meretricula | do I ever shut up? Nope.

yo. This is HPverse fic. The narsty masochism theme is the fault of my music. Go listen to Bad Habit by The Dresden Dolls and you'll know what I mean.

Razorblade

The light flashed off the switchblade briefly before he set it against his pale skin, watching as blood welled up in its path. A rush of pain, warm and sharp and sweet, washed over him, and he smiled in pleasure.
"Why do you do that, Lucius?" Severus asked curiously. They were both sprawled out on Lucius’ bed, staring at the bright red blood oozing out of his pale arms.
Lucius shrugged. "It feels good."
"Really? I don’t like doing it."
"Wrong mindset, is all," the blond boy replied, rolling onto his back. His gaze immediately sought out his friend’s face and his huge dispassionate black eyes. Severus had such an odd face, pale and narrow, and his eyes were much too large for it. His nose, too, was outsized, although it hooked majestically and gave him the look of some long-dead Caesar. At the moment he was occupied in toying with his shoulder-length hair.
"I need a haircut," Severus observed absently. Lucius grinned up at him, gray eyes sparkling with amusement. His own hair, white-blond and always perfectly groomed, was longer than his friend’s, falling past his shoulderblades in its neat ponytail. No one would ever dare to tug it in play, as Severus’ hair sometimes was. Sometimes in something less good-natured than play, as well, although few cared to cross him openly. He and Lucius could have split Slytherin House down the center if they had wished, between the academics and Quidditch types, but their friendship left no question of their leading an open in-House war. And though the leader of the scholastic smart-asses might have been less intimidating than the boy who commanded the loyalties of the heavily muscled athletes, Severus had other ways of getting even.
"Why don’t you grow it out?" Lucius asked lazily, reaching out to catch a lock of soft sable hair. Severus laughed as the blond tugged on his hair, pulling his face down.
"Because I wash it every night and washing waist-length hair would be a nightmare."
"I could help you," Lucius suggested, with a teasing leer. Snape rolled his eyes.
There was a heavy thump outside, and the door to the sixth year boys dorm flew open. Bellatrix Black stumbled in, her arms wrapped around Evan Rosier. Her back was to the two boys on the bed, but Evan jerked backwards in disgust as soon as he entered the room. "Christ, can’t you two do that somewhere else?"
"Unlike you, we have no recourse to the girls’ dorm," Severus drawled. Lucius simply smirked, and dragged the dark-haired boy down on top of him with mock possessiveness.
Bellatrix snorted. "Whatever, Malfoy. You’re such a pretty boy. Come on, Evan, we can kick out whoever’s in the girls’ dorms."
Lucius watched them go with a wry smile. Everyone assumed that he and Severus were lovers. Ironic, really, when the one thing they had not shared was sex. When what they were was so much more taboo than simply gay lovers: friends.
Severus shifted off him and flopped back onto the bed, his hair fanning out around him like a dark halo. "You got blood on my shirt, Luce," he complained.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry." With a wave of his wand and a whispered charm, the bloodstains vanished. Lucius sighed and sat up, pulling Severus closer to him until his soft black hair was spread over Luce’s thigh. "Suppose I should wrap up, then. Hand me the knife, would you?"
Severus shrugged and passed over the switchblade. "Does it really feel good?" he asked. There was no condemnation or concern in his tone, only idle curiousity.
"Yes," Lucius answered, biting his lip as another sweet pang of pain shot up his arm, settling into a duller, burning ache. He sighed in contentment. "It feels unbelievably good."
Severus twisted around to look his friend in the face. "You look like you’re about to come," he remarked.
"How would you know?" Lucius replied teasingly.
Severus pulled a face, and slapped lightly at Lucius’ leg. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah. Yes, I guess I do." He looked down at his best friend, and felt a strange rush of happiness and pain at Severus’ so-familiar features, big black eyes to thin lips to pointed chin. /What the hell?/ he wondered. "Want to try? You might like it better if I do it; I know what I’m doing better than you."
Severus considered for a moment. "Sure, what the hell." He sat up and squirmed around until he faced Lucius, and extended his left arm.
Lucius examined the proferred flesh thoughtfully, smoothing gentle fingers over the pale, unmarked skin. At last he decided where to begin, and traced a small pattern from the crook of his elbow to halfway down his forearm with his fingertip. He marked off the design in his mind, and set the point of the knife to Severus’ skin.
Severus made no sound as Lucius etched a delicately curving line in his flesh, although his cheeks alternated between icy pale and bright pink as pain flowered in his arm. Slowly, he began to understand what his friend meant: as he focused all of his attention on the first brilliant burst of pain when a new line was carved, it brought more pleasure, the pain increasing but now entwined with the hot sensuous ache of desire.
He opened his eyes, only now aware that he had shut them, and looked at the pattern Lucius had etched into his skin: an ivy vine, twining into an S. "S for Slytherin or Snape?" he inquired, not noticing the effect his momentarily husky voice had on his companion.
"For whatever you want, although I was thinking of S for Severus," Lucius replied.
Severus nodded. "Hard to tell it’s an S at all, with all the blood," he observed clinically.
Lucius had finished his work, and set the knife aside. "Yes, I suppose you’re right," he said dispassionately, looking down at the scarlet liquid welling up from the marks he had inflicted. Without pausing to think, he bent and began licking the blood away.
Severus sucked in a breath sharply. The skin of his arm was already unusually sensitive at the moment, and Lucius’ tongue lapping at any part of his body was enough—more than enough—to spark the flames of carnal desire.
The blood tasted strangely sweet, with undertones of salt and metal. Lucius continued to run his tongue over the still-bleeding wounds, one hand gripping Severus’ wrist and the other his bicep. It wasn’t until Severus whimpered softly that he realized he was holding tightly enough to leave bruises.
He lifted his head, blood staining his pale lips red. "Do you see what I meant?"
Severus smiled shakily, wondering in a distant corner of his mind if it was even possible to be more turned on than he was at the moment. "Yeah, I think so."

comments? concerns? I am a whore and I admit it freely. there will be a second half to this posted at some point. just as soon as I write it, being the lazy bum I am.