When Harry enters the room with tiny, calculated steps, Draco knows he’s fucked.
“On the bed,” Harry orders, tone light and calm, but with a hint of authority that always, always gets to Draco.
Draco moves as he’s been told, sitting carefully on the mattress. Harry keeps looking at him, green eyes scrutinising him like he’s hiding the most important secret in the world, the most important happiness in the world. Even if Draco is about to get punished – he is, he knows that – Harry manages to make him feel wanted and important.
Harry moves slowly towards him, sitting beside him on the sheets, sighing aloud. “Do you know what I’m going to do?” he asks, raising a hand to touch the back of Draco’s neck, pinching the skin between the thumb and the index.
Draco whines shamelessly, nods and whines again, when Harry puts the other hand on Draco’s thigh, digits ghosting sinfully near Draco’s cock.
“Words, Draco,” Harry demands, tightening the grip on his neck.
“Spank me?” Draco voices, almost a whisper. He’s shaking lightly under Harry’s touch, and it comes out like a question.
Harry moves his head in a tiny nod of agreement. “I am going to spank you,” he confirms, tone a bit lower – because of lust? Of anger? Draco gulps, heat rising to his cheeks, making him sweat all over.
“And do you know why?” Harry continues, a little gentler now, even if the grip on Draco’s neck is nothing but painful, reminding Draco how he’s supposed to act.
Immediately, “I’ve been bad,” Draco replies, because Harry doesn’t like being fooled around. Draco knows what he has done, and so does Harry: there’s no need for Draco to dance around the point, making Harry angrier.
Harry must sense Draco’s anxiety, because he takes Draco under his armpits to manhandle him where he wants him, on his lap and with as much skin contact as possible. Harry is wearing just an anonymous black t-shirt that smells like his cologne, leaving his bare, strong thighs in contact with Draco’s paler ones.
Before this, they were just in the middle of changing after the night at the Three Broomsticks. Draco thought he could’ve snuck into the shower very quickly and then hid in his study for as long as he intended, but Harry surprised him in advance. He’s still wearing just his underpants, which are constraining his hard cock, almost bothering him.
“You weren’t bad,” Harry murmurs to him, squeezing Draco’s knees. “You were just being a bit of a little shit, flirting with your ex with me sitting right beside you.”
At the time, it has seemed a good thing to do, challenging Harry like Draco knows he likes to be challenged. However, when he started to blink his eyes to his ex without almost realising it, Draco didn’t consider triggering Harry’s jealousy would’ve lead to him on Harry’s lap, ready to be spanked. At least, not consciously.
Now, Draco is almost ashamed of what he’s done. The Sub in him is making him question everything, because he’s aware that breaking the rules doesn’t please his Dom at all... but he did it anyway.
“Do you remember what the difference is between being bad and being a menace?” Harry is trying to keep his voice almost casual, but all Draco hears is I am going to spank you, I am going to spank you.
Draco knows the difference, wants so bad to be good and answer Harry. Instead, he buries his face into Harry’s chest, shaking all over, feeling tears at his eyes. Fuck.
“Fuck,” is what also Harry says, hands moving to Draco’s back, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, Draco. You’re being so good, it’s okay.” Draco’s breath catches in his throat, and he almost hiccups, when he feels Harry gently moving to caress his thighs, pushing his thumbs into Draco’s flesh a little harder, trying to ground him and remind him who he belongs to.
He’s good even if he’s not, and nothing makes sense, but everything does, too.
“You can always use your word,” Harry reminds him into his ear, barely a whisper. They both know how much Draco hates even the thought of saying it, admitting he’s weak even during a scene - the place in which he feels best, in which Harry makes him feel best. It is always Harry’s job remind to Draco that it’s okay to be weak, sometimes.
However, Draco doesn’t need to word out right now. What he needs is to know Harry still cares about him, only cares about him, even after he’s been not bad but a menace .
“I know the difference,” Draco mutters, almost without voice. He’s struggling to make his tongue work, but Harry wants him to and so Draco will . Harry rewards him with a kiss on the top of his head and a squeeze at his butt cheeks. Draco shivers, pleased.
“Bad is when I don’t listen to you, because I’m difficult sometimes.” Harry hums almost absently over his head, an implication to ‘go on’. “Menace is when I challenge you to have your attention. Because I want this.”
There’s silence for a few seconds. “What’s this?” Harry asks, even if he knows perfectly well what it means. He wants Draco to say it, anyway, and Merlin, why, why does he make it always so deliciously difficult? Draco loves him, he really does.
“My punishment,” he mutters against Harry’s t-shirt, suddenly aware of Harry’s hard cock against his. He shivers again, this time with anticipation.
Finally, finally Harry squeezes Draco’s arse harder, almost a hint of what will come next, and Draco moans, raising his head to look into Harry’s eyes and say with his gaze everything that won’t come out from his mouth.
Harry traces Draco’s crack over the fabric. “You’re so, so good,” he repeats, tone already back to the low, deep intonation he only uses when he doms Draco. In fact, “Lay down, close your eyes and relax,” he orders right after, petting Draco’s arse.
Draco follows the hint, legs a bit weak while he moves on the mattress. He sighs when both legs and arms give up, making him lie flat over the silky sheets.
He doesn’t have the time to relax further, because Harry is right behind him, digits tracing Draco’s legs like a feather, pushing under the swell of his arse to make Draco open them.
Draco holds his breath until Harry is settled between his thighs and he can release it. However, he whines loudly in the room when Harry moves to take Draco’s pants down his bum, freeing just his cheeks.
“You’re going to take 20, and if you behave, I’ll raise it to 30.” Harry’s statement doesn’t leave space for any argument. If Draco is good, he’ll be spanked more, and Merlin .
“We’re starting now,” Harry warns him, but nothing happens for a minute: Harry’s leaving Draco a bit of space to recollect his breath and clear his mind a little from the fuzziness that usually surrounds him during a scene.
Before he realises it, Harry’s hand comes down against Draco’s right cheek, hard and steady and stinging so good Draco cries out in pleasure.
After three spanks, everything starts to feel too much already. Draco can only close his eyes and swim in the fuzzy cloud that has become his mind. He’s barely aware he’s moaning and moaning: the only thing he can feel is how good it is, having Harry to take care of him like that, hurting and loving him at the same time.
“Such a good boy,” Harry is saying, “arse getting red just for me, isn’t it?”
Is Draco supposed to reply? “Please,” he says, the word suffocated against the sheets as he rubs his aching cock against the bed. “Please.”
“Shhh,” Harry soothes him, surprising Draco as he breath over the heated flesh of Draco’s butt cheeks. “Stay still for me.”
Draco does, and he’s rewarded with a kiss on his left cheek, the one that hasn’t be spanked yet. However, Harry takes care of that quickly, landing his hand three times over it, making Draco almost cry.
And it goes like this. Harry spanks him alternating from his right to left cheek, giving chances for Draco to catch his breath when he stops to whisper sweet nothings over Draco’s hole, which is fluttering and demanding attention whenever Harry pulls his cheeks apart – take it so well, always the best boy for me.
Draco doesn’t know how much time has passed before Harry stops his movements and simply caresses Draco’s hips. The only thing he’s aware of is the sting of his flesh and the need to come, his cock smearing precome all over the sheets and his belly, creating a mess like the one he can picture so well inside his head.
Harry has reduced him to a puddle of bones and meat, nothing else. That’s why he doesn’t hear Harry calling for him the first time, forcing him to speak in a more apprehensive and gentler tone while asking for Draco’s colour – if everything’s okay.
It is, though. “Green,” Draco barely whisper, blinking his tears away to try to focus on something that isn’t his own cock. “Wanna come, please.”
Harry hushes him once again. “You can come on my tongue, all right? You’ve been very good, took it to the fullest, I love you so much.”
Draco simply whines, pushing his arse in the air a little, wanting Harry to take everything and now. Harry instead grips at his hips and steadies him on the mattress again. Then, it all happens in a sort of rush.
Harry exposes his hole and immediately takes long, sloppy laps over it, sucking at the puckered skin around it, tracing an eight with his teeth on the sensible skin.
“Please, please.” Begging endlessly is the only thing Draco seems to know, and he’s not even conscious of what he’s asking for – to stop, to go on; everything has a foggy shape in his head except for the whole, burning desire towards Harry.
Harry rims him while Draco drags his cock over the mattress, in a perfectly coordinated motion of fucking back and forward: he’s rewarded on both sides anyway, and that’s what really gets him, that’s what puts him on the edge of coming – and oh , he comes, so hard he almost blacks out, moaning and now crying against the sheets, ruined for no one but Harry.
“Gorgeous, you are,” Harry’s saying over his still throbbing hole, and Draco doesn’t need anything else to know that it’s okay, Harry’s okay, Harry still loves him.
He’s probably saying that out loud, because “Always going to love you, baby,” Harry reassures him, kissing the bottom of his spine. “Even when you’re being a menace, I’ll always be here to put you right on the good way.”
Draco doesn’t need to hear anything else.