Chapter Text
Severus seems subdued this evening, sitting quietly in front of the fire, sipping his tea; he isn't even reading but staring into the flames. Perhaps he's tired; he and Remus were up rather late the night before. Yet there is also a tension visible in his shoulders and the stiffness of his neck, and as it grows late, Remus realizes that his lover has not once met his eyes since dinner.
"Severus. Look at me." The dark-haired wizard glances over, yet again Remus senses reluctance. It is unlike Severus to resist such a request at such a time, alone together, so close to bedtime; Remus is careful with his choice of words, making certain not to phrase it as an order that might be misinterpreted. "Do you want to tell me what's troubling you?"
Again Severus looks toward the fireplace, confirming for Remus that he wishes to avoid any Legilimency on either part. "Last night, when we were in bed," he begins quietly, "there was a fantasy in your mind. I didn't mean to pry but sometimes I can't help it. I look into your eyes at a certain moment and I'm inside the thought before I can stop it from happening."
"I know. I understand." Occlumency and orgasm are incompatible for Remus; if he wants to be open to the latter, he's incapable of the former, which occasionally leads to embarrassing moments, like the time an image of Minerva on a vibrating broom popped into his head just before he started to come. It wasn't that Remus was attracted to Minerva -- he'd never been truly attracted to any woman that way, and McGonagall had been his teacher when he was a child, so there were all sorts of power issues and repressed youthful shame wrapped up in the idea -- yet Severus had been unable to hide his scandalized amusement, and had shocked the entire staff at the Hogwarts holiday party by breaking into unheard-of laughter when Minerva mentioned liking to fly in strong winds.
This time, however, Remus cannot recall the vision that went through his mind just before he came, and if he did, he would undoubtedly try not to think about it so urgently that he would bring it at once to the forefront of his recollections. Severus still is not looking at him, which makes it much less likely that he could read the thought, and Remus would not expect to be censured for it even if he could. There have been enough reciprocal moments when he has received a sudden glimpse into Severus' mind, which contains some entirely forbidden desires that Severus trusts Remus never to mention -- not to anyone else, not even to Severus himself. And really, Remus is a little relieved that Severus would rather fuck his former Death Eater ally than kill him, and if occasionally it's the face of the son rather than the father grinning wickedly up at him, perhaps his psyche is just trying to heal old wounds.
Therefore Remus wonders what could have gone through his own head that has unsettled Severus enough for him to mention it. Had the wolf's hungers somehow overlapped his own? Or had Severus been surprised by some whimsical wicked (don't think about Oliver) illicit (or Fred) proscribed (nor George) inappropriate (and definitely not all together) superficial momentary attraction on Remus' part? But Severus has those, too, including a lengthy sequence that involves watching a Slytherin orgy in the Room of Requirement...not to mention a memory fragment the professor apparently saw in Harry Potter's mind during Occlumency lessons, where Remus can't tell whether it's the boy's humiliation or the nature of the act itself that puts Severus in a frenzy every single time he invokes it.
No secrets, then, and no lies: not even murder. If Severus can withstand Remus' erotic memories of Sirius, and if Remus can withstand the occasional response -- usually Severus' brief fantasy of immobilizing and neutering a big black dog -- Remus supposes there can be nothing unforgivable between them. They are each there because they choose to be, despite the past, despite such intimate knowledge of one another at their darkest and most frightening.
"I give up," he admits lightly to Severus, who still refuses to look at him. "I don't remember what I thought about in bed last night. Won't you tell me?"
Finally his lover looks directly into his eyes, and something warmer than the fire glitters in the black gaze. Remus receives flashes of image and sensation as if they had originated with Severus, not in his own fantasy; it's like the difference between touching oneself and being touched by another in precisely the desired manner. He's groaning, breathless, even as color suffuses his face and embarrassment makes his shoulders twist. It's a sensual daydream of a physical act -- simple but kinky, perverse -- not tied to any specific person or place. Remus has harbored the fantasy about more than one lover, yet he's never dared to ask for it aloud.
"You've imagined this before," says Severus in his maddeningly sexy low voice. "More than once." At Remus' mortified whimper, he hesitates, then sits forward, studying him with an open, serious expression. "Is it something you think about just to push yourself over the edge, without really wanting to try? Or would you like to do it?"
Merlin, he's offering. Remus' chest constricts so tightly that has trouble breathing; he whimpers again, covering his face with a hand. "Oh God, Severus, I don't know," he croaks. "It...probably wouldn't be anything like the fantasy...could be very uncomfortable, or more repulsive to both of us than I think..."
"There are potions to make it easier." The words are quiet and matter-of-fact, but they bring Remus' head snapping upward. Obviously Severus has thought about this. And while it's possible that he's only offering because he thinks it's important to Remus, shoving aside any personal negative feelings, speaking aloud so that he doesn't react with abhorrence if the thought finds its way into his mind while they're making love, Remus thinks that Severus would not have said that last if he didn't want to.
"Oh God," Remus repeats, pushing his hair back with his hand as an excuse to hide his eyes for a moment. "I don't know. I never expected to let anyone find out I thought such things." He is so hard in his trousers that he needs to adjust himself or he thinks he may cry out, and beneath the superficial panic is a much deeper agitation, as if every sensitive spot on his body has been stimulated.
Severus is watching him closely; there is no cause for shame, not after such a proposal, yet Remus remains flushed, as embarrassed as he has ever felt. "Why don't you think about it, then, and let me know," the low voice suggests, a cross between a promise and a taunt. Glancing up, Remus sees suddenly that Severus' pupils are dilated, and his pale face has spots of color. He's as aroused as Remus, probably has been all day, replaying the fantasy, considering how, when, where. No wonder he'd been afraid to meet Remus' eyes.
It takes only seconds for Remus to get to his knees, pull out his wand, utter the charms that make their clothing unfasten and fall open; another few seconds and he has the comfort of Severus in his mouth, his own cock out of his trousers, Severus' fingers in his hair. From this angle it's not easy to suck him and look up at him at the same time, but he has to see, and the yes and want and please and soon accompanying the images make them both come fast, nearly simultaneously, so that they're louder and messier than usual.
And afterwards they laugh softly as they rest, wrapped up in one another on the sofa, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed. "You have a filthy mind, Lupin," Severus tells him contentedly. "I can read it from here."
"It's true, but you like it. You can't lie to me."
"I know." Remus' lids flicker open and he sees Severus peering at him. The burning lust has been subdued, baring affection that usually embarrasses Snape more than any fantasy, but today he smiles. "Perhaps tomorrow I'll show you," he murmurs, still goading and bolstering all at once, and it's Remus who hides his reddening face by kissing him.