Work Text:
quiet awareness lush beneath
the rumble of thought
searches me
streams through currents
that bind the medium
I call my self, this body I am
deliberate and awake
voice, my intimate, radiant
passes through and over
beneath and beyond
and from the cell emanates
sent forth and received
by germ of being, sustained
before named ovum and seed
and as we who name all things disperse
retreating into our extinction
—Duriel E. Harris, “oracle”
Sirius considered not following Snape out of the room when he departed the Order, but there was something tantalizing about the idea of getting a real fight out of the man. He left in a hurry, so Sirius pursued in kind; then he whipped around in the empty corridor, his wand pressed to Sirius’s throat. “What do you want?”
Sirius poked his wand pointedly into Snape’s side. Snape scowled. “What do you want from me, Black? Why do you pursue me week after week? What are you hoping to achieve?”
“I want to see you break,” Sirius said in a low voice, jamming his wand deeper into Snape’s stomach. Snape raised an eyebrow. “Failing that, I’ll settle for making sure you know you don’t have us all fooled.”
“I’m on your side.”
“That’s what you want us to think. I know the truth. You’re a filthy traitor. Somehow you’ve pulled the wool over Dumbledore’s eyes. But I know better. I won’t rest until you’re exposed.”
Snape searched his eyes, then snorted. “If only you believed that,” he said. “The real truth is much simpler, isn’t it? More humiliating. You just want my attention.”
“What? Shut up!”
“You have my attention,” Snape said, in a deep, rumbling voice. “What do you intend to do with it?”
“I—I don’t care! Stop twisting things around! I hate you!”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Snape looked smug. He was very close to Sirius suddenly, his warmth tangible, radiating towards him through the stale air. “What do you want, Black?”
Sirius felt his breath hitch. “N-nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Snape’s gaze was odd, now; it made Sirius want to fidget, to escape, and he blinked as Snape retracted his wand, just slightly. “It’s alright,” Snape said. “I know what you want.”
And he put his wand all the way away, and knelt. Sirius gaped as Snape reached for his robes, drew them apart, and then started pulling his pants down. He wanted to protest, but Snape’s mouth was around his soft cock before he could think of anything to say, and shit, he was good at that, Sirius hadn’t known it could feel like that—
Snape blew him with his eyes closed, taking him all the way into his throat; Sirius was torn between the desire to not question the whole thing and the desire to shove Snape away and interrogate him about what about Sirius seemed gay to him.
The former won out, at least in the short term; when Sirius finished, Snape pulled off and pulled his pants back up and closed him into his robes. Then he stood. “Anyway,” he said. “Till next week.”
Sirius opened his mouth. “That was—I’m not gay.”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” Snape said. He looked nonplussed. “Still. I do believe that had a positive outcome for both parties.”
“Yeah,” Sirius managed. “Erm, I don’t—”
“Yeah,” Snape said. “See you around, mutt.” And he left.
Sirius tried not to think about the whole thing over the week that followed, but he hadn’t had it off with another human being since 1981; it was hard not to remember Snape’s mouth, Snape’s throat, Snape’s tongue, Snape’s lips wrapped around him. By the time they were wrapping up the meeting, he’d been staring at Snape for so long that Remus seemed unsurprised when Sirius bolted up and went for him. “Snivellus.”
“Black.”
“Hallway,” Sirius said, and then, discovering people there, “Bedroom.”
Snape followed him. Sirius shoved him down onto his knees the second they were in the room; Snape nodded to himself, and pulled Sirius’s robes apart, mouthing him over his pants. Sirius cursed. Snape got him fully hard, then pulled his pants down and started sucking with that easy expertise from the week before. Sirius didn’t tangle his hands in his hair—it was disgusting—but he did rest one on Snape’s shoulder, just lightly. Snape’s eyes closed again as he bobbed up and down on Sirius’s cock, and Sirius thought, What am I doing?, and closed his eyes too.
He was able to drift away from the fact that it was a man at all after that, let alone Snape, and he fell back against the door, losing himself in sensation. When he came, he did it down Snape’s throat; then he opened his eyes, watching Snape pull away. He wondered if the man was hard, then decided he didn’t care. “Er, bye.”
“Bye,” Snape said, and headed out the door.
They got into the habit of it, Snape sucking Sirius’s cock on Friday nights after the Order, and it wasn’t until late February that anything changed. Snape followed Sirius up to his bedroom, then sighed and avoided his eyes. “Do you want to fuck me?”
Sirius tripped. “What?”
“You can fuck me if you want,” Snape said. “You don’t have to. But I know it can feel good. And I certainly—well, anyway, if you want—”
“Okay,” Sirius blurted, and Snape ran his hand over the comforter beneath his legs. “Erm, you’d better go ahead and strip, then.”
Snape stood up and started stripping. Sirius avoided looking at his body, though he couldn’t help getting little glimpses. Sirius stripped too, though he felt even more naked than he was, and very embarrassed. “Erm, how does it work? I just—just stick my cock in your arse?”
“You’ll want to use lube,” Snape said, and went and laid on his front atop the bed, facing the end of it.
“Okay,” Sirius said, and grabbed the lube out of his nightstand and applied it to his own cock, stroking himself to hardness. Then he pulled Snape’s arse cheeks open and eyed his hole. It felt viscerally inescapable in this moment: he was about to fuck a man.
But it wasn’t like he was letting Snape fuck him. He was topping. It was completely different. He approached on his knees, pulled Snape’s arse up to meet his cock, and started pushing down into him.
Snape didn’t make a sound, or move much; instead, he stayed silent and still, even his hips only moving minutely. It was like fucking a rag doll, and Sirius found himself disconcerted. It was Snape. Snape should be a mouthy, squirming little brat, not a pliant object to be used. He leaned down and seized Snape’s greasy hair, pulling on it hard. “React.”
Snape somehow got even stiller. “What?”
“React,” Sirius said again, roughly. “I don’t feel like fucking a corpse.”
Snape shuddered and let out a long breath, rolling his hips a little. “Feels good,” he said. Sirius suppressed a small smile. “Keep going. You can move.”
“Okay.” Sirius started moving inside him. Snape made a drowsy, contented noise, and though he still didn’t react nearly as much as it felt like he ought to, he did make pleased sounds when Sirius fucked into him particularly well or pulled his hair particularly hard, and soon Sirius was about as into the whole thing as he could get, slamming into Snape and hanging onto his hips and guiding his head and fighting the startling urge to kiss him somehow, even if only on his shoulder or neck. He was straight, and straight people didn’t do that kind of thing. It was insane to even be considering it. It was just transference from all the blowjobs; the thought of Snape had started getting him hard at inopportune moments, because he’d built an association between Snape and getting sucked off. That parodied real attraction, but that didn’t mean it was attraction. Sirius was physically incapable of being attracted to Snape.
He kept fucking Snape until he started approaching orgasm, and said, “Should I, er—should I pull out, or—”
“You can—can come inside me,” Snape said, and Sirius felt his hips stutter, and did. Snape let out a little sigh, and Sirius pulled out, then started cleaning up with his wand. Snape turned over and sighed again and stood up and started getting dressed, and Sirius ignored his hard-on, burning with shame at the sight of it. He wasn’t sure if it was shame that he hadn’t made Snape come, shame that he had no intention of making Snape come, or shame at seeing another man’s erection at all, but whatever its source, it made him want to curl up into a ball and shove a pillow over his head.
Snape seemed unaffected, and stretched his arms over his head before he pulled his shoes on. “Well, that was fun. See you.”
“Yeah,” Sirius said. “See you.”
The next week, he dragged Snape back to his bedroom and threw him down onto his knees again; the week after that, he said, his voice wavering, “Strip.”
Snape looked pleased. Sirius stripped too, and went to his nightstand and pulled out the lube; Snape eyed it, smiled a little half-smile, and then threw himself forwards onto the bed, facing the headboard. Sirius lubed up his cock again and started pressing it against Snape’s arse, trying not to notice its particular firmness. Did Snape work out? Where did he find the time?
In any case, it was quick work to push inside him, and when he had Snape made a small noise that made Sirius want to do something insane, though he wasn’t sure what. “Good?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
“Good.” Sirius moved a little, and Snape let out a strangled moan. “Hello!”
“There—there, Merlin, there—”
“If you insist,” Sirius murmured, amused. He thrusted into Snape again and again, Snape chanting his name over and over. “You like that, huh? You like my cock?”
“Yes—Merlin, yes—have—have bloody dreams about it—”
Sirius tilted his head, oddly touched. “You do, do you?”
“Black—Black, Christ—”
It was satisfying to finally see Snape actually enjoying himself, to see him falling apart like this, to soak up his pleasure. Sirius was overcome by the urge to touch him more, more fully, more totally, all over his body, from his feet to his forehead, and he frowned at himself and tried to shake the urge away, to no avail.
Snape kept panting his name and writhing and moaning, eventually losing his grip on the sheets. Then he went very still, and moaned again, and went limp, and Sirius went still. “Did you just come untouched?”
Snape nodded into the pillow. Sirius cursed and sped up and came too, and then he bit Snape hard on the shoulder. Snape made a drowsy, pleased noise. “You fucking came untouched,” he said, laughing, distantly aware that it was tinged with mania. Snape nodded into the mattress. He pulled out and flopped over on his back, watching the light of the fire ripple across Snape’s muscular shoulders. “Are you gonna move?”
Snape moaned. “Give me a minute.”
Sirius laughed. “Alright, alright. How attracted to me are you?”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying, an orgasm like that—”
“I said shut up.” Snape sat up slowly, grumpily, like a waking cat; Sirius hid a smile as he dragged himself up the bed to lean against the headboard. “Very.”
“What?”
“You asked—very. Is the answer. It’s pretty disgusting.”
“So why’d you act on it?”
“What did I have to lose?”
Sirius considered this, and felt his mouth twitch. He nudged Snape’s shoulder with his own. “Well. I’m glad you did.”
Snape’s eyes darted over to him, and a smile danced across his face; Sirius blinked, then smiled back. The wider his got, the wider Snape’s got, until they were both just sitting there, their arms pressed together, grinning at each other.
Snape swayed forwards, and Sirius recoiled, and so did Snape. “Anyway,” Sirius said hastily. “I—I’ll see you later?”
Snape nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Later.”
And he bolted out of bed, dressed with a wave of his wand, and was gone.
The next week, Sirius couldn’t make himself keep his eyes closed when Snape blew him. He tried, but they kept popping open; he found himself involuntarily watching the way Snape kept his own eyes closed, concentrating, looking utterly overwhelmed, subsumed by base pleasure. He hadn’t really believed before that Snape got anything out of this, that this was anything other than some kind of sick power play, but watching Snape now, it was impossible to deny: the man fucking loved sucking cock.
He reached down and took Snape’s face in his hands, and Snape’s eyes darted open. They locked with Sirius’s own, and a look of dark intention came over Snape’s features, and suddenly he was doing things he’d never done, deploying wild tricks and staring deep into Sirius’s eyes the whole time and Merlin, it had never been like this, never with any woman in his life—
Sirius cried out and came, clutching Snape’s face, and Snape brought one of his hands down from Sirius’s waist and reached into his robes and started working himself furiously, his mouth still around Sirius’s softening cock. Sirius watched, gasping a little, as Snape finally broke eye contact, letting his eyes close, his head bobbing lightly atop Sirius. He moaned, and Sirius looked away, and Snape came.
He pulled off, and Sirius finally let go of his face. “Anyway,” he said, acutely embarrassed. “Erm, that is—”
“Bye,” Snape said, still looking away.
“Right,” Sirius said, watching as Snape stood. “Bye.”
The Friday after that, Snape fell asleep during the meeting. Sirius watched, trying to summon any word at all other than “cute” to describe the situation; Snape dozed on, a little bit of drool accumulating at the corner of his mouth.
Moony gave him a peculiar look as the room cleared out, clearing his throat as people began to depart. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone had a crush.”
“What?”
“You’ve been watching Snape all night.”
“Excuse me?”
“Like this.” And Moony leaned forward on his hand, batted his eyelashes, and adopted a faraway expression. “Oh, Severus.”
“What? Shut up! I have not! I’m fucking straight!”
“Right.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just saying, anyone who uses that many hair products—”
“I’m not a fucking pouf!”
Remus frowned. “You know I’m queer, right?”
“Well, I’m not!”
Snape stirred. “Black?”
“Right,” Remus said again. His look was sardonic. “You two have fun doing whatever it is you do on Friday nights.”
“We aren’t doing anything! Stay if you want!”
“What?”
It was Snape. He sounded very sleepy, and Sirius instantly regretted the words, wondering what it would be like to fuck Snape all sleep-warm and lazy, inhibitions lowered, pliant and responsive—
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“You’re looking at him like you want to eat him.”
Snape turned around and shot Sirius a confused look, his eyebrows rising when Sirius gave him a heated one in return. Moony coughed. “I’m not going to stay. Have fun.”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, and Remus ducked through the floo. He wondered whether Remus really thought they were going to fuck, whether it would be better to cut the whole thing off right now. How had he even been able to tell? He was confusing intent for desire.
But Sirius didn’t have a good excuse, and it wasn’t like he was about to stop. Snape raised an eyebrow at him, but something in his gaze was soft and ten degrees warmer than usual and Sirius knew he should be disgusted or worried or frightened but all he could summon was some awful tender little thing that made his stomach bunch up in knots.
“Hey,” Snape said, and Sirius surged up and kissed him before he knew what he was doing. Snape kissed back at once, his hands tangling in Sirius’s hair, tugging him towards himself, nipping at his lower lip, biting his tongue. Sirius gasped into his mouth, and Snape crawled up the table and wrapped his legs around Sirius’s waist.
Sirius seized his arse and carried him to the bedroom, throwing him down onto the comforter. “Strip.”
Snape obeyed. Sirius worked on his own clothes, then draped his body over Snape’s and kissed him again and again and again. Their half-hard cocks slid against each other’s, and Sirius pulled away just a little and asked, gruffly, “What do you want?”
“What?”
“If you could have anything. What would you want?”
Snape frowned. “You aren’t willing to give it.”
“Try me.”
Silence. Then: “I’d chain you to the headboard and fuck you stupid.” Sirius felt his eyes widen. “First I’d rim you, and then I’d make you take my cock until you screamed yourself raw.”
“Oh,” Sirius said. “I, erm—you aren’t—I thought you liked—”
“I do.” Snape shrugged. “But I could really get you to come apart, I think. Break you into pieces. Give you an orgasm you wouldn’t soon forget.”
“Is that—do you think about that?”
“Sometimes.” Snape looked far away. “Sometimes I think about bending you over a desk and giving you a personalized detention. How do you feel about spanking?”
Sirius realized he was achingly hard, and kissed Snape so he wouldn’t have to answer. Snape kissed back, but Sirius could feel his amusement via some emanent aura of smugness, and he reached down and twisted Snape’s erect nipples, pleased when the man gasped a little.
“What else?” Sirius asked, and Snape laughed. Sirius was so arrested that Snape cut off abruptly, looking away. “No, don’t, that was—”
Lovely.
Sirius flinched a little, and Snape looked away. “Why don’t you fuck me?”
“Okay,” Sirius said. “We’ll save your other plans for later.”
“What?”
“Kidding! I’m kidding.” Sirius laughed, though he knew it was nervous. “Er, turn over.”
Snape’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Right.”
“Snape—”
But Snape was flipping over, his back to Sirius. “Go on, then,” he said shortly. “Fuck me. Get it over with.”
“Snape—”
“Well? I don’t have all fucking day!”
Sirius hauled him onto his back and kissed him. “I knew it,” he said smugly. “I knew you were a brat in bed, I fucking knew it, I knew you would—”
Snape rolled his eyes, but he looked more pleased than petulant. “And you’re as insufferable as ever. You have to be the least considerate lover I’ve ever had, and that’s saying a lot.”
Sirius frowned. “What, you want romance and flowers? I’m straight, Snape.”
“Obviously.”
It was so derisive Sirius felt his eyebrows shoot up. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Queer people generally have a certain level of… finesse.”
“Hey!”
“Not always,” Snape allowed. “Maybe just the people I’m attracted to.”
“Thought you were very attracted to me.”
“It’s people with the finesse of a cat, and utter imbeciles. No one in between.”
Sirius laughed. “How long have you known you were gay?”
“I’ve known I was bisexual since I was thirteen,” Snape said. “I was so attracted to Rosier it was a little disgusting.”
“Rosier? Really?”
“Oh, shut up.”
“What’s bisexual? You like women too?”
Snape nodded beneath him. Sirius was leaning on his elbow across from Snape by now, watching as he stared up at the ceiling. “Always have. Gay was never quite the right word for me. Though I’ve never minded when people thought I was gay. It doesn’t offend me.”
“Doesn’t offend me either.”
“Yes, it does.”
Sirius looked away. “Anyway,” Snape said. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”
He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now; he’d look like a pussy if he didn’t fuck Snape face to face, but doing so was way gayer than he wanted to deal with right now. He wasn’t sure whether it was bravery or cowardice when he lunged forwards and shoved his hands on Snape’s shoulders and bit his neck. Snape made a smug noise.
“God, you are so fucking awful, I let myself forget how much I fucking hate you—”
“I told you you wanted my attention,” Snape said. Sirius circled his hole with his fingers. “Oh, please—”
Sirius plunged inside, dragging his cock against Snape’s own, and it shouldn’t be making him leak precome to feel Snape’s hard prick velvety against his own—
“Black,” Snape panted, “Black, oh, Black—” and Sirius thought in horror, I could fall in love with this guy, and dragged himself away. “Black?”
“Lube,” Sirius said, and Snape groaned and grappled for his wand and cast a charm on himself. Sirius gaped. “You couldn’t have taught me that a month ago?”
“I liked seeing you work for it.”
Sirius growled and pressed him into the mattress, kissing him, and Snape arched up off the bed and into him, and Sirius guided his cock in between Snape’s legs and thrust without aim, gasping at the sensation. Snape’s cock pressed against his stomach, and Sirius wondered frantically if he was supposed to get the man off somehow, and remembered the charm and felt himself slow down, just a little. “Gonna fuck you.”
“Oh, finally.”
Sirius nipped at Snape’s neck again, and pushed slowly inside him, and thought about being chained to the bed, Snape’s cock inside him. “You like it rough, huh? Like it hard?”
Snape nodded, and Sirius snapped his hips. Snape threw his neck back and let out a breathy little noise. “Thank Merlin you’re finally reacting,” Sirius said. “Knew you were in there somewhere.”
“I was trying not to remind you.”
“Hard to forget,” Sirius said, though it hadn’t been, at least not at first. But it had been disconcerting when he’d been confronted with the man’s body, absent the man’s soul; it had seemed as though he ought to enjoy it, but it had been completely impossible. He rolled his hips experimentally, pleased when Snape let out another exhale. He didn’t know where to look except into Snape’s eyes, which were distant, though they held a hint of fondness that made Sirius want to scream.
He kissed Snape again, since it was better than gazing into his eyes, wishing he’d just flipped him over. “You must have been fucking desperate to come on to me.”
Snape shrugged. “I was bored.”
“Bored?”
“I dunno. I wasn’t thinking. I was just—reacting.”
“I rather like it when you react, I must say.”
“You do, do you?”
Sirius snapped out a hard thrust, and Snape’s hips moved with him. “You’re like a girl here,” Sirius said, tracing the divot of his hip. “And here.”
He kissed the place where his hair brushed his collarbone. Snape shuddered. “You want me to pretend to be a woman?” Snape murmured. Sirius shivered. “Oh, Black. Keep fucking my cunt. I’m so fucking wet for you.”
Sirius moaned. Snape wrapped his arms around Sirius’s neck and hooked his ankles around his arse and started working himself up and down on his cock. “You make my quim quiver.”
“Yeah—yeah, take my cock, bitch—”
Snape kissed him, clutching the sides of his face. “Fuck—fuck, Black, fuck—Merlin, take me—”
Sirius pounded into him, licking and kissing his neck as he threw his head back and moaned again, and it finally felt like Snape was actually here, and thank God he hadn’t gotten him to turn over, and Sirius started laughing and pressed their foreheads together and Snape’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he hadn’t ever had sex like this, raw and desperate and somehow light too and peppered with breaks for conversation and he said, “You should stay afterwards. I have cigarettes.”
“Oh?”
“Dunhills.”
“Well, I can’t possibly turn down the Dunhills.” Snape’s mouth twitched, and Sirius kissed the corner of it and took Snape’s cock in hand.
Snape gasped, and his eyes widened, and Sirius pumped him once, twice, three times, and Snape came. He wanted to laugh, but the man still looked blissed out, collapsing back onto the pillow, and Sirius wanted a picture of that look, he wanted to hang it on his wall and frame it—
Sirius came too, and pulled out of Snape and collapsed onto the bed next to him. “Finally,” he said. “We’re both having fun.”
Snape moaned, and Sirius grinned to himself and summoned the Dunhills. He sat up so he was leaning against the headboard and said, “Snape? You okay there?”
“Never in my life—” Snape shook his head and sat up too. “Yes. I’m fine. Give me one of those.”
Sirius stuck two cigarettes in his mouth, lit them both, and handed one over. Snape watched him with a heady, intense gaze. “How long have you known you were straight?”
Sirius laughed. Snape’s mouth twitched. “I know, I know. You people never think about it.”
“You people? You make us sound like a separate species.”
Snape sniffed, and Sirius grinned. “I guess I always did know you were bent,” Sirius mused. “Never quite knew how I knew.”
“Well, it’s not your spectacular gaydar.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “You are so rude.”
Snape blew smoke in his face. Sirius coughed, then laughed. “And you’re prissy. You really are a little bitch.”
Snape batted his eyelashes at him, and Sirius grinned again.
He woke up thinking about Snape the next day, which immediately made him irritable. His bed felt, absurdly, cold; he was snappish and withdrawn all week, and only realized how bad the whole thing really was when Snape set foot in the kitchen and his whole body relaxed.
Oh, Sirius thought. Snape hadn’t even met his eyes; he didn’t even know what was going to happen after this, except that he’d get to touch Snape for a while. But he undeniably felt better anyway.
The meeting passed tortuously slowly, and demanded their full attention, and afterwards Sirius approached Snape and sat on the table above him, distantly aware of the bustle of the room as people conferenced and collected their things and cleared out. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Snape gave him a tight little half-smile. “I don’t suppose you feel like giving me a neck massage while I work on grading.”
“What?”
“Kidding.”
Sirius shook his head, and Snape’s mouth quirked upwards. “It’d make it go by so much faster.”
“You’re like a griping housewife.”
“Want me to wear a skirt and an apron?”
Sirius looked him up and down in interest. “Only if I get to watch you bend over a hot stove.”
Snape’s grin widened. Sirius grinned back. Behind them, someone coughed, and Sirius schooled his face as he turned to face Moony. “Er, hey.”
“Hey.” Remus looked amused. “I was just heading out. Thought I’d steal a hug.”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, and ruffled Moony’s hair when he came in for the kill. He looked over his shoulder at Snape, who was openly watching him, though he only looked a little affectionate. It was still an expression he’d never expected to see on Snape’s face, and it made him wrench his eyes away.
Stop it, Sirius told himself fiercely. Stop thinking about him and his stupid lips and his stupid eyes and him talking about his wet fucking cunt and—
“Bye, Padfoot,” Remus said, and Sirius waved at him. He escorted Snape up to his room, as had become usual, and Merlin, what if every person in that room thought they were fucking, Mad-Eye could see through walls—
“Black?” Snape yawned. “What’s the plan? Am I blowing you?”
Sirius fidgeted with nervous energy. “I want—here.” He stepped forwards and started stripping Snape of his clothes, touching every bit of exposed skin as it was opened to the hot air. Snape didn’t move. Sirius leaned down and kissed his bare shoulder, mouthing at the intersection of neck and arm. Snape arched under his touch. Sirius lowered him to the bed, kissing along his chest to his stomach and then just above his cock. Then he surged up and kissed Snape’s lips.
Snape, thank Merlin, kissed back. Sirius reached down and seized his arse hard, pressing his dry cockhead against Snape’s arsehole, circling the hole with his tip. Snape pushed into him, then sighed and pulled back a little and said, “It’s not a good idea. Trust me.”
“You know I don’t,” Sirius said, and Snape’s mouth twitched. Sirius grappled for his wand. “What was the spell again?”
Snape repeated it, and Sirius waved his wand, and the skin under his cockhead was suddenly softer and smoother and Sirius pushed inside. Snape grappled at his shoulders, and Sirius whispered, “You like that? You like that, slag? You wet for me?”
“Oh—oh—so wet for you—”
Sirius kissed him again, and then again, and they kept kissing until Sirius saw himself from the outside with a sudden horrible clarity: he was making love to a man. There was no other possible way to describe what was happening.
He wrenched away, and Snape said, “Black?”
“Fucking—you fucking tricked me!”
“What?”
“I’m not fucking gay, Snivellus.”
“When have I ever implied that you were?”
The man, admittedly, hadn’t; Sirius shook him anyway. “I’m straight.”
“I know, Black.”
Sirius shook him again. “What are you playing at?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been—been making me—”
Snape’s eyes whipped up to bore into his own, and Sirius abruptly became extremely aware of the fact that he was still inside him. “I’ve been making you? I’ve been making you! That is rich! Week after week I put up with your boorishness, your atrocious manners, last week was the first time you even touched my prick and we’ve been shagging since bloody December, if you can even call it shagging! And then you kiss me, and you give it to me like—and I’m supposed to be sorry for letting myself—for once in my fucking life just letting the good thing happen instead of trying to sabotage it somehow, and then of course your—your bloody cowardice and your internalized homophobia make it so we can’t even fuck without—get out of me!”
“What?”
“Get out, get out, get out—”
Sirius hastened to pull out, watching, dumbfounded, as Snape stormed to the end of the bed and started dressing. “But—but I didn’t get off.”
“I don’t give a fuck!” Snape met his eyes again, his own furious. “I’m not a fucking object, Black!”
Sirius felt his stomach abruptly bunch up in knots, and thought, Oh. Finally. He should have known Snape would snap eventually; though he was surprised, he found that a deeper part of himself had been expecting it. “I know you’re not an object.”
“Do you?”
“Why do you think I’m so damn scared?”
Snape’s eyes widened, and Sirius sighed. “Will you sit down?”
“No!”
Sirius reached out and caught Snape’s hand in his own. “Snape.”
“I’ve had enough of this!” Snape wrenched away. “I’m going to—I don’t have the time or energy to deal with your fucking sexuality crisis. We aren’t seventeen anymore.” He lunged forwards, his eyes glittering with hate. “You want to know the truth? Here’s the truth.” He was centimeters away from Sirius’s face, breathing out hot air. “You, Sirius Black, are a homosexual.”
“What?”
“You’re so far in the closet you’re attracting moths,” Snape sneered. “It’s pathetic, really. Worse men than you have been able to confront reality, and come out the other side proud. But you never will. Someday you’ll remember this as the closest you ever came to something real. But you’ll never be able to let yourself be who you really are. You’ll die alone and unfulfilled, a slave to your own fear and hate. Well, I don’t have to stick around to watch it all unfold!”
And he pulled away, snatched his wand holster off the bedside table, and stormed off. Sirius sat staring at the wall for a long time, Snape’s words reverberating in his mind for so long that they ceased to be anything but white noise.
The next Friday, Snape was absent from the Order. Sirius tried not to feel despondent about it, but couldn’t really summon the energy; Moony, thank Merlin, stuck around instead. “Where the hell is Snape?”
“We had a fight,” Sirius said morosely. Remus raised an eyebrow, then stood and made a beeline for the firewhiskey. “He hates me now.”
“What happened?”
Sirius shrugged. “Oh, you know.”
“And that means…”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “You two were practically chummy. What were you even doing?”
“Stop fucking interrogating me about Snape!”
Remus looked amused, but obediently closed his mouth, pouring them both doubles. It was after his third double that Sirius began to regret drinking at all. “He’s just so soft,” he slurred. Remus’s eyebrows went back up. “Dunno how I’m supposed to not want to touch him.”
“So you are fucking Snape.”
Sirius buried his face in the table and moaned. “Moony,” he whimpered. “I’m not gay, right?”
Remus didn’t say anything. Sirius whimpered again. “I’m not gay,” he said, pulling himself up and taking another swig of firewhiskey. Remus looked a little pitying. “Stop—stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you agree with him.”
“About what?”
“I am a heterosexual,” Sirius said. “I like women. I like vaginas and breasts and—I am not attracted to men.”
“Right.”
“I’m not.”
“So, what? Snape’s the exception that proves the rule?”
Sirius brightened. “Maybe so.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, Padfoot, but you were head-over-heels in love with James.”
“What?”
Remus sighed. He looked deeply regretful. “I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.”
“In—in love with James? Me?”
“It was embarrassing to watch,” Remus said gloomily, and slugged down the rest of his drink. “Pour me another.”
Sirius mutely obeyed. A long silence as Remus drank steadily, and then Sirius said, “I was not in love with James. And I’m not in love with Snape.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Okay. Whatever you say, Padfoot.”
There was a very long silence, and then Sirius buried his head in the table again. “How bad is it?”
“It’s not pretty.”
More silence. “He hates me now,” Sirius moaned. “He’s never gonna wanna come near me again.”
“Are you ready to talk about it yet?”
Sirius shook his head, nodded, shook it again. “I don’t wanna.”
“I think we might have to.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Sirius moaned. “Just wanna—wanna wallow for a while.” He buried his face in his hands. “Why did I have to fuck up the only good thing?”
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”
“He said I’m going to die miserable and alone, and he doesn’t want to be around to watch.”
“It’s more than just fucking, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Sirius said pitifully. He took another swig of firewhiskey. “A lot more.”
“I’m sorry he wasn’t here today.”
“Me too.” Sirius swayed. “Gonna—gonna throw up now.”
Moony, bless him, held his hair back as he heaved.
Sirius tried to make himself talk to Moony about it when he was sober, but couldn’t get anything at all to come out. Snape was absent again the week after that, but finally showed up in mid-April. When he left the room a few minutes before they usually dispersed, Sirius bolted after him. “Severus! Severus, wait!”
Snape quickened, and Sirius ran to him and grabbed his shoulder. “Please,” he gasped. “Please don’t—please, Severus. Please.”
Snape’s face had softened into something familiar, and Sirius kissed him, unable to help it. Snape kissed back, and Sirius crowded him into the wall and held on to his waist, and Snape wrapped his arms around Sirius’s neck and stroked gently at the hairs at the base of his neck, and Sirius pressed as much of their bodies together as he could, and he never wanted this to stop, he wanted to meld his and Snape’s bodies and minds together into some kind of fucked-up amalgam, temperamental and greasy and whip-smart and brash, he wanted never to be separated from Snape for so much as an instant, and he pulled away. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I missed you.”
“Oh.” Snape looked away. “We should get out of here before—”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
They went up to Sirius’s room, where Snape sat down at the edge of the bed and looked at the floor. “So, what? I’m blowing you?”
Sirius had the insane urge to offer to blow Snape instead, but he had no idea where to start, and he wanted to feel Snape’s body pressed flush against his own. “No. I want—”
He went to Snape and kissed him, then tugged him up off the bed and started undressing him. He kissed his cheek and his shoulder and his big toe and behind his knees, then took off his own clothes and climbed on top of him and pressed them together from cheek to feet. “Christ, Snape, I missed you.”
“I know. I know.”
“It was like—”
“I know.”
“Did you miss me?”
Snape rolled his eyes. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”
Sirius kissed him. Snape kissed back, so sweetly Sirius kind of wanted to cry. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Since when?”
Sirius shrugged. He reached down to stroke Snape’s prick, and Snape gasped and arched into him. “I want—”
But he wanted too much, and it all remained nameless, vague intimations of intimacy and togetherness flashing across his vision. “I don’t want to be apart from you.”
Snape sighed. “I know.”
Sirius grimaced. “Severus, I—”
“You’ve gone and fallen in love with me, haven’t you?”
Sirius looked away, then felt himself nodding. Snape sighed again. “Inconvenient,” he muttered, and Sirius bit his lip, then leaned down and started kissing up and down Snape’s neck. “You are an inconvenient problem to have. I really do not need this.”
“Will you come by more often? I miss you all the time.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Sirius surged up and kissed Snape’s lips. Sex felt unimportant, an afterthought, something forgettable and inane; he wanted to know what Snape had been doing, what thoughts had passed through his mind, what he’d wondered or hoped or dreaded about his next encounter with Sirius. He pulled away again and buried his face in Snape’s chest, avoiding his eyes. “Can we just—just talk for a while?”
Snape went very still. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know,” Sirius whispered. “Anything. Everything. I don’t—you really think I’m just gay? Not bisexual like you?”
Silence. “I do think that,” Snape said at last. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It is?”
“If this is something that’s—that’s part of who I am, I ought to know about it.”
“Oh.” Snape shivered. “I keep thinking—”
“What?”
“You keep surprising me.” Snape stroked his hair. “It’s not… bad, I guess. But it is—inconvenient.”
“You don’t love me, do you?”
“No.” Snape reached down and held his neck. “I’ve been having to watch myself, though.”
Sirius looked up, laughing in delight as Snape squirmed and looked away. “It’s kind of romantic, if you think about it,” Sirius said. “Figuring out your sexuality for another person.”
“It’s a pain in my arse,” Snape said, but he sounded pleased.