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"Stop it," Severus said when he heard the scratch of pencil on paper.
His words were slightly muffled, given that his face was buried in a pillow and he wasn't quite annoyed enough to muster the strength to lift his head. It was late afternoon on a cold and bright spring day, in that blessed lull in between the end of his last class and dinnertime when he would often stop by Silvanus's rooms for sex and conversation. And a nap. A nap that was currently being interrupted by the suspicion that Silvanus was drawing him.
The pencil fell silent, but Severus had already been woken up beyond remedy. He rolled over, squinting at Silvanus, who was sitting up against the headboard with a notebook in his lap. Severus gestured imperiously, and the notebook was put in his hand. He peered at the offending drawings. They were not particularly artistic, nothing romantic to them. They were field drawings, labelled. Left side: his shoulder and bent arm as he curled around the pillow. Spine: the knobbly line of his backbone. Posterior: self-evident.
"You're not keeping these," Severus said, thinking of discretion and trying not to go red in the face as he carefully tore the page out.
Silvanus made no attempt to save the drawing, but sighed in a put-upon manner. "Spoilsport. Next month I'll be two continents away, alone in the wild, and what will I have to keep me warm?"
"I'll pack you a blanket," Severus said, turning back onto his side.
"I'm getting old," Silvanus said. "My memory is going. What if I forget what you look like when I'm trying to keep morale up in the middle of the night?"
"'Morale' being your penis."
Silvanus laughed. "Just so. If I'm not to be allowed a photograph or a drawing, may I at least gaze my fill? I like you in this light."
True to reputation, Silvanus had relocated during the hippogriffs' nesting season. His new rooms were at the back of the castle, near the old chapel, and the windows were faded stained glass. The light was fractured into red, blue and gold where it fell across the bed.
"Is this going to require me to move?" Severus asked.
"You could be a lamb and roll over," Silvanus said.
Severus gave up on sleep and settled for sloth, turning onto his back and submitting to whatever whim had seized Silvanus. He himself was tentatively looking forward to the summer. He would be lodging at the Leaky Cauldron again, but he would have the attic suite this time, and space to embark on a Potions experiment or two.
"Severus Slytherinum―sorry, I have no idea what declension 'Snape' would be. Natural habitat, the northern regions of Great Britain. Omnivorous. Class XXXX."
"Am I that dangerous?"
Silvanus did not seem to take the question seriously, smiling rather wickedly and kissing him. "Very dangerous."
Severus put a hand on Silvanus's chest. It lingered there for a moment, palm flat against warm skin and crisp hair, before pushing. "But not a level five?"
"Hmph." Silvanus leaned back obligingly, propping himself up on his elbow and seeming to give the matter great consideration. "I wouldn't classify any sane human being below level three or above level four. There is always the capacity for reason, even if it isn't exercised."
"I suppose," Severus said.
Silvanus looked him over thoughtfully. "This specimen is approximately five feet, ten inches―"
"Six feet."
One ginger eyebrow rose sharply. Silvanus looked him over again. He measured the length of Severus's shin with the span between thumb and little finger twice over and then caressed his stomach and waist. "Five feet, ten inches. Somewhere between ten and a half and eleven stone."
Severus rolled his eyes.
"Very striking coloration. Skin fair to pale. Black hair."
Fingers slid gently over Severus's scalp, parting his hair.
"Hm. No sign of grey. I don't believe I've ever asked―how old are you?"
Severus had to stop and think for a moment, which was, he supposed, a sign of having settled irrevocably into adulthood. "Twenty-three."
Silvanus seemed legitimately surprised. "Twenty-three? Really? I suppose I should feel terrible."
He said things like that occasionally. As though there were social mores that he had learned by rote but did not personally subscribe to. That had been common enough in Severus's former circles, but there was no pride or glee to these remarks, only casual interest at his own divergence from the norm.
Silvanus generously did not ask when his birthday was. They had already made a pact not to observe Christmas, as Silvanus objected in principle to the forced jollity and extravagance of the holiday, and Severus could think of no greater gift than being able to escape the anxiety and expectation of being forced to choose a present for an intimate acquaintance.
His hands were toyed with, fingers entwined with Silvanus's, and the sensitive skin of his wrists lightly stroked until gooseflesh sprung up along his arms.
"Right-handed. Index finger longer than ring finger. In need of a manicure."
"Let me get right on that," Severus drawled.
Silvanus chuckled. "How many teeth do you have?"
"I have no idea."
"What do you mean? They're in your mouth."
He counted with the tip of his tongue. "Thirty-two."
"Ah, interesting!"
"Is it really?"
Silvanus didn't answer, however, his face now very close to Severus's, peering into his eyes. "Highly unusual iris pigmentation. Do you have non-human ancestry?"
Severus blinked and looked away. "Not that I'm aware of."
"Inherited from the magical side of the family?"
"Yes."
"How many generations?"
Severus shrugged. "My mother, my grandfather. That's all I can attest to."
"Hm. Some giant ancestry, perhaps. Or faerie if it goes back far enough. Lovely, in any case."
"They're brown."
"Black. Certainly black. Do you want me to shine a light in your eyes and get the camera to prove it?"
"That won't be necessary."
"Vulnerable points," Silvanus continued, drawing back and letting his hand drift lazily over Severus's body. "Pride, of course."
Severus snorted in annoyance.
Silvanus's fingertips teased over his chest. "Nipples."
They hardened, proving Silvanus's point. Silvanus played with them, stroking and pinching and lightly twisting until the heat was settling low in Severus's loins and he found himself hardening again, his previous spending barely dry on the sheet.
"Testicles."
Severus held himself still, but the hand that cupped him was gentle. His chest was not abandoned for long―Silvanus's mouth upon his nipples before they could soften. He closed his eyes, willing to submit to this sort of inspection.
"Perineum," Silvanus murmured smugly against his chest, his fingers pressing just behind Severus's stones.
He hummed in agreement, his body rousing.
"And right here..."
Silvanus's lips traced the hollow of his throat, and Severus shivered hard, his nipples drawing up tighter and his cock leaping up. He could feel Silvanus huff a small laugh against his skin, and then that well-practiced hand was stroking him firmly.
"If you short me two inches there, I am not letting it pass."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Fingertips marked the inches anyhow. "Three-quarters of an inch above average, if you'd like to know."
Severus snorted.
"Severus Slytherinum is particularly known for his short refractory period. Only sixteen minutes from his last orgasm and already capable of performing again."
"I'm twenty-three, as you so cunningly uncovered."
"Don't worry," Silvanus said. "I won't hold it against you."
Severus had thus far felt no need to carve another notch in his bedpost, so to speak. The arrangement at which he had arrived with Silvanus was logical, convenient, and above all, pleasurable. It was nothing as messy or hopeless (or faithless, a little voice still, yet, ever whispered in his mind) as a romance. Human beings were social animals, as Silvanus had once explained, and even the most misanthropic examples of the species had a biological need for physical contact and company, and was it not fortunate that two of their ilk happened to be practically neighbours and inclined to exchange sex and conversation in between leaving each other alone?
That said, he sometimes could not help but wonder whether oral sex was innately and invariably brilliant or if Silvanus was a particular prodigy.
There did seem to be something especially artful about the leisurely attention of Silvanus's lips. The curl of his hand. The flicker of his tongue. Severus hummed appreciatively, his fingers walking along Silvanus's freckled shoulder. His thumb traced the neat line between clean-shaven neck and bearded jaw.
The second time was often better. As satisfying as he found the first urgent spending, there was something pleasantly indolent about a second. His head was clearer and his body lax, and the sensation washed over him in long, smooth waves.
He ran a fingertip around the helix of Silvanus's ear. He could understand sometimes how Silvanus could find biology so fascinating. There was something oddly absorbing about the minutiae of a body that one had spent hours with at close proximity and in minimal state of dress. They were specks. Atoms strung together into living, breathing creatures that felt like those self-same particles could shake apart with the proper application of mouth to flesh. Freckles. Fingers.
His spending was mild, rolling through him sweetly. Silvanus did not skimp, sucking him thoroughly dry with a pleased hum. Severus shivered, his orgasm giving way to a yawn. Silvanus's cheek came to rest against his stomach, and he could feel the complicated manoeuvre of shifting bone and vibrating voice when he spoke.
"You could go put the kettle on."
Severus did not answer. He was not at all inclined to get up.
"Please? My dearest darling?"
That forced him to raise his head. He glared. "Don't call me that."
"Will you please put the kettle on," Silvanus amended, "my saturnine cradle-prize?"
He returned to the pillow. "Your rooms. Your kettle."
"My legs are all the way over there."
Severus scoffed. "I am not being stuck with all the fetching duties just because my legs are permanently attached."
For a moment, he worried he had spoken too loosely, but Silvanus only chuckled.
"I like it when you try to be sharp-tongued just after you've come. Your voice is right, but your lips can't quite pull it off."
Severus smiled despite himself and got to his feet when Silvanus rolled off him. He yawned, fighting the urge to make a rude gesture behind his back in case Silvanus was staring at his arse.
"Biscuits too," Silvanus called after him.