Memoirs of a Half Blood Prince

Memoirs of a Half Blood Prince

summary - scenes taken from Snape\'s childhood

pairing - Snape/Lucius (for now)

rating - NC-17

disclaimer - I do not own them, sam I am...

author\'s note - yea, since Snape is cononically younger than Lucius by roughly five/six years (give or take a few months) there is ped involved. If this squicks, *shrugs* sorry, but you\'ve been warned. Also, this fic involves some domestic (and perhaps sexual?) abuse. Snape\'s childhood=badness.




Eileen Prince stares off towards the sky, waiting on the muggle street for her son. She has a sullen face, sallow and sad. Black hair pulls away from her scalp in a severe bun. Black eyes dart nervously as she waits. She has taught him to apparate and he knows broom travel, but for this return trip, he will simply walk.

Soon, she catches sight of him and clenches her fist into a tight ball, glad to see him because she is his mother but fearful of drawing attention because she is a witch. Her son approaches, hair too long in his face, too black against the shimmering sun, skin too pale, eyes too dark and a face filled with contempt. He meets her and passes by as if he doesn’t know her and she is left to follow after him, inquiring at his back.

“Are you well, Severus?”

He doesn’t reply at first, instead continuing ahead of her, her having to step up her pace to keep up.

He doesn’t speak to her until they are in the confines of their flat some several blocks away. Eileen knows Severus despises walking. Also, she knows he hates muggle London more than anything.

Once inside, he drops his satchel and looks around as if burning the hateful image into his brain. He is fourteen and angsty and restless, but he has no real friends. Not yet, anyway.

“How was school?” She breaks the silence by asking, and he turns dark eyes on her at last.

“Detestable.” He says in a dry voice. “But not nearly as bad as this place.”

She smiles complacently, smoothing the front of her dress. “Oh. Well, Severus, your father…”

“Don’t talk about him in my presence, thanks.”

Eileen’s smile fades a bit and she says in a whisper. “He isn’t so bad. He’s…your father, and he cares for you even when he doesn’t show it.”

Severus entertains the brief thought of banishing his mother into oblivion but he is still a kid and the thought of performing an unforgivable curse still frightens him a bit. Instead of pressing the issue, he goes to the cupboard and begins rummaging. Eileen watches, smiling again.

“Oh. Good. You’re hungry. You’ve gotten so thin. I’ll warm something…” She goes to the stove, but Severus stops her.

“No. I’m not looking for food. I need something. For a potion.”

Her smile goes again. “Severus, you know the rules…” Her voice gets quiet again. “…no magic.”

The boy wheels on her. “I won’t be held captive by your foolish misgivings! No, the walls don’t have ears! No, the neighbors aren’t listening! The nazi’s aren’t coming for us, and if you were a real witch…”

“Severus…” She sobs in a whimper of a voice. “…Severus, please…”

Rolling his eyes, he turns and stalks away from her, shaking his head angrily as he does so.

Once in his room, he slams the door and takes out his wand and points it at various items, as if silently threatening his desk, his dresser, his bookshelf…okay. NOT his bookshelf. Flinging himself back on his bed, he stares up at the ceiling. He is wearing muggle clothes and hates them, muggle shoes, muggle everything. The only reason he keeps his long black hair is because he won’t let his mother anywhere near it. He’d sooner curse her.

Above him, there is a fly buzzing annoyingly near the ceiling, as if mocking him. Severus murmurs a charm to multiply them, making more each time, uncaring of his flippant use of magic. So what. Let the headmaster expel him.

Once there are at least eight flies, he starts obliterating them, one by one, shooting them dead, blasting their little bodies into nothing. There must be more to life than this.


Several hours later, he comes down dressed in his black wizarding robes, intending to go out when he is met with two sets of dark eyes. His father is here.

Tobias Snape is a tall man with dark hair and a hostile face. Though not as pale as Severus nor Eileen, he is just as sullen with dark brown eyes and a shadowy face. Severus stops in his tracks, regarding the man, the muggle, who brought him into this world. The hatred written on his young features cannot even convey the level of contempt he feels.

“Where do you think you’re going, dressed in that?” Tobias speaks in a deep rich yet mocking tone, dry but for the emphasis on the word ‘that’.

Severus tries to think of a response. “I have…business.”

“I beg to differ.” Tobias answers quickly. “You go up and take that off and get your arse back down here and explain to me what gives you the level of authority to make such a declaration.”

Severus stands his ground. “As I said, I have…”

Tobias advances slowly on his son, standing at least six inches taller, causing Severus to stumble back an inch or so, to cower ever so slightly.

“Tobias, please…” Eileen whimpers from behind him. “…he doesn’t mean to disobey…Severus, please go upstairs and change.”

Something about the weakness of his mother fuels Severus’ hatred. Without knowing why, he draws his wand from beneath his robe and points it at his father.

Behind them, Eileen gasps, covering her mouth with her hands. Tobias simply smirks, amused at his son’s sudden burst of bravery.

“And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with that?”

“I’ll do what I need to do.” Severus says, feeling his ears burn.

Tobias snorts, a sneer on his lips. “Then do it, you little prat. Put a spell on me. Turn me into a frog or…whatever! Just make damn sure you kill me…”

The thought warms Severus’ belly, makes him hungry for it, makes him yearn to see his father hurt, spread out on the floor, bloody and writhing in agony under his mercy. It’s almost too delicious of a thought. Instead of doing it, though, he shuts his eyes and Apparates with a loud ‘crack’, feeling the weird sensation of having traveled through a self-made rift in time and space. It hurts something awful, but he has done it successfully, and is standing in Hogsmead in the time it takes to blink an eye.

It’s dark out and cold, and his eyes hurt and his face feels tight and waxy. He pockets his wand and tries to look older as he walks through the somewhat barren roads.

The Hogshead is up ahead and Severus slips inside and seats himself at a table near the back. When the barmaid comes up to him, she grins and shakes her head.

“You can’t be more’n fifteen, if you’re a day.”

Severus coughs into his fist and holds out a handful of galleons with the other. “I only want a butter beer. I won’t cause trouble…please.”

She eyes him, his sallow young face, his dark hollow, yet somehow sad eyes, his straight line of a mouth and long dark hair. He’s actually attractive, in a sickly kind of way. With a wink, she reaches for the money.

“I suppose one can’t hurt.”

Five minutes later, Severus has his butter beer and is taking tentative sips of it, taking turns staring at all the shady individuals in the bar tonight, the weird witch by the window, wrapped in a dark gray cloak and sipping tea, the two wizards playing chess near the door, drinking fire whiskey and speaking loudly in mostly obscenities, the shady character bewitching a fork to dance across his plate, with one roving eye and a bandage over his forehead.

Severus takes it all in, oddly comfortable here amongst the freaks and then the door slams open and several beautifully dressed witches and wizards come stumbling in, laughing and making quite a scene. For just an instant, Severus thinks they might be veelas because of the ethereal appearance of them with their immaculately adorned robes of silver and gold and white satin.

Severus sinks lower in his seat so that he may stare openly without being noticed.

The most attractive of them approaches the bar and speaks in a proper English drawl. “Yes, I wondered if I could perhaps have a word with your owner…See, I would like to…” he glances around at the crowd with an expression that suggests he might’ve smelled something awful. “…perhaps clear the ‘rubbish’ from the room and continue our party here. Such a lovely establishment…” He almost sounds mocking, Severus notes of the handsome young man who can’t be much older than eighteen or so.

The man behind the bar looks as if he might protest until the platinum blond wizard drops several gold pieces onto the counter and grins. A moment or so later, the barman is ushering everyone out, and Severus is sinking lower in his chair, all dark hair and dark robes, hoping he might not be seen, hoping that he might blend into the woodwork. But alas, no such luck…

“You too, mate! Out!” The barman is advancing on Snape. “There’s a private party scheduled here!”

Severus looks pained for an instant, wanting to resist but knowing it will do no good. “Wait. I…I’m an illusionist…”

“Nice try. Get out.”

“No. Really.” Snape says, glad when he meets the attractive wizard’s eye through the crowd. “I can show you.”

With a wave of his wand, a shower of purple sparks fly out of the tip, turning many colors and enflaming themselves, hovering above the curious faces before turning into a green shimmering serpent and evaporating slowly as it dances in midair. The barman is stunned and the others in the wealthy party give nods of approval as the leader comes closer and regards him. Snape averts his eyes as he speaks.

“That was clever, boy.” He speaks in a condescending voice. “A bit elementary, but still, a decent display.” He extends one gloved hand towards Severus and grins. “I am Lucius Malfoy.”

Severus glances at the hand, afraid of dirtying it with his own. “Severus.” He murmurs.

Lucius Malfoy grins and leads Severus through the crowd, introducing him to the others, and it is suddenly clear to the boy that these folks have been drinking prior to arriving here. Otherwise, they might not be so accepting of him.

“And last, but certainly not least, this is my bride to be, my fiance, Narcissa.” She barely acknowledges Snape, instead takes a glass of Elf wine being offered to her by another person in their party. She appears a bit younger than Lucius, but she is older than Snape, and her blond hair is rather long and very closely resembling silk. Her blue eyes seem bored.

Lucius turns to regard Snape and smirks. “Before we continue, Severus, I simply must know this. I am going to assume you are of pure blood or I will have to ask that you exit this pub immediately. Am I correct in this assumption?”

Severus nods without hesitation. “Yes. I am.”

Lucius grins and clasps a finely adorned arm over his shoulder. “Good. Good. Then you can stay. And no parlor tricks will be needed, thanks…although I do believe you’re rather young to be performing such magic. What are you fifteen? Sixteen?”

Severus nods.

“So, you attend Hogwarts, then?”

Severus nods again.

“Not very talkative, are you?” Lucius grins, silvery gray eyes glassy from too much to drink. “That’s quite alright. You just sit here and look foreboding. You seem to be so good at doing that.” He tosses back his platinum head and starts to laugh and for the first time in a very long time, Severus feels the corners of his lips curling upward. There’s something so irresistibly bad about this Lucius Malfoy – and yet he can’t help but be drawn to him and his timeless good looks.


Days later, Severus is in his room again, scribbling things in an old textbook, not with a quill but with a muggle pen, when his father bursts through the door. Tobias scowls at his son, brow scrunched, thin mouth turned downward. Severus glares back at him, waiting.

“I need you to help your mother,” He says simply. “Do that thing you do. That…healing thing.”

Wordlessly, Severus moves into action, grabbing his wand and moving past his father to go down to his mother.

When he finds her, cowering in a corner, eye blackened and lip burst and bleeding, he wonders, briefly, why he didn’t hear her scream. Then, he turns to glare once again at his father.

“You attacked her again.”

“Just fix it, Severus.” He says in a commanding tone.

“Why should I?” the boy replies in a weary voice. “What difference will it make? You’ll just do it again, tomorrow.”

Now Tobias comes close, towering over his son.
“I think I’ve made it quite clear, that I won’t tolerate your cheek, boy.”

Severus remembers vividly, having returned home late after spending the evening drinking with Lucius Malfoy and company, before stumbling in the door and being met with Tobias Snape’s fist in his gut. It’d hurt so badly, Severus had felt his eyes brim with water. Then, he had proceeded to shove his son roughly against the wall and crack him hard across the face, leaving an angry red mark. He’d threatened him with death if he ever so much as thought about raising his wand against him again.

Currently, though, Severus sends another angry glare his father’s way before kneeling before his mother and tracing his wand tip across her face, murmuring the incantation that will close her cuts and fade her bruise.

Her hollow eyes always look so grateful, and Severus wonders why she doesn’t stand up to him, why she allows him to harm her when she is quite capable of repelling him using magic. He shirks away from her when she smoothes her thin hand against his black hair. He doesn’t want her to touch him, even while he helps her to her feet.

Later, when his father has gone to do some stupid muggle tradition of bowling, a drinking game in which a team rolls a twelve pound ball down an isle towards a triangular formation of white pegs, and tries to knock them all down, Eileen has retired to her bed, and Snape Apparates from his bedroom.

In an instant, he is standing in front of Malfoy Manor, wearing his robes, the chilly wind blowing his hair into his face. He is in awe of the place that looks like a cross between a castle and a mansion. Severus isn’t sure which, and he considers leaving before Lucius can come down to meet him because even though he’d asked Severus here on this night, the boy feels inferior even standing outside it.

Within moments, though, Severus sees a figure appear in the archway over the grand oak door and feels a chill creep up his spine. The man is so pale in the night it looks as if it might be a ghost, but then he comes down the steps and Snape sees that it’s Lucius, in a flowing white house coat and with flowing white hair. He approaches and stops some two feet away from Severus, grinning.

“Well, you’re certainly prompt, aren’t you?”

Severus isn’t sure how to reply. He can’t seem to find words, made briefly comatose by the beauty that is the young man before him. Averting his eyes, he tries to find speech.

“Come on.” Lucius says after a beat, “I’ll introduce you to my parents.”

Brooding, Snape follows him inside, angry at his weakness and confusion. This shouldn’t be so difficult.

“Mum, Dad, this is Severus Snape. I met him in Hogsmead.”

The two blond wizards glance down at Snape as if their son has just brought in a stray pet. Snape stands his ground, though, looking up at them, up at the pristine features of the pale, thin mother, almost transparent in her whiteness, and at the father, who looks to have been descendant of elves with his pointy face and wavy white hair.

“Very nice, dear.” The mother says absently, turning back to her leather bound book. Only the father continues to stare.

“Is he pureblood?” The father asks blatantly of Lucius as he continues to visually scrutinize Snape.

“Would I have him here otherwise?” Lucius answers dismissively, dragging Snape to the marble staircase.

“I haven’t heard of any Snapes…” The father muses, watching them descend the stairs.


Once upstairs, Lucius drags Snape into a large bedroom adorned in fine silk, satin, opals and other various jewels. He removes the white over coat and is revealed to be wearing a cream colored nightdress.

“You do realize that you’re staying the night, correct, Snape?” This is said with an air of confidence to which Snape can only reply with a nod even while he imagines the fury he will be met with by his father when he returns in morning.

“Good.” Lucius grins, perfect white teeth flashing in the light, gray blue eyes sparkling with promise. \"Take off your robe. Its only proper etiquette…”

Snape obeys wordlessly but with trembling fingers. He is embarrassed to note he is wearing muggle clothes underneath and this doesn’t go unnoticed by Lucius.

“What the hell are you wearing, Severus?” Lucius reaches out to touch the taught material of Snape’s knitted sweater and then brushes a pale hand across the rough fabric of his denim bottoms. “Queer. Is this muggle?”

Snape shakes his head quickly. “No. My mother. She…I…went into a muggle town today to…get stuff…”

Lucius smirks. “To get what?”

“I make potions.” Snape says quietly. “I…sometimes I might need the errant…uh….muggle item to complete them.”

“You make potions? At your age?” Lucius looks mildly impressed. “What sorts of potions? Like pimple-b-gone?” The older wizard tosses back his head and laughs.

Snape isn’t amused. “No. I once made a potion to bring a Hippogriff back to life. It had been dead for hours.”

Lucius stops laughing. “No. I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.” Snape says, deadpanned but with deep inquisitive eyes. He stands and starts to move about the room, examining various objects. “Your family is wealthy.” He says quietly.

“Yeah, no shit, Snape.” Lucius says, watching the boy move. “You’re quick on the uptake.”

“Why did you invite me here?” Snape is still looking around, fascinated by all the money surrounding him and the soft crackle in the air, from being in the presence of real magic, not muggles.

“Because I like you.” Lucius replies with a straight face (Snape looks to make sure).

“Why do you like me?” Snape lets his fingers dance over a crystal ball, which has been bewitched to show a miniature version of the Malfoy family dancing in a sea of pearls.

Lucius shrugs, pushing his white blond hair over his shoulder. “Because you’re like no one I have ever met.” He takes a pause, regarding the boy. “And because you have the blackest hair I have ever seen and the blackest eyes. And you seems so angry all the time.”

Snape exhales, slowly, standing near the window, as far from Lucius as possible but not necessarily intentional. “If you were me, you’d be angry all the time.”

At this, Lucius stands and approaches Snape, regarding the boy and his sad eyes, his sad sallow face. Lucius brushes a hand across the boy’s skin and Snape flinches.

“You’re almost yellow.” Lucius points out, suddenly. “As if you’re jaundiced. I never heard of such a sick looking wizard.”

Snape can’t help but to smile, the action feeling unnatural on his face, and Lucius returns it.
“Wow, you’re actually attractive, Snape. I wasn’t sure until just now.” He drags a long finger down Snape’s large hooked nose. “This notwithstanding…”

Snape moves from under the young man’s touch. “Maybe I should leave.” He says, the smile fading from his lips.

“No.” Lucius grabs his arm, gently. “Don’t go yet. I want you to stay. I want…to lie down with you.”

Snape feels his heart bang in his chest like a steel drum. “No. I don’t think so. I don’t like boys.” He glances Lucius up and down before correcting himself. “Men.”

“Boys, men, women, it’s all the same to me, Snape.” Lucius drags Snape closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want…”

“What about your fiance? Narcissa?”

Lucius shrugs. “What about her? She knows about my proclivities.”

Snape swallows, thinking about how in muggle society this sort of thing is frowned upon, but here, in the heart of the wizarding world, the wealthiest wizard he has come across is advocating it – and apparently his fiance is also okay with it also. Still, Snape isn’t sure. If his father ever found out…

“I’ve never done it.” Snape says, matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t want me. I don’t even know how to proceed.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything, Severus. I like that you’re young and inexperienced. I like that you’re virginal and uncertain. I like that a lot.”

Snape shivers and turns his face away from Lucius, hating to admit to himself that yes, he has indeed thought about the other man, has, in fact, fantasized about touching him…or being touched…something so rare as intimacy might even drive him over the precipice.

Lucius releases his arm, startling Severus.

“I won’t force you. I want you to come willingly to me.” He says, hair spilling over his shoulder, face slightly flushed from the effort of trying so hard. “But I must say, Severus, I’ve never had to beg…not for this.”

Now Snape feels ignorant and embarrassed. He isn’t sure what to do next. “I don’t know why you…want me.”

Lucius smiles. “Isn’t it enough that I want you? I knew I wanted you when I met you.”

Turning to face him again, Snape makes his decision. With knocking knees, he approaches Lucius and stands before him, giving himself wordlessly to the blond wizard, looking up into his eyes, trying to search for the truth but beyond caring now.

“Good.” Lucius says in a quiet voice. “You won’t regret it, Snape.”

The older wizard goes to dim the overhead lights and ignites a few candles with a wave of his hand. This impresses Snape, although maybe he is simply trying to take his mind off his uncertainties, this seduction for which he feels way too young and clumsy.

When Lucius is standing before him again, Snape averts his eyes, his foot tapping nervously against the carpet.

“Take off that godawful sweater.” Lucius says softly. “And I’ll try not to burn it in the fire before morning.”

Snape obeys wordlessly, revealing to Lucius a scrawny porcelain chest with dark nipples like cranberries. The older wizard makes a soft sound of approval as he appraises the boy.

“Beautiful, Severus. Lovely.” He licks his lips. “Now, the bottoms. All of them.”

Severus does as told, feeling oddly more confident as he drops his jeans down his legs along with white y-fronts and steps out of them along with his socks and loafers. Nothing to lose now. He can take whatever criticism Lucius has to offer. His father has helped him build up immunity to disapproval.

But Lucius is far from displeased. He comes close and stands over Severus, smiling, cheeks mildly flushed. “Merlin, you have a lovely body, Snape. So like a baby, so hairless…” He trails one hand down Snape’s chest and belly, stopping at the navel and moving slowly back upward.

Snape bites his lip to keep from whimpering.

“Lie down on my bed.” Lucius commands in a pleasant tone, going to the door and locking it before placing a silencing charm over the room. Severus tries to relax into the too soft cushion of the comforter and pillows. He has never lain on anything so comfortable and fears he might drift into sleep, but Lucius is over him before he knows it, staring down into uncertain black pools with predatory silver ones.

“Kiss me.” He says, as Severus feels his ears burn. How the hell is he supposed to do that? He has never kissed anyone in his life.

Getting up on elbows, he comes to within inches of Lucius and brushes his lips against the other man’s, feeling utterly incompetent as he does it, and Lucius laughs softly.

“That was sweet.” He says, licking his lips. “Now, let me return it.” And he presses his mouth to Snape and moves his lips gently, nudging Snape’s mouth apart, finding his tongue and licking it, causing Snape’s prick to spring up. After frenching him for several long minutes, Lucius breaks it and notices Snape is clutching the comforter in tight fists, and breathing raggedly. Lucius grins down at him. “Don’t like boys, huh? I beg to differ.”

Snape flushes and shuts his eyes, resting back on the pillow. He is fully erect now, legs straight out, hands still clutching the blankets, Adam’s apple bobbing furiously in his throat. He doesn’t know what he wants for certain, but whatever it is, he needs it soon…

“I’m going to taste you, Severus, and I want you to relax.”

The very thought makes Severus tense up like a tight coil, shoulders taut and teeth clenched. He isn’t watching; his eyes are shut tight, but he can feel movement all around the bed as Lucius gets comfortable. Then, almost without warning, Snape feels that pretty mouth brushing along the shaft of his prick and he moans, a high pitched noise from someplace inside him that catches him off guard.

“I said relax.” Lucius hums against the underside, and Snape is holding the sheets in such tight fists that he feels his hands starting to cramp. He has no choice but to let go. Instead of focusing on what is happening, he starts to imagine possible scenarios. He imagines Lucius’s father bursting through the door, aiming his wand at Snape and saying in a snide voice. “Aha! I knew he wasn’t a pure blood. He’s wearing an angora sweater!” or his own father coming in the door, brandishing fists and ready to pummel him. “Not only are you a freak, boy, but you’re a fucking fruit cake bugger as well?! No son of mine…” Snape turns his face and realizes Lucius has stopped.

“Snape…”

“I don’t think I can…” Snape says in a small voice. “…what if someone finds out?”

Lucius climbs up the bed to lie next to Snape, propping himself on an elbow. His crystal eyes are actually somewhat understanding, not harsh and impatient as Snape thought they’d be.

“Please, Snape, let me make you feel good. You certainly seem like you could use the attention.” Snape feels his eyes fill but he refuses to let them overflow. He’d sooner die than cry in front of Lucius.

“Yes, okay.” He finally says, just to get Lucius down to the other end of the bed. “Whatever.”

“Clear your thoughts.” Lucius says when he is nestled once again between Snape’s legs. “Empty your mind. Focus on what I’m doing. Nothing else.”

Snape nods, clearing his mind, a technique he will become so skilled at in future it’ll be second nature. He focuses on Lucius’ gentle kissing, his light licking, his fingers caressing the soft dark hair around his prick, caressing his scrotum, the gentle sucking motion.

Snape’s mouth is open and his eyes are shut and he’s gasping softly, not moving his hips but wanting to as Lucius slides up and down on his prick, licking the head on every upswing. How could something feel so good, how could it be like this, so amazing, so wonderful…and that feeling in his lower abdomen, the warm heat building slowly and getting hotter and hotter, almost painfully so.

“Oh God…” Snape suddenly gasps, eyes flinging open. “…I’m…Lucius…”

And Snape is spurting warm cum down the other man’s throat, trembling and biting his lip to keep from screaming, burying one hand in long platinum hair and the other clutching the sheet. When he has come down, he’s limp like a rag doll, spent.

Lucius comes up his body, kissing every part of him along the way, his slender thighs, his hip bone, his belly, his navel, his concave chest, his rib cage, each nipple, his sternum, his neck, his chin, his mouth, lingering on his mouth, depositing his cum inside which Snape accepts willingly.

Lucius is smiling down at Snape who is awestricken. He had never done anything sexual with anyone short of his own left hand, let alone received fellatio.

“I knew you’d like it.” Lucius says, smoothing damp black hair from Snape’s brow. “Now, I’m going to fuck you to within inches of your life and then we can go to sleep. Okay?”

Snape wonders, briefly, if his hippogriff potion will work on himself because he is quite certain his heart has just stopped. He isn’t sure how to interpret that phrase ‘fuck you to within inches of your life’ but it sounds awfully brutal and somehow, a little frightening and painful. Instead of questioning it, though, Snape watches in silence while Lucius disrobes, exposing inch after inch of parchment white skin until he is fully naked. His body is incredible, Snape notes, long and thin and hairless except for the soft white hair surrounding possibly the largest prick Snape has every seen. Not only long but thick as well and far more superior to Snape’s which is pretty decent for his age, but still, not man-sized. Not yet.

And then he reminds himself that yes, Lucius is a man, several years older, far more experienced. He wouldn’t purposely hurt him. He wouldn’t do anything torturous, would he? God, how would Snape explain that to his parents? Or maybe he’d simply use his own healing spell on himself. And how does sex work between two men anyway? Is it awkward and complicated? Snape is too busy wondering about the dynamics to be frightened when Lucius drapes his long body over Snape’s considerably smaller one.

Without preamble, Lucius is kissing Snape’s mouth passionately, sloppily, and slowly nudging his way between Snape’s legs. He breaks the kiss only long enough to choke out the command, “Wrap your arms around me Snape, hold onto me.”
Severus obeys, feeling odd, holding onto someone beside himself, hugging someone, cradling someone in his arms. It feels like an epiphany and he starts to let his hands roam up and down, Lucius’ back as they kiss, fully aware of that thick hard cock sandwiched between them, pressing into his thigh. He suddenly wants it, wants to feel it, touch it, experience it.

Lucius is grinding against him, his mouth on Snape’s neck, grazing it then biting it, making Snape wince a bit and trail his hand experimentally down to Lucius’ ass, caressing the muscled globes. It all feels so good, having his weight above him, having his mouth on him, having his hands on him. And then Lucius is breaking the kiss again, murmuring a charm with swollen lips, and his hand is instantly filled with a clear gel. He kneels before Snape, spreading the boy’s knees and reaching inside him with slick probing fingers. At first sliding gently, making Snape curious at the strange new intrusion, then more forcefully and impatiently and with more fingers, reaching deeper to brush a spot that makes Snape arch his back and cry out, a strange sound to his own ears, but a sound that brings a grin to Lucius’ face.

“You like that, then I take it?” Lucius begins to coat his own prick with the gel, continuing to smile at Snape as he strokes himself a few times. “This will hurt a bit at first, but I promise you the pain won’t last.”

Now Snape is assaulted with fear, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because in another instant, Lucius is pushing roughly inside him. Snape is wincing and clutching the man to him, feeling like his ass is on fire but remaining silent otherwise, aside from a few gasps and sharp breaths.

“Oh God…Severus….” Lucius is pumping in and out, seemingly in his own world. “…Oh…such sweetness….so tight…”

Severus is clenching shut his eyes and letting himself be taken, feeling thoroughly filled and almost wishing it would end until Lucius starts to swivel his hips a bit and push in at a different angle… then Snape is gasping, feeling his prick come back to life.

“Mm…mm….” He’s pushing against Lucius, feeling pleasure blossom through the pain like light at the end of a very long, very narrow tunnel. That place inside him is just screaming for more attention, and Lucius is on the job, fucking him in just a way that Severus is seeing stars behind his eyes.

The two men are wrapped around each other, and Lucius lifts Snape’s leg up over his shoulder, making Snape cry out, his narrow body yielding to Lucius’ every whim. Damn, how did it get so good? Why could anything feel like this? Snape feels as if it couldn’t possibly get any better and then Lucius wraps a hand around his prick and starts to stroke it roughly.

“I want to see more of that pretty white stuff come out of you, Snape…” Lucius says in a sexy, almost malicious voice. “…I want to break you, completely…”

Snape winces at the words and at the sensation of reaching the precipice again. The warmth is low in his belly, the heat is like fire in his abdomen, his cock is throbbing in Lucius’ fist, throbbing in time to each rough thrust of the man’s hips.

Severus can only part his mouth as the orgasm is violently wrenched from his body, yet again, cum dribbling from the tip of his cock this time, a milky translucent substance. He’s trembling and holding onto the man above him and Lucius pulls out of Snape and flips him over onto his stomach before re-entering, slamming his cock deep inside, fucking the living hell out of the boy, making him bite down on the pillow under his face. For several long minutes, Lucius is babbling incoherently, little obscenities and moans and then he’s coming, hands brutal on Snape’s ass cheeks, nails digging into the skin.

“Oh….Oh….Oh….yeah, yeah….so good…Oh, Merlin…”

Lucius finally collapses on top of the boy, kissing his damp black hair, caressing his olive skin. Severus is in a state of shock, chest heaving, adjusting to the weight of Lucius above him, feeling sticky and dirty and violated. Somehow, though, he liked it, would do it again if asked.

Finally, Lucius rolls off of Snape and settles against him, lying close, body heat pouring off of him like a warm mist.

“Are you alright, Severus?” He says, eyes slipping lazily shut. “You were incredible.”

Snape nods, taking in the sight of Lucius with mussed hair, spilled over the pillow, flushed face, chest rising and falling unevenly. Experimentally, he reaches a shaking hand out to touch that chest, to feel the fast beating heart. It fills him with an odd emotion, like satisfaction and esteem. He wonders, as he settles next to the other wizard, is this love?


TBC