Draco panted against Potter's neck, overcome. He had never experienced anything so intense in his life. Potter's submission was the most thrilling thing imaginable and Draco could not quite believe it was real.

Potter shifted beneath him, slick with sweat, gasping for air, and Draco wrapped his arms around Potter's torso, holding him tightly. He almost felt like thanking him for such an amazing gift, but he knew the words would probably confuse the Gryffindor. Draco thought it best to maintain his controlling personae, which had served him incredibly well so far. He could hardly believe his own temerity in not only taking away Potter's wand, but in ordering him around, spanking him, and then fucking him near-senseless.

His cock moved slightly at the reminder, still deeply buried in the Gryffindor. Draco finally noticed that he was crushing the uncomplaining boy, and that Potter's hands were tightly clenched around the Slytherin ties that bound his wrists.

Draco reluctantly pulled away, moving as slowly as possible and dragging his hands over every bit of Potter's skin he could reach during the motion. His cock slipped wetly from Potter's hole and Draco had to suppress the urge to bend down and lick the reddened opening clean, which was disturbing, to say the least. And yet, Potter's response to Draco's tonguing had been extraordinary. He wanted more of it. His cock began to harden at the very idea and Draco groaned, dropping his forehead to rest on the small of Potter's back.

He couldn't. It was near midnight and they both had classes the next day. Besides, Potter had promised he would return.

Whenever you say; whatever you want.

He suppressed a shiver of emotion and pressed his lips to the cleft of Potter's arse, earning a tiny gasp. Draco smiled. He bent down and untied Potter's ankles.

Potter clamped his knees together and repositioned himself on the chair, making a vain attempt at modesty that only made Draco want to open him up once more. He ran a hand over Potter's reddened arse as a minor form of punishment.

Potter squirmed, but made no sound, so Draco left off the torment in order to pull up his pants and trousers. He had not bothered to remove them while fucking Potter, which had made it even more delicious, somehow.

Draco moved to the back of the chair and plucked at Potter's bonds, but they had tightened beyond the ability of his fingers to undo. Potter kept his head down, gaze apparently fixed on the seat of the chair. His glasses had fallen off long ago and lay near his knees.

Draco pulled out his wand and spelled the ties free. Potter immediately snatched up his glasses, left the chair, and bolted for his clothing across the room. He seemed as skittish as a wild deer. Draco watched lazily as Potter dragged his apparel back on, not even bothering to clean himself up-probably because his wand still rested in Draco's robes. It amused him to think of Potter returning to his dorm splattered with his own come and reeking of sex. He debated keeping the wand overnight, but knew such an act might be a deal-breaker for the Gryffindor. Draco instinctively knew he needed to find exactly the right balance to keep Potter in the palm of his hand.

When Potter was fully dressed, he tugged the invisibility cloak over himself, disappearing in stages until only his head was visible. He turned and looked at Draco reluctantly.

"May I have my wand?" he asked politely.

Draco walked to his fallen robes and picked them up. "Of course," he said and fished Potter's wand from a pocket. He walked to the Gryffindor and held it out to him. To his credit, Potter did not snatch the length of holly; he grasped the end calmly and waited for Draco to let go.

Draco did so and Potter walked quickly to the door.

"Potter!" Draco called sharply and he saw the Gryffindor flinch. Potter waited with one hand on the door, jutting eerily from the nothingness of the cloak, as Draco approached. "You forgot your reward."

Potter's eyes widened and he half-turned to stare at Draco. "My... my what?"

Draco frowned. "Well, if you don't want it..."

"No, I—I do!" Potter said quickly.

"All right, then," Draco replied. He lifted a hand and cupped Potter's jaw before leaning in to place a kiss on his lips. Potter drew in a surprised breath, but he did not pull away. Draco moved his hand to the back of Potter's neck and pushed his fingers into the damp hair, tugging Potter even closer.
As though instructed, Potter opened his lips, giving Draco access. He accepted the invitation greedily, plundering Potter's mouth with gentle intensity, mapping the contours with the intention of leaving an invisible mark of ownership. When he finally pulled away, Potter looked half-dazed and Draco felt a rush of satisfaction. He dared anyone to kiss Potter better.

He frowned, not appreciating the thought of anyone kissing Potter at all. "Tomorrow," he reminded brusquely and Potter nodded before dragging the hood of the cloak over his face. He slipped through the door and escaped.

Draco smiled as the door clicked shut, feeling almost giddy. The feeling only increased when he glanced back at the chair and noticed Potter's pants lying on the floor near the ornate piece of furniture. He had been in such a rush to flee that he had left them behind.

Foolish Gryffindor.


Harry felt like a basket of nerves. He had nearly skived off breakfast, but knew Hermione's merciless questions would never cease unless he had a damned good excuse. He sat down and pretended to eat by nibbling on a piece of toast. In truth, his stomach was in knots and the idea of food made him want to heave.

Malfoy had been watching him off and on throughout the meal, and Harry could not suppress a blush whenever he noticed. It was impossible not to feel a rush whenever the grey eyes fixed on him. There was simply too much to remember and every moment of it induced mortification.

Mortification… and something else. Every time Harry sat down, his arse ached. From the bruises on his backside to the wrenching twinge caused by never-before used muscles, he was in a state of near-constant discomfort.

Even so, the memory of how he had got that way served to stop his breathing a dozen times while he remembered Malfoy's hands, and tongue, and cock… Harry pressed the heel of his palm against his erection, hoping no one around him noticed the movement. He dared not look towards the Slytherin table, expecting that a certain blond had noticed.

He thought about his unfinished Potions homework and kept his eyes on his plate as he moved the food around enough to satisfy Hermione's sharp eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when his erection subsided and breakfast finally ended. He followed Ron and Hermione back towards Gryffindor Tower without another glance at Malfoy.

His own words kept echoing in his mind. I'll be back. Whenever you say, whatever you want. He half-dreaded receiving a message from Malfoy telling him when, because underneath the dread was a horrifying sense of anticipation.

His footsteps plodded up the stairs to his room and he froze when he saw a small, flat box resting on his bed. Harry rushed over and shoved it surreptitiously beneath his pillow before Ron noticed; he was thankful that his friend had been walking behind him. Ron was intent on locating his Potions book and ignored Harry, anyway.

"Here it is," Ron said and held it up. "Got yours?"

"Yeah. Hey, you go along without me," Harry said. "I need to correct something on my homework. I just thought of it."

Ron looked dubious. "Yeah?"

"Go on, I'll try to get there on time, but no sense both of us being late if I don't make it."

Ron nodded. "All right. I'll let Hermione know. She might faint to know you're fixing your homework." He snickered.

Harry forced a laugh and waited until Ron's footsteps disappeared before he turned and snatched at the box. He wrenched it open and a small card fluttered out, but Harry's attention was focused on the contents.

He held the item up in stunned amazement.

It was a pair of knickers. Girl's knickers. An emerald green scrap of silk and lace.

Confused, Harry dropped the garment and picked up the card. It read: You left your pants behind, so I acquired you some new ones. I'll expect you to wear them today. All day. I will be checking.

Harry swallowed hard and took them up again, tracing a finger over the patterned lace. The thought of wearing them beneath his trousers was disturbing, but the thought of Malfoy checking… Harry's face flamed and he quickly tore off his trousers and pants before sliding on the bit of silk. It was far more erotic than he had expected.

The silk felt brilliantly soft where it cupped his balls and buttocks. The front of the pants barely covered his cock—the tip peeped out regardless of where he tucked himself.

"This is crazy," he muttered.

Even so, he quickly pulled his clothing back on and cast Incendio on the message before pelting out and making it to Potions in the nick of time.


Potter looked a fright. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he appeared as though he had not even bothered to drag a comb through his hair after their activities—an idea that appealed to Draco no small amount. At breakfast Potter had blushed beautifully and shifted in his seat often. Twice Draco caught him rubbing his wrists.

Each time their eyes had met, the Gryffindor had flushed scarlet and looked away, finally earning a suspicious glare or two from Granger, who had turned it immediately on Draco. He had pretended not to notice.

In truth, it was all he could do not to fix his gaze on Potter and watch his every movement. Draco wanted to touch his bruises and remind him who had put them there. He wanted to kiss those lips again and suck and bite on parts of Potter that had never been touched by anyone else. The thought was dizzying.

Potter arrived in Potions in his usual hurried fashion, rushing in and flinging himself into his seat at the last moment. His eyes sought Draco's the instant he stepped into the room, but he quickly flushed and looked away.

Draco's eyes moved lazily over the Gryffindor, wondering if Potter was wearing his little gift. Draco had nicked them from Pansy, knowing the bint had several "special" pairs that she kept for nonexistent special occasions. The emerald ones had caught Draco's attention immediately; they reminded him of Potter's eyes.

Draco could not tell from Potter's demeanour if he was wearing the pants or not. The boy had been a blushing mess all morning and his behaviour had not changed.

Class seemed interminable. Draco made the listed potion and watched as Potter fumbled his ingredients and destroyed his mixture by adding too much moonwort. Draco sighed. Potter was pathetic, really. Draco was not sure what was so attractive about the git, besides his arse. And possibly his lips. And those hands. And, of course, his lovely cock and that adorable pair of bollocks…

Draco yanked his thoughts back to his potion as he capped it and turned it in, willing his erection to subside and thankful for his loose robes.

He packed his items and was the first one to leave when class ended. He waited in the hallway that led to the Potion Master's quarters as the students filed by, heading for the Great Hall. Potter and his friends were nearly the last to leave and Draco watched as they walked by, chatting amicably. Potter seemed relaxed, finally, but Draco's Stinging Hex ended that.

Potter yelped and rubbed his arse. Draco smirked as Granger asked Potter what was wrong.

"I… ah… forgot something. I'll catch up!" Potter said loudly. Granger and the Weasel looked at him dubiously, but they shrugged and moved on while Potter waited, pretending to search in his school bag. The last of the students straggled past and then Potter turned and marched towards Draco's hiding place.

"That hurt!" he snapped.

"It's a Stinging Hex. It's supposed to hurt," Draco commented dryly. His hand shot out and grabbed Potter's improperly knotted tie. He pulled the Gryffindor forwards mercilessly until their torsos were locked together. Potter's glare was venomous. "Besides, you like it rough, remember?" Draco pitched his voice as low and dangerous-sounding as possible and added, "Are you wearing them?"

Potter's glare disappeared and his eyes widened as he swallowed and nodded.

Draco grinned like a Cheshire cat and said, "Let me see." He loosened his hold on Potter's tie, allowing him some freedom.

Potter's fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers, giving Draco another thrill at his quick, wordless compliance, although the Gryffindor did shoot a nervous glance towards the opening of the hallway.

The material fell open to reveal a hint of emerald green silk. Draco released Potter's tie completely and put both hands on the waistband of his trousers to yank them down even more. The sight was riveting.

Potter's cock grew as he watched, stretching the delicate material and causing the head of his prick to peek out over the top edge of lace. Draco stared and pushed his tongue out to wet his suddenly dry lower lip. Fuck.

He trailed his fingernails over Potter's hardness, scratching lightly through the fabric and dragging a tortured-sounding moan from the Gryffindor. A bead of precome appeared at the tip of Potter's pretty cock and Draco had to fight hard to suppress the urge to bend down and lick it.

He located his voice and whispered, "Very good, Potter. I see you like them. Tell me you like them."

"I… I like them," Potter rasped. He shivered as Draco kept up the delicate tease of nails over silk.

"Do you want me to spank you while you're wearing them?" Draco asked seductively.

Potter shuddered and gasped. "Yes." His voice was barely audible.

Salazar. Draco was rock-hard. Giving up the fight, he dropped to his knees impulsively and licked the tip of Potter's cock, pressing the salty-bitter precome against the roof of his mouth and deciding it wasn't that bad, especially when tasting it made Potter twitch so violently his head flew back and he made a violent gurgling sound.

Draco wrapped his lips around the head and sucked gently while his tongue lapped the slit clean. Potter's hands went to Draco's hair, clenching tightly as another shiver rocked his frame.

Draco got to his feet with a tsking sound and Potter's hands fell away. "For shame, Potter. Touching my hair without permission is a punishable offense. I'll see you tonight at eleven. Don't be late."

Draco turned to walk away, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, and don't wank. I'll know if you've come." He jerked a thumb toward Potter's exposed crotch. "And keep those on."

With a light step, Draco left the panting Gryffindor behind.


Harry entered the room with trepidation, frowning when he noticed it was pitch dark in the chamber. There were no welcoming candles, nor light from the windows—clouds had overtaken Hogwarts and it was gloomy and wet outside.

Harry raised his wand to cast a Lumos, holding it tightly this time, and blinked against the brightness when it lit.

"You're early, Potter. I'm impressed."

Malfoy sat in the chair Harry had occupied the night before, looking very relaxed and casual in a white jumper and dark trousers. He looked like he owned everything in the room—including Harry. His next words strengthened that impression.

"Come here."

Harry felt a flare of annoyance at the imperious tone, but then Malfoy lifted a finger and beckoned to him, just as he had done twice before, and Harry's breath caught, remembering everything Malfoy had done to him. His feet carried him forward until he stood next to the chair.

Malfoy produced his own wand and lit the candles, as before. Harry allowed the light from his wand to die, absurdly grateful for the lesser illumination of the candles. Malfoy pointed at the floor between his legs and Harry swallowed hard before moving to stand in the designated place. He stared down at Malfoy, who looked entirely too relaxed. Harry's wand was still in his hand, but it seemed utterly ineffectual.

Malfoy reached up and took Harry's wand, using two fingers, as though not entirely sure Harry wouldn't hex him. Harry felt a wrench as Malfoy placed it with his own on the seat of the chair, but the pang was drowned by Malfoy's words. "Take off your trousers."

Harry's heart began to thud as he toed off his shoes and unfastened his trousers. He let them fall and then stepped out of them before kicking them beneath the chair to join his shoes. He still wore the emerald panties, of course, although his erection was partially disguised by the hem of the t-shirt he wore, which hung over the material.

"Shirt, too," Malfoy said.

Harry flushed as he complied, dragging the black shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He stood before Malfoy clad in nothing but girl's knickers, which would have been more embarrassing if not for Malfoy's riveted expression. Harry had felt faint in the dungeon corridor earlier, when Malfoy had gotten on his kneesand taken the head of Harry's cock into his normally-smirking mouth. The memory made his erection twitch and he realized just how close to coming he was. He had been half-hard all day and it had taken real effort to keep from disregarding Malfoy's orders and bringing himself off. Already, the head of his cock peeped over the upper edge of the panties, the lace and silk too small to contain it.

"Very good, Potter," Malfoy said and reached out to smear precome over the head of Harry's cock with one cool finger. Harry shuddered at his touch and then stared when Malfoy moved the finger to his mouth and sucked on it. Merlin, there was no way he would last. He trembled with the exertion of resisting orgasm.

Malfoy leaned forward and blew lightly on the head of his cock. Harry had to clench his hands into fists, needing desperately to reach out and drag Malfoy's mouth onto his cock, dying for him to suck it as he had earlier. As though reading Harry's mind, Malfoy did just that. He took the head into his mouth and swirled his tongue over it. Harry threw back his head and moaned as he shuddered helplessly.

"You want to come, don't you, Potter?" Malfoy asked and nibbled on the sensitive flesh beneath the head of Harry's cock, using his tongue to push beneath the lace of the panties.

"Yes, Merlin, yes," Harry said around a groan.

"You didn't wank today, did you?"

Malfoy tugged at the material of the panties with his fingers, pulling them down until Harry's cock was fully exposed. His testicles rested on the lace edging. He shook his head crazily and then realized Malfoy could not see the motion, occupied as he was with his task. "No," he rasped.

Malfoy's tongue caressed the underside of Harry's cock from tip to base and back again. Harry's nails dug into the palms of his hands.

"Very well," Malfoy murmured. "You may come."

With that, Malfoy took Harry's entire cock into his mouth. With a shout of surprise, Harry came, shuddering crazily as he pumped what seemed a thousand litres of semen into Malfoy's shockingly eager mouth.

Malfoy swallowed all of it, sucking and lapping at Harry until every last drop had been consumed and Harry's tingling shudders lessened. He fought to stay on his feet. His legs were shaking. Malfoy's hands gripped his hips, ostensibly to keep Harry in place. He belatedly noticed that his hands were tangled in Malfoy's blond hair.

Malfoy pulled away with one final, teasing lick that sent a quivering spasm through Harry's body. The grey eyes met his reproachfully. "Potter, what did I tell you about touching my hair?"

Harry snatched his hands away and winced when a couple of strands snagged in his fingers, bringing a look of annoyance to Malfoy's face.

"Well, now that you've received your reward for being obedient and timely, I see it's time for your double punishment for forgetting yourself."

Harry pouted, wondering what was so terrible about touching Malfoy's perfect hair—which was remarkably soft and touchable—but the word punishment quickly dispelled his annoyance. His spent cock twitched immediately, obviously ready for whatever Malfoy chose to inflict upon him.

Malfoy's fingers took the edges of the green panties and pulled them back into place over Harry's cock, covering the entire thing now that it was no longer engorged. Then he got to his feet, standing so close to Harry that their torsos brushed together. The silk of Malfoy's shirt rubbed against Harry's nipples and even those were so sensitive that Harry nearly shuddered. He refused to step back, a negligible act of defiance considering everything he had already acceded to Malfoy.

Malfoy did not comment, however, he only stepped aside and walked around the chair, pausing just long enough to take up their wands before heading for another portion of the room. A large brown sofa rested against the wall and he stopped next to it. "Come here, Potter."

Harry did as bid, padding across the room in his bare feet, and wished the place had some form of carpeting. He stopped next to Malfoy, who smirked at him, looking more handsome than ever before. Harry decided that cock sucking had a remarkable effect on someone's attractiveness.

"I once mentioned that you needed to be shackled to a bed, Potter," Malfoy said. He pointed his wand at the sofa, which elongated and changed until a large four-poster bed stood where it had been. Harry felt a jolt of something that was not quite terror, especially when Malfoy called, "Accio, shackles!"

Several bits of metal and chain flew across the room into Malfoy's outstretched hand. Harry stared at them. Malfoy couldn't be serious. It was too much; already it had gone on far longer than Harry should have allowed. He took a step back, shaking his head.

Malfoy dropped the shackles onto the bed and reached out to snatch Harry's wrist, preventing him from fleeing. His gaze was sober. "Scared, Potter?" he asked in a whisper. Despite the words, there was no hint of mockery.

Harry was. Frankly, he was terrified. This entire thing was madness. What the hell was he doing, letting Draco Malfoy do… whatever he wanted? Harry had to be crazy. Malfoy's father worked for Voldemort, the mad wizard determined to kill Harry at all costs. Putting himself so completely into Draco's hands was beyond stupidity.

Malfoy sighed and then held out Harry's wand. "You can free yourself at any time, Potter. I promise."

Harry took his wand with the hand not trapped in Malfoy's grip. Its comforting weight steadied him. He wanted to ask, Then, why? but he held the words back. Malfoy didn't seem to be thinking things through any better than Harry, or he never would have fallen to his knees outside the Potions classroom. Merlin, the memory was still awe-inducing.

"This never goes beyond this room," Harry whispered.

Malfoy met his gaze steadily. "Certainly not."

Bizarrely, and possibly insanely, Harry trusted him. Surely he would have let out Harry's secret by now. There would have been snickers and whispers and curious looks from the Slytherins closest to Malfoy, but none of them had paid him any more attention than usual.

Harry took a deep, steadying breath and said, "All right."

Malfoy seemed to light up like a candle, nearly making Harry smile, except that he was still nervous about the metal shackles on the bed and wondering what he had just agreed to do.

"Get on the bed," Malfoy said. "Lie face down."

He let go of Harry's wrist and Harry crawled onto the bed, sprawling face down, as instructed. He kept hold of his wand, willing to trust Malfoy, but not to the point of stupidity. Regardless, he gasped when the first cold shackle clapped around his wrist. Malfoy pulled it to the corner of the bed and attached it to the post. He did the same to Harry's ankles, spreading his legs apart, and finally his other wrist.

Harry was suddenly glad of the silk panties—they kept him from feeling completely exposed and vulnerable. He was surprised when Malfoy placed a folded cloak beneath his head for a pillow. From the scent, Harry knew it was Malfoy's.

"Merlin, Potter, how you look right now…" Malfoy's voice was barely audible and Harry raised his head and looked over his shoulder, but Malfoy was already moving away. Harry felt a moment of panic, thinking Malfoy meant to leave him, and then mentally kicked himself, because his wand was still in his hand. He could release himself and leave at any time.

When Malfoy returned, his voice was brisk and confident once more. "So, Potter. Double punishment time. Your normal punishment is ten spankings, yes? I know you can handle twenty, but I think I'll start with ten and go from there. And I have something new to try."

That got Harry's attention. He raised his head in alarm and peered over his shoulder again, but whatever Malfoy held was out of Harry's view.

"Malfoy?" he asked, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice.

"Silence, Potter. You no longer have permission to speak."

Harry's lips thinned in annoyance, but he put his cheek back on the cloak and braced himself as the bed shifted. Malfoy's knee touched Harry's hip as he knelt on the bed. Despite himself, Harry nearly jolted off the bed as he felt a touch on his buttocks, but it was only Malfoy's hand, resting on Harry's left arse cheek gently. "Easy," Malfoy said, "It's only my hand."

Harry calmed, strangely gratified that Malfoy had bothered to soothe him. Malfoy's hand trailed over the silk panties for a moment and then tugged at the elastic waistband before letting it go with a snap. The tiny sting was a mere precursor for what Harry expected was coming and he was ready when Malfoy's palm smacked down.

"One," Malfoy said.

Harry welcomed the bloom of pain, now familiar and almost necessary.

"Two." Malfoy's hand slapped his other arse cheek and Harry squirmed at the sting. The chains on his ankles clinked at the movement.

"Three," was slightly lower than the first and Malfoy's fingertips grazed Harry's testicles through the fabric as the smack sounded.

The fourth and fifth blows landed on Harry's upper thighs, barely touching his buttocks at all. Despite his orgasm minutes before, Harry's cock began to swell and the pace of his breathing increased with every hit. One hand clenched around his wand and the fingernails of the other dug into his palm.

"Six," Malfoy said and Harry cried out when a completely different sharp cracked sliced across his arse, leaving a burning trail in its wake. "I told you I had something new."

Fuck, what was it? Leather, obviously, but not the riding crop. It was softer and more pliant—like a belt. A thin belt or leather strap.

"Do you like that?" Malfoy asked and then a hiss warned Harry of the seventh blow before it angled over his arse. He jerked against his bonds and drove his cock into the mattress with a half sob.

Harry wanted to shake his head in denial, but fuck it all, he did like it. He liked it more than he would have imagined. Malfoy waited, probably to see if Harry would protest, but then he made a satisfied sound and struck again. The eighth blow landed on Harry's thighs and flicked over his testicles. He moaned at the explosion of pleasure and squirmed helplessly.

"Fuck, Potter," Malfoy said breathily. Harry felt Malfoy's hand wrench at the panties, dragging them down to expose Harry's bare arse and, in his current stretched position, his arsehole.

Harry should have been embarrassed, but instead he was turned on past reason. He had to bite his lower lip to keep from begging for the ninth spanking, but he couldn't help angling his hips slightly, pushing his arse into the air as far as he could in mute supplication.

He heard Malfoy's sharply indrawn breath and then the next blow struck his bare flesh, driving him back down to the mattress and sending flickers of mingled pain and pleasure shooting straight through his cock.

The tenth was the hardest blow yet, leaving what had to be a welt over one arse cheek and his upper thigh, but Harry was beyond caring. He was half-mindless, needing more.

He heard Malfoy scramble over his thigh to slide between his parted legs. Malfoy placed both hands against his burning, flaming arse and pulled his cheeks apart roughly. Malfoy's breathing sounded ragged and loud as he knelt behind Harry, looking at his most intimate place, probably fixated on it and Harry let him, wanted him, needed him to look his fill and, hopefully, to touch him.

Harry nearly sobbed aloud and a cry tore from his throat when he felt Malfoy's tongue, that glorious, incredible, amazing tongue, licking him again. He didn't know why Malfoy felt the need to taste him there, but he could only give silent thanks, because Harry couldn't get enough. The shackles were a hindrance, he found, when he tried to push back into Malfoy's face and could only get so far.

Malfoy didn't seem to notice. His tongue lapped at Harry's hole, licking and stroking and pushing as though it was the finest thing he had ever tasted. Between the unholy burning caused by Malfoy's hands on his flaming hot arse cheeks and the unspeakable feel of Malfoy's mouth, Harry could do nothing more than writhe and gasp.

Malfoy's lips wrapped around Harry's hole and he sucked hard even as he freed one hand from Harry's arse to cup his balls. Harry jerked so violently into the mattress that he was afraid he might come again already, because it was oh oh oh! A guttural cry tore from his throat.

Malfoy's lips pulled away. "Don't come," he warned.

Harry whimpered, straining against his bonds, needing that gorgeous, filthy mouth back on task and willing to do anything to make it so. To his relief, it returned, and Malfoy's tongue shoved mercilessly past the tight ring. Harry cried out again as his body tried to pull Malfoy's tongue inside. Fucking, fucking, oh Merlin, Malfoy was fucking him with his tongue, in and out, and around, and alternating with sucking.

Harry wanted to hump the mattress, anything to ease the pressure on his cock, because he needed to come, but Malfoy's tight grip kept him from moving much. He could only rock his testicles and grind them against Malfoy's palm with every delicious stroke.

Malfoy jerked away again and Harry nearly sobbed as he heard a quickly cast spell and then his legs were free. Another spell removed the panties—Harry had barely noticed them constricting his thighs until they were gone.

"Up, Potter," Malfoy said thickly. "Up on your knees."

Harry scrambled to obey, finding it harder than expected with his arms still shackled widely apart. He dropped his wand and shifted forward until he could grip the wood of the headboard for balance.

Before he could settle himself, he felt the head of Malfoy's cock against his arsehole. "Wider," Malfoy ordered.

Harry quickly spread his legs farther and felt almost faint when the head of Malfoy's prick teased his opening. He held his breath as Malfoy pushed inside with maddening slowness, filling him bit by bit, until Malfoy's balls brushed against his own and the tingling, stinging heat of his pained arse was cradled by Malfoy's pelvis.

"So good," Malfoy whispered. "Salazar, that's so good. Fuck yourself on me, Potter."

Harry raised his head in surprise.

"Do it," Malfoy snapped.

Harry swallowed and moved forward, withdrawing from Malfoy's cock nearly as slowly as it had gone in. When the hard length was nearly out, Harry pushed back, more quickly. He repeated the motion experimentally, until he got the hang of it. Malfoy did not move at all, and was barely touching him except for a light grip on his arse—he did nothing to guide Harry, who started to move faster.

Harry shifted his grip on the headboard to get more leverage and then began to slam himself backward onto Malfoy's prick over and over, fucking himself, trying to find that spot of brilliance—there! A shudder went through him at the tingling surge and he shoved back and forth again and again, dragging Malfoy's cock over something inside. His own prick bobbed in the air and Harry nearly sobbed with the need to touch it, but Malfoy wasn't moving and the shackles prevented him from touching himself.

A whimpering cry escaped his throat when Malfoy's hands tightened and he thrust forward suddenly, yanking Harry hips to meet his downstroke and bury himself even deeper. Another thrust, and another, and Harry thought he might be able to come, oh Merlin he was close, so close and this was brilliance—

Malfoy slammed into him twice more and then shouted wordlessly. Harry felt him shudder and thrust again and their movements became easier, slicker, as Malfoy came inside of him and oh fuck, if the very thought of it wasn't hotter than hell. Malfoy's hand wrapped around Harry's cock and the mere touch had Harry's balls tightening up.

"Come for me," Malfoy whispered against his ear and Harry did—he probably would have without permission, but it was better, so much better, to do as Malfoy asked, because Malfoy was brilliant. He was a fucking god and Harry kept fucking himself against Malfoy's prick and hand as he spent himself on the bed, because he didn't want to stop, he didn't want it to ever end.

His come spattered the bed, what little there was of it, since he had climaxed down Malfoy's throat earlier, and electric shudders seemed to go on and on. Malfoy sagged over his back, feeling warm and solid against him. Despite the glorious feeling, Harry's arms and legs trembled with exertion. He sprawled forward in a limp heap, Malfoy atop him, with his hot breath panting against the back of Harry's neck.

"Potter," Malfoy breathed and one hand reached up to touch Harry's face. The word sounded like a prayer. To Harry's surprise, he felt Malfoy press a kiss against his neck, and he heard a spell. The shackles parted, freeing him. He pulled his arms back gratefully and started to massage his wrists, but Malfoy brushed his hands away and gently touched the reddened flesh.

His lips nuzzled Harry's hair as he spoke. "I'll heal these before you go. And I'll be sure to put some padding inside next time. Fur, maybe. Or silk cloth."

Harry's brow wrinkled. Malfoy almost seemed to be talking to himself. Harry wanted to protest. Next time? Surely Malfoy knew there couldn't be a next time. It was insane. They had to stop this now, before it got out of hand. Truth be told, it already felt out of hand, with Malfoy still buried deep inside of him while his thumbs stroked the bruised flesh of Harry's wrists.

"Don't go, yet," Malfoy said, even though Harry hadn't moved, couldn't move with Malfoy still sprawled over him. "Just rest for a bit."

Harry shut his eyes. Just for a bit, he thought and tried not to think about how good Malfoy felt wrapped around him like a blanket. Even the burning feel of his arse—inside and out—was brilliant. Just for a bit.

Author's Note: I think I just killed myself with porn. *wanders away in a daze*