Title: School Days Revisited
Author: SassyInkPen & Zane
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Marcus Flint has returned to Hogwarts as Snape's assistant and they both get more than they bargained for. (First of two companion stories, look for "School Days Revisited II" also)
A/N: These two stories were actually written as a role play between Zane and I, and he's so damn brilliant, and brings out the best in me, that I had to polish them up into stories and get them out there. I (Sassy) wrote Snape, and Zane wrote Marcus.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I'm only borrowin' 'em, don't make no money off 'em and don't mean nothin' by it all.
Warning: This story contains graphic depictions of m/m.
School Days Revisited By SassyInkPen & Zane (Fall 2003)
Marcus Flint found that sitting at the head table was far more comfortable than he had imagined as a student, no dealing with idiot little first years stumbling over your feet to get to the food that happened to be closer to you than to them. No more prattle about Quidditch from losers who knew virtually nothing. Ah, yes, being at the head table was much more entertaining.
Severus Snape sat picking at his food irritably. Over the years he'd come to greatly dislike the school feasts as a terrible waste of time. The only one he still really enjoyed was the Christmas Feast, because there were precious few students present for it. He sighed heavily, at least this year he had an assistant to do the more tedious and time consuming tasks for him.
He turned to Flint, who was seated next to him and elbowed the boy, nodding at the end of the table, "Would it be too much trouble for you to pass the bread and fruit bowls...or are you stocking up for winter?"
Accepting the fruit that was handed him, he chose two figs and began to peel them. "It would seem, Flint, your position here has not gone unnoticed. You seem to have a fan." He pointed with his knife to where Seamus Finnigan was craning his neck and staring.
The ex-student had noticed the startled glances from some of his old housemates, and even some from the members of other houses, kids he didn't even know. Like that one kid at the Gryffindor table...the Irish one. With a smirk, Marcus narrowed his eyes slightly as Snape mentioned the boy.
"Yeah. Well...I bet I'm about the last person they ever expected to see sitting at this particular table."
Snape arched an eyebrow and said acidly, "Perhaps they've never given it much thought."
Marcus shrugged lightly at Snape's nasty tone, being used to the professor's cynicism. He let his eyes move from Seamus to the Slytherin table, his old seat now occupied by Draco Malfoy. He wondered which classes he'd be helping with, and hoped that it would be the older students, not the younger ones, that he'd have the pleasure of making life hell for. He was going to have fun with this whole teaching thing...
Draco glanced at the head table again, catching Flint's eye. He flashed his trademark smirk then turned back to the food in front of him. Marcus inclined his head just a fraction as he met Draco's eyes, mirroring the younger boy's smirk.
Since everyone was still seated, Seamus apparently decided to make himself stick out a bit more by standing. Then, he brushed off his chest several times, as if there were some errant crumbs on his robes, but making sure to flatten his clothing as he did so.
Snape watched as Finnigan make quite a spectacle of brushing himself off extensively. "Apparently that boy eats like a pig," he sneered. "Nice ass though."
The gestures drew a low chuckle from the former Slytherin, and then a grin as Snape commented on the boys rear. He couldn't help but reply casually, "Yeah, but I've seen better." Anything else that was going on in the Great Hall went unseen by him, as Snape was excusing them both from the table.
Folding his napkin on the table, Snape stood and turned to the boy, "Come along, Flint. We have a great deal of work to do to prepare for classes. It's going to be a very late night in the dungeons." With that, he opened the side door and held it for Flint, not caring if he'd finished his meal or not.
The tall youth pushed back from the table, tossing his own napkin onto the plate of half eaten food. With one final glance around the hall, Marcus exited through the side door Snape was holding for him.
"Sounds like a right jolly time to me," he said in an almost mocking tone, walking through the dimly lit anti-chamber towards the hallways leading to the dungeons. He'd never really thought about what it took to prepare for classes, especially one as complicated as potions, but it looked like he was about to find out. Pity he wasn't still a student, he was sure there were far more interesting things he could be doing at the moment.
"I am extremely gratified to hear it, Mr. Flint," said Snape dryly, following him down the hallway. "I would certainly hate to think of you toiling away in misery."
Marcus walked with his former professor through the halls, letting out a low snort of laughter at Snape's response.
They reached the dungeons and Snape took the lead, going into his large office, which also served as a workroom. He took care to leave the door open. Students often wandered about the castle in the late hours after school feasts, getting into trouble, and he wanted to see who might be drifting down his hallway. If he was lucky he might get to hand out detentions...if he was sneaky, he might get a free show. Idly, he wondered which of the many boys eyeing up Flint the lad fancied...*that* would make a very interesting show indeed.
Marcus entered the dungeon office, a place most students did well to avoid if they knew what was best for them. The room hadn't changed much since the last time he'd been there, near the end of his *second* seventh year. It smelled a bit musty with hints of things Marcus could only guess at - objects suspended in noxious, cloudy fluids lining the shelves alongside jars filled with dried and powdered substances.
Snape motioned Flint over to a large bucket of caterpillars that had been soaking in water. Checking to see that they had absorbed all the water and were now spongy and pliable, he dumped the entire thing out in an enormous heap on the large worktable. Handing Flint a little knife with a slight grin he said, "Slice those, if you please, Mr. Flint." Then Snape turned to a cauldron bubbling over the fire and stirred it carefully while adding a vial of silver colored powder.
When the older man turned the bucket of bloated caterpillars over onto the worktable, Marcus felt his stomach squirm just the smallest bit. What a lovely task to be given right after leaving the table... Taking the small knife, Marcus offered Snape a twisted grin while shrugging off his robe.
"Looks delicious, I'm so glad I saved room..."
He patted his stomach before rolling up his sleeves to begin slicing the disgusting, squishy little bugs. It was slow going, as it took him a few moments to even get a good grasp on the soggy things. After he settled into a sort of slippery pattern (grab, slice, move aside, grab, slice...so on) Marcus glanced idly towards the bubbling cauldron to which Snape was adding the powder and stirring.
"So what's that, might I inquire?" No reason for this to be a silent task, right? The former Quidditch captain had never admitted it to anyone, but he had always loved sitting through potion lectures. Something about Snape's voice...the way it kind of lulled him into a stupor, then suddenly snapped him back awake with a harsh reprimand... He hoped he could get the man in the mood to talk right now, something to get his mind off of the slimy pile growing on the table in front of him.
"It is the base for the exceedingly simple cauldron cleansing solution that I have each class prepare on the first day," answered Snape, keeping his attention on his task, "and which you yourself managed to master in only...what was it, *three* years?"
Had Marcus been the sort to embarrass easily, he might have blushed at that little reminder of his less than adequate performance as a student during his years enrolled at Hogwarts. But as it was, he only offered a small grunt of acknowledgement. It's not like he was a complete idiot, he'd just always been so much more interested in things other than his studies that he tended to fall behind in class. He hadn't even much cared about his failing grades, which was probably the worst part about it.
Snape straightened up, pushing his hair out of his face where it had fallen when he leaned over the fire. "Unfortunately, in order to be powerful enough to remove all traces of previous spells, the solution must contain powdered unicorn's horn, and I'm not about to let a bunch of overzealous infants loose with that."
His face took on a pained expression as he approached the table where Flint was working, "Do take care to slice those *thinly*...or we're liable to have the fourth years bouncing all over the classroom..."
When Snape commented on the varying sizes of the caterpillar slices, Marcus leaned further over the worktable, slowing his pace to more carefully cut the disgusting insects into thinner segments. He couldn't really afford to fuck up now, unlike when he was a student. He needed this job, at least until he was allowed back onto his Quidditch team.
Everything had been going pretty good for him after he had managed to graduate. He'd signed on with the Falcons, just like he'd wanted to, even as a chaser. Everything seemed to be going fine, until last season, when they told him they were recommending that he take the next season off, relax a little, take a vacation. Told him that the tension seemed to be getting to him, and he was getting into too many fights and getting too many penalties against the team. That was just the way he was, he'd tried to tell them. They had just nodded and smiled and handed him the paperwork. Assholes. At least Snape had been understanding and given him a chance, which was more than most people would have done.
Snape sighed and sat down at his desk to work on a few last minute lesson plans. He had to admit that it was somewhat pleasant to have a little company for a change. It had been *years* since he'd taken on an assistant, because they were generally more trouble than they were worth. Marcus Flint, however, had always been a reasonably attentive - if not nearly so successful - student, so when Flint approached him about a job, he'd accepted the boy on a trial basis.
From this vantage point he was able to keep an eye on Flint's progress, and found that he actually enjoyed watching him. The boy had rather capable hands...which made Snape's mind wander. He arched an eyebrow, wondering...well, it wasn't as if Flint was his student any longer.
"You did not make it entirely clear, at dinner, whether or not you were favorably impressed with Mr. Finnigan's little performance..." ventured Snape.
Marcus was pulled out of his wandering thoughts by the quiet drawl of the other's voice, and he glanced up towards the professor with a thoughtful smirk. He let it hang in the air between them for a few moments before answering, pausing to stand up straight and gesture lightly with the small knife while he stretched his back.
Snape leaned back in his chair, watching the young man. The smirk the boy gave him was rather alluring and it made him want to see a bit more of Flint's attributes. He was rewarded when Flint straightened up and stretched, showing off a finely muscled body and hidden grace. Snape thought back to the boy's Quidditch days at school. He'd had that ease of movement then, too, and had always been a pleasure to watch on the pitch. Snape shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair.
Flint finally answered, "Performance, indeed. The little twink. Sure it's nice to look at and all, but really, a Gryffindor? Sometimes I wonder about them...strange lot."
He shook his head and pursed his lips just a tiny bit, getting a distant look on his face. It only lasted for a moment before he leaned back down into the task at hand, carefully cutting in nice, evenly thin slices. There'd only been one Gryffindor that Marcus had ever been interested in, but he wasn't going to go into that.
Snape grinned at the twink reference, reasonably certain that was *not* the effect Finnigan had been going for. "They are indeed a "strange lot"..." he agreed, enjoying the sight of the boy's mouth as he pursed his lips. And when he bent over the worktable...
Snape yanked his thoughts back in line and stood up to check his potion base, pausing to lean over the boy's shoulder and examine his progress. "That is a great deal better, Mr. Flint."
Marcus hadn't realized that Snape had gotten quite so near, and as he heard the man's voice so close to his ear his fingers faltered on the bug he was cutting. Quickly, he corrected the miscut piece, turning his head slightly to glance back at the professor, offering a casual grin.
He kept his eyes on Snape and his hands paused at their task, idling while he watched the ex-deatheater with growing interest. Snape almost seemed keyed up...or as much as someone like him could get keyed up, or whatever you'd call it.
Snape's nerves were a bit on edge, he hated the first day of classes. The students were excitable and unruly, and more often than not at least one of them ended up in flames for a brief period. He stalked over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink, taking a healthy slug of it. A thought occurred to him and he turned to Flint, leaning one hand on the sideboard, and sipping his drink with the other.
"Do you...indulge, Mr. Flint?" he asked, holding up the glass by way of explanation. "I know for a fact it makes that job more pleasant."
That question was double edged, and Flint knew it. But he decided to play along and simply nodded, turning around and grabbing a towel lying near the worktable to wipe the slime from his fingers. While waiting for the drink to be poured, Marcus leaned back against the worktable, crossing one leg lightly over the other and glancing about the room. He liked it in here, he decided. Much better than when he had been a student. He felt comfortable, what with the fire and the offer of a drink, and the oddly easy conversation. Marcus hadn't expected Snape to be so relaxing to be with, more he'd expected a swift order and an uncomfortable silence. How pleasant a surprise can be. He found himself smiling at his thoughts, head cocked just slightly to the side and shoulders laid back and relaxed as he returned his gaze back to the other.
Snape busied himself with pouring another drink, wondering if he was detecting a certain..."baiting" quality to the boy's actions, or if he was imagining things. The problem with playing cat and mouse with people all the time, is that one found it difficult to recognize if one had become the mouse. Not an entirely unpleasant fate in this case.
He turned and set the drink down on the scratched surface of the sideboard, regarding Flint carefully. The boy looked quite fine draped artfully against the table, and Snape suppressed a smirk at the thought of Flint's reaction if he were to compare this performance to that of Finnigan, despite it's greater subtlety. The boy was fit and pleasing to the eye, far more congenial than he'd been as a student...not at all an unworthy companion. It had been quite some time since Snape had allowed himself much of anything in that area, but still...
Snape's musing had less to do with the propriety of seducing his assistant - Dumbledore let him do as he pleased, and never muddled in his affairs - than it did with the question of Flint's interest in the matter. And that was a tricky thing in this instance. He caught the bemused expression on Flint's face and realized the boy was looking directly at him. Not certain if he was the source of mirth, Snape stiffened slightly and crossed his arms.
"I'm not a house elf, Flint. If you want it, come and get it yourself," he said, nodding towards the glass.
Arching one eyebrow at Snape's slight change in demeanor, the sudden stiffness in his words and the universal caution sign of the crossing arms, Marcus nodded and pushed away from the worktable.
It only took him a few steps to get to the sideboard and the waiting drink, which he picked up and lifted towards his mouth. Before taking a drink, however, he glanced towards the older man once more with a secretive smile.
"I could have used one or two of these when you had me here for detentions, back in the day."
Snape took in the alluring smile with pleasure and countered, "Given the amount of time you spent in detention, we would have had you staggering around the castle like a drunken sailor." Snape continued to sip his own drink, savoring the rich alcohol slowly. He was beginning to enjoy this...very much. Flint was a challenge, and he loved a good challenge.
Marcus ignored the sailor bit, just giving a small shake of his head and lifting the glass to his lips again. At least the man seemed to have gotten over whatever had caused the little chill in conversation a moment ago.
Marcus knew perfectly well the difference between then and now. He wasn't a student anymore, and though still not an equal, neither were bound by the strict rules regarding the conduct between faculty and students. He was actually just trying to lighten the conversation again, as he couldn't figure out what had caused the sudden small change in Snape's attitude. He'd have to tread lightly, he realized, if he wanted to keep on the man's good side, which was definitely where he wanted to stay.
With that and another smirk, he tilted the glass against his lips and drank, taking a good-sized swallow without so much as a twitch as the liquor burned its way down his throat. There seemed to be a teasingly predatorial tension building slowly between the two, a feeling the youth had always associated with the dungeons of Hogwarts. Marcus Flint had never been the coy type, and so he leaned an elbow on the sideboard and angled his hips outward, eyeing the professor and swirling the liquid that remained in the glass slowly.
"By the way," he asked, "what did *you* think of...what's his name... Finnigan? Finnigan's little performance?"
Snape raised a mildly surprised eyebrow at the boy's boldness, but he appreciated it all the same. He wasn't fond of too much hesitancy. Although he wasn't inclined to rush things, it was nice to have some of the cards out on the table...it made the game that much more interesting. He met Flint's gaze and held it a moment, letting a bit of his interest show in his eyes, and a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth.
He took a deep breath. "I thought it was rather pedestrian...obvious," he said conversationally, as if they were reviewing a play, "The boy certainly has a few good assets, as I mentioned earlier. But, as I believe you put it...I've seen better." He looked lazily down Flint's body, taking time to appreciate it fully.
The former captain nodded his head, swallowing the drink. He gestured with the glass, as he did with almost any object he happened to be holding when he talked.
"Exactly. Pedestrian. It could have been done so much more... entertainingly."
He hadn't missed the direction of Snape's eyes moving down his body as he mentioned having seen better. He wondered whether it was only a coincidence, or if the other were hinting at something. Marcus tilted his glass again to drain it, keeping his eyes on Snape over the rim. Once the drink was gone he set the empty glass on the sideboard, twisting his body to rest the palms of his hands on either side of it. He tilted his head back and rolled it to the side, closing his eyes as a few vertebrae cracked.
"Can I have another, before I get back to work?" he asked as he turned his head back towards the professor, opening his eyes and offering another grin. Pushing away from the sideboard, he plucked up the glass and stepped closer to the other, lifting it up and holding it out a few inches from Snape. The previous glassful was just beginning to warm up his blood, and he never liked to stop at that point.
Snape was thoroughly enjoying this little game now, and arched an eyebrow as Flint held the glass up at him. Now that the boy was closer, he could detect the light masculine scent of him, even beneath the residue of his task. He seized Flint's wrist, and then lightly took the glass from it, eyeing the boy.
The muscles in Marcus' arm tensed as his wrist was taken hold of and he had to resist the urge to jerk it free. He'd never been a big fan of being restrained, and his fingers flexed as the glass was taken from them. Forcing himself to relax, he looked down at their hands and was surprised at the calm strength of the other's fingers and how smooth they were against his skin. His own hands were a bit rough with calluses from Quidditch.
"That depends on how it will affect your performance..." Snape let the comment hang in the air for a few moments before flicking his eyes to the caterpillar covered table.
Marcus's eyes darted back up at those words, a quick smirk touching his lips. Just as he opened his mouth for a sarcastic retort he noticed the glance towards the worktable, and he quickly shut his mouth. It seemed like everything the man said was now laced with double meanings, and Marcus was going to have to be quicker than that if he wanted to keep this up. His arm was released, and he lowered it slowly as he watched the glass being refilled.
He thought a moment and said casually, "I sometimes find that the trick to drinking is to know where that line between enhancing and hindering lies. If you can find it without stumbling across it things seem to go much more smoothly, with any task."
Snape filled the glass halfway, setting the bottle down carefully before holding the glass up to Flint in much the same manner that he'd received it. He felt himself growing warmer as they sparred lightly with each other...it bode well.
Marcus took the offered drink, letting his fingers brush over the other's and linger there for the briefest moment before pulling his hand back. He looked down at the liquid and swirled it around slowly, not yet lifting it to drink.
Snape grinned satisfactorily as Flint stole a fleeting touch. Oh, yes...there was a bit of interest there. He watched the boy play with the glass lazily, musing over just what his best approach should be. The banter and the shadow boxing were extremely entertaining, and were beginning to arouse him greatly as the focus of their innuendos narrowed.
He raised his eyes to Flint, and said, "And just how would you propose to make the performance more..."entertaining"...hmm?"
Ah, thought Marcus. That had sounded suspiciously like a challenge. And what a challenge it would be, trying to entertain a man such as this one. Marcus usually didn't have a problem with such matters, at least in the dives where he did most of his 'performing', such as it were. Most of the time it only took a quick smile and a nod towards an empty seat, and things went on from there. But this was something a little more dangerous, something more like seduction.
He raised his eyes from the glass to look directly into the professor's, smoky sapphire fringed with the blackest of lashes. He'd always considered his eyes to be one of his better features, deep set and at times, expressive.
"Well, to start, he could have made better eye contact..."
His free hand then went up to his dark tie, his movements casual as he pulled it loose around his neck. Long fingers then slid the top button of his collar open.
"And it's always nice to leave a little to the imagination, instead of flaunting all your cards from the start."
Snape stared into those lovely eyes and felt his breath quicken. Things were heating up a notch and he found himself responding fully to it. He needed to be careful though...this was a game that required skill, or the effect would be ruined. And he was *not* about to ruin this.
He sipped his drink slowly as he watched Flint's long supple fingers open his shirt, revealing just a hint of soft pale flesh. Snape moved a little closer, inclining his head to see as much of the boy's exposed throat as he could. He imagined pressing his tongue to it, and shivered with anticipation.
"Mmmm..." he murmured, "I would have to agree with you. Your approach captures the watcher's attention and draws them in...creating an eagerness to see the next act..."
Marcus chuckled low in his throat, a rich, dark note that sounded quietly through the near silent room. They were closer now and he could sense the other's excitement, which in turn made his own pulse become slightly faster. The alcohol was warming his stomach and sending slow waves out from it, and he knew that at this point the tips of his ears would flush and soon after the bridge of his nose and cheeks would be tinted lightly as well. Sometimes pale skin could be a real bitch.
Lifting the glass to his mouth, Marcus parted his lips to drink. He did it deliberately slowly so that Snape could watch the arch of his neck and the shifting of the muscles just beneath the skin as he swallowed. When he lowered the glass his lips were glistening with the liquid, but he waited a few moments before snaking out his tongue to lick them clean.
Snape took a slow deep breath as Flint drew his tongue along his lips seductively. "Oh yes..." he said quietly, "Your second act is extremely captivating..." He felt his lust beginning to stir and raked his eyes down the lean body in front of him.
It passed quickly through Marcus's mind that little more than three years ago this man had been his teacher and head of house, and now here he was flirting shamelessly in the office where he had grudgingly served detention. This brought a wicked little grin to his face, and he tilted his head to the side and lifted those fingers to his neck again, brushing his knuckles lightly across the skin.
"Hmm...My heart is beating so fast...would you like to feel?"
He lowered his eyelids and slanted his gaze to the side as he leaned forward, taking his own hand away from his neck so that Snape might touch it if he chose to. He knew it was silly, but he wanted to feel the smooth fingertips on his skin once more, and he couldn't come up with anything better just now.
Sliding one hand up under the boy's chin to steady his head, Snape ran two fingers slowly down the side of Flint's neck, tracing the vein delicately, pausing to appreciate the rapid pulse there, before dipping down into the hollow of his throat. "So it is, Mr. Flint...is that the alcohol, or perhaps a touch of stage fright?"
The boy's skin was smooth and warm, and Snape wanted more. He trailed his hand down to the next button and slipped it open, parting the shirt to brush his fingers over Flint's collarbone, exhaling a carefully controlled breath.
Marcus closed his eyes as he felt the second button being undone, absently leaning in just a bit closer as Snape's fingers trailed across his collar bone. A shiver ran up his back and clashed nicely with the warmth caused by the alcohol and his arousal. He hadn't answered right away, as he'd been too preoccupied with the fingertips tracing their way down his neck.
"Neither, Professor...I think that it might be you..." He murmured his words quietly, leaving his lips slightly parted as he trailed off. The quickened heartbeat had done its job in bringing the light flush to his face, turning his cheeks just the tiniest bit pinker. He wasn't by any means drunk, it'd take much more than one or two glasses for that to happen. However, he was to the point of catlike laziness, where nearly everything seemed sensual and deliberate.
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched smugly. He had an admission now, and all the signs of willingness. He noticed the slight shiver and the flush on the boy's cheeks...and it made his own pulse quicken.
Smoothing his fingers further down, Snape undid the next button and slid his hand inside Flint's shirt. He flattened his palm against the firm body, feeling the warmth there, and Flint's heart beating rapidly. He came across the hardened nub of the boy's nipple and stroked his thumb across it lightly, noting the effect it had.
Marcus made no move to stop the other wizard, wanting to see how far the man would take it before he needed more prompting. His heart continued its rapid beating and his breath became a shade shallower, not quite a pant, but noticeably different from just a few minutes earlier. He'd completely forgotten about the drink in his hand, the half finished pile of caterpillars to be sliced, and the fact that the door to the room was standing wide open. But he really wouldn't have cared much anyway.
Marcus felt the hand flatten against his chest and the slow stroke of Snape's thumb, his mouth twitched open just a fraction wider and his closed eyes fluttered lightly without opening.
Flint was breathing harder, leaving himself open and available, and Snape was ready to take advantage of that. He leaned close, bringing his mouth just out of reach of Flint's lips. He could smell the liquor on his breath and it made his lust surge delightfully. He paused there a moment, looking for Flint's reaction, but not really heeding it.
Marcus felt the man's breath as he leaned in closer, expecting the other's lips to meet his. When they did not, the youth swallowed reflexively and ran his tongue over them again, opening his eyes narrowly to look into the professor's questioningly.
"I don't believe..." Snape said, speaking slowly and quietly, working to maintain the delicate atmosphere they'd created, "...that this is the most appropriate backdrop for seduction. Perhaps you'd like to join me somewhere more comfortable...?"
Snape was so close, mouth barely an inch from his, words spoken so softly they were nearly a whisper. It was almost too much for Marcus to nod his head. He inhaled deeply, his chest rising under the other's palm as he reached out to set the glass on the sideboard without looking. He wondered how he appeared to his former teacher, flushed and wanton with his shirt hanging half open. He noted that Snape was still fully clothed, without so much as a crease out of place. He'd have to change that.
"Where?" The single syllable was low and eager, even though Marcus made no move to go anywhere. His hand, now free from holding the glass, slipped between them and touched the front of the potion master's robes, fingers curling into the fine fabric slowly. Snape had been right when he'd said it was going to be a late night in the dungeons. Most of the rest of the school was quieting, students finding their way to bed and leaving the halls to wandering spirits.
Snape hovered there for a moment. He longed to taste the boy, to crush his lips and thrust his tongue deeply into his mouth. But the denial of it only served to heighten his arousal. To be so close and have Flint flushed and willing before him...but barely touching him, savoring the anticipation, was very sweet indeed.
"My quarters should serve our purpose adequately," he said, looking down at Flint's hand as it grasped his robes. He was looking forward to feeling their touch. "Your version of Finnigan's performance was quite admirable..." Snape murmured, "...and I am most anxious to see what you do for a climax."
He broke free of Flint's grasp and crossed over to the fire, using a large iron hook to remove the cauldron from the grate and set it off to the side to cool. Then he cocked his head at Flint and breezed from the room, heading even deeper into the dungeons.
Marcus let his hand drop to his side as Snape pulled away, watching with smoldering eyes as he removed the cauldron from the fire and turned to look at him for a moment then swept from the room. He ignored the comment about his 'performance' until he heard the word climax, which brought a grin to his lips. With one brief glance at the half finished pile sitting on the worktable, the former student went after the other, leaving his robe tossed over the chair from when he had taken it off earlier.
Keeping a few strides behind, Marcus noticed that they were moving further into the dungeons and had passed the door to his newly assigned rooms. He hadn't bothered to do up his shirt when he left the office, as the only other people down here should be other Slytherins, and they knew better than to ask. When he caught up, Snape was holding the door for him, so he brushed past the man with a smirk and paused in the sitting room.
He'd never been in these private rooms before, and he doubted whether many students had. The room was pleasant and warm, and didn't have the dank, musty smell of most of the rest of the dungeons. They entered into a large, dark sitting room, with a fire burning under the mantle.
Snape removed his robes and tossed them over the back of the settee as he passed through, leading the way to the bedroom. The fire was charmed to spring up when anyone entered the room, and it crackled warmly, providing the only light.
Reaching up, Marcus took hold of one end of his loosened tie, pulling it slowly from around his neck and tossing it on top of the robes that Snape had just dropped onto the settee. Stepping from the sitting room into the bedroom, Marcus stopped again and crossed his arms over his chest, fingers clasping his upper arms loosely. Casually, he leaned against the doorframe to watch the older man remove his topcoat. His dark eyes followed every button as it came undone between the long, pale fingers.
"Can I get you anything, Mr. Flint?" Snape asked, as he draped the coat over a clothes rack in the corner leaving only his plain white shirt and trousers.
Marcus pushed away from the doorframe and took a few strides further into the room, coming to a stop less than a foot away from the professor. They were of a height, which suited Marcus perfectly as he leaned his head forward and down to brush his lips across the edge of the others collar. His own shirt was hanging open limply, exposing his pale chest to the warm air of the room. He lifted his face just a bit, his mouth close to the potion master's ear.
"I think I'm just fine, for the moment, Sir, thank you."
Snape eyed the boy hungrily, admiring that subtle grace that he had. When Flint leaned forward, Snape could feel the warmth of the boy's body. Flint's breath caressed his ear as he spoke and made him shiver.
He took a step closer and swiftly unbuttoned the last few buttons of Flint's shirt, sliding his hands slowly up the boy's sides. He pressed his fingers against the skin and moved his hands carefully, as if he were reading the boy's body...learning him. Snape was breathing harder now, excited and deeply aroused. He slid his palms up over Flint's shoulders, pushing the shirt back off them and letting his eyes wander where his hands had been.
Marcus tilted his head to the side and back a bit, closing his eyes again as Snape finished undoing his shirt. When he felt the warm fingers sliding over his bare chest and stomach, he arched his back and sighed. Years of playing Quidditch obsessively had been good for one thing at least, sculpting his muscles into near perfection. The shirt fell lightly into a pile at his feet as it slipped off his shoulders and down his arms. Marcus gave no resistance, his own fingers idly tracing the waist of his slacks. Letting Snape do as he wished for the moment, he rolled his head forward and opened his eyes to watch the other's actions.
He'd be naked first if they kept this up, and though that wasn't such an awful thing, he thought it was only fair to reach up and begin unbuttoning the other's shirt. He took his time, fingers playing on each one before pulling it apart. After only the first few, however, Marcus paused to brush a loose strand of dark hair away from the older man's face, twisting it around his finger slowly. He couldn't help but think that it wasn't greasy really, so much as it was thick and heavy and shiny...which was plain enough, once you got close enough to really see.
Using his grip on the strand of hair as a makeshift leash, he pulled lightly, trying to bring Snape's face closer to his own. They hadn't kissed yet, and he wondered if it was purposely being avoided. Some didn't like kissing casual fucks, which only made him want to capture his old professor's mouth even more desperately.
Snape's pulse quickened as Flint started unbuttoning his shirt, taking his own sweet time about it. Not that Snape minded, he'd never had such a worthy and talented partner in seduction and he wanted to enjoy the experience fully. He shuddered as he felt the boy's fingers grazing his bare skin incidentally as he worked at the buttons.
When Flint took hold of his hair, Snape glanced at his face through half-closed eyes, mesmerized by the look of desire he saw there. It made his blood run hot and his hard cock strain against his trousers. He let Flint pull him closer, smirking slightly as he figured out what the boy was after. He leaned forward and ghosted his lips across Flint's cheek, turning his head to let his face brush against the boy's as he moved lower to his neck. He inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of him, masculine and softly spiced.
Snape let his hands rest on Flint's waist, his fingers tensing there as he pressed his lips to Flint's jaw line. He let his mouth go slack, rubbing his lower lip against him and then drawing just the tip of his tongue over the skin, moaning softly at the sweet taste.
As Snape moved closer, Marcus turned his face towards the other's slightly. When the man's lips brushed against his cheek instead of his own lips he grinned, and he promised himself that he was going to get a real kiss from him before the night was over. For now he let himself enjoy the feeling of the smooth face against his own, and tilted his chin up when he felt the man's lips pressing against his jaw line. He was hard, achingly so, his body overheated and the blood pumping loud in his ears. It'd been a while since he'd had this much fun, each vying for dominance as they were. Rarely did he ever submit to anything, he was Marcus Flint after all, always the instigator, the captain. But Snape was different, he had a power that Marcus couldn't seem to overturn, he finally chalked it up to more experience.
When the fingers tensed on his waist, Marcus pushed his hips forward, rolling his pelvis slowly beneath the professor's hands. He kept his hold on the hair, idly pulling it across his face. It smelled faintly of incense, perhaps myrrh, with a hint of something he couldn't place. He forgot about that though when Snape's tongue slid across his skin. A low moan slipped from deep in his throat to echo the other's, and he tilted his head further to the side to offer the man more of the pale skin of his neck.
Releasing the dark hair, Marcus moved his hands back to the buttons of the shirt he had been working on, fingers fumbling blindly to undo the rest of them. He seemed a bit more desperate than a moment ago, accidentally tearing one of the delicate buttons off in his eagerness. He ignored it, it could be fixed later. In much the same manner that Snape had done it to him, the youth ran his hands inside of the shirt, over the warm skin of his chest and then up to his shoulders, pushing it off as he went. When the shirt slipped over Snape's upper arms, Marcus twisted his fingers into the material and pulled, trying to tug the other's body against his.
Snape grinned as one of his buttons went skittering off across the floor and bounced up onto the rug. The boy's excitement pleased him greatly...it was nice to know he still possessed the capacity to arouse a creature as exquisite as the one standing before him. He gasped as Flint's rough hands moved surely across his chest, going to remove his shirt.
He resisted the boy's attempts to pull him closer, tightening his grip on Flint's waist and stiffening his arms. He wasn't quite ready for that yet. He was enjoying the cool air of the room, and the heat on his back from the fire. Snape placed one hand on Flint's shoulder, keeping him where he wanted him.
Marcus wasn't used to being denied anything, especially when it came to sex. His hands tightened on the other's shirt and tugged again, but Snape's grip on his waist kept them firmly where they were. The grin turned into a sneer, and a feral growl issued from his mouth. The hand placed on his shoulder restrained him further, and the mouth working at his neck quieted him. So he gave up for the moment, though his hands still gripped the fabric of the other's shirt, tugging occasionally.
Snape kissed and licked the boy's neck slowly, while he drew the fingertips of his other hand softly across Flint's straining arousal. He gingerly traced the outline of the boy's cock, touching it lightly, before he cupped his palm over it. He could feel the heat there, and a certain amount of need as Flint responded to him.
Marcus had not expected the directness of Snape's other hand, something akin to a whimper escaping him as the other traced his fingers over the obvious erection. Marcus thrust his hips against the hand, wishing that the confining trousers were on the floor next to his discarded shirt. The fingers twisted in Snape's shirt now seemed to be helping the youth to stay standing as much as trying to remove the garment, keeping him steady as he pushed his hips forward again.
"That's good..." Snape whispered in Flint's ear, "...Show me how much you want it..."
Fuck. Was Snape trying to turn him into some kind of fucking pathetic, simpering little schoolgirl? Marcus snarled, and the sound of ripping material filled the room as he yanked one more time on the shirt, tearing one of the sleeves half off. He spoke then, his voice a low, husky whisper against the waves of dark hair.
"Can't you tell how much I want it?"
Snape looked down at his torn shirt a moment and then back at Flint, tightening his grip over the boy's erection, squeezing firmly. He locked eyes with Flint, sliding his hand up to the back of his neck, "I never take anything for granted, Mr. Flint."
He curled his fingers into the boy's hair, pulling his head back slightly, and loomed over him speaking softly, "I, for one, want very much to fuck you through the mattress. You see how easy that is?" He pressed his lips to Flint's, kissing hard but slowly, nipping at the boy's lips. He released his grip on Flint's groin and wrapped his hand around the small of his back, pulling Flint's hips against him and grinding their erections together with a deep, throaty moan. The sensation was nothing short of electrifying and he tightened his hold with both hands, keeping the boy captive as he gave in to his lust, thrusting against him and kissing him firmly.
Marcus gasped as the grip on him tightened, making his knees weak and his mind clouded with lust. His head tilted back obediently as his hair was pulled, eyelids slipping half closed and lips parting with a low moan. It was cut short by Snape's kiss, which he returned passionately, opening his mouth wider and sliding his tongue across the other's lips.
Running his hands up past the professor's shoulders, Marcus wrapped his arms around Snape's neck to keep him close. He moaned into the other's mouth as he ground against him, fingers twisting into the long dark hair. They continued that way for what seemed like forever, until Marcus couldn't stand it any longer and pulled back, placing his palms on the front of the man's shoulders to keep him at bay.
Snape moaned in frustration as Flint broke off the kiss and pushed him back, holding him off. He had enjoyed the fingers playing in his hair and the sweet, dangerous taste of the boy. He was long from being finished.
He was on the point of overriding the mild restriction and taking what he wanted, when Flint began to remove his shirt...and better yet, his pants. Snape was overcome with the desire to feel those long capable fingers working diligently on his aching cock. Flint was clearly as aroused as he was, and that excited him even more.
Marcus was breathing heavily, a wild look in his eyes. Sliding his hands down firmly, he took hold of the ripped shirt to remove it completely. It dropped to the floor between them and he moved his hands to Snape's chest again, fingers tracing lightly down his stomach and abdomen, quickly attacking the button fastening the professor's slacks. It was then that he noticed the mark on Snape's forearm, which he recognized as ~THE~ mark, the black stain of the dark lord. He'd heard about the potion master's shadowed past, but had never seen the evidence of it himself. His fingers faltered slightly as he glanced up into Snape's eyes, a morbid grin touching his lips.
Snape paused cautiously when Flint noticed the Dark Mark and eyed him. He couldn't tell how the boy was going to react, but he had been in Slytherin after all. He grew concerned when Flint began to back away from him, and was set to go after him and try to explain. But to his very great pleasure, the boy started peeling his own pants off in the most enticing way.
Taking a step back towards the large bed, Flint let go of the other's pants and began undoing his own, letting them slip down his hips and expose the edge of his low black briefs.
Snape watched, mouth open just slightly and panting softly, as Flint slowly revealed glimpses of his undergarments...and then slid a hand down to tease along the edge of them. Snape would have enjoyed watching the boy take himself in hand and demonstrate his arousal, but he stopped there and gazed lustily back at him.
Giving his best 'come hither' look to the older man, Flint flattened his hand against his chest and trailed it down towards the dangerously low waistband. "Come fuck me then, before I get cold."
"I highly doubt that's possible," breathed Snape, advancing on the boy. He reached out and grabbed the waistband of Flint's pants, tearing them open as he backed the boy up against the bedpost, pressing his chest firmly against him, and leaning forward to kiss his neck.
He pulled Flint's clothes out of the way enough to expose his impressive erection, and wrapped his hand around it, caressing him and stroking him slowly.
Marcus had expected Snape to come after him, but was not quite prepared to be forced back against the bedpost, his pants being ripped open so violently. His eyes rolled back and the lids fluttered closed as he felt the warm fingers wrap around his length, stroking slowly, teasing him. It was good that he had the bedpost behind him, as his knees went soft and shivers raced each other up his spine.
"Fuck..." he groaned, his throat dry and hoarse. He lifted his hands to Snape's waist, fingers going to the fastenings of the slacks once more to finish undoing them. Once undone the pants slid lower beneath the boy's touch, which found its way towards the other's erection easily. Marcus ran his fingers over it through the fabric of the man's underthings, much as Snape had done to him.
"You still haven't told me that you *want* it..." Snape whispered in the boy's ear, flicking his tongue over his earlobe.
At the words whispered into his ear and the flick of the tongue against his earlobe, Marcus swallowed hard. He thrust his hips forward again, pushing his aching cock harder into the encircling hand. His whole body was primed, and he'd never felt more ready. Now if he could only make himself say those words, he'd get what he wanted. But it was harder than Snape made it sound, Marcus hated having to admit something like that. He'd always been the type to just ~TAKE~ what he wanted. As another shiver spread through him, he damned his ego and moaned, spreading his fingers across Snape's length.
"Fuck you. Damn it...I ~WANT~ it...NOW" He writhed beneath the man as he spat it out, leaning his head against the bedpost.
"Yes...that's such a good boy," panted Snape as Flint's body twisted against him. "I enjoy seeing you like this...hard and begging. You do it so well..." murmured Snape with a low chuckle at Flint's desperate struggle with his ego. Snape was extremely aroused by it and shoved his own underwear out of the way, breathing hard and heavy. He spit in his hand and slicked it over his own cock, before moving to press it up against Flint's, grinding their bare erections together with a hungry groan. The moist fluid created just enough friction to allow him to move easily against the boy, and the sensation was incredible. He contemplated finishing it just like this, but he was too anxious to have more of Flint.
Marcus let him do it, biting his lip as he felt the other's slick flesh slide against his throbbing member. He was panting and moaning softly, his own hands tracing up Snape's chest again and into his hair, twisting his fingers in it and pulling it closer.
Snape gripped the bedpost behind Flint and pulled his entire body hard against him as he rubbed on him. He kissed Flint, working his hips, and then teased slowly, "You're going to let me take you, aren't you...? You're going to lie down on this bed and let me fuck you until you can barely stand another moment of it..." Snape moaned and closed his mouth over Flint's, thrusting his tongue deep in the boy's mouth, as their cocks became hot and harder.
Marcus kissed back when his lips met the professor's, but paused as he heard the teasing question, his muscles quivering beneath his skin. Marcus's mind worked slowly through the haze of his desire. He could count on one hand the number of times he had let someone take him, make him the submissive one.
When Snape could stand no more, he stepped back and nudged Flint onto the bed, pulling his pants the rest of the way off in the process. He kicked his own off as well, and then climbed on the bed, chasing Flint further up. He knelt there, looming over the boy with a grin, "...The only question remaining, is how you plan to take it..."
It wasn't like Marcus, as he was always such the dominant one, being meaner and faster and stronger than most of the people he'd ever fucked since fifth year. But Snape was different. He seemed to have turned the whole thing around, taking control. And Marcus found that it was making him hotter than he'd been in a very long time. So he submitted, letting himself be guided onto the bed, lying back while his pants and such were removed.
Marcus pushed himself further back onto the covers as Snape joined him, crawling up between and over his legs. He laughed then, a slow, lazy laugh, and dropped his head back onto the pillows. His hand moved down his stomach and long fingers curled around his throbbing erection, stroking it lightly as he looked up at the man hovering over him.
"Tell me how you want me to take it. Then make it rough."
His voice was playful and lusty, and his free hand reached up to touch the other's hip, drifting up the pale skin slowly. Snape had better hurry, as his hand was moving more firmly, causing Marcus to press his head back harder against the pillows and groan deeply. His hips pushed up off of the covers and he glared into the man's dark eyes with a sneer of a grin.
Snape held Flint's glare, his own eyes glittering with lust, as he reached out and slapped the boy's hand off his cock. He'd hit him hard and noticed a red splotch forming over the back of his hand and his wrist.
Marcus flinched with the force of the slap, jerking his hand away from between his legs quickly. He felt the hot sting of the impact on his wrist as the area turned a pained red. Baring his teeth in a low snarl, Marcus narrowed his eyes up at Snape as the man spoke.
"You won't need to do that, Mr. Flint," he said in a low voice, as he leaned over him to take a small green bottle from the bedside table. "I think you'll find that I can be very thorough, and I will not let you down..." He glanced at Flint,"...Unless you give me reason to."
He knelt between Flint's legs and took the stopper out of the bottle, then held it up and slowly tipped it, letting thick clear oil dribble down over Flint's cock and balls. He moved the bottle, pouring carefully to make sure it ran down deep between the boy's legs and trickled over his own cock. He made a tiny hiss of satisfaction at the cool feel of it on him. Setting down the bottle, he took up his position, running a hand along the boy's thigh lazily and watching his face as he nudged his cock up against Flint's opening. He leaned forward on one hand and hovered over Flint, panting with excitement and staring at him lustfully.
Marcus sighed when the oil spilled over his flesh, shifting on the covers as it ran between his legs. His hands remained at his sides out of the way, as he didn't want another painful slap for touching something he wasn't supposed to. As Snape positioned himself over him, Marcus spread his legs a bit wider, curling his back so that his hips came further off of the bed for a better angle. There was a nervous quiver along his stomach muscles as he felt the head of the other's cock nudging against him.
"I hope you're ready..." Snape said with a ragged breath.
Marcus wasn't, at least for what came next.
Snape shoved himself fully inside with one forceful thrust, pressing deeply with his hips. He sat up on his knees and clutched Flint's thighs to keep him completely impaled. Reaching forward, he traced one fingertip up and down the length of Flint's cock, while he sat still, savoring the sensation of being buried in the tight, moist heat of the boy.
Marcus' whole body tensed with the sudden tearing pain of it, hips jerking and lifting further as he was impaled. A choked cry was torn from his throat and his eyes shut tightly, his body trying to pull away from the invading force but held in place by Snape's strong hands. The muscles along his entire body twitched as he inhaled sharply, with the breath came a sound almost like a whimper. The pain faded to an aching throb after a moment, probably only because Snape was holding still, letting him get used to it. Marcus twitched again as the fingers trailed over his erection, letting out another soft whimper and slowly shifting his hips. Snape hadn't moved yet, and so the boy opened his eyes slowly to look up at him, panting and squirming slowly.
He lifted his hands to the pillow behind his head, gripping the pillowcase until his knuckles where white. It was always the worst on the first thrust, he reminded himself, then bucked his hips up against the man harder, shoving the other's cock deeper. He bit back another cry as his own actions caused a duller wave of pain to shudder through him, twisting his head so that his face was pressed against his arm, fingers pulling at the pillow desperately.
"Fucking Hell..." he muttered, rocking his hips just a tiny bit and arching his back. He knew Snape was watching him, probably really enjoying the sight of him so splayed out and almost vulnerable.
Snape shuddered each time Flint moved his body, low groans rumbling in this throat at the tremors of sensation that ran through him. It made his blood run hot to watch the boy writhing and panting as he tried to cope with the invasion of his body. He wrapped his hand around Flint's cock and stroked it slowly, but firmly...a little distraction to ease the pain. "There, there..." he cooed, part sarcasm and part genuine sympathy, "You did say you wanted me to make it rough. Surely a staunch sportsman such as yourself can handle something as simple as this..." He grinned as he softly caressed Flint's thigh with his other hand, marveling at how smooth and tender it was, even with the taut muscle so close beneath the surface.
Bucking his hips up harder, Marcus growled. He hated being patronized, and that's just what Snape's words sounded like. With narrowed eyes he turned his face forward to glare at the man above him. At the touch of the warm hand on his thigh, the former student slid his legs up against the professor's, a dark grin forming on his lips.
Flint seemed to be adjusting...slowly, and Snape took a chance on shifting his weight so that he could stretch out over the boy, bending his head to lick the smooth chest below him. He circled his tongue around Flint's nipple, teething it slightly. He moved up to Flint's neck, kissing and licking him hungrily, while he rocked his own hips experimentally. Then he kissed Flint's lips gently, slowly...a soothing kiss, as he reached up to smooth the hair off the boy's forehead. He loved the ebb and flow of good sex...fast and slow, nasty and nice...A perfect evening had a little of everything.
Marcus groaned when the tongue slid along his chest, arching his back up again when the teeth grazed his nipple. He tilted his head back against the pillow again, straining his body against the other's as he felt Snape begin to move his hips slowly again. The pain was still there, yes, but it was giving way to a twisted kind of pleasure.
When Snape kissed him he moaned into the man's mouth, parting his lips just enough to let his tongue in. He was surprised by the gentle touch of the hand smoothing back his hair. It relaxed him, his fingers slipping from the pillowcase and up into the long dark hair that brushed against his cheeks.
Snape wasn't fond of torture without gain, and brushed his face against Flint's as he whispered, "I can stop if you like...but then you'll have to make it up to me somehow..." He grinned and nipped at Flint's earlobe. It wasn't really an out, just a chance to put out on different terms.
Marcus shook his head, licking his lips and whispering back hoarsely, "No...Damn it. Just fuck me." He emphasized his words with a harsh thrust of his hips and a tug on the other's hair. Yeah, he was impatient, but hell, he'd waited long enough.
Snape groaned as Flint thrust against him, and he rolled his hips languidly, savoring the friction as his cock slid around in the boy's body. The hair pulling he enjoyed immensely, surprisingly few of his partners had any idea how erotic that could be. He squared his shoulders and looked back down into Flint's challenging stare.
"I don't *just* fuck anybody...ever," he said in a slightly dangerous voice. He wasn't about to be rushed...it had been too long since his last encounter of the kind. "Sex is an art, like potion making, and I have every intention of doing the thing properly... whether you like it or not."
He did, however, begin to thrust into Flint with long powerful strokes, moving slowly so that he could enjoy every single sensation. He watched Flint's face and grinned, the expressions there increasing his desire and spurring him on.
Marcus flashed the man above him a nasty grin before thrusting his body up once again, meeting the movements of the other. Snape's hair was firmly twisted around his fingers, which tugged and pulled as he shifted beneath the man. Being fucked was a strange mixture of pain and pleasure, stretching and filling him and causing the muscles to tighten reflexively around the foreign object invading his body.
It still felt odd being the one on bottom, but Marcus writhed and groaned and played it for all it was worth, pushing his head back against the pillow and opening his mouth as he panted. He was beginning to sweat, the perspiration beading across his forehead and upper lip. Shifting his body once more, Marcus pushed his feet against the mattress and arched his body higher towards Snape.
His own cock was aching with a need to be touched, his pulse throbbing through it and causing him to moan every time part of the other's body brushed against it. He ran his tongue across his upper lip, tasting the saltiness of his own sweat. It had been a while since he'd had anything like this... and with Snape, no less. Few of his partners had ever been so thorough, most having just been messy young flings against the wall of his flat, nameless and quickly forgotten.
Marcus rolled his hips as Snape thrust into him once more, a shudder racing through his body as the professor hit him in just the right spot. With a gasp, the former student bucked his hips.
"Fuck. Do that again..." he growled harshly, eyebrows knitting in concentration. Yes, he'd definitely forgotten about how being on the bottom could feel.
"You like that...hmmmm?" Snape murmured, angling his hips and thrusting into the boy hard. Flint moaned again and Snape grinned. "Yesss..." he hissed, biting his neck just below the ear, "You *do* like it..." Snape thrust at just the right angle again. "You like being on your back for me..." Snape shoved in again and held himself there, rocking his hips so that the head of his cock rubbed relentlessly over that sweet spot. "Say it," he said harshly, pulling back and thrusting, then pausing to stroke the boy some more, "I want to hear you say just how much you like it..."
Snape was getting to the point where he would start to lose control and he knew it. His body was hot and sweating, his cock ached and his legs trembled. Each thrust brought new waves of pleasure and he was so deeply aroused that every tiny movement the boy made heightened or accented his desire. He could feel his body tensing, getting closer...and he needed it so badly. He picked up the pace again, taking care to get just the right entry...at least most of the time. His body was beginning to take over, making him somewhat helpless to it.
He moaned and gasped, panting against the boy's skin, as he writhed on top of him, arching his back and thrusting his hips ruthlessly. He was braced on one forearm that rested by Flint's shoulder, and the free arm he slipped underneath the boy to wrap around his waist. He held him tightly and pulled him closer, nearly lifting his hips up off the bed. He found that he could go even deeper this way, and that as he did so, the boy's slick, hot erection ground into his abdomen erotically. He groaned loudly at the effect. "My god," he gasped, "You're absolutely exquisite..."
Marcus cried out breathlessly as Snape pushed against that spot, rocking his hips to keep himself against it. The boy thrashed upon the bed, making noises he'd surely be embarrassed about in the morning. His lower back lifted higher as Snape slipped his arm around him, his body now in an uncomfortable arch, muscles straining as he maintained the position.
He'd lost all shame at this point, moaning and quivering and pressing up against the older man. Grinding his swollen erection hard against the professor's abdomen he let loose a low cry, fucking himself harder onto Snape's cock. Marcus pressed his eyes tightly closed and shuddered, voice harsh when he finally spoke.
"I like it... harder... please..." He figured the man would like that, so he added more desperately, a quiver to his voice, "Please, Sir..."
It was too kinky, laid out before his former professor, letting himself be seen like this, desperate and needy. He was so close though, he could feel it building in his loins. He need to get it out...it was too much. Thrusting his body up hard again, he turned his eyes to the other, pleading.
"I need it...now...please..."
Severus couldn't help but chuckle slightly. It must be a desperate situation indeed if Marcus Flint used the word "please". He moaned at the look in the boy's eyes, and managed to speak through his own gasping, "You play the game so very well..." He knew it cost Flint to say those things, even when he only did so because he knew it was desired. Still, Snape enjoyed the illusion.
His own body was tightly strung and demanding satisfaction, and so he let go his controlled game playing and gave rein to the sheer carnal need coiling up in him. Dipping his head in concentration, he held Flint tightly and fucked him hard...moving swiftly with well practiced motions designed to bring himself to a quick and powerful climax.
Marcus cried out again as Snape pounded into him even harder, the tight grip of the other's fingers leaving red marks across his skin. He pulled his fingers from the tangled mess he'd made of the dark hair, grasping at the professor's neck and shoulders. Body still bent in that awkward position, Marcus began to tremble lightly as his muscles strained to keep him there. It was going to be hell trying to walk in the morning, he already knew it, back in that little part of his brain that wasn't reduced to carnal lust.
Snape clutched at Flint as he felt his lust welling up inside him, digging his fingers into the boy's pale skin. With a deep groan of pleasured relief, he shoved his cock deep within the boy and came hard, jerking his hips against Flint as he rode out the intense sensations. "Fuck, *yes*," he ground out, "You have no idea how good you are..."
When Marcus heard that low groan he knew what it meant, and jerked his hips up against Snape as the man came. He opened his eyes narrowly and clenched his jaw against a moan as he felt the pulse of heat filling him and the shudder of Snape's body around and inside of him.
Snape slowed with a shudder, catching his breath. Then he shifted his weight back to his knees slightly, and pressed his cock deep again, rubbing the spot that made Flint do such wonderful things beneath him. He bucked his hips forcefully, applying maximum pressure, as he curled his fist around Flint's cock and stroked him swift and hard.
There was a lull for a moment as they both tried to catch their breath, and Marcus moaned softly. Then Snape was doing it ~again~, forcing his cock deep and nudging the place that made him writhe like a cat in heat.
Snape grinned at the boy's reaction and said, "Mmmm... that's beautiful. I want you to come for me...I'll enjoy that little show immensely."
Marcus rolled his head back and cried out as the man bucked his hips hard and began stroking him expertly, his cock slick with pre-cum and their sweat. His own fingers grasped the shoulders above him and dug in painfully as he began to tremble harder, he wasn't going to last a minute longer at that rate.
A mumbled string of words too foul to be spoken in polite society escaped between the boy's lips as the orgasm hit him, thrusting up against Snape and twisting his body. He pushed at the man's shoulders and rocked his hips as he came, covering his stomach and Snape's hand with his hot seed. Thrusting weakly once more, Marcus then let his body sink back onto the bed with a relieved and breathless groan. It had exhausted him, and his hands slid from the other's shoulders limply.
Snape moaned excitedly as he watched Flint come, felt him convulsing around his cock, and listened to the verbal tirade that accompanied it. Warm cum flowed over his hand as the boy arched one last time and fell limp on the bed. He enjoyed watching the various aspects of sex. It was fascinating and extremely arousing to see someone engaged in carnal behavior and be in a position to appreciate the details. The little noises, the tiny movements of the mouth and the hands...such things that one usually missed when one was focused on his own fulfillment.
"Bloody hell..." Marcus muttered, shifting his hips and lifting one hand to run over his damp face. He didn't look up at Snape right away, knowing that there was probably a too-pleased smirk there, just like the one he always got on his face after a good fuck.
Snape untangled himself and slid his cock carefully out of Flint's body, then lay down on top of him, savoring the warm, slick body in the relaxed, but sensitive, aftermath of energetic sex. He devoted a few minutes to kissing and licking Flint's neck, working his way around to his mouth for a deep and satisfying kiss. "That was rather better than I'd been hoping for," he said conversationally.
Marcus' muscles spasmed weakly as Snape pulled slowly out, leaving an odd, empty feeling behind. That's what he hated about being the one getting fucked, not so much the pain of it (because Marcus liked the sting and viciousness of pain) as it was the unfulfilled, hollow feeling afterwards. He mumbled something under his breath at the backwards compliment, tilting his head to the side as the man licked and kissed at his sweaty neck.
Snape slid off to the side, running his hands over the boy's body appreciatively. "Perhaps next time we'll try things your way, if you like." He looked up at Flint as he cupped the boy's balls in his hand, "Because, Marcus...there *will* be a next time."
Blinking his eyes blearily open and forcing himself to focus as Snape's hand curled around his still sensitive flesh, he looked up at the other. It was the first time the potions master had said his first name, rather than just Flint, or maybe Mr. Flint if he was feeling sarcastic.
"Mm...next time. Yeah."
Snape got off the bed and strode to the bathroom to wash his hands and face quickly, and then returned to pour a small glass of sherry for a nightcap. He leaned back against the cabinet and folded his arms, as he sipped the drink. "I suppose you'll want to be getting back...if I recall, you still have quite a lot of caterpillars to slice."
Lying on the bed just a few moments longer, Marcus finally pushed himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side and running his fingers through his hair. God, he was a mess. He gave Snape a sneer at the reminder of the work he still had to do, bending over to search for all the scattered pieces of his clothing. Gathering his socks and underwear he stood, slicking a hand over his wet abdomen and wiping the spent liquid across his thigh. He didn't bother to ask whether he might wash off, simply leaning over and stepping into his briefs and pulling them on over his damp skin, he was covered back to front with both of their cum, and it felt odd and slippery between his legs. He'd shower later, as he was only going to get nasty again while chopping up those fucking caterpillars. He ignored Snape and his critical eyes as he randomly pulled on his clothes.
Marcus paused as he was pulling on a shoe, kneeling down to pick up the button he had torn from Snape's shirt earlier. With a grin and a wink, he straightened and wriggled his shoe on, flipping the button into the air with his thumb and catching it in his fist as it fell. He turned on his heel and strode from the room, calling over his shoulder as he grabbed his tie from on top of Snape's robes.
"I'll lock up when I'm done with them...good night, Professor."
It took him the better part of an hour to finish with it all, and he was ready to drop when he finally turned the key in the lock and headed for his rooms. Not bothering to do anything more than kick off his shoes once he was safely into his own sparse, dimly lit chambers, the former student collapsed on his bed in a heap of rumpled clothes, reeking of sex and caterpillar slime.
He was still tired and just a bit sore the next morning when he woke up for breakfast, but made himself bathe and even shave. The clothes from the night before, he tossed in the hamper with a nasty snarl, but not before he fished the button out of his pocket and dropped it onto his dresser top next to his wand. With that done, he headed out of the dungeons for a late breakfast. He'd heard Oliver Wood was supposed to be teaching in place of Hooch this year, but hadn't seen him last night at the feast, maybe he'd be there for breakfast. The thought brought a nasty smirk to his face as he entered the Hall, making his way to the head table.