His feelings for Snape were complex. The Potions professor could absolutely still drive him batty. Snape could make him so angry he wanted to hurt someone, but he could also drive him mad with lust. Just with the way he carried himself or with how he held a quill, how he wrote with determination and flourish, how his hands snapped his wand against the desk in impatience and annoyance. Harry had noticed that the annoyance was something that truly turned him on. And Snape was annoyed – a lot.
This time, Snape snapped his wand against his desk and glared at Harry. That glare was impossibly harsh when it bore into him, as though Snape knew exactly what he was thinking of. Harry swallowed noisily. His cock filled with blood so rapidly he was surprised he didn’t faint from the sudden relocation of blood. It pressed heavily against his leg and throbbed. This usually happened more than once every day in Snape’s classes. His lust filled reactions had gotten so bad that Harry often had to rush off to the restrooms after class and beat off. And it wasn’t as though it took long for him to come. Often he could be glad to reach privacy in time. What if he’d come in class? What if Snape would …
The professor moved toward Harry with that purposeful stride. Moments later he
was there. Right beside him, leaning forward and whispering into his ear.
Shivers of anticipation raced through Harry. “Mr. Potter,” Snape said silkily and glanced at his potion. Harry swallowed as he looked guiltily down at his cauldron. The potion had gone transparent instead of purple, as it should have. Harry didn’t dare look up as the whisper of Snape’s breath made his hair stand on end.
“Detention, right after class. It is quite clear you haven’t been paying attention.”
Detention? Harry swallowed again and squeaked: “Yes, sir.”
He didn’t even dare glance at Hermione or Ron. They knew exactly what was going on with him, and it was horribly embarrassing. But the embarrassment did nothing to quell his cock’s enthusiasm. It was still pressing urgently against his thigh. His hands twitched with the need to touch himself, to quell the impossible desire running rampant inside. Harry didn’t know how he would survive this. Snape stood so close he could smell burnt sap. They’d all been burning pine needles for their potions and the classroom was suffused with the scent, but Snape seemed to have absorbed it into his very skin. Harry drew a deep breath, and waited, trying to quell the intensity of his own lust as Snape’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, glancing down to his lap. Harry licked his lips nervously and then, a corner of Snape’s mouth turned cruelly upwards in realization. Their eyes met and Harry felt like crying.
*
The door clicked shut behind the last student and the silence in the dungeons was so compact that Harry thought Snape must be able to hear his panicked thoughts. But Snape only sat behind the desk and stared at him.
“Come,” Snape said curtly and gestured impatiently with his hand for Harry to move closer.
Harry didn’t wish to stand. If he did, it would all become too obvious, unless he wrapped his robes around him like a cloak. And he didn’t … he didn’t want to do that. Harry closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, knowing he would have to do as Snape asked. He couldn’t not obey. Not that it wasn’t in his nature to do just the opposite of what Snape usually wanted, but this … this was different. Harry rose to his feet, cringing when his cock filled impossibly tight with blood. It was a relief to stand, and it was agony. Feeling the pre-come soak his underwear, making him wet, he was grateful for the robes and the small cover they gave him.
“Closer,” Snape said, his voice a low purr now. Harry looked up, saw the lust in the black eyes and nearly sobbed. Snape said nothing else for a long moment as Harry continued to make his way across the classroom. It had never seemed so large before, never so empty and Harry had never felt so exposed and exhilarated at the same time. When he finally reached the steps leading to Snape’s desk he nearly stumbled.
“Clumsy, Potter,” Snape tsk-ed, and the cruel smile returned. It made Harry’s cock harden further and he couldn’t contain a groan. Snape seemed utterly pleased by that noise and Harry felt a little less mortified, and more excited than he’d ever felt in his life. Desire roiled in his stomach like flames, licking his insides, moving steadily higher, closer to the point of no return.
“Part your robes”, Snape instructed and Harry swallowed and looked down, feeling the heat rise on his cheeks. “Meet my gaze,” Snape warned. “Don’t look away.”
Slowly, Harry lifted his head again and licked his lips. His mouth was suddenly so very, very dry. But he parted his robes. In truth, he did more than part them; he slid them over his narrow shoulders and let the black cloth fall to the floor in a puddle around his feet.
“Good,” his teacher purred and motioned for him to come closer. “You need to be punished.”
Suddenly Harry was lying across Snape’s slim thighs. Snape’s motion had been so quick Harry barely understood what happened, and his lungs let out a harsh noise as his chest impacted with the hard muscle beneath. But then he groaned. His cock lay against something hard and hot and human. Snape’s leg. He felt Snape shift slightly, spreading his legs to give Harry a little more stability.
“Lie still,” Snape growled and his steely arm rested against Harry’s shoulder blades, branding him through the fabric of his sweater. The long, claw-like fingers dug into his side and the other hand into the back of his thigh, high up, so close to … and Harry moaned again. The touch was unexpected, painful and so, so welcome. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from rising and falling down his cheeks. His glasses were crooked from the harsh impact of his body with Snape’s legs and he wrinkled his nose in the hopes of putting them right again, but his actions only made them fall to the floor with a soft clicking sound.
Didn’t matter.
“What …?” he began …
“Silence!” Snape said, his voice deeper and harsher than Harry had ever heard it. And sexier. Snape was enjoying this! “Do not speak, unless you wish me to stop,” Snape said clearly, and Harry knew the truth behind those words. If he spoke any more before Snape allowed him, Snape would quit what he was doing and this would never be mentioned again. So, he simply nodded against Snape’s leg, deciding to prolong the sensation by rubbing against it like a cat in heat. The coarse fabric felt so good against his hot skin and he mewled when he felt one of Snape’s hands move closer to his arse.
Fortunately, he caught himself and broke off the noises he was making before Snape could decide to stop. Or perhaps it was all right to make noises, noises of pleasure, pain and appreciation?
“I told you to be quiet,” Snape purred and slapped him, hard, on his backside. The impact was enough to make Harry gasp. He bit his lower lip to avoid making any more noises. The slap was unexpected, but so … pleasurable. Harry wanted more of it. Much more. Perhaps just a bit more noise … He shifted a little, rubbing himself against Snape and keened low in his throat, hoping that it would provoke Snape into doing something … more.
One strong hand moved to his waist, pushing his sweater away and the other lifted him up from Snape’s lap, enough to create space between them. One of the hands then sneaked around his body to the front and opened Harry’s fly deftly. Harry groaned, couldn’t help it. Snape’s hand brushed against the soft hairs on his stomach, the hairs leading down to… Oh! The zipper was snug against his cock, and the sensation of Snape’s fingers so close made him wriggle desperately. There was another determined slap, making him stop his wriggling. Again, equal measures of pain and pleasure shot through his groin. The jeans were so tight.
“Lie still, I said,” Snape murmured, as though he wasn’t quite concentrated on trying to make Harry stop, but was more interested in getting the trousers off Harry.
Harry swallowed, forcing himself to lie still, wanting more.
“You’ve been a bad boy,” Snape hissed. “No student of mine will be so careless in my classes as you have been of late, Mr. Potter.”
As Snape pulled the trousers down across his narrow hips, the underwear followed swiftly. Harry would have fallen flat on his nose, had it not been for Snape’s steadying arm around his chest. He felt safe in the older man’s hands, safe and vulnerable at the same time. Snape didn’t heed the fact that his long fingers brushed against sensitive areas, such as Harry’s balls, and perineum when he pushed the clothing down, although he must have done it deliberately. There was no way Snape needed to go there to get his trousers off. But his mind forgot all thought as he was lowered back onto Snape’s lap carefully by these strong, purposeful hands.
Moments later, there he lay, with his bare bottom in the air. His arse-cheeks already stung from the slaps Snape had already delivered, but not half as much as Harry knew they would if Snape would spank him when he was nude. He shivered with anticipation and a bit from the cold. The dungeons were chilly, but the heat from Snape’s legs seeping into Harry’s body made it bearable. Then, Snape leaned forward, and grabbed the pointer from his desk and whispered softly: “Inflecto.”
Harry had no idea what Snape had used the transfiguration spell for until he felt the first slap of a paddle against his bare arse.
“You’re an insolent brat,” Snape said conversationally and slapped him hard across the left buttock. It stung. Hard. The pain radiated from the place where the paddle had impacted with his bare skin, toward the sides. “You disobey me in class.” Another slap. “You need to be punished for not paying proper attention, despite the fact that potions is a dangerous craft.” There was another slap. Harry groaned deeply each time the wood impacted with his naked skin. The pain shot through him like wildfire, and the pleasure followed immediately after, so intense that his cock twitched happily. One more and he would come, one more …
Slap.
“Ohgodohgodohgod. Oh. God. I’m gonna come, I’m…”
He wasn’t aware he was chanting aloud until the spanking stopped, and complete silence surrounded them. Oh, no, would Snape stop now? He had spoken. He whimpered and his fingers dug into Snape’s legs. “Please, please, please,” he begged. “Please, oh, please.”
“You beg prettily,” Snape said as if pondering whether to allow him to continue begging or not. Harry held his breath. “However. Be silent, or I will cease.”
That would be the worst punishment of all, Harry realized. For Snape to stop now. He glanced upward, looking into the austere face above. There was heat there, in the eyes, but also the same determination that he had seen so many times before, knowing that Snape would do what he wished, with no thought of Harry’s comfort or arousal.
Harry glanced away and made himself lie perfectly still in Snape’s lap, forcing himself not to whimper, not to beg and not to say anything. He was barely breathing. The edge of Snape’s chair dug into the front of his thigh, the trousers were uncomfortably bunched right above his knees and he was straining not to slide to the floor. Lying across Snape’s legs like this was hardly the most comfortable position in the world, and yet … there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
He lay there for a long time, feeling the muscles in the backs of his thighs tensing up, feeling his backside cool. The chilly draft made him shiver there in Snape’s lap, and yet… The older man’s legs against his chest and stomach, the steely arm that was supporting him and keeping him in place, and the incredible heat between his legs made it near impossible not to beg Snape to continue. Pain, pleasure and discomfort jumbled inside Harry and around him in a mixture where he soon had no sense of where the pain and discomfort ended and the pleasure began. He wanted to beg, he wanted it so desperately he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. The scent of Snape, of pines and burning needles made his head swim.
Then – blissfully – there was another impact of the paddle against his bare arse. The slap was harder this time, and Harry bit his lip, but couldn’t stop the groan from spilling over his lips, couldn’t help it when he rubbed deliciously, wantonly against Snape’s leg. His cock was so hard, he’d been hard for so long. It hurt.
Another slap – and another. The pleasure mounted, heat spreading through him and the sensation drove through him like a giant knife. Harry’s fingers dug desperately into Snape’s thighs. Another slap.
“Be still,” Snape hissed and the arm on his shoulder blades pressed at his back, squeezing him tightly against Snape’s legs, and Harry could feel the other man’s pulsing cock pressing urgently into his side through Snape’s trousers. Oh. God.
Another slap.
So. Good. Painful. Biting. Pleasure.
Another slap. So hard this time, Harry couldn’t help whimpering with the agony of it.
Then the softness of Snape’s hand against his fiery hot skin. Caresses. Long fingers moving against his buttocks. They felt like silk, and Harry tried to imagine what he looked like, lying there. His arse cheeks must be bright red by now, signalling his distress and his pleasure. Snape’s fingers felt cool against the hot skin, and Harry burrowed his had down against Snape’s leg once more. His face was burning hot too, and the tears ran freely down his cheeks.
“You never obey,” Snape said. “I told you to lie still, told you to be quiet, but you never know when to quit.” Another slap. Sudden, unexpected and so good.
Oh, if only he would use his hand, his hand, Harry begged silently. He’d give anything to feel the hard impact of Snape’s hand against his arse.
And then Snape was. Another slap, and Harry groaned, the pleasure so intense he couldn’t bear it anymore.
Slap!
And now, Harry was coming, coming and coming!
Instantly, he was pushed down to the floor, like yesterday’s garbage. Snape threw the paddle on the desk with a clatter. Harry’s knees hurt as they smashed against the stone, and the floor was cold against his side where he’d landed. And he was still coming. He groaned.
“Look what you have done,” Snape said, his voice steely velvet, and Harry forced himself to look up. “What am I going to do with you?”
Harry swallowed and saw the pearly liquid on the side of Snape’s thigh, between his thighs. Dripping. Copious amounts of it, as always. His come. His sperm was slowly sliding along the inside of Snape’s leg, onto the chair and the floor and Harry moaned. The mere thought of him coming like that, in Snape’s lap, was enough to make him hard again.
“Lick it up,” Snape said, his voice unforgiving as he turned his head to watch closely. The dark hair fell forward, nearly hiding his features from sight, but Harry could see the excited glint in the depths of his cruel eyes. Rising to his knees, Harry ignored the chill of the stone that seeped through his clothes, and how hard and unforgiving the floor was beneath his knees. He put his hands on the older man’s knees and squeezed as he leaned forward, slowly licking his own bitter-tasting come from Snape’s cloth covered thigh.
He burrowed his tongue into the muscle beneath, feeling the coarse fabric against his tongue. He moved around to lick up every trace of saltiness. His saliva soaked the cloth and the warmth spread over Snape’s thigh, cooling slowly as he moved further down between the man’s legs, licking, sucking and removing every trace of semen. The hiss that slipped through Snape’s thin lips was reward enough, and yet another reward was when Snape slowly spread his thighs, not enough to be blatant, but enough to let Harry know it was an invitation…
Eagerness nearly overwhelmed Harry and his hands slipped as they moved toward the opening of Snape’s trousers, they were trembling so badly. Biting his tongue to keep himself steady and to concentrate on something other than the deep-hot desire that was still running through him, Harry finally managed to open Snape’s trousers. He looked up at the older man who was now completely silent, watching him intently. Waiting.
Pulling down the zipper of Snape’s pants Harry wished he had his wand, but it was lying in the robes, pooling on the floor a few feet behind him. He looked at Snape, wondering if he would … Then Harry found himself not caring.
“Accio,” he whispered and felt the reassuring sensation of the wand settling comfortably in his hand. “Avexi Avectum,” Harry whispered and it was as though Snape’s trousers just melted away. A slight widening of the dark eyes above was the only reaction, and a small lifting at the corner of Snape’s mouth. The cruel smile was a reward, and it made Harry’s cock twitch happily.
Then he settled between the older man’s legs, his hands moving across wiry thighs covered with a dusting of springy hairs. The hairs caressed Harry’s palms as he moved toward his prize. They tickled, but not unpleasantly, and Harry swallowed as he felt the muscles beneath his hands tense as he moved closer to Snape’s cock. Then he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the base of it. The sensation was … impossible to describe. So hard, so big. Snape’s cock was longer than his and it had slightly more girth. And it was so velveteen. For some reason, Harry had expected Snape’s cock to be just as unforgiving and harsh as the rest of the man, but it was smooth, and it pulsed in his hand, alive and needy. Vulnerable, somehow.
The want inside Harry settled like a warm, aching hunger in his throat, and his mouth produced saliva as though what he was about to taste was the most delicious thing in the world. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his lips around the hard, satiny length. So soft against his lips, smooth. He flicked his tongue over the tip.
A minute movement, and an almost imperceptible gasp was the only concession to pleasure on Snape’s part. Harry decided that before he was done, he would hear that delicious voice let out a moan or something … a word of pleasure, or words of begging. If he could only keep his own head cool. It was difficult when his cock was so hard it was painful. Sometimes, it was a curse being young and able to get hard three or four times a day without trouble.
Forcing himself to concentrate on what he was doing rather than the ache between his legs, Harry moved his mouth down on Snape’s cock again. The head slid smoothly against his lips, and the shaft moved deeper into his mouth, settling against his tongue and caressed the back of his throat. Harry moaned and sucked hard, swirling his tongue greedily against the length of it.
The taste was incredible. Clean and warm. Even here, Harry imagined he could taste burning pine needles. He would never think of trees the same way again.
At first he tried to do what he thought Snape would like, thinking ahead about how to bring out pleasure. Licking here and sucking there, swirling his tongue where he thought it would provoke the strongest reaction, but nothing seemed able to lure any kind of noise from Snape.
So Harry abandoned his plan, allowing himself to enjoy what he was doing. The sensation of the throbbing vein beneath the head as it vibrated against his tongue. Harry lavished the shaft with saliva, eagerly, ignoring the fact that sloppy noises filled the air. He moved further down, licking the underside of Snape’s cock, tasting it. Loving the feel of it. It was so smooth and hard, like a rock that had been lapped by water for decades. Warm against his tongue. And the balls, soft and taut at the same time, moving closer to Snape’s body with each lick. The balls springy hair tickled Harry’s tongue, and he licked them lovingly, rolled them in his mouth, sucked them, ignoring the saliva that trickled across his chin. He was drooling, slobbering and wetting Snape with his saliva – he didn’t care. He just wanted more of the taste of Snape’s cock, feeling it alive in his mouth and beneath his fingers. Moving upwards he continued licking and then wrapped his lips around the head, allowing his tongue to taste the pre-come there, and he hummed with pleasure. So salty, so sweet, so bitter. Oh, he couldn’t get enough. More. He wanted more of that taste. Moving up and down, faster, more eager, he forgot the fact that he wanted Snape to say something, do something, to show how much he enjoyed this, because Harry was enjoying it enough for the both of them.
Oh. Yes. So. Good. So. Good.
“Oh.”
The noise was so soft at first that Harry barely noticed, but he could feel the cock hardening even more against his tongue, his lips and his throat. The vein seemed to pulse faster, and the vibration against his tongue was enough to make Harry groan around the tasty treat in his mouth. The groan vibrated across the velvety skin. Harry licked the head, wickedly, wanting more of that bitter taste. Another small amount of pre-come seeped out onto his tongue and he swallowed greedily, working his throat muscles around the shaft.
“Oh.” Another moan, this time a little louder and now Harry noticed. The noise sent a stab of pleasure through his stomach to his cock, and he groaned around the head of Snape’s penis on an up stroke. He glanced up and saw Snape’s head leaning to the side, his mouth slightly open in pleasure. He wasn’t beautiful in his pleasure, exactly, but Harry had never seen anything so arousing in his life. Strands of ink-black hair spread across a sallow cheek. Snape’s eyes were heavy-lidded, but still watching Harry intently to keep track of what he was doing. Still, in control. Harry continued his task, even more enthusiastic now that he knew that Snape was enjoying it.
His cock throbbed against his thigh, and the hard stone was hurting his knees, but Harry didn’t care about either, only the feel of Snape’s cock in his mouth and against his fingers.
“Ah.” Another moan and a small twist of Snape’s hips, as though he couldn’t quite contain himself.
Losing it now. A thrill coursed through Harry.
He felt Snape’s thighs tense incredibly, and then there were hands on the top of his head, reclaiming control, guiding him and showing him exactly what to do to make things even better. And the cock in his mouth was moving on it’s own now with Snape’s thrusts. Harry didn’t have to do much but relax and allow his mouth to be fucked ruthlessly. He was moaning continuously now, his sounds of pleasure mingling with Snape’s.
Their noises echoed against the stone walls of the dungeon, and Harry knew it wouldn’t take much for him to come. Not much at all. And soon so would Snape. He knew it. And his body hummed with pleasure at the knowledge.
And there it was, the taste – it exploded across his tongue as the strong fingers buried themselves in his unruly hair, and Snape shoved his cock as far into Harry’s mouth as it would go. Saltiness, bitterness and pleasure mingled on his tongue, pulsed, hard enough to pour out of his mouth and dribble across his cheek. He couldn’t swallow it all, but Harry barely noticed because he was coming too, spurting across the cold stone floor, in violent spasms. He was groaning around the cock in his mouth, weeping with pleasure and pain.
Everything hurt, the hands in his hair burrowed against his scalp, not caring if they caused pain, the cock fucked his mouth, over and over again, until the orgasmic pulses diminished, until Harry’s throat was raw, and his face wet and sticky with Snape’s come.
Snape pulled back and even that was pain. Harry’s mouth ached with the emptiness that hard, wonderful cock left behind. Harry groaned and opened his mouth, trying to alleviate the soreness in his jaw.
What a mess he was. He looked up at Snape, wantonly, uncertainly, and his master leaned down on the floor, taking his face into both of his hands. The dark eyes glinted in stark approval as a long fingered hand dug into his hair in a harsh caress.
“You did good, Harry,” Snape said proudly, and then leaned forward, kissing Harry’s come covered lips deeply, delving his tongue eagerly into Harry’s mouth. Harry took the kiss greedily, loved the taste of smoke on Snape’s tongue. And he moaned as the older man wrapped him up in his arms for a while. Warmth seeped into his body, and Harry felt so safe. But it was over all too quickly. What would happen now?
“Restutio,” Snape whispered, extracting himself from their embrace. He was impeccably dressed when he rose, clean and ready to face the world. “Next time,” he said and looked at Harry with promise in his cruel eyes. “Next time, I will fuck you.” Then he turned around and left.
Harry was left sitting on the floor in front of Snape’s chair. He slowly rose to his feet, almost unable to stand from the stiffness in his body. His face was still stiff with drying saliva and come. But nothing could keep the grin from spreading across his face.
Next time …
END