BEND
By Your Cruise Director

Snape is standing at his desk, rolling graded parchments together to be placed in a drawer, when there is a sudden noise behind him and pressure against his back. Before he can whirl around, long fingers cover his eyes as another hand closes over his hip to hold him still.

"Stay right there." The whisper gusts against his earlobe and raises goosebumps across the back of his neck. Even if Snape did not instantly identify the voice, he would know who held him from the moustache tickling his skin. He tries to utter the name, but the hand over his eyes has already shifted in a warm caress to his mouth, where two fingers stroke across his upper and lower lips. "Open up," the maddening voice continues, then, when he parts his lips to bite down on an intruding finger: "Suck it, or I won't fuck you."

He loosens his teeth, and the finger glides in and out of his mouth in the same rhythm as the bulge behind him sliding up and down against his upper thigh. "What makes you think I want you to fuck me?" Snape demands when the finger is removed, only to be replaced a moment later by another.

"You were teasing me," Lupin breathes in his ear. "Bending over your desk. You know I can't resist that."

"You weren't even in the room, and I wasn't bent offff..." Now both fingers invade Snape's mouth and stroke insistently over his tongue while the hand on his hip circles him, groping for the fastenings of his clothing. A foot between his own urges his legs to spread, forcing Snape to lean against the desk to keep his balance. Lupin's clothed cock behind Snape pushes closer, seeks out the furrow in his arse and begins to rut. The fabric caught there chafes and heats his skin.

Once -- in truth, more than once -- Lupin did this for so long that the raw burning friction made Snape come in his pants. Lifting his mouth away from Lupin's fingers, he demands, "Are you planning to finish standing and fully dressed?"

"You were teasing me, and I'm going to fuck you any way I want." Abruptly the body behind him lunges forward, shoving Snape's chest downward until he is leaning on his arms on the desk. "That's better." The wet fingers have not left Snape's lips. He sucks them in, harder, while his trousers are tugged downward until they fall about his ankles. The werewolf lets out a growl of pleasure. "Now don't move."

Getting to his knees, Lupin eases one of Snape's boots free from the fabric, leaving the trousers rumpled around Snape's other leg. From there he takes a long lick from one knee all the way up the inside of Snape's thigh, chuckling in satisfaction when Snape arches and spreads his legs even further apart. "I thought I told you not to move." Teeth sink into the flesh where Snape's buttock rises above his thigh; Snape covers his own mouth to keep from crying out, finding that he must keep the hand in place while Lupin's tongue soothes away the impression from the bite, then wriggles across his arse to burrow into the crack and take a few experimental licks.

"Someone could come in," Snape manages to gasp.

"That's true. I didn't charm the door." Lupin doesn't sound at all concerned about this as he rises and presses his damp fingers, the ones Snape has been sucking, to the spot where his mouth was a moment before. The first one probes and pushes in, wresting a moan from Snape. "Why, Severus, you're slippery already. All prepared. You were teasing me." Another finger joins it. "You've been waiting for me to fuck you all afternoon, haven't you."

Snape gasps again, for Lupin keeps moving maddeningly just below a very sensitive spot. "Full moon in two days..." Then he cries out in disappointment as the fingers are removed completely. A moment later Lupin's entire hand comes down on his bum, and Snape's body jolts with the smack.

"Don't -- " Slap. " -- make this -- " Slap. " -- about me." Slap. "Did you -- " Slap. " -- or did you not -- " Slap. " -- want me -- " Slap. " -- to fuck -- " Slap. " -- you?"

Groaning loudly enough to be heard in the hall, and it can't be helped, because Lupin is a fucking expert at doing this exactly the way Snape wants it, even if he never says so, even if he pretends to like to fuck quickly and silently as if it isn't even happening, when of course he's ready he's been ready since this afternoon since last week since a year before Black died since he was seventeen, "I..." The hand is still coming down steadily on his overheated bottom. Snape knows it won't stop until he answers the right way, and he cries out deliriously, much too loudly with a door that could open any moment with him bent over his desk as if he's Lupin's whore, not speaking until the last possible moment when he can't stand the need anymore "...yes," he whimpers.

"Good boy, Severus."

The words are taunting, and his face flushes to match the radiance of his arse, which Lupin is stroking now, bending to lick and blow on the damp streaks. "Yes," Snape hears himself whisper again, burning hotter with shame even as he is rewarded by Lupin's tongue changing direction, sliding down the crack to delve into the place it had only teased earlier. Lupin makes the most obscenely enthusiastic noises when he does this: his favorite way is to get Snape head-downward in his lap, legs spread gracelessly in the air so Lupin can look down between them over Snape's cock and see his face, though in any position he's always happy to tongue Snape open, readying him to be fucked. Snape's cock aches to be touched, but he knows Lupin won't do it until he's inside, stroking Snape off in time with his own thrusts, making him wait... "Fuck," he groans, "Lupin, fuck..."

He can feel Lupin's laughter like a breeze against his most intimate parts before the other man rises to unfasten his clothing -- he won't remove it, not to take Snape over the desk like this. From a pocket Lupin pulls a bottle of one of Snape's own brews, similar to the one Snape used to prepare himself earlier but less viscous. The potions master makes this one for a quick fix rather than a long wait. It's too greasy to leave coating his arsehole all afternoon just because the ravenous beast pretending to have important research here may stalk, entrap and unleash unnatural lusts upon him so relentlessly that of course Snape must take the proper precautions to protect his innards from brutal plunder...

To Snape's surprise, Lupin pulls out his wand. A spell shouldn't be necessary along with the potion, but Lupin apparently has something particular in mind. Releasing another low, wicked laugh, he dips the tip of his wand into the little bottle and places the potion in a corner of the desk. What can the creature be thinking...

But a moment later the question is answered as Lupin presses the tip of his wand where his tongue had been, sliding the narrow unyielding tip right into Snape's body. "Calefacio," the werewolf murmurs, and delicious slick heat spreads through Snape, melting the tension in his arms from supporting his weight, relaxing his back, his shoulders...everything but his cock, which jumps and shudders, trapped beneath him. "Do you like this, Severus?" asks Lupin as he moves the very tip of the wand inside Snape, tiny circles that nearly make him shout with delight, but the door should anyone burst in catch them he'd never command any respect again though some of them would probably be jealous in fact Snape wouldn't put it past Moody to watch right through the door with his magical eye he'd love to be on the receiving end of Lupin's obscenities...

"More," Snape orders, though he knows that Lupin will consider it pleading, and another hot jolt floods through him, stronger and sharper. He cries out, rattling the desk beneath him.

"Should I make you come while I'm fucking you, Severus? Would you have trouble marking essays here afterward, thinking about how my hand made you squirt on the desktop while I was filling your arse..."

"Get on with it, Lupin," moans Snape with a fresh flood of shame as the wand makes contact with a magical spot inside him, making his fingers claw at the desk. The wand tip slides out, and the much larger, blunter head of Lupin's cock pushes against him, stretching him open as it breaches the slick hole.

Jamming his knuckles against his mouth to prevent himself from making any more humiliating noises -- Lupin, evidently, doesn't care how many people might be outside the door listening -- Snape tries to lift himself up, hoping the werewolf will take the hint to oh please touch him already, but Lupin only grasps his hips and starts to pump into him, muttering things like yes and nice and fuck and tight and good. No amount of wiggling or moaning distracts him. It seems that he intends to wait until Snape begs, which Snape will not do. Not for this. Not so easily, at least, not yet, and Merlin Lupin's stamina is impressive, he can keep this up all afternoon, sliding in and out of Snape in that infuriating rhythm there not quite enough to make him come oh and he knows it, the bastard, dark unnatural dangerous bloody vicious killer please please please...

"Lupin," he tries, then, "Remus," for which he gets a squeezed hip and a contented growl but nothing more, the desk unpleasantly hard beneath him and thumping forward slightly with each thrust. Anyone on the floor directly below them can surely hear that, and Lupin's body slapping against Snape's, hands slipping now on his hips -- they're both sweating -- and it's almost, almost but not "...please."

Everything changes at once, the tempo, the angle, the slick hand that wraps oh yes and strokes fuck yes around Snape's oh no too-eager cock, his cock that won't wait now with that pressure inside and out and Lupin crooning, "That's it, let me have it, come on, give it to me," and before Lupin even gets to his name Snape's head flies back, nothing to silence him as he calls out, nothing to stop him from spattering the desk the floor himself Lupin's hand everything within reach.

The room spins; Snape is vaguely aware of Lupin going rigid, clutching his hip, convulsing behind him; then there is more pressure, heat against and inside him, weight against his back, his damp chest crushed to the desk. "Severus," murmurs Lupin happily, collapsed on top of him, the clothing trapped beneath him soaking up the wetness. From beyond the door Snape thinks he hears laughter, but it is indistinct, and perhaps his own lightheadedness has confused him, for Lupin is really quite heavy, Snape is really quite breathless, and nothing has ever distracted him so completely as the way the werewolf fucks him.

He is on the verge of recollecting his dignity and ordering Lupin off his back when the other man stirs, sighs softly, hauls himself upright and helps Snape to his feet. From the corner of his eye Snape watches as Lupin scourgifies first the wand itself, then their clothes, the desk, the floor and his own deflated cock; pointing at Snape, he starts to speak again, then smiles instead and puts the wand away in a pocket. "Get dressed," he says instead.

"I'm filthy," Snape points out unnecessarily.

"I know." Stepping directly into Snape's field of vision, Lupin gives him a wicked vulgar lecherous perverse wide smile, then tugs him nearer and kisses him. Snape's splutter of outrage is drowned between hungrily parted lips and a questing tongue. "I'm not finished with you yet," smiles Lupin when he finally releases Snape's mouth, keeping him close with arms that refuse to budge from around his body. "But attractive as you are bent over your desk, I thought you might be more comfortable in a bed."

Snape is about to protest again when he hears voices in the corridor once more, distinctly this time; his eyes dart toward the door as Lupin grabs his wand to utter a spell that restores Snape's clothing. He should resist further, he knows, lest Lupin should find him too willing, too compliant, but this is not the moment for such an argument as Snape has no wish to be found in this compromising position. Snatching up his own wand and the pile of parchments which have fallen to the floor, he moves quickly to the secret exit behind the bookcase, gesturing impatiently for Lupin to follow.

"You're eager for more, I see," Lupin whispers behind him.

"I'm eager not to be discovered in your clutches!"

No sooner has he spoken than he finds himself pressed against the stone wall with lips, teeth and tongue against his throat. "You like being in my clutches," the werewolf growls, vibrating the skin as he sucks at it. "Admit it, or I'll spank you again."

"Lupin..."

"Admit it!"

Snape says nothing. Slowly Lupin lifts his head with a feral grin.

"You haven't learned your lesson about teasing at all, Severus," he purrs. "I can tell it's going to be a long night."