Fic: Kilting Me Softly
Title: Kilting Me Softly
Author: enchanted_jae
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC17
Warning(s): Explicit sex, smut, slash, language
Word count: 1458
Teaser: "Why, Harry, I thought you knew," he teased. "I'm wearing absolutely nothing beneath this kilt."
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble/fic was written for fun, not for profit.
ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.
Author's note: Written for witch_babe for winning the random draw in December's JMDC. She asked for a kilt!fic.
Summary: Harry can't wait to find out if Draco is telling the truth about what is beneath his kilt.
Harry lounged back on the bed and admired his boyfriend's arse. "You look really good in a skirt, Draco," he observed, one hand idly rubbing his cock through his trousers.
Draco didn't even bother turning from the mirror, where he was making last minute adjustments to his attire. "It's a kilt, Potter," he replied.
They were in Scotland to attend the wedding of a distant relative of the Blacks, and Draco had been asked to serve as an usher at the ceremony. For that reason, he was dressed in traditional Scottish regalia, complete with kilt, sporran, and a jaunty tam o' shanter. The Clan's tartan was green and black, which actually looked smashing on Draco, and the sight of his boyfriend's bare legs emerging from the edge of the kilt had Harry half hard already.
The family home was an actual Scottish castle, complete with drafts and ghosts, but the room Harry and Draco had been assigned included a functional fireplace and a large, comfortable bed. They had arrived late the prior night and had fallen into the bed to sleep with barely a goodnight kiss between them.
"Let's christen the bed now," Harry invited, his voice husky with arousal.
That got Draco's attention, although his reply wasn't what Harry had hoped for. "Forget it," he said. "Guests will be arriving shortly, and I need to be down in the main hall to help greet and seat them."
"Just a quickie?" prodded Harry.
"There is no such thing as a quickie between us, and you know it," scoffed Draco.
"Then we should practice," wheedled Harry.
"Later."
Harry sighed and crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a sulky child. Draco seemed intent on ignoring him, so he settled instead for ogling his boyfriends long legs again and fantasizing about them draped over his shoulders while he shagged Draco on this massive bed.
Draco made his way to the door, pausing long enough to leave last minute instructions. "Wear the outfit I laid out for you; that green shirt will look fantastic on you. Don't be late. Oh, and once the ceremony is over, we can, ah, christen the bed."
A sudden thought occurred to Harry, and he sat up straight. "Draco, wait," he called. The blond halted and looked back at him, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. "Exactly what does a bloke wear under a kilt?" asked Harry, dying of curiosity.
Draco's features settled into a positively wicked grin. "Why, Harry, I thought you knew," he teased. "I'm wearing absolutely nothing beneath this kilt." He was gone before Harry could say another word.
~*~
It was interminable torture of the worst sort. It was horrifying and never ending. In short, it was hell. The bloody, buggering ceremony was taking forever, and Harry wasn't hearing a word of it. All he could focus on was the thought of Draco, standing at the back of the ballroom-turned-chapel, wearing that impossibly sexy kilt with nothing underneath it. Harry was hard. Painfully so. He'd been hard since Draco had made that utterly cruel announcement before he'd left, leaving Harry with nothing but his very vivid imagination. His erection hadn't subsided throughout this entire, boring ceremony. If anything, it had gotten worse. Harry continued to shift uncomfortably in his seat, drawing irritated glares from the matron sitting next to him. He wanted to turn and stare at Draco, but other than a few, suffering glances, Harry behaved himself and kept his eyes trained forward.
Finally, finally, his sentence was over. The young couple at the front of the chapel were pronounced married, and as they exited the ballroom, the guests were able to file out after them. Harry dutifully went through the receiving line, congratulating the bride and groom, and eventually making his way to where Draco was surrounded by a gaggle of admiring young women.
"Draco, may I have a word with you?" he asked, in as even a tone as he could manage.
"Certainly, Harry," Draco replied with cool formality. "Ladies," he nodded, excusing himself from the throng of females. Draco allowed himself to be led away from the festivities, but once they were out of hearing of the other guests, he asked in some confusion, "Harry, where are we going?"
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he led Draco down a quiet corridor and began trying doors. The first two were locked, and when he tried the third and found it locked, as well, Harry's patience cracked. Drawing his wand, he cast a hasty "Alohomora" and pushed the door open, dragging a suddenly protesting Draco in after him. The room was a study, complete with a desk, a few chairs, and a sofa. Perfect. Harry turned and placed a strong locking charm on the door, then cast a silencing charm out of respect for his hosts.
"Harry," snapped Draco, "what are you-ooo..." His words trailed off into a squeak as Harry whirled him around and bent him over the desk.
Harry flipped Draco's kilt up, and his cock throbbed at the sight. "Bloody fucking hell," he wheezed. "You really aren't wearing anything under this thing!"
"Harry!" protested Draco. "Let me up this instant. We ca-AN'T..." Once more, his words were cut short when a sudden lubricating spell hit him, leaving him slick and ready for sex.
"We can, and we will," muttered Harry, sliding his zip down and releasing his engorged cock with a sigh of relief. Draco tried one last time to be the voice of reason, but any further protest on his part died with a whimper as Harry's hard cock sank into his body.
Harry moaned aloud. After yearning for this for so long, the hot clasp of Draco's tight passage around his aching cock felt heavenly. He knew, since he had been too impatient to prepare Draco thoroughly, that he should be going slowly, but he couldn't help himself. He was pounding rhythmically into his boyfriend's delectable arse, and if Draco's harsh pants were anything to go by, he was enjoying it, too. After being aroused for so long, Harry knew he wouldn't last, and he didn't. Within minutes, he was spurting hotly into Draco's receptive sheath, and wincing at his boyfriend's frustrated snarl.
Harry pulled free of Draco, but kept one hand pressed against the small of his back to hold him in place. He took a moment to admire the blond's post-coital appearance. Draco's arse hole pouted prettily at him, clearly not ready to have relinquished his cock just yet. It was reddened from use, glistening with sex, and as Harry watched, a tiny rivulet of his cream trickled forth, making Draco squirm and hardening his own cock once more. Harry cast a quick cleansing charm on himself, then eased his semi-erect cock back into his trousers before flipping the edge of Draco's kilt back into place and smoothing one hand over the material now covering his boyfriend's arse.
"Harry!" Draco shrilled. "Don't stop now!"
"Where's your wand?" Harry asked, voice rough with lust.
Draco turned his head to look at him from over his shoulder. He still hadn't moved from his position bent over the desk in the study. "In our room," he answered the question. "Why?"
"As I see it, then, you have two choices," Harry told him. "You can return to the wedding party in the ballroom...hard and aching for me, just like I spent the entire ceremony hard and aching for you...smelling like sex, with your arse hole stinging pleasantly and my cream dribbling down your naked thighs...or you can accompany me back to our room where I will see to your needs, and no one will ever know I just shagged you in the study."
Draco whimpered in a way that nearly had Harry tearing at his trousers and mounting the blond again right then and there. "What will it be?" he demanded.
For Draco, the choices left him no choice at all, not that he minded so much. "Take me to bed," he rasped. "Now." He straightened, cursing his shaking legs, and the sexy grin Harry favored him with almost put him on the floor, he was so aroused.
"It will be my pleasure," Harry smirked, taking Draco's arm in order to Apparate them together.
"You've had your pleasure," sniped Draco, latching onto Harry's arm fiercely "Now you had damn well better be seeing to mine!"
"I intend to," promised Harry, still smirking as he Apparated them. "I intend to..."
Author: enchanted_jae
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC17
Warning(s): Explicit sex, smut, slash, language
Word count: 1458
Teaser: "Why, Harry, I thought you knew," he teased. "I'm wearing absolutely nothing beneath this kilt."
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble/fic was written for fun, not for profit.
ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.
Author's note: Written for witch_babe for winning the random draw in December's JMDC. She asked for a kilt!fic.
Summary: Harry can't wait to find out if Draco is telling the truth about what is beneath his kilt.
Harry lounged back on the bed and admired his boyfriend's arse. "You look really good in a skirt, Draco," he observed, one hand idly rubbing his cock through his trousers.
Draco didn't even bother turning from the mirror, where he was making last minute adjustments to his attire. "It's a kilt, Potter," he replied.
They were in Scotland to attend the wedding of a distant relative of the Blacks, and Draco had been asked to serve as an usher at the ceremony. For that reason, he was dressed in traditional Scottish regalia, complete with kilt, sporran, and a jaunty tam o' shanter. The Clan's tartan was green and black, which actually looked smashing on Draco, and the sight of his boyfriend's bare legs emerging from the edge of the kilt had Harry half hard already.
The family home was an actual Scottish castle, complete with drafts and ghosts, but the room Harry and Draco had been assigned included a functional fireplace and a large, comfortable bed. They had arrived late the prior night and had fallen into the bed to sleep with barely a goodnight kiss between them.
"Let's christen the bed now," Harry invited, his voice husky with arousal.
That got Draco's attention, although his reply wasn't what Harry had hoped for. "Forget it," he said. "Guests will be arriving shortly, and I need to be down in the main hall to help greet and seat them."
"Just a quickie?" prodded Harry.
"There is no such thing as a quickie between us, and you know it," scoffed Draco.
"Then we should practice," wheedled Harry.
"Later."
Harry sighed and crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a sulky child. Draco seemed intent on ignoring him, so he settled instead for ogling his boyfriends long legs again and fantasizing about them draped over his shoulders while he shagged Draco on this massive bed.
Draco made his way to the door, pausing long enough to leave last minute instructions. "Wear the outfit I laid out for you; that green shirt will look fantastic on you. Don't be late. Oh, and once the ceremony is over, we can, ah, christen the bed."
A sudden thought occurred to Harry, and he sat up straight. "Draco, wait," he called. The blond halted and looked back at him, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. "Exactly what does a bloke wear under a kilt?" asked Harry, dying of curiosity.
Draco's features settled into a positively wicked grin. "Why, Harry, I thought you knew," he teased. "I'm wearing absolutely nothing beneath this kilt." He was gone before Harry could say another word.
~*~
It was interminable torture of the worst sort. It was horrifying and never ending. In short, it was hell. The bloody, buggering ceremony was taking forever, and Harry wasn't hearing a word of it. All he could focus on was the thought of Draco, standing at the back of the ballroom-turned-chapel, wearing that impossibly sexy kilt with nothing underneath it. Harry was hard. Painfully so. He'd been hard since Draco had made that utterly cruel announcement before he'd left, leaving Harry with nothing but his very vivid imagination. His erection hadn't subsided throughout this entire, boring ceremony. If anything, it had gotten worse. Harry continued to shift uncomfortably in his seat, drawing irritated glares from the matron sitting next to him. He wanted to turn and stare at Draco, but other than a few, suffering glances, Harry behaved himself and kept his eyes trained forward.
Finally, finally, his sentence was over. The young couple at the front of the chapel were pronounced married, and as they exited the ballroom, the guests were able to file out after them. Harry dutifully went through the receiving line, congratulating the bride and groom, and eventually making his way to where Draco was surrounded by a gaggle of admiring young women.
"Draco, may I have a word with you?" he asked, in as even a tone as he could manage.
"Certainly, Harry," Draco replied with cool formality. "Ladies," he nodded, excusing himself from the throng of females. Draco allowed himself to be led away from the festivities, but once they were out of hearing of the other guests, he asked in some confusion, "Harry, where are we going?"
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he led Draco down a quiet corridor and began trying doors. The first two were locked, and when he tried the third and found it locked, as well, Harry's patience cracked. Drawing his wand, he cast a hasty "Alohomora" and pushed the door open, dragging a suddenly protesting Draco in after him. The room was a study, complete with a desk, a few chairs, and a sofa. Perfect. Harry turned and placed a strong locking charm on the door, then cast a silencing charm out of respect for his hosts.
"Harry," snapped Draco, "what are you-ooo..." His words trailed off into a squeak as Harry whirled him around and bent him over the desk.
Harry flipped Draco's kilt up, and his cock throbbed at the sight. "Bloody fucking hell," he wheezed. "You really aren't wearing anything under this thing!"
"Harry!" protested Draco. "Let me up this instant. We ca-AN'T..." Once more, his words were cut short when a sudden lubricating spell hit him, leaving him slick and ready for sex.
"We can, and we will," muttered Harry, sliding his zip down and releasing his engorged cock with a sigh of relief. Draco tried one last time to be the voice of reason, but any further protest on his part died with a whimper as Harry's hard cock sank into his body.
Harry moaned aloud. After yearning for this for so long, the hot clasp of Draco's tight passage around his aching cock felt heavenly. He knew, since he had been too impatient to prepare Draco thoroughly, that he should be going slowly, but he couldn't help himself. He was pounding rhythmically into his boyfriend's delectable arse, and if Draco's harsh pants were anything to go by, he was enjoying it, too. After being aroused for so long, Harry knew he wouldn't last, and he didn't. Within minutes, he was spurting hotly into Draco's receptive sheath, and wincing at his boyfriend's frustrated snarl.
Harry pulled free of Draco, but kept one hand pressed against the small of his back to hold him in place. He took a moment to admire the blond's post-coital appearance. Draco's arse hole pouted prettily at him, clearly not ready to have relinquished his cock just yet. It was reddened from use, glistening with sex, and as Harry watched, a tiny rivulet of his cream trickled forth, making Draco squirm and hardening his own cock once more. Harry cast a quick cleansing charm on himself, then eased his semi-erect cock back into his trousers before flipping the edge of Draco's kilt back into place and smoothing one hand over the material now covering his boyfriend's arse.
"Harry!" Draco shrilled. "Don't stop now!"
"Where's your wand?" Harry asked, voice rough with lust.
Draco turned his head to look at him from over his shoulder. He still hadn't moved from his position bent over the desk in the study. "In our room," he answered the question. "Why?"
"As I see it, then, you have two choices," Harry told him. "You can return to the wedding party in the ballroom...hard and aching for me, just like I spent the entire ceremony hard and aching for you...smelling like sex, with your arse hole stinging pleasantly and my cream dribbling down your naked thighs...or you can accompany me back to our room where I will see to your needs, and no one will ever know I just shagged you in the study."
Draco whimpered in a way that nearly had Harry tearing at his trousers and mounting the blond again right then and there. "What will it be?" he demanded.
For Draco, the choices left him no choice at all, not that he minded so much. "Take me to bed," he rasped. "Now." He straightened, cursing his shaking legs, and the sexy grin Harry favored him with almost put him on the floor, he was so aroused.
"It will be my pleasure," Harry smirked, taking Draco's arm in order to Apparate them together.
"You've had your pleasure," sniped Draco, latching onto Harry's arm fiercely "Now you had damn well better be seeing to mine!"
"I intend to," promised Harry, still smirking as he Apparated them. "I intend to..."