Pairing: Snape/Draco; minor Blaise/Draco
Word Count: ~19,000
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Warnings: D/s; bondage; spanking; minor Blaise/Draco. Draco is 17.
Summary: When Amycus Carrow threatens him, Draco turns to Snape for protection. That choice leads him down a path he’d never thought he’d travel.
Author’s Notes: Written for snegurochka_lee for the fest at snaco_exchange. I could not have asked for a more incredible recipient! Huge thanks to literaryspell for the stellar beta.
“Go on, Mr. Malfoy,” Carrow said, his breath hot and foul against Draco's cheek.
Draco turned his head away in disgust. His grip tightened on his wand as he stared at the small girl trembling in front of him. She was a Hufflepuff, no older than twelve or thirteen, and she was scared out of her mind. Draco would be, too, if he'd been dragged in front of a seventh-year Defence Against the Dark Arts class to be used as a ‘demonstration’ of the Cruciatus Curse's effects.
Carrow was practically panting, he was so excited – both by the girl's fear, and by Draco's reluctance to cast the curse. Gods, this was sick. What was the point? This girl was far too young and innocent to have ever done anyone harm. And she was a fucking pureblood, for Merlin's sake! There was no reason to torture her other than pure sadism.
Draco lowered his wand. “I can't,” he said stiffly.
“Detention, Mr. Malfoy.” Carrow's voice was thick with glee. “Friday night, my office. We'll see what we can do about teaching you to respect your professors.”
Then, to Draco's utter shock, Carrow grabbed a handful of his arse and squeezed. Draco froze with horror for a single second before he jerked away, stumbling into the professor's desk. A quick glance across the classroom reassured him that nobody else had seen; Carrow's stocky body had blocked the sight of his groping hand.
“Take your seat, Mr. Malfoy,” said Carrow, unfazed by Draco's reaction. “Mr. Goyle, you're up next. Let's see if you can do a better job.”
Draco spent the rest of the class numb and oblivious to his surroundings, mind racing in circles. Carrow couldn't mean... He wouldn't dare...
But he had. He'd pawed at Draco boldly, uncaring of who saw or what Draco might do. The threat had been clear: Draco's detention wasn't going to be spent writing lines.
Draco almost gagged at the thought of being touched by that repulsive animal. He simply wouldn't allow it. He'd...
What would he do?
Appealing to his parents for help was out of the question. They were powerless now, the Dark Lord having taken their home and his father's wand. While once the threat of retribution from Lucius Malfoy would have had a man like Amycus Carrow shaking in his boots, right now it was more likely to make him laugh.
There was nobody Draco could turn to. All of the other professors disliked him, and even if they didn't, what could they do to stop Carrow, who no doubt had the Dark Lord's blessing to do whatever he liked? Only the Headmaster –
Draco's head snapped up as the thought occurred to him. Snape. He'd sworn an Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco. Was it still in effect?
A sudden commotion around him brought Draco back to himself – class had been dismissed. He gathered his things, brushing off Pansy's concern.
“I'll see you at dinner,” he said. “There's something I have to do.”
The gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office growled as Draco approached it. Draco lifted his lip in a sneer, unimpressed.
“Tell the Headmaster that Draco Malfoy is here to see him,” he said.
The gargoyle glared. Draco glared back.
Finally, the gargoyle gave a disdainful sniff and its eyes rolled inward. A moment later, the door swung open. Draco stepped onto the circular stone staircase, then almost tripped in surprise when the stairs began moving upward of their own accord. He shifted impatiently until he reached the top.
“Come in,” Snape said before Draco could even reach for the knocker.
Draco pushed the heavy door open. Snape was sitting at his desk, quill scratching rapidly across parchment. He barely glanced at Draco before returning his attention to whatever he was writing.
“To what do I owe this interruption, Mr. Malfoy?”
“I...” Draco had planned what he was going to say while on his way here, but now that he was confronted with the reality of Snape's presence, his rehearsed speech sounded ridiculous even in his own head. Snape was barely paying attention to him. Would he even care?
If the Vow was still active, he'd have to. Draco squared his shoulders and moved to stand in front of Snape's desk, mindful that he hadn't been invited to sit.
“Professor Carrow threatened me, sir. Sexually.”
Snape paused, then set his quill down very slowly and looked up. “Which one?”
It was so far from any response Draco had expected that for a moment, all he could do was blink. “Amycus, sir,” he finally said.
Draco waited, but apparently that was all Snape had to say. Draco frowned and said, “He gave me detention for refusing to cast the Cruciatus Curse. And he – he made it very clear what that detention would involve.”
Snape's face was expressionless. “I suppose you came here to ask me to intervene.”
“I cannot. It is not my policy to interfere with other professors' methods of discipline.” Snape picked up his quill again. “If that is all –”
“You can't be serious,” Draco said, feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach.
“I am quite serious. This is not the Hogwarts of old, Mr. Malfoy. You would do well to remember that, and to watch your step in the future. The Carrows have the Dark Lord's favour at present. My advice to you is not to anger them.”
Snape returned to his work. Draco stared at him, open-mouthed.
“So you're just going to stand by and do nothing while he rapes whoever catches his fancy?”
Snape threw his quill back down. “What would you like me to do?”
“Stop him! You're the Headmaster, you can – ”
“My power is not so limitless as you seem to believe.”
“What about the Vow?” Draco asked, getting desperate. “If he hurts me –”
“The Vow expired with Dumbledore's death and the completion of the task assigned to you by the Dark Lord.”
Draco clutched the back of the chair he was standing behind. “So you no longer care what happens to me? Why protect me then and not now?”
Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I wish you no harm, Mr. Malfoy, but the effort it would require on my part to force Amycus to let you be, the resources I would have to expend... I see no compelling reason to put myself in that position.”
Was that all? Snape just wanted something in return for his protection? Draco nearly sagged in relief.
“Name your terms, then,” he said. “Anything.”
The look Snape gave him was something disturbingly akin to pity. “You have nothing to offer me.”
“That's not –” Draco stopped. It was true. Snape was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and sat at the Dark Lord's right hand; there was nothing Draco could offer him that he didn't already have – power, wealth, status.
“Amycus enjoys the struggle,” Snape said quietly. He looked away from Draco. “If you pretend to give your consent, he will most likely lose interest in you.”
Draco shook his head in panicked denial. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He had no moral objections to using his body as a bargaining chip, but he'd die before he'd willingly let Amycus Carrow touch him. If it were almost anyone else –
In a sudden flash of desperate inspiration, Draco asked, “What about me?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It's something I can offer you. Myself.”
The look of complete astonishment on Snape's face would have been laughable under any other circumstances, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “You are dismissed, Mr. Malfoy. I will not tolerate this kind of inappropriateness, not even from you.”
“You just told me to pretend interest in one of my teachers to make him less inclined to rape me,” Draco said as he rounded the desk. “I think we’ve already crossed the line into inappropriateness.”
Snape swivelled in his chair to face Draco. “What makes you believe I would even be interested in such an offer?”
“Nothing. But I can show you why you should.”
Snape’s brow was creased, his lips set in a thin line. He was going to say no. Draco’s stomach clenched with panic. This was his last – his only – option. It would be no trial to have sex with Snape; the man wasn’t handsome, but he was intelligent and powerful and Draco respected him. And considering his status with the Dark Lord, there were few men who would make a better ally.
Ignoring his stinging pride, Draco lowered himself onto his knees. “Please.”
Snape’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth and then shut it without saying anything. Draco had never seen Snape at a loss for words before.
He reached out hesitantly and put his hands on Snape’s knees. When Snape didn’t pull away, Draco slid his hands up Snape’s thighs, pushing his robes to either side.
Snape sounded like he meant it, but his trousers were already somewhat tented, and that emboldened Draco. He moved one hand to caress the growing bulge. Snape caught his hand and forced it still, but he didn’t move it away from himself.
“Please,” Draco said again. “I’d rather do this for you than for him.”
“That was not a choice you were offered.”
Draco started rubbing Snape’s cock again. Snape let him, though he didn’t move his hand from Draco’s. “Just let me show you,” said Draco.
“You’re that confident in your abilities, that you think you can change my mind?”
For once, Draco wasn’t bluffing. He’d sucked plenty of cock, and he knew he was good at it – better than good. The last time he’d gone down on Blaise, Blaise hadn’t been able to move for almost fifteen minutes afterwards.
After a seemingly eternal pause, Snape moved his hand. Draco took that for the tacit permission it was and worked open Snape’s belt before lowering the zip on his trousers and reaching inside.
Snape wasn’t wearing anything under them, and Draco took a deep breath when he released Snape’s cock. It was… impressive. Far bigger than Draco had expected, especially in girth. None of the boys Draco had fooled around with had been this thick, and Snape wasn’t even fully hard yet.
“Second thoughts?” Snape asked, his amused tone a bit rough around the edges.
“No.” Draco dragged his hand up the shaft from base to tip, his mouth going dry as he felt the weight and heat of Snape’s cock. He leaned forward and licked a single stripe up the underside; it seemed to take forever to get from one end to the other.
Snape leaned back in his chair, breaths steady – too steady, the artificial product of remarkable self-control. Draco kissed the head of his cock, just the lightest brush of lips, then licked around the edge before drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently. He was rewarded with a slight hitch in Snape’s breathing.
Draco put his free hand on Snape’s thigh to balance himself while he worked down Snape’s cock, head bobbing at a slow, rhythmic pace, taking a little more each time. Snape tasted incredible, earthy and masculine, and he filled Draco’s mouth completely. Draco let his eyes fall shut as his own cock start to swell. When he’d gotten far enough that Snape’s cock began to slide into his throat, Draco couldn’t hold back a small moan.
Snape grunted, just a little huffing noise, but it was better than a full-throated moan from anyone else. Draco opened his eyes long enough to see that Snape’s hands were clenched white-knuckled on the arms of his chair. The sight sent a thrill through Draco. He braced both of his hands against Snape’s hips and took in as much of him as he could, increasing his speed, fucking his mouth on Snape’s cock.
“Fuck,” Snape muttered. One of his hands settled on Draco’s head and Draco moaned, then again even louder when Snape used his hand to guide Draco’s movements with gentle but unmistakable force.
Draco let him set the tempo, let Snape use his mouth, and he’d never been so turned on from giving head before. His jaw ached from being stretched so wide, but it was more than worth it to feel that magnificent cock sliding over his tongue, pushing into his throat. The small noises of pleasure Snape made were nearly inaudible, so that Draco had to strain to hear them, but each one made his cock harder.
When Snape started lifting his hips up in minute, irregular thrusts, Draco knew he was nearing the edge. He fisted his hands in Snape’s trousers and sucked as hard as he could. Snape made a noise like he’d had the air knocked out of him and then he was coming, cock pulsing as he filled Draco’s mouth. Draco swallowed every drop and nursed Snape’s cock for more until Snape let go of his head and slumped in his chair.
Draco sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling suddenly self-conscious. It took him nearly half a minute to gather enough nerve to look up at Snape.
The expression on Snape’s face wasn’t what he’d expected. There was satisfaction, yes, but also a strange thoughtfulness that seemed incongruous with the situation. Draco felt like he was being studied. He wanted to get up, but something kept him on his knees.
When Draco didn’t move, Snape did, righting his clothing absently. Draco could actually see him thinking, and that made him uneasy. What about this could possibly require so much thought? Either Snape had enjoyed the blowjob enough to want to experience it again, or he hadn’t. There was no need to stare at Draco as if he were some previously undiscovered form of plant life.
“Are you still determined on this course of action?” Snape finally asked.
Snape nodded once, decisively. “Return tomorrow evening at nine o’clock.”
Draco sagged in relief. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Do not be late.”
Draco was early.
The gargoyle admitted him without a fuss this time, and the door to Snape’s office was standing open. Draco’s heart pounded as he entered the dark, empty room; the only light came from beyond another open door in the opposite wall.
“Shut the door behind you,” Snape said from the other room.
Draco obeyed and then crossed the office, blotting his palms on his robes. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It wasn’t like this was his first time. But then again, he’d only ever had sex with boys his own age. Draco had a feeling that being fucked by Blaise or Theo would have little to nothing in common with being fucked by Severus Snape.
Gods. He was going to have sex with Severus Snape.
Draco halted in the doorway of what proved to be Snape’s bedroom, taking in the sparse furniture, the lack of personal décor. The room was lit with dozens of candles, but they were spaced a little too evenly. There was incense burning, but rather than sandalwood or vanilla, it smelled like sage and cedar. Draco raised his eyebrows and wondered how long it had been since the last time Snape had brought someone to his bed.
Draco ventured further into the room and couldn’t help staring at Snape, who was barefoot and robeless, wearing only trousers and a button-down shirt. Draco couldn’t remember having ever seen the man dressed so informally before.
“Are you certain you wish to do this?”
“Yes.” Just in case Snape was labouring under a certain misapprehension, Draco added, “I’m not a virgin, you know.”
“I do know. You and Mr. Zabini are not quite as discreet as you believe yourselves to be.”
Draco winced. He’d told Blaise it was a bad idea to fuck in the common room, privacy spells or no.
“Take off your clothes.”
The blunt command made Draco inhale sharply. Snape gazed back at him, standing in front of his wardrobe with his arms crossed. Flustered, Draco shrugged out of his robes and then hesitated. He knew without being told that Snape wouldn’t want him to drop them on the floor.
Snape pointed to a nearby chair. Draco draped his robes over the back and then sat on it while he removed his shoes and socks. He felt awkward doing this while Snape just watched him in silence. As he stood and stripped off the rest of his clothing, Draco could feel his skin flushing with embarrassment, which was ridiculous. He’d never been shy or ashamed of his body; he’d never had reason to be. He was beautiful, and he knew it.
Once Draco was naked, Snape crooked a finger and gestured for Draco to come stand in front of him. Draco did so, feeling exactly as he had yesterday – like a specimen in a laboratory. If it hadn’t been for the unambiguous erection ruining the line of Snape’s trousers, Draco would have doubted that the man even wanted him at all.
“Do you come here of your own free will?” Snape asked.
Draco frowned. “You know I do.”
“A simple yes or no will suffice.”
Snape lifted an eyebrow.
“Yes, sir,” Draco amended.
Snape took a step closer to Draco, his eyes intent on Draco’s face. “I will do all that is in my power to protect you from those who would do you harm. In return, you will submit to me. Completely. When you are in this room, you will do whatever I ask of you whenever I ask it, without question. Do you understand?”
Draco nodded dumbly, mesmerized by the intensity of Snape’s expression.
“Should you find yourself unable to do so, you are free to leave at any time. Leaving will end the agreement between us, but there will be no further repercussions. You are not a prisoner, and you are not a slave. I have no interest in submission offered grudgingly. When you are here with me, it is because you choose to be.”
“I understand, sir,” Draco said, even though he was a little confused. Surely Snape knew there was almost nothing he could do that would make Draco break their agreement and put himself at the mercy of Amycus Carrow. Did it really matter if Draco actually wanted to be there? All that should have mattered to Snape was that Draco would rather him than the alternative.
“Do you consent to these terms?”
Snape reached out and touched Draco for the first time, pressing the palm of his hand flat against Draco’s chest. Draco let out a little gasp at how hot his skin was. Snape’s gaze swept him from head to foot, assessing, and when his eyes returned to Draco’s face, they were considerably warmer than before. “Lie down on the bed.”
Draco kept his eyes on Snape as he moved to stretch out on his back on the large bed, the dark green coverlet soft against his skin. Snape turned away, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he walked over to a bureau on the far side of the room. The top of the chest was lined with neat rows of jars and vials of varying sizes. The one Snape selected was squat and crystal-cut, filled with a shimmery amber liquid.
As Snape returned to the bed, Draco found his attention riveted to Snape’s bared forearms. They were sinewy with muscle, the Dark Mark harsh on the left one, lean but still obviously capable of great strength. Draco had never thought of Snape as being physically strong before; he was such a powerful wizard that anything else had seemed inconsequential. Until now.
Snape sat next to Draco on the edge of the bed, unscrewing the lid of the jar and setting it in front of him. The strong scent of cinnamon immediately filled the air. Draco thought cinnamon oil was an odd choice of lubricant, but then, everything Snape had done that night could be classified as odd.
Snape dipped a thumb into the oil and took Draco by surprise by rubbing it over his lower lip. Draco licked it off reflexively. It was actually quite delicious, the taste not nearly as overwhelming as the smell, and it made his lips and tongue tingle.
When Snape leaned down to press his lips against Draco’s, Draco was so startled that he didn’t respond right away. He hadn’t expected Snape to kiss him. Snape bit his lip, demanding entrance, and Draco opened his mouth, sighing as Snape kissed him deeply. The kiss was slow but overwhelming in its force, Snape’s clever tongue searching out Draco’s to twine against it. By the time Snape pulled back, Draco was breathless and half-hard.
Snape re-dipped his thumb, but instead of returning it to Draco’s mouth, he rubbed the oil over Draco’s left nipple. Draco moaned, body squirming as he was caught between conflicting desires to arch up into the touch and to twist away from it. This was so different from what he’d thought the night would entail that he wasn’t sure how to behave, how to conduct himself. He didn’t know what Snape wanted from him – and that was risky.
“You seem uncertain,” said Snape, tugging lightly. “Is this not what you anticipated?”
Snape’s oiled fingers moved to Draco’s other nipple, teasing it as mercilessly as the first. “What did you expect, then?”
“I – I thought you would just… fuck me.”
“Mmm.” Snape bent his head and licked a path up the side of Draco’s neck, stopping just below his ear. “If I simply wanted a hole to fuck, Mr. Malfoy,” he whispered, “I could find one with far fewer strings attached.”
Draco had never heard Snape speak so crudely. His eyes widened even as his cock jumped. Snape straightened up and pinched Draco’s nipple, this time roughly. Draco bit his lip to keep back a groan.
“Do not suppress your responses.”
Snape flicked the little nub, which was oversensitized from the cinnamon in the oil. Draco let out a small cry.
Snape coated his index finger in oil and painted a line down the centre of Draco’s torso, running from the hollow of his throat to his navel. Draco shivered as Snape pushed his finger into the small dip, reminded of the way he had pushed his cock down Draco’s throat the previous afternoon. He wondered if Snape would want that again.
Snape picked up the jar and slid backwards on the bed, pouring a small amount of oil into the palm of his left hand. He ignored Draco’s cock, which was fully hard and starting to drip with precome, and instead reached between Draco’s legs to caress his balls.
“Oh.” Draco automatically shifted his legs wider. “Oh, gods.”
The way Snape was watching him made Draco blush and close his eyes. He felt like he was on display. It should have made him uncomfortable – and it did – but the discomfort was outweighed by a kind of heady, prickling arousal that Draco had never felt before.
Snape worked the oil thoroughly into the tender flesh of Draco’s sac before grasping his cock at the base and giving it a single, agonizingly slow stroke. Draco made a high-pitched whine and pushed his hips up, needing more. He lifted a hand off the bed – to do what, he wasn’t sure – but Snape’s voice stopped him.
“Hands on the bed.”
Draco would have been surprised by the swiftness of his own obedience if he hadn’t been so fucking turned on. “Please. Please, sir.”
Snape stroked him a few more times, too slowly to be really satisfying, and then rubbed his thumb over the leaking head. Draco’s hips lifted off the bed at the torturous pleasure of it, and he whimpered in protest when Snape released him.
“Turn over. Elbows and knees.”
It took Draco a few seconds to coordinate his limbs, but he managed to get into the requested position. Snape tapped the inside of one of his thighs, and Draco moved his knees farther apart without needing additional instruction.
“Good boy. Stay like that.”
Draco was mildly indignant at being spoken to like a dog, but he couldn’t deny the spark of gratification he felt at Snape’s approving tone. The man was ordinarily so difficult to please.
He heard the rustling of clothing and wondered if Snape was undressing, which led to wondering what Snape looked like naked. Was the rest of his body as strong as his forearms, as impressive as his cock?
Draco was jolted from his thoughts by the touch of Snape’s wet fingers on the back of his neck. He tried to control his breathing as Snape drew a line of oil down his spine, pausing only to move his fingers in light circular patterns over the small of Draco’s back.
Draco was so worked up that he moaned in pure anticipation when he felt a finger gliding over his hole. The thin digit eased inside him unhurriedly.
“Tell me, Draco – is this something you will enjoy, or simply something you will force yourself to endure for the sake of your own protection?”
The first finger was joined by a second. Draco plucked restlessly at the coverlet. “I’ll… ah! I’ll enjoy it, sir.”
“Yes,” Snape said, twisting his fingers. “You will.”
His fingertips pulsed against Draco’s prostate, wringing a succession of ragged moans and cries from Draco’s throat. Draco was panting for breath by the time Snape removed his fingers and pressed the head of his cock against Draco’s hole.
Fuck, it was so thick. Draco had never felt anything like it. Snape took him slowly, and Draco had to struggle to accept every inch as Snape’s cock forced his body to yield, to stretch in ways it never had before. The slight edge of pain only enhanced the extraordinary sensation of fullness.
Draco spread his legs even wider and arched his back, trying to take more. Snape rubbed his back, and Draco flushed with pride and pleasure at the noise of approval he made. When Snape’s hips were finally resting against Draco’s arse, his entire cock sheathed inside, Draco realized that Snape was still wearing his trousers – Draco could feel them brushing against his skin. It should have offended him, but the thought that Snape was fucking him clothed while Draco himself was completely naked only made him dizzy with lust.
Then Snape started thrusting, and Draco couldn’t think anymore. As good as the initial penetration had felt, it was nothing to the feeling of that thick shaft sliding in and out of his hole, rubbing over his prostate, setting every nerve alight. Draco pushed back eagerly, trying to get Snape to move faster.
“Tell me how it feels,” Snape said, his hands tight on Draco’s hips.
Merlin, Snape wanted him to talk? Draco blinked, trying to remember how his mouth worked, and gasped out, “Good. So good.”
Snape increased the pace, so that his hipbones slapped lightly against Draco’s arse with every thrust. “And now?”
Draco’s babbling response was completely incoherent, but he was sure Snape caught his drift.
When Draco moved a hand to his cock, though, Snape stopped completely. “Do not touch yourself,” he said, in a tone that brooked no refusal.
Draco moaned in frustration, but he pulled his hand away and resettled himself on both elbows. A horrible thought occurred to him. “You’re not… you’re not going to let me come?”
“On the contrary, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape’s hips started moving again, even faster than before. “I am going to make you come, and I won’t need hands to do it.”
He couldn’t be serious. Draco had heard of such things, of course, but he didn’t think it was possible for him to come just from being fucked, without any direct stimulation to his cock. “I can’t.”
“You can. You will.”
Draco shook his head, but even as he did, Snape shifted his angle and Draco screamed as his prostate took the full weight of Snape’s heavy cock. Snape fucked him relentlessly, battering the same spot over and over again. Draco’s muscles trembled and he fisted his hands in the coverlet, crying out as every stroke sent bolts of mind-shattering pleasure through his body.
An incredible tension began building in his balls and at the base of his spine, winding tightly inward. It took everything Draco had not to touch his aching cock. Heat raced over his skin, and every inch of his body that had been slicked with the cinnamon oil tingled.
Snape leaned forward, and Draco could feel the warm skin of his bare chest pressed against his own back as Snape spoke into his ear. “Come, Draco. Come now.”
Just like that, the tension suddenly uncoiled and exploded through Draco’s body, drawing his orgasm from deep within him and forcing it out through his untouched cock. Draco shrieked, body shaking and knees jerking helplessly against the bed as he climaxed harder than he ever had in his life, spattering the bed with pulse after pulse of hot come.
“Yes,” Snape hissed, hands clamping down on Draco’s hips as he slammed his cock into Draco’s clenching hole. Draco cried out again when he felt Snape come inside him, powerful and scalding.
Draco’s limbs turned to liquid and he collapsed onto the bed, Snape’s cock slipping from him. He gasped for breath as his body quaked with aftershocks. He could hear Snape moving behind him, but he didn’t have the strength to lift his head. When a warm blanket settled over him, he could only mumble his thanks.
Snape sat next to him, trousers done up but still shirtless. He rested a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “When you feel you can walk again, you should return to your dormitory. Even a prefect should not be out this late, and you have classes to attend tomorrow.”
Draco grunted noncommittally. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to walk again.
“You’ll return to me next Thursday night.”
Snape didn’t want to see him again for another week? Draco wondered if he’d done something wrong, but he wasn’t going to ask, not while he was caught in this post-orgasmic daze.
“And Draco – so long as our arrangement stands, you will not allow anyone but me to touch you. You’ve given your body to me, and I do not share.”
“Yes, sir,” said Draco, his worries eased. If Snape was going to be that possessive, he’d obviously been satisfied.
When Draco showed up for his detention the following night, Carrow set him lines and stayed on the opposite side of the room the whole time, a thunderous scowl on his face.
Draco was worried.
He’d gone to Snape’s rooms every Thursday night for the past five weeks. Each time, the sex was more mind-blowing than the time before; that wasn’t what had Draco concerned.
What worried him was that it was the same sex each time.
It was always the same candles, the same incense, the same cinnamon oil – right down to the same sequence of events. Draco would disrobe and lie on the bed, and Snape would tease him to hardness before taking him from behind. Five weeks, and Snape had yet to ask anything else of him, nor had he ever once undressed completely. It was unnatural.
Draco wanted to chalk the whole thing up to more of Snape’s weirdness, but he knew that wasn’t true. The last couple of times, he’d been able to feel that Snape wanted more. Why the man didn’t just ask for it, Draco had no idea. He’d agreed to submit, hadn’t he?
The fear that niggled at the back of his mind was that Snape wasn’t asking Draco for anything else because he didn’t think Draco could give him anything else. If that was true, he was sure to tire of Draco sooner rather than later. Carrow was furious that Draco had gone over his head; if Snape rescinded his protection now, Draco would end up in a worse position than he’d been in before.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Snape started to turn away, but Draco caught his arm. Part of him was appalled at his own audacity, but it had to be done. “I can give you more than this.”
Snape did not look happy that Draco had disobeyed him. “What?”
“There must be something you want, something more than what we’ve been doing. I know I’m not as – as experienced as you are, but I can still… I can give you what you want. Just tell me what to do.”
The anger on Snape’s face cooled somewhat, to be replaced by the contemplativeness that Draco hadn’t seen since their first night together. “Is that truly what you desire? To give me what I want?”
“Of course. Why else would I be here?”
Snape’s mouth twitched, just the barest of movements, and Draco couldn’t help feeling that he’d just passed some kind of test.
“Do you trust me?” Snape asked.
“I…” Draco paused, giving the question serious thought. “I trust you as much as I trust anybody.”
“An honest answer. Let us see how far that trust extends. Close your eyes.”
Draco did, even though standing naked in the middle of Snape’s bedroom with his eyes closed made him feel a little vulnerable. He could hear Snape moving around, first off to Draco’s side, then behind him. A heavy, silken weight settled over Draco’s eyes.
A blindfold. Snape had blindfolded him. Draco’s breath sped up.
“You are safe here,” Snape said.
Snape’s hands settled on Draco’s shoulders. “You’re forgetting yourself, Draco.”
He’d left off the form of address. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Snape moved around him again, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. Draco lay down on his back. With his vision completely dark, every noise sounded louder, every touch magnified a hundredfold.
He tensed when Snape wrapped something soft around his left wrist and pulled his arm up above his head – binding it to the bedpost, from the sounds of it. Snape did the same to Draco’s other arm, so that both limbs were tied securely. Draco couldn’t help testing the strength of the bonds.
Snape stroked a hand over Draco’s chest. “This is what I want.”
Draco took a deep breath and nodded, forcing himself to relax. Snape wasn’t going to hurt him, and nobody else was ever going to know that Draco had let Snape tie him up. He was glad Snape was finally taking what he wanted; it meant he wouldn’t be cast aside. It made him feel safe.
Snape looped thicker bands of cloth around the back of each of Draco’s knees, pulling them up against his chest as he tied them to the headboard. The end result had Draco spread wide, completely helpless and totally exposed. His cheeks burned.
“What a picture you make.”
Draco blushed even hotter at the thought of what he must look like, but his cock took an interest in the pleased warmth of Snape’s voice. He was embarrassed, yes, but he was also too vain not to appreciate the obvious admiration.
He was ready for the kiss Snape gave him, returning it with the enthusiasm he’d learned Snape liked. Snape took his mouth leisurely, biting at his lips and sucking on his tongue until Draco’s mouth was swollen and his breathing heavy. He’d quickly grown to love the way Snape kissed – with single-minded concentration, as if his entire being was focused solely on the taste and feel of Draco’s mouth against his own.
When Snape pulled back, Draco lifted his head in an attempt to follow. Snape chuckled and kissed the hollow of Draco’s throat before shifting backwards on the bed. With his deprivation-enhanced senses, Draco could hear every button on Snape’s shirt sliding through their holes, the rustling of the starched fabric as it slipped off of Snape’s shoulders to land on the mattress.
He cried out in shocked arousal when Snape’s mouth descended on his cock. Snape had never done this to him before, and Merlin, was he good at it. There was no teasing or fancy tricks, just the fierce, straightforward pleasure of Snape deepthroating him over and over. Draco instinctively tried to lift his hips, seeking more of that hot, wet mouth, but he was bound so tightly that he couldn’t make more than the most infinitesimal of movements. He pulled harder against the restraints, but his efforts were just as futile. He’d been trussed up for Snape’s pleasure, and there was nothing he could do but take whatever Snape gave. An unexpected bolt of pure lust ripped through him.
Snape moved his attention from Draco’s cock to his balls, sucking each one into his mouth and laving them with his tongue. The urge to writhe under the sensations was almost overwhelming, and every time the bonds kept Draco from moving the way he wanted to, his arousal stoked even higher. Then Snape’s tongue travelled down from Draco’s balls to flicker over his hole.
Draco had never done that with anyone; he would never have imagined it could feel so good. The cry that issued from his throat was ragged with need. Snape’s tongue traced around his rim, soft but strong, alternating long, slow licks with quick fluttering ones. Just when Draco thought he might go mad, Snape used his thumbs to spread Draco’s hole even wider and plunged his tongue inside.
Draco made a noise he’d never heard himself make before, something deep and primal that originated from his very core. He wished he could see what Snape’s dark head looked like between his thighs. Being fucked by Snape’s tongue ignited an even stronger need within him.
“Please,” he gasped. “Please.”
Snape withdrew his tongue and gave Draco’s hole one last open-mouthed kiss. “Please what?”
Less than a minute ago, Draco had been wishing away the blindfold, but now he was grateful for it. The false anonymity it provided made it less embarrassing for him to say, “Fuck me.”
Snape was silent, and Draco could feel cold disapproval radiating from him. He scrambled to figure out what he could have done wrong, then winced when he ran over what he’d just said. What he’d intended as a plea had come out sounding like a demand.
“Please fuck me, sir,” he tried again, making sure it was clear that he was asking and not ordering.
Snape kissed the inside of his thigh, disapproval vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The bed shifted as Snape stood up, and Draco was hyper-aware of the clanking of a belt buckle, the rasp of a zipper, the rustle of cloth, the pad of footsteps. When Snape returned to the bed, he brought the cinnamon oil with him; Draco could smell it. Gods, he’d never be able to smell cinnamon again without getting turned on.
Snape pushed three oiled fingers into Draco’s hole. It was almost too much to take – the rimming hadn’t loosened him all that much. He breathed through the burn, accepting it as the necessary precursor to having Snape’s incredible cock inside him.
The pain faded quickly as Draco’s muscles adjusted, but Snape showed no signs of moving on. His agile fingers worked tirelessly in Draco’s arse, stroking his prostate, then plunging deep enough to make Draco groan, then pulling back to tease him again. Draco was afraid he was going to come before Snape was inside him, and that wouldn’t satisfy either of them.
“Please!” he cried, his head – the only part of his body that he could move freely – tossing on the pillow.
“Is this not what you wanted?”
“N-no, sir,” Draco said, confused.
“You asked to be fucked. If you wished to be fucked in a particular manner, perhaps you should have been more specific.” Snape’s voice held more than a trace of amusement, but no mockery.
Draco was having trouble thinking through the fog of pleasure clouding his brain. Snape wanted him to be more specific? What did that even mean? Surely not…
Snape removed his fingers, leaving Draco wretchedly empty. “I’m waiting, Draco.”
Merlin, he did mean that.
“Your…” Draco had to swallow hard before he could continue. “Your cock, sir. I want you to – to fuck me with your cock. Please.”
He finished on a whisper, and he was sure his body was red from head to toe. But it was all worth it when Snape ran his hands over Draco’s chest and murmured, “How can I deny a request so sweetly worded?”
Snape lifted Draco’s hips to settle them on his own thighs. For half a second, Draco was puzzled by the feeling of bare skin against his own before he realized that Snape must have taken his trousers off. Snape was naked. Finally. Draco moaned softly.
The moan rose abruptly in pitch when Snape pushed inside him. Unlike all the previous times, when the first penetration had been slow and gradual, Snape sheathed his entire length in Draco’s arse with one thrust. Draco felt like he’d been impaled, muscles working around Snape’s cock as if they couldn’t decide whether to push him out or draw him in further.
Snape withdrew almost all the way and then slammed back in, waiting a couple of seconds before pulling back and doing it again. His hands were bruisingly tight on the backs of Draco’s knees as he kept fucking Draco just like that, slowly but with savage force.
Draco wound his hands around the restraints that tied his wrists to the bedposts, needing to hold on to something to keep himself from flying apart. Every thrust of Snape’s cock made him tremble and gasp, wanting more but completely unable to do anything about it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but accept whatever Snape decided to do with him. That knowledge shouldn’t have made his balls ache so much.
The bonds holding Draco’s knees against his chest suddenly slackened and fell to the bed. Snape pulled his legs straight – Draco couldn’t help flinching as his sore muscles stretched – and lifted them around his waist, lowering his body against Draco’s as he started fucking him in earnest. He bit Draco’s neck, sucking the skin so it was sure to leave a mark – one that anyone would be able to see.
Draco was so used to Snape making him climax untouched that he came the second Snape’s hand closed around his cock. Snape stroked him through it, the pace of his hand matching his hips, until Draco had been wrung so dry he thought he might never come again. Yet even with his muscles turning to jelly and his pulse thundering in his ears from the intensity of his orgasm, Draco wasn’t satisfied. He wanted Snape to come inside him, wanted to feel Snape staking that claim.
Draco gathered what was left of his strength and lifted his hips up to meet each of Snape’s thrusts, squeezing his arse around Snape’s cock on every outward stroke. Snape’s breath was harsh and heavy in Draco’s ear.
“Greedy,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes,” Draco admitted, still grateful for the blindfold.
Snape groaned long and loud when he came, filling Draco not just with his seed, but with triumph and pride. The man would never cast him aside now.
As Snape’s weight settled over him, the small of Draco’s back hummed with warmth.
“Hmm?” Draco said vaguely, then squawked in outrage when Pansy caught his chin and forced his head around to look at her. He jerked out of her grasp. “What the fuck, Pansy?”
“I’ve been calling your name for the past five minutes!”
“So that means you can assault my face?” Draco wiped his chin with his napkin and glared at her.
“You were staring again.”
Draco stiffened and dropped his eyes to his barely-touched dinner. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were mooning after Snape again with that look on your face that says you wouldn’t mind dropping to your knees and sucking him off right here in front of everyone.”
“Pansy! Keep your voice down.”
“Why?” she asked, though she lowered her voice to a near-whisper. “Everyone knows you’re fucking him.”
“They most certainly do not,” he said impatiently. “At most they suspect it, and that’s nothing new. There’ve been rumours since fourth year.”
His eyes strayed back to Snape, sitting at the Head Table. Snape wasn’t looking at him – he had far more discretion and self-control than to stare at Draco in public. Draco didn’t mind; it was nice to be able to look at Snape freely, even though it did sometimes create embarrassing situations when looking led to remembering. The sex between them was different every week now, each time hotter than the last. Thursday night had quickly become the only bright spot in Draco’s otherwise dismal life.
“And that! What’s that about?”
“What?” Draco snapped.
“All the scratching!” Pansy seemed to have learned her lesson about grabbing Draco, because she only gestured to his right hand, which had slipped beneath his robes to scratch absently at his lower back. “Did Snape give you some kind of disease?”
He hadn’t even known he was doing it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, returning his hand to the table. “It’s just dry skin.”
Privately, Draco was sure that the itchiness was from the cinnamon oil Snape insisted on rubbing all over him; it was too intense for his sensitive skin. He didn’t want to ask Snape to stop using it, though. He could ask Snape for some kind of reparative cream instead. Maybe Snape would want to rub that on him…
Draco’s gaze wandered over to the Head Table again, and Pansy’s exasperated sigh went unheard.
They were halfway to the Slytherin dorms when Draco realized he’d left his bag in the Great Hall.
“Hells,” he muttered, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. “I forgot my things.”
Pansy smirked. “I wonder why. Do you want me to go back with you?”
“No, it’s fine. I won’t be more than a few minutes.” Draco turned and hurried back down the hallway before Pansy could argue. He couldn’t bear any more of her smug looks and sly innuendoes.
His bag was still where he’d left it, and a quick inventory of the contents showed everything intact. He slung the strap over his shoulder and returned to the dungeons. He’d almost reached the dorms when a voice behind him said, “All alone, Mr. Malfoy?”
Draco jumped and whirled around. Amycus Carrow was standing a few metres away, an unpleasant look on his ugly face. Draco resettled the strap of his bag and said, “Just going back to my dorm, Professor.”
Carrow took a few steps towards him, looking disappointed when Draco didn’t back up. But Draco wasn’t afraid of him anymore. Carrow could bluster and threaten all he wanted – they both knew he wasn’t going to do anything to incite Snape’s wrath.
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” Carrow asked.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Sure you do. You went running to Snape, batted your eyelashes, pouted those pretty lips, convinced him to take you into his bed. Got him all possessive.” Carrow spat the word like it was a slur. “Bet you think you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger.”
Draco kept his voice steady. “I don’t think the Headmaster would appreciate you speculating about his personal life.”
Carrow grabbed Draco’s wrist and yanked him close; Draco was so startled that he didn’t cry out or even try to pull away. “Listen to me, you little slut. Snape’s going to get tired of even your sweet arse eventually, and when that happens, you’d better hope I’m not too offended that you tried so hard to keep me away.”
“Let go of my arm,” Draco said. His skin was crawling where Carrow was touching him.
Carrow only squeezed his wrist more tightly. “Why don’t we make a deal? If you’re sweet to me now, I’ll take it easy on you when Snape throws you over.”
He pressed Draco’s hand against his groin. Draco let out an exclamation of disgust and wrenched his arm out of Carrow’s grasp, stumbling backwards.
“What is going on here?”
Snape’s voice was soft and deadly and extremely welcome. Draco could hear Snape walking up behind him, but he didn’t look; he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on Carrow.
“Just a friendly conversation,” said Carrow.
“Indeed? Perhaps you’ve forgotten a conversation you and I had, in which I expressly instructed you not to harass Mr. Malfoy.”
“Nobody’s harassing anyone.” Carrow sounded like a petulant child.
“Let me be blunt.” Snape’s hand settled heavily on Draco’s shoulder. “The boy belongs to me, Amycus. Keep your hands off him, or I will castrate you.”
Draco’s jaw dropped a little. Snape had spoken calmly, but it was clear that what he’d said wasn’t an idle threat. He was entirely serious. Draco had expected Snape to defend him, but not quite so… vehemently.
Neither, it appeared, had Carrow. He paled and lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, now, no need for that. I wouldn’t take something that wasn’t mine.”
“Good. Then get out of my sight.”
Carrow practically fled down the corridor. The second he was gone, Snape took Draco by the elbow and dragged him in the opposite direction. Instead of heading for the dorms, though, Snape turned right and led Draco down an adjacent hallway that was rarely used. Every line of his body was stiff with tension and what Draco was pretty sure was fury. Was Snape angry that he’d had to threaten Carrow in order to protect Draco?
“I’m sor –”
Snape slammed Draco up against the wall and kissed him. Draco’s eyes widened for a split second before falling shut, and he moaned into Snape’s mouth, lifting his arms to wind them around Snape’s neck. The kiss bordered on violent, more teeth than lips, and then Snape was pushing Draco’s robes open and tearing at his trousers until he had Draco’s cock in his hand.
“Professor,” Draco said breathlessly, “what –”
He lost the rest of the sentence when Snape started wanking him roughly, bringing him to hardness so quickly that it made him dizzy. The weight of Snape’s body kept him pressed against the wall, unable to reciprocate. Snape’s mouth was aggressive, demanding, travelling from Draco’s lips to his throat, and Draco dropped his head back.
Snape’s hand was a blur of heat and friction on Draco’s cock, bringing him to the edge embarrassingly quickly. Draco clutched at Snape’s shoulder to keep himself from falling over. “What if someone sees?” he managed to get out.
“Let them,” Snape growled.
He pressed his thumb against the head of Draco’s cock, and Draco’s hips jerked as he spent himself all over Snape’s hand, chewing his lip almost bloody to keep from crying out. He slumped against the wall and caught his breath while Snape fixed his clothes and cleaned them up.
When Snape stepped back, Draco stopped him. “Wait,” he said, “don’t you want –”
Snape put a finger on Draco’s lips. “Thursday night,” he said quietly, and then he walked away.