Gryffindor Rules
This is my sixth Draco-gets-spanked-or-caned-or-flogged fic, guys. SIXTH. I mean, since “draco’s well-spanked arse” is on my DW/LJ interests, I guess I’m just doing my thing, but still. Shaaaame.
Also, I am going to have less than two hours’ sleep before I go to work for fourteen hours because apparently, porn > sleep.
Title: Gryffindor Rules
Word count: ~2400
Characters/pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Draco lost the bet, and now he’s arse-up over the arm of a sofa in the Gryffindor common room. And people thought Harry Potter was so wholesome.
Warnings: spanking
Disclaimer: The boys and girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This is for the “spanking/paddling” square on my Kink Bingo card. More importantly, it’s for g_bowneyes who said ‘anyone feel like writing me some more Harry/Draco spanking for Christmas?’. MOAR KINKY H/D FOR ALL, that’s my motto.
“The safeword is ‘Gryffindor Rules’.”
Draco snorted.
Harry shut the portrait hole, hearing the Fat Lady make a miffed sound as he cut off her access for voyeurism. “You’ll be saying it before long, Draco.”
“Oh really?” Draco’s pale face was scornful, and his arms were crossed; nevertheless he fidgeted. Harry swallowed a smile.
“You lost the bet. Your team lost the match.”
“Not my team,” Draco muttered, “if I’d been Captain instead of just Seeker we’d have pounded you into the ground - ”
“And as it is, you’re the one who’s going to get pounded,” said Harry in his sweetest tone. “The bet was that if Slytherin lost, you’d say ‘Gryffindor rules’. If Slytherin had won, I’d have said ‘Slytherin rules’ without all this arguing, you know.” Harry knew as well as Draco did that this was a bald-faced lie, but then actually the Sorting Hat had never mentioned ‘honourable’ as a Gryffindor trait. “So. Let’s hear it.”
“No!”
“Come on. It was just a friendly,” Harry said, knowing his sweet tone was only goading Draco further. Spots of pink flared on Draco’s cheeks in the firelight. “You promised to say it. So how about you get it over with while the others are still at dinner, instead of saying it for the whole House to hear?”
Draco scoffed. “You wouldn’t make me.” There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone, and Harry bestowed his most wolfish grin on him.
“Oh yes I would. And Draco? I want to hear you say it like you mean it.”
Draco fidgeted again, shifting his weight. Harry wasn’t sure how much it was irritation and uncertainty, and how much it was something else: he knew that Draco liked it when Harry was confident and in-charge. Which was good, since one of the things had lingered from their old enmity was Harry’s enjoyment of power over Draco.
“Draco?”
“No!” Draco snapped. “Slytherin rules, and I won’t pretend otherwise just to satisfy your idiotic sense of honour! Look your bloody common room, everything’s falling apart and your - ”
Harry grabbed the collar of Draco’s jumper and pulled him up against him; Harry’s other hand was at Draco’s nape, holding him in place. Draco’s eyes widened. Although they were exactly the same height, Harry had the right angle to force Draco onto his toes, to keep him off-balance with the grip. “You’re in our common room, so you have to follow Gryffindor rules. If you try to get out of a bet, you’ll have to be spanked until you pay up.”
Draco’s grey eyes, inches from Harry’s, went wide and then Harry dragged him to a sofa and pushed him over the arm of it. Draco gave an outraged shout, and Harry got out of the way of his kicking legs sharpish. Still, Harry only needed to keep his hands on Draco’s back, and Draco stayed in place: bent over the threadbare arm of Gryffindor’s squashiest sofa, his arse upturned for whatever Harry wanted to do with it, his face planted in soft material that muffled his cries. Draco was not doing his level best to get out of this.
“Now. Stay still for me - if you get up, I’ll have to wait until the others get back from dinner and have them hold you down.”
Draco’s back went stiff at this, and he stopped kicking. Harry circled behind Draco, enjoying the delicious shape of his arse outlined by his tight trousers. He groped him a little, squeezing. He was going to enjoy this.
Harry reached underneath Draco to unbutton his belt and trousers. He deliberately made very heavy weather of it, groping and rubbing at Draco under the guise of unzipping him. Draco wriggled a little, making the task still more pleasurably difficult, and Harry felt him hardening.
Harry managed it in the end, and tugged Draco’s trousers and boxers to his knees. Draco’s pale arse was exposed in the firelight. Harry’s mouth went dry at the sight: Draco’s trousers round his knees like he was a naughty schoolboy, hobbling him so that Harry could warm his arse.
Harry raised his arm and dealt Draco a hefty smack. Draco flinched a little, but he didn’t make a sound. It didn’t matter: Harry was mesmerised by the faint blush to Draco’s arsecheek, the way his arse bounced. He spanked Draco again.
It took about ten slaps, and then Draco gave a pained little exhale with each hit. Harry went harder, more confident now, wanting more of those sounds. With each slap Draco’s flesh quivered and pinkened further. It was hard to get real handprints even on Draco’s pale skin. But Harry Potter was not the kind to give up. So he grinned, put one hand on Draco’s back, and unleashed a flurry of hard, fast slaps. That broke through, and Draco began to squeal with each smack. Draco kicked his heels helplessly, his arse red under Harry’s hounds, his muffled cries getting louder. The sounds spurred Harry on, and he continued, his own hand stinging, giving Draco a good and proper spanking.
“Harry - come on - you b-bastard, Potter, stop it!” Harry grinned, enjoying the way Draco’s words were broken up by his gasps and cries. He stopped, shaking out his hand. Draco’s body slowly relaxed at the cessation, and he turned his head to give Harry a pink-cheeked glare from the seat of the sofa.
“I don’t mind stopping for a while,” Harry said. His good cheer was unmistakable in his voice, despite the growing ache in his cock at the sight before him. “But remember, the others will want to celebrate in their own common room. If they get back before you’ve said it, I’ll just have them hold you down while I really go for it. You do wriggle a lot.”
Draco swore at him again and began to struggle upright. Harry pushed him back down with one heavy hand. “See?”
“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco said. “Gryffindor sucks.”
“You know, Draco, it’s almost like you want to get spanked.” Harry gave him another slap, gleeful. Draco’s shirt was twisted round his armpits, and his trousers had crumpled around his calves. Wrinkled, dishevelled Draco, with his pink face and pink arse - Harry smoothed his palm over Draco’s arse, enjoying the heat of it. Draco’s skin must be burning. He bestowed a wicked pinch, enjoying Draco’s outraged squeak, then slid both hands under Draco and tugged him to standing.
“Giving up, are we?” Draco said. “You want to admit that Slytherin rules?”
“Nope,” Harry said cheerfully, and gave him a kiss. Draco opened for him immediately, and Harry deepened the kiss. He’d meant it as a peck, but how could he turn down what was so sweetly offered? Draco’s kiss made Harry dizzy. The bet and the rules flew out of his head as they clutched at each other. Draco’s cock was thick and hard against him; lust heated Harry’s blood. Harry slid his hands down Draco’s back to his arse, and squeezed -
Draco whimpered into his mouth.
Harry pulled back and gave Draco an accusing look. “You little sneak! You’re trying to make me forget with sex!”
“No I’m not!” Draco put on his best innocent expression. He was not very good at it.
“For someone who spent the best years of his youth doing imitations of Gryffindors, you’re terrible at not looking sneaky.” Harry managed to pull himself away from Draco’s warm, tempting body, and sat on the sofa with his thighs wide. “That’s it. You’re going over my knee.”
“Like hell.” Draco turned so pink that he looked like he’d been slapped. He didn’t do that when he was angry - that flush meant arousal. Harry held in the grin.
“Yes you are. Or maybe you want to just say the words and get it over with? You know what to say to make this stop.”
Draco’s mouth thinned, and he crossed his arms. It was much less intimidating with his hard pink cock and spanked arse exposed.
“Well, if you’re not going to say it, you know what will happen. So you’d best get over my knee, Malfoy, if you don’t want me to use magic to get you here.”
Harry didn’t have the faintest idea what spell he’d have used, but it didn’t matter. Draco obeyed, hobbling over in his trousers. Harry gestured, allowing Draco to leave the boxers and trousers behind; Draco was left with his school shirt and his glare. He gave Harry resentful looks that only increased Harry’s pleasure, scowling over his shoulder as he arranged himself in Harry’s lap, his arse raised, his cock hard against Harry’s thigh.
Harry pushed Draco’s shirt down further, grinning. “Very nice.” He gave Draco a few light slaps, warming him up again. Draco’s cock flexed against his thigh. Then Harry gave him a real whallop; Draco cried out, pained, and at the sound, the flinch, Harry had to shut his eyes and focus on not coming.
Harry kept going. Inspired by the new position, he tried delivering little slaps to Draco’s inner thighs. Trying to avoid the blows, Draco spread his thighs further. Harry grinned at the exposed, sensitive skin and took ruthless advantage of Draco’s vulnerability, turning the pale skin red. Draco flinched and whimpered and moaned, wriggling on Harry’s lap and not-incidentally thrusting his cock against Harry’s thigh.
“You know, that’s very nice, but I’m not sure it gets us any closer to you saying the words. You lost the bet, Draco, you’re going to admit the truth. Whatever it takes.
“Wh - ”
“Accio hairbrush!” Harry caught the hefty-looking wooden brush as it smacked into his palm.
“Potter no!”
“Oh yes, Draco.”
Harry spanked Draco with it three times, scientifically. There was a new meaty sound to the slaps as they rang out; the red bloomed faster on Draco’s round arse. Harry grinned and put his arm into it. Draco rocked forward with each slap, deliciously; then he rocked backwards again, as if he were presenting his arse for another slap. Almost dizzy with lust, Harry thought about him knowing his place and liking it. He worked over Draco’s thighs, and Draco’s moans became cries.
Harry dropped the hairbrush and pinched Draco’s inner thigh hard. Draco shouted, tried to squirm and then realised that was a mistake. Harry pinched him again, and again, fascinated. He’d never got this kind of response from pinching Draco’s nipples. Draco shrieked and whimpered at each pinch; Harry worked his way up, pinching viciously, leaving red marks behind. Draco’s cock was harder than ever; it felt burning hot against Harry’s thigh.
“Alright, alright!” Draco cried. “Alright, I’ll say it!”
“Like you mean it?”
“Yes just let go!”
Harry did, in favour of stroking Draco’s burning skin. “Yes?”
A mutter.
“Draco...”
“I’m trying, give me a second - ”
Harry picked up the brush and pressed its coolness threateningly against Draco’s arse. “Draco - ”
“Fine! Gryffindors rule!”
“What was that?” Harry said with a grin.
“You - Gryffindors rule!”
“I can’t hear you...”
“Gryffindors fucking rule you utter bastard, let me up!”
“How can I refuse?” Harry helped Draco sit up. He vanished his own clothes with Draco still straddling his lap, getting a satisfying little surprised sound from Draco’s swollen mouth: Draco’s bottom lip was red from being bitten. Harry kissed it, and Draco fell into the kiss with a quiet moan. Draco unbuttoned his shirt as they kissed, and Harry took full advantage of the newly revealed skin. He licked and kissed at Draco’s chest, teasing Draco’s pink nipples with his teeth. Fuck, he’d never be able to sit on this sofa doing homework with Ron and Hermione again.
Draco’s hands dropped to their cocks. Harry moaned, his whole world whiting out, at Draco’s clever fingers on his straining cock. Draco pushed their cocks together and worked them both, and Harry let him. He liked watching Draco’s face, the focus and the arousal, his lower lip caught between his teeth again. Harry squeezed Draco’s arse, moaning at the heat of it; Draco whined, but only jerked them both faster.
Draco’s cries became louder, his breathing erratic, as he wanked them both and Harry squeezed and groped his spanked arse. Draco hid his face against Harry’s neck, his chest heaving, as if somehow that would hide his arousal. Harry let him: the smell of Draco’s hair, the weight of his naked body, the warmth of Draco’s spanked thighs spread on top of him, the sensation of their cocks rubbing against each other as Draco worked to make them come -
Draco bit Harry’s neck and Harry came, overwhelmed; Draco gave a choked cry and followed him over the edge, and Harry’s orgasm went on and on, the best orgasm of his life.
Eventually Harry came back to himself, his whole body still fizzing. Draco was limp against him, breathing slow and heavy against Harry’s skin.
“Come on,” Harry said, sighing. “We need to get up. We can’t be sitting here naked when the Gryffindors gets back.”
“Why not?” Draco muttered. “Gryffindor rules clearly state that physicality solves everything, they’d probably raise a cheer.”
“And also see incontrovertible proof that you let me spank you.”
Draco’s orgasm-loosened body tensed a little. But his effort to stop this was limited to toppling slowly sideways onto the rest of the sofa so that Harry could stand.
Harry heaved himself up and managed to do a couple of cleaning spells to remove the worst of the evidence. He clambered into his clothes, still clumsy. Draco lay unmoving on the sofa, gloriously wrecked to Harry’s eyes, and floppy with afterglow.
“I need to stage a coup of the Quidditch team,” Draco yawned. “Although this was just a friendly, it didn’t mean anything. Even so...”
Something about Draco’s tone tweaked something in Harry’s mind. He paused in buttoning his shirt. “Draco?”
“Mm-hm?” Draco shifted onto his back, his face turned sideways to watch the fire. He made a little noise of discomfort as his arse rubbed against the sofa, but stayed in place, legs shamelessly spread.
“Draco, you didn’t... lose deliberately, right? Didn’t know about the spanking rule beforehand?”
Draco rolled his head until he was looking at Harry through slitted grey eyes, like a happy cat. And smiled.
“I’ll never tell.”
This was originally posted at http://lokifan.dreamwidth.org/247466.html. Comment wherever you like :)
Also, I am going to have less than two hours’ sleep before I go to work for fourteen hours because apparently, porn > sleep.
Title: Gryffindor Rules
Word count: ~2400
Characters/pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Draco lost the bet, and now he’s arse-up over the arm of a sofa in the Gryffindor common room. And people thought Harry Potter was so wholesome.
Warnings: spanking
Disclaimer: The boys and girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This is for the “spanking/paddling” square on my Kink Bingo card. More importantly, it’s for g_bowneyes who said ‘anyone feel like writing me some more Harry/Draco spanking for Christmas?’. MOAR KINKY H/D FOR ALL, that’s my motto.
“The safeword is ‘Gryffindor Rules’.”
Draco snorted.
Harry shut the portrait hole, hearing the Fat Lady make a miffed sound as he cut off her access for voyeurism. “You’ll be saying it before long, Draco.”
“Oh really?” Draco’s pale face was scornful, and his arms were crossed; nevertheless he fidgeted. Harry swallowed a smile.
“You lost the bet. Your team lost the match.”
“Not my team,” Draco muttered, “if I’d been Captain instead of just Seeker we’d have pounded you into the ground - ”
“And as it is, you’re the one who’s going to get pounded,” said Harry in his sweetest tone. “The bet was that if Slytherin lost, you’d say ‘Gryffindor rules’. If Slytherin had won, I’d have said ‘Slytherin rules’ without all this arguing, you know.” Harry knew as well as Draco did that this was a bald-faced lie, but then actually the Sorting Hat had never mentioned ‘honourable’ as a Gryffindor trait. “So. Let’s hear it.”
“No!”
“Come on. It was just a friendly,” Harry said, knowing his sweet tone was only goading Draco further. Spots of pink flared on Draco’s cheeks in the firelight. “You promised to say it. So how about you get it over with while the others are still at dinner, instead of saying it for the whole House to hear?”
Draco scoffed. “You wouldn’t make me.” There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone, and Harry bestowed his most wolfish grin on him.
“Oh yes I would. And Draco? I want to hear you say it like you mean it.”
Draco fidgeted again, shifting his weight. Harry wasn’t sure how much it was irritation and uncertainty, and how much it was something else: he knew that Draco liked it when Harry was confident and in-charge. Which was good, since one of the things had lingered from their old enmity was Harry’s enjoyment of power over Draco.
“Draco?”
“No!” Draco snapped. “Slytherin rules, and I won’t pretend otherwise just to satisfy your idiotic sense of honour! Look your bloody common room, everything’s falling apart and your - ”
Harry grabbed the collar of Draco’s jumper and pulled him up against him; Harry’s other hand was at Draco’s nape, holding him in place. Draco’s eyes widened. Although they were exactly the same height, Harry had the right angle to force Draco onto his toes, to keep him off-balance with the grip. “You’re in our common room, so you have to follow Gryffindor rules. If you try to get out of a bet, you’ll have to be spanked until you pay up.”
Draco’s grey eyes, inches from Harry’s, went wide and then Harry dragged him to a sofa and pushed him over the arm of it. Draco gave an outraged shout, and Harry got out of the way of his kicking legs sharpish. Still, Harry only needed to keep his hands on Draco’s back, and Draco stayed in place: bent over the threadbare arm of Gryffindor’s squashiest sofa, his arse upturned for whatever Harry wanted to do with it, his face planted in soft material that muffled his cries. Draco was not doing his level best to get out of this.
“Now. Stay still for me - if you get up, I’ll have to wait until the others get back from dinner and have them hold you down.”
Draco’s back went stiff at this, and he stopped kicking. Harry circled behind Draco, enjoying the delicious shape of his arse outlined by his tight trousers. He groped him a little, squeezing. He was going to enjoy this.
Harry reached underneath Draco to unbutton his belt and trousers. He deliberately made very heavy weather of it, groping and rubbing at Draco under the guise of unzipping him. Draco wriggled a little, making the task still more pleasurably difficult, and Harry felt him hardening.
Harry managed it in the end, and tugged Draco’s trousers and boxers to his knees. Draco’s pale arse was exposed in the firelight. Harry’s mouth went dry at the sight: Draco’s trousers round his knees like he was a naughty schoolboy, hobbling him so that Harry could warm his arse.
Harry raised his arm and dealt Draco a hefty smack. Draco flinched a little, but he didn’t make a sound. It didn’t matter: Harry was mesmerised by the faint blush to Draco’s arsecheek, the way his arse bounced. He spanked Draco again.
It took about ten slaps, and then Draco gave a pained little exhale with each hit. Harry went harder, more confident now, wanting more of those sounds. With each slap Draco’s flesh quivered and pinkened further. It was hard to get real handprints even on Draco’s pale skin. But Harry Potter was not the kind to give up. So he grinned, put one hand on Draco’s back, and unleashed a flurry of hard, fast slaps. That broke through, and Draco began to squeal with each smack. Draco kicked his heels helplessly, his arse red under Harry’s hounds, his muffled cries getting louder. The sounds spurred Harry on, and he continued, his own hand stinging, giving Draco a good and proper spanking.
“Harry - come on - you b-bastard, Potter, stop it!” Harry grinned, enjoying the way Draco’s words were broken up by his gasps and cries. He stopped, shaking out his hand. Draco’s body slowly relaxed at the cessation, and he turned his head to give Harry a pink-cheeked glare from the seat of the sofa.
“I don’t mind stopping for a while,” Harry said. His good cheer was unmistakable in his voice, despite the growing ache in his cock at the sight before him. “But remember, the others will want to celebrate in their own common room. If they get back before you’ve said it, I’ll just have them hold you down while I really go for it. You do wriggle a lot.”
Draco swore at him again and began to struggle upright. Harry pushed him back down with one heavy hand. “See?”
“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco said. “Gryffindor sucks.”
“You know, Draco, it’s almost like you want to get spanked.” Harry gave him another slap, gleeful. Draco’s shirt was twisted round his armpits, and his trousers had crumpled around his calves. Wrinkled, dishevelled Draco, with his pink face and pink arse - Harry smoothed his palm over Draco’s arse, enjoying the heat of it. Draco’s skin must be burning. He bestowed a wicked pinch, enjoying Draco’s outraged squeak, then slid both hands under Draco and tugged him to standing.
“Giving up, are we?” Draco said. “You want to admit that Slytherin rules?”
“Nope,” Harry said cheerfully, and gave him a kiss. Draco opened for him immediately, and Harry deepened the kiss. He’d meant it as a peck, but how could he turn down what was so sweetly offered? Draco’s kiss made Harry dizzy. The bet and the rules flew out of his head as they clutched at each other. Draco’s cock was thick and hard against him; lust heated Harry’s blood. Harry slid his hands down Draco’s back to his arse, and squeezed -
Draco whimpered into his mouth.
Harry pulled back and gave Draco an accusing look. “You little sneak! You’re trying to make me forget with sex!”
“No I’m not!” Draco put on his best innocent expression. He was not very good at it.
“For someone who spent the best years of his youth doing imitations of Gryffindors, you’re terrible at not looking sneaky.” Harry managed to pull himself away from Draco’s warm, tempting body, and sat on the sofa with his thighs wide. “That’s it. You’re going over my knee.”
“Like hell.” Draco turned so pink that he looked like he’d been slapped. He didn’t do that when he was angry - that flush meant arousal. Harry held in the grin.
“Yes you are. Or maybe you want to just say the words and get it over with? You know what to say to make this stop.”
Draco’s mouth thinned, and he crossed his arms. It was much less intimidating with his hard pink cock and spanked arse exposed.
“Well, if you’re not going to say it, you know what will happen. So you’d best get over my knee, Malfoy, if you don’t want me to use magic to get you here.”
Harry didn’t have the faintest idea what spell he’d have used, but it didn’t matter. Draco obeyed, hobbling over in his trousers. Harry gestured, allowing Draco to leave the boxers and trousers behind; Draco was left with his school shirt and his glare. He gave Harry resentful looks that only increased Harry’s pleasure, scowling over his shoulder as he arranged himself in Harry’s lap, his arse raised, his cock hard against Harry’s thigh.
Harry pushed Draco’s shirt down further, grinning. “Very nice.” He gave Draco a few light slaps, warming him up again. Draco’s cock flexed against his thigh. Then Harry gave him a real whallop; Draco cried out, pained, and at the sound, the flinch, Harry had to shut his eyes and focus on not coming.
Harry kept going. Inspired by the new position, he tried delivering little slaps to Draco’s inner thighs. Trying to avoid the blows, Draco spread his thighs further. Harry grinned at the exposed, sensitive skin and took ruthless advantage of Draco’s vulnerability, turning the pale skin red. Draco flinched and whimpered and moaned, wriggling on Harry’s lap and not-incidentally thrusting his cock against Harry’s thigh.
“You know, that’s very nice, but I’m not sure it gets us any closer to you saying the words. You lost the bet, Draco, you’re going to admit the truth. Whatever it takes.
“Wh - ”
“Accio hairbrush!” Harry caught the hefty-looking wooden brush as it smacked into his palm.
“Potter no!”
“Oh yes, Draco.”
Harry spanked Draco with it three times, scientifically. There was a new meaty sound to the slaps as they rang out; the red bloomed faster on Draco’s round arse. Harry grinned and put his arm into it. Draco rocked forward with each slap, deliciously; then he rocked backwards again, as if he were presenting his arse for another slap. Almost dizzy with lust, Harry thought about him knowing his place and liking it. He worked over Draco’s thighs, and Draco’s moans became cries.
Harry dropped the hairbrush and pinched Draco’s inner thigh hard. Draco shouted, tried to squirm and then realised that was a mistake. Harry pinched him again, and again, fascinated. He’d never got this kind of response from pinching Draco’s nipples. Draco shrieked and whimpered at each pinch; Harry worked his way up, pinching viciously, leaving red marks behind. Draco’s cock was harder than ever; it felt burning hot against Harry’s thigh.
“Alright, alright!” Draco cried. “Alright, I’ll say it!”
“Like you mean it?”
“Yes just let go!”
Harry did, in favour of stroking Draco’s burning skin. “Yes?”
A mutter.
“Draco...”
“I’m trying, give me a second - ”
Harry picked up the brush and pressed its coolness threateningly against Draco’s arse. “Draco - ”
“Fine! Gryffindors rule!”
“What was that?” Harry said with a grin.
“You - Gryffindors rule!”
“I can’t hear you...”
“Gryffindors fucking rule you utter bastard, let me up!”
“How can I refuse?” Harry helped Draco sit up. He vanished his own clothes with Draco still straddling his lap, getting a satisfying little surprised sound from Draco’s swollen mouth: Draco’s bottom lip was red from being bitten. Harry kissed it, and Draco fell into the kiss with a quiet moan. Draco unbuttoned his shirt as they kissed, and Harry took full advantage of the newly revealed skin. He licked and kissed at Draco’s chest, teasing Draco’s pink nipples with his teeth. Fuck, he’d never be able to sit on this sofa doing homework with Ron and Hermione again.
Draco’s hands dropped to their cocks. Harry moaned, his whole world whiting out, at Draco’s clever fingers on his straining cock. Draco pushed their cocks together and worked them both, and Harry let him. He liked watching Draco’s face, the focus and the arousal, his lower lip caught between his teeth again. Harry squeezed Draco’s arse, moaning at the heat of it; Draco whined, but only jerked them both faster.
Draco’s cries became louder, his breathing erratic, as he wanked them both and Harry squeezed and groped his spanked arse. Draco hid his face against Harry’s neck, his chest heaving, as if somehow that would hide his arousal. Harry let him: the smell of Draco’s hair, the weight of his naked body, the warmth of Draco’s spanked thighs spread on top of him, the sensation of their cocks rubbing against each other as Draco worked to make them come -
Draco bit Harry’s neck and Harry came, overwhelmed; Draco gave a choked cry and followed him over the edge, and Harry’s orgasm went on and on, the best orgasm of his life.
Eventually Harry came back to himself, his whole body still fizzing. Draco was limp against him, breathing slow and heavy against Harry’s skin.
“Come on,” Harry said, sighing. “We need to get up. We can’t be sitting here naked when the Gryffindors gets back.”
“Why not?” Draco muttered. “Gryffindor rules clearly state that physicality solves everything, they’d probably raise a cheer.”
“And also see incontrovertible proof that you let me spank you.”
Draco’s orgasm-loosened body tensed a little. But his effort to stop this was limited to toppling slowly sideways onto the rest of the sofa so that Harry could stand.
Harry heaved himself up and managed to do a couple of cleaning spells to remove the worst of the evidence. He clambered into his clothes, still clumsy. Draco lay unmoving on the sofa, gloriously wrecked to Harry’s eyes, and floppy with afterglow.
“I need to stage a coup of the Quidditch team,” Draco yawned. “Although this was just a friendly, it didn’t mean anything. Even so...”
Something about Draco’s tone tweaked something in Harry’s mind. He paused in buttoning his shirt. “Draco?”
“Mm-hm?” Draco shifted onto his back, his face turned sideways to watch the fire. He made a little noise of discomfort as his arse rubbed against the sofa, but stayed in place, legs shamelessly spread.
“Draco, you didn’t... lose deliberately, right? Didn’t know about the spanking rule beforehand?”
Draco rolled his head until he was looking at Harry through slitted grey eyes, like a happy cat. And smiled.
“I’ll never tell.”
This was originally posted at http://lokifan.dreamwidth.org/247466.html. Comment wherever you like :)