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That night at dinner, Snape scowled into his plate as Lupin decided, quite irregularly, to sit next to him at the staff table.  Was this meant only to be a reminder of their date later that evening?

Not a date.  An appointment.

Or did the werewolf wish to gloat over the humiliation he'd inflicted earlier, in addition to the normal irritation?  Snape sincerely hoped Lupin wouldn't attempt to secretly fondle him or try to play footsie under the table.  He repressed these thoughts with another intense frown.  And Lupin glanced at him with a pleasant smile, as the headmaster approached wearing his own patented annoyingly cheerful look.

"I see we have called a truce," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes glittering, seemingly taking their proximity as a sign the two had reconciled.

"More or less," the werewolf said, grinning knowingly.

"Yes.  More or less," Snape repeated, with a hint of a growl.

The headmaster clapped each of their backs, then turned to his seat, while the werewolf sniggered.

"Just what do you find so droll, Lupin?" Snape asked sharply.

"You, Severus," he replied, wiping his mouth.  "Not to put too fine a point on it."

"A pinhead could be no finer," Snape retorted.  "And why do you find me so amusing?"

"I've never met anyone in my life more in need of a good laugh than you," Lupin replied lightly.  "And yet, you perpetually avoid the prospect of laughter, or even smiling, as if they were some dread disease."

"You mean, like lycanthropy?" Snape asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

He could see the effect of his words out of the corner of his eye.  The werewolf dropped his fork, swallowing reflexively.  The colour drained from his normally buttery skin, leaving him looking as he did the day after the full moon--without the dark patches under his eyes, of course.  Lupin's good humour also seemed to dissipate in an instant.  Clearing his throat, he continued speaking, although his hoarse voice was shaking, and he stammered in a manner entirely too reminiscent of Professor Quirrell.

"Y-yes ... yes ... exactly l-like ... that ... that ... p-particular ... d-disease."

Under normal circumstances, when his verbal lance had struck its blow, Snape would break into a sneering smile.  This time, however, he only felt a sudden coldness in his chest.  Was that a pang of guilt?  He wondered if that cutting remark would be enough to keep Lupin from coming to his chambers later that night.  And he wasn't sure if he was disappointed or hopeful that it might.  Surely Lupin couldn't be randy or masochistic enough to let such a scathing remark pass.  Or could he?

The werewolf seemed to have lost his appetite.  He calmly pushed back his chair, whispered something in the headmaster's ear when Dumbledore expressed concern, and left the Great Hall.  And Snape watched him go, every step of the way.  When Lupin was no longer in sight, the Potions master he felt suddenly empty and found his hunger had deserted him as well.  He rose and left the hall, going directly to his room and sitting in front of his hearth with a cup of tea and a book.

At the first stroke of ten, there was a knock at the door.  After marking his place, Snape snapped the tome closed with a snarl, laying it aside and rising.  When he opened the door, as he strongly suspected, the werewolf stood on the other side.

"At least you're punctual," Snape said shortly, making to close the door in his face, "but I've changed my mind."

"Why is that, Severus?" Lupin asked, smiling cheerfully and pushing through quickly before Snape could fully close the door.  "Afraid I might hurt you?  I only will if you ask, although I quite like that myself."

"I fear absolutely nothing in connection with you, Lupin!" Snape spat, slamming the door.  "Do you hear me?  Absolutely nothing!"

"Severus, calm down.  You'll give yourself an aneurysm."

The werewolf placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, which Snape eyed as if it were a Blast-Ended Skrewt.  With a slight frown, Lupin removed his hand slowly.  Then he crossed the room, helping himself to brandy, pouring a splash into each of two snifters.  He returned, handing one glass cordially to Snape before sipping his own.  Snape accepted the snifter, but didn't drink, cocking one eyebrow at the werewolf instead.

"Isn't that your goal, Lupin?  To give me an aneurysm?"

"Quite the contrary," the werewolf answered, smiling.  "There are many things I would enjoy giving you, Severus, but an aneurysm is nowhere among them."

Snape regarded the werewolf for a moment.  Lupin had always been the kindest of his group of friends--the only one he'd ever had the slightest inclination to get to know better.  In fact, if Sirius Black hadn't always kept a watchful eye over Lupin when they were in school, he was fairly sure they might have at least become acquaintances.  But Black would never allow them as much as a moment alone.  He was always there, always watching, always guarding Lupin, as if he were afraid Snape would hurt the boy.  That, however, was before Black decided to prove to Snape--once and for all--that Lupin was no boy.  Shaking that thought off, the Potions master turned his attention to the glass in his hand, at last taking a sip.

"What would you like to give me?" he asked.

"A side-splitting belly-laugh, for one thing," Lupin replied.  "If I thought it possible, I would make it my personal mission to keep you in stitches every day.  But I think both of us know that is unlikely."

"Highly.  What else?"

Now the werewolf wasn't smiling.  Instead he looked concerned.

"Permission to stop torturing yourself," Lupin said soothingly.  "You really could use that.  So you were a Death Eater ... So what?  You saw the error of your ways and joined the side of good ... I know what it's like to carry guilt for far too long over something you can no longer control.  Let it go, Severus.  It would do you a world of good."

Damn him!  Doesn't he know my guilt and self-loathing are the only reasons I have to go on living?  Who asked him to interfere anyhow?  And why would a werewolf try to be my personal saviour?

"Anything else?" Snape asked, irritated, swirling his brandy impatiently before taking another drink.

"Ah ... yes, actually."  Lupin's smile had returned.  "Intense pleasure and earth-shattering orgasms."

Snape nearly sprayed his mouthful of brandy all over the werewolf.  His eyes grew wide, but he managed to swallow before the lurch in his stomach returned.  The memory of Lupin's hoarse voice whispering to him sensually and thoughts of the werewolf's mouth against his neck, on his fingers, at his crotch that afternoon flooded back as involuntarily as the blood now rushing unbidden into his groin.

"But," Lupin continued, raising his index finger, which he touched to Snape's nose, "only if you ask."  Then the werewolf licked his lips and traced that finger--one of those fingers that caressed him so expertly--around the rim of the glass.

Why wouldn't he kiss me earlier? Snape thought suddenly, studying Lupin's mouth.  If he'd kissed me, I don't think my mind would be in such a quandary over this.  I think I'd know whether or not I ... want him.  Or is that just part of his plan?  Perhaps he only wants me to beg him for a kiss?

"If you seriously expect me to beg you, Lupin," he said coolly, "I fear you will be waiting a long time."

After draining his glass, Snape set the snifter aside as he turned away.  He was good at that--turning away from people.  Extremely well practiced, in fact.

"Will I?"

The werewolf walked around to face him.  Reaching down, he found Snape's scrotum immediately through his clothes.  Lupin stared deeply into his eyes, squeezing and kneading Snape's testicles with all the skill needed to make him collapse under normal circumstances.  It was only through sheer force of will he remained on his feet now.  And, if that weren't enough, while Lupin ground the sack between his fingers and the heel of his palm--making Snape chew his lower lip--two fingers slipped behind his scrotum.  Snape had never felt anything quite like that sensation, but if Lupin kept that up, he was certain he could spend then and there, fully clothed.

"Aaaaahhhhh," was all he managed to say, shuddering uncontrollably.

"I thought you'd quite like that, Severus."  Lupin ceased the caress suddenly, teasingly, setting down his glass and leaning nonchalantly against the castle wall.  "You were so close to begging me this afternoon ... so close ... What made you stop?"

Once he'd recovered his powers of speech, Snape hissed, "We were in the staffroom, Lupin."

"Well, I can see why that might put a damper on my granting what you requested," the werewolf said thoughtfully.  "But I fail to see how the location would keep you from asking, all the same."

"You are impossible!"

"Most people hold rather the opposite opinion of me, Severus," he said, again smiling pleasantly.  "That does, however, seem to be an adjective I've heard quite often in connection with your name."

"I must congratulate you on your pillow talk, Lupin," Snape said, his eyes narrowing.  "It is absolutely first rate."

Still grinning, the werewolf shook his head.  "What would you do without sarcasm to hide behind?"

Snape glared.  "Any time you are ready to leave--"

"Oh, I'm far from being ready to leave, thank you."  Lupin again approached, but this time the Potions master did not back away.  "Tell me what you want, Severus.  All you have to do is tell me."

Snape's lips moved, but he didn't hear any sound emerge.  He wanted to slap himself for what he was sure was an uncanny impression of Neville Longbottom.

"I didn't catch that, sorry," the werewolf said, taking another step closer and putting a hand to his ear.

After clearing his throat, Snape said, "I thought werewolves were supposed to have heightened senses of hearing."

"Only if you produce an actual sound for us to hear.  Now, what is it you want?"

"I ... er ... a ... a kiss."

Lupin's eyebrows rose.  "You want me to kiss you, Severus?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"  He was smiling again.

"Quite."

The werewolf's smile grew wider.  "That's all?  Just a kiss?"

"Yes!"

"Well, Severus, you know what I want, don't you?" Lupin asked, his smile fading.

Snape felt his face draw into a scowl again.  "I'm not going to beg you."

Lupin shrugged.  "Then you must not want me to kiss you that badly."

"I suppose not."

"But you must," the werewolf continued, rubbing his chin, "or that wouldn't be the first thing you requested.  Of all the wishes you might want fulfilled, merely a simple kiss?"

Lupin leaned in close, again cradling Snape's face in his hands.  And again Snape closed his eyes in anticipation.  Hot breath bathed his face.  The werewolf's mouth must be opened as well.  Lupin brushed his lips lightly everywhere on Snape's face and neck--everywhere, that is, except his waiting mouth.  Snape opened his eyes, in an attempting to meet Lupin's lips, but every time he made a move that way, Lupin's head would dart just out of his reach.

Infuriating man.  Why won't he kiss me and have done with it?  Is he trying to drive me insane?  Yes, he probably is.  Mr Moony would think it quite amusing for me to occupy a padded room next door to Longbottom's parents.

"You know what I want, Severus," Lupin repeated, placing kisses on his nose, chin, the very corner of his mouth, but never full on the lips.  And, damn him, he was also using that talented tongue of his, to add insult to injury.

"Kiss me," Snape said shortly.

"I don't obey orders, Severus," Lupin said, talking around the earlobe he was nibbling, which caused goose bumps to erupt down that entire side of Snape's body.  "But I will grant requests."

Semantics, Snape thought.  A teacher to the bone.

"Will you kiss me, Lupin?" he asked at last.

The werewolf clicked his tongue.  "That's not quite right, is it?  Something important is missing."

"Will you please kiss me?" Snape whispered, annoyed.

"Louder ... Convince me you really want it."

"Will you please kiss me?"  That was his normal voice.  Surely the werewolf couldn't fault that.

"Louder," Lupin said, shaking his head.

"Someone will hear," Snape said, his eyes darting frantically around the room.

"Not through five-foot thick stone and mortar walls, they won't," Lupin whispered.  He then flicked his tongue over the Potions master's upper lip.  That was the last straw.

"Lupin, will you please kiss me?" Snape bellowed.

The werewolf pulled back and smiled.  "Very good," he whispered.  Drawing closer to Snape's mouth with every syllable, he added, "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Lupin's full lips parted, encircling Snape's mouth.  At the slightest assertion from the werewolf's tongue, Snape was surprised to find his jaw dropped open immediately.  His stomach fluttered as Lupin probed his mouth, his tongue gliding along Snape's, as well as around his palate and the inner and outer surfaces of his lips.

The kiss was everything he'd imagined and more.  The prelude earlier on his neck and torso could not have prepared him for this.  Lupin's mouth was strong and masterful--the furthest thing in the world from how the rest of him appeared to be.  Snape moaned low in his throat, sliding his hands up Lupin's back.  When the werewolf finally pulled away from him, Snape nestled his head helplessly against Lupin's neck.

"Now, you know what I'd like to do?" the werewolf asked, again unbuttoning his robes.

And again Snape's voice failed him, so he shook his head.

"I'd like to finish what I started earlier.  Would you like that?"

The werewolf slipped Snape's robes off his shoulders, letting the material fall to the floor.  Lupin then slid his hand slowly down Snape's chest, barely contacting the skin.  When he reached his crotch, he cupped his hand to Snape's erection.  Again, with the light touch of his fingertips, he traced the outlines of Snape's beckoning hardness.  Rocking his hips to intensify the werewolf's soft caress, Snape nodded this time, trembling.

"How much would you like it?" the werewolf asked.  "Enough to beg?"

"I don't know," Snape whispered.  "Perhaps."

"We'll see about that."

Lupin turned Snape gently, leaning him against the cold, hard stone of the castle wall.  The werewolf slowly lowered himself to the floor, trailing kisses and caresses down Snape's chest and stomach, which quivered in anticipation.  Once he was kneeling, Lupin again feasted on the Potions master's erection through the material of his trousers.  And Snape again thrust his hips forward into the caress of Lupin's mouth and teeth.  When he reached to undo his trousers, however, Lupin took his hands away.

"Don't make me have to restrain you," the werewolf warned.

"Not like this," Snape moaned.

"Not like what?"

"This.  Don't make me soil my clothes."

"Not like this?"  The werewolf drug his teeth upward along Snape's erection.

"No, Gods, no!" he gasped.

"Do you want to fuck my mouth?" Lupin asked quietly.

Snape was momentarily jolted by the harsh language--so unlike the normally mild Lupin--but then he nodded.

"Then you know what you have to do."

This time, that was all the coaxing he needed.  "Please, Lupin?  Oh Gods, PLEASE?!?"

"I thought you'd never ask!"

In a flash of nimble movements, Lupin had Snape's trousers around his ankles, all the while still starting deeply into his eyes.  Before taking Snape's engorged erection into his mouth, the werewolf massaged it gently, teasingly.  And he chuckled softly, saying something about suspecting Snape didn't wear underwear.  He then licked the slight emission from the tip and swallowed him whole.

Snape slid into warm, soft wetness as the werewolf's lips stretched taut around his erection.  He thought he would lose control immediately, but Lupin would never allow that.  When his breath quickened too much, the werewolf pulled away, stroking slowly and squeezing--not letting him slip too far down the slope of carnal pleasure, but neither letting him reach the summit.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you, Lupin?" Snape whispered breathlessly.

"That's my trademark, Severus," the werewolf answered, smiling.  "Killing with kindness."

Lupin went back to sucking and teasing, now using his hand in addition to that multi-talented mouth, with a slight twisting motion that was driving Snape mad.  He again grabbed Lupin's hair, with both hands this time.  And again, when he approached his release, the werewolf pulled away.  Again and again and again.  After the fifth time Lupin stopped, Snape groaned loudly in exasperation.

"Are you never going to let me come?" he snarled.

"Would you like to come?" Lupin asked pleasantly.

"YES!!!"

"Then you know what you have to do, don't you?"

Lupin said this so quietly, Snape could barely hear the words for the blood pounding in his ears.  But somehow he knew instinctively what the werewolf had said.

"Oh, Gods, Lupin!  Will you please let me come?"

"Hmmm, I don't think that was loud enough to suit me, Severus."

The werewolf flicked his tongue along the sensitive underside of the tip, also massaging Snape's scrotum.  And whatever Lupin had done before with those two fingers, he was doing it again, just as mercilessly.  The Potions master shuddered.

"Aaaahhhh.  Please, Lupin?  Will you PLEASE let me COME?!?"

"That's better," the werewolf said cheerfully and redoubled his efforts.

Within seconds, Snape was groaning madly, thrusting wildly, pulling Lupin's hair and spending into the werewolf's mouth.  His muscles twitched and relaxed, and he slumped against the cold stone of the wall, sweat dripping from his every pore.

I never thought "earth-shattering" could possibly be an understatement.

Snape was disoriented from his orgasm for a while afterward.  He was in no condition to protest when Lupin stood, wiped his mouth, finished his brandy, and kissed him lightly before leaving.  When Snape eventually recovered, he stepped out of his trousers.  Slithering into his grey nightshirt, he fell into bed--alone and feeling strangely empty again.