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James pushed Severus against the wall and kissed him fiercely. The athlete's hands slipped under his lover's shirt and explored him with a hunger stored up for years.
The war had separated the only tiny chances they had of being together. They had followed different paths — James joined the Order and got married. Severus became a Death Eater and was focused on his work as Voldemort's right hand.
— "Potter, no…" — Severus tried to push the man away, but he was too anesthetized to manage it.
— "Don't pretend you don't want it, my Prince." — James whispered against his lips, his voice a low growl. — "I can feel your cock hardening from just a simple touch."
His hand descended and squeezed the rigidity through Severus's dark robes, wrenching a muffled moan from him that sounded like surrender in the silence of the room. It was a sound James remembered from furtive encounters in the corridors of Hogwarts, a lifetime ago.
— "Don't play hard to get, Sev. I've been thinking about fucking you for six months." — he whispered in the man's ear. — "Please, just let me fuck you…"
Severus gasped softly and gave a simple nod. It was all James needed.
In one fluid motion, he grabbed the man by the nape and devoured his mouth again, but now with no resistance to hold him back. His hands became possessive, urgent, tearing away the dark garments until Severus's pale skin was exposed to the cold air of the room, prickling.
James shoved him face down onto the bed, the frame groaning under the weight. He used his own tie to bind Severus's wrists to the headboard.
— "This is better." — James growled near his ear, his voice thick with desire. — "Where you belong. Immobile. For me."
Severus buried his face in the pillow, a snarl of frustration and submission escaping his lips. James climbed on top of him and ran his calloused hands over the lover's naked body. He wasted no time and delivered two sharp slaps to his ass.
— "You know what I've been hearing, Sevie? That you've been fucking Mulciber. Is that true?" — he landed another slap.
The skin, already pink, burned under James's palm. Severus gasped, a sound caught between pain and pleasure, but his body contracted under the weight of the accusation.
— "No—" he tried to deny, his voice muffled by the pillow.
— "Liar!" — James cut him off, his tone loaded with a fierce jealousy that made no sense but was undeniable. His hand didn't caress, but grabbed the sore flesh, his fingers pressing into the mark he'd left. — "You think I don't keep an eye on you? That I don't know anything? I know you fuck him and Malfoy for money."
— "Jay, no—"
— "Shh… No need to worry. Every time they touch you, you'll remember my hand here. Every time they try to fuck you, you'll remember my cock inside you. You're mine, Severus. Always have been." — James kissed Severus's back.
Potter got off him for a moment. The sound of a metal case opening echoed in the room. When he returned, his hands held several needles.
— "These needles will make you feel everything more intensely, from my slaps on you to my cock fucking you deep and hard. I want you to feel everything today." — James said, his voice softer, but no less domineering. — "Every inch. Down to your soul."
The cold tip of the first needle touched the skin at the base of Severus's neck. He shuddered, the muscles in his back tensing against the invasion. James pressed with deliberate slowness, watching every centimeter of metal disappear into the pale flesh. A hoarse groan escaped his lips as the needle found its place, followed by a wave of warm tingling that spread through his shoulders.
— "That's it…." — James whispered, admiring his work. — "That's just the beginning, my Prince."
He inserted three more needles along Severus's spine, each prick meticulously placed at strategic nerve points. A fifth, thinner needle was slipped into the sensitive curve where his buttock met his thigh. Severus was now caught between the sharp pain of the insertions and the electric buzz each needle left in its wake, a web of amplified sensitivity that made the sheet's fabric feel like sandpaper against his skin.
James slid his hand over Severus's transformed back, his fingers skillfully avoiding the needles, only to deliver a hard slap right where one of them was buried.
The effect was immediate and devastating. Severus screamed, his body arching violently against the restraints. The pain of the slap wasn't just impactful; it was as if an electric current had coursed through his entire nervous system, mingling with the forbidden pleasure he'd always felt beneath the pain.
— "You see?" — he snarled, rubbing his palm over the reddened skin. — "Everything more intense. Everything mine."
His hand found the case again. This time, he picked up a shorter, thicker needle with a small sphere at the tip.
— "This one is special." — he whispered, leaning over Severus. — "It goes straight to the point that controls your ability to stand." — He pressed the needle deep into the muscle of Severus's left buttock, twisting it slightly.
A hot, uncontrollable jet spurted from Severus's erect cock, staining the sheets beneath him. His first orgasm was ripped from him without a single touch to his flesh, solely by the surgical manipulation of his nerves. He wept, humiliated and annihilated by the sheer physicality of what James was doing to his body.
Without wasting time, he positioned Severus on all fours and thrust his tongue inside the man's ass.
The shock of the wet, intimate contact made Severus scream again, his fingers clenching in the restraints. The needles in his back seemed to vibrate with the new invasion. James was not gentle; his tongue was an insistent intruder, exploring and violating, while his hands held Severus's hips firmly, preventing any escape.
Potter sucked and licked the man's entire hole, and before long, he came again. Seeing this, James smiled. He took Snape's cock and began to masturbate him while his tongue explored deeper into the hole.
The combination was brutally effective. The firm, rhythmic touch on his supersensitive cock, already exhausted from two orgasms, together with the deep, wet intrusion of James's tongue, created a sensory overload that brought Severus to the brink of unconsciousness. His moans were continuous now, a stream of rough, broken sound that barely seemed human. He no longer tried to fight; his body, treacherous and surrendered, responded to every stimulus with involuntary spasms.
The dim light of the room danced over Severus's pale, sweaty skin, painting him like a mosaic of shadows and contortions. He panted, his face still buried in the pillow, his body trembling under the remnants of two consecutive orgasms. The air smelled of sex, sweat, and the distinct metallic tang of blood from a small scratch James had left on his hip.
James watched him, his dark eyes burning with a mixture of triumphant possession and curiosity. He had opened a portal to Severus's senses, and he had no intention of closing it anytime soon.
— "Now, where was I?" — James murmured, more to himself than to the man bound to the bed. His hand slid down Severus's back, avoiding the needles with a disturbing familiarity, until it rested on the thickest needle embedded in the buttock muscle. He twisted it slightly.
A muffled scream and a violent spasm were the immediate response. Severus arched his back, his knuckles white where he gripped the headboard.
— "Ah, yes." — James whispered, a satisfied smile touching his lips. — "Learning who you belong to."
He got off the bed, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the charged silence of the room. In the living area, his black leather bag awaited, an arsenal of pleasure and torment. When he returned, the sound of the zipper opening made Severus flinch. James placed the bag on the bed, next to the lover's hip, and began to remove its contents with a ceremonial reverence.
First, a pair of handcuffs. Then, a leather collar with a metal ring. Next, a black rubber ball gag. Two metal nipple clamps, with small screws to adjust the pressure. And finally, a multi-tailed leather flogger, well-crafted, with soft tips that promised more noise and sensation than actual cuts.
— "Let's improve your setting, my Prince." — he announced, his voice a low growl of authority. — "The tie was an improvisation. Now, we'll use proper tools."
He quickly undid the knot of the tie, freeing Severus's sore wrists. Before the other man could even think to rub them, James took his left arm and, with a decisive click, fastened the cuff. He pulled Severus off the bed, forcing him to stand. His legs barely supported him, trembling and treacherous. The needles in his back glinted with every tremulous movement.
James led him, naked and vulnerable, to an unobstructed point on the wall where a sturdy chain with a carabiner was attached to a solid hook in the exposed ceiling beam — an architectural detail that now served a very specific purpose. He attached the handcuffs to the carabiner, pulling the chain until his arms were stretched above his head, forcing him onto his toes. The position was agonizingly exposed, elongating his pale, sweaty body, highlighting every rib, every vertebra.
— "Much better." — James observed, circling like a predator. His hand picked up the collar. — "Something to remind me who's in control." — He fastened the leather collar around the man's neck, the cold metal against his pulsing throat. — "And to remind you not to bark orders at me."
Next came the gag. James picked up the rubber ball.
— "Open."
Severus shook his head, a last pathetic act of rebellion. His black eyes, glazed with pleasure and humiliation, met James's with a flash of defiance.
Potter didn't argue. He simply pressed the base of Snape's neck, where the first needle was buried. The sharp, electric pain made Severus's mouth open in a silent scream, and James shoved the rubber ball into it, tightening the straps behind his head. The sound that came from him now was muffled, a rough, animal noise trapped in his throat.
— "That's music." — James whispered in his ear, his breath hot against the sensitive skin. His hands then went to Severus's nipples, which were erect and hard not just from the cold air, but from excitement and adrenaline. He took the clamps, adjusting the screws until they had a firm but not cutting bite. The pain was sharp and focused, a constant sting that radiated through his chest, mingling with the electric buzz of the needles. Severus moaned behind the gag, his body writhing against the cuffs.
James stepped back, appreciating the view. Severus Snape, the feared Death Eater, the Dark Lord's right hand, hung and contained, his body a canvas of pain and pleasure, adorned with metal and leather. It was the most beautiful thing James had ever seen.
He picked up the leather flogger.
— "Let's warm you up a little more, Sevie. And remind your skin who its owner is."
The first strike was a loud, dry crack against his shoulder blades. It wasn't delivered with full force, but the precision was brutal. The leather tails wrapped around his shoulders, and the strategically placed needles amplified the impact, turning it into an explosion of liquid fire. Severus screamed behind the gag, his body jerking violently upwards. The pain was overwhelming, but, as before, it didn't erase the pleasure; it fused with it, creating a new, intoxicating emotion that consumed his entire consciousness.
James delivered a series of strikes, each one meticulously placed. On his back, avoiding the kidneys. On the back of his thighs, making the muscles quiver. Two particularly precise strikes crossed his already pinkened buttocks, and Severus's scream was so loud it managed to penetrate the gag. His skin was alive now, marked with red stripes that throbbed in unison with the buzz of the needles. Every breath was a ragged, muffled gasp. His cock, which had softened after the orgasms, was erect and throbbing again, a treacherous testimony to the excitement this violence triggered in his core.
James stopped, letting the pain echo and settle. He approached, running his hand lightly over the welts. Severus shuddered violently, a moan escaping him.
— "You take it so well." — James snarled, his own arousal evident against Severus's back. — "You take your punishment like a man. And speaking of punishment…"
His hand went down to the needle embedded in his buttock. He didn't twist it. Instead, he pulled it out with a quick, firm motion.
The effect was immediate and catastrophic. It was as if a sensitivity switch had been flipped to maximum. The sudden absence of the deep pressure, combined with the sting of removal and the wave of sensation that replaced it, made Severus's body arch in an uncontrollable spasm. His cock pulsed and spurted, completely untouched, the third orgasm ripped from him by the pure manipulation of his nervous system. It was weaker than the previous ones, a mere overflow of fluid, but the psychological violence of the act made silent tears stream from his eyes, falling to the wooden floor below. He was annihilated, reduced to a being of pure sensation, without thought, without past, without war. Only the pain, the pleasure, and the overwhelming presence of James Potter.
James held him as he trembled, his own breathing ragged. He undid the gag, leaving it hanging around his neck. — "Moan for me while I mark your whole body so all your other men know you're mine."
Potter pulled his hair back and began to bite the lover's neck, his other hand slapping his ass and scratching his back.
James's order echoed in the room, followed only by the rough, muffled sounds Severus could no longer contain. Every bite on his neck, every scratch on his already sensitive back, every slap on his marked buttocks was a new chapter of possession being written on his skin. He was beyond shame, beyond resistance, his body responding with involuntary spasms to each new violation.
James worked with a methodical ferocity, transforming Severus's pale skin into a map of his obsession. Purple marks began to appear where his lips and teeth had pressed with force; red lines crossed his back where his nails had scratched the flesh; and the existing palm marks on his buttocks now deepened to a darker, throbbing red.
— "That's it." — James whispered, his voice a snarl of satisfaction as he saw a particularly deep mark form on Severus's shoulder. — "So Mulciber sees and knows who got here first. Who will be here last."
He shifted his attention to Severus's back, his hands exploring the landscape of needles and marks. His fingers found the next needle, located right between his shoulder blades. With a deliberate motion, he twisted it.
Severus's reaction was violent. His body arched against the cuffs, a hoarse, strangled scream escaping his throat. His legs trembled so violently he could barely stay on his toes. The pleasure-pain that coursed through his system was so intense the world darkened for a moment.
James gave no quarter. His hand went down to the next set of needles, lower on his back. He manipulated them in rapid succession — one twisted, another pulled slightly, a third pressed deeper into the flesh.
Each manipulation wrenched a new reaction from Severus's body — a moan, a spasm, an uncontrollable tremor. He was being played down to his very essence, his nerves transformed into instruments that James played with cruel mastery.
— "Four." — James counted, his voice hoarse and breathless. He had brought Severus to four orgasms, each more devastating than the last. The man's body now hung heavily from the cuffs, supported only by his outstretched arms. His breathing was shallow and irregular, his eyes glazed and unfocused.
James finally stopped. He watched Severus for a long moment — a vision of complete destruction and surrender. Then, with movements that were almost gentle compared to the prior violence, he began to undo his work.
First, the handcuffs, freeing the marked wrists. Severus collapsed to the floor like a rag doll, unable to support himself. James picked him up in his arms, surprisingly strong, and carried him back to the bed.
— "Now I'm going to fuck you until you forget your name, and I want you to look at me while I do it."
James moved away just enough to remove his own remaining clothes. Each piece that fell to the floor revealed more of his tense musculature, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. His erection was imposing, a physical affirmation of his dominance. He positioned himself between Severus's spread legs, who lay immobile, panting, his black, feverish eyes fixed on James.
With one hand, James took his own member and slapped the head of it against Severus's already violated and sensitive asshole. The sound was wet and obscene, and each slap made Severus shudder, a weak moan escaping his swollen lips.
— "Look at me, Sevie." — James ordered, his voice rough. — "I want you to see who this belongs to."
Then, he did something that took Severus by surprise. James took Severus's flaccid, supersensitive member and joined it with his own, enveloping both with his large, calloused hand. He began to masturbate them together, a slow, deliberate motion. The friction on Severus's sore, exposed skin was an excruciating, electrifying torture. He gasped, his eyes rolling back, his body writhing in a mix of agony and residual pleasure. It took no more than a few seconds — with a rough, broken cry, a fifth orgasm was torn from Severus, nothing more than a hot, painful trickle of fluid, a final spasm of a body pushed far beyond its limits.
Before the shockwave passed, James positioned himself and entered him with a single, brutal thrust. Severus's scream was muffled by sheer exhaustion. The needles still embedded in his back, now pressed against the mattress, sent new, violent waves of sensation through him. He literally saw stars, his vision becoming a field of white and black spots. His body began to tremble uncontrollably, not from pleasure, but from pure neurological overload, as James established a fierce, deep rhythm inside him.
James bent over him, his face inches away.
— "Mine." — he snarled, and then his free hand flew, delivering an open-handed slap to Severus's face.
The shock was as intense as the pain. Severus cried out, his eyes wide with disbelief and a perverse excitement that shamed him to the core. Another slap followed, on the other side. The pain was sharp and humiliating.
— "You're mine!" — James shouted, his voice full of a possessive fury that went beyond the sexual. His hand wrapped around Severus's neck, not with enough force to completely cut off his air, but enough for the pressure to be felt, for panic to set in. Darkness danced at the periphery of Severus's vision as James continued to fuck him, each thrust becoming stronger with the added choking. It was terrifying. It was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced. He was being completely annihilated, body and soul, by James.
James's orgasm was a violent event. He buried himself as deep as he could, his cry a guttural roar, his body rigid as he emptied himself inside Severus. He collapsed on top of him, panting, his hand finally releasing Severus's neck.
For a while, they stayed like that, James heavy on top of Severus, the only sound their ragged breathing. Gradually, reality began to reassert itself. James rolled onto his side, his face a mask of conflict. He looked at Severus, at the marks, at the trembling, sweat-covered body, and something in his eyes broke.
Without a word, he stood up. With infinite care, he removed the remaining needles one by one. Each removal was a silent pardon. Then, he bent down and picked him up in his arms, carrying him to the bathroom.
The bathtub was already filled with warm water — a spell prepared in a moment of premeditation that now seemed an eternity ago. James got into the water and sat down, pulling the man's limp body against his chest. The warm water enveloped Severus, soothing the throbbing pain in his skin. He was so exhausted he could barely move, his head resting on James's shoulder.
The silence was broken by a muffled sob.
James was crying.
— "I know." — he whispered, his voice trembling and broken, so different from the Dominant of minutes before. — "I know I can't be jealous. I know we're not officially each other's. I know you can have other partners. I know I don't have the right... but it still hurts, Severus. With every rumor, with every possible look you might give another, it's like a stab wound."
His tears fell onto Severus's hair. It was an admission of vulnerability as shocking as the violence that had preceded it. Slowly, with a tremendous effort, Severus raised a trembling hand and touched James's face. He guided the face down and, with a softness that seemed impossible given the brutality they had shared, kissed the tears streaming down James's cheeks. It was an act of forgiveness, of understanding. They were trapped in this web of hatred, desire, and a connection neither of them could name or escape.
James held him tighter, burying his face in Severus's neck.
— "My Prince…" — he whispered, but now it sounded like a lament. James kissed him calmly and passionately.
He washed Severus with excruciating tenderness, cleaning all the marks of his possession, rinsing away the sweat and semen. He wrapped him in a soft towel and carried him back to the bed, now with clean sheets. He laid Snape down and lay down beside him, pulling him into an embrace, his body enveloping his in a protective warmth.
— "Sleep…" — James whispered, his lips against Severus's temple. — "I'll stay here."
Exhaustion was a heavy mantle. Severus, against all logic and self-preservation, felt safe. His eyes closed and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, anchored by the warmth and the steady heartbeat of James against his back.
James stayed awake for a long time, just watching him sleep. Then, with a heavy sigh that came from the depths of his soul, he got up. He dressed in silence. From his wallet, he took out a wad of banknotes. He placed it on the dresser, heavy and final. Next to the money, he placed a folded piece of parchment.
With one last pained look at Severus's sleeping form, he disappeared with a silent crack of Apparition.
When Severus woke hours later, the bed beside him was cold. The pain in his body was a symphony of memories. He sat up and saw it. The money. The letter.
His heart stopped. With trembling fingers, he picked up the parchment and unfolded it. James's handwriting, normally confident, was uneven, smudged in one spot, as if a tear had fallen on it.
"Severus,
I love you.
I'm sorry.
- J."
The air left Severus's lungs like a bucket of ice water. The silence of the room became oppressive, broken only by the almost imperceptible sound of the parchment trembling in his hand.
Three words he had never heard from anyone. Three words that, spoken by that man, in that context, were the cruelest of stab wounds. His vision blurred for a second, not from tears, but from a cold, devastating anger directed at himself.
He lifted his gaze. The wad of notes, fat and vulgar, rested on the dresser like a final verdict. That wasn't money for a service, he knew. It was the price James was paying for his own guilt. It was the bribe to try and buy forgiveness, to try and cleanse the stain of his own confession. And in doing so, it reduced all of it, the violence, the submission, the tender aftercare, the tears — to a transaction.
He was not a lover. He was a dirty secret. An expensive addiction. A whore.
Severus did not cry. He did not cry. But a single, horrible sob escaped his throat, a raw, dry sound, like that of an animal caught in a trap. It was a spasm of pain so profound it found no outlet in tears, only in that guttural, solitary sound that echoed in the empty room.
He let the parchment fall from his fingers. He did not tear it. He did not burn it. The humiliation was complete, and destroying the evidence wouldn't change the fact. The truth was burned into his skin, into his soul.
James Potter loved him. And that love was the most painful thing Severus Snape had ever experienced. Because he knew, with an absolute certainty that annihilated him from within, that a man like James Potter did not love a thing like him. He used. He possessed. He felt guilty for using and possessing.
And, at the bottom of the abyss, the worst of all was knowing that when James knocked on his door again, driven by that sick, guilty love, he would open it. He always would.
Turning onto his side, he buried his face in the pillow that still smelled of James, and faced the solitude of knowing that this love would never be enough to make him worthy. It would never save him. It was just another form of condemnation.