LMOM: Collared- Part 26
May. 26th, 2010 12:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katekintailTitle: Collared Part 26
Author: KateKintail
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: Watersports/golden showers
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: 1,378
Notes: Written for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May 2010
Snape woke the next morning to find Remus hugging him. For the first time in a long time, he’d made it through a whole night without the werewolf nightmare. And it was beyond nice to wake up in someone’s arms. Even if that someone was squirming. “Remus?”
Looking over his shoulder, he saw Remus was wide awake already and on edge. Remus wasn’t precisely hard, but he was grabbing his cock. “Oh,” Snape said, giving a small, sly small. “You have to piss, don’t you?”
Remus nodded. Snape hadn’t given him permission and Remus, in his well-assumed role as a sub, had obeyed the order to not leave and use the bathroom. He squeezed his cock, holding back, holding in.
Snape felt a rush of pleasure at it. He had never been able to tell anyone about this desire. He had never been able to even fathom actually living it out. But with Remus not in a position to speak of it, but willing to do whatever Snape wanted, Snape couldn’t resist. Besides, Remus only looked half uncomfortable about it. “Can you hold it?”
Remus considered for a moment, squirming a little and tightening his hold around hic cock, pinching it. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Can you hold it a little longer, just for me?” The words felt so good coming out of his mouth. Beautiful control and the excitement of not knowing how long it would last. There was such suspense. Such anticipation. Merlin, it made him hard.
With a nod, indicating he could hold it a little longer, Remus used his free hand to roll Snape over, in place. But the movement in bed beside him seemed to be too much. He breathed out hard and suddenly thrust forward, grabbing Snape and shoving his crotch up against Snape’s thigh. He trembled and squeezed Snape’s arm so hard he almost cut off circulation. He buried his face in Snape’s shoulder, feeling shame. And he hooked his leg around Snape’s leg as if he were steadying himself before humping it.
But he didn’t piss. This earned his head a gentle rub and a tender kiss, that made Remus look up into Snape’s face. And that look—full of apology and urgency and gratefulness and intense arousal—made Snape completely melt. He put an arm around Remus and held him close. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “You’re doing so well. And you’re so hot like this. You need me, don’t you?”
If Remus could make noise, he might have whimpered. Instead, he just nodded and confirmed in the form of another kiss. But his lower lip trembled slightly and Snape’s lips closed around it. It held tight, sucked, trying to give Remus something to think about apart from his full bladder.
It worked, too. It worked for a few long minutes. It worked long enough for Remus to relax in Snape’s arms.
But then something inside Remus snapped. There was a spasm or an urge or something, Because Remus, his expression pained, pushed his cock desperately into Snape again, pushing hard, rubbing, grinding. Snape knew he had to help. He reached down and slid his hand around the struggling cock. He pinched and squeezed, having some private familiarity with what it felt like to hold in hours and hours of piss. He vanished Remus’ sleep pants, giving him access, skin against skin. As his thumb pressed against Remus’ slit, he felt moisture—a little spurt. Warm. Wet. And that familiar aroma.
For a second, Snape wanted Remus to let it out. He wanted to feel the hard stream against his palm. He wanted Remus to wet his leg and the bed, warming them both. But he also wanted that control a little longer. He wanted to suffer and wait with Remus. He wanted to help and to comfort and he wanted Remus to piss when he absolutely couldn’t hold it anymore and not give in to Snape’s desires.
“You’re doing so well, Remus. So proud of you. You’re so sexy, so bloody sexy like this.”
Remus smiled, a little embarrassed.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Snape admitted. “Never had the guts. So dirty…”
Remus shook his head and kissed Snape’s cheek.
“Figures I’d end up doing it with a werewolf. When it happens, I want you to mark me.” This earned him another of Remus’ kisses. “And it figures I’d end up doing it with you. Do you remember that prank you and your friends pulled on me sixth year? Trapping me in the supply closet in the prefect’s bathroom, running the water in the tub and all the sinks, flushing the toilets, thinking it was so funny? I was in there holding myself, all right. Felt so good, though. Does this feel good, Remus?”
Snape was a man of few words, and the topic of what the Marauders had done to him seemed like the last one he would ever choose to bring up. But the way he was rambling, spilling his guts, only showed Remus he was going out of his mind, overwhelmed with desire. Remus smiled at him.
Then Remus squeezed Snape’s arm once again. It was the sort of squeeze he’d given before when trying to signal Snape to get the bottle ready because he was going to come. Only this time, it was a little different.
But not all that different. There was still uncontrollable need and there was still intimacy. There was still trust and pleasure and the eventual letting go of something that would feel amazing. And Snape summoned the chamber pot from beneath his bed, giving Remus a bigger target this time than a tiny little potions bottle.
Remus clutched Snape, not trusting himself to move. Snape squeezed his cock and felt it practically pulse in his grasp, leaking a little more. And that tiny little trickle, once it had escaped, couldn’t be stopped. It grew stronger and stronger and a tear escaped Remus’ eye as the man knew he was wetting.
But Snape had pulled Remus up and had the chamber pot out. The sound of piss hitting the ceramic brought relief to Remus’ face. It was the exact same look he got when he orgasmed. That far away look as pleasure washed over him, took him away from the whole world and gave him back to himself.
Snape wanted to move in to kiss him, but that look stopped him. That look was wonderful but not inviting. Excited, however, he still held Remus, feeling the muscles and heaviness, the warmth and tightness, of a body weeing. And he reached down, letting the delightfully hot stream wash over his hand. He rubbed his thumb and first two fingers; it felt almost like silk.
He reached into his own pajama pants and stroked himself. It was all too much to stand, this living out of a fantasy finally, and Remus agreeing to go along with it and doing such an excellent job with it. Snape came in his pants, almost silently, as the last of Remus’ piss trickled out.
When he was done, Remus dragged him to the bathroom and put the stopper in the tub’s drain. Snape ran a bath and Remus, spotting the bubble bath, added a heaping amount. Snape smirked as Remus had to open the bottle fresh; it had been a Christmas present from Dumbledore, apparently trying to convince him to relax a little during the winter holidays. Snape wondered what Dumbledore would say if he knew how Snape was really spending his break from teaching.
Snape sank into the suds, sighing. And, though it was a tight fit at first, Remus stripped off his clothes and followed him in. Remus’ collar looked shiny when it was wet, and when he slid up against Snape’s slick body, Snape couldn’t resist touching it. That collar meant so much. It meant power and control, confidentiality and trust, pleasure and reliability. It meant a connection he had only dreamed of and fantasized about up until now. Except that now when the orgasms were over, Remus didn’t disappear the way Snape’s fantasies always did. Remus stayed to hold and reassure him. It felt wonderful. It felt so right.
Except, deep down, Snape knew that it wasn’t.
Author: KateKintail
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: Watersports/golden showers
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: 1,378
Notes: Written for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May 2010
Snape woke the next morning to find Remus hugging him. For the first time in a long time, he’d made it through a whole night without the werewolf nightmare. And it was beyond nice to wake up in someone’s arms. Even if that someone was squirming. “Remus?”
Looking over his shoulder, he saw Remus was wide awake already and on edge. Remus wasn’t precisely hard, but he was grabbing his cock. “Oh,” Snape said, giving a small, sly small. “You have to piss, don’t you?”
Remus nodded. Snape hadn’t given him permission and Remus, in his well-assumed role as a sub, had obeyed the order to not leave and use the bathroom. He squeezed his cock, holding back, holding in.
Snape felt a rush of pleasure at it. He had never been able to tell anyone about this desire. He had never been able to even fathom actually living it out. But with Remus not in a position to speak of it, but willing to do whatever Snape wanted, Snape couldn’t resist. Besides, Remus only looked half uncomfortable about it. “Can you hold it?”
Remus considered for a moment, squirming a little and tightening his hold around hic cock, pinching it. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Can you hold it a little longer, just for me?” The words felt so good coming out of his mouth. Beautiful control and the excitement of not knowing how long it would last. There was such suspense. Such anticipation. Merlin, it made him hard.
With a nod, indicating he could hold it a little longer, Remus used his free hand to roll Snape over, in place. But the movement in bed beside him seemed to be too much. He breathed out hard and suddenly thrust forward, grabbing Snape and shoving his crotch up against Snape’s thigh. He trembled and squeezed Snape’s arm so hard he almost cut off circulation. He buried his face in Snape’s shoulder, feeling shame. And he hooked his leg around Snape’s leg as if he were steadying himself before humping it.
But he didn’t piss. This earned his head a gentle rub and a tender kiss, that made Remus look up into Snape’s face. And that look—full of apology and urgency and gratefulness and intense arousal—made Snape completely melt. He put an arm around Remus and held him close. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “You’re doing so well. And you’re so hot like this. You need me, don’t you?”
If Remus could make noise, he might have whimpered. Instead, he just nodded and confirmed in the form of another kiss. But his lower lip trembled slightly and Snape’s lips closed around it. It held tight, sucked, trying to give Remus something to think about apart from his full bladder.
It worked, too. It worked for a few long minutes. It worked long enough for Remus to relax in Snape’s arms.
But then something inside Remus snapped. There was a spasm or an urge or something, Because Remus, his expression pained, pushed his cock desperately into Snape again, pushing hard, rubbing, grinding. Snape knew he had to help. He reached down and slid his hand around the struggling cock. He pinched and squeezed, having some private familiarity with what it felt like to hold in hours and hours of piss. He vanished Remus’ sleep pants, giving him access, skin against skin. As his thumb pressed against Remus’ slit, he felt moisture—a little spurt. Warm. Wet. And that familiar aroma.
For a second, Snape wanted Remus to let it out. He wanted to feel the hard stream against his palm. He wanted Remus to wet his leg and the bed, warming them both. But he also wanted that control a little longer. He wanted to suffer and wait with Remus. He wanted to help and to comfort and he wanted Remus to piss when he absolutely couldn’t hold it anymore and not give in to Snape’s desires.
“You’re doing so well, Remus. So proud of you. You’re so sexy, so bloody sexy like this.”
Remus smiled, a little embarrassed.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Snape admitted. “Never had the guts. So dirty…”
Remus shook his head and kissed Snape’s cheek.
“Figures I’d end up doing it with a werewolf. When it happens, I want you to mark me.” This earned him another of Remus’ kisses. “And it figures I’d end up doing it with you. Do you remember that prank you and your friends pulled on me sixth year? Trapping me in the supply closet in the prefect’s bathroom, running the water in the tub and all the sinks, flushing the toilets, thinking it was so funny? I was in there holding myself, all right. Felt so good, though. Does this feel good, Remus?”
Snape was a man of few words, and the topic of what the Marauders had done to him seemed like the last one he would ever choose to bring up. But the way he was rambling, spilling his guts, only showed Remus he was going out of his mind, overwhelmed with desire. Remus smiled at him.
Then Remus squeezed Snape’s arm once again. It was the sort of squeeze he’d given before when trying to signal Snape to get the bottle ready because he was going to come. Only this time, it was a little different.
But not all that different. There was still uncontrollable need and there was still intimacy. There was still trust and pleasure and the eventual letting go of something that would feel amazing. And Snape summoned the chamber pot from beneath his bed, giving Remus a bigger target this time than a tiny little potions bottle.
Remus clutched Snape, not trusting himself to move. Snape squeezed his cock and felt it practically pulse in his grasp, leaking a little more. And that tiny little trickle, once it had escaped, couldn’t be stopped. It grew stronger and stronger and a tear escaped Remus’ eye as the man knew he was wetting.
But Snape had pulled Remus up and had the chamber pot out. The sound of piss hitting the ceramic brought relief to Remus’ face. It was the exact same look he got when he orgasmed. That far away look as pleasure washed over him, took him away from the whole world and gave him back to himself.
Snape wanted to move in to kiss him, but that look stopped him. That look was wonderful but not inviting. Excited, however, he still held Remus, feeling the muscles and heaviness, the warmth and tightness, of a body weeing. And he reached down, letting the delightfully hot stream wash over his hand. He rubbed his thumb and first two fingers; it felt almost like silk.
He reached into his own pajama pants and stroked himself. It was all too much to stand, this living out of a fantasy finally, and Remus agreeing to go along with it and doing such an excellent job with it. Snape came in his pants, almost silently, as the last of Remus’ piss trickled out.
When he was done, Remus dragged him to the bathroom and put the stopper in the tub’s drain. Snape ran a bath and Remus, spotting the bubble bath, added a heaping amount. Snape smirked as Remus had to open the bottle fresh; it had been a Christmas present from Dumbledore, apparently trying to convince him to relax a little during the winter holidays. Snape wondered what Dumbledore would say if he knew how Snape was really spending his break from teaching.
Snape sank into the suds, sighing. And, though it was a tight fit at first, Remus stripped off his clothes and followed him in. Remus’ collar looked shiny when it was wet, and when he slid up against Snape’s slick body, Snape couldn’t resist touching it. That collar meant so much. It meant power and control, confidentiality and trust, pleasure and reliability. It meant a connection he had only dreamed of and fantasized about up until now. Except that now when the orgasms were over, Remus didn’t disappear the way Snape’s fantasies always did. Remus stayed to hold and reassure him. It felt wonderful. It felt so right.
Except, deep down, Snape knew that it wasn’t.