Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: florahart
From: mindabbles

Title: Potter Shots
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Albus Severus, mention of Rose/Scorpius
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: Orgasm denial, oral sex, anal sex, cockrings
Other Warnings: rimming, begging, a little dirty talk
Word Count: 7,000
Summary/Description: "I like them, the spectacles." Draco's voice was smooth and soft, and Albus' body reacted to that tone, pitched just right, every single time.
Author's Notes: Happy Kinky Kristmas! I so hope you enjoy this—I think I squeezed in most of your kinks, and added couple. Thanks so much to E for the beta and help with Albus' job, and to L for her suggestion that made this Kristmas gift just that little bit kinkier.



Today

Albus kneeled in the snow in front of Draco Malfoy. The rays of the pale winter sun filtered through the trees behind him to give Draco a luminous, ethereal quality.

His was sure he'd develop frostbite in his knee if it took much longer to get this shot. He'd certainly lose the light.

"Look to your left," Albus said, suppressing a smile when Draco obeyed him without argument. It had been quite a struggle to get everyone to agree with him that the individual portraits should be made outside. The afternoon was crisp and clear and newly fallen snow backlit everything in a soft, lovely glow. He would make the entire wedding party look more beautiful than they ever imagined they could. That's what people paid him for, after all. "And it wouldn't harm anything if you smiled a bit. Your son's wedding photos, after all."

Uncle Ron coughed behind him. Neither of the fathers was overjoyed about the joining of the families.

The photos of Rose and Scorpius' engagement for the Daily Prophet had been some of his best work of that sort. It had been absurdly easy to capture, really. They had been inseparable since school and madly in love since Rose had told Lily, and Scorpius had told Hugo, and telling those two anything was the surest way to make certain it got around – which, of course, both Rose and Scorpius knew. So, Uncle Ron and Draco Malfoy would have to get over themselves and be cordial.

Albus took a deep breath and cleared his head, focusing on his subject.

He could see how a different man, with a different bearing and just the smallest changes, would seem a once-stunning man gone slightly to seed. Albus examined him through his lens, seeking the elements that made the difference. On Draco—it was still hard for Albus not to call him "Mr Malfoy" when the others were around, although it had been years since Draco had insisted—the receding hairline meant more room for his intriguingly expressive eyebrows to work; the streaks of silver in his hair heightened the impression that he was crafted with platinum; and his tall, slim body showed no signs of middle age.

Being close to him had made Albus' pulse race since he was a teenager, and Albus thought back, trying to remember when his fantasies had taken the leap and become a plan.

~~~*~~~
About ten years ago

He found the bag on the tube, halfway under a seat just near the end of the car, that summer between 6th and 7th year when he'd ride and ride and get off anywhere. He’d knock about London for a bit, looking in shops, reading books standing up next to tall, narrow shelves labelled with tags like "Queer Theory" and "Lesbian Parenting," pretending he wasn't trying to edge closer to the one marked "Erotic Fiction." That was summer he'd tried on being gay.

And then he'd go home, with a "nowhere" when his mum asked him where he'd been. It wasn't so much that he didn't want her to know as he wanted to keep it for himself.

The bag was a forlorn looking thing, an old messenger bag, battered about the edges, strap mended at least a couple of times. Albus pulled it out from under the seat and held it up, "This belong to anyone?"

An old woman was seated across from him, her shopping perched precariously on her lap, too many bags piled up so that she could barely see over. "Put it down. You have to put it down," she snapped, her voice shrill enough to scratch glass. "Never know these days, people leaving bombs and such about. Take it to Scotland Yard, boy."

He flipped open the soft flap. The catch was broken and he decided to go slowly, afraid the thing would disintegrate in his hands. He pulled out a woolly scarf, and then a notebook, dog-eared, with writing on almost every page. There was a wallet, with no money or cards in it, just bits of paper—receipts mostly, from a chip shop and a book shop. Wrapped in a worn t-shirt was a camera, the Muggle kind with batteries and film. And folded in the side pocket was a registration for a photography course at a place called Bishopsgate Institute. "Introductory Photography, five week course, fees paid in full for Mr. John Smith."

He took the course that summer. He had known from the moment that he touched the camera that he would go. He never considered the possibility that the man would show up for the course and there would be two John Smiths claiming to have paid in full. He sometimes spared a thought for Smith and wondered if losing the bag had done as much for his life as it had for Albus'.

"Where do you go these mornings, Albus?" Mum asked him one afternoon, after he'd stowed the bag behind the garden shed.

"Just mucking about, thinking," James answered.

It wasn't that he didn't want her to know, it was more that the world seemed to make sense through the lens of the camera, and he wanted to keep it to himself for a bit.

~~~*~~~
Today

The sun dipped below the line of evergreens that encircled the spacious lawns. Long shadows replaced the pale light, and the hills in the distance took on that shade of purple that only exists on distant hills and is nearly impossible to capture on film. The light was beautiful, but not for portraits, and Albus allowed himself a moment to regret that he wasn't alone with this and no other obligations.

"Right, we've lost the light," he said. He wasn't displeased to stand and get his knees off the ground that was cold and wet despite the charms he'd set. "We can go inside and take a look at what we've got. Everyone have a few minutes?"

They trudged through the snow, shedding cloaks and boots at the door. A house-elf took their things to dry.

"Thanks," Scorpius said to the creature. "Would you ask the kitchen to send warm drinks to the sitting room?"

Albus chuckled and shook his head, wondering at how Rose would do joining this family that was full of such little affectations, where kitchens could send drinks and there were house-elves who never went off the first floor and others who never left the second.

"If you could all sit," Albus said. He gestured to the chairs around the table. "I'll pull up the shots we just took and you can tell me which you like."

He touched his wand to the opening at the back of his camera and drew out images, setting them hanging in the air over the table. The one of Draco came up first, as it had been the last taken. Albus caught his breath, for once surprised at his own work. It captured Draco, just as Albus saw him, and he was awed and self-conscious at how beautiful he found him.

"So, tell me what you think," Albus said, falling back into the comfort of his work. He looked over at Scorpius, who was looking quite pleased. "I can change anything or we can do another shoot if these are not what you were looking for."

Albus pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from the battered leather bag. He fished around in the outside pocket until his fingers found his glasses case. He slipped on the burnished gold, wire rimmed glasses he had taken over from his dad a few years ago.

"When'd you get those?" Rose asked. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Had 'em a while," he muttered. He rotated in his chair to face Draco. "Only need them to see certain things."

Draco's smoky grey eyes smouldered. Albus felt it warm his skin.

~~~*~~~

Two years, four months, and five days ago

Albus could imagine nothing, no demon frightening enough, no pain severe enough, that could have compelled him to admit that he was scared nearly witless as he walked into the Malfoy's home. If there was any comfort, it was that his dad didn't look much more comfortable than he felt.

"I could have done this myself, Dad," he said, working hard to keep an adolescent whinge out of his voice.

The first big job for his own business and his dad was going along to talk to the client. Only Draco Malfoy wasn't really the client, Cho Chang was. Come to think of it, his dad had been at that meeting as well.

When she had joined the staff at Hogwarts during Albus' seventh year, some of the younger kids had grumbled that it didn't sound nearly as cool to be taught by a person as a ghost. Cho Chang was certainly cooler than Professor Binns. The course actually became interesting, and now she was setting about to write a new set of text books. She'd done one on the first war against Voldemort already, and was working on one about the second. Albus had still been scraping a living photographing birthday parties and doing Christmas cards for wealthy families then. But now, Potter Shots had an office and a very small but growing client list. This, however, would establish him.

"Of course you could have," Dad said, giving him a sideways glance. "I promised Cho I'd see you started with the people I know while she begins the interviews with the others."

"So why the hell are we starting with Mr Malfoy?"

"Remember how I used to always tell you to eat your sprouts first?"

"Yeah, but I never did."

"Maybe I'll teach you something yet." Dad smiled fondly at him and raised his hand to bang the heavy, brass knocker and the door swung open when he'd barely touched it.

He hadn't seen much of Mr Malfoy since the summer after seventh year, and his teenage fantasies hadn't done the man justice. He was taller than Albus had remembered. And blonder. And his robes fit him well enough that Albus could see he was fit and lean. Scorpius looked a lot like him, but Draco Malfoy wore the years well, nudging him from pretty to handsome. What caught his attention the most was the way Malfoy had to stop himself from stepping back, from reacting, when he saw Albus and his dad on his doorstep.

"Welcome," he said, stepping aside and graciously waving them in. "Potter." He nodded at Dad. "Albus, good to see you." He stared for a second too long.

"Malfoy. Trust you're well," Dad said, seeming to avoid Mr Malfoy's eyes.

After a few more uncomfortable moments in which neither Dad nor Mr Malfoy seemed to know where to look, Albus said, "I remember that the sitting room was comfortable. Could I ask that we meet there?"

"Certainly," responded Malfoy. He looked from Dad to Albus and back again. Albus ducked his head to catch Malfoy's eye and Malfoy blinked. "I apologize. The resemblance is even more striking now than last time we met."

Albus was broader and taller than his father, so like him, but spared the deprivation and trauma of his dad's early life. Albus had spent the last several years studying expressions and colours and angles, and as Malfoy's eyes darted back and forth, comparing the differences and similarities, he saw it—a hint of want in his eyes. Albus reached up and carelessly ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it and making it stick up at the back. The looked deepened and the hollow of Malfoy's cheeks deepened from ivory to palest blush. Interesting.

"Isn't this cosy," Malfoy said, once they were seated. "So, you've found your progeny work, Potter."

Albus opened his mouth to object, but Dad beat him to it.

"He's the best. It wasn't a challenge. And I certainly hope you've tried to give Scorpius a leg up now and again."

"Thank you, Dad," Albus said.

"Not that this isn't terribly heart warming, but I believe we have business to attend to, and I haven't all day." Malfoy conjured three glasses and a decanter. The bottle tipped over and poured what looked like brandy. "Drink?"

Albus snatched the glass out of midair and sipped the perfectly warmed, mellow drink. It heated him inside and he remembered why he was in the room.

"As you know, Professor Chang would like portraits, both formal and casual, of major figures mentioned in her book," Albus said.

"You'll be sure and make me look better than the words undoubtedly shall," Malfoy drawled.

"Cho is committed to writing a different kind of text than we were subjected to, dead boring and everyone either good or evil," Harry said, shaking his head. "She assured me of that before I agreed to participate. I'd assumed she'd have the same conversation with you."

"Oh, she did," Malfoy said, as if he were quite bored. "But surely you of all people would say that not everything that comes out in the wash looks quite clean."

"Mr Malfoy—"

"Call me Draco."

"Draco," Albus said, enjoying the way the name slid over his tongue. "I strive to capture beauty in all my subjects."

Draco chuckled and studied Albus' face. "I'm not sure I can recall anyone referring to me as beautiful."

"I find that hard to believe." Albus had to sit on his hands to stop them reaching for his camera. If he never had a chance to photograph Draco with the light flush of drink in his face and the nearly completely veiled look of hunger in his eyes, it would be an awful shame.

"Uh," his dad coughed. "Perhaps we should discuss the schedule."

Draco looked at Dad, back at Albus, and back at Dad again. The hunger showed through for a split second before Draco regained his tightly wound composure. Only a trained eye would have seen it.

Interesting.

~~~*~~~

Today

After twenty minutes with no decisions, Albus decided he'd better put a few of the images down on paper. They did look different projected in midair.

"If there's a room nearby that could be made dark, I'll be back in a tick with some hard proofs," he said, gathering his equipment.

"The library's just through that door," Scorpius said, indicating a door at the far end of the sitting room.

"I'll see to some refreshment in the meantime," said Draco, the epitome of the gracious host.

It took one charm to completely block out the remaining natural light filtering in the lone window in the library. A huge, imposing desk stood near the darkest wall. Albus cleared it with a flick of his wand and, with another, set up his developing tray and potion.

He loved watching the colours deepen from nothing to pale shadows to vibrant and real. These would just be photos, like he'd learned to take in those first Muggle courses all those years ago. The layers of movement and personality would be added with much more complex spells once the final images were chosen.

"I like them, the spectacles."

Draco's voice was smooth and soft, Beaujolais nouveau on a midsummer's night, and Albus' body reacted to that tone, pitched just right, every single time.

He didn't turn around. He continued to lean over his work, listening for the soft footfalls and trying to guess when he'd feel Draco's hand slide down his back.

There.

"I thought you might," Albus said.

Draco touched him, long fingered hand smoothing over his robes, mapping the curve of his arse. Draco stepped closer. His tall, slim body pressed against Albus, and Albus closed his eyes and breathed to stop himself from arching back and grinding his arse against Draco's cock.

"I want you," Draco murmured, warm breath whispering across Albus' neck. "I want to taste you."

"There's one door between us and the others," Albus said. He covered Draco's hand with his, laced their fingers together and pulled Draco's arm around him. He sighed as Draco leaned into the embrace.

"That is just the right number of doors," said Draco. "I've been thinking about you since you strutted into my garden. Do you know what I need?"

Draco's hand was stroking through his hair, smoothing the bit at the back that stood on end. He half expected him to call him "Harry" when he got like this, and he didn't want to analyze what it meant that he encouraged him.

"What, Malfoy?" Albus growled, pitching his voice lower than his own tenor.

"To pull you into my mouth and feel you grow hard on my tongue."

"Fuck," Albus moaned. He gave up, and arched back, pressing against Draco from chest to thighs. He could feel Draco, already hard, against his arse. "Sorry to tell you, you're way too late for that."

"I'll make do."

Draco spun him around and kissed him, hard and fast on the mouth. The glasses dug into Albus' cheek and he reached to remove them, still moving his body against Draco's, parting his legs when Draco pushed a thigh between his.

"Leave them," Draco said. He grasped Albus' wrist and moved his hand between them, pressing Albus' hand against his own cock. The pressure felt so good that Albus groaned and stroked himself through his clothes. "Open your robes."

Draco stepped back and summoned a pillow from the settee. Smirking at Albus, he dropped the pillow at his feet and watched intently as Albus, with fumbling fingers, unfastened his robes.

"How long does this usually take him?" a loud voice called from the other room—Uncle Ron. It sounded as if he were right next to the door.

"Dra—" Albus began.

Draco shook his head. "I need you now."

He sank to the floor, his knees resting on the pillow. Albus jammed his fist in his mouth as Draco wrapped his hand around his cock and laved over the head with his tongue.

"Mmm," Draco sighed, his eyes falling closed in an expression of utter bliss.

Albus thread his fingers through the long, fine hair. The silver blended so beautifully with the blond. He cupped the back of Draco's head with his hand.

"Look at me," he said.

Draco opened his eyes and held Albus' gaze as he kissed the tip, closing his lips over the end. He swirled his tongue around the head and then licked down the length.

"Mmm," Draco sighed again. He licked once more, base to tip and tip to base.

"Oh, oh, fuck." Albus gasped and panted, desperate for more, desperate to watch his cock slide into Draco's gorgeous, hot mouth. "Please" he begged.

Draco licked again, over the head, lingering on the slit. "Please what?" he asked, licking his lips.

"Suck me, please, please, need to come."

Draco bent his head and nuzzled between Albus' legs, kissing the tingling skin at the crease of his thigh, licking his balls, while Albus chanted, please, barely realising at first that it was his own voice creating that soft, breathy hum.

Voices from the next room drifted in, some close enough to the door to hear their words.

"Perhaps you were correct in your hesitation earlier, Potter," Draco said, looking up at him with a glint in his eye.

"Fuck, no," Albus said. "No, please, Draco. Now." He grasped his cock to push into Draco's open mouth. He was so hard, achingly hard. He stroked himself, staring down at Draco's pink, swollen lips.

"No you don't," Draco scolded. "That's mine," and he slid his mouth over Albus' cock, gripping Albus' arse with needy fingers.

Draco moved slowly back and forth. Albus watched Draco's lips drag over his cock, centimetre by centimetre disappearing into the warm, wet paradise of Draco's mouth.

"Oh, god," Albus moaned. "Faster. Suck it, </i>please</i>."

Draco watched him, heat and desire in his eyes. He laughed around Albus' cock, the vibrations rippling through every muscle, every nerve ending in his body. The pressure increased, and Draco's cheeks hollowed as he sucked, hard. Albus couldn't stop himself from thrusting. Draco gripped his arse harder, encouraging him, taking him in until Albus could feel his cock nudging past the top of Draco's throat. When Draco swallowed around him, all the tension from this morning when he donned the spectacles, imagining Draco's reaction, to kneeling before him in the snow, to I want you, a whispered caress on his skin, pooled together and his orgasm rolled through him. Draco kept sucking and his fingers dug into Albus' arse, holding him there, working him with his tongue until his cock softened and slipped from his mouth.

"Bloody hell," Albus moaned. He fell back against the table. Draco still kneeled on the cushion, his eyes heavy lidded and dark. He'd worked open his own robes, baring his pale stomach and thick, hard cock. "Fuck, come here."

Draco rose gracefully to his feet, wincing only a touch as he straightened his knees. He kissed Albus, his lovely, soft lips moving over Albus', clever tongue working its way inside. Albus curled his tongue around Draco's, tasting himself in every corner of Draco's mouth.

"Potter," Draco whispered, and rolled his hips, pressing his erection into Albus' hip.

Albus considered holding out, making him beg, but after the orgasm he'd just been given, that seemed unnecessarily cruel. Draco's cock felt perfect in his hand, and he sucked Draco's tongue into his mouth and stroked him, slow, then hard and fast when his breath became ragged and his hips stuttered.

"Ah, ah, ah," Draco gasped. His cock thickened and pulsed and Albus felt him come. "Ah, Albus."

Draco's head fell onto his shoulder and they leaned against each other catching their breath.

"We shou—"

The door burst open. Rose stood in the door, her eyes as wide as saucers. Albus shook his head. Draco didn't lift his head from Albus' shoulder. Rose rolled her eyes and turned to go.

"Uh, he'll be finished in a tick," she shouted, pulling the door closed as she left.

~~~*~~~

Precisely one year ago

The back room at Flourish and Blott's cleaned up rather well. It was much larger tonight than usual, for the release of Cho Chang's book. Nearly everyone alive, and a few dead, who appeared in the text was there. Candles floated just below the ceiling, giving the room a warm glow and concealing nicely that they were, in fact, holding the party in a shop's back room. Food and drink bobbed along on trays that refilled themselves the moment they were emptied. A very large man, who Albus recognized as Dad's cousin, followed around the tray filled with sausage rolls, and guffawed in delight each time he stuffed one into his mouth only to see another take its place.

"Your work is very impressive. Makes the book, if you ask me," a cool voice said next to Albus' left ear. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

"Did you?" Albus asked, pointedly not looking over his shoulder. He grabbed a tankard of Butterbeer from the drinks tray floating past. "I hadn't noticed."

"It's a lovely party," Draco said, still standing behind him, so close that Albus felt their robes brushing against each other when Draco moved.

"It's boring as hell," Albus said. He turned so that Draco could see his face. They'd done six photo shoots for the book—four more than had been necessary to complete anyone else's portrait. Albus may have been nearsighted, but he wasn't blind, and he couldn't help noticing that Draco's voice would falter or he'd absently lick at the corner of his mouth every time he looked directly into Albus' eyes. "But a good turn out, and I'm pleased for Cho."

"I've been trying to come up with an excuse to see you again, now that this is all finished," Draco said.

"Don't need an excuse," Albus said, shrugging. "What did you have in mind?"

"I have trouble believing I've been so discreet as all that," Draco said. He touched Albus' hip, long finger curving around, thumb just over Albus' hipbone.

"Thought I'd check before I made a fool of myself," Albus said. "Didn't know if it was me or my dad you were after."

Albus was used to being able to ruffle people. Draco only arched one perfect eyebrow.

"You don't mince words," Draco said silkily. "I like that."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"Did you ask one?"

"All right, Draco," Albus said, hooking a finger in the belt of Draco's robes. "So you'll show me what you had in mind, and as long as you remember it's me making you beg, I don't care who you see when you close your eyes."

"You think you can make me beg?" Draco asked, letting Albus pull him closer by his belt. "Ambitious lad."

"My ambition usually pays off."

The noise of the party suddenly blared back in Albus' ears, and he remembered where they were. Before he could suggest they get the hell out of there, and now, Draco grasped the front of his robes and leaned in, rumbling voice in his ear, "Let's get the hell out of here before I make a spectacle of myself in front of all these people who'd as soon see me dead."

He would never know what possessed him. It was a terribly stupid move, but Albus grabbed Draco's arm and Apparated them to his dad's bedroom.

"Where are we?" Draco asked, and Albus saw his hand move to his wand. There wasn't a rise in his voice or a hair out of place from the surprise Apparition.

Albus paused, looking around the room and nearly grabbed Draco's arm again to go to his own flat. Draco moved away from him, looking about the nearly dark room, taking in all the things that marked it as Harry's. Photos of Albus and James and Lily on the dresser. Extra pair of specs on the bedside table. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's wedding photo.

"You are a surprising man, Albus Potter," he said, turning to Albus with a pleased little smile. "Is this part of your plan to make me beg?"

"No," Albus said, repeating in his head that his dad was at the bookshop and no one would be back here for ages. "This was an impulse."

"So, do you have a plan?" Draco asked. He stepped away from the squashy arm in the corner, his hand trailing along the robes his dad must have tossed there when he changed from his work clothes into dress robes. "Or are you like your father, barrelling on like a bull in a china shop?"

Albus was across the room in two strides, stepping close and pulling Draco's belt loose. "Which do you want?"

"I want to look at you," Draco answered. He lifted his hand to stroke Albus' cheek, and then stepped back, his eyes gleaming in the light from the street lamp outside his dad's window.

"You, too." Albus loosened his belt and let his robes drop to the floor. His shirt was next, trousers and pants, and each movement he made, Draco mimicked, until they were both naked. Albus let his eyes roam over Draco's body. His cock was not quite hard, but getting there, lovely and long, and Albus wanted to watch it fill and keep Draco hard and wanting until he forgot his own name.

He reached and grabbed his wand and there, on the same chair as his dad's robes was his old school tie. Lily whinged and scolded that it was unforgivably uncool for him to still wear the thing nearly forty years after he'd left school, but their dad seemed unmoved by her distress. It would do perfectly. He tapped the tie with his wand and it narrowed and shortened. One more tap, and it had a snap.

"What are you—"

He cut Draco off with a kiss, slow and controlled, a touch of his tongue against Draco's lips. Draco moved his hands up Albus' back, and Albus wrapped the red and gold striped cock ring around the base of Draco's cock and snapped it into place. Draco moaned into Albus' mouth, opening to him and sucking Albus' tongue between his lips. Draco's cock hardened in Albus' hand and he stroked it slowly, feeling himself grow harder with every touch.

"Get on the bed," he said. Draco's hair cascaded down his back, brushing the curves of his shoulder blades. He was long and lean and lightly muscled, his cock hard and dark against his pale skin, held erect by the thin red and gold striped band. Albus wanted his camera so badly, it was almost a physical pain. "Face down."

Draco moved, graceful and beautiful, on to the bed, burying his face in the pillow and inhaling deeply. Albus wrapped his hand around his own cock, squeezing at the base. He traced the curve of Draco's arse and leaned to kiss the back of his thigh. Draco's skin was warm and smooth under his lips and he shivered and moaned softly with each kiss and slide of Albus' tongue. Albus hummed against his skin and he kissed up, biting lightly at the crease of his thigh, licking deeply along his cleft.

"Potter," Draco groaned. He rolled his hips and Albus imagined his cock, aching and bound, pushing into the mattress.

"Going to beg," he whispered. He parted Draco's arse with two hands and pressed his kisses deeper.

"Mm, not yet." Draco arched off the bed and spread his legs further as Albus settled between them.

He closed his eyes and felt the heat of Draco's soft skin against his cheek, under his tongue. He listened to Draco's breath, ragged and quick, as he trailed his tongue slowly along Draco's arse. He did it again, and Draco gasped when he licked over his hole. He wanted more of those gasps, wanted to hear Draco's cool, unflappable voice, desperate and begging. He circled the point of his tongue around the entrance and the muffled gasp told him that Draco was biting the pillow. He laved over the same spot, pushing in just a bit on each pass. Draco lifted his hips off the bed, pressing back against Albus' face.

"Potter," he growled. A warning, certainly not a plea. Not yet.

"Mmm," Albus hummed, remembering how the vibrations shot straight up his spine the last time someone had done that to him. He pushed his tongue just past the tight muscle and hummed again.

"Fuck," Draco said, his breath catching and hips jerking up.

Closer.

He pushed in deeper, kissing each time he slid his tongue back out. His body was thrumming with desire, desperate to take this faster. He fucked into Draco with his tongue one last time and kissed his way up his back. He could see now that Draco was frotting against the mattress, hard, quick little thrusts that made the muscles in his arse clench, and biting the pillow so hard that he was sure to put a hole in the pillowcase.

Albus lowered himself onto Draco's body, his cock sliding deliciously down Draco's slick crack and between his thighs. His lips brushed along the back of his neck, and when he was lying full on Draco, he pressed his mouth to his ear and whispered, "I'm going to fuck you now, and I'm not going to let you come."

Draco turned his head on the pillow and moaned, long and loud. Albus cupped his hand and muttered a spell, and cool, slippery gel filled his palm. He slowly, carefully, coated his cock. With Draco waiting and ready beneath him, panting and so close to where he wanted him, it was a difficult, difficult thing not to come.

He wrapped his hands around Draco and pulled him up onto his knees, grabbing the pillow and shoving it under Draco's hips.

"Oh, I—" Draco rocked forward, pushing his cock into the pillow. "Ah, fuck me."

Albus kneeled and took his cock in his hand. He pressed the head against Draco's entrance and pressed in, watching himself enter Draco, shallow thrusts, little by little, until he was lying on Draco. Chest against his back, thighs to thighs, Albus could feel the tension in Draco's muscles, hear what made his breath catch. He moved, bracing his knees against the bed and spreading Draco's legs wider.

"Yes," Albus hissed, as he pulled back and thrust back in, fucking him slowly, deeper with every push.

"Potter," Draco moaned. "Fuck me." Draco planted his hands on the bed and pushed up onto his hands and knees. He arched back, meeting each of Albus' thrusts and Albus clung to him, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of his hips.

"Beg me," Albus said. He wrapped his arm around Draco and grasped his cock. It was hard and huge in his hand, and he slicked his fingers at the tip so he could stroke Draco in time to his thrusts.

Draco arched his back and tipped his head back, and Albus was almost certain he heard a murmured, "please."

"Louder," Albus said. He pulled back until only the head of his cock was still inside Draco, and as he watched his cock slide back in, it was only pure stubbornness that he didn't come.

"Harder," Draco said, a gasp of a word.

Albus thrust in hard, stilling when he was fully inside and pulling out fast this time. He thrust in again and Draco began to tremble.

"Do you want to come?" Albus asked, bending over Draco's back and stroking his cock.

"Yes, fuck," Draco moaned.

He clenched his arse around Albus and Albus couldn't wait, he couldn't stop. He fucked Draco hard and fast until he saw red and heard his blood pounding in his head.

"Oh god, oh fuck, so good, oh," he babbled as his orgasm roared through his body and he came harder than he ever remembered, collapsing, barely able to catch his breath on top of Draco.

Draco groaned deep in his chest and thrust up, clenching again around Albus' cock. "For fuck's sake, Potter, please," he pleaded, jerking his hips against the pillow. "Please, please, make me come."

Albus wasn't sure he could move, but the sound of Draco's voice slide down his spine and straight to his still half-hard cock, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He hoisted himself off of Draco and pulled him to his knees. Draco was flushed and dishevelled, his cock nearly purple under the ring.

"What did you say?" Albus asked, bending low so his breath ghosted over Draco's cock.

Draco closed his eyes and breathed out long and slow. "Please, please let me come, Potter."

There was a bit of a, "or you'll live to regret it," in the tone, but Albus could forgive that in the face of the usually haughty, but now debauched, picture in front of him.

He took Draco's cock in his mouth and slid down as far as he could. He worked the underside with his tongue and Draco swayed on his knees, starting to whimper. His fists were clenched at his sides, and Albus was amazed, and impossibly turned on, that he didn't just reach down and unfasten the snap on the transfigured tie himself. Albus sucked, moving his lips up to cover just the head.

"Potter," Draco growled.

Albus wanted to watch this, to see Draco's cock pulse and the flush deepen on his chest, watch him tip his head back and moan in bliss. He kneeled next to Draco and held him in his arms. Draco leaned back into him and dropped his head onto Albus' shoulder.

"Please," he whispered.

Albus grasped Draco's cock around the base and flicked open the snap. The moment he was released, Draco’s mouth fell open and he closed his eyes and came and came while Albus stroked him. Albus could feel his heart pounding and held him as he swayed again.

They collapsed together on the bed, Draco with his eyes still closed. Albus pulled the sticky, wet pillow out from underneath them and pushed it aside.

"Fuck," Albus said, looking at the mess. "That's my dad's favourite pillow." He closed his eyes and decided to ignore that for a bit. Draco was laying right next to him, and their overheated bodies touched at the knee, hip, and shoulder.

The front door slammed.

"Fuck," Albus said again. There were voices downstairs. His brain was addled and sluggish, and he felt just as he had when his mum had walked in on him wanking over the poster of her Quidditch team in the loo when he was 15. He still remembered the arse on that Keeper.

Draco laughed and drowsily shook his head. "Still no plan, I see," he said, groaning as he pulled himself from the bed. He gathered their clothes with one flick of his wand and set the bed in order with another. He pointed his wand at the cock ring and hesitated. "Finite incantatem," he said, shrugging. "Pity, but the idiotic Gryffindor would probably notice if that went missing," and it stretched back into a tie. He grabbed Albus' arm, and Disapparated them both from the room.

~~~*~~~

Four months from today

"Lovely wedding," Albus said, stepping up to congratulate the father of the groom.

"It is," Draco said. "I'm quite pleased. I trust you captured the obligatory moments today?"

The couple looked gorgeous and happy beyond what was reasonable. The only challenge Albus had in documenting the happy event was that by the middle of the dinner, there was no mistaking how badly they wanted an end to being kissed by aging relatives so they could get to shagging. Albus felt it was probably best not to try and capture that for the wedding album.

"I have something for you," Albus said, smiling at Draco.

"Do you, now?" Draco's gaze raked Albus from head to toe and back again, making Albus shiver.

"I mean like a gift," Albus said. He rolled his eyes, although he knew that Draco had seen him tremble. "Come here," Albus said. "I'd rather not give it to you in view of Grandma Molly."

"There," Draco said, wincing. "That's killed the mood."

Albus grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the foyer just inside the wide French doors that opened on to the garden. He pulled the parcel from his pocket and enlarged it with a tap of his wand.

Draco carefully removed the shiny paper and let it fall to the floor as he stared at the silver framed photograph.

"That's what I see," Albus said.

The others from the series were displayed on a dais in the entryway. This one was just for Draco. It was a moment that cold day four months ago, a moment when the sun glinted off the silver in Draco's hair and he looked down at Albus as if no one else were there. The hills in the background glowed with the purple light of the setting winter sun, reflecting off the snow.

"It's stunning," Draco said, tracing the elegant frame with his finger. "Thank you."

"There's another, underneath," Albus said, tapping the frame with his wand.

The photograph slid back into the frame and another pushed through. In the frame, Draco and Albus were kissing, wrapped up in each other's bodies, desperately moving against each other. They were sitting, so you couldn't tell who was taller. Albus was wearing the gold rimmed glasses and he had touched the photo with just a hint of silver at the temples of his black hair. No one would have known it wasn't his father.

Draco moved to kiss him, a gentle press of lips, slow and tender, building, gradual pressure until Albus was pressing against Draco. Draco slid his slick tongue over Albus' lips, his hand moving over his chest, loosening his robes and working a hand into the front of his trousers. Draco made a surprised, delighted sound when he found Albus hard and wanting—as if he weren't always hard the moment Draco touched him.

"It sounds as if they've served the cake," Albus whispered. "You shouldn't miss the cake."

Two wedding guests were talking just around the corner, expounding on the virtues of the pastry. If they were coming to the loo, they would walk around the corner and find the father of the groom with his hand down the photographer's pants. Albus really wanted Draco's hand to stay just where it was, doing just what it was doing, but he thought he should at least try and inject some semblance of decorum.

"I fancy I have a taste for something other than cake."

"You going to suck me off at your son's wedding?"

"Such behaviour may even be a Malfoy tradition."

Albus pulled Draco in for a deep kiss, his tongue plunging into Draco's mouth, seeking the heat and the slick of his cheek, the rough of his teeth, feeling everything his cock soon would. They stumbled, grabbing with frantic hands, ripping at expensive robes, until Albus' back hit a door and he pushed it open.

Sounds from the other side of the large sitting room made him freeze and he felt Draco do the same.

"Oh, you were correct, my love."

Aunt Fleur's throaty voice, perhaps a bit throatier than usual, was muffled by the fact that her mouth was pressed against Teddy's chest, sucking on his left nipple. Teddy was the only one facing the door, and he certainly hadn't seen them. His head was thrown back and he was moaning loudly enough that he probably hadn't heard Albus and Draco stumble into the room, either. Uncle Bill said something in answer to Aunt Fleur, but it was even more muffled by Teddy's large, hard cock sliding in and out of his mouth. Teddy reached his hand between Aunt Fleur's legs as she licked his right nipple.

"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, you are very like your father."

"Draco," Albus whispered. "Find us a different room, now."