All That You FearPairing:
NC-17, Post-HogwartsKinks chosen/warnings:
Phobias (as kink)Summary:
He was sick. Sick for being aroused by this, for needing this so very much. For wanting
the thrill of fear through his veins while his cock was manipulated, while his body strained against everything that held him down, both physically and mentally.Words:
This is not the Neville in my head, but I do like to play with the different personalities the characters could
have, so this is sort of what happened. Disclaimer:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Severus stepped into Greenhouse Four, looking for the Longbottom boy. Pomona had sent him here in search of one of the fresh ingredients he needed for brewing Lupin’s monthly Wolfsbane Potion, with instructions to ask Longbottom for a clipping, as he was interning under her in hopes of achieving his Masters in Herbology. Severus sneered to himself, highly doubtful that the clumsy oaf of a child that he remembered could possibly be successful enough to obtain a Masters in anything
. Well, perhaps stammering. Breathing, maybe
Continuing to amuse himself in this fashion, Severus stepped around a rack of hanging plants to see Longbottom working diligently—and amazingly, appearing to do so proficiently—on some soil samples at the end of one long workbench.
“Longbottom, I need—" Severus broke off with an impatient sound when Longbottom jumped and whirled toward him, flinging the soil he’d been working with in an arc around himself, and clearly fighting not to shriek like a woman. The blatant fear in the boy’s eyes, combined with the sudden whitening of his features, made Severus’ ire rise unexpectedly.
is your problem? When will you get over this stupid fear of yours? It is highly detrimental to our working relationship, you stupid child, and as long as you are here assisting Professor Sprout, you will need to maintain yourself!”
Longbottom flinched and turned his face, as if he expected Severus to be able to strike him from the ten feet that separated them.
“My god! Pull yourself together, boy. I need some aconite, fresh.” When Longbottom continued to simply stare at him with wide, frightened eyes, Severus growled low in his throat and said, sharply, “Now, boy!”
Longbottom flinched again and began slowly moving toward Severus, eyes downcast, gripping the worktable to hard that he would surely have splinters in his palms when he was done. He exhaled impatiently, which was apparently the final straw for the cowering young man.
“I… I c-can’t help it! Being d-dreadful isn’t h-helping, either.” The tiny note of censure made Severus raise his eyebrows. Dear god, was the boy growing a pair now
“What are you so terrified of, Longbottom? If you are working under the misguided notion that I will kill you now
, let me assure you that if I managed to maintain my patience with you through five years of exploding potions, you certainly have nothing to fear from me at this late date.” Severus wasn’t really inclined to soothing high-strung young men, but dammit, he needed the aconite. And it didn’t appear that he would get it anytime soon if the boy didn’t relax just a bit.
“What am I afraid of?” Longbottom choked on a bitter-sounding laugh. “What am I not
afraid of? I’m afraid of being alone, but I’m terrified of other people. I’m scared of failure, but… what if I succeed? Will I ever be able to do so again?” He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes closed. “N-never mind, I’m s-sorry. I’ll fetch your aconite.”
Severus watched, irritation slowly fading into something else, as the boy backed away from him, unable to hide the fear that still lingered his pale brown eyes. The fear that sparked a chord within Severus, caused the burning-twisting sensation that heralded arousal within his gut. The kind of arousal that had sent him on the dark path over twenty years ago. But this time it wasn’t cowering Muggles that caused the excitement, it was Neville fucking Longbottom. And wasn't that
Severus swooped forward suddenly, catching Longbottom off-balance, crowding him against one of the greenery-covered worktables as he deliberately lowered his head, closer and closer, and allowed his lips to curl back away from his teeth. He opened his jaw, twisting his face until he was right next to Longbottom's ear, and then snapped his teeth together. "Be careful boy, rumour has it that my bite is much worse than my bark."
Longbottom trembled against him, and Severus couldn't stop the thrum of arousal from dropping lower, swirling from his stomach into his cock, which grew slowly erect. The hitch in Longbottom's breath told Severus that the boy was aware of Severus' growing "problem" and he started to move back, conscious of the fact that this was neither the time nor the place, but then...~*~
Neville, his heart beating so rapidly in his ears that he could barely hear anything over the sound of it, felt his fear wash over and through him and turn, incredibly, into nearly instant arousal. He shifted forward, all but melting
into Snape—and wasn’t that
the most unusual thing that had ever
happened to Neville?—and let his breath blow raggedly on Snape’s neck just where the man’s robes brushed against his pale skin.
He felt Snape go still for the space of one long heartbeat before he pressed back against Neville, those teeth nipping lightly at the thin cartilage at the top of Neville’s earlobe, making him shudder and release another broken breath.
“What else do you fear, boy?”
Neville shook his head, knowing that if he tried to form words, they would come out as nothing but stammers. Long fingers bit into his waist then, dragging him ever closer to Snape, fitting their bodies together so perfectly it shocked Neville.
“Do you fear pain?”
Neville keened as Snape’s head dipped and those damned teeth sank into the skin over his collarbone—and how had he uncovered that without Neville realising?—worrying it fiercely until Neville’s hips finally thrust forward of their own accord.
“Or do you fear pleasure?”
And then a tongue was soothing the stinging skin, tracing wet patterns on it even as his shirt slipped slowly down his arms, aided by Snape’s hands. Calloused fingers skimmed over the insides of his wrists, drawing his hands up and over his head even as he was bent backward almost awkwardly over the tabletop. A murmured word and his hands were bound with magical rope to the table, causing Neville to struggle almost desperately.
“Do you fear having control taken from you?”
Neville pulled again, nearly frantic now. His thrashing set the potted plants around him to swaying, causing several ivy shoots to brush tantalisingly over his skin, aiding in Snape’s efforts to drive him to the brink. He swallowed roughly when Snape lifted his lower body and swung it up onto the tabletop as well, his arms twisting awkwardly until Snape touched where they were bound to the table and the ropes swivelled about.
“Do you fear losing
One hand was easing up under the leg of his loose work-trousers, teasing his ankle bone and smoothing over the crisp hair on his shins before sliding beneath to grip his calf, massaging the muscle. But that hand wasn’t nearly so disconcerting as the mouth that was slowly lowering over Neville’s abdomen, blowing long streams of air around his navel before… oh, god, the teeth again! Skimming over his prick where it tented the front of his trousers, Snape’s mouth opening in an attempt to suck Neville’s cockhead through the thick material.
Then, before he could think again, his trousers and pants were gone, and the hand was unimpeded as it travelled up his leg, and the mouth was closing around him and there was pushing and pulling and god, heat! Then the heat was gone, and there was weight in its place, holding him down, and hisses of filthy words and slick-sliding and he was helpless and it was so good
… and he was sick. Sick for being aroused by this, for needing this so very much. For wanting
the thrill of fear through his veins while his cock was manipulated, while his body strained against everything that held him down, both physically and mentally.
He opened his eyes, vision grey at the corners so that all he could see, his whole focus, was Snape. Snape, with the ugly face and the hooked nose and the nasty teeth, and the words
that tore Neville apart and made him want to sink into himself, into his own despair. It was the memory of countless fears, all revolving around this man, that sent Neville over the edge.
He cried as he came, afraid of the outcome of this, afraid of what would come next. Afraid that nothing
would come next.
"Do you foresee conquering these phobias of yours, Longbottom?"
That ragged, not-quite-put-together voice sent another shiver over Neville's cooling skin. Swallowing roughly, he shook his head and admitted, "I doubt anything could ever rid me of my fears." The sound of Snape moving toward the Greenhouse door made Neville turn his head away, eyes squeezed with something like pain.
Until he heard the softly spoken, "Excellent," just before Snape slipped out the door.