A/N: Yup… Here it is…

WARNING: If you do not appreciate slash and only like the fluff, then… you can't really avoid it in this chapter. I don't even know where to tell you to stop reading, it's kind of all in there. I guess just read until you think it's getting to be too much. This scene, while not graphic to me, is at least implicative and suggestive, so you have thus been warned.

To all those that do read… Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

It wasn't until James knew that too much time had passed when he remembered he had something to help him find the Slytherin, so he changed directions abruptly and flew towards the grand staircase. There were hardly any students out, and James hadn't realized that it was so late. That was fine for him, though, as he was met with no opposition. When he finally made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady, it took everything he had to not shout profanities when she didn't open immediately. Why must he always have to charm people to get what he wanted?

After another cloy smile from James, the Fat Lady giggled, and the portrait swung open. James wasted no time as he scrambled through. He tore passed the common room without so much as looking at all those crowded around the fire. He skipped three steps at a time as he rushed to the fifth year boy's dormitory. He almost flung the door off its hinges as he slammed it open, and his heavy stomping sounded loudly within the room. He slid to his trunk by his bedside and threw item after item out of it in search of what he wanted.

Sweaters, socks, smalls, extra robes—all went soaring out everywhere catching on the four poster bed and the table or plopping all across the ground, and then James reached the very bottom of his trunk and still he could not find what he was looking for. He scrambled back to his feet and almost tripped down the stairs as he ran to the common room.

"Where is it?" he shouted a bit breathlessly. He stared at Sirius who furrowed his brows in confusion. "Come on! Where?" James pressed urgently.

"Where's what?" came Remus, as he eased up off the floor and stared at James concernedly. Sirius' bafflement then swiftly morphed into anger, and he did nothing to hide his glare. Peter looked back and forth between the two eagerly as if they were about to come to blows.

"The map! Where is it?" James specified urgently. Remus looked to Sirius quickly as the boy's jaw dropped in shock. James didn't have time for secrecy here! He needed the damn map!

"Okay, okay, hold on, mate," Remus tried to soothe as he made his way towards James. Everyone else in the common room stared at James as if he sprouted a second head. He wished he had—an extra pair of eyes would help him search better. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Not now! Please! Just help me find the map!" James pleaded. Then he remembered that he was a wizard and had something to make items that were lost reappear. He bolted back up to his sleeping quarters, leaving Remus behind as the boy looked one more time to Sirius and shrugged his shoulders. He stood in the doorway with his wand already poised and then intoned the summoning charm for the map. As first, nothing happened, and then he heard a rattle in the corner. Sirius' trunk gave a shutter before its lid burst open and a folded up bit up parchment came whizzing his way. Snatching it midair, he unfolded it quickly, tapped his wand upon its blank face, and frantically recited the magical phrase.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And he wasn't.

Inky splotches began seeping across the yellowy paper in veins, branching out and connecting until the delineation of Hogwarts appeared. He roved his eyes over the map, little bubbles with names inside moved around like ants, but he couldn't find the one he wanted. He started to get anxious, and in his haste, he found himself looking over the same areas again and again. He blinked to alleviate the dryness setting in and focused once more. His eyes darted and flitted across the map, and then they stopped.

He had found Snape.

Down on the third corridor, in one of the many abandoned rooms, the Slytherin was currently pacing back and forth, the bubble with his name in it bounding around erratically. James' heart pounded recklessly from nerves as he spotted the name, but then his stomach clenched when he saw that the Slytherin he sought was not alone.

He could waste not a second more.

He turned around and almost collided into Remus who was just stalking up the stairs.

"James? Wait! What's wrong?" the boy shouted, but James had already bounded down the steps and was charging through the common room and toward the portrait. He swung the picture open unceremoniously and heard the Fat Lady give a cry of outrage as he spilled out of the hole and stumbled back up to his feet.

And then it was just a full blown run.

Never had he experienced this level of desperateness in all his life. Sanity told him that this course he was pursuing wouldn't lead to anything good, but that tenebrous voice whispered otherwise. It coaxed imperceptibly, as though it had already melded with his tendons and muscles and was shifting his bones so that his feet and legs moved all on their own.

But James was allowing it.

He cleared his way down the Gryffindor tower, barreled to the grand staircase, pattered down the steps and cursed loudly when he tripped down the last few of them before he tumbled onto the third floor. He looked up nervously. He knew Snape was at the farthest edges of one of the corridors, but he still searched him out. The light of the filling moon streaked in through the windows and poured across the floors in bands. He ran through the winding corridors, eased into a jog, slowed to a lengthy and hasty stride, shortened to a brisk walk, and then restrained it to a crawling pace.

And then he stopped completely.

"Please! I don't understand all this," came a voice that made James close his eyes tightly. With guilt?

"Give me your answer!" and that was Snape, sounding more than just angry.

"How can I when I don't even know what you're asking me?" the other said, and James vacillated between revealing himself as he hovered outside the door that shielded him from the speakers and tapping into the last wisps of sanity that told him to leave now.

"That act of ignorance is only tolerated so much," Snape said darkly, and James stilled his hand that was on the doorknob. He hadn't even realized he was reaching out.

"Honestly now! What in the world has come over you?" He heard the hurried echo of footsteps and swore they sounded in time with his frenzied heart. Then a muted gasp was sounded, and James could just picture what was unfurling inside the room. The darkness told him to act, but his nerves kept him still. "Severus?" the voice said feebly.

"You used to—I know you did—What I felt for—what I feel for you—You used to feel, too," James heard Snape whisper, and he clutched at his chest. Of all times to be a coward it was now?

"Severus…"

"Stop biding your time. Tell me now. I need to know!" Snape demanded, and then James heard the rustling of robes, the scuffling of footsteps, and someone thudding to the ground. Dear Merlin! James cried within his head as he swallowed hard, thinking the worst was happening inside.

"Don't touch me, Snape, or I'll curse you where you are now!" the voice shrieked, and James hushed his breathing so he could hear better. "You want my answer?" and the voice thinned. "Then I'll tell you—"

"No…" he heard Snape sound. James pressed his ear against the door, but he only heard the throbbing within him amplified. He pulled back.

"What? But you asked me to!" the voice taunted. James had never heard this voice sound like this before.

"No," Snape said again. "I don't want to hear this. I don't need to hear you validate what I already suspect." There was a long pause, a silence that stretched out agonizingly until James wondered if there were even people still in the room. Then he heard a sigh, a weak and trembling sigh.

"Why did you bring me here? What did you think was going to happen?" the voice asked softer.

"I don't owe you an explanation at this point," Snape said, and James marveled at the softer undertone. It was pitiful, almost. "But let me tell you this…" Snape began quietly, "…you can't choose him either."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about— and you can't choose him," Snape said sharply, and James stilled once more. They were talking about him, right?

"You can't decide things like that for me," the voice bit back.

"I'm only warning you. Think of it as a favor from an old friend," Snape said coldly.

"Please, Severus. What is it with you two?" the voice asked. There was another stretch of silence, and James wanted to know what expression Snape was wearing as he pondered the question put to him. Was it absolute loathing? Anger? Indifference?

Disgust?

"I don't know how to answer…" Snape responded at last, and James felt his spine snap into a rigidity that was almost painful. He had not expected such an answer, and definitely not one that was so devoid of…

…hate.

"You're just jealous of him aren't you?" the voice asked spitefully.

"Please… why kick me when I'm down?" Snape asked blandly.

"You used to mention how you thought he was… cool. And how you wished—"

"I won't deny that I was… inspired by his… unbridled way of doing things," Snape cut in mercilessly, and James wished he could rip his heart out a put it someplace where it would just shut it for a bit, "but that admiration— as you've so implied— quickly waned when I realized that his unrestraint was just flippant disregard for all others."

James didn't want to hear this. He wanted Snape to make a confession of a different kind, even though James was well aware of how undeserving he was of it. The guilt unwound from the darkness within him and clawed at his gut, but still… he didn't want to hear this.

"I'll admit he takes things too far—" the voice started up.

"Too far? You're right about that," Snape interceded venomously. "Since day one he started in, and he's never let up. Don't you wonder why that is?" Snape asked coldly. The other did not speak, and Snape must have taken it as encouragement to continue because he then answered his own question.

Again, James closed his eyes.

"Because he's deeper in the murk than I am. I hope you know that."

It was true. James was not so naive to where he could deny such a thing any longer. But still…

"He is not, Snape. He's… he's wonderful." James did start just a bit at such a declaration, but not from gratitude or relief. It was just pure shock. Snape must have found it so as well.

"…we must not be talking about the same James Potter then," Snape said deadpanned after a moment.

"I certainly don't think we are."

"Then you don't know him like I do."

It was stupid to feel such a thing just then—it wasn't by any means or stretch of the imagination an enduring statement, but still— James felt his face grow warm, and he rested his head upon the door hoping the wood would siphon away the heat from him. No such luck.

Did Snape really know him?

"I can't deal with you to this extent," the voice rushed out angrily. "Just leave me alone if this is the kind of thing you're to continually throw at me!" And not knowing why, but James ducked into the adjacent room quickly as he heard the doorknob jangle. He left his door barely ajar as the other across from him flew open. He peeked through the crack, and the first thing he saw was Snape sitting back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, his face contorted into something ugly and bitter. Then James flicked his eyes on the form that was leaving.

He used to love the sight of her walking away—her red hair billowing behind her in ways that James swore was aided by magic—but now, as he stepped from out behind the door, as he watched the girl he had once swore to make his forever leave… he turned to Snape and consequently turned his back to Lily Evans.

He spoke before Snape had realized he was there.

"I'd say tough break, but I think we were all expecting that to happen," James forced out as calmly as he could though his legs were shaking slightly. But he must not show Snape this. Snape didn't even turn his head to look at him or acknowledge him even being there. He continued to stare up, and James wondered if Snape was about to blast the roof away. He took a step forward when Snape snapped his hand up bracingly, and James did as he was wordlessly told. He stopped. Slowly, Snape let his hand return to the ground beside him.

"What gets me is that… you don't even love her," Snape said, and he could have been talking to anyone, his voice was so devoid of emotion- though his expression proclaimed otherwise.

"How can you be so sure?" James asked suddenly, feeling his old stubbornness return willfully. His head was an absolute mess, but still he could spew forth this same kind of obstinacy? Wonders, eh? Snape closed his eyes for just an instant. James supposed that was all the time the Slytherin needed to reign in whatever revealing emotion was left, for when he opened them again and fixed them upon the stock-still Gryffindor, they were but vacuous pools of black.

James felt a tremor run up his spine.

"You don't love her," Snape reiterated once more. "You need her—"

"Snape, come on! You know—" but James was cut off as Snape slowly stood, his black eyes still fixed upon him.

"You need her so she can pacify that bitterness in you—" Snape continued.

"I'm not bitter—"

Snape took a step closer. "Without her who do you have left that can negate that gloom inside, right?"

"Look, I was only kidding in the hospital wing about that stuff—"

"—Because Black is like a sickener for you, isn't he?" And closer still.

"Why bring Sirius into this?"

"—And Lupin is too meek to withstand your level of malice—" Another step.

"I am never malevolent towards Remus—"

"—and that rat-faced friend of yours is nothing but a sycophantic leech—" and James took one tentative step back.

"And like a stark little shadow like you has any business lecturing me on shit like this—"

"And so who is left but Lily?" and Snape was too close for comfort, and James felt himself wanting to coil away. Why had he come here?

"Back the fuck off, Snape!" he said forcefully.

And Snape did stop, a hand's reach away, his thin frame somehow as imposing a looming Dementor. James certainly felt like something of his was being sucked away. Snape stared at him indiscernibly for a second more, and James willed his body to not shrink away from it.

"You need her so you can feel normal."

And that was it—a piece of something he hadn't realized was missing snapped into place with a sickening click, and James understood what it had meant. Snape did know him. He… understood him.

"Then what about you?" James asked quietly, feeling light headed with the realization. "It's the same for you, isn't it?"

"Don't even compare my situation to yours," Snape bit.

"No, your right," James began calmly, and he raised his head so that he, too, could fix Snape with his own severe look. If Snape could claim to understand James, then he could for Snape as well! "For you, she's the last vestige to that time when you were possibly happy, right?" he asked evenly, and Snape flinched. James stood straighter. "She's the embodiment of your better memories—of when you were first accepted—"

"Please, Potter. This dredge that comes out of your m—"

"—by anyone, but look what happened Snape? She turned on you, too—"

"—You can not manipulate me, Potter, like I can you."

"—and who do you have left?"

"Unlike you, I don't need—"

"And you say I'm in denial? I think you do want someone. Why else—" and James was beginning to falter. The image of Snape in the library right after James had admitted what he had done filled him with unease. But James was always too reckless. "Why else would you have not noticed my hand on your leg?" he crocked out. Snape stilled, and his face paled.

"That-that means nothing!" he hissed virulently.

"Then why didn't you feel it? How could you not have? Unless—"

"Just shut your mouth, Potter!" Snape cried. He was shaking slightly, James saw, but then the Slytherin tilted his head as he closed his eyes. James watched in awe as Snape went from a trembling anger to a quiet seething to being just still. Then Snape opened his eyes, and James inhaled sharply as the dark irises and even darker pupils stared back at him, their blackness only echoing was James already felt lapping at his insides. "Believe me, Potter. I hate you, and will hate you—" Snape began, his voice as steady as the ground, but James could sense the quicksand he was really standing atop.

"—until the end of our days."

James exhaled forcibly, and the relief from breathing did nothing to soothe the sick that rushed in.

"And what? You love her so much?" James whispered harshly, his voice ugly even to him. Snape's brows rose a fraction, but at this point, it could have just been James' demented mind seeing what it wanted to see—a sign that Snape, even at this point, could be thrown off his guard. "She loves me, you know. You heard her then, right?" And it was James' turn to step forward. Snape took one back. "She says I'm wonderful, and how could you argue against the girl you love so much, hmm?" James pushed forward, and Snape eased back.

"You don't understand anything—" Snape began, but James' wouldn't hear any of it—Didn't want to hear any of it. Lily didn't understand Snape any more than she claimed to understand him. How could Snape not realize this himself? He would provoke the Slytherin because he knew not what else to do. Getting a reaction out of the boy was the only thing he could manage at this point, and if he happened to get Snape so angry that the boy snapped—

Well, he just hoped that Snape would come to realize what James already understood.

The darkness was in both of them, and Lily could never understand it— Not just him and not just Snape—but it.

And James would squelch this guilt—this need—

…this want…

"Then why don't you prove to me just how much you feel for her."

And that was it.

The thing that sent Snape over the edge where James had already been falling for quite some time.

"I saw her first," Snape hissed through his clenched teeth. James didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. "I saw her first," and Snape took a step towards him, "I knew her first," and Snape was almost right on him, "and I loved her first."

James felt his breath rushing out of him in a single exhale, but still he could say nothing. Snape bared his teeth and grabbed James' collar suddenly. He pushed him back until he slammed him against the wall, and James felt the pain raining down his spine, making him close his eyes from the severity. But nothing felt as bad as what he felt inside, deep within that pool of swirling darkness.

"Will the lion not roar his protests?" Snape spat scathingly, a little of his spittle hitting James' cheek. Severus' words hissed and burned, and James felt them, felt them as if they were daggers ripping across his belly.

Snape pushed him even further into the wall. James couldn't withstand the glare those black eyes held, the accusation, and he didn't like seeing the distorted reflection of himself within them. Snape snarled.

"Say something you putrid fuck," he whispered against James' ear, and again James couldn't find any words. "Say something!" he yelled as James felt the boy's grip trembling against his neck.

"Yes," James said slowly, so quietly it could have been the passing of his breath. Snape reeled his head back, and his eyes widened slightly. "Yes," James repeated, feeling something shatter within him. Snape's brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened. "Yes," James uttered again softly, and Snape broke along with him.

Snape let his forehead drop unto James chest as he held unto his collar.

"Yes," James said again, tilting his head back despairingly, and he no longer knew who he was saying it to. To Snape? To himself? To Lily? To that feeling within him? Before he knew what he was doing, he enfolded his arms around Snape's hunched shoulders. The Slytherin pushed James even further into the wall like he was intent on crushing him into the stone, and James tightened his hold, pulling Snape further into his chest, into him.

"Severus," James whispered, and it felt wrong to do it. Snape's breathing stopped for a moment, and James felt something pound one forceful beat against his chest before the boy began to breathe again. There was something so delirious about having Snape's expanding and falling chest push into his own—having Snape's warm breath pool against his neck until his own skin felt moist with it.

"Severus," he said again, and this time it didn't feel so much like a sin.

"Shut it, Potter," Snape demanded caustically against his jumper. James smiled, smiled because he felt so defeated— defeated against the current that crashed over him, swept under him, twirled him, knocked both breath and reason out of him like he was merely nothing…

He felt like nothing.

Knew he was nothing.

He needed to find something, that something that could make his legs steady again so he could fight the torrent overtaking him.

He burrowed his face into Snape's neck. He inhaled a smothered breath that smelled of the other and which gave him so much more than any intake of fresh air ever had— like taking in the heat of the sun directly, scorching both lungs and heart.

"Severus." He exhaled the name like it was a spell to exhume the shadows within him— as if it were a charm to exalt his worth.

He didn't know when strength had failed him and when he and Snape had come to lay crumpled together upon the cold, unforgiving, stone floor. He didn't know when he had begun to repeat Snape's name like a mantra as he pulled off the boy's cloak. He couldn't know when he had pushed Snape down so that his black hair fanned around his face— couldn't know when he had come to straddle the withering boy under him…

He did know, however, when he had started to become so entranced by Snape's—by Severus' parted mouth that he felt something tighten in his belly, felt his heart jerk inside its cage of bones.

Severus began breathing hard and dissonantly beneath him, and James watched with hazy focus as the boy closed his own eyes. Leaning down, James kissed the spot right above the lid of his eye, and then he left another and another, the delicate gesture making his heart pound painfully within him. It thudded viciously with each touch of his lips against Severus' skin, hammering unbearably in his chest like it was chipping away at his insides.

But he couldn't stop himself.

He trailed his lips down Severus cheek and kissed him there. He ghosted his mouth across Severus' flustered face and then paused to hover right above Severus' own lips.

He knew he shouldn't— knew it just as strikingly as he knew his heart was about to burst from his chest— but he couldn't control himself. He bent down and felt his own breath mingle with the Slytherin's. Then he touched his lips to the one laying underneath him just barely. He left them there, their two mouths scarcely together, savoring this intimacy like he had never before experienced with anyone.

"Fuck you, Potter," Severus spat venomously, and then he lifted his head and made the connection complete. James couldn't even wander at the sheer oddity that it was Severus who had been the one to kiss him fully before his mind grew fuzzy again. He moaned into Severus mouth, their tongues languidly brushing against one another, the air around them sweltering and pleasant.

His lowered himself until his abdomen was flushed with the other's. Severus tried to lift himself up with his elbows— James felt the opposing weight as it made Severus' tongue go further into his mouth— but James grabbed both the boy's arms swiftly and forced them above his head. Severus fell back again. James locked the two wrists together with one hand as his other wrapped around Severus' neck, feeling that vein throb erratically against his fingertips.

James broke the kiss, leaned up slightly, and relished at the sight of Severus, flushed and captive. But he couldn't resist long. He grabbed Severus under the jaw, and titled the boy's head up slightly, leaving perfect exposure to that pulsating point in his neck. James sucked at it and smiled against it when he heard Severus hiss.

His mind was reeling and soaring to someplace where he knew he may not ever be able to get it back. Like a snitch glowing gold against the sun, so were his thoughts, but he didn't want to reach out and capture it. He wanted it to fly so high it broke past cloud, sky, and earth.

After leaving Severus' neck bruised and red, he moved to the boy's collarbone. Severus was digging his nails into the hand that kept his arms locked, but James only sucked in air as they clawed. James moved back up to the spot on Severus' neck, and bit down, not enough to draw blood but enough to leave his teeth marks and enough to gain another hiss from the boy. Severus then retracted his nails from atop James' hand while James clumsily began to try and loosen the boy's tie and collar.

When he had finally managed to get enough buttons undone, he bowed his head to the bare skin. Not knowing why, he swept a trail from Severus' collar up to his ear with his tongue. He could taste salt and sweat, and— whether he imagined it or not— the faint, sweet smell of a Drosera, and he liked it.

He wanted to know what else Severus could taste like, so he nibbled on the lower part of his ear. James felt his mind slosh inside his head when he heard Severus moan. It was maddening! He closed his eyes to savor both the taste and sound of the boy and to commit it to what ever mind he had left like a lyrical sonnet worth knowing, worth having, worth memorizing.

"Potter," and Severus sounded needy and impatient, but James wouldn't comply. Again he trailed his tongue up the heated skin, up his cheek to his temple. He kissed him there, where the perspiration was greatest and had collected like tiny droplets of water. His hand that gripped around Severus' wrists felt clammy and slippery and like at any moment, his grasp would falter.

He let go of Severus' arms, and skidded his hand down the length of one limb, over the boy's shoulder, and onto the boy's chest. He slipped a hand under the jumper and white shirt and slid it across the bare chest.

It was hot, so hot, so irrationally hot…

But it wasn't enough. James needed to feel more. He grabbed the hem of the boy's jumper, and forcefully, heedlessly, pulled it over his head. He greedily began to unbutton Severus' shirt, but it was taking too long, and his sweaty fingers slipped of the slick buttons too much. James reached for his wand in his pocket and felt a brief twinge of pain as Severus' eyes widened unbelievingly at the sight of it.

"Diffindo," he intonated.

Severus' shirt ripped apart, seams tore and buttons flew, and James felt a constrict in his lower belly as he beheld Severus' pale flesh.

He kissed him everywhere, hungrily, anywhere he could grace his mouth upon Severus' skin. Everything was so smooth against his mouth. James wanted to say Severus' name one more time, say it and feel it just as he's was feeling the boy's body— wanted to feel it just as completely.

But he wouldn't.

Not again— not when Severus hadn't called out his name yet.

James didn't know if it was the heat or Severus' panting or the sensation of flesh as he raked his nails down Severus' belly that made himself shake. Conscious decisions, rational thinking, and logic… All was lost, and James succumbed to the madness, to the darkness within him that seemed to shiver with mirth and glee.

Something stilled his hand for just a moment, his fingers twitching above the button to Severus' trousers, until that agonizing surge of warmth wracked his body, and James undid everything— Severus' clothing— his own— all with need and desperateness. Then… then Severus was fully exposed to him— pale skin glowing eerily under the bluish light of the moon snaking in through the high windows above. It was like beholding the embodiment of a werewolf transformation, bounded within flesh. It made James feel crazed, wild, and so unlike himself… looking at Severus.

And it made his body quiver with trepidation and want.

James lowered himself, and he felt the warmth of Severus' pulsating length against his own. James heard his breath escape him in one, powerful rush, felt his own length throb upon the contact. Severus lifted his hips slightly making them rub together again. The friction was too intense for James, and he thought he was going to utterly loose himself right then and there.

Somewhere in the chasms of his mind, where the darkness bred and flourished, James knew he wanted so much more. It was as if he was so thirsty that the only thing that could quench his yearning was by drinking the poison spread out under him. Licking it up, letting it burn it's way down his esophagus, letting it inebriate him so completely that it made his blood turn to liquid fire, burning him from the inside out…

—Letting it kill him slowly.

And he wanted it so fucking badly.

Here, on the cold floor, flesh flushed with flesh, James knew that he was whole— whole because he was bringing all those parts of himself that he denied to the blue light that encased their bodies— Whole because he had no pretenses right then and there about who he was— Whole because he wasn't denying that the only way to satiate his unbearable hunger was to be with Severus.

And he was whole because when it was all over, James would be nothing again.

He smiled bitterly, and he bit down below Severus chest. This time he did draw blood, and he could feel his own skin tear open and bleed as well when Severus dug his nails into his back and ran them down his spine. He licked up the blood bubbling over Severus' wound like it was an arsenic ambrosia, the taste bitter, like metal.

Severus bucked his hips up again, and they grazed against each other forcefully.

"Fuck— Severus—" James shouted harshly, shaking against Severus' member.

He blundered. He had called out the Slytherin's name after he had told himself not to. Severus couldn't do this to him— make him shout his name like it was release.

James separated and pushed down on the other boy's thighs until Severus knees were almost touching the floor, until the position was just lewd enough for James to feel his body quake and shudder upon looking at him. James watched as Severus tried to lift his hips again but couldn't. He smiled.

Slowly, agonizingly, James bent down and began kissing Severus above his navel. James then brought his mouth over the dip in the boy's belly and then brushed his tongue across the boy's suppliant skin. James left light kisses as he moved down and down, over a small trail of black hair and lower still.

Severus' breaths were becoming more erratic and ragged, and James felt the boy's abdomen rise and fall quickly under his hand.

"Mmm," James hummed, moving lower.

"Dammit, Potter," Severus growled as he flung his head down lightly unto the stone floor, making a muffled thudding sound.

It should never have been. It should have never come to this. James had been more than content to satiate his boredom with petty words and insults flung Severus' way. He had felt triumph at continually overtaking one who he had had always known was a filthy Dark Arts lover. He had been the constant victor for winning over Lily's affection and attention though, yes, he knew, Severus had cared for her for so much longer than he.

When did the need to overrule Severus turn into want of him?

It should have never happened, yes, but James was weak and tempted— wanting like he never had before— and so…

…he took Severus within his mouth.

Severus inhaled harshly as James flitted his tongue over the other boy, and he gasped before turning his head towards the stone floor and moaning. James moved up and down, trying to mimic the way that felt good for him when he masturbated. He licked and sucked and continued to take the other into his mouth, waiting amidst Severus incoherent babbling for his named to be called out.

But then Severus gave a spasm, and no name escaped his lips. No. Severus had bitten down on his lower lip, clamping his mouth shut, and James had to swallow the other in childish resentment. It wasn't fair. James snarled and lifted Severus legs up and over his shoulders.

He was already on the verge of release— all because of the way Severus looked— all wilted, red, bitten, swollen, languid, and satisfied. Could James not get enough? Sweat beaded down his nose and the side of his face. He didn't think he had ever been so warm in all his life, not even when he had flown his highest on the hottest days of summer, when he could have sworn he was mere inches away from the sun itself.

His member ached and throbbed, and it was mere torture for James to not take Severus right then and there. At first Severus resisted the intrusion, but even James knew that he had to relax the boy before entering him completely. When he did, though— when he did… James stopped because he had never felt anything like it.

Not in all his boy hood fantasies of Lily had he ever felt such a thing, all of which could not even compare to the intensity of what he was experiencing with Severus. James moved and rocked, any way that felt good, any way to make Severus moan like he was doing. His head was roaring, his heart racing, his insides cackling and shrieking—

The darkness in him singing its exultant praises…

"Gods!— James!" Severus huffed beneath him as the boys nails tore into James' shoulders.

Delirious, James kept responding to the lust that had completely consumed him. Then Severus cried out again and arched his back, meeting the last of James' urges before the sensations swelled too greatly for James to endure.

And then he felt such a completion that it hollowed out his insides. A feeling that intensified within him, and pushed and pushed and expanded out, expulsing every other emotion out of him until he was only left with that singular sensation. He shuddered against Severus— emptied himself into Severus, and with it, that feeling. Then he collapsed onto him, his cheek pressing against Severus' warm and heaving chest, and he was tired, shaking, and sensing only a void within.

James had never experienced emptiness before.

They laid in silence, neither of them moving, but each trying to control their rasped and frenzied breathing. Severus had yet to let go his shoulder, but James didn't mind. He couldn't really feel it anyway.

Severus mumbled something through his clenched teeth, and James smiled.

"Yes," James said softly as he closed his eyes and curled his fingers around Snape's shoulder. "Until the end of our days."

A/N: I don't think our boys here quite understand what just happened; their relationship (if we can call it that) is so convoluted. And this story is by no means over! Just thought I'd put that out there for those of you who thought this might have happened too soon. I can justify this, trust me!