bottom_draco

I'm currently posting a 16 part fic over at

100quills which has one chapter in particular with a Snape/Draco scene that is quite bottom!draco in it. Draco and Snape are two of Voldemort's lieutenants in this one. The fic overall is quite dark, with some major non-con, attempted murder, incest, and other such, but this excerpt is completely consensual:

Title: Draco's Folly, Chapter Nine
Author:

ravenna_c_tan
Rating: NC-17
Prompt Set: 50.1 from the

100quills fest
Prompt: Severe
Word Count: 3870 (this segment)
Pairing: Draco/Snape
Disclaimer: I wrote this fanfic for completely non-commercial enjoyment. All characters are not mine and are copyrighted and trademarked by their owners/publishers.

(Additional Warning: if you are allergic to top!draco or switching!draco, you won't like the other chapters in the fic. if you like all flavors of draco, especially evil!draco, then you probably will like the rest of the fic, too!)

That night the Dark Lord himself left the Keep, along with almost all his minions, for some sort of major show of force in Muggle London. Draco was sitting with his feet up on the long wooden table in the dining hall, casting a miniature Morsmordre green and glittering into the air in front of him and then dissipating it with the tip of his wand, over and over.

"You have impressive control over that incantation." Snape's voice.

"Practice makes perfect," Draco said. "Lucius taught it to me when I was about thirteen."

"Ah." Snape sat stiffly in a high-backed wooden chair.

"I thought you'd gone with them?" Draco asked.

Snape shook his head, his perpetually overgrown hair swinging.

He seemed... nervous. Draco couldn't let that pass without comment. "Cat got your tongue?"

Snape sat up even straighter and seemed to be on the verge of standing up and walking out.

Draco held in his sigh. "Snape, it's all right. Let me guess. You want to know if the offer still stands."

"I... yes." He eyed Draco suspiciously for a moment. "I am accustomed to being able to hide my emotions exceptionally well. How did you know?"

Now Draco let the sigh out. "Let's just say you're not the first person to... expect that of me. So I've come to expect that's what people want. Whether they fawn over me or not."

"Though I find you exceptionally beautiful, I do not believe I was fawning."

"No, you weren't. Though you're on the verge of it now." Exceptionally beautiful? Snape was full of surprises. "Your room, or mine?"

Snape stood then, his usual mask of equanimity back in place. He raised a haughty eyebrow. "Mine, I should think."

"Lead the way."

Neither of them spoke as Snape led them through the keep and up the spiraling stair of a tower, through a formidable-looking wooden door and into what looked like a fairly pleasant parlor room.

Snape turned to face him. "Before we go any further, Mr. Malfoy, I would like to know if you will agree to a few ground rules."

Draco cocked his head. "Sure, Snape, whatever you like."

"Listen before you agree. First, I want you to understand that whatever I may do, you always have the power to stop me. The word 'no' is usually quite sufficient." Snape clasped his hands behind his back, one of his usual lecture postures.

"Okay. That shouldn't..."

"The caveat is that if you do say no, it ends. Refuse me, and you will have to leave." Snape's eyes never wavered from Draco's face.

Draco's reflex was to argue. After all, wasn't it Snape who wanted him? But his curiosity was piqued. "I understand."

"My rules are simple. When I ask a question, you will answer it. I also require that if you have a question, or a problem, that you voice it."

Draco tried to imagine what might happen that would cause him to speak up, but the concept was too abstract. "Anything else, Snape?"

"Yes. From the moment we pass into the other room until either you or I end things, you will address me as 'Sir.'"

Draco nodded. It would be just like Snape to need a list of rules to get off. "Let me make sure I have it right. I can always say no if I'm willing to stop completely, answer your questions, and tell you if I have any problems. And other than that, I'm at your mercy, is that it?"

"You have it exactly." Snape whipped out his wand and flicked it; a trap door opened in the ceiling and a ladder descended. "You first."

Draco shed his outer robe to climb the ladder and found Snape had done the same. The fire was already lit in the room above, a circular space hung with tapestries and dominated by a large four-poster with blue velvet curtains.

He had opened his mouth to say something about the décor but shut it when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Place your wand on the table," Snape said. Draco drew his wand from his inner pocket and set it on a side table next to a wooden box with runes carved into its lid.

Hand still on Draco's shoulder, Snape turned him in place and began undressing him with his hands. The keep tended to be damp and even without his outer robe Draco had several layers to go through. Snape was brusque, pulling roughly at Draco's sleeves, Draco giving him token resistance.

Nerves prompted a question. "No disrobing charm? Sir?"

"I find the touch of cloth on skin to be quite stimulating. Don't you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Truth was, he did. Snape stripped him in such a way that his skin tingled and he gasped when Snape forced him to his knees with a hand in his hair. "It was inordinately distasteful to me to have to force you the other night," Snape murmured into his ear, "so I am glad that you agreed to this."

Then he hauled him to a standing position at the foot of the bed. "Lift your arms."

Cords like the ones that had bound him to his own bed flew from Snape's wand, securing Draco's wrists high on the bedposts. They didn't merely wrap in a spiral, they wove themselves in a criss-cross pattern securing his wrists and passing across his palms, between his thumb and forefingers. There was something reassuring about the way he could now make a fist and squeeze the cords in his hand. He curled his toes into the woven rug under the bed and leaned the front of his thighs against the footboard.

Something cool and soft trailed down his back and he shivered. Cloth? Leather? Did that feel like fringe? He tried to look behind him, but Snape wound a cloth over his eyes, securing it with a whispered charm.

Draco drew a ragged breath. Snape's fingers traced the tendons of his neck, the taut lines of his shoulders. Then there was that touch again, something soft, as Snape dragged the thing over the top of Draco's shoulder. It felt like it had many tails, like a long tassel...

Draco swallowed. It had to be some sort of whip. Snape dragged it across the tops of his shoulders again and he started to tremble.

Snape's voice was close in his ear. "If you have something to say, say it."

"Are... are you going to beat me?" He was surprised to hear how tremulous his voice was.

"In strict terms, I am going to flog you." Snape's fingers played across Draco's sternum.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy." Snape stepped away and Draco braced himself.

There was a quiet swishing sound in the air, and then again the soft feeling of the tails just trailing down his shoulder and down his spine. Draco shivered again, in anticipation of the next stroke. It came like a caress across the other shoulder and Draco made a sound of pleasure in his throat.

"How does that feel?"

"Fine, Sir."

"I would like to hear a true answer, Mr. Malfoy, not what you think it is I wish to hear."

Draco had to think a moment about that. "It feels... nice."

"Fair enough."

Snape picked up the pace then, tap-tap-tap, three times on the right, then tap-tap-tap, three times on the left, and Draco arched his back into the strokes. Snape began to move the target, then, waking up the skin all over Draco's back. The strokes fell rhythmically, hypnotically, and it was not until Snape changed rhythm, slowing down and taking more of a backswing for each stroke, that Draco noticed the blows had gotten harder.

He wanted to know, in fact, how Snape was getting so much force into each stroke, but now did not feel like the time for questions. Snape was ramping up the sensation and Draco submerged himself in it. He had no idea how much time passed.

"Do you trust me?" The question forced him to surface for a moment.

"Yes," he answered, forgetting the honorific, but Snape did not seem to mind and Draco drifted back into the sensation.

The harder the blows fell, the slower they came, and Draco found himself synching his breathing to them. The pain, though, built so gradually that it was some time before Draco began to think: How much can I take? how long will he go on?

Then Snape changed his angle and the next blow felt like the swipe of a wildcat's claws. Draco cried out and tugged on the cords, bracing for the next, which came quickly, establishing Snape's new pace. Draco cried out with each blow now, but he was so deep inside his own mind he barely heard his own voice. Was this how Snape took his prisoners apart? Bit by bit until they couldn't stand it anymore? Draco had heard the screams of some of his victims. Regardless of Snape's semantics, this was a beating, and yet it felt nothing like the ones his father had given him.

And this was one he could stop. With a word. If he were willing to give in.

He wasn't. He steeled himself, absorbing the blows which burned and stung, his cries turning to grunts, his body rocking forward on every stroke.

He realized he was hard, that he was rubbing against the wooden footboard of the bed. But the sensation on his back was so all-consuming he barely felt it.

He held his breath then, arms taut, taking the blows. His legs shook, but he bit down on his lip to keep from saying anything. He would not give in. Could not give in.

And then the blows stopped. He could hear Snape's breathing, panting, behind him. Coming closer.

Draco let his hands hang limp in his bonds. He had done it. The beating had not broken him.

Then he felt Snape's breath on his skin, and then something gentle, soft, warm against his ravaged shoulders.

It was the tenderness that undid him. The kindness of Snape's tongue. Draco crumbled into wracking sobs, and the next thing he felt was Snape's arms circling his chest from behind, the kisses and licks along his shoulders not stopping. The blindfold and the cords released and he fell into Snape's embrace. Snape who was murmuring to him now, lowering them both down, and kissing Draco's tears.

"I'm sorry," Draco heard himself saying. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Snape asked, laying Draco's head in his lap and brushing hair from his eyes. "I never said you could not cry."

"I don't know," Draco said, gulping air and looking up into Snape's face.

"I cherish your tears," Snape said then, as he slid his hand between Draco's legs. "They are freely given."

Draco gasped as Snape stroked his cock. The flogging had only been on his back but all his skin felt alive.

"Are you close?" Snape asked, almost a whisper.

"Yes," Draco said through clenched teeth. "Yes, Sir."

"Good boy." Snape backed off and smiled when Draco whimpered. "There is no hurry."

Draco rolled toward Snape, then, nuzzling at Snape's crotch. He looked up and was rewarded with a nod from Snape. Working at Snape's trousers until he freed the erection underneath, he wasted no time in sucking it into his mouth. Snape's hand caressed the sensitive skin on his back and he shuddered.

It was not, in Draco's opinion, the most technically perfect blow job he had ever given, but it might have been one of the ones he most enjoyed. Something about Snape's hand stroking him, the feel of the tears drying on his face, made him hunger for Snape's cock. So much so that he was sloppy, overeager.

Snape did not seem to mind, murmuring words of praise and encouragement. Then he gripped Draco's head and pulled him free. "I would like to get off the floor." Snape directed Draco to the bed.

Draco climbed up and Snape followed, pushing him onto his back and covering his naked body with his own black-clad one, their penises rubbing together. Draco was no longer tied by cords now but he felt no less bound by Snape's mounting hunger and his own lingering sense of subjugation.

"You must tell me, Mr. Malfoy, when you are ready to come," Snape said, as his thrusting became proper frottage.

"Yes, Sir."

"And you must tell me what you are thinking, right now."

"Now?" Draco blinked. "Um, I'm not sure I am thinking, Sir."

"Try."

"I'm thinking... god, that feels good..."

Snape gave him an indulgent smile and Draco seized a bit under him.

"Sir... I think... I'm very close..."

Snape nodded, his fingers flicking over Draco's nipples as he renewed his efforts. Draco's cry started low and rose as his cock spasmed under Snape, pumping hot come onto his stomach. Snape's mixed with his as he let go, too. Snape was silent as he came, but his mouth opened wide as his entire body shuddered.

The entire front of Snape's robes was soon come-soaked as he lay atop Draco for long moments before rolling onto his side. Draco curled toward him, feeling a wholly unfamiliar sensation in his chest.

His head jerked up as he identified it.

"Is something wrong?" Snape asked, stroking Draco's hair.

"I feel safe."

Snape was silent.

"But I know it's an illusion."

"Indeed." Snape pulled him close for a moment and then lay back again. "No one is safe while..." He broke off, knowing he did not need to say more.

"Why did you join him?" Draco asked.

"I was young and foolish and bitter and angry."

"Now who's giving the expected answer?" Draco propped himself up on one elbow to look his former schoolteacher in the eye. "Is that really all there was to it?"

Snape's expression was his normal, impassive mask. "Shall I add self-absorbed, egoistic, and hungry to prove myself to the list? I was a natural at the Dark Arts, but did I ever receive any praise for those talents? Not from the usual quarters, I did not. Of course not." He raised an eyebrow. "So how is Mr. Potter?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, knowing that the seeming non sequitur was in fact one of Snape's usual tutoring methods at work. "You think I'm self-absorbed."

"Of course you are. You are nineteen years old and starved for praise."

Draco frowned.

"You were never able to earn Lucius' respect nor his love. Dumbledore, McGonagall and the rest always lumped you in with the dregs of Slytherin House..."

"The dregs!"

"Please, Draco. Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest have their strengths, but they are hardly the cream of the Wizarding World that Salazar Slytherin imagined they would be."

Draco pressed his face against a dry spot on Snape's robes. "So you don't believe the whole pure-blood thing, either."

"Of course, I don't. Or did you forget about my mixed blood?"

Draco didn't answer, but he then felt Snape's hand under his chin forcing him to look up. "I asked you a question."

So, the rules were nominally still in force. "I didn't forget. It just... stopped mattering to me a while ago."

"And you have not yet answered my question about Mr. Potter."

Draco swallowed. "He's coming along nicely."

"What are your plans for him?"

"I'm improvising, at this point. It's a bit different, knowing that I don't have a... a goal. He is rather fascinating." Draco rolled onto his back. "I'd love to see, though, how he'd react if you did to him what you did to me tonight. Sir."

Snape took a deep breath. "I think my and Mr. Potter's mutual enmity would preclude success." He brushed Draco's hair from his forehead for the hundredth time. "And how is Miss Granger?"

"She's remarkably optimistic. Bloody Gryffindors."

"Indeed. Now, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, Sir. No, really." Draco started to sit up and found Snape sitting up with him.

"Then it is back to reality, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco climbed from the bed, picked up his wand and cast a quick cleaning charm. Then he put on his clothes.

Snape was there at the top of the ladder, his hands clasped in front of him. "This changes nothing between us. You understand, I trust."

Draco nodded.

"I..." Snape's eyes dropped. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Draco descended the ladder on somewhat shaky legs. So that was Snape's idea of a good night kiss. Draco found himself smiling and shaking his head as he made his way through the keep to his own room. It occurred to him suddenly that this might be Snape's way of making up for the other night, too. Only Snape would create a list of rules, make his lover cry, and then stay completely clothed while getting off.

[To read the entire fic, which is mostly top!draco since in this scenario he and Snape are Voldemort's two main jailers, and in which Draco has among his captives Lucius, Harry, and Hermione, start with Chapter One: Ice. If you are only interested in scenes where Draco bottoms, this is not a fic for you.]