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Pretty Baby

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“How did I get so lucky?” Harry murmured, pushing Draco against the wall of their kitchen. He knew Draco’s back was pressing against the crown moulding that divided the room, but Draco had designed it, so Harry figured he’d known it would happen.

Draco didn’t answer, just let his head fall back against the wall, his mouth open and eyes clenched shut.

“Hmm? What did I do to deserve such an attentive…” Harry licked the shell of Draco’s ear. “Thoughtful…” His hands cinched Draco’s waist. “Pretty… wife.”

Draco went stiff all over—all over—just as Harry had known he would. Let Draco muscle through the mental process; all Harry asked for was eventual submission. He knew he’d get it.

“Harry…” Draco whispered, and it was the closest thing to a refusal that Harry had heard from Draco in ages.

“What is it, baby?” Harry mouthed Draco’s neck. The salty skin was tangy, familiar, laced with cologne that held just a hint of flora, and the alcohol from it made Harry’s lips pull back, but he didn’t stop.


“Do you really need to ask?” With a quick movement, Harry had Draco slammed face-first against the wall. The crown moulding now rubbed over his hipbones, and Harry thrust against him, pushing him into the pain, reminding him that he’d wanted it.

“It’s just… it’s not just because…?”

“Because you’re slim and blond and pretty like a girl?”

A red flush crept over Draco’s neck, and his shoulders hunched up a little, as if he was trying to hide. But Draco had no secrets from Harry. “Not because of that,” Harry whispered, grinding his hips into Draco’s small, tight arse. “Not because I wish you were a girl.” Harry reached around and unbuttoned Draco’s trousers. He slid his hand between Draco’s legs, completely bypassing his cock and fingering Draco’s perineum, the same way he might fondle a woman from that position. “Because I like the way it makes you feel.” Embarrassed, humiliated, shy, hard as hell.

There was no mistaking Draco for a woman, of course. He was slender, true, but he had a man’s form: slim hips, torso that formed a triangle, stubble on most days except when Harry wanted it otherwise—he had a cock, for Merlin’s sake! No, Draco was all man… but that wasn’t how he felt.

Harry would never understand Draco. He’d realised that some time ago, and he’d come to terms with it. He loved Draco. That was enough. But he wondered it made things easier for Draco to be in the so-called passive position in their relationship if he imagined himself a girl.

All he knew was that, during one of their spitting, screaming, shattering fights, Harry had called Draco a stupid bitch, and the next thing Harry’d known, Draco was on his knees taking Harry’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him down like he’d been paid to do it.

From there, exploring Draco’s submissive side had practically become Harry’s full-time job. To the outsider, it didn’t look like Draco liked to be called names. It didn’t look like Draco enjoyed being treated like a girl. But the outsider would never see how hard Draco got, how needy and desperate and oh, fuck, Harry, so close—

“Don’t you want my fingers inside you?” Harry asked, rubbing hard against the spot behind Draco’s balls. He knew he’d sparked Draco’s prostate when he jerked against the wall and then harder back against Harry’s cock.

Draco nodded, his forehead hitting the wall. He was shivering, his fingers like claws against the wallpaper.

“Tell me, baby.”

A heaving breath juddered Draco’s body. “I want it.”

“What?” Harry’s touch became lighter, and Draco whimpered. There was a light sheen of sweat at the back of his neck, and Harry kissed it, licking the salt from his lips.

“I want your fingers in me.” Draco was starting to get angry, which was one step away from capitulation.

“Draco,” Harry said in a warning tone. “Tell me where you want my fingers.” Harry’s hand stopped moving completely, and when Draco’s silence continued, he withdrew his hand and took a half-step back. “Look at me,” Harry said, softening his tone.

When Draco turned, it was with obvious reluctance. A renewed surge of pleasure shot up Harry’s spine when he saw Draco’s face. He was almost at the point where he’d do anything, but he was still fighting himself. Harry enjoyed the fight almost as much as the results. Draco’s cheeks were pink, his hair was beginning to go lank with sweat, and his eyes were bright and almost wild. His lips trembled, and Harry kissed them, keeping space between their bodies.

“Harry…” Draco’s hands held Harry’s face, keeping him close to maintain the kiss. Harry allowed it for a few minutes, letting Draco regain himself and take strength from the fact that Harry loved him.

Soon enough, though, Harry pulled back. “Tell me.”

Draco’s eyes fluttered closed. Harry saw a crystal of a tear shimmer on a pale lash.

“I want you… to put your fingers… in my pussy.”

Harry’s blood roared, and he suspected he made a sound to match, but he was too busy pressing his body against Draco’s—he was so proud. Draco was rock hard and ground desperately at the thigh Harry prodded between his legs. The kiss was almost sloppy, Harry making Draco’s mouth wet with his insistent tongue.

“Go upstairs and put on what I bought for you today,” Harry instructed when he broke the kiss.

It looked, for a moment, like Draco would rebel. He must have had a good idea about what Harry had waiting for him. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry had given him directions he hadn’t enjoyed following. But with a look that was half-resigned and half-aroused, Draco left Harry’s arms and walked up the stairs with a briskness that belied his attempt at hesitation.

Harry gave Draco only a few moments before he followed up the stairs. The end result would be gorgeous, of course, but Harry so liked the watch it all come together. The way Draco’s face would scream shame but his hands would linger lovingly over the silky materials. His eyes would be dark with lust as his lip turned up in a sneer. It was fascinating.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Harry watched as Draco, with his back to the door, slid off his trousers and pants and pulled the Gryffindor red panties over his lithe thighs and slender hips. Harry had to reach down to adjust himself when Draco’s hand disappeared, ostensibly slipping into the front of the panties to make himself fit. Harry knew it would be impossible. No matter how he arranged himself, the garment was too revealing.

Draco’s head was angled toward the bed, even as he drew off his shirt, as if he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away. Harry smiled as Draco picked up the matching camisole, weighing it in his hands and letting it slide from one to the other. Draco’s sigh reached Harry’s ear as he wriggled into the top. It was snug, caressing, and the red of the silk made Draco’s skin a mouth-watering pink.

“I told the salesgirl all about you,” Harry lied, smirking when Draco jumped and spun to face him.

“No, you didn’t,” Draco denied, but his eyes reported hope, not denial.

Nodding, Harry entered the room. The only items left on the bed were shoes. Harry lifted one by the strap, dangling it before Draco. The stiletto was high enough that Draco would have trouble walking.

But walking wasn’t part of the plan.

As Draco sat on the bed and took the shoe, Harry continued. “I did. I told her all about my cockslut wife who loves me to fuck her up the arse until she screams for more… and for me to stop, all at the same time.” Harry’s hand travelled over Draco’s shoulder to cup his pectoral muscle as he would a woman’s breast. The movement was not lost on Draco, who flushed.

Harry took off his shirt and walked over the to the wizarding wireless network he had hooked up. He knew Draco didn’t really believe him—after all, everyone in the wizarding world knew Harry was with Draco and that’s how it would stay. But the thrill of the possibility was what made Draco turn to putty. And Harry so liked to mould him.

When he found an acceptable station playing something modern with a low, melodic beat, he turned to face Draco again, holding his breath so as not to gasp.

Draco stood in the centre of the room, fingers of one hand toying with the hem of the camisole. He was taller with the shoes, surpassing Harry in height more than usual. Harry’s mouth went dry with the sight of an endless expanse of pale, creamy legs and flawless white arms. There was no hiding the bulge in the front of the panties, nor the flush that painted Draco a sweet pink.

“What… what did she say?” Draco whispered, his eyes on the floor.

It took Harry a moment to remember that Draco was asking about the salesgirl. He smirked and walked past Draco, careful not to touch him. Harry sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard, taking in Draco’s backside. It was almost as delectable as the front. His arse was high and tight, almost round enough to look like a woman’s. The camisole revealed a few inches of skin above the panties, and Harry’s mouth watered at the sight of the perfect little dimples. He loved pressing him thumbs into those indents as he fucked Draco from behind. Harry rubbed his hand into his erection, eager to see how far he could push Draco tonight.

“Turn around,” Harry said. “Slowly.”

Draco did, and his eyes met Harry’s almost defiantly. Harry smiled sweetly at him, and the stare faltered a little.

“She said it sounded like you were a right whore, and that I was so good to put you in your place.”

Draco gasped and pressed a hand against his belly, as if actually wounded. But Harry was watching him carefully, and there was a definite twitch in his panties.

“And then she said she’d be happy to show me how a real woman obeys her man…” Harry trailed off, forcing a reminiscent look on his face. From the sudden flare of heat in Draco’s eyes, Harry knew he was thinking Harry was considering the offer.

As if such a thing had ever crossed Harry’s mind.

“But I told her…” Harry paused for dramatic effect and popped open the button on his trousers, and Draco’s eyes snapped down to watch. “…I told her no one could compare to what I already have.”

“Harry…” Draco whispered, and the way he said it, every time, made need flash through Harry’s core. Draco was shifting from foot to foot and rubbing his hands on his thighs. His eyes were so imploring that Harry wanted to just forget about his plans and bend Draco over, giving them both what they wanted.

“Do you like this song, Draco?” Harry asked casually. His trousers were unzipped now, but he made no move to take them off.

It took Draco longer than it should have for him to focus enough to listen; Harry just watched, pleased.

“It’s all right.”

“Why don’t you make it better? Dance for me.”

“What?” Draco gasped. His fidgeting stopped and his incredulous eyes met Harry’s.

Harry just nodded.

“Can I turn down the lights, at least?”

The pleading tone wasn’t exactly an excited one, so Harry saved Draco the trouble and lowered the lights a little, just enough that Draco could feel comfortable. “Go ahead,” he said, placing his wand on the nightstand.

Draco seemed to know exactly what kind of dancing Harry had in mind, which would save Harry the trouble of correcting him and possibly making him even more uncomfortable. Draco had limits—Harry knew them well, loved to push them, but not at this point. Not when they both wanted Draco to fall into the freedom of his role.

Turning from Harry, Draco began to swing his hips, his hands moving over his body and through his hair. Harry was transported back to when they’d used to frequent nightclubs in the beginning of their relationship. It had been simpler to express their desire for one another in that type of setting, when they’d been learning about each other and themselves.

Satisfying himself for a few minutes just watching Draco twist and gyrate, getting more into the music and movement, Harry thought about how Draco would take his little surprise. Harry almost didn’t want to use it that night, but every time he thought about it… he knew he had to.

“Come here,” Harry said, and smiled when Draco stopped and clambered onto the bed, kneeling by Harry’s legs. “Keep going.” Harry slouched a little, freeing his lap and giving Draco a pointed look.

Draco’s light grey eyes narrowed, and there was almost, almost refusal… but then Draco straddled Harry’s thighs and continued his dance. It had been erotic before, but it was downright indecent now. Draco’s cheeks were bright red, but he put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and ground down onto Harry’s cock like a private dancer, rolling his hips and tossing his head back.

Harry’s breaths began to come a little more quickly, and he held Draco’s hips, guiding him, pressing him down harder. When he noticed Draco’s eyes were closed, he whispered, “Look at me.”

It was a fight, but Draco did. When forced to look, Draco’s movements became a little less fluid, a little more self-conscious, but Harry didn’t mind.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” Harry moaned, unable to take his eyes or hands off Draco. “Take your clothes off, baby.”

Harry could practically smell the struggle—he wanted out of the women’s clothing, but being naked would make him even more vulnerable. They both understood that this was different than their normal lovemaking.

After a moment, Harry gripped the bottom of the thin silk top and lifted it, making Draco’s decision for him. Catching on, Draco removed it the rest of the way, and Harry yanked him forward, latching his mouth onto one pretty pink nipple.

“Oh, fuck,” Draco moaned, arching into the touch. His hands buried into Harry’s hair, grasping tightly, but Harry didn’t admonish him.

After a similar treatment of the other nipple, Harry pulled back, looking into Draco’s glazed eyes. “The panties, too,” he said, pushing Draco onto his back on the bed.

As Draco struggled to get out of the panties without removing the shoes—Harry hadn’t told him to, after all—Harry left the bed. From his robes he grabbed a small, silver tube, and returned to the bed. Draco was beginning to sit up, but Harry pushed him down again, straddling him this time.

Being fully clothed against Draco’s nakedness made Harry feel crazy. Unable to help himself, he pressed his erection against Draco’s, and his moan was matched below him.

“You look so good in red,” Harry said, petting Draco’s cheek and pushing his hair back. Beneath him, Draco squirmed, trying to press up to get friction for his cock, but Harry sat heavily, stilling him.

“Close your eyes.”

The evidence of how far gone Draco was revealed itself in how quickly he obeyed. His eyes snapped shut no sooner than the words were spoken, and Harry praised him gently.

Opening the tube of lipstick, Harry began to apply it to Draco’s full, pouting lips, right over the dent from Draco’s teeth, covering a multitude of sins. Draco whimpered in his throat but didn’t move or open his eyes.

“Such a good little slut,” Harry cooed, kissing Draco’s nose when the red smear covered Draco’s lips almost perfectly. “You can open your eyes.”

Draco did, and they glistened a little when they looked up at Harry. Harry leaned in and kissed him, so softly that the waxy colour didn’t transfer at all.

“Know what I want to see your gorgeous mouth do?” Harry sat back against the headboard again, watching Draco carefully.

After rubbing his lips together, exploring the feeling and tasting with his tongue, Draco nodded and crawled between Harry’s slightly spread legs, sitting back on his high heels.

“May I?” Draco whispered, a hand on Harry’s open trouser placket.

“Please.” Harry lifted his hips so Draco could pull his trousers and pants down together, helping him remove them completely. As he did, Harry took off his own shirt before gripping Draco’s pale hair and pushing his face down into Harry’s groin.

There was a muffled gasp as Draco’s mouth collided with Harry’s cock, but Draco quickly corrected himself, swallowing Harry down as fast as he could. Harry’s hips surged, and he let them, the wetness and tightness of Draco’s mouth too much to resist.

“Come on, baby,” Harry encouraged, sliding through Draco’s lips, a pop sounding every time he pulled out of the tight seal. “Take me deeper.”

After a few false starts, Harry watched with approval as Draco relaxed his throat muscles and swallowed Harry’s cock. The red lipstick was smeared all over his cock, but he didn’t care. Draco’s face was messy with the colour as he continued to suck and swallow, a tear trickling down the side of his face as Harry held his head down for a few harrowing moments. When released, Draco reared up and gasped, but quickly lowered his head and obediently began again.

When Harry finally yanked Draco off his cock by the hair, they were both gasping. Harry was moments away from finishing, but as much as he loved seeing Draco’s face spoiled with come, he wanted more. He kissed Draco’s swollen mouth, not letting him catch his breath as he bore Draco onto his back, resting between Draco’s parted thighs.

“Wide open for me, eh, baby?” Harry teased, holding Draco’s face with both hands. He looked down between them, smiling when he saw his cock covered in lipstick. “Think I should fuck your arse to erase the sins of your mouth?”

“Fuck, please, fuck me, Harry,” Draco chanted breathlessly, arching up, writhing and clawing at Harry’s arms.

“Mmm… so responsive, aren’t you?” With some difficulty, Harry sat up and reached for the lubricant next to his wand. He held it out for Draco, who took it but waited for instruction.

“Slick up your cunt for me, baby,” Harry said, stroking his cock and settling in to watch.

“Fuck,” Draco gasped. His face hadn’t lost the blush once that entire evening, but it flared harder now, spreading across the bridge of his nose, even. He squirted some lube onto his fingers and reached between his legs. He hesitated, looking at Harry as if Harry would take pity and not watch. But Harry had no pity.

“Go on,” he instructed, grabbing one of Draco’s feet—high heel and all—and opening his legs more until Harry could see where he so desperately wanted to be.

Draco’s hand continued, spreading wetness over that tiny, pink hole as Harry stared. “Should I…?” Draco began in a subdued voice, pressing a fingertip inside himself in explanation.

“Yeah, stretch out for me, open your hole for my thick cock.”

Harry watched with greedy eyes, one hand stroking his cock, as Draco’s finger disappeared within his tight arsehole. It was silly to be jealous, he knew, since he’d be there in moments, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward and thrusting one finger of his own inside.

“So tight,” Harry groaned as Draco jerked and gasped. Together, they prepared Draco until finally Harry pushed Draco onto his stomach and dragged his hips up. Harry applied pressure to Draco’s shoulders until his chest kissed the sheets, lined up his cock, and plunged inside.

“Oh, god,” Draco hissed, falling forward on the bed. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Enough,” Harry snapped, knowing Draco could and had taken it harder. He tugged Draco’s hips back up and thrust in again. Draco’s tight ring was almost painful until the lube spread properly, and then it squeezed him so lovingly, so familiarly.

Draco’s grunt of outrage turned into a keen of want, and Harry always gave Draco what he wanted—even if it didn’t seem that way. His thrusts were hard but not too fast, and he made sure to brush Draco’s prostate as much as he could.

As he fucked Draco, Harry’s hands moved all over his body. Starting at the shoe-clad feet, which Harry petted until Draco jerked one away with a gasping laugh. Harry’s hand moved up Draco’s smooth calf to the back of his thigh, where he pinched lightly, again drawing a sharp intake of breath. Draco’s arse was always a much-visited destination, and he spread Draco’s cheeks to watch his cock slide in, piercing Draco. There was so much trust, so much love in Draco’s acceptance of him. He received Harry, in all possible ways. That was love.

“You think,” Harry said, fighting for breath and focus, “that I like fucking you from behind because I imagine you’re a woman, don’t you?”

It was the crux of their role-play: Draco was never sure if Harry actually wished Draco was a woman or not. Harry had, after all, only been with women. Harry still found women attractive. And with the way Harry treated him sometimes, it was no wonder…

But Harry loved Draco.

“It’s okay,” Draco said, his voice made almost inaudible by the sheet between his teeth.

With a hand beneath Draco on his chest, Harry hauled him up, back to front. In Draco’s ear, he hissed, “It’s not okay. I want you, Draco. I know you’re a man. God, how could I ever forget, even for a second?”

Their movements stilled, and Draco turned his head until Harry could see his profile, though his eyes were lowered. “Then why…?”

“Because it’s fucking hot, Draco. And you like it, too… Don’t, you… baby?”

Draco made a little uh sound, and his arse clamped down around Harry’s cock—that was the only answer Harry needed. Pulling out, Harry pushed Draco down and flipped him onto his back—he so loved tossing Draco around.

When he slid back inside Draco, it was gentle. He coaxed Draco’s legs around his waist, settling in when Draco’s ankles locked at the small of Harry’s back, one heel digging into his arse. Harry didn’t care.

He kissed the red stain of Draco’s mouth, slowly, forcing Draco to give in to the sensation, to his own desires, to Harry’s. To Harry.

“Give it up, Draco. Give it all to me. All of it.” Harry couldn’t quite control the words he was saying, but he meant them, and he hoped Draco could hear that.

“It’s yours,” Draco gasped, his hips meeting every thrust, his cock, completely overlooked that entire evening, rubbing desperately against Harry’s stomach. “It always was.”

Hearing that confession and knowing it was true—that Draco had always been Harry’s, had just been waiting for Harry to claim him, was what brought Harry over the edge.

“You need to come, baby,” Harry said urgently, but he didn’t offer to help, and even more, when Draco reached between them to bring himself off, Harry grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed above Draco’s head. “Come,” he ordered again.

Draco cried out in frustration, jerking his hips harder, slicking Harry’s body with his precome and sliding through, knowing it was the only friction he’d get.

But when it seemed Draco just couldn’t get off, Harry grabbed his hair, yanked it back harshly, and bit Draco’s lower lip. Though Draco’s cry demanded Harry’s own completion, Harry forced it back by sheer determination. “Come,” he growled, knowing it would be the last time he could.

And the sound of Draco’s weak but mightily relieved cry meant that Harry could let go, and he did, slamming into Draco as the space between their bodies was made wet by Draco’s release.

It was Harry whose eyes held tears as he came down from his climax; it was Harry who pulled Draco against him, cuddling and soothing him. It was Harry who needed to be reassured that they were all right, everything was okay. And it was.

“It’s yours,” Draco whispered one last time, his eyes falling shut even as Harry moved him to rest on his pillow.

As Draco slept, Harry cleaned him up. The strappy shoes had left red marks and a small blister that Harry tenderly healed. The come on Draco’s belly was wiped away, as was that between his cheeks and on his thighs.

Finally, Harry cleaned the sticky redness from Draco’s lips, satisfied when only the man remained.

The End.