Snape doesn't respond to his last-ditch, desperate effort to escape from this, because everything about the situation asserts that yes, he is very serious.
He simply waits, watches as his protests and indignation fall in to silence, and all that's left is quiet defiance. Soon enough, that too will be gone. Draco might not think so now, might doubt him even still, but no matter.
This is affecting him, though. Defiance aside, it's shot through to his pride, and he's red-faced like a teenager again. Snape almost wishes he didn't have to do this, that Draco didn't need to push him, that he didn't need to be broken like this. There's another, quieter part of him, darker and more dangerous, that has secretly been waiting for an excuse to do exactly this.
He's aware he didn't give more instructions, didn't explicitly say to drop his trousers and pants. He had omitted that as a quiet trap, laid as a way to embarrass the pale young man further when he called him out on it, stating that he should have known.
There's a sharp clicking sound, Snape's tongue against his teeth, the roof of his mouth. It's disapproving. "One would think you've never been spanked before. But that can't be the case," he says, condescending, drawing out the words, slow and digging them in.
"As much of a handful as you've always been," his explanation lays heavily in the air between them.
"Trousers and pants around your knees. Don't make me repeat myself," he warns.
no subject
He simply waits, watches as his protests and indignation fall in to silence, and all that's left is quiet defiance. Soon enough, that too will be gone. Draco might not think so now, might doubt him even still, but no matter.
This is affecting him, though. Defiance aside, it's shot through to his pride, and he's red-faced like a teenager again. Snape almost wishes he didn't have to do this, that Draco didn't need to push him, that he didn't need to be broken like this. There's another, quieter part of him, darker and more dangerous, that has secretly been waiting for an excuse to do exactly this.
He's aware he didn't give more instructions, didn't explicitly say to drop his trousers and pants. He had omitted that as a quiet trap, laid as a way to embarrass the pale young man further when he called him out on it, stating that he should have known.
There's a sharp clicking sound, Snape's tongue against his teeth, the roof of his mouth. It's disapproving. "One would think you've never been spanked before. But that can't be the case," he says, condescending, drawing out the words, slow and digging them in.
"As much of a handful as you've always been," his explanation lays heavily in the air between them.
"Trousers and pants around your knees. Don't make me repeat myself," he warns.