In His Charge (The morning after Narcissa's marking ceremony)

[_the_ice_queen]

The morning after her marking ceremony, Narcissa was to see Severus. She had been put in his charge along with Draco and Lucius, and she was to be his acolyte. The Dark Lord, it seemed, was too busy for new recruits, particularly the wives of the dishonoured. Severus would see to her assignments and training, exploiting her talents and her wiles

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[stoppered_death]

Snape kept irregular hours at the best of times, and as long as he could remember, it had been rare for him to manage more than a few hours of sleep per night. So it was no great surprise that the knock found him alert and aware. He peered into the Foe-Glass he'd modified to show anyone attempting to gain entry to his quarters, sighed, and put down the ladle and set the stasis-charmed lid on the cauldron, closing the door to the laboratory as he waved the door to the corridor open.

His garb (plain, close-cut robes with narrow sleeves designed not to trail in cauldrons) made it clear that he'd been working, but his low voice betrayed no impatience - or any other reaction - as he murmured, just as he'd done that fateful night at Spinner's End, "Narcissa. What a pleasant surprise." The arch of his brow conveyed the question he didn't bother to put into speech.

[_the_ice_queen]

Narcissa noted the eyebrow arch, figuring he was working or in the company of another. Severus was busy with cauldron and ladle, mortar and pestle, but when wasn't he? Clutching her forearm in pain, she made the point of her visit perfectly clear. Narcissa was never one for guessing games.

"I'm not intruding, am I?" she asked with a questioning look. "May I come in?"

[stoppered_death]

"By all means," Snape replied, adding "Accio Dolor Diminuens Draught." When a tall, slim flask in pale blue glass floated in from the laboratory, Snape caught it and extracted the stopper. "Two drops on the skin, a third on the tongue. No more than that, until this time tomorrow."

His manner was brisk, businesslike, as if this were something that happened every day.

But then, he's lived with his Mark for decades.

[_the_ice_queen]

Narcissa let herself in at his invitation, taking the flask from his hands. She did exactly as he instructed, placing a few drops on the brand as if she were dabbing perfume on her pulse points. Another on her tongue, blanching at the taste. Replacing the stopper, she handed the flask back to him with a ghost of a smile. The draught was working already. Thank Circe.

"Our Lord says I'm to be in your charge. I thought perhaps we could talk? So that I might learn the routine."

[_the_ice_queen]

There were times when Narcissa wanted to slap the smirk from that face of his. Severus was so cocksure for an unattractive man, mirth and a touch o' madness in those dark eyes. But he was just as compelling, if not more, as any man handsome of face.

Narcissa leaned forward, smashing her clit against his pubic bone and grinding. She was in charge. She would lead this dance between the sheets.

She flashed him one of her better Black smiles, the whip of her sarcasm snapping the air. Oh, I'm ready now, you bastard. Cock. Inside. Now.

[stoppered_death]

Snape exhaled sharply as her sudden lunge engulfed him balls-deep in a single wet slide. He spread his feet, bracing beneath her, and stringy-sinewed thighs tensed, using the rebound of the bed to bounce back under her weight, falling at once into a fast rhythm.

Apparently she wanted it hard and fast. He could manage that.

[_the_ice_queen]

There was a soft moan and a semi-coherent 'ohgodseverusyes' when he entered her. Narcissa tossed her head back, planting her hands firmly on the mattress behind her. Fingers splayed, she used the heels of her palms to push up, riding his cock on an angle that stimulated her clit.

Hard and fast. Slow and gentle. Narcissa alternated her rhythm to speed up or slow down the approach of his climax. As she saw fit.

A heavy-lidded gaze met his impassive one, and in the midst of liftthrustmoan, she wondered how he looked having an orgasm. Eyes opened or closed. Toes curled. Muscles tensed. Back arched. Hands tightly fisted.

It occured to her as she rode him harder, faster, that he would look as he never had to her before.

Beautiful.

[stoppered_death]

Stuck at that damned school for as long as Snape had been, it must have been years since he'd had anyone. Decades perhaps: who could say?

Thin as he was, every sinew was clearly visible as he arched under her, bony hips lifting, lifting, in that insistent, instinctive drive for more, for deeper. Apart from the gasping intakes of breath, the hissing through clenched teeth, he was silent, hands clawing for purchase on the sheets. His face was obscured beneath a curtain of disordered hair, and dark eyes flickered shut as his head rolled back and his whole scrawny body bent like a bow, pushing his buried cock deeper still. His breath hitched to a halt as short, sharp spasms wracked him, once, again, again. With that, the bow-taut tension ebbed from his body and he lay stretched out on the bed once more, panting breaths just stirring the tangle of sweat-damp strands that mercifully shrouded that beaky, flushed face from view.