He comes at me like a beast, nostrils flared and teeth bared in determination. His hand closes around my upper arm, the long fingernails clamping down and biting my skin through the sleeve of my school robes. My knees weaken at the sharp, sudden pain and I nearly fall over as he pulls me to the door through which I just came.
"Severus," I say, struggling to keep from falling over my own feet as I try to match his relentless pace. "What are you—"
"Quiet!" he hisses, fiercely, without so much as a glance in my direction.
My retort cowers at the back of my throat. Our footsteps echo all the way down the deserted dungeon corridor to the only door visible from the Potions classroom. With a wave of his wand, the door swings open. He shoves me, unceremoniously, into his dark office. Then, he closes the door again—and locks it—and we're left in the near pitch black. His seemingly disembodied face floats towards me, illuminated by the faint glow of whatever potion preserves the specimens lining the walls.
An invisible hand cracks across my face with such force that I'm knocked off balance. The same hand grabs the front of my robes and pulls me back up. Lips crash into mine, pushing me further into the office. The backs of my knees collide with the edge of his desk. He lifts me onto the top, sending rolls of parchment, quills, and ink pots pitching to the floor. I groan in pleasurable surprise as his tongue fills my mouth.
His hands leave my robes' collar and travel downward—first to my chest to pull at my my nipples through the layers of clothing, and then to massage the bulge forming between my thighs. My body's response is automatic as the long neglected flame of desire ignites within me. I want to pull him closer, to wrap my arms and legs around him, to lay back and draw him on top of me, but he's already pulling away.
Our lips separate before I'm through kissing him. He draws back from the desk, towing me along by my belt buckle. His long fingers delve past my open robes and attack my trouser fastenings. The garment loosens from my body almost immediately. He pushes it to the floor, hooks his fingers into my underpants and tears them down as well. Then, he steps back to survey his spoils.
The way his eyes devour my nakedness sends a heat surging to my groin that chases away the chill creeping up my legs. Memories I've been pretending to have forgotten flood my mind; feelings I've been pretending to have given up pulsate within me. I should end this now—leave before it goes any further—but the look on his face, the open yearning, keeps me rooted to my spot.
His hands move to the lower part of his robes and, a moment later, his erection emerges from the fabric. It hangs in the air, pale and ghostly against the backdrop of darkness. I feel my breaths become ragged, as they catch in my throat. How many times have I seen that magnificent member? And yet each time is like a surprise, a new promise of pleasures untold. He steps toward me, takes my bare hips in his hands and pulls me close. Our engorged flesh connects. Like a fool, I crane my neck back, eyes closed and lips parted, expecting to feel his mouth upon mine once again. Another hard slap to the face sends me reeling back to reality.
Fury at his betrayal flares within me, but before I can act, he twists me around and pushes me onto the desk like I'm nothing more than his personal fuck toy. I land bent over, with both hands flat upon the surface. Then, like a shadow cast upon a wall, he's on me, his chest heaving against my back, his cock pressing against my buttocks.
"Say it," he commands, easing himself into the cleft between my cheeks. His voice is husky with need, his breath hot against my ear. I feel him urge the tip of his arousal against my entrance and, slick with warm precum, I yield to his advance. Suddenly, all thoughts of anger and defiance—of heartbreak and mistreatment—evaporate as he lingers there, barely inside of me, teasing me with the promise of reconciliation.
"I'm wicked," I groan, lured back into obedience. "I need to be punished. Punish me, Professor."
With a sharp thrust, he buries himself deep within me. I cry out with mingled pain and ecstasy. He pulls out.
"Again!" he commands.
"Punish me, Professor!" I implore.
He thrusts again, harder, deeper, grunting ferociously with the effort. His cock finds that bundle of tenderest flesh inside me and my eyes flutter closed as my body dissolves into pure sensation. He rears back without hesitation and surges into me again and again, ever faster, ever deeper. An incoherent litany of pleas pours freely from my lips, begging for more, begging him never to stop.
I arch my back to him, pushing wantonly against his thrusts. He takes my bait. His fingernails rake across my scalp as he grabs a fistful of my hair. He wrenches my head back mercilessly. His grip on my hip tightens. The pace of his thrusts increases. He's fucking me in earnest, now—ramming into me with relentless demand. His climax is close, maybe seconds away. I wrap my hand around the erection throbbing against my abdomen, and pump furiously.
The pressure begins to build at once, but not quickly enough. Already, he's reached the height of his frenzy. His final bucks dissolve into body-wide shudders as orgasm overtakes him, silently and completely. He collapses onto me, spent and sighing with satisfaction. I can feel his hot breaths against the back of my neck. I move my hand frantically over my shaft, desperate to share in his euphoria. Finally, my reward rushes upon me and, just as he withdraws from my body, I come with a half disappointed groan.
The apologies follow like clockwork—I wasn't ready. He took me by surprise. I'll be ready next time—but, when the warm moisture coating my exposed skin cools uncomfortably and the dungeon lair reforms around, I remember, with a swell of self loathing, that I am not supposed to be this person anymore.
I quickly right myself, now keen to cover the body that I had given away so hungrily only moments ago. My cheeks burn as I pull my trousers up from the floor, my still tingling fingers fumbling over the buttons and zipper and belt buckle. I can feel his eyes on me, watching to see what I do, how I'll react to what he's just done, and I can already see the smug sneer on his face as he lords my weakness over me.
I knew you still wanted me, his voice rings in my head, drawing angry tears to sting my eyes. I knew you'd come back. I knew you were still a fool.
Angry tears sting the corners of my eyes. I dash them away with the heels of my palms. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me unravel on top of what he's taken.
Just as my face settles into a comfortable look of indifference, soft torchlight blooms across the room. I notice, with more annoyance than I would dare admit, that he has already put himself to rights, the slight sheen of moisture across his upper lip the only remaining trace of the animal desire that had consumed him before, and I have to stop myself from huffing. The bastard can't even have the decency to look as disheveled as I do.
"Rough day?" I ask as casually if we'd simply run into each other and he hadn't fucked me like it was my sixteenth birthday.
"Yes," he replies vaguely with a sigh as he surveys the mess we've made. "I would apologize, but you really didn't seem to mind.
"No need. The body wants what the body wants."
He glances in my direction, sweeping his gaze up and down my body in a quick appraisal that sends tingles from my spine to my fingertips. He smirks and my stomach lurches. "So it would seem. Now," he says, crossing his arms. "I presume you wanted to speak to me about my letter to your mother."
"When you barged into my classroom, demanding to speak to me," he says slowly, with obvious exasperation, "was it about the letter?"
It takes a few seconds for the memory to slide into place. I'd completely forgotten my original reason for coming to see him in light of the unexpected turn of events.
"Er, yes," I reply. "You had no right to contact my mother—"
"I had every right, Draco. I am your teacher."
"I thought that, given our history—"
"If you're referring to our arrangement," he says, cutting me off again, "I shouldn't have to remind you that we ended it, as per your request."
"And the letter was what? My punishment?"
He scoffs and I immediately regret having let the words come out of my mouth.
"No, you foolish little boy," he snarls. "As I told you after your little tantrum last winter, you are free to do as you like. But when what—" He flicks his eyes over the whole of me again and his disgust is like a knife in my gut. "—or whoever is occupying your time interferes with your attendance in my class it is my job to—"
"To run to mummy?"
"—to redirect your focus and remind you of your priorities!"
"Ha!" I sneer. "I know exactly what my priorities are."
"Your failing grades say otherwise."
"And since when do you give a damn about my grades?" I ask, my voice growing tight with barely suppressed anger.
"Since your mother asked me to watch over you in your father's...absence," he answers coolly.
"Don't you dare talk about my father! I don't need you to babysit me!"
"Then, stop acting like a child."
"What about earlier?" I challenge. "I attended your class and completed your assignment! You graded my sample! Was that the work of a child?"
"No," he says simply. "It was a very well crafted potion. Far superior to any of your classmates'—"
"—which tells me," he goes on, "that I was right to contact your mother."
A self-satisfied smile works at the corners of his thin lips. I want to strike him, to claw that pompous look right off of his face, but I know that would only leave him even more convinced of his power over me. I've already given him too much of myself, so I pull back.
"Fine," I say quietly, dropping my gaze to the stone floor. "Is that all?"
"You came to see me, Draco," he reminds me, sounding almost bored again. "If you haven't anything else to discuss, you are free to leave."
Without another word, I stride past him. The door swings open at my approach and, the moment I cross the threshold, closes behind me. I keep my clipped pace to the end of the corridor, up the staircase, past the first floor and the second and the third. I don't know where I'm going, only that I can't stop because mutinous thoughts are swirling through my mind.
He wanted me, an inescapable whisper recounts with a disgusting amount of glee. He saw me and he had to have me. And the way he looked at me, the hunger in his eyes...
I liked it.
I reach a landing—of which floor, I don't even know—and finally stop, doubling over, almost certain that I'm going to be sick.
AN: I finally got around to revising this chapter! I realized it would need some tweaking after writing chapter 6. Hopefully, this gives a better idea of Severus and Draco's relationship. Happy reading! Don't forget to review!