Enraptured

Disclaimer: I will say this once and only once; HP doesn’t belong to me, and if you think it does then you skipped out on your pills this morning.

AN: This is a response to mydracomalfoy’s challenge for a KS/SS pairing. I was intrigued, so I decided to give it my best shot. Here’s the link to the challenge: http://adultfan.nexcess.net/aff/story.php?no=544178957.


Enraptured

Author: Reikon


Kingsley Shacklebolt’s eyes trailed over pale, almost ghostly flesh. Not a lot of it was privy to his gaze at the moment, but what he saw was enough. Dark eyes set in an ashen face, surrounded by high cheekbones and a hooked nose, all glistening with a fine layer of perspiration. Small, almost nonexistent pink lips parted in concentration. Thick, elegant eyebrows knit closely together. Black sleeves rolled up to expose pale forearms, muscle working deftly beneath the pallid skin.

It was never a chore to accompany Severus Snape while he busied himself with brewing a potion. Currently, both were in the basement of Grimmauld Place, and neither had bothered speaking for over an hour.

Suddenly, Severus’ eyes snapped up, and he glared at Kingsley through the wisps of damp, black hair that covered his eyes partially. “Must you watch my every move, Shacklebolt?” he demanded, his baritone voice (however annoyed) music to the auror’s ears.

“Of course, Severus,” Kingsley replied, a wry grin spreading across his face. “It keeps me busy.”

“Busy?” Snape countered, turning back to his potion and pouring in some powdered graphorn horn. “Busy doing what?” But before Kingsley could even open his mouth to reply, Snape shook his head and muttered, “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

Kingsley just laughed. Severus knew him too well. Kingsley, it seemed, could never get enough of Severus. When he wasn’t busy ravaging the Potions Master himself, he was thinking about doing it. Outwardly, Kingsley was never perceived as more than a dedicated auror, but Severus knew the truth. Yes, he was a dedicated auror, but he was much more than that. He was also a powerful man with near-insatiable needs. Perhaps, because he’d spent so much time being the reliable, friendly, responsible auror everybody expected him to be, he desperately needed to unleash the side of him nobody ever saw or thought he would have – the side filled with sexual energy and emotional needs the size of Hogwarts. And he had found, early enough, that his sexual energy could be spent through a reluctantly willing, snarky Severus Snape. Never mind the emotional needs, he had thought at first, for now I’ll take this.

Over time he had the gall to think that perhaps an emotional relationship would be possible with Snape. He was sorely mistaken. When he first uttered, ‘I love you’, Snape had seemingly fled from sight, and in actuality was only hiding where he felt most safe – in the shadows. He had grown angry, hostile even, at the insinuation that somebody cared about him, and demanded to know what kind of trick Kingsley had been pulling. From that point on, Kingsley decided to keep his emotions somewhat separate from his sex life, even though he ached to combine the two into a powerful connection between himself and his lover.

I’m fucking Severus Snape, he thought, a content but melancholy smile replacing the wry grin he had set onto his face earlier. And I love it.

I love him.

Snape’s focus was once again directed to the potion he had been dutifully concocting for over an hour.

“So…” Kingsley broke the silence again, taking a step away from the wall he was leaning against. “You never did tell me what potion this was, what it’s for… or for whom.”

Snape’s grip on a vial of something tightened. “Shacklebolt, I would ask you to refrain from commenting on anything for the next forty-five minutes, as the next steps in making this potion are exceedingly difficult. It is essential they are performed flawlessly, and if you so much as make a sound to distract me from my task, I will have your head.”

“Which one?”

“Now is not the time,” Snape barked, returning once again to his potion, whatever it was. Kingsley smiled and shook his head. Ever the meticulous potion-maker. It was plainly obvious even in their first-year at Hogwarts that Snape was either going to make potions for a living, or he was going to spend years yelling at people. Who knew, that as the current Potions professor at their old alma mater, he would be able to combine both of his skills so effectively? Now he was respected and feared by all except for those who knew him well, such as Albus Dumbledore or any of the Order. Severus seemed blind to their blatantly obvious fearlessness. Kingsley suspected he knew he wasn’t as scary as he perceived himself to be, but liked to live in his shallow pool of ignorance, pretending that he was feared by all. Even Harry and his entourage seemed wiser to Severus’ ways. They seemed less scared and more sarcastic when it came to Snape – except in the classroom. In the classroom, Snape was their authoritarian leader, and they knew that. But in Grimmauld Place, or anywhere outside of school and away from Voldemort, they could revert to biting wit and calm defiance.

Kingsley waited a few more minutes before speaking again. “Is it a dangerous potion?” he asked interestedly, taking a few steps closer to peer into the cauldron. A reddish-orange glow emanated from the opening, basking both of them in a light that resembled the fire of a phoenix.

Snape ceased his ministrations briefly. “No,” he responded with a slight touch of annoyance before continuing to add to and stir the contents of the cauldron. “And I believe I told you to quit your senseless jabbering.”

“Not in those exact words, you didn’t,” Kingsley said with a smile. He moved to stand behind Snape, leaning against him to stare into the pot. Severus found it painfully apparent that Kingsley didn’t care about what was in the cauldron, but was focusing on the heat that connected their two bodies together. “Would you like some help?” Kingsley asked quietly, his low voice pouring into Snape’s ear like liquid velvet.

Severus sneered. “You know very well I do not require your help,” he growled, trying to concentrate on the potion in front of him instead of the large, muscled body covering his own.

“I could help you with other things,” Kingsley said, snaking one arm around Severus’ waist, letting his hand creep farther down his abdomen to a place very few had been. He gripped Severus’ hip with his other hand. The implication in Kingsley’s words and actions was too deliberate to bypass. Snape shook his head, ignoring the other man’s hand seemingly dancing on his nether regions, and moved to pick up what looked like a rotting, brown onion. Kingsley grimaced and stopped his hand from moving. Knowing full well what sorts of strange things could be combined to make all sorts of potions, it was quite possible that the strange item Severus held in his hand was a rotting, brown onion.

“If you don’t stop that,” Snape began warningly.

“You’ll do what? Throw that thing at me?” Kingsley joked, nodding his head at the strange ingredient Snape held. “Give me a lump on the head? Come on, you wouldn’t do that. You obviously need it for your potion.”

“I have my wand with me, you know. It wouldn’t take very long for me to use it against you.”

Kingsley laughed and cupped Severus’ groin, giving a slight squeeze in appreciation. Snape gave a low, strangled noise in surprise. “I know you’ve got your wand with you,” the auror said. “It’s something very hard to part with.” He stroked Severus through his trousers. “Or very hard in general,” he added with a satisfied smile.

“Shacklebolt, I’m warning you…”

“Yes, we’ve been through that already.”

“If you don’t stop, I’ll be forced to take drastic action, and it won’t be pleasant.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Kingsley said smoothly. During the time Snape had been talking, he had managed to unbutton the front of Snape’s trousers, and snaked his hand inside, pulling out his lover’s cock and stroking it slowly. Snape, never able to accept a situation with a smile or satisfied moan, growled softly at the touch. It was a growl of pleasure nonetheless. Kingsley had learned to recognize over the past two year what Snape’s incoherent noises meant, and how to differentiate a growl of anger from a growl of pleasure. This growl, despite how angry Snape made himself out to be at Kingsley’s persistence and presence, was definitely a growl of pleasure.

“I said stop – ” Snape snarled again, unconsciously moving his hips in time with Kingsley’s strokes. He didn’t want Kingsley to stop, but he had work to do fir the Order…

“And if I choose not to?” Kingsley responded, a touch of boldness underlying his amused tone.

Severus said nothing, just leaned back slightly and hissed in contentment. His hand shakily gripped the faux rotting-onion over the cauldron. Kingsley let go of Snape’s waist long enough to reach up and deftly undo Snape’s high collar. He bent the collar down, away from his lover’s neck and smiled.

Kingsley lowered his head to begin working on Severus’ neck. His teeth grazed a patch of sensitive, pallid skin covering a vein on his neck, and Severus shivered. His neck had always been highly sensitive to touch, Kingsley found. Probably because he spent so much time hiding it behind starchy collars.

Suddenly, quickened breathing and slight shuddering reached Kingsley’s senses. Severus was close. He grunted harshly as he came into Kingsley’s hand, slumping backwards into the protective, familiar body, breathing slightly erratic. It was so refreshing to see Severus Snape lose control of himself, no matter how long or how much control he abandoned.

In this case, Snape’s momentarily lapse of higher brain functions also caused him to forget that he was holding a principle ingredient for his potion – an ingredient that could not be directly added to the cauldron in both its original state and quantity – and dropped the entire thing into the cauldron.

At the sudden harshness of bright purplish light, Severus’ eyes went wide with surprise and fury. “Bloody hell!” he cried, temporarily forgetting that he was Severus Snape, the cold and calculating man who never lost control of himself except around Kingsley and only at certain moments. Now was one of those moments. But before he could resort to stringing together every profanity and curse he ever learned into one long breath, he remembered that it would be less effective if he screamed bloody murder until his throat was raw, and that what had happened was not his own fault. Plus, screaming bloody murder until his throat was raw was just not in his character. He whirled around to face Kingsley, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his trousers and buttoning them up for decency’s sake. He couldn’t have Kingsley’s focus directed elsewhere while he was getting a good chewing-out. “I hope you’re happy, Shacklebolt,” he snapped. “You just cost us a very important potion.”

“Wait,” Kingsley shook his head in disbelief. “Me? You’re saying that I botched your potion? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not. If you hadn’t been doing what you were doing, I might not have dropped it in the first place, you imbecile.”

“But you do admit to dropping it in.”

Snape glared at him murderously. “My action was merely a reaction to your ministrations, which I’ll thank you to refrain from in the future while I am busy with work for the Order.”

Kingsley looked ashamed slightly, but kept shaking his head. “Can’t you just brew up another batch?”

Severus about near-exploded at Kingsley’s words. “Brew up another batch? For merlin’s sake, you make it sound like this was some simple veritaserum potion! This potion has kept me busy for three days, you half-witted, blundering cretin! Your idiocy has lost us valuable time! If being around you has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t be performing difficult manoeuvres, brewing complex potions, or doing anything you wouldn’t comprehend! It seems you are only able to grasp concepts and ideas that have anything to do with your penis, and I use the term grasp loosely,” Snape snarled, spittle flying from his mouth in a very unattractive way as he took his time insulting and belittling the auror standing dumbstruck in the basement. Bollocks to attractiveness; he was too pissed off to care about something like that. He narrowed his eyes and brushed past the taller man. “Next time you decide to accompany me whilst I am preparing a rather complicated brew, it would do you well to think with your smaller organ, and not the other way round.” He made his way to the stairs, but paused at the base. “And believe me; considering the miniscule size of your brain in comparison to your penis, it’s not that much of a difference,” he added coldly, for good measure, and quickly glided up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

Kingsley winced at the sound of the door slamming shut, but even more so at Snape’s words. Snape could be truly harsh at times, and though he wished he wasn’t so, Kingsley knew what he was getting into the moment he started a sexual relationship with the Potions Master. When Snape felt affronted, he made sure to lash out as many times as necessary to deliver a fatal blow – and then some. Usually, his verbal attacks were not without reason, even if whatever reason Snape clung to was insufficient and, in all likelihood, probably about as significant as a crumb on the floor. But perhaps he had gone a bit too far this time. Now Snape was furious and probably wouldn’t speak to Kingsley (except in condescending tones) for a several days. Not only that, but he also had a failed potion to explain to the Order; something he probably wasn’t looking forward to.

Kingsley grumbled. He should have known that any accident regarding a potion-in-progress would haven ended up with Snape being reproachful and spewing personal criticisms in his direction. He would have used his personal intimidation tactic – that he was a good seven inches taller than Snape – but unfortunately a glare from the shorter man would have matched and overpowered any sort of intimidation Kingsley could come up with.

In any case, Kingsley felt that all the shots at his size had no foundation. Besides being seven inches taller, he was also two inches longer. Severus really had no reason to insult him in that way. Insult his intelligence, perhaps; Kingsley could never be as smart about potions as Snape was. But to deliberately mock the size of his wand (so to speak)? Never!

He would have liked an apology from the snarky professor, but he knew it was going to be impossible to worm one out of him. Snape had mastered insincere, insulting apologies, so it was pretty much useless. If Kingsley demanded an apology from Snape, he might say, “Well, I apologize if the truth infuriates you”, or “I apologize if I previously fooled you into thinking you were far from inadequacy”. No matter what Kingsley asked Snape to apologize for, Snape would never make it out to be his own fault, he was sure of that. All he could do now was find closure in something else, like the fact that he was strong and well built, whereas Severus was too thin and far too pale for his own good. That man needed some sun and meat on his bones.

Kingsley’s moment of self-appreciation and Severus-bashing was not without pity for the latter. Though Snape was rail-thin and about as tanned as the moon, he was not without his good points. He was intelligent, quick-witted, and had a mouth that worked wonders on certain parts of the anatomy. He was stronger than he looked, and had reflexes that seemed almost super-human. As Kingsley thought more about his lover, he found his reasoning against some of Severus’ plainly obvious physical flaws to be less and less justified.

He sighed, wondering how he managed to let what was supposed to be Severus-deprecating time turn into some sort of full-fledged swooning moment. He sounded like an obsessed teenage girl, holding Snape on some impossibly high pedestal. Why did he let Snape affect him that way?

Oh, that’s right. Because he loved him.