Disclaimer: Just borrowing, don't own them. Hopefully nobody who owns these characters will ever read it. I blame Alan Rickman for being so damned sexy. I also see Ewan McGregor as Lupin, Sean Bean as Sirius, and Christian Bale as Potter. Your cast may vary.

Unexpected 8, by Seeker. Rated NC17.

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Severus Snape stared in horrified disbelief at Professor Flitwick, or rather at the waist-high bulge in his robe that now concealed Flitwick. He didn't know how it had happened. Since Dumbledore's edict banning student pursuit of faculty, he'd been relatively safe (at least whilst on the grounds and protected by Hagrid, Potter or Lupin ... not that he'd admit he needed protection, but he really didn't have eyes in the back of his head, and someone needed to watch his arse. Er, back).

Unfortunately, Dumbledore hadn't extended the ban to fellow faculty. Snape had considered that a boon, given that he was enjoying sex with a wide variety of them, until Flitwick ambushed him in the staff room. Snape had reached for the teapot, steadied his cup, and frozen in shock as the diminutive wizard pushed his way under Snape's robes and dove for his fly.

Before he could set the teapot down or empty his cup on Flitwick or mutter a curse or run away, Potter breezed through the door. Stopped mid-step and glared at him. Snape stuttered.

"He just ... I wasn't ... Good lord, this isn't what ... I can explain!"

Wondering where his vaunted sarcasm and smooth delivery went in times of extreme stress, finding himself in utterly uncharted social waters given that he'd never in his life expected to have to explain to his lover (Harry Potter, of all people!) why he was being molested in broad daylight in the faculty lounge by a fellow professor (Flitwick, of all people!), Snape gesticulated wildly with teapot and cup. Potter's glare went glacial and slid downward. Flitwick's fuzzy little head popped out from the encompassing folds of Snape's robe and he smiled cheerfully up at Potter.

"Hullo, Professor Potter! I don't suppose you're of a mind to share the wealth, now, are you?"

Potter smiled. It wasn't pleasant. Flitwick quivered and disapparated, dismayingly close to Snape's groin. Snape shuddered. Potter prowled closer until he was an inch from Snape's body. Snape stared up at him, internally cursing the inch height difference since it was difficult to stare down one's nose, even such an impressive appendage as his own, whilst looking up. Potter's smile broadened, sending a wholly different type of shiver down Snape's spine.

"I didn't give you permission to stray, Severus," Potter whispered, green eyes narrowing down at him. Snape attempted to look haughty but had the feeling he only managed to look helplessly aroused. Damn Potter, but that whisper did it to Snape every time.

"As if I would, with that little pip-squeak! You keep me completely satisfied, Potter ... well, you, and the cadre of your friends and in-laws that you continually invite in on the fun."

All true. Not that it mattered. His defense was brushed aside. Potter reached down, hand parting his robes and closing hard around his prick and balls. Snape gasped, barely managing to suppress a moan. It hurt beautifully. His breath quickened. The green eyes glaring at him darkened.

"Guess I'll just have to make sure you come to me when you need ... satisfaction." His fingers tightened and Snape's eyes closed involuntarily as the jolt of pressure arrowed through him. Caged as he was in Potter's fist, he still began to harden. Snape's hands were magically yanked behind him and pinned in the small of his back. Not that he protested.

Potter started muttering, though Snape couldn't decipher the words through the blood rushing in his ears, and in an instant the long fingers wrapped around his genitals were replaced by a woven leather trap.

Snape's thighs opened wide. They had no choice, as his balls were now pushed back between them, spread apart, with his prick bent backward in the soft furrow between the hard nuts. Leather wrapped around spread balls and trapped prick, covering and squeezing until the only bit of his genitals left uncovered was the head of his prick. His foreskin was peeled back and caught with a thin strap, leaving his ultra-sensitive glans open to the air, the brush of the leather, the heat of his balls, the rasp of fine hair from his inner thighs -- Snape began to pant. And to leak.

Potter moved his hands to the outside of Snape's hips, then pressed down and in, forcing his legs closed. The moist head of Snape's trapped prick rubbed along his perineum, teasing at the lower edge of his arsehole, and the knots of leather along the cage pushed like dulled teeth into the tender skin behind his balls, setting up a ragged external massage into his prostate.

Standing there, Snape waited, breathing hard, wondering what Potter would do next. Potter leaned forward and kissed him, biting and sucking at his upper lip, then pushing his tongue in until Snape could feel it crowding his throat. Broad palms slid up from his hips to his chest, then clever hands dove under his robe, seeking his nipples. Two tight, sharp pinches, twisting and pulling, and Snape came, screaming around Potter's tongue, flooding the back of his robe and bathing his twitching arsehole with blood-warm spunk.

As soon as he came, he felt the cage around him tighten. His balls, pressed against his shaft, ached, trying to fill as Potter continued to torment his tits. His prick twitched but couldn't move, and the dueling sensation of helplessness and abandon made Snape's head spin.

One of Potter's hands left Snape's nipple and slid around to his arse, feeling down the crease then pressing hard on the end of his prick. Bound as it was, there was no give, and the sharp pain of Potter's nails scoring the naked glans jolted another rush of cream out of him. Given that there was no room to expand, the amount of fluid was tiny, and the sensation rocketing through his groin all the more intense for it. Balls empty, his body jerked and spasmed against Potter, and Snape could feel his orgasm spread through every nerve in his body.

Light-headed with the aftereffects of coming twice, hard and fast, coupled with the pain in his nipples and at his crotch, it took a moment for Snape to understand the instructions Potter whispered against his ear. Forcing himself to concentrate, he heard, "You will pee sitting down. You will not touch yourself. You will come when I tell you to. You will stay in this cage until I deem you fit to be free again. Tonight, at nine, in the broom room under the bleachers, you will be punished."

Then Potter bit his lip, licked the blood away, and pinched the head of his prick one last time before letting go of him abruptly. Snape leaned against the wall, weak-kneed, and watched his lover stride from the room. Nine o'clock in the seeker's sex space, getting ridden into oblivion by the star seeker -- a wet dream from a quarter century before finally coming true.

Better late than never.

When he could walk again, Snape straightened away from the wall and headed for his classroom. With every step, the end of his prick was rubbed raw by his wet thighs, his balls were crushed about his prick, and the urge to touch himself was nearly unbearable. A quick incantation dried the wet patch on the back of his robe, but the scent lingered, tickling his keen nose.

It made for a very interesting day lecturing. Thank God and Dumbledore the students were afraid of magically-enforced chastity (the threat of gelding having a great influence on the impulsiveness of youth), or he'd've been gang-banged a dozen times by luncheon. Which he ate in his rooms. Standing up.

Afternoon classes were somewhat disjointed, with neither students nor professor quite able to keep their minds on their work. Thankfully, they were eventually over with no lethal explosions or permanent poisonings, although Snape was convinced more than once that the clock had stopped.

Dinner was another solitary meal in his rooms, but his feet hurt from standing all day, so he sat. Every time he shifted his weight the hard stool pressed against the end of his prick. He was leaking steadily by the time he forced down the last of his supper, his skin crawling with the need to come unimpeded by leather. The need to feel, the need for release of all sorts that only Potter could give him. After being tormented all day, he couldn't wait until it was finally time to meet Potter under the bleachers.

He hurried as best he could across the grounds, enjoying the sliding pressure of his thighs against his balls and the way they ground into his prick, on high heat from being teased for the past twelve hours. He rapped quietly on the door to the broom shed and waited.

"Come," Potter's voice bade him enter, though his word choice gave Snape an involuntary spasm. Once inside, he saw a makeshift bed, heaped with blankets. Potter, naked, sat cross-legged at the end. His prick was already hard, pink and wet. It made Snape's mouth water. Remus Lupin knelt behind Potter, rubbing his shoulders, mouthing the side of his neck, and staring at Snape.

Snape licked his lips. "How do you want me?"

"Suck me, while Remus fucks me," Potter ordered him. Snape was on his belly on the bed with his lips wrapped around Potter's prick almost before the command was completed.

Manacles materialized around Snape's wrists, pulling them firmly behind his back, and he spread his knees, lifting himself off the bed to keep his weight off his caged prick without missing a lick of Potter's prick. Strong hands wove into his hair and began to move his head, as Potter fucked his mouth. Snape saw the shadow of movement, then Potter moaned and thrust harder as Remus' rhythm overtook his own, Remus pushing Potter into Snape's throat then drawing back, allowing Snape to snatch a breath.

With a muttered summoning spell, Potter called a crop to his hand, unwinding his fingers from Snape's scalp to catch the handle before it hit Snape in the head. Snape winced as a few hairs came free along with the hand, then moaned at the first delicious kiss of the crop across his arse cheeks. No one could wield a whip like Potter. One day, when his brain was functioning and his mouth wasn't full of cock, he'd have to ask Potter where he learnt the skill.

"Spread your legs," Potter grunted, and Snape obeyed immediately. The next whistling blow parted his cheeks and snapped across his hole, wrenching a scream from him that in turn pulled a moan of delight from Potter. The next strike was even better, as the tip of the crop caught the center of his piss hole, agony flaring through his prick and shooting up his spine. That scream nearly made Snape black out, as Potter thrust down his throat until his balls were crushed against Snape's chin, the better to appreciate the vibration of his throat as he screamed around Potter's prick.

The world narrowed to the bright slashes of agony on and between his arse cheeks, across his flinching hole and along the top of his swelling prick head, to the warm scent of Potter's sweat filling his head with every breath he managed to steal, to the heavy salty push of Potter's prick in his mouth, over his tongue, down his throat. Life couldn't get any better, as far as Snape was concerned.

Dimly, he heard Remus ask Potter, "Now?" and Potter reply with a guttural "Yeah." Then there was one final slash from the crop, the hardest yet, impacting directly across his arse hole and on the swollen meat of his glans. Sobbing now, senses almost overloaded, Snape was barely aware as a wide, soft tongue, very wet and very eager, began to lap at his arse.

Until the tongue swabbed over him from prick-head to arsehole, a soothing, arousing, vaguely disturbing sensation unlike anything he'd ever felt. The tongue was too wide, and too wet, to be human. Forcing his eyes open, he tried to twist his head far enough to get a glimpse of whom, or what, was licking his arse. Potter's hand tightened in his hair, pinning his head in place. He looked a question up at his lover, whose face was twisted in a grimace of pleasure so intense it looked like he was dying from it.

"More, Sirius," Potter urged, the words clearing some of the fog from Snape's mind. Sirius. Not a human tongue, working his arse over. Dog.

The mental image popped into his brain of how they must appear, himself with his hands bound behind him, Potter's groin shoved up against his face and hands buried in his hair, Remus pumping behind Potter, arms wrapt round Potter's waist, and the huge black dog crouched on the bed between Snape's spread legs, muzzle buried between his pale arse cheeks, slobbering enthusiastically as he licked and nuzzled Snape's arse and prick. Orgasm shot through Snape again, nearly dry and totally diffused, making him shudder helplessly.

A whine, muffled by flesh, sounded behind him, and groans from in front of him, as Padfoot reacted to the trickle of spunk wetting the leather beneath his snout, Potter reacted to the constriction of Snape's throat around his prick, and Remus reacted to Potter's arse clenching from Snape wringing his prick. The entire knot convulsed as Snape came, but they weren't finished. Not quite.

"Fuck him," Remus urged hoarsely, and Potter gave a sound that, garbled as it was, could only be construed as encouragement. Snape could do no more than lie there and twitch as the heavy dog clawed his way over Snape's legs until he was straddling his arse. A hot, thin, long protrusion, larger than a man's finger but smaller than a prick, pushed into Snape's arse.

The fact that he was getting fucked by a dog, who happened to be his worst enemy, at the behest of his lover, caused another orgasm to rip through Snape, unlike any he'd ever had. The spasms were small but continuous, cascading through his body, threatening to tear him to pieces. His prick, bound as it was, and his balls, crushed as they were, labored to spasm, and the leather around them felt like iron biting into his flesh.

He'd never felt such sexual bliss, never imagined it existed. Knew he'd have a difficult time facing Black come morning, and wished he could live in the moment he currently inhabited for the rest of his life.

Potter's voice broke him from the mindless loop of sensation he was caught in, as he gave a choked laugh and said, "God, Sirius, that's twisted! I like it, but come on, give it to him as a man, will you?"

A surprised and somewhat apologetic "Woof!" answered him, then Snape felt Black transform whilst buried up to the balls inside him. It was the weirdest thing he'd ever felt, and unbearably exciting. The spasms wracking him doubled, until his entire body was shaking as if from the palsy. He knew he wouldn't be able to go much longer without losing consciousness.

From very far away he heard Potter say, "Now, love."

The leather crimping his genitals disappeared. His prick unfurled, his balls uncramped, and a wave of agonized pleasure shot through him, running from his groin to his head to his toes and everywhere in between. His arse clamped down, catching Black mid-thrust and ripping his orgasm from him. Potter pulled his prick from Snape's mouth, leaving it free to release the scream building in him, then Remus gave a cry, humping hard against Potter's back. Snape watched through watering eyes as Potter arched, his pale body flushing, dark nipples standing out from his chest, then with a final clench of his fist around his prick he came, drenching Snape's face with the sticky mess.

Lying there in a spent, brain-numb, trembling lump, Snape felt Black's arms shaking around him, Potter's hands petting his head, and Remus' warmth alongside him, where the werewolf had collapsed on the bed. Licking spunk from his lips as it dripped down his face, Snape didn't have the energy to wonder what Potter had planned for him next. He did spare a thought to getting a dog collar made, so if Black got snarky Snape could remind him of his loss of control. It would be worth it, if only to see the bastard blush when Snape barked at him.

The final thought struck him that by the time Potter got done, Flitwick would be the only professor on staff who hadn't had a go at him. For some reason, that didn't bother him nearly as much as he supposed it ought. With a mental shrug, body too wrung out to make it physical, Snape resolved to let tomorrow take care of itself, then gave up and fell asleep right where he lay.

END