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birdsofshoreTitle: Taking Advantage
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
birdsofshore
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3600
Summary: Malfoy looked so vulnerable, lying there. But Harry would never dream of taking advantage of the situation.
Warnings: PWP, oblivious!Harry, light bondage, possible dub-con, light exhibitionism. It's all pretty light, really.
A/N: Damn and blast livejournal for only giving 2 days notice of a birthday! And damn myself for disorganisation. Please feel free to point out any mistakes contained within.
Divine, delightfuldicta_contrion, I want to wish you the happiest of birthdays. Please excuse this unbetaed and hurried thing. After you gave me the most perfect, 47k present last Christmas, I wanted to give you something beautiful, but *shakes fist at the universe* this will have to do. I remember you saying that you liked it when I went to the silly places and the dirty places. This certainly tries to go there. I hope it might hit a couple of sweet spots and avoid any squicks at the same time.
It was Hogsmeade weekend, and, as usual, Harry had forgotten something.
“I've just got to run back to the dorm and get my gold,” he told Ron and Hermione.
“Honestly, Harry, there's always something, with you. We'll start walking and you catch us up, OK?” Hermione wrinkled her nose at him and set off after the other students walking across the grounds in small groups.
He took the stairs two at a time and half-ran into the eighth-year Gryffindor dorm, ready to grab the pouch containing his Galleons and make a sharp exit... when he skidded to a halt.
Draco Malfoy was stretched out on Harry's bed.
Draco Malfoy was stretched out on Harry's bed, naked.
Draco Malfoy was stretched out on Harry's bed, naked, his wrists and ankles tied with what looked like silken rope, black and glossy, and fastened to the four posts at each corner.
And – Harry swallowed – oh, god, Malfoy was hard. Draco Malfoy was tied up naked on Harry's bed, looking as if he was really enjoying the experience. Well. That was confusing, actually, because while Malfoy's cock looked bloody ecstatic – long and flushed a deep pink and straining up towards the ceiling – Malfoy himself looked as if he could take it or leave it.
“Well, this is sort of awkward,” Malfoy said.
“Gnnngg,” was all Harry's brain could come up with at short notice.
“What took you so long, Potter? I've been waiting here for at least ten minutes.”
“Wha—? Uh? Gnnngg.” Harry's tongue felt thick and floppy and apparently didn't want to do anything sensible at all.
“It's not the most pleasant place to be tied up, I can tell you. Are those Weasley's socks lying under the bed there? Because they smell like Hippogriff dung.”
It was like something from a dream, except Harry had definitely never dreamed anything like this about Malfoy. Never. Pale skin. All over him. Long legs. Yards and yards of them. Dustings of golden hair, sprinkled lightly here and there and then curled tightly at the base of Malfoy's―
“Wha‒? How‒? I‒? Malfoy,” Harry finally managed to force out indistinctly. “What the hell are you doing on my bed?”
“Ah, that would be the awkward part. It appears my housemates thought that it would be a hilarious jape to do this to me.”
“Oh, my god.” Harry's brain seemed to be bereft of oxygen to help it function, but comprehension finally dawned. Malfoy was the victim of a rather cruel practical joke! And there for a minute Harry had been thinking‒ never mind what he'd been thinking. “Let me untie you.”
Malfoy sighed. A polite, but heartfelt sigh. “Well, that's the thing, Potter. They used some kind of Dark magic, I think. It would be dangerous to tamper with the bonds.”
“What?” Harry was feeling truly indignant on Malfoy's behalf, now. “We can't just leave you like this forever! Who was it? I'll go and find them, and―”
“No, no, nonononono.” Draco shook his head, sending blond hair flopping forward onto his forehead. “That would be awfully embarrassing for me. Everyone would be sure to hear about it. No, we'll just have to wait it out.”
“But‒ how long—?”
“I think they said an hour or so. I've already been here quite a while, so perhaps it won't be that long.”
Harry's mouth and brain were still only partially connected. “You're just going to lie here? On my bed? Like‒ that.” He gestured towards Malfoy's cock, which gave a distinct twitch. “And wait for it to wear off.”
Malfoy sighed again. “I can't think of any alternative. Can you?”
Harry swallowed hard. “Me? No. Not at all. I can't think of‒ any alternative. To that. No.”
Malfoy stretched a little, flexing his arms and making the muscles of his stomach ripple gently. “I'm really awfully cross with them.”
Harry's brain reminded his eyes that staring at Malfoy was not a kind thing to do at this point in time. Malfoy couldn't help the fact that he was stripped and bound. And really bloody fit, if Harry was being honest. But Harry's eyes took a while to get the message, particularly as Malfoy's prick chose that moment to leak a little pre-come onto his flat, smooth stomach.
“Well. I'll just. Leave you to it, I guess,” Harry managed to say, and even persuaded his feet to turn around and face the door, but Malfoy made a noise as though Harry had mortally offended him.
“Oh, Potter.”
“What?”
“You're just going to abandon me here like this?”
“Well, you said yourself, the only thing to do was to wait―”
“Yes, but surely you'll keep me company?”
Malfoy sounded as if he was pouting. Harry turned around again. He was pouting.
“I mean. It's rather dull. You could entertain me somehow.”
“Entertain you?”
“Talk to me. I waited ages for you to come, and now you're going to leave me alone, like this...”
Harry gave a quick glance at Malfoy's cock. Yes. Still hard. Why on earth... was Malfoy some kind of exhibitionist? He looked quickly away before Malfoy could see him looking, but it was like the elephant in the room. Not that Malfoy was that big. But he wasn't exactly small, either.
“It's Hogsmeade weekend. Ron and Hermione are waiting for me,” said Harry, wishing immediately that it didn't sound so lame.
Malfoy's mouth flickered in disappointment. “Oh.”
Harry scuffed his shoe on the floor. “I mean―”
“No. No, I completely understand. You run along and have a fabulous time with your friends, Potter. Everyone else is probably already there, enjoying themselves, after all. I'll be fine, left all on my own in the Castle, with nothing to think about but my own humiliation and shame...”
Harry really was not looking, but he couldn't help noticing when Malfoy's cock twitched like that. There was something completely mesmerising about it.
“And who knows, perhaps I'll even get free in time before everyone comes back and runs in here to laugh at me...”
“I won't let them do that,” Harry said firmly
“No, don't trouble yourself, really. You just trot off to Hogsmeade. I'll be fine.”
Harry sighed and sank down on Neville's bed. “I'm staying. OK? I'll wait here and make sure no-one else comes in. I can catch up with them as soon as the spell wears off.”
Malfoy looked relieved. “Oh, well, if you insist...”
“I've got some homework to do, though.” He rummaged around in his trunk and drew out a roll of parchment. “That essay for Slughorn on Asphodel root. Due on Monday. Seven inches.”
“It's eight inches, actually,” Malfoy corrected him. “Eight and a half, on a good day... " He looked down at himself. "Seems like today might be a good day."
Harry promptly choked on the air in his lungs.
"Oh.” Malfoy laughed. “You meant the homework. So sorry.” But he didn't look sorry. Not at all. In fact, he gave a smug little wriggle, and Harry was not looking, and he definitely wasn't blushing, either, and Malfoy could smirk all he liked, because he, Harry, was getting on with his homework and pretending that none of this was happening.
The properties and uses of Asphodel, wrote Harry, and underlined it carefully. Twice. The properties of Asphodel include....
He stared out of the window, pointedly not looking at Malfoy. Not at his smooth skin, not at the nubs of his small pink nipples, not at the intriguing jut of his hipbones. The thing was, it was very hard to settle down and concentrate on homework when you knew for a fact that everyone else was having a great time at Hogsmeade. That was all it was. The properties of Asphodel include.... It would come to him in a minute.
Malfoy cleared his throat.
Perhaps he would leave that bit. The uses of Asphodel include... something to do with Spattergroit, Harry was sure of it. Or was that Ashwinder eggs? Bugger, he needed to go to the library for this. Why couldn't Malfoy have got tied up on someone else's bloody bed, instead of lying there all long and pale and with a massive, distracting erection...
Malfoy cleared his throat again. “I'm sorry to ask,” he said. “Do you think I might possibly have some water?”
Harry frowned and thought about ignoring him. If only Malfoy would keep quiet, he could probably make it through the hour without―
“I don't want to bother you, but my throat feels quite dry and peculiar.”
He did sound husky. Harry got up with a sigh and fetched a drinking cup from the windowsill, then directed an Aguamenti charm into it and walked over to his bed.
He considered for a minute how best to do this. Malfoy was flat on the bed and it was going to be tricky for him to drink without spilling it everywhere. “Lift your head,” he told Malfoy. Malfoy lifting his head made all the muscles of his stomach tighten. He looked up at Harry expectantly, breathing quite hard considering he was lying down doing absolutely nothing.
Harry leaned over and held the glass to Malfoy's lips. It was hard to hold it steady. It was a weird situation to be in, that was all. Water tipped gently into Malfoy's mouth. A little bit... a little bit more, and then he began to swallow. Harry stared at his Adam's apple working slowly up and down in a fascinating rhythm. Malfoy was concentrating on the glass, but then his eyes met Harry's and a little trickle of water slid from the side of his mouth and, oh‒ fuck— Harry's hand trembled and then the water was pouring over Malfoy's chin and down onto his neck and chest. Shit.
Malfoy spluttered and cursed and Harry jumped up and grabbed the nearest thing he could find. It was an old t-shirt of his – thankfully a clean one – and he dabbed at Malfoy's face and chest, trying to get all the water off. Malfoy just lay still and let Harry do it. It gave Harry a strange feeling, somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He realised that Malfoy was actually dry and that he was now just patting at him weirdly with a t-shirt that said “Seekers do it sitting down”.
Malfoy was looking at Harry with an odd expression. If Harry didn't know better, he would have said it was a sort of secretive smile. Harry straightened up and tossed the t-shirt with his other dirty clothes, and then suddenly thought of what he should have thought of right at the beginning. If he hadn't have been so distracted by the whole naked, tied-up, big hard cock thing.
“Shall I get you a blanket or something?”
Malfoy looked insulted.
“I mean, I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner. I just... forgot. But I have lots of blankets, here, let me―”
“Thank you. But it's ever so warm in here.”
It was. Malfoy wasn't making it up. Harry could feel sweat gathering under his arms and trickling down his back. But, for god's sake.
“You mean you'd rather just lie there like that until the spell wears off?”
Malfoy nodded.
“Well, bloody hell, Malfoy. I mean, you're not making this easy on anybody. I understand that you can't help being tied up there like this, but, seriously, you don't have to lie there, stark fucking naked like that, with... “Harry gestured. Was Malfoy going to have a stiffy for the entire hour? “With that.”
Malfoy sighed a deep sigh. “I'm sorry, Potter. Please believe me when I assure you that this is no fun for either of us. My housemates evidently have a rather twisted sense of humour, and they decided it would be amusing to cast a certain spell on me before leaving me for you to find.”
“They‒ what?”
Malfoy couldn't point, but he let his eyes slide eloquently down his own body until they reached the prominence of his erection. “It wasn't a spell I'm familiar with.”
“They cast a spell on your... no!”
”Yes. As I say, it's not one I recognised. To be frank, Potter, I've never had need of any extra help.” He gave a satisfied smile.
“Merlin. Does it‒ I mean, do you feel OK?”
“Do I look as if I'm OK?”
Harry looked. Malfoy looked more than OK. He looked pretty wonderful, actually. There was a delicious flush across his chest and from this close, Harry imagined that he could smell the warm, fresh scent of his skin. Malfoy looked extremely touchable. Lickable, even. But that wasn't the question. What was the question, again?
Malfoy looked at him mournfully. “It's incredibly uncomfortable.”
“I‒ uh. What can I do? I mean... Oh, god. I didn't mean—”
Malfoy gave another little wriggle, his body tensing into tortured lines. “No, of course not. I couldn't possibly expect you to... but... these ties are not helping. I think my wrists have gone numb, Potter. I don't suppose you could... just... rub them for me? Just for a moment or two?”
Harry gulped and a little sound escaped from his throat. “You want me to...”
“Just rub them gently, Potter.” Malfoy's cheeks were unusually pink. “Please?”
Harry took a deep breath and sat down on the bed next to Malfoy. There was no big deal about touching someone's wrists. No big deal at all. Even if they were lying next to you, so close that you could see the freckles dappling their shoulders with the palest gold. So that you could see the sweat beading at their temples, so that you could see a shiver pass through their body as you leant over and awkwardly placed your fingertips on the delicate skin of their wrists. Merlin, the ties were leaving marks. Bruises, even.
Harry tried to work his fingers under the knots, to allow some circulation, but they were drawn tight and after what Malfoy had said about Dark magic he didn't dare tamper with them any further. Who knew what fiendish spells Slytherins were familiar with. Instead, he did his best to rub around the taut bonds in the hopes it would relieve Malfoy's discomfort a little. In response, Malfoy shifted on the bed and made small sounds of pleasure. Harry felt a stirring confidence warming him, and stroked more firmly across Malfoy's skinny wrists. He could feel the knobs of bone shifting beneath his fingers, see the milky-blue tracery of veins beneath the translucent skin.
Malfoy's breath was uneven and his narrow chest rose and fell as Harry stroked along his palm, towards his fingers. His hands were softer than Harry's, the skin surprisingly frictionless and then giving way to scratchy callouses on the pads of his palm, no doubt from all the Quidditch Malfoy played.
“Mmm. Yes. Just like that. Yes. Do the other one.” Harry's fingers stuttered over Malfoy's skin at the sound of his encouragement. He moved to the other wrist, leaning across Malfoy's body to reach. Malfoy's eyes blinked open and he lay gazing up at Harry, much too close to him, with a hungry expression that made Harry's insides lurch in a most unexpected way. His fingers ran along Malfoy's forearm to the elbow and almost carried on to Malfoy's taut, defiant bicep before he stopped himself. He was meant to be making Malfoy feel more comfortable, not feeling him up. Malfoy arched his body, pushing his cock upwards into the air and tipping his head back. Oh, god. It was still the same snarky Malfoy, but somehow he looked so vulnerable, just lying there. As if Harry could do anything to him. Anything he wanted. Harry's grip on his wrist tightened convulsively for a moment and Malfoy's eyes opened wide in surprise.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered. Malfoy was too close, far too close. Harry could just lean down, just let his chest press against Malfoy's, feel the heat of his skin and let the tattoo of Malfoy's heart beat against his own. He could even lay his lips over Malfoy's pink and rather lush-looking mouth and let his tongue nudge inside, taste him and feel his breath coming hot into Harry's mouth. He wanted to do it. But, god, surely it would be so wrong to take advantage of Malfoy like this?
Malfoy's pupils were flooding his eyes. “My ankles, Potter. Would you?”
Harry felt he would probably do anything that Malfoy asked, if he would only keep looking at Harry like that. He shuffled down the bed until he was seated near Malfoy's feet. Malfoy was watching him, a smirk pulling at his lips. Merlin, Malfoy's prick looked full. Like it must ache. From this angle Harry could see his balls, the heaviness of them, high and swollen, and he felt a sharp twist of desire stabbing at him in sympathy. Malfoy must have been hard for thirty minutes or more now. And not so much as a whisper of a touch on his poor neglected cock.
Harry wrapped both hands around Malfoy's right ankle and tried to smooth away some of the tension he felt there. Again the bonds were biting into his skin, but Harry could see pleasure drifting across Malfoy's face as he worked his fingers around the knots and tried to learn all the contours of Malfoy's bones and muscles. The hair there was fine and lay flat against Malfoy's skin. Harry dug his fingers in where the swell of Malfoy's calf began and Malfoy actually whimpered.
“Damn, Potter, that feels good. Your hands....” He trailed off as Harry let his fingers drift higher up, to the muscled tightness below his knees. He strained luxuriously against the silk ropes and then fixed Harry with a challenging look “Higher,” he whispered.
Harry's breath caught scratchily in his throat and his hands stroked the supple, soft skin at the back of Malfoy's knees.
“Higher,” whispered Malfoy, his voice low and persuasive.
Malfoy's inner thighs were silky and blazing with heat. Harry's fingers shook as he let his fingers skate along them, his eyes flicking over Malfoy's face, from his eyes to his mouth, and back again.
Malfoy wet his lips. Harry watched, transfixed, as Malfoy's mouth formed the word.
“Higher.” He barely breathed it.
Was Harry really going to do this?
“Yes,” Malfoy urged, his cock jerking higher still.
A desperate need was thrumming at Harry's temples. He felt the ache in Malfoy's cock as if it were his own. He reached for it, the whole divine, mouth-watering length of it, and as he wrapped his hand around it, thick and perfect, Malfoy let out a sound of such rapturous gratitude that Harry thought he might come just from hearing it.
Then Malfoy thrust into Harry's hand, hot and demanding and slightly damp, and Harry's thoughts shut down completely. There was only the sensual, sticky slide of Malfoy's cock against his palm, the pounding of Harry's own blood around his veins, the sound of breathing peppered with rather imperious encouragements, and the terrifyingly erotic sight of Draco Malfoy, trussed up on Harry's bed and apparently loving every fucking minute of it.
It was over far before Harry wanted it to be. Malfoy tensed every muscle in his body and then came with a flooding release all over Harry's fist. Harry watched in a daze as it dripped down his palm and onto his wrist, splashes falling onto Malfoy's chest and stomach and even the hair of his exposed underarm. Malfoy writhed, tangling curses together with the most amazing incoherent sounds that had Harry's own cock leaping in his pants.
“Ah...ah... ahhh... fuck, oh fuck,” Malfoy finished, his chest heaving, while Harry thought that he had never seen anything so incredible as Malfoy, sweaty, panting, and covered with come. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to rip open his flies and wank himself off right there and then over Malfoy's sticky, bound body.
Malfoy lengthened his body in a delicious stretch and smiled like the house-elf who got the sock. “Well, Potter, what do you know. I think the spell wore off and we can loosen these now.”
“How can you tell?”
He shrugged. “Just feels different. Pass my wand and we'll undo me and then...” He gave Harry a sly look which warmed him right to his toes. “I can help you out a little. The wand's under the pillow.”
Harry reached under and found that Malfoy's slim length of hawthorn was indeed lying between the pillow and the mattress.
Malfoy gripped his wand in his bound hand and managed to get it pointing at the rope.
“I'll do it,” Harry offered. “That looks tricky when your hands are tied.”
“No, Potter, don't bother. Let me.” One of the knots began to unravel and Malfoy squinted in concentration. “You'd never manage to undo these knots, they took me bloody ages to get them fastened this tight....”
Malfoy did at least have the grace to look slightly embarrassed as he realised what he had said. “Ah,” he said quietly. “Oops.” But any real remorse was overpowered by his general air of smugness and post-coital satisfaction.
Harry found that this was somehow not the shocking surprise that it should have been. When it came down to it, who else but Draco bloody Malfoy would have the sheer guile, the devious and breathtaking cheek to tie someone naked to another student's bed and leave them there?
Nonetheless, he put his lips close to Malfoy's ear and growled. “You planned this entire thing to trick me.”
Malfoy nodded modestly. “Yes.”
“You made me think that you were suffering. That you were helpless.”
Malfoy nodded again.
“There was no spell – you just had a hard on for the thought of me coming in and finding you here.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I should leave you tied up right here,” Harry hissed.
Malfoy looked distinctly interested in this possibility. “Perhaps you should,” he breathed.
“This is not funny, Malfoy. I could get pretty fucking annoyed with you.”
Malfoy nodded vigorously. “No-one could blame you. You could take advantage of me first. Really teach me a lesson, and then leave me here for everyone to find. As an example not to mess with you.” His eyes were shining.
Harry gave up. You couldn't outwit a Slytherin. The bastards always got what they wanted in the end. Still, it wasn't all bad, Harry thought, as Malfoy whispered further filthy suggestions in his ear. They still had a couple of hours before the others got back from Hogsmeade. Plenty of time for the two of them to enjoy themselves some more, though exactly who was taking advantage of who was definitely a matter of opinion.
Author:
birdsofshorePairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3600
Summary: Malfoy looked so vulnerable, lying there. But Harry would never dream of taking advantage of the situation.
Warnings: PWP, oblivious!Harry, light bondage, possible dub-con, light exhibitionism. It's all pretty light, really.
A/N: Damn and blast livejournal for only giving 2 days notice of a birthday! And damn myself for disorganisation. Please feel free to point out any mistakes contained within.
Divine, delightful
dicta_contrion, I want to wish you the happiest of birthdays. Please excuse this unbetaed and hurried thing. After you gave me the most perfect, 47k present last Christmas, I wanted to give you something beautiful, but *shakes fist at the universe* this will have to do. I remember you saying that you liked it when I went to the silly places and the dirty places. This certainly tries to go there. I hope it might hit a couple of sweet spots and avoid any squicks at the same time.*
It was Hogsmeade weekend, and, as usual, Harry had forgotten something.
“I've just got to run back to the dorm and get my gold,” he told Ron and Hermione.
“Honestly, Harry, there's always something, with you. We'll start walking and you catch us up, OK?” Hermione wrinkled her nose at him and set off after the other students walking across the grounds in small groups.
He took the stairs two at a time and half-ran into the eighth-year Gryffindor dorm, ready to grab the pouch containing his Galleons and make a sharp exit... when he skidded to a halt.
Draco Malfoy was stretched out on Harry's bed.
Draco Malfoy was stretched out on Harry's bed, naked.
Draco Malfoy was stretched out on Harry's bed, naked, his wrists and ankles tied with what looked like silken rope, black and glossy, and fastened to the four posts at each corner.
And – Harry swallowed – oh, god, Malfoy was hard. Draco Malfoy was tied up naked on Harry's bed, looking as if he was really enjoying the experience. Well. That was confusing, actually, because while Malfoy's cock looked bloody ecstatic – long and flushed a deep pink and straining up towards the ceiling – Malfoy himself looked as if he could take it or leave it.
“Well, this is sort of awkward,” Malfoy said.
“Gnnngg,” was all Harry's brain could come up with at short notice.
“What took you so long, Potter? I've been waiting here for at least ten minutes.”
“Wha—? Uh? Gnnngg.” Harry's tongue felt thick and floppy and apparently didn't want to do anything sensible at all.
“It's not the most pleasant place to be tied up, I can tell you. Are those Weasley's socks lying under the bed there? Because they smell like Hippogriff dung.”
It was like something from a dream, except Harry had definitely never dreamed anything like this about Malfoy. Never. Pale skin. All over him. Long legs. Yards and yards of them. Dustings of golden hair, sprinkled lightly here and there and then curled tightly at the base of Malfoy's―
“Wha‒? How‒? I‒? Malfoy,” Harry finally managed to force out indistinctly. “What the hell are you doing on my bed?”
“Ah, that would be the awkward part. It appears my housemates thought that it would be a hilarious jape to do this to me.”
“Oh, my god.” Harry's brain seemed to be bereft of oxygen to help it function, but comprehension finally dawned. Malfoy was the victim of a rather cruel practical joke! And there for a minute Harry had been thinking‒ never mind what he'd been thinking. “Let me untie you.”
Malfoy sighed. A polite, but heartfelt sigh. “Well, that's the thing, Potter. They used some kind of Dark magic, I think. It would be dangerous to tamper with the bonds.”
“What?” Harry was feeling truly indignant on Malfoy's behalf, now. “We can't just leave you like this forever! Who was it? I'll go and find them, and―”
“No, no, nonononono.” Draco shook his head, sending blond hair flopping forward onto his forehead. “That would be awfully embarrassing for me. Everyone would be sure to hear about it. No, we'll just have to wait it out.”
“But‒ how long—?”
“I think they said an hour or so. I've already been here quite a while, so perhaps it won't be that long.”
Harry's mouth and brain were still only partially connected. “You're just going to lie here? On my bed? Like‒ that.” He gestured towards Malfoy's cock, which gave a distinct twitch. “And wait for it to wear off.”
Malfoy sighed again. “I can't think of any alternative. Can you?”
Harry swallowed hard. “Me? No. Not at all. I can't think of‒ any alternative. To that. No.”
Malfoy stretched a little, flexing his arms and making the muscles of his stomach ripple gently. “I'm really awfully cross with them.”
Harry's brain reminded his eyes that staring at Malfoy was not a kind thing to do at this point in time. Malfoy couldn't help the fact that he was stripped and bound. And really bloody fit, if Harry was being honest. But Harry's eyes took a while to get the message, particularly as Malfoy's prick chose that moment to leak a little pre-come onto his flat, smooth stomach.
“Well. I'll just. Leave you to it, I guess,” Harry managed to say, and even persuaded his feet to turn around and face the door, but Malfoy made a noise as though Harry had mortally offended him.
“Oh, Potter.”
“What?”
“You're just going to abandon me here like this?”
“Well, you said yourself, the only thing to do was to wait―”
“Yes, but surely you'll keep me company?”
Malfoy sounded as if he was pouting. Harry turned around again. He was pouting.
“I mean. It's rather dull. You could entertain me somehow.”
“Entertain you?”
“Talk to me. I waited ages for you to come, and now you're going to leave me alone, like this...”
Harry gave a quick glance at Malfoy's cock. Yes. Still hard. Why on earth... was Malfoy some kind of exhibitionist? He looked quickly away before Malfoy could see him looking, but it was like the elephant in the room. Not that Malfoy was that big. But he wasn't exactly small, either.
“It's Hogsmeade weekend. Ron and Hermione are waiting for me,” said Harry, wishing immediately that it didn't sound so lame.
Malfoy's mouth flickered in disappointment. “Oh.”
Harry scuffed his shoe on the floor. “I mean―”
“No. No, I completely understand. You run along and have a fabulous time with your friends, Potter. Everyone else is probably already there, enjoying themselves, after all. I'll be fine, left all on my own in the Castle, with nothing to think about but my own humiliation and shame...”
Harry really was not looking, but he couldn't help noticing when Malfoy's cock twitched like that. There was something completely mesmerising about it.
“And who knows, perhaps I'll even get free in time before everyone comes back and runs in here to laugh at me...”
“I won't let them do that,” Harry said firmly
“No, don't trouble yourself, really. You just trot off to Hogsmeade. I'll be fine.”
Harry sighed and sank down on Neville's bed. “I'm staying. OK? I'll wait here and make sure no-one else comes in. I can catch up with them as soon as the spell wears off.”
Malfoy looked relieved. “Oh, well, if you insist...”
“I've got some homework to do, though.” He rummaged around in his trunk and drew out a roll of parchment. “That essay for Slughorn on Asphodel root. Due on Monday. Seven inches.”
“It's eight inches, actually,” Malfoy corrected him. “Eight and a half, on a good day... " He looked down at himself. "Seems like today might be a good day."
Harry promptly choked on the air in his lungs.
"Oh.” Malfoy laughed. “You meant the homework. So sorry.” But he didn't look sorry. Not at all. In fact, he gave a smug little wriggle, and Harry was not looking, and he definitely wasn't blushing, either, and Malfoy could smirk all he liked, because he, Harry, was getting on with his homework and pretending that none of this was happening.
The properties and uses of Asphodel, wrote Harry, and underlined it carefully. Twice. The properties of Asphodel include....
He stared out of the window, pointedly not looking at Malfoy. Not at his smooth skin, not at the nubs of his small pink nipples, not at the intriguing jut of his hipbones. The thing was, it was very hard to settle down and concentrate on homework when you knew for a fact that everyone else was having a great time at Hogsmeade. That was all it was. The properties of Asphodel include.... It would come to him in a minute.
Malfoy cleared his throat.
Perhaps he would leave that bit. The uses of Asphodel include... something to do with Spattergroit, Harry was sure of it. Or was that Ashwinder eggs? Bugger, he needed to go to the library for this. Why couldn't Malfoy have got tied up on someone else's bloody bed, instead of lying there all long and pale and with a massive, distracting erection...
Malfoy cleared his throat again. “I'm sorry to ask,” he said. “Do you think I might possibly have some water?”
Harry frowned and thought about ignoring him. If only Malfoy would keep quiet, he could probably make it through the hour without―
“I don't want to bother you, but my throat feels quite dry and peculiar.”
He did sound husky. Harry got up with a sigh and fetched a drinking cup from the windowsill, then directed an Aguamenti charm into it and walked over to his bed.
He considered for a minute how best to do this. Malfoy was flat on the bed and it was going to be tricky for him to drink without spilling it everywhere. “Lift your head,” he told Malfoy. Malfoy lifting his head made all the muscles of his stomach tighten. He looked up at Harry expectantly, breathing quite hard considering he was lying down doing absolutely nothing.
Harry leaned over and held the glass to Malfoy's lips. It was hard to hold it steady. It was a weird situation to be in, that was all. Water tipped gently into Malfoy's mouth. A little bit... a little bit more, and then he began to swallow. Harry stared at his Adam's apple working slowly up and down in a fascinating rhythm. Malfoy was concentrating on the glass, but then his eyes met Harry's and a little trickle of water slid from the side of his mouth and, oh‒ fuck— Harry's hand trembled and then the water was pouring over Malfoy's chin and down onto his neck and chest. Shit.
Malfoy spluttered and cursed and Harry jumped up and grabbed the nearest thing he could find. It was an old t-shirt of his – thankfully a clean one – and he dabbed at Malfoy's face and chest, trying to get all the water off. Malfoy just lay still and let Harry do it. It gave Harry a strange feeling, somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He realised that Malfoy was actually dry and that he was now just patting at him weirdly with a t-shirt that said “Seekers do it sitting down”.
Malfoy was looking at Harry with an odd expression. If Harry didn't know better, he would have said it was a sort of secretive smile. Harry straightened up and tossed the t-shirt with his other dirty clothes, and then suddenly thought of what he should have thought of right at the beginning. If he hadn't have been so distracted by the whole naked, tied-up, big hard cock thing.
“Shall I get you a blanket or something?”
Malfoy looked insulted.
“I mean, I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner. I just... forgot. But I have lots of blankets, here, let me―”
“Thank you. But it's ever so warm in here.”
It was. Malfoy wasn't making it up. Harry could feel sweat gathering under his arms and trickling down his back. But, for god's sake.
“You mean you'd rather just lie there like that until the spell wears off?”
Malfoy nodded.
“Well, bloody hell, Malfoy. I mean, you're not making this easy on anybody. I understand that you can't help being tied up there like this, but, seriously, you don't have to lie there, stark fucking naked like that, with... “Harry gestured. Was Malfoy going to have a stiffy for the entire hour? “With that.”
Malfoy sighed a deep sigh. “I'm sorry, Potter. Please believe me when I assure you that this is no fun for either of us. My housemates evidently have a rather twisted sense of humour, and they decided it would be amusing to cast a certain spell on me before leaving me for you to find.”
“They‒ what?”
Malfoy couldn't point, but he let his eyes slide eloquently down his own body until they reached the prominence of his erection. “It wasn't a spell I'm familiar with.”
“They cast a spell on your... no!”
”Yes. As I say, it's not one I recognised. To be frank, Potter, I've never had need of any extra help.” He gave a satisfied smile.
“Merlin. Does it‒ I mean, do you feel OK?”
“Do I look as if I'm OK?”
Harry looked. Malfoy looked more than OK. He looked pretty wonderful, actually. There was a delicious flush across his chest and from this close, Harry imagined that he could smell the warm, fresh scent of his skin. Malfoy looked extremely touchable. Lickable, even. But that wasn't the question. What was the question, again?
Malfoy looked at him mournfully. “It's incredibly uncomfortable.”
“I‒ uh. What can I do? I mean... Oh, god. I didn't mean—”
Malfoy gave another little wriggle, his body tensing into tortured lines. “No, of course not. I couldn't possibly expect you to... but... these ties are not helping. I think my wrists have gone numb, Potter. I don't suppose you could... just... rub them for me? Just for a moment or two?”
Harry gulped and a little sound escaped from his throat. “You want me to...”
“Just rub them gently, Potter.” Malfoy's cheeks were unusually pink. “Please?”
Harry took a deep breath and sat down on the bed next to Malfoy. There was no big deal about touching someone's wrists. No big deal at all. Even if they were lying next to you, so close that you could see the freckles dappling their shoulders with the palest gold. So that you could see the sweat beading at their temples, so that you could see a shiver pass through their body as you leant over and awkwardly placed your fingertips on the delicate skin of their wrists. Merlin, the ties were leaving marks. Bruises, even.
Harry tried to work his fingers under the knots, to allow some circulation, but they were drawn tight and after what Malfoy had said about Dark magic he didn't dare tamper with them any further. Who knew what fiendish spells Slytherins were familiar with. Instead, he did his best to rub around the taut bonds in the hopes it would relieve Malfoy's discomfort a little. In response, Malfoy shifted on the bed and made small sounds of pleasure. Harry felt a stirring confidence warming him, and stroked more firmly across Malfoy's skinny wrists. He could feel the knobs of bone shifting beneath his fingers, see the milky-blue tracery of veins beneath the translucent skin.
Malfoy's breath was uneven and his narrow chest rose and fell as Harry stroked along his palm, towards his fingers. His hands were softer than Harry's, the skin surprisingly frictionless and then giving way to scratchy callouses on the pads of his palm, no doubt from all the Quidditch Malfoy played.
“Mmm. Yes. Just like that. Yes. Do the other one.” Harry's fingers stuttered over Malfoy's skin at the sound of his encouragement. He moved to the other wrist, leaning across Malfoy's body to reach. Malfoy's eyes blinked open and he lay gazing up at Harry, much too close to him, with a hungry expression that made Harry's insides lurch in a most unexpected way. His fingers ran along Malfoy's forearm to the elbow and almost carried on to Malfoy's taut, defiant bicep before he stopped himself. He was meant to be making Malfoy feel more comfortable, not feeling him up. Malfoy arched his body, pushing his cock upwards into the air and tipping his head back. Oh, god. It was still the same snarky Malfoy, but somehow he looked so vulnerable, just lying there. As if Harry could do anything to him. Anything he wanted. Harry's grip on his wrist tightened convulsively for a moment and Malfoy's eyes opened wide in surprise.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered. Malfoy was too close, far too close. Harry could just lean down, just let his chest press against Malfoy's, feel the heat of his skin and let the tattoo of Malfoy's heart beat against his own. He could even lay his lips over Malfoy's pink and rather lush-looking mouth and let his tongue nudge inside, taste him and feel his breath coming hot into Harry's mouth. He wanted to do it. But, god, surely it would be so wrong to take advantage of Malfoy like this?
Malfoy's pupils were flooding his eyes. “My ankles, Potter. Would you?”
Harry felt he would probably do anything that Malfoy asked, if he would only keep looking at Harry like that. He shuffled down the bed until he was seated near Malfoy's feet. Malfoy was watching him, a smirk pulling at his lips. Merlin, Malfoy's prick looked full. Like it must ache. From this angle Harry could see his balls, the heaviness of them, high and swollen, and he felt a sharp twist of desire stabbing at him in sympathy. Malfoy must have been hard for thirty minutes or more now. And not so much as a whisper of a touch on his poor neglected cock.
Harry wrapped both hands around Malfoy's right ankle and tried to smooth away some of the tension he felt there. Again the bonds were biting into his skin, but Harry could see pleasure drifting across Malfoy's face as he worked his fingers around the knots and tried to learn all the contours of Malfoy's bones and muscles. The hair there was fine and lay flat against Malfoy's skin. Harry dug his fingers in where the swell of Malfoy's calf began and Malfoy actually whimpered.
“Damn, Potter, that feels good. Your hands....” He trailed off as Harry let his fingers drift higher up, to the muscled tightness below his knees. He strained luxuriously against the silk ropes and then fixed Harry with a challenging look “Higher,” he whispered.
Harry's breath caught scratchily in his throat and his hands stroked the supple, soft skin at the back of Malfoy's knees.
“Higher,” whispered Malfoy, his voice low and persuasive.
Malfoy's inner thighs were silky and blazing with heat. Harry's fingers shook as he let his fingers skate along them, his eyes flicking over Malfoy's face, from his eyes to his mouth, and back again.
Malfoy wet his lips. Harry watched, transfixed, as Malfoy's mouth formed the word.
“Higher.” He barely breathed it.
Was Harry really going to do this?
“Yes,” Malfoy urged, his cock jerking higher still.
A desperate need was thrumming at Harry's temples. He felt the ache in Malfoy's cock as if it were his own. He reached for it, the whole divine, mouth-watering length of it, and as he wrapped his hand around it, thick and perfect, Malfoy let out a sound of such rapturous gratitude that Harry thought he might come just from hearing it.
Then Malfoy thrust into Harry's hand, hot and demanding and slightly damp, and Harry's thoughts shut down completely. There was only the sensual, sticky slide of Malfoy's cock against his palm, the pounding of Harry's own blood around his veins, the sound of breathing peppered with rather imperious encouragements, and the terrifyingly erotic sight of Draco Malfoy, trussed up on Harry's bed and apparently loving every fucking minute of it.
It was over far before Harry wanted it to be. Malfoy tensed every muscle in his body and then came with a flooding release all over Harry's fist. Harry watched in a daze as it dripped down his palm and onto his wrist, splashes falling onto Malfoy's chest and stomach and even the hair of his exposed underarm. Malfoy writhed, tangling curses together with the most amazing incoherent sounds that had Harry's own cock leaping in his pants.
“Ah...ah... ahhh... fuck, oh fuck,” Malfoy finished, his chest heaving, while Harry thought that he had never seen anything so incredible as Malfoy, sweaty, panting, and covered with come. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to rip open his flies and wank himself off right there and then over Malfoy's sticky, bound body.
Malfoy lengthened his body in a delicious stretch and smiled like the house-elf who got the sock. “Well, Potter, what do you know. I think the spell wore off and we can loosen these now.”
“How can you tell?”
He shrugged. “Just feels different. Pass my wand and we'll undo me and then...” He gave Harry a sly look which warmed him right to his toes. “I can help you out a little. The wand's under the pillow.”
Harry reached under and found that Malfoy's slim length of hawthorn was indeed lying between the pillow and the mattress.
Malfoy gripped his wand in his bound hand and managed to get it pointing at the rope.
“I'll do it,” Harry offered. “That looks tricky when your hands are tied.”
“No, Potter, don't bother. Let me.” One of the knots began to unravel and Malfoy squinted in concentration. “You'd never manage to undo these knots, they took me bloody ages to get them fastened this tight....”
Malfoy did at least have the grace to look slightly embarrassed as he realised what he had said. “Ah,” he said quietly. “Oops.” But any real remorse was overpowered by his general air of smugness and post-coital satisfaction.
Harry found that this was somehow not the shocking surprise that it should have been. When it came down to it, who else but Draco bloody Malfoy would have the sheer guile, the devious and breathtaking cheek to tie someone naked to another student's bed and leave them there?
Nonetheless, he put his lips close to Malfoy's ear and growled. “You planned this entire thing to trick me.”
Malfoy nodded modestly. “Yes.”
“You made me think that you were suffering. That you were helpless.”
Malfoy nodded again.
“There was no spell – you just had a hard on for the thought of me coming in and finding you here.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I should leave you tied up right here,” Harry hissed.
Malfoy looked distinctly interested in this possibility. “Perhaps you should,” he breathed.
“This is not funny, Malfoy. I could get pretty fucking annoyed with you.”
Malfoy nodded vigorously. “No-one could blame you. You could take advantage of me first. Really teach me a lesson, and then leave me here for everyone to find. As an example not to mess with you.” His eyes were shining.
Harry gave up. You couldn't outwit a Slytherin. The bastards always got what they wanted in the end. Still, it wasn't all bad, Harry thought, as Malfoy whispered further filthy suggestions in his ear. They still had a couple of hours before the others got back from Hogsmeade. Plenty of time for the two of them to enjoy themselves some more, though exactly who was taking advantage of who was definitely a matter of opinion.
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Date: 2015-04-19 03:29 pm (UTC)Hahaha!!! Omg, I love this! Manipulative!Malfoy was brilliant! Every word out of his mouth was hilarious. Loved the 'higher, higher, higher' and just how Draco worked poor, oblivious Harry the whole time. :-D They were both so delicious in this -- Harry's 7 inch homework and Draco's 8 1/2. ;-) And come in the armpit, ftw, Birds. \o/
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Date: 2015-04-19 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-04-19 04:55 pm (UTC)I love that Draco's got 8 1/2 "on a good day". God, that slayed me! :-D
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Date: 2015-04-19 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-04-19 07:52 pm (UTC)