Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bruce Mulciber is a giver. There’s not much to it—he thrives on it. He’s always been the type to find satisfaction in giving more than taking, in offering up pieces to those he finds deserving of his time or attention. Especially when it’s someone like Severus.

And Severus… Severus has been denied so much in his life. The bare essentials, yes—but more than that. Warmth, safety, indulgence. The quiet luxury of knowing someone wants to give without asking for anything in return.

Bruce understands that. It’s why he’s been here for hours, head trapped between Severus’s thighs, tongue worshiping, hands gripping tightly at the hips he knows better than his own. He’s lost count of the minutes, maybe even the hours, measuring time only by how viciously Severus’s legs tremble against him.

It’s a slow, meticulous offering—one Bruce isn’t in any rush to end. Every shudder, every hoarse gasp Severus tries to swallow down, drives him further. Severus doesn’t know how to ask for things, but Bruce has learned to listen to the subtle cues: the tightening of his fingers in Bruce’s hair, the broken sounds that slip past gritted teeth, the way his body refuses to let go of the pleasure he so clearly thinks he doesn’t deserve.

Bruce knows better. He knows Severus deserves it all. And tonight, Bruce is determined to give it to him—again and again—until Severus stops fighting it.

The first time that night, Severus had fought—vocally, stubbornly, practically thrashing beneath him. He begged Bruce to stop, to get off, to stop trying to give him things he’d long taught himself not to want. Bruce could still hear the sharp, clipped protests echoing in his mind: “Stop. I don’t need this, Bruce. I don’t need you to—” The words were harsh, biting, but they couldn’t mask the panic beneath them—the panic of someone who wasn’t used to being cared for, touched, wanted. His hands had pushed weakly against Bruce’s shoulders, desperate to create distance, but Bruce just held on tighter, kissing away every protest, every fear, until Severus’s resistance melted beneath his touch.

The second time, Severus’s legs had started to tremble, but he hadn’t quite given up the fight. Not yet. His words were breathless now, less commanding, more shaky, uncertain. “You don’t have to do this again,” he said, voice cracking as his body betrayed him, hips tilting up toward Bruce even as his mind tried to hold him back. “I’m fine, really, this—Bruce, please. This is unnecessary—”

But Bruce knew better. He could feel it in the way Severus shuddered under his touch, could hear it in the unsteady breaths Severus was trying to regulate. “Unnecessary?” Bruce had whispered against Severus’s skin, a grin tugging at his lips. “Baby, I’ve only just started.”

By the third time, Severus had stopped lying altogether.

His body was trembling uncontrollably, tears slipping down his face, silent at first, then hitching into quiet, breathless sobs. His mind had finally caught up, realizing—fully understanding—that Bruce wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t leaving, wasn’t asking for anything in return. Severus’s hands had clutched at Bruce’s hair, not to push him away this time, but to hold him there as though terrified Bruce might suddenly change his mind and disappear.

“Bruce…” Severus whispered brokenly through the tears, his voice cracking with something raw and unfamiliar. “Oh, Bruce. This is bad, this is—”

Bruce kissed the inside of Severus’s thigh, soft and reverent, as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. “Shh.”

And now, this was the fourth time.

Severus was beyond words. His mind had shut down, the coherent protests and half-hearted refusals dissolving into unintelligible sounds. Bruce could barely make out the syllables tumbling from his lips between gasps and cries, muffled by the way Severus’s thighs clamped around his head, holding him hostage. He was suffocating, drowning in Severus’s need, and he loved every second of it.

“—ruce… oh! Oh Bruce! Bruce!”

Bruce groaned in response, the sound reverberating against Severus’s skin, deep and guttural. He was achingly hard now, his body screaming for release, but none of that mattered. All he wanted—all he ever wanted—was to see Severus like this. Reduced to nothing but sensation, overwhelmed by pleasure he hadn’t asked for but so desperately needed.

Severus’s hands clutched at the pillows behind him, knuckles white, fingers twisting in the fabric as if it was the only thing grounding him. His back arched off the bed, every muscle taut, his body a trembling, belligerent mess.

And Bruce… Bruce was in awe.

“You can take more,” Bruce murmured, his lips brushing against Severus’s skin. “Right, Sev? Of course you can. You will.”

Because Bruce Mulciber is a giver. And Severus Snape? He’s going to learn how to receive.

Severus was unraveling, and Bruce could see it—the cracks spreading, the tension breaking apart piece by piece. His head shook violently against the pillow, dark hair clinging to his damp skin, eyes squeezed shut as if trying to will it all away.

“Bruce, wait, please—” His voice was raw, trembling with desperation, each word edged with a frantic plea. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, lungs fighting to keep pace with the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

“I’ve had enough—” Severus choked out, the words barely coherent between gasps. His hands scrabbled at the sheets, knuckles white as he tried to anchor himself to something, anything. “Oh, God, Bruce, please—you don’t understand—”

Bruce didn’t stop.

Severus’s thighs trembled violently against his head, the tension pulling taut, his body teetering on the edge of something far beyond his control. “I can’t—I can’t,” Severus sobbed, the sound fractured and hoarse. “It’s too much—Bruce, it’s so much.” His voice cracked, dissolving into a desperate, broken whimper.

Bruce felt the grip of Severus’s legs tighten around him, thighs trembling as they clamped down harder, a desperate attempt to create distance—to stop—but Bruce’s strong hands were there. He slid them up, fingers curling around Severus’s thighs with a grip that left no room for retreat.

”I can’t, I can’t—Bruce.”

“No,” Bruce whispered against him, voice low and resolute. “You can.”

And with that, Bruce pulled those trembling thighs apart, spreading them wide, forcing Severus open—and then he gave him more.

The scream that erupted from Severus was raw and unrestrained, a sound of pure, visceral release that echoed through the room. His back arched violently off the bed, every muscle taut, fingers clawing desperately at the pillows as if they might somehow save him from drowning in the pleasure that was consuming him whole.

His mind was gone, lost to the intensity of it all, and Bruce reveled in it—the way Severus shattered beneath him, the way his body trembled uncontrollably, the way every sob, every gasp, every broken cry only spurred Bruce to give him more.

Severus was beyond the edge, drowning in sensations that left him gasping for breath, overwhelmed in a way he had never known before. His body, flushed and trembling, instinctively tried to retreat, limbs weakly scrambling against the sheets in a desperate bid to crawl away, to find relief from the intensity.

But Bruce wasn’t having it.

His hand shot out, fingers curling firmly around Severus’s ankle. With a smooth, effortless tug, Bruce pulled him right back into place, pinning him to the bed like a predator claiming its prey. Severus’s body jolted, a gasp tearing from his lips as Bruce’s grip left no room for escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bruce’s voice was low, rough with desire, but there was a gentleness laced beneath it—a reassurance that Severus was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Severus opened his mouth, words spilling out in a fractured plea. “You—” His voice cracked, breathless and hoarse. “Let me… let me take care of you first—”

Bruce’s eyes darkened with something fierce, something relentless. He shook his head, dismissing the offer without a second thought.

“I don’t need it.” His voice was firm, unwavering.

“Wait,” Severus begged frantically as Bruce lowered his head again, “Oh god, Bruce please just—“

Bruce was back between Severus’s thighs, mouth and hands working with purpose, dragging Severus further into Mulciber’s strong and possessive hold. Severus’s entire body tensed, back arching off the bed, every nerve igniting as his eyes rolled back, lips parting in a silent scream. His chest heaved, lungs struggling to keep up as the wave hit—overwhelming, relentless, unstoppable.

Bruce swallowed every shudder of his orgasm, every tremor, savoring the way Severus fell apart beneath him. He pressed soft, reverent kisses along Severus’s thighs, trailing up to his stomach, where the muscles still quivered from the strain of holding so much tension. His hands moved gently now, soothing the tight knots, coaxing Severus’s body to relax—just enough to prepare him for more.

Severus couldn’t speak anymore. His mind was gone, lost in the haze of pleasure and exhaustion. His lips moved, but no words formed, only soft, breathless sounds escaping as Bruce coaxed him back—again.

A fifth time.

That was when the tears came.

Full, uncontrollable sobs wracked Severus’s body, his face a mess of tears and flushed skin. His voice was raw, broken from crying out too much, from begging for mercy that never came. His hands trembled as they gripped the sheets, knuckles white with the effort of holding on.

“Enough,” Severus sobbed, the word barely a whisper, cracked and desperate. His entire body shook beneath Bruce’s touch, every nerve frayed and raw. “Please, Bruce, you’re… you’re ruining me. I don’t— I can’t—”

Bruce paused for only a moment, his lips brushing against Severus’s tear-soaked skin, before he looked up at him, eyes burning with intensity. His hand cupped Severus’s cheek, thumb gently wiping away the tears as he leaned in close, his voice a low, possessive growl.

“Good,” Mulciber murmured, lips brushing against Severus’s ear. “I want you ruined. I want you mine.”

And with that, Bruce pressed his mouth back to Severus’s trembling skin, continuing his relentless worship—because Severus Snape deserved to be given everything. And Bruce Mulciber would make sure he understood that. Completely. Irrevocably. Until there was nothing left but him.

Bruce was relentless—not because Severus asked for it, but because he needed it. He was going to keep giving, again and again, until Severus learned something no one had ever taught him: that he was allowed to want. Allowed to demand.

Bruce would do this until Severus stopped shrinking away from desire, until he stopped apologizing for needing more.

He was going to do it until Severus became demanding. Until he stopped trembling and started pushing Bruce down to his knees with a confidence that made the room crackle with tension.

Until Severus learned to be greedy for pleasure, to pull Bruce’s hair and drag him back between his thighs, voice low and commanding, Stay. Don’t stop until I tell you to.

Until Severus stopped whispering please and started saying now.

Until he learned to shove Bruce’s face where he wanted it, thighs locking tight, no hesitation, no fear—only desire.

Bruce would keep going until Severus wasn’t afraid anymore. Until Severus learned to ask for what he wanted—and take it.

And when that moment came?

Bruce Mulciber would drop to his knees every time, without question, and give Severus everything.

Every.

Single.

Time.