Title: Interrogate Me
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K Rowling.
Warnings: rimming and slight use of restraints
Word Count: 1300
Summary: Harry questions Draco using some rather unconventional methods.
A/n This started out as a drabble fic, but I'm just too wordy, so it ended up as this short little smutty piece. I hope you enjoy. Thanks to fr333bird or her super speedy beta'ing.
The door slams shut, signalling the start of the interrogation. Malfoy sits idly in the chair, feigning arrogant indifference.
“Hands on the table where I can see them.” Harry barks. Cool, grey eyes appraise him, giving nothing away.
“What are the charges, Potter?” Venomous tones fill the room.
“Like you don’t know.” Harry scoffs.
“Humour me.” Malfoy snarls, eyebrow raised in challenge.
“If you insist.”
Harry paces, listing offence after offence. Malfoy examines fingers, nails, anything to avoid that piercing green gaze.
“So, how do you plead?”
Harry smirks, eyes alight with excitement. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Where were you on the night of March 25th?” Harry asks, hands braced firmly on the table.
“Out.” Malfoy replies, meeting Harry’s gaze, seemingly unaffected.
Harry stands and circles the table, coming to a stop behind Malfoy's chair. “Can you be more specific?”
A long sigh falls from perfectly formed lips. “No, Potter. I can’t.”
“Stand up.” Harry orders, stepping back to allow Malfoy’s chair to move.
The blond rises slowly from his seat and Harry shoves the chair away.
“Keep those hands on the table.” Harry whispers, so close to Malfoy’s ear that the involuntary shiver is a foregone conclusion.
A swift kick spreads Malfoy’s legs wide, the softly spoken charm keeping him in place.
Ropes slither up from the floor and Malfoy is pinned, hands and legs bound tight to the table.
“Fuck,” Malfoy breathes, struggling in vain against the thick ties.
“All in good time.” Harry replies, his voice heavy with implication.
“Tell Me, Malfoy...” One solitary finger traces the length of Malfoy’s spine; firm pressure all the way down as Malfoy bends over the smooth wood. “Where were you on the 25th?” Harry’s hand pauses at the top of Malfoy’s arse, fingertips teasing over taut material.
“I was out.” Malfoy repeats, voice slightly muffled against the table. “Really, Potter, how many different ways would you like me to say it?” He rolls his eyes, studiously ignoring the growing tightness in his trousers.
Sudden warmth covers Malfoy’s back and his breath catches in his throat.
“I know you were out, you irritating arse.” Harry rolls his hips as he drapes himself over Malfoy’s back. “I want you to tell me where and with whom.”
“Sorry, Potter. No can do.” Malfoy stifles the impending moan as Harry thrusts against him.
Without warning, Harry’s warmth disappears as he stands and mutters another spell.
Draco gasps as the cool wood meets his bare flesh. He’s exposed, vulnerable and entirely at Harry’s mercy.
“What the fuck, Potter?” Malfoy hisses, struggling violently.
“Shh...” Harry soothes, rubbing his hands over Malfoy’s bare arse cheeks. “Just tell me who you were with, and this can all stop.”
“Fuck off.” Malfoy spits, resisting the urge to push back against Harry’s inquisitive hands.
“Manners, Draco.” Malfoy tenses at the use of his first name. “I thought you pure-bloods had impeccable manners.”
Harry drops to his knees, firm hands spreading Draco wide open. He breathes out, warm air washing over Draco’s hole and Draco moans loudly, much to Harry’s amusement.
“Did you like that, Malfoy?” Harry asks, blowing against Draco again. “Maybe I’m going about this all wrong.”
Silence fills the room and Harry decides that that just won’t do. He leans forward, licking down the crack of Draco’s arse and grinning at the resulting shudder. “Yes.” Harry says triumphantly.
He flicks out his tongue, licking at Draco’s hole with wild enthusiasm. Probing and circling until Draco’s thighs are shaking. “Who were you with?” Harry says, pulling back and Draco whimpers at the loss. “Tell me, and I’ll carry on.”
“My boyfriend.” Draco cries, pushing his arse against Harry’s face. “I was with my boyfriend.”
“There. Wasn’t so difficult was it?” Harry coos, but Draco ignores him, waiting instead for the feel of Harry’s tongue back on his heated skin.
It’s fast and wet, fingers digging into soft flesh to hold Draco steady as Harry laps at Draco’s arse. His tongue is firm, thrusting inside Draco and making him tremble with need. Just as Draco’s about to come, Harry pulls back, resting on his knees as he catches his breath.
Draco curses out loud, not caring about anything but getting that tongue back inside him. “Fuck, don’t stop,” he almost sobs.
Harry stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leans over, lips barely touching Draco’s ear. “Not so fast, Draco. I’m not done with you yet.”
Draco groans and slumps on the table. “I hate you so much right now, Potter. There aren’t words enough to describe it.”
Harry flicks his tongue against Draco’s neck, licking hot trails across pale skin as he slowly presses himself against Draco once more. Harry’s thick, hard cock nestling nicely between Draco’s arse cheeks, even through the layers of clothing.
“You won’t hate me in a minute, Draco.” Harry purrs, thrusting ever so gently. “In fact, I’ll bet the contents of my vault at Gringotts, that you’ll be screaming my name and professing your love before we’re done today.”
“Unlikely,” Draco huffs, but squirms against Harry even as he speaks. “Is this what they teach in Auror training these days, Potter?” Draco asks, his voice surprisingly steady as Harry continues his soft thrusts against Draco’s bare arse. “I must say it’s not a technique I’m familiar with.”
“No,” Harry laughs, stepping back. “I have my own methods.” Draco hears Harry’s trousers drop to the floor, nervous anticipation coils deep in his belly. “But I always get results.”
Before Harry’s even finished speaking, hot, slick fingers are pushing into Draco’s arse. Sliding in and out as they stretch and prepare.
“Fuck, Potter” Draco cries, gripping onto the table edge as Harry’s fingers work their magic.
“Told you so. Harry chuckles breathlessly, talented fingers replaced by the insistent nudging of his cock.
Harry teases, rubbing the head back and forth but not pushing inside. “Where were you and your boyfriend on the 25th, Draco? Tell me.” Harry eases just the tip inside, gritting his teeth as he forces himself to stop.
“You utter fucking twat.” Draco hisses. He tries to push back but Harry holds him firm with strong hands on his hips.
“Just tell me and I’ll give you what you want.” Harry bites his lip, the effort of not driving forward taking all his concentration.
“Fucking fine!” Draco spits. “We were at his house.”
Harry slides home with one, long, hard thrust, burying deep inside Draco’s heat. They both cry out and it’s fast and furious, skin slapping as Harry takes them both close to the edge. “Where’s his fucking house?” Harry yells, reaching round and grabbing Draco’s cock.
Draco whines as the pressure stops his release in its tracks. Harry runs his thumb over the slick head of Draco’s cock and it twitches in his hand.
“Twelve Grimmauld Place!” Draco yells out and Harry thrusts deep, one hand on Draco’s hip, the other stroking Draco’s prick.
They both come, hard. Draco spilling over the floor as Harry pulses inside him.
They collapse in a heap on the kitchen table, unable to move.
“I love you.” Harry whispers against the back of Draco’s neck.
“Hmm...I love you too.” Draco mutters against the wood. “But next time, you can be the one who gets tied up.” He pulls at the ropes to emphasise his point. Harry releases him from the bonds and laughs softly.
“I can’t wait.”