Draco's Potions BoyAuthor: digthewriterCharacters/Pairings:
authority figure roleplay + cuffsWord Count:
1560Summary/Description: The new boy isn't very good at labelling potions or depositing them on the shelf. But he's certainly pretty.Author's Notes:
Thanks to keyflight790
for the beta. All the remaining mistakes are mine.
Late fic is late. Thanks to the mods for giving me a new posting date for October so I could get my life together.
The new boy isn't very good at labelling potions or depositing them on the shelf. But he's certainly pretty. Everyone tells Draco to sack him already because he's doing more harm than good, but Draco can't help himself.
He loves that tight arse and he loves watching it as the boy hops up and down trying to place the phials on high shelves. He could easily use a levitating charm, but he'll figure it out when he figures it out.
For now, Draco likes to watch and fantasise.*
At forty, Draco has a quiet life. To the world, he lives in a quaint flat in Muggle London and manages his apothecary in Diagon Alley. The Prophet
likes to designate him as an eligible bachelor, often courting young heiresses at galas, but never settling down. Though perceptions can be deceiving, Draco also acknowledges his business isn't anyone else's business.
For now, he enjoys his shop, and definitely enjoys the help he's hired.
"You were late again, today," Draco tells the boy as he is balancing the till after they've closed for the evening.
"Yeah, sorry about that— my boyfriend—"
"It isn't any concern of mine what you get up to when you're not at work. One more slip thought and you'll find yourself out of a job, Boy."
The little bastard has the audacity to smirk at Draco.
"Is that so, Sir?"
The challenge, because that's what Draco would call it, sends a shiver up Draco's spine. He turns to look at the boy who is standing still, defiant as ever, and nearly loses his cool.
One flick of his wand and the windows slam close, the door bolts shut, Floo de-energised, and the wards are up. There is no way for him
This time, the boy takes a step back from the till, spooked.
Draco doesn't stop himself until the boy is pushed against the wall, his hands above his head, and wrists cuffed
"Do you wish to speak like that to me again?"
The boy visibly gulps and he shakes his head while he spreads his legs slightly apart. No, Draco didn't miss this little manoeuvre. His expression is startled, yet, his body almost seems to be inviting
was this about a boyfriend?"
The boy shakes his head. "Nothing. I meant nothing."
"No, you meant something
"Lied?" Draco asks with a drawl. "Were you trying to make me jealous
"No, Sir. I promise. I was… I want… I want to be good for you."
"Good?" Draco asks and his body is so close to the boy's but he's refraining. Keeping his hands to himself and resisting with every fibre of his being. He wants his hands on this boy, he wants to shove his knee in between those long, lean legs and have him ride Draco. Holy fuck the things he could be doing to him.
Or maybe, just maybe the boy would drop to his knees, hands cuffed behind his back and Draco could fuck his face; not stopping until he's spilt every drop down his precious little throat.
"I want you to like me…" the boy whispers, so low, Draco has to strain to hear. "So you will be good to me."
"You want a reward
?" Draco asks, incredulous. His entire body is vibrating with need. It isn't simply desire. Draco needs
to fuck him. And he needs to fuck him right now.
Perhaps it's the craving in Draco's voice which gives him away but the boy looks up at Draco and smiles again. He bites his lower lip before he says, "Please
?" And then. "Sir."
Draco gives in. He brushes the boy's soft cheek with the back of his hand and he leans into Draco's touch. Their connection feels electric and now it's Draco who wants to drop to his knees, and give this boy—his boy
—pleasure before turning him around and bending him over the counter.
"Arriving late to work isn't a good start if you want me to be nice to you…" Draco leans closer to the boy's ear and whispers each word, making sure his warm breath caresses his other cheek; makes him further long for Draco.
The boy chuckles low, as if he knows what he's doing to Draco, and Draco wants to punish him right then and there. "I don't want you to be nice to me, Sir," he says. "Anything but
Draco reaches up with the hand caressing the boy's cheek and tugs hard on his hair. His eyes widen, a piercing green gaze meets Draco's, and Draco's breath nearly catches. Those fucking eyes would have always been the death of him.
Draco kisses him fiercely. He shouldn't be as tender as he is but again, Draco can't help it. He wants to hurt and he wants to heal at the same time.
Finally, his leg is in-between the boy's legs and he presses his thigh against the boy's hard cock. The boy groans—his pleas lost between their kisses, and Draco's own hard cock presses against the boy's side.
It's too much, and if Draco doesn't feel more of his skin, he's going to explode.
Alas, the boy's hands are dutifully tied above his head so Draco must do all the work. His fingers continue to thread through the boy's hair while his other hand makes quick work unbuttoning the boy's unbelievably tight trousers, and then his own.
He takes the boy's cock in his hand and starts to stroke it. His moan is unbelievably hypnotic and Draco loses all sense of self-preservation. He wants to show this boy all his cards. He wants to bring nothing but pleasure without caring for his own. He wants to hear that moan escape that mouth over and over again.
Draco growls at this shift. The boy must feel the change. He must know in this moment, Draco will give him anything he wants.
"I'll be so good, I swear. Just let me—"
"Fine," Draco grumbles and within a moment's notice, their clothes have vanished.
Draco drags the boy to the counter, and plans to do the exact thing he'd wanted to do seconds before. He summons himself a potion, doesn't bother stretching him out too much, and his cock slides inside the boy with ease.
The boy whimpers at Draco's taunt. His cuffed hands are holding onto the other edge of the counter as Draco slams in and out, in and out, until he's out of breath, but not out of perseverance.
"Touch me," the boy begs.
"I am touching you…" Draco replies, his hands grabbing onto the boy's shoulders, continuing to fuck him.
"I want to come with you," the boy pleads.
"Is it because you think you're being good, Boy?"
"Fuck…" the boy groans. "Love when you call me boy
. It isn't even a real compliment. It isn't even a very seductive declaration but it manages to render Draco compliant to the boy's needs. He reaches over and starts to stroke him, matching with his own thrusts. The prompt reply with thankful groans and pleas allows Draco to feel good about his decision.
The boy isn't very good at his job, but he could be so much more useful in his own way.
Which is exactly why Draco had employed him in the first place.
They manage to come together: panting, and slick with sweat, with Draco’s climax leaking down the boy's right leg. They’ve made a fair mess of things, and as Draco slowly pulls out, he wonders if he should make the boy clean it all up by hand.
Resting his head on the back of the boy's neck, Draco continues to caress his skin. It's so smooth everywhere
"Thank you," the boy says softly. "I know you don't like to do it in the shop."
He doesn't. They could
get caught if someone drops by unannounced. Especially, a Ministry official checking up on Draco's affairs.
"It's very well. You needed to be taught a lesson," replies Draco. "Now, hurry along and clean up this mess before you get dressed."
Draco vanishes the cuffs.
The boy gives Draco a tired smile but does as he's told. Draco takes his time dressing himself, having found his vanished clothes reappear in a pile by the till. He watches the boy clean, naked, and his cock stirs with interest again.Not now
, he tells himself. There's time for that later.
When the shop is immaculate enough to meet Draco's expectation, he determines it's time for them to leave.
"Be on time to work tomorrow, Henry." Draco nods as he restarts the Floo and offers the Floo-powder to the boy. He's going to Apparate home himself.
The boy smiles and whispers, "See you at home, Draco."*
At forty, Harry is reserved from the wizarding world. They know he lives somewhere
in London, and is a man of leisure. Deceiving the magical world has an upside and a downside. Even though he can't tell the world
what he's doing with his time, he has managed to change his appearance to find a job within it. It's fun and he's learning a lot. Screwing up more than he'd like and his boss is kind of a hard arse.
But more often than not, he's really hard on Harry's arse.