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You Will Not Kiss Me	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 22835 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling & her associates own the Harry Potter universe and I make no money from my stories.

Chapter List
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A secret story wrapping around canon, from PoA to DH.

This is a love story. It contains a great deal of magic: wizard and werewolf magic. It has a very high quotient of angst, but love and adventure too. It is a story for adults. It has challenging themes, but humour as well.

It also has a lot of sex.

Chapter 1: The Call

Bringing the werewolf to teach at the school had been one of Dumbledore's greater cruelties, to Snape's mind. Never mind that the beast would undoubtedly be assisting Black into the castle – oh no – never mind that small consideration! But Dumbledore knew how close Snape had come to being attacked by the werewolf as part of a Marauder prank. Even then, those boys had turned their murderous prank to their advantage so that Potter looked the hero for saving Snape. They all remained in school and Snape had been made to swear to keep Lupin's secret. All to protect Dumbledore's golden Gryffindors. The rank injustice of it still galled Snape as freshly today as all those years ago.

But more than that, Dumbledore also knew how Snape feared the werewolf, having seen the transformed creature in its rage all those years ago. He could still recall in every tiny detail the creature he'd seen at the end of the tunnel: that huge wolf with flashing red eyes, growling, snarling and slavering, spittle spraying from its cruel teeth and jaws as it bounded towards Snape; how Snape had been paralysed in abject terror until Potter pulled him away. It had taken Snape days to even speak again, but to this day, Snape would awaken at night in sheer primal terror from that recurring remembrance that formed the basis of all of his nightmares from that day to this: his father becoming the wolf; each Marauder becoming the wolf; the Dark Lord becoming the wolf – they would all coalesce in the end into that wolf. He had first been taught to Occlude his mind to shut out these night terrors, but was never fully successful.

When he was first in the service of the Dark Lord, his master had discovered these nightmares in one of the many intrusions into Snape's mind. The Dark Lord however recognised the filth that was the beast and had promised Snape that once the Death Eaters had risen to power, Lupin would be part of his prize. After all, Lupin was a half-breed, not even a proper man. The Dark Lord encouraged Snape's enmity and Snape revelled in his own dreams for torture and revenge.

Now, Snape served a different master. Not evil like the Dark Lord, but still capable of remarkably casual cruelty to Snape in his disregard for his feelings. However, as Snape's confessor, Dumbledore had tried on many occasions to heal the damage to Snape's soul: some self-inflicted; some not. The scars ran deep and always reminded Snape forcibly of his powerlessness in the face of those who relentlessly ground him down. He tried to suppress his simmering anger but found it hard to rein in at times. The older the wound, the harder the rage was to contain. If Snape examined his own reasons, he might have even recognised that he sometimes fanned the flames of his rage and stoked the embers of long past grievances, because it gave him purpose. It made him feel something in his morose existence of something close to servitude, in his self-imposed isolation – it energised him. However, he needed no spark to relight the fire of his terror of the werewolf. That had never left him.

And now the beast was under the same roof again – to all outward appearances, mild mannered, even tempered, fair minded, sweet even (Snape sneered) Professor Lupin, favourite of students and teaching staff alike. A ravening, slavering half-breed, who howled at the moon and would rip his own mother's throat out, that was the truth of Remus Lupin, Snape knew.

He'd had little to do with Lupin when they were at school themselves. Lupin was a Marauder, that gang of pranksters and bullies. He had rarely pranked Snape himself – those hexes were always undertaken by Potter and Black. Oh, but he was always there, with that dozy frown of his, pretending to be concerned but never, never controlling his friends, doing his duty as a prefect. If he couldn't do his duty as a prefect then, why should he have changed enough to do his duty as a professor and protect the boy from Black now? Snape would be watching him; he would watch him like a hawk.

So he did. The weeks passed. They had very little to do with each other in the school. They observed no more than social politeness in each other's company. Lupin was suitably grateful for the wolfsbane potion Snape brewed for him on Dumbedore's command. Other than that, Lupin never sought out Snape's company, never engaged him in conversation without genuine purpose. It surprised Snape. He had thought that Lupin would try to inveigle his way into Snape's acquaintance. He found himself surprised that he minded Lupin's complete disregard for him. Lupin set out to charm and delight everyone else on the faculty. He could put it down to his being one of the few who know Lupin was a werewolf, but Dumbledore had told the other members of staff and they accepted him. Thinking on it, perhaps the beast had the good grace to recall what he had nearly done all those years ago and was still ashamed. Snape would like to think so, but he thought not.

It troubled him. He found himself thinking of the beast more and more. It played on his mind. It started to bother him almost constantly. He started to dream of the wolf again. Sometimes, dark and terrifying dreams. But lately, these were replaced by dark but seductive dreams; not quite the wolf – more the man. Entrancing and bewitching dreams, still frightening but with an undercurrent of eroticism that Snape did not understand. Night after night, his sleep was troubled and disturbed. This took its toll and Snape found himself distracted if the man was in his vicinity, very alive to the creature's presence and felt himself tense at the mere sound of his voice. His dreams became more erotic, his body reacted to this at night, but he would not give in to his body's desire, not even to relieve himself of it. He Occluded his mind to try to assist his concentration during the daytime.

He had told himself over and over that it was no more than his fear manifesting itself, but he knew he was deluding himself. His dreams were no longer wretched with fear. He had developed a powerful sexual attraction to the creature. He loathed himself for it. He was no stranger to self-loathing. It had been his stalwart companion these many years. Although Lupin had done nothing, it increased his hatred of the werewolf one hundred-fold. Snape had tried to convince himself that perhaps the creature had bewitched him so that he would compromise himself. But, again, he knew the dark bewitchings that could so entrap a man, and knew these had not been cast upon him. Somehow he had done this to himself and made himself a sap to that filthy beast.

Worse still, as alive to the creature's every breath, sound and movement as he was whenever he was around him, he had noticed that Lupin was starting to notice him more. Snape had taken to never looking the creature in the eyes, so mortified was he by the attraction, but he could feel the man staring at him. At times they would pass in the corridor, Snape's eyes averted, and the beast would stop and stare after him. It made Snape want to run for the safety of his chamber. He never did. His mask never slipped, but his stomach would churn in misery and horror at what he was convinced would be his imminent discovery.

And imminent it was.

Snape was finishing his patrol for the night and making his way back to his chamber. His skin prickled and the hairs on the back of his neck rose sharply and his breath caught in his throat. "Lupin?" he whispered.

The man moved out from the shadows, with graceful insouciance, his hands in his pockets and a vaguely quizzical expression his face. Snape's heart was pounding. He was sure the beast could hear it.

"Why are you here?" Snape struggled to retain his composure, although he felt weak at the knees and his stomach was fluttering. He felt his face flush and heat accumulating in his groin.

"I think we need to talk, Severus," the man said quietly. "I need to understand what is happening with you."

"With me?" Snape's voice was dry and unflatteringly high. "There is nothing happening with me."

"May we talk, Severus?" The man kept his distance still.

Snape felt trapped. He wanted to run to his room and hide his shame, but he could never show this man, of all men, this creature how weak he was feeling. If he didn't have this pride, he would run away and not speak. But he was ruled by his pride and could not be seen to back away. It was always his undoing.

Snape gave a curt nod, and opened his door and let the werewolf follow him in.

The air was heavy and oppressive. The two men stood regarding each other, one defensive and one nonplussed.

"What do you want, Lupin, at this ridiculous hour?" Perhaps he could bluff this out. He was sure a few well-chosen words could send the man away. He didn't seem to be able to summon his usual sarcasm to his aid. "I'm tired. We both have busy schedules tomorrow, I'm sure."

"I believe you have been asking me here Severus," the man responded, with no change to his demeanour at all.

"What ... I..." Severus spluttered. "That's nonsense."

The creature smiled a small smile that made Snape's stomach knot. Gently, but devastatingly, he said, "I am a Dark creature, Severus. You know this. My senses are very keen. My drives are stronger than most men, and for the past few weeks you have made me very aware of your presence and your desires. The tension around you is palpable. Your sexual scent has become so strong, you have drenched me in your longing. It is so strong, I can no longer sleep. You are driving me to distraction." His voice was hoarse. It was attractive. His brow furrowed. "I have kept my distance from you because I know you dislike me, and that you fear my affliction with good reason. I thought this was the right thing to do. Now you are drawing me to you, yet still you hate me. I smell and sense that too as strongly as your desire. I don't know what you want from me, Severus."

It was true that the air felt laden with anticipation, strongly scented by desire. Snape did not know if it was his or the creature's. He was fast becoming overwhelmed by his desire, unmanned by his weakness. Had he not had his back to his own chair, he thought his legs would give way. But more than this, he was mortified. He had not been able to hide his desire – this unwanted, unwelcome abomination of a desire. His skin crawled with shame at his inability to control himself. He was sinking into the eyes of the creature. Not red. Not red. Blue – soft, welcoming, gentle blue.

Lupin took a step forward. "Severus? Can you speak to me at all? Shall I go?"

Snape cast his eyes about himself wildly. He felt lost. He was almost drunk with desire, but his mind screamed at him to cast the creature out from his room. "Stay," he heard himself mutter.

Did he need to even speak at all? The creature had all the information it needed, and Snape was almost passed all rationality now to articulate his desire. He leant back against the back of the chair to stabilise himself, his hands bracing him. His breathing had become shallow and rapid and he could not raise his eyes to meet Lupin's. Shame and desire battled in him. His head with thick with desire and confusion. It was like a drug – perhaps that is what attraction to a Dark creature meant in reality.

He hadn't noticed Lupin move, but he was suddenly in front of him, one hand on his shoulder. Reflexively, Snape closed his eyes and stoked his own cheek against that hand. The shock it sent through his body was terrific, and he heard Lupin gasp. Then he had felt it too. Lupin then knelt before Snape and tried to raise his chin with his index finger so he could look into his eyes, but Snape could not look at the beast.

"Severus. I don't want to do anything you don't want me to. Talk to me, Severus. Your signals are," a small chuckle "mixed."

Snape breathed deeply for what seemed to be a long time. Then, he twisted his head, as if clearing his mind and looked at Lupin. His voice was strong. "I want you to screw me. That is what I want – that is all I want. That is what I need. It is not deep and it is not meaningful. You will not kiss me, and I do not want your affection. Consider it a transaction. I need to satisfy this desire, and you can satisfy yours with me as you will within these parameters. I will be compliant."

"I had no idea," the creature said, almost inaudibly. His eyes had widened and his eye brows had risen. Snape felt he regained some measure of self-control because he knew he had shocked the creature. But he also noticed that the creature's pupils had dilated, and his tongue slipped along his lips. Even these small movements thickened Snape's desire.

He waited for Lupin to try to start a discussion on this, but he was mistaken. The creature stood and began to undress, in a matter of fact, brisk manner. He gestured to Snape to do the same. "I expect to see all of you," he commanded, a harsh edge to his voice that Snape had not heard before. Their clothes were shed quickly.

The creature's body was enmeshed with cursed scars and one very obvious bite. His skin was pale and the creature was slim, sinewy and taut. It was very different to Snape's thin frame. The creature was fully engorged and ready. Snape's eyes feasted on it all and it strengthened his desire.

Lupin's hands reached out to Snape's shoulders and turned him around quickly. He pressed his chest against Snape's back. Snape could feel the creature's cock pressed against his backside. The creature's arms snaked around his waist and found his genitals. He stroked Snape's shaft with long, hard, brisk strokes with one hand, whilst the other messaged his balls. He was not gentle, but the strength of stroke was driving Snape to a frenzy as he leant back into Lupin's body. He wondered how long he could last. His whole body was now on fire and his balls were screaming for release.

Then the creature began to bite and suck Snape's neck and shoulders, gently at first, becoming harder until they were drawing blood to the surface. He moved over both shoulders and up and down the sides and back of Snape's neck, leaving bites and bruises. All of sudden, the creature removed his hands from Snape's genitals and held his hips and moved his mouth to Snape's ear, his breathing heavy and ragged.

"Hands and knees," he growled. Snape complied, feeling both ashamed and excited beyond endurance.

The werewolf kneeled behind Snape, and prepared him with swift, efficient strokes and lined himself with Snape's opening and brushed the sensitive head around the opening. It was all Snape could do not to rock back on it, so much did he crave it.

He heard the creature draw a long breath, then he pushed himself fully into Snape. Snape bit into his own lip so that his cry would not escape. The creature hurt him, but it was a hurt Snape was desperate for.

The werewolf gripped Snape's slim hips hard, and began to move. His thrusts were full and slow to begin with, savouring the tightness of Snape. The creature's breathing was heavy and he grunted with each inward thrust, ensuring he plunged in to his full length. Waves of release began for Snape, starting to wash over him where the werewolf was hitting his prostate over and over again. The nerve-endings across his whole body were now on fire and Snape could no longer control his own orgasm which was fierce and unbidden. The creature was now thrusting into Snape harder and faster than before. Snape's arms were beginning to buckle, and his legs became less steady. Yet, still the creature had not come. It became relentless and after some time, it was becoming painful. He wanted the creature to stop, but he had promised to be compliant. Suddenly, Lupin cried out hoarsely and Snape felt his powerful release into him. He made to move away from the creature, but Lupin held on to his hips and thrust slow and hard into him twice more and Snape felt the last pulsing of Lupin's orgasm.

Lupin pulled himself out slowly but then moved Snape into a kneeling position in front of him. His hands held Snape's shoulders. Both men were slick with sweat and breathing hard still. Snape's arms and legs were trembling, and he could feel the werewolf's hands trembling on his shoulders.

Snape was starting to calm now. The thick fug of his desire starting to dissipate. What did not lift was his shame. He'd asked to be screwed by this Dark creature; this Marauder. And worse still, he'd revelled in it. There he was kneeling in front of Remus Lupin allowing the man to hold him in place like this. His self-loathing re-surfaced and he felt his rage bubble. He wanted this man gone from his rooms. But he knew he was powerless again. So he did what he always did when he felt powerless. He lashed out.

"Well. Lupin, what a shame none of your friends are still with us to tell them how you screwed the scrawny Slytherin to the floor, dog style – like the animal you are. This must surely be the zenith of your pranking achievements, is it not?"

He heard the man draw in a breath sharply. Lupin's hand darted from his shoulder and he grasped Snape's his mouth and chin in a painful cinch and twisted his head towards him. Snape knew the man was furious. Perhaps his eyes would be red as they were all those years before. His stomach lurched. He refused to look into the wolf's eyes. He screwed his eyes shut.

The man's whisper became a hiss. "You have a foul mouth. What kind of a man are you? You drive me to distraction and then offer yourself on a plate and then want to degrade us both. I accepted your offer – Merlin knows, I'm only human with a man's needs and desires. And now you want to make it worse than that? Shall we just be done with it and I'll call you Snivellus as I screw you. Would you enjoy that? Would it help you to hate me more than you already do? Do you need this hatred so much, Severus?" The man's mouth was still pressed to his ear. His angry breath became more even and he moved his head away from Snape.

He released his grip on Snape's jaw suddenly and held both of Snape's shoulders tightly, uncomfortably. Then one hand raked through Snape's hair and curled his fist into it. Snape was sure he would yank his hair, but he did not. Once again, the man leant into the other side of Snape's face. He did not release Snape's hair, but his other arm snaked around Snape's shoulders and chest again and pulled his back into the wolf's chest firmly. His mouth moved to his ear again and he listened to the man's even breathing, not sure what would happen next.

Unexpectedly, the mouth kissed his neck lightly and nuzzled the skin, smelling him. Without doubt, Snape knew the wolf was smelling him. He buried his faced into Snape's hair and then his face travelled over Snape's head to the other side of his face and he bit gently into Snape's neck. Snape gasped. None of this was expected and he was started to feel panic rising in his chest. The wolf settled his mouth to Snape's ear once more.

"You know, if I can't sleep with my lover at night, I usually like to sleep with the scent of my lover so I don't bathe until morning. Tonight, I think I will scrub myself quite thoroughly," he hissed. He then sighed.

Slowly again, he moved his head to whisper into Snape's other ear. "You choose to treat me like an animal, Severus, but you are more of an animal than I am," his voice still a whisper, now quite hoarse. "You desire me still. You loathe me, yet you desire me still. I smell it."

Snape was devastated. Occlumency would never shield him from this man's senses. "I could take you now if I wanted and you would let me." The man let out a heavy sigh. "But Severus, I won't do this your way again."

"You got your rocks off Lupin – don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," Snape croaked.

"It was functional," the man breathed. "It was a release but that was all it was. It was soulless." Snape felt his neck and face flush but still he would not look at the man.

"If degradation is what you desire, Severus, you will have to go elsewhere. It gives me no pleasure."

There was a long pause where they listened to their beating hearts and their breathing.

"It should have been – it could have been – so much more," the man whispered, his mouth still resting against Snape's ear, his breathing creating shooting thrills from Snape's jaw down his body and pooling in deep, heavy desire in his groin. The creature would know that Snape was becoming aroused again, even more than before but Snape did nothing – he would not draw attention to his treacherous body. His blood was pounding in his ears; he was fully hard again and his genitals throbbed. The man had him in his thrall – he was ensnared. He could feel the wolf's heartbeat against this back, his skin against this back, his thighs against his thighs, the man's strong, corded arms enveloping his body, his soft lips against his ear.

Snape had not thought it possible, but the wolf's voice became quieter still and low like a growl – it was now quite mesmeric. "I would have used all and any part of me to give you pleasure this night." He drew his ear lobe into his mouth and nipped it gently and released it quickly. "My lips, my tongue, my fingers, all." He pressed his lips to the tendons in Snape's neck. "I would have sought ways to delight you, make your skin tingle and flame so you burst with desire and have to cry out because your body would demand it." He traced his tongue firmly down Snape' neck to his clavicle. "I would have held you close as a lover should, kissed you deeply, over and over, and..." he pushed Snape's head to the side so he could feather the exposed neck with light kisses as one finger brushed the tip of Snape's cock making him gasp ".. looked into your eyes and watched you come." A low moan escaped from Snape' throat.

The man released his hold on Snape slowly and moved back from him. "I will not come to you again unless you want what I have to give." Snape remained naked and kneeling with his head bent forward, eyes closed shielded by his black hair. He listened to the whisper of clothing as Lupin dressed himself. He was then startled when the werewolf draped Snape's own robe over his bare shoulders. This action shamed Snape completely as nothing else the werewolf had said or done: the werewolf needed to cover Snape from sight.

Quiet footsteps and then the door closed. Lupin had gone. Still, Snape knelt there. Stunned, shamed and, he also realised, sore. Sore from the cold and robust coupling, bruised to his hips, neck and face, hurting in his soul. Soulless, the werewolf had called him.

He eventually stood. He should bathe as it would ease the soreness, but found he was too tired. Shattered. He just wanted to lie down, to sleep, to forget. Did he want to forget? He realised as he lay on the bed that he wanted to sleep with the smell of the werewolf – of sex with the werewolf – still on his skin, just as the creature had said. He turned to his side, recalling what the wolf had told him he would do to his body and that he wanted to look into his eyes as he came. The same low moan escaped his throat, his head foggy, his stomach fuzzy, hot and full desire throbbed in his groin again, and he shivered as he imagined phantom arms enveloping his chest and shoulders and hot breath playing in his ears and strong fingers ghosting in his hair.
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You Will Not Kiss Me