Love To The Loveless Shown

“Severus, I…” gasped Lupin, breaking off the kiss suddenly

"Severus, I…" gasped Lupin, breaking off the kiss suddenly. A crossfire of thoughts roared through his mind, This was too weird, far too strange and bizarre. He only came to say sorry, to try and bridge the chasm between the Marauders and Snape a little, but this? Totally unexpected.
 
Totally unwanted though?
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 
"I understand," sighed the Slytherin. "I should never have done that. I mean, what was I thinking? Why would you want to even touch someone like me? I’m not like you or your friends. I’m unpopular, even among my own house. I’m jealous, vindictive, arrogant, self-centred, have no morals to speak of …" He glanced up through dark eyelashes. "This is where you are supposed to say, ‘of course you’re not, Severus’ and kiss me. You won’t though. Dreams and reality are like oil and water, never mixing."
 
"I’m sorry."
 
"Stop apologising! None of this is your fault. If you’d flaunted yourself it would almost have been easier, but no, you try to blend into the background and you don’t see it makes you stand out more. Do you know what the ironic thing is?"
 
Remus shook his head, silvery hair falling over his forehead and making him look very young.
 
"When you do flaunt yourself – well, it isn’t really you, it’s the demon – I still want you. In the Shrieking Shack, all I wanted was for you to attack me; at least I would have been yours for a short period, even if I did end up dead at the end of it. Death would have stemmed the pain that I feel whenever I think about you or see your face, or dream about you. Love dea death combined, isn’t that a noble ideal – very Romeo and Juliet, or Tristan and Isolde. To die in the grip of love is something few achieve, and I would have left this hellhole of a world secure in the fact that I had died for something greater than life, greater than anything."
 
The dark-haired boy interlaced his fingers and stared into space, face strained and pale in the faint wandlight.
 
"You love me…?"
 
"yes. now go and laugh about it to your friends."
 
"I’d never do that!"
 
The terrible, sickly smile was too much for Remus to bear, and he surprised himself by slipping his hand around the back of Snape’s head and pushing their mouths together. It was supposed to be a kiss of reassurance, showing that whatever has been said will not be repeated outside the walls of the hospital wing.
 
It was supposed to be…
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 
Mouth on mouth, skin on skin, warm werewolf flesh on cool Slytherin. Gentle, chaste, almost loving. Snape pulled away this time. "Don’t toy with me, Remus. I can’t cope with it."
 
"I’m not playing with you Severus." Ebony clashed with steel and the bed-ridden boy could see that the one looking at him with such concern and worry was not lying. Far from it. Reaching up, Snape’s hand pulled Lupin down to him again, and their lips touch. Then tongues, almost shy at first, made the kiss into something more, something primeval.
 
"Should we be doing this…?" muttered Remus, suddenly, like always, having second thoughts. It was not in his nature to be reckless.
 
"Hell yes. And didn’t your mother tell you not to speak with your mouth full? Manners, Lupin, manners. Anyway, I always knew you Gryffindors were an ill-bred lot. If I had my way I’d…" Lupin shut him up by sliding astride the prone figure and kissing in reply. His tongue flickered into the cool cavern of Severus’ mouth, exploring. He had never kissed anyone in such a way and he found he was enjoying this very much. The involvement that it signalled, the trust between two people, he had never experienced. He was also conscious that his act was eliciting a moan of pure lust from the Slytherin. Lupin at once felt several things; awe that he was able to make someone react so strongly, and a sense of power.
 
Snape’s hands which were tangled in the greying hair slipped over the slender but broad shoulders hidden in severe black wool, and down to the tapering waist. His fingers traced patterns on the rough fabric as he responded, his own mouth duelling fiercely with the werewolf’s. His werewolf. Not Black’s, not Potter’s, but his.
 
"Yours!" gasped Remus, eyes closing as Severus’ surprisingly sharp teeth nipped at the heated and delicate flesh of his throat. His head lolled back, mouth opened in delicious pain and exquisite suffering, offering and submitting to the dark boy who suckled at his neck. Teeth lightly scraped over reddened flesh, fingers that had been caressing his lower back now pushing the dark material away, and slowly circling each vertebra before descending under the waistband of his regulation school trousers. Bringing his hands around, the Slytherin unfastened the buttons and drew the crumpling fabric dowrm crm cheeks until the werewolf wriggled and the offending garment lay abandoned on the faded tiles of the floor.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 
Agonisingly, deliberately, Snape’s exploring digits encountered the first curves of Lupin’s ripe arse, and their slender lengths tested the firm musculature sheathed in the velvet of perfect skin. "May I?" The question was not even vo bef before those wandering fingers brushed downwards, tracing the fine surfaces and flawless flesh, oh so gentle, exploring, ever exploring. Remus buried his face in the curve between Severus’ neck and collarbone, his breathing becoming more shallow, face burning with want and horror, fear and need. Unseen to him, the dark eyes of the Slytherin closed in supplication, and a smile of utter reverence flitted across those narrow and curling lips.
 
"Trust me…" the digits slipped into the dividing groove and parted the two tight globes. They crept into the darkened hollow, feeling textures changing, until one lucky finger found the puckered rosette that it had been desperately searching for. "Trust me, Remus…" It was gentle at first, massaging around the perimeter, allowing the boy to get accustomed to the thought of someone touching him ‘down there;’ the insistent but loving touch drifted over perineum, traced the crevice to the dimpled small of the werewolf’s back, but always returned to the needy entrance. The other hand slithered over prominent spine, feeling sinew and strength and surprising musculature, to stroke the silver hair away from the creamy forehead.
 
"please?" asked Remus, his words muffled in the cool pale flesh of his lover. "please?" Severus couldn’t hear what the boy was saying, but the urgency in the tone of voice was painfully obvious.
 
"Sure?"
 
"please?" That one word again, that one small word communicating all the frustration and agony and physical need from which the werewolf was suffering.
 
"As you wish, my wolf." His palm reluctantly broke contact with the perfect skin, causing Remus to whimper and arch back, trying to create the enjoyable friction that he craved. The Gryffindor was quietened by the hand slipping under his chin and raising his head, index finger stroking from angular cheekbone to curving jaw.
 
"Hush." The finger ran over the slightly parted lips, tracing the generous curves, before plunging deep into the welcoming cavern. The long and clever tongue flickered and swirled while Remus suckled at the digit, his lips forming an unbreakable seal. He glanced up through his eyelashes, to gauge the opinion of the Slytherin and the dark-haired boy, all dusk and starlight in the dinginess of the hospital wing, gazed back with ill-disguised lust. With a slightly obscene popping noise that bought a smirk to his mouth, Severus slid the now soaking wet finger from Remus’ scorching mouth, and smiled even more as the werewolf chased the finger with his tongue, getting a few more licks in before it was lost to him. When it finally disappeared out of range, the Gryffindor gave the most innocently daemonic smile, and snuggled his head back down onto Snape’s chest.
 
The hand, saliva dribbling down the palm to the narrow and bony wrist, repeated its earlier journey. It lay flat, the bandage covering roughly massaging the white cheeks for a moment, then wormed its way insistently between the globes of flesh until it again tickled the pucker that it had been tormenting. This time, the pressure was more insistent. Immediately the finger started to breach the tight ring of muscle, forcing its way into the dark and even tighter channel that lay beyond.
 
Remus gasped, warm breath disseminating onto cold Slytherin skin, and his hips, unbidden, slammed forward.
 
The digit was immersed to the knuckle now, still fighting to enter the virgin hole. Each push culminated in Lupin’s gasp and the thrust of his hardening cock against Snape’s thigh, which has slid between the naked ones of the excited werewolf. Slowly, creeping in millimetre at a time, the finger reached full stretch inside the now shuddering boy.
 
"More…more…" Remus pressed back, needing to be filled more completely, but Severus withdrew, crooking his finger as it slid out of the passage. As soon as he felt the ring of muscle resist against the bent knuckle, he drove back in. He could feel his lover’s jaw tense as the dance was repeated and Remus’ hands, one of which was buried in the Slytherin’s dark hair and the other laying flat upon his chest, flexed and rippled in sync to the actions.
 
Remus felt empty when Snape withdrew completely.
 
However, this was only to rearm, and the whimpers of want weeplaeplaced by the sighs of pleasure when both index and middle finger dived into the opened channel and slid and twisted and scissored, brushing against Remus’ prostate and making him see white. He couldn’t concentrate on anything apart from the sometimes painful but always stimulating and teasing fingers that tickled and stabbed and made him sob and keen and desire. Remus was not aware of his thrusting hips, grinding his painfully hard cock against the raw silk of Severus’ pyjamas and leaving sticky streaks of pre-come on the expensive cloth. He was unable to hear the filthy things that Severus was saying he would do, could not comprehend the pain and pleasure in his lover’s face when hands tightened with each stab of the fingers and dug fresh bleeding crescents into now crimson flesh. Remus couldn’t see the ecstasy that glinted in those black obsidian whenever his arching body dragged over his lover’s achingly erect penis. Nothing mattered apart from the glory of those roughly exploring fingers and the agony of the pleasure.
 
Again they were taken away completely, but the boy continued to thrust against his lover’s thigh, eyes screwed tight.
 
Hands tugged at his thighs to urge his hips higher up the snaky body, and he writhed forward, pressing as much of his flesh to the skin of the Slytherin, making them both gasp…hiss…exclaim…until he was face to face with his dark lover, gazing into black eyes that were greyed by desire. Then he was on his back, the angles had changed, and he was being thoroughly kissed by a young man whose hair, which was enveloping them both like a black mist, smelled of coal tar and medicine and jasmine.
 
It was automatic; Remus wound his long long legs around Severus’ narrow hips and silently gave him permission.
 
Below him, huge-eyed, tousle-haired, willing, lay either salvation or damnation. Damp mouth parted, healthy pink tongue licking lips in an unselfconscious gesture. Silvered and polished by the waxing moon. Perfect. His.
 
Nothing could hold him back, and he slammed forward faster than he planned to, just to see the angelic face crumple with pain, pewter eyes become damp with tears. He sheathed himself inside the clinging passage, feeling muscles clamp upon his hardness, trying to milk his of his fluids, and the look on the werewolf’s face was not of agony, but of utter dissipation. Eyes glittering with newly found ecstasy narrowed, generous lips curled back from gritted teeth. Hands, helpless on the ends of wrists that here being held above the silvering head, impotently clenched, turning knuckles white with stress. Beneath him, the debauched angel of his dreams gasped and moaned and brought hips up to meet his.
 
Remus managed to free one arm, and his fingers ran across hard cheekbone and caress milky throat. He pulled Severus’ head towards his, lips touching first in reverence then in open-mouthed lust. As they probed each other’s mouths in wantonness, the Gryffindor’s hands wandered down the narrow back of his lover and cupped his firm buttocks. Copying what had been done to him, the werewolf’s fingers massaged, explored and finally discovered Snape’s own entrance. Not bothering to lubricate, he pressed the tip of his dry finger against the tight arsehole and the head popped in, causing Severus, offguard and not expecting, to lose his balance and collapse fully on top of Lupin. As Snape continued to thrust, writhing between the finger and the hot, dry passage he was buried in, the added closeness massaged Remus’ still throbbing cock.
 
As it hit them, a tsunami that broke so violently and passionately that is washed rationality away, they screamed.