Privileges Chapter Six

[dysonrules]

It's early here. Thank goodness for coffee. *sluuuuuurp*  Oh look!  We have NC17ishness!  WOOT!

Draco woke up once when Blackfell entered the room, disrobed, and crawled into bed. He awakened much later for reasons unknown and lay staring into the darkness listening for any out of place noise.

The sound he heard was a breathy sort of moan, quickly stifled. His eyes lifted toward the bed and he was suddenly glad he had shifted in his sleep to lie upon his side, because the slightest movement would have alerted Tensbury to his wakefulness and he suddenly, very desperately, did not want Tensbury to stop what he was doing.

Draco forced his breathing into a slow and even cadence when the silence in the room stretched and grew. Perhaps he had made a minute sound before waking, causing Tensbury to freeze. Draco relaxed slightly when he heard the rustle of cloth. After a moment it became a repetitious whisper, barely audible. Tensbury was touching himself in a very wicked fashion.

The very thought of it made Draco’s blood heat and he felt a quickening between his legs. Tensbury’s breathing increased in volume and his strokes grew faster. Dear god. Draco wondered if he dared to move a hand down to his own erection.

With a muffled oath, Tensbury threw back his blankets. Draco thought his heart might stop, because the light coming through the window embrasure could not have been more perfectly placed. Tensbury’s cock stood tall and erect, silhouetted in the moonlight. There was another quiet pause as Tensbury refused to move, probably listening intently for any sign that Draco had awakened. Draco could barely breathe.

At last Tensbury began to move his hand, stroking up the shaft and down again, moving with purpose, slowly at first and then faster and rougher. When the knight’s breathing quickened, Draco dared to move his hand carefully down to his own aching cock. Merely grasping it while watching Tensbury was almost enough to give him release. Almost.

His eyes were fixed on Tensbury. He was amazed that watching another man bring himself off could be so erotic, but then it occurred to him that it wasn’t simply another man, it was the black-haired devil that practically owned him. And Draco would be damned to hell if he didn’t admit that Tensbury was like a work of art.

Tensbury’s breathy noises were driving Draco mad and he bit his lip hard in order to stifle the sound of his release. His eyes had barely opened again when Tensbury arched and came, spilling seed over his still-moving hand and making a barely muffled cry. He continued to stroke and Draco shuddered once more and sent a final spurt to stain the blankets he would have to surreptitiously wash on the morrow.

Draco’s breathing slowly returned to normal, although he continued to watch Tensbury, who lay unmoving in the shaft of light as his spent cock lost its proud hardness. After what seemed an eternity to Draco, who simply could not shut his eyes and look away, the knight dragged the blankets over his nudity and curled back into an attitude of sleep.

For Draco, slumber was a long time coming.

~~ O ~~

Harry hugged himself beneath the blankets and wondered what had possessed him to do such a thing. Draco was awake, he was certain of it. He had awakened with a raging hard-on caused by memories of the blond prince and their single kiss. A few strokes beneath the blanket had been unsatisfying and he had tossed them haphazardly aside before realizing he could no longer hear Draco breathing in the silent room.

The thought of Draco watching him had made his erection throb painfully and after a few moments of anguished debate, Harry had allowed himself to move his hand. He had nearly forgotten Draco’s presence after a bit, until the tiniest rustle of cloth confirmed Harry’s suspicions. He allowed himself to sink into fantasy—that it was not his hand bringing himself to delicious ecstasy, but Draco’s hand… and maybe Draco’s mouth.

It was enough. Harry came hard, quivering in his own grip, heady with the thrill of being watched by the one he had only recently discovered he wanted quite badly. As he came down from the euphoric cloud, he wondered if Draco had touched himself. Had he slipped a long pale hand between his legs and stroked himself off while watching Harry? The thought made his cock twitch, eager for another round as long as it involved Draco.

Don’t covet things you can never have, he warned it sternly and reached down to tug his blankets back up. Now if only he could take his own advice.

He heard Draco rise early, dress, and depart, but he lay in bed trying to recover the last vestiges of sleep until his squire returned. The rattling of dishes awakened him.

“Do you plan to sleep all day, then?”

Harry sat up groggily, surprised that he had managed to sink back into slumber after all. Apparently he had slept longer than expected, because light showed beyond the window embrasure. He was about to castigate Draco when he realized he had never issued specific orders for the blond to wake him up at a certain time—usually he rose on his own without assistance.

He sighed and propped his hands behind his head. Draco’s eyes roamed over his bare torso and a derisive sneer twisted his fine lips. Harry grinned, wondering what thoughts were going through his mind behind those fathomless grey eyes.

“I suppose I should rise and fulfil my duty as Ron expects. Did he leave?”

Draco nodded. “Just past dawn. He took your scribe.”

“Neville?” Harry barked a laugh. “I wonder how he managed that? Neville hates to ride. He must have been bored.”

“Ron convinced him that he needed someone to write down figures.”

“That is true, I suppose. Ron never did learn to read or write. Said it was a waste of time.”

Draco muttered something that Harry didn’t quite catch, but he could guess it was a slur against Ron. The two seemed to have developed something of an instant animosity.

“All right, then. I’m up.” Harry threw aside his blankets and got to his feet, grinning when Draco blanched at his nudity. Any doubt Harry might have entertained about Draco’s wakefulness the night before was instantly dispelled.

He turned around to rummage in his wardrobe for something to wear and heard a gasp behind him.

“Bloody hell,” Draco murmured. Harry glance over his shoulder to see the prince staring at his back in shock. He snatched a tunic and turned around, suddenly self-conscious. He realized Draco had never seen his scars before, since he had always undressed in near-darkness.

He shrugged into the tunic and smiled in self-deprecation. “I told you I was a squire for many years. My master was not a patient man.”

Draco swallowed and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Harry grimaced. “No, I’m sorry. I should not have allowed my anger to goad me into inflicting upon you something that I despised when it was done to me.”

Draco nodded, but he seemed more than willing to let the subject drop. “I brought your breakfast. Would you like milk? The porridge is rather hot; Molly made it especially for you. There are berries, too.”

Harry gratefully turned to the subject of food and ate while Draco sat cross-legged on his pallet and caught the berries that Harry tossed to him every so often. They discussed their plans for the day and then Draco left to tend to the horses. Something profound seemed to have changed between them, although Harry could not pinpoint the difference.

~~ O ~~

Tensbury seemed content to wile the day away after awakening so late. He spent the entire morning in his room, poring over accounts, rustling parchment, sighing, and making a crow's nest of his hair.

"If you don't understand it, why do you torment yourself?" Draco asked, looking up from the black boot he had polished to a high gloss. Tensbury was so absorbed in his work that he did not notice it was Draco's boot rather than one of his. Besides, Draco had polished the knight's boots earlier. He was running out of chores that would keep him in the room and yet he was reluctant to leave.

"Because I need to understand it," Tensbury replied. "It's my duty."

“Do you want some… help?” Draco asked tentatively and Tensbury looked at him in surprise. Several emotions seemed to battle within him, reflected briefly on his face, and then he nodded.

“If you don’t mind.”

Draco shrugged. It was better than polishing boots. He dragged a chest over to Tensbury’s desk and spent the next few hours explaining accounts and how they related to different parts of castle rule. Draco warmed to his task when Tensbury asked question after question without seeming bored. He had a quick mind and Draco found himself volunteering more information than he anticipated.

He also found unexpected jolts of sensation whenever he brushed against Tensbury, or when their fingers touched while passing the quill or a bit of parchment. He realized he had never been quite so aware of another person and decided it was due to embarrassment. Watching Tensbury wank had been…

Blackfell’s hand touched Draco’s thigh and he nearly jumped out of his skin with a yelp. He stared into surprised green eyes and Tensbury removed his hand. “Sorry,” he said. “I only asked if you wanted some water. You were far away for a moment.”

A knock on the door interrupted Draco’s response and Blackfell turned to bid them enter. Molly peered into the room. “My lord, Sir Davies just rode in. He brings an injured man.”

Tensbury nodded and then looked at Draco with a frown, but said nothing. He got to his feet. “You can remain here, if you prefer, Draco.”

Draco scowled. “Is that an order?”

Blackfell’s lips quirked. “I said ‘if you prefer’ which suggests the choice is yours.”

Draco shrugged. “Then I will accompany you.” In truth, the thought of seeing Davies again caused his stomach to clench into knots, but he refused to give in to unease. He was a prince of the blood—it would take more than one disgusting lout to terrify him.

Even so, he planned to stay close to Tensbury.

The injured man did not seem dreadfully injured to Draco. He sat on a bench before the long table with one bare leg propped up. One of the men tended it by slapping a hot poultice on it and wrapping it with cloth. The man was dark-skinned, and very handsome in an exotic sort of fashion.

Davies sat across from the newcomer, swilling ale from a large mug and gnawing on a loaf of bread, spilling crumbs down the front of his tunic. The man was a pig. Davies’ eyes went straight to Draco and his resulting smirk made him want to cross swords with the bastard. Someday, when his duty to his father was complete… Draco allowed a cold smile to curve his lips at the thought of retribution and Davies’ look of amusement faltered.

“Sir Blackfell,” Davies growled, turning his attention to Tensbury. “This is Blaise Zabini. A travelling bard. He was nearly done for when I found him. Bloody bandits waylaid him.”

Tensbury greeted the man politely. “Welcome. A bard, you say? We’ve had a shortage of entertainment here. Perhaps you will gift us with your talents later, if you are feeling up to it.”

The bard looked at Tensbury with far more than casual interest, in Draco’s opinion. His eyes seemed to touch the knight everywhere and a brilliant smile broke across his face. Draco felt a flare of annoyance at the man’s blatant regard. “Lord Tensbury,” Zabini said in a dulcet voice. “Thank you for your kindness. I’m sure I will be more than well enough to tend to your needs… whatever they might be.”

Draco clenched his fists, but Tensbury seemed oblivious. He laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Excellent. I shall look forward to it.”

“As will I,” Zabini purred.

Draco snarled and stalked into the kitchen, muttering something about an errand.

Molly patted him on the shoulder after watching him randomly slamming pots around. “There, there, lad. What is it?”

Draco swallowed hard and tried to regain control. He could not explain why the bard’s attention to Tensbury riled him so. “Davies is back,” he said flatly.

Molly pursed her lips. “I noticed. He’s a right devil, that one. I make sure the twins are elsewhere when he’s about. He’s a bad sort.”

Draco nodded. Staying far away from Davies seemed like the best plan. He decided it was a perfect day to go and tend Blackfell’s horses.

~~O~~