Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/386847.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Argus_Filch/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Argus_Filch, Severus_Snape, Sirius_Black
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Sexual_Fantasy, Rape_Fantasy, Humiliation
  Series:
      Part 2 of Black_and_White_and_Red_All_Over
  Collections:
      Kink_Bingo_2011_(Round_Four)
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-04-19 Words: 1677
****** Black Fancies ******
by Delphi
Summary
     In which Sirius spends entirely too much time imagining what sort of
     terrible things Filch is doing to Severus Snape.
Notes
     Written for the "Consent Play" square on the Consent Play card as
     part of the Kink Bingo April 2011 mini-challenge.
Everyone knew that Snape was taking it up the arse from the caretaker.
To be more exact, Sirius had spent the last two years telling people that Snape
was taking it up the arse from the caretaker because 1) it was funny, and 2) it
had just enough of a ring of plausibility to make it even funnier.
Filch was a lecher, that much was common knowledge. Even before Sirius had
discovered—and read—the complete back catalogue of a certain magazine called
The Peridot, which had been hidden behind a false cabinet in his uncle’s house,
he had known there was something unsavoury about Filch’s obsession with chains
and flogging. And Snape...well, just look at the git.
It was more than that, though. Snape had always been Filch’s little pet rat.
Whereas most of the teachers, even old Slughorn, could be counted upon to see
sense when it came to the occasional prank or scuffle, Filch detested fun and
would happily slap them with detentions for so much as daring to bleed on the
floor after Snape threw a hex. Filch actually seemed to like Snape, and it
certainly wasn’t for his sunny personality. So what exactly was Snape giving up
in return?
Sirius gave Remus a nudge as they walked to third-period Arithmancy. Snape had
stormed past them, hunched over and clutching his books to his chest like a
girl. Filch was mopping the floor at the foot of a staircase, and as Snape
turned the corner, Filch’s head turned to follow.
Remus sighed. “That isn’t really funny any more,” he said mildly.
“Yes, it is.” Sirius chuckled and made kissy sounds under his breath as they
walked past the caretaker.
“In fourth year, you kept insisting Snape was secretly dating Eunice Hoddle.”
He frowned. “That was different.”
That had stopped being funny when Eunice came back last summer with clear skin,
a bountiful figure, and no intention of giving Sirius the time of day. Besides,
there hadn’t been any pleasure in actually picturing Snape fooling around with
Eunice Hoddle and her spots. Whereas, ten minutes into class, forced to listen
to Snape’s know-it-all voice droning on about yesterday’s homework, it was
uniquely satisfying to imagine him on his knees with his stupid gob stopped up
by Filch’s prick.
“That mouth’s good for telling tales, isn’t it, Snape,” Filch would say with a
leer. “What else can it do, hm?”
Filch had a big prick—he wore trousers, so it was hard not to notice—and Sirius
would bet that even Snape’s big mouth couldn’t fit it when it was hard.
He pictured it jutting out of Filch’s unwashed trousers, dark and long and
thick. He pictured Snape, jaw forced open, drooling around the massive thing.
“Come on,” Filch said briskly. “You can take more than that, you layabout.”
Snape made a pathetic sound of protest, pushing at Filch’s hips, but Filch
grabbed a handful of greasy hair and yanked, pulling Snape forward until he
choked.
“Knew you were good for something,” Filch said. His fist wound tighter in
Snape’s hair, and his other hand pinched mercilessly at Snape’s jaw as Snape
struggled to breathe.
A wet, ugly sound gurgled in Snape’s throat as Filch fucked his mouth brutally,
forcing himself in to the root over and over again until Snape was whining and
snivelling, lips stretched wide and face violently red.
“Keep it open,” Filch panted, pulling out and leaving Snape gasping. His big,
rough hand pulled at his red, spit-soaked prick, wanking until the first messy
spurt of cream hit Snape right in his ugly gob, spate after spate of it landing
on Snape’s cheeks and chin, trickling down, some of it dripping into his open
mouth...
No, Sirius thought, hot in the face and breathing a little too heavily in
annoyance as Snape smugly raised his hand again. Even that was too good for
him. Snape strutted around like he thought he was better than everyone else, as
if he didn’t know he was ugly and weird and dressed in thirty-year-old clothes,
always going on about blood purity even though he came from a family no one had
even heard of. Snape didn’t understand fair play. He’d think he was too good
for bargains.
“Where do you think you’re going, Snape?” Filch growled, standing up behind his
desk in his office as Snape lazily rose from the chair opposite. “I ain’t had
my share yet.”
Snape shrugged, sneering. “That’s not my concern. I have what I came for.”
But Filch was bigger, faster—and mad in the head as well. He strode after
Snape, catching him well before the door with a strong hand locked around a
scrawny arm. Snape fought to free himself, but it was no use. He was put down
hard, slammed to the ground with a hand over his mouth to stifle his shout.
Snape’s eyes widened, panic flaring in them when he realised he was about to be
knocked down a peg.
Filch fumbled with his stout leather belt, unfurling it with a satisfying
wallop before getting it looped around Snape’s neck. Snape took advantage of
the slack, scrambling, trying to crawl frantically away, but he only managed to
half-hang himself as the belt pulled tight around his neck. He clawed at the
cold stone floor, fighting fruitlessly as Filch yanked up his robes and pulled
down his worn grey pants.
“If you won’t give it up,” Filch murmured, his voice rough and dark, “I’ll just
have to take it, now won’t I?”
“Stop!” Snape cried. “I’ll tell!”
Filch pulled on the belt, and in the resulting squawk, Snape found his mouth
stuffed with his own dirty drawers.
Snape huddled on the floor like a puling little worm, his eyes squeezed shut as
Filch knelt on the end of the belt, pinning him down.
His hands freed, Filch pried Snape’s arse open, baring the dark, ugly pucker in
between. He rubbed at it, dry, making Snape squirm.
“You could have had it the easy way, boy,” Filch said, and then he hocked and
spat.
A great big glob of saliva dripped down Snape’s crack, the only preparation
before Filch was unbuttoning his trousers, hoisting up Snape’s hips, and
shoving in.
Snape’s eyes flew open, and he screamed through his gag, thrashing without any
hope of escape.
“Fight all you like,” Filch huffed with a nasty smile, pausing only to get a
better grip before he drew back and slammed in again. “Mm…tight, ain’t you?
Don’t you worry, my lad. You’ll be all stretched out by the time I’m done with
you.”
Snape whimpered, pleading in muffled, garbled words through the wadded cloth in
his mouth even as his prick flushed and filled. He was a sickie, after all.
“Like that, don’t we,” Filch said smugly, jolting Snape forward with every
thrust, his balls smacking against Snape’s skinny arse with the force of it.
“Nnn...” That was all the denial Snape could force out, fingers scrabbling at
the floor.
“Liar,” Filch said with a snort, groping underneath and batting at Snape’s
sorry prick. “You’re a nasty little cunt, aren’t you, Snape?”
Snape, his face nearly violet, could only groan, his bony hips thrust forward,
humping the empty air as he was viciously fucked. His prick bobbed eagerly,
stiff and leaking.
“Dirty little bitch,” Filch muttered breathlessly, going at him harder, making
Snape wail through his gag as their bodies slammed together.
Tears ran down Snape’s cheeks, and his chest hitched in a sob.
“Beastly...shameless...filthy slut!”
Snape could only moan helplessly in agreement, shooting his spunk all over the
floor as Filch built up to a frenzy of furious thrusts. Rattled like a ragdoll,
he shook and shuddered as he was used to the last, fucked open and filled up
with come to the sound of Filch’s triumphant shout.
“Tsk.” Filch, red-faced and breathing hard, still wasn’t done with him. “Look
what you’ve done to my nice clean floor.”
The line was familiar, but this time there would be no bucket and scrub brush
shoved into unwilling hands. Instead, Filch’ grabbed Snape by the back of the
head and rubbed his beaky nose in the wet, sticky mess he’d made.
“Clean it up, boy.”
Sniffling and beaten, Snape opened his mouth. His tongue rasped over the dirty
floor and slid through the slick streaks of his come as he lapped up the spill.
He whined in his throat, trembling when Filch pulled out of him with a wet
‘pop.’ His arse was left gaping, rubbed raw and sloppy with spunk.
Filch spat again, in derision this time, watching with a satisfied smirk as it
dribbled over Snape’s reddened hole...
“Sirius? Sirius—class is over.”
Remus was poking him in the side. The professor was gathering up her things,
and everyone else had already started filing out the door.
“Sirius, are you all right? You’re awfully red.”
He drew a shaky breath. He was painfully hard, tenting his robes under the
desk—throbbing.
“Er, fine,” he managed to say. “Go on. I’ve just got to finish my notes.”
Remus looked at him doubtfully, but when Sirius didn’t budge, he shrugged and
left. Sirius watched him go, then scribbled down whatever was on the blackboard
before hurrying out with his book bag held in front of him, beelining for the
nearest unoccupied lavatory.
He jostled past Snape, who once again just so happened to be in the way of
Filch’s mop.
“Watch where you’re going, Black!” Snape said, straightening his rumpled robes
as if it made any difference at all.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Filch gazing at Snape with a crooked
half-smile on his ruddy face.
"Get stuffed," Sirius muttered under his breath, but he had now strode off too
far for either of them to hear him. He scowled sourly as he ducked into the
boys’ room opposite the Transfiguration classroom, securing the door from the
inside before entering a stall and shoving his hand impatiently into his pants.
Bloody perverts.
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