by Abstract Concept
Snape leaned back against the bar, a glass of Firewhisky in hand. It
was crowded tonight—as he’d expected, since it was, after all, Friday
night. He usually avoided coming here on weekends, as his social phobia
tended to cause a rise in blood pressure.
But if you wanted to find a sweet young boy to spend time with, you’d
have more luck in a large crowd on a Friday than on a dead weekday
evening. So Snape suffered the press of bodies.
“See anybody you like?” Hyde, the bartender, queried. Hyde had opened
“The Gentlemen’s Club,” one of the rougher gay wizards’ clubs in
England, almost ten years ago.
Snape scanned the room. The place was renowned for the lack of
inhibitions; if you wanted to try something new, the Club was the place
to be. And while it always looked wild, just bordering on
out-of-control, there were usually spotters and bouncers discreetly
patrolling the place and, of course, the wards.
“No, there’s no one I—”
Snape stopped short as the front door opened just far enough to let a
scruffy head pop through and look around.
Talk about a rise in blood pressure! What the devil was Potter doing at
a gay club?
Snape looked around, hoping no one had noticed the boy. There were no
age limits here, not if you came in of your own free will, and the
wards could tell the difference. This was usually not an issue, because
The Club was so very discreet.
Potter, however, was precocious, prying, and apt to get into anything
he wasn’t supposed to get into.
But even if Potter hadn’t been just barely fifteen years old, Snape
would have been just as furious to spot him here. Didn’t the boy know
there were people after him? Didn’t he understand that Dumbledore had
done everything in his power to make the brat safe? But of course,
Potter wouldn’t be Potter if he didn’t take idiot risks.
Snape was already snaking his way across the crowded floor. If he could
only get to the fool before anyone noticed—
It was too late. A man dressed as a cowboy had been standing by the
entrance, and he spotted Harry straight away. “Well then, sugar,” the
man said, touching his brim in salutation, “what’s a sweet young thing
like you doing here?”
Potter lit up. There was no other way to describe it. It was like
someone had cast Lumos behind
“Leaving,” Snape growled,
grabbing the brat by the arm. “He was just leaving,” he said to the
strange cowboy and the room at large.
The boy looked at him, completely stunned to see him there. Or maybe it
was merely the lack of robes, the fine shirt and the taut black
trousers. Then Harry seemed to realise Snape still had hold of his arm.
“I’m not leaving,” he said, trying to yank his arm away. He was such a
small thing though, and Snape had a grip like a bird of prey.
“You can’t make him,” the man in the hat said evenly. “It’s against the
Snape froze. He could feel the watchful eyes of the club on him.
Everyone knew the rules; you didn’t get to manhandle, mistreat, or
eject anyone. Management could tell someone to leave, but a guest could
not. And there were strong wards here; they could sense when someone
had gone too far. They had emotional sensors that made safe words
virtually unnecessary, though you could still use them if you wished.
And Snape knew that if he kept this up, the wards would dump him out on
his arse, leaving Potter behind, unattended, vulnerable.
He let go.
Potter smiled, puffing out his chest with triumph. “I heard about the
Merry-Go-Round,” he said. “Where do I go for that?”
The cowboy grinned and ruffled his hair. “Right this way, little
britches,” he said, leading him to the bar. “Hyde, this here boy wants
to go on the Merry-Go-Round.”
Snape felt himself relax a little. The Merry-Go-Round wasn’t that bad.
At least it was just looking. And surely by the time he had finished
the Merry-Go-Round, Potter would be revolted and ready to leave.
“You have to buy a ticket, young master,” Hyde told the boy. “One
“Two tickets,” Snape interrupted, slapping the money down, enough to
pay for them both.
Potter looked up at him, shocked.
“You won’t enjoy it, I promise you,” Snape said.
Potter tilted his head. “I might. Are you going too, then?”
“You do realise I’m likely to lose my job either way, but it’s twice as
likely if I leave you unattended in the wildest gay club in the
Harry shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’m not going to tell anybody about
you, so long as you don’t tell anybody about me.”
Drat it, the boy had a point. He wasn’t supposed to be visiting
homosexual roughhouses any more than Potter was. Though he doubted he’d
actually lose his job over it, he imagined Dumbledore would have
unpleasant things to say and—more likely—unpleasant tasks as
punishment. Worse, Potter could tell his little friends, and it was not
the sort of rumour one wanted floating about a boarding school.
“My lips are sealed,” Snape told him sourly.
Harry merely smiled a cherubic smile. “Where do we go?”
The bartender led them over to a set of black walnut doors, which slid
open at his touch to reveal a lift. “Tour guide will be waiting at the
bottom,” he said.
They descended swiftly and the doors opened to a darkened room with a
small train car and tracks. A large man with an impassive face gestured
them forward. The man was naked except for a black bow tie, which
indicated his service to the Club. Snape noticed Potter was baldly
staring at the man’s prick, which swung heavily between his legs.
The car was immaculate—seats of soft, purple velvet, polished brass
trim. Snape knew it was the magic that kept it clean; no Muggle sex
ride could have managed the upkeep of velvet seats. Snape took the seat
facing forward while Potter, after a moment of hesitation, took the
seat across from him. The car was open, but they were hardly likely to
get cold inside a building. Still, Potter seemed to be shivering.
The tour guide cleared his throat. “Feel free to touch yourselves and
one another, but keep your hands and arms inside the car at all times,
and mind the glass on the exhibits.”
Potter looked surprised at the suggestion he might want to touch Snape,
let alone that he’d be allowed to do so.
“How does this work, exactly?” Potter asked.
The guide smiled. “The Merry-Go-Round is a series of exhibits which the
car travels past, making a large loop to return to the elevator. Each
scene is an alluring sexual adventure in the setting of a diorama. You
will see various beautiful men fucking and being fucked, frotting,
sucking and engaging in foreplay, all set against a variety of
backdrops. The car moves slowly so you may enjoy the voyeuristic
delight of watching these steamy scenes roll past as you pleasure
yourself. If you’re so inclined,” the guide added.
Harry stared at him, blushing at little. Snape couldn’t tell what the
boy was thinking. “But why do they call it the Merry-Go-Round?” Potter
The guide gave him a crooked grin and a wink. “’Cause you’re free to
take a ride on any stud you take the tour with, and you go round in a
circle and end up at the door, right where you started.”
Again Harry glanced at Snape before looking away. Snape wondered why
the boy hadn’t thought to look at the guide, who couldn’t flirt harder
if he tried. Still, it was for the best that the boy was ignorant and
“Huh,” was all Harry said.
Snape shook his head. Potter had always been headstrong, but it was
still shocking to see someone this young take in sexual terms with so
little reaction. Of course, Potter probably would have died before he allowed Snape to see
how embarrassed he was . . .
The car slid forward, led by the railway tracks.
As they approached the first glass case, Snape leaned forward. “Why are
you doing this?” he whispered to Harry.
The boy looked furtive, then shrugged. “Fred and George dared me to.”
That explained it. Snape sagged in his seat, heaving a sigh of relief.
With any luck, Potter would find each display increasingly abhorrent
and they could leave quickly, never speaking of this again.
The first scene was at a park. You’d hardly have known it wasn’t really a park, because the grass
was authentic and clouds moved realistically across the painted-blue
“It’s like a museum,” Harry remarked.
“Indeed.” It was like a
museum; the small strip where the car track ran was dark and echoing,
while everything behind the glass was lit, staged, painted and
arranged, quiet and still except—
Except for the playground, where a rather unconventional swing dangled,
leather and chains. One man was fucking another; the man in the swing
seemed to be having as much fun as any child. He had a rather appealing
little half smile on his face. Snape ignored his bobbing feet and
sculpted body; muscled men didn’t especially engross him. Anyway, he
was more interested in faces, in the plays of expression that ran
across them, the pain and the bliss. Severus approved of bliss in small
“Wow,” Harry said, pushing his glasses up and watching with interest.
Snape had almost forgot about Potter. “Wow?”
he repeated scathingly. “Is that all you have to say?”
Harry watched intently as the fuckee’s hand slipped down, pumping his
cock furiously. “Definitely wow,” he said faintly.
The car moved on.
They were outside a dim, narrow alley, where a man was buggering a teen
boy against a building. It was not the least bit like the last exhibit;
it wasn’t bright or happy or playful. There was garbage at their feet,
graffiti on the walls, and Snape would have bet the whole place smelled
vaguely of urine.
But there was something arresting about it, just the same. They were
both almost fully clothed, the man with his dark trousers undone just
enough to let his thick cock escape, the boy with his pants shimmied
down his thighs. He was braced against the wall as the man fucked him
roughly, hurriedly, like they were worried someone might pass the mouth
of the alley and see them.
It was a good likeness of a tryst made in desperation.
The boy had the side of his face pressed to the wall, and he was biting
his lip hard, his face tense, his cheeks red.
Snape found himself growing hard.
Across from him, Potter shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps the boy was
disturbed by this. Hopefully he would be shaken and would shortly lose
interest in this charade altogether.
They slid slowly to the next exhibit.
One man was wearing lace stockings and high heels, a teddy and skirt.
Snape was not especially impressed; the tailoring had been subpar, and
the man was just a little outsized for the clothes, which didn’t suit
him anyway. They would have looked better on someone a year or two
younger, someone with a little androgyny to his face, someone who could
pout his lips. Someone like Potter.
Snape stiffened, shocked at the thought. He stole a glance at the boy,
who was watching the scene as though he didn’t know what to make of it.
Potter had grown rather
pretty; Snape hadn’t noticed it until now. He’d always known, in the
back of his mind, that the boy would grow up to be handsome enough, but
lately his expression was always so sullen it was easy to forget the
underlying beauty. In the club, his devil-may-care exhilaration had
come out and without the petulance, Potter was attractive once more.
Harry tilted his head as he watched the high-heeled man recline in a
bed, his ankle lifted until it rested on his partner’s shoulder.
When the car moved on, the boy looked relieved. Well, that was good. A
relief, in fact. If this little exhibition could chase Potter off, so
much the better. Snape would hate to take more drastic measures.
Another scene. A man, this time, and a boy. A young boy, perhaps
younger than Potter. It was a schoolroom. The teacher stood by a
blackboard, looking prim wearing a tweed jacket, a little pair of
spectacles perched on his nose.
The boy was making excuses—Snape had seen enough boys make excuses to
know that—and the teacher was having none of it, looking at the boy
sternly. He gestured to his desk. The boy shook his head, made
exaggerated pleading eyes and motions. The man pointed at the desk,
stabbed at it, almost, and the boy went, reluctantly.
Well, here was something to take Potter right out of the mood.
The man walked past the desk to the wall, where there were a number of
paddles in evidence, gleaming wooden paddles, displayed proudly beside
the blackboard. The teacher picked one, and the boy bent over the desk.
Snape could almost feel the warm handle against his palm. He’d hefted
one, tried its weight, even kept it at hand in his desk, but never did
use it at the school. What he wouldn’t give for the opportunity to take
Despite the glass that muffled the noises, the first smack was so loud that both Snape
and Harry jolted, surprised.
The teacher raised the paddle again; another strike, a cry from the
Potter had gone bright red.
The teacher was removing his belt.
Harry was very nearly hanging out of the car.
“Ten lashes,” the teacher said.
“Oh, but sir,” the boy
protested. The look he gave the man, on the other hand, was anything
but fearful or unwilling. Snape hissed with dissatisfaction.
“Holy shit.” Potter was
rubbing himself. Potter was reaching down, rubbing the tented front of
his trousers, pressing his palm to his burgeoning erection, massaging
his plump little prick.
“Potter,” Snape said sharply,
and the boy withdrew his hand as if it had been scalded.
The exhibits began to blur after that. There were orgies, watersports,
blindfolds, handcuffs, machine-pumping dildoes and whips that darted
out and licked blood from the backs of subservient young men.
Potter positively writhed
Snape said nothing. Thank Merlin the boy was finally beginning to grasp
the situation; these were dangerous games to play, and unless you had a
partner you could trust, you might find yourself playing for very high
The cart rolled slowly to a stop back at the lift, Potter quivering in
his seat. Snape was gracious enough to open the door for him and led
the way up into the lift.
“Well, I hope you’ve got any notions of this sort of sexual play out of
your system,” Snape told the boy severely.
Potter looked up at him through glittering, feverish eyes. “Are you mad? I want to have sex. I want to
have sex right now. I want to be fucked just like those blokes and I—I
want it right now,” the boy
“Good Gods!” Snape exclaimed. The brat truly was completely
As the lift doors opened, Harry flung himself out, looking wildly round
the dance floor, presumably for a partner for something other than
“Don’t you dare,” Snape said, grabbing his arm. “You absolutely will not go whoring yourself out to
the population at large. It’s dangerous,
“But I want to try it.” Potter’s jaw clenched. “You can’t stop me.”
Snape wanted to wring his neck. “Potter, you little sod,” he began,
shaking the boy. “You have no
comprehension of what you’re doing!”
Potter was breathing heavily when Snape stopped. “You think that scares
me?” he asked.
“Do you know what you need, you rebellious little bastard? You need a
good, sound thrashing!”
Snape was pretty sure he’d said nothing about free sweets and
pony-rides, but to judge by Potter’s expression, that’s exactly what
“You mean—like a spanking?”
Snape stared at him. The boy was pink and panting and truly willing to
try anything, anything at all. Well, perhaps he should just get his
wish. That would teach him not to jump in headfirst.
Still clenching Potter’s arm, Snape hauled the boy off to a private
room. He was going to do his best to knock some sense into the boy, and
wards be damned.
Snape yanked the boy into the first empty room he could find; it had a
simple bed and chair and a mirror on the ceiling, but it was assumed
that anyone visiting could conjure any accessories they might want.
Snape chose to conjure a paddle.
Harry gawped, eyes wide. “Are you going to hit me with that?” he
Snape threw himself into the chair. “Accio
Potter!” he snarled.
The boy was dragged across the room, arms pin-wheeling as he tried to
stay upright. For all his effort, he ended up thrown across Snape’s
lap, arse in the air.
“You think you like this sort
of thing, do you?” Snape hissed.
Harry craned his head so he could see Snape over his shoulder. “You
never know until you try.”
“Very well. We’ll do things your
way. How many licks does it take to destroy Potter’s illusions of banal
taps on the backside as a source of sexual pleasure? One . . .”
Potter yelped and flopped as Snape struck him.
“Two . . .” Another smack to the boy’s bum, quick as the striking of a
“Three . . .”
“Oh, God, Professor!”
Snape froze. Harry was squirming all over his lap in the most enticing,
Snape grasped the young man’s trousers, yanked them down. He was good
and red, all right; Snape could feel the heat emanating from the boy’s
battered bum. Why, then, was he not in tears? And on top of that, Snape
had got an eyeful of Harry Potter’s arse. Small, to be sure, but perky
and inviting and deliciously forbidden. Snape hiked the boy’s denims
right back up.
Snape raised the paddle again, furious. “Four—five—six!” he snapped, not
Harry twitched and twinged, his whole form contorting. Every slip and
slide of his warm, greedy body made Snape’s prick give a throb of
“Once more?” Snape snarled.
Harry lay across his lap, panting heavily for several moments. Finally
he was able to squeeze out a whisper. “. . . harder, sir!”
Snape literally recoiled from the words in shock and bafflement. How
could this be? He doubted Potter could walk upright after such
brutalization. And yet here the boy was, asking for more.
Well, perhaps the physical held no intimidation. Snape would have to up
the ante. Snape was angry enough and—after seeing Potter’s pert red
bum—he was randy enough.
“You wanted something more sexual, did you not?”
And young Potter, young, innocent Harry Potter, looking up at Snape and
blinking his eyes, nodded eagerly.
Snape sat back, allowing some of the tension to drain. “Very well. Undo
my trousers. Pleasure me,” he ordered, gesturing for Harry to kneel
between his legs.
Harry sank onto his knees, but his expression suggested confusion.
“Pleasure . . .?”
“Suck my cock,” Snape explained shortly.
Dear God, the lights in those eyes. The boy was like a jack-o-lantern
that only turned on at the prospect of performing sexual acts. He
hadn’t stumbled across the stick yet, but Snape now knew several
varieties of carrot.
Harry’s unsteady fingers struggled with Snape’s fly. Snape was not
going to help. This was Potter’s job, damn it, and if he could do
nothing else correctly, Snape would see that this feat, at least, was
within his ability.
Snape ached. Ten minutes of Harry’s squirming, fluttering company had
certainly left him stiff. He watched as the boy held his cock with both
hands, admiring the length and girth, or perhaps just cowed by it.
Cowed would be better.
Theoretically better, anyway.
“Gosh, it’s so big,” the boy
It was like a gust of wind tearing away the cobwebs from Snape’s rusty
old libido. “Then put it where it belongs,”
Snape told him in a clipped voice, enunciating each word carefully. “In
your mouth,” he prompted when
the boy made no move.
Finally Harry seemed to break free from the magnificent spell of
Snape’s cock. He lowered his head cautiously, a tentative tongue poking
out to skate the surface of Snape’s flesh, only once or twice.
Snape grabbed a fist full of the boy’s hair and forced him down.
Potter learned quickly, because with that sort of force you swallow,
gag or choke, or sometimes all three, and then you get a rhythm, which
Harry managed after a few moments.
Snape watched as Harry’s dark head bobbed. He couldn’t resist reaching
out to cup the boy’s chin, turn his face up. Harry’s eyebrows were
twisted, his eyes shut. He blinked a little, gazing up at Snape as if
wondering why the man had stopped him. As soon as Snape let go of his
chin, the boy returned his attention to the man’s prick, his soft lips
stretched around Snape’s cock.
Snape had done many illicit, illegal, insane things in his life, and he
was likely going to hell. But really, right now the heat and
constriction of Potter’s throat made it almost seem worth it. Heaven
only had the dull people, anyway.
Heaving a sigh, the man allowed himself to relax a little, allowing
Potter to suck the tension right out of him as he let his head fall
back. Merlin, this was fantastic. A blowjob from a pretty young man—and
humiliating Potter to boot.
Snape felt his body unwind, his limbs slackening, and he drew one
dreamy finger down the nape of Harry’s neck.
The boy moaned in distinct and undeniable pleasure.
Snape tensed again, anger flowing hot and thick through his blood. Nothing would intimidate Potter, nothing would teach him! And if
Snape didn’t stop this right this instant, Potter would be back
tomorrow night, and the night after that, until he ran into someone who
wasn’t as nice as Snape, or worse—one of the Death Eaters, someone like
Grabbing a fistful of Harry’s hair, Snape pulled him off. “Do you mean
to tell me that you’re enjoying this,
Potter’s eyes were glassy, a slight smile playing at the edges of his
mouth. Answer enough.
Snape used one hand to draw his cock away from Potter’s face, then let
go, allowing it to connect with the boy’s cheek. It gave a satisfying
little noise, and Potter looked surprised.
“Are we really that much of a slut?” Snape inquired, slapping the boy
again with his cock.
Harry tried to jerk away, but the fist in his hair prevented any great
movement. Again, Snape’s cock thumped against his face, this time
hitting his chin.
Harry looked stunned. “You—what are you—?”
“It’s called cock slapping,” Snape replied coolly. He jogged his penis
so that it tapped the boy’s lips. “Does it meet with your approval?”
Harry’s eyes drifted half shut, his lips pursing. He placed a delicate
kiss on the head of Snape’s prick. “Mmm-hmm,” he replied.
There was no humiliating the boy. How could there be? If anything, he
viewed each new deviant act an exciting summit to be tried and
On the other hand, it had been a considerable time since Snape last had
a partner this malleable, this eager.
No. Snape had not come here for that. Well, yes, obviously he’d come here for that, but that all
changed when Potter waltzed through the door. He hadn’t brought Potter
here for that; he intended to humiliate the boy. And if he had to try
harder, so be it.
“Stand,” he barked.
Harry rose to his feet almost instantly, nearly snapping off an eager
salute. Snape could have wept with frustration—why couldn’t the boy be
this obedient anywhere but the bedroom?
“Come here,” Snape said, mastering his exasperation. With Harry in
front of him, Snape reached out, running his hand down Harry’s chest,
wrapping an arm around him, pulling him close. Harry seemed to like
this as much as he’d done anything else—he leaned against Snape’s
shoulder, practically purring. It did give Snape a moment’s pause.
Harry was innocent—could not have been this eager without that
innocence. He even welcomed the intimacy of his most-hated teacher
Snape tried to ignore this, smoothing trembling hands down Harry’s
back, feeling the soft denim against his fingertips. He paused to revel
in the sensation of his hands planted firmly on Harry’s arse. It felt
just as lovely and springy as it had looked, and it was still hot from
the furious paddling.
Harry whimpered as Snape gripped him. This time, Snape did not even
entertain the fancy that the boy was uncomfortable—besides, he was
grinding himself against Snape’s leg.
Snape continued to stroke the arse of Harry’s denims as he whispered, “Effeminare!”
He both felt and heard Harry give a shivering, sharp intake of breath
as his clothes transformed.
Then the boy pushed him away so he could see what Snape had done. He
stared down at himself, taking in the copious lace and silk, then
looked back up with a confused expression, as though Snape had just
conjured a water buffalo and Harry couldn’t understand where such a
thing fit in with sexual play.
Sneering, Snape told him, “You make a better girl than you do a boy.”
He had noticed Harry’s disinterest in the cross-dressing scene; surely
emasculation would have a potent effect.
But Potter still mostly looked confused. “Do I?”
“Ah? You want to see?” Snape turned the nearest wall into a mirror. “Pretty little Potter in his sweet little teddy.”
Harry stared at himself.
Snape was not going to admit, not in honesty, that Potter did, in fact,
have the body to carry it off. He was young, slender and unblemished
save for the scar and, of course, he had those sensual lips . . .
Lips that were pursed as Harry tried to puzzle out this particular
“Here,” Snape said, gesturing him over.
Harry tottered closer, balancing precariously on his heels. Snape
pressed his wand to Harry’s mouth. A slick pink gloss trailed in the
wake of Snape’s wand tip as he traced the boy’s lips.
Harry rubbed his lips together, an expression of understanding washing
over his face. “Wow, that feels good. Really sexy.”
Snape sighed. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed it.
Harry turned to his reflection once more, trying to see himself from
every angle. His little pink cheeks peeked out from beneath his lacy
underwear, and Snape had to reach down and squeeze himself harshly
through his trousers, trying to get his own prick to behave.
Harry saw this in the mirror and smiled. “So now we’re doing one of your kinks,” he said triumphantly.
“I get it.”
Snape threw his hands in the air and went to sit on the edge of the
bed, shoulders slumping. He ought to admit defeat. No man could
possibly best Potter at this game.
Harry came and perched on his lap as lightly as he could.
As Snape arched an eyebrow him, Harry leaned over to rest his head on
Snape’s shoulder and cooed, “Daddy spanked me too hard, so it’s
difficult to sit properly.”
Snape’s cock immediately sat up and begged, forming a noticeable bulge
in his trousers again. Damn it, who would have thought role-play with
Harry Potter would be his downfall?
Harry seemed to notice and delight in his titillation. He squirmed
closer, kissing Snape’s ear. “You should spank me again, harder,
Daddy,” he whispered. “I’m awfully bad and I need discipline.”
“Arrrgh,” Snape replied.
“You know what would set me right?” Harry continued. “A good, rough,
fuck. Will you fuck me,
Daddy? Pretty please?” The boy wiggled his hips and fluttered his
insouciant eyelashes, using feminine wiles he shouldn’t even possess,
the little bastard.
Snape could barely wrap his mind around the idea of Harry Potter’s
perfect mouth using the word ‘fuck.’ This was why Snape had such
difficulty with the concepts of good and evil. Voldemort had never
dreamt up anything this insidious, while Potter consistently found ways
to put Snape through new and beguiling versions of hell.
“You want to be fucked?” Snape asked, proud that he was able to keep
his voice so expressionless.
Harry gave a great shudder. “Say it again,” he begged.
It seemed Snape wasn’t the only one turned on by dirty words in someone
else’s mouth. He was lucky the brat hadn’t come at the mere suggestion.
In fact . . .
Snape reached down and tapped Harry’s hip with his wand. The little
lace panties instantly ripped and began to transform, turning into a
long lacy ribbon, which slithered over Harry’s body, wrapping itself
tightly around the base of his prick and tying itself off with a
Harry looked at the jaunty bow. “Wow, gift wrapped for your
convenience,” he said wryly.
Snape ground his teeth. “It is functioning as a cock ring,” he spat.
Harry looked blank.
“It will restrict blood flow to my satisfaction. It is very responsive,
you see. When you come close, it will
pull you back from the brink.” As if to illustrate, the lace
constricted; Snape could see the boy’s prick turn a shade darker and
suddenly Harry rose up on his tiptoes.
“W—wh—you mean I can’t come?”
“Not unless I remove the lace,” Snape said.
Harry stared down at himself, his engorged cock aching and swollen,
likely more so than he’d ever seen it. “You mean . . . I can’t come
unless you let me?” he said in a plaintive little voice.
“Indeed. You are entirely at
my mercy.” Snape did refrain
from adding, ‘Mwahahaha,’ but only because it didn’t have the dignity
he was trying for.
“So . . . I come when you tell
me,” Harry was mumbling. “Because you’re in charge.” He gave a
delicious little shiver. “Holy shit, that’s really hot.”
Again, Snape ground his teeth. They were going to be worn to nubs
before the night was through. “Get on the bed,” he snarled, and Harry
hurried to obey.
“How do you want me?” the boy asked. “On my back? Like this?”
“No. Roll over.”
“Ah. On my stomach,” Harry said, turning onto his belly and wiggling
his butt as he ground himself against the mattress.
“No,” Snape insisted, worried
the brat might find sufficient friction to come despite all his
precautions. After all, the lace was a good trick, but fifteen-year-old
boys could be awfully fast. “Get your arse up in the air,” he ordered.
Harry lifted it, quite keen for whatever Snape would do next, and Snape
cursed inwardly. What he wouldn’t give to be able to do this sort of
thing every night—snap his fingers and have a cute little arse lift
into position on cue.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Harry asked breathlessly.
“No,” Snape said.
Disappointed, Harry wiggled his bum invitingly. Lightning-quick,
Snape’s hand shot out to slap the boy. Harry squeaked and held still.
“Don’t provoke me,” Snape warned. He eyed the boy’s bum and gave his
wand a shake. It transformed, thickening, developing little ridges all
up and down its length.
Harry watched with wide eyes, still bent nearly double, his hands
splayed on the bed. “Wow, what is that?
It looks sort of like . . . you know.”
“It’s a toy,” Snape replied. “A dildo. I’d really rather not use it,”
and this was true in more ways than Harry needed to know, “but since
you think only penetration will do . . .”
“But what about you?”
Indeed. Snape’s cock found the whole situation maddening, but Snape was
not going to give in and fuck a student. He was not completely immoral.
Bad enough that he would do this.
Unlike a real prick, Snape’s wand required no lubrication; the spell
was built into the shape. He slid it carefully into the boy, relishing
the soft sound of Harry’s body sucking it in.
“Huh,” Harry said, shifting a little. “That’s . . . kind of weird. Not
really all that different than my finger, though.”
Harry turned red.
So this hadn’t been all about
a dare. The boy had been experimenting on his own. And here Snape had
been carefully conservative when crafting the toy, thinking the
intrusion would be enough, not wanting to cause any damage. But if even
this was child’s play, so to speak, perhaps he should take more drastic
With the wand still inside Harry’s body, Snape whispered, “Engorgio!”
Harry gasped aloud as the toy swelled to the size of an average man’s
prick. “Oh. Oh, fuck,” Harry said.
Snape began to move the toy, pumping it into Harry’s arse. The look of
open-mouthed amazement on Harry’s face sent a rush of warmth through
Snape. He tilted the toy, pushing it roughly into Harry.
Harry’s eyes shut tightly, his hands now curled into fists. “Oh. Oh. It’s—I like it—” he managed to croak.
Snape rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”
“Is this what it really feels like? Like . . . with a man doing it?”
Harry asked rather shyly.
“A man is doing it, you
“You know what I mean.”
Snape ignored him. He tried increasing the size of the toy a bit more,
but an injury could be disastrous, and Potter did not object, merely
pushing back as if he wanted more.
“You really are the most infuriating creature,” Snape remarked.
“It’s not my fault if you refuse to get off,” Harry replied. “Anyway .
. . I want more. Why don’t you fuck me?” he begged. “You’d like it. I’m
sure you would. Wouldn’t you .
. . Daddy?”
Snape grunted, turned his back and squeezed himself again, wishing that
of all the deviant things his cock responded to, it wouldn’t respond so
keenly to Harry Potter calling him “Daddy”.
It really was horribly unfair.
Potter watched, giggling in a most unbecoming way. “I kind of like
getting you randy,” he said. “What happens if I call you Daddy in
“You die a virgin,” Snape replied. “And mark my words, it won’t be a
“The opposite of spanking.”
“What’s the opposite of spanking? Sucking?” Harry asked hopefully.
“I already told you it’s death.”
“I dunno. I don’t think that makes sense, the opposite of spanking
“Shut up or I’ll gag you.”
“Really? With what?”
Growling, Snape removed his wand from Harry’s arse.
“Don’t do that,” Harry said, disappointed. He sat up as Snape stomped
away. “Hey, wait! Come back! I swear I’ll be good!”
Snape got as far as the door, let out a noise of frustration and
flicked his wand in Harry’s direction. The boy went popeyed as a red
silk handkerchief lodged firmly in his mouth, throwing out tendrils of
silk to knot at the back of his head.
Ignoring Potter’s muffled wails of complaint and anger, Snape strode
right out into the general club, where he looked over the dancers,
scrutinizing first one, then another. Finally his eye found a rather
battered cowboy hat in the crowd. “You!” he shouted over the music.
The man looked at him. He gestured to himself, eyebrows raised.
“Yes. You, Marlboro. Tex.
Whoever you are. You come over here right now.”
The man did so, ambling forward with arrogant leisure. “How do you know
where I’m from?” he asked. “How can you be sure I ain’t from Carolina?”
God, another smartarse. “Fine. Upstairs . . . Caroline,” he said scathingly.
The cowboy only laughed.
Snape picked out a couple of others on his way back, demanding they
accompany him and allowing them to trail along in his wake, like tails
dragged along by a comet. He threw the bedroom door open once more.
“This is young Harry—who needs to be fucked,” he announced, gesturing
grandly to Harry, who was standing in the centre of the room, nude from
the waist down save for the lacy cock ring, still gagged with the red
Potter looked shocked and turned several shades of pink.
“He’s cute, but a bit young,” someone pointed out. “Wouldn’t want to
hurt the little thing.”
Harry stiffened and made a noise of objection through the cloth.
“Oh, I think young Mr. . . . that is, Harry,
is up for this.”
“Um-hmm,” Harry affirmed,
“It’s the sweet thing from earlier,” the cowboy observed with surprise.
He glanced at Severus. “Niiiiice
work. Wouldn’t have expected that,
partner,” he added, winking at Snape.
“Stop talking and take that handkerchief out of the boy’s mouth and put
your cock in instead,” Snape said coldly.
The cowboy snorted and threw Snape a lazy salute. “Whatever you say, sir!”
Harry did not even pretend he wasn’t liking this. He allowed the man to
tug him over to the bed and undo the gag. “Hey there, sexy britches,”
the man said. “How ‘bout you show me what that pretty little mouth can
Harry looked automatically to Snape, as if for approval. Snape had to
sniff. If he hadn’t approved, why on earth would he have brought the
man here? But Harry still held very still. “I won’t unless you tell
me,” the boy said in a serious voice.
Snape was surprised. “You’ve been nothing but an impending explosion of
fuck me since you arrived,” he
Harry nodded. “Yeah, but you put the cock ring on and said I wasn’t
to—wasn’t to—you know—until you said so. So I’m just making sure. It’s
your choice. You totally own me right now. It’s not as much fun
Snape felt hot rush of pleasure sweep through him. He rarely had such
control over Harry. And he had to admit, owning Harry’s libido was a
heady proposition. Still, he pulled himself together enough to nod
curtly. “The rules haven’t changed. You do not come. However, you fuck,
and you fuck to my satisfaction and my direction. Understood?”
Eyes bright, face pink, Harry nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”
“It might be frightening or overwhelming,” Snape said hopefully.
“I can take it.”
Snape gave up. “I expect so,” he sighed. “Get on with things, Tex.”
Tex undid his jeans, unveiling a rather enormous cock and Harry gasped
a little at the size.
Harry took as much of Tex into his mouth as he could, his eyes locked
with Snape’s. The boy needed guidance—would not be interested in this
if he didn’t get it. Snape nodded, and Harry relaxed a little, moaning
One man edged forward, reaching for the boy, and Snape frowned. “Well,
I suppose there are his hands,” he said reluctantly. “If someone wished
to use one I would allow—”
Before he could even finish the sentence there was a man on either side
of Harry, grabbing his hands and forcing them to curl around thick,
Harry made no indication that he objected, but his eyes narrowed in
focus as he tried to accomplish all tasks at once. He continued to suck
his cowboy friend and jerk off the two newcomers, even though they
wanted different speeds. Snape could spot the trouble; Harry was trying
to keep up, trying to do everything. He’d do better to just let them do
what they wanted, rather than anticipating.
But Snape said nothing; better to let the boy learn. He couldn’t please
Still, he tried. One man tired of Harry’s hand quickly and brushed his
prick against the youth’s cheek, rubbing it almost lovingly along his
jaw. Harry promptly began alternating between the two cocks in front of
him, first sucking the cowboy, then new man, a rough-looking brute with
long, shaggy hair. Harry even tried to take the two cocks at once, his
reddened lips stretching wide, tongue wriggling over the heads.
“Greedy boy,” Snape muttered.
Harry looked back at him, eyes beseeching. His mouth was too full to
form words, yet Snape could somehow see them in Harry’s eyes: Needs more Snape. He pushed through
the men and knelt behind the boy. “Potter, lean back,” he commanded,
and the boy did so, instantly letting go of every prick in favour of
curling into Snape’s arms. He looked up at Snape with unusual
intensity, awaiting further orders.
Then Harry grinned, spoiling the aura of sensual passion he’d possessed
a moment ago. “Okay,” he said agreeably. “What next?”
Snape watched as Tex removed his shirt—his chest sported enough hair to
brag on and he was well muscled, but wiry. He proceeded to get naked as
Snape and Harry watched. “More cocksucking, I think,” Snape decreed. “I
enjoy the way your throat moves when you manage to swallow,” he added.
Harry’s face flamed red, but his crooked smile showed he was not so
terribly embarrassed. The boy eagerly began flicking his tongue against
the tip of Tex’s cock.
Harry shot Snape a look from the corner of his eye. It was an
unmistakable challenge, a come hither and a make me all in one pair of
smug green eyes.
“Take more,” Snape ordered.
Harry obediently did so, taking the length of the man’s prick into his
mouth and throat. Mesmerized and more than a little excited, Snape
reached out and stroked Harry’s throat ever so gently with his
fingertips, feeling Harry’s throat work as he swallowed.
Tex had a tense expression, as if it was taking every inch of willpower
not to climax right then.
“Put your hands out, boy. Let them use you,” Snape suggested.
Harry allowed this, enfolding two cocks in his hands, though he
followed Snape’s directions and left them rather slack, allowing them
to rut within his grip.
Snape reached down and began to stroke Harry’s responsive penis. “Good
boy,” he whispered, and the prick in his hand gave a throb of
appreciation at the praise.
Harry stretched, a sinful sinuous movement. He gave a sort of purr,
forcing Tex to halt, panting, as he pulled himself together.
Potter was loving every moment of this. Snape was no longer certain he
had the heart to try to traumatize the boy, let alone the ability to do
so. Still, one last effort should be made.
“Potter,” he said.
Harry instantly stopped sucking, letting the cowboy’s prick free with a
wet pop. He looked up Snape expectantly.
“Lie back,” Snape ordered.
Harry reclined against Snape’s chest, allowing the man to reach down
and guide his legs apart. “Now you’re going to let Tex fuck you,” Snape
Harry frowned. “Why not you?”
“Do the words, illegal, immoral, illicit, or imbecilic ring a bell?”
“It’s not going to be me, I promise you.”
To Snape’s secret delight, Harry looked severely let down.
“If you absolutely must be fucked, you will have to settle for less.”
This at least brought the suggestion of a smile. “But you’ll still be
here, right? Watching?”
Harry relaxed in Snape’s arms as Snape reached down, pouring lubricant
liberally over everything. Tex began preparing Harry, who groaned and
writhed in Snape’s arms.
Tex mounted the boy, his hips moving with infuriating slowness.
Harry’s arms reached up to circle around Snape’s shoulders, his head
thrown back, an exquisite look on his face. Snape caressed Harry’s
chest and shoulders, skimming his torso, occasionally petting his eager
Harry whimpered and bucked. Tex continued to fuck him, but not roughly.
Not really. Some people were apparently somewhat more considerate of
their young charges, though not considerate enough to prevent them from
fucking them. Then again, some people didn’t really know Potter very
“He can take more,” Snape heard himself say. “Do it harder.”
Tex looked surprised, but picked up the pace.
The men on either side were beginning to look frustrated. Harry was no
longer taking much interest in them, and whenever a hand moved away,
they’d resort to frotting against whatever bit of Harry they could
reach—the side of his neck, his pale stomach, even pushing against his
hard little nipples.
Harry was gasping now. “Too much—” he whispered urgently.
Snape tilted his head, considering. Too
much. But was it really? Was Potter ready to come, or was he
simply overwhelmed? Snape began to hold up his hand to forgo further
fucking, but Tex suddenly thrust once more, then stilled, balls deep in
the boy. His jaw slackened as his semen spurted into what Snape could
only ruefully suppose was an irresistibly hot and tight channel.
Harry had stiffened and was staring up at Snape in shock.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” He dismissed Tex, who touched the brim of
his hat briefly in salutation, then bent to kiss Harry’s cheek in
“I’m not hurt. It’s just—it’s sort of warm. And. Um. I can feel it
leaking out,” Harry explained, his face rather pink.
“You didn’t come yourself, though,” Snape said, hoping against hope the
charm had held. After all, who knew if the boy was even capable of
As if reading his thoughts, Harry scowled. “No, I didn’t,” he grated. “You told me
not to, remember?”
“And God knows you always
listen to me and follow my instructions to the letter,” Snape replied.
Harry stuck his tongue out.
“Are you tired, yet?”
“Are you kidding? I could do this all night!”
Snape’s temper flared again. He knew it was useless, but everything
he’d ever done was probably equally useless, and that fact had never
stopped him from doing it. He nodded to the man thrusting into Harry’s
fist. “Next!” he barked.
The man took his place at Harry’s entrance, looking from the boy’s face
to Snape and back.
“On your knees, Potter. Fuck him hard,” Snape commanded.
The man repositioned Harry, then pushed into his body. Harry stiffened;
the man was large, even larger than Tex had been, though Snape hadn’t
noticed right away.
Snape watched Harry’s face carefully. There was some discomfort, it was
obvious, but he couldn’t see any actual pain and, in any case, the
wards were not activating. Snape gestured and the man thrust harder.
“He’s tight,” the man observed.
Unfair. Snape looked up and
gave the man a contemptuous sneer. “I’m not paying you to make
painfully obtuse observations.”
The man looked surprised. “I didn’t know you were paying me at all.”
“I’m not. Anyway. Look, just shut up and fuck, all right? Harder, while you’re at it.”
The man was sweating, but nodded and did his best. Now each time he
slammed home it jolted Harry.
“Too much?” Snape challenged.
Harry glared up at him. “Not enough.”
“Perhaps another cock would help.”
Harry looked hopeful at this, but less hopeful when Snape directed the
longhaired man to fuck Harry’s mouth.
“You need only say stop if it’s too much,” Snape told him.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but the man in front of him used this
opportunity to gain access to Harry’s mouth, pushing his cock forward.
Harry settled for giving Snape a glare. The other man began to fuck
Harry’s arse again, his wide hands planted on Harry’s hips.
Oh, to see Harry Potter spit-roast. It had never been a fantasy of
Snape’s, but now he had to wonder why. It was a magnificent sight. He
was surely going to see it in his dreams.
Just to rile the boy, Snape leaned over and murmured, “Is that the best
you can do, Potter?” Snape gave him a sour smile. “Fuck yourself on his
Harry moaned, his eyes rolling back. He was earnestly engaged in the
fucking now, rocking in place, eager for both the cock in his mouth and
the one in his arse.
“Harder,” Snape snarled.
Harry whimpered, then redoubled his efforts, bucking back wildly, the
cock in front of him now just brushing his lips. He flicked his tongue
against it, and the longhaired man grabbed his head, thrusting his cock
down Harry’s throat. The man gave a soft cry. By the time Snape
realised what was happening, it was too late.
Potter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, giving the man a
flirtatious smile. For some reason, this was the last straw. Snape
might share Potter’s arse with the masses, but this was the first time
in the course of the evening the boy had smiled at anyone besides
Snape, and it was too much.
“That’s it! Everyone out!” Snape roared.
The longhaired man looked sheepish as he buttoned himself up. The other
man looked unhappy, but Snape snarled ferociously and brandished his
wand. Harry pulled away.
“Sorry,” he told the second man. “He said stop.”
“No. I’m done,” Harry said firmly.
Snape watched in mild shock as the man dressed and left the room
without further argument. Potter had successfully asserted his
boundaries. Or Snape’s boundaries, as Harry didn’t actually seem to
have any. The recollection of this made Snape sigh.
Harry lay back on the bed, his face pink from the strenuous fucking.
“Didn’t work,” he observed with a rather sassy gleam in his eye. He
trailed tantalizing fingertips down his body. “I’m sure you could be much rougher and nastier with me,
Professor. Maybe you should
be the one to teach me a lesson.”
Snape gave up. If he was going to hell, he’d go first class. “If you
want something done right, you have to do it yourself,” he said.
Potter was stretched and lubricated and utterly, sinfully perfect,
Snape reflected as he mounted the boy. The warmth, the slickness, the
clenching as Potter pulled him in—Snape did not know any body could be
Harry, for his part, moaned quietly, his eyes half shut, his head
lolling. “Yes, that’s it,” he managed weakly. “That’s the spot—right
there. No one else—no one else touched me quite there,” he whispered.
Snape lifted Harry’s legs, raising the boy until he had a better angle.
Potter was good at this—a regular acrobat who managed to hook one ankle
on Snape’s shoulder. Snape began to pump his hips, watching a
tantalizing stream of emotions flow across Harry’s face. A little pain
at first—tight brow, bitten lip; then excitement—lip let free with a
little gasp, eyes flying open; then need, desperate need—Harry’s mouth
forming Snape’s name again and again, no sound, Harry’s hands reaching
for him, pulling him closer; pleasure, such unexpected pleasure—lips
curling, eyes squeezed shut, face flushing redder all the time; and
then Harry dragged him down into a kiss, and Snape couldn’t see any
To Snape’s astonishment, the kiss was actually quite good—sweet and
dirty with tastes of fluttering tongue-tip. Snape deepened the kiss,
eliciting a moan from Harry that seemed to pool in Snape’s stomach.
When Snape finally ended the kiss, Harry went simply wild. It was all
Snape could do to hold him down—he’d latched on to Snape’s shoulders
and was trying to thrust up. One hand dropped to clutch at Snape’s
backside, pulling him flush against Harry.
“More,” Harry begged.
Snape arched a brow. “You’re impeding my full range of motion,” he
said, gesturing to Harry’s hand, which was still splayed on his arse.
“Oh. But if I let go, will you do it harder?”
“If only to shut you up.”
Harry, on the other hand, refused to be quiet. As Snape rode him
mercilessly, Harry writhed and yelled. On the one hand, his shouts were
certainly flattering, but on the other hand, Snape was pretty sure his
left eardrum ruptured on the last thrust. Also, it had drawn attention,
and now there were several club patrons just outside the door. Snape
could see their eyes gleaming.
“God, yes, Snape!” Harry
roared, thrashing. Snape narrowly avoided a finger in his eye as the
He grabbed Harry’s wrists and pinned them. “I should have let Tex have
seconds,” he remarked.
Harry laughed breathlessly, squirmy and smiling with delight at Snape’s
firm grip. “You don’t like the rodeo?” he asked.
“Not if I end up with broken bones,” Snape warned.
Harry shivered. “Ooooh, you hit that spot
Snape angled himself and thrust harshly. Harry literally screamed—Snape
did not credit it as real for one moment—and suddenly he looked down to
see Harry’s prick twitch and pulse in spite of the little pink lace
ribbon, which was now resting in a puddle of come.
Snape sighed. So much for that idea. He continued to thrust anyway.
Even with Potter being aggravating, it still felt absolutely fantastic
to fuck the boy.
Harry was melting beneath him, suddenly boneless as the events of the
night began to make themselves felt. He reached up and traced Snape’s
jaw. “Oh, Daddy, it felt so gooood,” he purred.
Snape stiffened, rapture suddenly bubbling up inside of him, hot and
fierce. “Potter,” he grunted, still grinding into the boy, then— “Harry.”
Harry pulled him close, kissing him softly and allowing him to continue
to pump seed into his overused little arse. Good God, the boy’s lips
were almost as heavenly as his arse. It didn’t hurt at all that several
patrons were still watching, enthralled and impressed. Harry pressed a
series of surprisingly gentle kisses over Snape’s face and mouth. Snape
kept his eyes shut for a long, long moment, knowing this would end only
too soon. Just now, he wanted to savour the taste of Harry’s kisses,
feel the boy’s pulse as he stroked his skin, revel in the conquest and
the elation of having fucked Harry Potter.
“I think I learnt my lesson, Professor,” Harry murmured.
“Club’s closing,” a distant voice announced.
Snape sat back on his heels, surprised. “What time is it?”
Harry, naked and befuddled, only stared.
Snape searched his pockets and brought out his watch. “Four in the fucking morning!”
Harry gave him a grin. “Took you a while to satisfy me, didn’t it?”
“You’re supposed to be safe in your bed in Gryffindor Tower!”
“I’m safe in your bed in the
Gentlemen’s Club. What difference does that make?”
“And I have a staff meeting in just over an hour. I have to get cleaned
up. Get up, boy, get up! Get moving! Do you want to explain your amorous
adventures to Albus Dumbledore?”
Harry looked revolted. “Not really.”
Snape grabbed his arm and hauled him out of bed. “Then let’s get back
to the castle before it’s too late,” he hissed, then flourished his
wand. Harry was suddenly in his school uniform, which made preceding
events seem that much more perverse. “Come on!” Snape snarled, dragging
him out of the room.
“Now, you stupid brat!”
They swept through the club, which was just beginning to wind down, and
out onto the front steps, where it was dark and cool. Snape rounded on
Harry. “If you ever tell
anyone about this—” he threatened.
“I won’t,” Harry said.
Snape took his arm again and tugged him along; Harry followed slowly,
Snape furtively checked the boy from the corner of his eye. “Are you .
. . sore?” he asked.
One of Harry’s hands briefly touched his backside. “Yeah, actually.”
Snape was not going to offer
to fix it. Perhaps a day of discomfort would at least make the boy
think twice about doing this again. Or at least remind him to use
plenty of lube.
Then he noticed Harry was rubbing his eyes. Dear God, was he crying? It was too much to hope
for. Snape wasn’t going to say anything. He couldn’t risk jinxing it
again. Of course it would
take a buggering from Snape to finally impress upon the boy what a
horrible thing sex could be. Snape wasn’t sure whether he should feel
triumphant or insulted, and settled on a mixture of both.
Harry trudged outside; his head hung low, the picture of defeat. For
some reason, this only made Snape’s temper more evil.
“Can’t you even pretend to do
as I say?” Snape demanded. “Keep up!”
“I’m coming,” Harry spat.
“You needn’t be such a berk about it,” he added softly.
“I assume you have your father’s cloak nearby?” Snape said, and
added haughtily, “I shouldn’t wish to spend further time in your
company if it’s not absolutely necessary.”
Harry stared at him, frowning. “Yeah, I have it. Don’t worry. I can
take care of myself.”
“If you’re hoping for a parting kiss, you will be sadly disappointed.
Most men find that sort of display of clinginess rather disgusting.”
Harry looked at him oddly, then shook his head in a bewildered sort of
way. He was dejected; Snape
could tell. Every bit of his body seemed to sag, his shoulders slumped,
his eyes on the floor. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he murmured.
Snape let out a huff and spun on his heel, stalking away without
answering. He listened carefully and even tried a spell, but he was
sure the boy didn’t follow him.
And somehow, that was the biggest disappointment of the evening.
Snape found himself right back at the club the next night without
really knowing why. It wasn’t as though he had the energy for further
sexual adventures—he’d gotten a whole hour of sleep the previous day,
mostly dozing off between classes. But he couldn’t hang about Hogwarts
knowing he could run into Potter at any time. Potter and his damnable
lips. Potter and his big, heartbreaking eyes. He was certain he’d hurt
the boy, and not in the way he’d intended. He hadn’t wanted to lead the brat on, damn
it. He was only trying to save Harry from himself.
And Snape had noticed that he had, only today, started to think of the
brat by his first name. He would have to watch that.
“Fancy a drink?”
“Sure, Hyde,” he said glumly. “Something to wake me up a bit, if you
“Hah! Can’t blame you, after that wildcat you had last night. I’d still
be comatose, myself.”
Snape heaved a wistful sigh. “He was
good, wasn’t he? So enthusiastic, so adventurous, so obedient.”
“Cute, too. Young for my tastes, but he’ll grow.”
“Mmmm,” Snape agreed vaguely. The youth was perfect in every particular
but one—he had to go and be
Harry Potter. Too young, off limits, a magnet for trouble, son of
Snape’s sworn enemy, wholly fuckable in every way—wait, no. That last
one had crept in unnoticed. Snape had to tend his mind better. Like a
neglected garden, it needed weeding. Still, it had been a pleasant
surprise. Harry was enormously enjoyable in bed, and showed a softer,
sweeter side of himself that Snape hadn’t expected. His kisses, for
instance, could be particularly loving, and his impish smiles had lit
up the bedroom. It really was a pity. Snape doubted he’d be favoured
with such smiles again, not after he cruelly sent the boy away.
It was for the best, he told
himself, drinking the invigorating brew Hyde plunked down on the bar.
Harry had to learn sex was a dangerous activity. He had to learn not to
throw himself headfirst into the deep end. And he needed to learn how
to choose his partners with greater—
Snape’s jaw dropped as the door opened and Harry strutted in. “You
little bastard!” he roared.
Harry looked a little embarrassed. “Do you have to scream? Jeez.” He sidled up to
Snape at the bar.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Harry eyed him as he ordered a drink. “Pretty much the same thing I was
doing last night, hopefully.”
“You know, the eye-bulging, flailing arms look is not a good one for
“But I saw you—you were devastated
when we left the club. How can you show up here again, after you were
so thoroughly used and tortured, then thrown away like a
used tissue!? Wasn’t your head bowed in shame? Didn’t your footsteps
drag? Weren’t you crying?”
Harry drew himself up, looking affronted. “I was not crying, you stupid git. And of course my footsteps dragged. Of course my head was hanging down. I
was fucking EXHAUSTED, you idiot! I spent several hours getting a good
rogering last night!”
“But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do it again at the earliest
opportunity,” Harry added with a very smug smile.
Snape felt the beginnings of a migraine. For all his hard work, they’d
gone round in a circle and ended up right where they’d started.
A handsome stranger wandered over and smiled at Harry despite Snape’s
venomous glare. “You want to dance?”
Harry returned his smile, and Snape almost had a meltdown. This was too
much. Not only had he failed, he’d failed spectacularly. Potter was going to
jump right back into the sack with a stranger, and worse, he’d probably
never think twice about Snape again.
“No, thanks,” Harry said cheerfully.
The man looked disappointed, but accepted the rejection gracefully
enough, moving on to find another partner.
“What just happened there?” Snape asked, sure he’d begun hallucinating.
Harry hopped up on a barstool beside him. “You taught me an important
lesson last night.”
“Yes?” Snape said hopefully. “Not to go leaping into sexually risky
situations without thinking twice?”
“That you need to be more aware of your surroundings and be vigilant
even in bed?”
“Fucking strange men is dangerous?”
“Not really. And those are all variations on the same thing, by the
Harry reached out and took Snape by the back of his neck, pulling him
forward until their foreheads touched. “I learned that sex is the best
thing ever invented.”
Snape groaned. “That was not the lesson I intended to teach you.”
“Oh? Is it really such a bad thing?” Harry gave Snape a decidedly
coquettish little grin.
Snape gave this some thought. Potter had not learned to be more
careful, not really. He’d enjoyed himself and would probably continue
to put himself into wild sexual situations. If Snape had thought the
boy a nuisance when he was only getting up the Dark Lord’s nose, he was
in for a whole new era of exasperation.
On the other hand, he had Harry Potter at hand, safe and eager for
cock. It was difficult to see how this could be such a bad thing. And
he was so very open to trying
new and interesting things.
He should be monitored closely. After all, he must be kept away from
Death Eaters—other Death
Eaters—and those who would do him harm. The best way for Snape to do
that was to monopolize the boy himself.
To his surprise, Snape felt a frisson of excitement in bits of his body
which shouldn’t have had the energy to give off further frissons of any
sort. Perhaps it was the effects of the energy drink. “Potter . . .
let’s continue this discussion upstairs,” he said. And if Harry Potter
needed occupying, Snape had no choice but to occupy him.
Harry’s eyes smouldered and his grin grew smug. “Yes, sir,” he replied.
He snaked an arm around Snape’s waist as they walked away. “I learnt
another lesson, too Professor,” Harry added.
“I learnt that no man could ever satisfy me as much as Severus Snape.”
Snape smiled. “A valuable lesson,” he admitted. “A valuable lesson,
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