Fic: Wimp (Harry Potter, SS/HP, NC-17)
Title: Wimp
Words: 2450
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Chan, non-con, first time, oral. As in, really chan and really non-con.
Notes: Written for pornish_pixies' May fantasy fest, for yanks02, who requested "Snape/Harry: chan, Harry 11 yrs old, so young that he can’t get hard while Snape is fucking him, Snape loving the fact that he can’t get hard, humiliating him about it, dark Snape loving how young he is. Harry on his lap face to face." This is hands-down the channiest and most squicky thing I've ever written.

Wimp

If there was one thing Severus Snape couldn't stand, it was a whiner. He had no interest in wimpy little boys and girls. That had always been one of his problems with James Potter. Potter strutted and mussed his up hair and tried to look all casual and manly with his broom and his wand, but the first time you put him in a real situation – like that time Black wanted to sic the werewolf on Snape – and what did he do? Wimped out and ran to the headmaster. A real wizard would have let Snape take his chances, live or die by his own skill. A real wizard wouldn't have turned and run, crying, to Dumbledore.

And now here was James Potter's son, eleven years old, and as big a wimp as his father, as far as Snape was could tell. He'd called Potter to his office to serve Filch's detention and closed and locked the door. Right away the boy stood there shivering in the middle of the cold stone room, looking around fearfully as if to wonder what icky Potion ingredients Snape was going to make him clean up, and biting his thin pink lip with his small teeth. Snape glared. The boy didn't have anything to be biting his lip about yet. "Come over to the desk and take off your robes," he instructed, swirling back to his desk chair and settling himself in it comfortably. "Come on, you heard me. Take off your robes."

Harry Potter clenched his wand in his right fist and looked at the floor. "Sir?"

"You heard me," Snape said, rifling through a stack of parchment rolls on the desk and pushing them into a drawer. Granger's two-foot essay on the uses of nettle wine in potions – right, that could go in the fire. Malfoy's homework, scribbled and inky from all the places he'd rubbed his hand before it was dry – oh, very good, full marks on that one. "Off with your robes now, or else I'll have you taking off more before you can say Accio."

The boy hesitated, then set his wand on the desk and began with trembling white hands to undo the silver fastenings down the front of his robe, revealing jeans and a t-shirt underneath. Snape shook his head. What ridiculous clothes these Muggle-borns wore. He realized that technically, Harry Potter wasn't Muggle-born, but he might as well be, the way he acted and the little he knew of the wizarding world. "The rest of it," Snape said, closing a textbook briskly and Banishing it to the bookshelf on the other side of the room. "Off with your clothes, or I'll assign you another week's worth of detentions."

Harry Potter blinked, and the startling green eyes, which, fortunately, were not like his father's, filled with tears.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Snape snapped, and got up to give Potter a hand. He yanked the blue t-shirt over Potter's head, then went to work undoing the single button and the zipper on the jeans. Well, that was quick and convenient. Perhaps he should consider wearing clothing with zippers instead of buttons. Down came the jeans, falling to a pool around the boy's ankles, and the undershorts, which fluttered down on top of the jeans. Ah, that was better. Snape tapped the boy's rump sharply with his wand to indicate that he should step out of his clothes and shoes, and Harry Potter stood there, shivering in the cold dungeon, his pale flesh glowing and goose-bumped. Snape stepped closer to the boy and studied how short he was, hardly coming up to his chest. His neck was thin, his nipples a pale shade of coral. Between his legs hung his penis, small and barely darker than the rest of his body, with hardly a few hairs clinging to his balls. The boy glanced up at Snape, then averted his eyes, shifting uncomfortably like he had to go to the bathroom. Snape certainly hoped he did not. "Up on the desk," he ordered, pointing again, just in case the little brat was as thick as his father and didn't know what a desk was. "Quickly now."

"Professor – " Harry Potter protested, a sharp note in his voice, and despite himself, Snape felt a twitch in his cock. It was the first sound Potter had made that wasn't scared and whimpering, neither of which was a turn-on for Snape. "Professor, please – "

"Did you or did you not understand me, Potter?" Snape asked impatiently, giving the boy's arse a light smack. Harry Potter flinched but climbed out of the puddle of clothing, walking across the stone floor to Snape's desk. "I told you, if you don't listen to me, you'll be in detention for the rest of the week. Detention is not a picnic, Potter. You are not here for a social hour. Get up on the bloody desk and spread your legs."

That was better, Snape decided, as Harry climbed up on the chair, then the desk, and turned round to face him, his knees dropping open. His hands and feet were still quivering, but he'd shut his infernal mouth, and his eyes were glittering with something other than tears. Much better, Snape thought, shaking off his own robe and pushing down his trousers enough that his cock was exposed. He didn't bother to take off his vest and shirt – the buttons would take too long, and besides, there was nothing so wimpy as pretending you were making love or some other ridiculous nonsense in detention.

The boy shivered but kept his teeth firmly clamped together as Snape laid his hand on his body. Harry Potter's skin was pale and creamy, soft like a girl's under Snape's hand. Snape marveled at how dark his hand looked against Potter's body. His fingers curled around one of Potter's small nipples, squeezing and prodding the bud of flesh, which grew darker like a dull flush as Snape pinched, lightly at first, then harder. Harry Potter flung his head back and his small Adam's apple moved in his throat, but he made no noise. Much better indeed.

Potter's dick and the sac of his balls almost fit within Snape's palm as he cupped them. The tip of the small penis was rough, barely wet as Snape thumbed the slit, and the scrotum was almost hairless in his hand. Snape studied Potter's face as he rubbed the little fold of flesh behind the balls. The boy was doing his best not to let a sound escape from his throat, but he wasn't doing nearly as good a job with his face. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed, then flashed angrily, then fluttered as Snape began to slide his fingers up and down his narrow penis.

"You're tense," Snape observed dryly as he shoved the chair back from his desk and stood up, so that his pants and shorts fell down his legs. "Or rather, not tense enough." He shoved Potter back another foot or so on the desk and pushed his skinny knees apart, creating a V wide enough so that Snape could lean between his legs. "Too young, are you?" He leaned over and took Potter's dick in his mouth, sucking hard at first, enjoying the sound from above him – a muffled gasp, and then a swallow like Potter was trying very hard not to gasp. The boy's penis was still soft in his mouth, under his tongue, even when Snape scraped his teeth up and down along the shaft of the penis. With his right hand he reached below his chin and began to finger the boy's balls, then the fold of the perineum. "Pity. You don't know what you're missing. Any boy nearly twelve should be able to get hard." He slicked his tongue along Potter's dick, then moved to the scrotum, laving the boy's nearly-hairless balls. The limp penis barely twitched at Snape's ministrations, and Harry Potter made another noise, anxious and angry above him. Between his legs Snape's own cock was started to get hard against his thigh, and while he was enjoying the clean, sour taste of Potter's skin, he thought he might need to tend to himself.

Reluctantly Snape eased Potter's balls out of his mouth, and the boy made a relieved noise. "Hold on. Not so fast," Snape said, and Harry Potter tensed on the desk, propping himself up on his arms. "I told you that detention is not a picnic, so don't think you're done, Potter. Accio." His chair creaked back across the floor, wooden legs shrieking along stone. Snape settled himself in it, making sure his trousers were far enough down his legs so that he could spread his knees. "Come here and get on my lap, Potter."

When the boy showed no sign of obeying, Snape reached up on the desk and grabbed the two knobbly knees and yanked Potter down toward him. The boy was skinny and light, a fragile collection of bones between Snape's hands. His penis was shining with Snape's saliva and hanging limply against his thigh, and Snape felt another twitch as he glanced at it. "Lean back against the desk," he instructed, placing his hand against the delicate bump of the boy's lower back and supporting him until Potter was leaning back, the edge of the desk probably cutting into his vertebrae. "Put your feet on the chair. It will hurt less if you have something supporting yourself." Snape smiled with satisfaction at the expression that crossed Potter's face – fear mixed with determination. The determination was delicious. The fear – well, hopefully the boy would get that expression off his face quickly.

Snape tilted the boy's pelvis up with his hand and pushed his buttocks with his knees until he could see the dark star-shaped entrance to Potter's arse, clenched and tight under the prodding of Snape's finger. Potter gasped, and Snape eased his forefinger inside, but the boy's dick didn't respond. It was maddening, Snape thought, thrusting in another finger. Potter was hot and dry, and Snape's fingers scraped inside him, stretching at the tight hole. The boy's eyes were huge and round, and a lump was moving up and down his throat, quivering as Snape reached upward for the hidden bump of his prostate. He found it without much trouble, and when he stroked it with one finger, Potter's expression changed slightly. The line of his jaw tensed, and Snape smiled as the boy's eyes fluttered closed, eyelids occluding the bright green eyes.

His wand was on the desk, and Snape didn't bother to reach for it; instead, he pulled out and slicked his hand with his own spit, then eased his fingers back inside Potter. They moved smoother now that he had some lubricant on them. With his left hand he began to stroke the small penis, but was unsurprised when it didn't respond. "You clearly have not had enough practice, Potter," he sniffed, opening up the boy's arsehole so that it gaped, tight and narrow, for his own cock. "Why, I'm surprised you're having such trouble here. I would have thought you'd have nothing better to do than wank the past ten years." He pushed the head of his cock inside Potter, and he sighed a silky sigh, and Potter's mouth formed a delicious O of surprise as he stretched around Snape. Snape ran the pad of his thumb over the boy's dick and pushed inside another inch, then two, watching Potter's eyes and lips. The boy tilted back his head and let out a sound that may have been a strangled sigh but came out like a wheeze. "Such a shame, Potter. You're making me feel rather bad about myself."

He used his right hand to brace Potter against him again and gave another sharp thrust, and this time the gasp was audible. Inside Potter, Snape felt his cock leak wet. "You're not without potential, Potter. You could learn." Snape thrust into him again, the tight walls grasping around his cock, and felt close as he fisted Potter's cock. The range of emotions across the pale features was interesting. Potter's face registered first pain, then surprise, then tension, then pain again. At least that look of fear was gone. "You're a bit of a wimp, aren't you, Potter? You can't even get hard when my cock is inside you. We may have to work on that." Snape hissed as he thrust one final time and came, spilling inside Potter, turning him slick and wet. "Oh, yes, you'd better learn."

He eased out of the boy, rubbing his thumb one last time along the limp penis and lifting him onto the floor. "There, now. You'll work on that for next time, won't you?"

Harry Potter nodded and looked away from Snape, fumbling for his pants. "Is my detention over, sir?" he asked, a strong harsh note in his voice, and Snape smiled despite himself, pleased. The boy was a quick learner. The fear and shakiness that had been in his face and voice when he came in were gone, and when he grazed his cock as he pulled on his undershorts, Snape saw that his penis twitched at the contact.

"No, I don't think so," Snape said lazily, pulling up his own trousers. "I really think that since it was Mr. Filch who caught you in the Astronomy Tower and gave you your detention, he should be able to oversee your punishment, don't you? I'll have him send you a note when he wants you to do it."

Harry Potter's eyes went round and emerald again, and Snape saw his lips tighten again with anger. Mmm, delicious. There was nothing so lovely as an angry young boy. "Yes, sir," Potter said hoarsely.

"Good. Then you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower before it's past curfew, hadn't you?" Snape asked, handing the boy his wand. He brushed off the desk, watching Harry walk out the door stiffly, his back ramrod straight and his steps mincing, as if he was in pain. Well, he might be, but the boy would get used to it. He was a quick learner, after all. His next detention would be very different. Snape smiled as he watched Potter stride off, too sore to strut, his steps quick and furious, no longer scared.

He sat down at his desk and folded his hands in his lap until he heard a knock on the door. Snape opened it with his wand, then closed and locked it behind the boy standing and shivering in the doorway. "Well, don't just stand there, Mr. Malfoy. Come in."

fin.