Current mood:

morose

To the Master's Chambers...
(Possible IC Journal entry for Jack/Sirius. Been having this in my brain for a week, must write it so the damn Muse will leave me be!)



It is late at night, my dorm mates all asleep, and I am nearing that as well when The Master rings the silver bell only I can here. Just like Pavlov's dogs, like the inner beast I am, I react. I do not salivate, nor hunger, but shudder and feel the tensing in my loins.

I am up and walking across the dark and cold floor to the hidden passage that will grant me access, direct access to him. The nightshirt and socks I wear provide little warmth or protection from the dampness of the narrow hidden corridor behind the Common Room Fireplace. A brief wave of warmth as I pass behind the smouldering fire, them damp coldness for the remainder of the journey to another colder bed.

From the tunnel I emerge, wide pale eyes fighting to adjust to the dim and sinister candle light in his bed chamber. Tonight I wondered how long he has been engaging in such games; using the Slytherin Boys for his own personal seraglio? The tunnel looks ancient the foot path worn smooth on the aged stone. Perhaps if not Snape, other heads of Slytherin House? Perhaps it is another of Hogwarts buried secrets, along with it's Chambers, tunnels, deaths, and mysteries.

He lifts the covers up from the bed, looking like a vampire spreading it's cape, exposing pale, naked man flesh, and a sulky expression on his face. "Come Grim, the bed is warmer." is all he says.

I nod, and slip into the large canopied bed, draped in funerary colors and the blankets are lowered. His arm falls over my side, and as he buries his face into my hair, smelling clean, boy scent, he moves be to lie on my belly while covering me with his body from behind.

He says nothing more, there is no need, it makes it easier for both of us, if that is his magnanimous intent. He moans, petting, biting, licking. He slides down toward the foot of the bed, spreads my legs, and licks the back of my balls, my anus, tonguing the tensed ring, teasing. He lifts my hips with an icy touch so he can lay supine under me, taking me into his mouth.

I am brought to the very edge of release, then he stops. He moves again, mutters the spell, and mounts. Again his face nuzzles my neck, sniffing in my scent with that oversized nose of his and he bites down on hair and skin as he grips himself, strokes my opening once with smeared head, then enters, fast. He grunts, laughs. I shudder and cry out. He laughs again.

I cannot understand how how cold his skin always feels against the warm dampness of mine and yet he has a heartbeat. I feel it in the throb of his cock buried bitterly deep inside of me, and in his chest as he presses down on my back. Claw sharp fingernails clench my hips, digging in for grip and leverage. Enter, retreat, enter, retreat, enter, retreat. God, the pain, to soul and body. End it. End it quickly.

A hand grips my ignored cock now, a thumbnail pressed hard into it's slit before I am quickly fisted to release. "Come Grim..... now...." he panted with acrid breath near my face. I cry out, hips buck, and I do as bade. His hand wipes my discharge on my back before he regrips my hips, and shudders with the angry release of his load into his living toy. I shut my ears to the names he calls out as he comes. Does he mean me when he curses? It dos not matter, I am here only to receive.

He goes limp, collapsing me down to the bed with his dead weight and lies there until his heart slowls and he regains the presence of His mind and hisses a coda in my ear, "Mine." Punctuated with a bite on my shoulder, he withdraws his cock from me, and I am shoved to the far side of the cold bed, aching, torn and empty despite my refilling with his seed.

He rolls onto his side, back to me, and snores follow soon. Glancing at the candle glow near the clock. I mentally count the hours until the next lesson.