'Nother old HP story
I just remembered that this one is a companion to the previous story. Lupin and Snape and toys of the adult variety. So, FWIW. . .
A Counterfeit Passion
He folded his robe and hung it over the back of the chair, shivering slightly as cool air slid across his skin, as softly as a lover’s caress.
Remus Lupin snorted. Why the sudden poetic fancies? He hadn’t had a lover in. . . Well, in more years than he cared to recall. And future prospects didn’t look encouraging. There was a man who had become a friend over the past few years, but every time Lupin thought he might be interested, might be amenable to broadening the scope of their relationship, something would happen to quash his hopes.
Pushing those thoughts firmly away, he turned to the objects laid out on the bed. A lover wasn’t necessary, given sufficient creativity and the name of one or two shopkeepers who specialized in devices for the discerning Witch or Wizard. Or werewolf, for that matter.
He clambered into the center of the bed, dry-mouthed with anticipation. All the moisture had migrated to his palms and armpits and groin. Eyeing the line of objects, he licked his lips and wondered where to begin.
“Start small,” had been the advice of one shopkeeper.
Very well, then.
Lupin picked up the nipple clamps, attached to each other by a thin chain. He fumbled at first, then discovered the angle that allowed the clamp to slide on and tighten just. . . so.
The brief flare of pain dulled to an exquisite throbbing pressure, radiating from his chest down his abdomen to his groin, where his penis stirred, filling quickly. Wonderful. He attached the other clamp, then gasped, grabbed the base of his penis with one hand, and the cock ring with the other. Honestly, he had no idea that his nipples were so sensitive, and if he didn’t wish for the evening to finish before he had milked -- so to speak -- every drop of pleasure from his toys, he’d better get the ring on.
It fitted snugly, and, while he was down there, he added the ball separator. Again, the angle was awkward, and every movement jostled the clamps, so he had to stop and just breathe for a moment or two before he found the fasteners and pulled the straps tight.
He lay back and closed his eyes.
Oh.
Waves of heat, followed by trickles of cold, passed over his skin. Warmth pooled in his belly, a wellspring of sensation.
Without opening his eyes, he bent his knees, spread his legs and reached for the last object.
The dildo breached him in one smooth stroke and he cried out, body shaking.
A whispered word activated everything.
The clamps tightened and loosened, squeezing his nipples rhythmically. The cock ring swelled and pulsed, matching the rhythm of the clamps. The dildo warmed, grew ridges, and twisted, pressing against places that set off sparks behind his tight-closed eyes.
He was drowning in touch, tossed hither and yon by feelings almost too intense, too overwhelming.
A particularly delicious pressure inside him caused him to cry out again, writhing against the mattress. His heart hammered, battering the walls of his chest, the sound echoing in his ears, reverberating off the walls and ceiling, pounding, pounding.
“Lupin? I heard you shout and. . .”
His eyes flew open and he stared at Severus Snape, standing at the foot of his bed.
Oh, please no, not Snape of all people. Lupin’s face flamed, magnifying the heat consuming his body. How could he have been that foolish? So eager to experiment, he had forgotten the silencing charm.
An insistent squeeze, an electrifying pulse deep inside him and those thoughts fled like mist before the sun. Their eyes met, locked for a moment out of time, and, despite the ring, despite the straps tugging at his balls, Remus Lupin came with a groan.
Face as pale as snow, Snape whirled around and slammed out of the room.
A murmur, and everything -- clamps, straps, dildo -- disappeared. Lupin didn’t care where. He buried his face in his hands, his pleasure suddenly parched and as bitter as ashes.
A Counterfeit Passion
He folded his robe and hung it over the back of the chair, shivering slightly as cool air slid across his skin, as softly as a lover’s caress.
Remus Lupin snorted. Why the sudden poetic fancies? He hadn’t had a lover in. . . Well, in more years than he cared to recall. And future prospects didn’t look encouraging. There was a man who had become a friend over the past few years, but every time Lupin thought he might be interested, might be amenable to broadening the scope of their relationship, something would happen to quash his hopes.
Pushing those thoughts firmly away, he turned to the objects laid out on the bed. A lover wasn’t necessary, given sufficient creativity and the name of one or two shopkeepers who specialized in devices for the discerning Witch or Wizard. Or werewolf, for that matter.
He clambered into the center of the bed, dry-mouthed with anticipation. All the moisture had migrated to his palms and armpits and groin. Eyeing the line of objects, he licked his lips and wondered where to begin.
“Start small,” had been the advice of one shopkeeper.
Very well, then.
Lupin picked up the nipple clamps, attached to each other by a thin chain. He fumbled at first, then discovered the angle that allowed the clamp to slide on and tighten just. . . so.
The brief flare of pain dulled to an exquisite throbbing pressure, radiating from his chest down his abdomen to his groin, where his penis stirred, filling quickly. Wonderful. He attached the other clamp, then gasped, grabbed the base of his penis with one hand, and the cock ring with the other. Honestly, he had no idea that his nipples were so sensitive, and if he didn’t wish for the evening to finish before he had milked -- so to speak -- every drop of pleasure from his toys, he’d better get the ring on.
It fitted snugly, and, while he was down there, he added the ball separator. Again, the angle was awkward, and every movement jostled the clamps, so he had to stop and just breathe for a moment or two before he found the fasteners and pulled the straps tight.
He lay back and closed his eyes.
Oh.
Waves of heat, followed by trickles of cold, passed over his skin. Warmth pooled in his belly, a wellspring of sensation.
Without opening his eyes, he bent his knees, spread his legs and reached for the last object.
The dildo breached him in one smooth stroke and he cried out, body shaking.
A whispered word activated everything.
The clamps tightened and loosened, squeezing his nipples rhythmically. The cock ring swelled and pulsed, matching the rhythm of the clamps. The dildo warmed, grew ridges, and twisted, pressing against places that set off sparks behind his tight-closed eyes.
He was drowning in touch, tossed hither and yon by feelings almost too intense, too overwhelming.
A particularly delicious pressure inside him caused him to cry out again, writhing against the mattress. His heart hammered, battering the walls of his chest, the sound echoing in his ears, reverberating off the walls and ceiling, pounding, pounding.
“Lupin? I heard you shout and. . .”
His eyes flew open and he stared at Severus Snape, standing at the foot of his bed.
Oh, please no, not Snape of all people. Lupin’s face flamed, magnifying the heat consuming his body. How could he have been that foolish? So eager to experiment, he had forgotten the silencing charm.
An insistent squeeze, an electrifying pulse deep inside him and those thoughts fled like mist before the sun. Their eyes met, locked for a moment out of time, and, despite the ring, despite the straps tugging at his balls, Remus Lupin came with a groan.
Face as pale as snow, Snape whirled around and slammed out of the room.
A murmur, and everything -- clamps, straps, dildo -- disappeared. Lupin didn’t care where. He buried his face in his hands, his pleasure suddenly parched and as bitter as ashes.