Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Word Count: 1506
Written for: hp_may_madness 2017 Day 14: connection, cinnamon, cold, wax play
Warnings: wax play, Dom/Sub, subspace
Summary: A vague flavour of cinnamon caressed Draco’s nostrils, and he knew it was the wax that Harry had bought specifically for this – specifically for Draco.
Notes: Late posting (life is hard in every sense), but still hoping you'll like what I wrote :)
Other links: LJ/AO3
“We’re starting in a minute,” Harry warned him, voice smooth and liquid, promising and sweet like sugar in tea.
Draco nodded against the carpet, scratching his heated cheeks. Suddenly, Harry’s hands left their grip on his hips and Draco whined, feeling cold and uncomfortable. “Harry...”
“I’m here,” Harry reassured him, hand already back to Draco’s bum covered by his pants. “I’m just heating the wax, it’s okay.”
Harry said that it was, and Draco believed him. Their connection was one of the few things Draco was completely sure of: there had been no one before Harry that could make Draco feel good and cared for like Harry did – even if Harry was about to melt wax over his back, especially if Harry was about to melt wax over his back.
“Just about,” Harry announced, and Draco got tense all over.
The moment had arrived; after weeks of negotiations, they’d finally decided the day and the time of trying it, and Draco almost couldn’t believe Harry was going to do it just because Draco had asked him to. (“I get off on getting you off,” Harry had reminded him, when Draco had accused him of being too selfless. “Don’t ever forget that.”)
“Relax,” Harry whispered against Draco’s shoulder. “If it starts to get too much, use your word and I’ll stop immediately. Nod if you understand.” Draco nodded, and was rewarded with a simple kiss against his skin. “Good boy,” Harry praised him, and Draco tried to suffocate a moan, flustered all down his chest, cock hard as a rock already.
He didn’t have the time to think about anything else, because Harry let fall a couple of drops on Draco’s spine and, fuck, fuck, it hurt in every best way.
“Okay?” Harry asked him with a hint in his voice that got Draco replying as soon as he remembered how to make his tongue work.
“Yes,” he said, barely a whisper.
Harry didn’t need other words to continue; another drop touched Draco’s back, another moan escaped Draco’s lips, swollen and wet from how much Draco had bitten them – the waiting before a scene affected him almost as much as the scene itself.
Draco’s skin stung where the wax hit him, electricity running in his veins with the anticipation for the next drop to make him feel even more hot and used and ruined.
A vague flavour of cinnamon caressed Draco’s nostrils, and he knew it was the wax that Harry had bought specifically for this – specifically for Draco.
“You’re a vision,” Harry said to him, touching his arse with one hand while the other continued to shed drops of wax over the tensed muscles of Draco’s back. “Staying still with only your pants on and making me paint all of your back. Is it all just for me?”
“Yes,” Draco moaned loudly. “Please, it’s good, please.”
Harry chuckled from behind him. “I bet it is,” he commented. “Soft and pliant and taking whatever I want. That’s a thing only I can make happen.” Draco nodded frantically between his arms, barely registering what Harry was saying, more affected by his mellifluous tone.
The wax was hot and hurt his back every time, but he didn’t want to stop. He could feel Harry was creating a sort of path on Draco’s skin, starting from the shoulder and then lower, stopping just before the dimples on his back. There wasn’t a part that didn’t sting deliciously.
“I was wondering...” Draco heard Harry murmuring, and before knowing it, his pants had disappeared and Harry’s hand was caressing Draco’s round cheeks as if they worthed gold. Draco whined, pushing back to his touch and bathing in the pleasing feeling that was the rough carpet against his leaking cock.
Other wax landed on Draco’s skin, this time lower, on the beginning of his crack. Oh.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” Harry repeated, while he gripped at Draco’s cheeks and opened them, closed and opened in a rapid succession, making Draco’s bum bounce. Doing so, a track of wax slid inside Draco’s crack, tracing the slit like a feather, until it found Draco's semi-opened hole and slipped inside it. This time, Draco didn’t muffle his moan against his arms.
“You like it,” Harry noted in what it felt like a smug.
Draco nodded shamelessly, turning his head to beg at Harry’s face. “Please.”
Soon, Harry let some wax slip directly on Draco’s hole, and fuck. “Fuck, yes, fuck,” Draco sobbed, the warmth and the sting and the pleasure making him rut his cock against the carpet in short, staccato motions. His hole clenched with so much need, it hurt.
“Quiet,” Harry demanded, whispering right over his crack. “One might say you’re desperate for it.”
Draco whined louder. “Am,” he tried to murmur through his hiccups. “Am.”
“Yeah?” Harry teased him, before kissing the skin just above his hole and putting a finger over it, pushing just a bit and letting the tip slip in for a brief moment.
“Yes,” Draco hissed, pleasure so high he was sure he would’ve come untouched. “Please.”
“Mmh,” Harry murmured, “polite only when it’s needed, aren’t you?”
Draco shook his head between his arms. Nevertheless, he didn’t have the time to find an answer, because hot wax landed against his hole, and Draco was again reduced to a moaning mess.
“Gonna come,” he sobbed in a frantic whine, when the sensibility of his hole became almost insufferable and his cock, hard and leaking and aching against his stomach, was a step away from loading.
“Go on,” Harry spoke, petting his right cheek while he watched the wax solidify on Draco’s bum. “Come against the carpet like a boy who can’t control himself. I won’t stop you.” He did give his permission, but nothing in his tone suggested he was happy with it; Harry didn’t want Draco to come like this, so Draco wasn’t going to.
“What,” Draco tried to ask, but he didn’t remember which words he needed to use, didn’t remember how to breathe with how much desire was consuming him.
He heard Harry smile behind him, before he was awarded with another kiss, this time straight to his gaping hole. “Good choice, stopping before I’d say it myself. Good boy.”
Draco felt his body burn with pride. He was good.
“Arse up,” Harry ordered, helping Draco to move his limp legs and get steady on his knees. Every touch of Harry’s calloused, big, perfect hands felt like a dream.
“Thank you,” Draco found himself saying, words coming out like he was running on autopilot. He couldn’t see Harry’s face, but he knew it had lit up with a genuine smile.
“Sweet,” Harry smirked. “You’re so desperate to come, you’re flattering me with too much compliments today, darling.”
Draco frowned, not entirely sure he was following Harry’s thoughts. “I’m always like this,” he spoke, maybe a bit offended. Was he supposed to be?
Harry caressed his bum in slow, circular motions. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it tomorrow, when you’ll be at my throat because your arse hurts.”
Were they arguing right now? Draco just wanted to come, but maybe Harry preferred to have a conversation, wanted Draco to clear his mind and reply to him in a decent way. It was unusual, sure, but there wasn’t a lot of things that Draco wouldn’t do, if Harry wanted him to – especially during a scene.
However, before he could voice his doubts, Harry gripped Draco’s cock and started pumping it in long, calculated movements. “Fuck,” Draco moaned against the carped, tone roughed from how much he’d whined.
Harry’s hand alone was perfect for him to come, but Harry touched his used hole with two fingers anyway, making them slip in until the knuckles in a single slide. “You can come now, baby, you were so good.”
Draco didn’t wait: as soon as he was sure this was what Harry needed, he let himself go, emptying his balls on the carpet, moaning with his mouth open and his eyes closed, rainbows dancing behind his eyelids.
Harry continued to murmur gentle things against Draco’s bum, helping him chasing his orgasm and then relax his limbs, lowering Draco’s thighs until he was lying on the carpet – and on the puddle of his own come.
Immediately, Harry’s mouth was at his jaw, and a couple of fingers gently turned Draco’s head so Harry could meet Draco’s lips in a soft, tender kiss.
“I’m so proud of you,” Harry whispered against Draco’s mouth. “Did everything I told you, and you came so much.” Another kiss, this time with more tongue: it saved Draco’s mind from weighting Harry’s words and going fuzzy all over again.
Eventually, “Did you liked it?” Harry asked him, moving Draco’s hair from his face to look at his face better.
Draco blinked a few times. “Amazing,” he simply replied, a tired smile appearing on his mouth. He knew Harry wanted to talk about it more specifically, but for now, he just needed to sleep.