Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2011-09-20 09:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp ficlets draco/harry, hp quill-it 100.3 |
HP ficlet: Special Client [Draco/Harry, adult]
Title: Special Client
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: adult
Length: 657 words
Warnings: infidelity, rentboy!Draco
Summary: "He comes to me every week, about half past five on Wednesday, give or take a few minutes."
Note: For quill_it, 100.3, prompt 99, "sordid".
He comes to me every week, about half past five on Wednesday, give or take a few minutes. He always wants the same thing: first to be fucked hard in the arse, with me muttering lewdly at him all the while; then to be sucked off slowly, him standing against the wall, me kneeling in front of him.
Why he first picked me of the dozen man-whores on Carn Alley I don't know. He knew who I was, of course, just as I had no doubt of his identity. Maybe he figured that I wouldn't sell him out to the Prophet because I'd have to admit my role, even more shameful than his. He didn't understand that I'd given up any pride years ago. Nevertheless he was right in part, because I haven't ever exposed his dirty little secret.
He's one of the few clients I actually enjoy fucking. Some of it is because he is who he is, some because he's just a good fuck. His arse is tight and hot and slick around my cock as I slam into him, and he bucks up against me, grunting as I talk to him, call him filthy names, tell him how good it is to have the Saviour of the Wizarding World writhing under me like a cat in heat.
I take my time in coming -- the fee I charge is based partly on the duration of the encounter, and he likes it slow, so I'm happy to oblige him in that -- but eventually my thick cream spills into his arse, and I pull out, smacking his taut skin as I do so.
"Up against the wall," I order him, and he nods and scrambles to his feet to lean against the wall, my spunk oozing down the back of his thigh, his prick jutting out, the tip of it already weeping pre-come. I grab a pillow to put under my knees as I position myself in front of him, one hand on his hip, the other fondling his bollocks.
Tonight I tease him. I lick a single wet stripe from the base of his cock to the head and blow on it, then repeat the process over and over until he is whimpering, begging me to suck him. For all his apparent desperation I know he loves this, loves that I fuck him hard and then make him wait for his own orgasm.
I don't know, and don't really care, whether he can't ask for these things at home, or whether his wife won't go along with these desires. It's enough that he comes to me for them, needs me to get him through the week. If it ever came down to it, I might even do it for free, for him.
At last I close my lips around his prick and begin to fellate him in earnest, my tongue rubbing over the head, my fingers adding their massage to the base as I suck him. He is wound so tight that he actually has to relax a little in order to come, his bitter jets pulsing into my throat. I swallow it all and lick him clean as he slumps bonelessly to the ground, his legs splayed out.
I stand up and glance at the clock. "Ten Galleons," I say, and he nods.
"You know where it is."
I take the money from the pocket of his robe: ten Galleons exactly. I never steal from clients; that way leads ruin, whereas honesty brings repeat custom.
He is only my third client today, so I put my working clothes back on and prepare to go out to Carn Alley again. He is dressed by the time I am ready and we leave my flat together.
"Next week, usual time?" he says as we reach the street.
"I'll be here," I say. He Disapparates and I position myself to wait for the next likely client.