Fic: Playing With Fire - for snarrylover Title: Playing With Fire Author: Peter Pettigrew, methinks. Giftee:snarrylover Word Count: 7,464 Rating: NC-17 Warnings: *Chan/underage (Harry is 16), student/teacher, dub-con, inexperienced!Harry, sex toy* Pairing: Snape/Harry Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: Now in sixth year, dating Ginny, Harry tries something new with disastrous results. Luckily, Snape is there to offer assistance. Author’s Note: For snarrylover with deep affection. Hope you like it, chica, and, better yet, hope you enjoy it. Much love and kisses to my temporarily anonymous betas. I heart you.
Playing With Fire
Beside him, Hermione straightened up in her seat and opened her mouth. Harry focused on her, hoping for something reassuring and positive. Hermione met his eyes, made a squeaky sound, and shut her mouth. Harry sighed, shoulders slumping, and lowered his eyes to continue watching his tattered trainers scuff the floor.
Clearly trying to be supportive, Hermione took a deep breath and folded her hands primly in her lap. “So… what exactly happened?”
Harry sighed and fumbled in his robe pocket before pulling out a white, circular object. He set the item on his knee, where they both proceeded to stare at it. Shaped like a dragon biting its own tail, the cock ring measured roughly two-inches in diameter and gleamed in the shadowy light of the hallway. “It all started with that book you let me borrow,” Harry muttered self-consciously.
“The book I let you borrow,” Hermione repeated. “Would that be My Pleasure: Sex Toys For Men, Women, and Couples?”
“Erm, yeah. See… Ginny and I haven’t been going out that long, and she wanted to, but I haven’t… I mean, I’ve never… and I wanted to, too, but… uh…” He trailed off and ran a sweaty palm through his hair. “Anyway, in the book you let me borrow, there was talk about, uh, modern cock rings…” He looked away from Hermione, his voice fading as his discomfort level rose.
Hermione’s face was bright red, but she nonetheless went immediately into dictionary mode. “Chinese men slipped ivory rings over their erections to help maintain them. The rings were ornately carved, usually depicting dragons, and…” She trailed off in horrified surprise as the dragon on the cock ring shifted, arched its back, and grumbled before re-biting its tail and settling back down. “Oh my God, Harry, you animated that dragon!”
“I thought -” Harry abruptly lowered his voice, looked around nervously, and continued in a furious whisper. “I thought it would be cool! You know.” He gestured agitatedly. “Like how Romilda and Ginny joked about me having a Hungarian Horntail tattoo.” He glanced down at the cock ring on his knee and hurriedly looked away. “But it didn’t go quite as I had planned. We were laughing about me bringing it, and then Ginny picked it up. The dragon, uh, well, it, err, breathed a jet of fire on her…” He gestured awkwardly towards his groin.
“Didn’t go according to plan?” Fascinated, Hermione studied the dragon cock ring, watching it breathe. “I would say not. Wait a minute. Breathed a jet of fire? Harry, did you… you burned her, her…” Words seeming to fail her, Hermione crossed and uncrossed her legs while staring at Harry in appalled silence.
“Ssh!” Horrified, he looked desperately around the halls, hoping against hope no prefect was doing his or her rounds at this precise moment. Understanding, Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth and looked anxiously over her shoulder. The halls remained quiet, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “I know,” he finally sighed. Harry slunk miserably down in the uncomfortable chair outside the hospital wing and stifled a yawn. He’d rushed Ginny there after the… incident, after running to Hermione in a panic over what to do. She’d taken one look at the sobbing, limping Ginny, and firmly decided to take the girl to Madam Pomfrey. The mediwitch had settled Ginny into a bed and kicked Hermione and Harry out of the room. Now it was close to three in the morning and Harry was flagging. At least tomorrow was Saturday, which meant… he had detention all day with Snape. Fabulous.
He straightened hastily in his seat as Madam Pomfrey opened the doors to the Hospital wing and fixed them with a clear look of disapproval. “I’ve worked here for over twenty years and it never ceases to amaze me what you children get up to!” Harry flushed guiltily and ducked his head, reaching out a hasty hand seconds later to stuff the cock ring into his robe pocket. “Miss Weasley will be just fine. Nothing a night in the infirmary won’t clear up. You two need to be getting off to bed now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hermione smiled weakly at the mediwitch and stood, grabbing Harry by the elbow and forcing him to rise with her.
“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey.” Harry added quietly. “Can you tell her, er...” He flushed brilliantly. “Tell her I’m really sorry and, uh, I’ll talk to her later.”
The two walked in uncomfortable silence to the Gryffindor tower. Just before separating to go to their respective dormitories, Hermione reached over and gave Harry a comforting hug. “It’ll be ok, Harry. You’ll see. Everything will seem a lot better in the morning.”
But the morning didn’t seem any better. For starters, Harry overslept, and quickly scrambled into some clothes and yesterday’s robe in order to catch even a bit of breakfast before heading to the dungeons. The moment Harry slid into the seat Hermione had saved for him, however, he knew his day was only destined to get worse. Ginny was at breakfast, sitting between Hermione and Colin Creevey, looking miserable and embarrassed as she poked at the food on her plate. She looked up when Harry sat down, only to immediately look away, blushing furiously. Hermione gave a helpless shrug, and leaned close to Ginny to whisper in her ear. Harry looked across the table at Ron, sighing mentally when Ron gave him a look meant to convey anger and confusion, which made him look slightly constipated.
“Morning,” Harry offered hopefully.
“Did you put my sister in the Hospital wing?”
“Ron!” Mortified, Ginny ducked her head to stare at the table. She looked up after a moment and smiled feebly at Harry. “I’ll talk to you later, ok? I just… can’t right now.” Standing up, she hurried away from the table. Hermione grabbed Ginny’s forgotten cloak, gave Harry a bracing pat on the shoulder and apologetic smile, and followed.
“What did you do to Ginny?” Dean Thomas gave Harry a suspicious look.
“Nothing! I just…” He gestured helplessly. “Look, can we talk about something else?”
“Talk about whatever you want.” Ron looked surly. “Aren’t you supposed to be in detention, though?”
Harry swore, draining his pumpkin juice and smiling feebly before bolting from the table. Malfoy caught sight of him hurrying from the room and smirked, turning to whisper something to his ever-present henchmen. Harry gritted his teeth and ignored them, racing down the hall to Snape’s office. Bending at the waist, hands on his knees, Harry took deep gasping breaths to recover from his sprint to the dungeons. He hadn’t slept well the night before, was worried about Ginny, embarrassed about the whispers already circling the school, and now…now he was late for detention with the teacher who hated him most. Today was shaping up to be a spectacular day. Taking one last, fortifying breath, Harry straightened and knocked on the door.
The tone was biting. Outstanding. Today was going to be a fun one. Squaring his shoulders, Harry slipped into Snape’s office and quietly shut the door behind him. Snape was sitting at his desk, glaring at the door, hands steepled before him. He watched Harry enter and move before the desk in complete silence. The chair normally stationed in front of Snape’s desk was absent. Harry stopped walking and hovered uncertainly before the desk. Snape didn’t say a word, merely sat there and examined the boy before him. Harry shuffled nervously from foot to foot. “Sorry I’m late, sir.”
“Quiet.” Harry closed his mouth resentfully, watching warily as Snape rose from his seat and strode gracefully around the desk. The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck prickled when Snape walked behind him - and stopped.
“On your knees.”
“What?” Disconcerted, Harry turned to look at his professor. The light shove to his back caught him off-guard and sent him to the floor with a painful thump. “Hey!”
“I said…” Snape twisted his hands in Harry’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing the long vulnerable stretch of his throat. Harry went still as something fluttery exploded in his belly. He shuddered helplessly, confused, anxious, overwhelmed, as the silky voice continued. “On your knees.” Hardly aware of moving, Harry jolted in surprise when his knees impacted the cold stone floor seconds later.
Snape pulled away and circled Harry, looking far too happy to have the boy on his knees before him. Harry rather uneasily reflected that he looked like a tiger circling its prey before leaping in for the kill. “Do you think I enjoy these detentions, Potter? Enjoy them to the point where your flagrant dismissal of the pre-established time will not disturb or upset me?”
“Look.” Harry huffed irritably, reaching up to straighten his glasses and brush his hair out of his eyes. “It was a crazy night. Sir. I said I was sorry...”
Snape nudged him again, sending him sprawling back onto his hands and knees. Something heavy clinked against the dungeon floor. “And I, Mr. Potter, said to be quiet.” Harry lay sprawled out, glaring resentfully at the floor. Of course Snape wouldn’t care that his social life had gone to hell. All he would notice was the fact that Harry was five bloody minutes late to detention! “Well, well, well.” Snape’s tone had changed. He sounded…smug. Pleased. Instantly suspicious, Harry lifted his head, and felt his heart seize in his chest.
His teacher was holding something small and white. Something shaped like a dragon. An animated dragon. Frozen in horror, Harry stretched out his hand, head shaking in denial, and tried to vanish the cock ring through sheer force of will. “No. Er, sir, please. That’s mine!”
“Is it?” Snape flicked a single glance at Harry, now resting on his knees, and returned his attention back to the ring resting on his palm. The dragon was awake again, looking irritated by the recent upheaval from Harry’s cloak pocket, and studying Snape with a suspicious and speculative air. Snape stared right back at the dragon, black eyes piercing, faint half-smile on his face. “Tell me, Mr. Potter, what possessed you to come to detention today with a cock ring upon your person?”
Harry flushed brilliantly. “It wasn’t like that, sir! It, I mean… I shoved it in my pocket after, and I just, er, it was just there.”
“After?” Snape turned his attention away from the dragon and pierced Harry with an angry look. “After your sexual liaison was concluded?”
“What? No! No, sir. We didn’t, I mean.” Harry gestured awkwardly towards his crotch, humiliated beyond belief he was discussing this with Snape. But what could he do, really? Snape was holding his cock ring in the palm of his hand. You couldn’t get much more exposed in front of another person.
Satisfied, Snape dropped his eyes back to the dragon nestled in his palm. The dragon had lifted its tiny head at some point, turning back and forth between Harry and the professor. Snape continued watching the dragon, keeping his voice calm and even. “Are you attempting to articulate that you are, in fact, still a virgin, Mr. Potter?”
Harry glared at the dragon as it curled back up contentedly on Snape’s palm. Even though the dragon wasn’t technically real, it was still his. He viewed it as a personal betrayal that his cock ring was so comfortable around Snape (and wasn’t that a thought distressing enough to ensure years of personal therapy). “I thought it would be fun to try something new,” he muttered resentfully. “But it didn’t work. That didn’t work. And Ginny… well.”
Snape nodded absently, reaching a single finger towards the cock ring. Harry watched in fascination, feeling awkward and horrified, and slightly perverse at the flutters in his belly over the thought of his teacher touching something that had been so close to his bits. However, when that pale digit actually made contact and ran slowly over the ornately carved dragon, causing the dragon to arch its back and emit a growling purr of approval, Harry jerked back, lips parting in surprise, as his cock gave an answering twitch of anticipation. Snape turned his fathomless black eyes onto Harry, swept his gaze from the top of messy black hair to the sole of scuffed trainers, and gave a slow smile.
“Anyone can obtain toys to increase their sexual aptitude. There is a difference, however, between purchasing items, and actually knowing how to correctly utilize them. Tell me, Mr. Potter.” Snape looked directly into his eyes, appearing both intimidating and, somehow, welcoming. “Do you know how to use a cock ring?”
“How…” Harry trailed off, watching in sick satisfaction as Snape continued caressing the dragon resting on his palm. “Sorry.” He shook his head forcefully, resting back on his heels so he didn’t feel at quite such a disadvantage. Snape allowed the move, continuing to watch him intently. “Er, there’s a certain way to wear one? I mean, don’t you just, you know, put it on and, um, do it?”
“Oh no, Mr. Potter. As with any activity worth doing, there is a certain art to adding stimulation to your sexual routine.”
“Oh, indeed.” Flicking one last glance at Harry, Snape turned and walked towards his desk. “I could teach you.”
Harry paused in the act of shifting his body on the floor and glanced up in complete surprise. “What?”
“I am a teacher, am I not?” Snape glanced at him from under his lashes before pulling several sheaves of parchment towards himself. “If you would like instruction in how to properly utilize a cock ring, appear at my office precisely at seven tomorrow evening. That will be all, Potter.”
“You are dismissed.”
Harry blinked, still half-sprawled inelegantly on the floor, and watched as Snape calmly marked papers. “What?”
“I said, Mr. Potter” - had Snape always growled his name like that? - “you are dismissed. Unless, of course, you wish to spend the remainder of your weekend cleaning cauldrons in my presence?”
“Oh. No.” Suddenly conscious of every awkward contraction of muscle, Harry scrambled to his feet and simply stood in place, gazing blankly at the top of Snape’s greasy head, before turning and stumbling quickly out of the room. It wasn’t until he reached the dubious safety of Gryffindor tower that he realized he’d left the cock ring in Snape’s possession. _________________________________________
Sunday was the single worst day of Harry’s life since second year when the school thought he was the Heir of Slytherin and had been petrifying random students.
He woke up slowly, shrugging off the dreams that had plagued him. Had he really discussed sex with his teacher? More specifically, had he really discussed cock rings with Snape? In the cold light of day, after a night of restless and confusing dreams, it seemed completely irrational. Yawning, vowing to think about it later, Harry pulled back his curtains and smiled sleepily at his roommates. “Morning.”
Ron smiled grimly, pulling on his shoes with more force than was strictly necessary before stomping out of the room. Dean scowled at Harry, stopping in the middle of the room to point an accusing finger at him. “You may have taken her from me, but you won’t be able to keep her with you acting like this.”
Acting like what? Did he know… did Dean know about his cock ring? Feeling far too paranoid for his own comfort, Harry ran an awkward hand through his hair. “Huh?” Seamus laughed, offered Harry a half-hearted wave, and followed Dean from the room. Harry turned to Neville for an explanation. “What just happened there?”
Neville gave Harry an apologetic look as he tied the laces of his shiny black shoes. “Don’t mind them, Harry. Malfoy’s been spreading all sorts of rumors about you. Again.”
“Rumors?” Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Please, oh please, oh please, don’t say Malfoy was in the hallway the other night.
“See, he saw Ginny leaving the hospital wing yesterday morning. Hermione was with her, talking about how something was an accident and how you felt bad.” Neville fidgeted with his tie, looking embarrassed. “Malfoy’s been saying how you slept with Ginny, and were so wild in bed that Ginny wound up in the hospital wing. He’s saying you like all kinds of extra, uh, things, during sex.” Harry thought about the cock ring and blushed. Neville’s eyes widened when Harry dropped his gaze. The tips of Neville’s ears turned pink as he hastily looked away. “Right. Well, uh, Dean. He really liked Ginny. And Ron’s her brother.” Neville shrugged uncomfortably. “Ginny won’t say what happened. She just keeps blushing and then leaves the room. Then yesterday when you stayed in your room all day after your detention… Well, you know how rumors spread around Hogwarts. I’m sure it’ll pass in a day or two.” Smiling feebly, Neville pulled on a clean robe and waved before leaving.
Harry flopped back on his bed and stared at the drapes. He didn’t quite know how he felt: relief that Malfoy hadn’t been in the corridor when he’d been talking to Hermione, anger that rumors were already being spread about the incident, and shock, still. After yesterday’s detention, he just hadn’t been in the mood for company. He’d slept, had disturbing dreams about Snape’s hands, woken up, and wanked to the remembered feel of a hard body pressed against his back and a silky voice whispering in his ear. Never mind the fact that Snape probably wasn’t allowed to do that to a student, the realization that his teacher had slipped into his masturbatory fantasies had been horrifying. He’d hidden in his room all day. Now rumors were about, but he was starving, and hiding in his room no longer seemed a viable option.
Romilda Vane was waiting in the common room for him when he finally, slowly, found the courage to leave his bed in order to go hide in the kitchens. Looking perky and oddly flushed, Romilda beamed a smile at him, and hurried across the room to him. “Hi, Harry!” she greeted him breathlessly. “I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I bought you some Chocoballs.” Romilda trailed the edge of the box of sweets slowly across her chest before pressing them into Harry’s hands. “I just love them. Something about licking the cream out of them always makes me feel better.” She winked at him, one hand reaching out to playfully smack his arm.
“Erm, right.” Harry glanced down at the box warily, remembering vaguely that Romilda had also once given him Chocolate Cauldrons that he’d tossed into his trunk. “Thanks.”
“Oh, it’s no problem whatsoever, Harry.” She beamed another smile at him, her smile fading slightly as he edged past her.
“Right, uh. I’ve got to go. Meeting Hermione, you know. But thanks!” He turned and fled from the common room, feeling a rush of love for Hermione when she met him outside the portrait with a stack of toast and a wry smile.
“Drowning your cares in chocolate will only make your face break out,” she informed him crisply, deftly taking the box of chocolate and handing over the toast.
“Romilda gave it to me.” Harry gratefully stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth and chewed hurriedly.
Hermione’s nose wrinkled. She held the box with two fingers with a look of distaste before tossing it into the nearest bin. “That girl is such a slut.” Harry choked on his next bite, causing Hermione to smile. “Come on, we’ll go to the library.”
On some level, Harry knew he should feel shame for hiding behind his best friend and homework, but the whispers from the other students were driving him mad. Right now he was too grateful for Hermione’s presence, too appreciative of the fact that her McGonagall-ish glare kept the other students at bay, to drum up the energy to branch out on his own. It wasn’t until hours later, walking around the school, that he found himself in the dungeons, desperately trying to hide from the sound of student’s voices coming ever closer. It was with almost a sense of relief that he found himself in front of Snape’s office, knocking quietly but hurriedly. It wasn’t until he lifted his hand from the door that he realized what his presence here, at night, would convey.
Harry gazed nervously at the closed door in front of him before squaring his shoulders and pushing it open. He found it vaguely reassuring that Snape was sitting at his desk as usual, correcting papers and just generally ignoring his presence. The chair was back in front of the desk. Everything seemed perfectly normal and routine. If there was ever a moment to back out, now was the time. But the voices at his back were edging ever nearer, and Harry found himself inside the room, door closed behind him, before he really even thought about it.
Snape looked up briefly, his hand tightening fractionally on his quill, before dropping his gaze back to the papers before him. “Be seated.”
Awkwardly shuffling his feet and sending uneasy glances at the door, Harry walked across the room and sat in the chair. Perhaps Snape didn’t remember his…offer.
“Early, I see.” Snape glanced up at him briefly, quill never faltering. “Eager to begin the lessons, are we?”
Harry flushed. So much for that theory. Still, he was a Gryffindor. He could do this. Right? “Erm, yes, sir.”
Snape nodded, ending his writing with a graceful flourish and pushing the paper away from him. “And I can conclude from your presence here that you are asking me for my assistance?”
Warily, Harry nodded. Snape arched a single eyebrow in response. Blushing, Harry dropped his eyes to his lap, hurriedly looked away, and stared at his toes instead. “Yes. Yes, sir.”
“Much like your disastrous Occlumency lessons of last year, I will demand a high level of decorum and secrecy regarding these lessons. Is that clear?”
Harry shifted uneasily, trying to convince himself that the shivers dancing down his spine were brought on by the cold of the dungeons. What was he agreeing to? “Yes, sir.”
“Then let us begin our lessons.” Snape calmly leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands together, and surveyed Harry. “You should know there are two different types of cock rings – decorative and functioning. Decorative ones are just that, used for visual…” Harry felt his muscles twitch nervously as coal black eyes dropped to his feet and slowly swept back up to his face. “Stimulation. Decorative cock rings typically encompass the entire penis, and, therefore, are not meant to be used during sexual intercourse or while masturbating. Decorative cock rings can have a wonderful effect in your fantasy role-playing and sexual foreplay.”
“Role-playing?” Harry repeated doubtfully. He shot a nervous glance at the door, wondering precisely what he had gotten himself into. Still… he had asked Snape to help teach him. Hadn’t he?
“But let’s discuss functioning cock rings right now.” Snape ignored Harry’s tentative question and stood, circling round to the front of his desk and pulling a small white object out of his pocket at the same time. Harry blushed furiously when he realized Snape was holding his malfunctioning cock ring. The still-animated dragon blinked sleepily around the room, settling down with a rumbling purr of contentment as a single long potion-stained finger stroked down its back.
“This type of cock ring generally goes around the base of the penis and the scrotum and can help a male maintain an erection.” Harry felt his muscles clench, watching wide-eyed as his professor continued to caress the dragon nestled in his palm. There was something very, very… disturbing about his Potions master saying words like penis or erection. He forced himself to sit still and quiet as the man continued lecturing. “This is accomplished by restricting the flow of blood out of the penis by compressing the veins near the surface of the skin. The arteries, which allow blood to flow into the penis, are located deeper inside the male’s penis and not affected. This typically results in a man getting harder and staying erect longer.” As though aware of Harry’s internal turmoil, Snape looked directly into Harry’s eyes and slowly smirked. “You can use a functioning cock ring during intercourse or masturbation since they do not interfere with the shaft or head of the penis. And that, Mr. Potter, brings us to today’s lesson. Now stand up and strip.”
“Strip?” Unconsciously, Harry’s back hunched, his body futilely trying to burrow deeper into the chair he was sitting on.
“Indeed.” Snape arched a single eyebrow in challenge. “Is our lesson not about learning to properly utilize toys in a sexual setting? I have been your instructor for six years, Mr. Potter. You are what one would refer to as a kinesthetic learner – you learn better by doing. Now we are concentrating on using a functioning cock ring. In order for our tutorial to continue, you will need to remove your clothing.”
“Right.” Slowly, flushing brilliantly, Harry stood up and shrugged off his robe. Was Snape just going to stand there and watch him? He peeked through the fringe of hair partially obscuring his eyes, blush deepening at the alert expression on his teacher’s face. Quickly toeing off his trainers, he hesitated for a minute, hands hovering over the button on his trousers, before resolutely undoing it and letting his trousers pool around his ankles. He could not, however, bring himself to lower his pants. The decision was taken from him with a flourish of Snape’s wand, an odd high-pitched squeak escaping his mouth as he stood naked from the waist down in his Potions master’s office. Somehow, the reality of standing naked in a drafty room was far different from talking about learning how to properly use a sex toy. Then again, this was the man who had failed so spectacularly at teaching him Occlumency last year.
Entrusting his brain was one thing; Harry was beginning to have serious second thoughts about trusting his bits to the man before him.
Looking calm and unruffled, Snape pushed himself away from the desk and walked slowly around, watching as Harry trembled. “First, a concise demonstration of how to put on a cock ring if it is just that, a ring, with no snaps to aid in getting it on and off.” Harry sucked in a shaking breath as Snape stopped walking and stood directly behind him, the soft texture of his teaching robes tickling his skin and making every hair on his body stand on end. He shuddered, violently, when Snape trailed the fingers of his left hand over his knee, up his thigh, and lightly tickled the bed of coarse curls at the base of his cock.
“Size matters when selecting a cock ring.” Snape’s voice was brusque, lecture-like, and Harry instantly craned his neck around and lifted his eyes to the man behind him in reflexes born of six years of obeying in class. Snape’s lips twitched at the response. “Should you use a ring that is too big and too loose, you’re defeating the purpose of the ring. Use a ring that is too tight, it will cut off all retreating blood flow. An injury, I assure you, you do not wish to experience. A rule of thumb, if you will, to find the diameter of a ring that will fit snugly, is to measure the distance around the cock and balls behind the scrotum, then divide by 3.1.” Harry’s brain short-circuited as Snape gently clasped the base of his penis, and traced a finger over his scrotum and around his ball sac. “For example, if the distance you measure is 6.2 inches, dividing by 3.1 gives us 2 inches. This means don’t purchase a cock ring smaller than 2 inches in diameter. You, Mr. Potter, have purchased an acceptably-sized cock ring.”
“G--” Harry forced himself to choke out a breath. “That’s good to know.”
“Mmm.” A non-committal noise of acknowledgement. Snape stepped closer to Harry, pressing the length of his body firmly against Harry’s back.
Slightly greasy hair brushed against his neck and cheek, Snape’s mouth lightly grazing the sensitive flesh around his ear. “Step one,” he breathed quietly, fingers continuing their odd massage in his pubic hair. “Pull the scrotal skin through the ring.” Unable to stop himself, Harry looked down in fascinated horror as those same long potion-stained fingers that had previously caressed the dragon gently lifted his sensitive sac and guided it towards the cock ring. The ring was warm, he noted fuzzily, from being held in the same hands that were now so close to… his cock jerked at that line of thought, and Harry forced himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath.
“Step two.” Snape continued speaking, seemingly mercifully unaware of Harry’s growing predicament. “Pop the balls through.” It didn’t hurt, not exactly, but the feeling of something rigid and textured slipping over an area previously untouched, made Harry gasp out loud and lean back into the solid warmth of Snape’s body. His teacher made no protest of this move, merely widening his stance to better brace both their weight.
“Step three,” Snape continued after a miniscule pause and hitch of breath. “Bend the penis down and pull it through the ring.”
Despite his better intentions with Ginny, Harry had never actually had anyone’s hands besides his on his privates. He stared despite himself, the tremors in his body increasing, at the white cock ring nestled so intimately against his groin. The dragon on the ring shifted, wiggling its hips as it settled into position, and seemed to glance up at Harry with a smugly amused look before settling. “The penis should be flaccid when putting on or taking off a cock ring for the best results.” Snape sounded amused as he continued to gently caress Harry’s hardening shaft.
“Right.” Harry winced at the sound of his voice, higher-pitched and squeakier than normal. He cleared his throat quickly, and then cleared it again as he choked on his saliva. “I’m not, I mean I haven’t, um.” He gestured vaguely to his crotch.
“If you are attempting to inform me you are a novice at sex, I was aware of that before you asked for my tutelage.”
“Oh.” Harry’s voice was high-pitched and breathless again as he continued watching those long fingers caress his penis. “So, uh, that’s all there is to a cock ring then?” Snape’s hand stilled, fingers sliding back to linger in his short black curls, before both of Snape’s palms slid over his hips to rub soothing circles on his thighs.
“Oh no, Mr. Potter. This is merely the beginning of our practical.”
Harry let out a whoosh of breath and staggered as Snape abruptly moved towards his personal shelf of ingredients and potions, the tinkling of glass Harry’s only indication the man was searching for something and hadn’t merely left him standing, half-naked and dismissed, in his office. He ignored his teacher for the moment, not really caring what he was doing, as he stared down at himself. His penis looked… vulnerable. Surrounded by a ring of white, protruding out from his body, looking smoother and more flushed than when he was merely masturbating. He’d already seen the appeal of wearing such a toy, which was why he had invested in one in the first place, but actually wearing one, even in front of his professor - perhaps because it was in front of professor - was strangely exciting, almost liberating. He moved to sit back in the chair he’d been sitting in before, absently removing his shirt, and watched the way his penis bobbed and swayed in the candlelight.
“You’ll note, Mr. Potter, that your penis is thicker, engorged with more blood, after the ring is put on.”
Harry looked up as Snape walked back towards him. The man had removed his teaching robes, leaving him clad in simple black trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and vest. If anything, he looked more imposing than in the outfit Harry was accustomed to seeing him wear, and Harry unconsciously closed his thighs, becoming glaringly aware of the fact he was clad only in his socks.
“Yeah, erm, I mean, yes, Sir.” Harry blushed again. What was he supposed to call the man? Granted, he had been ordered to call him either “Professor” or “sir” in their private lessons last year, but this time Snape was intimately touching his body. Thoughts of calling out “oh, Professor!” while the man’s hand was on his dick seemed more conducive to the role-playing games Snape was talking about earlier than the more clinical, practical lessons he was trying to intimate. “It said, I mean, I read that cock rings give you a better orgasm, and stuff.”
Snape inclined his head in agreement, pulling a second chair close to Harry and settling himself upon it. “If by and stuff you mean maintaining better erections, delaying orgasm, and producing a more intense orgasmic sensation.”
“Erm, yeah.” Harry flushed again, dropping his eyes to where Snape’s trouser-clad knee pressed against his bare thigh.
“Then I would say that you are well-read, Mr. Potter.”
“Thank you.” Absurdly pleased by the back-handed compliment, Harry looked up and smiled shyly at Snape, then shivered as the draughty dungeon played hell on his exposed flesh.
“Cock rings that are too tight, worn too long, can be dangerous and cause medical injury.” Snape once again resumed his lecture voice, distracting Harry from his discomfort. “Temporary or permanent nerve damage, numbness in glans, and discoloration.” A single, expressive eyebrow lifted. “An erection of several hours can cause blood coagulation in the penis, making it difficult to lose the erection. This is called priapism, a prolonged erection.” Snape smirked as he held up a sealed blue jar. “I would never place so willing a pupil into such a predicament and then leave him. Lubricant, to aid.”
“To aid…” Harry was so startled he simply forgot to blush. “You want me to wank in front of you?”
“Of course not,” Snape calmly refuted. “I will assist you in achieving climax, while ensuring there is no excess swelling, another common indication of a too-tight cock ring.”
“Have always tried to teach you, Mr. Potter. As I have said before, you strike me as a kinesthetic learner. Should I simply tell you what to search for and then ask for results, I fear you will reply that the experiment was ‘grand and stuff.’ With you, I am willing to leave nothing to chance.”
Harry gaped, appalled and embarrassed that his erection, far from decreasing, was continuing to swell in appreciation of this line of questioning. “But I can’t, I mean…” Desperately uncomfortable, he rubbed damp palms on his chilly thighs. “I can’t do that here!”
“In my office?” Snape looked around in disinterest. “Very well, then. First you talk me into teaching you how to correctly employ sexual toys, now you talk yourself into my bed. Off we go.”
Harry scrambled off the chair when Snape abruptly stood and crossed the room towards a plain wooden door. What had just happened? He’d talked himself into Snape’s bed? How? He’d only been saying that he was uncomfortable engaging in sexual acts with his teacher in the office - oh. Well, he couldn’t very well prance around the castle wearing naught but socks and a cock ring. What else was Snape to assume but that he wanted to be in a bed? A bed attached not too far from his office, apparently. Feeling guiltily as though he was imposing upon Snape, Harry hurried across the chilly room and into a fire-lit bedroom.
Harry had a vague impression of dark before his attention was drawn to the bed. Looking soft and inviting, it dominated the shadowed interior of the room. Snape didn’t hesitate, unbuttoning his shirt as he crossed the room, pulling off his vest to drape it over a chair. He turned, as Harry continued to shiver in the doorway. “Shut the door.”
It was his brisk, no-nonsense tone again. Harry found himself obeying before he’d barely even thought about it. He leaned against the closed door, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and stared at the bed. Somehow, he had let himself be trapped into agreeing to let Snape teach him how to use a cock ring. And somehow, again Harry was not certain how, he had talked himself into Snape’s bed. But were they really going to…? His mind blanked. He shot a slightly desperate look at his teacher as the man removed his shirt. Snape turned, catching the look, and smirked. “Wipe that look off your face, Potter. You did not ask me to instruct you in the matter of fornication.” Harry blushed helplessly, still leaning awkwardly against the door, clad only in his socks. “You are entrusting me to teach you. Have I betrayed your confidence yet?”
“N- no, sir.” Harry stammered, shivering slightly as he cautiously crept across the room and perched lightly on the very edge of the bed. “Erm. Do you think that maybe you could call me Harry when you, er, while we, uh, tonight?”
Snape crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed Harry as he sat shivering on the edge of the bed. “There is an intimacy implied by the use of given names. Are you certain you wish to make yourself vulnerable to me in that way?”
What was he talking about? Harry blinked at his teacher in confusion. Saying his name would be more intimate than putting on a cock ring or bringing him to orgasm? “Yes, sir.”
“Very well then, Harry. While in the privacy of my quarters, you may address me as Severus.” Harry shivered - he couldn’t help it - as Snape seemed to drop his voice an octave over his name. “Lay back on the bed.”
Right. Lie down. On the bed. Naked. While Sna… Severus leaned over him with a look that seemed to burn right through him. Somehow, as he crab-walked backwards on the bed to lie against the softly textured pillows, Harry didn’t think it would be altogether difficult to achieve orgasm. Reluctantly fascinated, Harry watched the play of muscles in Severus’s shoulders and chest as he climbed onto the bed beside him. His belly clenching in nervous anticipation, Harry found himself absurdly grateful that his socks were still on when Severus ran an oil-slickened hand over his bobbing penis.
“I am certain, Harry, that you have not reached the illustrious age of sixteen without indulging in self-gratification?”
It took a second for Harry to remove his eyes from his groin and focus on the question asked of him. His throat felt thicker than normal, his heart fluttering in his chest. He stared into Snape’s eyes as those clever fingers continued to tease him, watching in fascination as the black eyes seemed to darken and burn with arousal. He nodded frantically in lieu of trying to catch his breath enough to speak, and then arched clear off the bed when Severus’s thumb swirled around the sensitive head of his penis. “Masturbation can be as much an art as any sexual act you indulge in.” Harry nodded again, gripping Severus’ arm helplessly, as the unusually husky voice whispered into his ear. “I encourage you to learn to appreciate your body’s responses to stimulation and pleasure. For now, though, notice how my hand is well lubricated.” Like a puppet on a string, Harry once again looked down to where Snape’s long-fingered hand, shiny with an oily-looking substance, was skillfully caressing his cock. “While lubrication is not required, it is highly encouraged when masturbating an erect cock, lest the cock ring pull at your skin.”
“F- feels good.” Harry wanted to curse himself. Since when did he stutter? Especially around Snape? But, then again, since when did his Potions master put his hands on his cock to begin with?
Snape’s hand slid down to cup his balls, rolling them lightly in his hand. “You’ll notice that your balls are tight.” Severus sounded slightly congested. Harry concentrated on his voice, attempting to remain coherent despite the nearly overwhelming feelings of pleasure. “Another glorious thing about cock rings is they prevent premature ejaculation.” Snape’s long nose nuzzled the sensitive skin behind Harry’s ear, his breath warm and slightly moist against his skin. Harry shuddered helplessly, barely paying attention, his hand clamped so desperately onto Snape’s arm he feared his nails might break the skin. There was something so deliciously wrong about being half-held down and helpless, trusting Snape to help him out of this predicament.
“It is recommended you do not exceed twenty minutes wearing a cock ring.” Snape’s breath hitched. “However, at your age and with your stamina, that shouldn’t be a problem.” Pressing his fingers just behind the dragons’ ear, Snape toyed with the cock ring. “Once you have ejaculated,” he continued after a strangled-sounding intake of breath, “you will experience a higher sensitivity along the head of your penis and the frenulum.” One last leisurely stroke to Harry’s penis, and Severus loosened the clamp the dragon had on its tail.
Harry was aware of the ring of pressure lightening but not dissipating, and then pure pleasure overloaded his system. His whole body seemed to shiver at his release. Choking out a mutilated version of “Severus,” Harry held on to the older man’s arm as everything went black.
He awoke to darkness.
The first thing he was aware of was the warmth of the room, the sound of a fire crackling merrily in the grate, and the whispering sounds of pages turning. The second thing he consciously registered was that he was fully dressed and still lying, alone now, on the bed. He blinked sleepily, struggling to sit up as his stomach muscles quivered and the muscles in his thighs ached in protest. His teacher was sitting in a chair in front of the fire, dressed once again in a shirt and trousers, absently flipping through the pages of a book. Harry sat on the bed in befuddlement. What was he supposed to do now? “Erm, Severus? Professor?”
“Once you have finished with your cock ring, it is advised to wash it with warm water and anti-bacterial soap.” Snape place his book in his lap and looked at Harry, lying flushed and rumpled on his bed. Something kindled in his eyes. “I took the liberty of cleaning you, and further saw to your comfort by redressing you.”
Harry blushed, eyes dropping shyly to his lap. He felt… sensitive. No, that wasn’t the right word. But it was. His skin felt soft, his muscles felt quivery. He was intensely aware of Snape’s smell, oddly enough, and the compressed feelings in the room. He wished, like he had never wished before, that he was as book-smart as Hermione so he could rattle off some glib and appropriate remark. But he’d never been one for words, so he sat there on Severus’s bed, after they had…
Well, he had to say something. “Erm. Thank you.”
Snape inclined his head, once again resuming his lecture tone. “In order to remove a cock ring, you need to perform the three steps in reverse. Should you have any trouble, try a little lubricant.”
“Did you?” Harry blushed as Severus lifted a single eyebrow in inquiry. “Have trouble, I mean. Removing the, uh.” He gestured to his lap.
“No.” The barest hint of a smile crossed Snape’s face. “You were well-lubricated already.”
“Oh.” Harry couldn’t look at the man before him without remembering the feel of his hand on his cock, so settled for looking at the book in his lap. “That’s good, then.”
Snape closed the book and stood. Awkwardly, Harry scrambled to his feet as well, following the silent prompting to head towards the door. He brushed against Severus in the doorway and paused, his whole body shuddering at the warmth the other body radiated. He had to fight the sudden intense urge to crawl back into Snape’s bed. Shaking himself, he proceeded through the office and stopped at the door, turning to his teacher with a shy smile. “Thanks again.”
“Mr. Potter?” Harry stopped and turned with one hand on the handle. “Should you feel the need for further instruction…” He trailed off, inclining his head slightly. “You need only ask.”
Blushing yet again, Harry nodded and fled. Hours later, lying in bed listening to the sound of his roommates breathing, he couldn’t help but wonder why he felt no shame over what had occurred between him and…Severus.