TITLE: Another Bloody Slave Auction

AUTHOR: undun



EMAIL: undunoops@yahoo.com

CATEGORY: Humour, smut!

DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit is being made by this fiction.

SUMMARY: Some people, more than others, need to let their hair down.

CHALLENGE: Submitted for the Master and the Wolf FQF, August 2005. Challenge number 7: Lupin/Snape bought Snape/Lupin in a charity auction. Humor fic is preferable.

BETA: Emergency word surgery performed by the wonderfully pernickety Chasing Circles.



‘Another Bloody Slave Auction’



Part One: ‘The Public Scene’



Oh, what joy.


Snape sniffed disdainfully and went off to find his Happy Place; that place in his mind where there were no schools for immature specimens of wizarding kind – due entirely to the non-existence of said immature specimens of wizarding kind.


Yes, oh-yes…


His mind slobbered shamefully at this vision of the world. A strange, distant smile twitched at his lips, sending a variety of shivers along the various spines of those who happened to catch sight of it. Snape was peripherally aware of Dumbledore’s gavel coming down to mark the success of another bid. Longbottom stepped down after nominating his successor. Of course the whelp wouldn’t have nominated Snape, so he had nothing to worry about. As the Head of Slytherin House he was obliged to attend, but mere physical presence was all Albus could expect of him; he certainly wasn’t going to bid for any of these sorry bastards. And, as nobody would have the testicles to name him as the next to go up for auction, he was free to spend an hour or two engaging in the blissful illusion that children simply Did Not Exist.


“Can I have an opening bid for Professor Lupin? Anyone?”




Snape’s pleasant vision of Life Without Children came to a painful, shuddering end.


“Yes, Miss Weasley?”


“Ten sickles!”


Ten bloody sickles? Even the Lovegood girl had started at twenty-five. Well, he is disgracefully tatty and threadbare, but I thought Gryffindors were supposed to value the Inner Wizard.


There was gentle laughter throughout the hall. Snape stared hard at Lupin trying to see his expression, but it was difficult with Lupin standing in front of the staff table facing the students. He did notice the werewolf give a small, self-deprecating shrug and then wave briefly at the Gryffindor table.


“Ten sickles from Miss Weasley! Am I bid twenty sickles? Will someone bid twenty for our esteemed Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor?”


“Twenty sickles!”


“Ah, another bid from Gryffindor! Thank you, Miss Granger. Now we have twenty for our dear Professor Lupin. Do I hear thirty?


Lupin raised his hand once more to acknowledge the new bidder. There was murmuring in the hall now, as it was two Gryffindors competing for the same merchandise. Snape sneered at the blatant display of unruly hormones. How could Lupin allow himself to be a part of this public humiliation?


Though come to think of it, I suppose he’s used to public humiliation.


The females in question were giving each other the very coldest of looks. One voice could be heard momentarily clear of the surrounding hubbub – “It’s disgusting, putting a damned half-breed up for sale – who would want to have that thing hanging around for two days?”


The Malfoy offspring, of course. He was ever so dense at times. Without the slightest degree of forethought – and given his track record of carefully crafted, planned action, this was perhaps a unique experience for Snape – he raised his hand and in a terse voice said,


“Thirty sickles.”


He hadn’t seen Albus turn around that quickly since the Dark Lord apparated right behind him moments before his demise.


“Severus? Did I hear you say thirty sickles?”


Disbelief had given the Headmaster’s voice a querulous quality. He blinked at Snape who nodded briefly then added,


“Just so.”


“Oh. Right then. Yes.” Dumbledore looked back at the students, the vast bulk of them unmoving and silent in response to this outlandish behaviour from their most unfavoured teacher. “I have a bid for thirty sickles for Professor Lupin. Do I hear forty?”


You’d better bloody not!


“Forty sickles!”


The decidedly squeaky voice came from one of the chits in Gryffindor, of course. But which one? Snape glared at them both on principle.


“Excellent! That’s forty sickles for Professor Lupin. Do I hear fifty?”


“Fifty sickles!” Snape hissed.


The two Gryffindors seemed to be huddled in a hurried conference. Snape frowned.


“Sixty sickles!”


This time the tone was confident and carried easily over the distance between  the students’ table and the front of the dais. Snape frowned again.


They’ve joined forces, the unspeakable brats! This means war.


“Seventy sickles!”


Dumbledore’s voice droned on, but Snape wasn’t really listening – his eyes were trained on the Gryffindor table, on his two opponents. Another quick conference, and then,


“Eighty sickles!”


Snape’s teeth ground together. His nostrils flared. His buttocks clenched.




“One galleon.”


Snape’s head swivelled almost as quickly as Dumbledore’s had when the Dark Lord had tried to get the jump on him.




“Professor McGonagall bids one galleon for Professor Lupin! I had no idea you were quite this popular, Professor Lupin,” Dumbledore addressed the werewolf standing at the front of the dais who had turned to wave briefly at McGonagall. Lupin smiled self-consciously.


The witch looked back at him, lips pressed as tightly closed as her purse, although it appeared she wanted to part with at least some her money tonight. Snape couldn’t remember an occasion like it in all his years of teaching (unless you counted her spending a certain amount on equipping an underage Seeker for her Quidditch team seven years ago. But for a Head of House, Quidditch was different). She raised her eyebrows at his stare, issuing a challenge.


Damn the woman!


“Two galleons!”


Dumbledore fairly goggled at him. “Severus, are you sure…?”


“I said two bloody galleons!”


“Very well. I have two galleons for our dear Professor Lupin! Do I hear three galleons?”


Lupin finally turned to look at Snape, his face wearing an anxious expression. Snape raised his right eyebrow, looking the werewolf up and down, slowly and deliberately. Lupin flushed a rather fetching pink. Snape smirked.


“Five galleons,” McGonagall stated firmly.




The background murmur in the hall rose and fell briefly as the students developed and discarded theories to explain the clearly twisted behaviour of their so-called betters.


“Do I hear a further bid? Any increase on five galleons?”


There was a sudden hush as the assembled throng waited breathlessly. Snape huffed.


“Six galleons.” Well, he wasn’t going to skip ahead like some kind of lovesick spinster!


Does she even know what to do with a wolf? Or a man for that matter.


The noise increased again at this new bid. Dumbledore’s voice rose above it effortlessly.


“Six galleons for Professor Lupin! Do I hear a bid for seven perhaps?” he asked, turning to peer at McGonagall.


“Seven galleons.”


Damn, buggery and bollocks!


Lupin was craning his neck to stare back at the teachers’ table now, his eyes shifting from Snape to McGonagall – evident confusion in his face.


Oh, marvellous! Looks like he wouldn’t know what to do with a man either.


For the first time it dawned on Snape that the activity he was currently engaged in was only just short of taking the Dark Mark in terms of sheer perversity. As if that was going to stop him now; after all, the Dark Lord had been defeated, the death eaters disbanded, the seventh year about to leave en masse. Why shouldn’t he have a bit of illicit fun? And all in the name of war orphans, of course. Yes, that was it! He was doing this for The Orphans!


All very nice and… erm, nice, but he’d spent long enough on this particular exercise. High time he was back in his chambers having his bed warmed. Charity begins at home after all. Snape smiled. McGonagall looked startled.


“Fifty galleons, if you please,” said Snape in his admittedly attractive voice – or so he admitted to himself at least. One must work with what material one had. His mother had said something along those lines before she disappeared to the Greek Isles.


It was very quiet in the hall. A nervous student sent an ill-timed fart out into the silence. No one laughed.


Snape’s smile was showing teeth. Lupin’s eyes couldn’t get any wider and still remain in his occipital cavities. McGonagall drained her wine goblet in one hit and placed it slowly on the table in front of her. She stared down at it in silence.


“Fifty… fifty galleons for the Professor! Well!” Dumbledore exclaimed in wonder. “Fifty galleons! Very generous, Professor Snape!” so saying he beamed at Snape proudly, who nodded acceptance of the praise.


Just hand over the merchandise and no one gets hurt.


“Going once…”


Snape peered at the rest of the staff, looking for signs of trouble. No one would meet his eye. Good.


“Going twice…”




“Finish that sentence, Mister Malfoy, and I will not guarantee you a painless death.”


“Er, never mind, Headmaster.”


“Going three times. Sold! Sold to Professor Snape for fifty galleons!”


Lupin looked dazed. He gave a short bow in acknowledgement of the scattered applause, then headed to the teachers’ table. Dumbledore stopped his progress, asking, “Your successor, Professor, before you leave us?”


“Oh! Right. Yes, Harry Potter,” he answered without any real interest. The students, however, found it very interesting. Very interesting indeed, if one happened to be watching Draco Malfoy’s face at that moment – which Snape had been. His mouth sketched an unnatural grin.


I know how this is going to end. No need to stay any longer. Where’s my slave?


Snape rose from his chair and beckoned towards the door at the rear of the teachers’ table. Lupin changed direction immediately and Snape’s stomach fluttered at the possibilities ahead. He strode over to Dumbledore and leant down to murmur,


“Might I have next month’s pay in advance, Headmaster?”


Dumbledore gave him a sharp look. “You’ve bid money you didn’t possess?”


Snape gave him a hurt look. “It was for The Orphans, Headmaster!”


“Hummf,” Dumbledore replied succinctly. “Yes, alright then. I’ll have it deposited to your account.”


“Oh, no need – just send it on to the War Orphans Fundraising Committee,” Snape said, turning to leave. Dumbledore’s voice stopped him.


“He has a class on Monday, Severus.”


Snape shrugged in feigned puzzlement. “And?”


“Leave him in fit condition to teach, please?”


Snape bowed, hiding a smirk, and left the hall.



*** *** ***



Part Two: ‘The Negotiated Scene’



The door shut behind them with an ominous boom, the solid oak settling into the foot-wide doorjamb with all the permanence of a standing stone on Salisbury Plain.


Snape strode across the sitting room to the whiskey decanter, observing Lupin out of the corner of his eye. How should he proceed? After all, he didn’t want the werewolf pressing charges after the weekend.


“Whiskey?” he asked, offering Lupin the glass in his hand.


“Thank you, don’t mind if I do,” he replied, accepting the drink with a hint of desperation in his eyes. “Er, Severus, I’m not sure what you want me to do here. Could we discuss the arrangements?”


Snape finished pouring his glass before studying the man before him briefly. He had already seen that Lupin was nervous – in fact, he’d never seen him quite this nervous before. He took a sip of whiskey and answered carefully, “I’m sure we could find some mutual accommodation, something we could both enjoy and that would serve the purpose of your enslavement for forty-eight hours.”


Lupin cleared his throat. “That’s still not very specific, Severus,” he began.


Snape watched as he swayed ever so slightly side-to-side.


“I really need to know what you expect of me,” Lupin finished in a slightly clipped voice.


Snape moved closer, raking his eyes up and down the werewolf’s shabby, but weirdly alluring, form. “Come now, Lupin – do I have to spell everything out for you?”


“Yes, yes, I’m afraid you do!” Lupin said with a hectic tone, his swaying more pronounced now.


Being somewhat concerned that the man would spread his length on the hard stone floor, Snape put a hand out to steady him. As his hand met the trembling shoulder Lupin flinched as if struck. Snape quickly removed his hand, sighing with frustration.


What was he so afraid of? Admittedly he – Snape – was no oil painting (although, after he died, who could say?), but they had been on friendly terms for some time now. Had he been wrong when he sensed Lupin would be attracted to men? It was hard to tell, really – what with Lupin’s tendency to eschew all forms of intimate company.


Dear Lord…


“Someone has hurt you,” he whispered.


“Oh, no! Nothing like that,” the werewolf assured him hastily.


Snape narrowed his eyes in consideration. Several scenarios played out in his mind as he picked at the puzzle of Lupin’s behaviour. Lupin, meanwhile, twitched under his gaze, giving rise to an odd vision of a large, pinned butterfly struggling to get loose. Snape’s scornful snort made the man in question jump with an almost guilty air.


“Nonsense, Lupin. Someone, at some time, has marked you badly, either on the outside, or the inside, or more likely both,” Snape pronounced, feeling confident of his guess. He continued, “The question is, how long ago did it happen and why have you not recovered?”


“Ah, no. Wrong again, I’m afraid, Severus,” Lupin said with a forced laugh. “There are no dark secrets hidden in my private life. No secrets at all, actually!”


He became quite still, gazing down into his glass, and it was at that point that Snape received a stunning revelation.


“You’re a virgin!”


Lupin flushed a frightful shade of red, which just as quickly left him; the result a shiny pale face that looked as if its host body might collapse.


“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, sit down before you fall down, man!” Snape ordered, clutching a trembling arm and all but throwing Lupin into one of the armchairs nearest the fireplace. He swished his wand to start a blaze in the hearth, concluding that a cheery fire could only help matters. He could certainly use some cheering, now that his plans for a debauched weekend looked completely unworkable. Unless…


He sat opposite Lupin and took a slow sip of his whiskey. Determined not to alarm the man he fully intended to seduce, he asked casually, “So tell me how a man like you arrived at the ripe old age of forty-three without a single act of sexual intercourse.”


Snape watched Lupin gulp his whiskey before replying. The man really did have an enticing neck, with quite a succulent looking Adam’s apple.


“Forty-four, actually. My school entry was delayed a year.” Lupin stalled, taking another sip of whiskey before continuing. “Well. I almost did… when I was younger. It, um, didn’t work out for me… at that time. And, well – you see, it isn’t easy. Because, I do have to be very careful. And, well, it seems that… well, if I get, erm, aroused, then, um, well… It comes to the fore.”


Snape was fascinated. Not that he understood a word that Lupin had just uttered, it was more to do with the intense discomfort the man was clearly experiencing just talking about sex! “ ‘It’?” he prompted automatically, eyes fixed on the bobbing movement of Lupin’s throat.


“Yes. Well, I think of it as The Wolf. It is a range of instincts that I possess as a werewolf, quite distinct from the human instincts that I have. I suppose I’ve always had something of a split personality. It is a crutch, to think of that part of me as a separate entity, but it seems to help me accept what happens every month; to plan for Its appearance. Sorry, I appear to be rambling,” Lupin finished abruptly.


“Not at all. I find it all very interesting,” Snape said, and felt strange to realise that it was the truth. “So you’re afraid of aggressive tendencies while aroused?” he asked with genuine curiousity.


A touch of pink lit Lupin’s cheekbones, giving him a healthier appearance. He took another mouthful of whiskey before replying. “Yes. I would hate to hurt anyone – I came very close to it when I was younger. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop once I started…” he trailed off, taking another sip from his glass. “Well, abstinence is by far the lesser of two evils,” he finished with a sigh.


Snape hummed slightly as he stroked his chin. “This is a personal question,” he began, Lupin interrupted with a nervous laugh.


“Are you saying that everything up until now wasn’t personal?”


Snape sniffed at the observation, but continued, “Are you attracted more to males or females?”


Lupin coughed, trying not choke on a mouthful of whiskey. “Oh! I don’t really know. I’ve always tried not to think about it, you see,” he answered.


“Shite,” Snape swore softly to himself.


“Severus? What–”


“Lupin, it is disgraceful that you have been missing out on a crucial part of the human experience!” he exclaimed. “I can help you,” he added in a quieter voice.


“You can?” Lupin’s eyes were wide once more. “No, you can’t. Of course you can’t,” he said angrily, rising a touch unsteadily from the chair. “Please, Severus, don’t make jokes about this,” he said with quiet dignity, turning away from the hearth.


Snape placed his glass on the occasional table beside his chair and stood to block Lupin’s path to the door. “Don’t leave. Please, let me explain what I had in mind.” He managed to get Lupin to sit down again. “By all means, leave if it doesn’t interest you, although you may have to come back for the day tomorrow and mark a few hundred essays instead,” he added with a smirk on his face.


“Alright. I’m listening,” Lupin said with a wary look in his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”


“The first thing we need to establish is this: do you trust me?” Snape sat forward on the chair, his elbows balanced on his knees while he stared intently into Lupin’s face. He would know if he lied.


“Yes. Yes, of course I trust you,” came the reply. While it was truthful, Snape wasn’t quite satisfied.


“Do you trust me with your body?” he asked. “Do you trust me not to do anything that you don’t want me to do?”


Lupin stared back at him, hesitating. He swallowed loudly into the silence before replying. “Yes.”


“Do you trust me with your self, your mind?”


Lupin’s eyes closed briefly before he replied, “Yes.”


“There may be a way to ensure that you couldn’t hurt me. What if it wasn’t possible for you to hurt me in any way?” Snape asked.


Lupin’s brow wrinkled. “But, how? You know how strong I can be, Severus, don’t let my clearly undernourished look fool you!” he smiled nervously.


“If there was a way, would you like to try it?”


“Yes, I very much would,” Lupin answered with a small smile.


“If you wish it, I could tie you up. Would that appeal to you?” He could see the man’s breath quicken, his lips part slightly.


“Oh,” came the barely audible response. “I couldn’t hurt you then, could I?”


“I very much doubt it,” Snape agreed. He continued, “When you’re secure and comfortable, would you like me to do anything in particular?” And still Snape stared closely at Lupin, looking for doubt rather than fear. An element of fear was a given at this point – something to be overcome through the act of sex.


“O-ohh,” Lupin repeated – this time sounding more like a moan. Snape’s eyes slid down to the werewolf’s crotch, and noted – with approval and not a little excitement of his own – the bulge developing there.


“Would you, could you–”


He couldn’t finish the request, but, to Snape’s gratification, his eyes dropped to linger briefly between Snape’s legs.


“Fuck you?” Snape supplied.


“Oh, yes,” Lupin sighed.


Snape leaned back in his chair, sighing softly.


He’s lovely, and he’s going to give himself to me.


Snape knew that he had to do this right; since he was to be the one binding Lupin, it was his responsibility to take care of him. “We will have to have a safe word. If at any time you wish to be released, you say the safe word and I will untie you immediately.”




“Yes what?” Snape asked. Lupin would have to be specific about every detail. There could be no room for misunderstanding or he could suffer even more than he had done to this point. He did seem to catch on that he would need to be more involved in the process.


“Severus, I want you to tie me up and I want you to… to fuck me. Please?”


Snape smiled. There was something endearing about the man. Despite all of the complexities of his existence (and as his Wolfsbane brewer he knew more about it than most), Lupin was at heart a simple man, and in this situation utterly vulnerable to abuse of trust. Somehow this made Snape all the more determined that he was going to do the best he could to give the man a decent, hopefully unforgettable, fucking. He wiped the smile off his face lest Lupin mistake it for mockery.


“I would be honoured to, Lupin,” he answered gravely. “Now, the matter of the safe word. It needs to be a quick, easy to pronounce word, and not something that would likely come up while we are actually having sex.” He raised his eyebrows at the werewolf in question. It would be better for Lupin to decide for himself if possible.


“Right. What about ‘marauders’?”


“You must be joking!”


“Sorry! No, not suitable at all,” Lupin apologised quickly. “Well, we could use ‘aconite’. No, too long,” he said, then chewed his lip thoughtfully.


Snape sat back and waited, trying not to stare now, as each gesture was pulling at him until he thought he was going to launch himself at the man. Control. He had to stay completely in control since the whole idea was to make sure Lupin could lose his safely. Something fluttered deep inside again.


“I’ve got it – ‘shack’!”


“You really are a tactless bastard, aren’t you?” Snape uttered in disbelief.


“Oh, God! You’re right. What is wrong with me tonight?” Lupin slapped his thigh in frustration.


“Don’t worry, Lupin. I daresay nerves are playing at least some part in your extraordinary inability to think just now,” Snape drawled.


Lupin snorted. “Yes, it isn’t every day an old friend offers to tie me to the bed after all.”


“Just so. I may have a suggestion.”


“Yes?” Lupin looked desperate for any ideas.


“What is your favourite colour?”


“Oh, ‘aubergine’.” There was a definite quirk at the corner of Lupin’s mouth.




“Sorry, nerves! ‘Blue’ would be ideal, wouldn’t it?”


“Oh, dear me, a Gryffindor who likes blue rather than red,” Severus teased.


“ ‘Blue’ it is!” the werewolf confirmed with a shaky laugh. “Erm, what do we do now?”


“Now we relax,” Snape answered. He rose from the chair and held out his hand. “And we get more familiar with each other.” Lupin took his proffered hand and Snape led him to the sofa where they sat side by side. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable at any point and we’ll try something else,” he said, trailing his hand up Lupin’s neck to thread his fingers through the hair at the back of his head.


“Hmmm,” came the reply, Lupin having given up verbal communication in favour of lolling his head back against Snape’s hand.


Damn! He’s so responsive!


Like metal to magnet, Snape found his lips on Lupin’s throat. After that it was hard to tell who was moaning at any given moment.


When Snape found himself tangled in his own shirtsleeves and Lupin fiddling with his trouser fastenings, he thought they might be ready for the next step.



*** *** ***



Part Three: ‘The Sex Scene’



“On the bed now,” Snape ordered, anticipation fluttering urgently in his stomach. He had managed to manoeuvre every stitch of clothing off the man and was trying not to leer.


Lupin, he was gratified to see, obeyed immediately, asking, “Um, how do you want me?”


Snape allowed a moment of silence to appreciate all the various meanings such a question could carry, then replied, “On your knees and elbows, please.” He had to keep his tone light so as not to spook him. Lupin’s anxiety was palpable.


He took the rope holding the curtains open on one side of the large four-poster, tearing the drapery off altogether when they swung down unimpeded, obscuring the bed from view. He fingered the smooth, plaited rope.


Yes, it will do nicely. A simple lengthening charm…


In a moment he had several loops of rope swinging from his arm, spilling to the floor. He divided the rope into two lengths, tying the end of the first rope to a leg of the bed. Snape then wound the rope around one of Lupin’s ankles, careful not to pull it too tight. He tied off the knot and repeated the process for his other ankle. He paused to observe his work briefly. Lupin pushed himself up to a kneeling position, touching the ropes hesitantly.


“Comfortable?” Snape enquired.


“Strangely, yes,” Lupin replied with an puzzled smile.


“Lean on your elbows now and I shall tie your arms,” Snape said, and moved to pull the curtains down from the other side of his bed. After dividing the rope, he threaded them through the wrought iron at the head of the bed and wound them one at a time around Lupin’s arms above the elbows. He stepped back to admire the vision of trussed werewolf. Lupin gave an experimental tug of the ropes, grunting softly.


“How does it feel?” Snape asked.


Lupin looked back at him, smiling nervously. “Quite vulnerable. Comfortable though,” he replied with a short laugh. “I must look more than a little ridiculous!”


Snape ran a hand down to his burgeoning erection, stroking himself gently through his trousers. “Believe me, Lupin, the one thing you do not look is ridiculous.”


He tested the ropes binding Lupin’s arms, sliding a finger comfortably between the smooth fibre and the werewolf’s warm skin. He checked the man’s bound ankles next, making sure that there was no impairment to circulation. All the preparations were finished and they could begin. First–


“Lupin, what is the safe word?”


“Blue,” he replied promptly.


“What do say if you want me to stop?”




“Alright. Shall we begin?”


“Yes,” came Lupin’s breathless reply.


Severus moved deliberately to the head of the bed until Lupin had a clear view of him. He began removing his trousers. Lupin’s mouth dropped open at the sight. Snape smirked down at him as he dropped articles of clothing one by one. By the time he got down to his socks, Lupin was openly panting at him. Snape found himself wonderfully rigid in response.


How long has it been since I’ve been this hard?


He picked up the jar he’d retrieved from his bedside table.


A little lotion to ease the way, dear Lupin.


He dipped his fingers into the jar and moved to kneel behind Lupin.


“Ah! Severus, stop!” Lupin protested in a panicky voice.


Snape held still. “What’s the safe word, Lupin?”




“Are you using it now?”


“No,” Lupin panted.


“Do we continue?” Snape asked, gently stroking Lupin’s hip.


“Yes. Sorry,” Lupin replied breathlessly.


“No need to apologise, Lupin.”


“I’m frightened.”


“I understand. No harm will come to you here,” Snape said in a calming voice.


“No, I’m scared that I might–”


“I know. I’m safe as well. You can’t harm me, Lupin,” Snape reassured him. “Now, just relax,” he said, gently sliding his fingers back to the werewolf’s opening.


“No, no, no, no,” Lupin chanted softly as the fingers penetrated him.


Snape held still again, waiting to see if he would use the safe word. After a few seconds Lupin moved back slightly, taking Snape’s fingers further inside and letting loose a long shuddering groan. Snape held his fingers motionless, using his free hand to touch and stroke Lupin’ship while the werewolf moved cautiously forwards, backwards – a slow-motion fuck.


Snape gazed down, quite speechless with wonder at the sight. He rotated his fingers, searching for the sweet spot – he was planning to flay the man with pleasure.


Found it.


Lupin howled, shaking the bed head with the force he used to pull against the ropes. For the first time Snape considered the possibility that Lupin might actually harm himself, rather than anyone else.


I’ll have to watch out in case he tries to dislocate a bloody shoulder!


He slipped his free hand around Lupin’s hip, brushing his fingers through the soft smattering of fur on the werewolf’s abdomen.


“Oh, oh, please, Severus! Please!”


“What do you want, Lupin?”


“I don’t… I don’t know!” Lupin answered in anguish.


“Do you want to come?” Snape asked him, feeling slightly foolish when he realised that he had curled himself over Lupin and was nibbling the top of his shoulder. He should be more careful. He had to stay in control.


“Not yet, not yet,” Lupin panted in reply. “I love your weight on me,” he added breathlessly, hips still moving on Snape’s fingers. “Feels good, what you’re doing.”


Snape moved his mouth to Lupin’s ear. “Shall we go further now?”


“Are you going to fuck me?” Lupin asked and turned his head to look at Snape over his shoulder.


“Is that what you want?”


“Oh. Yes,” Lupin replied, each word exhaled as a pant as his hips moved back and forth restlessly. “I can’t fucking stop,” he laughed.


There, I’m doing something right. He’s laughing.


Snape slid his fingers slowly out of Lupin, who gave a bereft whimper. He knelt closer to the bound man, moved his legs slightly further apart, and lined himself up to the target. He slid his cock just inside the ring of Lupin’s arse. He rather thought it belonged there; it gave a lurch much as a horse might at scenting the home stable. Lupin seemed to have other ideas though. Snape reached across his back to rub and stroke his shoulders, working himself slightly further inside as he did so. The man under him whimpered slightly, his fresh sweat wafting a heady scent through the air.


“Easy. Settle down,” Snape ordered softly, the horse metaphor somehow transferring from his fanciful thoughts to way he spoke in order calm the beast beneath him.


“No, stop!” Lupin sobbed, pulling at the restraints Snape had so carefully placed him in. The anxiety rolled off him in waves.


More soothing was needed to reassure the man that he could completely relinquish his controls. Snape stroked his back, rubbing his hands firmly along the slick skin. “Come now, it isn’t that bad. Just relax and let me do all the work,” he coaxed. His hips edged forward, his prick piercing the werewolf further.


“No, no! Oh, no…”


Snape held still once more. “I think you like that word, Lupin. You know what to say if you want me to stop,” Snape assured him. After a moment he began stroking along the length of Lupin’s back. The werewolf relaxed slightly as Snape’s hands worked a rhythm designed to undo his rigidly locked muscles.


Lupin gave a choked sob and moved back slightly, taking Snape’s length in to its fullest extent. Snape gasped in pleasure. He fell forward over Lupin’s sweaty back, grinding his balls against the delicious buttocks.


“Sweet Merlin’s nipple ring! Oh, Lupin!” Damn if he wasn’t making the most absurd noises. He’d have to watch that.


Snape reached a hand around Lupin’s hip to find the werewolf’s cock pleasantly hard and leaking copiously. Lupin growled sub-vocally as Snape ran his fingers up and down the trussed man’s length. The werewolf’s head came up with a snap, catching Snape’s cheekbone with a glancing blow.


“Bugger!” he grunted in annoyance. He took his hand away from Lupin’s erection to lever himself up and away from the werewolf’s unpredictable, and rather hard, skull. He had a sudden idea.


Reaching a hand out he grabbed a shank of Lupin’s shaggy hair and locked his fingers around it securely. “How about I just hold you down there for a bit, eh?” he asked softly, and pushed the werewolf’s head down inch by inch until his forehead met the mattress. Lupin was panting as if he’d just run all the way from Edinburgh. “Much better. You’re doing very well,” he said to the trembling form under his hands.


Snape kept a hand buried in the silver-flecked mop as he turned his attention to building a different sort of rhythm.


Shite! I won’t last long at this rate.


He curled over Lupin’s back once more, taking a firm hold of the man’s erection. He pumped into Lupin’s arse, the werewolf thrusting back to meet him with all the eagerness of a bitch in heat.


He’s better than I ever imagined!


He tugged forcefully on Lupin’s cock, wanting to make him come, needing him to come, for Snape could not, would not, let his own climax crash before Lupin’s.


“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Severus, oh, God!” Lupin screamed in a voice so deep and rough as to be unrecognisable as his own. He bucked in the restraints, his head breaking free of Snape’s hold and leaving his fingers holding stray greyish-brown strands. Lean muscles stood out on the werewolf’s arms like base relief sculpture carved into stone.


Snape’s own intention of seeing Lupin through his orgasm before releasing his was forgotten in the face of overwhelming stimulation. The body beneath his went rigid, then thrashed within the confines of the ropes anchoring him. His arse clamped down with such force that Snape thought he might be in need of reattachment surgery, but it was such a grand pain that he thought it would be worth it. He humped his climax inside Lupin without grace, without finesse, and without any awareness. It was as if an immense giant had picked him up, looked him over curiously, then squeezed him between thumb and forefinger to see what would come out.


My soul, my bloody soul just came out!


“Shite,” he panted into Lupin’s neck, the werewolf panting in counterpoint under him.




“Yes,” he gasped, still struggling to catch his breath, and quite certain that he couldn’t feel his legs.


“Could you untie me now?”


There was an anxious sound in the man’s voice that galvanised Snape and he struggled to untie the knots around Lupin’s legs. He cursed himself for not using a magical binding instead, as they would have been quicker to undo. It was as the last loop fell from Lupin’s arm that he noticed his wand lying neglected on the bedside table.


Damn me for a fool! I could have hexed the bloody things off!


Lupin wriggled free of the tangle of cords, grabbing Snape and pulling him down into the wet patch beside him on the bed. But Snape didn’t mind. By his reckoning he still had forty-four hours of ‘slave time’ left on the clock. With his face tucked into the crook of Snape’s shoulder, Lupin couldn’t see Snape’s anticipatory leer.


My poor little werewolf! What plans I have.


*** *** ***



*** *** ***