Work Text:
You were in trouble again.
Specifically, detention trouble. Even worse, it was detention with Snape. You still weren't sure of how exactly you had gotten yourself into this predicament.
Usually, you were a model student in his classes. You paid attention to every word out his mouth, which wasn't difficult considering his smooth, deep voice was so pleasant to listen to he could have been reciting the phone-book and you still would have been enthralled. You got good grades, too. Potions was actually one of your favorite subjects.
But this time, something had gone awry. It started with a whispered conversation behind you, an argument between Celia and Elizabeth, the two girls locked in a furious debate over a stolen quill. They weren't talking loud enough for Snape to notice, only just so their squabbling would constitute an annoying constant buzz in your ears. After a few minutes of this, you turned around, hissed at them to please shut up already.
It was a perfectly reasonable reaction. And your angry whisper shouldn't have been audible to anyone but the students closest to you. Except somehow, Snape heard it, and before you knew it, he called you by your name, in that cold, drawling voice.
"If you have time for idle talk, you'll have time for detention," he said. "Tonight."
Arguing meant he would dock you House points, and your House was currently third at the moment, so it couldn't afford a drop. You deemed it better to shut up and accept the totally unfair punishment. Your friends gave you commiserating looks, you put on a brave face, and that was it.
Now there you were, trudging along the corridor that led to the dungeons at eight p.m, shivering from the cold, trying to calm your nerves down. You had asked around, and detention with Snape meant menial tasks like scrubbing the floor of his classroom or cleaning cauldrons, without magic of course. It wouldn't be pleasant, but you could do it.
You knocked on the door, resigned to your fate.
"Come in."
Pushing the door open, you entered the classroom. Deserted, it was even more austere than the usual, and the lighting seemed gloomier, with that dark green undertint that pervaded the whole dungeons level.
"I'm here for my detention, Professor," you said respectfully.
He was seated at his desk, grading essays, his brow furrowed in that stormy look that all students feared. The particular essay he was looking at was probably worth a D. You hoped it wasn't yours.
"Indeed," he replied, looking up at you.
You shivered under his penetrating dark gaze. His eyes were so intense, and you felt inadequate, as if he was silently judging you. He probably was. Squaring your shoulders, you met his stare head-on, refusing to be intimidated.
Something glinted in his black eyes, a shadow, there and gone. His mouth twitched in the beginning of either a smirk or a scowl before his face smoothed back into an impassive mask.
"There are two cauldrons for you to clean," he informed you.
They were sitting at the back of the classroom, the kind of heavy-duty cauldrons that could hold gallons of liquid and were a pain in the ass to handle, let alone clean.
"However, first, I have another, simpler task for you."
"Whatever you need, Professor."
"Well, don't you sound eager. Come here."
You sauntered up to the desk. You wouldn't be enjoying the hour to come, but that was no reason to stay sullen.
Snape placed a small vial near the edge of the desk. A liquid swirled inside, dark gold, with an iridescent shimmer to it, and little flakes of silver floating here and there. It looked pretty, oddly enticing. You knew looks could be highly deceptive when it came to potions.
"Drink," Snape said.
"Um..."
Nobody had said anything about drinking potions during detention with Snape.
"I assure you, it's perfectly safe," he said. "I happen to need a test subject for that particular brew, and you fit the profile. There won't be any lingering effect beyond a one-hour window."
That wasn't nearly as reassuring as he clearly thought it was, but you knew Professor Snape wouldn't try to poison you, and you could trust that the potion had been prepared properly, so you took the vial. Uncorking it, you sniffed at the content curiously. It smelled as good as it looked, a rich earthy bland of unidentified spices. There was a whiff of something musky too, and you had the thought that it could have served as perfume.
"Today," Snape drawled, impatience threaded through the word.
You tipped the content of the vial into your mouth, downing it in one gulp. There was a rush of tingling cold in your chest, that then settled inside your stomach. It was gone in the next few seconds. You didn't feel anything in particular after that.
"What are—"
"Get to work," Snape said. "Those cauldrons won't scrub themselves."
They could, if you'd been allowed to use magic.
You placed the empty vial back on the desk, went to the back of the classroom, and surveyed what you had to work with. A whole lot of cleaning supplies, sponges, rags, a bar of black soap, a bucket of water, and two very dirty cauldrons. The one on the right had several layers of grime on the inside, with something that looked charred and dark at the bottom. The one on the left looked even worse, dark green froth dried on the edges, the inside covered in a frankly puzzling amount of a thick, dirty residue. It all smelled of failed potion work, that particular burnt, sour aroma that stuck at the back of your throat when you inhaled it too deeply.
You grabbed a sponge, plunged it into the water, and started on the easiest cauldron. The grime came off easily, forming a sludge that dripped down the inner sides of the cast iron. You scooped it off with the rag while you kept scrubbing.
Soon you were sweating from exertion. And you hadn't even touched the bottom yet, where you would need to apply a lot of elbow grease before it would start to be remotely clean.
"What was in there?" you groaned, kinda pissed that you'd gotten such a horrible cauldron.
"That one was the result of an abysmal attempt at a Calming Draught. The other was supposed to be a Wit-Sharpening Potion, but as you can see, it was bungled up quite spectacularly. A shame, as such a potion would have greatly benefited the student who was attempting to brew it."
"Ugh. I hope you gave them a D."
"Indeed," Snape returned.
He sounded amused, which made you glance back at him. Your gaze collided with his, and you were struck by how dark his eyes were. A little shiver ran up your spine, for no discernible reason. Snape quirked an eyebrow, as if to inquire why you were suddenly staring at him. You hastily turned back to your cauldron.
A bit confused by your actions, you got back to scrubbing. Yes, Snape's eyes had always been mesmerizing, but now was not the time to get lost in them.
Another ten minutes of studious efforts, and finally the cauldron was mostly clean. There remained only the bottom, which was the worst of it. Gathering your courage, you applied yourself to the task. Unfortunately the cauldron was very deep, and you were rather short, so you had to bend your body awkwardly in order to reach the bottom. While you were down there scrubbing, you realized that the position made your arse stick out, probably in a very suggestive manner.
You hoped Snape was watching. Was not watching. Not watching, absolutely, that was what you meant. Why would you want your Potions Master to be ogling your arse? What a stupid idea.
Still, you glanced back, just to make sure. That he wasn't watching, that is. And he wasn't. He was bent over the essays he was grading, focused, completely ignoring you. Of course. You were wearing a skirt, and your arse was nice to look at, but Snape wasn't the type to leer at students. Did he even have sex?
A scene flashed in your mind, Snape criticizing a woman who was giving him a blowjob, telling her with that smooth voice of his that she was doing a barely adequate job, and that she would need a lot of lessons before he would be satisfied. Immediate, surging heat flooded your lower belly. You clenched your thighs together, biting your lips to stifle a moan.
Fuck, where did that come from? Why were you thinking about that, of all things? And was it hot in the room, or was it just you?
Cheeks flushed, you tried to focus on the bottom of the cauldron, on cleaning the charred stains. But the images persisted, and you found you couldn't shake them off. The woman had your face now. You were fantasizing about your professor's cock while he was in the same room as you. Something was wrong. You wouldn't deny that you had always found Snape attractive, in a tall, dark and handsome kind of way, but this was... this was something else.
Inappropriate, and forbidden.
You couldn't be having those thoughts, not now.
"Is there a problem?" Snape said suddenly.
Shit, his voice. Your pussy clenched shamelessly, inexplicably.
"No, sir," you replied, in breathless mortification.
"It seems to me you're having trouble reaching the bottom of that cauldron."
"No, I'm fine," you lied.
You heard his chair scrape back against the floor, and then footsteps coming your way. Fumbling with your sponge, you half-straightened up, panic seizing you. You wanted him closer. No, you didn't. Yes, you did. Fuck, what was going on?
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" you said quickly, and you didn't dare to look back.
"It's really simple," Snape said from very close behind you.
You had time to stifle a whimper, time to wonder again what the hell was happening, and then he was right there, pressing his body into yours. His fingers closed around your wrist, his other hand went at your hip. He guided you to bend further down, exerting a gentle pressure that was no less inescapable.
"There," he said, nearly murmuring the word in your ear. "You see?"
He had completely draped himself over you, and every cell in your body was coming alive at the feel of him, every steady point of contact burning with delirious anticipation. Your heart seemed to have migrated to your throat. Your pulse fluttered there, frantic, while another kind of pulse was throbbing between your legs.
"You see?" Snape repeated, which made you realize you hadn't said anything, struck mute by his actions.
You licked your lips, gulping in a little gasp of air.
"Y-yes."
Had that pathetic little noise come from you? It had sounded like a mewl, like a whine. Like a 'please fuck me' rolled into one meek sound.
You took another breath, tried to focus on the sponge still in your hand, on that charred spot at the bottom of the cauldron, on anything that wasn't Snape, not his warmth at your back, not his fingers coiled around your wrist, not his hand curled at your hip, not his lips so close to your ear. You might as well have tried to will away the raging lust pounding in your veins.
Snape shifted behind you, pressing himself harder into your backside. You choked on a moan, the movement sending a piercing heat straight to your core.
"Professor?" you whimpered, so confused.
"You need to get very close," he said in a low whisper, "and rub hard at that spot."
His hips ground hard into your buttocks, as if to emphasize his words. This time you couldn't hold back a moan.
"Do you want me to show you how hard you should rub?" Snape purred into your ear.
He knew, he knew. There was no way this wasn't on purpose.
"I... I don't..."
Your head swam with heat, and you couldn't think, you couldn't focus beyond that terrible, irrational need. The need to be filled by your professor's cock.
"Or do you want me to step back and let you handle this alone?"
As he said that, he eased off you by some degree.
"No!" you gasped. "No, please! I... I need you to show me."
You didn't understand what was going on, but you knew you needed him. Whatever he would give you.
"Very well," he replied, pressing once more against you.
You nearly sighed in relief at how good it felt. How right.
"It's not just about rubbing," Snape said, in the voice he used for teaching, that condescending drawl that right now ignited your entire being with want. "It's also about finding the right spot."
The hand at your hip edged toward the insides of your thighs. Petrified, you could only breathe in short pants as his hand came to rest upon your mound, over your clothes, over the thick tissue of your skirt and the thin one of your panties. Snape's fingers pressed in, worming their way between your clenched thighs, unerringly finding your clit. You huffed out a needy whine, lust surging thick and hot in your blood.
"The right spot, where you apply the right amount of pressure."
Which he did, rubbing his fingers in the most perfect way you could imagine. You groaned and whined, completely unable to stay silent, and equally unable to believe that this was happening at all. While he cajoled your clit with divine precision, his hips moved, sort of rubbing against you, pushing you against the hard surface of the cauldron and into his hand. Rubbing, grinding, forcing delicious friction on you, from both sides.
And was that his cock you could feel against your arse? It had to be. A thick, hard bulge, which he pushed rhythmically against you.
"Professor," you said with what little breath you had left.
"Yes? Is the lesson not satisfying?" His lips trailed the shell of your ear. "Do you have any improvements in mind?"
It was unhinged, this yearning. Heat was accumulating in the pit of your belly, in your cunt, a brilliant, corrosive fire, threatening to eat you alive. And you wanted. You wanted to be consumed.
"What was in that vial?" you asked, closing your eyes, the pleasure intensifying to near unbearable heights. "Amortentia?"
"No, nothing so crude. It's a variation on the theme. Lust instead of love, and much more subtle."
"It doesn't feel subtle," you groaned.
"Ah, but there's a catch. The potion only works if there's already carnal interest present in the target. Otherwise, nothing happens at all. It could have been a perfectly normal detention, but it seems you were hiding a few things from me, weren't you?"
You wanted to protest that he was wrong, that there was absolutely no carnal interest on your part, but his fingers were working tirelessly, feeding that roaring inferno in your cunt, and it would have been a pretty big lie anyway. Of course you were attracted to him. You had never dared hope that the attraction would be mutual.
"Is this... a thing you... do often?" you muttered, grinding back against his cock.
"I brewed that potion for you alone."
The whispered words went to your head much like the pleasure did. You were trembling on the edge of ultimate pleasure, suddenly a hair's breadth away from completion.
"Ga-gnh," you said, which stood for Please, Professor, make me come, only you didn't have enough coherent neurons to actually say that.
"And because of the potion," Snape said, "the only thing that will bring you relief..."
His other hand moved from your wrist to your hair, burying in your curls in a tight, merciless grasp. He forced your head back, making you straighten up until you had let go of the sponge and forgotten all about cleaning any cauldron.
"...is my cock," he said, a triumphant murmur at your ear.
"What?" you squeaked.
"That's right. Right now, the only thing that can make you come is my cock."
What kind of potion did that? Fuck, that explained why you felt like you were about to come and nothing was happening. Muscles shaking, toes curled and thighs clenched, you hovered at the edge of an orgasm, but you couldn't reach it, despite the constant stimulation provided by Snape's fingers.
This was an evil potion, and Snape was an evil man, and you wanted him to shove his evil cock into you right fucking now.
"Please!"
"Am I to assume that means you want me, then?"
"Yes!"
You couldn't have sounded more desperate if you'd tried.
"Let's make sure you can take my cock first," Snape said.
His hand inched under your clothes, into your panties, his fingers gliding through your wetness. You shuddered, a needy moan leaving your lips. You had never been this wet in your entire life, had never wanted someone so badly as you wanted Snape in this moment.
"Very eager indeed," he commented.
He sank one finger inside you, testing and probing. You writhed, clenching around that one finger which intruded further and further into the molten heat of your pussy. You had always admired Snape's hands, his fingers, how elegant they were, and now there was one inside you. But it wasn't enough.
"It won't be your first time, will it?" he asked with a lazy pump of his finger that you felt all the way down to your toes.
"No."
It felt like it, though. It felt like it was the first time anyone touched you at all. Everything before this moment had been a vague approximation of the real thing, a fumble in the dark, and now you were burning in the light, crucified with want, dripping onto your professor's hand.
"But you didn't want them like you want me now, did you?" he said.
Your answer was a desperate groan. Snape chuckled—evil, evil man—before he pulled his finger out of you, and then his hand out of your panties. He put it on your stomach, murmured the incantation for the Contraceptive Charm. Good thing he had thought about it, because that had totally slipped your mind.
"Thanks," you said.
"Perhaps I should add that spell into the potion so it doesn't disturb the flow of the encounter."
"You should fuck me, right now."
His hand groped your arse while he nuzzled your throat. You whimpered, your cunt clenching, desperately empty.
"I want to hear you beg for it," he said, his lips ghosting along your skin.
"Please, Professor..."
You were a squirming mess of coiled nerves and aching need.
"A nice start," he said. "But you can do better. I've been dreaming about this moment for some time. Don't disappoint me."
His cold tone made the lust in your system burn even hotter. No, you wouldn't disappoint him.
"Please, sir, please, I need your cock. Please give me your cock, I want to feel it split my wet cunt, I want to come all over it, please, I—"
Your pleas ended on a squeak when Snape mouthed at your pulse point, the wet heat of his tongue like the shock of a live wire.
"Perfect," he said, one rough word muffled against your throat.
"Oh, fuck, please..."
You heard the shift of his robes, heard him undo his belt, and you stopped yourself from screaming in relief. Yes, yes, finally!
"Come here," he groaned, pulling you along.
He bent you over the nearest desk, which admittedly was much better than fucking over a dirty cauldron, but to be honest you would have let him fuck you anywhere. Then he flipped back your skirt, tugged down your soaked panties, and made you spread your legs wider.
You made a noise, a sort of grateful moan, when you felt him nudging at your entrance. He slid his cock inside you, hilting himself fully in one sure stroke. Your cunt fluttered around him, and your moan morphed into a ragged cry at the sheer size of him. He stretched you so much, more than you had ever been stretched before.
He paused there, his cock lodged in your pulsing cunt, one hand still tight in your hair while the other roamed on your body, exploring your curves. You blinked, exhaled loudly in the silent classroom. Your hips were pressed into the side of the desk, your hands splayed wide on the wood surface, while your legs were shaking and oh, yeah, you were full of cock. This wasn't how you had imagined the detention would go at all, not that you were complaining.
Feeling naughty, you clenched your inner muscles. Snape grunted.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Need you to fuck me."
"I was giving you time to adjust," he said, cupping one of your breasts through your clothes, rubbing at the nipple.
"Very sweet of you. Now wreck my pussy."
He laughed. Such a strange sound to hear coming out of his mouth. You had never heard him laugh before. He didn't even smile, unless it was a mean smile directed at a student who had failed at answering one of his questions.
"What a filthy mouth you have," he said.
"I'm already in detention, Professor. You can't punish me more."
"We'll see about that."
He withdrew partway from you, snapped his hips forward again. Your whole body thrilled at the movement, nerves lighting up with pleasure. If this was what he considered punishment, then you couldn't wait to be punished again and again.
He moved slowly, at a steady, controlled pace, the same way he spoke, measured and purposeful, with unwavering command. You could feel every single inch of his long, thick cock as he drove it in and out of you. He fit his entire straining length into your channel, over and over, every stroke delivering searing pleasure as a humming energy built in your core, pressure gathering and coiling.
"Oh fuck," you whined. "Yes, yes, yes..."
"How badly you wanted this. But you would never have said anything, would you?"
"No. I didn't think, you, ah... didn't think you'd be interested at all."
"I had my doubts as well about you."
And now you were fucking, and it was already the best sex you had ever had.
Craving more, you threw your head back, moved your hips to his tempo. The slap of your bodies grew louder, filling the classroom, and fuck, that was all you would be able to think about the next time you'd have Potions. Snape bending you over a desk and fucking your brains out. He seemed to follow the same train of thoughts.
"Will you get wet for me when you sit at your desk tomorrow? Will you blush, recalling what I did to your pussy?"
He ground his hips with that last question, a punishing, hard motion, forcing a whimper from your lips.
"I might," you admitted. "But it won't be as obvious as—as when you'll get hard for me."
"That's a very presumptuous hypothesis."
"It's not. You'll look me in the eye, and you'll remember that I did this."
And you squeezed him again with your inner muscles, hard. He groaned out your name, a hot exclamation, then said it again, slower, like it was a sweet thing to be savored. It was almost enough to make you come.
But you knew what you needed
"Harder," you said. "Fuck me like you really want, Professor. I won't break."
That seemed to be exactly what he was waiting for, because his reaction was instantaneous. His grip in your hair got so tight it nearly hurt, he pushed you face down on the desk, and he bore down harder on you, his pace suddenly much more intense. His hips smacked into your backside as he rammed himself into you, jolting your whole body against the desk, stretching your needy cunt on every thrust.
Pleasure stormed your blood, more than you had ever felt in your life, the answer to all your prayers. You came, one long messy orgasm, convulsing and drooling onto the desk, your cunt throbbing with the ecstasy of that deliverance. There were sounds punched from your lungs, and you were just aware enough to understand that they qualified as screams. You hoped nobody would be passing by in the corridors, wondering why Snape was apparently torturing one of his students.
"OhGodohGodohGod..."
That was also you, coming down from your peak, still overwhelmed by pure white bliss. You gasped, groaned, gasped again, struggling to find enough air. Snape was still moving brutally inside you, thrusting mercilessly.
"Please," you said, "oh, please..."
You weren't sure what you were begging for, but Snape had the most excellent idea. He threw his frame over yours, slipped a hand between your legs, and rubbed tight little circles on your clit while he kept pumping inside you. Your hips jerked, a spike of pleasure impaling you. You found yourself wailing again as you were launched into a second orgasm.
That one didn't last, but it was for the best, as you would have probably lost consciousness if that mind-breaking pleasure had gone on for a second longer. It flashed through you, frying your nerves, burning you from the inside in the most delicious way, taking everything from you, your voice, your thoughts and your motor control. You collapsed on the desk, completely boneless, perfectly sated.
Snape grabbed your hips, his grip so hard you knew you would have bruises there in the shape of his fingers, and he pounded into you, chasing his own release. It didn't take him long to reach it. Soon, he stilled, and with a shudder he spilled deep inside you as he snarled your name. You shuddered too, welcoming the hot rush of his seed, your overstimulated cunt spasming one last time.
There were a few moments of stillness, as you both recovered from that.
"Very good," Snape then murmured in your hair, which where words you had never heard him say either.
"Yeah," you said. "That, uh. That was good."
Then you giggled, your brain buzzing with the endorphins from your orgasms. Snape pulled away, and you made an unhappy sound at the loss of his cock and his warmth. You heard him mutter a Cleaning Charm. Instantly, the spot of drool on the desk vanished, as well as the complete mess between your legs.
"I believe that concludes your detention," Snape said.
You hummed in agreement, pushing off from the desk. You were gonna be so sore tomorrow. It was too bad Snape had redressed, you wouldn't have minded a look at his equipment.
Looking around, you frowned.
"Where are my—"
'Panties' was gonna be your next word, but then Snape held up his fingers, from which they were dangling.
"I shall be keeping them," he said, his dark eyes glinting with satisfaction.
"That's... positively perverted of you, Professor."
He smirked, pocketing your stained panties, leaving you with only your skirt to cover yourself. You were blushing. The walk back to your dormitories promised to be quite uncomfortable.
"Feel free to misbehave in class again," Snape said, still smirking at you. "I have no doubt you would benefit from further detentions."
"I think I will, sir. I think I'll misbehave a lot."