Fic: Christmas Bonus
Dec. 28th, 2011 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_festTitle: Christmas Bonus
Author: ???
Rating: Hard R
Characters: Charlie Weasley, Severus Snape
Prompt(s): Severus/Charlie: The pair find themselves at the same Muggle pub doing the same thing (avoiding all the happy people) for the same reason (can’t find the reason to be happy for the holiday). Severus has always been alone on the holidays and Charlie is the only single one in the group of married couples and their respective kids, a point which is driven home when he visits for the holidays. Post war. Slash or gen.
Warnings: bottom!Snape
Summary: Charlie heads for a quiet pint and relief from the Weasley holiday racket, and finds something more.
Word Count: ~1200
A/N Beta'd by A.
Charlie Apparated to a dark alley on the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron. He turned up the collar of his long coat, and strode deeper into London. It was snowing lightly enough to be ornamental, frosting glass and blurring colorful lights in windows. He trudged along, following the ancient, curving streets until he saw the pub and made for its warmth.
He pulled open the door to The Welsh Green. It had a reputation. Not quite wizarding, not all Muggle, and with a name like it had, Charlie always thought a Squib must have situated himself as publican in a place that straddled both worlds, to keep from losing either.
It had another kind of reputation, as well, but that one was lesser known.
It was lightly populated tonight, Christmas Eve. He opened his coat, loosened his scarf, and put a boot on the rail.
“A pint of local. Thanks.” He leaned on the bar, looking around for anyone to catch his interest. The pickings were slim, mostly pensioners playing dominoes. He got his ale and sucked it down gratefully.
There were no televisions here, just benches and tables and stools, and men to fill them, chatting. It was one of the reasons he loved this place, and came here when he wasn't in Romania. There were no other Weasleys, nor sisters-in-law, nor a distractingly handsome brother-in-law, nor nieces, nor nephews, nor nagging mothers, just ale and the company of other bachelors. Very nice.
He relaxed and listened to the soothing drone of conversation. He drank until the decrepit strings of fairy lights draped around the pub began to go fuzzy. He picked up his new pint and left the bar, looking for a banquette to relax on.
He caught sight of a slender man in the corner, back mostly to the room, shopping bags at his feet under the table. Long-fingered hands darted down to gather and regather the bags to himself, and Charlie placed that crackling sound among the undercurrent of noises he'd heard for the past hour. Those hands, the way he moved, felt familiar. Long, black hair against a black coat, and Charlie was sidling around to catch his profile.
Damn, if it wasn't Snape. Approach with caution, he chuckled to himself. He moved to the side of the table.
“Snape. Happy Christmas.”
The man exhaled and looked up. “Weasley.”
“Mind if I...?”
He shook his head. Charlie sat. He waved for another two pints. Snape began to protest, but let it go.
“Doing a bit of shopping last minute?”
“Yes. My mother.”
“You've still got your mother? That's nice. Your dad?” Snape shook his head sharply. “Oh. Sorry.” Snape shrugged. “I take it for granted that I've still got both of mine.”
They drew on their ales in silence.
“It's warm over this side, huh?” Charlie unwrapped the scarf from his throat and shucked his coat, pushing the sleeves of his jumper up his meaty forearms. He caught Snape's beetle-black eyes looking, and decided the man wasn't here just for a quick pint. That was a bit of a revelation. Snape only had a decade or so in age on Charlie, who was pushing forty. Charlie ran a hand through his ginger hair, primping subtly. If he was going to get any action out of this place tonight, it would be Snape.
Their fresh ales arrived on the table with twin thuds. Charlie nodded thanks to the barman.
“Still at the--” Snape's eyes darted quickly to the room, “preserve? Romania?”
“Yes. Back for a couple of weeks. Through the New Year.”
“I'm assuming the Burrow is a bit much for a man used to open spaces.” Snape quirked a knowing grin.
Charlie smiled back. “Yeah. Who knew the roar of a ridgeback would be less deafening than screeching kids. I had to get out for a bit.”
Snape hummed understanding.
“You're not at the school any more?”
“No. I'm – brewing. Privately.”
Charlie nodded.
They passed a silent minute between them, drinking their new pints companionably.
Charlie slid a boot under the table, past the shopping bags, and nudged Snape's foot. “Do you live in London? Near here?”
Snape swallowed a mouthful, and gave him an eyebrow.
“I mean, I'd be glad to help you carry all these bags home. Christmas spirit, and all. You know.”
Snape tucked the toe of his boot under the curve of Charlie's. “As it happens, I prefer to let the big boys do the heavy lifting.”
“Do you, now?” Charlie smiled softly.
“I do.” Snape ran his eyes greedily, frankly, over Charlie, who hmm'd with pleasure.
They finished their drinks in silence, unhurried, the promise of sex hanging over the table with a comforting weight of expectation and assurance. They'd both be getting laid that night, and wasn't that nice?
“So, do you live far?”
“What, you aren't taking me back to the Burrow? No?” Snape grinned languidly and dug a large key fob from his coat pocket, looped over his thumb. “I have a room upstairs.”
“Brilliant.” Charlie stood, grabbed his coat and scarf and all the bags, and crowded Snape as they made their way up the narrow stairs to the rooms.
They stripped quickly in the chilly room. Charlie backed Snape against the bed and fell to his knees. Snape sat, leaning back, as Charlie mouthed his cock, then sucked him down. Snape spread his legs, curving his thin torso over Charlie's bobbing head, fisting wide handfuls of red hair. He pulled Charlie up.
“Too much. Not yet,” he panted.
Charlie grabbed the back of Snape's hair and kissed him roughly, tilting to avoid the prominent nose. “What d'you like? Face up? All fours?”
Snape crawled to the pillows and laid face down on his left hip, pulling up his right knee, moving the hair off his shoulder, exposing his long neck. “Like this, to start.”
Charlie clambered in behind, putting a hot hand on Snape's jutting hip, smoothing it around his lean rump and thigh. He covered him with his body, mouthing at his neck and shoulder, feeling Snape melt into the coverlet as he relaxed and let go.
Charlie prepared him quickly. Neither wanted to wait; Snape would have had him almost immediately in his impatience but Charlie restrained himself.
He slid home, balls deep, and Snape buried his groans in a pillow. Charlie pumped slowly, propped up on an arm to keep from crushing Snape.
“Move. Faster,” Snape urged. Charlie obliged.
After, they lay together under the sheet and blankets, drifting in the pleasant haze of ale and afterglow.
“Stay,” Snape said to the ceiling.
“Yeah?”
Snape turned his head. “Yes. I want to do this again in the morning. Hm?”
Charlie put an arm across his eyes. “Sure. Sounds good.” Street noises came through the shut windows. Peaceful. “Any plans for the New Year?”
“None.”
“Only, I don't know how much Weasely revelry I”ll be able to take. Might have to make another run for it.”
“Fine. Good night, Charles.” He rolled away.
Charlie smiled. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”
Author: ???
Rating: Hard R
Characters: Charlie Weasley, Severus Snape
Prompt(s): Severus/Charlie: The pair find themselves at the same Muggle pub doing the same thing (avoiding all the happy people) for the same reason (can’t find the reason to be happy for the holiday). Severus has always been alone on the holidays and Charlie is the only single one in the group of married couples and their respective kids, a point which is driven home when he visits for the holidays. Post war. Slash or gen.
Warnings: bottom!Snape
Summary: Charlie heads for a quiet pint and relief from the Weasley holiday racket, and finds something more.
Word Count: ~1200
A/N Beta'd by A.
Charlie Apparated to a dark alley on the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron. He turned up the collar of his long coat, and strode deeper into London. It was snowing lightly enough to be ornamental, frosting glass and blurring colorful lights in windows. He trudged along, following the ancient, curving streets until he saw the pub and made for its warmth.
He pulled open the door to The Welsh Green. It had a reputation. Not quite wizarding, not all Muggle, and with a name like it had, Charlie always thought a Squib must have situated himself as publican in a place that straddled both worlds, to keep from losing either.
It had another kind of reputation, as well, but that one was lesser known.
It was lightly populated tonight, Christmas Eve. He opened his coat, loosened his scarf, and put a boot on the rail.
“A pint of local. Thanks.” He leaned on the bar, looking around for anyone to catch his interest. The pickings were slim, mostly pensioners playing dominoes. He got his ale and sucked it down gratefully.
There were no televisions here, just benches and tables and stools, and men to fill them, chatting. It was one of the reasons he loved this place, and came here when he wasn't in Romania. There were no other Weasleys, nor sisters-in-law, nor a distractingly handsome brother-in-law, nor nieces, nor nephews, nor nagging mothers, just ale and the company of other bachelors. Very nice.
He relaxed and listened to the soothing drone of conversation. He drank until the decrepit strings of fairy lights draped around the pub began to go fuzzy. He picked up his new pint and left the bar, looking for a banquette to relax on.
He caught sight of a slender man in the corner, back mostly to the room, shopping bags at his feet under the table. Long-fingered hands darted down to gather and regather the bags to himself, and Charlie placed that crackling sound among the undercurrent of noises he'd heard for the past hour. Those hands, the way he moved, felt familiar. Long, black hair against a black coat, and Charlie was sidling around to catch his profile.
Damn, if it wasn't Snape. Approach with caution, he chuckled to himself. He moved to the side of the table.
“Snape. Happy Christmas.”
The man exhaled and looked up. “Weasley.”
“Mind if I...?”
He shook his head. Charlie sat. He waved for another two pints. Snape began to protest, but let it go.
“Doing a bit of shopping last minute?”
“Yes. My mother.”
“You've still got your mother? That's nice. Your dad?” Snape shook his head sharply. “Oh. Sorry.” Snape shrugged. “I take it for granted that I've still got both of mine.”
They drew on their ales in silence.
“It's warm over this side, huh?” Charlie unwrapped the scarf from his throat and shucked his coat, pushing the sleeves of his jumper up his meaty forearms. He caught Snape's beetle-black eyes looking, and decided the man wasn't here just for a quick pint. That was a bit of a revelation. Snape only had a decade or so in age on Charlie, who was pushing forty. Charlie ran a hand through his ginger hair, primping subtly. If he was going to get any action out of this place tonight, it would be Snape.
Their fresh ales arrived on the table with twin thuds. Charlie nodded thanks to the barman.
“Still at the--” Snape's eyes darted quickly to the room, “preserve? Romania?”
“Yes. Back for a couple of weeks. Through the New Year.”
“I'm assuming the Burrow is a bit much for a man used to open spaces.” Snape quirked a knowing grin.
Charlie smiled back. “Yeah. Who knew the roar of a ridgeback would be less deafening than screeching kids. I had to get out for a bit.”
Snape hummed understanding.
“You're not at the school any more?”
“No. I'm – brewing. Privately.”
Charlie nodded.
They passed a silent minute between them, drinking their new pints companionably.
Charlie slid a boot under the table, past the shopping bags, and nudged Snape's foot. “Do you live in London? Near here?”
Snape swallowed a mouthful, and gave him an eyebrow.
“I mean, I'd be glad to help you carry all these bags home. Christmas spirit, and all. You know.”
Snape tucked the toe of his boot under the curve of Charlie's. “As it happens, I prefer to let the big boys do the heavy lifting.”
“Do you, now?” Charlie smiled softly.
“I do.” Snape ran his eyes greedily, frankly, over Charlie, who hmm'd with pleasure.
They finished their drinks in silence, unhurried, the promise of sex hanging over the table with a comforting weight of expectation and assurance. They'd both be getting laid that night, and wasn't that nice?
“So, do you live far?”
“What, you aren't taking me back to the Burrow? No?” Snape grinned languidly and dug a large key fob from his coat pocket, looped over his thumb. “I have a room upstairs.”
“Brilliant.” Charlie stood, grabbed his coat and scarf and all the bags, and crowded Snape as they made their way up the narrow stairs to the rooms.
They stripped quickly in the chilly room. Charlie backed Snape against the bed and fell to his knees. Snape sat, leaning back, as Charlie mouthed his cock, then sucked him down. Snape spread his legs, curving his thin torso over Charlie's bobbing head, fisting wide handfuls of red hair. He pulled Charlie up.
“Too much. Not yet,” he panted.
Charlie grabbed the back of Snape's hair and kissed him roughly, tilting to avoid the prominent nose. “What d'you like? Face up? All fours?”
Snape crawled to the pillows and laid face down on his left hip, pulling up his right knee, moving the hair off his shoulder, exposing his long neck. “Like this, to start.”
Charlie clambered in behind, putting a hot hand on Snape's jutting hip, smoothing it around his lean rump and thigh. He covered him with his body, mouthing at his neck and shoulder, feeling Snape melt into the coverlet as he relaxed and let go.
Charlie prepared him quickly. Neither wanted to wait; Snape would have had him almost immediately in his impatience but Charlie restrained himself.
He slid home, balls deep, and Snape buried his groans in a pillow. Charlie pumped slowly, propped up on an arm to keep from crushing Snape.
“Move. Faster,” Snape urged. Charlie obliged.
After, they lay together under the sheet and blankets, drifting in the pleasant haze of ale and afterglow.
“Stay,” Snape said to the ceiling.
“Yeah?”
Snape turned his head. “Yes. I want to do this again in the morning. Hm?”
Charlie put an arm across his eyes. “Sure. Sounds good.” Street noises came through the shut windows. Peaceful. “Any plans for the New Year?”
“None.”
“Only, I don't know how much Weasely revelry I”ll be able to take. Might have to make another run for it.”
“Fine. Good night, Charles.” He rolled away.
Charlie smiled. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”
