Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: nightfalltwen
From: tryslora

Title: Wish You a Happy Christmas
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Lily Luna, Draco/Astoria
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: Infidelity, Office Sex, Oral
Other Warnings/Content: First Times, Blow Job, Cunnilingus, Sex
Word Count: ~3k
Summary/Description: There’s no point in not finishing what they’ve begun. What she’s sure they started, months ago when she first started working here. With small touches and little looks. With hints and half-said words. What was just about to become a thing right now, during the office Christmas party.
Author's Notes: Oh my goodness, I have such a thing for holiday hookup stories with infidelity. And this pairing! I couldn’t resist, and I had such fun with this. I hope you have a happy and wonderful Kinky Kristmas, m’dear!


The holiday office party is the only time when everyone lets go a little. The only time when Marigold Mimbles unpins her hair and lets it tumble down her back. The only time when Astin Fairweather tells the entire office that they not only can spend the afternoon not working, but that they must.

The only time when Draco Malfoy emerges from his office and partakes in the festivities, a still-full flute of champagne in one hand, and a canapé in the other as he smiles—smiles—at Ernie MacMillan.

Lily Luna has heard all about the holiday office party, ever since she started in her new position as Draco’s assistant, and it is everything she’d been led to expect. The food is superb, the champagne excellent, and the company unexpectedly cheery.

She leaves her shoes tucked under her desk, pads on bare feet over to join Draco and Ernie. On any normal day, they’d be Mr. Malfoy and Mr. MacMillan, but this afternoon everyone’s a bit untucked, with shirt-tails out and ties undone, and one or two buttons unbuttoned. She smiles as she approaches, trying not to smirk when Ernie’s cheeks flush ruddy from liquor and appreciation, his gaze dropping to her chest.

Draco’s gaze never strays from her face as he holds out his glass of champagne, offering it. “You look thirsty, Miss Potter.”

“First names tonight!” Fairweather bellows, and Draco raises one eyebrow.

“You look thirsty, Lily,” Draco amends, a small bow in his posture as he proffers the glass.

She wraps her fingers around the delicate stem, catching his for a moment and letting her touch linger against the back of his hand. “You’re not drinking?” she asks. She raises the glass to her lips, hears Ernie’s breath catch as she tilts it, takes a small sip, then cleans the drop from the rim with her tongue.

Draco’s gaze never falters, a small smile tilting one corner of his lips. “I prefer to keep my faculties about me,” he admits, cocking one eyebrow. “One never knows when one might be needed.”

Lily touches his shoulder, lets her fingers drift down to his wrist. “You should have fun. In fact, we are under orders to have fun today, you realize.”

Ernie coughs.

“I believe they’ve put out another tray of those little crab things,” Draco says, never looking at the lavish buffet. “Perhaps you ought to get some before they’re gone, MacMillan.”

It’s a clear dismissal, but Ernie doesn’t seem offended as he turns away, raising a hand to catch the eye of one of the servers that move like obedient ghosts through the office with their trays of quick bites.

“I am having fun,” Draco says. He reaches for a tray as it passes by, snags a fresh flute of champagne and raises it. “To the holidays, and to… fun….” He waits for her to raise her glass as well, and when she sips, the bubbles go straight to her nose.

She licks her lips after, and his gaze tracks the path of her tongue. When she lowers her gaze demurely, he touches her chin and she stops, breath caught in her throat.

There’s a knock at the window, quick and sharp like talons, then the heavy beating of wings. Marigold and Ernie work together to throw it open, and a large eagle owl glides in and finds its spot atop the decorated tree. It snaps at everyone who tries to come near it, until Fairweather finally approaches. He is allowed to take the letter, and he opens it with overly careful fingers, reads it silently. “Merlin,” he mutters. “It’s always something, isn’t it?”

He turns, surveys the room, then points at Draco. “Malfoy.” He holds out the letter, motion surprisingly sharp for someone who has drunk as much champagne as he has. “Emergency. Collect the files, get them out by end of day.” When Draco doesn’t move immediately, Fairweather snaps, “Now, Malfoy.”

Lily steps forward quickly, collects the envelope and heads for Draco’s office. “I’ll help,” she says.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Draco picks the envelope from her fingers, reaches the door before she does. “Go back to your gathering. I’ll take care of this nonsense.”

“I’m your assistant,” she reminds him pertly, “so I will do what I should do: assist.”

She slips past him, waits for him to close the door before she spells it locked and activates the privacy spells upon it. Draco sets the letter on the desk, begins summoning books, then turns back to her, brow furrowed. “Why did you lock the door?”

Lily’s heart is hammering in her chest. This is brazen. Too brazen. Too bold. He’s married.

And yet.

She would have sworn, just for a moment out there at the party, that he was responding. That when she lowered her gaze, he knew exactly where her line of sight fell.

She reaches for the top button of her blouse, picks it open carefully. “With two of us, we’ll get it done in half the time,” she says reasonably. “Which means there’s no point in not finishing what we’ve begun.” What she’s sure they started, months ago when she first started working here. With small touches and little looks. With hints and half-said words. What was just about to become a thing right there in the outer office, when he touched her chin.

He leans against the desk, one knee bent as he almost sits on the edge of it. “And what, exactly, do you think we’ve begun?” There’s no malice in his tone, only curiosity. A faint flush stains his skin, making pale skin a soft rose. Lily licks her lips again, watches him track the path of her tongue.

When she’s close enough, she raises her fingers, lightly presses them to the pulse in his throat that flutters just as fast as her own. “The door is locked and warded,” she says plainly. “And you want me as much as I want you.”

“I do, do I?” Teasing now, he starts at her waist, hands skating up her sides until they lie flat against her ribs, thumbs under the curve of her breasts. “And if I remind you that I’m happily married?”

“I might remind you that I don’t care if you don’t,” she tells him, her palm flat against his neck, fingers curled around to the nape. “I might tell you that I’m not wearing a bra or knickers. That I’ve thought about you sitting in that chair while I kneel and take you in my mouth. That I’m not looking for a relationship from you. I don’t want you to leave your wife.” She leans in closer, whispers a mere breath away from his lips. “I just want you to fuck me.”

He murmurs a word, and her blouse is gone, leaving her bare in the cool air. Her nipples contract, tightening across her small breasts, and he leans in to capture one in his mouth, sucking hard. She cries out, fingers clenching at the nape of his neck, tangled in his hair to hold him there. He captures her other breast with his palm; it fits perfectly, and he gently rolls her nipple under his thumb until she whimpers again.

She’s wet already, wet enough that she can feel it dripping. She squirms, trying to add pressure, and he slides his other hand down, cups her bum and pulls her closer between his legs. She nestles as close as she can, rocking against the hard ridge in his trousers. He suckles again, and she’s shockingly close to the edge.

She manages to get her hands on his thighs, pushes away just a little. “Wait,” she says, voice rough. She picks at his fly, opens it enough to wedge one hand in to cup his bulge. He thrusts against her, and she tugs his pants down and pulls him free.

He’s long and slender, easy to wrap her fingers around and wank, the foreskin sliding over his hard length. She crouches down, hiking her skirt up until it bunches around her waist so she can easily spread her knees for balance. There’s a rough hitch in his breath, and she wonders if he can smell her musk, or if he caught sight of her tight dark red curls.

She distracts him by licking at the head, swirling her tongue around him before she lets him slip past her lips. She cups his balls with one hand while she works the base of his prick with her other. She lavishes his cock with her mouth, sucking hard and deep at first, then loose licks, teasing at just the head. He growls in frustration, and she takes him all in again, closing her eyes as she lets him fuck deep.

She pulls off to catch her breath, looks up as his fingers tangle in her hair, pushing it back from her face. It’s loose and wild now, a thick auburn thatch of curls. His fingers frame her face, gentle as he holds her there.

“Is that all you want of me?” he asks, and her heart thumps in her chest.

She shakes her head. “I want more.”

“I’m too old to get it up twice in a night,” he admits. “So watching you take my cock until I come all over your pretty little face is going to have to wait for another time. Right now I’d like to see you bent over my desk, bum in the air.”

“Undress,” she whispers as she stands. He hesitates, and she taps his buttons, his mostly undone tie. “Undress, or I could send your clothes wherever you sent my shirt.”

He undoes the tie first: slips the knot and drops it in a puddle on the desk. His long, pale fingers are slow with the buttons of his shirt, and she steps close as soon as the first are undone. She helps him spread the fabric, helps him shrug out of the shirt.

He’s thin, but then, she’s seen pictures from when he was young. She knows he used to be much thinner, and there’s a softness to his frame now. She runs her fingers down his chest, tracing scars that crisscross in silvered white across his skin. Fingers glide back up to touch first one pink nipple, then the other. She grins, because he is so much more perfect than he seems to think. “Pants and trousers,” she says, patting his bum.

He pauses, hands on her hips and drawing her close. His fingers cup her bare bum cheeks, shoving the skirt up even more, until it’s a wrinkled mess that’s more belt than anything else. “Leave your skirt on,” he says, then he steps away.

He shucks his trousers and pants, stands there in all his naked glory. Pale hair against pale skin, his cock still long and proud, a drip at the end. He gets his hands on her hips, turns her to face the desk. “Balance yourself, bum in the air,” he says, and she bends over.

She plants her feet wide, listens as he casts a contraceptive charm. She’s already covered, but she appreciates the thought, loves that he’s taking care of her like that. His hands spread her bum, one finger tracing from her arse to her fanny before he slides a finger into her slick slit. She whines softly, presses back against him.

“Don’t be impatient. You’re young, so let me guess. When you go, you try for at least twice a night,” he muses. “Am I right?”

“Twice is easy,” she says, and he laughs like she’s issued a challenge.

There’s a soft thump behind her, and then breath against her slit. She shivers, waiting, then two fingers slowly press inside before withdrawing. He maneuvers until he’s sitting with his back against the desk, facing her. Draco Malfoy is on the floor at her feet, sitting inelegantly. She can barely see him as he helps her shuffle a little further from the desk, giving him a bit more room. Then his hands clutch at her bum as his tongue spreads her lips.

“Fuck,” she whispers, hips shifting, begging more touch. He responds by circling her clit, then licking through her folds, long and slow. Steady strokes, teasing her, tasting her as if he has all the time in the world. As if their entire office weren’t just outside that door, just beyond a privacy spell.

He presses into her again, two fingers that crook as he strokes her from the inside and she shudders at his touch. His tongue moves faster now, circling and stroking, sucking gently at her clit. She shoves her fist in her mouth, bites down on her hand, then she remembers and lets go. Her head falls against the desk and she rocks back and forth, fucking herself on his fingers, taking him deeper as her breath catches on every slide. “Fuck,” she whispers. “Fuck, don’t stop, Merlin.” She cries out, and when he pushes deeper yet, she yells as she slides over the edge, legs shaking as her orgasm rushes through her.

She stays there, head against the cool wood, breasts flat against the desk. There’s a pile of papers near one elbow, an inkpot near her fingers. He slides out from under her, drapes across her back, his prick nestled between the cheeks of her arse. He touches her sides, slips his hands under her chest to cup her breasts, and she sighs, pressing back into him.

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” he asks, the words somehow more dirty in his clipped, dry tones.

She nods, swaying back. “Yes.”

He shifts his angle and slides in easily, deep on the first stroke. She’s so wet that there’s no friction as he rocks against her, only the hard press of the head of his cock somewhere deep inside of her. He hits something on every stroke that makes her shudder, legs wavering.

Draco wraps one arm around her stomach, helps hold her up as she clings to the desk. He sets a slow rhythm, sliding into her balls deep, then pulling almost all the way out. She shakes every time he bottoms out, whispers, “fuck,” as she exhales.

“I want you to fuck me,” she says, voice ragged with need. He straightens up, keeps one hand on her back as he works the other beneath her, rolls her clit roughly under his finger. She cries out, and he does it again.

“I want to feel you come,” he whispers, leaning close to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. He touches her clit again, just as he goes deep, and it’s like he unlocks something inside of her with the stroke. She squeezes down tight around him, clenching hard as she cries out.

And then he finally—finally—fucks her.

She doesn’t get the chance to come down, aftershocks still rolling through as he grips her hips hard and goes fast as well as deep. Every thrust leaves her shaking, and she can feel how he stutters, hear the catch in his breath.

“Lily,” he whispers, her name falling from his lips again and again.

She doesn’t think it will be enough, but somehow the rough slide of the desk against her breasts, the depth that his long prick plunges into her, and her own still heightened sensitivity send her to the edge again. It’s a long, drawn out thing, body tight and hard around him, breath squeaking from her lungs. She cries his name this time, pleading, and he groans and goes still behind her. One more thrust and he’s done, body warm as he leans over her, kisses the nape of her neck.

They rest like that for a time, until Draco pulls out and conjures a cloth to gently cleanse her. He’s careful as he helps tug down her skirt, then smoothes the wrinkles. He summons her blouse and buttons her neatly up, leaving the top one undone, the swell of her breasts peeking through.

He’s still naked, and she’s completely dressed, sitting perched on the edge of his desk.

Draco steps in close, cradles her face with his hands. The kiss he presses to her lips is gentle. “You were right,” he says, and Lily can’t think what he’s referring to.

“About what?” she asks.

“When you said that we’d begun something earlier this evening.” His thumbs stroke along her jaw, his smile quirked. “I knew that I’d begun something. You see. That’s my eagle owl.”

The cantankerous prick of an eagle owl that had brought such an important, immediate missive. Who was probably still sitting atop the tree and nipping at everyone.

“You planned this.”

“I set the stage,” he corrects. “If you weren’t interested, nothing would come of it. But if you were willing to look past our positions here at work as well as my marriage, then Happy Christmas to both of us.”

Which means there’s no emergency, no files to pull. No work that has to be done.

And an entire office full of people who think that they are terribly busy and beleaguered.

“We’ve probably got at least another hour before we’ll be done with work,” Lily says. “And here you are, handily still naked.” She nudges at him, stands so she can start moving him to the desk chair. As soon as he sits, she’s on her knees in front of him, hands on his thighs.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, and she laughs softly, pressing kisses up the inside of his thighs.

“You think you’re too old to get it up twice in a night,” she whispers, kissing her way to his soft, sticky prick. “You issued a challenge, and I’m going to prove you wrong.”

His head falls back as she takes him in her mouth and does exactly as she promises, giving them both a very Happy Christmas indeed.