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Ribbons and Bows

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Harry shook the snow from his hair as he stepped through the Floo, ears burning hot as the warmth of the room began to thaw his frozen face. He grimaced down at the dirty slush dripping from his boots and the end of his robes; Draco will have a fit when he saw the mess.

Speaking of…

Harry looked around their living room, surprised not to find Draco curled up in his usual armchair close to the fire, book balanced on one knee, a cup of earl grey steaming on the table next to him. Harry frowned, wondering where he was. He should have reached home hours before Harry; he’d stopped off in the Auror offices on his way out, asking how long Harry would be before his paperwork was finished. Harry had gloomily informed him about the amount of files he’d yet to sign off – the work of Head Auror was never done, not even on Christmas Eve, it seemed.

Glancing around the room, as though expecting Draco to jump out from behind the sofa, Harry took in the warmth of all the Christmas decorations. Garlands threaded with fairy lights adorned the mantelshelf; two stockings knitted by Molly Weasley hanging next to the fire; tinsel draped over picture frames and around doorknobs; the gently twinkling tree in the corner, beautifully wrapped presents sitting beneath, just waiting for the following morning. Crystal baubles in all possible shades of green hung from the branches, Draco’s colour scheme matching them perfectly with the different hues of red…

Harry squinted, confused. Where had the ribbons gone? All that length of bright red ribbon that Draco had forced Harry into buying the previous weekend, insisting that they tie bows into the length of it with all the different coloured, smaller pieces, complaining that Harry was getting it wrong until Harry had threatened to tie Draco up and gag him with them.

Harry took an uncertain step into the room, and his gaze snagged on a flash of bright red. Turning his head, he saw one of those frustrating bows, lying innocuously in the middle of the hallway. Harry walked towards it, bent down and picked it up. A few feet ahead, another bow lay on the floor, and another, and another, leading a many hued trail right up to the door of their bedroom.

Harry followed it, bemused, picking up each bow and cradling them in his palm, gently. He’d spent hours painstakingly folding each one; he wasn’t going to risk crushing them. He wondered how they’d got there, why Draco had removed the ribbons from the tree, where Draco was now. And then he opened his bedroom door, and promptly stopped wondering about anything at all, save how fast he could get his uniform off.

The lights were on low, a soothing, golden glow stretching across the room, highlighting the present laid out before him. Draco lay on his back, one leg lifted in an artfully coy pose, the shadow of his raised and bent knee the only thing stopping Harry’s eyes from taking in everything. His hands were resting on the pillows to either side of his head, bright red ribbon stark against his pale skin where it wrapped around his wrists, connecting them to the headboard. Another splash of colour circled Draco’s neck, a carefully placed coil that crossed at the nape and came back around the front to a beautifully tied bow, resting sumptuously between Draco’s open, red lips. The middle of the bow was dark with moisture, the tails trailing over Draco’s chin.

Harry dropped the small bows to the floor, uncaring, and leaned against the doorway, soaking up the breathtaking sight. Draco looked back at him, grey eyes dark with arousal and invitation. After what seemed like hours of just standing there, looking, unable to do anything but look, Harry cleared his throat and spoke. “Was this your plan all along? With all these bloody ribbons?”

Unable to speak, Draco simply shook his head. The bow in his mouth quivered and danced.

Harry smiled, moved his hands to the buttons of his uniform. Draco’s eyes followed. “I’m not putting them back on the damn tree,” he said, slowly undoing the dark red outer robe, removing the black sash from around his waist.

He wanted to tease Draco, take his time removing his clothes, but he’d been hard since the second he’d opened the bedroom door, throbbing with need, and he didn’t have the patience. He stripped efficiently, dropping everything to the floor, even knowing that Draco would make him get up to clear the mess later. With a final flourish he removed his socks, kneed up onto the bottom of the bed, and reached for his present.

At the touch of Harry’s hand, Draco’s raised knee inched outwards, foot sliding along the covers as he revealed himself to Harry’s hungry gaze. Harry hummed in delight, sliding his hand up to Draco’s other knee, lifting it up to spread him further. Another red bow blinked up at him, tied in perfect loops around the base of Draco’s cock. The tails slipped down the creases of his groin, pointing downwards, indicating another burst of Christmas red. A plug, nestled neatly between Draco’s arse cheeks, the ruby red crystal base winking in the low light. Harry groaned, hand sliding up the back of Draco’s thigh of its own volition, desperate to touch, to run his finger around the edge and see how the flesh was stretched wide, waiting for him.

“You’re going to kill me,” he mumbled, and felt more than heard Draco’s light chuckle, rippling down from his chest to his wide-spread thighs. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson, I think, keep you tied up like this all through the night, just for me.”

He was babbling, he knew, his brain all tied up in the sight laid out before him, his for the taking. Draco’s legs shifted, knees running the length of Harry’s flanks, ankles curling around his thighs to pull him in.

Harry leaned over Draco, hands planted to either side of his chest, and bent down to mouth at a perfectly pink nipple. Draco arched beneath him, moan muffled behind the bow, and Harry sucked harder, flicking his tongue over the tightened nub before closing his teeth over it, biting gently. Draco keened, low in his throat, and Harry grinned, reaching for the vial of oil on the bedside table. He poured the silky liquid into his palm, reached down to slick himself. He could barely stand to touch his cock, so hard and aching, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. His fingers curled around the base of the plug, twisting it lightly as he pulled. He slid it out an inch, then back in again, awed as always by the sight of Draco’s body accepting it, pushing into the feel of being filled.

He pulled the plug completely out, smirking at the muffled protest Draco couldn’t stop from forming in his throat. He pushed his hips forward, the head of his cock sliding through the oil before finding where it needed to go. Harry breached Draco’s willing body in one long, smooth thrust, not daring to go faster, too close to the edge, had been too close since before he’d taken off his clothes. Behind him, Draco wrapped his legs around his waist, too impatient to wait for Harry to set the pace, bossy even in his beribboned state. Harry capitulated, as he always did, beginning to thrust to the tempo that Draco set with the clenching of his muscles, too overwhelmed with sensations to even think of doing anything else.

It didn’t take long; it never did when Draco was this insistent, this intent on turning Harry into nothing but need and arousal. His orgasm burned through him, lighting him up from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck, and he spilled inside Draco with a shudder and a long, drawn out groan.

Draco was still taut beneath him, one long line of frustrated need. His hands clenched into fists above the ribbon wrapped around his wrists, thighs trembling against Harry as his hips twitched desperately. Harry slipped out, replaced his cock with his fingers. Practice and determination led him straight to the right spot, and he watched with hazy appreciation as Draco’s head pushed back into the pillows, heels digging into the bed as his body pushed downward. Three fingers deep, slippery with oil and his own come, he rubbed incessantly at the spot, thumb pressing against the sensitive skin beneath Draco’s tightly drawn balls. With a muffled whimper and a full body shiver, Draco came with his cock untouched, pearly white liquid slipping down over the bright red ribbon still curled around its base. The ribbons untied themselves to the sound of Draco’s satisfied sigh, and a second later a hand landed on Harry’s shoulder, urging him up the bed.

“Enjoy your present?” Draco asked, voice rough and quiet, already on his way towards sleep.

“You know I did.” Harry reached over, hooked a finger around a length of ribbon and pulled it from Draco’s neck. He dangled it above them, letting the ends whisper over Draco’s chest. “They’re not just for Christmas though, right? These ribbons?”

Draco smiled and shoved his hand away, curling into him. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Harry smiled, let the length of ribbon slip from between his fingers and drop to the floor.