Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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28th February 2007 12:05 - FIC: Soothing Strokes, Too [Snape/Draco, NC-17]
Title: Soothing Strokes, Too
Author: [info]ldybastet
Characters: Severus Snape/Draco Malfoy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: underage (chan), teacher/student
Kinks chosen: Phallophilia
Word Count: ~2400
Summary: Draco wants to know if what Snape hides under his robes is as big as it feels.
Author's notes: Sequel to Soothing Strokes, but works fine on its own. I'm sneaking this in on a free posting date, since February only has 28 days and my regular posting date is the 29th. Beta by [info]lysa1. All remaining errors are mine.

Soothing Strokes, Too


Draco's bum was still tender from the caning he'd received the previous evening. A sharp pain lanced through his backside as he sat down in class for the first lesson of the day.

The light pain that lingered once he was in place in combination with the relaxation he'd achieved through the punishment made it easy for him to be attentive. In this highly blissful state, he even managed to ignore, for the most part, Potter and his friends.

McGonagall paused in her explanations once and her piercing gaze rested on him for a moment, as if she thought that his taking notes and following her instructions were somehow a deception, intended to cover up some mischief. Draco couldn't see why. He wasn't the one who skulked around, being up to things. He was being a good boy. Professor Snape had seen to that, personally. It was Potter and his side-kicks McGonagall should keep an eye on, thought Draco, and the familiar irritation began to slide back into place in his mind.

Luckily, the class was over not too much later, Draco being one of the few who had been able to perform the transfiguration task of the day. The others were all told to practice hard until next time. Draco sneered at Weasley and Potter on his way out.

He hurried to their next class, and rolled his eyes at how Longbottom dragged his over-sized feet and how Potter pulled his robe tighter around him as they made their way to the dungeons. Draco pointed at them and snickered, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle joining him. What was it with the Gryffindors, he wondered. It was a bit chilly down here, yes, but really not something to make that big a deal of. They must be growing soft in that bloody tower of theirs.

Draco sat down gingerly again, once they were inside, and Professor Snape began the lesson. Draco listened to him, soaking up every word (including the inevitable ten points from Gryffindor!) about the properties of the potions ingredients they were going to use today.

Snape's black eyes moved over the students and Draco had to suppress a shiver when they passed over him. Snape, however, didn't pause, not even with a twitch betraying that Draco was anything more than one of the students in his House. It was as if last night hadn't happened… but Draco could feel the proof with every movement. It was exciting to know this, to sit in class and only he and Professor Snape knew. It was their special secret, forming a bond of sorts between them.

His gaze returned now and then to the dark form of Professor Snape as he worked on his potion. There were certain parts of their encounters that Draco found more and more fascinating, and he found that his gaze often fell on Snape's middle. The voluminous robes did not reveal anything, but Draco knew now what lay hidden behind all that fabric. He'd felt it as he sat in Snape's lap, as he was fondled and stroked, that hardness pressing against the welts on his newly-caned bum.

Somehow, Draco managed to keep his concentration on his potion-brewing as well, and was rewarded with a small smile when he handed Snape his sample of the potion. It was the faintest of curl of the corners of his mouth, but to Draco it could just as well have been a wide grin. He knew his head of House was pleased with him.

That evening, Draco lay back in bed with Snape on his mind and his hand inside his pyjama bottoms.

He remembered the sharp pain of the strokes of the cane, how it burned through him and made him so hard. He grew hard now as well, slowly moving his fingers over his prick. He tried to do it the same way that Snape did it when the punishment was over and Draco was sitting in his lap: slow, patient, and yet unrelenting, moving him steadily towards his release, not a fast wank like the other boys in the dormitory seemed to prefer.

Last time, he had moved his hand down and put it over the hard lump under him - Snape's cock. It had felt so big, and Draco had known that Snape was hard because of him, because he had punished him and made him feel so good. Draco had squirmed a little extra in his lap, to rub against Snape and feel his cock against his burning skin. It really was too bad that Snape never opened his robes. During the years that Draco had gone to him for his punishments, Snape hadn't even once touched himself or done anything that revealed that he was aroused by the situation. He didn't have to for Draco to know he was; he couldn't hide his hard cock when Draco sat almost on top of it.

Draco let out a small moan as he thought of it under his hand, only separated from it by a few layers of fabric. He closed his hand around his own prick and wondered if he could do that to Snape, close his hand around it, or was it too big for that? He hoped so, he realised, arousal flaring higher at the thought.

His hand was moving faster now, causing his whole body to tense up gradually. He rubbed his thumb over the slit at the top, just like Snape used to do, and another moan escaped him. Merlin's balls! He wanted to do this to Snape, wanted to hold him in his hand, wanted to stroke him… just like this. Until… until… Draco threw his head back and gasped as he came, warm wetness soaking his pyjamas.

~*~


'I'm disappointed. I always thought Defence Against the Dark Arts would be interesting,' Draco complained as he watched Snape grading essays.

'I take it you're not impressed with this DADA teacher either.' Snape didn't look up at Draco. He wasn't very talkative, but he didn't seem to mind Draco spending time in his office, keeping him company. He didn't always respond, but he let Draco get things off his chest without telling him he was being childish.

'Of course not! I'd much rather have had you teaching us. I'm certain you would make the subject fascinating.'

A small smile played on Snape's lips, and Draco could see that he was pleased and even in a rather good mood. Perhaps this would be the perfect time to make a move, Draco thought and got out of his chair, circling the desk to stand next to his teacher.

He leaned close. 'You make everything fascinating,' he said softly and slid sideways into Snape's lap.

Draco felt Snape pause. The rasping of the quill had stopped, and it felt almost as if Snape was holding his breath before he cleared his throat and said, 'This is not the time, Draco.'

'Yes, it is. You can finish with those essays later.' Draco's heart was beating hard in his chest as he put his arms around Snape's neck and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

The stubble prickled his lips, leaving a light tingle behind, and Draco inhaled slowly. Snape smelled nicely, he thought - of potions ingredients, of herbs, and of course of himself: a light, musky smell of masculinity that Draco found rather intoxicating. He wanted more and as he nuzzled Snape's warm neck, he let a hand move down the front of his Professor's robes. Draco wriggled a bit, rubbing his bum against Snape's thighs and groin, and little by little, he could feel Snape's interest grow.

Draco shifted so he could put his hand on top of the bulge, and his breath hitched as he felt the hard shaft through the fabric. It felt bigger than he remembered, than he had dared fantasise. He moved the heel of his hand over it and heard a strange, strangled sound, as if Snape had tried stifling a moan.

'Draco, stop this,' Snape whispered hoarsely, but did nothing to dissuade him, and Draco could see how hard he was gripping the edge of his desk.

'No. You've done so much for me, and Father has taught me to say thank you to those who deserve it.' He slid down to the floor, looking up at Snape. 'I want to do this.' He didn't mention how many times he'd thought of Snape's cock while stroking his own, how much he wanted to see it, wanted to feel it in his hand. 'I think you want it too,' he said and unbuttoned the robes that separated him from the reality of his sexual fantasies.

Draco pulled the fabric aside and was met by the biggest cock he'd seen in his life, older students included. It was almost obscene in its length and girth, and Draco didn't realise that he was moaning while he carefully moved his fingertips along the shaft. It was with a sense of awe that he circled it with his fingers and found that Snape was too big for him to close his hand around. It was simply magnificent, a king among cocks, he was certain.

He tore his gaze away from Snape's cock to chance a glance at his face instead, and the black eyes that met his were filled with such intensity that Draco blushed. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly gone dry. 'I want this,' he repeated, whispering, and when Snape did nothing, said nothing, to stop him, Draco focused again on the cock in his hand: hard, warm, huge, and with such a soft skin that velvet was coarse in comparison.

Slowly, he pulled the foreskin back fully and leaned forward to press his lips to the dark head in a reverent kiss. He had wondered what it would feel like against his tongue, what it would taste like. Now that he was there with it before him, he was not going to let the opportunity to find out pass him by. Draco gave it a tentative lick, the tip of his tongue gliding over the slit and down the underside of the tip. He heard Snape exhale sharply above him. Snape was sitting oddly still, as if he was trying hard to not react to anything Draco was doing, even though his cock betrayed him, reacting to every little touch. But then Draco almost forgot about the man, so focused was he on the cock: tasting, licking, kissing and stroking it. He found that he could barely get it into his mouth when he tried to suck on it. It filled his mouth completely, and the sensation was more arousing than he had ever imagined. His prick was throbbing painfully, straining against his pants, and he felt as if he'd never been harder than he was that moment.

He kept the slightly spongy head in his mouth, wriggling his tongue over it and giving it a light suck now and again, while moving his hand up and down the thick shaft. With his other hand, he pulled his robe up so that he could free his own cock. The difference in size was even more tangible then, moving both hands in synchronisation.

It wasn't until Snape reached down to stroke his hair, gently encouraging him, that Draco remembered there was a world outside his focus, a man attached to the cock he was worshipping. He made a whining sound when he realised what he was actually doing, that he had Snape's gorgeous cock in his mouth (or as much of it that would fit), and felt exhilarated. The fingers in his hair rested at the nape of his neck and Draco wondered briefly if it was possible to explode from arousal.

Then Snape seemed to give up the last of his control, perhaps finally being overwhelmed and his resistance eroded, and began moving under Draco, small thrusting movements into his mouth. Draco's jaws ached but he refused to pull back now; he might never get another chance! When Snape moaned - a low, dark and delicious sound - Draco couldn't hold back his climax. He felt his cock twitch and swell in his hand and then he came hard, little pinpricks of light dancing behind his eyelids and his hand getting wet and slick.

Snape didn't stop moving, his hips still working his cock in and out between Draco's lips. It seemed almost as if time had stopped, extending endlessly between two moments, a surreal sensation of doing something both wonderful and forbidden. Snape's breath sounded ragged in the otherwise silent room and his hand moved a little on Draco's neck, tangling in his hair. The moment broke, shattering like silence pierced by the sharp cry of the hawk on a misty morning, and Draco pulled back a little after the first spurt of thick, bitter fluid filled his mouth. He tried to swallow it, but there was more, more, and he moaned as the object of his desire and longing, his adoration, painted his face with white streaks of come, dripping from his cheeks and chin, running over his lips.

He didn't like the taste, but this was Snape, so he licked his lips carefully, slowly opening his eyes again. Snape let his hand fall, and Draco looked up at him in wonder. He'd made his Professor come; everything he'd dreamt about, and more, because this was real. He met the smouldering gaze and once again felt his face flush.

'Don't tell Father, please…' Draco realised that he had probably overstepped a dozen boundaries in his need to realise his fantasies. Lucius would probably be angry that Draco was not doing this with a girl instead, like Pansy. Father would be pleased if Draco liked Pansy, he'd said.

Snape shook his head, a greasy lock swinging in front of his face. 'He would understand,' he said simply, but refused to explain what he meant when Draco asked.

That night, Draco lay in bed, sleepy and sated, wondering exactly what it was his father would understand. The need to explore and feed the hunger that had burned inside him; the fascination with his Professor's large cock; the fact that he seemed to prefer boys over girls and Snape over boys?

Before he closed his eyes, he decided that it was one of those questions it was probably best to leave unanswered.

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