I actually started writing this on the plane to Azkatraz, and the guy sitting next to me kept trying to read over my shoulder between reading editorials on Why Women Regret Divorcing and the evils of eastern European immigration in his Daily Mail
Harry Potter, Sex FiendWord count:
Draco was very naughty to tease Harry into fucking him at the office. Clearly he must be punished.Warnings:
D/s, flogging, fluffDisclaimer:
The boys belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.Author’s Notes:
The most plotless porn I’ve ever written. Clearly Kink Bingo has had a
smutty influence on me: this is for my free square, and the kink is flogging.
“How did it go?” Draco asked, looking up from his book as Harry Flooed from the Auror offices into their living room.
“Not too bad,” Harry replied breezily, only to head right for the alcohol. “Kingsley wasn’t too furious, he mainly talked about what it would do to my reputation – and the department’s – if the papers got hold of it.”
“Harry Potter, sex fiend,” Draco snickered. “Shagging in the office, shagging in a hedge, shagging – ”
Harry chuckled too, as he turned back towards Draco with a glass of whiskey in his hands. “It’d do them good to print something accurate for once.”
Then he changed his expression, felt it turn grave. He’d been thinking about sex with Draco for the last twenty minutes while Kingsley told him off, and about doing this
for the last ten. He couldn’t wait. “Now, Draco, I think we’d better talk about your punishment.”
Draco’s eyes flickered up, and he frowned; but amusement was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Punishment?”
“Ye. For teasing me in the office like that. It was very bad of you, Draco, to tempt me until I fucked you there. I could have been in real trouble.”
“Naughty of me
!” Draco spluttered. “It’s not my workplace, you randy git, and anyway it’s not my
fault that you decided to do me over a desk!”
“You wore that silk shirt. You know perfectly well how it affects me.” Harry spoke severely, in a take-off of Kingsley’s own tones: affectionate authority. Inside, he was wriggling with glee at Draco’s flush, and the fast movement of his thin, mobile mouth as Draco tried to find something to say.
“Now strip and stand up. I’m feeling lenient, but any more defiance and it’ll be the cane.”
Fright at that thought briefly crossed Draco’s face: he really hated the cane. Which was part of why Harry loved it. (The other reason was how appropriate it was, when they played schoolboy-and-professor and Draco was bad.)
Then Draco pushed back the fright, and rolled his eyes. “I’m starting to think all that handcuffing suspects has gone to your head, Potter.” He turned resolutely back to his book, setting his mouth firmly against any rebuttal. He was so endearing to Harry like this; Harry was guilty of deliberately putting Draco on the defensive sometimes, to watch him stiffen and fluff up like one of those ridiculous Malfoy peacocks.
Even better was to strip that affronted dignity entirely, to watch the bravado crumble into embarrassment, or desperation. Harry sighed and said, “this gives me no pleasure, I’ll have you know.” That was a huge lie. He waved his wand, spoke a word, and Draco’s clothes were gone.
Draco jerked and dropped A Fairly Honourable Defeat
. He flushed hotly, cheeks and eyes both bright, as he saw Harry’s lascivious smile. After a lifetime in polite society and polite, voluminous robes, he wasn’t used to being leered at so openly. He was embarrassed by eyes cataloguing his body, by Harry’s visible enjoyment of his muscled arms and pink nipples and bitten patches of creamy skin. It was sweet. Sometimes Harry hid his glances, so Draco would feel comfortable; at other times he ogled openly, liking the way colour spilled over his cheeks, down his chest.
“God you’re gorgeous,” Harry breathed. Draco smiled but dropped his eyes, shy. That vulnerability had Harry’s cock straining to be inside him.
“Okay, sweetheart. Bend over the arm of the chair and take your punishment. If you’re good, you can pick the next fantasy we try.”
Harry laughed: that promise had Draco scrambling out of the armchair and bending over, pushing his round, peachy bottom out for Harry’s inspection. “I take it you have something in mind?”
Harry circled Draco, enjoying his sense of power. Draco’s shoulders tensed a little, anxious; Harry didn’t want that, so he smoothed a reassuring hand down Draco’s bare back, watching muscles relax even as he silently summoned the flogger.
The straps were soft red leather; Harry enjoyed its weight in his hand. Casting his eyes down Draco’s pale, lanky body, he tried to choose: where should he mark first? Should he start slow, or go for an initial shock? Harry smiled wickedly, and sent a light blow at the inside of Draco’s left thigh.
He gasped and spread his legs further, so Harry could see his balls. “Good boy,” he cooed. “Now stay spread, all right? I want to see all of what’s mine.”
He set about flogging Draco’s arse; pressing red remnants of pain over his round arsecheeks. Each stinging strand of leather made a sound as it hit; that sound had Harry hardening further in an almost Pavlovian response, as he was sure it made Draco squirm.
Draco only breathed hard at first, wriggling a little as Harry warmed him up. Then his body twisted more from the blows as they grew harder. By then Draco’s creamy skin was glowing; he coloured up so very easily. Draco’s breath hitched at a smack
of the flogger over the underside of his arse, just where it met his thigh; Harry swallowed.
Then he brought the flogger down hard
; the snap of leather and Draco’s cry echoed in the small room. The marks sprang up a deeper red, already beginning to bruise.
Then he did it again. And again.
Draco shrieked and danced beneath the blows. After the fourth, he turned to look at Harry. His face was wet.
“Stop,” he pleaded.
Harry shook his head. “It’s not your choice, sweetheart. But you can cry out as loudly as you like.”
Draco was already groaning before the next blow hit. His body twisted from each blow, his pale feet dancing under him; but every time, he got himself back in place for the next smack.
Harry made him take a dozen hits in all. By the end, he was crying into the upholstery. When Harry threw the flogger down, signalling that it was over, he shuddered a little and looked round without shifting from his position.
The sight of his tear-streaked, flushed face as he waited to hear if Harry would say it was finished... it filled Harry with simultaneous lust and tenderness until he was almost dizzy with emotion. “Ssh, Draco, it’s okay,” he said quietly. “We’ve finished.”
Draco nodded but still didn’t move from his position: bent spread-legged over the armchair, naked and sweaty and sweet. Harry banished his own clothing with a mumbled spell and almost fell forward to cuddle Draco.
He wrapped his left arm round Draco’s waist, holding him there. Draco relaxed into his arms with a little murmur of contentment, and for a moment they simply stayed there, feeling skin on hot skin. Harry nuzzled Draco’s neck, then kissed him, trailing kisses down towards his shoulders. Draco’s shoulders heaved once, then stopped shaking as Draco calmed.
He shifted a little in Harry’s arms as Harry kept kissing him, mumbling happily. He was always like this in the aftermath; cuddly and expressive, letting Harry draw cries from him uncensored.
The heat of his buttocks was pressed against Harry’s groin. He couldn’t wait any longer.
Harry raised a hand. “Accio
lubricant,” he said hoarsely; it flew into his hand. Draco was rubbing himself against Harry, all that warmed skin pressed close. Harry swallowed, feeling lust beat heavy inside him.
Draco wouldn’t let Harry’s arm go, so it stayed wrapped round his middle while Harry lubed and opened him with one awkward hand. Then he slicked himself – eyes shutting as he touched himself, listening to Draco’s whines as the other boy pressed himself back against him. He spread Draco’s cheeks awkwardly – Draco thrust his arse out to meet Harry’s touch, moaning – and pushed into him. A few long, careful thrusts and Harry was fully inside, his groin pressed firmly against Draco’s still-blazing skin. He pushed deliberately against Draco, enjoying the ragged, hurt sounds that drew from his throat.
Draco pushed back, now; they found a rhythm, swift and practised. Harry wrapped his fingers round Draco’s sticky cock, and wanked it as he pulled his other arm from round Draco’s middle, ignoring the soft sound of protest. Harry laid his left hand gently over the curve of Draco’s arse, resisting the urge to pinch.
Draco pushed back and forth between his hands, groaning into the armchair: he’d put his head down, as if he wanted to muffle the sounds. His clutching arse was tight round Harry’s cock, his body slick with sweat. Harry barely had to do any work, simply rocking into him, slow and easy, while he enjoyed the remnants of Draco’s beating.
He traced the lines the flogger had left; Draco’s cock and arse were equally hot with blood rising beneath the skin. It was gorgeous. He slapped Draco’s arse once, drawing a sharp cry.
That sound broke Harry’s self-control, his attempt to go slow and enjoy every detail of Draco. He grabbed Draco’s hip, and began thrusting harder, feeling his heart speed up to match it. Draco reached to pull at his own cock; their hands twined together for a moment, before Harry drew his back. He clutched at both Draco’s hips now, feeling his fingers dig in, knowing he was leaving little lines of fingerprint bruises behind. His grip on Draco’s haunches brought Draco’s body back and forth with him; Draco was pliant, letting Harry shove and clutch and thrust and pull at his body even as his arm jerked in a blur as he wanked himself. Then Harry shoved in, once, twice, and came.
Draco was whining; Harry, still panting as he recovered, reached round, and they jerked Draco off together before falling back, and clambering onto the sofa. They lay sweatily entangled, still panting, for long minutes before Harry spoke.
“So. What was that fantasy you wanted to try?”
Draco looked up at him with a wicked grin, and began swirling a finger round Harry’s nipple. Extra persuasion, then? He must want it badly.
“Well... we’ve had sex in your
office, Harry. And there’s this big gap under my desk... you could definitely fit in there if you squeezed...”