FIC: Dast Dare, NC17, James/Severus (WARNINGS) Title: Dast Dare Author/Artist: Serpenscript Pairing(s)/Characters: James/Severus Rating: NC17/R Word count: 7000ish~ Warnings: Noncon, violence, verbal abuse, humiliation, first time sex, violence, slight chan (winter of their 7th year) Summary: Dast Dare was a wizarding variant of truth or dare favoured by the dark supporters. Rules were set prior to rounds; each round lasted a week. And those who chickened out on their dare were magically bound to honor the penalty. Author/Artist's notes: This is not the fluffy-type noncon where everyone orgasms and has a jolly good time! This was written to be hurty to indulge a dark bunny I had. If it’s not your thing....don’t read it.
A fire crackled merrily in the hearth in the Gryffindor common room, still decked out in wintery decoration. It was mostly empty; nearly all the students had gone home for hols. Remus Lupin was staying because Hogwarts offered the best security for a werewolf. James was staying to keep him company, Sirius was avoiding his family, and Peter was staying ostensibly because the other three were.
They played Exploding Snap with bored intensity until the last card exploded in Lupin’s face. The werewolf laughed good-naturedly and flung down the last of his tattered hand. “And that’s that! Any other plans for hols, besides cards and butterbeer? There are no birds to lay, and scarcely anyone to prank. Full moon is a good week away, yet.”
Sirius winked at Lupin across the table. “How about a game of Dast Dare?” Sirius had learned the game from his cousins and shared it with the Marauders. Traditionally it was favoured by dark wizarding families as a way of gradually introducing the Dark Arts.
“Wizarding, or muggle?” Remus wanted to know, “And anything off limits?
“Wizarding. No Unforgiveables, but everything else goes,” Sirius explained. “We can pick up where we left off last time. What, afraid to play with the men, Wormtail?”
Pettigrew fidgeted uncomfortably and picked at the fraying seam of a worn couch cushion. “Last time we played you made me streak through Hufflepuff,” he whined.
“You didn’t have to take the dare,” Remus pointed out reasonably. He grinned when Peter scowled at him. “You could have taken the penalty instead.” Wizarding Dast Dare was binding; if the dare wasn’t carried out within a week of the issued challenge, the participant would be forced to carry out the penalty.
“The penalty was worse!”
“How about we make James go first?” Sirius’ smile was mischievous.
“Something tells me you’ve got something particularly nasty up your sleeve, Padfoot,” James said lazily, boneless in the heat from the fireplace. He twisted a battered pine twig in his fingers, the bruised needles releasing a faint resiny scent.
“Me?” Sirius sat up straight, exuding an aura of innocence. “You know I only save only the best for my dear friend Prongs, mate!”
James threw the pine twig at him. “Fine, we’ll play Dast Dare. It’s not like Hoggywarts has a lot of people to be humiliated in front of right now. What’s your dare, then?”
“Thanks to the chastity detection spell I learned from my illustrious family, I happen to know there are two virgins under Hogwarts’ roof.” James sat a little straighter; surely anything having to do with virgins couldn’t be too bad!
Sirius was continuing on. “Your dare is to fuck your assigned virgin. How you manage it is up to you, but only actual penetrative intercourse counts - oral sex, masturbation, proxy, or frottage don’t count towards your dare.”
That didn’t sound so bad. “Who’s the lucky virgin?”
“Severus Snape, a.k.a. Snivellus.” Black’s grin was absolutely maniacal.
“Snivellus?” James was so disturbed that his voice had gone up an octave. “Are you insane? He’s greasy and foul and ugly as they come - but I could overlook that. Maybe. In a dark room, with a lust potion and an Obliviate for afters. The real problem is that he’s a bloke, Pads, and I don’t beat for my own team!” He pretended to retch with disgust and dropped his head into his hands theatrically. “Isn’t this a dare better suited for you or Moony?”
Sirius stretched, the pop of his vertebrae loud in the almost empty room. “You won’t know unless you try it at least once, Prongs. Look at it this way: even if it’s awful, no one would blame you for being a bad lay. Plus you’ll be doing Sniv a favour!”
Potter’s glare from between his fingers could have melted stone if Sirius hadn’t grown used to it ages ago. “Alright, what’s the penalty?”
“If you fail, the other virgin gets to fuck you.”
Potter’s head snapped up. “What? Absolutely not! Who’s the other?” He looked honestly ill at the thought and crossed his legs uncomfortably, looking from face to face. Sirius was grinning; Remus looked surprised; Pettigrew -
Peter was red-faced and almost falling off the couch in shocked delight.
“Really? I can?” he squeaked, looking between Sirius and James.
“Yes, if James - “ Sirius began.
“No,” James cut him off, firmly. “No one is getting near my arse, thank you very much.” He sent a furious, disgusted look at Sirius. “And it’s the absolutely last time I play Dast Dare with someone from a dark house.” It was one of the biggest insults he could give, and Sirius flinched. Peter looked crestfallen.
James stood to go to bed; the camaraderie was broken.
“Prongs, I - it’s just a bit of tail, alright?” Sirius said anxiously, but James shook his head.
His expression was a cross between revulsion and anger. “It’s different when it’s my tail.”
* * * * *
It was remarkably easy to catch Snivellus alone. He practically haunted the library until curfew, taking advantage of Madam Pince's forbidding presence and scurrying back to his common room only at the last minute. But Filch only patrolled sporadically on hols and McGonagall had a fondness for stiff drink. He'd knocked on her door just to be safe, prepared to claim a nightmare, but she'd been three sheets to the wind. Her normally immaculate hair was in a loose messy knot over one shoulder, and she was wearing a tartan housecoat garish enough to rival one of Dumbledore’s. The neckline gaped enough to show the neckline of a disturbingly lacy nightie.
She thrust a vial of potion at him and claimed, in a rather slurred voice, that it was Dreamless Sleep. He’d unscrewed the top and taken a sniff - the fumes alone made his eyes tear. Whatever it was had more in common with a brewery than insomnia!
To keep the other Marauders occupied, he’d broken out his stash of firewhiskey and engaged them all in a rousing game of “I’ve Never”. He had to resort to using McGonagall’s ‘potion’ to ensure their drunken snores filled the common room before curfew. With Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail sloshed, it was quick work to snag the map and sneak down to the dungeons under his invisibility cloak.
He had just enough time to settle in behind a statue of Malthasor the Malfeasant (a big ugly brute of a wizard who offered a large niche to hide in) and review his spells. His cloak, of course, would keep him hidden for the initial encounter; but there was the possibility Snivellus would recognise his voice.
So he would change that. Every adolescent wizard worth their wand knew a spell to temporarily deepen and change their voice - saved months of embarrassment when their voices started to break. His voice had already deepened, but making it deeper yet would make it unrecognisable. He tapped his throat with his wand, whispering the spell, and was rewarded with a voice an octave lower.
The faint scuff of leather on stone alerted him; peeking around Malthasor, he could see Snape returning from the library, staggering under a ridiculous pile of books, looking nervously back over his shoulder. He could even see the exact moment Snape relaxed, deeming himself far enough inside Slytherin territory to be ‘safe’.
It would be safe enough during the term, when other Slytherins are around, James thought, sliding his wand between the crook of Malthesor’s arm and his stone cloak. He hissed a silencing spell and felt a surge of vicious satisfaction when it hit squarely.
Snape started violently at the flash of spell-light; he dropped his books to fumble for his wand, foolishly tucked in a pocket. His books hit the floor with a loud clatter and slid, bending back pages and creasing covers. James winced - Pince would slap Snape in detention for ‘abusing’ her beloved books. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
He should have thought to silence the hall first. Hastily he threw a Notice-Me-Not and Muffliato (handy spell, the latter - they'd found it in one of Snape's books when they'd nicked them before classes once) at either end of the hall, then turned to face Snape. Still underneath the invisibility cloak, his spell casting and voice had given away his location. The Slytherin’s eyes were comically wide, realising he’d been silenced - his best protection disabled. His thin lips were pulled back furiously to expose his crooked teeth, mouthing what were more likely obscenities than futile attempts at spell casting.
Lazily, James cast Incarcerous, and smirked when the spell abruptly wrenched Snape’s arms to his side and his ankles together. Snape struggled to keep his balance, twisting and writhing before falling heavily into the wall. His wand clattered to the floor when he instinctively tried to throw his hands in front to catch himself, and he had just enough presence of mind to turn his head to the side so his cheek bounced off the stone and not his nose. The collision with the rough stone left a livid red abrasion on Snape’s cheekbone, flaming against his sallow face.
For a moment James felt ashamed, but he forced himself to imagine what it would be like to be fucked by Wormtail, or just to be fucked in general, and the horror (and nausea) was more than enough to overcome his qualms. He reminded himself that it was just Snivellus. His mere existence, after all, was reason enough to torment him.
He shoved Snape roughly, back into the wall, to prove he didn’t care. Snape’s twisting fingers grabbed at the invisible fabric, and even with his hands bound to his sides, he almost succeeded. Cursing under his breath, James stepped out of reach. “So eager to see what I’ve got under my robes, Sn-Snape?” Silently, he cursed to himself. All my efforts to stay anonymous, and I almost called him Snivellus aloud!
He couldn’t lip read, but it looked like Snape was saying something to the effect of ‘fuck off’. James wiped the mad grin off Snape’s face by blinding him. It was a common spell and would last for an hour, but Snape blanched parchment-pale and stiffened; his hands twisted in his bindings to press palms to the rock. “Don’t tell me a big bad Slytherin is afraid of the dark,” James mocked, “or is it the bogeyman under the bed that scares you?”
Snape turned his head to the side, tilting it to try to pinpoint his attacker’s location by sound. James cast Divesto at him, then slipped his cloak off and folded it neatly while Snape’s clothes slithered and slid off his body. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall and smirked his amusement as Snivellus twisted and clamped his knees and ankles to keep his clothing on. The spell was inexorable. He could hear fabric tear.
James sneered at the pitiful remnants of clothing. “Too-short robes, patched shirt and trousers, revoltingly grey socks and pants....surely you have clothing not rescued from the rubbish bin? Inflammare!” Snape flinched from the sudden burst of heat, lips rounded in a silent protest.
It was amusing to watch the Slytherin cringe blindly and struggle to cover himself. He hunched over and clamped his thighs together, then ducked his head so a curtain of lank hair hid his apprehensive face from view. The dim light flickering in a sconce high on the wall threw Snape into contrast; he looked fish-belly white.
“No rags to hide behind, Severus.” James put all his sneering disgust into the words as he looked over the trembling virgin he was supposed to fuck. Not trembling....shivering, he thought, surveying the Slytherin. It was cold in the drafty dungeons, and few carpets or tapestries blocked the chill seeping from the stone of the hallway - those were saved for the dormitories and classrooms.
At least no one said I had to undress to fuck him. Snape was thin and wiry; all arm and leg and sharp, jutting hips and knobby knees. His chest was smooth and hairless, his collarbone in sharp relief over a deeply concave sternum. His nipples were tightly peaked from cold; they were a sort of pink-grey salmon color. Likely a bird could come up with some romantic name for their color, but Circe, who could get romantic about Snivellus?
He’d always liked a bird’s tits, the way they jiggled enticingly and spilled into his hands. It was both fascinating and revolting to run his hands over the flat plans of Snape’s chest, feeling the cool, smooth skin and the muscle just beneath where he was used to feeling soft, full curves. Snape’s nipples were small hard nubs beneath his palms. He pinched them maliciously when Snivellus shuddered at his touch. “I should have blinded myself instead, you know,” he said in a conversational tone. “You’re one ugly excuse for a wizard. I might have to close my eyes when I fuck you.” He anticipated Snape’s sudden panic, and pinned him against the wall when he started violently.
He pinched one sharp nipple again and twisted until Snivellus arched. “Oh yes,” he taunted, “I get the task of popping your cherry and making you a...a woman, you should feel flattered.” He let his eyes continue down Snape’s body, taking in all the differences between a woman’s lush body and Snape’s scrawny frame - shoulders too wide, hips too narrow. His stomach was flat and undefined, a vague concave swooping from one sharp hip to the other. A thin dark line of wiry public hair bisected the white skin, and - Oh Merlin, Sniv’s cock. He kept the gagging internal.
It didn’t help that the hallway was freezing even for a properly dressed student. Snape was both naked and afraid, standing on and leaning against icy stone. His cock was completely flaccid and his balls were trying to burrow into the meagre warmth of his body - absolutely nothing to impress a bird, much less a straight bloke.
It certainly wasn’t doing anything for James. And he wasn’t going to manage to fuck Snivellus if he couldn’t get it up. And if he couldn’t get it up, then Pettigrew would -
Not going to happen! He snarled inwardly. He let his eyes rake over Snape again, desperate for something to arouse him, then his eyes caught on Snape’s mouth. An idea half-formed in his mind; testing his theory, he reached out and pinched both of Sniv’s nipples - hard. As before, Snape shuddered and arched helplessly - and his mouth opened wide, in a silent curse.
His lips were thin, his teeth crooked - but surely, the inside of his mouth was just as hot and wet as a bird’s?
He pushed down on Snape’s shoulders until he dropped jerkily to his knees with bruising force, ankles and hands still bound. Towering over him, looking at the crown of shoulder-length black hair, helped considerably. “You’re so ugly I can’t get turned on,” James said, continuing his earlier train of thought. “So you’re going to suck me until I’m ready to fuck you. But try to bite me, and you’ll leave a eunuch tonight.”
It felt good to see the look of horror and revulsion on Snape’s face, mingled with shame. Ashamed of being such a weakling, probably, James thought harshly. His cock twitched as he imagined himself fucking Snivellus’ mouth while the Slytherin rocked helplessly with each thrust, those ghastly thin lips stretched around his shaft. If only he knew who was actually fucking him!
He released Snape just long enough to unzip his trousers and free his cock and balls. He felt a zing of pleasure when Severus stiffened, clamping his lips together and turning his head to the side defiantly.
“You know, it might actually be more enjoyable if you do struggle. You deserve every bit of misery.” He pinched Snape’s nose shut, grimacing at the contact. When Snape’s lips parted for air, he grabbed a fistful of the lank black strands - they actually felt more silky than greasy - and forced the Slytherin’s face into his groin. “Suck it!” he demanded.
He felt Snape’s lips move, and for a moment thought he was obeying - but when that was all he felt, he realised he was trying to speak. “Suck it now,” he said lowly, “or I’ll give you a reason to!”
Snape jerked violently, trying to fling himself away from James. He half-succeeded, landing full-length on the cold stone a foot away from where he’d knelt. He barely had a moment to roll to his side before James stooped over him, angry. “A reason for good behaviour, then,” he said, almost gleefully, digging one hand into Snape’s hair, wrapping his other hand around Snape’s bicep hard enough to bruise. He used both hands to haul Snape to his feet and shove him back until his shoulders hit the wall. A careful severing hex aimed at his feet undid the bindings there, then he roughly kicked Snape’s feet apart.
He kept one hand in Snape’s hair, to keep him more-or-less upright. Then he slapped Snape’s bits. Not hard, just hard enough to sting - he wasn’t actually looking to make him a eunuch. Though the idea of miniature Snapes running around is sickening. I could be doing the world a favor.
Had it been any other bloke at all, James would probably have crossed his legs with sympathy at the way Snape jerked at the blow. Instead, the silent hiss of pain fed his power-high. It was just Snivellus, after all. Slytherin scum.
He weighed Snape’s bollocks in his palm, letting Sniv’s breathing return to normal, then he dropped his hand down and brought it back up sharply, focusing the sting there. Again, Snape reacted wonderfully; his lips pressed to a thin line, his hands fisted in his binding. His legs managed to cross until James kicked them apart again.
“Some people consider this foreplay, you know,” James said. He knew he would normally be sickened by the notion, except he was half-hard at seeing the pain on Snape’s face. “Maybe you like it, and that’s why you’re fighting me?”
Snape’s head shook, frantically.
“Ready to suck me off?” He was relieved when Snape stiffened and turned his head sullenly to the side. “Right, a little more reasoning, then.”
This time he delivered a half dozen stinging slaps one after the other. Snape jerked like a marionette, blanching until he was the colour of curd. With every blow he hissed with what James was considering the equivalent to a shout of pain.
Snape slid down the wall shakily when James let go of his hair, legs crossed and eyes tightly closed. James gave him a moment to recover again before stepping close, and was gratified when Snivellus flinched.
He didn’t bother asking again. He just grabbed a fistful of Snape’s hair and shoved his face into his groin again. For a moment Snape still resisted, pushing back against his hand; then he felt Snape give in and turn his face to James’ cock.
Snape squeezed his eyes shut and parted his lips hesitantly. Just the heat of his breath made James groan. “Wider, open up,” he ordered, feeling a distinct thrill when Snape obeyed. There was something deliciously vindictive seeing his head of his cock rub over those thin lips, and Snape’s mouth seemed every bit as hot and wet as a bird’s. “Use your tongue,” he ordered, sliding his cock into Snape’s mouth and over his tongue. Good use for his filthy mouth.
He could feel Snape reluctantly press his tongue to the underside of his shaft, looking as if he was pretending he was anywhere but there. He thrust his hips slightly and smiled when Snape gagged. His cock twitched and hardened further. “Not so bad when you know your place, Snape. I can almost ignore how disgusting you are when my cock is in your mouth.” He tightened his grip on Snape’s hair and used it hold him still while he thrust shallowly, fucking his face.
He took his time; this, at least, James had had practice in. Birds who were willing to suck cock generally didn’t take well to a bloke shooting their load before they’d had their fun. He kept up a stream of explicit instructions that Snape half-heartedly tried to obey
“Make your lips tighter, wiggle your tongue more.” It shouldn’t have been so thrilling to see Snape’s cheeks hollow as he sucked, seeing his cock glisten with spit, or feeling the way Snape’s jaw trembled with strain and fatigue. “It’s not a bad mouth, when you can’t speak,” he told him lazily. “So you can be trained, who would have thought? Let’s see if you can deep throat - ”
It was incredibly hot and incredibly wrong, forcing Snivellus to swallow his cock to the root, feeling his shaft squeeze into the tightness of his throat. Holding him there so he could admire the huge ugly nose shoved into his groin and those thin colorless lips stretched around his cock, those black eyes squeezed shut in a state of denial. The power was intoxicating; he held him there until Snape struggled for air, then let him go reluctantly.
It was so tempting to keep going until he came so he could make Snape swallow his seed, taste his humiliation, but he didn’t care to linger long enough for a second go - not when the other spells could wear off, or someone stumble across them. He gave Snape a moment to regain his equilibrium; even his coughing and gagging was silent.
When he thought he had sufficient self-control back, he levered Snape up by his arms and propped him against the wall. He frowned when Snape tried to hide his rapid blinking behind his hair - like he was fighting back tears. For a moment, his slumbering conscience pricked him. Snape looked so helpless and pathetic!
He scrambled to dredge up reasons why Snivellus deserved it - he was a foul and greasy Slytherin, of course. He called Lily mudblood. And then all he had to remember was the way Evans had looked - completely devastated - before she’d hidden behind her anger. She was bloody beautiful when she was furious - she deserved only the best. Snivellus didn’t deserve to kiss the ground she walked on, much less to call her friend!
I bet he’s not even crying, he argued with himself, just his eyes watering from choking, a bit. His erection had mostly wilted - from both the force of his conscience and thinking of Lily. Snape looked even more disgusting after filling his mind with images of her; Snivellus was undeniably a bloke when compared to the way Lily’s robes clung to her lush curves!
With a groan of frustration at losing his arousal, he grabbed Snape’s bony shoulders and swung him around, roughly pushing him face-first against the wall and planted a hand between his shoulder blades.
He made himself look survey Snape as thoroughly from that side. His shoulder blades were sharp and pale, like grotesque embryonic wings. His skin was marked with faded silvery scars like he’d been beaten at some point. Apparently even outside Hogwarts people hated Snape. Run afoul of bullies, or maybe his own family can’t stand him. He’s the sort a bloke wants to bully - pale and scrawny and ugly. He ran his free hand over the scars.
“So who did this to you, Snape?” he asked conversationally, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. “The neighbor boys? Your Slytherin friends? Or -” he lowered his voice when Snape didn’t rise to his baiting, “- did even your parents loathe you?” He smirked when Snivellus stiffened, and gleefully kicked his legs apart when he tried to bolt. “So anxious to leave? But we haven’t even gotten to the fucking bit!”
Keeping him pinned to the wall, he continued his appraisal of Snape. His ribs were less stark from this side, but his spine was a long line of knobby bumps. His arse was narrow and bony with little muscle or padding - not at all like a lushly rounded feminine bottom. It lacked even the slightest jiggle.
He’d never even thought about trying anal sex with all the girls he’d bedded - not when their wetly inviting cunts were on offer. It wasn’t something he’d been interested in, much less with blokes. Much less with Snivellus. But his Marauder’s honour (and his own arse) was on the line. “Merlin, Snape,” he muttered, “it’s no wonder you’re still a bloody virgin - your backside’s even uglier than your face, and I didn’t think that was possible.”
He steeled himself, took a steadying breath, and took his hand from Snape’s back. With his arms still tied and James standing between his legs, he would find bolting difficult, and James knew he’d need his hands. Then he dug his thumbs into the globes of Snape’s arse and spread him wide.
He'd seen his own bits, of course, and other blokes in the shower, but he'd never looked, not up close, and seeing himself in a mirror was different . It was disturbing to see the crinkly skin of Snape's balls and the straight flat expanse of the perineum instead of a bird's pink cunt.And there, the wrinkled pink entrance he was supposed to fuck.
It looked far too small to fit his cock in, and it clenched even tighter when he brushed a finger over. Belatedly, he remembered the tips he’d begged from Remus - always use a cleaning spell first! - and hastily cast a Scourgify. He used a bit more force than necessary but then again, it was greasy Snivellus, after all. No telling where he'd been, virgin or not!
It appeared to work - Snape twitched sharply at the spell, and his arse looked reddened from the force of his casting. Ok, I didn’t need to cast it that strongly - but better safe than sorry. He mentally patted himself on the shoulder for remembering.
That done, he tucked his wand into his robes and pressed a finger against the tightly-clenched arse. Moony’s second bit of advice had been Use your fingers first, loosen him up. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d want to loosen him up - tightness in a bird, after all, was something to be desired.
The wrinkled entrance felt strange and resistant under his fingertip. He pressed hard with his index finger until the ring of muscle gave with an odd inaudible pop, and then Snape’s arse had what felt like a deathgrip on his finger. Snape jumped sharply at the invasion, banging his hips into the wall with enough force to make James wince. Well, he’d heard it could hurt the first time.
Relentlessly, he pushed his finger in further, until the digit was buried. The image was less than appealing - his finger was up Sniv’s arse, after all - but he was surprised at how good it actually felt. The inside of Snape’s arse was much drier than a bird’s cunt but it was loads tighter and felt smoother, like heated velvet.
His flagging cock twitched and hardened when he thought of sinking his dick into that hot, tight entrance. He pumped his finger once impatiently, then added a second digit and forced both into the tight ring of muscle. It was just as hot, and even tighter. He could even feel it, in his fingers, when Snape shuddered and clenched. It sent a jolt right to his groin.
It felt bloody amazing, if he was being honest - too good for a straight bloke. He roughly pumped his fingers in and out a few times, watching with a half-revolted fascination as his fingers stretched the puckered entrance and the way the rim flushed red and clung to his fingers as he withdrew them. Good enough, he decided - his previously disinterested cock was straining against his trousers.
He pulled his fingers out and stepped away; Snape snapped his head around blindly in panic and bolted - awkwardly, with his arms still bound to his sides - but before he was more than a step James was there, pushing him face-first into the wall and again kicking his legs apart, forcing him off-balance.
“Ready to have your cherry popped, Snape?” James asked him tauntingly, rubbing his cock along the cleft of Snape’s arse. His skin felt cold and clammy after the internal heat of his arse; Snape shook his head in violent denial, hair whipping about his face. He was shivering from cold or dread or both, eyes wide enough to see white around the black irises.
James used his thumbs to again spread Snape’s arse wide, then hesitated. Moony’s third, and final bit of advice, was Use lubricant. He’d insisted it was vital for anal sex, and James could see why - Snape’s arse was noticably drier than a cunt. But he was hard enough to pound nails, and he’d never needed to know how to cast a lubricant spell.
After a moment of indecision, he bent over and spat into the crease of Snape’s arse. It’ll do, he thought. He’d wanked just fine with spit and precome for years, and if it was good enough for him, it was more than good enough for Snivellus.
James was rather proud of his cock; he was only average in length, but his cock was nicely thick and heavily veined and he’d had a lot of practice in using it well. He hoped Snape would feel every fat inch. He pressed the blunt head of his cock to Snape’s entrance, and thrust.
It took more pressure than he’d thought it would. For a moment he had the wild notion that his cock really was too big, but he pressed harder and the ring of muscle gave under the force and the head of his cock slipped in. He could feel Snape’s sharp inhalation, and the way he frantically twisted against the wall made his muscles twist and bunch. James had to take a moment to catch his breath, before he embarrassed himself by coming too soon like an untried virgin. He’d known Snivellus was tight, but it was one thing to feel it on his fingers and another thing entirely to feel it clamping down around his cock!
Another breath and he forced his cock in deeper, leaning back so he could see himself sinking in inch by inch between Snape's arse cheeks. It was dry and chafed a bit uncomfortably, but in a way it just made it more intense – like when a bird raked her nails down his back while he was pounding her cunt.
Once in, with his balls flush against Snape's arse, it felt incredible – like silk and velvet and iron squeezing down on his cock. He had to pause, again, to regain control. He leaned in close to Snape and said into his ear, “So fucking tight - if all your customers were blind, you could make a living as a fucktoy!”
He pulled out a little and thrust experimentally; Snivellus shuddered, and he could feel the faint movement, every shifting muscle massaging his cock. He was starting to understand why his mates would fuck blokes if they were all as tight! He thrust again harder, savoring the taut heat and the way the ring of muscle gripping his cock so tightly he could practically feel Sniv's heartbeat, pulsing around him.
It was hard to get a good rhythm without lubricant; he had to thrust sharply against the dry friction. Snivellus kept squeezing his cock like doomsday, shuddering violently when James thrust roughly. After a few thrusts James saw blood on his cock and grimaced, feeling a fresh prick of conscience. But the blood seemed to marginally ease the way and after that he found it easier to thrust. He was sure it was hurting Snape, his chest was vibrating frantically with silent moans or groans or cries, but it felt too good to stop.
Technically the worst was over with the initial penetration. It would be stupid to stop now, he told his conscience. And as he was already fucking Sniv, then there was no point in stopping halfway. Bolstered, he wrapped his hands around Snape's bony hips and dug his fingers in, hoping there'd be purple bruises tomorrow to remind him of this. I hope he bloody well can’t sit for a week, he thought viciously.
“So how do you like your first fucking, Snape?” he asked a bit breathlessly, slowly increasing the speed and force of his thrusts, enjoying the way each stroke rocked Snivellus into the wall. “Wouldn’t want you to forget, after all - might be the only time someone fucks you for free. Ngh!”
Snape shuddered violently, shoulders shaking, and James finally snapped the leash on his self-control and fucked him. Great, jarring, tooth-rattling thrusts, he fucked Snivellus up against the wall until his toes barely touched the floor. His focus narrowed to where his cock was sheathed tightly, and he pounded Sniv’s arse the way he’d always wanted to pound the Slytherin into the ground. His blood roared in his ears.
When he wrapped one hand around Sniv’s throat, he could feel it vibrate soundlessly beneath his fingers and feel his Adam’s apple bob convulsively. The thrill of power, of control, was intoxicating, adding to the heady rush - almost like flying. He wanted to look into the Slytherin’s eyes, see Snape’s expression when he came in his arse, so he wrapped his other hand in Snape’s stringy black hair and wrenched his head to the side.
He almost lost his rhythm when he saw Snivellus was crying. Not snivelling for once, or his tight-lipped expression of pain, discomfort, rage, humiliation, or general discomfort - but actual tears ran down his face, dripping off the end of his ugly pointy chin. His eyes were squeezed shut, lip bitten bloody. His whole face was screwed up in an expression of horror and pain.
For a moment James felt a crushing weight of shame that stole his breath away, but he forced himself to picture those bloody lips saying mudblood over and over. He hurt Evans, he deserves what he gets, he told himself silently, forcing his hips to keep up their punishing rhythm. He’s just an ugly greasy worthless Slytherin. Probably born to be fucked. So tight!
Vindictively, he pulled Snivellus away from the wall so he could reach around his hips and grab his balls and flaccid dick. They fitted almost perfectly in his hand, and he squeezed them hard until Sniv's body sort of hiccuped and convulsed around James' cock. It tore his orgasm from him with a bone-melting force; he almost roared as he ground himself as deep into Sniv's arse as he could, pumping a few more times as he spent himself. Then he collapsed boneless in pleasure, pulling Snape down beneath him to sprawl on the stone floor.
When he got his breath back, he pulled his cock free of Snape's arse with a disgustingly wet 'pop', and took a moment to look over his handiwork. Sniv shook with silently erratic sobs, face blotchy and streaked with tears and marred with scratches from the stone.
At least his snivelling is mostly warranted this time, James thought irritably, guilt intruding on his afterglow. After all, in a way, he'd done him a favor. What self-respecting Slytherin would admit to being a virgin in their seventh year, anyway?
His backside sported fewer scratches, though the hoped-for bruises were blooming rapidly on his bony hips. His arsehole was puffy and red and tinged with blood, turning pink where it mixed with James' come. It gaped slightly, oozing semen.
He wished he could leave him like that and make the Slytherin walk the rest of the way back to his dorms with a Gryffindor's come dripping out his arse, but it could be used to identify his attacker. He’d have to be content to send Snivellus crawling back to his common rooms naked. Shame there aren’t any of his housemates here to see their well-fucked halfblood Slytherin in - they might declare it open season on his arse!
So after he’d he tucked himself back into his trousers, he drew his wand and cast the strongest Evanesco and Scourgify he could. Snape flinched violently again and tried to curl up; his bits looked like they’d been scrubbed raw with a bristly brush. James winced to imagine what it would have felt like internally. Scratch that, it’s not something I want to contemplate.
Nothing more than he deserved, of course.
James stopped to gather up his discarded cloak and draw it on. Then he stood and looked down at Snivellus for a long moment. “Nope, still ugly and disgusting,” he said aloud, then walked down the corridor.
When he was a safe distance away, he cancelled the silencing spell and binding spell, then the Muffliato and Notice-Me-Not.
He savored the faint sounds of snivelling echoing through the halls.
* * * * *
A fire once again crackled merrily in the hearth in the Gryffindor common room. The evergreen decorations had been stripped of ribbons and ornaments, and fed the hungry flames. Occasionally the resinous wood would pop in the heat and send up a shower of glowing sparks.
Remus had been given a carved wooden puzzle box for Yule; he was twisting it and poking at odd bits, brow furrowed in concentration. Sirius was flipping the pages of PlayWizard’s newest pinups - it had been a gift from Pettigrew. James suspected Peter was counting on him forfeiting on fucking Snape, and was looking forward to the penalty.
Too bad for Wormtail, he thought viciously, scowling at the Marauder in question. Pettigrew was looking back and forth between James and Sirius, almost bouncing with barely restrained anticipation.
“Full moon is several days away, yet.” He smirked at Peter’s impatience and flipped another page in his Quidditch Monthly Magazine. For Christmas he’d sent Sirius a muzzle and electric dog collar. He’d gotten one of the girls from Muggle Studies to help him get it. He’d managed to integrate some special spells into it - every time Sirius touched it, it shocked him violently. Serves him right, he thought viciously, still unwilling to forgive him for the dare.
“That’s still not much time,” Sirius interjected, somewhat nervously, quieting when James sent him a cold glare.
Do I tell them now? Or wait? He pondered, flipping another page and pausing to admire the centrefold - a nice pinup featuring the curvaceous chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. She was naked, except for just enough Quidditch armor that the parents of minors could splutter, but not really complain. The side of one full, lush breast was just barely visible. Not at all like Snivellus, he thought.
He frowned when he realised the others were completely silent, and looked up with a very Snape-ish scowl. “What is it?”
Peter was looking at him hopefully, round face shining with a hope that was completely revolting to James. Sirius and Remus just looked at him worriedly.
James huffed and threw his magazine down on the table. “Whatever you’re thinking, Peter, stop thinking it,” he ordered. “I have not, and will never, let anyone near my arse.” He shuddered, not hiding his revulsion. “Snivelly’s virginity was dealt with, and before you ask - he has no idea it was me. I have no wish to be hexed from here to my dying day for it!”
Remus frowned. “Did you use the tips I -”
“Yes, Remus, I remembered them!” James raked his hands through his hair impatiently. “I wasn’t exactly trying to make it good. Merlin, Moony, it was Snivellus, after all. Bad enough it was a bloke as it was. That it was Snape -” He shuddered, theatrically. “I’ll admit he was tighter than any cunt I’ve ever fucked - but a bloke just doesn’t have the right shape.”
Sirius frowned, while Peter appeared to tremble on the verge of tears. “You really - did it then?”
James glared at him. “And you had better be glad I did, Black, because if I’d had to take the penalty, I swear on Merlin’s grave I would not rest until I had successfully made you a eunuch!” He hissed the words with so much venom Sirius flinched.
None of them noticed a pale and tearful Pettigrew slip from the room.
* * * * *
Severus never really recovered from his sexual assult, wavering between vengeful fury and brooding paranoia. Potions were his passion, but they could not protect him. He turned to Dark Arts and borderline curses and hexes, practicing them during his frequent clashes with the Marauders.
When Lucius Malfoy approached him with an offer from the Dark Lord - power, knowledge, resources, protection - he didn’t think twice.
James never forgave Sirius, nor quite trusted him after that. His dare had bordered too close to dark, and he couldn’t quite shake his suspicions - he was a Black, after all.
Lupin regretted the disintegration of their group of friends, but when he tried to push for reconciliation, James began to exclude him as well. After all, Lupin was a dark creature, and he hadn’t argued against the dare either. When they fled into secrecy, he chose Pettigrew over either of his former friends.
Peter Pettigrew had always had a crush on James. Unrequited love is never pleasant, but it had been bearable as long as it had been a matter of preferring the opposite sex to his own. He began to brood when James chose to fuck a slimy Slytherin rather than give one of his best friends a chance.
Rejected love is either forgotten or nurtured; and if the latter, usually becomes twisted into bitterness and hate. His rejection ultimately drove him to seek out the Dark Lord.
In 1981, one week after halloween, the Wizengamot passed a bill making games with magically binding penalties illegal. Dast Dare was included in the list.