Author's Notes: Written for the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest as a response to the three-word challenge: gentleman, holistic, poodle. The German quotation in the fic is taken from Goethe's "Faust" and means: "So this is the poodle's core." Uttered by Faust the moment Mephistopheles changes from dog to man.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the character that appear in this story. They belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros. and Scholastic. I don't make or intend to make money of them.
The Last Resort
By Donna Immaculata
"Oh. Look what the elf dragged in."
"The pleasure's all mine. As you understand, I'm not particularly interested in remaining in this house any minute longer than necessary. I'll only write a report for Albus and be gone."
Snape had entered the kitchen unceremoniously and seated himself at the table from where he glared down at Black, who half-lay on the floor in front of the fireplace with a glass of whisky in his hand. Black ignored him.
For a few minutes, the scrapping of quill on parchment was the only noise. Snape was writing swiftly, showing Black his right profile with the long hooked nose and the determined chin. He stopped on the soft sound of ice cubes tinkling against glass.
Black had just helped himself to more whisky and was putting down the bottle, when Snape spoke in a voice laden with sweet mock-concern: "How you can go so long with nothing else to do than drinking your mother's supply of Firewhisky is beyond me."
"How you can go so long without washing your hair is beyond me." Black was just drunk enough to deliver the insult in an absurdly polite tone. He shifted a little, propped himself back on his elbows and, tilting his head back, observed Snape from half-lidded eyes.
A thin cruel smile appeared on Snape's mouth. "Your hair wouldn't exactly win you any contest, either", he whispered softly. "I remember that used to be different, once. Tell me, Black, what is it like to have a hollow, emaciated phantom look back at oneself in the mirror?"
"Look who's asking. You know the answer to this question well enough, Snape."
"This might well be. But unlike yourself, I have never been a reputed beauty. I understand the loss might weight rather heavily." Talking, Snape had leaned forward until the hem of his cloak brushed against Black's foot. Black's bare foot, which now kicked against the leg of Snape's chair. Black gave a short laugh and placed his foot back on the floor, his legs slightly wider apart than before. Snape watched him expressionlessly.
"Care for a drink?"
"Care for a drink? Surely you don't refuse a glass of good old Old Odgen's?"
"Why would I want to drink with you?"
"Whom else have you got to drink with?"
An odd expression flickered across Snape's face and Black knew he had a point.
Snape shrugged. "All right." He watched Black summon a clean glass and pour in the whisky before he spoke again. "You must be rather desperate if you are prepared to drink with me. Is Lupin not hanging around?"
Black's face tensed. "You leave Remus out of this. This is between the two of us."
"Very well. I have no desire to talk about the werewolf tonight." He looked expectantly at Black. "Well?"
"Well, aren't you giving me my drink?"
"You have to come and get it, you know."
Snape gave a derisive snort. "If you expect me to -" he broke off sneering down at Black and reached out his arm. Black shifted again, stretching his long body slightly, and his hand holding the glass disappeared from Snape's reach.
Snape took up the challenge. He slid off his chair and, supporting his weight on his left arm, grabbed the glass with his right hand. He raised the glass, but made no effort to raise himself from the floor. Instead, he remained looming over Black.
Black had been watching him lazily. He never broke the eye contact when Snape knocked back his drink, but tilted his head back even more, his lips slightly apart.
"Don't you want raise a toast with me?"
Snape's black eyes narrowed maliciously. "You really are desperate, aren't you", he said very softly, a trace of triumph in his voice. "What else do you want me to do with you, I wonder?"
Slowly, he inched closer, until his slighter form was draped over Black's without quite touching, until he could see the frantic pulse on Black's white, exposed neck. Black remained silent, only his pale eyes glowed feverishly.
"I could feel you, you know", Snape continued in the same soft, oddly warm tone.
Black took a sip of his drink. "Feel me? What do you mean?"
"The day we fought. I could feel you." He snorted derisively. "Merlin, how desperate can one get?"
Black shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that he was trapped and that every movement would cause him to brush against Snape, whose thin body was radiating far too much heat.
"I'm not sure -" his sentence was lost in a half-gasp half-yelp when Snape's abandoned glass rolled away and Snape's hand pressed firmly onto his crotch, squeezing not-too gently.
"Who would have thought this - Sirius Black craving for human touch strongly enough to get hard for Severus Snape", said Snape thoughtfully, moving his hand around.
"Don't push it, Snape", Black warned through clenched teeth.
"I'm not pushing", Snape said with a grim smile. "You are."
Too late, Black realised that his hips had lifted on their own accord, carrying his groin into Snape's grip.
In the next moment, Snape let out a strangled groan, as he was thrown over and on his back, and Black effectively immobilised his legs by straddling him with a swiftness that was both unexpected and horrifying in a man who looked more dead than alive. Black's right forearm pressed hard against Snape's throat, while his left hand worked frantically in the folds of his robes, ripping the buttons of Snape's fly apart. Black moved down in an amazing speed, shifted his hand to apply a tight grip around Snape's throat and hold him in place, and as he swallowed Snape's cock whole, he felt the soft flesh instantly spring to life in his mouth.
Snape's hands that had entangled themselves in Black's hair in the vain attempt to yank his head away went suddenly limp as some particularly fervent sucking coaxed his cock to full hardness.
Black lifted his head a fraction. "Enjoying yourself, you bastard?" he managed to growl with his lips around the tip of Snape's cock.
"Black. Ah. Stop."
"Not very convincing, sorry", muttered Black, lowering his head again. His tongue slid all the way down along the vein throbbing on the sensitive underside, and Snape gave a long, shuddering, strangled moan.
Black hummed in response, sending more shivers through the other man's body. He was sucking forcefully in order to prevent Snape from catching his breath and come back to his senses. When his teeth scraped against the delicate skin, the sharp intake of breath and a short yelp told him he had caused Snape pain, and he doubled his efforts.
Black's free hand was wrapped around the base of Snape's cock, while at the same time, he was clutching Snape's throat firmly with his other one, and he fisted in time to his suction. His hand was slick with saliva, and the bitter flavour in his mouth told him that Snape's precome was adding considerably to the wetness that was running down all the way down his cock, over Black's fingers, wrist, and disappearing in the thick thatch of dark hair.
The laboured breathing increased, and Snape's hips jerked up involuntarily once, twice, before Black felt the sharp, stinging fluid flooding his mouth and pulled his head away quickly, wiping his mouth with the hand that had at last released Snape's throat. Some semen had got into his mouth, though, and he decided to spit it out on Snape's cock as long as the man was still shaken by the aftermath of his orgasm. A thin, sticky thread clinging to his chin glued a strand of hair to his face. Black wiped it away harshly.
Snape's choked moans had turned into dry coughs and he was rubbing his throat with a pained grimace on his face while sitting up dizzily. Black was sitting back on his heels, staring fixedly at Snape.
"What was this all about, Black" Snape spat, equally shaken by anger and by painful coughs, dark bruises already showing where Black's fingers had dug into his skin. Black stood up and poured in a glass of water.
"Not that I expected post-coital sweet talk", he said, relishing how the fresh, cool water was washing away all traces of the sharp taste, "but some gratitude would be in order, don't you think?"
"Gratitude?! You arrogant bastard, you... you use me as a means to satisfy your depraved desires, and expect me to be grateful? Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am?"
Snape had raised himself into an upright position and was adjusting his spent cock in his trousers. With a flick of his wand, the fluid sticking hair and material together was removed from his crotch and the buttons of his fly restored. Silent coughs continued sending violent tremors through his body, and his pale throat looked more bruised than ever.
"I think you are a sick individual whose levels of depravity easily match mine, seeing as it was you who came in a fountain on my kitchen floor", Black felt his temper rising in spite of himself. He put the glass on the table with a clatter, causing water to splash over the brim and on the table. "Don't tell me you didn't want it. Don't tell me you were grabbing my cock because it disgusts you."
Snape summoned the glass of water Black had abandoned and stood up. "You disgust me, Black", he whispered, his eyes narrowed. "Now excuse me, I've got a report to write. Some of us have actually work to do."
Without a further word, Black turned on his heels and left the kitchen, carefully making sure that the door slammed shut with a loud bang.
Taking several steps at one time, he arrived upstairs slightly out of breath, freeing his cock from his trousers even before he was all the way in his room. He leaned heavily against the locked door, rested his forehead on his forearm and watched his hand fist his own cock hard and fast and when he came painfully and silently, breathing very fast through his nose, all he could think was 'Snape, Snape, Snape, Snape.'
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