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Shades of Pink

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"Oh, hell!"

Harry stared dismally into the washing machine, noting that the contents were now coloured various shades of pink, ranging from the pale blush-rose of a pair of (formerly white) socks to the deep red of a red hunt jacket - the culprit in this calamity.

"What catastrophe have you wrought now, Potter?" an amused voice asked from behind Harry, and he helplessly gestured toward the washer.

"Take a look," Harry said, sighing. "Remus is going to kill me - I must have snagged it when I picked up the sheets, and it somehow got mixed up with the whites."

"It's worse than that," Severus commented, fishing out the red jacket. "This is wool and Lupin's favourite." He pulled out another item, this one coloured light pink. "And his new white trousers as well."

Harry groaned; Remus had just bought the old-fashioned riding outfit for one of their little fantasy games and had worn it only once, a few days earlier. "Remus is going to kill me."

"Serves the pair of you right, using a Muggle contraption for the washing," Severus said unsympathetically. He'd been the only one to protest when Remus had proposed "upgrading" their cottage by adding a Muggle generator to run some appliances. Severus had put his foot down about putting in a television, but Harry and Remus had gotten their way about the washer, dryer, coffee maker, and stereo system.

Harry glared at him. "Excuse us for not wanting to spend hours hand-washing our clothes, not to mention all the sheets and towels we go through!"

"I hand wash all my clothes."

Harry snorted. "You mean you pop back to Hogwarts and give them to house-elves, except for your unmentionables. And I think you hand-wash those because you get off on touching them."

Severus' sallow cheeks pinked up at that, making him momentarily match the ruined clothing. "I'm not the only one," he retorted. "If you'll recall last night - "

Harry turned bright red at the reminder of his reaction to Severus' latest lingerie acquisition, and he said hastily, "Yes, well, what are we going to do about this mess?"

Severus shrugged. "Nothing to be done about it now," he said, tossing the jacket into the dryer. "Might as well get them dry instead of letting them mildew."

Harry looked doubtful but he tossed the wet, and pink, load into the dryer and shut the door. Severus deftly spun the wheel to high heat and pressed the starter, and Harry gave him a suspicious look, wondering how he'd become so familiar with a Muggle device, but once again Severus distracted him.

"There, that's done," he said with satisfaction. "Now, why don't we go down to the pub and have a pint while we wait for Remus to return home? The first round is on me."

Harry shrugged. It sounded like a good idea, and the last thing he wanted to do was wait at home for when Remus came back and took a look at the laundry. "Sounds good to me - especially if you're buying."

He had a moment to wonder what the smug, cat-in-cream look on Severus' face was about. Then the Potions master was sweeping him out of the cottage and down the lane towards the village, talking about the latest Quidditch team Harry had tried out with, and Harry forgot all about it.

****************************************

He had a moment to regret that three hours later. As they sauntered up the front walk, both of them a bit pissed from the number of pints they'd downed, the front door of the cottage opened. There, framed by the doorway, stood Remus in his new outfit. The trousers, already snug to begin with, were now obscenely tight, riding low on Remus' hips and stretched so tightly over his generous endowment that there were gaps between the buttons. The red hunt jacket hung open over his naked chest, probably because he couldn't button it as it had clearly shrunk as well. There was no sign of the starched white shirt Remus had worn with the outfit last time; miserably, Harry wondered if it had been too ruined to even wear.

"Remus, I'm sorry," he began. "I promise I'll replace it - "

Remus gave Harry a quick look, a look that conveyed amusement and a request for silence so vividly that Harry felt his mouth slam shut. Then the werewolf turned his attention to Severus, a severe glare replacing the amusement.

"So there you are," he growled at Severus. "I might have known you'd run off to the pub and get filthy drunk. Proud of yourself, are you?"

Harry drew in a shocked breath; he'd never heard Remus address their other lover like this, and he immediately looked over at Severus, expecting him to let go with one of his infamous displays of temper. To his surprise, the expression on Severus' face was remarkably similar to that of a young boy who knows he's in trouble but is determined to bluff it out.

"What in bloody hell are you going on about, Lupin?" Severus said, with the lofty condensation only the very drunk can manage - and Harry blinked in surprise at that. He didn't think Severus had drunk that many pints. "Harry and I have been out celebrating his latest try-out - "

"You've been getting pissed off your arse," Remus said succinctly, moving towards them, his predatory prowl stretching those trousers in a way that made Harry's mouth go dry. "Do you remember what I told you the last time you went on a bender?"

"Now, Remus," Severus said, a placating "let's all be reasonable" tone to his voice that made Harry blink. Harry loved Severus more than he could ever say, but he'd be the first to admit that "being reasonable" was not one of his lover's attributes.

"Don't even start," Remus snapped. Harry suddenly realized that Remus had a riding crop in his hand as he smacked it sharply along Severus' backside. The Potions master jumped, clearly startled, and gave Remus an incredulous look. Remus ignored the look, pointing toward the cottage. "In. Right now. And none of your lip, if you please."

Severus cleared his throat, and Harry could see that his cheeks were once again tinged with pink. "Yes, Remus," he said with a meekness that made Harry's jaw drop.

"Go to our room and put on what I've laid out on the bed," Remus said sternly. "You have five minutes. If you make me wait longer than that, I'll make you very sorry."

With an air of affronted dignity but without saying a word, Severus swept up the walk and into the cottage. Harry watched him go off, dumbfounded, and wondered if he'd drunk more than he thought.

He turned to look at Remus, not sure what to expect, and saw that Remus was looking at him with a familiar gentle and concerned expression on his face.

"Harry? Are you all right?"

In reply, Harry said, "What was all that about? And why are you so angry with Severus? It's my fault that your clothes are ruined, and he's not pissed off his arse. We only had a couple of drinks, I promise."

"Harry," Remus said, a serious look on his face. "I know you don't understand, but Severus has asked me to put him through a scene."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Oh! You mean...like you were doing that time..."

He blushed, remembering how he'd come down to the dungeon a few months earlier to spend time with his lovers and had heard Severus screaming. He'd burst in on the two men, sure that Remus was hurting Severus, only to find the Potions master begging for more as Remus spanked and fucked him. Harry had been so embarrassed that he'd had a hard time looking Severus in the face for days, while he and Remus had had a furious argument and hadn't talked for an equal number of days.

Remus nodded. "For the next couple of hours, I'm going to have to focus my attention on Severus, and only on him. I won't be able to worry about what you're feeling or thinking. And Severus won't be able to handle you being worried about him or freaked out about what we're doing. So if you don't think you can keep quiet and do what I tell you to do, then I need you to go somewhere else for the night. Do you understand that, Harry?"

Harry nodded, relieved that Remus was leaving the choice up to him instead of ordering him to leave. He knew that, as much as Remus loved him, Severus came first in his affections. Harry understood that because he felt the same way.

And he was curious. So far, the games they'd included him in had been light-hearted, sexy and fun, but ever since his inadvertent intrusion, he'd wondered about the other things they did together, the games that left stripes across Severus' arse and a dreamily-contented look in his dark eyes for days. Now was his chance to find out, to see if he could be part of those other activities -- to find out if there was a chance of his remaining with Severus and Remus after he finished school.

"I'll stay," he said firmly. "And I promise to do everything you tell me to do, and not to interfere in any way."

Remus' face lit up at Harry's answer and he reached out to hug Harry. "Thank you," he said simply. "It'll mean a lot to Severus, knowing you're part of this. Oh, and by the way - this isn't your fault," he said, gesturing towards his damaged outfit. "I'd hung these back in the wardrobe this morning. Severus took them out and tossed them in the washer when you weren't paying attention."

Harry's jaw dropped again - he was beginning to think he should just stay like that. "Why that little brat!"

Remus grinned. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?" he said affectionately. "And now I'd better take care of him before he starts thinking and gets agitated."

Harry followed Remus into the cottage and took a quick look around as he realized that some of the furniture had been moved around. The area around the couch had been cleared out and a pile of blankets and pillows had been thrown down on the rug in front of the fireplace. A tray of finger foods and drinks was sitting on one side of the hearth, obviously intended for afterward.

There was no sign of Severus.

"Severus Snape!" Remus said loudly. "Get your skinny arse in here right now!"

"I won't," said a petulant voice from the bedroom. "I refuse to go anywhere wearing this...this thing. I hate it."

"I don't care if you like it or not! If you aren't out here by the time I count to three, you're going to be in serious trouble. One! Two!"

"Oh, very well," Severus said crossly. "I'm coming."

Harry heard a curious shuffling sound, looked toward the bedroom door, and then had to clap his hands over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. Over the past year, he'd seen Severus wearing a wide assortment of garments, but he'd never seen anything quite like this.

Severus Snape was wearing footie pyjamas. Pink footie pyjamas. Pink flannel footie pyjamas with - Harry paused in his perusal to lean back so he could check out Severus' arse - yes, with the flap in the back held closed by buttons at the corner.

And the look he was giving Remus said that the other man was going to die, slowly and painfully, as soon as Severus could arrange it.

A slight snort of amusement escaped from Harry before he could contain it, and Severus turned his glare upon him.

"Go ahead and laugh, Mr. Potter. I'm sure that Remus can arrange a matching garment for you."

"Harry isn't in trouble, now, is he, Severus?" Remus asked pleasantly.

"He was the one doing the wash," Severus pointed out.

"And you were the one who threw my jacket and trousers in the machine. That was very naughty of you, Severus, and you know how I punish naughty boys." Remus sat down on the couch, setting the crop beside him, and then patted his lap. "You know what to do, Severus."

Severus gave Harry a quick look that he couldn't decipher, then looked back at Remus.

"Harry has promised to behave himself if I let him stay," Remus said. "Don't keep me waiting."

Harry watched as Severus shuffled over to Remus, knelt beside him, and slowly levered himself across the werewolf's knees. He was frozen in place by the door, mesmerized as Remus settled the other man more comfortably across his knees. He was rubbing Severus' backside, murmuring something to the other man that Harry couldn't hear. Then he lifted his hand and brought it down with a sharp smack across the pink-clad bottom.

Harry gasped at the sound and heard Severus catch his breath at the same time. Harry had a feeling he should be horrified at the sight, but he wasn't. Remus was smacking Severus' bottom again and again, a steady rhythm that echoed through the small room. Severus moaned softly after every couple of swats, and the sound went right to Harry's cock.

Remus paused in his spanking. "Punishments should be delivered on a bare bottom," he said, unbuttoning the flap and exposing the white skin below. Harry's breath caught at the sight of that beautiful arse, exposed and framed by pink flannel. It was nearly perfect - and then Remus brought his hand down sharply, leaving a red handprint on the white skin, and Harry thought he would come in his pants.

He moaned out loud, forgetting his promise to keep quiet. How would it feel to be lying across Remus' lap like that, he wondered. How would it feel to have his arse exposed to the cold air of the room, only to be warmed by the rhythmic slap of hand on skin? To feel waves of heat rolling across his flesh as he was spanked, spanked like a naughty child, Remus' hand relentlessly smacking his arse - how would it feel?

Would it be like that time Severus had dressed Harry in his baby-doll outfit, when he had felt so humiliated at being partially naked and in women's lingerie--and so fucking hot that he had nearly exploded before either of his lovers could touch him? Would each smack go straight to his cock, making him harder and harder until he was certain he would cream his pants, right against Remus' leg so he could feel Harry's release and know just what a naughty, perverted boy he was?

And how would it feel to have Severus lying across his knees? To have that perfect white arse displayed and waiting for his hand to paint it in shades of pink, just like the ruined laundry. He could imagine the weight of the other man balanced carefully across his lap, the bulge of his arousal resting between Harry's spread thighs. Severus would be silent at first, stubbornly silent, just like he was when Harry settled between Severus' thighs and took his long, elegant prick in his mouth. It wouldn't take long, though, before he was moaning, his hands grasping Harry's hair as Harry took him deep in his throat, and it wouldn't take long before he was moaning under Harry's punishing swats, his arse pushing up to meet Harry's hand just as it was pushing up to meet Remus' now.

Severus was moaning constantly now, rocking back and forth on Remus' lap, rising to meet the stinging swats and then pulling away from them. Harry imagined that he was rubbing his cock against Remus' leg with each movement; his own hand was down his trousers, desperately stroking his swollen prick while trying to hold off climax so he wouldn't miss anything.

And then Remus stopped the spanking. "I think that's enough of a warm-up," he said, pushing Severus off his lap and onto his knees on the floor. Harry groaned, frustrated by how close he was, close but not there yet, and he heard an echoing groan from Severus. Remus ignored both of them, rising from the couch and picking up his crop as he did.

"Time for your punishment," he said with what Harry thought was obscene cheerfulness. He moved around the back of the couch, smacking it once with the crop. "Over the back, Severus."

Harry saw Severus give Remus a baleful look as he dragged himself up from the floor, the ass-flap on those ridiculous pyjamas still hanging open. Harry sympathised completely with Severus right now; he knew they'd both been mere moments away from a satisfying orgasm, after which they could have collapsed like a pile of puppies on the blankets before the fire, snuggling and nuzzling and licking...Harry's cock jerked in his hand at the thought, and he forced himself to concentrate on what was happening scene before him.

Severus had moved around the couch and was now bent over the back of it, his hands resting on the seat cushion, his arse lifted in the air in a perfect position to be punished. Harry couldn't see that beautiful arse now and he shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other. He wanted to move to where he could see better, but he had promised Remus that he would stay out of the way. And if he broke his word, Remus might not let him stay, might not let him do these wonderful things to Severus, might not do them to Harry.

And right now he knew that he wanted in, that he wanted to be part of this as well as the rest of their games.

"Harry," Remus said, and Harry looked over at him, guiltily. "Come here, Harry. Kneel on the couch in front of Severus."

Harry obeyed, wondering what he'd done wrong.

"Severus, you were very naughty earlier, messing up Harry's wash. You were trying to get him in trouble, weren't you? Did you think that he'd be on the receiving end of this punishment instead?"

Severus jerked up his head and looked around at Remus, clearly startled by Remus' words. Harry mentally groaned; he knew how protective the Potions master was of him - overprotective, in fact. Severus would fuss now, would worry about how this was affecting Harry, might even insist that he be sent away for the evening.

He glared at Remus but the werewolf didn't seem to notice. Instead he said, "I think you need to make it up to Harry, don't you?"

Now that sounded promising. Severus looked him over quickly, and Harry could see that he'd assessed the level of his arousal. Severus pushed up slightly from the couch so that he could draw Harry closer, his hands deftly unfastening Harry's trousers and pushing them down to his knees. Then he bent his head and took Harry's prick into his mouth, taking it deep and swallowing.

Harry groaned and clutched at his lover's hair. He loved it when Severus did this; the Potions master had a mouth that should be listed as a deadly weapon, in more than one way.

"Very good, Severus," Remus said approvingly. "Now for the rest of your punishment. I think six of the best ought to do the trick."

Harry watched through half-lidded eyes as Remus drew back his arm and swung it, smacking Severus solidly across the arse with the riding crop. Severus gasped around Harry's prick, then moaned, and the dual sensation nearly blew out the back of Harry's brain. Another blow, another moan, and Harry began to doubt that he would last to the end of the six. Desperately, he tried to think of something - anything! - that would stave off his impending climax. Quidditch scores, nasty tasting potions, Trelawney with a hippogriff - no, nothing was working, and it was with twin sensations of relief and regret that he spilled himself down Severus' throat just as Remus struck the fourth blow.

Harry screamed and shuddered, feeling his body shake apart clear down to his toes as he exploded. Severus was holding his hips tightly, keeping him from collapsing as he milked the last of Harry's release, and that was the only thing that kept Harry from sinking onto the floor in a pile of post-orgasmic goo.

He was barely aware of Remus finishing the count, or of the sound of buttons popping and Severus' moan as Remus' prick sank deep within his body. What he was aware of was his own need to touch, to taste Severus, and his hands scrabbled at the buttons closing up the front of those preposterous pyjamas until he'd pulled the garment open. He plunged his hand down the front of the outfit, seeking the rock-hard prick he knew he'd find, while his mouth sought out and captured Severus'. There was the slightly bitter tang of his own release, of beer, and underneath that, the flavours that were purely Severus. Harry devoured his lover's mouth, his hand rapidly stroking his prick. The couch and their own bodies rocked under the increasing wildness of Remus' thrusts, and then Severus was gasping and groaning his release in Harry's mouth, and Remus' hips were jerking erratically as he poured out his own climax.

They collapsed onto the nest of blankets, all of them still partially dressed. Severus' pyjamas were open front and back, both Harry's and Remus' trousers were around their knees, but none of them cared. After exchanging weary kisses, Remus and Severus quickly fell asleep, arms wrapped around each other with the Potions master in the middle of the huddle.

Harry stayed awake a while longer, too keyed up by the novelty of the game and his own youthful hormones to allow him to fall asleep at the moment. With a light fingertip, he traces the six lines marking Severus' bottom, marvelling at how perfect they looked, how warm the skin was under his touch. He wondered how it would feel, having stripes like that across his own unmarked bottom, and his prick twitched at the idea.

It was hot, and dirty, and probably kinkier than anything they'd done so far (except, Harry mentally conceded, Remus' birthday surprise). Harry loved it. He could hardly wait for his lovers to recover so he could ask them when they could do this again.