Of Blondes and Pain

Disclaimer: Lucius, Snape, Hogwarts and anything else you recognise belongs to JK Rawling and others. The smut, and the dildo, however are all mine.... ;)

Lucius Malfoy may consider himself some kind of Syltherin Adonis; a noble, blonde-haired god of all things erotic, but as far as Snape is concerned he’s nothing more than a pureblood bore with delusions of grandeur and a somewhat over inflated opinion of his sexual prowess.

Even Snape has to admit, however grudgingly, that Malfoy Senior is extraordinarily good at sucking cock; a talent Snape encourages as often as he possibly can. The fact that it prevents the blonde tart from spewing his usual mix of pathetic bombast and vacuous nonsense is merely the icing on the cake, as Muggles would say.

Right now, Lucius’ mouth is wrapped around Snape’s balls, while his tongue slithers and tickles and does things to the delicate skin that Snape can only think of as delightfully obscene.

Snape sprawled back into the plush sofa, spreading his legs a little more and tilting his hips, trying to encourage Lucius to transfer his attentions to Snape’s cock. Snape knows that Lucius can do this for hours, until Snape is sweating and cursing and he’s aching in so many places and so many ways he can’t remember how it felt not to have his muscles screaming at him.

The Potions Master looked down. There was something arousing, in a way that was more than just sexual, about the sight of the Lucius on his knees.

Everything in Snape’s world had been reduced to mere sensation. When this is over, he’ll go back to his cold world of potions, and teaching; spying and presiding over death and mayhem. For now though, all he cared about is the way Lucius’ hair tickles the inside of his thighs, the feel of the velvet couch against his skin, the sight of Lucius’ head moving as he bathes Snape’s cock with his tongue, the pleasure building slowly within him.

Snape tensed, resisting the urge to squirm. He’s not going to give Lucius the satisfaction of knowing how much he enjoys this, although he knows that sooner or later he’ll crack and Lucius will have his brief moment of victory. When Lucius lightly nipped the skin of Snape’s hip, the Potions Master can’t help but gasp in response, his body jerking. He growled under his breath, and fisted his hands in Lucius’ hair, nails digging into the scalp, smirking when he hears the telltale whimper. Lucius is such a bitch. He loves to be hurt. He gets off on his own pain, almost as much as he gets off on other people’s.

The small pain is apparently enough to convince the blonde idiot to get on with his task, and he applies himself to Snape’s cock in a way that seriously threatens to destroy Snape’s control. He’s already panting and sweating, hips moving with the rhythm of Lucius’ mouth, involuntary groans and curses escaping his lips.

The little slut kept Snape strung out for as long as possible, until Snape can’t tell whether it’s pleasure or pain that he’s feeling. The slick glide of Lucius’ mouth up and down his cock, the scrape of his teeth, the gentle way he rolled Snape’s balls in his hand, interspersed with sudden hard squeezes, it all too much, finally, for the Potions Master, and he forced Lucius’ mouth down hard over his cock, even as his hips jerked upwards, and the choked noise from the other Slytherin just makes his climax that much sweeter.

Snape held Lucius in place for a few seconds longer, knowing that Lucius’ jaw would be aching, and that he’d be struggling not to gag. Eventually, Snape relaxed his grip, and smirked when Lucius sat bolt upright, coughing and grimacing.

The second Lucius opened his mouth, as if to speak, Snape moved, his hand meeting Lucius’ cheek with a loud slap. Snape watched Lucius’ eyes dilate with lust, even as a red mark the shape of Snape’s hand appeared on his cheek. Snape placed a foot in the centre of Lucius’ chest, and shoved him backwards, sending him sprawling onto the fur rug.

Snape slid off the sofa, moving until his knees rested on either side of Lucius’ hips, then tangled a hand back in the ridiculous mane of hair, and dragged Lucius’ head sharply to one side, exposing his neck. Snape relished the whimper and the way Lucius didn’t even attempt to resist. Leaning forward, Snape bit down on Lucius’ neck, hard enough to bruise, then harder still, until he could feel the delicate skin splitting under his teeth, and he could taste the familiar tang of blood.

Lucius’s body arched beneath him, his hard cock pressing against Snape’s hips, testament to just how much he loved this. His eyes were closed, his lips parted. Snape drew back, admiring the livid mark on Lucius’ neck, sluggishly oozing blood. The sight of those bright red beads against the rapidly forming bruise, and the expanse of pale skin made Snape shiver. He licked at them, savouring the taste, and the way Lucius pressed against him, all wanton debauchery and desperate masochism.

All their encounters ran this way. Snape liked to get his own pleasure out of the way, so that nothing could spoil the dark delight of having Lucius so totally at his command, of being able to give the arrogant wizard the treatment he so deserved, and so desired.

When Lucius squirmed beneath him, Snape slid a hand down his chest, and roughly pinched a nipple. Lucius gasped, and Snape took the opportunity to bite down on his neck again, causing Lucius’ must vaunted pure wizard blood to flow a little quicker. Snape leant back a little, watching the blood trickle down Lucius’ neck, and over his collarbones, all the while rolling Lucius’ nipple between his fingers.

A flush spread over Lucius’ neck, shoulders and chest. He strained against the hand still tangled in his hair, not trying to ease the grip, but pulling against it.

“Slut” Snape hissed, bending down and licking the nipple had had been tormenting.

When all Lucius could manage in reply was an inarticulate groan, Snape sucked the nipple into his mouth, and then bit down. He didn’t draw blood this time, though he was tempted. He’d once done nothing but bite Lucius, everywhere he could get a purchase. Neck, shoulders, nipples, stomach, hips, inner thighs, arse, little nips to his balls and cock. Lucius had moaned, and sobbed and begged, his body a patchwork of bruises and scratches and his blood had stained the fur rug beneath them. By the time Snape had revisited every bite, licking and sucking and nibbling until the wounds had to have been raw, Lucius had been almost delirious, and it had taken no more than a single stroke of Snape’s hand over his cock to make him come, screaming until he was almost hoarse.

In sex, as in everything else, Lucius Malfoy was a complete drama queen.

Snape released the nipple he’d been sucking and chewing on, and untangled his hand from Lucius’ hair, none too gently.

“Up on all fours.”

As Lucius scrambled to obey, Snape fought back a grin of malicious amusement. The proud and haughty Malfoy Senior, his arse in the air, panting like a dog in heat. Snape grabbed his hips, nails leaving red furrows in the skin, positioning Lucius to his satisfaction. He sat back, admiring the way Lucius hung his head, blonde hair obscuring his face; the way almost imperceptible shivers rippled across his skin. This is power of the most visceral kind, and Snape revels in it.

When the first slap lands on his arse, Lucius jumps, then moans, hips arching, tilting his arse up higher, clearly begging Snape to continue. It’s an invitation Snape has no intention of ignoring. He places his blows carefully, making sure Lucius never knows where the next slap will fall. In no time at all, Lucius’ arse is pink, and he’s gasping, his breaths on the edge of becoming sobs, and Snape knows he can’t tell whether he wants Snape to stop or to hit him harder.

Snape can tell that Lucius is close, all he needs is for Snape to provide a little stimulation to his cock, and he’ll be coming. That’s the beauty of Lucius’ kink. The pain takes him to the edge, but he needs something to trigger his orgasm. If Lucius can use his mouth to keep Snape a hairs breadth away from coming, Snape can more than repay the favour. Until he stokes Lucius’ cock, or, more rarely, fucks him, Lucius can’t come. The thought of Lucius, his body bearing the marks of Snape’s anger and spite, tear tracks staining his face is almost enough to arouse Snape again. Those are the memories Snape holds onto, and revisits in the darkness, when he feels, more than ever, caught between two masters. This little bit of power, so pointless in the grand scheme of Snape’s life, is all the comfort he has. The bitterness makes the pleasure of debasing Lucius this way just that little bit sharper, though whether that was pleasure or pain, Snape can’t decide. With Lucius, Snape can never really tell anymore.

The lines of deeper red on the bright pink skin as his nails dragged over Lucius arse amused Snape, and he spends some time drawing abstract designs, spreading the marks to cover the lower half of Lucius’ back as well as his buttocks. Idly, Snape wonders how long it will be before Lucius can sit down confortably. He knows that Malfoy won’t spell away the marks, although he’ll cover the most obviously ones with a glamour. Lucius likes to remember, he likes physical reminders. Snape thinks he’s rarely met anyone quite so obsessed with physical sensation, nor so shallow.

Snape let his fingernails slide between the cheeks of Lucius’ arse, scratching over the delicate skin. The broken moan and the shudder that produces has him doing it again and again, until the skin there must be as sore as the rest of his body. Snape briefly regretted the fact that he wasn’t able to fuck Lucius. He can just imagine the way Malfoy’s body would squirm and wriggle against his, as Snape thrust and rubbed against that tender, abused skin. However, the huge dildo he’d created earlier would work almost as well.

He sucked his finger, knowing that the spit would barely provide any lubrication at all, and thrust it into Lucius, as far as he could, in one, swift movement. Lucius’ back bowed, and he howled. Snape imagined that the burn in his arse, even from that one finger, must be warring with the burn of his still pink buttocks. Snape kept his finger still, knowing that the feeling of it within his body, but not moving must be driving Lucius mad. In addition to his preference for pain, Lucius liked to be fucked. As hard as possible.

Lucius began wriggling, small incremental movements of his hips, and as he tried to fuck himself on Snape’s finger. Snape merely watched, enjoying the way Lucius’ movements grew increasingly frustrated. Eventually, Snape bored of teasing Lucius, and began fucking him with that single finger, enjoying the gasps and the shivers that indicated that Lucius was feeling the sting from the lack of lubrication.

Snape pulled the dildo from his robes with the hand that wasn’t fucking Lucius, standing it on the floor, and tipped lube over it. He watched the slick liquid slide down the thick toy, heart beating a little faster at the thought of seeing it slide slowly into Lucius’ body; of seeing the way the wide toy would stretch the blonde’s body to the point of pain, and maybe a little more.

Lucius groaned, like some overly enthusiastic porn star, as Snape pulled his finger abruptly from Lucius’s body, and Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would be wasted when there was no-one to see him do it.

Snape wrapped one hand around Lucius’ hip, then pressed the dildo slowly into him. He smirked at the way Lucius’ moans changed as the huge dildo was forced into his body. Snape kept a slow, but steady pace, every so often twisting the toy as he spread Lucius open with it. The other Slytherin squirmed and groaned, part pleasure, part pain.

Lucius was the picture of debauchery. Arse still glowing pink from the earlier spanking, skin stretched obscenely around the huge dildo, sweating, panting, moaning and gasping. Snape took a moment to appreciate the view, to savour the power. He began to fuck Lucius in earnest, with a steady, relentless pace, tightening his grip on Lucius’ hip as he jerked and struggled, caught between pleasure and agony, his body uncertain whether it wanted to move closer to, or away from, Snape and the torture of that toy.

This truly was a vicious and bitter delight, and Snape wished he could capture more than just the memory of how it felt to brutalise Lucius in this way, how it felt to have the vain and pompous fool whore himself at Snape’s feet; begging to be hurt. Snape made a mental note to invest in a really good cane; he had a sudden urge to see how that pale back looked, torn and bleeding and just the thought sent a shiver of malicious arousal through his body.

A broken moan broke through Snape’s reverie, and he delivered a stinging slap to Lucius’ arse, loving the way the skin bore the red imprint of his hand, contrasting gently with the fading pink. Lucius made a choked sound, as his body jerked, arse clenching involuntarily around the dildo. Snape smirked, and worked the toy harder and faster into Lucius, dragging sounds that were now more pain that pleasure from his fellow death eater. Snape knew that Lucius wasn’t going to be able to sit down at all for the next few days, and the thought made him twist the dildo wickedly, relishing the sob that followed.

Snape waited until he was certain Lucius could take no more, then slid his hand between the blonde’s legs, and stroked his cock, his grip tight enough to make the friction painful. It took barely more than two strokes, and Lucius was coming, moaning and gasping as though he was dying. Snape purposely left the dildo in place, pumping it slowly as Lucius’ orgasm slowed, making him jerk and writhe all over again.

When Lucius finally stilled, head bowed, Snape pulled the toy free, enjoying the shudder and curse that accompanied his action. He slumped back against the sofa, carefully storing the scene away in his memories, so that he could replay it again and again. It was scant comfort, but it would do for those dark nights when Snape needed to feel in control of something in his life.