Harry Potter: Sirius/Severus
For: trobadora
From: fluffyllama
Pairing: Sirius/Severus
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~300
It was hard, it was angry, it was violent. And it was necessary. Above all, it was necessary.
In those moments, the walls of the house did not close in upon Sirius as they did at all other times; in fact the walls - the house - the whole Order, frankly - were totally irrelevant. All that was important was Severus Snape and himself. Fucking.
He was ugly, he was greasy, he was untrustworthy, and he was very very good.
How Sirius hated him. When he looked at him, he saw the sullen, unpleasant boy he’d known at school. He saw the fixed sneer, the pale, pallid complexion, and loathed Severus all over again. That Snape should come into his - his - house and take centre stage; that he should be the man on whom all eyes were fixed, whilst Sirius sat in the background, ignored, unimportant… Sirius would have found that hard enough; but he knew from the look in Snape’s eyes that Severus knew - knew and malevolently enjoyed his discomfort. Which was unforgiveable, especially as Sirius’s capacity for forgiveness had been somewhat compacted by bleak years in Azkaban.
The revulsion was literally physical. Sirius could feel it building inside him, and was aware of Severus’s black amusement.
And then, later, they’d touch, and the anger would become lust. Sirius would wreak his revenge on Severus’s body… or was it Severus’s last revenge? For when the two men met and fucked - who could say who was controlling, who controlled? The heat - the pain - the ferocity - as they both punished and received punishment; both hurt and gratified themselves and the other.
It was sweat, it was blood, it was heat. It was lust, it was hatred, it was passion. It kept Sirius alive; and for that, he detested Severus most.
Above all, it was necessary.
From: fluffyllama
Pairing: Sirius/Severus
Rating: PG13
Word Count: ~300
It was hard, it was angry, it was violent. And it was necessary. Above all, it was necessary.
In those moments, the walls of the house did not close in upon Sirius as they did at all other times; in fact the walls - the house - the whole Order, frankly - were totally irrelevant. All that was important was Severus Snape and himself. Fucking.
He was ugly, he was greasy, he was untrustworthy, and he was very very good.
How Sirius hated him. When he looked at him, he saw the sullen, unpleasant boy he’d known at school. He saw the fixed sneer, the pale, pallid complexion, and loathed Severus all over again. That Snape should come into his - his - house and take centre stage; that he should be the man on whom all eyes were fixed, whilst Sirius sat in the background, ignored, unimportant… Sirius would have found that hard enough; but he knew from the look in Snape’s eyes that Severus knew - knew and malevolently enjoyed his discomfort. Which was unforgiveable, especially as Sirius’s capacity for forgiveness had been somewhat compacted by bleak years in Azkaban.
The revulsion was literally physical. Sirius could feel it building inside him, and was aware of Severus’s black amusement.
And then, later, they’d touch, and the anger would become lust. Sirius would wreak his revenge on Severus’s body… or was it Severus’s last revenge? For when the two men met and fucked - who could say who was controlling, who controlled? The heat - the pain - the ferocity - as they both punished and received punishment; both hurt and gratified themselves and the other.
It was sweat, it was blood, it was heat. It was lust, it was hatred, it was passion. It kept Sirius alive; and for that, he detested Severus most.
Above all, it was necessary.