Archive of Our Own ^beta

Snape's office was lit by a few old candles. The Potions Master had always preferred his rooms to be dimly lit. The only audible sounds were his breathing, his footsteps, and the rain falling outside.

He labelled a Wiggenweld potion vial, his long, thin fingers moving with precision so his handwriting would be perfect.

The heavy oak door swung open with a sudden, dry thud—a violent blow to the heart of his silent sanctuary.

Severus didn't move. The quill in his hand didn't even hesitate. Only his shoulders, beneath his black robes, tensed almost imperceptibly.

— "What a surprise," — his voice cut through the air, sharper than a knife. — "The castle's guard dog has sniffed at my cauldron. There are no biscuits here, Black. Try the kitchen."

Sirius Black leaned against the doorframe. His Defense Against the Dark Arts professor robes were unbuttoned, revealing a simple shirt and leather trousers. He smelled of wind, rain, and wet earth.

— "Always such a warm host, Snivellus," — Sirius retorted, his voice a low, bruised growl. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The sound echoed like a sentence. — "But I didn't come for food. I came to retrieve a lost item."

Finally, Snape looked up. The candlelight carved deep shadows into his face, making his eyes two pools of black ink.

— "If you've lost your sense of decency, I suggest you don't look for it here. It abandoned you decades ago."

Black smiled, a flash of white teeth in the gloom. He began to walk slowly around the room, his firm steps echoing, his fingers dragging carelessly along the workbenches, disturbing the fine dust that coated them.

— "It's a physical thing. A small artifact. A pendant, to be precise. It must have fallen from my bag during the practical lesson today with the Slytherin and Hufflepuff class." He stopped on the other side of Snape's large work table, separated by a sea of scrolls, vials, and the violated territory of Snape's personal space. — "You wouldn't have seen it, would you?"

Severus let out a short, hollow laugh. — "Ah, yes. The legendary Black sloppiness, now a threat to student safety. You should be sacked for sheer incompetence. And if you believe that I, in the precious little time I have away from the constant irritation that is your existence, would dedicate a single second to looking for your lost trash, you are even madder than you look. I didn't take it and I don't care. Get out."

— "I don't believe you. You're a rat, a small, useless creature even after all these years."

— "Your opinion of me," — the other man hissed, slowly rising, his lanky height looming over the desk like a threatening shadow, — "is as relevant as that of a worm crawling in the mud. It is the very bottom of irrelevance. Now, for the last time, get out."

Sirius didn't back away. On the contrary, a slow, predatory smile stretched his lips. He looked like a wolf that had finally cornered its prey.

— "So quick to anger, Snivellus? The truth hurts, doesn't it?" He took another step forward, completely ignoring the order. His grey eyes, now serious, scanned the room with disdain. — "But no, I'm not leaving. Not until I have what I came for."

— "Let me ask a few questions. The artifact responds to truth. If you are telling the truth, it remains inert. If you lie… well, it glows. A strong, unmistakable light. If it doesn't light up, I'll leave and never speak of this again. If it does… you'll pay a price for it."

He looked at Sirius, seeing not the tired man, but the arrogant boy who had made his life hell. The same smug smile, the same scornful eyes. And Snape's pride, that boiling core of hatred and superiority, rose like a serpent.

It was a foolish trap. But to refuse would be like admitting he had something to hide. It would be to concede ground. It would be to allow Black to think he had won.

— "You truly believe I would fall for such a childish trick?" — Severus hissed.

— "I believe you're too proud to refuse a chance to prove you're cleverer than me. To prove you're better than me. You've always believed that, haven't you? Even when you wore that second-hand, dirty uniform," — Sirius said with an intense, fixed stare.

The bait was juicy. The challenge, too personal. The chance to rub his iron-clad honesty in the other man's face, to see the failure in his eyes when his cheap trick didn't work… it was irresistible.

A cruel, slow smile stretched Severus's thin lips.

— "Very well," — he conceded, his voice icy and laden with disdain. — "Let's play your little game. Ask your insignificant questions. And when your piece of brass remains as dark as your conscience, you will leave here and have the decency to look ashamed. But of course, you will pay a price for your stupidity later."

Black straightened up, and Snape could have sworn he saw a glint of predatory triumph in those grey eyes before a mask of indifference fell into place.

— "Excellent," Sirius murmured, and the game began.

The sloppy nonchalance evaporated, replaced by a focused, predatory attention. He read Severus like Sybill Trelawney would read a tea leaf: with a clinical and deeply intrusive curiosity.

— "Question number one," — Sirius began, his voice soft, but cutting the air like a razor's edge. — "Did you take the pendant I described?"

Severus let out a grunt of disdain.

— "No. The very idea of touching anything you own disgusts me profoundly."

He waited, his eyes fixed on the other man, daring the artifact to glow. Nothing happened. Just the crackling of the candle and the distant sound of the rain. A tiny, cold triumph ignited within him.

Black tilted his head, a gesture of almost approval.

— "Good. Very good. Truth, then. Let's go a little deeper." — He began to walk slowly, circling the edge of the room like a wolf skirting a clearing. His boots made an almost imperceptible sound against the stone.

— "Question two: do you enjoy being a professor?"

Severus let out a low, disdainful laugh and rolled his eyes.

— "It is an occupation. It grants me access to resources and a certain… authority. 'Enjoy' is too strong a term for the experience of dealing with juvenile insipidity year after year."

Another silence. No light. The answer, though cynical, was fundamentally true. Sirius completed his circle, stopping a few steps from Snape's chair.

— One more question.
— Make it the last. Unlike you, I have important things to do.

— "Question three: have you ever desired someone you shouldn't have?"

— "That is none of your business," — he snarled, the restraint in his voice cracking.

— "Everything in this room is my business now," — Sirius retorted, his voice still low, but with an undeniable authority. — "Those are the rules of the game. You agreed. So, answer. Have you ever desired someone you shouldn't have?"

— "No, Black."

A light glowed from behind some potions on a shelf.
— "You lying pig." — he smiled ironically. — "You took it and still lied?"

— "What?! I didn't take that!"

Sirius walked to the shelf and picked up the pendant, which he had obviously placed there himself.
— "Shut up, pig." — Sirius's voice cut through the air, laden with an authority that made Severus flinch. He held the object, which now glowed with a soft, steady light. — "The evidence doesn't lie, Snivellus. You lied. And lies have consequences."

Before Snape could protest again, Black drew his wand with a swift motion.
— "Incarcerous!"

Thick ropes shot from the wand's tip, lashing around Snape's body tightly. He struggled, but the ropes only tightened, forcing his arms against his torso and immobilizing his legs.

— "Black, release me!" — Severus snarled, trying to maintain his composure, but panic began to seep into his voice.

Sirius made him sit on the desk and looked down at him victoriously.
— "You've always been a liar. But today you're going to learn that some lies come at a very high price."

Black looked the other man up and down and saw a growing bulge in Severus's trousers.
— "Are you hard because of this, little rabbit? You're so rotten, Snivellus." — Sirius put his foot on the bulge and pressed down.

— "No…" — the word came out as a trapped sigh, but his body betrayed him, arching involuntarily under the touch.

The other man laughed, a low sound filled with contempt.
— "Incredible. After all these years, this is what turns you on? Being humiliated? Being treated like trash? Damn, you were always excited when I treated you like the shit you are?"

He pressed his foot down harder, a cruel smile on his lips.
— "You were always like this, weren't you? Remember those times in the corridor, when I pushed you against the walls? You'd be trembling, with that same look in your eyes... Was it fear or excitement, little rabbit?" — His free hand came down and delivered a sharp slap to Snape's pale face, leaving a red handprint that contrasted brutally with his skin. — "Answer, little rabbit."

Severus closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories flooding his mind. The humiliations of the past, the shame, the anger... and yes, a strange, sick fascination he had always felt for Black's domination.

— "Shut up," — he hissed, but the tremor in his voice gave him away.

— "No, I think I'll make you admit it. Admit you always wanted this."

With a brusque movement, he vanished the magical ropes, but before Snape could react, he pulled something from within his own robes—a feminine Slytherin school uniform.

— "Put it on," — he ordered, throwing the clothes onto Snape's lap. — "I want to see my frightened little boy again, but in the clothes I always wanted you to wear."

— "You are completely insane!" — Snape hissed, looking at the pleated skirt and feminine blouse with repulsion.

— "Insane? No, Severus. I'm finally seeing things clearly." — He raised his wand. — "Now put it on. Or do I need to bind you and dress you myself?"

Severus hesitated, his fingers trembling as they touched the fabric. The humiliation was so intense he felt nauseous. But the implicit threat aroused him.

With slow, mechanical movements, he removed his own robes. First the outer tunic, then the inner one. Next, the shirt. He stood, trembling, in only his trousers and socks, in the cold dungeon air.

— "Everything. I want to see you completely vulnerable before I dress you as you deserve."
Snape swallowed hard. His fingers hesitated on the fastening of his trousers.
— "Don't make me repeat myself," — Black warned, brandishing his wand threateningly.
With a rough tug, Snape removed his trousers and underwear. Shame burned his face.

Sirius watched every inch of exposed skin with a predatory gaze.

— "Now, yes," — he whispered. — "Put on what I chose for you."

First the blouse. The feminine fabric, softer than his usual clothes, seemed to burn his skin. Then the skirt. As he put it on, feeling the pleated fabric brush against his thighs, a shiver ran down his spine.

— "Lovely." — Sirius approached, adjusting the green and silver tie. — "But something's still missing." — He pulled a ribbon from his pocket, tying Snape's hair into a low ponytail. — "There. My little Slytherin."

He was completely transformed, not just dressed as a student, but reduced to the vulnerability of his own adolescence.

Black placed his hands on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees.

— "You've always belonged to me, Severus," — he whispered, lowering the zip of his own trousers. — "Since that very first day on the Hogwarts Express."

Sirius took off his trousers and underwear. His member, already fully erect and imposing, pulsed with energy, the head already dripping with pre-cum. He made him open his mouth and thrust his cock inside all at once.

— "Open wide, my little prince," — Sirius pulled Snape's hair harder, forcing him to take it deeper. — "You always knew this was what you wanted, didn't you? To be my personal little whore."

 

Tears streamed from Snape's eyes, running down his red, slapped face. His body trembled uncontrollably, but his hands, traitorously, instinctively rose and grabbed Sirius's muscular hips, pulling him in deeper, trying to accommodate the intrusion.

— "That's it, suck it." — Black moaned, his fingers tangling tighter in his toy's hair, pulling forcefully. — "Suck it like your life depends on it. You're a natural at this, you know? Born to swallow my cum and beg for more."

Severus looked up, his black eyes pleading through a veil of tears. Black smiled, a wide, cruel smile, and then delivered another violent slap to his face, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.

— "You're so beautiful like this, with your mouth full of cock and your face all marked up. Has anyone ever told you that? No, of course not. But I always knew. From the first time I saw you, I knew one day you'd be on your knees for me."

— "Shut up, Black." — Severus spat when allowed a breath, his voice hoarse and broken. His face burned, but his mouth, traitorously, continued to work, his tongue pressing against the base.

— "How cute." — Sirius delivered another slap, even harder, making Snape's ears ring. — "Trying to talk with your mouth full of me. But I didn't give you permission to speak, slut. The only thing your mouth should be doing right now is serving me."

He yanked Snape's hair back with brutal force, forcing his neck at a painful angle, and then thrust his hips forward, burying himself even deeper down the man's throat. Severus gagged violently, tears streaming in rivers, but his hands, in a final betrayal, did not let go. They held on tighter, fingers digging into Sirius's flesh through the fabric, pulling him with a desperate need.

— "You have no idea how pissed I used to get," — Sirius snarled, speeding up the motion of his hips, his breath growing heavier, — "when I heard the other students whispering about you. 'Snape sucks off Mulciber.' 'Snape is Rosier's little bitch.' MY little bitch? Unacceptable."— Each word was punctuated by a deeper thrust. — "But of course I couldn't just drag you into a corner and fuck you until you forgot your own name, not with James and Remus around. They'd never understand."

He sped up even more, watching with obscene satisfaction as tears and saliva mixed and ran down Severus's chin, dripping onto the green and silver skirt.

— "But now?" — Sirius's smile was the most triumphant and perverse thing Snape had ever seen. — "Now I can do this whenever I want. And you'll come back. Every. Damn. Time. On all fours, in a dress, and dripping with lust for me, won't you?"

Severus tried to shake his head, denying it, but the movement only made him gag more deeply, a dry heave shaking his body. His pale, thin fingers dug into Sirius's thighs so hard they would surely leave bruises.

 

— "Answer me, fucking whore!" — Sirius delivered another slap, followed by a pull on his hair so brutal Snape swore some strands were ripped out. — "Are you going to come back to me? Are you going to be my little slut whenever I snap my fingers?"

— "Yes!" — the word came out as a hoarse, muffled shout, distorted by the full mouth, but perfectly understandable. And the moment it was vocalized, something inside Severus Snape seemed to collapse, shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces. His resistance, his pride, his hatred... it all seemed to dissolve in that single, horrible, undeniable moment of surrender.

— "That's right, my obedient little slut. Now swallow it all. I took a potion to make my cum taste like treacle just for you." — Sirius moaned triumphantly.

When his climax finally hit him, he held the other man's head in place with relentless force, his fingers like steel claws, forcing every spurt, every pulse to be swallowed. Severus gagged, coughed, his body convulsing, gasping. When Black finally pulled out, Snape's face was red, marked, his lips swollen and shiny with saliva and semen.

He panted, looking down at the vision he had created. He slowly ran his thumb over Severus's swollen, red mouth, collecting a stray white drop.

— "You look so beautiful like this..." — he whispered, his voice raspy. — "All wrecked and used. But the night has barely begun, little rabbit. Sit on the desk. Now."

— "No..." — his word was a ghost of a whisper, a last pathetic sigh of resistance. But his body, his traitorous, conditioned body, was already moving.

Mechanically, he got up on trembling legs and staggered to the desk, sitting on the cold edge. The pleated skirt rode up even higher, completely exposing his pale, thin thighs, and the still sensitive, red skin of his buttocks.

Sirius stood between his legs, forcing them apart with his hands, a predatory smile on his lips.

— "You're so predictable, Severus. So transparent." — His hands traveled up the inside of his thighs, nails lightly scraping the pale skin, leaving red trails in their wake. — "I always knew that deep down, way deep down, you were this. A whore. A whore who loves to be possessed, dominated, marked." — He leaned forward, his fangs gleaming in the candlelight. — "I hope you don't mind... I didn't bring any lube. I prefer it this way. More real. More... painful."

— "Please..." — Snape tried again, but his voice was a rag, without strength, without conviction. It was the sound of final surrender.

— "Shhh..." — Black whispered, ostentatiously spitting into his own hand before positioning himself at the entrance. — "You don't need lube, do you, my prince? Not when you're this wet for me just from being treated like the slut you are."

The penetration was savage. It was a rip, a brutal, unprepared invasion that made the little doll's eyes widen in pain and shock. A scream caught in his throat, turning into a hoarse, guttural howl that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. His fingers gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white. The pain was excruciating, a white-hot band of agony... but then, like a black tide, pleasure began to seep in. A perverse, sick pleasure born from the humiliation and pain itself, that made his stomach clench and his body, treacherously, begin to respond.

Sirius ripped off his own shirt with a brusque movement, buttons flying across the room. Then, he grabbed Snape's blouse and tore it open, cheap fabric snapping. He lowered his head and latched onto a pale nipple, sucking and biting hard, leaving a red and purple mark on the fair skin.

Severus couldn't hold back. A wanton moan, in a tone he didn't even know he could produce, escaped his lips. His hands flew to Sirius's head, not to push him away, but to hold his black hair, keeping him in place, while his hips began to move in small circles, meeting the brutal rhythm.

— "That's it," — Sirius growled through teeth that still nibbled at Snape's nipple. — "Moan for me, you slut. Let everyone hear who owns you."

— "Sirius, fuck!" — Snape cried out, his body arching against the desk. Tears streamed down his face, but his hips moved in sync with the brutal thrusts.

— "Louder!" — Black ordered, switching to the other nipple and biting down hard. — "I want all of Slytherin to hear their prince moaning for me."

— "Please, don't stop!" — the admission came out between tears and moans, and Snape felt a wave of humiliation so intense it nearly suffocated him. But his body kept responding, giving itself over completely. — "Make me come, Sirius…"

He looked into Severus's gleaming eyes and couldn't help himself, kissing him.

The kiss wasn't gentle. It was a collision of teeth, lips, and years of poorly disguised hatred transforming into something entirely different. It was salty from Severus's tears, bitter from sweat and the treacle-like cum, deeply, irresistibly forbidden.

Severus's hands, which had once pushed, now pulled Sirius closer, his fingers digging into the black, unruly hair, so different from his own.

Sirius deepened the kiss, his tongue invading his little rabbit's mouth with the same brutal possessiveness with which he had invaded his body. It was a kiss that was a conquest, an affirmation, a question and an answer all at once. When they finally broke apart, panting, a silvery string of saliva still connected them in the trembling gloom.

Black looked down and saw his cock moving beneath the skirt; this only aroused him more.

 

The sight of his own member distorting the green fabric of the skirt with each brutal impact, the pale flesh of Severus's thighs trembling violently under his weight, made Sirius's eyes darken with pure predatory lust. Every muscle in his body tensed, and his hips acquired a fierce, almost animalistic hammering rhythm, each thrust deeper and more possessive than the last.

— "You see that, slut?" — he snarled, his voice a guttural, panting roar, forcing Severus's hips against the desk with a force that made the wood groan. His hands, like claws, gripped the man's thin thighs, fingers pressing so hard the pale skin turned white around the impressions before blooming into purple bruises. — "See how your body accepts me? How it opens up for me like a hungry whore? You were shaped for my cock, Snivellus. Sculpted for it."

Severus couldn't form words, only a series of rough, broken moans torn from the depths of his soul. His head was thrown back, the tendons in his neck stretched like cords, eyes rolled back in pleasure and agony. The initial pain was transforming into a devouring fire that consumed his shame, leaving only an animalistic, needy rawness.

— "Look at me, you shit!" — he ordered, his tone a sonic whip.

When Severus didn't obey instantly, Sirius delivered a loud, resounding open-handed slap to his face, so hard Snape's head snapped to the side and a new vivid red flush bloomed on the pale skin, overlaying the previous marks. — "I WANT YOU TO SEE! Look at me! Look at what you are!"

With a convulsive shudder, Severus opened his eyes, clouded with pleasure and forced submission. The sight was a punishment in itself: Sirius's face, distorted by cruel ecstasy, his own shaky, weak knees, the green skirt now a dirty, damp rumple around his waist, and the hypnotic, primal movement of their bodies joining as violently as they were intimately. His own member, neglected and throbbing, leaked clear fluid with each impact, a silent confession of his abject pleasure.

He leaned down and bit the other man's earlobe, a painful nip followed by a warm, wet whisper that made the man's body shudder.

— "I could fuck you until you bleed, Severus. Until you can't walk tomorrow. And you'd love it, wouldn't you? You'd love to feel my mark on you for days."

His voice was a sweet poison seeping into Snape's already vulnerable mind. As he spoke, his hands moved down and grabbed the thin hips with brutal force, his nails digging deep grooves into the pale skin. He changed the angle, penetrating even deeper, hitting a spot that made Snape scream, a high, broken sound that was pure surrender.

— "ANSWER ME!" — Sirius roared, speeding up the rhythm to a violent, inescapable pounding. The desk groaned in protest, scraping inches with each thrust.

— "YES! FUCK, YES!" — Severus screamed, his own hands grabbing Sirius's muscular arms, fingers pressing so hard they left crescent marks. — "MAKE ME BLEED, MAKE ME FEEL IT ALL WEEK!"

Before he could catch his breath, he was on all fours on the desk, the rough wood scratching his palms. The sound of tearing fabric echoed like a final blow—the green and silver skirt was ripped open down the back, completely exposing his trembling, vulnerable nakedness.

Fragments of broken potion vials scattered across the floor, releasing colorful, odorous vapors that mixed with the heavy scent of sex and sweat.

Sirius didn't waste a moment. He forced Severus's legs apart, exposing him completely to the trembling candlelight. And then he did something that knocked all the air from Snape's lungs in a rough, shocked sigh.

He bent down and buried his face between his buttocks.

Sirius's tongue was rough, hot, and relentless. It explored, licked, and penetrated with devastating intimacy, while one of his firm hands held the base of Severus's pulsating member, stroking with precise, experienced movements.

— "Sirius... don't..." — Severus moaned, but his body arched involuntarily, pressing against that profaning mouth. His hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white. It was a violation, it was disgusting, it was the most humiliating thing that had ever been done to him... and it was electrifying. Waves of pleasure shot up his spine, making his muscles tremble uncontrollably.

— "You like that, you slut?" — Sirius's voice sounded, hoarse and muffled, against his skin. The tongue pressed deeper, and the hand on his member sped up. — "Your ass is all soft and open for me already. You were waiting for me, weren't you? Waiting years for this."

Snape couldn't respond. His moans were the only confirmation needed. He buried his face in his arm, trying to muffle the sounds escaping his throat—high, broken moans of pure animal submission. Black's tongue was an instrument of torture and ecstasy, softening, preparing, possessing him in a way he had never imagined possible. The sensation was overwhelming, a combination of visceral shame and forbidden pleasure that threatened to undo him completely.

When Sirius finally stood up, Severus was panting, his body covered in a light sweat, trembling like a leaf. The area between his legs was throbbing, sensitive, and completely exposed.

— "Now you're ready for me." — Sirius snarled, spitting onto his own hand again before slicking his already pulsating member. He positioned himself behind him, one hand gripping his hip firmly, the other closing in a handful of black hair, pulling his head back.

— "Look at the door." — he ordered, his voice a steel command. — "Look and imagine if someone could walk in right now. See the great Severus Snape on all fours, with his ass wrecked and begging for cock."

He obeyed, his glazed black eyes fixing on the heavy oak door. The possibility, however remote, added an extra layer of danger and degradation that made his stomach churn with sick excitement.

And then Sirius entered him.

This time, there was no rending pain. The meticulous preparation—brutal, but effective—had done its work. Instead, there was an overwhelming fullness, a sensation of being opened, possessed, completed. A long, tremulous moan escaped Severus's lips, a sound of total surrender.

Sirius didn't wait for adjustment. He began to move with a powerful, deep rhythm, each thrust an affirmation of dominance.

— "That's it, little rabbit." — Sirius snarled, his hips slamming against Severus's buttocks with a sound of flesh against flesh. His hand in the hair pulled harder, forcing the arch of Snape's back. — "Moan for me. Moan like the little slut you are."

— "Sirius... fuck..." — he moaned, his voice failing. His hands slipped on the sweaty wood of the desk. He was losing control, his mind disintegrating under the sensory assault. The smell of Sirius, the sound of his grunts, the feeling of being utterly filled—it was too much.

— "Say it!" — another slap resounded on his buttock, leaving a red, burning mark. — "Say whose ass this is!"

— "Yours!" — Severus screamed, the sound echoing in the stifling room. — "IT'S YOURS, FUCKER!"

The admission seemed to unleash something inside Sirius. His rhythm became frantic, uncontrolled. He released Severus's hair and grabbed both his hips, digging his fingers into the flesh like claws, pulling him onto each thrust with brutal force.

— "I'm going to come inside you." — he panted, his voice a growl close to Severus's ear. — "I'm going to fill you, mark you on the inside too. And you'll keep it, won't you? You'll feel my cum in you all day tomorrow and remember who you belong to."

The obscene promise, the total possession, was the last straw for Severus. His own orgasm hit him like lightning, a violent spasm that made him scream as white, blind pleasure consumed him. His body clenched around Sirius, and that was the final cue.

With a guttural roar, Sirius buried himself to the hilt and exploded, pouring into his little bunny in hot, pulsing jets. He remained there for a long moment, panting, his body heavy on Severus's arched back, both covered in sweat and trembling in the aftermath of their climaxes.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing. Black slowly pulled out, and Severus collapsed onto the desk, exhausted, used, completely destroyed.

Sirius observed the masterpiece he had molded with his own hands. The body arched over the desk was a living testament to his conquest, every red mark, every scratch, every bruise beginning to bloom on the pale skin told a story of possession. Snape's member still throbbed between his trembling legs, a final physical confession of the pleasure that had been forcibly torn from him and willingly given.

— "You deserve a reward, my prince." — Black's voice was surprisingly soft, almost a coo, brutally contrasting with the violence that had united them moments before. — "I'll give you the best blowjob of your life. Something for you to remember as you drag yourself through the corridors tomorrow."

He began to descend, but not in a hurry. Every movement was calculated, every touch laden with intention. His lips found first Severus's sweaty forehead, an almost reverent kiss that made the other man shudder with confusion. Then he descended, kissing each closed eyelid, every inch of the marked and swollen face.

— "Shhh, my frightened little rabbit." — he whispered against the warm skin, while his hands moved in soothing, circular patterns on Severus's flanks. — "Now it's just pleasure. Just feel."

His lips traveled down the neck. He licked and bit, his bites were strong enough to make him bleed slightly.

— "So beautiful…" — he murmured, his mouth finding the bone of Severus's collarbone. — "So perfect like this, all marked by me."

Severus remained motionless, his body still trembling with the remnants of orgasm and tension. His breathing was a panting, irregular rhythm, as if he didn't know how to process this sudden change. His hands, which had once gripped the desk with survival strength, now rested limply at his sides, fingers still twitching occasionally.

Black continued his slow, deliberate descent. His mouth left a trail of fire down the pale skin of the torso—kissing, licking, nibbling lightly. He paid special attention to the nipples, which were still red and sensitive from his earlier bites. Now, however, his tongue caressed them with devotion, making Severus gasp and arch his back involuntarily.

— "That's it." — he whispered, his hot breath against the damp skin. — "Let your body talk for you. It knows what it wants."

Finally, after an eternity of sensual torture, Sirius reached Severus's hips. His hands opened the man's legs with a gentleness that contrasted with the earlier brutality, exposing him completely to the trembling candlelight.

 

He didn't go straight for the target. First, he kissed the inside of the thighs, where his fingerprints were still marked on the skin. His tongue traced random patterns, making Snape's muscles contract and tremble. He nibbled lightly on the sensitive skin, not enough to hurt, but just enough to make the other man jump and let out a muffled moan.

— "You smell like me." — Sirius murmured, his voice hoarse and laden with possession. — "Your skin, your sweat... even your blood. Everything smells like me now."

Then, and only then, did he finally move to the center of Severus's pleasure.

He didn't take it all at once. That would be too simple, too common for a moment like this. Instead, he started at the base, kissing and licking the sensitive skin there. His tongue traced the path to the head, already red and throbbing, and back again, in slow, hypnotic motions.

— "Sirius..." — the name escaped Severus's lips like a prayer, a broken, vulnerable sound.

— "Shhh." — he whispered, his mouth so close his hot breath made Severus's skin tingle. — "Just feel."

And then he finally took the head into his mouth, enveloping it with his lips while his tongue massaged the slit. A long, tremulous moan escaped Severus, his hands burying themselves in Sirius's hair not to pull, but to hold on, like a man clutching a lifeline in a stormy sea.

Sirius worked with devastating patience and skill. His mouth was hot, wet, and relentless, but in a completely different way than before. There was no violence here, only a fierce determination to bring him to ecstasy. His left hand caressed the sensitive testicles while the right held the base firmly, fingers finding a rhythm that complemented the movement of his mouth.

He varied the pressure, the speed, the focus, sometimes sucking hard, other times just licking with agonizing lightness. He looked up, maintaining eye contact as he did it, his grey eyes burning with an intensity that held Severus as captive as the physical pleasure.

— "You're all mine, Severus." — he said, his voice vibrating through the other man's body. — "Every moan, every tremor, every drop of pleasure... is mine."

And then he sank down, taking Snape completely, to the base. His throat opened and accepted it all, without hesitation, without gagging. Severus's eyes rolled back, a cry torn from his chest as his hands buried themselves in Sirius's hair with almost painful force.
Sirius held him there for a long moment, letting Severus feel the contraction of his throat around him before beginning to move in a steady, deep rhythm. It wasn't frantic like before, it was a constant, overwhelming tide of pleasure, each movement calculated to bring Severus closer to the edge.

— "I'm close." — Snape moaned, his voice a broken sound of total surrender. — "Sirius, please..."

 

But Sirius didn't speed up. Instead, he slowed down, withdrawing almost completely before sinking down again with agonizing slowness. His hand left the testicles and went down, pressing lightly on the perineum, massaging the sensitive spot there while his mouth continued its meticulous work.

— "No." — he whispered, his voice a soft but undeniable command. — "Not yet. I decide when you come."

He continued this torture for another minute, bringing him to the edge repeatedly only to retreat at the last second. His body was taut as a bow, every muscle trembling with repressed need. His breathing was a series of gasps and broken moans.

— "Please." — he begged, tears streaming from his eyes again, but this time they weren't tears of pain or humiliation. They were tears of pure sensory overload, of complete surrender. — "I... I can't take it anymore..."

Sirius looked up, his eyes meeting Severus's. There was a glint of triumph in them, but also something softer, almost... possessive in a different way.

— "Now." — he ordered softly.

And then he sank down one last time, taking Severus completely while his hand pressed firmly on the sensitive spot and his tongue made a particularly skillful movement.
It was enough.

The orgasm hit Severus like a runaway train, tearing a scream from him. His body arched violently, his hands pulling the other's hair with force as he came in endless waves into that hot mouth that accepted it all without hesitation.

Black didn't pull away. He remained there, swallowing every pulse, every tremor, every trace of pleasure he could extract from the other man's body, until Snape collapsed onto the table, completely spent, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Only then did he let go, climbing up to lie next to his toy on the table. He wrapped his arms around the trembling body, pulling it against his chest. Severus didn't resist. He buried himself against Sirius's warm body, his own shudders gradually subsiding.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant crackling of the candles.

Black was the first to move. His fingers, which moments before had been claws of possession, now traced soft, circular patterns on Snape's back. Just the tips of his fingers, a touch so light it was almost hallucinatory.

— "You're trembling," — his voice was a rough whisper against his ear.

The other man didn't answer. How could he? His own voice seemed like a distant betrayal, something that belonged to another man, in another life. Instead, he buried himself deeper into the embrace, an act of surrender more eloquent than any word.

The rain outside had stopped. The only sound was the crackling of the candles and their breathing, which gradually synchronized, becoming a single rhythm in the still air.

Sirius moved again, slowly, as if afraid to startle him. He sat on the edge of the table, pulling Severus with him, so the man's lean body was nestled between his legs, his back against his chest. His hands slid down his arms, from shoulders to wrists, in a movement that was both possession and comfort.

— "Look," — Sirius whispered, his chin resting on Severus's shoulder.

He didn't specify what. Perhaps at the marks that covered the other's pale body. Perhaps at their distorted reflection in the polished cauldron. Perhaps at the destroyed room, the disheveled table, the broken phials, the torn skirt abandoned on the floor like a serpent's shed skin.

Severus obeyed, his dark eyes scanning the scene. And then something broke inside him. Not a scream, not a sob, but a silent shudder that seemed to come from a place so deep he didn't even know it existed. His hands gripped Sirius's knees, his fingers pressing with a desperate need.

Black said nothing. He just held him tighter, his arms forming a barrier against the world, his lips pressing against the sweaty nape of Snape's neck.

— "Why?" — the word came out as a broken breath, the first one Severus had been able to form. It wasn't a protest. It was a genuine question, laden with centuries of confusion and denied desire.

His answer didn't come immediately. He buried his face in the man's shoulder, his lips pressing against the bite mark he had left there earlier, as if reaffirming his claim.

— "Because you need to learn," — his voice was muffled against the skin. — "Learn once and for all that you're mine."

His arms tightened around his lean torso, as if he feared he might disappear.

— "Because I go crazy when I see you giving attention to another man," — the confession came out like a growl, an admission of weakness that was as shocking as the prior violence. — "In the staff room, in the corridors... even at that damn Yule party, with that fucking Karkaroff."

He pulled him back, forcing him to meet his eyes. The gray was turbulent, stormy.

— "I saw the way they looked at you. Thinking they had a chance. Thinking they could touch what's mine." — his hand grabbed Severus's chin, his fingers pressing hard. — "And the worst was you. You, always so sharp, so closed off... but with them, you gave them that attention, that consideration you never... you never gave me."

There was an ancient anger in those words, an adolescent wound that had never healed.

— "James... he was obvious. A loud idiot you hated. But others... Mulciber, Rosier, Wilkes... even my fucking brother with his pathetic, sad eyes." — Sirius's face twisted in a mix of disgust and visceral jealousy. — "I saw you talking to them, turning your back on me... and I wanted to rip every single one of their throats out."

Severus was paralyzed, not by the force, but by the revelation. Years of persecution, of humiliation... could it really have been this? Jealousy? Not the simple hatred he had always assumed, but something more complex, more perverse?

Snape's eyes widened, not with fear, but with pure bewilderment. His mind, always so quick to analyze and deconstruct, seemed to have found an equation it couldn't solve.

— "Karkaroff?" — the word came out as an incredulous sigh. — "You were... jealous of *him*?"

The idea was so absurd it almost made him laugh, if it weren't for the deadly intensity in Black's gaze.

— "It's not about him, damn it!" — Sirius snarled, his fingers tightening on Severus's chin. — "It's about you! The way you get all... interested."

Sirius Black, the arrogant, the popular, the carefree... reduced to this. Pathologically jealous of men Severus barely tolerated.

— "And your brother?" — Severus whispered, remembering the rare times Regulus Black had tried to talk to him in the library. — "Regulus was just a scared boy."

— "He looked at you like you were the answer to every question!" — Sirius's outburst was visceral. — "And you... you were kind to him. Something you never were with me."

— But none of that matters now, does it? Now you're mine. They're all dead and now no one can take you from me. — Sirius kissed the man's wrist.

His statement echoed in the silent room, laden with a sick possessiveness that was both terrifying and intoxicating. His lips remained pressed against Severus's wrist, as if sealing a blood pact.

— "Dead," — he repeated, the word coming out like a poisonous whisper against the pale skin. — "James... Mulciber... Regulus... even that pathetic Rosier. They're all gone, but we're still here."

He lifted his eyes, and the turbulent gray burned with an almost supernatural intensity.

— "They thought they could have a piece of you. That they deserved your attention, your loyalty, your... consideration." — the last term came out like a spit. — "But in the end, it's just me. It's always been."

His hand moved from Severus's chin, his fingers tracing possessively the marks he had left on the man's neck.

— "I remember that time in the library, in fifth year. You were helping Regulus with Potions." — Sirius's face twisted into an ugly expression. — "He was so grateful, so... reverent. And you were being patient with him."

His fingers tightened around the man's neck, not with enough force to hurt, but enough to remind him who was in control.

— "I almost gouged his eyes out that day. Almost drowned him in the lake. Just to make him stop looking at you like that."

He felt a shiver run down his spine. He remembered that day. Regulus, nervous and struggling, asking for help with a particularly complex potion for a fourth-year. He had never imagined that innocent interaction could trigger so much rage.

— "And Mulciber." — Sirius continued, his eyes darkening further. — "That disgusting worm. He went around bragging that you... that you let him..." — he couldn't finish, his teeth grinding. — "I cursed him, you know? A spell that made his skin itch for a whole week. He never knew why."

There was a sick satisfaction in his voice, a perverse pride in his secret acts of vengeance.

— "And Karkaroff..." — a low, bitter laugh escaped his lips. — "That cowardly traitor. He still dared to look at you during the tournament. As if he had any right. As if he didn't know you're mine."

Sirius leaned forward, his forehead resting against Severus's, his eyes burning with gray fire.

— "But now they're all dead or irrelevant. And you..." — his hand moved down, gripping Severus's hip with possessive force. — "You finally understand. You finally know you belong to me."

There was a distorted logic in his words, a narrative of possession that had developed over decades, fed by jealousy and obsession.

— "None of them ever knew you like I do," — Sirius whispered, his lips tracing the line of Severus's jaw. — "None of them saw you come apart like I have. None of them marked you like I have."

His hand touched the bite marks on Severus's shoulder, his nails gently scratching the wounds.

— "These are mine. Like everything about you is mine. Your anger, your hatred, your pleasure... even your tears. Especially your tears."

There was a sick reverence in his touch, a perverse worship of every sign of possession he had left on the other man's body.

— "And if anyone ever," — his voice dropped to a deadly serious whisper, — "if any other man dares to touch you, look at you, even *think* about you... I'll rip his heart out and hand it to you on a silver platter and I'll stab you if I find out you encouraged him."

It wasn't a metaphor. He could see in Sirius's eyes that he would do exactly that, and probably relish every moment.

— "You understand, bunny?" — his fingers dug into his hip with almost painful force. — "There's no escape. There's no one else. Just me. Forever."

And deep within his being, through the fear and the confusion, Severus felt a strange spark of... acceptance. Because in a world where everyone else had left or betrayed, there was a perversely comforting truth in Sirius's relentless obsession.

It was sick. It was dangerous. It was everything he had always despised.

But it was, undeniably, theirs.

And when Sirius's lips found his again, Severus didn't resist. Instead, he surrendered to the darkest truth of all—that after a lifetime of solitude, being possessed so completely was, in some way, the closest thing to belonging he had ever experienced.