inspired by durendal's Tickle Me Pink, and *not* Daniel's stage pics
fyi, begun before reading Silvia's And Now For Something Completely Different
Because the holidays are all about corrupting childhood memories, old and new. Because this is how we do it in yaoiland. Because you can never have enough pointless, non-consensual sex. Er, yeah. This starts slow as PWPs go, sorry; I went for completeness over pacing. Ah well. Same result either way. ^_^
On the Eighth Day of Yuletide
by LD
Draco Malfoy had been planning for a horrible, no-good, awful Yule. Father had owled in mid-November: he was staying at Hogwarts for winter hols. All the better to keep his only son clean of petty politics, i.e. the sodding Ministry and Dumbledore's lap dogs. So Draco, meticulous boy that he was, wrote up a schedule of avoiding Potter and his pathetic ruffians, playing Wizard's Chess against himself, writing next year's gift list, making the House Elves polish his boots till they imploded into confetti, and figuring a way to eavesdrop through fireplaces. Alone.
Not even a Yule Ball to strut through. He was beside himself with grief. Inconsolable. Even when Zabini dropped a Fire Crab down the Hufflepuff Keeper's trousers. It was all he could do to even research Indelible Ink to see if Weasley's handprints would appear on Granger's arse.
Right now, standing in the locked and warded dungeon, palms sweaty with anticipation, Draco mentally chucked those plans out the Astronomy Tower window.
"Bloody brilliant," he breathed. A good thing too, since he'd nearly stopped. Breathing, that is. He wiped a line of drool from his immaculate lips.
"Do you like it, darling?" Pansy Parkinson gushed. Her normally fake smile was gleaming like a knife.
Millicent Bulstrode had just moments before yanked an unseen something from the air in front of her. The Invisibility Cloak now hung from her meaty arm. "Just for you, Draco."
Draco kissed Pansy on the cheek. He tipped his hat to Millicent. "Darlings. It's perfect." His tongue flicked over his incisors with pure glee. "Just what I never knew I wanted."
Millicent had not only planned the capture, she'd planned the gift wrapping. Pansy had done the transfiguration work... and how. Spit polished, strappy Mary Janes. Lamb-white silk stockings -- sweet Merlin, silk! -- adhering to every muscle's curve, even softening those ridiculous knobby knees. A shimmering mint green skirt, flounced just enough to suggest hips below that narrow waist, and so short that the slightest tremble revealed a tantalizing edge of Maltese lace.
But the bodice! Draco swallowed hard. It hadn't needed much padding. The neckline plunged almost to the nipples and magically squeezed the toned pectorals into the barest suggestion of cleavage, and he was going to faint. He was. He fingered the girlish square collar which concealed masculine shoulders; the arms were wrenched back by spelled restraints. Draco beamed at his harpies.
"How is it that I'm not going to get caught, again?" As delectable as this scandalous confection was, it was also excellent blackmail material.
Pansy snorted. "The anklebiters have locked themselves in the Prefects' Bathroom. They won't be out by midnight. At least."
"And all you have to do," pronounced Millicent, "is something too embarrassing to tell."
At which point Harry Potter's emerald eyes widened and his pouty little mouth parted to scream.
"Silencing Charm," said Pansy casually.
Potter was turning red. Seasonal, almost.
Draco's eyes glittered. "I see," he said, as he lip-read some rather inspired invective. He hustled the girls towards the door. "I'm owling my father first thing tomorrow. Both of you are getting an extra New Year's gift." To buy your silence, you magnificent witches, but he refrained from voicing that. There were virgins present.
Potter started struggling as soon as Millicent let go. Too bad the magical chains were attached to the floor. This made the valiant struggle seem more like an enticing squirm.
"Will it be gorgeous, Draco?"
"Will it be expensive?"
Will you shut up and leave!, thought Draco.
"Of course, Pansy dear, Milly darling." He bowed over their hands. Oh yes, gifts upon gifts, and a place near the head of the Slytherin table. This wasn't just a favor; it was practically a wizard's life debt...
"Don't rip the wrapping on this one. It's his school robes," said Pansy. "Probably has just the one."
Millicent shut the door. "His glasses and stuff's in our bathroom. Last week's password, if you want anything undone." She grinned, and it was not a nice grin. It was an expression only upper Ravenclaws and Slytherins knew to have. It made Draco want to live up to its guile. "Have fun with your bird, Draco."
Alone at last! Door locked, warded, and hexed. Draco spun around to the sight of Potter, knock-kneed and wriggling and trying not to topple over.
Malfoy, you'll be in so much trouble.
Draco could read lips. Even lips puckered pink and glossy, on a thin face showing more cheekbone than usual because Potter's hair had been lengthened to his earlobes and tied back in a huge silver bow. He ran a finger across Potter's ... chest, and was rewarded with an indignant flash of teeth.
Fuck, he could smell the baby powder. It was making him lightheaded.
"I'm not the one in trouble, Potter." Yes, they'd even lined his eyelids -- just enough to bring out the glassy rage in those huge green irises. Without the glasses, he looked like a fucking doll. Draco wondered if they'd body-bound him or if Milly had held him down.
He'd have to ask. The girls must have had fun playing with his toy. He thought of two pairs of hands stipping, poking, primping the body in front of him. Too bad Potter had been unconscious. Even if Milly had only held him down, Draco imagined Pottyboy had passed out-- this was Millicent, after all.
Okay, you've had your fun. Let me go already.
Hah. Potter was going to pass out again. He'd make certain.
First he needed a plan. Despite the persistent hardness in his trousers, Draco began to circle. This made Potter very, very nervous. He kept trying to follow Draco without looking obvious, but the huge bow on his head bobbed with the slightest movement. Eyes alight, Draco shed his robe and watched Potter's adam's apple quiver.
It was probably the only fault in the illusion. Potter was built like a girl! Not that it surprised Draco. Potter was known to inhale food whenever he got the chance (traces of Chocolate Frogs on the corner of his mouth when he stared like a stupified cow in Potions) but he'd always be matchstick thin.
Draco wanted to break him in half. Seeker's build, his arse. With the Cushioning Charms and the Steering Charms, Seekers didn't need to train. If they were small, their bodies tended towards slenderness... with one exception. A good Seeker could jerk his broom into a steep new trajectory, hands free, with just a swivel of his hips. 'Seeker build' meant a backside you could balance butterbeers on.
Potter certainly had that going for him. Draco blew on his neck just to see that tight little bum flex under the skirt. From behind, he could see Potter's eyelashes sweep down, warring with himself not to look at or react to Draco. Pansy's advice returned to him, as tempting as it was to debauch first and mortify later.
"Scared, Harry?" Draco sneered as Potter shot him a glare for using his given name. "You make a very pretty girl." Now Potter had forgotten to be righteously outraged, and just looked shocked. Draco was delighted. His present liked to be complimented. "Oh yes. I could just--" and here he grabbed under the skirt and snapped a garter. Potter yelped (or tried to.)
"--eat you up." Draco laughed. "What are you pouting for, Miss? You think I was joking, before?" He leaned in, squeezing Potter's arse through the lacey slip. Potter strained at the leash, trying to pull away from Draco's mouth at his perfume-dabbed earlobe. "The most exquisite Yuletide present I've ever gotten. And I can get anything." Draco wrapped his finger in the silky material and slipped under the garter to soothe the abused skin.
Potter was sweating. His eyes were wild *, as though Draco was sticking his hands up a girl's skirt. In a church.
Well, in a way he was. Harry Potter, holy grail of the wizarding world, trussed up and decked out with Draco Malfoy's hands up his knickers...
All right, that was a squeak. It had to be. Draco was suddenly incontinent with rage that anyone, including the harpies, had touched Potter. He leaned in and yanked at the layers of underthings, feeling Potter jerk and twist, the Mary Janes clicking under his lace-tangled ankles, and shite, how many had they put on? Suddenly Draco's sensitive fingers got the bottom of things. As it were.
He froze. "Oh my god." Potter craned back, looking alarmed. Draco was too stunned to mock him. He rushed around to Potter's front and lifted the skirt high -- Hey! -- and fell to his knees.
"Satin panties," Draco whimpered. He couldn't stand it anymore. In one swift motion, he hitched up the skirt, grabbed Potter's bony hips and mouthed his balls through the cloth.
No wonder Potter was squirming! He was positively trapped under the material, hot and firm and very much a boy under the layers of girl. Potter smelled faintly of broom polish and pine, and some earthy scent which was both exotic and revoltingly common. Draco let the soft frock cover him, inwardly leering at Potter's view from above. He didn't need to hear Potter moan. Draco felt the plosive start from Potter's ribcage, and he was making a lot of them.
Just when he thought it couldn't get any better, Draco felt Potter go limp and his knees come apart. The wanker's coming around! He couldn't believe it had taken so little to squash Potter's fight. He made a mental note to blow Potter before Slytherin-Gryffindor matches.
In the spirit of generosity, Draco carefully extracted Potter's bits from the panties. "Pansy, you beautiful bitch. You shaved him." And since it was right there, and figuratively wrapped in a bow, Draco moved on to Potter's cock.
They would have fallen over if not for the binds. Even then Draco had to hold Potter upright. Draco buried himself in the task. He couldn't stop to think about Harry Potter turning to mush around him and inside him, for an overwhelming sense of triumph was shooting from fingertips to groin. Draco assured himself it had nothing to do with the tiny voice in his head chortling 'I win! I win!'
However, for the first time that night, Draco's fun was rudely interrupted.
Later Draco would be hard pressed to say if Potter had just been jerking wildly, or had actually aimed to knee him in the face. Either way, he nearly bit down on what he was sucking on, and it wasn't a Screaming Pixie Pop.
"Fucking damn it!" Draco glared up at Potter, who was panting and shaking. Then the Gryffindor seemed to find his focus. He had the nerve to pin Draco with a defiant smirk-- looking nothing like a petulant girl and more like a smug teenaged boy.
With a snarl, Draco shoved Potter hard. The binding caught him, and though the boy grimaced, it probably broke his fall. Even then he hit the floor with a satisfying thump. Draco muttered the old password, redid the restraints, and turned Potter on his stomach. The panties twisted Potter's ankles together; he was still stunned when Draco yanked his hips up.
"You've been a bad girl," Draco announced. And he had the pleasure of seeing Potter's eyes pop when he slapped his exposed arse.
Reddened skin goosebumped beneath Draco's hand. He spanked him again. Potter wriggled like a fish but Draco propped him on his knee and held him still. Draco noticed he was moaning, throat moving and mouth open in a sensuous O. He tutted. "Even bad girls take their punishment quietly."
That shut Potter's trap. Draco found himself glad of the mutiny, if this writhing mass of flesh and fabric was the result. Every hit made Potter's shoulders jolt. He was wringing his bound hands, tense and ungraceful, yet sprawled open like a Knockturn whore. And maybe, just maybe, Potter was trying not to cry! Draco made his next one sting. He would remember tonight for the rest of his life.
At last the night's activities were getting too uncomfortable, particularly between Draco's thighs. He grinned -- Potter was having the same problem. Staring at Potter's moist, parted lips, Draco took a chance and cut all the bindings. Before Potter could recover from the sudden clemency, Draco tackled him.
He dug through the layers of cloth... and gripped. "Be a good girl or I'll make you one." With that, he latched on to that bitten lower lip and oh it was flavored with watermelon and Potter's fear. The color went out of that gaunt face, likely pooling between Draco's fingers, and Potter looked all the more feminine for it: porcelain skin and wet eyes and rounded angles. It made Draco want to kiss him more.
"Marvelous, yes, you're a lovely bird. Feel so good, didn't know, didn't think you'd have a body like this under all. Pretty, pretty girl," murmured Draco between biting kisses. He ground against Harry, and to save his back from friction burn, Harry threw his arms around Draco.
No sooner had he declared this, when a second untimely interruption occurred.
"--homora!"
The door burst open.
Draco looked up in shock. He'd put five wards on that door! There should have been shreds of Weasley all over the floor! And why was the impoverished git not licking Granger's boots? Couldn't he see he was occupied?
Said Ron Weasley gurgled unhelpfully.
It occurred to Draco that if this were a normal day, there would be inelegant Malfoy pieces all over the floor by now. This gave him the first word. "Do you mind! I locked and warded the door for a reason!"
Ron remembered to bristle. "I've got special training, you slug-sucking troll!"
Oh. Draco had forgotten. Potter and his pets had been taking some advanced defense classes on the sly. Which meant everyone in the castle knew about it. Speaking of Potter--
--he was cowering against Draco's neck. Famous forehead hidden against Draco's skin, and clinging with abject shame and what Draco assumed was fear of discovery. All Weasley would see was a brunette in a holiday frock, chest to chest with Draco.
Fuck, that made his cock twitch.
Draco reviewed his options. Then he pulled the dark head closer, further obscuring his features, and fixed a not-altogether-feigned glare at Weasley. "Then you can use your bloody special training to lock up on your way out! Are you blind? We're busy!"
Ron turned red. Still gaping, of course. Draco wondered if he'd collect himself enough to ask where Harry was. He hoped not. He'd start laughing for certain.
As it was, his concentration nearly shattered when he felt a wet, ticklish sensation around the top of his collarbone. What the devil...! He managed to keep up the glare on as Ron stammered and backed out.
And all snarky comments died on his lips when he realized what Harry was doing. Hot licks trailed over his neck until sharp teeth bit into the base of his neck. Draco groaned. When had his trousers come undone...?
"Damn you. You're not... not getting off that easy..." Legs and lace up, ripping satin, appropriate spells, ravaging Harry's mouth, and not enough time to decipher the sudden burning in green eyes before pushing through abused skin inside.
He was pleased by the shuddering gasp against his cheek as much as the tight, welcoming heat that was so good it was painful. "Ah hell," said Draco. He thrust-- and swallowed a surprised cry when silk-covered legs clamped around his waist. Harry grabbed his hair, claiming Draco's mouth.
Harry was speeding up.
In the midst of the fever dream of fucking Harry Potter, Draco became aware of the more familiar, sinking feeling of catching Harry Potter. Draco tugged and tore at whatever he could reach, the sharp heels of the Mary Janes digging into his flank. Straining, rocking, they battled for control. And as long as Harry had him surrounded and trapped, Draco was going to lose.
Enraged, Draco snapped, "Damn you, Potter. But you... you like this, don't you. Going to. Make you beg. You'll ask for this. I promise you. You'll spread for me. Whenever you want. And I'll fuck you. Whenever you want. Gonna screw your arse, Harry, and you'll want it from me."
Harry smiled at him. Smiled! He is pretty... Draco screamed at him, thrusting hard, and to his horror Potter was cumming, muscles clenching around him a second before his own vision whited out.
Happy Yule to me...
After an interminable moment, Draco felt himself rolled over. He lay back on the dungeon floor. He was half-naked and messy and felt like he'd splinched on two continents. He felt good. Better than good. Harry sure was a good screw. He had a nice arse, too.
Then, from somewhere above he saw Harry.
Redde vox.
"Oh bloody hell." Of course Harry's training would include advanced spells...
"Accio magis eyeglasses." Another infuriating grin. "I want to see this."
Draco tried to get up, but in the wake of that tremendous orgasm, he could barely form words. Harry pinned Draco with a manicured hand. Draco paled when he summoned his wand. A dark Gryffindor cloak appeared over the torn frock. "So tell me, Malfoy--"
And Harry transfigured the oversized bow into a floating sphere. Correction. Restored it to a floating sphere, which Draco recognized as a Hearall.
A shrill and desperate voice filled the small room. "I'll fuck you. Whenever you want. Gonna screw your arse, Harry, and you'll want it from me. Oh... oh god so fucking pretty give it to me. More, just like that, damn you. Uhhnn god! Give it...!"
Draco gasped. He swiped at the Hearall, but Harry spelled it away. "Tell me, does your father know you're gay?"
He stared at him, slack-jawed.
"I see." Harry thumbed a patch of skin which Draco suspected was bruised. "Secret for a secret, Malfoy. Guess which House I was nearly Sorted into?"
~60K of graphics :: Koani by
Alice in Wonderland :: Scorpion by Ushikai Background and buttons by Triple Orbit Graphics ~ Sadly it's no longer at its former website.
