unbroken_halo (![]() ![]() @ 2004-12-12 22:46:00 |
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Original poster: madameceleste70
I'm very excited to join you all here. This is my favorite Snarry that I've written. Enjoy!
Title: Simulo Concumbo, An Exercise in Self Discipline
Author: madameceleste70
Status: Complete – roughly 2,200 words
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry uses a spell in Snape’s classroom that earns him a detention. Snape is determined to teach Harry the finer aspects of self-discipline. Harry learns his lesson in a most unusual manner.
Warning: Rimming
Beta: Thank you, emerald_123
A/N: This piece references my fic, “Exonero Tumescence”, which can be found here.
Disclaimer: We all know that this belongs to JKR and her band of merry minions.
Teenagers are notorious for their reckless abandon and their willingness to try anything at least once. A successful endeavor often leads to a false sense of security, followed by the need to try something even riskier the next time. It is a self-perpetuating cycle that inevitably spells disaster. Many a parent or teacher have witnessed the risks youth will take to quench any number of adolescent desires. Whether it is underage drinking, late night mischief making, or experimenting with new found sexuality, all teens think that nothing bad will come of it. When they fail, it is usually spectacular.
Harry Potter was a quintessential risk-taker from the start. Now that he no longer needs to fear attacks by a certain Dark Lord, and being a teenager, his new-found libido became his chief concern. His favorite daydream centered around a picture in Swish and Flick of Eliot Springmarch, former Chaser for Puddlemere United, taking it up the arse. Wanking behind the safety of his bed hangings quickly turned daydreaming in classrooms with an occasional “Exonero Tumescence” on his way to the next class. For all the horrors of that day in the Weasley kitchen, he silently thanked Mrs. Weasley every time he banished an untimely erection. He usually limited his daydreaming to times when no one would be the wiser if he needed the spell. There was a perfect spot near the Great Hall to get off after lunch, and he could take care of business after Care of Magical Creatures if he told Ron and Hermione to head back without him.
Soon enough, the fantasies escalated and quickly got out of hand. The real problems started in Potions after he’d read that Eliot’s voice was rather gravely and he tended towards exact enunciation; in other words, he had a voice like Snape’s. Before long, he began finding similarities between the two. Eliot had long legs and slender fingers just like Snape. Granted, Snape’s face was nothing in comparison, but his face wasn’t Harry chief concern. Then, Harry wondered just how closely Snape’s body would resemblance to the lithe Chaser. How he got to the point of wanting to see Snape naked every time the man spoke was beyond him. Lectures became an exercise in self-control. Today, he lost that battle and had lingered in the storage cupboard to relieve himself, not really thinking about the possibility of being caught. His potion had been a disaster, but at least he didn’t have to suffer from his prick tenting his trousers the entire time. When Snape called out to him at the end of class, he thought he’d be reprimanded because he ballsed-up the potion.
“Mr. Potter, stay after class.”
Snape had been pleasant enough during classes in recent weeks, as in he had taken less than 100 points from Gryffindor in the month and less than a weeks worth of detentions had been issued. There had been whispering that some type of record had been broken. Now, Harry was facing a seething Snape with only a few desks between them.
“You have earned yourself a week’s detention for using a spell in the storage cupboard,” said Snape. “I have rules for a reason, Mr. Potter, rules that are designed to protect me and your fellow students from moronic tendencies that often lead to disaster. You may think it okay to flaunt my authority on a whim, but you are wholly mistaken. What did you do in there?”
Harry suddenly felt that familiar crawl of his flesh under Snape’s stare. It was not the one associated with fear or loathing. It was the feeling he got when he started to lose himself in his fantasies. The tone of the man’s voice didn’t help matters. The edge to it was too much to bear and the “do” wanted to morph into another meaning entirely. He. Would. Not. Go. There. Period.
“It was nothing. Totally harmless.”
Suddenly, Snape was right there, smacking the flat of his palms on the desk. Harry jumped in his seat, and the crawling turned to tingling.
“Every spell has the potential for harm in that cupboard. Have you so quickly forgotten that one stray Lumos near the tinderleaf powder could level the dungeons? Perhaps you were talking to Weasley the day I lectured on the interaction of solvents and Accio. Anyone who fancies their skin would remember the photos from St. Mungo’s. Once again Mr. Potter, what did you do in my storage cupboard?”
Now he was starting to think about things that had nothing whatsoever to do with potions ingredients. There were so many things he would like to “do” in that dark little room tucked around a corner, out of sight.
“I did Exonero Tumescence, sir.” Harry started wriggling on his stool.
Snape moved in even closer. “How very Gryffindor of you. Brave enough to toss off in class, yet decorous enough keep it in your trousers.”
He started circling around Harry, the predator zeroing in to strike. The intensity of the man’s gaze was almost unbearable. The swish of his robes and the pace of his breathing made Harry want to jump out of his skin.
“Mr. Potter fancies someone so much that he cannot control his libido in class. Who has you so worked up, Potter?”
Harry couldn’t look at Snape for fear of revealing his secret. It would not help the situation having Snape know what Harry was thinking about doing. Together. Right. Now. He used every technique he learned to keep the man out of his head.
“No one especially,” said Harry, without sounding particularly convincing.
“Would it be the curve of Ms. Granger’s neck when she leans over her cauldron? Or perhaps the hollow of her throat when she taps her quill on her chin?” The suggestion of Harry fancying Hermione started to ease things a bit. “No. Maybe you fancy your hands on the narrow hips of Ms. Patil. Do you imagine yourself grasping them tenderly as you pull her towards you, or do you like it a little rougher?”
If Snape kept going, he would be able to stand up soon without arousing suspicion.
“Ms. Brown’s skirts tend to be reveal quite a bit of thigh. Do you want her to wrap those long legs around your waist as you join with her?”
The thought of doing that with Lavender, or any girl for that matter, dampened the last bit of his lust. Although, he should have squirmed more to feign discomfort because just when he thought he would be safe, Snape sidled up and started again. If he would have squirmed, he may have thrown Snape off the scent of the truth.
“I think our young hero should be blushing by now. Perhaps you have other interests. You and Mr. Weasley seem to be more than friends. Would you like to push him against the table during lessons? He is such a strong young man, he wouldn’t let you take him without a fight. Or is that exactly what you want Potter?”
Harry felt colour start to tint his cheeks. He moved every so slightly, the tingling was back with a vengeance. It was too much to hope that Snape would not notice.
“Mr. Malfoy, on the other hand, will spread his legs for almost anyone.”
The words “spread” and “legs” coming out of Snape’s mouth in the same sentence was the breaking point, that and his remembering what he wanted to do in that cupboard. His prick hardened instantly and the blood in it pounded so fiercely that Harry could feel it pulsing against his thigh.
“You know Draco wouldn’t settle for anyone but a pureblood. I suspect you’re thinking of someone entirely different. Yes?”
“Yes, sir.” Harry made a furtive glance, and in that instance he was sure he had broadcast every last thought right to Snape. Snape sneered, slowly making his way behind Harry. He could feel Snape leaning in and grasping each side of the stool, leaving only millimeters between their bodies. He wanted to move back that small distance to plaster himself against Snape’s chest. With one small movement, Snape could reach all the way around and have his way. Instead, Harry was treated to another blast of hot breath in his ear.
“I’ll not have you indulging yourself in my stores. However, my past punishments have done little to quench your desire to flaunt the rules. I shall teach you a lesson in self-discipline you’ll not soon forget. It is an art form unto itself.”
Harry gulped. He was sure Snape was reveling in his discomfort while planning a punishment that would exact the highest degree of embarrassment. Harry began squirming in earnest with an odd mix of equal parts fear and desire.
“Our brave young hero is nervous. How touching. Pay attention, or I shall be forced to resort to sending you off to Filch for training of a different nature. Every Slytherin with a disciplined mind and mastery of wandless magic learns this particular lesson
“Close your eyes and concentrate. Visualize the incantation ‘Simulo concumbo’. Do you know what those words mean, Potter?”
He didn’t know, but wouldn’t admit it. Snape was practically purring in his ear. The man was so close that he could easily lick Harry’s ear. He wanted Snape’s tongue all over his ear and down his neck and in other places. Suddenly, he could feel a tongue moving across his skin and he let out a small moan. The meaning of the spell quickly became apparent. He willed the tongue to move across his chest to tease at each nipple and then move slowly down his belly. Harry would have sworn that it was Snape’s tongue if he hadn’t known the man was standing directly behind him. When the tongue began moving along the length of his cock, Harry had no choice but to let out a long, low moan.
“You must keep quiet, lest you want every Slytherin within five meters to know what you’re doing. What is it exactly that you’re imagining, Potter?”
Harry couldn’t resist revealing his thoughts, “Licking. Everywhere.”
“Well, well, well. Potter enjoys the pleasures of the tongue.”
As Snape said it, the mouth closed over the head. The tongue exploring each centimeter under his foreskin while alternately flicking at the slit. He had never experienced something so intoxicating and felt as though he’d explode. He didn’t want it to end yet; Harry was greedy for more.
“Remember, control is key, so stop squirming. This is as much an exercise in self discipline as pleasure. Fellatio is rather pedestrian, a pursuit best left to those who lack ingenuity. Imagine that tongue moving down further. Have you ever been touched there?”
“No,” he replied in a voice that betrayed his building. Harry had thought about experimenting “there”, but hadn’t the nerve to do it yet. He briefly wondered if he should let the tongue touch him in that place while he was perched on the stool with Snape breathing down his neck. Yet, the fact that Snape was breathing down his neck and talking about it made him want it more than he feared doing it in front of Snape. With that thought, the tongue began circling his arsehole. “Please.”
“The surface of the tongue is comprised of thousands of nerve endings. It can feel every wrinkle of flesh as it explores you. When done correctly, it is as pleasurable to the giver as the receiver.”
Harry began to wonder if Snape was linked to the spell somehow. As the tongue began to work in definite rhythmic patterns, Harry did what felt natural, he leaned back and spread his legs wide.
“Control, Potter. You’ll not play the part of wanton trollop in my dungeons. With practice, you could have a tongue all the way up your arse in front of the board of governors with no one the wiser.”
He straightened up just in time as Snape’s suggestion fired every nerve of his being. The tongue pressed inwards with sheer determination. Harry panicked briefly, never having had so much as a finger up his arse, until Snape told him to push out a little. The edges of his world went gray as the tongue moved inside him, pulled back, and plunged in again and again. Lips pressed in close and sucked until stars came into view. Harry willed it to go faster and deeper until he felt he’d die from the sensations. Then he was there, leaning back against Snape, coming with the force of a small explosion and not caring one bit that he was acting the part of wanton trollop.
When the world came back in view, he became aware of several things: He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his trousers were a sticky mess, and he was breathing as if he’d run a marathon. Snape muttered a Cleansing Spell before returning to his desk.
Harry sat in a daze for several minutes, wondering if the whole thing had been real. Snape had begun grading papers as if nothing had happened
“Excuse me sir, but do I still have detention?”
“Most certainly, Mr. Potter. You will return at 7 pm, ready to continue your lessons in self discipline. Do not keep me waiting.”
Cross-posted to snapish_smut and
hp_rimming