Title: Satin and Lace
Author: eeyore9990
Pairing/Rating: Harry/Draco, NC-17
Warnings: See kinks. Cross-dressing, slash, non-sexual bondage, voyeurism bordering on stalking
Kinks: All of ‘em, baby! Even the pairing, though it’s a brief mention, lol. So, that’s lingerie, leather, latex, lubrication and Harry/Umbridge (again, brief).
Word Count: 4065
Disclaimer:Not mine, not making money.
Beta: Thanks to knightmare_shad for the quick beta. There was a bit added after the beta; any errors are mine alone.
A/N: There are imbedded links in here to the different lingerie sets, as a few of my pre-readers weren't familiar with terms used to describe the lingerie.

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The war was over, but the ongoing one-upmanship between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy was as hot-blooded as ever.

There were times Harry wondered why they still fought, but then he’d see the superior smirk twist those pink lips again and hexes and jinxes would simply trip off his lips. That fateful day was no different. Well, it was a tiny bit different, really, considering the hex he had used was less of the ‘bloody the little twerp’s nose’ variety and more of the ‘humiliate the git so much that he leaps off a very tall building’ variety.

He couldn’t have known how that one small difference would change… everything.

~*~

Harry was laughing with Ron as they exited the pub, a tiny bit tipsy from several pints. The argument could be made that he was more on the ‘stumbling drunk’ end of the tipsy scale, but he wasn’t in any condition to realise or admit that.

As he tripped over a tiny imperfection in the sidewalk, he bumped into someone and turned to apologise. He pulled up short on seeing the easily identifiable white-blond hair. Instead of apologising, he snarled something to the effect of, “Sidewalk not big enough for you, Malfoy?”

As Malfoy’s upper lip started to inch upward into his customary sneer, Harry surreptitiously drew his wand and directed a banishing spell at Malfoy’s robes, ready to laugh at the sight of Malfoy in nothing but his pants…or less. Because everyone knew Malfoy was a ‘real’ wizard, and ‘real’ wizards didn’t wear anything under their robes.

Instead, Harry’s world turned on its ear when the expensive robes disappeared to show Malfoy standing in sage green, wisp-thin satin. And the satin wasn’t boxers. Instead, it was a camisole and tap pants ensemble. Harry knew, because he’d seen it in a ladies lingerie magazine the previous week that he’d gotten accidentally in the mail… and wanked over at least three times.

The laughter died before it could pass his lips and his eyes went round with shock as he blatantly stared at Malfoy. The colour showed to advantage against his pale skin, and the material clung to his body, the edges of the pants flirting with the very tops of his thighs as the light evening breeze ruffled them.

Harry’s bemused examination was interrupted when Malfoy let out a strangled shout and Disapparated, leaving only empty air and the memory of green satin hugging a hard, lean body.

~*~

For weeks after what Harry had taken to thinking of as The Incident, he was disturbed by dreams about Malfoy, of both the sleeping and waking variety. He’d even gone so far as to carefully cut the camisole and tap pants ensemble out of the lingerie magazine and apply them with sticking charms over one of the few male models in the magazine, a blond. It was a bit off, since it was a Muggle magazine and gave the model the appearance of womanly curves, but if he took his glasses off, it blurred enough that it could be a picture of Malfoy. Of course, he wasn’t lucky enough to have his fantasy image in the icy green colour Malfoy had been wearing. Instead, it was a deep rose, but the image was enough to suffice.

Needless to say, he wanked himself raw. And ruined the whole thing one night when he got lost in daydreams and came all over the glossy paper. He promptly went out and scoured Muggle London for another catalogue and ended up going home with five different ones, plus a few men’s underwear magazines so he’d have more blond male models to choose from.

He’d spent one whole Saturday doing nothing but playing with his paper dolls. He’d dressed “Draco” up in a variety of ensembles and wanked to them all. The apothecary didn’t even bat an eyelash when he finally bought a case of lubricant to keep from having to visit the shop every other day.

He went on in this fashion, quite satisfied, until he saw Draco one day in Diagon Alley. It had been a windy day, the brisk breeze causing witches to hold tightly to their hats and flirting heavily with the hems of robes. Harry had stepped out of Flourish and Blotts and his gaze had been drawn to his next destination: Gringotts. On the steps of that establishment, surrounded by leaders of the wizarding business community, had been Draco Malfoy.

When the wind caught the bottom of his robes and lifted them slightly, Harry had dropped his package, hands shaking violently as he prayed to all the gods in the heavens and on the earth to lift it high enough for Harry to see what he had on today. His pulse had been racing, sweat had formed on his brow and upper lip, and every bit of moisture had left his mouth… only to return in a rush, causing him to drool embarrassingly.

He’d gone home, calling in to work to say he’d suddenly come down with a fever and was taking the rest of the afternoon off to deal with it. And deal with it, he had. All afternoon.

But that one sighting had pushed him over the edge. His dreams went from misty little strip teases to frantic dark dreams of bodies entwined, pounding, pulsing against one another. When he woke up one morning, sick at his stomach from a dream which had morphed from Draco in a brilliant red crotchless teddy to Umbridge in the same ensemble riding him, he decided to put a stop to it once and for all.

He’d tossed his paper dolls in the fire, along with his back-up lingerie magazines, and watched them curl up, turning deepest brown, then black, before breaking apart into ash. He gave himself a stern talking to as he put all but two vials of lubricant back in the box they had come in and placed it in the back of a closet. He would put Malfoy from his mind, go back to wanking twice a day like normal men, and stop rubbing every piece of satin or lace he came across.

At first, it had been easy. He had simply shut down that part of himself, cut himself off from every temptation. But eventually, his dreams—which had never stopped—once again got the better of him. This time the dream Draco had turned into Flitwick, and if that wasn’t an erection killer, nothing was.

Harry gathered his courage in hand and went to Quality Quidditch Supplies for a new pair of omnioculars. His old ones had been used at too many Quidditch matches and seemed to retain the impression of some of the more flamboyant, attention seeking players. It would never do to watch Malfoy through those and have a particularly brute Beater flash across his vision.

That night, he’d Apparated to the edge of the wards erected around Draco’s small but stately house on the outskirts of Exeter and found a concealed place from which to surreptitiously keep watch. He had a cover story all planned. If Malfoy found out about Harry watching him, he’d say he was here on Auror business, that someone had called in a complaint of Malfoy selling Dark Magic texts on the black market. He thought it was genius.

As he sat there, shivering a bit in the cool night air, he bit the ragged edge of one fingernail, skin nearly crawling with the need to see Malfoy again. That one brief glimpse of him in green simply would no longer suffice.

Harry jumped and nearly shrieked when Malfoy appeared at his own front door with a loud ‘pop’ of displaced air. Harry fumbled with the omnioculars, zeroing them in on his target, and sucking in a breath when he saw that Malfoy was wearing Muggle attire. The black linen trousers hugged his arse lovingly and the pinstriped shirt showed his slender torso to advantage. Harry gulped and drew a ragged breath, admiring the clothing but unable to stop thinking about what might be beneath it.

He watched as Malfoy reached for the door handle of his home before stopping, his posture stiffening a bit before he slowly turned and scanned the area behind him. After a long moment, he shrugged and brought one hand up to massage the back of his neck. Harry’s breath caught at the way that action caused Draco’s shirt to pull across his chest.

With one last look around, Malfoy shook his head and opened his door, walking in and shutting it forcefully enough behind him that Harry could hear the echo of it where he was hiding. He rewound the omnioculars and paused the view, zeroing in on Malfoy’s arse while he waited for the other man to move to a room he had an unobstructed view of. He had to wait for a while, and Harry was beginning to become discouraged when the shadow of a movement in the room on the far corner of the house drew his attention.

He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw Draco standing there, framed by the deep green curtains of the room, glass of some most-likely alcoholic beverage in his hand, his body encased in a black, lacy thing with a garter belt and sheer black stockings which came to within inches of the tiny scrap of fabric that covered his groin. Harry grew achingly hard in mere moments, feet bringing him closer to the object of all his fantasies without him even being aware.

His breathing came fast and harsh and with one hand, he fumbled open his jeans while continuing to hold his omnioculars as steady as possible with the other. Once his cock was free of his confining jeans, he gave it several hard tugs and came all over the thick grass that surrounded Draco’s house. He moaned softly as he watched Draco bring his glass to his lips and tip his head back, that long, elegant neck calling to him, spent though he was.

He stumbled forward a few more steps and stood there for several moments, allowing his omnioculars to record as much of Draco as they would hold. Cut out dolls be damned; Harry had the real thing now.

~*~

Draco relaxed against the windowsill, glass of aged scotch in hand as he stared blindly out into the pitch-black night. Thoughts of the merger he was putting together between two of the wizarding world’s top broomstick manufacturers vied with the lingering sense of shock and humiliation he’d experienced that night, weeks ago, when Potter had disrobed him in front of the Weasel. Almost every time he closed his eyes, he saw those brilliant green eyes go wide

He sighed and tilted his head back, taking a hefty swallow of his scotch, welcoming the sensation of the alcohol burning a path to his stomach. He shifted his weight, feeling the slight pinch of the black stilettos he wore and the rub of lace against his cock. It was a certainty that no one would understand Draco’s obsession with the feeling of fine satins and lace against his skin, which was one of the reasons he remained a bachelor. He’d never met anyone who even gave the appearance of being that open minded.

A chiming alarm went off in the house, making Draco stiffen and turn away from the window. The wards around his house had been tripped. He called for his house elf and ordered the creature to go find the intruder, grey eyes glinting with malice at the thought of breaking in his house’s dungeon. He then threw a long, black, satin dressing gown on over his lingerie ensemble of choice for the evening and briefly sat on the arm of his black leather sofa to hurriedly unstrap his shoes from his feet.

He padded barefoot down the stairs to the as-yet unused dungeons located below the kitchens. As he walked down into the dank gloom from the brightly lit house, he had to pause a moment at the top of the stairs to allow his eyes to adjust. As he stood there, he heard a vaguely pained-sounding groan from his captive and smirked. Apparently, Moggs had been less than gentle in apprehending the intruder.

Soon enough he could make out enough of the room to safely traverse the bare wooden stairs, taking care not to slip in his silky stocking-ed feet or snag them on any rough edges. When he got to the bottom of the steps, he spoke the charm to light the room and went still in shock when he saw who it was.

Potter. Harry fucking Potter was in his dungeon, chained to the wall. Draco entertained fleeting thoughts of Obliviating him, but deciding against it when he recalled that all Aurors went through daily memory charm detection sessions. Since he didn’t have anything other than a love of women’s lingerie to hide, it would be the height of stupidity to risk having the full force of the Magical Law Enforcement division descend on him by giving in to his urge to wipe Potter’s mind clean of his brief visit to Malfoy House.

But damned if he wanted to see the headlines that were sure to scream out of the Daily Prophet tomorrow. Draco assumed Potter had come for evidence of his predilections and the way Draco had thoughtlessly paraded himself in front of his window earlier, he surely had anything he might need. Draco’s agile mind began to think of ways to control the damage to both his name and his business even as he took a moment to look over Potter, eyes appraising.

He had put on some muscle due to Auror training, making him bulkier than he’d been in their youth. The black leather jacket he wore pulled taut across his arms and shoulders as he fought his restraints. Draco licked his lips, hands itching to run across those muscles, explore that chest, run his fingers down those tight thighs and … Well, what he wanted to do to that arse really wasn’t fit for even his own thoughts at the moment considering he wasn’t prepared to ruin his sheer panties by bursting their seams with an untimely erection.

“Well, well, well, look what I caught. If it isn’t Wonderboy, himself. What the hell are you doing here, Potter?”

Harry opened his mouth to give his fabricated story about Dark Magic books, but just then he looked down and saw Draco’s long, stocking-covered feet and he groaned, hardening once again. Draco’s surprised burst of laughter told Harry he’d noticed the bulge in Harry’s jeans and he looked up, staring unabashedly at Draco, voice fierce as he said huskily, “I came to watch you. I can’t get the sight of you in lingerie out of my head. I’ve been going slightly mad, wanting you but unable to have you. And gods, Draco, do I want you.”

Draco quirked one brow at Potter, doubt etched in his features. “You want me? That’s quite a twist, Potter. The squeaky-clean straight boy turns rabidly gay because of one little scrap of satin? Why do I doubt it?” He huffed an irritated sigh when he noticed that Potter’s gaze had dropped to his dressing gown, hands opening and closing as his mouth parted to release panting breaths. “My face is up here, Potter,” he said, aggravated.

“I’m not entirely straight, Malfoy, I just haven’t met a wizard I’ve wanted enough to chance all the shite with the press since Bill Weasley and the twins.”

Draco blinked. “Together?” he asked, voice choked.

“Bill by himself, the twins together.”

Draco took a moment to process that before he stepped back and looked, really looked, at Potter. His green eyes were again focused on Draco’s dressing gown, flickering between the tie at his waist and his feet. Draco stepped forward and tilted Potter’s chin up with one finger, murmuring, “Prove it, Potter,” before he tilted his head and pressed their lips together.

Potter moaned into his mouth, body yearning toward Draco’s, one leg insinuating itself between Draco’s legs to rub against his groin, making Draco moan, eyes flying open wide even as he pressed back against that hard thigh, riding it with slow motions of his hips, hands clenching the buttery-soft leather of Potter’s jacket.

He pulled back from the kiss and took a shaky step away, licking his lips as he whispered the incantation to release Potter from the shackles that bound him to the wall. “You’re free. You can go or stay, or but I want your promise that this won’t go any further than the two of us.”

As soon as the manacles released his wrists, Harry dropped to his knees, nearly ripping the cool satin of the dressing gown’s belt in his haste to see Draco in that outfit, up close and personal. His hands plunged beneath the material, parting it. He tugged on Draco’s waist, bringing the lean man so close that he could smell the slightly spicy scent of his cologne, and under that, a musky male scent. “I promise,” he murmured, eyes devouring the picture Draco made in that ridiculously sexy little ensemble.

His drew his hands down the scratchy lace of the tightly fitted lingerie top, fingers digging in to the taut muscle of Draco’s arse as he pressed his parted lips to the strip of pale flesh that showed between the sheer panties and the corseted top. His ragged moan was echoed above him, and he drew the tip of his tongue around the rim of Draco’s navel, enjoying the contrast of crisp, wiry hair and smooth skin.

He dragged his mouth down and nibbled at Draco’s hard cock through the material of the panties, licking over the few inches of it that poked out of the top, stretching the elastic band. He pulled the panties out and down so he could suck Draco’s sac into his mouth, rolling his balls gently with his tongue.

Draco threw his head back and buried his hands in Harry’s hair and tugged on it, urging him to his feet. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him into a frantic kiss, rubbing his naked cock over the rough denim of Harry’s jeans, making Harry moan.

Without any warning at all, Draco Apparated them both out of the dungeon and into his bedroom, hoping in his fractured mental state that he wouldn’t splinch either of them. As soon as he felt the thick carpeting that lined the floor of his bedroom under his feet, he pulled back and looked down, making sure their most important parts had made it. Seeing the bulge in Harry’s trousers, he breathed a sigh of relief and backed up, turning away to crawl onto his high bed.

Knowing how it would look, he remained kneeling, presenting Harry with the picture of his pale, taut arse, the panties bunched just beneath it, garter straps framing it. He turned his head, giving Harry a look with raised brows.

Harry stumbled forward, hands working frantically at the metal buttons that fastened his jeans. Finally he closed his eyes to gain a moment of sanity and just flicked one wrist, the row of buttons popping in a line out of their holes. Before removing his jeans, he reached into the front pocket and withdrew a half-empty vial of lube, tossing it onto the bed next to Draco’s feet.

He shucked his jeans as fast as he could, only tripping a bit as he toed off his old, worn trainers. He was about to remove his jacket when Draco stopped him with a husky, “Leave it. Leave the jacket, the shirt, and the socks. They’re… sexy.”

Harry gulped and nodded. It was just one more thing that he didn’t have to bother with before getting to that arse, so who was he to complain? He placed one bare knee on the edge of the bed, watching as Draco’s hips subtly shifted with the movement of the mattress under him. He let out a shuddering breath and reached both hands out to cup that pale, perfect arse, smoothing the cheeks apart with his thumbs before leaning in and swiping his tongue over the tightly furled hole.

Draco gasped and allowed his hands to slide forward on the slippery satin sheets, pressing his chest into them, head turned to the side as his breathing turned erratic. He opened his eyes, seeing the picture he made in the freestanding, full-length mirror that was tilted just slightly up, allowing him to watch as Harry’s head bobbed a bit even as Draco felt his tongue plunge into and pull out of his arse. It was, perhaps, the single most sensual thing he’d ever seen.

Harry finally pulled away with one last, lingering lick, one hand leaving his arse to fumble for the discarded vial of lube even as the other reached between Draco’s legs to slide slowly over his hard length. Draco moaned and pressed his hips back, begging shamelessly for Harry to hurry.

Harry nuzzled his cheek into the base of Draco’s spine, rolling his head to press a gentle kiss there even as he inserted two fingers into Draco’s slightly loosened hole. He pumped them several times, curling them to hit Draco’s prostate and spreading them occasionally to stretch the tight muscles before he added a third finger and pushed them, together, slowly into Draco’s arse. He gave his wrist a firm twist when they were fully seated and licked a line up Draco’s spine before withdrawing his fingers and asking, lips now next to Draco’s ear, “Are you ready?”

“Gods, yes, Potter. Fuck me already,” he demanded. Potter nipped his ear and pressed the tip of his cock to Draco’s entrance, pressing slowly forward with his hips even as he pulled Draco back, his hands gripping Draco’s waist firmly.

Potter started a firm rhythm of thrust and retreat, swiveling his hips to maximize Draco’s pleasure even as he slid one hand down to fist Draco’s cock. Draco moaned deeply and rocked back and forth as much as his position would allow. He tried to keep his eyes open, wanting nothing more than to watch the myriad expressions that flitted across Potter’s face as he drove his hips into Draco’s. But when his cock began to rub over Draco’s prostate on almost every thrust, Draco couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding shut in bliss.

His orgasm built slowly, but when Potter lost his steady rhythm and started pounding into him, movements harsh and erratic, he cried out and pushed up onto all fours again, slamming his hips back into Potter’s one last time before he came all over the sheets. He rode out his orgasm, thrusting into Potter’s clenched fist even as Potter thrust into his spasming arse.

This time when his chest hit the sheets, he buried his face in the mattress, too exhausted to even turn his head. Thankfully, Potter slammed into him one final time mere heartbeats later, a low grunt the only sound he made before collapsing against Draco’s heaving back.

Draco flailed his arms weakly, smacking Potter who took that as a sign to roll off him. Smart man. After taking a few moments to recapture their breath, Potter rolled onto his side and ran the tip of one finger along one garter strap.

“I want to do this again. Hell, I want to stay here forever, keeping you only in satin and lace. It’s a crime to cover this up.”

Draco grunted and turned his head to look at Harry. “We might be able to come to an arrangement. But no more spying on me, Potter. That’s some creepy shite there. Stalkerish.”

Harry nodded, blushing slightly as he thanked the fates that he’d already destroyed the paper lingerie dolls. “Draco? Would you do me a favour?”

“That depends on what the favour is. If you think I’m going to let you tie me up and spank me, you’re out of your mind.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” Harry said, though his fertile imagination automatically provided him with the tempting picture of Draco’s red arse framed by brilliant green lace. Perhaps for Christmas…

“I found this hot little latex corset that would look so delicious on you…”

The End.