In surrender, is truth

Warnings/kinks: Sensory deprivation, bondage
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, no copyright infringement is intended. I play with them, without permission, in my head and for fun; not earning money from sharing it. No real people were harmed in the writing of this story.

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In surrender, is truth


Severus relies on his senses. Severus relies on his intellect and his ability to interpret the information he receives from his senses. He trusts his ability to discern what is relevant information and what is not, what should be noted and what should be discarded. He takes great pride in his intellect, in his mind, in his capacity to learn difficult things, and to develop them into something even more advanced.

Lucius enjoys unbalancing Severus. He enjoys putting Severus in a situation where he cannot be guided by his intellect and his usual thought-processes. One of his pleasures is to give Severus new experiences, to persuade him to embrace the feelings, the sensations, instead of scoffing at them and thrust them aside as being of little importance. Lucius wants Severus to enjoy.

Severus cannot touch Lucius, cannot reach out and move his hand over soft skin... he is restrained. Thick ropes are wound around his limbs, a soft, yet exhilarating caress of cords as they are snaked around wrists, around ankles, and then Severus\' limbs are pulled away from him. After a softly spoken spell, the ropes fasten themselves to the bedposts and tighten slowly, stretching his limbs, pulling them towards the corners of the bed, this altar of pleasure that Severus knows he will be back to again and again, because he cannot stay away. He does not want to stay away, but he cannot admit that. The mask of sullen grumpiness and the harsh words of sarcasm and biting venom are not weapons that he use against Lucius; no, they are defences, his shields, his armour, but should Lucius stop fighting him, stop tearing down these walls that he sets up, Severus would die inside, deprived of the warmth that he gets from his cold-eyed friend, he thinks.

His walls are not solid for the one he wants to let inside but dare not without a fight.

A soft caress of silk against Severus\' cheek, and then darkness settles over him, layer by layer, increasing in magnitude, a reversal of light that embraces him, little by little, as the black scarf covers his eyes. And finally, he cannot see, cannot discern between form or colour or even shades. There are no shades anymore, no shadows except those that he carry inside, shadows that Severus desperately want to cast off without knowing how.

He listens to the sounds of Lucius removing his clothes, noting on the rustles of fabric as robes fall to the floor, mentally dividing sounds according to the type of fabric – silk sounds like this, velvet like that... Trying to keep calm and relaxed, a semblance of his usual self, a hold on his intellect, Severus analyses what he is hearing, the clues he gets from little clinks of glass, the sound of a cabinet door opening and closing. He tries to guess what Lucius is doing, tries to see him for his inner eye as the man moves around the room, seemingly uncaring of Severus\' plight and position.

Footsteps closing in on the bed, the mattress dipping as Lucius sits down next to Severus, a sibilant word whispered into the darkness by a voice that Severus loves to hear... and then there is nothing. The night of yet another of his senses is upon him as silence enfolds him. To this night there are no stars, no moon that shines and can give him a hint of outline, a glimmer of a path. Severus is left alone in the dark and the silence, with nowhere to go and no way to escape, and at first it is terrifying. His mind grabs at whatever it can find, the venues of information that are left to it. There is taste, there is smell... but at that moment these are not speaking to him. He cannot taste what is beyond the darkness, and the silence has no fragrance.

But Severus can feel. And feel he does, as fingers brush lightly over his naked skin.

\"Lucius...\" Severus knows not whether he has spoken aloud as he intended to do, or if the name is but a thought that he clings to. The loneliness that he at first feared is filled with sensations – light touches, sharp scratches, searing heat as something is dropped onto him, breathtaking chill as icy coldness caress his spine. The boundaries between pleasure and pain are removed and they blend into one intense feeling of stormy bliss that Severus cannot get enough of. He is addicted to it, trying to beg for more, for Lucius to not stop, never stop... Severus pulls at the restraints and the chafing of his skin is nothing but another drop in the sea of delights that is overtaking him. He imagines himself drowning, his inner core squeezed by a great pressure that builds up from outside; no from within; Severus\' mind can no longer keep up from down, inside from outside. His intellect has no say anymore, abandoning him to his lusts.

And he realises that it is not he who is being squeezed, it is he who is draining the juice from the succulent fruit of pleasure that Lucius has presented him with. As the mind-numbing orgasm flows through him, wracking his body, he hears the blood rushing inside him and his heart thumping by the vibrations alone; he smells and tastes the darkness and the colours that hide inside it, behind the lids of his eyes, in the explosion of sensations, and he sees. Severus finally sees that he is loved.