Invitation | By : starstruck86 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Ron Views: 6834 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from these writings |
A/N: Not
quite sure where this came from but never mind. This was a oneshot with no ties to my other work -however, people reviewed and asked, and so i've continued it. I know the
pairing is unusual, as ever, but I fly the flag for us Ron/Snape fans with
pride. Just bear in mind this does contain a wee bit of vampirism, but not too
much in the way of bloodsucking until later chapters. Please R&R if you like and so wish. xx
------
“Oh, shit!”
“Thank you
for that remarkably astute assessment of our predicament, Weasley.”
The voice
was acid in delivery and icy in tone. If Ron had been sober, maybe it would
have bothered him. But, blissfully, Ronald Weasley was not sober and as such he
couldn’t help his derisive snort at the rebuke.
“Well, Sir,
can you think of anything better?”
“It’d be futile
anyway. Just be aware, Weasley, when we get out of this, I’m having you thrown
out on your backside for being inebriated, out of bounds and then trying to
smash your way through the school’s defences on your attempt to return.”
“You can
try,” Ron shrugged. “But if you haven’t noticed, Snape, I kinda
tend to get away with a lot around here… helps when you’ve got a friend like
Harry.”
Snape
visibly bristled at both the impertinence and the mention of Harry Potter.
“Potter
won’t save you from this,” Snape looked at the redhead. “You should probably
say your goodbyes to the castle now, you know, whilst we’re imprisoned within its
walls.”
“So is that where we are then?”
“Good God,
you’re stupider than I thought. Do you know nothing of the school you’ve lived
in for the past seven years?”
Ron let his
head loll onto his shoulder as he sent an exasperated look at his Professor.
Blue eyes met black and Snape knew that Ron was sparing himself the energy of
answering in the negative. With a bored sigh through his nose, Snape leaned
back against the wall.
“The founders thought it would be amusing, not to mention incredibly helpful,
to place wards that recognised current students on the castle gates. To trap
truants, generally. When the curfew for the castle is invoked, the enchantment
activates. And any student attempting to get back in after that, at least
through the front entrance, is trapped here to ensure punishment for their rule
breaking.”
“So, does
someone know we’re here?”
“They know you’re here.”
“Well, how
long before they come and let us out, then?” Ron lazily stretched his arms
above his head, his genial speech aided by the considerable amount of Ogden’s he’d consumed
with his visiting brothers in The Three Broomsticks.
“That
depends on if the wards picked up on my presence or not.”
“What difference does that make?”
“All the
difference,” Snape’s mouth twisted in what could have been a smirk of
amusement, or a scowl.
“Care to
tell me what that might be?” Ron quirked his eyebrows and gave a half-smile.
“If they
picked up on me as I tried to instruct you not to touch the gate, Weasley and
then got pulled through with you, then we will be here until we are missed.”
“Why?”
Ron’s brain wasn’t working particularly fast. Was it ten glasses or eleven? Bollocks.
“Because,”
Snape’s voice dripped with disdain and Ron thought how silky it sounded, so low
and baritone, “It would fool the wards into thinking a teacher had already
freed you from the walls.”
“Oh.”
“Quite.”
“So… we’re
stuck here until we’re missed then. How long do teachers usually take?”
“Well,
think of me, Weasley. Do you think I’d haul myself out of bed to come and
release a miscreant like yourself?”
“Well,
let’s be frank, if I were relying on you and
you alone to get me out of this mess they’d be removing me cold under a
blanket, wouldn’t they?”
“That’s the
most intelligent assessment you’ve made since we got shoved in here, Weasley.”
“Well, it does happen sometimes,” Ron laughed, shivering slightly in the cool
air of the chamber.
Ron
wondered why he was still standing up, it seemed silly to do so now he knew
release was apparently far from imminent. He dropped into a corner and leant
back on the wall, his legs bent up in front of him, feet flat on the floor.
Snape stayed standing, his form tall and thin, all dressed in black, leaning
against the wall.
“So what
were you doing out so late, anyway?” Ron swallowed.
“That’s
none of your business,” Snape answered him with a glare.
“Well, I’m just trying to make conversation,” Ron shrugged. “And you can’t
really blame me for this… you were the one that grabbed me.”
“If you’d heeded my advice and refrained from touching the gate, I wouldn’t
have had to.”
“So why did
you grab me?” Ron frowned. “I’d just have come here alone and you could have
left me and gone to bed.”
“Because
you are clearly out of your head, I can smell your hundred percent proof breath from over here. The wards record occurrences. Had you
come here by yourself and then choked on your own vomit and died, I would have
been held accountable.”
“And me being dead wouldn’t have been enough of a victory to
override the angry parents?” Ron snorted.
“Whatever
impression you have of me, Weasley, celebrating the death of my students isn’t
generally one of my preferred pastimes.”
“Could have
fooled me,” Ron gave a roll of his eyes and fell quiet, looking at the wall
opposite.
The only
sound for the next ten minutes was Snape arranging himself on the floor of the
small chamber, and Ron found himself jealous of the man’s thick cloak and
wizarding robes. He was only wearing a light jacket and a t-shirt with his
jeans, and apparently stuck within the thick stone walls of the castle, they
weren’t enough to stop a chill setting in his bones.
“Do shut
up,” Snape growled at him, when the chattering of his teeth became noticeable.
“It’s cold
in here,” Ron made a valiant effort to control his trembling jaw, but failed.
“Well,
there’s a block on magic in these rooms, so you’ll be staying cold.”
“I kind of figured that, you know… otherwise I would have just pulled out my
wand and drummed up my Patronus to go and jump on Harry’s head and have him get
me the hell out of here.”
“Don’t be
ridiculous,” Snape snapped. “I’d be worried about the apparently thinning
talent required to perform complex magic if someone like you could produce a
Patronus.”
“Ouch,” Ron
glared at him. “You’re a bastard.”
“I’m what?” Snape’s voice rose with sudden volume and his face became a carving
of stone with scary, glaring eyes.
“You’re a
bastard,” Ron repeated, staring at him evenly. “There’s no need to be so rude.”
“Well,
considering what you’ve just called me, one could say the same to you. I will
be deducting points in the morning.”
“Swearing
at someone is a far cry from insinuating that they’re thick. That actually
hurts, you know, when you do that?”
“So are you
telling me, Weasley, that you can in fact produce a Patronus?” Snape hooked an
eyebrow up disbelievingly.
“Yep,” Ron
grinned. “A little Jack Russell Terrier, I named him Archie… Harry thinks
that’s conceited, naming your own Patronus. But it suited him.”
Snape was
looking at him in a way Ron couldn’t quite place, so he fell silent and waited
for the raven haired man to speak again.
“Interesting.”
“Wow, from you,
that’s almost a compliment.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I’m drunk, not retarded.”
Ron looked
up and silently dared Snape with his eyes to contradict him otherwise. Snape
merely looked boredly away and considered the wall
Ron sat against for a further five minutes.
The cold in
Ron’s body seemed to step up a notch and he drew his legs into his body and
hooked his arms around them, savouring the extra warmth it gave him, before it
levelled to normal again.
“Is there
any chance of you shutting up?” Snape asked, closing his eyes as the sound of
Ron’s chattering teeth drove him one step closer to the precipice above a chasm
of insanity.
“I-I
c-c-can’t h-help it,” Ron felt tired from the way his limbs were shaking.
There was a
sound of whooshing and Ron found himself hit by a heavy dark object. Ron
grabbed it and realised it was the cloak which had, up until seconds before,
been wrapped around the Potions Master. Looking over, Ron made questioning
eyes.
“Just be
quiet,” Snape folded his arms over his chest and extended his legs out in front
of him. The chamber was so small and he so tall that his feet connected with
the opposite wall.
“You’ve got
really long legs,” Ron commented without thinking, as he settled himself under
the cloak, savouring the warmth and the surprisingly sweet smell.
“This just
gets better,” Snape rolled his eyes. “Drunk, frozen, and
flirting with your Professor. Weasley, do you actually think before you
open your mouth?”
“I’m not flirting,” Ron laughed, and the rich sound bounced around the chamber
walls.
“No, that’s
right, I’m sure the gene bypassed you,” Snape sneered.
“Ouch, again with the insults. Tell me, can you hold a conversation without managing to
make the other person feel like a complete and utter twat?”
“Language.”
“Fuck off.”
“Weasley,
I’m warning you!”
“With what?” Ron snorted. “Your fists? I’m as tall as you
are, and as strong by the looks of it. Try me. I fight better when I’m drunk
anyway.”
Snape
smiled then, something which Ron found incredibly disturbing and enthralling at
the same time. Snape never smiled.
“What?” Ron
asked, unnerved by the simple action.
“You think
my fists would be the only way I could overpower you, I find that amusing.”
“You said
it yourself, magic’s blocked in here,” Ron frowned. “Unless you just meant
student magic… but then you’d be in bed by now.”
Snape
looked at him then, eyes calculating over the pale, freckled face, messy red
hair and blue eyes.
“You asked
me what I was doing out of the castle so late at night,” Snape said curtly. “I
tell you this because I will Obliviate you the second we get out of this room.”
“Oh, this
should be good,” Ron grinned. “Come on then. Spill whatever it is you want to
spill.”
“Think of
what might have me out in the night time,” Snape wanted to draw it out for as
long as it would take Ron to cotton on.
“An
aversion to sunlight,” Ron immediately laughed, looking doubtful.
“Not as thick
as I once thought, Weasley, I give you credit.”
“Hang on a
second,” Ron frowned. “What on earth does that…”
“Ever
thought,” Snape’s voice lowered to an enticing drawl. “Ever thought that the
insult you see as a joke might actually be the truth?”
“Oh please,
there’s no way you’re a bloody vampire,” Ron dismissed, thinking on all the
times he had ever called Snape an old bat behind his back.
“Oh?” Snape
cocked his head.
“Dumbledore
would never let you teach, and anyway, for God’s sake, you go out in the day at
school!”
“If you
actually paid attention in your DADA lessons, maybe you’d know that there are
ways for my kind to get around that,” Snape nonchalantly brushed some dust off
his trousers.
Ron stared
at him evenly. “So what, when you found me you were… hunting?”
“Well, I
suppose you could call it that. I prefer the word feeding, considering it’s
essential for my survival.”
“Are you
trying to scare me?” Ron laughed. “Because it’s not working.”
“It’s not
working because you don’t believe me yet,” Snape smiled again.
“I don’t,
but even if I did, I wouldn’t be scared,” Ron shrugged. “So
what? You’re a vampire. You’re the one that’s sitting here, in that
case, hearing my blood pump through my veins… smelling my skin… you’re the one
having the hard time here.”
“And you,
if I attacked?”
Another drunken laugh. “Come on, Snape, please. So what? You kill me, I’m dead, and
what the hell am I going to know about it? You turn me? You have to deal with
me for the rest of our lives. You drink from me? I’ll forget it when you
Obliviate me in the morning.”
Snape
blinked, taken aback by the drunken yet frank assessment of their situation. He
had never associated much gumption to Ronald Weasley but, even though the lanky
redhead in front of him was clearly speaking through the effects of alcohol, it
was suddenly laid bare in the lean form.
“So. What
was the point of revealing that to me? Is that your oh-so-subtle Snapey way of telling me you’re hungry?”
“No, I’m
not,” Snape told him. “Keep mentioning it and I will be though.”
“Have what
you want,” Ron snorted, flinging a wrist haphazardly out of the cloak, his eyes
on Snape, seeing the way the dark onyx pools followed the thin arm with the
large hand attached, and an obvious amount of wrist sticking out of the end of
the sleeve.
“Can’t
imagine I’d taste very good, anyway,” Ron shrugged. “Not to you.”
“When
you’re a damned creature, you take whatever life chooses to pass your way,”
Snape said, in a voice softer than he had intended. “But, there are parts of
vampire reality that aren’t taught to you in the curriculum. If you knew them,
you’d think differently about flinging your wrist about like that.”
“Oh, do
tell,” Ron turned towards him, now warm under the thick cloak and feeling much
more at ease.
“Weasley, let me assure you, you’d feel less inclined to turn
to me so easily if I told you. It is best for now if you stay ignorant.” The
sharp tone was back in Snape’s voice and Ron gave an inward sigh.
“Fine,
whatever,” Ron shrugged. “Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, I’m going to
sleep.”
Ron moved
to arrange himself on the floor, but in the small space that took either his
feet or his head closer to Severus Snape than he would ever have wanted, even before
the whole ‘am-I-Vampire-or-am-I-not?’ spiel. Snape watched him with impassive
eyes.
“Fine,
maybe I’m not going to sleep,” Ron groaned. “Tell me what else I don’t know
about Vampires feeding.”
“When a
Vampire feeds, if they are doing so without the intent to kill or turn –and
that is crucial, because it is wholly much more painful and disturbing with
such intent, the process is somewhat erotic, for both parties. You do know what erotic means?”
“You mean
like foreign beaches and stuff?” Ron frowned.
“No, you
imbecile, I mean you’ll get turned on, hard and you’ll probably beg for more
than you know you want.”
Ron
couldn’t help the way his smirk blossomed onto his lips. “Oh dear, and you call
me an imbecile. Just wanted to hear
you explain it in more detail, Snape, of course I know what erotic means… I’m a
fucking teenager.”
“Oh, very
clever,” Snape rolled his eyes, but Ron could tell he was annoyed.
“So, you’re
saying that if you come over here and bite my neck, I’ll get a hard-on and beg
you for…”
“Sex,
generally.”
“Wow. No
wonder they don’t put that on the syllabus, huh?”
“Well,
quite.”
“And do you tend to give your victims what they ask you for?”
“That
depends,” Snape geared himself up for an admittance
he’d never made before.
“On what?”
Ron’s eyebrows rose.
“On whether I find them sexually appealing or not.”
“Well then
what’s your issue?” Ron frowned, and held up his wrist. “Take what you want and
I’ll sort myself out afterwards, if you’re hungry.”
“Why do you
automatically assume that would be my opinion?”
“Because,”
Ron’s eyes fell to the dusty ground of the chamber. “I’m me. Ginger, lanky,
freckles everywhere… guess you didn’t need to know that part,” he flushed. “Nobody
in their right mind would be attracted to me. Especially not
you. Namely because you’re a bloke.”
“I was
wondering when the happy aura would wear off from your drunken pursuits,” Snape
commented. “Are you a depressive drunk? That would be awfully monotonous
considering we’ll be here for hours yet.”
“You’ve not
answered my question,” Ron ignored him.
“And you’ve
not answered several of mine, Weasley, I thought
Gryffindors revelled in a sense of equality?” Snape’s voice held a barely
concealed jeer.
“I’m
generally a drunk that gets happy, sings loudly, and falls asleep. It’s
normally taken its course by now… so…”
“You
wouldn’t know,” Snape finished for him softly.
Ron nodded.
“Your turn.”
“Why do you
want me to answer? Are you saying you’d like me to drink from you?”
“No, I’m
just curious.”
“Are you
sure?”
“Sure of
what?”
There was
an impatient tut and suddenly Ron found himself in the shadow of his Potions
Master crouching down beside him, and one hand had closed around his wrist.
Defiantly, Ron swallowed and looked up at him –he
refused to be intimidated in such a way.
“Sure that
you could handle the answers I give you?”
“What does
it matter?” Ron shrugged. “As you said… I’m not going to remember it come the
morning.”
“No,” Snape
admitted, and gracefully settled down next to the redhead. “But I will.”
“What does
that mean?” Ron’s eyes narrowed.
“If I liked
what I tasted… what I felt… my very nature would compel me to seek you out
again… so whilst you can forget, Weasley, I would be forced to fight my natural
urges to let you be. Normally, that’s never an issue –I would never prey on a
student and my other donors-”
“Not
victims, then?” Ron interrupted.
“Nobody dies, nobody protests when you get into it...”
“That’s
some sort of rape, surely?”
Snape answered
him with a sigh. “See, Weasley. You couldn’t handle the truth.”
They fell
quiet again and sat side by side, staring at the wall opposite.
“Doesn’t it
drive you mad, being around human blood all the time?” Ron quipped suddenly.
“I’m used
to it, now, working here.”
“And you’ve
never been tempted to…”
“To what?”
Snape raised an eyebrow.
“Feed off the student body?” Ron laughed.
“No,” Snape
shrugged. “Contrary to popular belief, I do have a conscience Weasley.”
“I never said you didn’t,” Ron’s voice was gentler as he spoke. “So how long
have you been…”
“A while.”
“Want to
divulge any more than that?”
“No.”
“This is
the weirdest night I’ve spent drunk since Seamus accidentally turned himself
into a yak and trashed our dorm,” Ron snorted.
Silence
permeated the chamber and Ron shot a sneaky glance sideways and realised that
Snape had his eyes closed, leaning back against the wall. His face was pale,
washed with the flickering light of the few candles which had lit when they’d
been thrust into the chamber by the magic.
“Stop staring at me, Weasley.”
“How did
you know I was staring at you?”
“Vampire
senses.”
“Oh. What
else can you do?”
“Nothing that impressive. Drinking blood, over-alert senses,
aversion to sunlight, slightly quicker reflexes. That’s about it.”
“And being
immortal,” Ron said casually.
“We don’t
tend to mention that one as it’s the biggest thorn on the rose, so to speak.”
Ron didn’t
speak and considered Snape’s words. He assumed it was the alcohol, but he had
the strangest compunction to reach out and touch the man –vampire, Ron, remember that- next to him.
“How do you
teach? I know you live in the dungeons but you come to meals in the Great Hall,
I’ve seen you at Quidditch.”
“Being a
Potions Master has its benefits. There are ways I can protect myself against
the sun and the hypnotic sleep it should send me into.”
“So it makes you sleepy?”
“Yes.”
“How do you
survive then? Surely you should sleep during the day and be out at night, but
if you’re awake during the day and you’re awake now…”
“I don’t
get a lot of sleep,” Snape confirmed for him, lips tightly drawn together.
“That must
suck.”
“It does
more than that,” Snape opened one eye warily. “But then so much else of me
sucks I don’t see why that element should be any different.”
Ron’s
laughter hit the walls of the chamber and Snape looked at him. “Sorry, your
sense of sarcasm is fairly amusing when it’s not directed at me,” Ron shrugged.
Silence
descended on them yet again and another look showed Ron that his Professor had
re-closed his eyes. Ron didn’t care if he was going to get rebuked for staring,
he just couldn’t deny the way his eyes were glued to the man’s face.
“Weasley,
what do you want?” the growl cut through the silence.
So fucking what? I’m not going to
remember this. He can deal with it in the morning. Ron’s selfish side kicked through
his carefully constructed walls as he spoke, “I want you to feed from me.”
Snape’s
eyes were open in a second. “You don’t mean that. And thank you, by the way,
for your careful consideration for my own peace of mind.”
“I mean
it,” Ron raised his chin, looking the older man straight in the eye. “I…” he
thought back on those DADA lessons and searched for the one piece of
information he needed. “Invite you… to feed on me.”
There was a
sharp intake of breath at those words and Ron was startled to see that there
had been enough colour in Snape’s pale face to drain
out of his skin. Now borderline ghostly, the dark eyes set in the whitewash seemed
to penetrate through Ron’s own flesh.
“You know I
can’t refuse that invitation,” there was a hint of something that might have
been desperation in Snape’s voice. “You don’t know what you’ve done!”
“I invited
you to feed on me,” Ron said. “Not kill me.”
“The
invitation makes this need stronger,” Ron watched as his professor let his face
fall into his hands. “You really are a stupid fucking idiot.”
The blunt
swear words hit Ron like a bat in the face.
“Am I really
that repulsive?”
“No!” Snape
was suddenly on his feet, faster than Ron could have anticipated, before his
drunken brain remembered what Snape had told him about faster reflexes.
“Then just
do it,” Ron looked up at him in wonderment.
“But that’s
just it. You’ve just issued an invitation. Not, ‘feed from me now and only
now’… that was an open ended invitation and if I bow to the temptation, you
will probably get three days of grace before I’m pulling you into a broom
cupboard and molesting your throat.”
Ron
couldn’t help his shiver. But it wasn’t entirely a shiver of fear.
“Well, can
you fight the temptation?” Ron asked him.
“I need to
get out of here to do so, Weasley.”
“Then don’t
bother.”
Unknowing
of what mad, insane force was driving him, Ron got to
his feet and stepped close to the man who looked thoroughly torn.
“You aren’t
even this way inclined,” Snape whispered.
“And you are?”
“I’m
indifferent.”
“Nice way of putting it. Maybe I’m indifferent too?”
“I’d hardly
be your first choice.”
“As I’d hardly be yours.”
“Stop turning
everything I say back to me,” Snape gave a twitch of his head.
“Stop
fighting what can’t be changed,” the brazenness fell out of him and Ron reached
out and brushed the back of his knuckles across the older man’s –vampire, dammit,
Ron!- cheekbone.
As if that
action released the water behind the dam of restraint, Ron found himself
pressed backwards into the wall of the chamber, an undeniably dominant male
body pressing into him. But it was not his neck that suffered the first blow of
lips, as he’d expected; it was his own pink, firewhiskey-tinged
mouth which shouldered it.
Snape tilted
his head upwards with a strong hand and held it there, and Ron opened his mouth
to allow the tongue obviously seeking entrance. The kiss was firm and probing
and Ron lost himself in the way that tongue seemed to touch upon every one of
his teeth, scrape up against his palate and dance with his own in what played
out as the most sensual oral meeting he’d ever experienced.
They broke
apart and Ron didn’t bother to flush at the way his anatomy had reacted to the
contact.
“What was… I thought you...?”
“You
invited me… You knew what was coming. I assumed that meant you wanted something
a little more than me just sinking my teeth into you. I apologise, Weasley.”
Ron reached
up and caught the hand which made to push his face to the side, so that Snape
would have better access to his throat.
“Did I say
I didn’t enjoy it?” Ron asked pointedly.
Snape looked
at him, clearly discomfited, though he did not pull his hand out of Ron’s
grasp.
“Do it
again,” Ron commanded, and closed his eyes when their lips met again.
That time he managed to gain a little of the dominance and thrust his own
tongue into the wet cavern attacking his lips. Kissing Snape was nothing like
he could ever have thought it would be, if he’d spared the time to think about
it. Just like his cloak, the man was surprisingly fragrant, and his mouth
tasted of something Ron couldn’t quite place, but it wasn’t disgusting as he
might have assumed, considering his usual feelings for the man. He returned the
oral exploration and massaged gently against Snape’s tongue. He heard a groan
slide out of his throat and then the mouth was gone.
“Come
here,” Snape reached for him and pulled them both down on the floor. Ron went,
so swept away by the kiss that his bodily control was shot to pieces. He let
himself be arranged in between the man’s legs, his own over one of them to the
side. All Ron could think of was repeating those kisses.
“If I get
this out of the way now,” Snape’s hot breath washed over his ear and Ron had
bite back another groan. “Then this will be over soon…”
“And what
if I don’t want it over...?”
“We can
barely do anything, without the use of my wand I refuse to engage in anything
further than touching and oral attention. I refuse to hurt you.”
Ron wasn’t
an idiot and he knew instantly what Snape was referring to. A boy’s dormitory
and five brothers had taught him enough. Or they would have done, if Ron hadn’t
secretly had his own sources in the form of some extremely well thumbed
wizarding porn.
“Then we’ll
make do with what you described,” Ron let his head fall back, displaying his
throat for the man holding him to see.
“You aren’t
scared at all, are you?” Snape’s voice was somewhat incredulous.
“Well I am drunk,” Ron pointed out. “But as I said… you drink from me, so what?
You kill me, I’ll be dead. You turn me… then… you turn me.”
“You don’t
fear death?” Snape kissed up the creamy neck to just beneath Ron’s ear. “Or
immortality?”
“Death no, immortality, maybe.”
“Then why
aren’t you scared?”
Ron
swallowed before answering. “Because I trust you not to lose
control.”
Snape
didn’t answer him; he merely pressed his lips to the pulse point in Ron’s neck
and bit. Ron didn’t scream or even gasp. The fangs pierced his skin
effortlessly, and it was so quick it barely hurt. Neither did the upwards
sucking motion of blood he sensed, which made his neck tingle as the liquid
departed his body.
No, hurt
didn’t come into play but, as soon as the first rush had gone, pleasure most
certainly did. His back arched involuntarily as he moaned, a wave of yearning
sweeping away coherent thought as he hardened in his pants. He felt one hand
creep across his legs and settle over his crotch, and he shifted into it,
groaning at the contact. His breathing sped up as Snape remained at his neck,
drinking slowly and silently, and the man’s hand grabbed his shaft through his
jeans.
“Oh god,”
he heard his verbal exclamation and flushed.
It was only
then that he felt a hardness pressing into his hip, and it took a moment to
register that that had to be Snape’s own reaction to what they were doing.
What we’re doing… The words floated across Ron’s mind
like someone was projecting them there, onto his total blank canvas. This is so wrong. The words weren’t even
really coming from him. But sweet gods
this is…
Snape
removed his mouth from the redhead’s throat and looked at him, his head tilted
back, auburn hair slanted backwards off his brow, eyes shut and mouth parted in
the bliss of his donation. He himself felt the glow of the blood in his system,
and the sleepy way it filled him up and made him burn.
“That’s
it,” he whispered, still close to Ron’s ear, which he then kissed.
“That’s
all?” Ron’s eyes opened and beneath the lids his blue eyes were darkened with
unconfined lust.
“That’s
enough for the first time. I repeat, Weasley, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I wouldn’t
mind,” Ron’s voice was that of a breathless wisp.
“You would
when you woke up with a pounding headache unable to move because you are, to
all intents and purposes, empty,” Snape’s lips curled up into a small smile and
he kissed the ear again.
His hand
still rested on the aroused crotch and Ron appreciated the heavy feel of it
lying there, despite the fact of who it belonged to.
“What now?”
the question tumbled from Ron’s lips before he could stop it, even though he
knew it was stupid.
“What do
you want?”
Ron wanted
to be annoyed at the indecisiveness, but then he found he couldn’t drum up
anger towards the man holding him. Ron had caused the final act to occur and it
was his responsibility. With that thought sloshing around his drunken mind, Ron
turned his face and kissed Snape hotly again. Shaking slightly from the loss of
the blood and his nerves, Ron sank a hand into either side of the raven hair,
ignoring its greasy state, and gripped hold of the head beneath it. Somehow he
managed to twist his body so he was straddling Snape, their groins pressed
together by his movement.
It was only
then that he evoked the first sound of enjoyment from the other man, and it
spurred him on no end. Ron kissed again, still holding Snape’s head in his
hands and rolled his hips, creating delicious pressure between the two of them.
He felt hands on his waist, spreading out over his back, pulling him closer
into the wanting arms.
And Ron did feel wanted, he didn’t know if that
was due to the intimacy born from feeding his sexual partner or not, but he
didn’t care. Never before had arms encircled him like that. Even if it changed come
the moment they were done, it would be worth it for the memory.
“Ron,” the
sound of his first name sounded alien on Snape’s lips but he delighted in it,
and gave another roll of his hips to see if he could entice it again. The
sexual groan he got was far, far superior. “Don’t you want to... I’ll…”
Silencing
him with a kiss, Ron licked along the crease in Snape’s lips and entered him
again, idly wondering why the man was handing over so much control, it didn’t
seem like his personality to do so. “Why aren’t you being more…”
“Forceful?”
Snape asked.
Ron gave a
nod and swallowed.
“Do you
want me to be?”
A moment’s
indecision gave Snape the chance to lean him backwards towards the floor, body
bent backwards in strong arms. Ron’s breath accelerated to an embarrassingly
loud pant and his mouth was open in anticipation. He didn’t see Snape’s smirk
of satisfaction, which came from the fact that although he regretted the
situation they found themselves in, he couldn’t help but enjoy it.
“If you
could see yourself,” he said in a low voice, leaning forward to kiss up the
centre of the exposed throat, “You would never doubt why anybody would be
attracted to you again…”
“Shut up,”
Ron swallowed, and his throat bobbed in the candlelight. “I don’t need your
assurances and I sure as hell don’t need you to justify your actions… just do
it.”
Whoa. Where the fuck did that come
from?
He sat up
and looked down at the man beneath him, into his dark eyes. The face was
impassive but when Snape spoke next, he did not sound angry. “I understand.”
And without
another word he pushed Ron completely onto his back and was on top of him
before Ron could get words out his mouth. Fingers were at his jeans, tearing
open the zip. Ron let it happen, he was still too
dazzled by his little outburst to protest. And he certainly didn’t want to when
he felt a hot mouth on his freed erection.
This is mad… this is Snape… and
he’s… “Ohmysweetfuck…” Ron pressed upwards as a wet tongue washed
across the top of his cock, fervently repeating the action when it was well
received, and pressed into the slit for extra measure. “Fuck that’s good…”
There was
no reply, only a continual washing of tongue and spit mixing with what he was
embarrassed to feel were his own juices. His face burned and he squeezed his
eyes closed, even though he knew it was ridiculous to be ashamed.
This is so fucked up… so fucked up… “NoooMerlindon’t
stop,” and before he knew what he was doing, he reached out a hand and pushed
it to the back of Snape’s head, holding it in place against his crotch.
There was
no sound from Snape and Ron tensed a little, wondering if he’d overstepped an
unspoken boundary. But then the mouth returned with added force and Ron shuddered
with pleasure as his cock disappeared into the heat. His surprised shout hit
the small walls of the chamber and bounced back, echoing around them both and
instead of cringing Ron found it pressed the fire through his body even
further, a crawling lust through his veins, spreading to the tips of his
fingers and into his toes, which curled instinctively.
“Fuck yes…” pressing upwards he managed to sheath more of himself into the heat
and he groaned again. “God, Snape… Severus…”
He didn’t
know where the urge to use the man’s first name came from, and he had no idea
whether Snape would permit it, but as the sucking only increased between his
legs, he assumed that was the case, so he hissed the name again, letting it
roll over his tongue, elongating each s. The sucking increased to near
unbearable levels and Ron whimpered and choked with desire, his knees bending,
feet slapping onto the floor and he pushed upwards with the most strength yet.
And with
that simple movement, he felt the tip of his dick graze was undoubtedly the
back of Severus Snape’s throat, and the heat melted him to his very bones as he
came undone, crying his release to the small chamber.
As with so much else that had happened in the time they’d been together, his
eyes snapped open without reason and he jerked again when he saw those dark,
hooking eyes looking straight up at him as the mouth sucked every last morsel
of evidence away.
“Fuck yes!”
Ron’s cry tore hoarsely from his throat as he twitched through the immediate
aftershocks, and cold air hit his softening cock.
Ron
couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man as he sat up, delicately wiping his
mouth, looking intently back at the redhead undone in every possible sense of
the word on the dusty floor.
They held
each other’s gaze for what seemed like hours before Snape moved to sit back
against the wall whilst Ron lay frozen, though he did drop his head back to the
floor and panted to the ceiling, eyes refusing to close.
Confusion
swamped him. Snape had clearly said the experience was erotic for both
partners, and yet there was no indication that he wanted anything further from
his student. Somehow Ron found the strength to re-arrange his trousers and push
himself up on his elbows, but on looking, Snape had his eyes closed and his
head tilted back against the wall.
“Severus?”
“Snape,”
the eyes flashed open and looked at him.
“Oh.” Ron paused, flushing even redder before continuing.
“Would you
like me to…”
A gentle
laugh confused Ron further until Snape spoke again. “No. I do not expect you to
give me anything in return, Weasley.”
After what
had just gone between them, the return to last-name-only communication seemed
overly harsh to Ron, and as he rose to his feet, he felt a swirl of rejection
through his veins.
“But I
thought you said it…”
“It is.”
“But then why-”
“I am in
control of myself,” Snape said simply. “You are a student. And I would rather
remember the look on your face I have just experienced come the morning, than
the shame on my own which would undoubtedly be present should I ask you to
repay the favour.”
“But-”
“I suggest
you try and get some sleep, Mr. Weasley.”
Ron choked
on the second part of his sentence. ‘..I
want to.’
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