FIC: Won’t You Be My Ponyboy? (Harry/Draco)
Title: Won’t You Be My Ponyboy? Author: KateKintail Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 1,378 Disclaimer: Not my characters! I make no money from this! Warnings/Kinks: urophilia(watersports), BDSM themes, ponyboying Summary: In which ponyboy!Draco earns his sugar cubes Note: I decided to write a series of DM/HP watersports fics on rain-of-gold that integrate watersports into other fetish play. This is part 5 in that series. It’s my first ponyboy fic and I’ve been wanting to write this for YEARS now.
Draco Malfoy would do anything for sugar cubes. At least, that was the case when he was Harry Potter’s ponyboy. Draco’s kinks gravitated to the extreme. It wasn’t enough just to collar him or spank him or gag him. No, to get Draco into deep submission required a bit to bite down on, a butt plug with a shockingly blond tail, and hoof gloves and shoes.
This time, even with the equipment on, Draco was restless, disobedient. Harry had the lead wrapped around his hand, guiding Draco by his bridle across the flat. But Draco protested, wanting to go to the kitchen for a snack. Stubbornly, Draco tilted his head, motioning toward the kitchen. Harry narrowed his eyes. “But it’s not lunchtime yet, Draco.” He stroked Draco’s hair, pulled back in a ponytail like a mane.
Draco huffed and tilted his head again, hands and knees shuffling in that direction.
“No sugar until you prove that you’re a good pony. And I want my good pony to come with me to the living room so I can sit in the sun and read a while.” With a hand on the bridle, Harry forced Draco into the living room.
There was a water trough set up in the corner, and Harry slackened the lead to allow Draco to go over and lap up some water. Draco circled the couch, then settled down on the floor, folding his arms and legs beneath him like a horse, his head up so that Harry could easily reach down and stroke him.
Harry wasn’t two pages into his book before Draco began squirming, restless. Normally, Harry’s petting soothed and quieted, but today it made no significant difference. It was useless to ask what was wrong, as Draco couldn’t speak around the bit in his mouth and wouldn’t speak, not wanting to break character.
Putting down his book, Harry reached for the blinders, resting on the coffee table along with some other tools and tack. Draco started to pull away; they weren’t his favorite. In fact, he sort of hated them. But they were necessary and, with his hand in gloves that ended in solid, cylindrical hooves, he couldn’t even paw them away. Draco huffed and wrinkled his face. Harry just smiled and leaned forward, his head so close that it was the only thing Draco could see, no looking left or right, no sidelong glances, only straight ahead, straight into Harry’s deep green eyes. “That’s a good pony,” Harry crooned, leaning even closer.
Reluctantly, Draco moved forward and nuzzled against Harry’s face. The blinders even restricted that movement, but the sentiment was appreciated. “Keep that up, and I’ll get you those sugar cubes you like so much.”
But Draco didn’t keep it up. He went still for a while, obediently sitting by Harry. But a few minutes later, he started pacing. Harry let him do it for a while. He liked the look of Draco down on all fours, tail swishing between his legs and his cock and balls bound so they dangled beautifully beneath. He loved watching Draco move with such grace and experience, holding his head up with pride.
“Draco,” Harry said after a little while. “I want you to sit here by me. We’ll walk around together later. I’ll ride you later.”
A shake of the head was the answer. Then another shake that was more violent, as if Draco were trying to shake off the annoying blinders.
Harry reached down and found the lead again. He unclipped it from the bridle and fastened reins there as well. They hung loose and rested on the back of Draco’s neck until Harry took them up, shortening the slack so that the direction of Draco’s gaze was entirely controlled. Draco huffed and tried to pull away, even as Harry held tight. Then he did what he very rarely did and bucked. His whole body jerked, legs kicking out, back bending then arching.
It had been a while since Harry had needed to do this, but Draco was starting to resemble a wild stallion more than a ponyboy now. So he picked up his riding crop. It was long, skinny, slender. The bent bit of leather at the end had an H pressed into one side and a P on the other. Draco had given it to him as a gift, telling him then to use it as often as needed.
Knowing that Draco couldn’t possibly see it with his blinders still in place, Harry gave Draco’s arse a tap. Draco bucked again and gasped as Harry tightened his grip on the reins. “You’re to follow my commands and cues, Draco. You know this.”
Draco tried to pull away, straining in the direction of the kitchen. Breaking a real horse required patience, days of leading and responding, teaching about pressure, relaxing into place. But that wasn’t what Draco needed. Swinging the crop back and then forward, it smacked Draco’s arse.
Draco pulled and whinnied in protest. But Harry swung again, the H-side striking Draco’s left cheek. Almost immediately after, the P-side of the crop hit Draco’s right cheek. The reins went slack again as Draco stopped straining. His body was stiff, however, resistant to submit.
Harry repeated the pattern, alternating his smacks but keeping the force behind each constant. Soon the cheeks were a rosy pink, then flaming red. Little letters showing Harry’s ownership made Harry smile with pride. He and Draco were always such equals, it was nice to have a reason to show that Harry wanted Draco to be his. It was nice to make Draco forget everything but his place in all of this for a little while.
Finally, Draco’s body relaxed. His arms folded on the carpet and his head rested upon them. His rear end still stuck up in the air, showing Harry what part of him hurt.
Harry ran a hand over Draco’s head, petting, then stroked down Draco’s back to his rear. Draco didn’t object, didn’t flinch, didn’t gasp. But Harry knew how much it must hurt. Harry reached down and took off the blinders. Draco’s eyes were glazed over, not like he was far away, but like he no longer had to think. Literally, he was Harry’s now. Harry’s to command. Harry’s to control. Harry’s to comfort. “Let me soothe this pain,” Harry whispered.
Draco’s mouth twitched slightly, in what might have been a smile had the bit not still been in Draco’s mouth. Then he wiggled his stinging arse in the air, tail swishing seductively.
After a quick unzipping, Harry had his cock out. It took him a moment to override his body’s warning that he wasn’t in front of the toilet. But then the golden stream spurted from his cock. It was warm against Draco’s marked skin, which soon shone with wet. The scent caught both their attentions, with Draco breathing deeply and swaying a little, wanting to get closer.
All too soon, Harry was done peeing. But even as the last few drops trickled out of him, Harry gripped his cock and began pulling. He rocked, getting lost in the task. Without removing the butt plug, Harry nestled his cock amidst the soft hairs of the tail. The head of his cock slid between Draco’s cheeks. If Draco weren’t in deep submission, he would be whining about not being able to come as well, his cock and balls bound tightly with a ring and soft leather cords. Right now, it was just about Draco lying there, letting Harry do whatever he wanted. Right now, it was about Harry showing Draco what felt good, right. Right now, it was about the most glorious orgasm Harry had had in a long while. Come spilled from Harry and slid between Draco’s cheeks. Harry emptied himself completely, moaning with pleasure.
When he was spent, Harry flopped onto his back on the floor, barely conscious enough to tuck himself back into his shorts. He might have fallen asleep if not for Draco suddenly turned and at his side. Draco nuzzled Harry’s arm, then his hand, then his pocket. Eyes closed, Harry smiled and pulled a few sugar cubes out. Draco ate them out of Harry’s flat palm, his mouth lingering there like his version of a kiss.