Punishment Part Two (H/D)

[dysonrules]

I need to go lie down now. I've read this too many times to be healthy.

Draco paced the room, trying to repress his agitation, and failing. He glanced at the long windows and tried to guess the time, not trusting himself to cast such a simple spell as a Tempus Charm. It was fully dark outside and the room was only dimly lit by a scattering of candles. Still, Draco was early, he knew, but Potter should be arriving soon, unless he had decided not to go through with it.

Draco could hardly believe his good fortune. Two days ago he had outmanoeuvred Potter in a one-on-one game and caught the Snitch from right between Potter’s fingers. The resulting loss had ended with Draco giving Potter a bare-arsed spanking that had opened a universe of possibility when the action produced unexpected consequences. Potter’s erection digging into Draco’s thigh had been eye-opening, to say the least.

Draco smirked at the tantalising knowledge that the Gryffindor hero had been extremely turned on by a bit of judicious spanking... and the tiniest bit of fondling.

Truth be told, Draco had been rock-hard by the time he had finished reddening Potter’s arse. The mortified hero had nearly escaped before Draco had recovered enough aplomb to stop him. On a whim, he had suggested a rematch with higher stakes.

A rematch that Potter had, once again, lost. Draco had to wonder if he had purposefully thrown the game in order to suffer the consequences.

The door opened behind him, scattering Draco’s thoughts. He turned casually, reining in a burst of excitement. Potter looked subdued and, not-surprisingly, nervous. A heady feeling of power thrummed through Draco’s veins and his nerves steadied. He could do this.

The red ottoman still sat in the middle of the room, the host of Potter’s previous humiliation. Potter’s gaze snapped to it, then to Draco, and then to the floor. A blush tinted his cheeks, visible even in the partial-darkness.

“Whenever you are ready, Potter,” Draco said in a dry tone, adding just a hint of challenge that always seemed to spur the Gryffindor into motion. It worked just as well this time.

Potter tossed his shimmering cloak onto a nearby chair and dragged his plain white t-shirt over his head. He toed off his shoes and then bent down to remove his socks. Draco watched in fascination and wondered when Potter had become so fit. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge of what was to come that caused Draco to appraise him with new eyes.

The Muggle jeans were next. Potter shimmied out of them and stood wearing nothing but pale blue underpants. He looked extremely vulnerable, but altogether delicious.

Draco walked to the ottoman and sat down, as before. He crooked his index finger at Potter, as before, and smirked slightly when the Gryffindor moved forward woodenly. No erection yet, Draco noted absently. He wondered how long that would last.

Potter blinked at him suddenly.

“Gloves,” he said redundantly. “You’re wearing gloves.”

Draco flashed him a grin. “I need to protect my hands, Potter. Ten spankings nearly kept me from holding a quill. You are the one requiring punishment, not I.”

Potter seemed at a loss for words as he eyed the whisper-thin black leather gloves Draco wore. The silence stretched between them almost to the snapping point, and then Potter’s Gryffindor core seemed to take over. He pushed down his pants almost angrily and assumed the position so quickly that Draco got barely a glimpse of his cock.

He smiled as Potter’s weight settled on his legs. Potter’s back was quite muscular, considering he usually looked like a skinny git in the oversized clothing he preferred to wear. Draco had already noticed the three tiny moles beneath Potter’s right shoulder blade. He wondered if the Gryffindor even knew they were there.

“Just one more thing,” Draco said casually and took his wand out of his pocket before shrugging off his outer robes. He Vanished his own trousers with a spell and Potter yelped in surprise.

“What the hell?” Potter demanded and started to rise. He seemed to remember his unclad state at the last moment and relaxed on Draco’s lap again. His abdominal muscles rippled against Draco’s bare legs.

“Just getting more comfortable, Potter,” Draco commented and then gave his arse a tentative smack to prevent further questioning.

Potter squeaked.

“I suppose that counts as one,” Draco said. “Nineteen more to go.”

Draco splayed his gloved left hand over the small of Potter’s back, something he had not done last time. Potter gasped at the touch, but Draco’s second spanking kept him silent. It was much harder than the first, and delivered to the other arse cheek. The gloves worked splendidly, Draco noted.

“Three,” he said and took note of the pink marks left behind by the blows. He had judiciously positioned the candles to give him the best view of Potter’s delectable behind.

“Four.” This one was slightly lower and drew another ragged gasp from Potter. Draco could feel him tense and relax through the hand on his back and the pressure on his legs. Potter’s bare skin alone was causing Draco’s prick to wake up and take notice.

“Five,” Draco said and struck lower still. He was rewarded with the lightest touch of something against his thigh—Potter was getting hard.

“Six, Seven, Eight, Nine,” Draco said in quick succession, smacking mercilessly without pause. Potter squirmed against him and let out a choked whimper. His erection pressed firmly into Draco’s bare skin and Draco felt a drop of wetness there.

“Ten!” Draco said and landed one more solid blow. “Intermission. Don’t move, Potter.”

The Gryffindor panted and his head drooped. Draco peeled off his gloves and set them between Potter’s shoulder blades, using him as a convenient table. Potter tensed even more, obviously understanding what the loss of Draco’s gloves meant.

Potter’s breath caught when Draco returned his palm to Potter’s lower back and opened his fingers in a light caress. Potter’s skin was warm and quivered beneath his hand. Draco felt such a rush of lust that he was nearly lightheaded for a moment. Bloody hell, Potter was under his complete control at the moment, naked and needy.

“Eleven,” Draco whispered and delivered his first bare-handed blow. Potter yelped and jerked forward, driving his cock into Draco’s thigh. Draco left his hand where it was for a slow count of five, until Potter drew a shuddering breath. His abdomen was suddenly slick with sweat.

“Twelve!” Draco said and smacked the Gryffindor again. The next three blows were similar, delivered upon different parts of Potter’s bare arse. Potter whimpered with every blow and thrashed upon Draco’s lap. His leaking cock smeared wetness over Draco’s leg.

Draco’s own breathing was less than steady and his pants were damp from his own precome. His erection twitched with every movement Potter made and he suddenly wanted more.

“Sixteen,” he said hoarsely and dropped an angled smack to Potter’s left cheek. His fingers touched Potter’s testicles and he left them there to draw a gentle circle over the lightly furred flesh. Potter made a choking sound.

“Spread your legs,” Draco ordered. Potter’s feet were somewhat tangled in his pants, but he kicked them away obediently and spread his knees, giving Draco a clear view of his perfect little arsehole.

Draco’s mouth went completely dry. “Seventeen,” he said and spanked Potter sharply, even though his hand was beginning to ache. Potter cried out when Draco cupped his balls and squeezed lightly.

He let go long enough to deliver the eighteenth blow and then let his fingers slide over the base of Potter’s cock teasingly, gripping his balls once more. Potter shivered and his prick moved rhythmically against Draco’s thigh, obviously seeking more contact.

“Don’t come, Potter,” he warned. The Gryffindor backed off somewhat, pushing himself unwittingly further into Draco’s hand. Potter moaned.

“Nineteen,” Draco whispered and released Potter’s testicles. Potter’s rasping gasps were loud in the room and Draco felt a hand close around his ankle as the Gryffindor braced himself for the next to last blow. Draco hit him lightly on the top of his arse and then slid his fingers down to touch Potter’s quivering hole. The hand clenched on Draco’s ankle and Potter’s glasses slipped off to land on the stone with a clatter. He did not seem to notice.

Draco pushed at Potter’s nether entrance, earning a tortured-sounding moan. Experimentally, Draco sucked on his fingers, coating them with saliva before returning them to repeat the motion.

“Merlin!” Potter shouted and thrashed on Draco’s lap.

“Hold still, Potter. One left.” Draco was amazed that his voice sounded relatively normal, even though he was wheezing like the Hogwarts Express and his cock strained against his constricting pants.

Draco pushed and prodded lightly at Potter’s ready hole until his index finger disappeared to the first knuckle and Potter began to chant, “Please, please, please,” although Draco doubted he even knew what he begged for. Quivers rocked Potter’s body with every teasing movement.

“Want me to fuck you, Potter?” Draco asked huskily.

The Gryffindor half-sobbed and he shook his head savagely, but then he said, almost inaudibly, “Yes.”

Draco pulled his finger free and delivered one last, stinging blow. “Twenty,” he said with finality and then gripped Potter’s reddened arse with both hands. He leaned down and licked a stripe across Potter’s arsehole, earning a choked scream.

Draco grinned with wicked satisfaction and pushed the ottoman back. Potter released his ankle and slipped free of his legs, but Draco said, “Don’t move.”

Potter froze as Draco positioned the cushion until Potter’s abdomen lay upon it, effectively taking Draco’s place. Draco moved quickly behind Potter and knelt between his still-spread legs. He used his thumbs to lever Potter’s cheeks open, earning a gasp when he mercilessly gripped the reddened, bruised flesh.

Draco licked a stripe from Potter’s balls up to his anus and then circled Potter’s hole with his tongue several times. Draco was rather shocked at his own behaviour—he had never done anything like this before, with anyone, but he could not seem to stop himself.

Potter’s shivering, gasping quivers drove him on. He pushed his tongue through the tight ring of muscle and Potter’s shriek was muffled—his face was buried in the ottoman. The black head rose and Potter yelled, “Merlin, I’m going to--!”

“Don’t come, Potter,” Draco warned. He regretfully left off teasing Potter’s hole. Strangely, he wanted nothing more than to lick and stab and suck at it until Potter was a sobbing mess, but he also knew he might never have another chance to do what he really wanted.

Draco shoved his own pants down enough to expose his cock, which he positioned with one hand while holding Potter in place with the other.

“Oh, Merlin,” Potter said and whimpered. “Oh, Merlin, Merlin...”

Draco pushed into Potter in one swift motion, burying himself to the hilt. Potter screamed aloud, clenched around Draco tightly, and came. That was all it took for Draco. His cock thrummed and he came more explosively than he could ever recall. The room went white for a moment and then he collapsed on Potter’s shuddering back as ripples of pleasure electrified his nerve endings.

Bloody hell. He had fucked Harry Potter. He shoved his hips forward experimentally, driving his cock deeper, and felt the Gryffindor quake beneath him, still sensitive. Draco’s hands moved gently over Potter’s hot arse, earning a moan.

“You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you, Potter?” Draco murmured. “I’ll bet if I spanked you again, you could get it up in no time. You would be hard and ready for me again, wouldn’t you?”

“Let... Let me up,” Potter said, so quietly that Draco barely heard him. He pretended he hadn’t.

“I wonder what other things turn you on?” Draco continued. “I’ll bet you would love to be tied up. Would you like to be shackled to the bed like a captive prisoner, spanked raw and then fucked until you couldn’t see straight?”

Potter said nothing and Draco had to close his eyes for a moment. The very image of it was so hot he felt his spent cock twitch, still buried deep inside Potter’s heat. Draco nuzzled the back of Potter’s neck and then bit down lightly. Potter gasped.

Before he could move, Draco said, “You are a very bad boy, Potter. I think you get away with far too many things and need to be punished more often. Since no one else seems willing to put you in your place, I shall have to take matters into my own hands.” When he said the last word, Draco squeezed. His fingers were still wrapped around Potter’s arse and the Gryffindor moaned, squirming beneath him.

“I’ll be watching you, Potter. And the next time you are a bad little Gryffindor...” Draco smacked him lightly on the arse with one hand. “I’ll be here to punish you.”

Potter drew a shuddering breath and Draco pushed himself away from him and got to his feet. He caught only a glimpse of Potter’s abused arse before the black-haired man bolted for his clothing. Draco pulled up his pants and Summoned his trousers, watching in amusement as the Gryffindor haphazardly dragged on his attire. It gave Draco no small thrill of satisfaction to think that Potter would now live in a permanent state of mortification.

“Potter!” Draco warned when the Gryffindor wrenched open the door. The green eyes met his and the old fire returned instantly. He held Draco’s gaze without flinching. “I’ll be watching,” Draco taunted.

Potter sneered at him and went out.

(Author’s note: Since I was wondering what Harry felt about all that, I asked him...)

Harry thrashed mindlessly as he felt Malfoy’s tongue probe his hole and slip inside. Dear Merlin, the need to come was almost overwhelming.

“Don’t come, Potter,” Malfoy warned. Harry nearly screamed aloud at the hateful words, but Malfoy’s tongue disappeared, only to be replaced by something that could only be the head of his cock. Harry knew he should stop this insanity. He should get up now and get the hell out. He should, but he reluctantly accepted that fact that he didn’t want to.

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry said and whimpered. “Oh, Merlin, Merlin...”

Malfoy’s hand pressed against the small of his back, as if sensing his sudden urge to flee. And then it was too late to escape, because Malfoy rammed forward and buried himself to the root.

Harry screamed at the fresh sensation of agonizing pain coupled with intense pleasure—and came. He was certain he blacked out for a moment, because every bit of his being seemed intent on exiting through his tortured cock, leaving trails of blissful flame in its wake.

He vaguely felt Malfoy coming, as well, spilling into him, and after a long moment the Slytherin sagged over his back, crushing him into the ottoman. Harry could not bring himself to care. Malfoy panted for a moment, and then shoved his hips forward, driving his cock even deeper. Harry shivered at the sensation and his cock twitched once more, expelling yet another spurt of fluid. Dear Merlin, what was wrong with him?

Malfoy’s hands trailed gently over his blistered arse, earning a moan. Even that, Harry liked. He was a sick, sick fuck, obviously.

“You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you, Potter?” Malfoy murmured, mirroring his thoughts. “I’ll bet if I spanked you again, you could get it up in no time. You would be hard and ready for me again, wouldn’t you?”

Harry felt his body respond eagerly, already primed for another Malfoy spanking. “Let... Let me up,” he said, but his voice would not work properly. The sound was barely audible and Malfoy did not seem to hear him.

“I wonder what other things turn you on?” Malfoy continued. “I’ll bet you would love to be tied up. Would you like to be shackled to the bed like a captive prisoner, spanked raw and then fucked until you couldn’t see straight?”

Harry couldn’t speak. The very thought of it made his cock start to swell and he was acutely aware of Malfoy still buried deep inside him. He imagined what it would be like to be Malfoy’s prisoner, spanked and fondled and sucked... He felt Malfoy’s lips on the back of his neck and then teeth. Harry gasped, fully hard once more.

Malfoy’s seductive voice droned on. “You are a very bad boy, Potter. I think you get away with far too many things and need to be punished more often. Since no one else seems willing to put you in your place, I shall have to take matters into my own hands.” Malfoy’s fingers squeezed his arse, hard, and Harry moaned helplessly, squirming beneath the Slytherin. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’ll be watching you, Potter. And the next time you are a bad little Gryffindor...” Malfoy’s hand smacked him lightly on the arse, sending a fresh sting of wicked pleasure straight to Harry’s cock. “I’ll be here to punish you.”

Harry drew a shuddering breath at the words, but Malfoy pushed away and got to his feet. Harry had no desire to face the consequences of Malfoy spotting his renewed erection. He snatched up his glasses and scrambled for his clothing. He tore them on haphazardly, clenching his teeth in pain as every brush of cloth seemed to burn like acid.

He was extremely grateful for the darkened room when he turned to flee. He made it as far as the door before Malfoy’s voice rang out.

“Potter!”

Harry stared at him, holding Malfoy’s gaze with effort.

“I’ll be watching,” Malfoy taunted.

A flare of pure desire nearly made him weak in the knees. Harry managed to sneer at the demonic Slytherin before slipping out and slamming the door behind him.

Merlin, he was doomed.

 


PART THREE