Title: Doors we open, lines we cross
Author: Aristide Cauquemaire
Pairing: H/D
Rating: M
Warnings: Well, this is the naughty one. Honestly, don't read it if slash and explicitness aren't your cuppa.
Chapter 7
A bidding. Barefaced, graceless, unambiguous. A decrial of his perversion. Yet another plain sign of Potter's insurmountable dominance. It made him falter and recoil.
He reached out for it like a child would for forbidden candy. There was only one chance to see exactly how those noises happened, one chance to appease his craving, and if it should be on Potter's terms and for Potter's disport, if he had to join this rigged game whose rules he was unfamiliar with and which was designed for him to lose – if it meant debasing and disgusting himself again – so be it. He had lost this battle and signed this dirty contract at his own door already.
He swept the hood over his head. It was so wide and large that it fell all the way down past his chin. The cloak that had been heavy in his hands was almost weightless on his shoulders. He looked down on himself, but through the loose weave he could only see the carpet where his legs and feet should be. Satisfied and slightly sick with self-loathing, he took two shaky steps until he was completely embraced by the soft light from inside the room. His eyes took in what was now unobstructed. In plain sight.
Potter was seated on the foot end edge of his bed. He was partially undressed, his upper body was naked and his scarlet Auror robes lay rumpled behind him on the mattress, like he had just taken them off. Or had them forced off. He was still wearing a tie which served Draco as a leash to hold him by and pull him close and ever closer.
Malfoy was straddled on his lap, gloriously nude, pressing his middle into Potter's, undulating against him with graceful slowness.
The kiss they were lost in, a sloppy, devouring meeting of lips, tongues and teeth, had Severus engulfed in flames. There was something about those salacious slurping and licking and popping noises, something about the sight of glistening tongues vigorously being sucked into foreign mouths that took control of his hand and steered it to his own crotch.
There was no rule that said he couldn't and the fact that he shouldn't only made it more urgent. He felt himself harden through the fabric and bit back a groan.
Potter was pushed back by the shoulders until he lay flat on his back in the debris of his Auror robes. He propped himself up again by the elbows to observed his naked lover's every move as Malfoy slid off him and onto the floor.
Draco gave the impression that opening Harry's belt, the button and the fly was akin to opening a wonderful present, the sort of present one unwrapped slowly, whose gift wrap one kept intact so as to enjoy the anticipation to the fullest. When the fly was finally open, instead of pulling those pants down and freeing the cock inside that was already creating a very visible bulge, Malfoy turned to Potter's shoes and untied them with great care. It made Potter groan in obvious frustration. Undeterred, Malfoy slid off one boot after the other with deliberation, then one sock after the other, and only then, after kissing his lover's mouth thoroughly again as if to reward his patience, did he help shed the last two items of clothing.
With a sigh of relief Potter was finally also completely undressed. The cock that had sprung free was lying on his belly in all its glory. It was engorged as expected, a pleasant shade of dark pink with a lighter-coloured tip that glistened wetly, fair-sized and -shaped, slightly curved, its base concealed by a nest of wiry black hair. Draco studied it, appreciated its sight just like Severus did, then slithered on top of his partner and scattered kisses over his bare body, starting from his throat and slowly working his way downward. Harry hissed and bit his lip when his nipples were first kissed, then licked, sucked and finally bitten gently, first the left, then the right one. He sniggered softly when Draco kissed his way downwards to his belly button, obviously ticklish, and tried to keep the blond strands of hair from sweeping over his sensitive skin.
Rather than considering the desperate cock at last, Draco slighted it and moved further down, crouched on the floor again, positioned himself between his legs and tended to his lover's balls. He weighed them in his fingers with supreme gentleness, caressing the wrinkly skin and covered them with butterfly kisses. Harry threw his head back with a moan, equal parts pleasure and frustration, his fingers grasping at the sheets around him and bunching them up.
"Draco, will you please-" he started with a strained voice through gritted teeth, gasped, repeated, "please justaah-" He moaned because Draco had just wrapped his lips around one of his testicles and suckled at it.
"Yes, darling?" Draco asked, playfully and innocently as if he hadn't just had one of his balls in his mouth. "Do speak up." He crawled back onto the mattress, positioning himself right over his lover, eye to eye, expectantly.
Potter reached up with one hand and touched that sinful mouth smirking down at him. Severus fought the urge to step into the room to see what exactly he was doing, to see clearly what it looked like when Potter slid the pad of his thumb over Malfoy's moist lower lip.
"No foreplay for your benefit tonight, then," Potter growled and Malfoy nipped at his thumb, holding its tip in his teeth and nudging it with his tongue. "Enough with the teasing. You've earned yourself an unprepared fucking." At the last word, his left hand came up to grab his arse roughly, causing Malfoy to let go of his finger and throw his head back with a sharp gasp.
There was a wicked smile on his face when he stared his lover in the eye again and replied, "Just what I wanted."
Severus forced himself to bite the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes for a second, his hand closing in hard over his penis. He didn't want to come yet although he could have. What he saw and what he heard, it felt like a roll of thunder in his veins. His thighs were shaking.
He breathed in and out twice and listed the ingredients for Prante's Slow Motion Potion – in reverse order of their addition – before he dared to look again.
A jar of lube had been brought into the game. With his arms crossed behind his head Harry observed Draco closely who was liberally applying the lubricant to his cock, giving it the attention it had been denied at last.
Then, his gaze strayed again and eventually fixed itself on the open door.
This time, it wasn't fleeting at all. What felt like eye contact – even though, Severus reasoned, it was impossible since he was still invisible – lasted several long seconds that seemed to stretch into unbearable minutes.
He felt naked, raging boner and all, and so, so guilty. They weren't minors any more but that didn't make his actions any less damning. He ground his teeth and fought against a renewed urge to puke or to curse himself loudly and scream and rage. Why didn't I close the damned door? How could I be so debile? Why wasn't I able to-
Just then, a smile spread over Potter's face.
It jarred and collided with these thoughts and silenced them all at once.
Into the quiet there stepped an epiphany which Severus struggled to accept because it seemed too gracious. After all, he had learned that when things seemed too good to be true, they usually were.
This smile – which wasn't like James Potter's condescending sneer at all and wasn't anything like Lily Evans' apologetic and pitying smile either – this smile seemed to ask him to be there. It was unsure. It was partly wish, partly demanding invitation, partly uncertainty, partly avidity- It was bashful. And lustful.
Severus realized there and then that this wasn't all about humiliation and demonstration of power.
He had assumed that he was here because Potter – and Malfoy as well, surely – enjoyed making a right fool out of him and driving him towards lunacy. He had thought that it might possibly their private game of theirs, luring him out of bed, making him an abject slave of his carnal desires, just to see if they could. He had assumed it was revenge for all those horrible hours of Potions Class, for all the bitter animosity, possibly for the whole Remus Lupin/Sirius Black chapter, and for those long months in which Potter must have thought that he had willingly killed Albus Dumbledore.
Considering all his unpleasantness and his duplicity it was only reasonable that this should be his punishment – inducing him to punish, abase and utterly despise himself so that the intensity of his self-loathing might, for once, match the level of the hatred that other people felt for him.
It had all been a false assumption.
He was here right now because, purely and simply, Potter got off on this.
He likes it. His breath caught.
He wants to be watched by me.
For years he had carried this burden around with him like a dislocated joint that had refused to be reduced properly. In dark hours, it had popped back out again to give him pain and paralyse him.
This time it was reset with an almost audible and definite click.
He felt his back straighten a bit.
/
/
Draco Malfoy got that unprepared fucking he had craved for. Severus watched Potter's lube-dripping cock sink into his arse inch by inch, guided by Malfoy's hand. Malfoy impaled himself gingerly, willing his tight muscle to relax and admit his lover. His smooth thighs trembled with effort despite Potter's support until he was finally seated and filled completely.
Potter, with all of his attention away from his audience and back to his partner, murmured encouragements and visibly fought against the urge to move his hips and plunge into tight heat again and over again. Malfoy murmured back, his talk was mostly groans and deep breaths, all of it half an octave higher than usual, a testimony to the physical strain and the arousal fighting for dominance.
At long last, they began to move. First it was only Draco pushing himself back up only to sink back onto Harry's prick again with a rocking motion of his pelvis, very slowly but then gathering speed quickly, accompanied by a string of swearwords interspersed with yes and god and so good. Harry's murmurs grew more insistent and more impatient until he couldn't bear to lie still any more.
The moment that he seized Draco's slim hips and pushed his cock upward and into him with vigour, Draco's cry of pleasure and Harry's groan of relief and raw sexual greed drowned out the small sigh that, despite every effort, fell from Severus' lips. He felt warm droplets of his semen seep through the fabric while his penis jolted and wept.
He breathed heavily and shuddered. He felt wide awake. He was alive.
/
/
Everything that happened after that moment that night was a bitter-sweet symphony of sounds and pictures and feelings.
Sweet, because it was simply beautiful to behold. The two men before him knew one another with an intimacy that was obvious and staggering. The scene he had witnessed in the dungeons years ago, treasured so dearly that it had almost worn thin and faded, was so very different comparison, featuring the same two people who were entirely different now. They played each other masterfully rather than fucking mindlessly like they had back then – even though that undeniably had its appeal as well – and coaxed every single ounce of lust and pleasure out of their every second together. Moreover, it all happened right before Severus' eyes, at a comfortable distance and from a very pleasant viewpoint and angle. And with something that could be described as their blessing.
On the other hand, it was bitter that it wasn't a video that he could stop. What he saw was not like one of those clips he had seen on that Muggle-invented „internet"-thing – he had tried those once – in a desperate hour – but soon had to admit that they weren't what he was searching for. The pictures had always turned rotten in front of his eyes the moment he was done and it had made him feel wretched and filthy inside.
He had been able to press pause on them, though.
He felt that he could have done with more time to recuperate from his first orgasm and all the emotions that had accompanied it. This way, all this beautiful play was wasted on some level. All he could do was to try to drink it all in and etch it into his unforgetting memory for... later use.
Another dash of bitterness was added by the thought that, in just a few days' time, this would all be over. The meeting would be over, he would possibly be deployed to southern France along with several others of the Order and after that – if there was an „after that" for him – he'd be back in his three-room flat, back to work, back to everyday life and never see 12 Grimmauld Place from the inside ever again.
And his own god damn bed would still be cold.
For a brief moment he felt a strong, new kind of hatred for the two men before him. They had lured him here, had him enjoy their show for a few nights, give him a sample of all that which he would never have for himself. As it turned out, it possibly still was a punishment – just more elaborate and malicious than he had first envisaged.
After that moment had passed, a calmness overcame him. This was not the time to be bitter or reigned by envy. This was a gift, as undeserved and unexpected as it was splendid and perfect, and he couldn't allow himself to taint it with his own soreness of heart.
All he could do was to feast his eyes on Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's lovemaking and try his hardest to ban thoughts about the future for once.
He almost succeeded.
/TBC
