Title: Mead and Bristles
Pairing: Marcus Flint/Snape
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Flint has been a bad boy, and Snape takes it into his own hands to punish him.
A/N: For Chi .
Words: 905
'Twas a dark and stormy night at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when young Marcus Flint was stan—no. That's not right. Let's try that again.
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a dashing young man that went by the name of Sir Marcus of Flint. He'd rescued many princesses in his day an—nope. Let's give it one more try, shall we?
One bright, sunny, afternoon, not too long ago, and not exactly far away, there was a fairly ugly student at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was called Marcus Flint and he, in fact, had not rescued nor attracted any females in his day. Save Dolores Umbridge, of course. Anywho, Marcus was standing beneath the head of a gushing shower, his head hung in shame, when his head of house, Severus Snape, stormed into the showers, screaming obscenities. Marcus quickly brought his hands down, in order to cover himself up.
"—and you've lost us the bloody Quidditch Cup AGAIN!" Snape screamed, throwing his hands up in the air as a sign of defeat. Marcus sighed.
"Sorry, Professor. It was Malfoy's fault, really," he muttered, returning to the shower. Just as he closed his eyes to rinse the shampoo from his ratty hair, however, Snape slammed him up against the tiled wall. "What the—"
"Flint, you cannot possibly think I'm going to let you get off this easily," Snape shouted, his face contorted into a very evil look. It was then that Marcus noticed the miniature broom held tightly in Snape's hand.
"Snape, what the bloody hell is that for!" he shouted, his voice cracking like a pre-pubescent. Which, truthfully, he was not, as one could tell by the only handsome part of the buck-toothed teen's body: his, erm, manhood.
"Punishment, of course," Snape replied, all nonchalantly. Marcus gasped and his eyes widened.
"What are you going to do with it!" he demanded, his voice still cracking. Snape smirked, glancing down at Marcus' slightly firmer member, which was pressed up against Snape's inner thigh. He smirked again, this time at the naked boy separating him from the wall.
"Well, Flint, I do believe I'm going to shove it in a very painful place," he said. Marcus gasped again before struggling against Snape.
"Let me go, damnit! You're not shoving that thing up my arse!" he screamed, pushing against the elder man crazily.
"Oh? And who's going to stop me?" Snape asked, rhetorically, before flicking his wand, sending Marcus to the far corner of the room. The teen was magically forced to crouch there, his head in the bottom most part of the corner, and his butt sticking awkwardly into the air. Marcus whimpered, but there wasn't a single part of his body that he could move.
"Now, Marcus, I'll have you know that this is a good four inch broomstick. Minus the bristles, of course," Snape said, his voice the epitome of calm.
"Have you been drinking too much mead lately?" Marcus snapped, trying one last time to escape his magical restraints.
"Just a bit," was Snape's response. "Lenitas lenitudo." He pointed his wand at the miniature broomstick, smirking as he said the words. Snape was satisfied when, immediately, it grew slippery and shiny.
"Snape, please don't do this!" Marcus insisted as Snape ran the end of the broomstick in circles around the teen's tight, virgin anus. Despite himself, Marcus moaned, and this only provoked Snape.
"I think I will, Marcus," he said before plunging the broomstick a good halfway into Marcus. The teen's response was a noise that was halfway between a moan and a shout. Snape smirked to himself as he twisted the broomstick this way and that, pushing it further within the poor Quidditch captain.
"Snape…don't…" Marcus choked out. He was panting by then, and his cheeks were stained with tears.
"Don't what, Marcus?" Snape teased, pressing the broomstick further yet into the whimpering body that was Marcus. Marcus cried out, struggling uselessly against the spell that bound him.
"Don't…no…further…OW!" Marcus yelled, as Snape had hit a rather sensitive spot on Marcus' insides.
"You know, Marcus, I think this can go just a bit farther…" Snape said before pushing the broomstick with all of his might, sending it so far into Marcus that he thought it might poke out of his nose. It was so far, in fact, that the beginning of the bristles were pressed up against the area surrounding Marcus' anus. Marcus cried out in pain, tears pouring out from his closed eyes. He gasped for breath, wishing he could turn around to hit his head of house.
"Snape…don't…" Marcus urged, as Snape had then begun to twist the broomstick once again, causing Marcus more pain than could be imagined.
"Tell me that you'll never lose us another game, and I won't," Snape commanded.
"Okay! Anything! Just…stop!" he screamed. Snape gave a satisfied smirk before slamming the broomstick into Marcus one last time before pulling it out and tossing it to the floor.
"Have a good day, Mr. Flint," Snape said before leaving the room, muttering a releasing spell under his breath. Marcus slowly, shakily sat up. After a good ten minutes of sitting there in shock, he rose to his feet, and he walked awkwardly over to his ignored shower, trying to get past the pain in his butt.
"I hope I don't get any fucking splinters."