(no subject)
Title: Dolorem Ipsum
Pairing: Severus/Lucius
Rating: There's smex. Infer.
A/N: Just after Severus begins employment at Hogwarts, just before Draco is born, and Lucius being pessimistic about both.
"You want to use my... forest?"
"It's for a potion, designed to create what Muggles refer to as a 'Zen-like' state of tranquility." Severus explains to the raised eyebrow. "It's used especially by students for relieving anxiety before examinations."
An understandable task the Potions Professor had taken upon himself, but the eyebrow remains there, questioning.
"It needs to be created in a 'serene environment' for full effect," he elaborates patiently.
Lucius blinks. "Well, I suppose it'd make more sense than using the Forbidden Forest." He pauses. "I'll take you to the smaller clearing. It's quieter. How long is the process?"
Severus shrugs. "It needs to mature in that environment."
________________________________________________________________________________________________
The air is slightly chilly, but the scenery is worth it. The leaves crow the end of winter, the last of the snow dissipated.
"Here," Lucius stops at the mentioned clearing, a small patch unoccupied by towers of trees. Severus nods, and Lucius leaves with a glance, without a word.
Severus sets his case down next to the cauldron, carried by magic. The potion is a delicate one, requiring precision. Severus enjoys having to be meticulous. The flames that require no kindling are lit with a wave, then his wand is no longer needed.
Some of the ingredients are interestingly mundane, like the gentle oil of the German chamomile, the extract of Great Mullein with slightly sedative properties. Others were fiendishly hard to come by, like the precious few drachms of the blood of a Cailleach Bheur; creatures classified under Fairies, with beautifully androgynous features; tall and willowy, daring and inventive. Adapting and evolving over centuries, the Blue Hags of the highlands became Blue Fairies, imbued with more charming predatory skills. Almost capable of blending in with even Muggles, with the power to mesmerize prey, the lucky ones ended up as food, and the less fortunate incubators. Even Merlin had not been immune to the enchantment of one of their kind; too much would cause the drinker to lapse into a catatonic or zombie-like state. The blood had to be drawn willingly when the Cailleach Bheur was still in human form; it would be rendered useless when taken from a freshly-slain one, already transmogrified into its demonic form when confronted aggressively. The slight volume used in any potion has a consequential effect. When the potion matured, it would turn the color of their hair, a light robin's-egg blue.
He likes how his focus settles down to just his work, in front of him, the background almost swimming into a blur. He never hurries. The care and caution he uses is infinite. Everything is counted and measured almost compulsively. So far the reactions have all been correct. Technically it is complete, but something nags at Severus. He considers at length before adding a measure of tincture of snakeroot, which would act as a stimulant, promoting arterial flow, preventing drowsiness, sluggishness or worse - daydreaming. The potion is a pale green with an ethereal opal tinge.
Pleased, he stands up to take his seat away from the simmering heat, back supported by an old tree. The only thing left is for the potion to mature. With nothing to busy his hands with, he finds the lack of activity a noticeable loss and resorts to staring at nothing; thoughts slowly slipping into disorder, he barely even notices Lucius enter the clearing until he crosses over, peering into the cauldron.
"It's completed? That took longer than expected."
Lucius has not gone back up to the Manor; he had taken a separate path instead, leaving for a pensive walk. Wandering almost aimlessly, he lost track of time as his mind ran the same processes again and again without realizing it. The peace was too quiet for him, and he returned by that same path. He settles down beside Severus, still in a mire of deep thought. Lucius slides down, lying on Severus. Lucius nestles his head in Severus's, hair all askew. Long fingers tuck stray strands them back into place, carefully stroking, the threads spun of white gold. Lucius relaxes, melting, eye half-lidded; usually, any question asked is replied with half-hearted mumbles and murmurs. He gazes off to the side, eyes fading like a child staring into space.
Nothing to look at but up, at the view of the sky severed by the verdant tops of trees. Lucius rarely plays submissive.
He sits up abruptly, shifts slightly to sit leaning on him instead , in a slightly more dignified position. Mind still unfocused, he leans in. Severus still sitting straight-backed against the tree, merely offers his support, even though his thoughts are just as disorganized. Lucius looks up at him, suddenly offering an invitation with his mouth, and the kiss distracts Severus.
Lucius barely disguises his intentions, Severus moving to pin him down. Lucius comes to rest on the grassy floor, lying over a large flat root, half-sunk into the ground. It snakes under his back, making him lie at a strange decline. Severus tries to ignore Lucius's hips, angled up, and the friction that results. Lucius sheds his robes, flecked and dappled with green stains from the grass, Severus's tongue following after, down the plane of his taut stomach. He stops to trail attentions; he lavishes bites, unforgiving on tender areas. As his tongue laves against the pulses on his neck, he barely notices Lucius slip his fingers in between them, keying open his belt, gasping keenly as he feels material slides past his hips and Severus's hand grazes his sensitive bare skin. Severus hears a small choke, sound strangled before emission, but Lucius's hips respond.
Now Lucius's deft hands seek to rid Severus of his robes, succeeding after a few blind attempts, then drinking in the skin he'd claimed such an age ago, when the man above him was only a boy of sixteen.
All the clothes have been discarded carelessly, uncomfortably close to the cauldron. Lucius's noises become more dissolute the greater his need grows; they do nothing except harden the edges of Severus's lust, starting to become painful. A flash of brilliance in his clouded mind, and Severus momentarily leaves Lucius to dip his fingers in the cooling potion, drawing out a liberal amount. Lucius stares, but his eyes shut when he feels those fingers inside him, delighting in the sensation, slowly.
Without warning the fingers retreat and a searing heat moves to replace them in a forceful thrust, and the sounds Lucius has been trying to suppress are forced out in a piercing cry, head thrown back by reflex. Because of the odd angle their bodies are tangled together in, the weight of Severus in all the way is almost unbearable, as he leans in, down. Any movement by him seats Severus deeper inside himself.
Each thrust is heavy, aided by the downward face. Lucius is reminded why he seldom accommodates; Severus's frightening amount of self-control made even more obvious in his heartlessly drawn-out strokes. The helpless feeling he could do without - the feeling of being at someone else's mercy, more a matter of pride than dignity.
Right now those heartless strokes are making him shudder. Biting his lip, he feels the passage of the motions become too slick, too smooth, demanding more force, demands being dominated for once in a long time. Severus has a task, to break that pride, shatter the demand to conglomerate into a plea. Just for the sake of hearing it. He tries to keep a straight face as he realizes the idea.
It takes sheer willpower, but he stops dead. Lucius, in that split second; his eyes fly open and he comes close to wailing, strangled. Severus keeps from laughing. Still inside his lover, he leans down, eliciting a moan. He can smell the sweat and sex and green leaves seemingly fusing, slowly. His gaze and his gentle touches are incongruous. Their eyes clash.
"You're beautiful."
"Severus, stop -"
"Do I ever tell you that enough?"
"Severus!"
His only reply is a small snicker.
"I heard you, when you thought no one did. That time, at the Christmas party. All our old friends. All the guest rooms occupied. I had the one down the hall."
Lucius's eyes widen in horror.
"The Silencing Charm on the south wall of your bedroom is wearing off. The one with the door to the bathroom."
He paused to pick a leave out of Lucius's hair, and continued.
"I couldn't find your godforsaken bathroom in the middle of the night. And when I finally did, I heard you. I had to retrace my steps with a head filled with lust - do you know how difficult that is?"
Lucius doesn't want to admit his moment of weakness, but the flush on his cheeks darken as he remembers. His initial horror transmutes into a sensation that makes his cock ache in one downward rush. His eyes start to plead, his hips roll, and then his voice breaks. Severus finally obliges, the first move deliberately vicious, reveling in sudden pleasure and Lucius's gratitude in the form of an audible sob.
Hard strokes, one by one, delicious; then Severus cannot contain his own need, and they come in rapid succession.
Severus knows when Lucius is close, when his arms start to wind around him, the ascending cries.
A few more tortuous thrusts and Lucius's mind blanks as he comes, his wicked cries for no audience besides Severus, following after.
It is while before both are reduced to silence. Finally Severus regains some energy in his limbs to shift Lucius out of his awkward position, and Lucius is against returned to leaning heavily on his lover's chest, wincing as the back of his thighs scrape against rough bark. Severus watches the flush on his cheeks fade, his heavy breathing slow, and his fingers begin threading through his hair again, removing the stray bits of leaves. Lucius's eyes close, murmuring his approval.
Severus speaks first, staring off into the trees.
"I still remember Narcissa in school, playing the regal elder to all the younger ones, especially the first-years. Motherly, even, at times. How she innately understood how things worked and how events would play themselves out. Like your tempers and moods." Lucius makes no sound. "The both of you match."
"Only a face to present to society, for society," he says drowsily.
"A good one. And for you, a child."
"Me, with a tribe of squalling brats?"
"They'll take after their father."
"Let us pray Narcissa will stop at one and demand no more, and may that horrible fate be postponed."
"Having a young one around, a tiny version of you. Your legacy."
"How can you even suggest that, after the horror stories you tell me about your charges up at the school?"
"You're painting this too bleakly."
"Stop embellishing my misfortune."
Severus merely laughs at him, at his stubbornness, shaking his head.
"Narcissa will make a good mother."
"Motherhood will make her bitter, as it did mine."
Memories of his own mother contradict that, but he simply brushes the last of the forest floor from Lucius's hair. "If you say so."
Suddenly Lucius's expression changes, as if only just noticing something odd. He shifts slightly and then stares at the cauldron.
"Severus, does that cause any side effects, by any chance?" he asks suspiciously.
"It's a muscle relaxant when applied... topically." Severus is again straining to keep a straight face.
".... Oh."
Pairing: Severus/Lucius
Rating: There's smex. Infer.
A/N: Just after Severus begins employment at Hogwarts, just before Draco is born, and Lucius being pessimistic about both.
"You want to use my... forest?"
"It's for a potion, designed to create what Muggles refer to as a 'Zen-like' state of tranquility." Severus explains to the raised eyebrow. "It's used especially by students for relieving anxiety before examinations."
An understandable task the Potions Professor had taken upon himself, but the eyebrow remains there, questioning.
"It needs to be created in a 'serene environment' for full effect," he elaborates patiently.
Lucius blinks. "Well, I suppose it'd make more sense than using the Forbidden Forest." He pauses. "I'll take you to the smaller clearing. It's quieter. How long is the process?"
Severus shrugs. "It needs to mature in that environment."
________________________________________________________________________________________________
The air is slightly chilly, but the scenery is worth it. The leaves crow the end of winter, the last of the snow dissipated.
"Here," Lucius stops at the mentioned clearing, a small patch unoccupied by towers of trees. Severus nods, and Lucius leaves with a glance, without a word.
Severus sets his case down next to the cauldron, carried by magic. The potion is a delicate one, requiring precision. Severus enjoys having to be meticulous. The flames that require no kindling are lit with a wave, then his wand is no longer needed.
Some of the ingredients are interestingly mundane, like the gentle oil of the German chamomile, the extract of Great Mullein with slightly sedative properties. Others were fiendishly hard to come by, like the precious few drachms of the blood of a Cailleach Bheur; creatures classified under Fairies, with beautifully androgynous features; tall and willowy, daring and inventive. Adapting and evolving over centuries, the Blue Hags of the highlands became Blue Fairies, imbued with more charming predatory skills. Almost capable of blending in with even Muggles, with the power to mesmerize prey, the lucky ones ended up as food, and the less fortunate incubators. Even Merlin had not been immune to the enchantment of one of their kind; too much would cause the drinker to lapse into a catatonic or zombie-like state. The blood had to be drawn willingly when the Cailleach Bheur was still in human form; it would be rendered useless when taken from a freshly-slain one, already transmogrified into its demonic form when confronted aggressively. The slight volume used in any potion has a consequential effect. When the potion matured, it would turn the color of their hair, a light robin's-egg blue.
He likes how his focus settles down to just his work, in front of him, the background almost swimming into a blur. He never hurries. The care and caution he uses is infinite. Everything is counted and measured almost compulsively. So far the reactions have all been correct. Technically it is complete, but something nags at Severus. He considers at length before adding a measure of tincture of snakeroot, which would act as a stimulant, promoting arterial flow, preventing drowsiness, sluggishness or worse - daydreaming. The potion is a pale green with an ethereal opal tinge.
Pleased, he stands up to take his seat away from the simmering heat, back supported by an old tree. The only thing left is for the potion to mature. With nothing to busy his hands with, he finds the lack of activity a noticeable loss and resorts to staring at nothing; thoughts slowly slipping into disorder, he barely even notices Lucius enter the clearing until he crosses over, peering into the cauldron.
"It's completed? That took longer than expected."
Lucius has not gone back up to the Manor; he had taken a separate path instead, leaving for a pensive walk. Wandering almost aimlessly, he lost track of time as his mind ran the same processes again and again without realizing it. The peace was too quiet for him, and he returned by that same path. He settles down beside Severus, still in a mire of deep thought. Lucius slides down, lying on Severus. Lucius nestles his head in Severus's, hair all askew. Long fingers tuck stray strands them back into place, carefully stroking, the threads spun of white gold. Lucius relaxes, melting, eye half-lidded; usually, any question asked is replied with half-hearted mumbles and murmurs. He gazes off to the side, eyes fading like a child staring into space.
Nothing to look at but up, at the view of the sky severed by the verdant tops of trees. Lucius rarely plays submissive.
He sits up abruptly, shifts slightly to sit leaning on him instead , in a slightly more dignified position. Mind still unfocused, he leans in. Severus still sitting straight-backed against the tree, merely offers his support, even though his thoughts are just as disorganized. Lucius looks up at him, suddenly offering an invitation with his mouth, and the kiss distracts Severus.
Lucius barely disguises his intentions, Severus moving to pin him down. Lucius comes to rest on the grassy floor, lying over a large flat root, half-sunk into the ground. It snakes under his back, making him lie at a strange decline. Severus tries to ignore Lucius's hips, angled up, and the friction that results. Lucius sheds his robes, flecked and dappled with green stains from the grass, Severus's tongue following after, down the plane of his taut stomach. He stops to trail attentions; he lavishes bites, unforgiving on tender areas. As his tongue laves against the pulses on his neck, he barely notices Lucius slip his fingers in between them, keying open his belt, gasping keenly as he feels material slides past his hips and Severus's hand grazes his sensitive bare skin. Severus hears a small choke, sound strangled before emission, but Lucius's hips respond.
Now Lucius's deft hands seek to rid Severus of his robes, succeeding after a few blind attempts, then drinking in the skin he'd claimed such an age ago, when the man above him was only a boy of sixteen.
All the clothes have been discarded carelessly, uncomfortably close to the cauldron. Lucius's noises become more dissolute the greater his need grows; they do nothing except harden the edges of Severus's lust, starting to become painful. A flash of brilliance in his clouded mind, and Severus momentarily leaves Lucius to dip his fingers in the cooling potion, drawing out a liberal amount. Lucius stares, but his eyes shut when he feels those fingers inside him, delighting in the sensation, slowly.
Without warning the fingers retreat and a searing heat moves to replace them in a forceful thrust, and the sounds Lucius has been trying to suppress are forced out in a piercing cry, head thrown back by reflex. Because of the odd angle their bodies are tangled together in, the weight of Severus in all the way is almost unbearable, as he leans in, down. Any movement by him seats Severus deeper inside himself.
Each thrust is heavy, aided by the downward face. Lucius is reminded why he seldom accommodates; Severus's frightening amount of self-control made even more obvious in his heartlessly drawn-out strokes. The helpless feeling he could do without - the feeling of being at someone else's mercy, more a matter of pride than dignity.
Right now those heartless strokes are making him shudder. Biting his lip, he feels the passage of the motions become too slick, too smooth, demanding more force, demands being dominated for once in a long time. Severus has a task, to break that pride, shatter the demand to conglomerate into a plea. Just for the sake of hearing it. He tries to keep a straight face as he realizes the idea.
It takes sheer willpower, but he stops dead. Lucius, in that split second; his eyes fly open and he comes close to wailing, strangled. Severus keeps from laughing. Still inside his lover, he leans down, eliciting a moan. He can smell the sweat and sex and green leaves seemingly fusing, slowly. His gaze and his gentle touches are incongruous. Their eyes clash.
"You're beautiful."
"Severus, stop -"
"Do I ever tell you that enough?"
"Severus!"
His only reply is a small snicker.
"I heard you, when you thought no one did. That time, at the Christmas party. All our old friends. All the guest rooms occupied. I had the one down the hall."
Lucius's eyes widen in horror.
"The Silencing Charm on the south wall of your bedroom is wearing off. The one with the door to the bathroom."
He paused to pick a leave out of Lucius's hair, and continued.
"I couldn't find your godforsaken bathroom in the middle of the night. And when I finally did, I heard you. I had to retrace my steps with a head filled with lust - do you know how difficult that is?"
Lucius doesn't want to admit his moment of weakness, but the flush on his cheeks darken as he remembers. His initial horror transmutes into a sensation that makes his cock ache in one downward rush. His eyes start to plead, his hips roll, and then his voice breaks. Severus finally obliges, the first move deliberately vicious, reveling in sudden pleasure and Lucius's gratitude in the form of an audible sob.
Hard strokes, one by one, delicious; then Severus cannot contain his own need, and they come in rapid succession.
Severus knows when Lucius is close, when his arms start to wind around him, the ascending cries.
A few more tortuous thrusts and Lucius's mind blanks as he comes, his wicked cries for no audience besides Severus, following after.
It is while before both are reduced to silence. Finally Severus regains some energy in his limbs to shift Lucius out of his awkward position, and Lucius is against returned to leaning heavily on his lover's chest, wincing as the back of his thighs scrape against rough bark. Severus watches the flush on his cheeks fade, his heavy breathing slow, and his fingers begin threading through his hair again, removing the stray bits of leaves. Lucius's eyes close, murmuring his approval.
Severus speaks first, staring off into the trees.
"I still remember Narcissa in school, playing the regal elder to all the younger ones, especially the first-years. Motherly, even, at times. How she innately understood how things worked and how events would play themselves out. Like your tempers and moods." Lucius makes no sound. "The both of you match."
"Only a face to present to society, for society," he says drowsily.
"A good one. And for you, a child."
"Me, with a tribe of squalling brats?"
"They'll take after their father."
"Let us pray Narcissa will stop at one and demand no more, and may that horrible fate be postponed."
"Having a young one around, a tiny version of you. Your legacy."
"How can you even suggest that, after the horror stories you tell me about your charges up at the school?"
"You're painting this too bleakly."
"Stop embellishing my misfortune."
Severus merely laughs at him, at his stubbornness, shaking his head.
"Narcissa will make a good mother."
"Motherhood will make her bitter, as it did mine."
Memories of his own mother contradict that, but he simply brushes the last of the forest floor from Lucius's hair. "If you say so."
Suddenly Lucius's expression changes, as if only just noticing something odd. He shifts slightly and then stares at the cauldron.
"Severus, does that cause any side effects, by any chance?" he asks suspiciously.
"It's a muscle relaxant when applied... topically." Severus is again straining to keep a straight face.
".... Oh."