Lola

DISCLAIMERS: J. K. Rowling and her minions own everything related to Harry Potter and his magical world. I make no monies from this paltry piece of Potterotica.

A/N: This story was inspired by The Kinks song, “Lola”.

A/N: Wonderful thanks to Shadowsamurai, Weasleywench, and Scully for your very positive, helpful, and insightful review/beta work. I want to also thank MystressXOXO for giving me the encouragement necessary for finally putting this story out there for viewing. I hope I answered your question adequately.

Thanks to SevFan for all the help.

All errors are mine.

Harry sat alone, deep in thought, at the bar, swirling his double Scotch on the rocks in the condensation that dewed and dropped off his tumbler onto the counter. His face showed every bit of his nervousness and hesitancy at being in a Muggle Soho gay nightclub. If that wasn’t bad enough, he seemed to reek of ‘uncertainty’ and ‘bi-curious’. Most of the Saturday night regulars stayed away from new meat that would most likely up and bolt the moment you touched his bare cock or arse. Sitting there, Harry wasn’t sure if he was relieved or depressed that no one approached him.

In actuality, Harry tried to comprehend how he came to be sitting there. There had been so many changes in such a short period of time that he almost needed a Pensieve to keep all his thoughts straight.

Straight - now there was a word he doubted defined him anymore. When Ginny told him that she didn’t want to be his girlfriend anymore, it hurt. When she said it was because she noticed Harry would admire her brothers’ arses more than hers however, it stung. It also made him reevaluate his own sexual desires. He desperately wanted to prove her wrong, but the more he thought about it, the more he thought she might be right. Even now as he sat there watching men conversing, drinking with, dancing with, and even kissing other men, Harry realized he wasn’t utterly revolted by it. Yet, he hoped it wouldn’t arouse him. Besides, if Ginny wasn’t Miss Right, maybe what he really needed was Miss Right-Now. They never had gone ‘all the way’ because she wanted to make sure they were truly committed to each other.

After the break-up and despite Mrs. Weasley’s insistence he stay in Percy’s old room, Harry left the Burrow, moved into Grimmauld Place, and enlisted in the Auror training program. There he had been paired, not with Ron as he requested, but with that git, Draco Malfoy. It infuriated Harry that even after the Battle of Hogwarts, the Malfoys were still able to cajole and influence enough Wizengamot members to receive a full familial pardon then garner accolades for Narcissa’s and Draco’s part in defeating Voldemort. The final straw, though, had been when Draco publicly announced that he was ashamed of his youthful, tempestuous choices, begged the wizarding world for forgiveness and announced that he was turning over a new leaf and joining the Ministry’s Auror program. He was going “to fight alongside the virtuous and heroic Harry Potter to ensure that no other dark lords established that kind of power in Great Britain again.”

When Harry read about Malfoy’s public statement, he didn’t realize that the Ministry would take it so literally and actually pair the once enemies together. Then despite Harry’s best efforts to be reassigned or expose Malfoy’s underlying nefarious plans, it seemed that even he had to grudgingly agree that the pair worked rather well together. In fact, it seemed that they complemented each other well. Harry was starting to respect Draco’s strengths and talents. And it was this newfound appreciation of the reformed Draco Malfoy that really made Harry uneasy.

It was bad enough that Harry had to work with the svelte man all day long, now, however, Harry was starting to dream about him as well. It started the night after he had realized he had been staring at Draco’s hands and wand movements. Later that night, he dreamt those hands were moving up and down his own body; their touches and caresses brought Harry to ejaculate in his sleep, something he hadn’t done since he was at school. If it only had happened once, Harry would have shrugged it off to his own inexperience and sexual frustrations, but now it was happening almost every night. It was getting to where Harry couldn’t even look Draco in the face and he had to reluctantly concede that maybe he was attracted to men, or at least one man, after all. Draco Malfoy, it seemed, was the real reason why he was sitting in a seedy Muggle bar trying to find out if he was even remotely gay.

With so many changes and realizations happening so quickly, it was no wonder that Harry would temporarily forget his surroundings. It was only his practicing the various techniques from his Auror training that made him realize that someone was watching him. It was more than that, though, it felt as if someone was mentally undressing him.

Without a doubt, someone was ogling him, almost coveting him, but the room was dark and smoky and it was hard for Harry to get a good look around at the various patrons. Not knowing whom this person was unnerved and excited him at the same time. Then taking one last look from his bar side vantage point, Harry spotted his watcher and his own eyes widened at who his mystery person was. For it wasn’t another man watching him, but rather a woman – a beautiful woman. Harry seemed a bit confused by her appearance. Why was this lovely woman at a gay bar? Had she come alone or with friends and why was she staring at Harry so daringly?

Standing about ten meters away was the most luscious, vivacious blonde he had ever seen. Her hair was long, straight, and flowed down her shoulders and back. She was wearing a white shimmering dress that seemed to turn slightly different colours whenever the light moved across her body. There wasn’t much fabric to it as it was tight and strapless; it barely covered her legs to mid-thigh. Her legs seemed to go on forever from that tight wrapped dress down to four-inch heels. And for a moment, Harry felt his mouth water at the vision before him. Maybe he wasn’t as gay as he was led to believe.

A woman of that beauty could have been standing on a deserted island and still men would have traveled far and wide to be wrapped around her smallest finger, begging to do her every whim and desire. What was she doing here? Harry’s curiosity got the better of him, and just as he was about to rely on liquid courage to go walk over to her, their eyes met.

She made her way to Harry. Her hips were swaying, slow and seductive, to the music. As he sat on the barstool, he realized that she was taller than him. She stopped in front of him, offered her grand, soft hand out to him, and then she spoke. Her voice was rich and velvety. It flowed over him making him feel warm inside like hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night.

"I’ve been watching you, sitting here all alone. You look so deep in thought, so troubled. I couldn’t help but wonder what or maybe who you were thinking about. A boy as pretty as you shouldn’t have such troubling thoughts on a Saturday night. Maybe Lola can do something to make you feel better.” With that she smiled, and continued. “I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Lola.” Then she leaned down to whisper into his ear. As she did her hair brushed against his forearm sending shivers up his spine. Then she gently kissed his earlobe, nibbling on it a bit and said, “L-O-L-A. It’s very easy to spell. Would you like to dance?”

Without a doubt, Harry was nervous. He took the offered hand in his darker, calloused one, tried to swallow the nervous lump in his throat down, and said, "I'm Harry. I would be honored to dance with you, Lola." With that small introduction, Lola pulled him into a standing position right in front of her, her eyes running appraisingly up and down his lithe frame and led him to the dance floor. She took charge of the situation and somehow her control seemed to put Harry at ease. It felt nice not to be the person to make all the decisions.

When standing mere centimeters away from the breathtaking blonde and looking up into her stormy gray eyes, the brunet young man realized that this intriguing woman was also more voluptuous than he had originally thought. But that didn’t bother Harry, not really. To him, it wasn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.

As they danced, Harry’s eyes began to roam over her. He was becoming anxious and uncertain of how to proceed. Lola took control of the situation by wrapping her arms around him, leading the dance. He momentarily felt the wind knock out of him as she enveloped him into her strong, yet warm embrace. In the stillness of her arms he felt something familiar and welcoming and he enjoyed the way she took charge of the situation. Even though he was a wizard and she was a Muggle woman, he liked submitting to her instructions. He had grown tired, within the wizarding world, of always having to be the one to make decisions. He was always seen as the leader, the person everyone came to for help, and so it felt nice to follow for a change.

The night was wonderful. Lola was wonderful. She forgave Harry for his appalling dance rhythm and step, enjoying his movements. She seemed to know when Harry wanted to dance and when he wanted to take a stop. She was attentive and inquisitive, opening the usually stoic Auror to conversation and yet she still maintained her share of the conversation. She was flirtatious without being overpowering. She also knew when he wanted to share a time of simple silence, to share the moment between just the two of them. He felt at ease with her. For once, Harry felt as if he had found an equal to himself. Someone he didn’t have to be a savior to, someone with whom he could relax and be himself.

She stayed with him for hours, and in that short period of time, Harry felt as if Lola was someone that he would want to spend more time with, getting to know her. There was something about her, though, that seemed a bit off. Harry couldn’t put his finger on what it was. But he decided not to worry about it; the uncertainty kept him from really getting to know her. Hell, he hadn’t even told her his last name. Not that that it mattered in the Muggle world. Here, he was just Harry.

Shaking him from his thoughts, Lola’s voice floated through his hazy alcohol imbued brain. “Harry, would you mind getting us another drink? I would like a glass of champagne and am having trouble getting the waitress’s attention.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll be back in just a moment.” Harry grinned.

When he came back, Harry placed their glasses down on the table and was beginning to pull his chair out when Lola suddenly grabbed him by the waist and pulled him down onto her knee. He was not surprised by her forthrightness nor her strength, but he did feel awkward upon her lap. Wasn’t that something a man was supposed to do to a woman? He was also afraid that he might break her; women, after all, were the more delicate sex, and didn’t he always worry about breaking Ginny when they had been together? Lola broke him out of his contemplative thoughts, playfully patted the inside of his thighs and said, “That’s a good boy. You sit right here where I can take care of you. Lola wants to take care of her Harry and make him feel real good.” She reached to the table and brought up one of the glasses to Harry’s lips. It tasted a bit like Muggle cola. She tilted it back making him drink it all.

Maybe he had been drinking too much, but something wasn’t right about the way she felt under his legs. He had never sat in anyone’s lap before, and he was feeling a bit tipsy, so he didn’t know exactly how to describe what the problem was. All he knew was that she somehow felt wrong. Then he briefly shook his head, like a mangy mutt, and decided not to think about it too much.

Lola finished playing with his hair, but kept her hand against the back of his head as she brought him into a firm kiss. Her lips were soft and she opened her mouth just a little to gently bite his lower lip. This made Harry open his mouth and gasp a bit. Lola decided to take the lead again, and entered his mouth with her warm velvety tongue. She was passionate and firm, and started to move her hands up and down his back and shoulders. Sometimes she would bring her hands up to the back of his shoulders and then slowly, with her nails, gently rake them down his back, bringing tingling jolts running down his spine and ribs.

Harry didn’t know how long they had been kissing, but eventually Lola pulled away and said, “Harry, I want you to come home with me tonight. Would you like that?”

Harry felt so full of shameless desire and could think of nothing more, as he felt more intoxicated by her kisses than by the night's beverages. Harry looked into her eyes and saw the desire and want held within them. He simply said, “I would love to.” Lola motioned for him to stand and then she led him out of the club into the chilling, damp London air.

He realized that he had more to drink than he originally thought, when he found he wasn’t sure how they had arrived back at her place, but here they stood in an extravagant flat. The walls were a cream color with a few stunning paintings around the living room. The other decorations were minimal and the furniture was sparse; a couch, a loveseat, a large soft chair, a coffee table, a few end tables, and lamps. But there was a style to it that Harry realized came from wealth. The fine product and an upbringing inspired it, not to be flaunted.

Lola led him to the love seat and made Harry sit in it. She asked if he wanted something to drink. He nodded and she left the room; and when she came back, she had a glass for each of them. She placed their drinks on the coffee table and kneeled down in front of him, and placed one hand on each of his knees. She looked up into his eyes, and Harry noticed how scorching they were.

She parted his legs and gently leaned into him. Then gracefully, without a word, she began to remove his shirt. With each button, she pressed a kiss to every piece of exposed skin. After the third button, Harry’s breath was starting to get heavy. He dropped his head back and moaned, “I don’t think I can take much more of this. Do you mind if I help?” With that, he started to pull his shirt out of his trousers.

But then, just as quickly, Lola reached down and slapped his hands away. “I like to unwrap my presents slowly. I want to savor and tease you. I want to feast my eyes on you and enjoy the many flavors that make up Harry. So, just lean back and be patient.”

It may have only been a few minutes or it may have been hours, Harry didn’t know. His nerves were on edge and he was eager to reciprocate. His senses were screaming with a longing to know her. He wanted to look at her, touch her and taste her.

“Please, p--please.”

Harry’s only word became a mantra, begging for contact with his Lola. But everything he tried, she would lean back, pulling out of reach from him. Her head would slowly shake, no. Then she would say something like, “No, Harry. You’ll have to wait. If you can hold out, it’ll be worth it.”

Finally, Harry was completely naked sitting on the love seat. He was panting, a light film of sweat was forming across his chest as it heaved from the deep breaths he was taking. Lola had nibbled, stroked, caressed and tasted every place on his body from his waist up and his thighs down. The intensity of her exploration was almost too much for him.

Knowing that she wouldn’t let him touch her, he tried a different approach. He would attempt to bring his hand in contact with his painfully hard erection. It had started to bob and jerk against his will as if it was looking for contact from something, anything. He began thrusting with desperation.

Once again, Lola sat back on her feet and placed her hands on his ankles. Her strong hands were stroking up his legs. Her fingertips were massaging against skin, muscle, bone, up to his knees, where they stopped so she could pull them apart as she leaned down to bring her body between his legs, all the while her glistening, penetrating eyes never leaving his darkened, dilated ones.

Then her hands began again to ascend up his legs, her fingers widening across his thighs until they curved around his hips. Then she angled his hips up, just slightly, as her head lowered and her mouth opened, tongue coming out slightly, to lick the tip of his cock. Harry moaned but never looked away from the sight of Lola slowly run her tongue repeatedly from the wide flat middle of it to a pointy tip across his bulbous head. It felt wonderful; her tongue was soft and wet as each lick was placed with pinpoint accuracy to ensure the most delectable feeling.

Then, when he didn’t think he could take much more of it, she pulled back just a few millimeters, her eyes smiling and bright as she opened her mouth more and took in his erection all the way to the base and quickly sucked, pressing her tongue against the major vein running along his cock. Beginning with slow licks and then being completely encased in her mouth proved to be almost too much for the young Auror as he moaned, his eyes closing as his head fell back against the love seat cushions.

The sensations were fantastic. Just as she would get into a rhythm, alternating deep sucking with a fast pace, she would change to pulling out completely, moving back just a bit to softly blow air around his sensitive cock only to move on to light kisses and licks followed by deep throating or broad tongue strokes. She varied her approach, her technique, and her speed to keep him always unsure, always wanting more and wanting completion at the same time.

Harry was groaning, all thoughts of language or semblance driven out of him. Just as Lola would start to develop a pace that would make him come, she would stop and slow things down to an aching pace again. When he became desperate, he’d start to reach for his own cock, eager to orgasm, only to be slapped away or have that marvelous mouth removed. Every bit of his skin felt as if it was on pins waiting in anticipation of his climax.

He started panting; he couldn’t take much more of this. Just then, Lola stopped, but not like before. She took a new approach to her phallic torture. This time, she waited until he noticed her apprehension. He was breathing, raggedly, then he became aware of it, finally. She had pulled back until she was sitting on her feet, just watching him, waiting for him to register that she was no longer in contact with him. Harry looked at her, desire began to wane as confusion and frustration took over his reactions. Then, without losing eye contact, Lola pulled back a little further and stood up, still directly in front of him.

Then Lola spoke again. This time her voice seemed a bit deeper, rougher, and more edgy than it had been all night. “I have been waiting a long time for this moment, Harry Potter, and I will not be denied.” Just then, she pulled out a wand from along the seam under her arm. She waved it over her body, starting at her head, and cast a nonverbal spell. The Glamours that disappeared showed a slightly different person than was there before.

The hair was the same color, but now it was much shorter. The face, which had been well defined but still soft and warm, was now more sharp and lean. The breasts, which were small, round and pert, were now gone. In their place, a flat chest remained with the dress hollowing out, empty. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind; the person who now stood in front of him was no longer a woman, nor a Muggle. This person was a wizard and someone he knew.

He felt as if the Fates had once again played a cruel joke on him and was laughing at his pain. Even within his alcohol-induced, fogged mind, his thoughts were swimming. How could this have happened? Hadn’t he just completed Auror training and learned not only how to disguise himself to look like someone else, but also how to detect and counter-spell Glamours? The most shocking aspect of all was that the person who was now standing before him was none other than his newly assigned partner. Draco Malfoy.

Harry was a myriad of emotions. He was simultaneously confused, stunned, humiliated, and embarrassed, while he felt joy, lust, and desire realizing that it was Draco who was standing before him. But the emotions that rose true above all others were anger and frustration.

“Bollocks, Malfoy, you aren’t Lola! What is going on? Is this some sort of twisted joke meant to humiliate me?” Harry exclaimed, his rage beginning to boil. He jumped up and started to make toward the door, clothes be damned, when Draco grabbed his arm and desperately said, “Please, Harry, hear me out.”

Draco took a deep breath, closed his eyes and without opening them, began again, afraid to see Harry’s reaction. “Don’t ask me how I know, the rumor mill is too quick these days to explain who told who, but word got to me that it was my name you had called out when the Weas – when Ginny was going down on you. I wanted to know if that was true or not. So, I’ve been watching you closely, very closely, lately; more so than even you may have realized. I’ve been watching you at work for any slight sign or change in your dealings with me. But that didn’t seem enough. I’ve also been watching you after work. I’ve been seeing if it was a fluke or if you had wanted more.

“I was shocked to see that you had moved out of the Weasleys' house and on your own. And then when I heard the rumor that you had broken up with her, I had to know more. My desire to see you went beyond obsession. I know it wasn’t right but I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to know. I asked to be your partner on a full-time basis. I didn’t want to be away from you. I guess – I guess I had to find out if what I felt for you could be what you felt for me.”

With his reluctant admission, Draco’s face began to flush as he realized he had just told Harry that his feelings were more than that of a working Auror partnership. “I can understand if you are furious with me, Harry, I really can. And not just for lying about being a woman, or teasing you just now, or well, hell, for everything. But I felt I should stop because I didn’t want you to come thinking I was somebody else. I wanted you to come knowing it was me, Draco Malfoy, that was getting you there. I also didn’t want to be just some forgettable fuck that went down on you. I know that was horrid of me to do and I’m sorry. I’ll understand if you want to leave.”

Draco waited a few minutes more before he opened his eyes. His face seemed anxious. He was shaking and the flush to his face took a while before it finally began dissipate.

But Harry hadn’t moved any closer to the door. In fact, Harry was now standing less than a foot away from Draco. His head was tilted as he watched Draco intently, trying to determine if this admission was another series of lies or if the truth was coming out at last.

And they just stood there staring at each other, the silence building before them. Silver eyes were silently pleading with emerald ones, hoping that the anger had subsided and that the evening didn’t completely ruin what could possibly be a decent working relationship.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat and broke the deafening quiet. “Draco, I don’t know what to say here. Without a doubt, this has to be one of the most surreal nights of my life. I thought I had met a beautiful, dazzling woman, a Muggle no less, who was sweeping me off my feet. For a brief moment in time, I was glad because I forgot I was Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, and I got to be just Harry. And now, well, now, I’m just stunned. There are so many things running through my mind. Is it okay if I sit back down and try to wrap my mind around this?”

Looking extremely grateful, Draco motioned for them to return to the loveseat so they could continue talking. The relief washed over his body as he thankfully remembered the drinks sitting on the coffee table and handed one to Harry, saying, “I think we could both use these right about now, don’t you?”

The minor humor seemed to break much of the remaining tension as Harry chuckled and replied, “Thanks,” then he gulped it down quickly. The liquid burned going down, but its affects helped him try to not become too embarrassed by where he found himself; naked, in the apparent flat of his stalker gay Auror partner, who may or may not be a transvestite. Shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation, Harry began by asking the simplest question first. “So, Draco, have you always been a transvestite or do you want to be a woman or is this some kind of weird undercover way to track me? 'Cause to tell you the truth, you made one hell of a hot woman.”

Draco’s face once again began to blush. “Well, first I have to say that I love my bits and I would never think about getting rid of them. So, if you wanted some pussy, maybe we should call the whole night off. But I don’t think that was the case,” Draco said with a wink, “because I found you in a gay bar.” He then gave one of his famous Malfoy smirks and continued, “But to address, well, the dress, I guess I have been interested in woman’s clothing since about fourteen years old. After the Triwizard Ball, Pansy and I started to make out. Before we had only snogged a bit, but this time she took off her dress and bra. She had wanted to go further but I had thought we should wait until we were older. Her bra was a white lace strapless demi-bra and it was then that I realized two things about myself.”

“What was that?” Harry asked, now intrigued by Draco’s story.

“Well I realized that I was more interested in wearing her bra than feeling her tits. I realized that maybe not only had I fetish for wearing women’s garments, but I also might be gay. I started to get hard at the thought of wearing what she was wearing instead. The fantasy that followed was one where I was wearing her dress and I was wrapped around the arm of a handsome young man, you, actually.” Draco blushed but continued, “It was the first time I had consciously thought about men like that. I had wet dreams imagining snogging other boys, but I just brushed that off to my unconscious.

“I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that for a moment I forgot about Pansy. She thought I was getting hard because of her. I didn’t know what to do, so I shagged her. After that I definitely realized I was gay and I broke up with her by the end of Christmas break. She still held out hope that I might come to my senses, but I knew better.” Draco looked down for a moment in embarrassment. He had told Harry more about his own thoughts and revelations than he had told anyone else. It made him feel vulnerable, but relieved to know somebody knew his story.

“So, I guess you aren’t wearing pants under that?” Harry asked, breaking the silence. The thought of Draco wearing white lace anything under that dress made his cock start to fill out again. Since he was naked, there was no way to hide how this conversation was affecting him. Realizing his predicament, he began to bend forward a bit, hoping Draco hadn’t noticed.

Whether he had or had not didn’t seem to matter as Draco laughed at Harry’s question and stood up, then said, “Well, there’s not much room to put anything under this, but if you’d like, I can show you what I’m hiding.” And without waiting for a response, he reached gracefully between his shoulder blades, when the sound of zipper sliding down could be heard in the suddenly quiet flat.

When the dress fell to the floor, encircling his feet, Draco looked up at Harry to gage his reaction. The blond’s facade, for once, reflected every facet of his emotional changes. He quickly went from hesitation to uncertainty to hope to gratitude to lust in a matter of seconds as he watched Harry try to make a pathetic attempt at hiding his own growing erection. Draco began to glow as his teeth flashed in a breath-taking smile.

Harry quickly swallowed, as his mouth was suddenly filled with saliva. A desire was growing inside him as he sat there, ogling Draco, who was wearing nothing but a white corset with lace overlay which connected to shimmering stockings and a matching white, satin thong. That little bit of shiny fabric was doing a pathetic job of concealing the growing erection on the sexy blond.

Then Harry had an epiphany. Maybe Draco in women’s clothing wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

As he held out his hand toward the seated man, Draco said, “Well, Harry, if you want to see what’s under this thong, I’m afraid you’re going to have to join me in the bedroom.”

Harry returned the infectious smile and took Draco’s hand in his own as he stood up to follow him.

Draco led Harry into the master bedroom; the large four-poster bed was the main focus of it. Where the living room was in shades of white and cream, this room made up for it in dark woods, the fabrics consisting of deep blues and greens. The bed had a mahogany frame with ornate carved designs around it. But whatever the designs were, Harry didn’t really notice; his eyes were focused on the seductively dressed man in front of him.

Draco walked backwards and sat on the bed, his legs were parted as he brought Harry between them. “If you don’t mind, “ he whispered, “I’d like to continue what we started in the other room.” And without waiting for an answer, his tongue came out again as he started to lick Harry’s erection.

“Merlin, Draco, please don’t tease me like that again. I don’t know if I can take much more of it.”

Draco had started to take Harry into his mouth but laughed a little at that. He pulled back off his now-favorite tutti and said, “Yeah, that was a bit mean of me. I guess I like being a tease. If you want, I can make it up to you.” And he grabbed Harry by the hips and pulled him down completely on top of him as his mouth searched for the other. The kiss caused both of them to moan as tongues began to desperately seek out the other.

Draco was starting to run his fingers through Harry’s thick hair and thrusting up into the brunet when said brunet pulled off him and stopped all motion. “Draco, Draco, I have something to admit.” Harry suddenly became serious and a bit nervous. “I – I haven’t done anything like this before. What you heard about Ginny was true. I had been letting her give me blow jobs from time to time, but that night – that was going to be our first time, you know, together. I never really felt as excited around her as I am right now, with you.”

The uncertainty and scared innocence in Harry’s expression melted the grey-eyed Auror. He caressed the face of the man above him and said, “Why don’t I take the lead on this? That might be easier for both of us.”

Harry sheepishly nodded. He was worried that his inexperience might spoil the mood and in his nervousness, he ran his hands up and down Draco’s sides, feeling the stays along the corset.

“I think it would best if you lie on your stomach,” Draco continued. “I want to try something with you, something to ease you into this,” Draco said to comfort him, but that seemed easier to do than Harry thought. Harry moved off the other man and lay face down on the bed, the cool sheets feeling a little chilly against his bare skin.

Draco got up from the bed and returned with something. “I’ve thought of a way to help you relax.” Then, without being able to see him, Harry felt Draco move over the bed towards him and straddle his backside with his knees.

This is it, Harry thought to himself, I’m going to be taking it up the arse and it’s going to hurt like hell. But Draco didn’t move between his legs. He sat down on Harry’s arse and poured something wet, warm and viscous on his back. Then he felt Draco’s hands, not on his arse, but on his shoulders rubbing the oil into his skin.

“I thought I’d help you relax by giving you a bit of a rub.”

Draco’s hands were like magic. He started by spreading a liberal layer of the musky scented oil over Harry’s back. Then Draco rubbed it into Harry’s shoulders. His strong fingertips were kneading over Harry’s muscles. He was working out knots and tense muscles throughout his spine and along his ribs. Then he worked down Harry’s spine gently working down each vertebrae, soothing out the tension that Harry was feeling.

Harry was moaning from the feel of Draco’s fingers running over him.

“Oh, Draco, your fingers feel fantastic! Ooh! Rub right there. Yes! Harder,” Harry mumbled. Half of his face was buried into the bedding and he could barely be understood.

Draco didn’t mind though. He was hoping that Harry would be saying the same thing later in a more intimate position. He had been staring at Harry’s gorgeous body for several months now and begun to go crazy being in such close quarters with the other man day after day without being able to touch him. He was just happy to touch him everywhere he had desired.

Harry, though, had never had a back rub before, and suddenly he couldn’t have imagined a life without one. Draco knew when to rub hard, almost painfully, into Harry’s muscles and when to gently caress against scarred and bruised skin. His fingers were strong, yet soft to the touch. The feel of Draco’s legs on the outside of Harry’s, his silky stockings, felt wonderful and sexy as well. Draco was right about this easing his tension. He was quickly becoming so relaxed that he almost started falling asleep.

Then Draco slid his body down and sat on Harry’s thighs. He worked his hands down to Harry’s buttocks. Harry started to tense again, thinking about what was going to happen, when Draco said, “Don’t worry, Harry. If this puts you off too much, we can just stop, but let’s just take it slowly.” Then Draco began to caress Harry’s perfect buttocks. He started by pouring some more oil on his arse cheeks. Even though he had felt it across his back, the additional oil felt warm, soothing all over again and he unclenched, not realizing how tense he had been.

As if reading his thoughts, Draco added, “I switched to a different oil. This one has a warming and relaxing charm on it. It can also work as a lubricant. I hope you don’t mind. I was kind of hoping that maybe… well, just in case you want to do more.” Draco’s voice was low, almost a whisper, sounding husky, reflecting the growing passion building in the blond.

Harry was too dazed to care; he was moaning and his eyes were halfway closed in his own haze of lust.

The blond, hearing the dark-haired boy making pleasurable sounds, decided to continue. He gently parted Harry’s arse and began to use his fingertips inside his arse cheeks. He didn’t want Harry to get too nervous or tense. He wanted this to be something that would be fondly remembered. When he worked his way down to Harry’s opening, Harry’s head shot up a bit.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked. He stopped his movements, but didn’t remove his fingers continuing to run circles around Harry’s opening. Harry waited a bit, relaxed again, and then nodded before he lowered his head back down. Then Draco began to work his fingertip slowly into the opening, pouring a little more oil there with his other hand. He lowered his body over Harry’s back to press up against him and as he did so, he slowly inserted his index finger into Harry.

With the feeling of the additional weight on him, Harry hadn’t really noticed what Draco was doing until Draco started to pull his finger back out a little, only to push it back in. Even though Draco was dressed like a girl, and what a sexy girl he was, it was Harry who felt like a slut. He felt so slippery and ready for Draco’s cock to take him that he couldn’t help but to spread his legs in wanton desire. This wasn’t so bad, Harry mused.

Draco added another finger and Harry’s body reacted by contracting hard on the two fingers, trying to refuse them entrance. His head shot up, sharply inhaling, the sound more like one in pain than pleasure.

Draco stopped his movements, but kept his fingers inside. “Harry, why don’t you push out a bit with your arse, like you’re going to take a shit? It will help you not tighten up so much.” Harry nodded and tried pushing and releasing his tension. It did seem to ease the pain as Draco continued to push his fingers in and then pull them out. After a few strokes, Draco began to move his fingers when they were fully inside Harry in a scissoring motion. Harry closed his eyes and tried to let his body ease into this as much as possible. The pain had eased and in its place Harry began to feel desire and want.

There was a moment when Draco moved his fingers in a curling motion that Harry felt something new. His head shot up again and this time his gasp definitely sounded like pleasure. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

Draco smiled. “That was your prostate. It’s what makes being the bottom so much fun.” Now that he had found it, Draco continued to softly rub against it, feeling Harry relax even more and listening to the brunet moan most appreciatively.

Draco added another finger as he was moving in and out of Harry. His paced quickened as well. He gasped, imagining how that arse must feel wrapped around his cock. “Harry, do you mind if we take this up another notch? I don’t think I can wait much longer.” If this had been some random pick up, Draco would have simply replaced his fingers with his cock, but knowing this was Harry’s first time, he tried to slow down to give Harry some control.

“I had no idea being the bottom would be so amazing. By all means, more must be better,” Harry whispered in an honest confession.

Draco moved up and off Harry’s thighs. He moved up briefly and grabbed a pillow from against the headboard as he motioned for Harry to lift up so he could place it under his hips. “This will help with the angle,” Draco commented to Harry’s questioning look.

Then he got off the bed and stood so Harry could see him and slowly eased his thong down his legs over his stockings. He wanted Harry to see that he was more than ready to continue this night. He grabbed the oil and slowly, seductively rubbed the viscous fluid up and down his thick, eight-inch cock. His eyes were half closed basking in the feeling of running one hand up and down his erection while moving his other over the corset and tweaking his nipples. Standing there in front of Harry, wanking himself in front of Harry was raising the level of their desire even more.

“Merlin, Draco, you are a tease! I can’t take it any more. If you don’t come over here and take me, I’m going to rub myself raw, alone, and all over this pillow.” Harry moaned.

That seemed to shake the blond out of his trance as he moved back onto the bed and had the brunet part his legs as he moved between them. He took some more of the lube and slicked up his cock again. He wanted Harry to experience as little pain as possible. Then he once again brought one hand back to Harry’s hole, teasing it, adding a bit more lube there as well, while he held his cock with the other and guided it as slowly as he could into that virgin entrance.

“Oh, God!” they both cried out. Harry was feeling both pain and pleasure, not sure which was winning, but it felt good. While Draco felt like he had died and gone to heaven. Being inside the object of his desires was more than he had hoped for.

Harry’s body was involuntarily contracting and releasing. He was trying his best to do as Draco suggested and pushed back against the invasion, forcing his muscles to relax. After a while, Draco was fully sheathed within him. He stopped to give Harry a minute to adjust to his size. Even though Draco was himself far from virginal, he knew how it was important to give someone a minute to adjust. He decided to help Harry a bit more and leaned in to bring his slick hand around as he began to slowly stroke Harry’s long neglected cock.

The feel of Draco’s hand firmly around his cock, moving slowly up and down, drove the pain away. Harry raised himself up onto his hands and knees. Being fucked by Draco Malfoy dressed in drag was one of the best things in the world. He had never imagined that he would end up like this, but now that he had found this little piece of paradise, he was going to hold on to it with both hands, never letting go.

“Oh, Merlin, Draco, this is starting to feel fucking fantastic. I never imagined that being so full could feel this way. Now, I want you to really fuck me.”

“Yes, you feel wonderful. You’re so goddamn tight. You take my breath away. Fuck!” Draco panted, his mind becoming blank as he worked to finish his sentence, the feeling of Harry’s tight warmth felt too wonderful for words. He continued to lean over the brunet, one hand holding him up and the other stroking Harry’s cock. He wanted to fuck Harry, as long as possible, but after everything that had happened tonight, he knew he wouldn’t last.

“Fuck, Draco, stroke me faster, harder!” Harry cried out. He was bewitched by the idea of surrounding Draco while Draco had his hand wrapped around his cock. He started to push back against Draco’s thrusts, trying to synchronise the motions of the blond’s fist strokes with his cock thrusts. Never knowing that it could feel like this, he wanted more and he wanted it to last forever.

Draco was beginning to sweat. He knew it was just a matter of a few minutes before he came and he wanted to make sure that Harry came first, or rather with, him. He briefly pulled his hand off Harry’s cock, making the brunet grunt in frustration while he grabbed Harry’s hips thrusting for all he was worth. If Harry wanted it harder and faster, Draco was going to give it to him that way. Harry used one hand to hold himself up while he brought his other hand back to his cock. He was grunting now, no longer able to think coherently.

Sweat was dripping off Harry’s body on to the bed at various spots, he could also feel Draco’s body spilling sweat on his back as well. Draco had his hands firmly gripping Harry’s hips, his thrusts becoming almost painful even for him. He didn’t care if it was going to burn later, he almost didn’t care if it may have been hurting Harry now. He was so close and judging by the sounds he was making, so was Harry.

Then Draco shifted just a little bit on his knees, which became Harry’s undoing. That minor shift caused Draco to be hitting, with pinpoint accuracy, Harry’s prostate. It was all he could take. Harry lifted his head up once more and cried out. His voice was only a hoarse deep rasp. His body was pulsing, his cock was erupting, spurting down into the sheets erratic sticky ropes of come across the cloth, the white lines crisscrossing over the blue toned covers.

Draco was not far behind him. “Oh. Fuck. Harry. Yes!” The “s” was drawn out on the last word as he pumped his seed into the other man. His body was jerking, slowing, as his moans and cries of desire seemed to coincide with his spurts. With his final thrust, Draco felt his body give way as he collapsed on top of Harry’s sweating back. Laying his head down, he closed his eyes, giving way to the emotions that began to overpower him.

The only sound that could be heard in the room was their breathing. Draco was stretched across, full weight, on top of Harry’s back. And Harry couldn’t hold them both up for much longer so he brought his body down, slowly onto the bed, careful not to remove Draco from on top of him nor from within his arse. Once he was settled, fully prone on top of the sheets and pillows, he relaxed. His breathing was returning to normal, and he liked the feeling of Draco’s weight on top of him, pressing him to the bed. It felt warm and comforting.

After a moment’s rest, Draco, who had seemed to black out for a few moments, came around and slowly, with a wince, removed himself from Harry’s body then rolled off the brunet and lay down beside him. He turned his head toward Harry, his voice still a bit breathy, saying, “I hope I wasn’t too rough on you. I think I was getting a bit carried away there toward the end.”

Harry turned his head toward Draco and smiled a lopsided grin, his face pressed against the pillows. “No, it was perfect. I don’t want to have to be in control all the time. It’s nice to be able to lose myself, to be just Harry.”

The night’s activities seemed to have taken a toll on the young men as their eyes were getting heavy, unable to stay open for long. They were still smiling as they looked at each other one last time falling into the night’s slumber.

In the morning, Harry woke up and realized that someone was sleeping on him. He was a bit startled at first and opened his eyes and looked down to see a messy blond head using his stomach as a pillow. Then the evening’s events came flooding back to him and he smiled. For the first time since he had left Hogwarts, he felt as if he was home. He gently began to run his hands through the hair, feeling the soft silkiness of it. Without realizing it, the head turned toward him, eyes slightly open, shimmering.

“Good morning, Lola,” Harry teased. “You know, I like the sound of that. I think I'll call you Lola from now on.”

In his sleepy voice, Draco spoke, “If it’s all the same to you, Harry, I would prefer it if you didn’t call me Lola, at least when we’re at work. I don’t think they’d understand. But when we’re together, especially when I’m inside you, I would love it if you called me that. Lola.”

Harry grinned, eyes radiating. “My lovely Lola. I don't know much about this world, but I do know one thing. I'm yours.”