Dear Readers,

Thank you for all the feedback! I hope this bit pleases as well.

Sincerely,

Chaos

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Algolagnia

Chapter three

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"Absence extinguishes small passions and increases great ones, as the wind blows out a candle and blows in a fire."

- Francois de La Rochefocauld

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The first thing Lucius did upon awakening was to make sure that there were no sharp objects in the vicinity.  Then he turned his attention to rooting out any ingestible poisons. There was no rope about, but just in case, he Banished anything that could be twisted into a noose. He had underestimated Severus once before, he would not do so again.

Severus continued to sleep, deeply and soundly, curled in on himself in the middle of the bed. Lucius checked on him often, listening to the deep and even breathing, undisturbed by dreams.

A house elf – not the traitorous Dobby – came to his call. He extracted information from the creature and insured its silence, dismissing it with orders to bring meals at regular intervals.

There would be no other staff members here for some time. Filch was attending to a sudden illness in his family and the half-giant Hagrid was off to parts unknown, leaving the school to Severus for the last two weeks of August.

Two weeks was time enough.

Assured of Sev's continued somnolent state, Lucius borrowed the bath. The shower was good and hot, the soap something sandalwood with a rich spice, and he took time to cure himself of his morning condition. The memories impelling that condition were enhanced by the sound of the hot water on tiles – the potency of memory being in no wise abated by the years.

Really, it hadn't been his plan to seduce Severus that early. Lucius was attentive to the Dark Arts prodigy, reaping the bounty of his cultivation with great satisfaction. Insofar as young Severus was concerned, Lucius Malfoy had hung the moon and set the stars in their courses. The boy would have done anything that Lucius had asked of him, and done it without thought or hesitation.

However, when the boy started taking four showers a day, spending hours alone in hot water with only a bar of soap for company, it was not too difficult to know what was going on.

Lucius, who had been taken by his first lover at the age of fourteen, found himself magnetized by the thought of having Severus. It was not that the boy was devastatingly handsome, he wasn't. However, under the feral eyes, remorselessly black hair and sallow skin, there was a sense of something so sweet, so rare and fine that Lucius could not deny himself the pleasure of it.

Flirtation. Innuendo. Come hither. Move away. Lure. Drop a hint here. A suggestion there. A dance of senses and perceptions. A look. A whisper.

A touch.

If it was possible for as gentle an art as seduction to be utterly ruthless, Lucius Malfoy made it so, until Severus had begged for what Lucius intended him to take all along.

A subtle as a finger laid on a shoulder. As blatant a pair of wet, soap-slick bodies writhing in a frenzy of mutual need. A vital, and raw and needy as a voice that cried out, "Lucius, oh!oh!oh! Fuck! Lucius!" in the throes of passion and desperation.

And it was good.

Lucius bound the too-young Sev to him as surely as with chains, using love and sex and need as his tools of choice.

It helped that Severus was such a willing captive.

The boy had even stood as best man at Lucius' wedding that summer, with a brave smile and a heart breaking so loudly that Lucius could hear it across the ballroom at the reception.

To finally mend that, yes, that would be a very good thing,

And to show Severus the way back to the true path, to let him free the strength within and take vengeance for his friend Charles and his poor, slaughtered Evan – also very good things.

Lucius wrapped a towel around his waist and hunted a comb. What to do then? What to do when he had accomplished his work?

Narcissa had always understood. Lucius had a pearl beyond price in a true and good wife. As canny and cunning as a vixen, as beautiful as a rose, and Slytherin to her marrow was his dear 'Cis. How often had she sent him to Severus? Who had first given him the idea of Severus being Draco's godfather? She would be happy for this, as she had fretted a good deal about Severus over the years.

He would owl her as soon as possible and explain the circumstances.

The Dark Lord… now he might be trouble. Voldemort was a jealous master, more than once he had made very public examples of those he felt were less than appropriately devoted to him. The LeStranges were one of his favorite targets, and he would often take one while the other watched. Lucius had often wondered if they had been looking for their Lord in order to return him to power or to finish the job.

Lucius swore that he would not yield Severus again. Not to anyone, not for anything.

"Mine," he vowed to his reflection. "Mine alone."

Helping himself to Severus' wardrobe – all in stark black and starched white, but of first-rate quality – Lucius clothed himself in a pair of plain black silk pyjamas and climbed back into bed.

On top of the covers.

Lucius remembered quite well what Severus was like in the morning and was certain that his self-control would not survive a determined assault.

Severus stirred, stretching until his hand found Lucius' chest and then following it with the rest of him. Face pushed into the silk covering Lucius' chest, arms twining so seductively, Severus gave a soft moan and slipped back into sleep.

Lucius fought for the needed detachment and sang froid he would need to do his best work. With Severus' rhythmic breath heating his skin through the silk, it was very hard to do.

Other things were very hard, too.

Like trying to think when all of one's blood was leaving one's brain for a vacation in one's prick.

He might have underestimated the attraction of Severus and overestimated his own willpower.

Nonsense. Severus was a Potions Master, and hence an odd breed of cat, true. However, Lucius had made his study that of the mind and its workings in relation to the body. There was a time when he even considered a career in medical research, shelving it only when he realized that he would not be permitted human test subjects. His association with Voldemort provided him with no end of patients and in the years of their association and after, Lucius had improved his mastery of the craft beyond anything he had ever dreamed.

Severus had been his first subject and his first beloved. Even if Lucius had made mistakes of youthful ardor it was not too late to rectify them.  He cuddled Sev closer, his hands gliding over smooth, pale skin, his breathing matching the deep in and out, Lucius fell asleep in Severus' arms.

When he awoke, later by enough time for breakfast to be served, Lucius could hear the shower running. After helping himself to a very light breakfast, skimming the headlines in the Prophet and brushing his teeth – the shower was still running.

Lucius sighed. Severus had never learned to deal well with emotional storms, and would withdraw until he had regained control of himself – something that Lucius could not permit. For this to be effective, Lucius needed him raw, hurting, grieving and hence vulnerable.

Lucius opened the door and was engulfed by a billow of steam. "Are you trying to drown yourself in the shower?"

"Since you removed the plug from the bath, I thought that it might be worth an attempt."

Still an edge to the words, but about what Lucius expected. Lucius had cracked the walls damned hard last night and Severus was still smarting from it.

"Well, since it's not working, you might as well come out and have breakfast."

"Not hungry."

Oh, yes, you are, Lucius thought, so hungry that you're all skin and bone and teeth.

Instead of replying, Lucius flicked his wand at the shower, "Diffinimber"

The shower cut off and Severus swore so badly that Lucius arched an eyebrow. For a man who maintained that vulgarity was the resort of the dullard, this was drastic indeed.

"Now come out of there and have something to eat." Lucius reached for the shower curtain.

"Accio towel." Severus faced him with wary eyes as he pulled the curtain aside, wrapping the towel around his lean hips.

Good lord, but the man was still good to look at. Better than ever, in Lucius' never-humble opinion. Never muscular, Sev had always looked deceptively fragile. Even as he was nearing forty, the long, lean muscles simply accentuated the elegant lines of the man. A light dusting of black hair curled around his pale sand-colored nipples, made a path down his torso and disappeared under the towel.

Lucius fought back a surge of desire that tried to close his throat. "You didn't used to be so shy," he observed as Severus stepped out of the shower.

"There are a great many things that I did not used to be." He turned his back on Lucius, going to the basin.

And all down that back were pale pink lines, jagged against the white perfection of Severus' skin. Even two decades after they had been given, Lucius felt a hot upwelling of stark hatred. Severus caught his eyes in the mirror - blue-black to silver-grey – and smirked.

"Why do you keep them? Do you really need the reminders of how they treated you?" That smirk, how many times had he seen it provoke this reaction? It was an expression that asked to be kissed from his face, or removed with a flying fist. "Why? Any competent mediwizard could remove them in an afternoon!"

Black, Lupin, Pettigrew and Potter. Lucius hated them, not for himself, but for Sev and what they had done to him.  Moving closer, he stood behind Severus until he could feel the heat rising from the shower-warm body. Deliberately, never breaking their locked gaze, he touched a fingertip to one scar, tracing it into another.

Severus started, shivered, under his touch. "I keep them because they remind me of what I owe."

Lucius continued to trace scar into scar, rip into tear, feeling the thicker, less elastic flesh. "What is owed must be repaid," he murmured, adding breath to the caress.

The heat in his body, the insistent ache of his sex - to desire like this was both ecstasy and torment to Lucius. He moved closer, the silk of the pyjama shirt brushing against Sev's skin, and lowered his mouth to the webwork of scar tissue. Their eyes remained locked in the mirror as Lucius touched a ridge of tissue with his tongue.

"God…! Lucius…" Severus jumped, his hands white-knuckled as he gripped the edge of the basin, color gilding his cheekbones as he flushed with arousal. Quick, rough breaths, the silken purr of his voice giving way to gasps.

Sublime. 

Lucius abandoned himself to the taste of skin, the droplets of water infused with the taste of the man. His hands roamed the lean torso, the skin of his palms tingling at the feel of it, so longed for and so missed. It was a delight to feel the muscles shift, going taut as Lucius made a feast of his old lover's back and shoulder. It was music to hear him, feel him giving over – to feel those walls crumbling with ever kiss, lick or nip.

With each touch, the distance was closed until Lucius was pressed tightly against Sev's back, grinding against him as he slipped a hand under the towel. Smiling against the skin of Severus' neck, Lucius gave a squeeze to what he found there.

Severus' low, shuddering groan nearly brought him to orgasm right them and there.

So much for not using sexual touch. Touch did not get much more sexual than holding someone else's primary sexual organ - though it might be effectively argued that this was actually about giving the patient permission to touch and be touched in a fully consensual manner.

The debate vanished from Lucius' forebrain as Severus turned in his embrace and kissed him.

Devoured him.

Lucius found his back against the wall, his fingers tangled in Sev's hair as Severus' hard, insistent mouth tried to suck all reason from him. Tongues wrestled, teeth ground and bit hard enough to bruise – interspersed with this almost-violence were kisses so tender that it made Lucius' eyes sting.

Towel and pyjama pants had gone missing. The shirt hung open and they were flesh to flesh, locked in an embrace so tight that the only way to be closer would be to fuse their skin. Severus' hips rocked against Lucius in a beguiling rhythm, sex to sex, creating a delicious friction and it was getting… so… difficult to breathe… properly.

Tearing his mouth from Severus' – so hard to do because dammit the man could kiss! – Lucius gasped, "Impatient?"

Sev's answer was less spoken than growled. "Celibate."

Oh, good lord.

Lucius slammed his mouth back over Severus' and the battle began anew, this time accompanied by increasingly bold caresses.

Somehow they were back in the bedchamber and from Severus' moans, well past the point of no return. Lucius pulled his mouth from Severus' and tried to regain some control of the situation.

"Bed."

Severus pulled Lucius close, bit his earlobe and murmured, "Floor," then tucking a leg behind Lucius' knees, took them there. 

Anything Lucius might have had to say on the matter was swiftly lost in the sensation of wet, sucking heat engulfing his left nipple. Attempts to reassert any control over events were met with light, but threatening bites and  - for the moment – Lucius' overriding sense of urgency came not from between his ears, but between his legs.

"Ah!" Lucius was hit with a jolt of sensation that arched his back off the floor. That was not what he'd meant when he told Sev to come out of the shower and eat something!

Lacing his fingers through Sev's hair, Lucius pulled him away from his current activity.

He managed it only with great difficulty. Once Severus was focused on something, 'single-minded' did not begin to describe it. He'd forgotten how hungry Sev could be, how much he liked to kiss and lick, bite and suck.

Severus rested his chin on Lucius' abdomen, his dark gaze filled with so much emotion that it stole Lucius' breath. Anger, passion, love, need – it was a hurricane at midnight and Lucius felt his vaunted detachment waver, not from fear but from a desire to be lost in that storm.

Oh, this was not the way that this was supposed to happen. Not at all.

He wet his lips, "Severus…" and why did it feel like his soul itself was woven into the simple utterance of a name?

As if that name had been summons and command, Severus flowed up his body and Lucius' last rational thought was that he was going to drown, that there was no way to stand before this force of nature he had unleashed. And Sev was kissing him and he couldn't breathe almost like he was under water but there was fire inside him and in Sev oh good lord Sev he couldn't have enough and he needed yes touch me there and so good so good!

"Don't stop touching me please never stop touching me!" he gasped when Severus freed his mouth.

There was a small, broken sound from deep in Severus' throat, "I never stopped."

At those words, Lucius found out that it was possible to drown and go up in flames at the same time.

Severus' hand was seeking and Lucius urged him on with love-words, sex-words and one whole-bodied physical 'yes!' Control gone and he didn't miss it because he could not, not for anything, miss this or let this not happen.

There was pain, yes, it had been longer than he liked to think about, but it was good pain and the burning ache merged seamlessly into the fluid fire in his veins and spit and fingers and, "Now… oh now please…" and he was going to have the mother of all rug-burns on his back but it was good it was so good to have Sev in him and fast and good and hard and head thrown back gasping 'Lucius! Lucius!" and oh no mercy!

A quick, practiced hand on the part of him clamoring for relief and Lucius was nearly sobbing from the sheer overload.

Too much.

Body convulsing, Lucius nearly blacked out - lost in a blinding white rush of rhythm and sensation that let him up only to pull him back down as Severus followed him seconds or minutes or hours later.

Gasping, trembling, sweating and spent they lay on the floor for a very long time - black and white, wrapped in each other's embrace.

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TBC

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