NOTES: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest, scenario #10: During a torture scene, when Snape is an active Deatheater. HEED THE SCENARIO, PEOPLE. This is not a sexy story, and several very, very horrible things happen in it. It contains torture, and I'm not talking about some mamby-pamby Cruciatus cursing, here, but nasty, squicky things.
ARCHIVING: The Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest Archive and archives and anyone else who asks when the Fest is over. Not sure anyone's gonna want this one, though.
WITH THANKS TO: Sarah, the ultimate beta, who kindly got a two day turnaround on this! She completely and utterly rocks!
Severus woke slowly, awareness filtering in through texture first: the rich, warm feel of Egyptian cotton sheets draped across his lower body; heavy feathers stuffed in the form of a pillow beneath his cheek; the tickle of long hair at the rim of his ear and along the side of his nose...Then sound: the low, soft stir of his breath; distant voices, perhaps somewhere outside -- faraway and unreal; and the gentle, insistent tick of a clock. And finally he allowed his eyes to flutter open in the dimness of the opulent room: sunlight straining yearningly around the edges of the thick wine-colored drapes; his robes, freshly laundered and carefully laid over the high back of an ornate chair; the door to the bathroom opened just a crack to reveal porcelain gleaming dully in the gloom.
He sighed as he rolled over slowly, raising his hand to brush his hair out of his face. He noted with muted amusement that Lucius had grown it out again while he slept, and had washed it as well. He wound the end of a hank of the black around the tip of his forefinger, then raised his arm lazily. With his arm fully extended he still could not feel the tug at his scalp. //Must be down past my arse this time,// he thought in vague irritation.
Succumbing to the inevitable, he pushed himself upright, and ignored the ominous rumble from his stomach. Shoving the sheets aside, he rose off the bed and clutched at the corner post as his legs threatened to buckle. //Damn it, Lucius, how long did you put me out this time?// he wondered as he staggered away from the safety of the bed to his next isle of stability, the ornate oaken chair adorned with his robes.
He felt weak, but, as he suspected he had been sleeping for several days, this was no surprise. Nor was the soft noise of someone trying to be silent as they opened the door and crept into the room.
"Hello, Lucius," he greeted his visitor as he turned to regard the blond with hooded eyes. "How long was I unconscious?"
"You weren't unconscious," Lucius corrected him absently, stormy eyes caught up in contemplation of Severus' naked frame, too thin by far. "You were sleeping. And it was for three days."
"Three days!? My God, how much of that sludge you call a sleeping potion did you slip me?" Severus wished he had the energy to be furious...so much time had been wasted! He couldn't afford three days of sleep! //Hell, I can't afford one day of sleep...//
"Severus," Lucius began gently, moving to ease Snape down into the chair. "Do you know how long you were awake this time?"
"What does that matter?" Severus growled in an impatient baritone. "There are things I need to finish -- things for Lord Voldemort -- I haven't the time-"
"Eleven days, Severus. You were awake for eleven days straight."
Severus blinked up in confusion at Lucius. Surely not that long..."You know I lose track of time when I'm like that," he offered strengthlessly. Lucius nodded, fetching the brush from the top of the chest of drawers.
"I do know, which is why I gave you more than usual of the sleeping potion," he explained as he began drawing the brush through the waterfall of Severus' hair. "I know it's left you horribly weak, but the house-elves will be bringing up some food shortly, alright?"
The younger man nodded, leaning back into his lover's touch with a small murmur. "You cut my hair again," he accused.
"I had to," Lucius said practically. "You were letting it get all matted and tangled again, and it smelled horrid."
"If you would stop growing it out so long," Severus pointed out, "It wouldn't be a problem."
"And if you would shower at least once or twice a week, it wouldn't be a problem, either." He sighed as he pulled the shiny mass of ebon waves back into a neat horse's tail. "I like it long, Severus. Really, you have the most beautiful hair, nothing like mine." He ruffled his fingers through the shorter mass of silver blond that fell fetchingly over his darker eyes.
"If you're fishing for a compliment, you aren't going to get one," the darker man reminded his lover impatiently, and Lucius laughed.
"God forbid," he said, rolling his eyes. Severus wondered why he bothered. They hadn't actually had sex in almost three months now, and even before then it had become an infrequent thing. There were simply too many other things that needed to be done, and while Lucius was remarkably accommodating when it came to Severus' odd tastes, the darker man had to admit he had begun shocking even himself with his demands.
It was the drugs, Severus knew. The Elixir of Mercury and the other, darker things...while awake, he lived in a sort of perpetual twilight of dream, reality meshing loosely with violent moments of hallucinatory clarity and absent fugue. Severus often found himself staring down into a cauldron and having no idea how he had gotten there, what day it was, and, more disturbingly, who he was.
He knew it should bother him that he remembered so very little of his own life anymore. It should cause him distress that what memories he did retain were faint and unreal...and shrouded with remembrances of things he knew had never really happened. And here, just roused from sleep and body somewhat purged of the poisons he fed it daily, he was disturbed, in a distant sort of way. Nowhere near enough, though.
"Severus?" He looked up at Lucius' troubled face. Such sharp lines, yet still so beautiful.
"Have you heard anything I just said?"
"No..." he drifted away again, looking out the crack in the drapes that Lucius had opened, losing his vision in the too-bright sunlight. He loved Lucius, once, long, long ago in another life. Now he just felt tired. He was grateful for the way the man cared for his body, but the young heir's adoration and devotion were suffocating. And irrelevant. He knew the blond entertained some ridiculous fairy-tale notion that he and Severus were destined to be together. Drove his wife mad with his babble of it.
Severus had to laugh at the thought of Narcissa's face whenever she caught sight of him, staggering from the depths of the manor to obtain food or other supposed necessities. Those perfect lips would curl up in a disgusted sneer, wrinkling her dainty nose. But underneath that, he could read the fear in her eyes, so clear. 'This is what he abandons my bed for?' she was thinking, 'This filthy, stinking thing with mad eyes?'
"Severus!" He looked up again and sighed, slowly pushing himself to his feet.
"I'm up," he muttered, and began the painful prospect of dressing, frowning at the soft folds of the robes. "I don't know why you put the robes out, though, you know they always end up on the floor by the second hour..." He preferred to work in his vest and a pair of loose cotton pants. Comfortable, and cool. The laboratory set up down in the Malfoy's basement got quite hot with three cauldrons on the boil.
Lucius shook his head and offered a shoulder for Severus to lean on as he stepped into his pants. "If you had been listening to me, you'd know why. Lord Voldemort is sending someone today. He should be here shortly."
"What has that got to do with me?" Severus looked up, only mildly interested. While all the Malfoys were quite the social butterflies, he had not been to any of the gatherings, or entertained any of the guests in ages. Not since he had shocked (and in one case amused) three of Pascal Malfoy's closest friends by quite seriously and carefully devouring a two hundred year old heirloom wine glass. His mouth had bled for days afterwards, even after a mortified Lucius had mended it.
"He's here on business, Severus." His dark head nodded sagely. That made more sense...after all, the work that kept him up for so many days was for Voldemort. Still...
"Then why do I need to wear robes? Surely he can simply come speak to me down in the lab..." His voice became muffled as he pulled the sleeveless white vest over his head, then dragged it down over his stomach, and yanked his long horse's tail out the collar.
Lucius shook his head gravely, gesturing that Severus should sit down again, and placed a full plate of food on his lap, heavy on the eggs and sausage. Protein. The younger man set to work quickly devouring his breakfast. It was all utterly tasteless, but his stomach clenched violently, screaming for more. He wondered when the food had been brought in. Probably while he had been thinking.
"This is one of our Lord's new favorites," the blond commented bitterly, handing his lover a full glass of orange juice while he refilled the plate.
"Who is it?" Severus asked, a thread of curiosity waking him up a bit.
"You'll see," Lucius said.
Severus rolled his eyes. "Do you have to be so mysterious and melodramatic?" he complained.
"Maybe I just feel like it," Lucius shot back with a frown, and distantly, Severus realized that the other man was irritated about something. His curiosity stirred sluggishly as he finished his breakfast and pulled himself to his feet, feeling a bit stronger. He pulled his robes on without assistance, then stood there for a moment, simply staring down at Lucius in contemplation. The paler man gazed back, one eyebrow arched elegantly.
There was very little emotion connected to the Malfoy heir for Severus, anymore. Oh, a faint affection still lingered somewhere in the depths of his heart, and some gratitude for providing him with a place to live, to carry out his work, but more than that? Long vanished in the glaring, harsh light of adulthood. Lucius, despite being married and with a child on the way, obviously still adored him. //One of these days I'll have to go elsewhere,// Severus thought faintly, reaching out to lightly finger the fine, blond hair -- so soft, unlike his own. //It will be better for both of us. Maybe when Narcissa has the baby.//
He sighed, and gestured for Lucius to rise with a quick jerk of his head. The older man did so easily, no anger evident on his face at being treated like a servant. "He should be arriving any moment," Lucius explained as he led the way downstairs, through the cavernous entryway, and into the smaller, well-appointed parlor. Severus followed silently, and seated himself in one of the elegant, wingback chairs near the fire -- leaving the blond to pace restlessly.
The man that apparated into the room a few minutes later was simply enormous. Severus, at 6'4", was used to being the tallest person in almost every room, but he guessed the stranger had at least five inches on him. It was hard to estimate, as he was stooped slightly, carrying a limp body over his shoulder as one might a small child. He stooped to drop the person to the floor unceremoniously, stood again, glancing over at Lucius with a polite smile, and then flicked his eyes over to Severus. His smile widened, and he simply stood there, staring at the dark-haired Slytherin.
//I know him...// Severus thought faintly, furrowing his brow as he tried to figure out where he had seen those young features, and the curly, sandy-brown hair hanging loosely around the wide face. Lucius stepped forward smoothly, interposing himself between the two men examining each other.
"Gavin, it's good to see you again," Lucius purred, reaching forward to clasp the much taller man's hand warmly.
"Lucius," the man called Gavin responded, somewhat impatiently, as Severus felt the wheels in his head turning, slowly, oh so slowly...too slowly these days. He never could think anymore...unless he was in his laboratory.
He felt his mouth open as he finally realized where he had seen this...boy? man?...before. "Gavin Crabbe?" he asked incredulously.
He was rewarded with another eager smile from the boy...for he must be a boy, mustn't he? If this was really Gavin Crabbe. //He'd be...what?...Nineteen, now? At the most.// He remembered this too-large boy quite clearly from his time at Hogwarts...though he hadn't seen him since the last day of Severus' sixth year. Severus had finished out his schooling at Durmstrang...but he didn't want the memories that came with that line of thought, the pain...
//Remus. No, I won't-// He cut himself off abruptly, rising from his chair, managing to paint a faint smile on his narrow features. "Gavin, it's been-"
"Five years," the boy interrupted him, moving easily past Lucius. The older man sniffed in irritation, but Severus guessed that Gavin was used to having people move aside for him, if only in care for their physical well-being. He studied the boy with interest, surprised at both the changes, and the startling lack of them.
That face, still far too young -- the same face he had at fourteen, open and so terribly easy to read. Longer hair now -- a little darker, but still basically the same sandy, brown-blond. Same muddy brown eyes, but clearer than before. Taller now, and his shoulders had gotten so broad... wider through the chest, a man's body and not the thinner, more awkward boy's body he remembered. And somewhere in those intervening five years he had a gained a grace and confidence in movement that had been completely absent in his youth.
"You've gotten really skinny!" Gavin exclaimed suddenly, then cast his eyes down, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I mean...that was really rude of me, wasn't it?"
"I've always been skinny," Severus responded slowly.
"Yes, but not...well, not so much," the boy mumbled, then glanced up at Lucius, who was watching the two of them with a small, covert smile of amusement.
"I'll just leave you two to catch up, shall I?" Lucius asked dryly, and then turned to Severus. "When you're done, you can have him take that," and here he jerked his head to indicate the still body on the floor, "into the interrogation room."
Severus nodded, barely hearing the words, and Lucius exited the room gracefully. "Why don't we sit down?" the dark haired man invited, and Gavin folded himself into a chair smoothly, his eyes still fixed on Severus' face raptly.
The older man was at a loss. He had fallen out of contact with everyone from Hogwarts, save for Lucius, and had no idea what Gavin had been doing these past years. Except...hadn't Lucius said he was one of their Lord's new favorites? But how did one go about asking after that? The boy saved him the trouble.
"I know I'm here on business for Voldemort...but Severus! I haven't seen you in so long, and I've...I've missed you." This last was imparted with another one of those shy blushes, and Severus wondered idly if the boy had had a crush on him at school. He honestly couldn't remember. So many things he couldn't remember. "Tell me what you've been doing since you left Hogwarts."
"Nothing that interesting, I suppose," Severus responded, trying to recall the details of his relationship with this boy. "I went to Durmstrang, finished my seventh year there, and then apprenticed for a few years under Helena Panayiotopoulus. Then I came here, and I've been doing research for the past few years. Potions wasn't really your best subject, was it?" he asked.
"Nothing was my best subject," Gavin laughed, scrubbing his hand through his hair self-consciously. "I was a complete duffer at school, if you remember." His smile turned suddenly sly, secretive. "Though I guess I've found my niche now."
Severus watched that smile, and was wrenched by a sudden sickness. He remembered...Gavin, little Gavin, who had come to him in the winter of his first year, who trusted the older student enough to tell him...
"Severus, Severus, you've got to help me!" the boy had cried, his face ugly and red with tears. Severus had made a point to befriend the boy, who had been awkward and gangly...shy and afraid. Like he had been, when he had first come to Hogwarts.
"What is it, Gavin?" he had asked, holding him lightly by his shoulders.
"I...I...it's Alan's cat..." he had stuttered, his entire body shaking violently. Alan was Gavin's roommate; a quiet, rather dull boy.
"What about the cat?" Severus had asked gently, pulling out a handkerchief to clear the boy's face of tears.
"You...y-you have to see..."
And Gavin had led the adored older student to an unused classroom, where the cat lay, dead and pliant. The fur around its mouth had been caked with frightening amounts of some sort of bluish foam, flecked with red. The boy had fed it drain cleaner -- and how he had convinced the cat to eat that noxious substance, Severus did not ask, nor where he had acquired it -- and sat there to watch it die.
Severus had helped Gavin bury the cat out in the Forbidden Forest, and then he had gripped the boy by the shoulders again, not so gently this time. "You can never, never do this again."
"But I have to!" he had wailed pitifully. "I have to, I can't stop...I have to."
"No," Severus had told him firmly, "You don't. And you won't. You come to me next time, alright?"
And those measures had been enough for the next four years. At least, during school. Severus was pretty sure Gavin was depopulating his own neighborhood of pets over the summer breaks.
Severus came back to himself with a start, to find Gavin kneeling in front of him, a look of concern lighting his honest face, one large hand lightly shaking him by the shoulder. "Severus?"
"Yes?" he asked faintly.
"Are you alright? I've been calling your name for the past minute or so!"
"I'm fine." He laid his hand briefly over the younger man's. "Sorry, just woolgathering. You can sit down again." He gave a reassuring smile, and Gavin reluctantly returned to his chair. "But what have you been doing with yourself?"
"Well, that's probably not very interesting to you, either," Gavin laughed, somewhat nervously. "I finished school, of course, and right afterwards I started working for our Lord." He smiled again, and that light of adoration that had been directed so brightly on Severus previously, shone again for the man who was their master.
"What do you do?" Severus asked quietly, and Gavin got that sly look in his eyes again, making the taller man look more his own age.
"Oh, I'm an information gatherer," he replied vaguely, rubbing his thumb over his full lower lip in a startling, sensual gesture. Severus, to his deep shock, felt arousal curl low in his belly, and lowered his eyes briefly.
"Mm, and what does that entail?" he asked carefully.
"You'll see!" Gavin laughed, a low, husky chuckle. There was another thing that had changed -- his boyish, high tones had developed into a lovely, low purr. "Let's save that for later, though, alright?"
Severus nodded, intrigued despite himself, and found the he was glancing at the body on the floor in the corner. "What are you doing here, anyway, Severus?" The older man looked up from the shallowly breathing form.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, I know Lucius is married and all...his wife is pregnant, isn't she? I mean, I know you were close in school, are you still...?" Gavin trailed off, clearly embarrassed by this line of questioning, but too curious to withdraw.
"Still lovers?" Severus responded with amusement. Gavin nodded wordlessly. "Not really. Not for a while now. I live here because this is where Voldemort has use of me...I have extensive resources, and an excellent laboratory. It suits me well enough."
The boy curled his lips up in a shy smile. "I see."
"What about you, Gavin?"
"Oh," the boy replied dismissively. "There's no one, not really. Well, Lord Voldemort says I should get married. To this girl...Enid Davies. I don't like her much, but I suppose I'll have to have kids at some point. She's good enough for that, I guess."
He seemed about to say more, but the body in the corner suddenly let out a low, pained groan. Gavin smiled, delighted, and walked over to lift the man's chin sharply and peer into his half-closed eyes. His touch held the skill of experience, and he pulled the man back onto his shoulder. Severus watched this all with half-lidded eyes, wondering at the curl of desire now making itself known more loudly within him.
"I think we should take him downstairs now," Gavin prompted, and Severus rose to lead the younger man down into the basement of the manor.
The interrogation room was sparse, bare stone and mortar, with a medical table in the center of the room and multiple bright lights arrayed around this. A small drain was recessed into the tile floor to the right of the table, and Gavin quickly shouldered his way past Severus to lay the man across the spotless leather.
"I'm here about the Hypnos philtre," he explained. "So perhaps you should get a sample of it?"
"The Hypnos- but that isn't finished, yet! I haven't worked out how to-"
"I know," Gavin interrupted him, gently. "I've read your report. But our Lord thinks that it might have some uses in these early stages as well. That's why I'm here. Will you get it, please, Severus?"
Nodding, Severus left the room and walked slowly down the hall to his laboratory. The Hypnos philtre was what he was currently concentrating on in his research; Voldemort had been looking for a potion that acted in a similar way to the Imperius curse, but without the need for the wizard to constantly control the other. Severus was to develop a substance that would allow the Death Eaters to implant a suggestion in the subject's mind without being consciously aware of the nature of the suggestion. Much the way Muggle hypnosis was supposed to work, but far more powerful.
But it had been tricky going, and at this stage, the potion merely induced a sort of dreamy suggestibility. The subject was quite willing to do whatever was asked of him or her, but only at the time of taking the potion. He or she also maintained a sort of sleepy haze, not his or her normal demeanor at all. Really quite useless.
He ran his fingers over the line of sample bottles that he kept close at hand, removing one from the end of the row. He uncorked it and sniffed it delicately, the fresh fragrance of lily wafting up to him. Still good, then. He re-corked it and returned to the interrogation room.
The man was now fully laid out on the table, and was clearly roused enough to be frightened. At some point, Gavin must have left the room, because a large black bag had been brought in, and lay open and inviting next to the table. Severus could see the gleam of metal within. A small table on wheels had been brought in as well, though its surface lay bare. The man on the table let out a frightened squeak at Severus' entrance, and Gavin tightened his hands over the man's upper arms, holding him down effortlessly.
"Is that it?" he asked eagerly, eyeing the vial of cloudy white fluid that Severus held. The darker man nodded. "Well, give it to him, then." Severus raised one eyebrow, but complied, approaching the struggling man and uncorking the vial once more.
The man had medium brown hair, cut short and sensible. He looked to be in his late thirties, and wore Muggle clothing. His face was red and flushed from his struggles, and he pressed his lips into a thin line as he stared in horror at the strange fluid.
"Come on, now, you're going to have to drink this one way or another," Gavin cooed into the man's ear. "Might as well make it easy..."
"Please," the man whimpered, and Gavin smiled, speaking to him as one might a child.
"I know, it looks nasty, but really, this isn't going to hurt you. I promise, how's that, hm?" The odd juxtaposition of the fatherly tone and the 19-year-old face struck Severus, and he felt a vicious thrill run through him, cutting through the usual lingering, drug-induced haze. But still, the man shook his head.
"Well, we'll just have to do this the hard way, then." Gavin sighed, in seeming disappointment. He wrapped one brawny arm around the man's neck, holding him down, and used his free hand to dig in his fingers on either side of the man's jaw. The Muggle's mouth opened with a pained cry, and Severus poured the philtre into the back of his throat. The Muggle choked, but with a few gentle strokes along his neck by the boy, he swallowed desperately.
"See, now, that's not so bad," Gavin crooned to the man, and watched his body in fascination as his struggles became weaker and weaker, finally ceasing altogether as the Muggle collapsed back against his captor with a dreamy smile. The boy ran his fingers tenderly through the man's hair, ruffling it affectionately, then pulled back.
"Well, Severus?" Gavin asked the older man, looking at him questioningly.
"Well, what?" Severus was still watching the Muggle clinically. The man looked flushed, and he moved restlessly on the table, but made no move to get up or leave.
"What exactly does this stuff do?"
Severus shot him an irritated look. "I thought you read my report."
Gavin rolled his eyes. "I did, but I'd like to hear it from you. For example, you never mentioned this," he replied, running his finger down the side of the man's cheek, and watching the Muggle turn into his touch with a small sigh.
"I've never noticed that before," Severus breathed, watching the pair in fascination. "Of course, different individuals tend to respond differently, so that may just be some sort of rare side effect."
"What have you noticed?" Severus glanced up at the sharp tone. It was strange; Gavin seemed to have two very different sides. One was the eager boy he'd been talking to earlier, a bit shy and hesitant, still somewhat in awe of the man he remembered longingly from his school days. The other side was this sensual, competent man who seemed much older than his nineteen years, completely in control and used to getting what he wanted. //No wonder he's one of Voldemort's favorites.//
"Well, like I stated in my report, the potion induces a sort of trance-like state in which the target is extremely suggestible, but none of the suggestions last once the Hypnos works its way out of the system. This takes approximately two hours, depending on the subject's metabolism. I have seen its effects wear off in as soon as forty five minutes, and in one case well over five hours."
He paced around the Muggle on the table, and Gavin stood to his full height to watch him walk. Unconsciously, Severus adopted a lecturing tone. "Common side effects include a heightened tolerance for pain, nausea and vomiting, some mild audio and visual hallucinations, difficulties with both fine and gross motor skills, and flattened or inappropriate affect. Uncommon side effects have included blindness, severe vertigo or dizziness, ataxia, and death. I suppose we can now include heightened sexual response to that list," he added dryly, glancing down at the visible erection in the subject's trousers, and the way he writhed slowly on the table.
"How many died?" Gavin watched him intently.
"Only one. I think he had an allergic reaction to one of the main components of the potion. Probably the wormwood." Severus looked up. "So will you be so kind as to tell me why Voldemort would be interested in the potion at this stage?"
Gavin laughed, a sweet sound totally at odds with the situation. "Oh, no, I'd much rather show you," he replied with a saucy wink, and stooped down to rummage through his bag. He came up with a neat cylinder of black cloth. Deftly unfastening it, he unrolled it on the small, wheeled table. Inside gleamed shiny, spotless chrome...a whole array of surgical tools. Scalpels, pliers, various jagged and oddly shaped instruments that Severus did not recognize, and a small bone saw.
"Information retrieval. You're a torturer, then?" Severus asked carefully, and Gavin looked up from his inventory to fix the darker man with a very serious gaze.
"What else did you think I would be?" he asked quietly, and Severus had to admit, it made sense. The boy he remembered had an absolute talent for it, as much as Gavin had tried to fight it. But he couldn't help but experience a low pang of regret, and feel vaguely responsible that the sweet boy from Hogwarts had turned into this cold professional.
He didn't know how to answer Gavin. Part of him was disgusted, but the greater part of him was intrigued and becoming aroused. He had performed plenty of his own tests on others, watched his concoctions wreak havoc and pain on the bodies of Muggles and wizards alike. He had killed with his own hand, sometimes slowly and painfully. His conscience was by no means clean, nor had he distanced himself from what those things he produced did. To do any less would be hypocritical.
But this, here, was in a new realm entirely. Pain and suffering brought to a highly distilled art form. For there was no doubt, in the way that Gavin lovingly ran his fingers over his immaculate tools that he both loved his work, and took consummate care in it. There was a passion in the boy's eyes he'd seen very few other times. It was a passion that had been absent from his own life for a very long time now. He realized, in some distant way, how unnatural it was for a man his age to feel such a lack of deep feeling, and maybe that was why the whole thing turned him on so.
"Show me, then," he breathed out, fixing the younger man's eyes with his own dark ones, let the challenge show there. Smiling in delight, Gavin turned to the man on the table.
"Take off your shirt," he instructed gently, and the Muggle complied -- having some difficulty getting it over his head, but finally managing. "Good, good...lay back down now, alright?"
The man happily did so, exposing a pale torso. Severus noted idly the dusting of freckles over the man's shoulders, and the small pinkish birthmark high on his left hip. The man's nipples tautened in the cool air, a pinky-gold hue. Gavin gazed down at his array of tools, and picked an innocuous looking surgeon's scalpel.
"I want you to be able to see everything I do, alright?" he addressed the man soothingly. "Why don't you tell me your name?"
"Robert," the man sighed with a smile.
"Okay, Robert, now what do you think would be the best way for me to make sure you could always see what I was doing?"
Robert furrowed his brow. "Uh...keep my eyes open somehow, maybe?"
"Very good!" Gavin rewarded the man by stroking his hair back lightly, and running his fingers along his sternum. Robert arched up into the touch. "But how would I do that?"
"Clothespins?" Robert asked eagerly, but his face fell as Gavin laughed lightly.
"Much too big, Bobby. And besides, I don't have any pins...but you've given me an idea!" Robert smiled again, happy to be of service. "How about I cut off your eyelids, alright?"
This elicited another slow frown. "But won't that hurt?" the Muggle asked, confused.
"Oh, yes!" Gavin agreed, eyes shining. "But you need to be able to see, don't you?"
"Oh, alright, then," Robert agreed, and laid back his heads compliantly. Gavin bent forward, and, with a precise touch for such large hands, neatly sliced off the man's right eyelid. He picked it up gingerly, examining the little flap of flesh dusted with a delicate lacing of hairs. Then he flicked it off his fingertip like a piece of lint.
He removed the other just as quickly. Robert hissed in pain at each incision, but otherwise remained calm and compliant. "Does that hurt, Bobby?" Gavin asked, stooping again to retrieve a bottle from his bag and a small bag of cotton balls.
"Yes, very much," Robert agreed dreamily. "There's blood in my eyes, though..."
Indeed, the incisions were bleeding freely into the man's eyes, the brilliant red of the fresh blood making lazy swirled patterns on the surface of his eyeballs. "Don't worry," Gavin reassured him, opening the bottle and dumping a small amount of the clear liquid onto one of the cotton balls. "I'll fix it for you." He carefully cleaned the blood from the Muggle's eyes, and then swabbed the open wounds as well. Whatever he was using slowed the bleeding down nicely.
Severus shifted on his feet as he watched, but couldn't take his eyes away from the scene. The Muggle was still sporting that innocuous erection, and Severus could feel his own cock stirring in his pants. He pushed at it irritably, which just seemed to make things worse. Gavin looked up briefly, smiling, and Severus felt a slow flush heating his cheeks.
The taller man turned back to his victim with a benevolent expression. "Do you know what I would like to do next, Bobby?" he asked the man on the table. "I would like to give you a little treat. Would you like that?"
"Ohhh, yes," Robert agreed, and if his eyes could have fluttered closed in happiness, they would have. Instead, there was simply a small tremor that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Very good!" Gavin said, as if to a dog. And took up the scalpel again, now painted delicately with crimson. He ran his fingers down the center of the man's chest, and then moved to tweak and tease a nipple, drawing a low groan from the Muggle. "Perfect," he whispered, then adjusted a light and leaned over.
Severus watched as Gavin's tongue came out to delicately taste his upper lip as he worked with the blade. Soon he had inscribed a neat heart shape around the man's left nipple, and with a few more careful slices, he peeled the skin free. He held up the heart to show Severus with a sly grin, and the darker man noticed that the flesh was somewhat wrinkled, not at all as smooth as it had seemed on his body.
Where the man's aureole had been was now a raw heart-shaped piece of exposed muscle, pulsing grotesquely. "Look what I have for you, you good boy," Gavin teased Robert, holding up the small morsel of flesh. Robert smiled up at him, and gamely tried to grab the nipple away. Gavin caught both his wrists in one enormous hand, and shook his head.
"Ah, ah, ah...Not that way!" Robert frowned in confusion, and the younger man smiled. "No hands!" The Muggle's blue lighting in understanding, the man nodded violently and relaxed. When Gavin released him, he sat up and strained his neck to reach his disembodied flesh with his mouth, opening wide and sticking out his tongue.
Severus watched the younger man tease his subject, allowing Robert to almost catch the nipple before yanking it away playfully. The potions maker was now painfully hard, and he slipped one hand surreptitiously down his robes, massaging his aching cock. Finally, Gavin allowed Robert to catch his hand, and placed the sliced flesh at his lips. With an expression of ecstasy, the Muggle took his own nipple into his mouth and chewed blissfully. The paler man pet his hair, totally engrossed in watching his subject devour himself.
"Would you like more of that?" he crooned to Robert, and the man nodded rubbing his head like a cat along Gavin's robed chest.
"Alright then, give me a moment..." Gavin quickly stripped out of his robes. Severus gaped at this, but he too was feeling rather hot...he daren't move, though, lest he draw attention to his embarrassing condition. Gavin was ignoring him, now, and the younger man rolled up his shirtsleeves before turning back to Robert.
With the robes gone, Severus was free to drink in the broad angle of the boy's impressive chest and shoulders. His exposed forearms were thick with muscle, dusted with golden hair. His Dark Mark burned blackly there, against his tanned flesh. Slowly, seductively, he unbuckled Robert's belt, and slid it off. Biting lightly into his lower lip, he fastened it firmly around the Muggle's right upper arm, pulling it tight so that the leather bit into the skin. He placed it directly above the elbow, a pressure point, Severus remembered vaguely.
He then picked out a heftier surgical knife and gestured for Robert to move over a bit on the table. He held the man's arm down on the table, looking up to grin wolfishly at him.
"You might jerk a bit, so I'm going to make sure you stay still, alright?" Robert nodded wordlessly, and Gavin used the knife the make a neat incision all around the man's wrist. The blood gushed hotly, and Severus could see Robert's shoulder muscles straining. Quickly, Gavin snagged the bone saw, and with an efficient stroke, hacked through the bones of the Muggle's wrist.
//Ulna and radius,// Severus thought distantly.
The sound of the saw in the bone was indescribable...sharp and wet all at once. And a strange smell -- bone dust, Severus supposed -- tainted the air of the room. The smell was dry and ashy; it made the darker man want to cough. Robert's eyes were streaming continuously now, bloody tears streaking unheeded down his face, catching on his smiling lips and dripping grotesquely from his chin.
It took a few minutes for Gavin to part the hand from the wrist completely, and he stopped several times to neatly sever arteries and veins. Blood flowed sluggishly from the gaping wound, hindered by the belt still choked tightly around Robert's arm.
The entire time, Severus ran his hand desperately along his inner thigh, brushing his wrist against his erection over and over. He was terribly afraid, and couldn't isolate the source of his fear...was it the monstrous act being performed in front of him? Or was it his own arousal at the abominable drama being played out before him? Without being aware if it, he began shaking his head back and forth in a negating gesture, in time to his hand which was now rubbing directly against his prick.
Gavin finally loosed the reluctant hand in triumph, to a chorus of pained groans. The Muggle had bitten through his own lower lip from the pain, but he still grimaced hopefully up at the blond. Gavin smoothed his hand through Robert's hair softly.
"Oh, you've done so, so well," he murmured sweetly, raising the severed hand to run one finger along the man's lips, collecting the pink-stained tears. Moaning louder, Robert arched his back, and darted out his tongue to lick along his own finger, which was being pressed at his mouth.
Finally, Gavin looked up at Severus. Brown eyes locked with black, and the two men stared at each other for an indeterminate length of time, the space of several heartbeats...or several minutes. Severus didn't know. His hand stilled under his robes, and his head as well -- long strands of black hair loosened from his horse's tail falling around his face. And then Gavin was abandoning his victim, moving across the floor in enormous, ground-eating strides until he stood directly in front of the darker man.
If Gavin had kissed him, Severus would have fled.
Instead, the boy felt to his knees in front of the older man, fingers so used to skillfully playing torment on human flesh now clumsy as they fumbled at his robes. Gavin stared up adoringly at Severus as he finally managed to push the folds of expensive black cloth aside, and unfastened his pants rapidly, freeing the darker man's cock into the cool air.
He gripped Severus' hips firmly, and then wrapped his lips hungrily around his prick. Severus let out a squeaky gasp at the sudden heat, and fell backward into the wall, hands gripping wildly at Gavin's sandy curls. "Oh, God..." he groaned, closing his eyes and abandoning himself to the sinful bliss.
It took very little time to bring him close to orgasm; he felt more turned on than he had been in years -- like being a teenager all over again. He opened his eyes to look down at the younger man before him, and the lush lips working over his cock thoroughly. Almost detachedly, he lingered on the sight of his burning prick sliding in and out of that swollen, pretty mouth. When he felt he could stand it no longer, he tilted his head back to stare sightlessly at the ceiling, then slowly allowed his eyes to track back down to the travesty of a man on the table.
Robert had rolled over awkwardly onto his side, his mutilated arm pressed underneath him, smearing the table with sticky blood. With his good hand, he clasped his severed one loosely, holding it up to his lips. He gnawed at the ragged flesh of the wrist lightly, distractedly. His brutalized eyes watched the pair with something like fatherly approval, and as the Muggle noticed Severus' eyes upon him, he smiled, revealing blood and mucus-streaked teeth. Shifting slightly, he freed his stump, and rubbed it lasciviously over his caged erection.
Severus opened his eyes as wide as he could as he felt orgasm shake through him violently, staring madly at Robert. He felt Gavin's throat working, and finally looked back down at the boy and his twitching cock, slowly loosing its rigidity. As the paler man sat back on his heels with a satisfied smile, Severus felt nausea spiraling up slowly from the pit of his stomach.
His entire body was drowned in the sensation, hot and uncontrollable, throbbing at his temples, crouching in wait at the back of his throat. He slid along the wall until he reached the door, and then stumbled out, glancing back just once. Gavin remained crouched upon the floor, staring uncomprehendingly at him, and Robert writhed on the table behind him, lit by an unforgiving white glare. The Muggle was crying wordlessly, and reaching out his good hand towards the departing Severus, his severed one lying forgotten on the floor.
When he reached his room, he vomited the entire contents of his stomach in one continuous heave, leaving him gasping and shaking on the cool tile of the bathroom floor. He stared at the mosaic of pale blue and white blindly. His stomach clenched agonizingly for several more minutes, leaving him desperately clutching the cold porcelain of the toilet. The pervasive feeling of nausea would not depart completely until several hours later, as he lay sobbing and shaking on the carpet of Albus Dumbledore's office.
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