Fic: 'Cleanliness is Next to Godliness' Tom Riddle/Horace Slughorn, NC17
I promise, this isn't as explicit as you'd think. Take a chance, go on.
And if you really won't try this one - go read snarkyscorp's Slughorn/Riddle - we clearly both went off the pairings deep-end at the same time *g*
Title - Cleanliness is Next to Godliness
Author - softly_sweetly
Beta - micolerose and emansil_08
Rating - NC17
Word Count - ~2,000
Characters/Pairings - Slughorn/Tom Riddle
Warnings/Kinks - Under 18 (Tom is 16 here), Teacher/Student, Enemas, Darkish, Manipulation, Very, very vague references to implied child abuse.
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story. All characters depicted in sexual situations herein are above the age of consent.
Summary - It would take more than words to get Horace Slughorn to talk. But the words would be worth all of this and more.
Author's Notes - Told using the prompt Enemas from my kink_bingo claim card, which can be found here.
Tom knew the type. He'd grown up in an orphanage situated in the worst area of London, too close to criminals for comfort. Whether it was the older children in the orphanage demanding payment to leave him alone, or the shady men who claimed to be considering adopting and kept Mrs Cole at bay with cheap gin and a few silver coins, Tom had learned to spot the signs, to read them and manipulate the situation for his own end, using the men's vices against them.
Horace Slughorn was one such man.
Tom was under no illusion that every student Professor Slughorn created was fulfilling some sexual fantasy; he knew the majority of the Slug Club were there to make Slughorn feel less isolated, less alone. His misery rolled off him in waves, sickening and made more so by the desperate cheeriness that Slughorn thought was covering up his dismay. Tom had used Slughorn before now, finding out information about things Hogwarts deemed he had no right knowing about, with a carefully-chosen word or a box of crystallised pineapple.
But this, what he now wanted to know, was too much even for Slughorn to reveal, and Tom knew this. It was why he had been laying the groundwork for weeks now, a lingering look, resting his fingers on Slughorn's arm when he was speaking, staying far later than anyone else in the club to listen to Slughorn prattle on about the great witches and wizards he knew. They may send him postcards, pictures and favours, but Tom knew - and he knew Slughorn did too - they were doing it out of obligation for the doors he had opened for them, not out of genuine emotion for the aging man.
The sad thing was that Slughorn could have been brilliant. He still could be; perhaps when Tom rose to power, Slughorn would follow him and use his talents for something more than teaching children, most of whom were too stupid to fully comprehend the power at their fingertips if they were to just push.
Shaking his mind free of the thoughts, Tom straightened his robes and refocused his eyes, just in time for the end of Slughorn's monologue about some famous Quidditch player. Tom didn't care for Quidditch; it was a game for thugs and Mudbloods.
"Fascinating, Professor," Tom made the words sound suitably reverential, reaching forwards to brush some crystallized pineapple off the front of Slughorn's robes. Tom let his hand linger just a little longer than was necessary before he withdrew it to his lap.
"Thank you, Tom."
"I know how you value clean robes."
"Cleanliness is next to godliness, Tom. As you well know; always so perfectly turned out, aren't you?"
Tom nodded, brushing an invisible crease out of his robes. "It can be difficult, keeping clean, in this castle. So many students do not appreciate the feeling of clean clothes against your skin."
Tom let that little mental image sink in, his suspicions about Slughorn confirmed once again when Slughorn's eyes dropped down to his lap. Slughorn's infatuation with being clean did not extend to his own personal hygiene, but everything around him had to be clean, had to be perfect. Tom had heard stories in the dorm room, things whispered between the older boys about Slughorn's need for his boys to be clean at all times, and was hoping this would be something he could exploit.
He could see Slughorn's mind working; hear the half-formed thoughts as though Slughorn were speaking them aloud.
Such a beautiful boy... So discreet... No family to tell tales to...
That last thought made Tom laugh; his lack of a family had served him well over the years, earned him the pity vote from all of his teachers, allowed him to paint a picture of a vulnerable, timid young teen. How surprised they all would be, once he completed his learning and began putting his skills to the test.
"Don't you like being dirty, Tom? So many boys your age seem to revel in it."
Tom shuddered, making the gesture more pronounced than it needed to be. He'd watched Mrs Cole play the caring, sober, house mother for years; acting came easily to him. "I detest it, Sir. I wish more people were like you, Sir, and understood that it's a mark of distinction to be neat and clean."
"Yes, yes." Slughorn's eyes narrowed, and Tom let himself be scrutinised. "Do you struggle to feel clean, sometimes, Tom?"
Tom nodded. He couldn't think of the right words here, and knew that silence could speak volumes. As could actions; Tom added to his nod by leaning forwards and picking up a piece of pineapple. He made a performance of putting it in his mouth and sucking his fingers clean of the sugar. He didn't like the sweet confection, but it served a purpose, and he had felt Slughorn's eyes on him the entire time. People were so predictable, especially when you had their thoughts playing out for you like your own personal soundtrack.
"There is a way to get clean, Tom. Very clean."
"Showering, Sir? I do that twice a day already."
"Aaah," Slughorn exhaled on a shaky breath, his hand swaying on its way back into the box of sweets. He picked up a piece of pineapple and brought it up to Tom's mouth. The thought of having Slughorn's fingers anywhere near his mouth made Tom's stomach heave, but he knew this was Slughorn testing the waters, and he knew that if he wanted the answers to his questions, he would have to swim along. So Tom opened his mouth obediently, taking the pineapple and flicking his tongue up to lick the sugar off Slughorn's fingers. They tasted bitter, but Tom could see the emotion in Slughorn's eyes shift slightly, could hear the change in thoughts from maybe to definitely. "No, Tom. A special way to be clean, for special boys."
This was it, and though his stomach rolled with disgust, Tom nodded obediently, thinking of the knowledge he would gain from this incident. An answer to the final question, the one he had not been able to discover by any other means.
"Will you show me, Sir?"
"Of course, of course." Slughorn stood up and cast wards to lock the door. Tom felt the first flicker of doubt, but he squashed it easily.
Tom nodded, standing up and following Slughorn from his lounge into his large bedroom. From there they went into the large bathroom, where Slughorn conjured a divan.
"Now, Tom, you'll need to take your clothes off, and lie down on this little bed, facing away from me."
He'd been asked to do worse, and quickly removed his robes and underwear. Lying down on the divan, his head resting on the pillows over the single arm, his feet dangling off the edge, Tom waited. He'd gleaned enough information from one of the older students - quite against the student's will, of course - to know what was coming, know what Slughorn was fumbling around in a closet for.
"Good, now let's just move your legs like this." Slughorn's hand was warm and fleshy, pressing into Tom's leg as he manoeuvred him about. Tom let his right leg be brought up, so that his waist and knee were bent at right angles. It exposed his behind, but that was the point. There would be no way Slughorn could refuse his questions after this.
Tom listened to the taps running into something, glanced up to see Slughorn filling a pouch with water. Slughorn was focusing on filling the pouch, giving Tom time to look. The pouch didn't look big - Tom reckoned it held about a cupful of water, at most. When the pouch was swollen with water, Slughorn turned the tap off, and Tom looked back towards the large marble bath. The Professors here really were spoiled.
"Now, this will feel a little strange, but that's okay. You might even enjoy it, and that's okay too."
Tom nodded, biting his lip when he felt one of Slughorn's fat fingers smearing something cold over his entrance. A second later, and something thin and rubbery was pressing against his body. Tom made all the right noises, the gasps and whimpers of someone who hadn't had anything like this happen before. It would serve his purposes better if Slughorn believed himself to be the first person to compromise Tom's innocence like this.
Finally the pushing stopped, and Tom wriggled in discomfort, playing his part beautifully.
"Are you ready, Tom?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good boy. I'm going to start now. You need to stay very still for me."
Tom nodded, closing his eyes and pulling up his memory of one of his favourite Dark Arts books. He began recalling the pages, mentally running through each curse and its effects as he felt something running into his body.
It was uncomfortable, and seemed to last forever, but finally Slughorn exhaled slowly, and the nozzle was removed from Tom's body.
"Good boy, now hold that in for a moment."
Tom brought one hand to rub his distended stomach, trying to ease the cramps that were starting there. Slughorn must have seen the movement, because he leaned over Tom, his pudgy hand knocking Tom's out of the way and rubbing his stomach softly. It only served to repulse Tom, and make him need the toilet desperately, but he let it happen. His stomach was cramping, and it felt like forever that he'd been in this position, but realistically it couldn't have been more than a minute or two.
"Good boy," That phrase again, slipping from Slughorn's lips like it was praise, when it only made Tom's skin crawl. "Now let's get you in the bath, and finish the job."
Tom needed help getting into the bath, and had to clench his arse to keep from messing himself all over the carpet. He couldn't stop some of the water dribbling down his legs, and his cheeks burned. Slughorn must have taken it as arousal, because Tom could see the bulge in Slughorn's velvet trousers twitch. He could barely wait for Slughorn's breathless, encouraging little Now to let his muscles relax, let the water run out of him and away down the plughole. Tom carefully didn't look, keeping his eyes fixed on Slughorn instead. He watched the emotions there, cataloguing them for further use.
"There now, don't you feel clean?"
"Yes, Sir."
"See, Tom, I can always satisfy your needs."
Tom smiled, his first genuine smile of the evening. "Oh, I know you can Sir."
+X+X+X+X+X+X+
Tom let the others leave the room before he made his move, following Slughorn over to the bookshelf and helping him rearrange the pictures of his students there. "Sir, I was reading about something today. Something in a Restricted Section book. And I couldn't find an explanation of it anywhere else."
"Really, Tom?"
"No, Sir. And I was just thinking about how knowledgeable you are, and how you'd know exactly what a Horcrux was." Tom paused, watching Slughorn's body tense, his knuckles go white with their grip on the photo frame. He saw Slughorn open his mouth, likely to refuse, and slipped in his winning blow. "And you said that you could always satisfy my needs, Sir."
And the battle was won, Tom could see it in Slughorn's eyes. He could almost taste the defeat in the air, and it took everything he had not to crow in triumph.
"This is all theoretical, of course?" Slughorn's voice held none of its usual bluster and faux-confidence.
Tom smiled.
"Of course, Sir."
And if you really won't try this one - go read snarkyscorp's Slughorn/Riddle - we clearly both went off the pairings deep-end at the same time *g*
Title - Cleanliness is Next to Godliness
Author - softly_sweetly
Beta - micolerose and emansil_08
Rating - NC17
Word Count - ~2,000
Characters/Pairings - Slughorn/Tom Riddle
Warnings/Kinks - Under 18 (Tom is 16 here), Teacher/Student, Enemas, Darkish, Manipulation, Very, very vague references to implied child abuse.
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story. All characters depicted in sexual situations herein are above the age of consent.
Summary - It would take more than words to get Horace Slughorn to talk. But the words would be worth all of this and more.
Author's Notes - Told using the prompt Enemas from my kink_bingo claim card, which can be found here.
Tom knew the type. He'd grown up in an orphanage situated in the worst area of London, too close to criminals for comfort. Whether it was the older children in the orphanage demanding payment to leave him alone, or the shady men who claimed to be considering adopting and kept Mrs Cole at bay with cheap gin and a few silver coins, Tom had learned to spot the signs, to read them and manipulate the situation for his own end, using the men's vices against them.
Horace Slughorn was one such man.
Tom was under no illusion that every student Professor Slughorn created was fulfilling some sexual fantasy; he knew the majority of the Slug Club were there to make Slughorn feel less isolated, less alone. His misery rolled off him in waves, sickening and made more so by the desperate cheeriness that Slughorn thought was covering up his dismay. Tom had used Slughorn before now, finding out information about things Hogwarts deemed he had no right knowing about, with a carefully-chosen word or a box of crystallised pineapple.
But this, what he now wanted to know, was too much even for Slughorn to reveal, and Tom knew this. It was why he had been laying the groundwork for weeks now, a lingering look, resting his fingers on Slughorn's arm when he was speaking, staying far later than anyone else in the club to listen to Slughorn prattle on about the great witches and wizards he knew. They may send him postcards, pictures and favours, but Tom knew - and he knew Slughorn did too - they were doing it out of obligation for the doors he had opened for them, not out of genuine emotion for the aging man.
The sad thing was that Slughorn could have been brilliant. He still could be; perhaps when Tom rose to power, Slughorn would follow him and use his talents for something more than teaching children, most of whom were too stupid to fully comprehend the power at their fingertips if they were to just push.
Shaking his mind free of the thoughts, Tom straightened his robes and refocused his eyes, just in time for the end of Slughorn's monologue about some famous Quidditch player. Tom didn't care for Quidditch; it was a game for thugs and Mudbloods.
"Fascinating, Professor," Tom made the words sound suitably reverential, reaching forwards to brush some crystallized pineapple off the front of Slughorn's robes. Tom let his hand linger just a little longer than was necessary before he withdrew it to his lap.
"Thank you, Tom."
"I know how you value clean robes."
"Cleanliness is next to godliness, Tom. As you well know; always so perfectly turned out, aren't you?"
Tom nodded, brushing an invisible crease out of his robes. "It can be difficult, keeping clean, in this castle. So many students do not appreciate the feeling of clean clothes against your skin."
Tom let that little mental image sink in, his suspicions about Slughorn confirmed once again when Slughorn's eyes dropped down to his lap. Slughorn's infatuation with being clean did not extend to his own personal hygiene, but everything around him had to be clean, had to be perfect. Tom had heard stories in the dorm room, things whispered between the older boys about Slughorn's need for his boys to be clean at all times, and was hoping this would be something he could exploit.
He could see Slughorn's mind working; hear the half-formed thoughts as though Slughorn were speaking them aloud.
Such a beautiful boy... So discreet... No family to tell tales to...
That last thought made Tom laugh; his lack of a family had served him well over the years, earned him the pity vote from all of his teachers, allowed him to paint a picture of a vulnerable, timid young teen. How surprised they all would be, once he completed his learning and began putting his skills to the test.
"Don't you like being dirty, Tom? So many boys your age seem to revel in it."
Tom shuddered, making the gesture more pronounced than it needed to be. He'd watched Mrs Cole play the caring, sober, house mother for years; acting came easily to him. "I detest it, Sir. I wish more people were like you, Sir, and understood that it's a mark of distinction to be neat and clean."
"Yes, yes." Slughorn's eyes narrowed, and Tom let himself be scrutinised. "Do you struggle to feel clean, sometimes, Tom?"
Tom nodded. He couldn't think of the right words here, and knew that silence could speak volumes. As could actions; Tom added to his nod by leaning forwards and picking up a piece of pineapple. He made a performance of putting it in his mouth and sucking his fingers clean of the sugar. He didn't like the sweet confection, but it served a purpose, and he had felt Slughorn's eyes on him the entire time. People were so predictable, especially when you had their thoughts playing out for you like your own personal soundtrack.
"There is a way to get clean, Tom. Very clean."
"Showering, Sir? I do that twice a day already."
"Aaah," Slughorn exhaled on a shaky breath, his hand swaying on its way back into the box of sweets. He picked up a piece of pineapple and brought it up to Tom's mouth. The thought of having Slughorn's fingers anywhere near his mouth made Tom's stomach heave, but he knew this was Slughorn testing the waters, and he knew that if he wanted the answers to his questions, he would have to swim along. So Tom opened his mouth obediently, taking the pineapple and flicking his tongue up to lick the sugar off Slughorn's fingers. They tasted bitter, but Tom could see the emotion in Slughorn's eyes shift slightly, could hear the change in thoughts from maybe to definitely. "No, Tom. A special way to be clean, for special boys."
This was it, and though his stomach rolled with disgust, Tom nodded obediently, thinking of the knowledge he would gain from this incident. An answer to the final question, the one he had not been able to discover by any other means.
"Will you show me, Sir?"
"Of course, of course." Slughorn stood up and cast wards to lock the door. Tom felt the first flicker of doubt, but he squashed it easily.
Tom nodded, standing up and following Slughorn from his lounge into his large bedroom. From there they went into the large bathroom, where Slughorn conjured a divan.
"Now, Tom, you'll need to take your clothes off, and lie down on this little bed, facing away from me."
He'd been asked to do worse, and quickly removed his robes and underwear. Lying down on the divan, his head resting on the pillows over the single arm, his feet dangling off the edge, Tom waited. He'd gleaned enough information from one of the older students - quite against the student's will, of course - to know what was coming, know what Slughorn was fumbling around in a closet for.
"Good, now let's just move your legs like this." Slughorn's hand was warm and fleshy, pressing into Tom's leg as he manoeuvred him about. Tom let his right leg be brought up, so that his waist and knee were bent at right angles. It exposed his behind, but that was the point. There would be no way Slughorn could refuse his questions after this.
Tom listened to the taps running into something, glanced up to see Slughorn filling a pouch with water. Slughorn was focusing on filling the pouch, giving Tom time to look. The pouch didn't look big - Tom reckoned it held about a cupful of water, at most. When the pouch was swollen with water, Slughorn turned the tap off, and Tom looked back towards the large marble bath. The Professors here really were spoiled.
"Now, this will feel a little strange, but that's okay. You might even enjoy it, and that's okay too."
Tom nodded, biting his lip when he felt one of Slughorn's fat fingers smearing something cold over his entrance. A second later, and something thin and rubbery was pressing against his body. Tom made all the right noises, the gasps and whimpers of someone who hadn't had anything like this happen before. It would serve his purposes better if Slughorn believed himself to be the first person to compromise Tom's innocence like this.
Finally the pushing stopped, and Tom wriggled in discomfort, playing his part beautifully.
"Are you ready, Tom?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good boy. I'm going to start now. You need to stay very still for me."
Tom nodded, closing his eyes and pulling up his memory of one of his favourite Dark Arts books. He began recalling the pages, mentally running through each curse and its effects as he felt something running into his body.
It was uncomfortable, and seemed to last forever, but finally Slughorn exhaled slowly, and the nozzle was removed from Tom's body.
"Good boy, now hold that in for a moment."
Tom brought one hand to rub his distended stomach, trying to ease the cramps that were starting there. Slughorn must have seen the movement, because he leaned over Tom, his pudgy hand knocking Tom's out of the way and rubbing his stomach softly. It only served to repulse Tom, and make him need the toilet desperately, but he let it happen. His stomach was cramping, and it felt like forever that he'd been in this position, but realistically it couldn't have been more than a minute or two.
"Good boy," That phrase again, slipping from Slughorn's lips like it was praise, when it only made Tom's skin crawl. "Now let's get you in the bath, and finish the job."
Tom needed help getting into the bath, and had to clench his arse to keep from messing himself all over the carpet. He couldn't stop some of the water dribbling down his legs, and his cheeks burned. Slughorn must have taken it as arousal, because Tom could see the bulge in Slughorn's velvet trousers twitch. He could barely wait for Slughorn's breathless, encouraging little Now to let his muscles relax, let the water run out of him and away down the plughole. Tom carefully didn't look, keeping his eyes fixed on Slughorn instead. He watched the emotions there, cataloguing them for further use.
"There now, don't you feel clean?"
"Yes, Sir."
"See, Tom, I can always satisfy your needs."
Tom smiled, his first genuine smile of the evening. "Oh, I know you can Sir."
+X+X+X+X+X+X+
Tom let the others leave the room before he made his move, following Slughorn over to the bookshelf and helping him rearrange the pictures of his students there. "Sir, I was reading about something today. Something in a Restricted Section book. And I couldn't find an explanation of it anywhere else."
"Really, Tom?"
"No, Sir. And I was just thinking about how knowledgeable you are, and how you'd know exactly what a Horcrux was." Tom paused, watching Slughorn's body tense, his knuckles go white with their grip on the photo frame. He saw Slughorn open his mouth, likely to refuse, and slipped in his winning blow. "And you said that you could always satisfy my needs, Sir."
And the battle was won, Tom could see it in Slughorn's eyes. He could almost taste the defeat in the air, and it took everything he had not to crow in triumph.
"This is all theoretical, of course?" Slughorn's voice held none of its usual bluster and faux-confidence.
Tom smiled.
"Of course, Sir."