katekintail (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
katekintail) wrote2010-05-18 12:17 am
katekintail) wrote2010-05-18 12:17 am
LMOM: Collared- Part 18
Title: Collared Part 18
Author: KateKintail
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: mentions oral sex
Pairing: Remus/Snape?
Disclaimer: This story is NOT of JKR’s making. I make no money from this at all. I also do not condone the keeping of werewolves as unwilling sex slave love pets.
Summary: Unable to make ends meet after the war, Remus submits himself to the Ministry’s program for werewolves.
Word Count: 793
Notes: Written for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May 2010
It was only Snape’s second year teaching Potions at Hogwarts and already he hated the task of grading. He was stretched out on the living room sofa with the strongest coffee he could stomach and two stacks of end-of-semester papers. The stack on the left, the one of papers he had already given marks to, was dwarfed by the one on the right of entirely untouched papers.
His red-inked grading quill made slow work on the current paper, which was trying to defend the use of nettles in a vanishing solution—a completely preposterous notion only made worse by the fact that the child had atrocious penmanship. He heard noise from upstairs and then the sound of footsteps racing down the uncarpeted staircase. There was a scrambling sound, a series of bumps, and Remus burst into the living room, out of breath. He still wore his pajamas—most likely because Snape had washed the ghastly red robes the Ministry had put him in and Snape hadn’t bothered to return them yet. Remus stood at the end of the couch, gesticulating wildly, unable to speak of course because of the collar.
Snape narrowed his eyes. “Calm down,” he ordered.
But Remus continued to wave his arms about like a complete idiot, trying to communicate something and failing abysmally.
Snape sighed, set the quill down, and turned his concentration to Remus. “Why are you so distressed? And slow down so I can understand.”
Remus took a deep breath and motioned again, drawing a circle in the air. That, apparently, was supposed to mean something to Snape. “Ah. You want a hula-hoop?” Remus shook his head. Then he pointed at something across the room.
Snape looked in that direction, spotting a blank wall and a grandfather clock. Assuming Remus was more concerned with the latter rather than the fact that Snape had not bothered to decorate the house, he took a wild guess. “You’re concerned about the time?” It wasn’t very late; it was only a quarter past nine.
Remus relaxed slightly, giving him half a smile and a definite nod. Then he motioned again, arms moving wildly about, pretending to be grabbing at things and touching his hand to his mouth. “Eating?”
Remus nodded again. He spread his arms wide and then brought his palms together in a loud clap.
The fever had clearly made Remus Lupin go mad. Or, perhaps, something else had done that long before the illness.
Finally, Remus grabbed hold of Snape’s hand and wanted him to get up. Snape rose and Remus pulled him across the living room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. Once there, Remus began pointing around and then pointing back at himself again.
It took Snape a few moments still to figure it out. “You wanted to make me dinner?”
Remus relaxed and breathed out. He bobbed his head up and down several times in a nod. He pointed to his collar, then to Snape, then put his hand flat on his chest.
“You wanted to make me dinner because I’m your owner?”
Remus brightened and nodded vehemently. He put his palms together then tilted his head, resting the side of his head against them.
“You were sleeping… but you wanted to be up to make me dinner because I’m your owner.”
Remus nodded again and, looking pained, pounded his chest, right over his heart.
“And you are sorry.” Snape sighed inwardly when Remus nodded again, tears in his eyes. What had this man’s previous owners done to him? “Lupin, you were asleep for three days. You’ve missed four dinners now.” Remus looked shocked. “And I didn’t expect for you to wake up and immediately start doing chores. You don’t have to make me dinner. In fact, if your cooking is anything like your potion-making, I would prefer you not touch food I’m meant to consume. You’re not my cook or my servant. That’s not why I took you from the Market.”
Remus looked confused for a moment. Then his demeanor changed entirely. He seemed to retreat back inside himself. He avoided Snape’s gaze and he dropped to his knees. He pulled off the bright green, button-down pajama top, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth.
Severus had seen a lot of things in his young life. But he could not remember ever seeing anything quite as tragic and pathetic as his former classmate, torso covered in scabbed-over scratches and healed scars, ribs noticeable on his thin and pale frame, kneeling on the floor of some muggle rental property, waiting to take Snape’s cock in his mouth. It wasn’t a sign of submission; it was a sign that Remus Lupin was broken.
Feeling sick to his stomach, Snape left the room without a word.
Author: KateKintail
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: mentions oral sex
Pairing: Remus/Snape?
Disclaimer: This story is NOT of JKR’s making. I make no money from this at all. I also do not condone the keeping of werewolves as unwilling sex slave love pets.
Summary: Unable to make ends meet after the war, Remus submits himself to the Ministry’s program for werewolves.
Word Count: 793
Notes: Written for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May 2010
It was only Snape’s second year teaching Potions at Hogwarts and already he hated the task of grading. He was stretched out on the living room sofa with the strongest coffee he could stomach and two stacks of end-of-semester papers. The stack on the left, the one of papers he had already given marks to, was dwarfed by the one on the right of entirely untouched papers.
His red-inked grading quill made slow work on the current paper, which was trying to defend the use of nettles in a vanishing solution—a completely preposterous notion only made worse by the fact that the child had atrocious penmanship. He heard noise from upstairs and then the sound of footsteps racing down the uncarpeted staircase. There was a scrambling sound, a series of bumps, and Remus burst into the living room, out of breath. He still wore his pajamas—most likely because Snape had washed the ghastly red robes the Ministry had put him in and Snape hadn’t bothered to return them yet. Remus stood at the end of the couch, gesticulating wildly, unable to speak of course because of the collar.
Snape narrowed his eyes. “Calm down,” he ordered.
But Remus continued to wave his arms about like a complete idiot, trying to communicate something and failing abysmally.
Snape sighed, set the quill down, and turned his concentration to Remus. “Why are you so distressed? And slow down so I can understand.”
Remus took a deep breath and motioned again, drawing a circle in the air. That, apparently, was supposed to mean something to Snape. “Ah. You want a hula-hoop?” Remus shook his head. Then he pointed at something across the room.
Snape looked in that direction, spotting a blank wall and a grandfather clock. Assuming Remus was more concerned with the latter rather than the fact that Snape had not bothered to decorate the house, he took a wild guess. “You’re concerned about the time?” It wasn’t very late; it was only a quarter past nine.
Remus relaxed slightly, giving him half a smile and a definite nod. Then he motioned again, arms moving wildly about, pretending to be grabbing at things and touching his hand to his mouth. “Eating?”
Remus nodded again. He spread his arms wide and then brought his palms together in a loud clap.
The fever had clearly made Remus Lupin go mad. Or, perhaps, something else had done that long before the illness.
Finally, Remus grabbed hold of Snape’s hand and wanted him to get up. Snape rose and Remus pulled him across the living room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. Once there, Remus began pointing around and then pointing back at himself again.
It took Snape a few moments still to figure it out. “You wanted to make me dinner?”
Remus relaxed and breathed out. He bobbed his head up and down several times in a nod. He pointed to his collar, then to Snape, then put his hand flat on his chest.
“You wanted to make me dinner because I’m your owner?”
Remus brightened and nodded vehemently. He put his palms together then tilted his head, resting the side of his head against them.
“You were sleeping… but you wanted to be up to make me dinner because I’m your owner.”
Remus nodded again and, looking pained, pounded his chest, right over his heart.
“And you are sorry.” Snape sighed inwardly when Remus nodded again, tears in his eyes. What had this man’s previous owners done to him? “Lupin, you were asleep for three days. You’ve missed four dinners now.” Remus looked shocked. “And I didn’t expect for you to wake up and immediately start doing chores. You don’t have to make me dinner. In fact, if your cooking is anything like your potion-making, I would prefer you not touch food I’m meant to consume. You’re not my cook or my servant. That’s not why I took you from the Market.”
Remus looked confused for a moment. Then his demeanor changed entirely. He seemed to retreat back inside himself. He avoided Snape’s gaze and he dropped to his knees. He pulled off the bright green, button-down pajama top, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth.
Severus had seen a lot of things in his young life. But he could not remember ever seeing anything quite as tragic and pathetic as his former classmate, torso covered in scabbed-over scratches and healed scars, ribs noticeable on his thin and pale frame, kneeling on the floor of some muggle rental property, waiting to take Snape’s cock in his mouth. It wasn’t a sign of submission; it was a sign that Remus Lupin was broken.
Feeling sick to his stomach, Snape left the room without a word.