, but the third chair was missing. There was something personal... vulnerable about curling up in his lap. That sort of submission wasn't in his makeup. He certainly wouldn't kneel on the floor. He would never kneel on the floor.
Eyes lowered, he said, "You've gotten rid of the other chair, then?"
Tom nodded. "It made me think of Lucius, the first time he brought you. Dreadful image, I didn't want that between us."
Severus nodded. Surreptitiously, he tried to pick up his chair. It was stuck to the floor.
"I'm afraid you won't have much luck there. The house sometimes shakes when there's a storm. I spelled the furniture down the fifth time I woke up to the delight of splinters in the rug."
"You sleep in here?"
Tom smirked. "Of course not. I've got a bedroom." He paused. "And a bed."
Severus' heart skipped. The small cluster of nerves below his ribcage suddenly expanded until it wrapped his body. What if he did it wrong, this whole "lovemaking" thing? Add to that the fact that Tom was thirty years older and, presumably, had a great deal more experience... well, Severus was skilled for eighteen, but certainly an amateur for forty-eight. His mouth was too dry to speak.
Tom's eyes softened. He stood, smoothing his black robe. Holding out a hand he said, "Come with me, I'll show you the rest of the house."
Severus only hesitated a moment before he took it. Much to his lack of surprise, "the rest of the house" consisted of a few fingers pointed towards the kitchen and the study and the bath and the attic converted into a potions laboratory and a straight run into the bedroom.
It was smaller than Severus expected, all white walls and dark wood and snowflake doilies pinned to the closed green curtains in a permanent blizzard. The bed itself was modest, wood so dark it was almost black and covered in a thick, white duvet. He stared at it a moment. Its reality elated him, and saturated him with shaking nerves.
Tom closed the door carefully. Gently, he took Severus' hand and kissed the palm. He plucked at the baggy black student robes. "You've lost a lot of weight, then?"
Severus nodded. He silently thanked any deities listening that the room was too dark for the heat in his face to be visible. Suddenly, he remembered Tom with his crochet hook and his thread finer than hair, and he wondered.
Tom looked sad. "An unfortunate price." He touched Severus' face tenderly, fingertips skittering over planes and angles. "Although I must admit that I doubt I'd find you as lovely if you hadn't." Tom's finger traced an angled, dark eyebrow. He made a small noise. "This doesn't suit you so much, though. Black and sallow... you weren't meant to be light."
Severus shook his head. "Mum's Indian."
Tom smiled. "I guessed as much. 'Ajit' isn't a dreadfully Anglo-Saxon name." Severus hadn't said much about his family. It was painful. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he missed his mother, and his brothers, and the fact that he wouldn't get to see his nephews and nieces grow up. Hadrian's eldest was even named Severa, after her uncle.
Severus glanced back at the bed. "I want you," he murmured. It came out more timid than he'd intended.
Tom kissed him, fingers still resting against his cheek. "I love you," he said, softly but resolutely.
Severus' eyes closed and he rubbed his face against the spidery touch. His hands found a waist even smaller than his own. There was more bone there than flesh. His burst of panic must have shown in his eyes because Tom took his face and kissed him again.
"Not the Osmosis Curse, Severus Ajit. There are many, many more than that."
Severus relaxed. His own slim, wiry muscles tried to turn to jelly. He stopped them, though, and let his arms rest in the shallow between waist and hip. Long, wispy hair teased his hands. Their bodies pressed together, and for the first time in his life Severus didn't have to bend down to meet a glance, or to press his mouth against another, or to feel his cock stir against the pressure of a thigh.
Tom smiled. "I'm jealous," he murmured against Severus' lips. "That takes a little more effort at my age."
"How much more?"
There was an amused sigh, and Tom said, "You'll find out."
Severus couldn't fight his wide, smug grin. He nudged Tom's face with his nose until it tilted and he was able to open their mouths, tongue darting forth to explore ridges of palate and transitional smoothness from tooth to inner cheek. Tom tasted of sweet tea and lemon, and something that might have been saffron. He tasted like home.
Long fingers tangled in Severus' hair and gripped his scalp. It wasn't painful, but he didn't expect a body so slight to be so strong. What should have been a gasp became a moan; Tom smiled against Severus' mouth and worked a hand between them. The first of the long row of buttons holding closed yards of baggy student robe slid from its hole.
They went slowly. Severus simply stood there, wondering at the odd pleasure of another body so close yet so unselfish, savouring the slow, easy press of lips and tongues. His eyes fluttered open just long enough to see that Tom's were closed and his face was utterly relaxed. Fingers pressed into his chest every inch to undo a button. Gradually, they moved to his stomach and the barely defined layer of muscle. Breath hitched in Severus' throat when the pressure dug into his navel. It kept moving: another button went, and another, and another. The kiss turned more heated; Tom's other hand grasped more tightly, and Severus pulled him closer by the small of his back.
Suddenly, Tom moved his hands. "Let's get rid of this." His voice was a touch ragged. The faintest peach flush had risen in the low firelight. Severus swallowed as nimble, cunning hands pressed against his belly and slid up over his shirted chest, opening the robe as far as it would go. They changed direction at his shoulders and followed the graceful S-curve of Severus' clavicles to push the robe off. A few disentangled moments and they were pressed tight again, kissing mercilessly. Severus' groin ground into Tom's hip; he felt a bit more than the beginnings of an erection pressing into his thigh.
He slid his own hands up Tom's sides to fumble with the bizarre series of small buckles that started at a belt encircling his neck, crossed his shoulder in a neat row, and dropped straight from his joint almost to the hem. Tom gently took his hands. "Let's get you sorted first," he said between soft smacking sounds.
"Not fair," Severus murmured.
"How do you know I'm wearing anything underneath?"
Severus pulled back for a moment. He arched a bemused eyebrow. "The Dark Lord's dark secret, then?"
"Simply personal preference." Rusty eyes glinted wickedly. "Although, it's been quite a while since the subject's come up."
"You mean to tell me Lucius hasn't tried to get in your robes."
"Tried, yes." A soft kiss. "Worthy, never." Tom's eyes crinkled in a wide, warm smile. He traced the sharp contour of Severus' cheek, his painfully aquiline nose. "Nearly as beautiful as you are brilliant. I shan't be letting you go willingly."
Severus purred. He nuzzled the triangle of white skin between Tom's loosely tied hair and the high collar of his robe. A serpent-like slide against him encouraged him to replace the tip of his nose with his lips. Tom moaned. The low, lightly hissing sound made Severus' hips go weak. Long arms steadied him, wrapped tight. A hand wriggled up to bury itself in his hair. Tom made a pleasant noise. "It might be a bit safer to move forward."
Severus nodded dumbly. He allowed Tom to slide the braces off his shoulders, and consequently remove the trousers so perilously around his waist. There was a moment of confusion when he got a foot tangled in the braces and stumbled against Tom, but the low chuckle and a supportive hand cupping his silk-clad arse made Severus smile. Tom stroked the silver boxers. "I approve," he murmured, nipping Severus' ear.
Severus blushed. "Thanks." He seldom wore them, but had tonight in hope. Where they used to fit tantalisingly snugly, now they were loose, hanging on only where his hipbones flared. The loose vest followed almost before he realised Tom was tugging it over his head. It quickly dawned on Severus that he was down to only his pants and socks.
Tom urged him to the edge of the bed. Rather than pushing him down, though, he only bade Severus sit. Tom knelt on the floor in front of him. He settled between long, bare legs. Carefully, slowly, he lifted one of Severus' hands to his mouth before pressing it to the buckle at his neck.
Severus immediately began running the thin leather tail up through the silver buckle. He undid it carefully so as not to choke Tom, then set upon the rest with significantly less delicacy. The whole time, Tom's delicate touch lighted over his sides, up and down his thighs, spent lingering moments stroking the smooth, cool fabric of his shorts. Severus wiggled involuntarily when one brushed close to the bulge crushed against his hip.
"Like that, do you?" Tom stroked a single finger across its length.
Severus' fingers faltered. He moaned loudly. Something was certainly different - he felt as if he'd been dunked in his special potion. Everything came through more intensely than it had with... well, anyone. He clutched heavy wool with both hands, trying to reconstruct himself.
Tom giggled and stroked the bulge more firmly. Severus cried out. His cock twitched in its silk cage. The buckles were forgotten as Tom simply rubbed his hand gently over its length.
Severus braced himself against narrow shoulders. His eyes were half closed, and Tom was smirking wickedly.
"Do you like this?"
Severus' mouth dropped open. He couldn't answer, though.
Tom giggled again. "I thought so."
Much to Severus' disappointment, he stopped. Severus made an indignant sound. Tom shook his head. "Not until you've finished what you started."
Severus cursed whoever had invented buckles. They took so long to undo; by the time he'd worked his way below Tom's arm his hands were twitching. A corner of fabric flopped over. The robe was, he noted in some un-fogged portion of his brain, exceedingly well tailored, lined in tasteful green silk, and stiffened with more layers of cloth inside. It also revealed nothing, as to Severus' annoyance a wide panel covered Tom's chest from the far side of his neck. He fumbled as quickly as he could, attempting to act casual. Tom's hands on his thighs did nothing to help.
Tom leaned forward slightly, pressing a light kiss to Severus' lips, and got to his feet. It put the middle of his chest directly in front of Severus' face. It also put far more buckles within reach. By the time he was finished, Severus found himself kneeling on the floor. He looked up, a twist of intimidation in his oesophagus. Kneeling on the floor meant submission. Submission could never be part of love. A long, delicate white hand reached down and caressed his face. "Disrobe me."
Silently grateful, Severus rocked back on his heels and got to his feet. Silk felt like skin across the back of his hand, warm and secretly moist, as he slid one hand over the hidden panel. Suddenly, he felt real skin on his palm. It was smooth, flawless, teased with sparse, dry hairs. The perfect imperfection of a taut nipple made Severus smile and Tom moan. White skin peeked out from black and green folds. Faint grey skeletal shadows marred it ever so slightly.
Casting a sultry smile, Severus slid his other hand beneath the panel. He let it stay in place until the hollow of his palm was pressed against the other nipple, then nudged it open with a flick of the wrist. No, no, nothing underneath. His breath caught. Severus pressed himself close to Tom's bare skin and traced the fine lines of ribs, the slim waist, the slight protrusion of hipbones. Their mouths met unrepentantly. Ever so slightly tentative, he let his hands rest on a slender arse. Tom gasped; he shivered and kissed Severus more viciously, the three pleats of the cassock-cut robe swaying against knuckles.
"Lay down," Tom commanded. There was a definite growl in his voice. It almost overtook the ever-present hiss.
Severus shook his head. "You told me to disrobe you."
"Insolence will not go unpunished." Tom nuzzled his throat. A firm bite made Severus whimper. With a swift tug, the silk boxers fell to the floor. "Disrobe me, and then lay down."
Severus, eyes closed and teeth slightly bared in need, ran his hands up Tom's long body once again and pushed the heavy robe from his shoulders. It slid down, hissing as silk slithered over skin, and fell with a FLUMP. Severus stole one more kiss before sliding back until he touched the pillows. He propped himself on his elbows.
Tom smirked lazily. He really was magnificent - all taut lines and tapered planes, glowing in the dim room like a star. His nipples were the same peach as his flushed lips, other things a slightly darker peach nestled in coarse black. He tugged at one of Severus' socks, sliding a hand up and down his leg. "Dreadful things. I never wear them if I can help it."
"Don't your feet get cold?" Severus' face immediately went hot. It was a stupid question at an even more stupid time.
Tom chuckled. "That's what I have these for." He lifted a foot to show a fluffy white slipper. Severus hadn't noticed it before. For good reason, he gathered. A ridiculous bunny face smiled out from the toe.
Severus stared for a moment, and promptly collapsed on the bed in fits of snorts. "How do you call yourself the Dark Lord with those things on your feet?"
Tom smirked wryly. "I could say the same about that inane hat you've always got."
"You're referring to the crown of the King of Serpents, you know."
"Oh, of course, Your Majesty." Tom gave him an exaggerated curtsy. He crawled onto the bed. "I suppose you wish me to kiss your sceptre?"
Before Severus could say anything, Tom had taken the head of his cock into his mouth. Whatever sarcastic comment he may have had came out in a soft, approving keen. He looked down, black eyes meeting mischievous rusty ones. "God..." he breathed before he realised the word was on his lips. Tom sucked sharply, and Severus threw back his head. "GOD!"
"No, only Tom." In a minute that felt like forever and like no time at all, that squashed nose snuffled coarse black curls. Perhaps due to his height's proportions, he'd taken Severus' entire length into his throat with little trouble. Long hands stroked Severus' sides; he clutched Tom's hair in turn.
"Don't stop," Severus panted. Tom swallowed; Severus yowled. "DON'T STOP!"
A tight bale of nerves wrapped itself around his solar plexus and continued to twist until it seated itself firmly between his hipbones. Several shorter strands of Tom's hair came undone and tickled Severus' belly and thighs. He wrapped his fingers more tightly in the brittle, crinkled fall. An extra suck, he bucked, and an entire handful slid from the slim silver hoop. Several locks slithered between his slender, parted thighs. They felt like dry spider webs. Severus moaned and squirmed when a piece started sliding over his testicles.
Tom's fingers slid beneath his hips, thumbs holding him steady as he increased his tempo. "Oh, god, don't stop, love," Severus moaned. "Don't ever stop." One of the grasping hands moved to stroke his belly. Severus gripped it tight. Tom never slowed.
A tingle ran from Severus' pelvis to his chest wall. His breathing was ragged, shallow, more sound than respiration. His hips bucked erratically as he tried to sink deeper than was possible into that hot, slick throat. Tom squeezed his hand. The sudden loss of a throat made Severus groan, but the increased pressure and suction on the head of his cock and the hand around its base made his eyes close in demanding need. The image of a dark head, fine strands framing a pale face, lingered behind his lids.
Suddenly, the hand squeezed, the mouth sucked hard, and Severus bucked his hips frantically until a second later he came. A throaty, wordless shout filled his ears until they hurt. Sharp, tingling waves rushed over him until he felt disembodied, lost in a nexus of sensation. He pulsed for longer than he thought possible. Tom stayed there, sucking gently, until the jerks and twitches stopped.
The white hand in Severus' squeezed gently, and Tom lifted his head and smiled. Dropping his face a moment he picked something out of his teeth. Severus was too weak to do more than smirk and arch a wry eyebrow. Tom saw him and laughed.
"You can't tell me it's never happened to you."
Severus only smirked more.
Tom crawled up his body. The hard peach protrusion pressed into Severus' hip. Tom kissed him softly. "Roll on your side," he murmured.
Severus waited until Tom slid off and drowsily obeyed. One arm stretched languidly off the bed, the other wrapping around to clutch the warm, slight body behind him. His upper leg bent and slid forward in offering. White hands embraced him, one stroking his chest, the other his abdomen. A long leg settled between his. Severus purred at the kisses covering his neck; he rolled his head so his chin was on his chest, and was rewarded with a light bite.
"Together, we could rule the world."
Severus hummed. "I'd like that."
"I love you."
"Mujhe tumse pyar hai bhi." Severus didn't realise he'd slipped into Hindi until he'd said it.
Tom growled softly. "Say it again."
"Mujhe tumse pyar hai bhi." Severus moaned at the deceptively strong body pressing tighter.
"I want you."
"I'm yours. You're mine."
Tom chuckled. "I knew there'd be a clause." He kissed Severus' nape again. "I'll be right back."
Severus still whimpered softly when the warmth behind him was replaced by cool air. Tom opened a drawer on the dressing table and rummaged around. "In here somewhere," he said, bent forward. All things told, it left a rather pleasant view. Severus shifted his head slightly to watch. He could make out sinews and faint wiry muscles in the long legs, fixed his eyes on the shift and curve of a slender arse. All of the idiots who cowered in fear didn't know what they'd missed. And they never would.
Tom pulled his arm out from the recesses of the drawer. It had to be magical - he'd been groping up to the shoulder. A small jar was in his hand. When he stood up he caught Severus staring at him and raised an eyebrow. Severus tried to look innocent. Tom grinned.
"Perhaps next time."
Severus grinned back, in spite of himself.
The warm body settled in behind him again. Severus wallowed in the tender arms that wrapped around him, the leg tangled with his own. There was some vague memory that he was wearing a sock, and something about the presence of bunny slippers. It wasn't relevant. He smiled to himself. Severus wrapped his own arms around Tom's and hugged them. He was home.
Tom wiggled his left arm from where he'd draped it over Severus' side. Severus protested wordlessly, but Tom shushed him and kissed his neck. He pressed his pelvis against Severus in silent explanation. Severus wriggled cheekily, and found himself significantly affected by Tom's low, surreptitiously sibilant moan.
A long finger, coated in some sort of oil, traced the curve of his buttock. Severus murmured and let his left leg rise higher. The finger traced knotwork patterns around his hole. He settled back against it. Severus glanced down when a tingle went through his hips and was only mildly surprised to see he was half hard.
The finger slipped inside. Severus moaned. It stroked delicate mucous membranes, teasing and seeking and exploring and finally settling on a particular spot that made him cry out and go rigid. Severus shuddered, whimpering, as Tom stroked gently. "Another one," he rasped.
Tom obliged. The entire process was repeated, culminating with two fingers beating a tattoo on the little area of flesh and sending blood to pound in his ears like drums. His breath came in shuddering waves. When a third finger joined the other two he cried out; he did so again when they skipped the formalities and went straight to that particular spot. "Now," he moaned.
"Are you sure?" A small kiss on his shoulder. "You've gone such a lovely shade of red. I'd like to enjoy it."
"Now," he repeated more firmly. The fingers hesitated and he whimpered.
"If you're that insistent..." Tom's fingers went away completely, leaving a squishy skin of oil. Severus panted. He pressed back in silent plea. The steady pace of a fist bumping his arse and the ragged breath on his neck told him why he had to wait.
A moment later, sticky, slick fingers came to rest on his hip. They only lingered for a few seconds, Tom's other arm pulling the two of them closer together. Severus held his breath. He let it out in a violent puff when he felt the broad, domed head of a cock press against him. The slick hand pressed flat against his pelvis and pushed him on.
Severus groaned. He thought Tom did, too. His breathing sped up. Tom was much like he was, proportioned to height, and the unusual, unexpected mass was enough to trigger a resonating burn. He moaned, half in pleasure and half in pain. Tom paused.
"Do you need to stop?"
Severus shook his head. Biting his lip, he shimmied his hips so that he sank another inch. Between a wince and a content shiver, he managed to get the point across, and Tom pressed forward until coarse hair rubbed against his backside. They stayed like that for many, many seconds, chests rising and falling, warm breath rushing over Severus' back.
When Tom moved, it was slow, gentle. Time stretched out. Severus couldn't count the seconds it took to go from filled to nearly empty and back again. He grasped the hand on his chest, and tension he didn't realise was strung through his shoulders melted when it grasped back. A soft tongue chased the last of it away, alternating with the fragile touch of lips.
They really were made for each other.
Severus turned his head and was met with hooded eyes and the faintest smile. It widened, and the peach lips met his. "Lovely," Tom murmured.
Severus hummed and settled against his chest more firmly. He wrapped an arm behind him again, stroking smooth flesh. "Mine."
"Mine." Soft lips again. "We're unstoppable, Severus." A lightly oiled finger traced Severus' cheek. "Anything we want will be ours."
Severus' face broke into a content, sly smirk. "Power."
"The whole world."
A giddy knot formed in Severus' stomach. He'd always been content to lead his little snakes. Well, perhaps not content; "resigned" might be a better word. To be offered the world, though... something about that sort of absolute control made him dizzy. The fact that they could do it only made his stomach dance more.
Their kisses became more heated. Severus craned his neck, clutching Tom's backside as he did his hand, their lips sliding on a thin layer of saliva and their tongues twining like mating serpents. Tom's left hand slipped around to grasp Severus' bright red cock. It kneaded and tugged and caressed and Severus moaned at the onslaught. The moan triggered Tom to push his hips faster; fingernails digging into his buttocks made him pound them.
Severus couldn't catch his breath. As soon as air came into his lungs it was driven out by the frenzy of nerves building in his body. He bucked, pressing into Tom's hand then back onto his cock. Their lips finally broke and didn't meet again as they panted and moaned. Severus felt red half-moons swell in his palm as Tom tried to control himself just a little longer.
Suddenly, Tom cried out. Severus felt his body go stiff, the hand around his cock shudder mechanically. A few spasmodic thrusts and warmth ricocheted inside him. He let go of Tom's arse and wrapped his hand around the one on his own cock. Squeezing tightly, he stroked frantically until the seizure found him. His breath hitched, his body tensed, and with a groan he felt his nerves peak, hazing out his senses and shooting heavy spurts of white liquid across the whiter duvet.
They didn't move for a long, long time. Their hands had gone stiff from clutching by the time Severus drifted into the vague, trancelike state that served as post-orgasmic sleep. They were still joined when he did, and when he woke up-
The whistle signaling the end of the match ripped him from his memory of the night before. Severus sighed, frustrated, and ground the heel of his hand into his eye.
The Slytherin team came in for a disgruntled landing while three quarters of the stadium erupted in cheers. They shot him annoyed glares and headed towards the locker room. Severus sniffed. All things told, his interest in Quidditch had taken a sharp downturn in the last twenty-four hours. There were far, far bigger things for him to think about.
Such as his newfound place in the wizarding world.
He waited until the rest of the team had left the pitch to go to the showers. Time alone would let him think about what he wanted. While undirected power was a pleasant thought, without some sort of goal it was a toy. He and Tom had talked about it until Severus had to leave sometime around eleven. Two hours didn't allow for much idea development, especially with two heavy rounds of shagging in the mess.
The shower was blissfully soothing, but not terribly productive. He stayed there long after the rest of the team had trudged back to the dungeons to sulk. A slight curve took his mouth when his mind wandered to the concept of showers and Tom; Severus shook it away. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right then, he decided he ought to get back to Slytherin to woo back his grudging House.
Severus didn't bother with the oil on his hair. He simply toweled off, pulled on his clothes, donned his hat, and left his Quidditch things neatly and safely tucked in his locker.
The late March afternoon was warm, for the time of year, and Severus raised his eyebrows benignly at the sun starting to drop towards the horizon. A twig snapped. He frowned and turned around.
Narrowing his eyes, Severus started walking back towards the castle. He cut around the side to take the back entrance on a whim. The whole time, he kept a hand on his wand.
As soon as he heard the flump of cloth he spun. "Expelliarmus!"
There was a yelp, and a growl, and he caught James Potter's wand just as Sirius Black jumped him from behind.
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