Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: ldymusycFrom: eeyore9990Title:
Draco/??? (het pairing)Rating:
Pegging, Oral, Sensory Deprivation, Bondage, Others May ApplyOther Warnings:
Non-Con as Role-Play ScenarioWord Count:
Being blindfolded and stuffed into a carriage really isn't the best way to start one's day.Author's Notes:
Dear Deviant #28, I sincerely hope you enjoy this. To the mods of daily_deviant
's Kinky Kristmas, thank you for running such an amazingly wonderful fest!
Draco struggled against the hands that grabbed him from behind even as a black hood was forced over his face. He knew it was illogical to believe that the hood prevented him from breathing; it was some sort of soft cloth, impermeable to light, but as his fast breathing sucked the hood toward his face, he could feel
the air entering his lungs. He was fine.
He was fine... now
. But as he was shoved into some sort of carriage-like conveyance--the step hit him in the thighs, likely leaving a bruise--he realised that such could not be said of his immediate future. Cold fear filled him even as the stale warmth of the vehicle nauseated him. Or maybe it was more the way it swayed sickeningly from side to side as it started moving.
Draco groaned and twisted his wrists. Whoever'd grabbed him had bound them, but with some sort of Muggle material, rough and scratchy. In fact, the whole situation smacked of Muggle-ness: the hood instead of a blinding spell; the ropes; the carriage. Wizards would have either side-alonged or hit him with a self-activating Portkey. Draco struggled harder as he realised he was in the hands of murderous Muggles.
The irony didn't even occur to him.
His wrists were bloody by the time the carriage came to a swaying halt. More rough hands pulled him out of the carriage and threw him to the ground. Through the cloth of the hood, gravel cut into his cheek, his knees, and his shoulder, tearing through cloth and skin. The hole torn into the hood was in the wrong place for him to see out of it, but the light was enough to cause him to blink fiercely after nearly an hour of complete darkness.
He was shoved forcefully along the path, gravel crunching under his shoes the entire way until he tripped over a kerb, barking his knees against some sort of rough surface. Concrete or asphalt. Arms yanked and he was up again, stumbling forward.
The light through his hood dimmed and the air shifted into something... different. He was inside, perhaps? Yes, definitely inside, since the sound of his booted feet clacking against the ground echoed back to him. He was in a large building with--marble?--floors, somewhere an hour outside of the City. By carriage. So, horses pulling a carriage couldn't go that
far, especially not in London traffic.
He was pushed forward one final time as his brain spun, trying to determine his location so that the instant his hands were within reach of his wand he'd be able to either send for help or Apparate out. He'd only chance the last if the idea of splinching was less fearsome than whatever was in store for him here.
A sharp tapping sound cut through his thoughts and he cocked his head to the side, listening to it as it came closer. Footsteps. Female? High, thin-heeled shoes, regardless. He couldn't imagine who it could be.
Something touched his shoulder and slid down the outside of his arm, causing his skin to crawl.
"Who are you?" he tried to ask, then cleared his throat. His words had come out rough and garbled. He asked again, "Who are you?"
A high, trilling laugh echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and seeming to fold in on itself even as it multiplied and filled the inside of his head. "My poor boy." The sound of that
voice turned his blood to ice and threatened to make his knees buckle. Instinct made him take a step backward, but his knees hit something soft and he fell over, landing awkwardly on his arms and bending his wrists painfully.
"What do you want?" he asked, eyes wide and frantic behind his hood as they flickered from side to side, desperate to see
The piece of soft furniture he was sitting on dipped on one side then the other before a light weight brushed against his lap. "What do I always want, darling?"
"N-no." He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed at the fear his trembling voice had given away. One sharp breath cleared his head. "Absolutely not. I won't do it."
The weight pressed down on his thighs, heavier but not as much as he knew it should be. Warm breath blew against the side of his head, pressing the cloth of the hood damply against his ear. "I'm certain I didn't ask."
Fingers pressed to his chest, through the gaps between his buttonholes, and then his shirt was being ripped down the middle, left to hang open to his waist with only his tie holding it closed at his throat. The weight shifted back toward his knees and then a mouth was sucking at the skin over his heart, lapping up the anxious sweat that had gathered there. Teeth scraped upward, snapping sharply at a nipple without breaking the skin.
Draco hissed, glaring into the darkness as his cock gave a firm twitch inside his trousers. No. No, no.
"I don't know why you fight so hard. I always win in the end."
"This is a new approach," Draco said through his teeth, anger underscoring every word.
"Of course it is."
Nothing else, then. No explanation, no evil monologue, no last villanous moment of exposition. He was absolutely fucked.
"I hate you," he whispered, needing to say it. "You won't get away with this." Cliche'd dialogue was apparently still on the menu for tonight; he truly hated that it was up to him to provide it. And that he felt so compelled
to do so. When had he become that person? The hero?
The damsel in distress?
"You don't hate me, darling. You hate yourself."
True, always true.
"And of course I won't get away with it. You'll see me punished. You'll use every resource at your disposal. But, darling," teeth nipped at him through the hood, catching the lobe of his ear, "not before I get what I brought you here for."
"What do you want?"
A chuckle, low and throaty. Shivers of dread trickled down his spine at the sound. It was so... knowing
. As if his every secret had been exposed to the eyes of his captor. To be used against him.
A hand cupped his groin, gripping and rubbing firmly. "For starters, I want this." Another hand pushed between whatever he was seated on and the cheek of his arse. "And then I'll be having this."
"I won't let you."
"As if I'd be foolish enough to offer you a choice."
Draco allowed the groping for another three seconds before he bucked his body wildly, sending his tormentor flying to the floor with a thump. He sat back, satisfied with his show of resistance. Until his knees were shoved apart and slim shoulders fitted between them.
"You'll regret that, darling."
He closed his eyes, redundant with the hood blinding him anyway, but he felt a bit better for the gesture. He tried kicking his legs, tried capturing the fragile body between his thighs and squeezing until bone shattered, but the press of cold steel, sharp and unwavering, against the lip of his navel forced him to rethink his strategy.
"Careful, or I might worry you don't really want me."
want you," he said through gritted teeth, taking care not to breathe too deeply or make any sudden moves. A sneeze right now would be catastrophic.
The knife trailed down his belly and sliced easily through the material of his trousers, causing him to squirm uncomfortably when he felt a warm breeze against his bare groin from his captor's heavy sigh. "It appears you're unwilling to make this easy... on either of us."
Lips traced over his quiescent cock and they opened at his tip, capturing it between them before his soft length was sucked into a hot mouth. Draco dropped his head back, pounding it into the backrest of the...sofa?...upon which he sat. The knife's blade lay threateningly against the inside of his thigh, keeping him from the slightest defensive movement. He was trapped, forced to endure the ministrations of the mouth that surrounded him, pulling a response from him entirely against his will.
Warm lips pressed firmly to the root of his cock, a tongue fluttered against the sensitive spot on the underside, just beneath the head, and the suction
, God... Draco bit harshly at the meaty inside of his cheek, trying to cause himself enough pain to keep his cock from hardening, but it was useless. The traitorous thing was fully engorged and aching within moments, and it was all he could do to keep from bucking his hips.
Just at the moment a moan rose up his throat, the mouth moved away and weight pressed down on either side of his thighs. Before he could protest the loss of the mouth on him, he was engulfed again, but this time it was the smooth inner walls of a tight, hot cunt that squeezed down on him. Words caught in the back of his throat and he bit his lips together, refusing to give voice to the whispers of lust that wanted to break free.
She rode him, long and hard, griding her pelvis to his and squeezing hard before rising up and slamming back down. It was a rhythm designed to pull him straight to the edge of orgasm and then push him head first over it. Every moan he bit back escaped her
mouth, and the sounds drove him ever higher. She dropped into his lap one last time, and the fluttering of her inner walls around him made him cry out and lean back on his awkwardly held wrists, using that pain to keep him from coming inside her.
She fell against him and the additional weight made something in his wrist pop, shooting sharp pain through him. On the one hand, it was a mercy, as the pain was enough to cause his erection to flag. On the other, it was the worst torture yet, and not simply in the physical aspect of the pain. Because she
heard the pop, felt him stiffen in agony even as his cock wilted under her.
"What have you done?" she hissed, then her weight was gone from his lap and he was being manhandled around, his knees hitting the floor and face pushed into the sofa's cushions. "Stupid, stubborn man
. You want to play it that way? Fine." Her weight leaned over his back and her lips were at his ear again, brushing against the cloth that covered it. "Even with this, I can bend you to my will." Her hand slid into the back of his trousers and pushed them down and then she was gone.
Or, at least, her body heat no longer warmed his bare arse. He had no problem imagining a knife's blade pointed directly between his slightly-spread thighs, the tip ready to slice his bollocks from his body. He rolled his face back and forth, finally able to identify the material of the sofa as leather--though why such a meaningless detail should be so important to him at the moment, he didn't know.
He heard the sound of more leather, sliding through metal that clinked when the tongue of the leather was pushed through the buckle. A belt? Was she going to use it on his bare buttocks? He frowned to himself as the sound repeated twice more. Three buckles. What could possibly have three buckles?
He flinched when he felt a hand settle gently against his arse; he hadn't been expecting it at all. The movement set his wrist to throbbing, and he held onto the pain. He turned his face away from her, not that it truly mattered, but she laughed again and patted him briskly.
"Open up for me, darling," she said, tapping something between his thighs. He wasn't able to identify it this time, knew only that it wasn't the knife. Or her hand. It felt... odd.
His thoughts disintegrated as she scratched a manicured fingernail over the wrinkled rim of his arsehole. Goosebumps flared over his body as she did it once more, playing idly with him, hypersensitizing the flesh.
Something warm was dribbled over the top of his arse and allowed to drip down his crack. Her fingernail twirled on him, causing him to shiver, and he could clearly see in his mind's eye how she caught the drips of what was most likely oil and smoothed them into her skin before prodding more firmly at his opening. He gasped, silent behind his hood, as she breached him.
"You like this, don't you? Filthy boy," she said, but the tone of her voice told of her amusement, her enjoyment of seeing him like this, spread and helpless before her. "You like having something in this naughty little hole." As she spoke, she twisted her finger and slowly drew it out, adding a second, which slid in easily as it was by now soaked with oil. She slowly pumped them in him, fingers seeking out and finding the nub of his prostate and massaging it firmly until he was helpless to stop the gutteral moans that fell from his lips or the desperate motion of his hips.
"Mmmm, yes, I know you do. I know."
He growled and thrashed his head from side to side, trying to deny her. His movements sent his cock slapping against the side of the sofa, and the stimulation was almost too much. He stilled his hips, then shuddered as she withdrew her fingers completely and reached around his hip to take his cock in a firm grip.
"So gorgeous like this." Her throaty voice whispering in his ear was his only warning before something firm and... too solid, too rubbery, too not real
...pressed against his arse. It rubbed firmly over him, slipping through the oil that continued to slide down his arse before catching against his still-grasping hole and nudging inside. One more push and it slid smoothly into him, but the tip was curved so that it ended up pressing directly into his prostate and startling a shout from him.
"Yes, darling. Just like that," she said, then pulled back and slammed forward. As she did so, the hand on his cock moved, the grip still tight and nearly perfect. The dual stimulation was too much. Much too much. Three more smooth, knowing thrusts and he was done.
With a wailing cry, his balls drew up and his orgasm rushed from him in three long pulses. He shook and shivered against the sofa, knees protesting their over-long time on the hard floor, upper body limp against the seat cushions, thighs quivering and weak even as he tried to keep from slumping to the floor.
"Poor darling, you're fine now. We're all done. Thank you, Draco. You're far and away too good to me."
The ropes binding his wrists fell away and the hood over his head was gone as if it had never existed, but he knew more than enough to keep his eyes closed. The light now--however dim it might be--would be far too harsh. She made soothing noises behind him even as healing magic washed over his wrists, shoulder, and cheek. She helped him turn over and urged him onto the sofa. He winced as his arse dragged through a spot of his come, but then he shrugged and reached his arms up to her, flinching slightly as the stiff muscles of his shoulders protested.
"I believe you may have that wrong, my dear," he said with a weary chuckle. "This was my fantasy set." Taking her into his arms, he slid his hands down over her arse, fingers playing with the leather straps of the harness she wore. "And you performed it admirably. I hesitate to ask which brutish friend of mine you coerced into this little scheme."
"Mmm. I'll never tell." She smirked down at him as a strand of her hair fell forward. He reached up and tucked it back behind her ear as she said, "I really do
want to know which particular book you read this scenario in. Who knew Draco Malfoy, staid and proper gentleman that he is, could be harbouring a secret desire to be kidnapped and ravished?"
"And who knew the utterly prim Mrs Malfoy, wife to the apparently staid and proper
Draco Malfoy," he raised his eyebrow, giving her a look that promised retribution for that particular remark, "could be harbouring a secret desire to kidnap and ravish him?"
"All that harbouring of secret desires," she said with a sigh, relaxing against him. "How utterly... ravishing."