Word Count: approx. 2,500
Warnings: Watersports (obviously), uh... lots of "f-bombs"?
Summary: They enjoy pushing each other to their limits, and then even more. Just because.
Note: Done for a comment fic fest prompt, and I am too lazy (and tired) this time of night to split it up into comments. So consider this my intro to the comm, I suppose? And to katekintail, I hope this fits just about what you prompted. :)
Too much to drink. Far, far too much. Remus knows the boys' (or rather, mens' for him and Severus) room is just another floor up in the castle, but he doesn't feel like retreating from the dungeons, nor does he feel like giving Severus Snape the satisfaction that he's the one to give in to his body first. Classic old Gryffindor-Slytherin bloody rivalry. He hasn't even admitted that he needs to fucking piss, because again, that would be giving in, giving it away. Yet it's evident, they're both intelligent men, and they both drank too bloody much to NOT have to take a piss by now.
And Remus sees that fidgeting foot peeking out from under Severus' crisp, clean, black robes. Severus isn't one to fidget. He's the epitome of stoic and balance and restraint. Remus feels the effects of blood starting to rush to his penis, and can't help but break into the smallest hint of a smile, because getting hard means being physically unable to piss, at least until he comes.
So... "Would you care for another drink, Severus?" He pours a slight bit for himself, just because, and proffers the glass of alcohol to his counterpart -- gods, but the sound of the liquid pouring, and there's another sharp stab to his bladder. No. Snape takes the bottle and pours more for himself, god fucking -- Remus almost has to grab at his crotch, but no, no, no. He grits his teeth instead, raises the glass to Severus, and chugs it down, just about each drop eventually heading to his already bloody aching for release bladder. It's a bloody game it is; bloody game to see who fucking loses themselves first and spurts all over their trousers, down the floor, and FUCK. He's getting more and more turned on as he watches Severus sip at his own glass, finishing it far too slowly. He just -- god, he wants to pounce on Severus right then and there and bloody kiss him and snog and make love and just fuck each other senseless until they both piss the fuck all over each other, mixing with the come… and Merlin's pants, "Sure you have to take a visit to the loo soon, Severus?" The desire's written all over his face and lined within his voice, he's certain.
"Of course not, Lupin - though I daresay you will need to soon? That leg of yours has been bouncing for the past several minutes." Oh, gods, that sneer of his, snaking its way through Remus' entire being. He shudders, but doesn't give in. Not yet. Far from yet. He’s not that easy to break.
He smiles, bit uneasy he knows, but, "Ha, nervous habit. Certain you remember the times when we were students here and I'd be told off for having such a nervous leg? The professors loathed it."
Severus bites his lip and nods, placing one of his pinkies at the corner of his mouth for a moment, "Yes, and then right after the lessons, you'd be straight off to the loos. I do clearly remember that." As he speaks, he gets up from his seat across the way (Remus not missing the pause halfway from sitting to standing, the way Severus' left fingers twitch just that little bit; gods, his restraint is envious, but also a motivator, the strongest one to keep holding on) and crosses the distance between them. He stands tall against Remus, and the tips of his slender fingers grasp hold of Remus' chin, lifting his head.
"One time, or perhaps more than once, I would discreetly follow you to the loo," -- Remus feels another rush of arousal to his abdomen, and his cock is more than half-hard -- "And I would wait just a bit outside. You seemed to figure out just where you could get a bit of privacy for that long piss you’d been waiting for, but as other Gryffindors, you could be blind to the rather obvious, as well." Severus smirks and bends down just a bit, placing a teasing kiss just beside Remus' mouth; he bloody well knows how to get the man in a frenzy, and god is it doing just that. Remus can feel the growl in his throat, and he doesn't keep it in, because fuck how he wants this. He moves to stand up, too, just about Severus' height, and there's that dull full ache in his bladder, but he's too hard now to even think about the possibility of taking a piss. Instead, he attacks back, a nip to Severus' jawline before he speaks, his head resting just against Snape's shoulder.
"Sure you loved the sound of my urine against the toilet bowl, since when I'm full like that, usually I go for the stalls instead. Can be a bit more, erm, dirty there." He grins as his hand travels down Snape's back, pressing in to the skin with just one layer between. When he's at Snape's lower back, he pulls his hand around and presses just the tiniest bit to the other's bladder, and oh fucking hell. 'Course he won't say, but the evidence is there. Snape moves a bit, but he isn't yet pissing; Remus moves his hand farther down and finds that Snape's also hard. He can't help but cup Snape's groin through the slit beween his robes to his equally black trousers.
"Git," he groans out, bucking just once against Remus. Remus lets the insult-turned-compliment slide without (vocalized) further comment, pulling his fingers and hand away just to serve the Slytherin well. He pulls himself off Severus, too, just checking that the door to the potion master's quarters are locked tight shut, thank you very much. But then Severus is against his back, near pushing him into the castle's stone walls, reaching his hand around and between Remus' robes to his own beige trousers, deftly unzipping him and finding his hardened cock, because once Severus Snape learns to do something, he does it more than well unless he means to screw the fuck up, and screw the fuck up hard.
Snape’s hand wrapped around his cock, Remus puts the palms of his hands against the castle’s cold rock wall, rough and sending shivers through and down his spine, “Fuck me.” It’s half-groan, half-simple utterance. He feels Severus press his lips against the back of his neck, feels those lips curl into a sickeningly delighted smirk, and Remus moans the Slytherin’s given name while his fingernails near claw into the stone in front of him. But he wants more, and the monster within him won’t just go for being dominated by one of Salazar Slytherin’s slimy snakes. He chews down on his tongue as Snape’s finger teases his slit, then trails upward to his bollocks, teasing him yet again.
“You bastard,” he says, and reaches down to remove Snape’s hand, but no, no, Merlin, the bastard in question won’t comply with him, and he can’t just spin around on his feet with someone else’s hand in possession of his hard-on. But he can use one of his hands to tease Severus’ own until the other gives in, which he does just that. Two can play at that game.
Three seconds and he’s pushed Snape on the floor, and is in the process of ripping off his too-much-in-the-way robes. He doesn’t pull the robes completely away from Severus’ body, leaving them as a makeshift blanket as he unbuttons Snape’s tunic, exposing his chest. Snape isn’t lifeless as Remus does all of this, though; no, he’s talking his arse off and it’s only making Remus go faster and screw up all the much more to the point where he just magically removes the last five buttons because his voice is too damned much.
He nearly lays on top of Snape, ruling over him in action as much as Snape is lording over his mind with his words, telling him about how bloody amazing it was to hear Remus let go in those Hogwart’s years, hear the stream hit porcelain and that sweet fucking release which culminated in wanking off and coming, “And I wonder when you came in the toilet, when it was on your robes… or your trousers… or when you licked it off your disgusting hand, my werewolf…”
Remus jerks his hips at the last words that simply drip from Severus’ tongue, while his own tongue runs around Severus’ nipple as his fingers make a path over the potion master’s collarbones and ribs. He rests his hand for a few moments on the other man’s heart, the sensation brought forth from the staggering beats making his cock twitch even more so inside his trousers. But now Severus is done with words (for the moment, at least) and Remus helps the other man remove just about all articles of clothing between them. In between removing the fabrics that keep skin from touching skin, they both go for the things that make the other go into a near frenzy with desire and pure lust.
With his cock rubbing against Severus’ a minute later, Severus underneath him still for now, Remus thinks this is going to be one of the best. Best what, he’s not entirely sure of right now, but he can guess the general direction as Severus goes for the inside of his thighs with the tips of his fingers, knowing full well that that’s one of his most sensitive zones. He bites down on his tongue, almost thinking he’s going to draw blood when Snape takes his finger away, and the touch is gone, and it’s all Remus now.
He calms his breathing as much as he can, eyes darting around Severus’ exposed form beneath him, deciding where to go -- the neck. Leaning down, their erect cocks side-by-side now, Remus brushes his tongue over Severus’s own place, the place that drives him starking mad, the place where Remus has control and can make Snape beg. And he absolutely loves it, his ears already hyper-sensitive, hearing Severus Snape whimper from his touch.
With lubricant ready soon after from a simple accio! Remus stimulates and readies Severus as he lies there still, already cleaned out a bit earlier because Remus had left a note that only Snape could read earlier in the day. Yet Remus is careful as always, careful and patient even though he knows their cocks are begging release and then, shortly after, their bladders. When the preparatory’s done, Remus enters, slow and easy because he knows that’s what Severus wants, what they need, this level of trust. It’s taken months to form it, but they have and to none the wiser.
They’re not the kind of couple to talk too much while doing this, but Remus knows what Severus’ thinking and he’s sure Snape knows the same. He pushes in a bit deeper and gets into a rhythm, his hips making the motions as he helps Snape with his own erection by lightly moving his fingers over Severus’ own, and then onto his own pleading cock. He sees the pre-come forming around the tip of the head, and moves his fingers to Severus’ bollocks, massaging them and he hears Snape gasp, just retaining his control with a well-worded curse at Remus.
He loses it first as he concentrates on Snape’s bladder, bulging as it is from all the liquid. As he comes in Snape, he rests his hand on the other’s bladder, pressing down just a bit and fuck, fucking, fuck HELL. He gasps as he finishes coming, pulling his cock out because he’s going to damn well lose it any second now but no, Snape’s grabbed onto his wrist, grabbing it and moving one hand away from his cock as the other wraps tightly around, just barely holding on to his wits and his bladder that’s all too clearly too fucking full, too much, too fucking much.
“I can’t fucking hold it in any longer, Snape,” he hisses through grit teeth, but Severus hasn’t come yet, and he’s got one finger pressed to his closed lips.
“Hold it for me,” the other man whispers, and fuck he can’t think anymore. He doesn’t know how he does it, but he counts ten seconds more, ten agonizing seconds until the first spurt comes, and it’s over Snape’s cock, and Snape comes right then as Remus tries to hold back just once more but can’t. He starts pissing again, unable to control it while Snape comes over his stomach and he pisses on Snape’s cock and over his robes that are still their blanket.
He tortures himself for several seconds as the simple lack of control disappears and he’s got a steady stream coming out, tortures himself at the thought of trying to stop if Snape asks him to. Just for him. He could. He might. He doesn’t know if he wants to, because the relief feels so fucking good, but then Snape is holding onto his flaccid cock now, moving to stand, and he says, simple and to the point, “Stop.” Oh, fuck. They’d practiced this, practiced being able to control their urethra muscles better, and he just does this time, whimpering though because full release still hasn’t come, but oh god Severus hasn’t even started yet, the fucking arse. The blasted sorry sod.
He stands with Snape, feeling himself leaking, hears Snape just utter, “Press into me,” and he knows. He pushes Snape up against the wall, pressing against his bladder, bursting the dam. He hears Snape moaning, feels the hot piss against his naked flesh, and then, “Go,” and he’s pissing again, not as hard as Snape is, but fuck, fuck, fuck. They’re naked against each other, Severus’ back to the stone wall, Remus pressed up against him, and he presses his lips against Snape's while they’re pissing, a puddle more than evident on the floor now.
His stream weakens considerably as they’re snogging, hands still exploring, and Snape’s stream still going – the man could still hold a bit more than Remus, though Remus had no idea how the hell a man could. Severus merely referred to years of practice and then always continued to distract him with his mouth (his skills with that part of his body were usually impeccable as well). It had to be magic, at least part of it. But gods, he doesn’t care right now, he cares about grabbing Severus’ penis and aiming the weakening stream at his own cock, just to feel it. Severus allows him, and if he could, he knows he’d be hard again.
Snape finishes, and they almost collapse on each other just after cleaning up their mess, but they do make it back to Severus’ shower where they wash off (each other) before heading to bed. When they’re lying there, covers off and naked, Remus wraps his arms around Snape and pulls his back to his chest, spooning him (though Severus never will call it that, saying that’s Gryffindor sentimentality, to which Remus laughs and just shakes his head). But he knows Severus enjoys it, just as he enjoys their pissplay.
He’s about to say something, inhaling, but Snape has to have the best human sense of hearing he’s known, “Don’t.”
“What?” Remus teases, rubbing his nose against the back of Snape’s neck.
Severus exhales, something like a laugh, perhaps, “You know. Ruin it, you bloody werewolf.” And then, softer, “...Go to sleep, Remus.”
And he does.