Work Text:
"Slut..."
It's whispered almost tenderly in Severus's ear as his robes are hiked up.
"Been panting for it all day, haven't you?"
A hand pushes down the front of his drawers, rough and knowing.
"Gonna make you beg for it..."
Hard strokes. Hot breath against his neck.
"Gonna fuck your sweet arse so hard, you'll not be able to sit for a week..."
Drawers around his knees. He clutches at the wall.
"Gonna, ah—"
Oh...deliciously thick.
"—gonna leave you dripping with it like a ha'sickle whore—"
Yes....
For a man who despises filth, Filch is a master of it.