Draco hooker fic!!!
Title: All the Sincerity of a Whore's Kiss
Pairing: H/D
Rated: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, prostitution
Notes: Much thanks to polar_girl, pandoras_chaos, judas_denied, and eeyore9990 for holding my hand and getting me through this. Their help and ideas were invaluable. Also to Eey for the quick beta ♥//Written for prompt #1 over at hp_tramps: "I'm giving you my life to prove to myself I can, I really can love somebody. Even when I'm not getting paid, I can give love and happiness and charm."~Chuck Palahniuk (Invisible Monsters)
Summary: It was often said in the business that there wasn’t anything Draco Malfoy wouldn’t do...for the right price.
Xposted like...well, like a ten penny whore.
All the Sincerity of a Whore’s Kiss
Three hundred galleons.
Everyone has a price, Draco had often heard his father say when he was alive. Everyone has a price, but sometimes, it’s just too high.
Draco’s price was three hundred galleons these days, which wasn’t really all that high if you were Draco Malfoy (cheap enough that it would have had Lucius doing the proverbial turn in his grave if he had been alive to know it was the going rate for his pretty son’s ass). Three hundred for a straight up vanilla fuck. After that, the price went up. It was a hundred more if you wanted him to suck you off, fifty more if you wanted him to use his teeth or nails on you, or vice versa, and for anything really kinky...well, you had to negotiate.
It was often said in the business that there wasn’t anything Draco Malfoy wouldn’t do...for the right price.
His patrons, the regulars, knew better.
There was no amount of gold or silver in all the world that could buy you his kiss.
********
An anonymous message with an anonymous address had Draco standing outside of a rundown old mansion located in the heart of London in the middle of the night.
It was raining. Draco stood outside of the dilapidated old house to which he had been summoned and paid no attention at all to the water sliding down his collar. The house was old, but it had once been magnificent, and still, standing in its shadow was a humbling thing.
But then, it was always like that with objects and places of power. Even after all the magic was gone.
Draco sighed, crossed the street, and climbed the stairs to the door. He rang the bell. The faint, muffled ding dong of the bell was immediately followed by a shrill scream of anger. From the sound of it, there was a woman in the house and she was none too happy.
Draco rolled his eyes. Great, just what he needed.
The door was opened by a house elf. Draco looked down at the androgynous thing and lifted one elegantly arched brow.
The elf nodded its head solemnly, its bulbous eyes taking in his expensive clothes and his sodden hair without much interest. “I is to let you into the sitting room, sir,” the creature said in its high-pitched fluting voice. “I is to tell you that Master will be down shortly.”
Draco waited. The elf didn’t move aside to let him pass. “Well, you’ve told me,” Draco snapped. “Can I come in then, or am I to stand in the rain instead?”
The elf wrinkled its nose at him in distaste. “Master has given Fink orders. Fink has to let you in.”
Fink? Draco smirked. “Well then, you had better do what Master says, hadn’t you?” he said.
The elf stepped back to let him pass, the expression on its homely little face making its disapproval abundantly clear.
Draco entered the house, his long wool coat smacking the elf with a wet plop across the face and knocking it to the floor as he went by.
The elf hurried to get to its feet and follow after him, hushing the still grumbling portrait of some old dowager as it quickly followed him into the sitting room.
“Master said you is to wait here,” the elf said emphatically.
Draco ignored the irritating beastie and made himself comfortable on the nearest divan. He took a slim silver cigarette case from an inside coat pocket, put a cigarette it in his mouth, and lit it with a snap of his fingers before surveying his surroundings.
The place was old. That was his first thought. It was clean, which was probably the house elf’s doing more than anything else, Draco decided. Still, every surface might have been spotless and gleaming, without a speck of dust in sight, but there was no getting rid of that smell.
It smelled like old money and new death. It smelled like hate and despair with an underlying layer of mould.
Draco tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and blew a short series of smoke rings at the ceiling.
It wasn’t the worst place he’d ever been called to. Far from it. In a business where your body was the only thing you had to trade, where what money you had was earned on your back or your knees, Draco Malfoy was a coveted commodity, and an extravagance that most could afford to indulge in perhaps once in their lifetime, but it hadn’t always been that way. He wore silk and drank pearls in his champagne now, but he still remembered what it was like to cling to a threadbare sackcloth tunic and fight the street whores for his chance to drink out of a roadside mud puddle.
He remembered what it was like to be fucked without care or caution up against a dank alley wall, thanking whatever gods were listening that he would sleep with a full belly tonight because of it.
No, this wasn’t the worst place he’d ever been called to. Not even close.
Someone cleared their throat.
Draco calmly opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at his patron. Only a mind made well and truly jaded by a life hard lived kept him from dropping his cigarette in his lap when he saw Harry Potter’s beryl green eyes looking back at him.
“Comfortable?” Harry asked calmly. He studied Draco with a detached kind of appreciation.
Draco blinked. Could it be that the great Harry Potter had forgotten him?
Harry finally let his eyes settle on Draco’s face, and there was not a flicker of recognition. Draco’s suspicions, as ridiculous as it seemed, were confirmed a moment later when Harry asked, “What’s your name?”
Very deliberately, Draco took one last drag on his cigarette, crushed it out in a crystal ashtray beside the divan, and stood. “Your pardon,” Draco said, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over one arm of the divan, “but it’s not my comfort or my name you’re paying for.”
Harry’s brows shot up and his lips quirked in surprised amusement. “No, I suppose not. Right to business then, is it?”
Draco lifted a shoulder in a negligent half-shrug. “You are paying for the whole night. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s your gold, after all. You want to talk first, I’m all ears.”
It was one of the more distasteful aspects of the job, in Draco’s opinion. Some patrons didn’t care what your name was or whether or not you were comfortable, and some did. Draco much preferred the former to the latter. At least then, he didn’t have to try to make conversation or pretend that he cared.
Harry slowly shook his head, his eyes lingering on Draco’s slim form, which was made more visible now that his coat was off. “No, I don’t think so.”
Draco nodded shortly. “Business then,” he said, gesturing toward the door that he assumed Harry had come in through with one hand. “Lead on.”
Harry caught his bottom lip between his teeth with a thoughtful expression, studying Draco closely.
Draco smiled a little. He knew that look. He was used to it.
“Upstairs,” Harry said roughly.
********
Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm at the top of the stairs and tried to kiss him. Draco pulled away from him with a hiss.
“No,” he said flatly. “That is not for sale.”
Harry stared at him and his lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “Alright.” He leaned back against the banister and beckoned Draco forward with one hand. “On your knees then.”
Draco dropped to his knees before Harry without a moment of hesitation. He slid his hands up the inside of Harry’s thighs and began plucking at the laced fastening of his trousers with his slim, talented fingers. He let his fingers slide along Harry’s groin and felt him harden through the fabric.
“Stop playing with me and do it,” Harry said. It was not spoken harshly, but it was a command just the same.
Draco opened the flies of Harry’s trousers and took out his cock. It was nice, as cocks went, and he was what one would call an expert in such things. Nothing terribly remarkable about it other than the fact that it was Harry Potter’s cock.
He gently caressed the length of it from base to tip, lightly rolling his thumb over the tip until Harry caught his breath. He glanced up and saw that Harry had closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He leaned down and did with his tongue what he had done with his thumb, eyes on Harry’s face to watch his reaction.
Harry caught his bottom lip between his teeth and his hips jerked forward. Draco smiled. He took the very tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth sucked lightly. Harry’s hands came away from the banister and tangled in his hair. It was a signal as clear as any shout in his profession and Draco had been waiting for it. He took Harry’s cock deep into his mouth until the head bumped the back of his throat, and just to hear Harry moan, and because he knew it would please him, and just because he could, he made a low humming sound.
Harry moaned just as Draco wanted and thrust a little. Draco expected it and took a breath through his nose so he wouldn’t choke, then gently put his hands flat against Harry’s hips and eased him back so he could slide his mouth back down Harry’s cock and try to finish this with something resembling finesse.
He ran his tongue along the underside, then flicked it back and forth over the little slit at the head until Harry was gasping and panting, his fingers clutching tightly at Draco’s hair while he trembled.
Draco watched him and was fascinated by his own reaction to the sight. It had been a very long time since he had felt anything for a patron’s pleasure but indifference and a sort of professional satisfaction. This, the way Harry yielded himself to Draco’s hands and mouth and shook with the pleasure of his touch, pleased him and there was nothing professional about it.
“Please,” Harry gasped. “Finish it, please.”
Draco gladly complied. He took Harry’s cock into his mouth again, holding his hips in place against the banister to prevent Harry from thrusting down his throat this time, and sucked. Not hard, not quite yet. Lightly at first, then a little more and a little more, until Harry’s gasps and moans became little cries and whimpers and whispered words of encouragement.
Draco heard it in the hitch of his breath and felt it in the tensing of Harry’s fingers in his hair and sucked him hard once, twice. Harry shuddered and climaxed with a soft cry. Draco swallowed it, not missing a single drop, and sat back to watch Harry drag his fingers through his own hair.
Harry caught him watching and laughed a little. Draco smiled smugly back at him and wiped the corner of his mouth with one finger.
Harry didn’t waste words on compliments or gratitude. “The bedroom,” was all he said. He pointed to the door behind Draco.
Draco lifted a brow at him. “Sure,” he said, standing up in a graceful, practiced motion.
He went into the bedroom while Harry composed himself.
********
The bedroom was not clean. There was no dust anywhere, but there were shirts tossed over the back of a chair on the left, a pair of trousers piled in the seat beside them. There was a candle, burned down half way, and beside it, an ashtray with a day’s worth of crushed out cigarette butts. The room smelled different too. That smell of age and death did not reach here. It smelled like Harry. It smelled like Harry tasted.
So this was where he really lived. How interesting.
Draco heard Harry come into the room behind him and smiled to himself. If he paused to wonder why such a thing pleased him, he only wondered for a moment, and considered it of little importance.
“The bed,” Harry murmured behind him.
Without turning to look at him, Draco unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide to the floor.
There was a sharp clink of metal on wood that made his fingers still on the laces of his trousers. “One thousand galleons,” he whispered.
“One galleon,” Harry said. “With a cheque for the rest. A thousand galleons weighs a lot.”
“The cheque is good?”
“It is.”
“If it isn’t…” Draco let the implied threat hang.
“You’ll send one of your friends to rough me up. I know,” Harry said. He sounded amused.
Draco didn’t send people to ‘rough you up’. Not anymore. If you didn’t pay, there were no second chances. If you didn’t pay, you died. And if you died, you could be sure that it was because Draco had asked for it. It had been long time since Draco Malfoy had a pimp to do that kind of thing for him.
Being ten years older and a whore didn’t make Draco any less the Slytherin than when Harry knew him.
“Something like that,” Draco said. He finally turned to look at Harry when he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.
“It’s good,” Harry said, watching him take off the rest of his clothes. “Don’t worry about that.”
Draco laughed briefly, got up on the bed, and crawled, naked, across it, watching Harry over one shoulder. “I’m not.”
Without taking his eyes off of Draco, kneeling in the centre of the bed, Harry began unfastening the buttons of his shirt with little plucking movements of his fingers. He dropped the shirt to the floor, kicked off his shoes, and pushed his trousers-which he had not bothered to refasten-down his hips.
Draco watched him and had to admit, Harry Potter had grown into a lovely man. “So,” Draco said, “what do you want tonight?”
Harry stepped out of his trousers, toed off his socks, and went to the edge of the bed to look down at Draco. Draco merely lifted one pale brow and waited.
“Turn over,” he said. “On your hands and knees.”
Draco gave him a coy smile, then obediently moved into that position. He looked at Harry for his approval. “Like this?” he asked, with a teasing little shake of his ass.
Harry smiled and climbed up on the bed behind him. He leaned over him and put his mouth to Draco’s ear. “Not quite,” he said, and pushed Draco down on his elbows. “I was thinking more like this.”
A bolt of lust shot straight to Draco’s belly. It was not all that uncommon for him to want a patron, but it was uncommon for him to want them this much. He thought, for a moment, of sitting up and calling the whole thing off, then Harry ran an open hand down the curve of his spine and he banished the thought.
“Whatever the patron wants,” Draco murmured, turning his face to the side and resting his cheek on the coverlet, “the patron gets.”
“Except for this,” Harry said, brushing his fingertips lightly over Draco’s mouth.
“Except that,” Draco agreed. He caught one of Harry’s fingers in his mouth and sucked on it briefly before letting it slide out.
Harry sat up and reached over Draco to open the drawer in the nightstand and take out a tube of lubricant. Draco wasn’t surprised. Some patrons preferred to fuck him without it, but Harry hadn’t struck him as that type.
Of course, Harry also wasn’t the type who was into a lot of foreplay either. Not that Draco particularly minded when Harry thrust his slick finger up his ass and almost immediately bumped the tip against his prostate.
He caught his breath and pushed back on Harry’s hand.
Harry chuckled with his face pressed against Draco’s back. “You like that?”
Draco closed his eyes and moved his hips in slow little rolling motions. “If you want me to like it…I will,” he panted. “Whatever the patron wants…the patron gets.”
“Is that so?” Harry whispered. He flicked his finger over that spot and Draco clutched the bedspread in his hands and pressed his face into the mattress. “I think you like it, and I don’t think it’s just because I want you to.”
Harry added a second finger to the first and spread them, loosening the muscles to ease his way. Draco shivered and closed his eyes, his fingers paling as he tightened his grip on the covers and tried to hold still and not drive himself down on that hand. Then Harry was pressing his cock into his ass, just the very tip, and Draco gave up and tried to sit back and force it inside him.
“No you don’t,” Harry said, slapping a hand to Draco’s back and shoving him back down on the bed. “Not yet.”
Draco groaned and wriggled his bottom a bit, trying to tempt Harry to hurry, to go faster, to do it now, fuck him now.
Harry hissed out a breath and his hips jerked, sliding his cock forward a few inches despite himself.
Draco laughed softly.
Harry reached up, caught hold of Draco’s hair in one hand, and pulled his head back. “You think you’re in charge here? Even like this…?”
Draco made an amused chuffing sound and rolled his hips. Harry’s hand tightened in Draco’s hair as his cock was forced marginally deeper. “Let’s not forget who the professional is here,” Draco murmured.
Harry opened his fingers and let go of Draco’s hair to slide his palm back down the sleek curve of his back. “I’m forgetting nothing,” he muttered, his other hand holding Draco’s hip. “Now why don’t you shut up?”
Draco growled and pushed back against him. “Then why…don’t you…fuck me instead of playing with me?”
With a laugh, Harry thrust inside him to the hilt with a snap of his hips. Draco’s body rocked forward a little under the force of the movement and he made a little breathy hitching sound that was not quite a gasp. The penetration was deep, but Draco had had that cock in his mouth, so he’d known that it would be, and after that first, rough thrust, Harry was much more gentle. Gentle, and agonizingly slow.
Draco whimpered in frustration at the long, shallow back and forth sway of his body under Harry’s. He dug his fingers into the bed beneath him and closed his eyes, riding out the sensations as they beat at him with the languid pace that Harry had chosen. But it didn’t take very long before that just wasn’t enough and he had to make Harry move or do it himself, something to ease the frantic urges of his own body.
“Let,” Draco started to say, then had to stop and take a breath. A full breath, not one of the short little panting things that Harry was forcing out of his throat. “Let me…sit up,” he said.
“I like you like this,” Harry said, one hand still flat on Draco’s back, holding him down, the other gripping his left hip.
Draco lost his temper and snapped, “You’re paying me…for my services. If this is all you wanted…you would have been better served with a limp-dick crack whore and a box of toys… Now let me sit up.”
Harry thrust into him once more, then moved the hand holding him down to Draco’s other hip so he could sit back. Draco did, making Harry moan as the angle changed slightly and his penetration somehow became deeper still. Draco chuckled softly and shifted, moving a little closer to Harry so that his back was flush with Harry’s chest.
“Put your hands…here,” Draco said, taking one of Harry’s hands and moving it so it rested palm down on the top of his thigh. Harry did what Draco said. Draco smiled and lifted up a little, then sat back down. A very slight movement, but it took Harry’s breath.
“Good,” Draco said softly, laying his own hands over Harry’s so that he could grip them and use his body weight for leverage. “You can move if you want to…but you don’t have to.”
Harry laughed breathlessly and pressed his forehead to Draco’s back. “I think I’ll…move.”
“Mmm,” Draco purred, sounding like he’d just tasted something sinful and delicious. “You do that…”
And Draco began to ride him, moving up and down in slow rolling motions that gradually became faster, and as Harry started to move with him, harder. Harry’s breath fell in quick little puffs between Draco's shoulders and his fingers tightened their grip on his thighs, his body moving with Draco’s, catching his rhythm and matching him thrust for thrust until their bodies were glazed with sweat and sliding together.
Draco could feel the flush spreading over his skin and he moaned and let his head fall back on Harry’s shoulder. He knew his own body well, and he knew that he was close. The flush was the first sign and…
“Fuck,” Harry hissed when Draco’s body contracted around him.
And that was the second. It was something he could do voluntarily, of course, but when it was involuntary…
“Oh shit,” Harry gasped. “God, don’t do that.”
Draco laughed, and it was a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down Harry’s spine all by itself.
“I can’t…help it,” Draco said. “How…How close are you?”
“Close,” Harry said through gritted teeth.
Harry bumped his prostate and Draco cried out and arched his back, fingers tightening on Harry’s hands as pleasure, thick and full, rushed through him and danced over his skin.
“Come,” Draco panted, quickening his pace. “Now. Come for me.”
Harry made a sound somewhere between a word and a shout, then clamped his teeth down on Draco’s shoulder and cried out over and over into his flesh as his orgasm burst from him. The tiny pricking pain of Harry’s teeth and the light vibration of Harry’s voice muffled by his flesh sent a pleasurable quiver straight through his belly and Draco choked back another cry of his own.
It was Harry coming inside him that finally did it for Draco. It was that full and ready to flow over sensation that made this job so easy for him. He enjoyed it way too much and cared way too little.
His orgasm was soft and throbbing, a release of tension almost like an afterthought. Draco went limp and slumped forward on the bed with Harry’s cock still firmly in his ass.
Harry leaned down and rested against his back with his head on the curve of one shoulder. Draco could feel their heartbeats, one still fluttering rapidly like the wings of a frightened moth inside a jar, the other already starting to slow down and even out.
“Mmm,” Harry murmured. He brushed Draco’s sweat damp hair out of his face. “You’re still clenching.”
Draco’s lips curved in a satisfied smile. He was trembling and his ass was still contracting lightly around Harry’s softening cock. “I know.”
“I like it,” Harry said.
“Umhmm,” Draco sighed.
Harry caressed Draco’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, then cupped his jaw on his hand and turned Draco’s face toward him. “I want to kiss you,” Harry whispered.
Draco tensed, but he didn’t pull away. He opened his eyes and stared into Harry’s lovely face and knew that Harry did not know him. He was certain of it…And he knew that it didn’t matter in the least.
“Don’t say no.”
It was said like an order, but Draco knew it was a request all the same. He nodded, just once, and Harry lowered his head to touch their lips together. Draco moved into the kiss, opened his mouth, and kissed him back. It was his first kiss in more years than he cared to remember, and it was deep, and beautiful, and so horrible that he could have screamed, but even now, with years of crawling through gutters after strange dick for the price of a meal and a draughty room to spend the night in behind him, Draco did nothing by halves. So he let Harry Potter kiss him, and even though Harry did not recognize him, and even though it hurt his heart to do it, Draco kissed him back.
It made his soul ache, and that was why it was never done. Why he never allowed it. A whore’s most valuable commodity was their body and their charm…not their hearts or their souls.
Draco let Harry be the one to end the kiss, and when Harry pulled out of him and moved to lie beside him on the bed, Draco allowed this too.
********
Somewhere in the vast halls of the dilapidated mansion, a clock chimed the midnight hour and Draco opened his eyes.
He had fallen asleep with Harry curled around him, his back to Harry’s chest, their cum and sweat drying between them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen asleep in a patron’s arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt safe enough in a strange bed to even dare. It had been a long time.
Draco removed Harry’s arm from around his waist and quietly slipped from the bed. He had left his wand in his coat, and that was down stairs, so he had to get dressed without the use of magic. He grimaced at the smell of his own skin, then shook his head and finished fastening his trousers.
He smelled like a hundred different kinds of fuck. Not that it mattered. He was a whore. All whores were supposed to smell like cheap perfume and sex.
Draco smelled like expensive cologne and sex, but it came down to the same thing.
When he was dressed, he turned back to look at Harry again. Harry lay on his side, one arm cushioning his face, his hair mussed from rough sex and his impossibly dark lashes fanned out on his cheeks. He looked peaceful and lovely and far too clean and pure for Draco to ever be allowed to touch him.
Draco drew close to the side of the bed, reached down, and ran his fingers lightly along the curve of Harry’s mouth. Harry shifted a little, moving closer to his hand with a little sound of longing.
Draco closed his eyes, turned, and walked away. He felt like something inside him was breaking as he did it-his last tie to an old life and a far more innocent time, perhaps-but he did it just the same.
This was why he never let anyone kiss him. Not because the mouth was so much more intimate than any other place on his body and not because a kiss in itself was a vow of love. What utter tripe. No, it was because it didn’t matter. It didn’t make any difference to his patrons. A kiss was just one more natural step in the sex to most of them…
And really, when it came right down to it, what was a whore’s kiss really worth? Not much. But he’d given it to Harry, and why had he done that?
Because it was all he had to give. It was the only thing he had, the only part of himself that hadn’t been taken, used, and thrown away by a thousand other men.
Draco walked over to the nightstand and looked down at the cheque weighed down on the tabletop under a single gold coin. He wasn’t going to pick it up at all, but out of curiosity, he did. He read the name of the payee and the slip of paper fell from his hands.
Draco Malfoy
Hands shaking, Draco glanced at Harry one last time over his shoulder. “You knew all along,” he whispered to the dark room.
He silently opened the door and went out. He left the coin on the nightstand and the cheque on the floor where it had fallen.
///finis///
Pairing: H/D
Rated: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, prostitution
Notes: Much thanks to polar_girl, pandoras_chaos, judas_denied, and eeyore9990 for holding my hand and getting me through this. Their help and ideas were invaluable. Also to Eey for the quick beta ♥//Written for prompt #1 over at hp_tramps: "I'm giving you my life to prove to myself I can, I really can love somebody. Even when I'm not getting paid, I can give love and happiness and charm."~Chuck Palahniuk (Invisible Monsters)
Summary: It was often said in the business that there wasn’t anything Draco Malfoy wouldn’t do...for the right price.
Xposted like...well, like a ten penny whore.
All the Sincerity of a Whore’s Kiss
Three hundred galleons.
Everyone has a price, Draco had often heard his father say when he was alive. Everyone has a price, but sometimes, it’s just too high.
Draco’s price was three hundred galleons these days, which wasn’t really all that high if you were Draco Malfoy (cheap enough that it would have had Lucius doing the proverbial turn in his grave if he had been alive to know it was the going rate for his pretty son’s ass). Three hundred for a straight up vanilla fuck. After that, the price went up. It was a hundred more if you wanted him to suck you off, fifty more if you wanted him to use his teeth or nails on you, or vice versa, and for anything really kinky...well, you had to negotiate.
It was often said in the business that there wasn’t anything Draco Malfoy wouldn’t do...for the right price.
His patrons, the regulars, knew better.
There was no amount of gold or silver in all the world that could buy you his kiss.
********
An anonymous message with an anonymous address had Draco standing outside of a rundown old mansion located in the heart of London in the middle of the night.
It was raining. Draco stood outside of the dilapidated old house to which he had been summoned and paid no attention at all to the water sliding down his collar. The house was old, but it had once been magnificent, and still, standing in its shadow was a humbling thing.
But then, it was always like that with objects and places of power. Even after all the magic was gone.
Draco sighed, crossed the street, and climbed the stairs to the door. He rang the bell. The faint, muffled ding dong of the bell was immediately followed by a shrill scream of anger. From the sound of it, there was a woman in the house and she was none too happy.
Draco rolled his eyes. Great, just what he needed.
The door was opened by a house elf. Draco looked down at the androgynous thing and lifted one elegantly arched brow.
The elf nodded its head solemnly, its bulbous eyes taking in his expensive clothes and his sodden hair without much interest. “I is to let you into the sitting room, sir,” the creature said in its high-pitched fluting voice. “I is to tell you that Master will be down shortly.”
Draco waited. The elf didn’t move aside to let him pass. “Well, you’ve told me,” Draco snapped. “Can I come in then, or am I to stand in the rain instead?”
The elf wrinkled its nose at him in distaste. “Master has given Fink orders. Fink has to let you in.”
Fink? Draco smirked. “Well then, you had better do what Master says, hadn’t you?” he said.
The elf stepped back to let him pass, the expression on its homely little face making its disapproval abundantly clear.
Draco entered the house, his long wool coat smacking the elf with a wet plop across the face and knocking it to the floor as he went by.
The elf hurried to get to its feet and follow after him, hushing the still grumbling portrait of some old dowager as it quickly followed him into the sitting room.
“Master said you is to wait here,” the elf said emphatically.
Draco ignored the irritating beastie and made himself comfortable on the nearest divan. He took a slim silver cigarette case from an inside coat pocket, put a cigarette it in his mouth, and lit it with a snap of his fingers before surveying his surroundings.
The place was old. That was his first thought. It was clean, which was probably the house elf’s doing more than anything else, Draco decided. Still, every surface might have been spotless and gleaming, without a speck of dust in sight, but there was no getting rid of that smell.
It smelled like old money and new death. It smelled like hate and despair with an underlying layer of mould.
Draco tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and blew a short series of smoke rings at the ceiling.
It wasn’t the worst place he’d ever been called to. Far from it. In a business where your body was the only thing you had to trade, where what money you had was earned on your back or your knees, Draco Malfoy was a coveted commodity, and an extravagance that most could afford to indulge in perhaps once in their lifetime, but it hadn’t always been that way. He wore silk and drank pearls in his champagne now, but he still remembered what it was like to cling to a threadbare sackcloth tunic and fight the street whores for his chance to drink out of a roadside mud puddle.
He remembered what it was like to be fucked without care or caution up against a dank alley wall, thanking whatever gods were listening that he would sleep with a full belly tonight because of it.
No, this wasn’t the worst place he’d ever been called to. Not even close.
Someone cleared their throat.
Draco calmly opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at his patron. Only a mind made well and truly jaded by a life hard lived kept him from dropping his cigarette in his lap when he saw Harry Potter’s beryl green eyes looking back at him.
“Comfortable?” Harry asked calmly. He studied Draco with a detached kind of appreciation.
Draco blinked. Could it be that the great Harry Potter had forgotten him?
Harry finally let his eyes settle on Draco’s face, and there was not a flicker of recognition. Draco’s suspicions, as ridiculous as it seemed, were confirmed a moment later when Harry asked, “What’s your name?”
Very deliberately, Draco took one last drag on his cigarette, crushed it out in a crystal ashtray beside the divan, and stood. “Your pardon,” Draco said, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over one arm of the divan, “but it’s not my comfort or my name you’re paying for.”
Harry’s brows shot up and his lips quirked in surprised amusement. “No, I suppose not. Right to business then, is it?”
Draco lifted a shoulder in a negligent half-shrug. “You are paying for the whole night. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s your gold, after all. You want to talk first, I’m all ears.”
It was one of the more distasteful aspects of the job, in Draco’s opinion. Some patrons didn’t care what your name was or whether or not you were comfortable, and some did. Draco much preferred the former to the latter. At least then, he didn’t have to try to make conversation or pretend that he cared.
Harry slowly shook his head, his eyes lingering on Draco’s slim form, which was made more visible now that his coat was off. “No, I don’t think so.”
Draco nodded shortly. “Business then,” he said, gesturing toward the door that he assumed Harry had come in through with one hand. “Lead on.”
Harry caught his bottom lip between his teeth with a thoughtful expression, studying Draco closely.
Draco smiled a little. He knew that look. He was used to it.
“Upstairs,” Harry said roughly.
********
Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm at the top of the stairs and tried to kiss him. Draco pulled away from him with a hiss.
“No,” he said flatly. “That is not for sale.”
Harry stared at him and his lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “Alright.” He leaned back against the banister and beckoned Draco forward with one hand. “On your knees then.”
Draco dropped to his knees before Harry without a moment of hesitation. He slid his hands up the inside of Harry’s thighs and began plucking at the laced fastening of his trousers with his slim, talented fingers. He let his fingers slide along Harry’s groin and felt him harden through the fabric.
“Stop playing with me and do it,” Harry said. It was not spoken harshly, but it was a command just the same.
Draco opened the flies of Harry’s trousers and took out his cock. It was nice, as cocks went, and he was what one would call an expert in such things. Nothing terribly remarkable about it other than the fact that it was Harry Potter’s cock.
He gently caressed the length of it from base to tip, lightly rolling his thumb over the tip until Harry caught his breath. He glanced up and saw that Harry had closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He leaned down and did with his tongue what he had done with his thumb, eyes on Harry’s face to watch his reaction.
Harry caught his bottom lip between his teeth and his hips jerked forward. Draco smiled. He took the very tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth sucked lightly. Harry’s hands came away from the banister and tangled in his hair. It was a signal as clear as any shout in his profession and Draco had been waiting for it. He took Harry’s cock deep into his mouth until the head bumped the back of his throat, and just to hear Harry moan, and because he knew it would please him, and just because he could, he made a low humming sound.
Harry moaned just as Draco wanted and thrust a little. Draco expected it and took a breath through his nose so he wouldn’t choke, then gently put his hands flat against Harry’s hips and eased him back so he could slide his mouth back down Harry’s cock and try to finish this with something resembling finesse.
He ran his tongue along the underside, then flicked it back and forth over the little slit at the head until Harry was gasping and panting, his fingers clutching tightly at Draco’s hair while he trembled.
Draco watched him and was fascinated by his own reaction to the sight. It had been a very long time since he had felt anything for a patron’s pleasure but indifference and a sort of professional satisfaction. This, the way Harry yielded himself to Draco’s hands and mouth and shook with the pleasure of his touch, pleased him and there was nothing professional about it.
“Please,” Harry gasped. “Finish it, please.”
Draco gladly complied. He took Harry’s cock into his mouth again, holding his hips in place against the banister to prevent Harry from thrusting down his throat this time, and sucked. Not hard, not quite yet. Lightly at first, then a little more and a little more, until Harry’s gasps and moans became little cries and whimpers and whispered words of encouragement.
Draco heard it in the hitch of his breath and felt it in the tensing of Harry’s fingers in his hair and sucked him hard once, twice. Harry shuddered and climaxed with a soft cry. Draco swallowed it, not missing a single drop, and sat back to watch Harry drag his fingers through his own hair.
Harry caught him watching and laughed a little. Draco smiled smugly back at him and wiped the corner of his mouth with one finger.
Harry didn’t waste words on compliments or gratitude. “The bedroom,” was all he said. He pointed to the door behind Draco.
Draco lifted a brow at him. “Sure,” he said, standing up in a graceful, practiced motion.
He went into the bedroom while Harry composed himself.
********
The bedroom was not clean. There was no dust anywhere, but there were shirts tossed over the back of a chair on the left, a pair of trousers piled in the seat beside them. There was a candle, burned down half way, and beside it, an ashtray with a day’s worth of crushed out cigarette butts. The room smelled different too. That smell of age and death did not reach here. It smelled like Harry. It smelled like Harry tasted.
So this was where he really lived. How interesting.
Draco heard Harry come into the room behind him and smiled to himself. If he paused to wonder why such a thing pleased him, he only wondered for a moment, and considered it of little importance.
“The bed,” Harry murmured behind him.
Without turning to look at him, Draco unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide to the floor.
There was a sharp clink of metal on wood that made his fingers still on the laces of his trousers. “One thousand galleons,” he whispered.
“One galleon,” Harry said. “With a cheque for the rest. A thousand galleons weighs a lot.”
“The cheque is good?”
“It is.”
“If it isn’t…” Draco let the implied threat hang.
“You’ll send one of your friends to rough me up. I know,” Harry said. He sounded amused.
Draco didn’t send people to ‘rough you up’. Not anymore. If you didn’t pay, there were no second chances. If you didn’t pay, you died. And if you died, you could be sure that it was because Draco had asked for it. It had been long time since Draco Malfoy had a pimp to do that kind of thing for him.
Being ten years older and a whore didn’t make Draco any less the Slytherin than when Harry knew him.
“Something like that,” Draco said. He finally turned to look at Harry when he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.
“It’s good,” Harry said, watching him take off the rest of his clothes. “Don’t worry about that.”
Draco laughed briefly, got up on the bed, and crawled, naked, across it, watching Harry over one shoulder. “I’m not.”
Without taking his eyes off of Draco, kneeling in the centre of the bed, Harry began unfastening the buttons of his shirt with little plucking movements of his fingers. He dropped the shirt to the floor, kicked off his shoes, and pushed his trousers-which he had not bothered to refasten-down his hips.
Draco watched him and had to admit, Harry Potter had grown into a lovely man. “So,” Draco said, “what do you want tonight?”
Harry stepped out of his trousers, toed off his socks, and went to the edge of the bed to look down at Draco. Draco merely lifted one pale brow and waited.
“Turn over,” he said. “On your hands and knees.”
Draco gave him a coy smile, then obediently moved into that position. He looked at Harry for his approval. “Like this?” he asked, with a teasing little shake of his ass.
Harry smiled and climbed up on the bed behind him. He leaned over him and put his mouth to Draco’s ear. “Not quite,” he said, and pushed Draco down on his elbows. “I was thinking more like this.”
A bolt of lust shot straight to Draco’s belly. It was not all that uncommon for him to want a patron, but it was uncommon for him to want them this much. He thought, for a moment, of sitting up and calling the whole thing off, then Harry ran an open hand down the curve of his spine and he banished the thought.
“Whatever the patron wants,” Draco murmured, turning his face to the side and resting his cheek on the coverlet, “the patron gets.”
“Except for this,” Harry said, brushing his fingertips lightly over Draco’s mouth.
“Except that,” Draco agreed. He caught one of Harry’s fingers in his mouth and sucked on it briefly before letting it slide out.
Harry sat up and reached over Draco to open the drawer in the nightstand and take out a tube of lubricant. Draco wasn’t surprised. Some patrons preferred to fuck him without it, but Harry hadn’t struck him as that type.
Of course, Harry also wasn’t the type who was into a lot of foreplay either. Not that Draco particularly minded when Harry thrust his slick finger up his ass and almost immediately bumped the tip against his prostate.
He caught his breath and pushed back on Harry’s hand.
Harry chuckled with his face pressed against Draco’s back. “You like that?”
Draco closed his eyes and moved his hips in slow little rolling motions. “If you want me to like it…I will,” he panted. “Whatever the patron wants…the patron gets.”
“Is that so?” Harry whispered. He flicked his finger over that spot and Draco clutched the bedspread in his hands and pressed his face into the mattress. “I think you like it, and I don’t think it’s just because I want you to.”
Harry added a second finger to the first and spread them, loosening the muscles to ease his way. Draco shivered and closed his eyes, his fingers paling as he tightened his grip on the covers and tried to hold still and not drive himself down on that hand. Then Harry was pressing his cock into his ass, just the very tip, and Draco gave up and tried to sit back and force it inside him.
“No you don’t,” Harry said, slapping a hand to Draco’s back and shoving him back down on the bed. “Not yet.”
Draco groaned and wriggled his bottom a bit, trying to tempt Harry to hurry, to go faster, to do it now, fuck him now.
Harry hissed out a breath and his hips jerked, sliding his cock forward a few inches despite himself.
Draco laughed softly.
Harry reached up, caught hold of Draco’s hair in one hand, and pulled his head back. “You think you’re in charge here? Even like this…?”
Draco made an amused chuffing sound and rolled his hips. Harry’s hand tightened in Draco’s hair as his cock was forced marginally deeper. “Let’s not forget who the professional is here,” Draco murmured.
Harry opened his fingers and let go of Draco’s hair to slide his palm back down the sleek curve of his back. “I’m forgetting nothing,” he muttered, his other hand holding Draco’s hip. “Now why don’t you shut up?”
Draco growled and pushed back against him. “Then why…don’t you…fuck me instead of playing with me?”
With a laugh, Harry thrust inside him to the hilt with a snap of his hips. Draco’s body rocked forward a little under the force of the movement and he made a little breathy hitching sound that was not quite a gasp. The penetration was deep, but Draco had had that cock in his mouth, so he’d known that it would be, and after that first, rough thrust, Harry was much more gentle. Gentle, and agonizingly slow.
Draco whimpered in frustration at the long, shallow back and forth sway of his body under Harry’s. He dug his fingers into the bed beneath him and closed his eyes, riding out the sensations as they beat at him with the languid pace that Harry had chosen. But it didn’t take very long before that just wasn’t enough and he had to make Harry move or do it himself, something to ease the frantic urges of his own body.
“Let,” Draco started to say, then had to stop and take a breath. A full breath, not one of the short little panting things that Harry was forcing out of his throat. “Let me…sit up,” he said.
“I like you like this,” Harry said, one hand still flat on Draco’s back, holding him down, the other gripping his left hip.
Draco lost his temper and snapped, “You’re paying me…for my services. If this is all you wanted…you would have been better served with a limp-dick crack whore and a box of toys… Now let me sit up.”
Harry thrust into him once more, then moved the hand holding him down to Draco’s other hip so he could sit back. Draco did, making Harry moan as the angle changed slightly and his penetration somehow became deeper still. Draco chuckled softly and shifted, moving a little closer to Harry so that his back was flush with Harry’s chest.
“Put your hands…here,” Draco said, taking one of Harry’s hands and moving it so it rested palm down on the top of his thigh. Harry did what Draco said. Draco smiled and lifted up a little, then sat back down. A very slight movement, but it took Harry’s breath.
“Good,” Draco said softly, laying his own hands over Harry’s so that he could grip them and use his body weight for leverage. “You can move if you want to…but you don’t have to.”
Harry laughed breathlessly and pressed his forehead to Draco’s back. “I think I’ll…move.”
“Mmm,” Draco purred, sounding like he’d just tasted something sinful and delicious. “You do that…”
And Draco began to ride him, moving up and down in slow rolling motions that gradually became faster, and as Harry started to move with him, harder. Harry’s breath fell in quick little puffs between Draco's shoulders and his fingers tightened their grip on his thighs, his body moving with Draco’s, catching his rhythm and matching him thrust for thrust until their bodies were glazed with sweat and sliding together.
Draco could feel the flush spreading over his skin and he moaned and let his head fall back on Harry’s shoulder. He knew his own body well, and he knew that he was close. The flush was the first sign and…
“Fuck,” Harry hissed when Draco’s body contracted around him.
And that was the second. It was something he could do voluntarily, of course, but when it was involuntary…
“Oh shit,” Harry gasped. “God, don’t do that.”
Draco laughed, and it was a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down Harry’s spine all by itself.
“I can’t…help it,” Draco said. “How…How close are you?”
“Close,” Harry said through gritted teeth.
Harry bumped his prostate and Draco cried out and arched his back, fingers tightening on Harry’s hands as pleasure, thick and full, rushed through him and danced over his skin.
“Come,” Draco panted, quickening his pace. “Now. Come for me.”
Harry made a sound somewhere between a word and a shout, then clamped his teeth down on Draco’s shoulder and cried out over and over into his flesh as his orgasm burst from him. The tiny pricking pain of Harry’s teeth and the light vibration of Harry’s voice muffled by his flesh sent a pleasurable quiver straight through his belly and Draco choked back another cry of his own.
It was Harry coming inside him that finally did it for Draco. It was that full and ready to flow over sensation that made this job so easy for him. He enjoyed it way too much and cared way too little.
His orgasm was soft and throbbing, a release of tension almost like an afterthought. Draco went limp and slumped forward on the bed with Harry’s cock still firmly in his ass.
Harry leaned down and rested against his back with his head on the curve of one shoulder. Draco could feel their heartbeats, one still fluttering rapidly like the wings of a frightened moth inside a jar, the other already starting to slow down and even out.
“Mmm,” Harry murmured. He brushed Draco’s sweat damp hair out of his face. “You’re still clenching.”
Draco’s lips curved in a satisfied smile. He was trembling and his ass was still contracting lightly around Harry’s softening cock. “I know.”
“I like it,” Harry said.
“Umhmm,” Draco sighed.
Harry caressed Draco’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, then cupped his jaw on his hand and turned Draco’s face toward him. “I want to kiss you,” Harry whispered.
Draco tensed, but he didn’t pull away. He opened his eyes and stared into Harry’s lovely face and knew that Harry did not know him. He was certain of it…And he knew that it didn’t matter in the least.
“Don’t say no.”
It was said like an order, but Draco knew it was a request all the same. He nodded, just once, and Harry lowered his head to touch their lips together. Draco moved into the kiss, opened his mouth, and kissed him back. It was his first kiss in more years than he cared to remember, and it was deep, and beautiful, and so horrible that he could have screamed, but even now, with years of crawling through gutters after strange dick for the price of a meal and a draughty room to spend the night in behind him, Draco did nothing by halves. So he let Harry Potter kiss him, and even though Harry did not recognize him, and even though it hurt his heart to do it, Draco kissed him back.
It made his soul ache, and that was why it was never done. Why he never allowed it. A whore’s most valuable commodity was their body and their charm…not their hearts or their souls.
Draco let Harry be the one to end the kiss, and when Harry pulled out of him and moved to lie beside him on the bed, Draco allowed this too.
********
Somewhere in the vast halls of the dilapidated mansion, a clock chimed the midnight hour and Draco opened his eyes.
He had fallen asleep with Harry curled around him, his back to Harry’s chest, their cum and sweat drying between them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen asleep in a patron’s arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt safe enough in a strange bed to even dare. It had been a long time.
Draco removed Harry’s arm from around his waist and quietly slipped from the bed. He had left his wand in his coat, and that was down stairs, so he had to get dressed without the use of magic. He grimaced at the smell of his own skin, then shook his head and finished fastening his trousers.
He smelled like a hundred different kinds of fuck. Not that it mattered. He was a whore. All whores were supposed to smell like cheap perfume and sex.
Draco smelled like expensive cologne and sex, but it came down to the same thing.
When he was dressed, he turned back to look at Harry again. Harry lay on his side, one arm cushioning his face, his hair mussed from rough sex and his impossibly dark lashes fanned out on his cheeks. He looked peaceful and lovely and far too clean and pure for Draco to ever be allowed to touch him.
Draco drew close to the side of the bed, reached down, and ran his fingers lightly along the curve of Harry’s mouth. Harry shifted a little, moving closer to his hand with a little sound of longing.
Draco closed his eyes, turned, and walked away. He felt like something inside him was breaking as he did it-his last tie to an old life and a far more innocent time, perhaps-but he did it just the same.
This was why he never let anyone kiss him. Not because the mouth was so much more intimate than any other place on his body and not because a kiss in itself was a vow of love. What utter tripe. No, it was because it didn’t matter. It didn’t make any difference to his patrons. A kiss was just one more natural step in the sex to most of them…
And really, when it came right down to it, what was a whore’s kiss really worth? Not much. But he’d given it to Harry, and why had he done that?
Because it was all he had to give. It was the only thing he had, the only part of himself that hadn’t been taken, used, and thrown away by a thousand other men.
Draco walked over to the nightstand and looked down at the cheque weighed down on the tabletop under a single gold coin. He wasn’t going to pick it up at all, but out of curiosity, he did. He read the name of the payee and the slip of paper fell from his hands.
Draco Malfoy
Hands shaking, Draco glanced at Harry one last time over his shoulder. “You knew all along,” he whispered to the dark room.
He silently opened the door and went out. He left the coin on the nightstand and the cheque on the floor where it had fallen.
///finis///