Title: Bells and Whistles
Summary: Three stages in Harry and Draco's relationship.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: 3,883
Author's Notes: The prompt was: "sub!/masochist!Draco and corresponding top!/Dom!Harry, BDSM-relationship where the kink is part of deep love, equal partnership outside the kink, Happy ending. A dash of Draco-in-girlie-clothes is welcomed. Draco who has Harry wrapped around his finger (except for when Harry puts his foot down), good!Harry, post-war!fic/End-war!fic, Beautiful!Draco (at least in Harry's eyes *S*), sort of androgynous!Draco, Harry that's a bit stumbling at times but strong and assertive when he needs to be." Big love to you kabal42, I really hope you like this. And hearts to my beta, too.
They'd been lovers for almost six months, and those months had been both the most frustrating and satisfying Harry had ever experienced in his seventeen years of life. Draco's slim body – now familiar to him as his own - twisting and sweating against him, beneath him, on top of him. Once the crevasse Harry had thought would be eternally insurmountable had finally been crossed and they'd acknowledged their desire for each other (first a rushed and drunken kiss, sloppy enough that it could have been taken for a mistake if necessary; then rough and violent fumbling, frotting desperately against each other until they each exploded with the months of built up sexual energy that they'd both been straining to keep a secret from each other) they'd gorged themselves, trying everything they could think of trying. More often than not they'd awaken sore and bruised from their night time trysts, having snuck into one or the other of their beds, making liberal use of silencing charms.
When Draco first started to tease him, Harry feared that he was growing bored. His need for Draco was so great, so all consuming, that even the smallest tickle of doubt left him restless and aggressive.
He had Draco pressed against the oak tree in the garden. They had the entire day to themselves and should have been fucking like puffskeins, but Draco was being difficult.
"Kiss me!" Harry demanded, grinding his hips against Draco's. He could feel Draco's cock hard against his own through their jeans, and he knew that if he pressed the slightest bit harder he wouldn't be able to stop himself from coming and ruining their fun before it had started.
"No." Draco pouted turning his head to the side, his bottom lip plumping out in that pretty way that made Harry desperate to bite it. "I won't kiss you. You smell of broomstick oil." He wrinkled his nose, but his grey eyes were peeking back towards Harry, watching him, despite his turned away face. Harry dug his fingers into Draco's thin shoulders, hoping he'd leave bruises so he could lick and kiss them later.
Draco shifted like a snake, and Harry felt Draco's hand grasp his cock through his jeans. The sudden pleasure was too intense, and Harry closed his eyes and gasped, pulling away from Draco, who was then off and running through the garden towards the house.
Harry cried out in frustration and sped after him.
He caught up to him in the bedroom. Draco was sitting cross-legged, rather prettily, in the centre of Harry's rumpled bed, looking extremely proud of himself. He tossed his head throwing lock of hair out of his eyes, and Harry pounced. He leapt onto the bed and threw his body across Draco's, pushing him back and down. Draco slapped at him and struggled, but Harry was the stronger of the two and kept him pinned against the sheets, supine beneath him.
Harry noticed the sharp, bright light in Draco's eyes, the way the corner of his mouth was twitching, and he felt something new roll through his chest – something fierce, hungry and joyful. A growl rumbled from the back of his throat, and he pushed Draco's arms back on the sheets until he was squashing the pillow against the headboard as he forced Draco's wrists together.
Draco kept his face averted and closed his eyes, putting up a believable struggle despite the Cheshire grin curving his mouth. Harry bent his neck and forced his lips against Draco's, trying to kiss him even as Draco shook his head from side to side in avoidance.
Cursing, Harry pushed himself up until he was straddling Draco's hips with his knees. He yanked his belt out of the loops of his jeans before falling back down onto Draco's chest. Draco's body jolted, and Harry pressed his legs tightly together, trapping Draco's and preventing him from kicking. As Draco squirmed and whimpered beneath him, Harry bound Draco's wrists together above his head and then, using the remaining length of the belt, fastened them to the iron bars of the headboard.
Draco arched his back and pulled at his arms. Finally, he turned his face back towards Harry's and glared up at him. Harry felt his heart racing. He pressed either hand against the bed at the sides of Draco's head, leant down and kissed him, hard and possessively.
Draco sighed happily into his mouth and kissed him back.
"Draco, I'm just not… I don't think I can bring myself to…"
"For fucks sake, Harry! I want you to do it. I'm asking you to do it. For the love of Merlin, I'm begging you!"
"It just seems so cruel. And you could get hurt."
"You're finally catching on. A miracle."
Harry dropped the remaining rope to the floor and watched Draco squirming prettily on the bed in his bindings. Draco's spine was bent upwards in a lovely curve, pulled into shape by the fact that his wrists and ankles were both bound and connected to each other by rope behind his back. Completely naked, he looked utterly helpless and the little moans and whimpers he was making only added to the effect. Harry shifted back and forth on his feet feeling slightly woozy. His skin was hot, and his blood was humming. Every detail of Draco's body fascinated him – the little trickle of sweat running from his forehead and down his pale jaw, the way his lips were extra red and plump from where he'd been running his teeth over them, the faint shadows his pale eyelashes cast across his cheeks. His lover’s skin looked damp and perfect with a faint line of downy hair trailing down his back leading to a whorl between his shoulder blades. Harry drew in air through his nostrils. Draco's smell, Merlin, it was heady, like moss and musk.
His cock was throbbing. He was finding it difficult to think.
"Are your wrists okay? You aren't going numb, are you?"
"Only numb with boredom. If you aren't going to get on with it than just leave and let me enjoy being tied up on my own."
Harry's fingers curled into fists. "There's no need to get arsey with me. I did everything you told me to do, just the way you wanted it."
Draco sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. Harry's jaw clenched. His anger blended with his desire and without thinking he reached over and pinched Draco sharply on his arse. Draco yelped and Harry felt the sound vibrate in his groin. With his breath coming faster and faster, Harry walked around the bed until he was standing with his crotch level with the side of Draco's head. He ran his eyes down Draco's body, taking in the red blotch marring the curve of his white arse. When his eyes reached Draco's face again he saw that Draco was looking back at him. He had that spark in his eyes, the knowing, impish gleam that made Harry feel like an engine was revving in his chest.
He licked his lips. "Castigo?"
"Castigo," confirmed Draco, letting the words slip from his lips with clear pleasure.
"Where'd you learn that?"
Draco just cocked an eyebrow.
"How hard? How long?"
"For fucks sake, just get on with it! If you can't be in the moment there's no point in even bothering. You wet little nancy boy! Why don't you just leave already, you're clearly not remotely capable of giving me what I need. It's your background; you're so utterly Mugglish sometimes, just coarse and sloppy. You're quick with your fists, but Merlin forbid you get the time to actually think about what you're doing …"
"Castigo!" said Harry, pulling out his wand and holding it over Draco's bare back. Nine long strips of black leather flew from its tip, and he raised his arm back and then sharply snapped the flogger against Draco's back.
Draco screamed and Harry jumped, his hand going to his mouth.
Draco turned towards him and, between gasps, said, "If you apologise, I swear I won't speak to you for a month."
"Might not be such a bad thing." Harry brought the flogger down once more.
This time Draco squeezed his eyes shut tight and whimpered through gritted teeth before whispering, "Yes. That's it."
"Yes, it's okay. It's bloody gorgeous."
Harry adjusted his footing. It was taking all his mental strength to overcome his innate aversion to causing Draco pain. Draco's muscles shifted, and he bent his fingers, brushing the tips of them against the rope. Harry moved his eyes to Draco's face; he was flushed, damp hair clung to his forehead and cheeks; he was just… so beautiful.
Draco wanted this. This was what made Draco happy. Harry felt his resistance melt away.
Marvelling at the way Draco's peach skin came up in bright red welts, Harry smiled and flogged Draco again, and then again. The leather strands whined through the air. Each time the leather made contact with his skin Draco would scream, and each time Draco screamed Harry felt an electric thrill shoot through his body. Between blows Draco would pant, his eyes shut tight, and at the sound of Harry lifting his arm to lay down another stroke Draco's back and shoulders would tense and his face would clench. Increasing the pace, Harry brought the flogger down harder, watching Draco's face carefully, wondering how much he could take, praying that he wouldn't really hurt him even as he orchestrated his pain.
There was a kind of knot in the pit of Harry's stomach and a burning sensation spread throughout his chest, filling his muscles with liquid energy. Draco had buried his face in the bedclothes. Each time Harry brought down the flogger there'd be a muffled cry. Draco was trembling in the ropes and shaking his head back and forth. Harry grabbed a handful of soft white-blond hair and yanked Draco's head back so he could see his face.
"Look at me."
Draco's face was red and damp with tears. His mouth hung open.
"Look at me!" repeated Harry. Draco's eyes slowly blinked open. He looked sideways, meeting Harry's gaze. His eyes were red rimmed and unfocussed.
Dropping the flogger to the floor, Harry climbed onto the bed and pushed Draco over until he was lying on his side with his bare front facing him. The sight of Draco's cock - pink, long and wet at the tip - rid Harry of any self-control. He grabbed Draco by the sides of his head, bent down and kissed him. Draco's lips moved against his softly, tasting of salt from his tears.
Harry arranged his own body so that he was chest to chest with Draco and ran his hands over Draco's shoulders. As his fingertips reached Draco's back and ran across the edges of the raised welts there, Draco shuddered against him and arched his neck backwards. On a hunch, Harry ran his fingers further back, trailing them through the welts until they were resting lightly between Draco's shoulder blades. He slowly increased the pressure – Draco's raw skin was hot to his touch – and Draco writhed against him, whining.
Harry ground his abdomen against Draco's whilst running his hands up Draco's back, along his neck and through his hair. He gripped the cornsilk firmly in his fists and pulled Draco's face to his own. As he kissed him he sucked in Draco's bottom lip and held it between his teeth. He snaked one hand down between them and ran his fingers lightly over Draco's cock, tugging the foreskin downwards, stroking the slit ever so lightly.
Draco was moaning into Harry's mouth and thrusting his hips towards Harry, seeking firmer contact.
"Is that what you wanted?" whispered Harry.
"Yes," said Draco. "Perfect."
Draco's hair was the palest of blonds fading still to white at the ends. It was fine as silk, yet thick enough that Harry couldn't see a bit of his scalp as he looked down at the top of his head. "I believe I made myself perfectly clear, Draco. You were not to move until I returned to the room."
Draco's head bent downwards, exposing the little bump at the top of his spine as he turned his face towards the floor.
"Have you anything to say for yourself?" Harry continued, his hands on his hips. Draco shook his head. "Nothing?" Draco shook his head harder. "So, then you defied my orders for no reason at all. I see."
Draco's head sunk further downwards.
"And yet," said Harry, "I distinctly heard the sound of bells ringing from the hallway."
A small sound floated up from Draco's down turned face.
"What was that?" demanded Harry.
"There was a fly." Draco's voice was tiny and fearful.
"It tickled me. So I tried to shrug it off."
"It tickled you? You moved hard enough for me to hear the bells ringing three yards away down the hall because of a tickle?"
There was silence, and then Draco nodded again.
"Eyes up, Draco."
Draco lifted his face and met Harry's gaze. His face was all remorse but his eyes had a tiny gleam in them that was just a little bit too smug for Harry's liking. Harry bent down and slapped Draco hard across his face, making his head snap to the side. The bells attached to the clamps on Draco's nipples jingled loudly.
There was a bright red mark across Draco's cheek, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. Harry's nostrils flared.
"Put your forehead on the floor."
Blinking rapidly, Draco did so.
"Spread your legs."
Draco moved his knees apart. Harry slid his wand out of his pocket and poked the tip of it into his mouth, wetting it. He then flourished it through the air calling out the incantation in a loud voice that, to his pleasure, caused the muscles of Draco's back and shoulders to knot with tension. A long, stiff, hot pink feather bobbed from the end of Harry's wand fluttering slightly along its edges. Harry smiled.
"I will use the feather for exactly sixty seconds on the soles of your feet. You will remain completely still – you will not twitch, you will not shudder, you will not remove your forehead from the floor. If you do any of these things, there will be pain, the clock will start at zero again, and I will use the feather again."
"That's so unfair," said Draco in a small voice.
Harry sighed. "Keep whining, and I'll make it two minutes."
Draco wisely kept his mouth shut.
Kneeling, Harry brushed the tip of the feather delicately again the sole of Draco's right foot. He trailed it up the heel and then swirled it down until it was skipping against Draco's toes. While his breath was coming in quick bursts, Draco managed not to move. Harry felt his chest burn with quiet pride and restrained himself from reaching out and stroking Draco's smooth back. His satisfaction with Draco didn't last long, however, as after a mere ten seconds Draco began to make pitiful humming noises and then jerked his foot away from the feather.
Pursing his lips, Harry stood and placed his wand carefully down on the table. He selected, in its place, a wooden paddle sheathed in black leather and with the word "Love" spelled out with metal studs on the flat of it.
"I warned you, Draco. Now there will be pain."
Harry slapped the paddle sharply against Draco's arse. Draco's cry melded with the sound of jingling bells. "One," said Harry, admiring the bright red letters – L-O-V-E – written in red bumps across the smooth, pale skin. He brought the paddle down again, harder this time, and Draco screeched. "Two," said Harry. By the time he reached five, there were tears and the four red letters across Draco's flesh were unreadable – nothing more than four swollen, blob shaped welts. Harry placed the paddle back on the table and took up his feathered wand once more.
One minute of stillness, that's all Harry was demanding of Draco, yet Draco would not keep still. Harry wiped his sleeve cross his sweating brow, frowning. Draco's arse was looking raw and purple from all the paddling.
"Stop! Stop! Ahhh! No more, please, I can't do it!"
"Draco, the more you struggle the longer this is going to take. Just stay still like a good boy, and it will soon be over with."
Draco lifted his head from the floor and turned back towards Harry, showing him his face. He was openly crying, his face blotchy and shiny with tears.
Harry placed his foot on the back of Draco's head and pushed it back down into the carpet.
"Uhh ooo," floated upwards from his crushed face.
"What did you just say?"
Draco became very still.
Draco shook his head wildly, whipping his hair across his face. "No, Harry. Not the gag."
"Now, Draco, you know I haven't got any choice."
"I won't say it again, I promise."
Harry sighed, and knelt down at Draco's side. He brushed Draco's hair out of his eyes, and stroked the side of his face gently, getting his fingertips wet. "You're going to have to wear the gag. I don't want to hear any more arguing." Harry put his fingers in his mouth and sucked off the damp salt of Draco's tears.
"That's enough." Harry's voice was soft, but his expression silenced Draco. "Open your mouth."
Slowly, Draco parted his trembling lips, his face full of self-pity. Harry pulled his jaws apart and slid the bright blue rubber ball into Draco's mouth before fastening the buckles at the back of his head and under his chin. He slid his fingers under the straps to make sure that they were tight enough to hold, but not to chafe. He then pushed Draco's head back to the floor.
Standing back to admire his work, Harry let himself relax and enjoy the sight before him. The black of the gag's straps and the ropes binding Draco's wrists together behind his back contrasted so elegantly with Draco's pale skin. Draco's legs were spread and his arse was lifted upwards, bare and defenceless. Harry let his breath whistle through his teeth. He was incredibly aroused. It took an effort of will to keep his hands from shaking, and a red flush was heating his skin from forehead to feet. He felt that he'd waited long enough.
He dropped to his knees and tore open the fly of his jeans, pulling out his hot, hard cock. He felt greedy, ravenous and utterly impatient. After pushing his jeans down to give himself more freedom, he lubed up and spread Draco's cheeks.
Draco made a sound at the back of his throat as Harry entered him, despite all the lube. His buttocks were still raw and red, and Harry imagined that the contact must sting quite badly. He took care to grip Draco's hips beyond the welts so as not to make it hurt any more than necessary as he thrust into him. At first he moved slowly, pushing in and pulling out, enjoying the sensations shivering through his cock and balls. Soon, he wanted more and began to thrust harder and faster, catching a rhythm, listening to Draco's gag muffled whimpers and the sound of the jingling bells.
Draco was so sweet, so fucking sweet, and Harry loved him so much. He'd never felt so free or passionate with anyone else, male or female. Draco had unlocked him. He'd given Harry his true self, and Harry knew that neither of them would ever be complete without the other. They fit together perfectly, like yin and yang.
Harry's balls began to tighten all too soon, and the pleasure surging through his thighs and stomach concentrated itself in his groin as he thrusted. Groaning and digging his fingers into Draco's skin, he felt the sensations intensify until he was flooding over the edge and coming hard inside his lover, shouting – almost sobbing – as the pleasure coursed through his entire body like lighting bolts.
Collapsed against Draco's back, Harry breathed in deeply, feeling dreamy, completely blissed out. He ran his fingers over Draco's shoulders and arms, squeezing gently, and lifted his face to press soft kisses between Draco's shoulder blades. Slowly, he pulled out and then put his clothes back into place.
"You can move now, Draco. Sit up. I want to see your face."
Draco lifted and turned, wincing as his arse touched the carpet, and sat facing Harry. Harry lent forwards, unbuckled and removed the gag, tossing it to the floor. He kissed Draco while trailing his fingers down his damp chest. When he reached Draco's erect cock, Harry took it gently in his hand, running his thumb against the silky bottom of the shaft.
"What do you want?" Harry asked between kisses.
"I want to come. I want to come so badly."
"Yes. Please. Please, Harry, let me come."
"Do you deserve it?"
"No. I'm horrid and naughty and all I deserve is pain and suffering. But, please, Harry. Please let me come."
Harry increased the pressure of his thumb against Draco's shaft and Draco frowned and whimpered like a child. When Harry ran his thumb over the head, pressing against the slit, Draco closed his eyes and began to pant.
"All right, Draco. I'm going to count to five. When I reach five, you may come. But I want to be absolutely sure that you know you don't deserve it. The only reason I am giving you your pleasure, is because I love you and am a kind and generous master. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Harry! Merlin, yes! I love you, too. You are so good to me, so, so good."
Draco squirmed, digging his teeth deeply into his lower lip, his nostrils flaring.
Harry wrapped his fingers fully around Draco's cock, gently, slowly pumping it. Draco's mouth opened. His breaths were coming deep and fast.
Harry's hand sped up and Draco opened his eyes, which were glazed and blinking rapidly.
"Muurggmeegleennneep…" said Draco.
Draco cried out and arched his back. Harry felt Draco's cock pulse against his fingers. White come shot from the head in spurts, splattering Draco's face, neck and shoulders. Every muscle in his body seemed taught and trembling.
As Draco's tremors gentled, Harry pulled him to his chest, letting Draco collapse against him. He stretched his arms and quickly untied the rope binding Draco's wrists. Gingerly, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's back, clinging to him, burying his head against Harry's neck. Harry breathed in Draco's scent and nuzzled the top of his head. They remained like that for fifteen minutes, holding each other, feeling each other's heartbeats begin to slow.
"Are you very sore?" asked Harry.
"Mmm. It's nice. My arse is all stingy."
Harry grinned and drew Draco even closer to his body. They'd been lovers for almost six years. Those years had been both the most frustrating and satisfying Harry had ever experienced in his twenty-three years of life.
If he had his way, it would never change.
-- The End