837 words of NC17 Fluff

[delaria.livejournal.com]

Untitled
DelaRia
Not Mine
NC-17 for gratutitous, if fluffy, sex

This actually takes place in the universe of my post-HBP fic, but no spoilers, and it doesn't fit in the timeline so well, so enjoy.



Draco didn’t understand Harry’s obsession with Hufflepuff ties. Granted, silk was much more pleasant on his wrists when all he wanted to do was touch Harry and was being restrained, but Hufflepuff?

“For your loyalty to me, ever since I found you on my doorstep,” Harry always said, when asked. And Draco always asked, every time his wrists were so gently and carefully tied to the bed frame before Harry would touch him. It was not the staple of their life together, but it made for a fun variation, one that they both enjoyed.

Draco’s loyalty he was bound to give, as the ties bound him to the bed. He had allowed Harry to cast an old fealty ritual on both of them when he had come to Grimmauld Place, out of the nigh and the dark, and asked for sanctuary, with his mother dead and his father lost to Azkaban. He didn’t know when he had crossed the line from loyalty to love, but his love was freely given to Harry, and freely returned.

Harry’s gentle touches made Draco shiver more than their frequent bouts of violent sex, again fun and different but not for tonight. Tonight, Harry carefully wrapped Draco’s wrists in black and yellow silk. Tonight, Harry would do all the work.

Draco writhed impatiently as Harry licked and nibbled at his neck, nothing hard enough to draw blood or to leave a mark, not tonight. The nips tickled, and Draco laughed softly and helplessly. He was already achingly hard as soft hands caressed his hips and inner thighs without ever touching his cock. Then Harry pulled away.

Draco whined helplessly, pulling at the ties. He knew that he did not speak well during anything remotely sexual, and Harry had taught him not to try.

Harry just watched him for a moment, eyes running over his body like hot water, and Draco whimpered. He wanted that touch back. Surely Harry knew what he looked like, no matter how nice it was to be appreciated.

Then that precious touch was back, starting at the very tips of his toes. Every bit of his skin on his feet was gone over, including the ticklish arches and sensitive heels. Harry continued on up Draco’s body, covering every inch except for one important area, but Draco could almost ignore the lack. Every bit of his skin was caressed, sensitive areas were re-discovered, and Draco felt wonderfully cosseted and loved. Only when he was completely relaxed, hands resting lax on the pillows. When he was touched like this, he had no need or desire to fight the ties.

Draco’s eyes were almost closed, and he didn’t think he could move at all in this lax stated. He hummed contentedly as Harry went over his face with kisses again. Harry always called this purring. When Draco was more coherent, he defended his dignity fiercely from this accusation, but he was hardly coherent now.

He was too relaxed to try to tense up when fingers entered him, preparing him. That was, of course, Harry’s goal. Now, inside of him was caressed as well. Still, his cock was not touched, no relief offered to his hardness. He moaned as his prostate was touched, and then there was nothing inside him. He felt achingly empty for a moment, starting to open his eyes, when the fingers were replaced by something better.

Harry entered him slowly tonight. Tonight was not a night for sudden things or quick thrusting. Tonight was not a night to hurry to orgasms so that there was time for more than one. Tonight was Christmas Eve. Tonight was a night for sensual pleasures and slow, languid, tormenting caresses toward perfection.

Still, when Harry didn’t move at all, Draco opened his eyes and looked up at his partner questioningly. Harry was buried in him to the hilt, and neither of them was moving. Draco’s lethargy from the full body treatment was fading, and he shifted his hips enticingly, trying to get some touch on his aching cock and to get Harry to move at the same time.

But Harry just laughed. Soon, they were moving, and Harry’s hands were touching him again. Never his cock, but Draco was near to completion without that stimulus already, and he had no desire to come before Harry.

Then they were kissing, and Harry was coming inside him, and the rush of head and feeling of fullness pushed Draco over the edge, too. His cock hadn’t been touched once since the evening began, but now he reached his completion, held tight to Harry’s chest, wishing his arms were free so that he could hold Harry, too.

Then they were, the silk of the ties slipping away and making him shiver. As his body shook, Harry only held him tighter, and he quickly wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck in return. Both ignored the mess, needing each other in that moment more than they could ever explain to those who so vehemently disapproved of the relationship.