Snape looked over his potions class. They all seemed to be working steadily, for once; by sixth year, even most of the Gryffindors had achieved some level of competency. Well, except for Longbottom, of course. But even he managed not to melt his cauldron every week, by now. Even Potter and Weasley seemed to be managing, and he couldn't find any reason to take points from them.
He looked toward the Slytherins. If he couldn't take points from Gryffindor, he had better give some to his own house, lest the Malfoy brat report back to Daddy and Voldemort that his loyalty was wavering. Still a double agent, he had to walk a careful line. As much as it disgusted him sometimes.
Speaking of Draco, the boy was gazing right back at him. He held the icy blue eyes for a moment, then raised a questioning eyebrow. Did Draco have a question? Obviously not, because the boy just smirked and went back to his work. The whole exchange left Snape ill at ease for some reason though.
So he wasn't very surprised when, after class, Draco dismissed Crabbe and Goyle and sidled up to the desk. He was surprised, though, when the blond boy sat on the edge of his desk.
"Mr. Malfoy," he whispered. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Nothing, Professor," Draco purred, leaning closer. "Nothing at all."
"Then kindly remove yourself from my desk," snapped the professor. The boy was already insolent enough.
Instead of moving, however, Draco moved closer. "But I don't want to, Professor."
Snape put his quill down and looked up at the sixteen-year-old blond on his desk. "Do tell me what you're after, Malfoy. It's been a long day, and I'm tired." The Death Eater meetings were becoming more frequent, and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep up with his teaching duties after a night of kowtowing to Voldemort. He was getting too old for this.
Draco, on the other hand, looked as fresh and rested and healthy as only sixteen year old boys can. His blond hair nearly brushed his shoulders now, his silvery blue eyes were bright and his skin was perfectly flushed. His pouty little mouth, usually drawn into a sneer, was now full and decadently inviting. Snape tried to shut down those traitorous thoughts. He couldn't think this way about a student, even if that student was a perfect blond siren. One that was even more delectable than his father was. Snape shivered imperceptibly; he had a weakness for blonds. Lucius knew that; did Draco? Was this a game?
Only through years of controlling his emotions was he able to keep from gasping when Draco slid onto his lap. He managed a silky whisper. "Mr. Malfoy. What are you thinking? Get off me this instant."
Draco just smirked, wiggling around until he was straddling Snape's lap. "I'm not thinking," he whispered in the older man's ear. He slid his hips forward until Snape could feel the boy's erection against his stomach. The small blond moaned, then, and Snape's own cock started to harden against his will. Draco's hands started to fumble with the buttons to Snape's robe when he felt the older man's arousal. "I was right, you do want me," he murmured with triumph.
Want Draco Malfoy? Who wouldn't? Blond, lean, prettier than most girls in the school, and he damn well knew it; he could have anyone he wanted, male or female. Which begged the question. "Why?" Snape said tightly, holding on to the chair's arms with an iron grip. Lucius would kill him. Dumbledore would kill him.
Draco paused in his efforts to unfasten Snape's robes. He looked at him through pale lashes and bit his lip in a way that made the older man's stomach lurch. "I want you, Professor," he breathed. "I need it," he said, rocking his hips so there would be no confusion as to what it was that he wanted.
Despite Snape's control, a soft moan escaped his lips as Draco rubbed against him. "Mr. Malfoy," he said, his silky voice strained, "This is completely inappropriate," he began. He wanted to say more, but suddenly his mouth was covered by the blond boy's, and he couldn't speak. Draco's lips were soft and warm against his, and it was a supreme act of will not to respond and plunder that sweet mouth. He kept his mouth immobile, not responding to the kiss, his mind and heart racing. This couldn't be happening, Lucius' beautiful son couldn't possibly be interested in him, couldn't possibly be sitting on his lap, aroused and kissing him. Suddenly he realised that though he wasn't encouraging the kiss in any way, he also wasn't stopping it. He pulled back, trying to break the kiss, but Draco followed, kissing him still. Soon Snape's head was pressed against the back of his chair, and he had nowhere to go. He had just decided to detach his hands from their positions in order to push Draco off him when the blond's hands succeeded in delving inside his robes.
He gasped as Draco's hands expertly found his arousal, only the thin material of his trousers in the way now. The boy grasped his length through the trousers and squeezed with a perfect amount of pressure. Draco took advantage of Snape's open mouth to deepen the kiss. His tongue invaded the older man's mouth, coaxing Snape's tongue to react.
For a long moment, Snape couldn't keep his tongue from sparring with Draco's; the hand deftly touching his hard cock kept him from thinking. Finally, he remembered himself and moved his hands to Draco's waist, pushing, breaking the kiss.
He gasped for breath. Draco's blue eyes gazed back at him from inches away. "Draco!" he said, unable to bring his impressive vocabulary to bear at the moment. "We cannot..."
Draco's hand was still at work, preventing Snape from thinking clearly. "And why not? I know you slept with my father. He told me all about it, how good you were. So I decided to find out for myself. As I'm sure he intended for me to do. Why else would he tempt me so?" He leaned close, whispering in the older man's ear. "Besides, Professor," he hissed, emphasizing the title, "You don't want me to tell my father that you're disloyal, do you?"
That statement broke through the haze of desire that had been keeping Snape from resisting. He raised one hand and shoved Draco, hard, pushing the boy off his lap and onto the floor. "I will not be blackmailed by a child," he spat, shoving the chair back and standing. He looked down at the blond boy sprawled on the floor. He set his clothes in order quickly, watching as Draco climbed to his feet. "Get out." His heart was pounding; would Draco really follow through on his threat?
Draco stood, lifting his face to Snape's. But instead of the rage he expected to see, the blond boy was smiling seductively. Snape could only stand stunned as Draco said, "Nice. My father likes it rough too. I have to admit I've developed a taste for it as well. Though Daddy is never rough enough with me. Too afraid to hurt me," he went on, tucking his blond hair into place. "But, I'm stronger than I look. I bruise exquisitely," he said, pulling his collar aside proudly to show purpling marks that could only have come from fingers. "Perhaps you'll be less careful? Give me what I really need?" Draco sounded hopeful. He stepped forward and pressed himself to Snape again, grinning as he felt the man's undiminished erection.
The Potions master's head was spinning. Lucius and his son? Well, he wouldn't put it past the man, he was certainly depraved enough... and to his horror, mental images of the two blonds came to him unbidden. Draco bent over a desk, his father pounding into him, pale smooth bodies sweaty and aroused... the images should have disgusted him, but he realised with a sinking feeling that they turned him on even more. Now the boy was pressed up against him again, and he nearly couldn't think, couldn't remind himself why he couldn't just take what was being offered.
Then, rage at being so manipulated rose in him, and he pushed the boy away again, and before he could stop himself, his hand flashed and he slapped Draco across the face, hard. "I said NO," he rasped, watching as the boy stumbled back, holding his face.
Draco dropped his hand, his tongue darting out, then breaking out into a smile when he tasted blood. He had split the boy's lip, and there was a red mark on his cheekbone that would no doubt bruise. "Very good, Professor," he purred, sliding his hand down his body to rub at his obvious erection. "I knew you had it in you. You liked that, didn't you? Well, so did I." He paused, and Snape had to hold back a groan at the perfect picture of sexiness the boy made. "You can do it again. You can do it while you're fucking my tight little ass into the headboard. I love it. I want it."
The combination of Draco's perfect mouth saying those words, rubbing his arousal, and the lovely marks on his face was almost too much for Snape. How did the boy know how to get to him? Lucius, of course. The boy had undoubtedly learned everything he knew from his amoral father. He had to resist, even though he didn't even know why right now. "Get out, Draco," he growled, fists clenched.
Draco smirked up at him. "I'll go," he agreed. "But this isn't over yet, Professor." With one last lick at the injury the older man had given him, the boy left, leaving Snape aroused, confused and disgusted behind him.