Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Itch	By : velvetjules Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4132 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or any of the associated characters, places, etc. and make no profit off of this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Itch
- 1
******
As a rule, two things were generally true about public lifts; the carpet was hideous and the music sucked. The carpet in this lift was actually quite tasteful and as a mercy there was no bland music playing in the background, just the muted hum of the pulley system as it carried the car higher and higher.
Draco's wrist itched and he reached down to tug on the thin band circling it for the fifth time. Beside him, Blaise glanced at him out of the corner of his eye to let him know that he'd noticed. Draco scowled and let his fingers slip out from under the garishly pink leather.
"I still don't know why it has to be pink," he mumbled.
"Because you're a prissy, girly little sub, that's why." Blaise answered.
Draco glared at him but didn't try to deny it. He'd chosen his role in tonight's activities before knowing how they went about advertising in this place. Even if he had known the damn bracelet would be pink he would probably still be standing here complaining about it.
This was Blaise's idea of a wedding gift. Draco was marrying Pansy Parkinson in three weeks and in lieu of a traditional stag party, Blaise had decided that Draco's final night of bachelorhood should lean more toward the unconventional after a making a discovery behind a false back in the very bottom shelf of Draco's armoire. While searching through Draco's personal effects for porn to get an idea of what kind of witch should be hired for the typical festivities, Blaise stumbled upon something Draco had managed to keep a secret for several years.
Draco later found him sprawled on his chaise sofa, dangling the magazine between his thumb and forefinger with a dangerous smirk on his face. He still wasn't sure exactly what feeble excuse he had blurted out in his panicked state, but Blaise cut him off with a gesture.
"Relax," he told him. "I just wish you'd told me about this sooner. As it is, you're going to be married in a few weeks, which is exactly enough time to indulge before condemning yourself to a lifetime of boring, unsatisfying sex."
Blaise set the magazine down and came forward to hand Draco a small business card with the words: By invitation only.
"It's up to you. If this is just a fantasy, something extreme to wank to, then I'll hire a stripper and we'll never speak of it again. But if you want to know whether or not this is something that you really want, meet me at my place Saturday night, 10 o'clock. And wear something... appropriate."
And so Draco found himself here, now, wearing fishnet stockings, come-fuck-me boots, black lace hot pants and a green corset. He bought it years ago in a fit of wild daring after darting into a lingerie shop while on vacation with Pansy. The salesgirl had noticed his nervous demeanor, how he kept glancing at the windows of the shop, and had her house elf deliver the package directly to the very back of Draco's closet at Malfoy Manor. The corset was an underbust design that ended just above his ribcage and displayed his pink nipples over the top. It was laced tightly, thanks to Blaise, and curved Draco's waist into a indecent homage of femininity. Draco fidgeted, his feet already hurting in the ridiculously trashy boots, his shaved thighs rubbing together under the lattice of the fishnet. He felt exposed, vulgar and unspeakably sexual in the outfit.
It was a fantasy he'd had since puberty. One he'd wanked to hundreds of times, always producing the most intense orgasms. He wanted to be a whore. A pretty, passive fuck toy for a man's pleasure. He wanted to be taken roughly, rode hard and used mercilessly.
He swallowed at the thought of it coming true in just a few moments. He still didn't know if this was truly what he wanted or as Blaise had said, just something sordid that he liked to wank to when the old standbys weren't getting the job done. But he wanted to try. He wanted to taste it and see if it really was what he'd been craving all of these years or if it would just remain a fantasy in the back of his mind.
Blaise had explained the bracelets and how they marked the patrons within the club. Black meant doms, who were free to move about the room and snatch up any sub, at any time, without invitation and fuck them wherever and however they wanted. Blue meant voyeurs, simply there to watch and wank. A red dot in the center of the bracelet meant the patron was interested in men only. A yellow dot meant strictly women. No dot indicated no preference.
Draco looked down at his bracelet again as the lift began to slow to a halt. Pink with a red dot. It meant that the moment those doors opened and he stepped into the members-only club room, any man could grab him, push him up against a wall or over the back of a chair, pin him to a table, or haul him over his shoulder and carry him off to one of the private rooms in the back. And fuck him.
Draco could say no, of course, but he could only refuse a patron three times while wearing the bracelet of a sub. Upon the third time, it meant his immediate withdrawl from the club premises. As Draco didn't intend on returning, however, that meant he could be judicious in his choice of partners this evening.
The lift came to a stop and the bell that signaled the doors opening was like an omen. Draco shot Blaise a look of pure apprehension. Blaise reached over and squeezed his shoulder with one hand. The bracelet on his wrist was black with no dot. They'd already agreed beforehand that they would avoid one another this evening. Neither was interested in doing anything that might jeopardize their friendship; nor did either of them want to explain any sudden awkwardness to Pansy.
"If you need to, come find me and we'll leave. No hard feelings," said Blaise.
Draco nodded and followed him through the open doors into the dim and smoky room beyond. Blaise veered right toward the bar and Draco watched him go for a moment before turning left and venturing deeper into the club.
It was all done in various shades of red. The carpet was a rusty color, like dried blood. Draco had to fight down a nervous bubble of laughter at the possibilities of why. Heavy curtains in shades of bright crimson, rose red, and burgundy flowed across the walls and ceiling, creating deep, shadowy alcoves that afforded some semblance of privacy. Where there weren't draperies there were recesses in the walls that looked like deep-set, glassless windows or shelves. At the manor, they would have been used to showcase vases or other priceless trinkets, but here they were conspicuously empty.
Draco started to notice other things, as well. Such as the fact that he was standing in the middle of the room and there were patrons standing and seated all around him, staring, assessing, considering...
"Oh ho!" A robust voice chortled from a chaise to his right. "If it isn't young mister Malfoy!"
Draco turned and met the eyes of Horace Slughorn. He was wearing a red velvet smoking jacket and had a pair of pretty, young boys on either side of him, framing his girth audaciously. He wasn't surprised to find his former professor there. The man had always had a reputation for loving excess and luxury of all flavors. Slughorn's hooded eyes slid over Draco with naked appreciation and Draco's face twisted in revulsion before he could help himself.
"Ew, no. Absolutely not," he said emphatically.
Slughorn's eyes went dark and ugly and he withdrew his wand from an inner pocket of his jacket. He flicked his wrist and spat a spell at him, and Draco flinched and covered his face with his hands instinctively.
"It's not a curse, you ignorant fop," Slughorn grumbled. "I've marked you for refusing me. Your misplaced pride will soon get you evicted, no doubt."
Draco sneered at him and moved on, glancing at his wrist as he did so. Sure enough, a silver star had appeared on the underside of his bracelet. He accepted a flute of champagne from a tiny witch wearing nothing but a sheer, glittering body stocking and a smile. He drank it down in one gulp to wash the taste of Slughorn's lingering gaze away and made his way deeper into the back of the club.
A woman stepped from the shadows suddenly and gripped him by the throat. The end of a riding crop trailed down his cheek and Draco flinched involuntarily away.
"So pretty," the woman breathed.
She was dark-haired and had sharp features, like a bird of prey in leather. Draco couldn't get his brain to string words together and instead thrust his left wrist into her face, brandishing the red dot there like a weapon. The woman's lips curled back unpleasantly and she suddenly reminded him of his Aunt Bella.
"A shame," she told him. "You'll be wasted on some ham-fisted brute who only breaks his toys."
Draco stepped away hastily, extremely shaken. He exchanged his empty champagne glass for a full one and drank it down as quickly as the first. His head was feeling slightly fuzzy as he set the glass back on the stocking girl's tray and he reminded himself to slow down. Champagne always went to his head too quickly.
He stumbled away from the girl with the tray and ran right into a broad and hairy chest framed by two nipple rings. He had to tilt his head back to meet the eyes of the man who had sidled up to him while his back was turned. He was bald, he was huge and he was scary. He wore only a pair of leather shorts and a belt with tools on it that made Draco's blood run cold. When the man's mouth tilted in a grim smile promising extremely nasty and painful things, Draco lurched back from him.
"No!" he squeaked abruptly.
The man's nostrils flared and he clenched his fists before spitting a string of guttural words at him and waving his hand. A second star appeared on Draco's bracelet and he shivered. Wandless magic as well as brawn and a nightmarish selection of torture implements. He was wise to have avoided that one, but now he was two rejections down and extremely shaken by the way the evening had gone so far. He decided to find Blaise and take shelter for awhile before proceeding further with his quest.
He turned to make his way over to the bar and met the eyes of a man sitting at a tall table framed by a smattering of beautiful people, male and female. He was somewhere in his fourties, tall and thin, with dark hair and a neatly-trimmed beard peppered with gray. He was wearing a black, dotless bracelet and looking at Draco with intense hunger. He smiled as he set his drink down and began making his way over.
Finally, Draco thought. Someone acceptable-looking, at least.
Draco braced himself. His heart jackhammered in his chest and his breath felt thin in his lungs. He didn't know what was going to happen. If the stranger was going to want to talk first, or get straight down to business. He could only hope that the other man didn't want to hurt him. Much.
He watched the man make his way across the room, eyes on him the whole time. He was only a few yards away when a pair of hands settled on Draco's waist. He drew in a sharp, surprised breath and tried to turn to face the newcomer but was held in place by a man's chest pressed against his back. A warm mouth brushed the rim of his ear and the person spoke.
"I've waited a long time for this."
And just like that, Draco's eyes flew wide and his spine went stiff. The man from across the room had stopped mid-stride and was staring at the two of them with resentment. Draco's feelings must have showed on his face, because the other man hovered for a moment.
Draco felt the man behind him shake his head, and the other man's face was murderous for a brief second before he turned on his heel and stalked away. Draco watched him go, still paralyzed with shock, his body taut and humming under the hands cupped lightly around his artificially-slender waist.
Then suddenly he was being shoved sideways and grunted as his shoulders made abrupt contact with a wall. He had a brief moment in which to watch Harry Potter descending upon him before Potter's hands wound their way under his legs, gripping his ass as he was lifted bodily into the air and then shoved down again into one of the alcoves he'd wondered about earlier. At least now he knew what they were for.
"Potter!" Draco said stupidly.
"Malfoy," Potter grinned back at him.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Draco.
Potter merely raised an eyebrow at him in response, looking around their surroundings as though the answer should be perfectly obvious.
"But... You don't..." Draco stuttered.
"Don't what?" Harry asked, clearly amused.
"Fuck men!" Draco shouted at him. "You're a Gryffindor! You have completely straight, vanilla sex with candles and rose petals and your wife!"
Draco was aware that he was babbling to stall for time. He had already refused two partners this evening, and if he refused Potter too he'd have to leave. And he wasn't even sure he wanted to, yet, because there was a certain thrill in this, but it was all too much too soon for Draco to process.
Potter laughed and fingers dug into the curve of his ass and pulled him closer, until his tail bone was poised on the end of the ledge and his legs dangled over the edge, where Potter slipped easily between them.
"Potter, wait," he gasped out.
Harry ignored him and undid the belt of the loose black robe he was wearing, revealing nothing underneath but smooth, lightly-muscled torso and an impressive cock already hard and wet at the tip. Draco's mouth went dry and he felt his face go scalding hot. A ripple went through him, and he made himself take a deep breath.
"I- uh," he mumbled. His mind felt numb and sluggish. "Too fast."
But Potter fisted a hand in his hair, jerked his head back and kissed him. His mouth was insistent and consuming, and made Draco forget about breathing altogether. Potter's tongue was tracing his lips and then pushing past them, taking his mouth by force. Draco's toes curled and he whimpered loudly.
Harry jerked away, panting, eyes squeezed tightly shut as if the sound had caused him pain. His other hand clenched around the tender flesh at the back of Draco's thigh, leaving what were sure to be bruises the next morning.
Draco was shaking all over, adrenaline, lust and anxiety coming together to form a powerful cocktail. He couldn't help but marvel at how bizarre the situation was. He was cross-dressing, wearing a bracelet that proclaimed him a wanton slut for the taking, and Harry Potter was standing in front of him, cock out and ready. Somewhere, distantly, he remembered that Potter had told him outright that he'd wanted to fuck him for quite awhile, but that would have to be something to digest later when his mind wasn't struggling to keep up with the turn of events.
Harry must have felt him shaking, and let go of his hair to stroke the nape of his neck, thumb brushing over his pulse and feeling the tremors in the tight cords of his throat.
"This is your first time?" he asked.
Draco nodded.
"Don't be gentle," he blurted, but then thought about the color of the carpet and felt queasy. "But don't-"
"Don't worry," Harry reassured him. "I'm not one of those."
Draco sighed with relief and felt Potter relax his grip on his ass to slide fingers underneath the waistband of his tiny shorts. Draco's breath caught in his lungs as the scrap of lacy fabric was pulled down his legs and over his boots, then dropped to the floor.
He sat waiting while Potter drank him in. He wondered what he must look like, bare-arsed and stockinged, perched on display in a fuck nook. His erection arched obscenely over the hem of his corset. Potter withdrew his wand from the pocket of his robe and Draco felt a tingling chill inside of him, and then slickness between his legs.
"I'm sorry this first time won't last long," Potter told him. "But I plan on having you more than once tonight."
Draco made a strangled noise in response as Potter positioned himself and began to press forward. It hurt. The pain was a slow burn that left him feeling stretched too wide, too fast, and it just kept coming. He gasped and dug his nails into Potter's shoulders, willing himself to remain still. At last, Potter was fully inside of him, groaning and panting as he waited for Draco to get used to the feeling.
Draco felt wetness at the corners of his eyes and took deep, shuddering gulps of air to steady himself. The burn of too-tight muscles being stretched for the first time didn't go away, but the initial oh-god-please-take-it-out feeling faded and he opened his eyes to see Potter staring at him. Draco nodded once and Potter started fucking him.
Bright sparks of pain laced the first few thrusts and then dimmed to a dull, pleasant ache that made Draco whine in the back of his throat and arch closer. Harry growled in response, snapping his hips forward in a harder, faster rhythm that had Draco choking out sobbing gasps.
And then Potter was fisting his cock roughly and Draco jerked forward as orgasm took him by surprise, making him bury his face in Potter's shoulder and whimper his way through it. Potter moaned and his breathing became erratic, and Draco felt his cock pulsing in his arse. Potter heaved a sigh, and pulled away to study Draco's heavy-lidded face.
Draco tipped his head back with a contented groan and stretched, his body aching in alien places that made him smile.
"I'm getting married in three weeks," he muttered absently.
Potter snorted. "Congratulations."
Draco laughed and swiped a hand through his sweaty hair, growing more aware of the mess growing cold and sticky between them. He looked down and gasped in horror.
"My corset!"
"Merlin, Malfoy," Potter chuckled. "Only you could find something to complain about at a time like this."
A quick cleaning charm, and Draco's corset was spotless. He felt his cheeks grow hot again as he grew self-conscious at the amount of attention being focused on his now not quite so impressive groin. He squirmed away and dropped to the floor to rescue his neglected shorts. He heard Potter hiss in a breath through his nose, and looked up to see a look of naked, greedy hunger on his face and a still semi-hard cock inches away from the tip of his nose.
"You have no idea how gorgeous you look on your knees," Potter growled.
Draco let out a breathless little laugh, the air puffing over Potter's cock and making it twitch. A nagging thought occurred to him and he looked up at Potter's face.
"What was that you said earlier about wanting to do this for a long time?" he asked, a grin playing with the corners of his mouth.
Potter grinned back at him and helped him to his feet, watching while Draco slipped back into his shorts.
"You mean how I've hoped you'd show up here for awhile now? Thought about what it would be like if I had the opportunity to have you any way I wanted and you couldn't say no? Made you take my cock? Made you come from it? Yeah, Malfoy. I've thought about it."
Draco's breath left his chest in a wheezy rush, and he raised a shaking hand to smooth his hair back from his face.
"Jesus, Potter," he exclaimed. "Where did you learn to talk like that?"
Harry just rumbled another laugh that sent shivers down Draco's spine and stepped closer to nuzzle his ear.
"Let's get a room and I'll do more than talk," he promised.
***
A few hours later found Draco naked on his back in the middle of a large, plush bed done in the same red tones as the rest of the club, with his knees tucked up to his ears and Potter fucking him with the force of a rogue Bludger.
"So, married, huh?" Harry asked, still keeping rhythm.
"Uh huh," Draco replied absently.
"To who?"
"Pansy Parkinson," Draco sighed, wiggling impatiently underneath him. "Could we not talk about this right now?"
"Does she know you go to sex clubs and let strange blokes fuck you?"
"Merlin, Potter, if you don't stop talking about my fianceé- Oh, god," he moaned, clawing at the sheets as Potter switched angles mid-thrust.
Potter chuckled and leaned forward to grip the headboard, allowing him to get, if possible, even more leverage and power behind his thrusts. Draco's eyes squeezed shut in an agony of pleasure and he let out a thready keening noise, arching off of the bed.
"Fuck," Harry panted above him.
Draco's ears were ringing and the world around him went fuzzy and indistinct for a minute as he came. When he opened his eyes, Potter's nose was buried in the pillow next to his head and he was panting heavily. Draco felt lethargy settling over him in a heavy blanket.
"Can we stay the night here?" he asked, his words slurring together with exhaustion.
"Certain members can. And their guests," said Potter. "I'm one of them."
"Of course you are," Draco said with only a quarter of his usual snideness before passing out.
***
Draco was hastily trying to do up the laces on his corset the next morning and swearing under his breath as his fingers fumbled over their task. He cast nervous glances at the motionless figure on the bed covered in a twisted mound of rumpled sheets.
"Fuck it!" he hissed to himself, giving up on the laces as a lost cause and got on his hands and knees to search for his missing boot instead.
This was not happening.
Oh, god, what the hell had he done?
Fuck Blaise. Fuck this club. And fuck that ridiculous bracelet! Draco swore if Pansy chose pink as one of the colors for their wedding he would skin one of the house elves alive.
He lifted the edge of the comforter as gently as he could, peering anxiously at the edge of the bed above him before scooting forward on his belly to search under the bed for his shoe. There it was, laying on the carpet, and Draco didn't even want to know how it had gotten under there. He grabbed it and wiggled out from under the bed.
A hand brushed his hair and he yelped and jerked away, clutching the boot to his chest defensively. Potter was awake and smiling at him with sleepy smugness from the bed above.
"Sneaking out?" he asked lazily.
"No. Just leaving," Draco told him. He began dragging on the boot and the painstaking process of lacing it up. His fingers continued to be contrary and he almost screamed in frustration, his face flaming red as he tried to ignore Potter staring at him.
"I expected as much," said Harry.
"You know what Potter?" Draco almost shouted at him. "Fuck you! I don't care, okay? I just want to go home and forget all of this!"
Harry continued to smile infuriatingly and settled back onto the pillows with his arms crossed behind his head. The sheets above his waist were tented and Draco made himself look away and focus on his boot instead.
"I'd rather you get back into bed and let me fuck you wearing nothing but those boots," Potter said nonchalantly.
"Yeah? Well," Draco finally got the laces tied and got to his feet. "That's not going to happen."
"Why not?" asked Potter.
"Because I hate you!" Draco screamed at him. "And this was a bloody terrible mistake. I don't know what I was thinking-"
"You were thinking, 'Gee, I'd love to have a cock up my arse.'" Harry told him. "And now in the cold light of day, you're thinking that you should feel ashamed about it. I'm betting that because it was me instead of some random bloke, it makes it even harder for you."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Draco told him coldly. "It was just a- I was just curious. And now that I've done it, I realize that it wasn't all I thought it would be and I can get married in peace."
Draco turned to leave and got halfway to the door before Potter said something that made him stop.
"Until it comes back."
Draco turned around slowly, the muscles in his face twitching from tension as he fought with the urge to scream or cry or hurl hexes at the man laying on the bed.
"The itch," Potter went on. "That's what happened with me, after I married Ginny. I ignored it as long as I could until a friend noticed and brought me here. I indulged myself for an evening, felt guilty about it the next day, told myself it would never happen again. It was just a curiosity. An itch I had to scratch."
Draco swallowed. He took a few deep breaths, calming down slightly as Potter spoke.
"But it was more than that, and I kept coming back," he told Draco. "I love Ginny. I don't want to leave her. I don't want to hurt her. But this is something entirely separate from what I feel for her. And I couldn't give it up any more than I could ever let her go."
"So what do you do?" Draco asked, his voice sounding small even to himself.
"I live a double life. I got a lot of practice at it in school," he laughed to himself. "I choose my timing wisely. And I never let even a whisper of my life here get back to my family."
Draco frowned miserably at the floor. A rustle of sheets let him know Potter had left the bed, and sure enough a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and Potter's lips pressed to his forehead a moment later.
"What if they do find out?" Draco asked him. "What if everyone finds out, and your life is ruined?"
"If it's going to happen, then it will." Harry told him firmly. "And I'll grieve for the loss of my marriage and how it might effect my children. But this is a side of me that won't go away because it's inconvenient or might cause complications. I love my wife and kids and the life I have with them. But it'll never be enough for me to be fully happy. It's a risk I'm willing to take."
Draco nodded and let himself be steered back into bed, let Potter remove all of his clothing except for his boots, let himself be pulled into Potter's lap and sighed as he lifted himself up and began riding Potter's cock at a languid pace.
"I am considering making one small change to my time spent here, though," said Harry.
"What's that?" Draco asked, eyes closed as the tension slowly bled out of him and his muscles relaxed.
"Making you my personal slave."
Draco's eyes snapped open. He heard the grin in Potter's voice before he saw it on his face. He snorted back at him.
"A sex slave?" he echoed snidely. "Merlin, Potter, how cliché."
"Lover, then."
Hands settled on Draco's waist, pulling him into a faster rhythm and making them both gasp, losing the ability to talk for the next several minutes. Afterward, Draco lay draped across Potter's chest as his body throbbed and hummed contentedly.
"Lover," he drawled, stretching the word out. He pretended to mull over it for a few moments while his fingers traced patterns on Potter's chest. "Hmm, it has its advantages, I suppose."
Harry laughed and rolled them over to kiss Draco for the first time that morning. "Next week, we'll see how you like being tied up."
Yes, Draco thought, he could definitely work with being Potter's clandestine affair.
******
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