Pairing: Severus/Original Male Character
Warning (highlight to view): For right much no plot but a good portion of porn—of the dubious consent variety.
Word Count: 1719
Summary: Severus was used to the Ministry fucking with him . . .
Disclaimer: This work of fan fiction is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from (and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by) the posting of this fan work.
Author's Note: I thought I was down a snapecase pinch hit, but hurrah! a pinch hit arrived—so have a bit of 30-minute PWP.
The Potions classroom was scentless and sterile; Severus had seen to that almost the moment that Dumbledore had told him that it was his, and he'd done it without magic. But no matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn't forget. Lily was dead. He had not saved her.
My best friend. My only friend. Once . . . .
How he'd found himself a teacher, and he, not so long out of school, was beyond him.
How in Merlin's name did I allow this to happen?
Severus barked out a laugh at his ridiculous, silent question.
"I have no power."
No, and he'd never had any, had he?
He was thinking about how unlikely it was that he'd ever have any sort of power, ever, when the door to his classroom creaked open. Severus spun about, wand drawn, to find an Auror standing there.
"I don't know you."
"No," said the Auror, "you don't. But you're going to."
The way the man's mouth curved into a slow smile made Severus hard.
"—too difficult, I imagine, if you cooperate."
"Auror Masters," Severus said, "I was under the impression that—"
"You were under Headmaster Dumbledore's protection," interrupted Masters, "yes. But that's not quite enough for the likes of you. We need to be certain of you if you're to be entrusted with the instruction of our children."
Glaring at the fit, shaggy brown-haired man before him, Severus snapped, "You have children here?"
Masters smiled and allowed his own eyes to follow the line of Severus' body. "I speak of wizarding Britain's children. We cannot have one of the Dark Lord's minions—"
"I'm not his man!" Severus shouted.
"And are you Dumbledore's?"
Severus swallowed; Masters was now so close to him that he could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I—"
"Want to atone, to grieve, to release that grief," whispered Masters against Severus' ear.
Hating himself for his own weakness, Severus rasped, "What . . . have you . . . done to me?"
"You're young." Masters ran a thumb over Severus' lower lip. "All I did was show up male."
Severus groaned though the lip he'd taken between his teeth and was shocked when Masters lightly smacked at his mouth.
"Don't. Don't hurt yourself. Let me do that for you."
"Wha—what do you mea—"
The kiss was uncompromising, and Masters took Severus' mouth with a silken tongue, which Severus met with his own until—
"Ow! What the—"
"Relax, it's only a little blood," said Masters, before spitting it into a phial that he immediately pocketed. "Now strip off. I want to see your body."
Every part of Severus flushed. "No. No, I won't do that."
"You will," Masters told him, stripping off his robes and tossing them aside.
"Yes." Masters smiled. "Yes, because you want to feel my lips and hands and teeth and cock work your body. You want what pleasure I can give you." He stepped up to Severus and look down into his wide needful eyes. "And you want to feel the pain, too. I know you do."
A white-hot coil of cold thrill uncoiled itself inside of Severus and, unbidden, he breathed, "Punish me. Make me forget."
Severus felt no awkwardness in the asking, of course. It was his dream after all. But the hard yank of a hand in his hair brought him back to reality.
Masters ordered, "Look at me. This is real. It's happening. It's happening to you."
"No," Masters said, over the scrape of teeth at Severus' throat, "just me. Just your Masters."
When the man grasped the base of his cock through his trousers—and where the hell had his robes gone?—Severus shuddered so hard he thought he might shatter.
"You will not come."
"I wi—will! I can't sto—"
Masters pushed Severus into the desk and down onto his back, and Severus heard the sound of wood splintering and stretching as the . . . the legs, yes, it must be the legs, of the table branched off and strained to wrap themselves around his wrists and thighs.
A spell stopped Severus' mouth, but he could still gasp through it, and gasp he did as the wood dug into his flesh. Hurts! he thought, desperately seeking Masters eyes.
"Yes, of course it does," Masters murmured. "Punishment, remember?" He followed his question with a smack against one of Severus' nipples and a twist of the other one before—
Severus struggled, hard, as Master bit his way down his body. His skin, now uncovered to the air, was on fire, his cock, harder than it had ever been, and weeping.
Weeping, Severus thought, surprised to find himself crying. He struggled harder.
"Yes, I like that. I love that. Keep doing that," Masters ordered, before sucking Severus down to the root.
Severus had never been in anyone's mouth before, and Masters' was hot and unyieldingly grasping while his tongue did, while it did, while it—
Gods, gods, gods, I can't, I want, he won't, oh, please, plea—"
"No." Masters' voice was rough. "No, this is punishment. You will not come. Not yet. Perhaps, perhaps never again."
"Mmmmmrmph! Nrmph! Ohrmp!"
The back of Masters' hand across his cheek was a surprise, and Severus' tears came quickly as the silencing spell fell away. "Oh, please! Please let me. Please!"
"Feel the blood running down your wrists? Feel the wood cutting into your thighs?"
It was cold. Masters had left the desk. Severus hadn't even realised he'd moved.
"Yes. I . . . I feel it, master."
The second slap was harder, made Severus' ears ring. "My name is Masters. Use it, Death Eater."
"Masters! Masters, I'm not a Death Eater!"
Severus struggled against the scraping of the thin tendrils of wood that flowed from the desktop towards his cock.
"Don't do that! Don't hur—"
Suddenly against his throat, Severus felt Masters voice rather than heard it. "Hurt you? But you wanted punishment," he hissed, as the wooden strings encircled Severus' cock. "You wanted pain."
"Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck me!" Severus shrieked.
The wood had heated, was heating, up around him as it trapped Severus' cock in braids of pain, separating his shaft from his testicles and harshly dividing his testicles from each other. There could be no orgasm now, no matter how desperate Severus wanted one as a thicker, smoother piece of living wood entered his arse, but only just.
All those "just the tip" jokes of his boyhood almost caused Severus to laugh, but instead, he sobbed.
"Yeah, oh, fuck yeah." Masters' voice grew more emphatic but fainter as he spoke. "I do want to fuck you, but—"
Severus gasped as Masters returned to look over him.
"—I don't fuck Death Eaters."
The wooden plug pressed into his arse, teasing it open, bit by maddening bit, but no matter how much Severus attempted to bear down upon it and take it into himself, he could not move.
"Please, please, please, Masters! Please fuck me! I'm not, I'm not, I'm not a Death Eater!"
"N—no, oh, no! No! No, I'm not! I swear!"
The flesh of his opening grasped unsuccessfully at the plug.
"What will you do to prove it?" asked Masters.
It was as if cold water enveloped him from all side, taking with it all bit a hint of his previous arousal. "No! No, why would—"
The pain in his wrists, thighs, cheeks, and bitten places of his torso throbbed as his cock went quiescent.
Over Severus' desperate, disappointed throbs, Masters spoke. "The ruined orgasm. One of the better tools in my arsenal. You were saying?"
"Wasn't," Severus spat, with great bitterness. "You were 'saying'."
"Don't get stroppy with me, Snape. I can give you so much pleasure that you'll die from it. Now, what will you do to prove you're not a filthy Death Eater?"
"Nothing, you—no! Oh, fuck!"
The sudden, desperate reawakening of Severus' body was so much more painful than anything he'd yet experienced at Masters' hands. And Masters had been right; he could not bear it. He was going to die. Over his shrieks, he heard, quite clearly, a question.
"What will you do to make them stop, boy?"
The plug moved, then, expanded, rubbed repeatedly over Severus' prostate until his sobs turned to laughs and then to incoherent pleading. An eternity later, the cold, painful joy of relentless, cascading orgasm thrust him from consciousness.
As he awoke, he knew not how long later, a great warmth enveloped his body, which felt soft, smooth, and entirely soothed. Severus opened his eyes.
He was in a large, comfortable bed . . . in the middle of his classroom. He would have started up, but he felt entirely too sleepy—sleepy, not drained—to do so.
"Ah, you're awake."
A fully dressed Masters entered into his line of sight, cheerfully gazing upon a silver, steaming phial.
"It's a test. On your blood. And you passed."
It wasn't what Severus had intended to say when he uttered, "You never fucked me."
"That's true. You may not be the Dark Lord's man, but you still bear his Mark." Masters' tone was matter of fact but not unkind. "Muggles call them psychiatrists. You might want to seek one out, to talk. You seem like you need to talk to someone."
Severus frowned, but the languid sensation heavying his limbs couldn't be denied.
Masters sat down next to him and smiled, again, not unkindly. "My methods vary, of course, but I do believe that you're not a Death Eater anymore, and so my report will indicate."
"Relax, Snape. For official purposes, our interview was as standard as can be. Now then, let me help you up. The bed's not going to last much longer after I leave."
On his feet and dressed, Severus started a bit to find himself so. "Where did you learn all that, er, those spells?"
Masters made Severus a slight bow. "Trade secret. Take care of yourself. At least, let someone else do it. Dark and brooding? That's popular in a lot of places."
With those words, Auror Masters left Severus standing alone again in his classroom.
Oh, fuck! he thought, suddenly entirely mortified. My classroom!
Severus didn't leave it until well into the following day, and this time, he cleaned it with magic—but the room never again felt sterile to him again.