Wizard's Porn

A/N. I’ll respond to new reviews in the next one, it gives me more time to think about a response. You’ve taken the time to tell me what you think, I find it’s good manners for me to also take some time to respond.





Another night on the stage of the Theatre of Pleasures found Max and Juliet performing. Max knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, Juliet’s legs thrown over his shoulders, her heels digging into his back as he whispered Italian into her femininity.



“Nnn, Ahh! Oh Merlin!” Juliet moaned, her back arching up from the bed.



Max replied in whispered Italian, a firm lick between each word. He moved to nibble at her little bud, one last nip and flick of his tongue and she shattered into a thousand pieces, barely a gasp passing her lips as she surrendered to passion.



Max crawled back up the bed, leaning over Juliet as he gently kissed her cheek; he wasn’t perfectly sure of the post-cunnilingus-kissing-etiquette of this stage, and he made it up as he went along on the BDSM one; though it wasn’t often you found a master doing something so servile as oral sex – not without the sub being heavily blindfolded, the submissive should never see their Dominant on their knees.



“That was wonderful!” Juliet sighed, running her fingers through his long black hair, there was so much of it, in length and thickness. It shone in the candlelight like black diamonds. “Though, I’m a bit on the sticky side of things – care for a bath?”



Aquatic sex hadn’t been a direct request of these private watchers. They wanted to see oral sex and ‘something interesting that they could do at home’. Juliet had summarised that if they could afford to pay five hundred galleons for a private showing, that they probably had a bath big enough for two.



Max hadn’t told her that he’d recognised the watermark on the letter the Manager had handed over to them; the viewers had a big enough bath – in fact, their guest suites had huge tubs, their own was probably good for a swim.



“Mmm… you all slippy and wet because of another reason…” Max purred in her ear, licking the shell delicately.



A beautiful, large, glass, claw-foot bath, full with patchouli scented bubbles materialised on the stage; large fluffy towels appeared near it; as did an ice bucket and champagne and a small chest of drawers, a bunch of flowers on the top in a ceramic vase.



Max stepped up behind Juliet, pressing his length into her back. She was tiny, so small. He was somewhere between ravishing her and wrapping her in cotton wool.



“Shall we?” he said, stepping into the water slowly, it was a bit on the hot side of things.



“Shall we use a cooling charm before you hurt yourself?” Juliet giggled, waving her wand so the water became just right. Max settled into the bath, Juliet following him with her back to his chest.



“Champagne?” Max asked, hoping she’d refuse. He didn’t like the apple/lemonade concoction the Theatre were fond of.



“Hmm… not tonight darling.” Juliet said, realising that the audience were probably wondering why she’d refused. “I’ve already sipped at ambrosia.”



Max chuckled, rubbing the suds into her breasts, careful to avoid her nipples. “Oh, certainly. Champagne has no compare to your flavour.”



Max continued to lather her, massaging her shoulders and causing her to groan with happiness.



“Oh. Mmmmm. Your fingers are pure magic. Left a bit.”



“As my lady wishes.” Max replied, digging into a particularly taught knot of muscle on her left shoulder. “Though, I have wishes too.”



“And what do you wish?” she said, coyly, batting her eyelashes at him.



He scooted forward in the water, pressing his manhood into her back. “Can you not guess my wish? My water-nymph?”



“Così bello corpo, tutta la chiazza di petrolio con gli oli ed acqua.”



“Oh, and do you play Neptune this time? My Roman warrior.” she whimpered, arching into his touch as long fingers rubbed in secret places.



He didn’t reply, too busy nibbling a line down her throat where her mahogany hair was pinned up out of the way.



Max leaned over into the drawers, searching for something… ah ha! A green vial of waterproof lubricant. Most couples didn’t realise that aquatic sex was actually a rather dry affair, as the water washed away feminine secretions.



He slicked his length with the potion, rather unimpressed with the feel of the cold green gloop; before gently pulling her back toward him and onto his shaft. Her plump rear pressed into his groin; her shapely back arched into his chest; and her swan neck was accessible for his lips, teeth and tongue.



Max liked an exposed neck on a witch, a nice blank canvass to mark as his own. He nibbled gently, causing little red marks to show up. He didn’t bite or suckle hard, this woman, like himself had a life beyond this stage.



“Max!” she whimpered.



“Cara, you are in control, you move.” He groaned as she fluttered around him. She loved the accent, and he loved her responses.



Juliet lifted up slowly, whimpering as she did, then sinking back down. Uuuuuuuuuup and dowwwwwwwn. The water gave her the bouncy she needed for the position; the slow, controlled movement couldn’t be held long before legs tired, but the water lightened her weight and made it easier.



“Ai! Cara! You kill me! You torment me! You go too slow!” Max moaned, his head resting on the rim of the bath and rolling from side to side in pleasurable anguish.



“You said…I… was the one… in… mmmm…. control.” She gasped, balanced so just his head was inside her heat, raising and lowering her hips in little digs. The short, sharp, shallow thrusts teased her opening – a new sensation for her. Max let her continue as she grazed over his most sensitive point.



“Max!” she screamed, coming at the unusual sensation, falling forward to grasp the other side of the bath. Max sank in deep as he came, her tight heat clamped around him as he thrust gently as his release ended.



“Thank you.” He whispered in her ear, “This has been a wonderful experience for me, and I have enjoyed our nights together on this stage… such a shame this was the last.” He took a deep breath and did the unthinkable, “Would you perhaps join me at a restaurant on Thursday evening – no guises, no glamour. I would like to know the real woman behind Juliet.” He finally pulled out and backed away.



“No. No you don’t.” she whispered, “The reality is far from pleasant.”



“I too am not who I seem…” he began, only to be cut off.



“This is goodbye – unless we meet again on the stages.” And she apparated away with a soft crack, leaving a confused Lucius alone in tepid water, on a pitch black stage.





* * * * *



Three days later, Lucius visited Hogwarts. The October weather was rather pleasant, but he wasn’t there for the unexpected sunshine.



Severus was in a bad way.



Entering the Headmaster’s private chambers, Lucius saw Poppy slowly bending an unresponsive leg at the knee and watch it lock and spasm. All the while Severus breathed through the pain, not uttering a sound.



“How are you, my friend?” Lucius asked, highly concerned.



“Simply wonderful.” Was the sarcastic reply as the dark wizard bit his lip and screwed his eyes closed.



“Healer Pomfrey?” Lucius asked, after a straight answer.



“There is no change in the nerve damage, but the muscle damage has become worse. His left leg is locking in position, rather than moving with the joints.” She replied, continuing with her painful physiotherapy. “With these exercises I might be able to get some voluntary movement back – but not what it used to be.”



“In other words, my left leg doesn’t work, and walking without crutches from now on is impossible.” Severus hissed, panting through the pain of having unresponsive muscles pulled and pushed into position.



~



An hour later, the healer returned to the infirmary; the Slytherin quidditch practice had resulted in their seeker gaining an amputated arm after being hit with both bludgers from opposite sides simultaneously. Two Hufflepuffs had been expelled after it was shown they’d hexed the missiles to create such an effect (knowing full well they wouldn’t win against the Snakes in the up and coming match). Slytherin’s seeker happened to have one of England’s Junior Quiditch players – and the Juniors were doing better than the Adults in terms of global rankings. The EJQT (England Junior Qudditch Team) was third in the world – mostly due to the sharp eyes and excellent flying of the thirteen-year-old lad in the hospital wing.



Lucius sat at his friend’s bedside, Severus still breathing through twitches of pain.



“Can I get you anything?” Lucius asked.



“A new left leg would be nice.” Severus groaned.



“How about a firewhiskey?”



“No. It clashes with the potions I’m on. I haven’t drunk anything alcoholic in two years.” He said, taking a deep breath in a respite from the pain.



“I didn’t know that – you didn’t tell me.” Lucius muttered, feeling useless.



“I don’t tell you a lot of things.” Severus chuckled, even in this situation he was the better Slytherin. “But you need to tell me something, what troubles you – something’s causing the creases in your forehead.”



“Can I not be concerned for one of only two friends I have?” Lucius tried, knowing Severus wouldn’t buy it.



“Concern wouldn’t have you wriggling like a worm on a hook in your seat.” Severus pointed out. “Either you have a personal problem you need to see Poppy about, or you’re as hard as a broadsword and can’t sit comfortably for the life of you.”



“The latter.” Lucius said, there was no point lying to Severus.



“And, even with your love of BDSM – I don’t think watching me writhe in pain is what’s causing it.” Severus hoped it wasn’t anyway, but didn’t let that slip.



“No. I do actually hate to see you thus.” Lucius started, not really sure where to begin, “Well, you know of my other career? Well, there has been a new development…”



~



Severus blinked upon hearing the full explanation, before wincing as another shockwave of agony blasted through him. “You’re obsessed with an unknown woman who taught you that there’s more to sex than whips and chains… and you’re contemplating performing some illegal magic to track down her magical signature so you can… stalk her?”



“No, stalking is so crass – I’d like to see who she is, and perhaps court her. The time with her was incredible! I slept without nightmares after spending an evening with her. I just want to find her, observe her and then romance her a bit.” Lucius said, hoping he wasn’t bearing his entire soul. Keep your enemies close and your friends closer – Severus already had too much blackmail on him.



“Sounds like stalking to me.” Severus chuckled, finding this plight hilarious. Lucius was head over heals in love with a fake, an image, a glamour. “She just happened to be good in bed and make you come without the need for paddles and spankings.”



“Ha! And what would you know of it?” Lucius snapped, he’d gone to Severus for help, not to be laughed at.



Severus’s face darkened, and the other wizard bore the pain of turning over so his back was to Lucius.



“I would know nothing, my friend - as you are well aware.” He breathed, his voice so quiet and filled with malice that Lucius backed away.



“I – I’m sorry, I spoke before I thought. She has me out of sorts, this Juliet.”



“That. Was. Uncalled. For.” Severus seethed, pain and anger were not a pleasant combination.



“I know. I said I was sorry.” Lucius replied, wondering how he’d dig himself out of this one.



“You know? I do not think so.” Severus said icily, “Fifteen minutes solidly where three Death Eaters and a Megalomaniac aim crucios at your genatalia… your comfort was welcomed that night – but it was the last release I would ever have. My last memory of completion is fumbled, adrenaline-fuelled fisting at the hands of Lucius Malfoy… Go and stalk your Juliet, but stop parading it in my face.”



Lucius didn’t know what to say, he had forgotten that even the strongest impotence potion wouldn’t make a jot of difference against such severe nerve damage.



“Can Poppy do anything?” Lucius asked.



“No. because I did not ask her to; I work with the witch. But nine, excuse the pun, different private healers couldn’t do anything for my legs or anywhere else. They could only make me comfortable – apparently.”



“At least you’re not dead.” Lucius said, knowing it wasn’t the right thing to say, but it needed to be said.



“No. But living with this pain is proving tiresome.” Severus whispered.



“I am sorry, my friend, sleep as best you can. I’ll come visit tomorrow, perhaps I’ll have a better plan for courting Juliet.”



“Stalker.” Severus muttered before Lucius stepped through the floo. Only with his friend gone did he let the tears of agony fall and the cries of pain leave his lips.











A/N: *Runs like I did on Sunday in the race away from the angry Snape fans.*