Work Text:
It was 3 a.m. at 12 Grimmauld Place.
The youngest Black's room was illuminated by two candles and the wands of two wizards.
Anyone passing by Regulus's room would be able to hear their low laughter.
— "It's going to be incredible when you become a Death Eater. We'll be able to go on missions together, Reggie."
— "Of course! Barty is excited too, he said he talked to some of the older Death Eaters and…"
— "Crouch Jr.? You trust him?" — Severus couldn't help but roll his eyes when the boy mentioned his boyfriend.
Regulus widened his eyes, a spark of defiance playing in his silver gaze. — "And why shouldn't I? He's loyal. More loyal than most of your... Slytherin colleagues."
— "Loyalty and stupidity are not mutually exclusive, Regulus." — Severus retorted, clearly uncomfortable. He leaned forward, erasing the distance between them on the bed. The smell of turpentine and coffee enveloped the younger boy. — "He's loud. He has eyes that are too big for things that don't concern him. He's the kind of person who burns himself just for attention."
The amusement in Regulus's eyes faded, replaced by a shadow of genuine irritation. He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms. — "And you, then? You're the kind of person who hides from everything and thinks that makes you smarter than everyone else."
The jab hit its mark. The air between them seemed to grow denser. The candlelight danced on Snape's gaunt cheeks, deepening his shadows. He didn't retreat. On the contrary. A slow, dangerous smile stretched his lips.
— "Ah, but I am smarter than everyone else." — whispered Severus, his hand rising to grip Regulus's chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact. The pressure wasn't brutal, but it was undeniable. — "Including you. Especially you, at this moment."
Black tried to pull away, a low growl escaping his throat. — "Let go."
— "No." — the reply was simple and final. Severus's black eyes pierced his, reading every micro-expression of anger and, beneath it, the excitement that was beginning to boil. — "You love to provoke the beast, don't you, Reggie? You love to poke my arrogance with a stick, just to see what happens. But you never think about what will happen after."
His other hand moved to close tightly in Regulus's dark hair, pulling his head back in a sharp motion that made the young man hold his breath.
— "You speak of loyalty, but you run into the arms of an idiot who would spill your secrets to anyone who gave him attention." — he hissed near his ear, his voice a mix of disdain and possessiveness. — "You need validation from everyone, is that it? From Crouch, from the Death Eaters... but when you're here, with me, that's all that matters, isn't it?"
He pulled his hair harder, and Regulus moaned, his eyes closing.
— "Open your eyes." — Snape ordered, and he obeyed immediately. — "You need to learn. You need to be reminded of where your true loyalty lies. And sometimes, lessons need to be… internalized. Once you told me you wanted to be pure, that you wanted to be purified before receiving the Mark… I will purify you, Reggie. Only I am capable of cleaning you."
The words echoed in the quiet of the room, more solemn and dangerous than any spell. The defiance in his eyes dissolved, replaced by an anticipatory and fearful submission. He was being taken seriously, and was that not what he had always wanted? The total and merciless attention of Severus Snape.
Without breaking eye contact, Severus moved away just enough to grab his blackened leather bag. The sound of the clasps being opened was sharp and precise, a noise that made Regulus's stomach clench. From it, Severus withdrew an amber liquid and an enema bag.
— "You know the principles of alchemical purification." — Severus said, his voice now that of a professor, as he placed the liquid inside the bag. — "The toxin must be expelled. The dirt, washed away. Sometimes, the most effective entry... is the most humiliating one."
Shame burned Regulus's cheeks, but he did not look away. This was serious. It was a ritual. And he had provoked the priest.
— "Lie on your stomach."
Regulus obeyed. The satin of the sheets was cold against his feverish skin. His heart beat erratically in his chest, a frantic drum announcing his vulnerability. He heard the liquid noise, the metallic clinking, and then... the charged silence of expectation.
— "Relax." — the order was a rough whisper, but the hands that positioned themselves on his hips were relentless. Severus removed the bottom part of Regulus's pajamas and smiled upon realizing he wore no underwear.
Severus licked two fingers and lubricated his friend's entrance.
The touch of the cold and strange "lubricant" made all of Regulus's muscles contract at once. A shiver ran down his spine, a visceral reaction of pure embarrassment. He felt his face burn, not just from the situation, but from the clinical and dispassionate way Severus performed the act. The fingers, those long, skillful fingers he so admired, now worked with the same brutal precision on his body, pressing, lubricating, preparing him for an invasion that went far beyond the physical.
— "You're tense." — observed Snape, his voice a low, analytical murmur. The hand that wasn't busy pressed the small of Regulus's back, a firm and undeniable weight. — "Resistance is natural, Reggie, but it's useless. You must yield. The body first, the mind after. That is how purification works."
— "I... I know." — Regulus's voice came out trembling, a hoarse whisper against the satin pillow. Shame was a hot liquid in his veins, but beneath it, a perverse and treacherous excitement began to boil. The authority in Severus's voice, the absolute possession he demonstrated, was something he, in the depths of his conflicted being, craved.
— "Then stop fighting it." — the order was soft, but final. — "Accept it. This is the first part. Humiliation is the fire that burns the impurities of your pride."
And then, came the pressure.
The tip of the bag pressed against him, cold and intrusive. It was a strange, impersonal object, and yet, in Severus's hands, it became an extension of his will. The initial pressure was a sharp discomfort, and Black moaned, his fingers digging deeper into the sheets, his knuckles turning white. He felt his muscles contract violently, trying, in a blind instinct, to expel the invasion.
— "Relax. If you don't relax, it will hurt more. It's pure physiology. Be a good student and obey."
The hand on his lower back pressed harder, immobilizing him. Regulus tried to control his breathing, panting. He felt a stab of pain as the tip passed the first sphincter, an uncomfortable, burning stretch. And then, the flow began.
It was slow, deliberate, terribly invasive. A long moan escaped his lips as the fullness became impossible to ignore, an overwhelming sensation of being filled, invaded, possessed in a visceral and humiliating way. The amber liquid, warm now, flowed into him, filling him, distending him. He could feel the weight, the growing pressure in his bowels, a strange, expansive heat taking over his belly.
— "Is it hurting?" — the question was rhetorical, almost a cruel whisper. He knew perfectly well that it was. His hand left Regulus's waist and held his hip tighter, his fingers digging into the pale flesh. — "Pain is a catalyst. It accelerates the process. Focus on it."
Regulus's body was a battlefield of contradictory sensations. The burning shame mixed with a forbidden pleasure he would never admit to, and the pain of the invasion slowly transformed into a desired possession. Each new gush of the liquid inside him was a reminder of his submission, and paradoxically, each inch of filling was a confirmation that he belonged to Severus in a way no one else could comprehend.
Severus watched every micro-expression on the boy's face with the attention of a scientist before a crucial experiment. His dark eyes captured the tremor of his eyelids, the contraction of his abdominal muscles, the way the young man's fingers dug into the sheets like claws. He saw the confusion, the humiliation, and yes, the awakening of a distorted pleasure that made Regulus's silver eyes darken with desire.
— "Look at that." — his free hand ran down Regulus's tense spine. — "Your body tells me the truth your mouth refuses to admit. You crave this. You crave to be filled, to be purged. To be mine."
To emphasize his words, he pressed the bag a little deeper, and a new flow of the warm liquid invaded Black. The moan that escaped the boy's lips was longer, more guttural, mingling agony and perverse ecstasy. Inevitably, against his conscious will, his member, trapped between his body and the mattress, hardened even more, throbbing in sync with the internal contractions caused by the solution.
Severus smiled, a slow, predatory gesture. He leaned forward, his lips finding the shell of Regulus's ear.
— "Your flesh doesn't lie to me, Reggie." — he whispered, his hot breath causing shivers. — "While you moan in pain, your body offers me pleasure. It's the purest contradiction. The essence of your corrupt nature."
Before Regulus could formulate a response, the pain exploded again. This time, Severus's teeth sank into the muscle of his buttock, a deep and possessive bite that made the young man arch his back and scream. The pain was sharp, demarcating, a brutal affirmation of property that, somehow, intensified the sensation of internal filling. It was as if the external and internal pain merged, creating a cycle of overwhelming sensations.
— "Focus on my mark." — he ordered, his voice a growl against the hot, sweaty skin. — "It's the anchor that keeps you from getting lost. Every time you sit down tomorrow, every time you see these marks in the mirror, you will remember who purified you. Who you belong to."
— "It's... it's too full." — Regulus groaned, his words coming out in broken bursts. The pressure in his abdomen was now a constant, oppressive presence. He felt he would explode, that his bowels could not contain anything more. The urgency to expel was a physical and mental torment.
— "Almost there." — he whispered, his hand stroking Regulus's nape in a disturbingly gentle contrast. — "You're being so strong. So courageous. Just hold on a little longer. Show me you are capable. Show me you're worth the effort."
Severus's words echoed in Regulus's mind like a Confundus Charm. "Strong". "Courageous". "Worth the effort". Each syllable was a balm and a scourge, feeding the part of him that desperately craved that validation, that recognition from that specific source. He swallowed dryly, focusing on Snape's deep voice, trying to hold on, trying to be "good" enough, "strong" enough to deserve that approval which was both a prize and a prison.
— "That's right..." — he whispered, his lips now tracing the line of Black's spine, between the marks he had already left. — "Focus on my voice. Let it guide you through the discomfort. You are a Black. Pure blood. Strength and pride. Show me that now. Show me that strength you hide under this spoiled boy's skin."
To reinforce his point, he applied another bite, this time higher, on his back, near the clavicle. It was a sharp, deliberate sting that made him scream, his body writhing against the bed. The pain was a beacon in the midst of the whirlwind of sensations, and he clung to it, as Severus had ordered.
— "Good boy." — he growled, his voice laden with perverse satisfaction. — "You are accepting the pain so well. You are accepting my mark. Every bite is a seal, Reggie. A reminder that you are property. My property."
As he spoke, his hand, which had until then been firm on Regulus's hip, slid to the front, finding the young man's erect, neglected cock. The touch was direct, impersonal, but electrifying. Regulus shuddered violently, a new moan escaping his lips, this time purely from surprised pleasure.
— "Is that it?" — he asked, his voice a sarcastic and intimate murmur in his ear while his hand began to move with a firm, rhythmic pressure. — "Is that your dirtiest truth? The humiliation and the pain... does that turn you on? Being part of my ritual gets your cock hard, you fucking disgusting whore?"
The words were harsh, degrading, but spoken in that low, possessive tone, and combined with the skillful stimulation of his hand, they only fueled the fire within him. He was ashamed, yes, but more than that, he was aroused. The contradiction was intoxicating.
— "Please, Sev..." — he moaned, not really knowing what he was asking for. For more? For less? For it to end? For it to never end?
— "Please, what?" — Severus pressed, his hand stopping suddenly, making Regulus sigh in frustration. — "Use your words, Reggie. Tell me what you want. Ask."
The internal pressure from the liquid was now an almost unbearable agony. He was full to the brim, distended, and the need for release was a brutal physical imperative.
— "Please... let me... let me come." — Regulus pleaded, the words coming out as a broken sigh. It was an admission of defeat, a confession of his perverse pleasure in the situation.
Severus laughed softly, a hoarse and victorious sound.
— "Not yet." — he whispered, his hand starting its movement again, slower now, torturous. — "First, the purification. First, you empty yourself of all the filth. Then, and only then, will you have your reward. Coming is the reward for being a good boy and doing as you're told. Do you understand?"
Regulus shook his head, a small, desperate movement against the pillow. — "Yes... yes, I understand."
— "Good. You are learning. I am proud of you."
With those words, he removed the bag in a smooth motion. The relief of the removal was instantaneous, but the internal pressure remained, a bomb about to explode. Severus's hand left Regulus's member and returned to the small of his back, pressing down firmly.
— "Now." — Severus's voice sounded like a final judge. — "Expel it. Release everything. Don't fight it. Let it out. Show me how obedient you can be."
And Regulus, brought to the absolute limit of his endurance, obeyed.
It was not a graceful process. It was primal, visceral, a total surrender of the body and any shred of dignity. A guttural, almost animal sound tore from his throat as he emptied himself, a torrent of release that seemed to drag pieces of his soul with it. His whole body shook, racked by uncontrollable spasms, sweat and tears covering his face. The smell of the potion and his own body filled the air, the concrete aroma of his humiliation and purification.
When the last wave of cramps passed, he was exhausted, panting, feeling hollow, emptied, purified. The shame was still there, a hot ember in his chest, but it was overshadowed by an exhaustion so profound it bordered on stupor.
Severus didn't say a word. With meticulous and unexpectedly gentle movements, he cleaned Regulus with a damp, warmed cloth that appeared magically in his hand. His hands, which moments before had inflicted pain and humiliation, now caressed the sensitive, trembling skin, offering silent comfort. He cleaned his thighs, his buttocks, his back, with a clinical efficiency that, in this context, was an act of profound care.
He then rolled Regulus onto his stomach again, but this time, his intentions were different. His hands traced the marks of the bites, the red and purple grooves that dotted the pale skin.
— "Beautiful." — Severus murmured, his voice softer than Regulus had ever heard it. — "You are marked. You are mine. Only mine."
He positioned himself over Regulus, not with violence, but with a solemn determination. He removed his own trousers and underwear. Regulus felt the tip of Severus's erect cock press against his entrance, still sensitive and relaxed from the procedure. He shuddered, but not from fear. It was an anticipation laden with fatigue and submission.
— "This is part of the purification too..." — Severus whispered, leaning forward, his body covering Regulus's, his lips finding the shell of his ear. — "This is to remind you who fills you now. Who has a right to this body."
And then, he entered.
It was a slow, inexorable penetration, but not painful. Regulus's body, already violated and emptied, accepted him with a strange ease. It was a different sensation from everything. It wasn't the clinical invasion of the bag, nor the sharp pain of the bites. It was an occupation, a physical affirmation of the possession Severus claimed. A filling that was, in a way, comforting in its finality.
Snape did not move with the fury or coldness of before. His hips moved in a slow, deep rhythm. One of his hands interlaced with Black's on the bed, while the other held his hip, pulling him into each thrust with a gentle, yet unquestionable possessiveness.
— "You are so open for me." — he whispered, his hot breath against the boy's neck. — "So receptive. After everything, you still accept me. That is... remarkable."
He changed the angle slightly, and Regulus moaned, a sensation of intense, deep pleasure running through his exhausted body. It wasn't the same sharp, forbidden pleasure as before; it was something more organic, darker, more comfortable. It was the sensation of fitting perfectly into a mold that had been painfully carved for him.
— "That's it." — he encouraged, his voice a rough murmur. — "Let yourself feel it. This pleasure is yours. It is our reward. You've earned it. You have been so good."
The praise returned, but now in a different context. It was no longer an incentive to endure pain, but a celebration of his submission, of his acceptance. Each word of praise made Regulus sink deeper into the mattress, deeper into the sensation, deeper into Severus's possession.
Severus's rhythm gradually increased, becoming firmer, more demanding. The bed creaked softly, and the dirty, wet sounds of sex filled the air, mingling with their panting breaths. It was comfortable in its distorted intimacy, and messy in its physical reality; sweat, the residual smell of the potion, spit, the sensation of being open and used.
Severus buried his face in Regulus's neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic, deeper.
— "You are mine, Reggie." — he snarled, his voice tense with the imminence of orgasm. — "Your cum, your ass, your pain, your pleasure... all mine. Say it. Say you're mine."
— "Yours!" — Regulus moaned, the word coming out as a surrendered sigh. — "I'm all yours, Sev! Please!"
It was what he needed to hear. With a muffled grunt, he buried himself deep inside Regulus, his body stiffening as orgasm racked through him. Regulus felt the hot pulsing inside him, and it was the trigger for his own release. His own body, so used and manipulated, found its climax with a trembling, prolonged moan, spilling itself between his belly and the already dirty sheets, a final physical surrender.
For a long moment, there was no sound except the panting breaths of the two. Severus collapsed onto Regulus, his weight a warm, heavy blanket. He did not withdraw immediately. Instead, his arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer still, in an embrace that was both possessive and protective.
Gradually, reality returned. The smell in the room was a complex and embarrassing mixture of sex, sweat, and the amber potion. The satin sheets were crumpled and stained with cum. Regulus's body ached in a dozen different places, and the marks of the bites throbbed with every beat of his heart.
Severus finally moved, rolling onto his side and taking Regulus with him, keeping him pinned against his body. With a tired flick of his wand, he cleaned them both and the sheets with a spell. The sudden comfort of being clean and dry, still wrapped in Severus's arms, was almost overwhelming.
He grabbed a blanket and pulled it over them, creating a cocoon in the dimness of the room. The candles were low now, casting long, dancing shadows.
— "It is done." — Severus whispered, his voice hoarse but incredibly soft. He kissed Regulus's nape, right where one of his deepest bites was. — "You are purified. You are clean. And you are mine."
Regulus did not respond. He had no words. He just nestled deeper into the embrace, his body finding a natural fit against Severus's. Exhaustion pulled him toward sleep, a heavy, dreamless sleep. The marks on his skin hurt, but the pain was a reminder. The body was clean, emptied, filled again only by Severus. His mind, exhausted, had stopped fighting.
And in that post-storm silence, wrapped in the man who was his executioner, his priest, his lover, and his only safe harbor, he understood that this was the only truth left for him. He belonged to Severus. Body, mind, and soul. The purification had been violent, humiliating, comfortable, and messy. And, however distorted it was, that was his salvation. He closed his eyes and, for the first time that night, slept in peace.