Best Served Cold
Title: Best Served Cold
Author: Calixta9
Challenge: winter, cold
Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape
Rating: I'm thinking hard R to light NC17
Warnings: Angst, BDSM themes
Disclaimer: Alas, they don't belong to me and I'm only having pervy thoughts about them. No harm is intended.
Severus watched the snow fall outside the window, white velvet curtains shrouding the frame's edges with a whispering crush that threatened to smother. His ebony gaze was heavy-lidded, piercingly attentive for each fluffy frozen flake as it dropped from the hollow steel sky to layer the ground far below. It seemed at this moment that it had been winter forever, and would continue to be winter for the remainder of an uncertain eternity.
A fire crackled on the hearth behind him, glowing red and gold against the beautifully polished fender. He could see the fire if he looked over his shoulder, note the colors that leapt and danced amongst the fodder given over to it, even smell the crisp scent of burning hard wood but no smallest notion of its heat could reach him nor could it penetrate the freeze that shelled him like a brittle sugar coating. It burned with pain, that frozen exterior that denied him the simple surcease of the flames.
The door to one side opened and shut softly and Severus didn't need to move to know that a key was turned in the ornate lock and secreted away by spell or guile. The mere presence of the other wizard froze him to the bone, suffused him with a glacial helplessness that left him bleak and sick. He turned, measuring out the seconds of dignity on a bitter clock as his loose charcoal silk robe swirled and rustled around his tall, narrow body.
The silk clung, despite its loose fit, attracted by some arcane law of opposites to cling to the sculpt of a lanky but strong thigh and firm haunches then on up the exquisite drawn-out line of Severus' back. He could not even flush, embarrassment a distant feeling he was too cold to sense physically but rather as something abstract as frost forming on glass. He was on display and icy fingers stroked the humiliation up his spine.
Lucius Malfoy was the Winter Prince without question in this room of pristine white velvet and silk sheets drenched in a shade of green that missed raven by mere degrees. He stood calmly, fingering the head of his serpent cane as if he was amused by his captive's appearance, cruelly sensual lips drawn up in a ferocious smile. He too was dressed in no more than a light loose robe, wintry silver to match the glittering shade of his eyes. The touchable drift of his lustrous mane was the color of crushed pearls and argent arrows in the soft light, draped over his brocaded shoulder.
"I trust your accomodations meet with your approval, Severus?" The sibilants of Lucius' words hit Severus' eardrum like flakes of snow and he almost closed his eyes against the fresh chill.
"You know very well what I think of the accommodations," Severus snapped, arms crossed over his chest finally in a hopeless gesture of defiance. "I am your prisoner."
Lucius didn't answer immediately, striding forward in a rush of robes and muscle and wizard to force Severus back against the wall. "My prisoner, Severus?" he crooned, breath the first balmy thing Severus had felt in a small singular eon.
The stab of Lucius' tongue in his ear, the drag of white teeth against his earlobe were so hot in contrast to the snowfield of Severus' awareness that he was grateful for the support of the frigid stones against his back to keep him on his feet. The sensation of blessed heat was stunning, a rapid burn in comparison to the infinite sub-zero enfolding him.
His eyes closed, disobedient to Severus' will, a blast of furious shivers cascading through his body, one seeming to set off the next in a wicked chain reaction he wanted to stop but could not. "Yes," he bit out, teeth clattering together like castanets until he ground them together. "Prisoner, nothing more."
He could not have anticipated how difficult it would be to focus on that thought, that he was held here in this Faberge' egg of a room against his will. Lucius' cane was pressing frigid serpent head beneath his chin, forcing him to lift it and offer his throat for more of the other wizard's attentions. Severus lost his breath under the determined assault of lips and tongue sucking leisurely weals against his neck, each mark as livid in his mind's eye as the burn of frostbite.
"Really, Severus?" Lucius insisted, proving that he'd never been taught the meaning of mercy with the taunting sound of his voice in his captive's ear. "And yet, you've not raised a hand to stop me."
Streaks of artic chill coiled around Severus' body, stunning him with their intensity so that for a moment he could find no means of drawing in more air. His lungs ached, stuttered to a stop in the fragile clasp of gelid ribs. What could he say? His need wasn't sane, wasn't intelligent, wasn't anything but coldly desperate. He turned his head aside, glossy strands of soot-black swinging forward to hide his face from Lucius' diamond hard perusal.
"I can't, you know I can't," Severus whispered, far too close to broken for him to bear. Pride was a tattered rag, a wisp of something torn and sodden and left to freeze. Even so, it was all he had to cling to now.
Lucius' muscular thigh pushed his advantage, ruthless and chill as the glimmering emerald eyes of his pet serpent under glass. A languid side to side drag between Severus' own legs made him lift on barefoot toes to try to escape the sudden quicksilver attack of flesh on flesh as silk loosened and slipped askew. Severus was scalded on two fronts by the insistent glide and caress of hair roughed smooth skin and the drag of white teeth now assaulting his shoulder.
He lay trapped against the sub-zero stones, cold to the marrow and threatening to crack like glass against the sudden application of heat. The fire scorched and tore, threatening to bring him to the final indignity of tears and pleading. Severus trembled, caught his breath in shattered near-sobs of frigid still air laden now with Lucius' crisp biting scent like pine needles and mint.
"I know," Lucius agreed, putting the cane against the wall to use the flats of his palms on Severus' chest, pushing the folds of silk aside to crush on either side of Severus' narrow body. "Poor little thing," Lucius mused and Severus knew the words had little to do with their relative sizes and everything to do with why he was here alternately freezing and burning like a voodoo doll in a child's reckless hands.
Severus' kept his head turned aside, swallowing hard against the useless things he wanted to say or do. He was panting without realizing it. The rise and fall of his chest, the pulse of his frantic heart beat something he felt at some icy remove, even as the awareness of his own yellowed ivory nakedness failed to draw a pink tinge of shame to his sharp cheekbones. Oh Merlin, but the wingbeat struggle of his heart to continue to pump his blood through veins slowly filling with snow was torturous. It was almost as deeply painful as the glide of Lucius' fingertips around his turgid member.
It seemed impossible that he should be hard now, throbbing with life, rigid with bone-searing lust and all he could feel inside was varying degrees of painful numbness. His body and his mind were disconnected in an essential fashion. And yet, Lucius' touch was flame, and Severus' flesh responded, twitching and swelling still more with the slow careful strokes. He wanted that burn, ached for it and couldn't keep his lean hips from jerking up off the stone at his back to push his swollen cock against Lucius' hand to save his own life.
Lucius had him, had him naked in far more than just the bareness of his too-thin frame and fragile skin stretched taut over his bones. He flexed and rolled his pelvis, the pressure of Lucius' thigh just so against his arse and balls, the languid glide of pampered fingers over his sensitized flesh alive with heat against the coils of frost that traced his ribs and thighs and the back of his neck, it all had him stretched thin as the first frost. A tear escaped one inky black eye, then another and another, streaking his cheeks and the hook of his long nose as his body twisted for Lucius like metal warped too long by excesses of temperature.
Severus wept and contorted, fingers sliding against the smooth granite behind him and finding no purchase at all. There were no rough edges against which he could dash a glacial wrist and shed his blood, seek his freedom at least in that. It was all so perfectly wrong, but his flesh was no longer his own, twisted instead to do Lucius' bidding. He ground his teeth to keep back the first pathetic whimper when it rose in his throat. He burned but the fire was cold, aurora borealis in heaven's dark vault.
There were more but those he denied Lucius as well, no matter how his burning cock twitched and pulsed in Lucius' knowing hand. No matter how those lips dripped acid fire over his ice encased skin, they could not, would not be allowed to bring him still further down. The words, the sounds he still had some will to keep as his own, a secret to hold as he had so many.
Eventually he found himself face down on Lucius' ornate bed, shackled in the softest of white velvet cuffs and positioned arse up and spread like a snowflake about to be crushed under encroaching boots. The chill was a comfort, and Severus concentrated fiercely on the all-consuming cold that threatened again and again to stop his willful heart and let him rest. There were no more tears, despite the shaming arousal that continued to tear and rend him far more cruelly than Lucius' ever so tender handling.
The cane slid right down the crease of his held open cheeks, so ice rimed that it slid slickly back and forth over his small waiting opening. Severus bit down on a mouthful of pillow, forcing himself not to scream, not to bellow his outrage at the ravishing indignity, and despairing as a part of him flared with a mercury burst of pleasure. Severus felt the cane intrude just barely, a threat in silver and steel that made him tremble with a fresh arctic blast scouring up his spine.
Severus was almost grateful when Lucius replaced the threat with the reality of hard thick prick pushing into Severus' open body inch by inch by inch. A series of small fierce shoves forced their way into him, so that yet again Severus suffered a scalding burst of flame and strangled on the moan that worked its way up from his lungs. Merlin's beard but he despised the pleasure that warped him, twisted him.
He could hear Lucius' voice talking to him, feel the brush of ice white tresses against his skin and the bite of cruel fingers into his unpadded hips but these things failed to penetrate past the red haze rising inside him. It was like steam, the clash of warmth assaulting snow and it scalded him with every fresh drive of Lucius' cock taking him without permission. The unbidden pleasure was transcendent, a blizzarding white-out and yet Severus writhed, in mortal agony, the clock reeling off slivers of icy seconds until his back snapped in half under the explosion of volcanic release.
It hardly mattered that Lucius emptied himself into Severus' body a splinter of time later; using him like a vessel prepared for the sole purpose of receiving Lucius' seed. Severus was a broken ice sculpture flung down beneath winter's talons. He was breathing, quick shallow draughts of the air filling his lungs with the sensation of needles impaling tender flesh. Lucius crawled off of him and a wave of his elegant hand released the cuffs to let Severus know a mockery of freedom as Lucius hummed with satiation beside him.
A bitter smile parted Severus' pale and nearly blue lips as he turned over, slid upwards against stained silk to sprawl upon a stack of pillows. He no longer cared about the inelegant spread of his limbs, the slick drip of icicle cream on his skin. The ink of his hair was tossed aside so that slowly dulling black eyes could watch Lucius' face. Realization would come and he would see it before the ice consumed him at last. First would come the patches of numbness like whirls of snowflakes falling randomly over warm skin. Then the cold that no fire could warm and finally, the heart would no longer be able to keep the beat against thickening blood.
Lucius Malfoy would die. And Severus Snape would finally rest and dream of the only flame in the entirety of his cold life. Harry Potter had been snuffed out like a candle too soon. Severus' smile widened as Lucius' first panicked cries reached his ears, just before his heart stilled.
...end...
Author: Calixta9
Challenge: winter, cold
Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape
Rating: I'm thinking hard R to light NC17
Warnings: Angst, BDSM themes
Disclaimer: Alas, they don't belong to me and I'm only having pervy thoughts about them. No harm is intended.
Severus watched the snow fall outside the window, white velvet curtains shrouding the frame's edges with a whispering crush that threatened to smother. His ebony gaze was heavy-lidded, piercingly attentive for each fluffy frozen flake as it dropped from the hollow steel sky to layer the ground far below. It seemed at this moment that it had been winter forever, and would continue to be winter for the remainder of an uncertain eternity.
A fire crackled on the hearth behind him, glowing red and gold against the beautifully polished fender. He could see the fire if he looked over his shoulder, note the colors that leapt and danced amongst the fodder given over to it, even smell the crisp scent of burning hard wood but no smallest notion of its heat could reach him nor could it penetrate the freeze that shelled him like a brittle sugar coating. It burned with pain, that frozen exterior that denied him the simple surcease of the flames.
The door to one side opened and shut softly and Severus didn't need to move to know that a key was turned in the ornate lock and secreted away by spell or guile. The mere presence of the other wizard froze him to the bone, suffused him with a glacial helplessness that left him bleak and sick. He turned, measuring out the seconds of dignity on a bitter clock as his loose charcoal silk robe swirled and rustled around his tall, narrow body.
The silk clung, despite its loose fit, attracted by some arcane law of opposites to cling to the sculpt of a lanky but strong thigh and firm haunches then on up the exquisite drawn-out line of Severus' back. He could not even flush, embarrassment a distant feeling he was too cold to sense physically but rather as something abstract as frost forming on glass. He was on display and icy fingers stroked the humiliation up his spine.
Lucius Malfoy was the Winter Prince without question in this room of pristine white velvet and silk sheets drenched in a shade of green that missed raven by mere degrees. He stood calmly, fingering the head of his serpent cane as if he was amused by his captive's appearance, cruelly sensual lips drawn up in a ferocious smile. He too was dressed in no more than a light loose robe, wintry silver to match the glittering shade of his eyes. The touchable drift of his lustrous mane was the color of crushed pearls and argent arrows in the soft light, draped over his brocaded shoulder.
"I trust your accomodations meet with your approval, Severus?" The sibilants of Lucius' words hit Severus' eardrum like flakes of snow and he almost closed his eyes against the fresh chill.
"You know very well what I think of the accommodations," Severus snapped, arms crossed over his chest finally in a hopeless gesture of defiance. "I am your prisoner."
Lucius didn't answer immediately, striding forward in a rush of robes and muscle and wizard to force Severus back against the wall. "My prisoner, Severus?" he crooned, breath the first balmy thing Severus had felt in a small singular eon.
The stab of Lucius' tongue in his ear, the drag of white teeth against his earlobe were so hot in contrast to the snowfield of Severus' awareness that he was grateful for the support of the frigid stones against his back to keep him on his feet. The sensation of blessed heat was stunning, a rapid burn in comparison to the infinite sub-zero enfolding him.
His eyes closed, disobedient to Severus' will, a blast of furious shivers cascading through his body, one seeming to set off the next in a wicked chain reaction he wanted to stop but could not. "Yes," he bit out, teeth clattering together like castanets until he ground them together. "Prisoner, nothing more."
He could not have anticipated how difficult it would be to focus on that thought, that he was held here in this Faberge' egg of a room against his will. Lucius' cane was pressing frigid serpent head beneath his chin, forcing him to lift it and offer his throat for more of the other wizard's attentions. Severus lost his breath under the determined assault of lips and tongue sucking leisurely weals against his neck, each mark as livid in his mind's eye as the burn of frostbite.
"Really, Severus?" Lucius insisted, proving that he'd never been taught the meaning of mercy with the taunting sound of his voice in his captive's ear. "And yet, you've not raised a hand to stop me."
Streaks of artic chill coiled around Severus' body, stunning him with their intensity so that for a moment he could find no means of drawing in more air. His lungs ached, stuttered to a stop in the fragile clasp of gelid ribs. What could he say? His need wasn't sane, wasn't intelligent, wasn't anything but coldly desperate. He turned his head aside, glossy strands of soot-black swinging forward to hide his face from Lucius' diamond hard perusal.
"I can't, you know I can't," Severus whispered, far too close to broken for him to bear. Pride was a tattered rag, a wisp of something torn and sodden and left to freeze. Even so, it was all he had to cling to now.
Lucius' muscular thigh pushed his advantage, ruthless and chill as the glimmering emerald eyes of his pet serpent under glass. A languid side to side drag between Severus' own legs made him lift on barefoot toes to try to escape the sudden quicksilver attack of flesh on flesh as silk loosened and slipped askew. Severus was scalded on two fronts by the insistent glide and caress of hair roughed smooth skin and the drag of white teeth now assaulting his shoulder.
He lay trapped against the sub-zero stones, cold to the marrow and threatening to crack like glass against the sudden application of heat. The fire scorched and tore, threatening to bring him to the final indignity of tears and pleading. Severus trembled, caught his breath in shattered near-sobs of frigid still air laden now with Lucius' crisp biting scent like pine needles and mint.
"I know," Lucius agreed, putting the cane against the wall to use the flats of his palms on Severus' chest, pushing the folds of silk aside to crush on either side of Severus' narrow body. "Poor little thing," Lucius mused and Severus knew the words had little to do with their relative sizes and everything to do with why he was here alternately freezing and burning like a voodoo doll in a child's reckless hands.
Severus' kept his head turned aside, swallowing hard against the useless things he wanted to say or do. He was panting without realizing it. The rise and fall of his chest, the pulse of his frantic heart beat something he felt at some icy remove, even as the awareness of his own yellowed ivory nakedness failed to draw a pink tinge of shame to his sharp cheekbones. Oh Merlin, but the wingbeat struggle of his heart to continue to pump his blood through veins slowly filling with snow was torturous. It was almost as deeply painful as the glide of Lucius' fingertips around his turgid member.
It seemed impossible that he should be hard now, throbbing with life, rigid with bone-searing lust and all he could feel inside was varying degrees of painful numbness. His body and his mind were disconnected in an essential fashion. And yet, Lucius' touch was flame, and Severus' flesh responded, twitching and swelling still more with the slow careful strokes. He wanted that burn, ached for it and couldn't keep his lean hips from jerking up off the stone at his back to push his swollen cock against Lucius' hand to save his own life.
Lucius had him, had him naked in far more than just the bareness of his too-thin frame and fragile skin stretched taut over his bones. He flexed and rolled his pelvis, the pressure of Lucius' thigh just so against his arse and balls, the languid glide of pampered fingers over his sensitized flesh alive with heat against the coils of frost that traced his ribs and thighs and the back of his neck, it all had him stretched thin as the first frost. A tear escaped one inky black eye, then another and another, streaking his cheeks and the hook of his long nose as his body twisted for Lucius like metal warped too long by excesses of temperature.
Severus wept and contorted, fingers sliding against the smooth granite behind him and finding no purchase at all. There were no rough edges against which he could dash a glacial wrist and shed his blood, seek his freedom at least in that. It was all so perfectly wrong, but his flesh was no longer his own, twisted instead to do Lucius' bidding. He ground his teeth to keep back the first pathetic whimper when it rose in his throat. He burned but the fire was cold, aurora borealis in heaven's dark vault.
There were more but those he denied Lucius as well, no matter how his burning cock twitched and pulsed in Lucius' knowing hand. No matter how those lips dripped acid fire over his ice encased skin, they could not, would not be allowed to bring him still further down. The words, the sounds he still had some will to keep as his own, a secret to hold as he had so many.
Eventually he found himself face down on Lucius' ornate bed, shackled in the softest of white velvet cuffs and positioned arse up and spread like a snowflake about to be crushed under encroaching boots. The chill was a comfort, and Severus concentrated fiercely on the all-consuming cold that threatened again and again to stop his willful heart and let him rest. There were no more tears, despite the shaming arousal that continued to tear and rend him far more cruelly than Lucius' ever so tender handling.
The cane slid right down the crease of his held open cheeks, so ice rimed that it slid slickly back and forth over his small waiting opening. Severus bit down on a mouthful of pillow, forcing himself not to scream, not to bellow his outrage at the ravishing indignity, and despairing as a part of him flared with a mercury burst of pleasure. Severus felt the cane intrude just barely, a threat in silver and steel that made him tremble with a fresh arctic blast scouring up his spine.
Severus was almost grateful when Lucius replaced the threat with the reality of hard thick prick pushing into Severus' open body inch by inch by inch. A series of small fierce shoves forced their way into him, so that yet again Severus suffered a scalding burst of flame and strangled on the moan that worked its way up from his lungs. Merlin's beard but he despised the pleasure that warped him, twisted him.
He could hear Lucius' voice talking to him, feel the brush of ice white tresses against his skin and the bite of cruel fingers into his unpadded hips but these things failed to penetrate past the red haze rising inside him. It was like steam, the clash of warmth assaulting snow and it scalded him with every fresh drive of Lucius' cock taking him without permission. The unbidden pleasure was transcendent, a blizzarding white-out and yet Severus writhed, in mortal agony, the clock reeling off slivers of icy seconds until his back snapped in half under the explosion of volcanic release.
It hardly mattered that Lucius emptied himself into Severus' body a splinter of time later; using him like a vessel prepared for the sole purpose of receiving Lucius' seed. Severus was a broken ice sculpture flung down beneath winter's talons. He was breathing, quick shallow draughts of the air filling his lungs with the sensation of needles impaling tender flesh. Lucius crawled off of him and a wave of his elegant hand released the cuffs to let Severus know a mockery of freedom as Lucius hummed with satiation beside him.
A bitter smile parted Severus' pale and nearly blue lips as he turned over, slid upwards against stained silk to sprawl upon a stack of pillows. He no longer cared about the inelegant spread of his limbs, the slick drip of icicle cream on his skin. The ink of his hair was tossed aside so that slowly dulling black eyes could watch Lucius' face. Realization would come and he would see it before the ice consumed him at last. First would come the patches of numbness like whirls of snowflakes falling randomly over warm skin. Then the cold that no fire could warm and finally, the heart would no longer be able to keep the beat against thickening blood.
Lucius Malfoy would die. And Severus Snape would finally rest and dream of the only flame in the entirety of his cold life. Harry Potter had been snuffed out like a candle too soon. Severus' smile widened as Lucius' first panicked cries reached his ears, just before his heart stilled.
...end...