The Basket Case
by Stray
August 30, 2005
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters and make no money of it. I'm not sure I would even if I owned them.
Warnings: This is my first HP fanfic that you got to see. I'm not a native English speaker, but I try. And this is going to contain SLASH! If you don't like it, you can still read it if you harbour masochistic tendencies. Flames are used to warm my cold little heart. Constructive criticism is appreciated.
Beta-ed by: Kathleen and Chellé, every remaining error is property of mine.
A/N: Since doesn't allow higher rating than R, this chapter has been edited to satisfy the rules. If someone wants to read the unedited version (rated NC-17), they can find my other accounts on TheSilverSnitch and TheHexFiles that will have the higher rated version uploaded.
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Chapter Seven
"Here we are."
Draco was the first to step into the room. His heart was beating madly, so he tried to feign calmness, and turned to take a look around, but it was a bit hard in total darkness. He was waiting for Scott, who followed him, to cast Lumos, since he didn't want to cast any spells here. But instead he heard a clicking sound, which made him jump and then suddenly the ceiling lit up. Draco had never before seen electric lights.
Scott brought him into a hotel – a Muggle one to boot. But Draco guessed that the danger of discovery would be reduced if he steered clear of wizarding places. In any case, he didn't know what he expected of this night; to be invited into Scott's flat? The more impersonal the setting the better, he thought. So amid the humiliation and pain that was soon to follow he could keep in mind that this was strictly business. Even the name 'Scott' sounded impersonal. On second thought, he was sure that it was also borrowed - as much the Queer guy's own as 'Clover' was his, which, he guessed, made sense. He had heard from Finch-Fletchley that some of the Queers try to fit into normal society, keeping their real nature secret. Scott must have been one of those Queers.
Draco had decided though, that calling him 'Queer' in his mind now that he was about to have… he cringed at the thought… sex with him, would make the whole business much more derogatory than it already was. He decided sticking to calling him 'Scott'.
He tried to bring under control the unwanted jitters that had started upon leaving the bar and setting foot again onto the darkened cobblestones. They had intensified with every minute he spent on thinking about the situation and more exactly about what would follow after they got to their destination. Now he was shivering, which had been initially caused by the chilly night-wind, and had not subsided when Draco had felt Scott place his palm onto the small of his back in a supporting gesture, in order to direct him in their side-along Apparation.
"I'm going to the bathroom, if you don't want to go first," Scott looked at him with an unwavering gaze.
Draco quickly shook his head no, and then watched the other man's retreating back disappearing behind the white lacquered door. He sat down gingerly onto the made hotel bed – a queen-sized one covered in cheep, light blue bed-linen clustered with a floral pattern. He snorted disgustedly when he felt the rough material under his palm. He was still cold, even though the room temperature was comfortable. He rubbed his hands together to get back the feeling into his icy appendages, when his fingers bumped into the ring he was wearing. He remembered exactly why he had put it on. Well, this was the best time for it, Draco thought. He opened the hatch and drank the contents of the hidden container. The slightly oily potion went down on his throat leaving an alcoholic and herbal taste behind in his mouth, and he was grateful for the warmth that followed.
Draco shivered again, this time from the increasing heat that started to spread through his blood vessels as soon as the potion landed in his stomach – which made Draco think about how Potions' magic often contradicted human anatomy. When his conscious mind caught up with his thought process, he quickly stifled the errant thread. He had to focus his mind and not let his apprehension get away with his thoughts, if he wanted this to happen according the plan. He had to keep a cool head and maintain control.
The sudden silence of the tap having been turned off in the bathroom, and the realisation that he couldn't recall when the sound of gushing water had started, directed his attention again toward the other man and the goal of his mission. Draco took a deep breath, keeping it inside for a few seconds until he felt his lungs starting to tingle and ache with the lack of oxygen, the not-quite-pain clearing his head of all the unwanted thoughts. By the time Scott emerged from the bathroom Draco had all his wits where he needed them.
He observed Scott on his short way to the bed where he was sitting, looking straight into his eyes. Draco couldn't make out their exact colour, but the determination and lust reflected in them was unmistakeable and had a quite sobering effect on him. He accepted the hand Scott was extending towards him without breaking eye contact. He could feel the slight wetness of the skin – either the remains of him washing his hands a few seconds earlier, or the first traces of sweat breaking out. And there was the overwhelming feeling of power again, seeping into Draco's nerve endings through their touching fingers, tingling his skin all over.
Draco allowed Scott to pull him up by their clasped hands and fought back the protests when he saw him leaning towards his face. He expected Scott to kiss him; instead he felt the man's mouth descending onto the side of his neck. The first touch of lips on skin was unexpectedly light and dry. With the other man being that close to him, Draco had anticipated smelling alcohol in his breath and was surprised when the light puff of warm air caressing the side his face only tasted of menthol. The mouth slid slowly lower, until it reached the strap of his dress. Warm, slightly calloused fingers followed the mouth, easing down the silk material off his shoulder gradually. Draco tensed up for a second, but he allowed it. His mind felt strangely fuzzy; the instinctual apprehension of letting another man do this to him struggled against beginning arousal and the desire to submit himself completely – must be the potion starting to work, he thought.
Scott wasn't in a hurry. He devoured Draco's neck leisurely. Draco couldn't decide if he felt relieved that he had time to think, or be irritated with the sluggishness of the procedure. He wished for the night to be over already.
Scott must have sensed Draco's impatience, because he lifted his head and his eyes were questioning as to what Draco wanted. Now that he didn't seem so drunk anymore it felt harder for Draco to convince himself that he still had the control over the situation. He just wanted it to be over and done with, but to get there he needed to play the eager little bitch who desired nothing more than to get fucked already. His acting skills though, lacked severely when they were impeded by irritation. Finally, Scott seemed to have decided that it was time for the next step.
"Do you prefer using charms or lube and manual preparation?"
Draco blinked a few times. He didn't have a clue what Scott was asking about.
"I—um. I don't need that!"
The slight frown on his face made Scott mirror his expression and slowly take a step backwards, breaking contact between their bodies.
"Bugger! Don't tell me you have never done this before!" Draco didn't answer apart from wincing. He somehow thought that he would be able to keep up pretences if he let Scott believe that he was experienced. Something must have given him away. "Bloody hell! You haven't, have you?"
Draco shrugged. He could see the confusion on Scott's face, but also the signs that said that he was too far gone already for this detail to concern him enough to change his mind. Draco's face was set into a determination opposed to Scott's questing gaze directed at him. Finally the other man groaned and turned towards his discarded jacket to rummage for something in its pockets.
"Fine. Strip," he told Draco on a terse tone, still with his back to him.
Draco shrugged and slipped out of the dress, then discarded the sandals and the hose. When Scott turned around again, he was about to unclasp the bra, and his fingers stopped in the middle of that movement when the smouldering gaze of the dark haired man bore into his eyes again. The desire and power was there again, which made Draco's stomach constrict. He was glad that the potion's mind-altering effect seemed to come back again after this unnerving interlude, as he felt desire flood his mind. He decided that he was probably better off if he didn't try to think now.
Scott stepped before him and reached for the clasp of the bra. Draco's heart skipped a beat in fear and he hesitated before allowing him to unhook it, which was kind of silly, because he, unlike women, didn't have anything to hide under it. While he was occupied with his warring sense of weirdness and determination, Scott disposed of the bra and started to loosen the garter belt. The soft touches on his naked skin tickled Draco's abdomen and made the muscles in his belly tighten.
He looked down to follow the proficient movements of Scott's deft fingers with his gaze and was surprised by the sight of his own erection tenting the front of his mother's lace panties. That was only a second before the other man brushed his hand over his hardened flesh. Draco couldn't suppress a moan when his balls were cupped in Scott's palm and then squeezed – not enough to cause pain, just the right pressure to increase his desire. The desire, which was now undoubtedly there. Draco would have been mortified by the realisation, had he not known that it was only the potion working. Even that knowledge didn't prevent the light shiver that thought caused to run down his spine, but thankfully Scott interpreted it as desire. Draco quickly squashed any embarrassment he felt. If the potion made him able to accept this, spared him from some of the pain and humiliation, then why object to it? If it made him even enjoy it… well, he would deal with that later. He didn't want to think about that now.
In the next second the warm hand deserted his nether regions. Scott's fingers scooted under the sides of his only remaining piece of clothing and eased it down his hips, which made him swallow.
"Lie down," Scott nodded towards the bed. Draco obeyed without asking the question currently on his mind, which undoubtedly would have made him seem even more inexperienced. But – while he proceeded lying down on his stomach - he couldn't stop worrying about why Scott would want him on the bed. He had heard about Queers having sex by 'bending over'. How in the hell was he supposed to bend over when he was lying on a bed?
He heard the rustling of clothes behind his back, followed by the cling-clang of a belt buckle being undone and the swishy sounds of yet more clothes being taken down. He didn't dare look at what must have been there, didn't dare open his eyes when he felt the mattress dip at his side, and had his eyelids tightly closed when he felt the touch of warm skin somewhat covered with hair, after Scott settled on top of him. He couldn't detect any other material, say a cotton brief or boxer shorts rubbing against the sensitive underside of his thighs, and he nearly yelped again, keeping his eyes shut, when the other man's forward movement pressed something into the valley created by his limbs squeezed together firmly – something hard and soft and warm and even hairier.
Scott didn't seem to be disappointed with his partner's passivity; Draco reckoned that it wasn't that uncommon from a bottom. The black-haired man leaned forward and pressed the whole length of his… torso snug to Draco's back. With one movement he swooped Draco's lengthened gold tresses out of the way, and started to bestow hot and soft and wet and insistent kisses onto the nape of Draco's neck. Draco – to his own surprise - slowly started to relax; his muscles lost their initial nervous tautness as the kisses travelled down his spine, occasionally straying away from the straight road southwards to bestow the glorious warmth onto his shoulder blades, ribs, sides and even in one of his armpits. The kneading touches that had followed the mouth, were a thousand times more effective in gay-izing him than a simple massage. Scott was persistent there, sometimes teasing the skin with his tongue or biting it softly, coaxing an increasingly vocal reaction out of his (victim) partner. Draco's stomach knotted, when he felt a wet line drawn across the skin above the back of his left knee, but he tried not to think too hard about the kind of quill that's tip was leaking the moisture. Anyhow, the potion had him gone already far enough for that not to be a cause of worry.
"Turn around," Scott's soft command came as a surprise after having only the moans Draco wasn't hearing (even less making!) breach the silence for so long. The palm having slipped under his shoulder had already lifted his torso and the rest of his body followed in its wake.
Draco had to blink away the dazzling lights after having kept his eyes shut for so long. The glowing, naked figure of Scott slowly gained contours and filled with the shadows and gleaming planes of muscles, bones and sinews. The only dark spot remaining was the thatch of coarse curls at the base of his cock jutting forward proudly, stiff and glistening with need. Once Draco's eyes focused on the spot, he couldn't tear his gaze from the erection, which was threatening his overactive imagination with unspeakable things, from which he couldn't decide if they were frightening or arousing or both at the same time. He had attributed the confusion to the opposing feelings generated by the effects of the potion and his base preferences. He closed his eyes again and consciously fought down the dread slipping into his bones until he could focus on the task ahead, and called upon the false convictions forced onto his mind by the drug.
He was astounded how easy it proved, after finding himself on the receiving end of Scott's talented kisses once again. No one had ever made Draco realise that the skin of his throat was quite so sensitive. The other man was on his hands and knees above him, and Draco tried to burrow his naked body into the bedding as he felt the sudden warmth of the other's body appearing in a not-quite-touching distance. He was nervous again and very still; the sounds of his racing heartbeat and ragged breathing were the only things he was able hear. But Scott didn't do more than make him dizzy with the scorching kisses placed on his neck. In his reclining position Draco felt very vulnerable, but more aroused than when Scott was doing the same thing with them standing. He tried not to wonder how much time had passed already since he had imbibed the potion and for how much longer the effect of such small dose would last. It was still working, and Draco figured that it would be easier if he didn't fight it.
Scott shifted lightly above him and in the next second an unexpected sensation jolted Draco's body, as their erections brushed together. They both moaned at the same time. Draco wasn't about to protest when his partner slowly lowered himself onto him, his torso still supported by his elbows, so he wasn't squishing Draco – but it wouldn't have mattered the other way, because the delicious friction let him forget everything else.
The ferocity, with which Scott tore himself away a few minutes later, when the movement of their hips had increased to a desperate writhing, surprised Draco to the point of moaning his sudden loss. The lack of Scott's closeness didn't last long, only for a few seconds while he jumped up from the bed and grabbed something from the night stand. It was the thing he had been searching for earlier in his jacket, and Draco didn't have a clue how it got there. Scott kneeled back onto the mattress between Draco's thighs after lifting and pushing them apart.
There were no words needed to explain Draco what Scott was about to do when he suddenly lowered his head. Draco had had a few blowjobs in his life – even from Pansy. He knew that it would feel good, and usually he was able to completely disregard the person administering it to him. So he closed his eyes again and let the feeling wash over him. He didn't know and, frankly, didn't care if the potion helped him out by increasing his need, but nothing had felt quite like this. He opened his eyes to a crack and watched the dark head bob up and down between his thighs… and he couldn't close them again. He couldn't give himself back to his feelings and ban any visuals from his mind as he was wont to do. His eyes opened wider and he felt a jolt of surprise on finding the image before him a complete turn on. Suddenly he was so very close to the edge, but as his muscles started to tremble, getting out of control, the warm mouth pulled away, allowing the air of the room to surround and chill his moistened cock.
Draco groaned again, and tried to imagine that it wasn't over yet. The fingers gripping him and starting to slowly, teasingly stroke along his erection helped along his imagination, but the sudden coldness below his balls didn't fit into his fantasy at all.
"Relax," Scott's voice sounded huskier than how Draco remembered from before. As if hypnotized, he obeyed the instruction without question and submitted himself to the arousing sensations diverting his attention from what was happening simultaneously to his bottom. It was a strange feeling, but Scott and the potion made sure that it wasn't that painful. Being penetrated with one finger was uncomfortable, but Draco couldn't deny that being touched and having something up there felt almost good in a strange way. Two fingers caused a stinging sensation, which only increased as Scott no doubt forced more and more into his body, but after the second Draco couldn't really tell how many. It just felt like whatever was stuffed in there was entirely too big to fit in comfortably. And then Scott touched something within his body, which sent a shock of sensation through him.
"Aaargh!" Draco gasped in shock.
"Did I hurt you?" Scott's brow furrowed gently as Draco squinted at him.
"T—too much," Draco emitted a sob again, Scott's fingers brushed that place once more, and he expected to feel his erection waning, but instead he only became harder. He didn't understand it, since the feeling wasn't very enjoyable; perhaps the aftermath, when it did feel kind of tingly and enhanced all the other sensations, which let a slippery warmth pool in his stomach. Scott seemed to be a bit disappointed with his reaction, but he was more careful from then on, and after a while Draco almost felt disappointed when no more of those jolts crossed through his body.
After a while the pleasure and discomfort seemed to balance each other out. He felt strangely detached, and his mind just didn't seem to catch up with his body at being properly aroused, even if he was harder than he could recall ever being. His drifting attention was caught by a scar on the underarm of the hand working him. It was slightly dented, as if something had been thrust through it, but it was also faded, which indicated that it was an old one. Draco had had such scars – if not that large ones – before he had learnt to magically remove them… and he didn't know why he was thinking about things like this right now.
The fingers and the stroking hand suddenly disappeared, and their loss was like a strange feeling of abandonment. He didn't open his eyes though, only when Scott smacked his thigh and told him to get up.
Draco jolted upwards, as if waking up too suddenly from a nightmare. Scott wasn't looking at him, and Draco observed his partner administering the slippery substance, which was now coating his neither region, on himself.
"Okay, come here! You can be in control like this…"
Scott flopped onto his back, pulled Draco over into straddling him, arranging Draco into position. Their skins touched and it tingled in an interesting (delicious) way. As Draco was slowly being filled his pulse suddenly doubled and his knees gave way. He started to drop downwards, but Scott quickly caught him, his palms supporting Draco on the underside of his bum.
"Easy there! I will let you go as slow as you need it, you can set the pace. Can you hold yourself yet?" Scott's voice sounded a bit breathy, which didn't reassure Draco much.
Draco felt his face heat up, but he wasn't capable to coherent speech yet, so he just shook his head no.
"Okay, then I am going to lower you. Tell me if it's too much and I should stop!"
Draco took a shuddering breath and couldn't stop himself from trembling and widening his eyes like a five-year-old boy hearing noises coming from his wardrobe at night. Or perhaps… that was a bad metaphor right now, eww! He didn't have much time to elaborate on it though, because Scott didn't wait for his answer. The arms holding him up ceased to hold him, and his body was slowly but steadily opened up and filled by something hard and thick and entirely too long, because when the movement suddenly stopped and he was sitting on Scott's lap, he thought that it just barely stopped before poking at his heart. He didn't dare move, fearing that it might do that after all, but a few seconds later, as his body became accustomed to the sensation, and it didn't feel that monstrous anymore. Besides, he thought, he had seen Scott's size and it really wasn't that big. But it was still alien and disconcerting. He didn't know how long it took until his senses started to admit sensations from the outside world again, but he was glad Scott didn't rush him.
Draco was sitting on Scott's lap and could feel every inch of him embedded into his body. Draco was so embarrassed, and excited the same time. And he was more embarrassed, because he was excited, and even more excited, because he was embarrassed. He wondered if something would start to make sense soon.
"Move," Scott nudged him gently while caressing both of his thighs and slipping both hands under his bottom again to help him lift himself up. Draco sighed softly. He felt defeated by his own mind. He just wanted for it to be over, so he gritted his teeth together and obeyed.
His leg muscles felt like a bundle of squirming Gillyweed under his skin as he tried to will them to work and lift his body. The movement caused Scott start to slip out of him, and Draco was so surprised by the strange prickling that he let himself slump back after only a few centimetres. Scott groaned as he unconsciously flexed his muscles while trying to get used to the sensation. But after the first try, his body still shuddering and his heart wanting to punch a hole through his chest, he settled into a slow up-down motion, inhaling as he lifted his body and letting out a shaky breath every time he went down.
Draco shut his eyes and concentrated on the movement, consciously telling his body to rise and descend, while Scott's moved more and more easily in and out of his body, but that didn't prevent him from feeling every square millimetre of it. His head started to fall back on its own accord, while his mouth opened into a curious shape of O, glistening with moisture from his tongue, which was darting out to wet his lips from time to time, because they seemed to go dry again with every heaving breath. He felt the gelatine substance Scott had used on him warm up and lose some of its viscosity, rendering the friction smoother, more enjoyable. He was so lost in concentration that he never noticed when the activity ceased to be uncomfortable and gross, and started to turn into something primal, enormous and— oh! There was it again!
Draco didn't need support from Scott anymore, who removed his hands and slipped them up stroking Draco's flanks and rubbing on his nipples, shoulders, sliding them down his oddly smooth and sensitive arms and thighs, then repeating the motions over and over again, until Draco could feel the warmth and tingling left by those strong fingers along his whole body. It was as if the other man's fingertips were leaking magic, charging his skin with power and desire, urging him to move faster, and it felt shamefully good.
Dear Merlin! Why did this have to happen to him? It would have been acceptable to let himself be taken, bear the pain and humiliation in order to achieve his goal. But not this! He didn't expect this for sure! He expected to be 'bent over' and this thing done to him, not that he would have to actively participate in it! Now he was supposed to 'set the pace' and 'be in control'. And control – sadly – meant that he wanted more of it, more of the delicious warmth and the sparkles beneath his eyelids every time he managed to hit that spot in himself. But this was so wrong! How was he supposed to justify his actions, to dismiss it as something he only put up with for the sake of his inheritance?
"C'mon Draco, just close your eyes and imagine that it is Rose or Pansy" - except that neither Pansy nor Rosie would fuck him up the arse. "Ah! Let's pretend it's Millicent!" Draco always wanted to have a roll around with Millicent. He was adept enough in imagining the situation, and he didn't have actual memories that would contradict this fantasy, so it was ideal. He could most definitely picture Millicent as someone who would get a strap-on and do Draco if he asked her to without further ado. Except that she probably would have just bent him over something, not let him do all the work – go at a pace and depth he felt comfortable with, while stroking sensually at his skin everywhere he… she! could reach… Draco let out a frustrated sob when he realised that he wasn't able to pretend it was anyone other than a man doing this to him. And even his own sob betrayed him and turned halfway into a sigh of pleasure! Oh Merlin! How was he expected to survive this— this gay sex-thing? Damn Snape and his potion!
Finally Draco felt the hands that had been occupied with sending maddening sensations all over his body curl around Draco and massage – yes, massage! – little Draco firmly and deftly, until he couldn't hold back anymore and came with a shuddering sob. His thighs clamped around the other man's torso and his muscles squeezed so hard that Scott was barely able to drive home those last desperate jabs, which ultimately made him spill his seed deep into Draco's body.
Draco emitted a long-suffering sigh, and slumped down onto the hot, sweaty and very masculine body in a bundle of trembling limbs. He felt the other man slip out of him and groaned when the air started to cool down the slippery moistness covering his sore behind. He wanted desperately to have a shower; he wanted to get back his strength, enough to disentangle himself from the too warm and sticky embrace he was pulled into, clear his head of the heady musky scent of the other's skin so close to his nose instead of inhaling it instinctively and deeply – and get the hell away from this bloody place of his humiliation.
But in the end he just stayed where he was and tried not to think at all in those last minutes before a light slumber overtook his conscious mind.
TBC
