A Lesson Learned
They rested like that for a moment, Snape reveling in that smallest of caresses, squeezing his own balls between his thighs to stave off orgasm yet awhile longer. Then he gave a pat to the spreading, wet patch on the front of Harry's jeans and withdrew his hand. Harry whimpered.
Oh, that sound! He felt the uncommon urge to award points for it as he immediately clapped the hand to the base of his own cock and squeezed, just in time. He got his breathing under control and commanded "Remove your clothing, Mr. Potter." A flick of his wand removed his own robe, and he stood there in his shirtsleeves, itching with anticipation, his erection tenting the finely-buttoned front of his shirt.
He watched Harry push himself up and slide off the desk, the toes of one foot touching down first, the other foot following with a twist of his hips. Snape backed up a step giving Harry room to stand, then glowered at him, though he could hardly be disappointed in Harry's response so far. And oh, those wide, green, pleading eyes! It was just about more than he could stand. Mercy, indeed. Well, he'd been such a delicious experiment so far, perhaps a little mercy was in order. Not that it would do to show it this early. He plunged his hand into his voluminous robes again, and again pushed his balls back between his legs and squeezed, then crossed his arms and stared back stonily at Potter. "Well, get on with it!" he commanded. He watched Harry dither a bit more then come to the realization he would have to comply. He squeezed his legs harder together as Harry raised a shaky hand to his collar and began quickly to unfasten the buttons of his robe. "Just slide it off, Mr. Potter." Harry, startled, yanked each sleeve in turn, and was already working on the buttons of his baggy jeans by the time the robe pooled at his feet.
Another command: "Face down on the desk, Mr. Potter." Snape shifted the heel of his hand to press at the base of his cock as he watched Harry stand there, bewildered, his small, naked body still weak and trembling from what was probably his first orgasm in front of anybody, ever, and "Ungh!" the amazing recover power of youth – his breath caught in his throat as he realized Harry's penis was beginning to stir again. Snape, now horribly impatient with need, shouted "Now!" at him and backed away another step; Harry obeyed with enough alacrity to belie the shamed and hating look Snape caught from him. Snape saw this almost gleefully, but immediately winced when Harry's penis, mostly hard again, grated on the cracked, roughened edge of the desk as he obediently lay down upon it. It must have been as painful as he thought; Harry yelped. Snape, with the speed of a seeker, reached around with his free hand, and tilting Harry's hip up, yanked his penis down over the edge of the desk. The touch of his hand instantly hardened Harry the rest of the way. When Snape let go, Harry's penis snapped back quickly, the velvety, over-sensitized organ halting head-down in its progress, smacking the side of the desk with a small thud. Harry yelped again. Snape was suddenly very aware of the front of his shirt rubbing wetly against the tip of his leaking cock.
Snape admired the vertical display, set out like the plates of plastic food displayed on the walls of the tackier muggle restaurants. Not that this vision of Potter laid out for his singular consumption was anywhere near tacky; and frankly, the thought of its salability made him shudder – but this feast was not for sale. Indeed, it couldn't be more unlike the commercial and public satiation of hunger, even though the delicious feast laid out before him fed just as basic a need. He felt more like a spider who has finally managed to capture her preferred prey, after much stinging and sticky manipulation. But sticky wasn't what he wanted just now. Snape held out his wand and muttered "Accio lubricant," then leant back and tossed the wand on his desk while a small stoppered vial zoomed toward him from across the room.
The vial slapped into the palm of his hand. He removed the stopper with his thumb and forefinger and poured half the thick, oily contents liberally over his straining erection, other hand still tightly gripping the base of it. He re-stoppered the vial, set it carefully on the desk beside Harry's right ear, and spread the slickness around his cock while furiously thinking of pickled frog's brains and focusing his gaze resolutely on the shelves of jars at the back of the class – after all, it wouldn't do to come now. He managed to subdue his desire to a manageable level, spread the remaining oil over the fingers of both hands, drew in a deep breath, and gently slid his fingers up and down between the smooth, honeyed globes of Potter's ass.
Hot, sweet perfection. And so was the moan Potter emitted, vibrating straight through Snape to his cock. The tiniest glow of moisture appeared on Potter's skin. At the tip of Potter's cock a tiny bead of precum swelled; Snape watched, enrapt, as the weight of it drew it downward, still attached by an elongating string, before separating in the middle and dropping with the tiniest of splashes on the cold, stone floor, the remainder springing back to bead and swell again in the slit of Potter's cock. Ah, beautiful. But perhaps a better view… "Spread your legs," he commanded, and he was rewarded with that moan again, as Potter complied. Snape fought hard not to come in his shirtfront as those slender, never-ending legs spread as wide as possible, hands reaching up in front of him to grab the edge of the desk for balance, toes barely touching the floor. Potter's, tiny, wrinkled hole winked shyly between the cheeks, and his pink-flushed balls were fully visible now, pressed against the base of his cock. Snape moved his fingers to circle the hole, producing more delicious moans from Potter and making the little pucker glisten in the bright torchlight of the classroom. He pulled his fingers back slightly to admire the effect.
Then popped his index finger in up to the first knuckle.
Potter gasped. His muscles clenched against the intrusion, and he squirmed even further onto the desk to get away from it. The sight of his futile struggling pushed Snape to the very edge. He stood there, still, trying to hold back… Potter uttered an exasperated "hmmf!" and gave a last, frustrated wriggle –the movement pushed Snape's wrist back to brush over the tip of his erection and suddenly he felt his passion rising like carbonation in his blood, bubbling through his muscles and out through the surface of his skin, and he was coming unstoppably – hips rhythmically thrusting his cock against the front of his shirt, hot semen coating the inside of his button seams and sticking wetly to the smooth skin of his stomach.
He struggled to get his shaking knees under control, saying nothing, drawing measured, deep breaths through his nose and out his mouth. Just a minor dent in his plans. Just a delay. He would have Potter. Today. A small, anticipatory smile curled his lip.
He carefully pushed his finger in to the second knuckle. Again, the useless wiggling, and now Potter was whimpering, too. "Does it hurt?" he asked. He'd meant it as a dig, as a means to gloat – but it came out husky, almost gentle. Hmmm. He'd have to rectify that. Perhaps a little distraction…
"N-no…it's – why? – it's uncomfortable – " Potter left off there; Snape was pushing in further and circling with the base of his finger, stretching the ring of muscle. He took aim with his free hand and slapped a rough, red print on Potter's ass. As Potter let out a thoroughly startled squeal, he slipped in another finger beside the first, and pushed them both as far as they would go. He held them still for a moment, the only slight movement coming from Potter's heaving breaths. Snape looked up at the side of Potter's face. Apparently, the distraction had worked – there was a small pool of tears collecting in the hollow of his eye near the bridge of his nose. Snape felt a tingle in his stomach and he was hardening once more.
Humiliation was fine, but he was honest with Potter when he said he didn't want to leave marks that showed. He didn't really want to hurt him, just teach him a lesson he would never, ever forget. To these ends, he circled his fingers slowly in Potter's tight, hot ass, setting up a slow, soothing rhythm and gently relaxing and stretching him. Potter sniffled. Snape heard, and hardened completely.
He moved forward, lifting the hem of his shirt with one hand and pulling the fingers of his other out of Potter's ass to aim himself. And then Potter sighed, a little disappointed sound, which aroused Snape so deliriously he lost every bit of patience and thrust himself in immediately up to the root.
Snape held very still, Potter's hips in a death grip, struggling again not to come too soon.
Potter's hitching breaths eventually slowed, and the urgency of Snape's desire waned enough to withstand some slow, even stroking. Potter whimpered. Delicious.
And then he panted.
And suddenly he was muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Harder!" and Snape was thrusting as hard as he could, intense lust driving him out of his reckoning, and suddenly Potter's ring of muscle clamped around the base of his cock, semen shooting to the floor and slashing between Snape's feet, and Snape was shooting too, bathing Potter's insides with hot, liquid pulses…
He stood behind Potter for several moments, frozen in place, their breaths whispering a serried rhythm into the silence of the dungeon classroom.
He unclenched his hands from Potter's hips and was a little shocked to see the bruises there. Never mind, he'd heal them in a minute. No marks. He rested his hands to either side of Potter, and leaned down to press his mouth to Potter's ear. "Perhaps this is a lesson you will remember..." He was rather relieved to hear the biting, sarcastic tones returned to his voice.
He slid is softening cock out of Potter's ass and pushed himself upright. He turned on weakened limbs and reached back to his desk for his wand, healing the outward appearance of the bruises he left on Potter's hips, but leaving a little pain. This was a punishment, after all. He flicked the tip of his wand across Potter's dripping crack, muttered "Scourgify!" and commanded "Get up and get dressed, Mr. Potter. I'd better not see you here again." But his tone lacked conviction. In truth, he would love to see Potter's lithe, slender body exposed to him again, writhing underneath him, willingly underneath him – and how sick was he to suddenly want Potter to want him?
Could he? Snape took a long, lingering look at Potter as he groaned and raised himself up from the desk, limbs shaking, the tip of his softening cock glistening with the remains of his orgasm, his countenance radiating his completely and thoroughly debauched state, and something else – ah, yes, a touch, a blush of shame. Snape's blood began to heat again, but his cock was too tired to rise. Just as well. Potter dressed quickly and shuffled out, leaving Snape to contemplate this latest twist in his already-kinky soul.
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