HP: Scarlet on the Tiles
I found this on my computer, and figured the world need more crappy gay rape scenes, so...
seriesharry·potter
disclaimer(c)j.k.rowling
ratedR
genreangst
warningsslash,non-con,sexual•references
< s c a r l e t • o n • t h e • t i l e s >
bymewling
summary: [james/snape, sirius/snape] You’re not the one he sees.
notes: … *covers face* uh, dedicated to
nishizono for being so sweet even though my snaco exchange fic was so ridiculously late.
It happens sometimes that when you’re just looking around, you catch Snape’s eyes. And you’re heart skips a bit, because it’s kinda scary, the sheer intensity. It surprises you every time, so it always takes a few seconds for you to realise -
That the one he’s looking at, it’s not you at all.
+
You’ve seen the scars on Snape’s torso, from back in first year when you and James’d been creeping around the lake.
Snape was swimming half-naked in the shallows like a happy otter. James’d snickered behind his hand, but you didn’t.
Because he looked so free, and you were just the tiniest bit envious.
+
“Stupid Snape,” James mutters as Pomfrey bandages his wrist. He glares pointedly at Snape who’s on the next bed, acting haughty and unhurt and healing his own wounds with the tip of his wand.
“No fighting,” the nurse says sharply, tapping on James’ injury to accentuate her point.
James yelps.
You don’t pay attention, though. You’re a bit caught up with the way the blood from the cut on Snape’s cheek curves its way towards his mouth.
+
The hallway echoes with the sound of your footfalls; it’s a good thing no one’s chasing, because they’d have no trouble finding you.
James doubles over panting, and pulls at your jersey. “Okay, that’s enough. I think we lost them.”
Lost who? you want to ask. “Worth it though,” you say instead. “Man, did you see Snape’s face? It - hey…” you trail off, glancing at James’ arm. “Woah… did he bite you?”
James looks down in surprise. “Yeah, I guess so…” He touches it with an odd expression on his face.
You stare, feeling worried though you don’t know why. “What is it? Rabies?”
“Huh?” James says absently, “No, it’s nothing…”
+
Peter lets out a yell of joy when you dunk Snape’s head into the bucket of soapy water.
“We thought we’d help you out, Snivellus,” James says calmly. “Since you don’t seem to be able to do this yourself.”
Snape chokes but he struggles against you, heaving and flailing. It’s no use, and you wonder why he even bothers. You pull him out, hand firmly around his neck. He dry heaves, his fore-head touching the tiles.
“He’s coughing up bubbles,” Peter says, awed.
You thrust Snape’s head in again, fascinated by how frail and small his neck feels against your palm.
You could break his neck if you wanted to, and nothing would be easier.
+
James and Snape are apparently lovers. Fuck buddies, or whatever.
You would not have believed it, had you not seen it. But there they are, pressed against the stained glass windows, multi-hued moonlight against their skin. Possibly they don’t notice you for the heavy rain. Probably they wouldn’t anyway.
It should be wrong, it should be disgusting and you should be sickened. But all you can see is the way Snape’s pale hands are knotted in James’ dark hair and all you can hear are the noises he makes when he tries to be silent while James bites his neck (and oh god, those bandages weren’t from bullying at all, were they?) and all you can see is the curve of his back and all you can hear is that dull rhythm that shakes the glass -
And you’ve never been more horrified or turned on in your life, and you just want to go back to bed and pretend this was all some dream, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away and you’re so achingly hard you’re wet through your pants.
+
Snape thrashes against you as you pin him down on the locker room floor.
“Stop it,” you say, using your wand to bind his wrists to the ground. He tries to bite at your hand that covers his mouth.
The constant friction isn’t helping your situation. But you don’t really know what to do, so you pull down his pants. Snape lets out a noise of horror through your fingers and struggles harder. “Stop that,” you say helplessly.
It’s not like you can stop; you’ve already gone this far, there’s no turning back. So you just keep going, and when there’s blood on the tiles you just pretend not to see.
Snape screws his eyes shut and turns his head away.
“Hey,” you say, slapping his face lightly, “Don’t turn away. Look at me.”
“Open you’re eyes, dammit. Just look at me. I just -“
seriesharry·potter
disclaimer(c)j.k.rowling
ratedR
genreangst
warningsslash,non-con,sexual•references
< s c a r l e t • o n • t h e • t i l e s >
bymewling
summary: [james/snape, sirius/snape] You’re not the one he sees.
notes: … *covers face* uh, dedicated to
nishizono for being so sweet even though my snaco exchange fic was so ridiculously late.
It happens sometimes that when you’re just looking around, you catch Snape’s eyes. And you’re heart skips a bit, because it’s kinda scary, the sheer intensity. It surprises you every time, so it always takes a few seconds for you to realise -
That the one he’s looking at, it’s not you at all.
+
You’ve seen the scars on Snape’s torso, from back in first year when you and James’d been creeping around the lake.
Snape was swimming half-naked in the shallows like a happy otter. James’d snickered behind his hand, but you didn’t.
Because he looked so free, and you were just the tiniest bit envious.
+
“Stupid Snape,” James mutters as Pomfrey bandages his wrist. He glares pointedly at Snape who’s on the next bed, acting haughty and unhurt and healing his own wounds with the tip of his wand.
“No fighting,” the nurse says sharply, tapping on James’ injury to accentuate her point.
James yelps.
You don’t pay attention, though. You’re a bit caught up with the way the blood from the cut on Snape’s cheek curves its way towards his mouth.
+
The hallway echoes with the sound of your footfalls; it’s a good thing no one’s chasing, because they’d have no trouble finding you.
James doubles over panting, and pulls at your jersey. “Okay, that’s enough. I think we lost them.”
Lost who? you want to ask. “Worth it though,” you say instead. “Man, did you see Snape’s face? It - hey…” you trail off, glancing at James’ arm. “Woah… did he bite you?”
James looks down in surprise. “Yeah, I guess so…” He touches it with an odd expression on his face.
You stare, feeling worried though you don’t know why. “What is it? Rabies?”
“Huh?” James says absently, “No, it’s nothing…”
+
Peter lets out a yell of joy when you dunk Snape’s head into the bucket of soapy water.
“We thought we’d help you out, Snivellus,” James says calmly. “Since you don’t seem to be able to do this yourself.”
Snape chokes but he struggles against you, heaving and flailing. It’s no use, and you wonder why he even bothers. You pull him out, hand firmly around his neck. He dry heaves, his fore-head touching the tiles.
“He’s coughing up bubbles,” Peter says, awed.
You thrust Snape’s head in again, fascinated by how frail and small his neck feels against your palm.
You could break his neck if you wanted to, and nothing would be easier.
+
James and Snape are apparently lovers. Fuck buddies, or whatever.
You would not have believed it, had you not seen it. But there they are, pressed against the stained glass windows, multi-hued moonlight against their skin. Possibly they don’t notice you for the heavy rain. Probably they wouldn’t anyway.
It should be wrong, it should be disgusting and you should be sickened. But all you can see is the way Snape’s pale hands are knotted in James’ dark hair and all you can hear are the noises he makes when he tries to be silent while James bites his neck (and oh god, those bandages weren’t from bullying at all, were they?) and all you can see is the curve of his back and all you can hear is that dull rhythm that shakes the glass -
And you’ve never been more horrified or turned on in your life, and you just want to go back to bed and pretend this was all some dream, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away and you’re so achingly hard you’re wet through your pants.
+
Snape thrashes against you as you pin him down on the locker room floor.
“Stop it,” you say, using your wand to bind his wrists to the ground. He tries to bite at your hand that covers his mouth.
The constant friction isn’t helping your situation. But you don’t really know what to do, so you pull down his pants. Snape lets out a noise of horror through your fingers and struggles harder. “Stop that,” you say helplessly.
It’s not like you can stop; you’ve already gone this far, there’s no turning back. So you just keep going, and when there’s blood on the tiles you just pretend not to see.
Snape screws his eyes shut and turns his head away.
“Hey,” you say, slapping his face lightly, “Don’t turn away. Look at me.”
“Open you’re eyes, dammit. Just look at me. I just -“