HP FIC: Games Wizards Play (1/1)
Sep. 21st, 2012 01:40 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rain_of_goldTitle: Games Wizards Play
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Snape/Remus, past Remus/Sirius assumed/mentioned
Disclaimer: Goodness gracious, not my characters and I make no money!
Notes: Written for a comment fic fest prompt, but this got away from me and instead of being a comment fic, it turned into 10 pages.
Snape first noticed it one morning at the staff table. Remus had greeted him with a typically congenial “Good morning, Severus.” Snape had replied with his usual grunt and curt nod. And then he’d downed two cups of coffee in an attempt to wake up. Mornings were not something Severus Snape enjoyed. He tended to sleepwalk through them as much as possible.
And, yet, it caught his eye. The bouncing, jiggling leg. The hand snaking briefly beneath cloth napkin for a squeeze. Another hand gripping a fork so tightly knuckles turned white. Eyes that strayed to the timepiece on the wall. Professor R. J. Lupin had to pee.
Snape couldn’t look away. And his cock wept painfully with excitement at the thought of what Lupin must be thinking. His erection tented stiffly beneath loose-fitting robes, knowing precisely what Lupin was feeling. Fighting that need was hard, but Lupin was a werewolf; he’d be strong enough to hold out for ages one day. All he needed was a little practice.
Snape watched out of the corner of his eye, fascinated, captivated. Lupin wasn’t very good at hiding his desperation, but he seemed to be good at being desperate. All the right moves. The intensity of need. The man was new at this, Snape realized. New and inexperienced sure meant one thing: an accident.
Snape grinned, expecting a puddle at Lupin’s feet at any moment. But ten minutes from the end of breakfast, kippers still hot on his plate, Lupin excused himself politely and bolted from the staff table. Once out the door, he went left—straight for the restroom.
Smirking but mildly disappointed, Snape downed the rest of his pumpkin juice.
*
There were plenty of ways Snape liked to spend his free periods, but lurking outside Lupin’s classroom wasn’t usually one of them. Snape had passed by the Defense Against Dark Arts on his way from the dungeons to the owlry, and he couldn’t help but notice Remus squirm.
It wasn’t a desperate sort of squirm, the kind where you have to dance and grip yourself to keep it in. It was the involuntary kind where your body twitches, not expecting the sudden twang or twinge in your loins. His students, busy practicing shield charms in pairs, hadn’t seen—Snape was certain about that.
But Snape hung back from the doorway, just out of sight. He couldn’t see Lupin, but he could see the man’s shadow. He watched the uneven, uncertain pacing. Watched the way Lupin kept turning toward the hourglass. Watched restless arms try to hang naturally at his side until he just had to cross them over his chest, hug himself tight as if that would keep him together, keep it all inside.
Snape couldn’t see Lupin, but he could hear. “Well done, all of you. Keep practicing that for homework. I want one foot of parchment listing the situations where you might use the charm. That’s all.” A shuffling of books and papers commenced, and Snape was about to back away before the students began their exit. But then Lupin emerged, rushing out, walking fast, barreling through the door of the restroom down the hall before any of his students had even slung their bags over their shoulders.
Making himself scarce, Snape resisted the urge to use the restroom himself.
*
It was exactly a week away from the full moon, and Snape glided through the corridors with a steaming goblet of wolfsbane potion in hand. He normally abhorred this part of the job, doing this not to help Lupin but because of his debt to Dumbledore. This time, however, he was eager to see his colleague again. Lupin might have nearly killed him when they were kids here at Hogwarts, but that was a long time ago. And he’d never met anyone who shared this fascination with him.
Lupin was in his office, sitting at his desk, grading papers. Standing in the doorway, Snape cleared his throat. “Your potion, Lupin.”
“Ah.” His voice was shaky. “Yes. Thank you, Severus. You can just leave it on the desk.”
Normally, Snape would have done just that. He would have slammed it down, turned, and fled the room gracefully. This time, however, he stretched a leg back, hooked the toe of his boot around the edge of the door, and pulled it shut behind him.
Lupin looked up, cocking his head. “Severus?”
“You know it’s best to drink it while it’s still warm.”
“I…” His hand trembled. His teeth worried his bottom lip. “I’m not feeling so thirsty at the moment. I’ll have it in a minute.” By Merlin, he glanced over at the door that led to his bedchamber. Could he be more obvious about his need?
Snape did not put the goblet down. He did not back down. He stood his ground, a rare smile passing over his lips. “Come and get it, Lupin. If you think you can.”
Lupin’s eyes had a tint of amber to them, and they flashed at Snape. He was startled. Shamed. Afraid. But, somewhere deep behind all of that, he was a brave Gryffindor still. With what looked like great effort, Lupin unfolded a stiff body, rising from his chair and rounding his desk. He shuffled more than walked, legs close together, steps tiny and controlled movements. When he stood still in front of Snape, his thighs shook.
With a continuous series of six rapid gulps, Lupin drained the goblet. His eyes met Snape’s for the briefest of seconds. Then he tore from his spot and sprinted for his chamber. Snape heard a door open and slam. And then he heard what he would admit to himself later—when Snape was alone at night with his hand on his cock and two fingers up his arse—as the most beautiful moan of release he had ever heard in his life.
Snape strode across the small office, magical creatures in tanks and cages around the place restless, watching him, but he paid them no mind. Invading Lupin’s privacy, he entered his fellow professor’s chamber. A shabby little bed. A bookshelf. A battered trunk. A closet door ajar for there was nothing of value to hide. Snape barely noticed any of it. He merely walked to the man’s private loo and pressed his ear to the door.
The tinkle of pee against porcelain was muffled and soft, the stream weak now. Lupin was nearly done and Snape had missed the best of it. The first rush of heat and warmth and release. The pungent, natural scent. The gorgeous arc of gold. And the splash when it misses the bowl and catches the seat for a second, entirely uncontrollable. If you had to use a toilet, that was the way to do it all right.
About to pull back, Snape suddenly froze as he heard another sound. This one wasn’t even a dribbly tinkle to signal the end of the fun. Rather, it was a slap of skin, a sliding of a fist, and unmistakable sound of someone working his cock into a frenzy.
There were desperate little sounds of excitement. Tiny, halting little grunts. And then came a gasp that nearly made Snape’s heart stop. And Remus came. Gloriously.
Snape grinned. He backed away only enough for Lupin to take one step out of the bathroom. Which Lupin did, before running right into Snape’s front. Snape’s front with an erection so hard no one could have missed it, but Lupin certainly didn’t. “Snape!” He gritted his teeth.
“Come now,” Snape said, half smiling. “You always call me Severus.”
“You’re in my bedroom.”
“All the more reason.”
“Why are you in my bedroom?”
“Would you have preferred I come in the bathroom with you? Because that could be arranged.” This time, all smiles, “Or were you too busy… coming in the bathroom on your own?”
His cheeks reddened. His shoulders slumped. His gaze dropped.
“I propose a relationship, Lupin.”
Lupin opened and closed his mouth three times before finally saying, “I don’t think that would be a very good arrangement between the two of us. We don’t have very much in common.”
Snape stepped forward, and Lupin took an involuntary step back. “You still fancy the gents, don’t you? Or was that fling with Black when we were kids just an experiment?”
“I’m… well, yes, of course I’m gay.”
“Well, then there’s that in common already.” He took a step forward. Lupin took a step back. “And we’re both professors.” Another pair of steps, though this one made Remus’ leg hit the toilet. He almost lost his balance and fell back, but Snape grabbed his arm. “And we both have the same sexual kink, Lupin.”
Lupin could have denied it. He could have pretended he had no idea what Snape was talking about. Instead, he looked down and back at the toilet. Then he straightened and took a brave step forward. He pressed himself against Snape. “If we’re going to do this, you’d better start calling me Remus.”
“And you…” Snape licked his lips. “You’d better start listening to me. Because these attempts of yours have been pathetic.”
Remus looked into his eyes, and for a moment Snape thought maybe he was going to leave, offended. But then he replied, “Teach me.”
*
Mixtures in colored bottles. Brews in bubbling cauldrons. Potions in glass phials. Professor Severus Snape was a master of liquids. He knew how they worked. Knew what they did. And knew how much to take in. Still, as Remus sipped his tea the next morning, he had to admit he had his doubts.
This had happened so very suddenly, he still wasn’t sure what to make of it. A week before his time of the month, he always felt especially horny. He’d tried all sorts of things to satisfy himself—things that vibrate, things that suck, things that smack and sting and stimulate, things that pinch and tweak, things that tickle and tease, things that made his whole body sing. But the best thing—the very best thing—was what happened to his body when he so much as thought about pissing in complete desperation.
Pissing his pants. Ruining his robes. Wetting his wardrobe, such as it was. He wanted to wrap his dick in fluffy white towels and piss till they turned yellow. He wanted to stand where anyone could see him and let everything he’d had to drink stream down his leg and puddle at his shoes. He wanted to wee, to pee, to piss, to void, to have a slash. And for all that, he needed Snape.
“Another cup of tea, Remus?” Snape leaned a little too close at the staff table as he brandished the teapot. The spout toyed at the rim of Remus’ teacup.
Remus had spent all night memorizing the rules, and wanking to the mere repetition of them. The first one was, naturally, that he must drink anything Snape gave to him.
So Remus lifted his teacup and gave a resolute nod.
As the hot tea met his lips, Remus felt his cock stiffen in excitement.
“Tastes good?” Snape asked.
Remus took another sip and nodded. He’d never tasted anything better.
*
Remus had requested they do this on Saturday, so that neither of them would have classes to distract them and eat into their time. But Snape insisted that that was the very reason they should do it today. Right away. Without delay.
And that was how Snape came up with rule number two. It was some sick version of a drinking game. The Marauders had played them occasionally with fire whiskey, and they usually ended up with the four of them curled in blankets in separate stalls of the boys’ loo in Gryffindor Tower. This one, however, was supposed to end in the very things Remus dreamed about. Which, apparently, were the same things Snape dreamed about.
“Ukrainian Stealbellies, Sir.”
Remus’ heart fluttered as he reached for his glass of water and took a sip. One sip for every wrong thing a student said. “Close, Stevens. I think you were going for Ukranian Ironbelly.”
Remus felt a little twinge. He’d gone through a full glass of water already and it wasn’t even 10am yet. If this kept on, he wouldn’t make it to lunch. “I think that’s enough of the questions and answers for a while. How about we practice a few spells that would be useful against dragons, hmm?”
*
The corridors were packed with students flocking to the Great Hall. Remus’ hand stroked the door to the bathroom, smoothed down wood so inviting against his palm. He could feel all that he had had to drink inside him now, weighing heavily. Rule number three was going to be the hardest for Remus.
No toilets. No loos. He wasn’t even allowed to piss in a sink. No, he was allowed only two options: hold it in or wet himself outside the bathroom where anyone could see. His body seemed entirely unable to do the latter, so he was stuck with the former.
With a deep breath and all the resolve he could muster, Remus pushed the door to the bathroom open. The urinals practically glowed. And the stalls were welcomingly peaceful. However, Remus walked over to a sink and placed both hands on the edge. He stared at his reflection and wondered for the first time how he could have agreed to this. Severus Snape hated him. Snape had been out to expose him when they were kids. And now that they were colleagues, Snape went out of his way to show the headmaster why Remus should be sacked. Snape probably didn’t even have a piss fetish. He was probably just doing this to watch Remus make a fool of himself.
“Don’t tell me you broke so soon, Remus.”
Remus froze as Snape emerged from one of the stalls, smoothing his robes into place, his hand inching so close to his crotch.
“No,” Remus said, but his voice cracked. “I came in to wash my hands before lunch.”
“Of course.” Snape joined Remus at the sink. Instead of going to the one beside him, Snape moved in from behind. With his arms around Remus, he reached past and used the sink to wash his own hands.
Remus was trapped between the running water in the sink and Severus Snape. Worst yet, he couldn’t reach down and clutch his crotch. He was right. Snape was an asshole. This was his revenge plot. Snape pressed his lips to the back of Remus’ neck. Tender, reassuring, concerned. Snape turned off the water, shook off his hands, and reached one down. He felt around, stroking the inside of Remus’ thigh, then gripping Remus’ cock.
Air inflated Remus’ lungs, sucked in suddenly. Snape was a whole lot more than Remus had expected. He was a master at potions. And, apparently, he was a master at this as well. His hand held exactly where it needed to in order to make that little urge in Remus die down. It was like those cups of tea and goblets of juice from breakfast and those three glasses of water during morning classes had never happened. He felt like he could down a jug of juice and still not need to wee, as long as Snape kept holding him.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Snape asked.
“Amazing,” Remus breathed out. “Don’t ever let go.”
Snape’s lips teased the back of Remus’ ear. “Mmm. But where’s the fun in that?” He stepped back.
Remus winced.
*
Remus only made it through half of lunch. Snape kept passing him goblets. And two of his students came up to ask questions, citing incorrect things, requiring Remus to take more sips.
Soon, Remus was scissoring his legs beneath the staff table, robes closed in the front as the only thing saving him from being so obviously in need to pee.
“Another gobletfull, Remus?”
The rules flying through his head again, turning him on despite the torture, Remus grabbed the goblet in front of him and jumped up from the table. “I’ll drink it on my way to the staff room,” he explained, taking off.
Classes ended early on every first Friday of the month, giving the professors time for a staff meeting. Remus was the first to arrive. He positioned himself in the armchair nearest to the door, just in case. But the moment he sat down, he knew it was a mistake. His bladder tweaked in need, protesting the last few drops in the goblet that Remus forced down then set aside for house elves to remove.
He realized suddenly that he was squeezing himself. His grip was not all that far from what Snape had done to him earlier. Remus squeezed and slid a thumb over the dimpled head of his cock. It felt so good his body tingled. He felt the need to pee, certainly, but more important was that he wanted to pee. He wanted it to flow from him. He wanted to feel it hot and naughty against his crotch. He wanted to touch his dripping wet dick and masturbate even as the last few drips of urine hit the stone floor.
But he couldn’t. Not here. And not in the loo. Plus, there was rule four. Under this rule, he was not allowed to spill even a single precious drop until Snape told him he could.
So Remus pressed himself against the corner of the chair, shifting around and hitting it at just the right angle to trap his cock. When he leaned forward, the pressure was just enough to help him hold back. And he could keep it there by folding his arms casually upon the top of the chair, instead of by holding himself so obviously.
Not a moment later, other staff members walked in. And Snape, meeting Remus’ eyes with a knowing look, took a seat in the chair that was Remus’ only savior. Remus tried to focus on the meeting, but all he could think about was letting go into the dark purple velvet fabric of the chair.
*
“I can’t,” Remus whispered, walking awkwardly down the halls with Snape beside him.
“You can.”
“You don’t know! I’m… so desperate for a wee. I haven’t gone all day.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
Just as Remus was about to cry in frustration, Snape reached out and rubbed his back. Snape had matched his speed to Remus’ as they sped to Remus’ office. He had volunteered his own, in case Remus felt nervous about messing up his things, but Remus wanted to do this on his own territory. But he was going to lose it soon, he really was. This was torture.
“It feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?”
“No!” Remus’ fingers flexed uselessly. If he didn’t hold himself soon, he was going to start spurting into his pants. It would be warm and heavy and dirty and so very, very good. “Yes,” he admitted. “Fuck… yes.”
He bent forward, nearly in half, as another spasm seized him. He stopped in place, crossed his legs tightly, and tensed his muscles all he could to keep it in. He didn’t want to piss here. Not after all he’d been through that day, all the rules, all the willpower. He didn’t want to start peeing in the middle of some hallway when his room was so close. He just needed a little more help, just a little.
“Please can I use magic?” he begged. “I’ve just gotta hold on, and I can’t. I have to wee so badly…”
“No magic,” Snape said, the backs of his fingers railing across Remus’ cheek. “Rule number five.”
Remus whimpered. One more step and it was going to come out. He could feel it pooling inside him, forcing its way through him, waiting for just one little moment of weakness to take advantage of.
“You can make it. I know you can.”
Remus wasn’t so sure. He bit his lower lip hard, clenched for all he was worth, and straightened back up. He couldn’t piss here. He had to do it back in his room. Because as soon as he was done, as soon as all that lovely golden piss had rushed from him, he was going to need to come. And while having an accident would be embarrassing, there was absolutely no way he could allow himself to enjoy it, knowing he wouldn’t be able to orgasm right after. That’s what all this was about, after all. But this was still a school, with children about, and there were some lines that could not be crossed, not even when he had a partner in kink so devious and experienced as Snape.
“I can make it,” Remus agreed. And he moved forward with unprecedented speeds.
*
“Recite them to me,” Snape said, wand in hand, circling Remus. Remus stood in the center of his bedchamber, naked except for his underpants and gripping himself with both hands.
“Rule one: I must accept and drink everything you give me.”
“And did you do that?” Snape teased the tip of his wand around Remus’ middle as he circled around.
Desperate to get through this, Remus knew it wouldn’t do to sound rushed. So he opted for politeness. “Every drop, Sir.”
Snape stopped, eyebrows raising in surprise at being addressed like this. He smiled again, regaining the superior air. “Go on.”
“Rule two: I must take a…” he faltered, wriggling with need, then spitting the rest out. “I must take a drink every time a student says something incorrectly.”
“And did you have a lot of incompetent students, Remus?”
Remus shook his head. “No more than any other professor… but my fair share today.”
Snape looked like he wanted to challenge this statement, but he did not.
“Rule three: I’m not allowed to p-pee in a loo.”
“That wouldn’t be arousing, would it? Boring, ordinary bathroom. Simple toilet. You crave something more, don’t you?”
Remus nodded and continued on. “Rule five—no! No, rule four.” Snape wand slid over Remus’ nipple. Remus’ skin was so sensitive, it drove him mad. Hypersensitive skin cried out at too much stimulation. “Rule four: I’m not allowed to go until you tell me to.”
“Good. And I’ll only tell you to when I’m satisfied you’ve learned what you’re meant to.”
“And rule five: no using magic to help myself hold on. And I haven’t, I swear!”
“Very good, Remus.” When he said Remus’ name, it sounded to Remus as if he were saying “slave” or “sub”. His whole body cried out for Snape’s approval. Snape could allow him to release. Snape could give him relief. Everything he was right now depended on Snape.
“Now may I piss, Sir? Please? Oh Merlin, please?”
“You have to go?” Snape asked, eyes moving down to rest on Remus’ crotch. Remus twisted about, unable to stand still now. He turned and bounced, shifted his weight, crossed and uncrossed and crossed his legs again.
“I have to pee so bad.” So bad it hurt. “I can’t hold it any longer. I’ve got to wee now.” He might be imagining it, but he could have sworn he felt a few drops trying to escape already. Holding on was so hard. And peeing was so fucking good. “I think… I’m going to go. Oh no. No no no, Severus!”
“SIR!” Snape’s voice boomed, making Remus jump.
“Sir,” Remus whimpered the correction. He was so close. He might be able to make it a few more seconds, but no longer than that. It was coming out. And he couldn’t stop it!
Remus looked desperately at the door to his bathroom. The toilet was right there. He loved peeing. He loved the way it felt when he had to go badly and as soon as he was in front of a toilet the urge magnified into an uncontrollable level of desperation. He’d nearly wet himself a hundred time like that. And he wanted to feel it again.
Knowing Snape’s rules but not caring, Remus tried to break away and go for the bathroom.
But suddenly Snape was there, arms wrapped tight around him.
“Noooooo,” Remus moaned.
Snape growled.
“No… Sir,” Remus tried. He couldn’t wriggle around feely now. He couldn’t move away. He couldn’t stop his pee.
Snape held more tightly, lifting a leg, pressing his thigh to Remus’ crotch and pushing away one of Remus’ hands. Then he pressed his lips to Remus’ ear. “Go,” he ordered. “Right here. Everything in you. Let it all out right now.”
And Remus, nervous about peeing his pants, found he couldn’t control himself enough to care about that. He peed. “Doing it… can’t stop… doing it… doing it all over now. I’m peeing!” He still had his thumb over his peehole for a second and it sprayed like the end of a hose for a second until he released it, letting it all out freely. “I’m peeing! Peeing so much!”
It streamed out of him never-endingly, just as wet and warm as he had dreamed. He peed in his pants. And he peed on Snape’s leg. Then, as Snape moved, onto Snape’s crotch. Snape was rock hard against Remus. Snape was shuddering. Snape was holding him tight still.
Remus trembled, leaning into Snape for support now. The flow was starting to let up, but not yet stopped. Everything from his waist down was drenched beautifully now. And the relief of finally letting it out slowly gave way to the realization that he’d finally done what he wanted to. Sure, Snape had needed to hold him here this time, but now he knew how it worked. He knew the rules. He knew how fucking amazing it felt.
“You done?”
“Not yet,” Remus moaned. “Still going. Oh, Sir. Feels so good to wet myself. Feels so good to finally go… for you. I feel like I could piss forever, there’s so much I held inside. Feels so good.”
“I know it does,” Snape murmured, kissing him. “And it’s going to feel even better in a second.”
Remus had a hard time believing that. But then he realized he was growing hard. And then, suddenly, he was down on his back in his dry, familiar bed. And Snape was touching him all over. Snape was stroking him and sliding a fist up and down his shaft. And Snape was “Oh FUCK!” Remus realized Snape wasn’t just on top of him; Snape was peeing on him.
Remus came so powerfully he felt like he was going to explode. Every bit of him cried out in pleasure, the euphoric release blinding him to all but the hot piss arcing onto his cock.
Afterward, Snape used magic to clean everything up. Afterward, Snape pulled a blanket up over Remus. Afterward, Snape lay down beside him. “Not bad for your first time,” Snape said.
“Did you enjoy it? Or was that just for me?”
Snape snorted at the absurdity. “I’m a Slytherin. I don’t do anything unless there’s something in it for me. Pity I can’t stay here longer.”
“You have to go?” Remus wanted to cling to him.
“I have to go get your next dose of wolfsbane potion.” He kissed Remus’ cheek. “Feel up to drinking it?”
Remus grinned. “Rule number one.” His cock already twitched at the idea of starting this all over again.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Snape/Remus, past Remus/Sirius assumed/mentioned
Disclaimer: Goodness gracious, not my characters and I make no money!
Notes: Written for a comment fic fest prompt, but this got away from me and instead of being a comment fic, it turned into 10 pages.
Snape first noticed it one morning at the staff table. Remus had greeted him with a typically congenial “Good morning, Severus.” Snape had replied with his usual grunt and curt nod. And then he’d downed two cups of coffee in an attempt to wake up. Mornings were not something Severus Snape enjoyed. He tended to sleepwalk through them as much as possible.
And, yet, it caught his eye. The bouncing, jiggling leg. The hand snaking briefly beneath cloth napkin for a squeeze. Another hand gripping a fork so tightly knuckles turned white. Eyes that strayed to the timepiece on the wall. Professor R. J. Lupin had to pee.
Snape couldn’t look away. And his cock wept painfully with excitement at the thought of what Lupin must be thinking. His erection tented stiffly beneath loose-fitting robes, knowing precisely what Lupin was feeling. Fighting that need was hard, but Lupin was a werewolf; he’d be strong enough to hold out for ages one day. All he needed was a little practice.
Snape watched out of the corner of his eye, fascinated, captivated. Lupin wasn’t very good at hiding his desperation, but he seemed to be good at being desperate. All the right moves. The intensity of need. The man was new at this, Snape realized. New and inexperienced sure meant one thing: an accident.
Snape grinned, expecting a puddle at Lupin’s feet at any moment. But ten minutes from the end of breakfast, kippers still hot on his plate, Lupin excused himself politely and bolted from the staff table. Once out the door, he went left—straight for the restroom.
Smirking but mildly disappointed, Snape downed the rest of his pumpkin juice.
There were plenty of ways Snape liked to spend his free periods, but lurking outside Lupin’s classroom wasn’t usually one of them. Snape had passed by the Defense Against Dark Arts on his way from the dungeons to the owlry, and he couldn’t help but notice Remus squirm.
It wasn’t a desperate sort of squirm, the kind where you have to dance and grip yourself to keep it in. It was the involuntary kind where your body twitches, not expecting the sudden twang or twinge in your loins. His students, busy practicing shield charms in pairs, hadn’t seen—Snape was certain about that.
But Snape hung back from the doorway, just out of sight. He couldn’t see Lupin, but he could see the man’s shadow. He watched the uneven, uncertain pacing. Watched the way Lupin kept turning toward the hourglass. Watched restless arms try to hang naturally at his side until he just had to cross them over his chest, hug himself tight as if that would keep him together, keep it all inside.
Snape couldn’t see Lupin, but he could hear. “Well done, all of you. Keep practicing that for homework. I want one foot of parchment listing the situations where you might use the charm. That’s all.” A shuffling of books and papers commenced, and Snape was about to back away before the students began their exit. But then Lupin emerged, rushing out, walking fast, barreling through the door of the restroom down the hall before any of his students had even slung their bags over their shoulders.
Making himself scarce, Snape resisted the urge to use the restroom himself.
It was exactly a week away from the full moon, and Snape glided through the corridors with a steaming goblet of wolfsbane potion in hand. He normally abhorred this part of the job, doing this not to help Lupin but because of his debt to Dumbledore. This time, however, he was eager to see his colleague again. Lupin might have nearly killed him when they were kids here at Hogwarts, but that was a long time ago. And he’d never met anyone who shared this fascination with him.
Lupin was in his office, sitting at his desk, grading papers. Standing in the doorway, Snape cleared his throat. “Your potion, Lupin.”
“Ah.” His voice was shaky. “Yes. Thank you, Severus. You can just leave it on the desk.”
Normally, Snape would have done just that. He would have slammed it down, turned, and fled the room gracefully. This time, however, he stretched a leg back, hooked the toe of his boot around the edge of the door, and pulled it shut behind him.
Lupin looked up, cocking his head. “Severus?”
“You know it’s best to drink it while it’s still warm.”
“I…” His hand trembled. His teeth worried his bottom lip. “I’m not feeling so thirsty at the moment. I’ll have it in a minute.” By Merlin, he glanced over at the door that led to his bedchamber. Could he be more obvious about his need?
Snape did not put the goblet down. He did not back down. He stood his ground, a rare smile passing over his lips. “Come and get it, Lupin. If you think you can.”
Lupin’s eyes had a tint of amber to them, and they flashed at Snape. He was startled. Shamed. Afraid. But, somewhere deep behind all of that, he was a brave Gryffindor still. With what looked like great effort, Lupin unfolded a stiff body, rising from his chair and rounding his desk. He shuffled more than walked, legs close together, steps tiny and controlled movements. When he stood still in front of Snape, his thighs shook.
With a continuous series of six rapid gulps, Lupin drained the goblet. His eyes met Snape’s for the briefest of seconds. Then he tore from his spot and sprinted for his chamber. Snape heard a door open and slam. And then he heard what he would admit to himself later—when Snape was alone at night with his hand on his cock and two fingers up his arse—as the most beautiful moan of release he had ever heard in his life.
Snape strode across the small office, magical creatures in tanks and cages around the place restless, watching him, but he paid them no mind. Invading Lupin’s privacy, he entered his fellow professor’s chamber. A shabby little bed. A bookshelf. A battered trunk. A closet door ajar for there was nothing of value to hide. Snape barely noticed any of it. He merely walked to the man’s private loo and pressed his ear to the door.
The tinkle of pee against porcelain was muffled and soft, the stream weak now. Lupin was nearly done and Snape had missed the best of it. The first rush of heat and warmth and release. The pungent, natural scent. The gorgeous arc of gold. And the splash when it misses the bowl and catches the seat for a second, entirely uncontrollable. If you had to use a toilet, that was the way to do it all right.
About to pull back, Snape suddenly froze as he heard another sound. This one wasn’t even a dribbly tinkle to signal the end of the fun. Rather, it was a slap of skin, a sliding of a fist, and unmistakable sound of someone working his cock into a frenzy.
There were desperate little sounds of excitement. Tiny, halting little grunts. And then came a gasp that nearly made Snape’s heart stop. And Remus came. Gloriously.
Snape grinned. He backed away only enough for Lupin to take one step out of the bathroom. Which Lupin did, before running right into Snape’s front. Snape’s front with an erection so hard no one could have missed it, but Lupin certainly didn’t. “Snape!” He gritted his teeth.
“Come now,” Snape said, half smiling. “You always call me Severus.”
“You’re in my bedroom.”
“All the more reason.”
“Why are you in my bedroom?”
“Would you have preferred I come in the bathroom with you? Because that could be arranged.” This time, all smiles, “Or were you too busy… coming in the bathroom on your own?”
His cheeks reddened. His shoulders slumped. His gaze dropped.
“I propose a relationship, Lupin.”
Lupin opened and closed his mouth three times before finally saying, “I don’t think that would be a very good arrangement between the two of us. We don’t have very much in common.”
Snape stepped forward, and Lupin took an involuntary step back. “You still fancy the gents, don’t you? Or was that fling with Black when we were kids just an experiment?”
“I’m… well, yes, of course I’m gay.”
“Well, then there’s that in common already.” He took a step forward. Lupin took a step back. “And we’re both professors.” Another pair of steps, though this one made Remus’ leg hit the toilet. He almost lost his balance and fell back, but Snape grabbed his arm. “And we both have the same sexual kink, Lupin.”
Lupin could have denied it. He could have pretended he had no idea what Snape was talking about. Instead, he looked down and back at the toilet. Then he straightened and took a brave step forward. He pressed himself against Snape. “If we’re going to do this, you’d better start calling me Remus.”
“And you…” Snape licked his lips. “You’d better start listening to me. Because these attempts of yours have been pathetic.”
Remus looked into his eyes, and for a moment Snape thought maybe he was going to leave, offended. But then he replied, “Teach me.”
Mixtures in colored bottles. Brews in bubbling cauldrons. Potions in glass phials. Professor Severus Snape was a master of liquids. He knew how they worked. Knew what they did. And knew how much to take in. Still, as Remus sipped his tea the next morning, he had to admit he had his doubts.
This had happened so very suddenly, he still wasn’t sure what to make of it. A week before his time of the month, he always felt especially horny. He’d tried all sorts of things to satisfy himself—things that vibrate, things that suck, things that smack and sting and stimulate, things that pinch and tweak, things that tickle and tease, things that made his whole body sing. But the best thing—the very best thing—was what happened to his body when he so much as thought about pissing in complete desperation.
Pissing his pants. Ruining his robes. Wetting his wardrobe, such as it was. He wanted to wrap his dick in fluffy white towels and piss till they turned yellow. He wanted to stand where anyone could see him and let everything he’d had to drink stream down his leg and puddle at his shoes. He wanted to wee, to pee, to piss, to void, to have a slash. And for all that, he needed Snape.
“Another cup of tea, Remus?” Snape leaned a little too close at the staff table as he brandished the teapot. The spout toyed at the rim of Remus’ teacup.
Remus had spent all night memorizing the rules, and wanking to the mere repetition of them. The first one was, naturally, that he must drink anything Snape gave to him.
So Remus lifted his teacup and gave a resolute nod.
As the hot tea met his lips, Remus felt his cock stiffen in excitement.
“Tastes good?” Snape asked.
Remus took another sip and nodded. He’d never tasted anything better.
Remus had requested they do this on Saturday, so that neither of them would have classes to distract them and eat into their time. But Snape insisted that that was the very reason they should do it today. Right away. Without delay.
And that was how Snape came up with rule number two. It was some sick version of a drinking game. The Marauders had played them occasionally with fire whiskey, and they usually ended up with the four of them curled in blankets in separate stalls of the boys’ loo in Gryffindor Tower. This one, however, was supposed to end in the very things Remus dreamed about. Which, apparently, were the same things Snape dreamed about.
“Ukrainian Stealbellies, Sir.”
Remus’ heart fluttered as he reached for his glass of water and took a sip. One sip for every wrong thing a student said. “Close, Stevens. I think you were going for Ukranian Ironbelly.”
Remus felt a little twinge. He’d gone through a full glass of water already and it wasn’t even 10am yet. If this kept on, he wouldn’t make it to lunch. “I think that’s enough of the questions and answers for a while. How about we practice a few spells that would be useful against dragons, hmm?”
The corridors were packed with students flocking to the Great Hall. Remus’ hand stroked the door to the bathroom, smoothed down wood so inviting against his palm. He could feel all that he had had to drink inside him now, weighing heavily. Rule number three was going to be the hardest for Remus.
No toilets. No loos. He wasn’t even allowed to piss in a sink. No, he was allowed only two options: hold it in or wet himself outside the bathroom where anyone could see. His body seemed entirely unable to do the latter, so he was stuck with the former.
With a deep breath and all the resolve he could muster, Remus pushed the door to the bathroom open. The urinals practically glowed. And the stalls were welcomingly peaceful. However, Remus walked over to a sink and placed both hands on the edge. He stared at his reflection and wondered for the first time how he could have agreed to this. Severus Snape hated him. Snape had been out to expose him when they were kids. And now that they were colleagues, Snape went out of his way to show the headmaster why Remus should be sacked. Snape probably didn’t even have a piss fetish. He was probably just doing this to watch Remus make a fool of himself.
“Don’t tell me you broke so soon, Remus.”
Remus froze as Snape emerged from one of the stalls, smoothing his robes into place, his hand inching so close to his crotch.
“No,” Remus said, but his voice cracked. “I came in to wash my hands before lunch.”
“Of course.” Snape joined Remus at the sink. Instead of going to the one beside him, Snape moved in from behind. With his arms around Remus, he reached past and used the sink to wash his own hands.
Remus was trapped between the running water in the sink and Severus Snape. Worst yet, he couldn’t reach down and clutch his crotch. He was right. Snape was an asshole. This was his revenge plot. Snape pressed his lips to the back of Remus’ neck. Tender, reassuring, concerned. Snape turned off the water, shook off his hands, and reached one down. He felt around, stroking the inside of Remus’ thigh, then gripping Remus’ cock.
Air inflated Remus’ lungs, sucked in suddenly. Snape was a whole lot more than Remus had expected. He was a master at potions. And, apparently, he was a master at this as well. His hand held exactly where it needed to in order to make that little urge in Remus die down. It was like those cups of tea and goblets of juice from breakfast and those three glasses of water during morning classes had never happened. He felt like he could down a jug of juice and still not need to wee, as long as Snape kept holding him.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Snape asked.
“Amazing,” Remus breathed out. “Don’t ever let go.”
Snape’s lips teased the back of Remus’ ear. “Mmm. But where’s the fun in that?” He stepped back.
Remus winced.
Remus only made it through half of lunch. Snape kept passing him goblets. And two of his students came up to ask questions, citing incorrect things, requiring Remus to take more sips.
Soon, Remus was scissoring his legs beneath the staff table, robes closed in the front as the only thing saving him from being so obviously in need to pee.
“Another gobletfull, Remus?”
The rules flying through his head again, turning him on despite the torture, Remus grabbed the goblet in front of him and jumped up from the table. “I’ll drink it on my way to the staff room,” he explained, taking off.
Classes ended early on every first Friday of the month, giving the professors time for a staff meeting. Remus was the first to arrive. He positioned himself in the armchair nearest to the door, just in case. But the moment he sat down, he knew it was a mistake. His bladder tweaked in need, protesting the last few drops in the goblet that Remus forced down then set aside for house elves to remove.
He realized suddenly that he was squeezing himself. His grip was not all that far from what Snape had done to him earlier. Remus squeezed and slid a thumb over the dimpled head of his cock. It felt so good his body tingled. He felt the need to pee, certainly, but more important was that he wanted to pee. He wanted it to flow from him. He wanted to feel it hot and naughty against his crotch. He wanted to touch his dripping wet dick and masturbate even as the last few drips of urine hit the stone floor.
But he couldn’t. Not here. And not in the loo. Plus, there was rule four. Under this rule, he was not allowed to spill even a single precious drop until Snape told him he could.
So Remus pressed himself against the corner of the chair, shifting around and hitting it at just the right angle to trap his cock. When he leaned forward, the pressure was just enough to help him hold back. And he could keep it there by folding his arms casually upon the top of the chair, instead of by holding himself so obviously.
Not a moment later, other staff members walked in. And Snape, meeting Remus’ eyes with a knowing look, took a seat in the chair that was Remus’ only savior. Remus tried to focus on the meeting, but all he could think about was letting go into the dark purple velvet fabric of the chair.
“I can’t,” Remus whispered, walking awkwardly down the halls with Snape beside him.
“You can.”
“You don’t know! I’m… so desperate for a wee. I haven’t gone all day.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
Just as Remus was about to cry in frustration, Snape reached out and rubbed his back. Snape had matched his speed to Remus’ as they sped to Remus’ office. He had volunteered his own, in case Remus felt nervous about messing up his things, but Remus wanted to do this on his own territory. But he was going to lose it soon, he really was. This was torture.
“It feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?”
“No!” Remus’ fingers flexed uselessly. If he didn’t hold himself soon, he was going to start spurting into his pants. It would be warm and heavy and dirty and so very, very good. “Yes,” he admitted. “Fuck… yes.”
He bent forward, nearly in half, as another spasm seized him. He stopped in place, crossed his legs tightly, and tensed his muscles all he could to keep it in. He didn’t want to piss here. Not after all he’d been through that day, all the rules, all the willpower. He didn’t want to start peeing in the middle of some hallway when his room was so close. He just needed a little more help, just a little.
“Please can I use magic?” he begged. “I’ve just gotta hold on, and I can’t. I have to wee so badly…”
“No magic,” Snape said, the backs of his fingers railing across Remus’ cheek. “Rule number five.”
Remus whimpered. One more step and it was going to come out. He could feel it pooling inside him, forcing its way through him, waiting for just one little moment of weakness to take advantage of.
“You can make it. I know you can.”
Remus wasn’t so sure. He bit his lower lip hard, clenched for all he was worth, and straightened back up. He couldn’t piss here. He had to do it back in his room. Because as soon as he was done, as soon as all that lovely golden piss had rushed from him, he was going to need to come. And while having an accident would be embarrassing, there was absolutely no way he could allow himself to enjoy it, knowing he wouldn’t be able to orgasm right after. That’s what all this was about, after all. But this was still a school, with children about, and there were some lines that could not be crossed, not even when he had a partner in kink so devious and experienced as Snape.
“I can make it,” Remus agreed. And he moved forward with unprecedented speeds.
“Recite them to me,” Snape said, wand in hand, circling Remus. Remus stood in the center of his bedchamber, naked except for his underpants and gripping himself with both hands.
“Rule one: I must accept and drink everything you give me.”
“And did you do that?” Snape teased the tip of his wand around Remus’ middle as he circled around.
Desperate to get through this, Remus knew it wouldn’t do to sound rushed. So he opted for politeness. “Every drop, Sir.”
Snape stopped, eyebrows raising in surprise at being addressed like this. He smiled again, regaining the superior air. “Go on.”
“Rule two: I must take a…” he faltered, wriggling with need, then spitting the rest out. “I must take a drink every time a student says something incorrectly.”
“And did you have a lot of incompetent students, Remus?”
Remus shook his head. “No more than any other professor… but my fair share today.”
Snape looked like he wanted to challenge this statement, but he did not.
“Rule three: I’m not allowed to p-pee in a loo.”
“That wouldn’t be arousing, would it? Boring, ordinary bathroom. Simple toilet. You crave something more, don’t you?”
Remus nodded and continued on. “Rule five—no! No, rule four.” Snape wand slid over Remus’ nipple. Remus’ skin was so sensitive, it drove him mad. Hypersensitive skin cried out at too much stimulation. “Rule four: I’m not allowed to go until you tell me to.”
“Good. And I’ll only tell you to when I’m satisfied you’ve learned what you’re meant to.”
“And rule five: no using magic to help myself hold on. And I haven’t, I swear!”
“Very good, Remus.” When he said Remus’ name, it sounded to Remus as if he were saying “slave” or “sub”. His whole body cried out for Snape’s approval. Snape could allow him to release. Snape could give him relief. Everything he was right now depended on Snape.
“Now may I piss, Sir? Please? Oh Merlin, please?”
“You have to go?” Snape asked, eyes moving down to rest on Remus’ crotch. Remus twisted about, unable to stand still now. He turned and bounced, shifted his weight, crossed and uncrossed and crossed his legs again.
“I have to pee so bad.” So bad it hurt. “I can’t hold it any longer. I’ve got to wee now.” He might be imagining it, but he could have sworn he felt a few drops trying to escape already. Holding on was so hard. And peeing was so fucking good. “I think… I’m going to go. Oh no. No no no, Severus!”
“SIR!” Snape’s voice boomed, making Remus jump.
“Sir,” Remus whimpered the correction. He was so close. He might be able to make it a few more seconds, but no longer than that. It was coming out. And he couldn’t stop it!
Remus looked desperately at the door to his bathroom. The toilet was right there. He loved peeing. He loved the way it felt when he had to go badly and as soon as he was in front of a toilet the urge magnified into an uncontrollable level of desperation. He’d nearly wet himself a hundred time like that. And he wanted to feel it again.
Knowing Snape’s rules but not caring, Remus tried to break away and go for the bathroom.
But suddenly Snape was there, arms wrapped tight around him.
“Noooooo,” Remus moaned.
Snape growled.
“No… Sir,” Remus tried. He couldn’t wriggle around feely now. He couldn’t move away. He couldn’t stop his pee.
Snape held more tightly, lifting a leg, pressing his thigh to Remus’ crotch and pushing away one of Remus’ hands. Then he pressed his lips to Remus’ ear. “Go,” he ordered. “Right here. Everything in you. Let it all out right now.”
And Remus, nervous about peeing his pants, found he couldn’t control himself enough to care about that. He peed. “Doing it… can’t stop… doing it… doing it all over now. I’m peeing!” He still had his thumb over his peehole for a second and it sprayed like the end of a hose for a second until he released it, letting it all out freely. “I’m peeing! Peeing so much!”
It streamed out of him never-endingly, just as wet and warm as he had dreamed. He peed in his pants. And he peed on Snape’s leg. Then, as Snape moved, onto Snape’s crotch. Snape was rock hard against Remus. Snape was shuddering. Snape was holding him tight still.
Remus trembled, leaning into Snape for support now. The flow was starting to let up, but not yet stopped. Everything from his waist down was drenched beautifully now. And the relief of finally letting it out slowly gave way to the realization that he’d finally done what he wanted to. Sure, Snape had needed to hold him here this time, but now he knew how it worked. He knew the rules. He knew how fucking amazing it felt.
“You done?”
“Not yet,” Remus moaned. “Still going. Oh, Sir. Feels so good to wet myself. Feels so good to finally go… for you. I feel like I could piss forever, there’s so much I held inside. Feels so good.”
“I know it does,” Snape murmured, kissing him. “And it’s going to feel even better in a second.”
Remus had a hard time believing that. But then he realized he was growing hard. And then, suddenly, he was down on his back in his dry, familiar bed. And Snape was touching him all over. Snape was stroking him and sliding a fist up and down his shaft. And Snape was “Oh FUCK!” Remus realized Snape wasn’t just on top of him; Snape was peeing on him.
Remus came so powerfully he felt like he was going to explode. Every bit of him cried out in pleasure, the euphoric release blinding him to all but the hot piss arcing onto his cock.
Afterward, Snape used magic to clean everything up. Afterward, Snape pulled a blanket up over Remus. Afterward, Snape lay down beside him. “Not bad for your first time,” Snape said.
“Did you enjoy it? Or was that just for me?”
Snape snorted at the absurdity. “I’m a Slytherin. I don’t do anything unless there’s something in it for me. Pity I can’t stay here longer.”
“You have to go?” Remus wanted to cling to him.
“I have to go get your next dose of wolfsbane potion.” He kissed Remus’ cheek. “Feel up to drinking it?”
Remus grinned. “Rule number one.” His cock already twitched at the idea of starting this all over again.
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Date: 2012-09-21 06:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-21 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-22 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-21 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-21 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-22 01:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-28 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-22 11:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-28 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-14 07:28 am (UTC)"Sir" is in reference to their sub/dom dynamics. Remus is deferring to Snape's experience in this realm and giving over control on several levels; the word is not supposed to indicate an unequal relationship (as I do not view the sub to be lesser than the dom in a relationship), just respect within their world of play here and the roles they are assuming.
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Date: 2012-10-16 12:13 am (UTC)