fic: look at my life, look at my choices, Draco/Antonin, nc-17
Er, yet more fic I can't believe I wrote, this time as a pinch hit for daisychain_drab. Because what better way to procrastinate on super important school stuff than a random bit of Azkaban smut, right? /o\
title: look at my life, look at my choices
pairing: Draco/Antonin Dolohov
rating: NC-17
contains depictions of or references to: Azkaban smut, implied past consent issues with other partners, rimming, riding/bottoming from the top, age disparity (18+/older), public sex, sexual service, gay sex, het sex, rough sex, and Daddy kink.
notes: Post-war Azkaban here owes an awful lot to Emerald City of HBO's Oz. Arguably, there's a bit of early Beecher/Keller to this pairing, but it's the bit where things are going well for them despite where they are. Much gratitude to kinky_kneazle for the rapid beta action. All mistakes are mine.
Antonin’s always enjoyed a good cock-sucking and lucky for him, his newest cellmate’s rather good at it. One of his “special skills”, he says at first, and Antonin can’t be arsed to ask where he’s picked it up. Doesn’t matter, really; they aren’t either of them getting out of here anytime soon and whatever life’s been left outside, it’s well beyond both of them.
Where his new cellmate excels, though, is in the art of arse-licking. Until his newest cellmate moved in a few weeks back, Antonin had always considered that a bit odd, a thing to make a man do to really humble him but not quite a thing to be gotten off from.
In the days and nights since his bit of Malfoy joined his cell, though, Antonin has learned a whole new appreciation for it. Now there's nothing quite like laying back in his bunk and spreading his legs, watching those delicate hands lift Antonin’s thighs to put them over his shoulders, watching that pale and pretty face disappear before that first soft, wet swipe between his arsecheeks.
His bit of Malfoy’s never shy about it, either, not after that first time, and his enthusiasm is appreciated. Nothing quite like letting a reluctant man near his bits to understand that some things, even the cruelest vengeance can’t fix.
There’s none of that with Draco, who takes to cock so easily because it’s all he’s ever known. Poor bit was stuffed in here with the rest of them the moment he’d turned eighteen and Antonin remembers enough of the war to know he hadn’t been having it off with anyone during. Someone somewhere in Azkaban’s had his bit’s virginity; for all he knows, it’s Antonin, because his bit hadn’t lasted three weeks with whoever his last cellmate was before he’d been moved, quite probably for his own protection.
Antonin’s not a nice man, certainly, and he makes no bones about it, but he’s been here long enough to know he’s not the worst, either. Far from it, actually. And there are oh so many reasons the yobs in here would want to hurt a Malfoy, even if his bit’s not the one they mean.
He wonders sometimes if that’s why his bit’s so well-behaved, so blessedly obedient. Might well be. Mostly he thinks that doesn’t matter; his bit knows what Antonin expects of him and so far, there’s been no trouble on that score.
They get on much better than expected. Antonin thinks maybe that’s his bit being so enthusiastic about the sex. He’s not a cellblock slag-not yet, anyway-only just a whore for Antonin, and it’s been unexpectedly motivating to come back for lockdown.
His bit likes getting naked for him and playing the girl sometimes, arching up into Antonin’s touch and moaning when Antonin tweaks his little nipples, sighing sweetly when Antonin sucks one like a tit. Antonin’s not romantic about it or anything, because this isn’t a place for that, but there’s an easy comfort to having his bit naked for him, squirming and responding for him without ever pushing him for more, letting Antonin tease him mercilessly while they both leave his cock ignored.
Cruel, that, his bit sucking him off and swallowing, taking Antonin’s cock up his arse with only spit for slick and hitching his breath until he’s comfortable enough to want the shag, putting that elegant face between Antonin’s arsecheeks without so much as a stray hand over his bit’s prick, but Antonin doesn’t do that.
Never has, never will, not matter how well his bit treats him.
His bit slips over him one night after lights-out, when it’s too dark to really see, and Antonin would have shoved off every other cellmate he’s had but for this one, he finds his bit’s thighs in the dark and strokes up them, lets his fingers tighten as he feels his bit fit the tip of Antonin’s cock against his arsehole and ease himself down.
“Easy,” he says when his bit shivers. Antonin wants to rock his hips up, wedge his prick in until his balls are touching his bit’s arsecheeks, but if his bit tries to take too much, too fast, Antonin can’t fuck that arse like he means to until his bit’s seen a Healer.
“No, it’s fine,” his bit says shakily and he leans forward, rolls his hips to take Antonin in completely and lets out a ragged breath. There’s not much room over these top bunks but there’s even less room in the lower ones and his bit’s smallish and clever, he knows how to work around it when he wants.
That arse clenches tight around him, relaxes slowly.
Some nights, Antonin takes charge, pushes his bit’s head into his lap or bends the boy over, tugs his bit’s trousers down and lifts his prick out of his own. Some nights, Antonin doesn’t have to do that much; his bit just understands. Every now and again, though, it’s all the boy, Draco restless and impatient, desperate to be fucked, and when those nights come around, Antonin goes along with them.
Why shouldn’t he, when it means things like this?
He palms his bit’s thighs and slides his hands possessively over that arse as Draco rolls his hips again, fucking himself steady, his hands braced on the bedframe, pushing and pulling as it rocks. His bit breathes heavily against his cheek, moves relentlessly. Antonin creeps his hands up Draco’s sides, sweeping over him because Antonin cannot stop touching.
“Fuck,” his bit says, a tone far older than he ever looks breaking on a rough jerk of his hips. “Fuck, just fuck me already. Meet me halfway, yeah?”
Antonin means to tease his bit’s nipples, because that always goes over well, but something about the hard edge and desperation of it keeps his hand moving until he’s clutching the back of the boy’s neck, hauling him down for a kiss.
Antonin doesn’t kiss. Ever. Not in here, not when it’s nothing but mindless rutting in the dark. He doesn’t kiss and he doesn’t touch cock ever, not even his own if he’s got a cellmate to do it for him, and he’s been all right with fucking men all these years because he’s got those limits. Still, this is a position he remembers from his days on the outside, his girl riding him while her tits bounce, his cock disappearing into her where he can watch. Draco doesn’t have tits to cup or a clit right there to be played with but Antonin wants his mouth just now, wants the broken mangle of a kiss that comes with trying to negotiate new territory in the dark.
Draco makes it work, though, shifts and re-angles so they fit, and it’s a hard press with teeth and suction that feels like nothing so much as an invitation to play rough.
Antonin tends to see his cellmate as a tempting bit of tight arse and a clever mouth, so it’s disconcerting to realize the thing
rubbing against his belly is Draco’s cock, hard and thin and leaking. Antonin pushes up against it, pushes deeper into Draco’s arse, and it’s all experimental until Draco moans and tries to pull away.
Ordinarily, Antonin takes any sort of reminder that he’s shagging men unpleasantly; he’s not doing it by choice, he’s forced into it by circumstance. So ordinarily, by rights, Antonin should be glad his bit’s moving away. Antonin likes the kissing, though, and it’s been too long since he’s had someone this close like this, and when Draco pulls away, it’s instinct to pull him back.
“No, don’t, it’s all right,” Draco murmurs against Antonin’s mouth.
“Bit,” Antonin growls warningly, and then he’s going after that mouth again, sucking Draco’s lower lip between his teeth and spreading his hands out on Draco’s lower back to keep him right where he is.
Draco’s cock drags over him with every thrust, leaves wet smears over Antonin’s belly as it bumps. Antonin growls again when Draco rocks back too much and nearly pulls himself off Antonin again. This time, Antonin doesn’t just nibble the boy’s mouth, this time he bites. “Fuck me, you like that,” Draco murmurs, awed and so very quiet. “Why? Is it my arse again? You like that, you stretching my arse all loose with your big cock?”
Antonin does, very much so, and Draco knows it; Antonin growls again and tries to fuck Draco quiet so Antonin won’t have to explain that’s not what he meant.
“Me, too,” Draco says. “I love it. You’re so thick, it’s incredible. Feels like an accomplishment just getting it in sometimes.” Antonin rucks up brutally, just can’t help himself, and Draco swears and matches him, hips stuttering the way they do when Antonin hits that spot inside him that makes him mental. “Fuck, Daddy, do it. Come in me, I want to feel you come.”
His bit’s taken so easily to the word, so much better than his other cellmates did, and knowing Draco’s given him that sort of control, even now, is enough to propel Antonin to do the one thing he’s always sworn he wouldn’t.
“Touch yourself,” he says, low and rough. Draco pulls a hand away from the bedframe to pinch his own nipple as he rocks himself on Antonin’s cock. Antonin tugs his bit’s hips down and bats Draco’s hand away, ignoring Draco’s gasp. “Not these, boy. These are for Daddy. Touch yourself like I showed you.”
It’s a bit strange, being balls deep in someone and not being able to actually use the word, but Antonin thinks maybe if he hears himself say it, he’ll lose his nerve. His bit deserves better from him tonight.
Draco’s a clever boy; he figures it out. Shudders a breath as he repositions to give himself room to wrap a hand around the prick Antonin can’t see for the darkness. Antonin plays with his nipples, tugs at them and pinches lightly, rolls them between his fingers the way he knows his bit likes, and it’s not cupping a girl’s tits while she rides him but it’s still good.
Better, maybe, because this, at least, he can have.
He’s heard his bit rub one out before and he’s even allowed the boy to stroke himself off with Antonin inside him, but only ever where Antonin can’t see. No harm letting them both get off when Antonin’s got him bent over something, and when they’re in the showers with an audience, it helps stake Antonin’s claim to have the boy servicing them both.
Draco hums for him, sounds near-mindless with pleasure, calmer than he has all night. “You’re so good to me, Daddy. You’re so-” The wet slap of flesh on flesh speeds up and Draco cuts himself off, gives himself over to the sensations the way he tends to when he’s close. Antonin tugs sharp and pinches rough, tugs his bit forward by the nipples to steal another biting kiss, and when Draco comes, Antonin’s not far behind him.
There’s no room for both of them in the bunk unless they’re spooning, which Antonin enjoys because it’s the easiest access to his bit’s arse and, sometimes, a way to irritate the guards, because sex between inmates is something everybody pretends doesn’t happen and none of the guards in this block lately are willing to risk retribution over breaking it up unless it’s clear it’s been violent. There’s a certain delicious pleasure to smiling broadly at a guard while he’s got an arse on his cock, knowing they can’t or won’t do anything about it, but never more so than when it’s his sweet and pliant bit.
Draco used to scramble back down to his own bunk afterwards, like all the others, but he’d stopped when he’d realized Antonin didn’t mind him staying. It’s nice, actually, the reminder that Draco likes it. If he’s careful and quiet about it, if he’s meticulous in not getting come on the sheets, sometimes Antonin even lets him wank himself off in Antonin’s bed while they spoon. It’s his bit’s reward for being good and it’s not a given, it does definitely need to be earned, but if it means feeling the boy’s arse clench around his cock, Antonin’s been willing to make allowances.
This time, there’s come on both of them, over Antonin’s belly and on Draco’s hand, and it’s going to creep out of that arse the second Antonin pulls out. No need for spooning and honestly, Antonin’s too lazy to move. Instead, he tugs Draco down on top of him and off a bit to one side, tucks Draco’s head on his shoulder with one broad palm.
“And I’m staying?” Draco comments, mock disbelief. Antonin lifts a brow and grunts. “Seriously, so good to me, Daddy.”
“Sleep now,” Antonin grumbles, gruff and drowsy. Draco lays a hand on Antonin’s chest and squirms a little to settle himself comfortably.
A few moments later, as Antonin feels himself drifting off, he thinks he hears Draco murmur, “So good,” innocent and honest, and
Antonin can’t help the smile that crosses his face.
Out there with the rest of the prison population, he has to be large and in charge, a constant potential threat to keep them both safe, but sometimes it’s nice to have a moment or two like this, where all he has to do is be. He’s still not sure he’s ready to handle Draco’s prick himself and he’s not sure he’ll ever choose to be the one doing the arse licking, but he thinks something’s changed tonight.
If nothing else, he thinks they’ll need to try all this again when Antonin can watch, and the thought of his bit’s face as he handles his own prick follows Antonin into sleep.
~ f ~
title: look at my life, look at my choices
pairing: Draco/Antonin Dolohov
rating: NC-17
contains depictions of or references to: Azkaban smut, implied past consent issues with other partners, rimming, riding/bottoming from the top, age disparity (18+/older), public sex, sexual service, gay sex, het sex, rough sex, and Daddy kink.
notes: Post-war Azkaban here owes an awful lot to Emerald City of HBO's Oz. Arguably, there's a bit of early Beecher/Keller to this pairing, but it's the bit where things are going well for them despite where they are. Much gratitude to kinky_kneazle for the rapid beta action. All mistakes are mine.
Antonin’s always enjoyed a good cock-sucking and lucky for him, his newest cellmate’s rather good at it. One of his “special skills”, he says at first, and Antonin can’t be arsed to ask where he’s picked it up. Doesn’t matter, really; they aren’t either of them getting out of here anytime soon and whatever life’s been left outside, it’s well beyond both of them.
Where his new cellmate excels, though, is in the art of arse-licking. Until his newest cellmate moved in a few weeks back, Antonin had always considered that a bit odd, a thing to make a man do to really humble him but not quite a thing to be gotten off from.
In the days and nights since his bit of Malfoy joined his cell, though, Antonin has learned a whole new appreciation for it. Now there's nothing quite like laying back in his bunk and spreading his legs, watching those delicate hands lift Antonin’s thighs to put them over his shoulders, watching that pale and pretty face disappear before that first soft, wet swipe between his arsecheeks.
His bit of Malfoy’s never shy about it, either, not after that first time, and his enthusiasm is appreciated. Nothing quite like letting a reluctant man near his bits to understand that some things, even the cruelest vengeance can’t fix.
There’s none of that with Draco, who takes to cock so easily because it’s all he’s ever known. Poor bit was stuffed in here with the rest of them the moment he’d turned eighteen and Antonin remembers enough of the war to know he hadn’t been having it off with anyone during. Someone somewhere in Azkaban’s had his bit’s virginity; for all he knows, it’s Antonin, because his bit hadn’t lasted three weeks with whoever his last cellmate was before he’d been moved, quite probably for his own protection.
Antonin’s not a nice man, certainly, and he makes no bones about it, but he’s been here long enough to know he’s not the worst, either. Far from it, actually. And there are oh so many reasons the yobs in here would want to hurt a Malfoy, even if his bit’s not the one they mean.
He wonders sometimes if that’s why his bit’s so well-behaved, so blessedly obedient. Might well be. Mostly he thinks that doesn’t matter; his bit knows what Antonin expects of him and so far, there’s been no trouble on that score.
They get on much better than expected. Antonin thinks maybe that’s his bit being so enthusiastic about the sex. He’s not a cellblock slag-not yet, anyway-only just a whore for Antonin, and it’s been unexpectedly motivating to come back for lockdown.
His bit likes getting naked for him and playing the girl sometimes, arching up into Antonin’s touch and moaning when Antonin tweaks his little nipples, sighing sweetly when Antonin sucks one like a tit. Antonin’s not romantic about it or anything, because this isn’t a place for that, but there’s an easy comfort to having his bit naked for him, squirming and responding for him without ever pushing him for more, letting Antonin tease him mercilessly while they both leave his cock ignored.
Cruel, that, his bit sucking him off and swallowing, taking Antonin’s cock up his arse with only spit for slick and hitching his breath until he’s comfortable enough to want the shag, putting that elegant face between Antonin’s arsecheeks without so much as a stray hand over his bit’s prick, but Antonin doesn’t do that.
Never has, never will, not matter how well his bit treats him.
His bit slips over him one night after lights-out, when it’s too dark to really see, and Antonin would have shoved off every other cellmate he’s had but for this one, he finds his bit’s thighs in the dark and strokes up them, lets his fingers tighten as he feels his bit fit the tip of Antonin’s cock against his arsehole and ease himself down.
“Easy,” he says when his bit shivers. Antonin wants to rock his hips up, wedge his prick in until his balls are touching his bit’s arsecheeks, but if his bit tries to take too much, too fast, Antonin can’t fuck that arse like he means to until his bit’s seen a Healer.
“No, it’s fine,” his bit says shakily and he leans forward, rolls his hips to take Antonin in completely and lets out a ragged breath. There’s not much room over these top bunks but there’s even less room in the lower ones and his bit’s smallish and clever, he knows how to work around it when he wants.
That arse clenches tight around him, relaxes slowly.
Some nights, Antonin takes charge, pushes his bit’s head into his lap or bends the boy over, tugs his bit’s trousers down and lifts his prick out of his own. Some nights, Antonin doesn’t have to do that much; his bit just understands. Every now and again, though, it’s all the boy, Draco restless and impatient, desperate to be fucked, and when those nights come around, Antonin goes along with them.
Why shouldn’t he, when it means things like this?
He palms his bit’s thighs and slides his hands possessively over that arse as Draco rolls his hips again, fucking himself steady, his hands braced on the bedframe, pushing and pulling as it rocks. His bit breathes heavily against his cheek, moves relentlessly. Antonin creeps his hands up Draco’s sides, sweeping over him because Antonin cannot stop touching.
“Fuck,” his bit says, a tone far older than he ever looks breaking on a rough jerk of his hips. “Fuck, just fuck me already. Meet me halfway, yeah?”
Antonin means to tease his bit’s nipples, because that always goes over well, but something about the hard edge and desperation of it keeps his hand moving until he’s clutching the back of the boy’s neck, hauling him down for a kiss.
Antonin doesn’t kiss. Ever. Not in here, not when it’s nothing but mindless rutting in the dark. He doesn’t kiss and he doesn’t touch cock ever, not even his own if he’s got a cellmate to do it for him, and he’s been all right with fucking men all these years because he’s got those limits. Still, this is a position he remembers from his days on the outside, his girl riding him while her tits bounce, his cock disappearing into her where he can watch. Draco doesn’t have tits to cup or a clit right there to be played with but Antonin wants his mouth just now, wants the broken mangle of a kiss that comes with trying to negotiate new territory in the dark.
Draco makes it work, though, shifts and re-angles so they fit, and it’s a hard press with teeth and suction that feels like nothing so much as an invitation to play rough.
Antonin tends to see his cellmate as a tempting bit of tight arse and a clever mouth, so it’s disconcerting to realize the thing
rubbing against his belly is Draco’s cock, hard and thin and leaking. Antonin pushes up against it, pushes deeper into Draco’s arse, and it’s all experimental until Draco moans and tries to pull away.
Ordinarily, Antonin takes any sort of reminder that he’s shagging men unpleasantly; he’s not doing it by choice, he’s forced into it by circumstance. So ordinarily, by rights, Antonin should be glad his bit’s moving away. Antonin likes the kissing, though, and it’s been too long since he’s had someone this close like this, and when Draco pulls away, it’s instinct to pull him back.
“No, don’t, it’s all right,” Draco murmurs against Antonin’s mouth.
“Bit,” Antonin growls warningly, and then he’s going after that mouth again, sucking Draco’s lower lip between his teeth and spreading his hands out on Draco’s lower back to keep him right where he is.
Draco’s cock drags over him with every thrust, leaves wet smears over Antonin’s belly as it bumps. Antonin growls again when Draco rocks back too much and nearly pulls himself off Antonin again. This time, Antonin doesn’t just nibble the boy’s mouth, this time he bites. “Fuck me, you like that,” Draco murmurs, awed and so very quiet. “Why? Is it my arse again? You like that, you stretching my arse all loose with your big cock?”
Antonin does, very much so, and Draco knows it; Antonin growls again and tries to fuck Draco quiet so Antonin won’t have to explain that’s not what he meant.
“Me, too,” Draco says. “I love it. You’re so thick, it’s incredible. Feels like an accomplishment just getting it in sometimes.” Antonin rucks up brutally, just can’t help himself, and Draco swears and matches him, hips stuttering the way they do when Antonin hits that spot inside him that makes him mental. “Fuck, Daddy, do it. Come in me, I want to feel you come.”
His bit’s taken so easily to the word, so much better than his other cellmates did, and knowing Draco’s given him that sort of control, even now, is enough to propel Antonin to do the one thing he’s always sworn he wouldn’t.
“Touch yourself,” he says, low and rough. Draco pulls a hand away from the bedframe to pinch his own nipple as he rocks himself on Antonin’s cock. Antonin tugs his bit’s hips down and bats Draco’s hand away, ignoring Draco’s gasp. “Not these, boy. These are for Daddy. Touch yourself like I showed you.”
It’s a bit strange, being balls deep in someone and not being able to actually use the word, but Antonin thinks maybe if he hears himself say it, he’ll lose his nerve. His bit deserves better from him tonight.
Draco’s a clever boy; he figures it out. Shudders a breath as he repositions to give himself room to wrap a hand around the prick Antonin can’t see for the darkness. Antonin plays with his nipples, tugs at them and pinches lightly, rolls them between his fingers the way he knows his bit likes, and it’s not cupping a girl’s tits while she rides him but it’s still good.
Better, maybe, because this, at least, he can have.
He’s heard his bit rub one out before and he’s even allowed the boy to stroke himself off with Antonin inside him, but only ever where Antonin can’t see. No harm letting them both get off when Antonin’s got him bent over something, and when they’re in the showers with an audience, it helps stake Antonin’s claim to have the boy servicing them both.
Draco hums for him, sounds near-mindless with pleasure, calmer than he has all night. “You’re so good to me, Daddy. You’re so-” The wet slap of flesh on flesh speeds up and Draco cuts himself off, gives himself over to the sensations the way he tends to when he’s close. Antonin tugs sharp and pinches rough, tugs his bit forward by the nipples to steal another biting kiss, and when Draco comes, Antonin’s not far behind him.
There’s no room for both of them in the bunk unless they’re spooning, which Antonin enjoys because it’s the easiest access to his bit’s arse and, sometimes, a way to irritate the guards, because sex between inmates is something everybody pretends doesn’t happen and none of the guards in this block lately are willing to risk retribution over breaking it up unless it’s clear it’s been violent. There’s a certain delicious pleasure to smiling broadly at a guard while he’s got an arse on his cock, knowing they can’t or won’t do anything about it, but never more so than when it’s his sweet and pliant bit.
Draco used to scramble back down to his own bunk afterwards, like all the others, but he’d stopped when he’d realized Antonin didn’t mind him staying. It’s nice, actually, the reminder that Draco likes it. If he’s careful and quiet about it, if he’s meticulous in not getting come on the sheets, sometimes Antonin even lets him wank himself off in Antonin’s bed while they spoon. It’s his bit’s reward for being good and it’s not a given, it does definitely need to be earned, but if it means feeling the boy’s arse clench around his cock, Antonin’s been willing to make allowances.
This time, there’s come on both of them, over Antonin’s belly and on Draco’s hand, and it’s going to creep out of that arse the second Antonin pulls out. No need for spooning and honestly, Antonin’s too lazy to move. Instead, he tugs Draco down on top of him and off a bit to one side, tucks Draco’s head on his shoulder with one broad palm.
“And I’m staying?” Draco comments, mock disbelief. Antonin lifts a brow and grunts. “Seriously, so good to me, Daddy.”
“Sleep now,” Antonin grumbles, gruff and drowsy. Draco lays a hand on Antonin’s chest and squirms a little to settle himself comfortably.
A few moments later, as Antonin feels himself drifting off, he thinks he hears Draco murmur, “So good,” innocent and honest, and
Antonin can’t help the smile that crosses his face.
Out there with the rest of the prison population, he has to be large and in charge, a constant potential threat to keep them both safe, but sometimes it’s nice to have a moment or two like this, where all he has to do is be. He’s still not sure he’s ready to handle Draco’s prick himself and he’s not sure he’ll ever choose to be the one doing the arse licking, but he thinks something’s changed tonight.
If nothing else, he thinks they’ll need to try all this again when Antonin can watch, and the thought of his bit’s face as he handles his own prick follows Antonin into sleep.
~ f ~