Happy (very) Belated Birthday, adores_draco!
Title - Love Letters
Author - softly_sweetly
Beta - dysonrules
Rating - NC17
Word Count - ~1500
Characters/Pairings - Draco/Harry
Warnings/Kinks - Sensation Play, Quill!Kink, Smut, Dirty talk
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story. All characters depicted in sexual situations herein are above the age of consent.
Summary - "I'm very romantic. I cook for you, and I used to write you love letters when we were dating." "There's a telling word in that sentence - can you guess which it is? And they fell more under the 'pornography' category than the 'romance' one."
Author's Notes - Told using the prompt Sensation Play from my kink_bingo claim card, which can be found here.
Happy Belated Birthday adores_draco - this is obscenely late, and I do apologise. ♥
Sundays were family days, when they made their weekly visits to Draco's parents' for morning tea, and the Weasleys' for Sunday lunch. Fridays were friends' days, when they wound out the stress of the week in the pub with whoever was available for a pint.
Saturdays were theirs.
Flopping down onto his side of the bed, Draco breathed deeply, enjoying the ache of exertion in his muscles. Harry was collapsed next to him in a similar position, glasses askew and hair all mussed up. Reaching out, Draco slid Harry's glasses off and folded them up, placing them carefully on the bedside table where they were less likely to do Harry harm or come to harm themselves - Draco had lost count of the number of times he'd had to stop mid-thrust because Harry had poked himself in the eye.
"Are we not getting out of bed today, then?"
Draco shook his head, thumping the pillow beneath his head. It didn't work, so he folded it in two, propping his head up at a better angle to talk to Harry without falling asleep. "Do we ever, on a Saturday?"
"Fair point." Harry rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin up on his arms. "We used to get up on Saturdays and do couple-y things."
"What's more couple-y than shagging all day?"
Harry chuckled. "And who says romance is dead?"
Putting on an air of disbelief, Draco used his best affronted tone. "I'm the pinnacle of romance."
"It's not a very high slope, then," Harry quipped right back. "You woke me up by poking me in the bum and announcing you were horny."
"I didn't hear any complaints then!"
"I'm not complaining now. But you are not a romantic."
Draco pouted, staring up at the ceiling and ignoring Harry poking his arm. He kept up his side of the game until Harry laughed and sprawled over his chest. Pressing his chin down into his chest, Draco pushed his pout out and let Harry kiss him sweetly. "I'm very romantic. I cook for you, and I used to write you love letters when we were dating."
"There's a telling word in that sentence - can you guess which it is? And they fell more under the 'pornography' category than the 'romance' one."
"Some people are never happy." Rolling his eyes, Draco brought his hand out from under his head and flicked Harry squarely in the forehead. Pushing Harry off him, Draco harrumphed his way across the bed, lying Harry flat on his stomach and sitting down on his legs. "You really want soppy love letters?"
"Yes, yes, I do."
Two could play this game. Holding out his hand and silently Summoning a quill and a pot of ink, Draco settled more comfortably on Harry's thighs. Holding the quill by the point he stroked the tip of the feather along Harry's cleft, making Harry tremble and laugh.
"What are you doing?"
"Writing you a love letter, what else?" Popping the lid off the ink with one hand, Draco used the other to guide the quill, dragging the tip of the feather all over Harry's back until Harry was chuckling helplessly. Flipping the quill over in such a skilful move that Draco almost wished Harry was on his back, so that he'd have witnessed Draco's talent, Draco dipped the point into the inkpot and hovered it over Harry's left shoulder blade. Pressing the point to Harry's skin, Draco dictated as he wrote, "Dear Harry."
The sensation made Harry squirm like mad, and Draco had to move to pretty much sit on Harry's arse just to keep him still.
"That feels... strange."
"Romantic, maybe?"
"That's not quite the word I'd use." Harry shifted on the mattress, rearranging his arms under his head before he settled down. "But not horrible, so you may continue."
"Oh I may, may I?" Draco teased, already dipping the quill back into the ink.
"Yes. Less dilly-dallying, more foreplay."
Nodding his head in agreement, a pointless action considering Harry couldn't see him, Draco hovered the quill just under his opening line, and thought. He couldn't come up with anything genuinely romantic, so he went for humour instead. "You have the most biteable arse I've ever seen."
Harry twitched under him, half-laughing at Draco, half gasping at the feeling of the quill on his skin. Draco could imagine it perfectly; the ink cold and smooth, soothing the scratch of the sharp quill tip. Draco had used the feathered end of a quill for sexual mischief before now - mainly when they were both stuck behind their desks and bored out of their minds with paperwork - but he'd never thought to use the pointed end. And if the way Harry was pushing his arse up against Draco's thighs and groin was any indication, it was a stroke of pure genius to have started using it now.
"I'd like to spank it cherry red and then leave lots of little teeth marks in it."
Harry whimpered, the muscles in his back flexing under his decorated skin as Draco added punctuation to his second sentence. This was fun; if he could fill out all his paperwork on Harry's skin, Draco might not despise the bureaucratic red tape so vehemently.
"And then I'd push two of my fingers up your tight little hole," Draco fell silent as his writing caught up with his words. He was fast running out of space on Harry's back, and his wrist kept bumping against his renewed erection as he wrote. He needed to finish this letter, and not just because of the space issues - if he came all over Harry's back, his lovely penmanship would be illegible.
"Stretch you, fuck you, and start all over again. Love, Draco."
Finishing his name with a big, flourishing D, Draco leaned back to admire his handiwork. "See, how romantic was that?"
"Shut up and shag me."
"Now who's being unromantic?" Draco chided Harry softly, but there was no real meaning behind the words. Truthfully, he'd been hoping Harry would suggest sex first, so that Draco could retain the moral high ground and still do something about his demanding arousal.
Sliding down the bed and tossing the quill and inkbottle to the floor, Draco realised a few seconds too late that he hadn't put the cap back on the bottle. Oh well, it was washable ink. He hoped. If it wasn't, he and Harry would have a lot of explaining to do next time they were in the Auror locker rooms.
Groping about for the lubricant - it had been kicked under the sheets during their morning shag - Draco squeezed a line out along his fingers and wrapped his hand around his erection, stroking upwards in one slow, firm movement that coated his cock thoroughly in the sticky substance. As he'd done that, Harry had pushed a pillow under his hips, and Draco mentally gave his husband points for efficiency. No preparation was necessary, and Draco curved his hand around Harry's waist, guiding his cock into place and sliding into Harry's arse in one smooth, easy thrust.
He wasted no time in setting up a steady rhythm - in, grind, out - balancing his weight on the bed and letting Harry push up into the thrusts as he wanted. Kissing was out of the question, but Draco leaned forward and attacked the back of Harry's neck with his mouth, nipping and kissing as he sped up his thrusts. He could feel the ink sliding about between them, and it was oddly sensual, making their skin slip smoothly.
One of Harry's hands curved up behind him and buried in Draco's hair, pulling Draco close as the other hand fumbled underneath them. Draco could guess what the other hand was doing, and his suspicions were confirmed when Harry tensed under him, arse clenching down as he shouted out. Draco felt more than a few strands of hair pop out of the follicles, but the sudden burst of sharp pain only served to push him over the edge, throwing the pleasure building in his bollocks into sharp relief. Pressing his forehead into the back of Harry's neck, Draco's elbows gave out as his orgasm washed through him, his cock twitching in between welcoming walls as his elbows gave out and his weight rested on Harry's back.
When his arms had stopped shaking, Draco pushed himself up and off Harry's back, making it as far as his own side of the bed before he gave up and collapsed onto the mattress. "Mmm."
Watching Harry with one eye, Draco smiled as Harry looked over his shoulder and grimaced at the mess of blue ink that was there.
"What a mess. My letter is ruined."
Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Draco Summoned the quill back into his hand. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll write you another one!"
Author - softly_sweetly
Beta - dysonrules
Rating - NC17
Word Count - ~1500
Characters/Pairings - Draco/Harry
Warnings/Kinks - Sensation Play, Quill!Kink, Smut, Dirty talk
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story. All characters depicted in sexual situations herein are above the age of consent.
Summary - "I'm very romantic. I cook for you, and I used to write you love letters when we were dating." "There's a telling word in that sentence - can you guess which it is? And they fell more under the 'pornography' category than the 'romance' one."
Author's Notes - Told using the prompt Sensation Play from my kink_bingo claim card, which can be found here.
Happy Belated Birthday adores_draco - this is obscenely late, and I do apologise. ♥
Sundays were family days, when they made their weekly visits to Draco's parents' for morning tea, and the Weasleys' for Sunday lunch. Fridays were friends' days, when they wound out the stress of the week in the pub with whoever was available for a pint.
Saturdays were theirs.
Flopping down onto his side of the bed, Draco breathed deeply, enjoying the ache of exertion in his muscles. Harry was collapsed next to him in a similar position, glasses askew and hair all mussed up. Reaching out, Draco slid Harry's glasses off and folded them up, placing them carefully on the bedside table where they were less likely to do Harry harm or come to harm themselves - Draco had lost count of the number of times he'd had to stop mid-thrust because Harry had poked himself in the eye.
"Are we not getting out of bed today, then?"
Draco shook his head, thumping the pillow beneath his head. It didn't work, so he folded it in two, propping his head up at a better angle to talk to Harry without falling asleep. "Do we ever, on a Saturday?"
"Fair point." Harry rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin up on his arms. "We used to get up on Saturdays and do couple-y things."
"What's more couple-y than shagging all day?"
Harry chuckled. "And who says romance is dead?"
Putting on an air of disbelief, Draco used his best affronted tone. "I'm the pinnacle of romance."
"It's not a very high slope, then," Harry quipped right back. "You woke me up by poking me in the bum and announcing you were horny."
"I didn't hear any complaints then!"
"I'm not complaining now. But you are not a romantic."
Draco pouted, staring up at the ceiling and ignoring Harry poking his arm. He kept up his side of the game until Harry laughed and sprawled over his chest. Pressing his chin down into his chest, Draco pushed his pout out and let Harry kiss him sweetly. "I'm very romantic. I cook for you, and I used to write you love letters when we were dating."
"There's a telling word in that sentence - can you guess which it is? And they fell more under the 'pornography' category than the 'romance' one."
"Some people are never happy." Rolling his eyes, Draco brought his hand out from under his head and flicked Harry squarely in the forehead. Pushing Harry off him, Draco harrumphed his way across the bed, lying Harry flat on his stomach and sitting down on his legs. "You really want soppy love letters?"
"Yes, yes, I do."
Two could play this game. Holding out his hand and silently Summoning a quill and a pot of ink, Draco settled more comfortably on Harry's thighs. Holding the quill by the point he stroked the tip of the feather along Harry's cleft, making Harry tremble and laugh.
"What are you doing?"
"Writing you a love letter, what else?" Popping the lid off the ink with one hand, Draco used the other to guide the quill, dragging the tip of the feather all over Harry's back until Harry was chuckling helplessly. Flipping the quill over in such a skilful move that Draco almost wished Harry was on his back, so that he'd have witnessed Draco's talent, Draco dipped the point into the inkpot and hovered it over Harry's left shoulder blade. Pressing the point to Harry's skin, Draco dictated as he wrote, "Dear Harry."
The sensation made Harry squirm like mad, and Draco had to move to pretty much sit on Harry's arse just to keep him still.
"That feels... strange."
"Romantic, maybe?"
"That's not quite the word I'd use." Harry shifted on the mattress, rearranging his arms under his head before he settled down. "But not horrible, so you may continue."
"Oh I may, may I?" Draco teased, already dipping the quill back into the ink.
"Yes. Less dilly-dallying, more foreplay."
Nodding his head in agreement, a pointless action considering Harry couldn't see him, Draco hovered the quill just under his opening line, and thought. He couldn't come up with anything genuinely romantic, so he went for humour instead. "You have the most biteable arse I've ever seen."
Harry twitched under him, half-laughing at Draco, half gasping at the feeling of the quill on his skin. Draco could imagine it perfectly; the ink cold and smooth, soothing the scratch of the sharp quill tip. Draco had used the feathered end of a quill for sexual mischief before now - mainly when they were both stuck behind their desks and bored out of their minds with paperwork - but he'd never thought to use the pointed end. And if the way Harry was pushing his arse up against Draco's thighs and groin was any indication, it was a stroke of pure genius to have started using it now.
"I'd like to spank it cherry red and then leave lots of little teeth marks in it."
Harry whimpered, the muscles in his back flexing under his decorated skin as Draco added punctuation to his second sentence. This was fun; if he could fill out all his paperwork on Harry's skin, Draco might not despise the bureaucratic red tape so vehemently.
"And then I'd push two of my fingers up your tight little hole," Draco fell silent as his writing caught up with his words. He was fast running out of space on Harry's back, and his wrist kept bumping against his renewed erection as he wrote. He needed to finish this letter, and not just because of the space issues - if he came all over Harry's back, his lovely penmanship would be illegible.
"Stretch you, fuck you, and start all over again. Love, Draco."
Finishing his name with a big, flourishing D, Draco leaned back to admire his handiwork. "See, how romantic was that?"
"Shut up and shag me."
"Now who's being unromantic?" Draco chided Harry softly, but there was no real meaning behind the words. Truthfully, he'd been hoping Harry would suggest sex first, so that Draco could retain the moral high ground and still do something about his demanding arousal.
Sliding down the bed and tossing the quill and inkbottle to the floor, Draco realised a few seconds too late that he hadn't put the cap back on the bottle. Oh well, it was washable ink. He hoped. If it wasn't, he and Harry would have a lot of explaining to do next time they were in the Auror locker rooms.
Groping about for the lubricant - it had been kicked under the sheets during their morning shag - Draco squeezed a line out along his fingers and wrapped his hand around his erection, stroking upwards in one slow, firm movement that coated his cock thoroughly in the sticky substance. As he'd done that, Harry had pushed a pillow under his hips, and Draco mentally gave his husband points for efficiency. No preparation was necessary, and Draco curved his hand around Harry's waist, guiding his cock into place and sliding into Harry's arse in one smooth, easy thrust.
He wasted no time in setting up a steady rhythm - in, grind, out - balancing his weight on the bed and letting Harry push up into the thrusts as he wanted. Kissing was out of the question, but Draco leaned forward and attacked the back of Harry's neck with his mouth, nipping and kissing as he sped up his thrusts. He could feel the ink sliding about between them, and it was oddly sensual, making their skin slip smoothly.
One of Harry's hands curved up behind him and buried in Draco's hair, pulling Draco close as the other hand fumbled underneath them. Draco could guess what the other hand was doing, and his suspicions were confirmed when Harry tensed under him, arse clenching down as he shouted out. Draco felt more than a few strands of hair pop out of the follicles, but the sudden burst of sharp pain only served to push him over the edge, throwing the pleasure building in his bollocks into sharp relief. Pressing his forehead into the back of Harry's neck, Draco's elbows gave out as his orgasm washed through him, his cock twitching in between welcoming walls as his elbows gave out and his weight rested on Harry's back.
When his arms had stopped shaking, Draco pushed himself up and off Harry's back, making it as far as his own side of the bed before he gave up and collapsed onto the mattress. "Mmm."
Watching Harry with one eye, Draco smiled as Harry looked over his shoulder and grimaced at the mess of blue ink that was there.
"What a mess. My letter is ruined."
Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Draco Summoned the quill back into his hand. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll write you another one!"