FIC and ART: Never Enough (SS/PW)
Title: Never Enough
Author: florida_minxie
Artist: ships_harry
Pairing: Severus Snape/Percy Weasley
Rating: NC17
Highlight for Warnings: *pederasty, rimming*
Summary: Not to mention, child or not, anyone as perfectly prissy as Percy Weasley is in public has to be a right hellcat in bed.
Prompt: #54 – Severus enjoys taking promising young students under his wing and trains and disciplines them to his liking. Not so much on the discipline, sorry about that.
A/N: HUGE, HUGE thank you and glomp to my beta, jadzia7667, and to ships_harry for the absolutely delightful way she pulled the images from the words. *loves you both*



by ships_harry


I cannot believe I am here, in this position again. Time has somehow begun to move much too fast. The past four years have expired in little more than a blink of an eye. I squeeze my eyes shut, pinch the bridge of my nose, and close off the feeling of sentimentality, cursing myself for softening in my old age.

Forcing my mind back to the task at hand, I slowly scan the eager faces in the Great Hall, watching as the witches and wizards talk animatedly about their forthcoming holiday. As I search through the faces, discarding each of them for one reason or another, I meet the eyes of Miles Claymore, Ravenclaw and, more importantly, my eromenos since the beginning of his fourth year. Four years of teaching and training and, shockingly, attachment.

Slowly he raises his glass to me, a silent goodbye between equals. I nod and return the gesture, agreeing that he has indeed more than earned the right to stand beside me on equal footing. Our goodbyes, the ending of the pederasty contract, were said this morning before he left our chambers. He is not the first to have served me; he will not be the last.

I return to my search, seeking out the individual with just the right balance of respect and ambition. It is a decision that must be made today so negotiations can begin tomorrow. I refuse to begin the school year without my new boy firmly ensconced in my bed. My eyes drift towards the Gryffindor table unwillingly; I highly doubt there will ever be a member of that house humble enough to see the opportunity for the gift that it is.

"Another four years over already, Severus?"

"Indeed." Albus Dumbledore is as irritating as a housefly, always buzzing about in unwanted directions at the most inopportune moments. "Mister Claymore will fare well for himself."

"I'm sure he will."

I know by the tone that the man's eyes are twinkling, sparking with that infernal ability to know more than one would like. I refuse to look at him, my gaze instead settling on none other than a shock of red hair. The boy, I admit grudgingly, has possibilities.

Ignoring my direct snub, Albus continues, once again invading my process with needless questions. "Have you any prospects, then?"

Surprising myself, I answer him in the affirmative.

He follows the direction of my stare and chuckles softly. "He definitely has the drive."

Not to mention, child or not, anyone as perfectly prissy as Percy Weasley is in public has to be a right hellcat in bed. The thought alone makes me smirk.



… ~ … ~ … ~ … ~ …



I watch him throughout the Sorting – at times covertly, beneath my lashes, and others brazenly obvious, staring across the Great Hall for everyone to see. The boy blushes such a delicious shade of pink when he garners enough courage to meet my eyes that I am tempted to sweep him out of here as soon as the worn hat Sorts the last of the newcomers. I'm sure the house elves could be persuaded to deliver a meal for two to my rooms.

I drop a hand beneath the table and into my lap, my palm pressing hard against my rising prick in an attempt, futile to say the least, to stave off my reaction to the mere sight of him. Never have I anticipated a first night as much as this one.

Albus stands, calls the hall into order and offers his typical assortment of oddities. As always, he ends his babblings with unnecessary flourish, no doubt impressing the Muggleborns yet again. If he is true to form, he will turn first to McGonagall and then he will inflict himself upon me.

"I take it the Weasleys accepted your offer?"

He is such a predictable man. "To an extent," I tell him. "They refused the allotment for robes and new texts."

I see Albus' grey beard swing from the corner of my eye as he nods, acting as if they did nothing more than confirm his opinion. Perhaps that is the case. "I'd expected no less. They are a proud family."

I turn the full weight of my sneer on him; he is, unfortunately, immune. "It was not an act of charity, Albus. The boy is mine to care for, to provide for. Declining the offer was paramount to saying they do not believe I can properly afford the responsibility."

"I'm sure that is not…"

"Do not attempt to placate me, Albus. I have never shirked my duties to any boy in my care. I will not begin with Mister Weasley." I turn back towards the sea of children, easily finding my Percy. His back is ramrod straight, his table manners impeccable. The boy is perfect for the moulding; mould him I will.

Percy finally sets his cutlery to the side, his meal barely touched, and seeks out eye contact with me. A slight tilt of my head and I am pushing away from the table, making unnecessary excuses to my employer and colleagues. "I do not anticipate seeing you until classes begin on Monday."

I growl deep in my throat, annoyed, as Albus says yet again, "I expected no less." However, it is not enough to bring me pause, to make me detour from my intended target. As, I am sure, the meddling man knew when he uttered the words.

I see him long before I reach his side. He is waiting for me at the archway leading down into the dungeons, his face a twisted mask of concentration. He is nervous. The worry is bleeding off of him in waves and becoming almost tangible as he shifts from foot to foot. "Mister Weasley," I temper my voice, making it low and husky, something so opposite my normal classroom voice it makes his eyes widen in surprise.

"Sir." His voice is uncharacteristically shy and unsure. While Percy has never been as impertinent as his housemates, he has never been completely docile either. This change causes concern; I had so been looking forward to the challenges his nature would bring to the next few years.

Watching his expression closely, I trail the tips of my fingers down his arm until I am covering the hand he has furled in his school robes. He doesn't flinch. He does, however, still immediately, a promising reaction to say the least. "Why don't we go our chambers and talk about what has you twisting the sleeve of your robe into ruin?"

I am coaxing him, easing him over his inclination to run with gentle caresses and a soft voice. First nights are always the most emotional. I hope, rather more ardently than I'd anticipated, that this is simply a case of last minute jitters and not a complete change of heart. I know I will be disappointed if I must release him from the contract but I will never keep an eromenos against his will.

"You've not changed your mind, then?"

It is now that I fully understand Percy Weasley. He is not accustomed to being in the spotlight, being the focus of all of one's attention. There is nothing he can do here in Hogwarts, no honour to be achieved that hasn't already been earned between William and Charles. He is not a twin, not the long awaited baby girl. He is the forgotten son that stays in the background and causes no problems.

He expects me to treat him the same way, expected me to have replaced him since I saw him two weeks ago.

"Of course not," I whisper, "I do not make my choices lightly, and rarely regret them enough to change them." Using my hand at his back, I guide him down the stairs and through the damp dungeon corridors, halting further conversation with a small shake of my head. I need time to think, to find the best way to make him see that it was indeed his ambition to be different, to stand out as his own person in a sea of redheaded family members that drew me to him.

Suddenly the need to violate my agreement with his parents, to eliminate the shadow of his brothers by replacing the hand-me-down robes and scarred textbooks, is overwhelming. They have, intentionally or not, yet again managed to keep Percy firmly in his place as the middle child. I silently promise Percy that he will have those things; he will be distinguishable from his siblings.

Stopping in front of the heavy oak door, I lean in and tell him, "Our password is gauisus orsa. It means new beginnings in…"

"Latin," he whispers.

"Indeed." This is the intelligence, the self-confidence that he has displayed in class. "Are you going to open the door, Percy?"

He straightens his back and gives me a diffident smile. He repeats the password and grasps the antiqued brass handle, stepping into our rooms without hesitation. As his trust in me grows, my tension fades. The headache that had been clawing its way to the surface begins to retreat and my arousal starts to reemerge. The silence of my rooms should be oppressive, something that weighs heavily on us during this first night. As Percy releases a sigh, I realise it is, instead, something that gives us both pleasure. We are remarkably well suited to one another.

I unbutton my heavy teaching robes, motioning for Percy to follow suit. "Get comfortable, Percy, we've a lot to discuss and the night is still rather young."

He is embarrassed, his face blossoming with that delicate pink again; his handmade jumper stands out vividly when surrounded by the gleaming leather of my upper end furnishings and I can't help but wonder, with my new insight, if it is not the impending relationship but the perceived difference in our class that is making him uncomfortable.

We stand there looking at each other, the silence stretching into uncomfortable and I am at a loss. Normally by now I would be suggesting a joint shower and then the bed. That, I know, is not the best way to handle Percy. "You did not eat much, Percy. Would you like to shower while I order sandwiches and tea from the kitchens?"

"My trunk…"

"It has been delivered. However," I smirk as I think about the pyjamas and dressing gown I habitually purchase as a welcoming gift, "as your erastes, I have taken the liberty of providing you with pyjamas and a matching dressing gown. You will find them stowed in your cabinet by the bath."

His neck muscles ripple as he works against everything his parents have taught him. Finally he looks at me and says, "Thank you, Seve… Sir."

"In these rooms I am Severus, Percy." I wait until he nods his understanding and then motion him towards the bath. "And you're welcome."

I hurry over to the fireplace and call out to the kitchen, ordering a tray of sandwiches and biscuits along with a pot of tea. If I rush, I can use the shower in my lab and still be waiting here for him when he is done. Not for the first time, I am thankful I keep not only a second set of day clothes in my lab but also a loose pair of sleep pants and robe.

The telltale squeak of the shower shutting down fills the small sitting room as I return, my hair still dripping and wetting the black silk covering my shoulders. The table holds a plate piled high with food along with a steaming pot of tea. Ignoring it, I move to the wet bar and pour myself a finger of my best bourbon, emptying the tumbler in one long swallow. If I thought the boy had ever experimented with liquor before, I'd be tempted to offer him one as well. The burn of Muggle alcohol does wonders for breaking inhibitions.

It is easy for me to picture him going through the motions of drying off, the thick towels I indulge in patting and rubbing along his pale, freckled flesh. Sighing, I pour another finger of bourbon, sipping it appropriately this time, as I fight against the twitch in my prick. It is, I realise all too quickly, a losing battle.

"You… you're wet."

His stammer catches me by surprise and I berate myself for getting lost in a fantasy when the reality is but meters away. "There is a shower in my lab." That is the only explanation he will get, it alone is more than I am accustomed to offering. The remainder of my drink is forgotten as I turn and see him in the deep chocolate brown sleepwear. By Merlin, the boy looks good.

"I see I managed the correct size." It is, perhaps, the most idiotic thing I've said all night.

"Yes, you did."

He is blushing again. I wonder idly if man has ever died from sexual frustration. Pouring a scalding cup of tea, I urge him to eat and then to talk. It is, after the typical pleasantries, that I finally broach the subject of most consequence. "Percy, I need to be sure that you agreed, still agree with this arrangement. Four years is a long commitment and if your parents forced the issue or you have changed your…"

He cuts me off with a frantic shake of his head. "No, sir… Severus. No, I have not changed my mind. And my parents," he cants his head and looks up at me sheepishly, "didn't force me. They were more against the idea than for it, even after I convinced them that I truly wanted the opportunity."

That explains the restrictions they placed on my upkeep of the boy. I almost snort at the faulty logic – there is no way I will directly violate the contract now, something that they obviously anticipate. However, had they cared to think it through, I am Slytherin for a reason and will have no trouble moving around the agreement; Percy will have all that I want to give him, despite everyone else. I nod and motion him closer to me. "It was not my intention to cause distress within your family, Percy."

He rolls his shoulders and then sighs. "You did not cause it. The circumstances to bring it on happened earlier this way but – " I wrap my arm around him and pull him in closer to my side, amused by how quickly the tension fades from him. " – it would have happened eventually. I want… more than they do. Always have."

"And your behaviour tonight?" I know I am pushing the issue but I must understand, must make him understand. "It was caused by…"

I let the sentence hang for him to finish.

His brow wrinkles and I believe I can hear the sound of his thinking. "I guess I expected you to void the contract once you heard their conditions. They… they put so many reforms in it that… Severus," he pulls away enough to look me in the eye, "why did they only change things like clothing and books? Why not make it so that you would need to find another eromenos by keeping me out of your bed?"

Thank Fates, the boy is now thinking properly again, questioning the things around him instead of simply accepting them. "There are very few specific items that can be negotiated. The fact that I will take my eromenos to my bed is not one of them. They had no choice in that regard, Percy."

My answer changes the atmosphere in the room in a palatable way, as if simply saying it out loud is bringing it to fruition.

Percy nods slowly, acknowledging my answer or the new sexual tension, I don't know. He tucks his head back against my chest and, impossibly, relaxes even more, his body surrounding my side like a living blanket. I let my hand fall from his shoulder, tracing a light, scratching pattern over his back, from the swell of his arse and back up to his neck, barely grazing the skin peeking out between his collar and his hairline.

I am testing him, questioning his declaration of acceptance. If the boy is still unsure about this relationship, he will tense and pull away from me and this will end here. I close my eyes and wait for a sign from him, my fingers continuing the back and forth dance along his spine.

It is, thankfully, rather soon that I have what I have been waiting for. Percy shudders and worms his way closer to me, no sense of hesitation in his actions at all. His breath is rolling beneath the gap in my robe in quickening pants, ghosting over my skin and tightening my nipples in arousal. Percy shifts again and the feel of his burgeoning erection skims across my thigh.

The loose fit of my sleep pants is nowhere near enough to hide my reaction to the nymph twining around me; if I don't move this along, I will be taking the boy here on the sofa. "Are there," my voice has dropped even further, an experienced man would know that I am now too overwhelmed with lust and desire for more conversation, "any others matters we need to discuss tonight?"

I feel his head shake, his cheek pulling my robe wider, exposing enough of my chest that the beat of my heart is visible with the faint jerking of my ribs. "N… no," he sighs.

Easing him away from me, I stand and offer a hand. "Then perhaps it would be best to continue this in the bedroom."

He blushes again, his fingers wrapping tightly around mine as he stands and takes his place next to me. "I… I don't know what…"

Oh, but he does. In just the few short minutes we were on the couch, Percy proved that while he has no literal experience in the art of seduction, he more than has a natural sensuality that many can only attempt to emulate. I raise one brow and look down at him teasingly. "I am the teacher here, am I not?"

A smile turns up the edges of his mouth and I want nothing more than to stop here, in the middle of the short hallway, and kiss him senseless. He radiates a beguiling innocence that just begs exploration. Words from my past sneak up on me. I'd once likened him to a hellcat. I should have said Incubus.

Walking into our bedchambers, I pull the tie holding my robe closed, leaving it to hang open in the fire-warmed room. I grab Percy's hands, stopping him from disrobing and instead lead him to the mirror. "That is for my pleasure, Percy. What is hidden is appreciated more when one has to work for the discovery." Holding his reflected gaze, I brush my lips across his neck as I unknot his robe, letting the silk fall to the floor forgotten.

"Keep them open, Percy," I whisper as his eyes start to shut. "I want you to see this, the way you to arch into my touch, the light blush that is disappearing under your shirt. Do you know what that tells me, Percy?"

He moans and shakes his head no.

I give into the temptation and pop the buttons of his pyjama top, satisfied when I see the blush staining his skin all the way to his nipples – his nipples that are beginning to peak under my scrutiny and beg for attention. "It tells me, my precious boy, that the façade you show everyone outside these rooms is bogus. You are nowhere near the puritan your brothers accuse you of being." I drag my nails across his chest, scraping repeatedly over the hardened nubs until Percy caves and his eyes fall shut, a groan ripping out from deep in his gut.

"I plan on relishing the fact that while you are out there, all starchy and full of propriety, everyone will believe you to be straight-laced and lily white." His head falls back against me and his shirt joins the robe on the floor. I nip once at the column of neck that is taunting me. "All the while I will know, we will know the truth. We will know that behind these doors, in these rooms, you are a responsive, enticing young man. One that I cannot resist."

I pull him flush against me, chest to back, and my cock jumps with longing as I nestle him close to me. "Do you feel that, Percy? Do you see what you do to me?"

His eyes snap open and widen comically. "Me?"

"You." I reach down and hold his erection, flexing my grip around the slippery feel of the silk fabric, and say, "Are you ready now?"

He shudders again and rocks forward, pushing into my grasp. "Yes."

It has never been like this before. Never have I had this burning desire to secure an eromenos' self-confidence to this extreme. I know, staring into Percy's clear blue eyes, that had he wished to wait, I would have agreed instantly. That he has made this decision, to continue our intimacies now, hardens my resolve to ensure a spectacular night for him, to make his first time, to make myself, memorable for years to come.

In a series of twists and turns we find ourselves on the bed, naked and wanting. I sit back on my haunches and look at him, spread out on my bed, his breaths coming coarse and fast. He is perfect. He is caught in that stage between boy and man, made ever so obvious with his length jutting forward from his body, bursting away from the flame red curls covering his groin, in direct contrast to the gangly limbs and knobby knees.

I want so much more than to simply fuck him. I want to taste him, eat him. I want to burn myself into him and possess him. I want to own him. I will have it all, most of it tonight.

Smirking, I lean forward and start at his feet, laving each of his toes with my tongue. His quick intake of air tells me it was unexpected; the rattling sigh gives away the fact that he likes it. I keep a steady pace, moving over his foot to his ankle, sucking deeply until a mark of passion blossoms just over the bone. I peek up, pleased by the fact that his prick is glistening slightly at the tip, that he is finding pleasure in our play.



by ships_harry


I trace along his body teasing him just with my tongue – outlining his cock, greedily pulling his flavor from his slit as I push under the foreskin; giving each of his nipples lazy licks until he squirms and begs me to move on; biting at the erratic pulse point in his neck, bringing another purple mark to his skin – before relenting and helping him turn over. He sighs and rocks his hips, giving the friction to his building need. "No," I tell him, tugging at his hips and bringing his arse up in the air.

He whines deep in his throat as I palm the globes of his arse, massaging them together and then apart, catching only glimpses of his puckered entrance. I nudge at the crease with my nose, huffing bursts of warm air from tailbone to perineum, dragging my face over the smooth skin of his arse as my hands inch in closer to his anus. With the first swipe of my tongue, he stills. His body tenses and I wonder if it is from pleasure or disgust.

I do not relent; do not give him time to think about it. I circle along the wrinkled skin, dipping closer and closer to the center, but holding back, making him want this dirty, dirty thing as much as I do. Finally his hips push back, seeking my mouth, and he sobs. A great, gut-wrenching noise filled with an unvoiced desire. That, more than anything he has said or done today, spurs me on and I bury my face in his arse, breaching him, fucking him with a barrage of slippery thrusts and noisy slurps.

He cries out my name and wiggles back. "Severus, more… please."

My prick aches, begging me silently as much as the words falling unbidden from Percy's mouth. I hum in agreement, the vibrations literally curling his toes; more is definitely called for – much, much more. I snake a hand between his legs, tugging his engorged cock as I plunder his hole, lapping, sucking, biting. Pushing him closer to the orgasm that will relax him for a proper preparation. His thighs tremble; they are clenching and releasing, and I know his climax will be soon.

I ready myself to ride out his bucking hips, refusing to pull away and miss this taste of him. Warm come splashes over my hand, he wails long and loud, and yet he never stops pushing against me, pulling me deeper into his arse with each cant of his hips.

Wiping my face on the sheet, I hold out a hand and Accio! the pot of unguent from the night table. I have a slicked finger in him before his breathing evens out, two before he is coherent enough to begin pushing back against them. With a hand at his back, I direct him down to the bed and then, carefully holding his legs high, I roll him over until he is facing me, my fingers prodding gently against the walls of his channel.

I ease his legs down, he lets them fall open wantonly, and my two fingers continue pumping in and out in a languid pace. I push in further, crooking my fingers just so, and his eyes rolls back as I brush over the hidden bundle of nerves.

"Oh."

The word is so soft I almost miss it, so intent am I on opening his passage for more. I turn my fingers again, seeking, wanting, finding another one of his breathy sighs.

"Oh."

A possessive growl starts boiling in my stomach, working its way slowly to the surface. As it finally bubbles out, refusing to be clamped down again, I lean over him, shadowing his teenaged frame with my own. It dawns on me, as I stare into his glassy blue eyes, that I have yet to kiss him, no more than a brushing of lips in a form of chaste comfort.

I move with a singular focus, kissing that bow shaped mouth until his lips are red and swollen and glistening with spittle. My mouth glides over his, each pass bringing us closer together, until my lips are finally seated firmly against his. I want entrance, I want to map the boy's mouth, his teeth, his tongue, I want it all. He opens for me, shyly at first then mimicking my movements with his own. It is only when we pull apart, lungs burning for air, that his hips roll, chastising me in his way for letting my fingers fall still.

The boy is definitely an Incubus.

My fingers retreat from his body and return, more of the sweet smelling slick covering them. It is three now, spreading him wide, twisting and turning inside of him. A tear leaks down his cheek and I whisper nonsensical things in his ear, taking him over the hump of pain that comes with being stretched in such a way. "You're doing so well, my Percy. Push against me, yes, like that."

He relaxes at last, and then he cants his hips and meets my questing fingers with strangled sighs that are mixed with pain and pleasure. "Severus…"

"Soon, Percy. Soon enough," I murmur against his ear. Pushing back his damp fringe I buss a kiss across his brow and promise. "Soon."

When he is riding my fingers, his prick hardened again and straining against his belly, I know he is ready. I should turn him over, take him from behind, make this first penetration as easy on him as I can. But I can't, I won't.

I want to see him, want to watch his eyes light with satisfaction. I want, need to catch the tears when they fall. I am selfish in this, I know it, but it doesn't stop me from covering my cock in ointment and pushing his knees to his ears. It doesn't cause even a twinge of my conscience, and even if it had, the tight grip of arse around my length, the way his eyes are wide and his breath is stealing across my face would have stopped it immediately.

I lap at his tears and wrap a hand around his flagging penis; I rock my hips in an angle to catch the edge of his prostate to bring him pleasure, in an attempt to tell him just how much this means to me. We are suspended in a timeless warp, waiting for him to adjust to being filled, waiting for me to have the control to move slowly. It is a soft swaying motion, not even enough to ripple the air around us.

He responds, timidly at first and then, as if a dam has broken free, like the hellcat I had first imagined. I increase my speed, my depth within him, touching places that he hadn't realised existed. His hands work their way over my arms, one sliding into my hair and clenching it tightly, harshly dragging me down to kiss him while the other worms around me, finding purchase on my back.

He is demanding, so much more than the proposed vessel of the pederasty contract and I thrive on it, react to it. The gentle nips I've been bestowing morph into stinging bites that I then lave attention on. He will be bruised, marked as mine come the morning. My grip on his cock tightens, turns from a seductive caress to a rough demand. I want him to come again, I want to feel his anus squeeze me, his channel ripple with contractions.

He throws his head back and cries out; he claws at me as he spurts another meager offering between us. He is leaving his own marks, a parallel to mine, that I will refuse to heal, that will serve as a subtle, private reminder that I have seen, will see again, this prudish young man in ways no one else knows.

My sac pulls close and the feeling of orgasm rushes through me, following like a lost puppy in Percy's wake. I grunt, his name falling from my lips as my hips seize up and I spend myself inside of him, filling him with my essence, binding us with this memory of satiated fulfillment.

I am shaking, my arms begging me to fall forward, my lungs grappling for air, but I do not move. I am caught within the web of sensation that Percy has unwittingly woven around us. My back stings as sweat skates along the abrasions he has caused with his nails, my ears still ring with the sounds of his discovery, the soft pleas for more, and the taste of his tears, the only sign that I have taken his virginity, rests on my tongue, teasing me with promises of more.

I compose myself enough to roll to the side, pulling him tightly to my chest as he slides through his scant emissions on my stomach. It is now, in this time of budding affection that I am taken by a surprising revelation.

Four years with Percy Weasley will never be enough.



…fini…



Information on pederasty can be found here. Yes, yes, I took an extreme amount of liberty with the basic idea of pederasty. I tend to do that, you know. *g*