There's a shiver as Snape moves around to stand behind him, Draco naked from the waist down, all pale skin and helpless anticipation. He can't do anything except wait, wait for what he knows is coming, the fact that Snape is really going to spank him. Somehow, that knowledge of it makes it worse. His body tenses, a slight curve to his spine, the way his shoulders tighten as Snape warns him to keep quiet, that someone might hear. He bites his lip, trying to keep quiet as he waits for the impact, tries to brace himself. There's a warmth to the potion-master's gaze on his body, the way his robes brush against his skin from how close their bodies are. Draco tries to pretend to be unaffected, and then his attention is suddenly focused somewhere else.

There's hardly any warning, just that brief displacement of air. The impact is hard, relentless, and Draco stops bracing himself on his hands, his chest flush to the desk as he buries his face into his arms, his eyes closing tight as he muffles the soft, helpless cry torn from his mouth. The impact burns, heats his skin, and the impact tingles from the point of contact to the surrounding skin. He's forcing himself, trying to keep his breathing more-or-less even, tosses back his head as if he's trying to say it wasn't that bad. Defiant, trying to cling to his pride despite his flushing skin, the ache on his right cheek, and wide blue eyes.