Fic: Cover His Face (LM/SS/RB/VM/SB) Adult
You'll get a bit of a rash of fic from me now, as the communities I've been posted on have released the stories for posting on other communities - This was written for reversathon - and sadly is probably now very slightly AU in the light of HBP
"Cover His Face"
When Regulus slides into sleep, all masks slip.
Blacks have the gift of the chameleon, an effortless trompe l'oeil, but Severus, the master dissembler, has learned to read the real, even if he does not reveal it.
He slid out of bed, leaving the sheets to enjoy a treasure he can no longer lay claim to and walked, feet cooling on blood-veined marble. In the grand study, the walls press heavy with the knowledge of the generations and the books count the coins in his mind - read the truth that he hides.
They don't. Not the tall hooded figure behind the chair, nor the man who holds his heart, lit by one side lamp, his cheekbones slicing the silence. He harnesses his mind for them.
Lucius spoke. "Is he in earnest?"
Severus kept his voice low as if the boy slept there, between them.
And he does, Lucius, he does.
"He appears to be," he said, aloud. But Severus knew he was not. It hardly took Legilimens to tell that Regulus had done this from bravado and a resentment of the shadow of red and gold.
Somewhere in Snape's soul a child cried unheard. Were Slytherin a different house, this night would not be needed.
The taller man was silent in the darkness, his eyes searching Severus' face, stoic, shielded. Don't let him in! There was a hand on Lucius' shoulder, and fingers moved proprietarily over the blood red velvet.
A subtle anger roiled in his breast and it took an elasticity of will to force it down.. Don't let him in. The hand moved up to Lucius' cheek. The voice, when it came, was higher than natural, a voice that whined in envy at the subtle poison of Lucius' timbre.
"Lucius, my son," Voldemort said, a hiss of breath released. "I value your opinion." The pale hand entwined in Lucius' shoulder length hair, mad a fist and pulled it tight, and Severus' breast ached in pride as Lucius didn't even blink. "Severus has spent much time with the boy." Oh, the subtle poison of that line…"But you know the family. What can he bring to us?"
Us.
Severus kept the face of a stoic. The faith of angels. Singular. He didn't take his face from the questioning grey eyes that ask him the question that he can't let his mind answer.
Lucius did not break his gaze. Severus wished he would; he knew that Voldemort could see through Lucius like the clear light he is, and will use every weapon against him, eventually.
Including me
Lucius will be useful to Voldemort, right up until the moment that he is not.
"I don't know if he can bring us anything useful at all, my Lord," Severus said, risking the wrath of both of them with his interruption. "Perseus is a scholar, inferior in every way to yourself. He collects dark trinkets and trades upon the past glory of his name. He knows no-one of intrinsic worth, and the boy, even spying on his family, can bring us nothing."
To his horror, Lucius disagreed, but Severus knew Lucius had been with Him for days, he had no idea how deeply Lucius was being controlled.
"There is Sirius," Lucius said, "a tasty little titbit. It would be … rewarding to bring him back to where he belongs." Severus cleared his mind, but it was too late, Lucius was already thinking aloud. "And then, there is his little doggie friend…. Didn't you say, Sire, that you wanted a foot in the werewolf camp? Who better than to be an ambassador than a werewolf? Bring Sirius Black in, Sire, and you bring his bitch with him."
Oh Lucius… Severus thinks, realising too late, that his thought had travelled. Voldemort gave a sharp intake of breath, and he, Severus, felt the serpentine mind leave Lucius and surround his own in its own inimitable way. To Severus it feels like a woodpecker drilling into his skull and he wonders if for the non-shielded it feels as bad. Robes which reek of copper and mould, pace around him, the boots making surprisingly little sound on the marble floor. Severus drops to his knees, the only way he can think of avoiding eye contract.
"My dear boy," Voldemort said, long fingers tangling in his hair and pulling his face up to make eye contact, "you are my favoured's favoured. You do not need to kneel to me." But there was no invitation to stand, so Severus stayed where he was. Better the man's hands were where he could see them. He steeled himself not to look at Lucius, for he would slip, and Voldemort would slide into his thoughts, like fog through a keyhole. "Speak, please." The words commanded with a whisper and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
"It would seem that until Perseus threw him out, Regulus had been…more than close to his brother, but he will be of little use to us."
Circe, he thought, I need to work on my control.
Voldemort's eyes gleamed in the darkness with a venal greed and Severus let him in to the prepared memory he had taken from Regulus. Voldemort's voice insinuated into his mind again, "Let me be the judge of that, Severus, let me see….."
Skin on skin, sweat on sweat. Sirius' handsome face slack, jaw open, groaning in arousing tempo as Regulus-Severus-Voldemort swallowed his heavy musky cock, legs shifting further and further apart. Fingers digging into skin. They were all hard, rubbing against the mattress, their hands holding tight onto Sirius' buttocks, feeling the muscles clench under their palms, . Sirius twisted and they all felt Regulus' disappointment as he anticipated Sirius stopping or wanting to fuck, but instead he shifted his body beneath them, finding their cocks, ramming them deep into his own throat.
Severus could feel Voldemort's rising excitement, a silver bright thread, separate from the dark desire of Regulus, separate from his own arousal which he could not control in this memory. The unique position the memory gave him, Severus knew Voldemort would not be able to resist, if it were done right. The three of them fucked Sirius' Black's mouth, their minds in a lustful troika, and then Severus struck with the false thought, sliding it out of his mind, as if it were not really there.
I won't betray him. I won't. I'd die first.
Voldemort swallowed the line as easily as they all let the semen slide down their throats. Severus felt the disappointment, but knew Voldemort believed the thought - for it rang with veracity, even if it had not come from Regulus' mind. Their joint orgasm was sharp and painful, Sirius' teeth grazing over their cocks, and as the sharing disconnected, Severus could smell the desire on his Master, as well as himself, and felt unclean, more so than he had for years.
With a swift movement, Voldemort bent, his handsome face triumphant and kissed Severus briefly in payment of his treachery. "Well done," he said, his mind already drifting elsewhere, scheming his latest vision. "Lucius said you would not disappoint us. Better we cauterize this, before it festers back into his family." He waved a pale hand in Lucius' direction and was out of the door before Severus could recover his composure.
What have I done?
Lucius claimed him then, a Lucius with his own mind, with no shadow of the Dark Lord in his thoughts. But as they kissed the jealousy shone from Lucius, a green beacon in the darkness. Severus wanted to pummel him, to scream that there was no need that he had been doing a job, doing what he was told and Regulus was sweet, ambitious and pliant but he was not Lucius Malfoy and who could ever be?
He looked up at the keeper of his soul, and murmured, "he was no rival, he's just a child. He was nothing to me."
Unreadable eyes, pale as the moon looked back at him and Lucius said, a sidewinder whisper with the shadow of the cobra within it, "Nor to me."
And all Severus could do was stand and watch him walk away, not knowing who would come back, and who he would come back to.
"Cover His Face"
When Regulus slides into sleep, all masks slip.
Blacks have the gift of the chameleon, an effortless trompe l'oeil, but Severus, the master dissembler, has learned to read the real, even if he does not reveal it.
He slid out of bed, leaving the sheets to enjoy a treasure he can no longer lay claim to and walked, feet cooling on blood-veined marble. In the grand study, the walls press heavy with the knowledge of the generations and the books count the coins in his mind - read the truth that he hides.
They don't. Not the tall hooded figure behind the chair, nor the man who holds his heart, lit by one side lamp, his cheekbones slicing the silence. He harnesses his mind for them.
Lucius spoke. "Is he in earnest?"
Severus kept his voice low as if the boy slept there, between them.
And he does, Lucius, he does.
"He appears to be," he said, aloud. But Severus knew he was not. It hardly took Legilimens to tell that Regulus had done this from bravado and a resentment of the shadow of red and gold.
Somewhere in Snape's soul a child cried unheard. Were Slytherin a different house, this night would not be needed.
The taller man was silent in the darkness, his eyes searching Severus' face, stoic, shielded. Don't let him in! There was a hand on Lucius' shoulder, and fingers moved proprietarily over the blood red velvet.
A subtle anger roiled in his breast and it took an elasticity of will to force it down.. Don't let him in. The hand moved up to Lucius' cheek. The voice, when it came, was higher than natural, a voice that whined in envy at the subtle poison of Lucius' timbre.
"Lucius, my son," Voldemort said, a hiss of breath released. "I value your opinion." The pale hand entwined in Lucius' shoulder length hair, mad a fist and pulled it tight, and Severus' breast ached in pride as Lucius didn't even blink. "Severus has spent much time with the boy." Oh, the subtle poison of that line…"But you know the family. What can he bring to us?"
Us.
Severus kept the face of a stoic. The faith of angels. Singular. He didn't take his face from the questioning grey eyes that ask him the question that he can't let his mind answer.
Lucius did not break his gaze. Severus wished he would; he knew that Voldemort could see through Lucius like the clear light he is, and will use every weapon against him, eventually.
Including me
Lucius will be useful to Voldemort, right up until the moment that he is not.
"I don't know if he can bring us anything useful at all, my Lord," Severus said, risking the wrath of both of them with his interruption. "Perseus is a scholar, inferior in every way to yourself. He collects dark trinkets and trades upon the past glory of his name. He knows no-one of intrinsic worth, and the boy, even spying on his family, can bring us nothing."
To his horror, Lucius disagreed, but Severus knew Lucius had been with Him for days, he had no idea how deeply Lucius was being controlled.
"There is Sirius," Lucius said, "a tasty little titbit. It would be … rewarding to bring him back to where he belongs." Severus cleared his mind, but it was too late, Lucius was already thinking aloud. "And then, there is his little doggie friend…. Didn't you say, Sire, that you wanted a foot in the werewolf camp? Who better than to be an ambassador than a werewolf? Bring Sirius Black in, Sire, and you bring his bitch with him."
Oh Lucius… Severus thinks, realising too late, that his thought had travelled. Voldemort gave a sharp intake of breath, and he, Severus, felt the serpentine mind leave Lucius and surround his own in its own inimitable way. To Severus it feels like a woodpecker drilling into his skull and he wonders if for the non-shielded it feels as bad. Robes which reek of copper and mould, pace around him, the boots making surprisingly little sound on the marble floor. Severus drops to his knees, the only way he can think of avoiding eye contract.
"My dear boy," Voldemort said, long fingers tangling in his hair and pulling his face up to make eye contact, "you are my favoured's favoured. You do not need to kneel to me." But there was no invitation to stand, so Severus stayed where he was. Better the man's hands were where he could see them. He steeled himself not to look at Lucius, for he would slip, and Voldemort would slide into his thoughts, like fog through a keyhole. "Speak, please." The words commanded with a whisper and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
"It would seem that until Perseus threw him out, Regulus had been…more than close to his brother, but he will be of little use to us."
Circe, he thought, I need to work on my control.
Voldemort's eyes gleamed in the darkness with a venal greed and Severus let him in to the prepared memory he had taken from Regulus. Voldemort's voice insinuated into his mind again, "Let me be the judge of that, Severus, let me see….."
Skin on skin, sweat on sweat. Sirius' handsome face slack, jaw open, groaning in arousing tempo as Regulus-Severus-Voldemort swallowed his heavy musky cock, legs shifting further and further apart. Fingers digging into skin. They were all hard, rubbing against the mattress, their hands holding tight onto Sirius' buttocks, feeling the muscles clench under their palms, . Sirius twisted and they all felt Regulus' disappointment as he anticipated Sirius stopping or wanting to fuck, but instead he shifted his body beneath them, finding their cocks, ramming them deep into his own throat.
Severus could feel Voldemort's rising excitement, a silver bright thread, separate from the dark desire of Regulus, separate from his own arousal which he could not control in this memory. The unique position the memory gave him, Severus knew Voldemort would not be able to resist, if it were done right. The three of them fucked Sirius' Black's mouth, their minds in a lustful troika, and then Severus struck with the false thought, sliding it out of his mind, as if it were not really there.
I won't betray him. I won't. I'd die first.
Voldemort swallowed the line as easily as they all let the semen slide down their throats. Severus felt the disappointment, but knew Voldemort believed the thought - for it rang with veracity, even if it had not come from Regulus' mind. Their joint orgasm was sharp and painful, Sirius' teeth grazing over their cocks, and as the sharing disconnected, Severus could smell the desire on his Master, as well as himself, and felt unclean, more so than he had for years.
With a swift movement, Voldemort bent, his handsome face triumphant and kissed Severus briefly in payment of his treachery. "Well done," he said, his mind already drifting elsewhere, scheming his latest vision. "Lucius said you would not disappoint us. Better we cauterize this, before it festers back into his family." He waved a pale hand in Lucius' direction and was out of the door before Severus could recover his composure.
What have I done?
Lucius claimed him then, a Lucius with his own mind, with no shadow of the Dark Lord in his thoughts. But as they kissed the jealousy shone from Lucius, a green beacon in the darkness. Severus wanted to pummel him, to scream that there was no need that he had been doing a job, doing what he was told and Regulus was sweet, ambitious and pliant but he was not Lucius Malfoy and who could ever be?
He looked up at the keeper of his soul, and murmured, "he was no rival, he's just a child. He was nothing to me."
Unreadable eyes, pale as the moon looked back at him and Lucius said, a sidewinder whisper with the shadow of the cobra within it, "Nor to me."
And all Severus could do was stand and watch him walk away, not knowing who would come back, and who he would come back to.