WARNING: This is a slash story, which means it contains male/male erotic content involving consenting adults. If you're not of legal age or are offended by such material, please go find something else to read.

Title: A Matter of Perspective
By: Dorcas
Email: dorcas@moatstye.demon.co.uk
Category: Romance, Humour, PWP
Rating: Um. No idea what American ratings system really means. Will 'this is for grown-ups' do?
Disclaimer: This is in no way an infringement of copyright. See section 102b of the U.S. Copyright Act. (You'll have to take my word for it re. English law.)
Author's Note: I owe huge thanks to my dear friend Kaz, without whom, as they say. But it's really true in this case.

Remus entered the room and dropped an armful of books onto the chest by the door. "You were a bit hard on Minerva, weren't you?" he said, pulling off his cloak and hanging it on its hook.

Snape glanced up from his carved, straight-backed chair near the fire but said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow.

Remus sighed. "You know what I mean. She was only trying to be nice-- you could have been a bit more gracious."

"Flattery becomes neither the practitioner nor its victim. I refuse to encourage the practice," Snape said quellingly and turned pointedly back to his book.

Remus sighed again and lifted his chin to undo the neck-buttons. "There's a difference between flattery and a well-deserved compliment. You know how grateful she is for that new anti-rheumatic you devised for her. She was just trying to--" his voice was briefly muffled by the folds of his robe as he pulled it over his head "--convey her respect, I imagine."

There was a snort from the heavy wooden chair. "Minerva McGonagall wouldn't know a well-made potion from a Longbottom Special until it brought her out in boils. She could not possibly pay me a compliment." Remus rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, sparing a passing thanks for the practicality of Muggle clothing as opposed to the tight formality of traditional wizarding garb. Snape, of course, was a stickler for the latter.

Narrowing his eyes, he considered for a moment the dark figure silhouetted by orange-gold light; then with a quickly-smothered grin, he slipped his wand through the back of his belt and sauntered over to the fireplace.

"So it's a matter of qualifications, is it?" he asked casually, leaning against the mantel. Snape looked up with testy patience.

"What is?" It was the voice he saved for particularly idiotic first-years.

"Your problem with compliments," Remus said cheerfully.

Snape eyed him. "I do not," he said with precision, "have a problem with compliments."

Remus threw him a look. "Really? So it's simply that there isn't anyone around here qualified to give them? If, say, Professor Zbigniew were to say something nice about your anti-rheumatic potion, that would be fine? You'd just -- what? -- smile and say thank-you and look pleased, like a normal person?"

Snape had gone back to his book once more, clearly bored with the conversation. Without looking up he said crisply, "It's hardly likely, given that Professor Zbigniew lives in Cracow, but yes, if he were to pay me a compliment I should receive it with pleasure."

There was a moment's silence. Then Remus said with deliberation, "I don't believe you."

Snape's head snapped up but Remus met the lowering stare calmly.

"I think you just don't know how to handle compliments," he went on, "but you won't admit it. What you need--" he took a few prudent steps backward and slid his hand behind his back "--is practice. Affixio!"

White light flashed from his wand and Snape's palms smacked against the scrolled ends of the chair-arms. Silver cords sprang out and whipped around his wrists. In less than a second he was tied firmly in place. His book slid with a thud to the floor. Remus tucked his wand away again and waited for the reaction.

To his surprise, Snape said nothing. His face, however, was eloquent.

Hiding a smile, Remus walked over to his captive, bent, and picking up man and chair both, carried them easily to the centre of the room. He ignored Snape's slight intake of breath -- it would do the man no harm to be reminded of just how strong he was -- and set his burden down carefully on the polished boards. Then he strolled around to the table standing opposite, leaned against it and crossed his ankles. At the look on Snape's face he crossed his arms for good measure.

"Now I have your attention . . ." he said blandly. Snape's brows drew together even more and Remus grinned. "I think you'd agree that, as your lover, I'm fully qualified to judge your many . . . attractions. So let's see how you get on, shall we?" He grinned again as Snape's features drew into a truly fearsome scowl; then he sobered. He stared across the room into the fire for a moment; for a few seconds the only sound was the flutter and crack of the flames. His tone, when he began to speak, was matter-of-fact.

"You have the most beautiful hands I've ever seen. Like something out of an old painting. So precise, and so graceful . . . The first time I saw you at work they took my breath away. The first time you put them on me, I nearly came. So strong," he mused. "I never knew hands could be so deft and yet so strong."

His gaze returned to his captive and he smiled slightly then stood and crossed to the heavy chair, caressing one bound hand with a finger-tip. "But it's not just your hands," he murmured, fingers stroking slowly up a rigidly-held shoulder. "Your entire body is like that, Severus. Elegant and disciplined. The first time I saw you naked . . ." He trailed off with a soft sigh. "So lean, so exact. It's a pity you don't fly any more. I'd love to see you on a broom again. I wonder who else remembers how good you were? Those astonishing twists you used to pull off. Nobody could turn in the air like you -- not even James."

His fingers were trailing across the back of the stiff neck by now. Skin twitched, once, beneath them. He bent and sniffed luxuriously below one ear, nuzzling aside the fall of soft black hair. "You can't imagine how good you smell," he muttered thickly. "Like juniper, and lemons." He straightened and cleared his throat.

"And there's your voice, of course," he went on after a moment. His hand began its slow journey down the other arm. "Such a lovely voice. Like honey over a knife-edge. It follows me into my dreams sometimes. Did you know that, Severus? I never hear what it's saying but I can feel it, humming along my skin, and I wake hard and wanting. I dream of your voice," he repeated, marvelling. Delicately, he touched the back of a white-knuckled hand. Then he moved away, back to the table, and leaned against it once more. He cocked his head and swept Snape with a comprehensive, assessing gaze.

"The strange thing is," he added conversationally, "that despite your manifold physical delights, it's your mind that attracts me most. That sense of honour of yours. The intelligence. All that steely pride. Irresistible, really."

He stopped, lifting an eyebrow to invite response, but there was none. Snape's face had grown blacker and blacker throughout the recital and now the silence in the room was something measurable. At last, with a shrug, he withdrew his wand and with another flash of light, the silver bonds shrivelled away. He put the wand down carefully on the table and waited, wondering if he had, perhaps, gone too far.

Snape lowered his head and rubbed slowly at his freed wrists. Then his gaze lifted and Remus shivered reflexively. The black eyes burned into his, a dangerous ember at the core of each.

"An interesting catalogue. But you left something out." Snape's voice was as controlled as always but there was a whip-crack beneath the velvet. He rose slowly from the chair, uncurling his length like a snake raising its head. "You forgot that I always pay my debts."

Without warning, Remus found himself held in an iron grip and realised with shock that Snape had Apparated from chair to table. He had no chance to wonder at the impossible -- Snape muttered under his breath and before he could react they were in the bedroom, then on the bed, then Snape's weight was pressing him face-down into the mattress. He wrenched his head to one side and gasped, but a hand came over his mouth and he stilled.

"I think you've talked for long enough. It's my turn now," came the purring command, and he shivered again.

Snape's weight lifted but Remus lay silent even after the hand left his mouth. Snape was a responsive lover, passionate and skilful, but he'd never, before this, been demanding. Always, he waited for Remus to initiate love-making. Now he was positively insistent, and Remus had no intention of breaking the mood. Not when he was half-hard with anticipation.

He felt his lover kneel up behind him and after a moment, heard a double thud -- Snape's boots hitting the floor -- followed by another as his own shoes and socks were pulled off. Then a single fingernail scraped the sole of his foot, arch to heel, and he gasped, toes curling involuntarily. Snape laughed quietly, and his toes curled again at the dark promise of it.

The mattress shifted again and something touched the collar of his shirt. Thin and hard, it drew a line down his spine, pressing the cotton into his skin and leaving a faint tingling in its wake. It paused briefly at the waistband of his jeans then continued down the back seam and out to one side, tracing the curve of a buttock as far as his hip, before returning to curl out once more from the centre seam to the other side.

Remus felt every muscle in his back tighten slowly, nerves sparking under the delicate touch. It could only be a wand, but -- in bed? He'd been aware of Snape's rapid, half-voiced muttering but, distracted by the odd sensation, unable to identify the magic being performed. Now Snape rapped out a word he didn't recognise and sudden coolness hit his spine as his clothes parted soundlessly along the fault-lines marked by the spell. His breath hitched in disbelief -- where the hell had the man acquired the control to do that?

Deft hands spread the flaps of his shirt to either side and peeled denim from his twitching backside. A finger ghosted along his skin and he hissed and arched. But it was more than being laid bare from neck to arse that was making his breath catch. Such finesse was staggering. And hopelessly erotic. If he'd reminded Snape of his physical strength before, he was being reminded in turn of Snape's magical prowess. One forgot, sometimes, given his reputation for potions. His precision was breath-taking; allied to his inherent power, it made him a formidable figure. And an even more formidable lover.

With a frisson of discovery, Remus became all too aware that he'd never been exposed to the full flowering of Snape's abilities. He might have been alarmed, had it not been for the erection throbbing painfully along his thigh.

As if reading his mind, Snape pulled at his hip and lifted him briefly, folding down the flap of cloth that was all that remained of the front of his jeans. Remus subsided with a groan of relief, pressing his cock into the cool sheet, unable to resist one brief, aborted thrust. Then there was a heavy weight along his back once more and he groaned again, this time at the drag of body-warm linen along his naked flesh. Snape was still fully clothed, he realised, and shivered.

Thin, strong hands slid under his chest and palmed his nipples, rubbing in slow circles.

"Now I have your attention . . ." Snape drawled.

Remus' laugh turned into a yelp when Snape bit down on the nape of his neck. The grip was hard and calculated and made his whole body shake. He dropped his head to push up into it and when Snape growled low in response, juddered beneath him. His cock ached, swollen and tender, and he tried desperately to thrust, but the teeth tightened and Snape growled again. A wave of heat swept him and he moaned. Once he was completely still, Snape's hold loosened; he made a protesting noise, and a kiss was pressed to the bite-marks. Warm breath teased his ear.

"If you're going to list my virtues, Remus, you should also consider my vices." The tone was as cool as ever but the butterscotch voice was hoarse. "I am, for instance, extremely possessive . . . distinctly greedy . . . and highly territorial." Teeth grazed his neck for an instant and Remus almost whimpered. One hand left his nipple and pushed down between his belly and the mattress. "Have you forgotten my family's motto?" The hand wrapped tightly around his cock. "Quod . . . habeus . . . teneus . . ." Each word was punctuated by a slow, twisting stroke. "What I have . . . I hold . . ."

Remus moaned and lurched helplessly into the tormenting clasp. "Please," he gasped, "please, Severus . . ."

Snape laughed raggedly and pulled his other hand free. There was a murmured "Accio", a brief, active pause, then Remus' thighs were kneed apart and two long, oiled fingers slid into him. He groaned luxuriously and spread his legs even wider. Snape's body lifted a little, twisted, then the fingers were gone and a hot, hard bluntness was nosing at him. He held his breath, then with one long, grunting thrust Snape was inside. They cried out together. The hands on his hips tightened, Snape shifted, and Remus convulsed as a white-hot pulse jolted up his spine.

"Yes, I think -- that's the spot--" Snape panted, and thrust again. Remus moaned and hunched back to meet him. Snape's hands moved to his biceps, yanking the remains of his shirt impatiently down his arms. "You see I -- show no -- mercy to -- my enemies--" he ground out.

With an effort, Remus dragged his mind from the wrenching pleasure. "Not your -- enemy--" he managed. "And I don't -- ah! -- want your mer -- oh yes!"

"No?" Snape grated, thrusting deep.

"No -- harder," Remus groaned. "Do it. Harder. Yes! Like that! Like that -- oh yes, Severus please, like that, Severus, Severus . . ." He was babbling and couldn't stop, body on fire, heat sweeping in furnace waves from soles to scalp. His hands twisted in the sheets, clutching spasmodically at every thrust, and he was sobbing for breath, blind with pleasure. Every twist of Snape's hips drove his cock wetly against the mattress and dragged a cry from his aching throat. He was harder than he'd ever been, so hard he felt he might split like a ripe plum.

"Tight, so tight, so hot, my Remus," Snape muttered, and Remus shuddered from head to foot.

"Please, Severus -- have to -- have to -- please--"

"Yes," Snape growled. "Yes, now--"

Then there was blessed tightness around his cock and Snape plunged into him wildly, hips snapping with the force of his thrusts, biting and biting at his neck. Remus arched, shouted, and came and came.

*****

He returned to awareness a boneless puddle under a slumped weight. He shifted slightly and they both groaned as Snape's spent cock slipped out.

"Severus?"

The sharpest mind in the wizarding world managed a grumbling, "Mm?" then went back to nuzzling his neck.

Remus squirmed and tried again. "Severus? I think I've done for this sheet." He picked wryly at the shredded linen he'd inadvertently torn in his extremity.

"Wash it," came the mumbled reply.

He sighed and with a smooth undulation, tumbled Snape off to one side. He rolled over and kissed him briskly.

Snape lifted a heavy eyelid. "Sleep?" he murmured hopefully. Then he frowned. "What was that for?"

"No fucking without kissing, remember?" Remus said fondly, and kissed him again.

He had some difficulty in extracting himself from the subsequent embrace, his lover obviously having taken the admonition to heart, but by the time he'd retrieved his wand, performed a couple of simple cleaning spells on themselves and the sheets, and divested them both of their remaining clothes, Snape was back to his usual alertness. If a little mellower, Remus congratulated himself with a private smile.

It couldn't have been as private as he'd intended, however; Snape put a hand under his chin to turn his head up from its resting-place against his chest, and studied him with grave attention.

"And what," he said at last, "do you find so amusing, Professor Lupin?"

Remus nipped the thumb stroking absently over his lower lip. "Careful," he said lightly. "You know how it affects me when you go all academic in bed."

Snape's brows drew together. "I beg your pardon?" he enquired frostily. The effect was marred only slightly by the twitching of his lip.

"Mmm, Professor Snape, you sexy bitch," Remus murmured provocatively, then watched with considerable appreciation as his lover struggled to contain his displeasure. Leaning up, he put an end to the doomed attempt by kissing him, hard. He realised he'd been had when Snape rolled him over and prolonged the kiss into a thoroughgoing celebration of the art. Tongues were involved, quite a lot.

Also hands.

Remus hummed under the caresses and sighed into the warm mouth moving tenderly over his, but pulled away at last to say regretfully, "If you're suggesting we go again . . ."

Snape snorted and raised his head. "You really do have a high opinion of me."

"Well, yes, that was rather the point." He carded his fingers thoughtfully through the heavy black hair curtaining their faces. "Though I admit I'd be surprised if you were ready for anything more tonight."

"Or the rest of the week," Snape agreed drily. "You bring out the worst in me, it seems." Abruptly, he seemed to become fascinated by Remus' chin and stared fixedly at it.

"Didn't feel like the worst to me," Remus said in his softest tone.

Snape lifted his head and searched his face intently. Whatever he found there seemed to reassure him - the harsh features relaxed a little, and one corner of his mouth drew up.

"You know, Severus, from anyone else that would have been three cheers and a somersault," Remus observed.

"The world is full of fools," Snape said repressively. But his tone was unwontedly fond, given his usual response to folly, and the kiss that followed even fonder.

"Which reminds me," Remus began after a mutually satisfactory interval. They were back in their accustomed positions, Remus' head on his lover's shoulder, Snape's arm firmly around Remus' waist.

"What does?"

"All this force majeure. I'm not complaining," he added hastily in face of the glare that provoked, "but how on earth did you manage to Apparate earlier? When you were grabbing me and having your wicked way, I mean. I'm still not complaining," he warned, relaxing when Snape conceded an actual smile. "But I thought it was impossible to Apparate within the bounds of Hogwarts."

"It is," Snape agreed. "For the most part. But now they've rounded up the last of the Death Eaters, Albus is considering lifting the prohibition. Purely for the staff, of course. He thinks it might prove useful to what he calls 'the expected alarums and excursions of a lively school'."

Remus blinked. The imitation of their revered Headmaster was deadly accurate. "Oh. Does that mean he's removed the wards, then?"

Snape made an impatient noise. "Even Albus wouldn't be so dunderheaded as to do that without informing anyone. No, he's merely . . . adjusted them somewhat. Enough to make it possible for certain individuals to experiment a little. He asked me to help him test the spells."

"Why you?" Remus asked without thinking, then winced.

Snape gave him a disbelieving look. "It requires a certain accuracy," he said pointedly. Then added with a short laugh, "Besides, who else would he get to do his dirty work?"

Remus nodded. "I should have realised. I know you're gifted . . ." He emphasised the point with a deliberate ripple of fingers. Snape inhaled sharply. "But even you can't do the impossible. Yet," he finished thoughtfully.

Snape glanced at him sharply but let it pass. After a moment he cleared his throat. "And now I have a question for you. What were you really smiling about? Before?"

Remus looked to see if he was serious, then reached to extinguish the candles with a touch to his wand and a quiet word. He settled down comfortably again, one arm thrown possessively across the flat-muscled chest beneath his cheek. The only remaining light came from the dying fire in the bedroom's hearth, dim and flickering.

"Not you," he said at last. "Well, not exactly. More like . . . because of you. I was thinking how . . . easy you seem after we make love. And how much I like you that way. And how much--" He paused, grateful for the amber half-light that made some things easier to say. "How much I like it when you . . . let go, I suppose."

He waited, but there was no answer. He was about to dismiss it as one of the many topics Severus found hard to discuss when a cool voice spoke into the darkness.

"When I was a child, my father asked me which were my favourite toys. I took him to my room and showed him the things I liked best, and he listened carefully while I showed them off. Then he took them to his study, placed them in a pile on the floor and reduced them to dust. He said it would teach me not to expose weak spots to an enemy. Attachments were a weakness to him, you understand. He wanted to break me of the habit." He paused for a moment. His voice remained perfectly calm. "It left me, I believe, with a reluctance to stake a claim too openly on anything. For fear it would be taken away," he finished levelly.

Remus lay still. He was taken aback by the magnitude of the trust he'd been offered. For a man who had had vulnerability so harshly scoured from him to make himself vulnerable once more, offering it freely, as a gift . . . It moved him more than he could say. He stayed silent, contenting himself with stroking the smooth skin beneath his cheek. After a while he lifted his head.

"I'm not so easily got rid of," he said quietly.

Snape kissed his brow. "No, you're not."

The fire was almost gone now. Remus settled in more firmly against the lean side. "Quod habeus teneus, Severus?"

His lover's arm tightened around him. "Quod habeus teneus," he agreed.