InsaneJournal

The first time he realized how attractive Arthur was, in an odd, middle-aged kind of way, he was surprised enough to stop paying attention. When he was asked a question, he had started and taken a moment to think before answering.

When he got home that night, he allowed himself to consider the idea again. Arthur Weasley was a saint among the demon spawn that inhabited the earth. He was joyous and excitable and so determined. But so polite! And intelligent, too, if with odd interests—not that Snape didn't have odd interests too. And a redhead. Redheads were said to be passionate in bed. And that went right along with Snape's odd interests.

It could work, he thought. It could work.

And then he remembered that Molly Weasley existed and his lip curled. Oh yes. Well. That'd be a good reason for it not to work, then.

Not that he hadn't noticed Molly had her own charms. Truth be told, he liked strong women a lot. He'd been with Narcissa Malfoy before. Of course, it had been violent and sloppy. He'd bled all over her silk sheets, from his back and his arse. She'd grinned and licked the blood off of his back. He'd shivered and told himself he'd never do it again. But later, he'd wanted to do it again very much indeed.

But if there was one thing he was known for, it was restraint. At least, he had restraint most of the time. Out of bed.

In bed, though, he enjoyed all sorts of exciting games, whether he was dominating or submitting. To be honest, he'd not dominated anyone since before the Dark Lord's return. Well before it. Self-loathing, lack of opportunity, and his spying on the Dark Lord all went hand in hand to steal any chances to break the fast.

But maybe it didn't have to be that way, not always. Right? It could change, and soon. It could. It could work.

He growled lowly, flicking all the lights off but a single candle at his bedside. He reached into the drawer and scooped up some of his lube, stroking it over himself. This was really getting old. He himself was getting old.

Okay, well maybe that wasn't true. He was still fairly young. On the outside, at least. But he'd dealt with so much shit already. He pulled at himself rather detachedly, staring down at the movements of his hand on his prick in the dim light of the single candle. Maybe trying to get into Arthur's head, and life, and bed, wasn't such a bad idea. Surely it beat this odd sort of celibacy. Masturbation really had little point to it other than to erase immediate need.



He remembered that time Albus had sent him to the Burrow to tell Molly something. It was so quaint and mismatched it reminded him of his childhood (and present) home. Only, there was love in the house amidst the magic. His home had neither love nor magic in it, or at least it didn't have any that he didn't have to produce himself.

He also vaguely remembered collapsing inside Grimmauld Place to be cared for by both Molly and Arthur. They really were fabulous people—not that a Death Eater should know the difference.

He imagined what Arthur would be like in bed. Maybe Arthur would like to dominate and submit just like Snape himself. That could be interesting. Both the thought of that balding, slightly-pudgy man shackling him to something sturdy and the thought of Snape making him writhe beneath him were pleasing ideas.

He didn't even see Arthur for another couple weeks, so he settled for his hand when he imagined these scenarios. He wished dearly to hear Arthur Weasley cry out, to trace his freckles with his poisonous Slytherin tongue. To desecrate Arthur's virtue. To make him something less than the perfect father and husband. To have something nice for his own.

Because Severus Snape had never had something as perfect as Arthur Weasley to himself. It had never happened, and probably never would (but he'd come close, with Lily). A man could dream, though, and, oh, Snape dreamed. He'd woken up a few times all slick and sticky and grinning grimly, both at the awesome prospect and at the bitter reality.

That next time he saw him, at the Order meeting, he kept staring, and Arthur, unfortunately, noticed.

Or maybe not so unfortunately. Only time would tell. And Arthur himself.

"May I speak to you, Severus?" he said mildly behind his glasses, smiling a soft, polite smile.

He nodded curtly and found himself in a small room alone with Arthur Weasley, the current subject of rather embarrassing dreams. But if he hadn't been trained to face situations that led to or could potentially lead to his own embarrassment, he wasn't Severus Snape, and he was definitely Severus Snape.

"I noticed you drifting in and out. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," said Snape rather tightly.

Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well, you could probably do with some rest."

Swallowing hard, Snape said, "I could probably do with you not touching me." He pushed past Arthur to leave, not daring to look back lest he see a sad expression and his heart break for the man. He made it to the entrance hall and Apparated away.

Alright. That had been about nine times more sexy than it ought to be. He hadn't been touched in a way not related to sex by anyone in the Order except Dumbledore before, and that was Dumbledore. This was just a gentle, soothing hand to the shoulder, but it created a fierce response in his heart and his mind. He definitely wanted Arthur Weasley now. Definitely.

He idly wondered what would have happened were the hand to touch his shoulder had been that of someone else—Shacklebolt, Minerva, Moody, even Tonks? Okay, well, not Tonks. No. She was clumsy and would probably break it off if they played any games. And he liked "it" very much, thank you. He considered it his finest feature.

Moody might play some nice games, but Snape could never get it up for him after the year with Barty Crouch, Jr. disguised as him, terrorizing Snape. Shacklebolt was too quiet and impersonal. Even Lupin, who he imagined swung both ways, was too quiet and shadowed and secretly cruel and, Circe, a werewolf. That wouldn't do at all. Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating and Lupin would not be so bad. Maybe. But it didn't matter anyway. Lupin should just get with Nymphadora already—he'd seen those eyes she made at him.

Minerva McGonagall was probably an awesome force to be reckoned with in bed. With her temper and no-nonsense attitude, he'd be smarting for weeks. He rather liked the sound of that. But then again, she'd always thought of him as a youngster, or as a slightly-less-mature friend. It would never work.

Oh, but Arthur Weasley, he couldn't even reason that one away, not even when considering the wrath of Molly Weasley. There was a rebellious side to Arthur Weasley that he'd like to witness for himself. He wanted to have a good father all to himself, even if the father weren't his own, but someone else's. He wanted to have a good husband all to himself, even if the husband wasn't his own, but someone else's.

He wanted red hair (hadn't he always been a sucker for it?) and freckles all attached to either cunt or cock. He wanted Arthur Weasley. It was as simple—and as complicated—as that. He wondered what Arthur's prick looked like, all soft and nestled in red hair, hiding in its little foreskin, or what it looked like standing proud and erect, peeping out of the top, so inviting.

He was falling hard for a slightly-overweight, balding, glasses-wearing, pureblood father with soft, brown eyes, almost a dark honey, and a voice that could raise up if it needed to, but was usually so soft and calm.

No, there was nothing for such an intoxicating mix but absolute cold turkey quitting tactics. He'd just have to avoid him.

Only, avoiding Arthur Weasley didn't turn out to be nearly as easy as he'd hoped it might be.



"Are you alright?" said Arthur hesitantly, at his front door.

He raised an eyebrow, staring at him.

Arthur handed him a bottle of Pepperup. "I've brought you this, but you probably won't need it. You've probably got the resources to brew gallons of your own. But Molly dear wanted me to bring some over. Now that I'm here, though, this seems so foolish."

Snape took the bottle curtly and ignored the man's ramblings.

"In fact, coming here seems foolish. I thought we were getting on pretty well before you left like that after the meeting. We've known each other for a while, and I never got the impression I annoyed you like Remus or Tonks or Albus. Am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong."

"Oh, okay," he smiled a soft, relieved smile that tugged at the corners of Snape's lips for him to respond to it with one of his own, but he stopped the urge with that awesome restraint of his.

"May I...," those positively adorable ears reddened at the tops, and Snape wondered at the fact he'd never seen the man truly embarrassed before. He knew the youngest son, Ron, did that, but Arthur? Oh, that was too grand. He wished to lick off the redness from them, and wasted no time in giving himself a mental shake away from that kind of thought. ". . . Come in for a spot of tea?"

He looked so hopeful that not even Severus Snape could refuse, especially not when said Snape was still falling hard for the man, despite the comparison of him to his own youngest son (incidentally, the one that looked the most like the man, only with blue eyes).

So Snape shrugged and took a step back. He didn't have to worry about the man being unimpressed with the humble abode—after all, it was like a shadowed, pint-size rendition of the Burrow. He brewed some tea after leading Arthur into the living room. He also grabbed a couple chocolate biscuits. Chocolate was one of his secret vices.

He handed Arthur tea in a light blue cup with a soft, floral pattern on the side. The sugar and milk he floated in the air, noting that the man took a bit of each. He himself took neither, floating the plate with a few biscuits over to Arthur, who smiled and bit into one with a repressed glee that seemed almost childlike. Severus swallowed hard.

His own chocolate biscuit only distracted him from Arthur's presence momentarily.

"So you don't dislike me?" asked Arthur quietly, after clearing his throat.

"No."

Arthur smiled again, so he couldn't help but add, "In fact, Arthur, I consider you one of the people closest to me in the Order. Not that that's saying much."

Arthur beamed at him. "Thanks for the tea and biscuits, Severus. I think I'd best get home now, though. You're welcome to come visit us whenever, you know." And at the look on Snape's face, he added, "Or I suppose I could just come back here when invited?"

Snape grunted a positive sort of response. Arthur showed himself out. Snape wondered just what he'd gotten himself into.



He invited him back the next week, of course.

"What's gotten you so tense?" asked Arthur, noticing the way Snape seemed to sit rather more stiffly than usual.

"You know, Arthur," he said quietly, "I don't think we can continue to do this."

The pang of hurt, quickly hidden, in those dark honey eyes made him swallow.

"It's alright. I understand," said Arthur, standing and giving Snape a half-hearted smile. "You were one of the closest people to me in the Order too. Perhaps we should keep it strictly business."

"No, don't be upset," said Snape after a pause, hating himself for not just letting Arthur leave mad.

Arthur glanced at him, waiting for an elaboration.

"It's not that I don't like you. I like you a little too much." He let the notion ring in the ensuing silence.

"Oh." Arthur looked almost as stunned he'd said it as Snape himself secretly was.

"But, yes, you'd probably better go."

"Severus?" He paused, waiting for Snape to look at him again. "I'd like to come over again sometime."

And there it was. The invitation that melted his very mind at the edges. All he could do was nod, slowly, dumbly.



The next time he invited Arthur over, a good two weeks later, he felt almost lightheaded. Not that he'd ever let on to his weakness at the prospect, though, but, oh, he was nervous and fluttery like a bird being hunted who knew it shouldn't fly away, but still felt the need.

Arthur looked like he'd cleaned up a bit, and he smelled vaguely of some enticing cologne.

Since Molly had never been mentioned, it seemed for the best not to mention her; she was, for the moment, taboo. Severus found himself very grateful that Arthur hadn't chosen to show up wearing a Weasley sweater. If Snape could knit, he might have been okay with that. But it felt like a challenge, in his mind, when he imagined Arthur wearing a Weasley sweater. Like, "Ha ha, Snape, you can't knit like I can. You can't get Arthur without knitting skills."

He shook himself from these thoughts. That was insane. A sweater was a sweater. While you could knit magic into one, you couldn't really knit it with love. Then again, anything created by a loved one tended to possess the leverage commonly known as sentimental value.

But enough with all the thoughts of Weasley sweaters!

"So glad to be invited back," said Arthur. "Can't tell you how pleased I was to receive your owl."

Snape just stood there for another moment before inviting him in, awkwardly perching himself on a worn chair as Arthur sat too, looking much more comfortable.

"I believe we have some things to discuss," said Arthur calmly.

Snape just nodded. He felt rather out of his element, because this was a married man, and a nearly perfect man. This was Arthur bloody Weasley, a Muggle-loving, playful sort of fellow with a heart of platinum. Snape thought he may be raising Arthur up onto a pedestal he didn't deserve quite to be raised up on, but he'd always done that with certain people—Lily, Lucius, and now Arthur.

Assuming this became love, he'd made a bit of a Lucius sandwich with redhead bread. He wondered what kind of meat a Lucius sandwich contained. Something delicate, probably. Beef or pork would never do for a Lucius likeness. A Cornish hen, shredded neatly, seasoned with lemon and pepper?

Not that he really need spare much thought for Lucius nowadays. He gazed expectantly at Arthur.

"Word doesn't get out. It's all kept quiet. It's more than just fooling around."

"All agreed," said Snape smoothly, finally able to relax. "So," he said, standing and pouring some wine for them both, "have you ever played . . . games?"

Arthur paused. "Yes. But that doesn't get to my wife either."

"I have no desire to incur her wrath."

His soft lips quirked slightly. "I see we're on the same page, then."



They spent a little more time discussing things. Namely, what types of "games" were acceptable to play in bed, and who liked to do what. Arthur looked sweetly embarrassed and uncomfortable at moments, but Snape knew he could handle the inquiry just fine. Especially judging from the slight bulge in the front of the man's trousers.

But Snape sent him on his way to think about it all. Not very Slytherin, he knew, but he strove, unconsciously for the most part, to be a better person around Arthur Weasley. Even though the thought of Arthur going home and realizing he was too in love with Molly to continue seeing Snape made Severus's blood boil and run cold all at once, he knew, somehow, that letting him have time to think was the polite thing to do. Plus, sex with Arthur Weasley was not worth seeing guilt in those dark eyes if he'd put it there. He'd rather hang himself with mooncalf intestines than see Arthur feel guilt and shame because of a hasty night (or two).

To his relief, Arthur returned within the next few days, looking contemplative, but not really "guilty" or "ashamed" or even occupied with thoughts that lay elsewhere.

Plus, he had a sexual glint in his eye that pleased Snape to no end and made him feel like mush inside, as if he were a little schoolboy with a crush (been there, done that, though, right?).

Arthur had done a lot of thinking, yes, and had convinced himself, for the most part, that it wasn't cheating if he didn't fall in love, and that, if he did fall in love, it wasn't cheating because it was a man, and if he didn't believe it any longer at that point, he supposed he'd just have to deal with it.

For now, Arthur contented himself with the looks of Snape's sparse bedroom, an old, creaky bed reinforced masterfully with magic, covered in a plain, worn, brown comforter and with a nice, sturdy headboard and footboard. It would do.

Snape listed the things they had discussed off in his head for a moment before Arthur asked the question.

"What are you feeling like today, Severus? Feel like you can trust me, or do you feel more vulnerable?"

"I never feel vulnerable," he said with disdain, one of the biggest lies he'd ever told as a spy, "only apprehensive. I'm feeling a willingness to submit right now, but make no mistake: that's only to get what I want."

Arthur donned a lazy smile. "And just what does that entail?"

"Get undressed and we'll find out."

"Aren't I supposed to tell you to do that?" he teased, immediately beginning to shirk his clothing.

"I wouldn't recommend telling me what to do until I return. I'm locating a few key players for this endeavor. A toy chest, of sorts."

"Sounds delightfully perverse."

"Oh, undoubtedly." He smirked widely. He made his way up to the attic to locate his special box, making sure nothing had gotten past the seal. When he opened it, he sterilized all the objects for good measure, looking satisfied as he took in the sight of the array. Closing the box again, he floated it down the stairs in front of him, making his way back to his room.

Arthur Weasley was lying on his bed—yes, it was true!—sporting a flushing, average-sized erection amidst dark red hair. His hips and thighs were freckled and pale just like the rest of him (the only truly tan Weasleys being Charlie and, on occasion, Ginny), and Snape licked his lips.

"As wonderful as you look there, Arthur, I believe you're in my spot, for now. Shall we begin with these?" he asked, holding up a pair of handcuffs.

"Very well," said Arthur, standing, prick bobbing enticingly as he did. "See something you like?" he teased as Snape stared at it for a moment.

"Indeed," he purred, lying down and slipping the hand cuffs over his own wrists, hooking himself up to the headboard. Arthur looked a bit surprised, but he also looked rather interested, and his prick jumped a bit. Those soft, plump Weasley lips were licked once. Like a sleek, spotted housecat, Arthur Weasley neared the bed, draping himself across Severus's body without any prompting at all.

"You seem to have forgotten to remove your robes," he murmured, tugging at the neckline in a way that made the backs of Severus's knees feel fluttery. "I suppose I'll just have to take them off you," he said, leaning in. Button by button he stripped away the barrier between them, leaning in to suck at Severus's neck.

Snape groaned, eyes closing as he melted into the sensation, his first drink after a long walk through the desert of celibacy, and all of it only some sucking kisses to the neck. The kisses became more forceful as the hands unbuttoned and unbuttoned, eventually becoming little sucking bites, which Snape seemed to enjoy very much. Arthur pulled back to admire a dark spot in the shape of his mouth, his own doing. He smiled softly at it like a benign, doddering fool, and Severus inhaled sharply at the expression. Arthur Weasley had to be the sexiest man alive.

Arthur nuzzled his neck, breathing hot air against the saliva with a hiss of his given name before moving down his body a bit. Still working on the buttons, he flicked his tongue across a nipple, eliciting a soft inhalation that grew into a steady moan when Arthur decided to bite this too. He worked his teeth gently back and forth until he heard—and felt—a reaction, and then he sucked at it until he heard another.

"Arthur," Severus murmured, eyes still closed.

The nipple was tugged at by the teeth once more before it was released to the air, twitching and hardening just like his prick.

"I noticed you wear an earring," said Arthur, voice surprisingly husky and not at all sounding foolish. "I half expected you to have pierced these too." Snape knew there was no real reason to flush, given the situation, but he did anyway, cheeks pinking as he sighed. "But, nope," said Arthur with a gentle smile, raising a hand to rub at the nipple he'd been tormenting, causing Severus to arch his back with grunt.

"It's a small earring," he said, returning to unbuttoning the very last of the robes' buttons. "It's cute." He parted the fabric of the robe, exposing Snape's torso and legs completely, leaving the pants, socks, and boots on. He draped himself over Severus's body again and pressed his lips to his jaw, only to move on to his ear, licking inside it once. That was completely unexpected, and Severus's hips bucked once as he let out a startled groan. A deep, dark chuckle in his ear and then teeth tugged at his earlobe, eventually catching on his lone earring and tormenting the little stud and the skin around it in a very enticing manner.

"Merlin," Severus breathed, and it almost could have been no actual word at all, for all its quietness.

Another chuckle, Arthur catching his breath as well. Then Arthur moved back down his body again, pulling his boots off and throwing them aimlessly off the side of the bed. It was at that moment Severus realized he was still wearing his glasses, and he quirked his lip even as it turned him on just a bit more. The pants were next.

"Shall I remove these as well?"

"Damn right you will," Snape positively sighed, heart quickening as Arthur hooked fingers with bitten-down nails under the waistband of his underpants and carefully, slowly slid them off. It was at that point he realized just how much he'd began leaking already. At least he wasn't trembling or anything. Yet.

Arthur slid off of him entirely, and the bed, to gaze into the chest of "toys". He spent a good couple minutes sorting through the box, eventually returning to the bed with a cock ring, a jar of lube, and two different sizes of dildos. He glanced at Severus for a moment to gage any protest, and, accepting that there wasn't going to be any, dropped the items on the bed next to Severus's right hip.

First things first, he slid the ring down onto Severus's shaft, and Severus tightened it himself with a bit of nonverbal magic, surprising Arthur again. He grinned up at him with a wicked, Slytherin grin. Arthur slid a couple fingers into the lube and pressed them both inside Severus, who lost the grin rather quickly, eyes glazing as he canted his hips slightly, parting his legs a bit more. It really had been a while.

Arthur watched him for a bit as he drew those fingers in and out, stretching, and eventually trusted Severus was alright, leaning his head in again to nip at the inside of one of those pale thighs, making a trail of bites right up to his bollocks, which he licked at with a long, full swipe of his tongue. Severus barely noticed the third finger as it entered. He was practically swimming with other sensations.

Arthur's free hand cupped his bollocks, rolling them gently, ran a finger up the side of the prick; all worthy distractions until he deemed him stretched enough for the smaller of the two dildos. He gave a reassuring smile that Snape's sex-fogged mind didn't really require, but nonetheless appreciated, and lubed up the thing quite thoroughly. The press of it past his sphincter was like coming home to his chambers at the school after a long day of potion mishaps and students who wouldn't piss on a potions book to keep it from burning (as he had seen, in some cases, first hand—well, not the pissing aspect).

He groaned as it slid in and, wonder of wonders, Arthur soon had it angled just right. "Guh," he groaned incoherently. Arthur pressed a kiss to his nose, one hand on one of his thighs, holding him open perfectly, the other slowly pressing the thing in and out. Then he moved from the nose to kissing his lips and, shocked for a moment, Snape eventually returned the kiss. From a man cheating on his wife, even one as perfect as Arthur Weasley, that was rather unexpected. But no matter. He sucked the man's tongue into his mouth, imagining it was . . . something else entirely. Then he broke the kiss himself to pant, catching his breath.

"You look wonderful like this, you know," Arthur murmured, sounding rather breathless himself.

"I know," Snape groaned, and Arthur seemed to love this response, lip quirking and eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed at him fondly. He went to concentrating on stretching Severus's arse a bit more, sliding a slick finger in next to the dildo, then removing everything entirely. He brought the second, larger one to Severus's lips, and Severus groaned, flicking his tongue out to lick the head, then leaning up to suckle at the tip with hooded eyes that stared straight at Arthur. Arthur moaned and took the thing back to cover it in lube and gently position it as well.

There was a slight twinge of pain now, but it was exquisite, and he felt surprisingly relaxed, Snape. It was probably Arthur's calming personality. He envied the man for having that effect on people usually, but at the moment he was too busy being reamed by a large dildo at the man's hands for it to matter. The tip kept nudging his prostate, pressing into it, and his eyes kept closing of their own accord. Eventually, the going went even more smoothly, and that's when he realized Arthur wasn't finished with stretching him just yet.

A finger hesitantly probed the edge of his stretched hole, still clamping around the larger dildo as it was, and Arthur gazed at him until he opened his eyes.

"I think you know what's coming next," he said, eyes sparkling with a heat Severus never imagined he'd be blessed to see.

"Please," he whimpered, like a pathetic little boy. "Please." It was soft and needy and everything Arthur wanted to hear.

Arthur slid out the second dildo and made a show of completely covering his hand with lube. Severus was practically drooling at the thought. He hadn't had this happen in a long while, at least not to him. His eyes fluttered and his cheeks flushed as he spread his legs just a bit more widely, offering himself even more.

Arthur paused, clamping a hand around the base of his prick to stop it from initiating his inevitable release. When he seemed to have calmed a bit, he slowly slid four fingers inside of the hole. Eventually, he slid everything, even his thumb, right in. Gasping, Severus Snape had no idea where Arthur, of all people, would have learned how to fist someone, but he'd definitely learned.

It was gentle, and careful, and they were both moaning. The heat around Arthur's hand had given him his own flush, including the tops of those ears. He felt both powerful and powerless as he pushed his hand in and out, knuckles brushing across Severus's prostate.

Severus was groaning and arching and tossing his head. How could he have forgotten this joy? He was definitely trembling now, his entire physical being taut with the need for release. Before he even opened his mouth to get the words out, his eyes widened slightly at the warmth that suddenly coated his leg as Arthur, face warm and flushed, pressed his cheek against one of his spread thighs, groaning out his release.

Severus moaned at the sight of the man as he had his pleasure, but it also made his own need even less comfortable. It only took Arthur a moment's recovery before he began pushing his fist into Severus, still careful, but now with an added fervor. His free hand released the cock ring with a single touch of his fingertip, and Severus groaned at the sensation of the ring falling off, but barely had time to register it before the man's free hand was grasping him, stroking him, and he came so hard he literally blacked out.



He woke up lying out straight with nothing in his arse but lube, staring at a concerned face that melted into a pleased one, arms wrapping around him after, with a flick of a wand, his handcuffs set him free. He groaned and rolled onto his side. Arthur rolled with him, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Was it everything you hoped it would be?" he teased gently, quietly.

"Quite a deal more, I should think," grumbled Severus. He leaned back into Arthur's warm embrace.



When Arthur left, he just curled up in his bed and slept for a good couple hours, very soundly. It was only when he woke up that he realized he'd just assisted a man in committing adultery. "I'm the other woman," he said, slightly amused, slightly appalled, lip quirking because he could hardly tell the difference between the two at the moment.

Well, there it was, then: he'd successfully desecrated the man's purity. And he couldn't wait to do it again. He wondered if Arthur would come back at all.

Come to think of it, if Arthur had practiced fisting a man's arse, hadn't he already committed adultery before? Hm. Enough thinking logically. He'd just bedded Arthur Weasley—or been bedded by him, and quite well—and he wanted more. Merlin, how he wanted more. He reached behind himself and ran the tip of his finger over the wide-open hole. No. Merlin, how he needed more.

But first, if Arthur came back, it was his turn to bow to Snape's sexual will.



Arthur came back. He exuded only a slight amount of guilt. He wanted turnabout just as much as Snape did—well, almost as much. Snape wanted it quite a bit.

"Welcome back," he said, greeting him at the door with a slight smile.

"Hey there," said Arthur, taking off his glasses and handing them to Snape, who was quite stunned.

"I suppose that answers that question," said Severus, leading Arthur into the bedroom and placing the glasses on the bedside table. He began to strip, and ordered Arthur to do the same, who grinned at Snape's blurred form and did so.

"I'm not sure I want you to be tied up," said Snape thoughtfully. He ran a hand down Arthur's side, then cupped his stomach. He nuzzled at the back of Arthur's shoulder, inhaling the slightly sweaty scent of his freckled skin, tongue darting out for a taste.

"No," he murmured against the skin, "no restraints. I'd like to see some of that patented Arthur Weasley self-control put to use. In more ways than one." He lowered the hand still on the stomach to cup Arthur's half-erection, which swelled as he stroked over its length a few times.

"Alright," said Arthur back. "Snape?" he turned his head slightly, looking back toward him as well as he could. "Give us a kiss first," he said, and one of Snape's eyebrows shot up, but he turned Arthur around in his arms and kissed him deeply, holding the man to himself even after the kiss was broken. They leaned against each other. Then Snape swallowed hard and pushed him away slightly.

He directed Arthur to the bed, watching with anticipation and Slytherin glee as the man laid down, looking beautiful and just a bit uncertain. He knelt up on the bed, straddling Arthur, noting the man's hard swallow.

"Don't fear me, Arthur."

Arthur quirked a brow. "I could never fear you, Snape," he said plainly, and Snape made an odd sort of whimper low in his throat. Arthur's body was covered entirely by Snape's, who was pressing small, fluttering kisses along his freckled nose and cheeks.

Arthur smiled a soft, melancholic smile. All that reaction for the revelation that someone in the world wasn't afraid of Snape? Trusted him? Maybe Molly was right; maybe Snape was just an old softy, struggling with the fact he had no friends. Arthur slid a hand up to shelve it in the greasy hair, softly caressing the back of Snape's head. Severus inhaled sharply and buried his face in Arthur's neck for a moment until he collected himself.

"Turn over," said Snape lowly after he'd sat up again, and Arthur grinned and complied. He rolled onto his stomach and got settled, rather expecting the way Snape moved him up onto his knees, arse displayed. What he didn't expect, however, was for Snape to press his face into the part of his arse and lick all around his hole, teasing him.

"Mm," he said appreciatively, softly, still a bit shocked Snape was doing it as he licked in one long stripe from his perineum up to the small of his back. He pressed back slightly.

After a few more long licks, and a many small, heated laps of the tongue, it pressed in. Arthur groaned as his entrance was stretched by a questing tongue. Snape's enthusiasm was palpable, fingers digging into Arthur's thighs as he thoroughly rimmed him. He felt his thighs begin to ache, and the joints of them, as his legs were pulled open and held there. He moaned into his crossed arms.

Snape stopped eventually, returning to kissing and licking the hole. He then began biting each cheek gently, which made Arthur shiver. A single fingertip tracing the little slit at the top of his leaking prick made him groan Severus's name, and that in turn made Snape sit up and summon lube.

"Merlin," Arthur groaned as Snape pressed a finger into him and wriggled it around. He took a deep breath. He wasn't on the verge of coming yet, but he was on the verge of being on the verge. He sighed. He had to control himself for Snape. He clenched gently around the finger, imagining the hunger in those black eyes. Perhaps he could persuade Snape to hurry things up a bit.

As Snape moved to cover his first two fingers in more lubricant, he smacked Arthur's thigh in warning. Arthur smirked back at him from over his shoulder. Snape sighed internally. Perhaps one's ability to frighten someone decreased exponentially with each rim job given. Not that it wasn't a worthwhile price to pay. He licked his lips purposefully as he stared Arthur down, hoping he'd catch the movement even without his glasses on.

"Talented tongue, Severus," said Arthur softly, looking forward again, lifting himself up on his arms.

"Thank you, Arthur," he purred, pressing both fingertips into him. The slight burn was noticeable, but not awful, and Arthur tried to further relax, and to press back, trying to ease any tension in the muscles of his sphincter. Snape pinched his cheek and he yelped softly, sweetly, causing Snape to nuzzle at his arse some more as he continued to stretch him.

When it came time for him to add the third finger, Arthur flinched, and Snape seemed to notice him tense. He pressed them in carefully, and when they were in most of the way, he began drawing them in and out. "Relax," he murmured, the fingertips of his free hand slowly massaging the muscles of the ring of his arse.

Arthur drew in a shuddery breath, and willed himself to relax. It still burned, though. A lot. It had been a very, very long time since he'd done all this. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, trying to get through it.

And then Snape shifted the angle slightly and he groaned. There was that brush of pleasure he had so forgotten! The next strokes pressed against his prostate as well.

Finally, some of the tension seemed to leave him in the face of the pleasure. Snape stroked his side soothingly. When the fingers were sliding in more easily, Snape began attacking his sweet spot in the most delicious way, causing him to shift his hips. He was pressing back and biting at his lip. It seemed an eternity before the fingers finally slid out once and for all.

But Snape didn't press in. He left the bed entirely. Bleary from both inability to see clearly and unrealized lust, Arthur gazed inquiringly over at him, but he ignored the looks entirely. He returned to the bed with a few items he wouldn't show Arthur.

"Do you want me to press into you and fuck you slowly, sensuously?" he whispered against the man's neck, hunched over him. If Arthur shifted ever so slightly, he would have made contact with it. He groaned. "Do you?"

"Yes," he moaned. "Severus, please."

"Not yet," said Snape, drawing in a slow breath, calming himself. He sat up and motioned for Arthur to turn over. He handed Arthur his glasses and turned to show him the cock ring from their last time together as well as something Arthur didn't recognize.

"I believe you know how to tighten this," he said, handing Arthur the ring. Arthur swallowed, nodding as he took it and did as he was told, groaning at the sensation of it tightening. He was already extremely hard.

"Lovely," Snape murmured, and Arthur snorted at him using that adjective, and in turn he smirked at him and squirted lube into the thing Arthur had never seen before.

"What's that?" Arthur asked with a frown.

"It's called a . . . Vagitorch . . . ." He rolled his eyes at the name. "Well, the name is unimportant. Here."

He showed the top of the cylindrical object to him. "It's supposed to look like a Muggle torch, which is sort of like a lit wand, only run on batteries, but it's really an item that simulates vaginal sex. I'm assuming you like the vagina?" he murmured, and curse Snape for making that scientific term sound so bloody dirty, especially when he had a fake vagina aimed at him, complete with labia and even a little clitoris, which, curious, he reached out to touch.

"I've turned off the volume," he said. "A friend who, much like you, enjoys adding spells to Muggle objects, added a feature that causes the thing to moan." He rolled his eyes again. "Moving on . . . ."

And then the thing was above the tip of his cock, leaking lube down onto it, and his jaw went completely slack as it lowered around him, first squeezing the head, and then moving downward.

"Fuck," he murmured, feeling the ribbing on the inside of it caress his length. "Oh, oh fuck."

"It also has a function that causes it to be able to move up and down of its own accord for your pleasure, but I'd rather you did the work yourself and watch it. Hence, the glasses." He licked and nipped at Arthur's jaw as he brought one of those hands to the thing and helped him move it up and down a few times. Then he sat back and lubed up his prick. Arthur shuddered at the sight.

"Y-you really mean to—Oh, fuck!—as I . . . ."

Snape merely gave him a look that said, "What do you think?" before he gently urged Arthur onto his back.

"They have one with an arse, you know. As well as the one with the vagina." He pressed into Arthur slowly, and Arthur lost a bit of the urgency of his trapped erection due to the slight pain.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

Snape nodded, groaning as he pushed in. The fucking was rather erratic once Snape really got going, and both were panting too much to hold a good conversation. Snape appeared to be an expert at hitting the prostate, and when he ordered Arthur to fuck himself with the Vagitorch, it was too much.

He was shaking so much that Snape took over for him, and his eyes closed tightly as he laid back and felt himself become a vessel for someone else's amusement as he was pleasured so fully. He was groaning and grunting incoherently. Snape rather liked him that way.

The chords on his neck stood out with the tension in his body, flushed and sweaty and just the way that was most relevant to Snape's interests, and when Snape came with a shout, he shouted too. The hot come in his arse was so exquisite. But, after a moment of recovery, Snape started fucking the thing over his swelled, trapped prick again, the entire length, over and over, and he was thrashing against the bed.

"Snape! Snape!" he was sobbing, actual tears escaping his eyes and trekking down the sides of his red, needy face, his glasses askew. Severus assumed the usage of his surname was spawned both out of severe frustration and the inability to form polysyllabic utterances.

It was another bit of writhing before he took the Vagitorch off of the man's poor, leaking, throbbing dick and placed a fingertip on the cock ring. The shuddering, stuttering Arthur screamed his release as Severus brought him off gently with his hand.

Arthur passed out much as Snape had the last time.



When he came to, Snape was holding him, his arse was clean, his body was free of sweat, and he still felt a gentle sex-uppedness in both his arse and his prick.

It was about the moment that he leaned in for a kiss from Severus that he realized it: He was cheating on Molly.

He broke away from the kiss, pushing Snape away. "I . . . um. Thanks," he said, and got dressed quickly, Apparating away.

Snape looked around at his room, at the box of toys. He rolled over to face away from them and tried to get to sleep.



"I'm sorry for walking out on you like that. That was rude of me. But I just don't think we can do it again."

"I understand," said Snape, crossing his arms.

"Do you?"

"You married her. You have—what is it, fifty now?—kids together. Of course your loyalty is to her."

"Severus—"

"Just go."

"But—"

"Go."



It was stupid anyway, he told himself, to fall for someone. Especially someone like Arthur. He'd been setting himself up for failure all along; he had to have been.

Somehow, that didn't make it any less hard to accept.



There was one moment in which he was visited by one of the Weasley children, on Arthur's behalf.

"I don't know why I've been sent here, and I really don't care to hear all the hairy details. Dad says he'd like to meet with you at the Leaky Cauldron on Sunday."

"Tell him I'll either show up or I won't. I'll see how I feel," he said coolly.

"Good enough, I suppose. Oh yeah," Charlie added, "and Mum says welcome to the family. She sounded angry. I've no idea what it means. Care to elaborate?"

But Charlie found the door slammed in his face, and shrugged, and left. "Didn't think so," he said with a grin.



After yelling at Arthur for roughly an hour, Molly just stopped yelling. That scared Arthur more than anything else had. He sighed. He knew the self-doubt was going to kick in.

"Is it me?" she asked.

"No! I love you, Mollywobbles," he said softly, staring down at the table in between glances at her. She leaned against the stove. How could she possibly think she was the problem? She always had been, and always would be, the most beautiful creature alive. Snape was great, but Snape was Snape, and he'd probably end up betraying them all anyway. At least, that was the logical thing to believe.

Molly was a dove and a kitten and a mother hen. And a mother tiger. She was lovely in her ferocity. If Molly ever left him, his soul would surely wither. His heart would grow cold. He would cease to be.

She was his enthusiasm for life. He covered his face with his hand. And, oh God, the poor children. How would he be able to face it?

"Then why did you—?"

"It was stupid," he said shakily. "It was the dumbest thing I've done in our entire married life."

"It was," she said firmly, and then she sighed. "Was he good?"

Hand lowering ever-so-slowly, he stared at her, stunned, both horrified to hear perfect, saintly Molly ask that and trying to decide if it was a trap.

"Yes?" he said hesitantly.

"Hm." She reached up into the cabinet, turning away for just a moment to grab the cinnamon. Then she glanced back at him. "If you ever see that man again, I want details. I want to know what you two are getting up to." Her eyes were totally serious. He nodded, dumbly.

"Now go out and de-gnome the garden before I hex you." She was still rather serious. He wasn't about to take any chances.

As he tossed the gnomes out of the garden, his head was still reeling. It was undeniably a creepy notion, telling his wife about what he'd gotten up to with Snape. Then again, they liked to play around a bit in bed too. And he had told her about his pre-wedding, man-on-man escapades, hadn't he?

A gnome bit him and he yelped, paying attention again.



"She's okay with everything?" he took another sip of his Firewhiskey.

"Well, she's not overflowing with joy, no, but as long as I come home to her, I'm allowed to have you both." He could barely believe it himself.

Snape raised an eyebrow. Maybe summer flings weren't really so useless after all. When Arthur reached into his pocket, Snape shook his head.

"Thanks," said Arthur as Snape paid for both of them.

"Words? That's not how I want you to thank me."

Arthur's ears turned red at the tops. All was well.