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Title: Just Desserts
Author name: Icarus
Author email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Sub Category: Gleeful Torment
Summary: The heavy drapes were drawn and the room smelled liked rotting pot pourri. Severus Snape has fantasies.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Copyright © 2005 by Icarus Ancalion. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in whole or part without the author's explicit permission. Ask, guys. I'm easy to reach and usually quite generous.
Author notes: No beta, naughty me.
Severus' arm was draped over his eyes where he slumped on the faded settee, his long legs outstretched and parted. The folds of his robes spilled over the cushions onto the floor, unbuttoned and open. His hand had crept to his hip but stilled. Kneeling on the hard floor between his legs, Peter breathed a small sigh of relief.
Severus' lip curled. "Done so soon?" His voice was low and soft.
Peter shook his head quickly and bent to his task. The leather of Severus' boot was slick under his tongue, except where he caught a scuff-mark, hard and dry. He licked his lips and tried again, a little surprised that this was how Muggles polished their boots - though Severus had insisted. He'd know better than a pure-blood like Peter. There was no sound except the wet lapping of his tongue and the slight shift of Severus' thigh. Peter eyed that hand warily. It was Severus' wand hand, but it was also...
It had inched closer to his lap, where a very obvious rise pushed at his trousers, raising the buttons.
Peter's eyes fell to the floor as he pulled out the dirty rag to slowly buff the spot he'd just cleaned. Severus' feet shifted under the leather as his hips edged into the cushions. His legs parted still further, as Severus gave a low sigh. Peter glanced up to find Severus had moved his arm slightly away from his face, his eyes glittering at Peter. His wand hand had slid to his lap. Fingers trailed across the buttons.
Peter swallowed and shut his eyes. Heard the buttons undone, one by one. Peter shuddered and refused to look, bending to his task with alacrity. A quick glance showed Severus had buried his eyes behind his arm again as he slowly stroked, the hair of his -- oh no, he shouldn't have looked. The image burned itself onto the back of his eyes.
"Keep working, Potter," Severus' deep growl reminded him.
Peter was sure he mispoke. He hurried to complete his task before --
"Slower…" Severus snarled.
Peter wondered if there was anyone he could tell, surely this would tarnish the image of the Dark Lord's new wonder? But it was too great a risk. What if they thought-? No, no, surely they wouldn't. But they might -
A hand seized his hair and dragged him forward. Peter stumbled into Severus' crotch, arms curled around protectively in front of his chest. Severus was breathing hard, his head thrown back, eyes closed. But he didn't say anything more and Peter tried to sink back to the floor. Boots were better, yes, yes, much better.
Severus' grip tightened and his warm cock pressed up under Peter's chin. Peter reluctantly parted his lips and Severus' cock surged forward, hot and fierce, though this wasn't the worst part. Peter tried to keep up. Severus moaned, his hips grinding. He pressed upward and then froze. Sour sticky fluid filled Peter's mouth.
He choked. Which was a bad, bad mistake, he knew it immediately.
Severus grew suddenly, completely still. He seized Peter's lapel, wrenched him forward and hissed, "Just what do you think you're doing?"
His eyes burned.
"I, I - just…" Peter panicked. Severus threw him backward and Peter sprawled across the floor, his legs kicking. He struggled to stand, scrabbling for his wand.
"Don't you dare touch me!" Severus pulled his robes closed and stalked upstairs, taking them two at a time.
Peter kneeled in the middle of the tiny living room, wiping his mouth, his heart pounding in terror.
Mad. The man was utterly mad.