leashy_bebes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leashy_bebes) wrote2010-04-04 10:35 am
leashy_bebes) wrote2010-04-04 10:35 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Night Off (1/1)
Title: Night Off
Pairing: Draco/James Sirius
Rating: R
Warnings: D/s-ish, ADW: 44/19
Prompts Used: Picture #1, and scenario #12 ("Shut up. It's my night off. I can do what I want with it.") atspeedpr0nz Round Three (link NWS)
Disclaimer: JKR's, not mine.
"Hell's teeth, Potter, what are you doing in here?" Draco whispers, shutting the office door firmly behind him.
James leans back in Draco's leather chair, his feet resting on top of the desk, crossed at the ankles. He shrugs, crisp white shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders. When Draco crosses the room to slap James's calf, the boy just laughs, swinging his feet off the desk and standing so abruptly that there's scarcely an inch between them.
"I wanted to see you," he says, and he lifts his chin enough that Draco can feel his breath. It's an obvious request for a kiss, and Draco decides to makes him wait. He steps around James to the chair and sits, imagining he can still feel the warmth of James's body in the supple leather. He can feel James's eyes on him as he reaches into his briefcase and removes several sheaves of paperwork that need checking.
"I'm busy," Draco says, nodding towards the papers.
"I can wait," James says, unruffled by the apparent dismissal.
Draco draws the soft length of his quill between his thumb and forefinger before shrugging as though it's of no consequence to him either way. It's ten minutes before Draco takes a glimpse at James from the corner of his eyes. He's still standing where he was before, long legs encased in those damnable denim Muggle things he favours. The crisp white shirt is tucked in neatly, a dark grey and purple tie with a fashionably wide knot resting at his throat. The boy is simply delicious, and he knows it.
Without looking up from the accounts he is checking, Draco asks, "You are determined to loiter around the place making it untidy?"
There's a smile in James's voice when he answers. "Shut up. It's my night off. I can do what I want with it."
"Hmm. Make yourself useful, then. A coffee, and a fresh pot of black ink. Fast as you can."
He feels James's eyes drag up and down him before he nods and turns. Draco looks up through his eyelashes to watch him leave. Giving James Potter a job in the finance department was probably a bad idea, but he has an excellent head for figures. Getting into this sort of arrangement with him was definitely a bad idea, but his shoulders square when he follows an instruction, as though obedience makes him stronger. It is beautiful, irresistible.
James is back remarkably quickly with the coffee, sweetened to perfection, with just the barest splash of cream. Draco appreciates good coffee and he nods at James as he sets the coffee down on the desk along with a crystal pot of black ink. Before he straightens up again, James catches Draco's eyes for a long moment, and the lazy heat there makes Draco abandon all pretence of ambivalence.
With one hand, he reaches for the end of James's tie, looping it neatly around his fist to pull him in. As with everything else, James doesn't surrender to the pressure and give in to the unspoken command, he just decides to allow himself to be controlled. He follows the pressure of the tie until he's leant right over the desk, his face close to Draco's. Draco makes him wait for a long moment before kissing him, sucking on that full lower lip. It's the only feature on his face that makes James look his nineteen years. The strong jaw and five o'clock shadow, not to mention the depths in his hazel eyes, all belong to a much older man.
James raises one hand to touch Draco's knuckles, wrapped around with fine silk. Draco tugs a little harder on the tie, just for the hell of it, and James lets out a throaty murmur. Draco smiles as he plants his finger tips on James's chest and pushes him away gently. He leans back in his chair, and looks James up and down, his eyes catching on the silver buckle of the wide leather belt that cuts across James's hips.
"Strip," he says, and notices the corner of James's mouth quirk in a smile before he looks back down to his paper work and adds, "Leave the tie."
James bends his left arm at the elbow and fumbles briefly. A few moments later there are twin clicks as James sets his cufflinks down on the desk. Draco takes a sip of his coffee and dips the nib of his quill into the ink twice, touching the tip to the inside neck of the bottle to remove the excess. James's fingers start work on his shirt buttons, and quickly speed up.
Draco raises his quill. "Slower."
James complies with shaking hands, and Draco gives up any pretence of working, sitting back in his chair instead, watching as James's tanned chest and tightly pebbled brown nipples are exposed between hanging lengths of white cotton. Draco just watches, content with the knowledge that he has mapped every one of those tightly defined muscles with his fingers and his tongue.
By the time James is fully naked – clothes folded neatly and piled on the chair in the corner of the room – he is also fully hard, thick cock pointing aggressively upright from a thatch of dark curls. Draco lets his gaze trail up and down James's body, the tie still hanging around his neck, drawing Draco's eyes down to that hard length again, the reddened head whose tone almost matches the twin patches of heat in James's cheeks.
"Come here," Draco says, and there's that quirk of a smile again, the one James thinks is so subtle. He is utterly unselfconscious – but then with a body like that he has little to be shy about – as he walks around the desk and stops next to Draco's chair. Draco runs his finger up the underside of James's cock and through the smear of thin liquid pooling on the head. He lifts his hand and James bends from the waist to take Draco's finger into his mouth. His tongue seems to curl all the way around the digit in a long lick and then James straightens up again, leaving Draco to look at him in amusement.
"You really are a wanton little slut, aren't you?" he asks.
Unlike others Draco has known in this way, James doesn't cringe from the words, and nor does he lap them up in some sort of misguided self-loathing. Instead he just meets Draco's eyes steadily, his stare challenging and just this side of insolent.
"Kneel," Draco orders, and James's brow furrows.
"But I – "
"Kneel," Draco says again, gesturing at the patch of carpet next to his chair. "It's your night off, not mine," Draco says calmly. "We'll deal with your presumption later."
It's quite miraculous, really, how quickly James goes to his knees after that.
Pairing: Draco/James Sirius
Rating: R
Warnings: D/s-ish, ADW: 44/19
Prompts Used: Picture #1, and scenario #12 ("Shut up. It's my night off. I can do what I want with it.") at
speedpr0nz Round Three (link NWS)Disclaimer: JKR's, not mine.
"Hell's teeth, Potter, what are you doing in here?" Draco whispers, shutting the office door firmly behind him.
James leans back in Draco's leather chair, his feet resting on top of the desk, crossed at the ankles. He shrugs, crisp white shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders. When Draco crosses the room to slap James's calf, the boy just laughs, swinging his feet off the desk and standing so abruptly that there's scarcely an inch between them.
"I wanted to see you," he says, and he lifts his chin enough that Draco can feel his breath. It's an obvious request for a kiss, and Draco decides to makes him wait. He steps around James to the chair and sits, imagining he can still feel the warmth of James's body in the supple leather. He can feel James's eyes on him as he reaches into his briefcase and removes several sheaves of paperwork that need checking.
"I'm busy," Draco says, nodding towards the papers.
"I can wait," James says, unruffled by the apparent dismissal.
Draco draws the soft length of his quill between his thumb and forefinger before shrugging as though it's of no consequence to him either way. It's ten minutes before Draco takes a glimpse at James from the corner of his eyes. He's still standing where he was before, long legs encased in those damnable denim Muggle things he favours. The crisp white shirt is tucked in neatly, a dark grey and purple tie with a fashionably wide knot resting at his throat. The boy is simply delicious, and he knows it.
Without looking up from the accounts he is checking, Draco asks, "You are determined to loiter around the place making it untidy?"
There's a smile in James's voice when he answers. "Shut up. It's my night off. I can do what I want with it."
"Hmm. Make yourself useful, then. A coffee, and a fresh pot of black ink. Fast as you can."
He feels James's eyes drag up and down him before he nods and turns. Draco looks up through his eyelashes to watch him leave. Giving James Potter a job in the finance department was probably a bad idea, but he has an excellent head for figures. Getting into this sort of arrangement with him was definitely a bad idea, but his shoulders square when he follows an instruction, as though obedience makes him stronger. It is beautiful, irresistible.
James is back remarkably quickly with the coffee, sweetened to perfection, with just the barest splash of cream. Draco appreciates good coffee and he nods at James as he sets the coffee down on the desk along with a crystal pot of black ink. Before he straightens up again, James catches Draco's eyes for a long moment, and the lazy heat there makes Draco abandon all pretence of ambivalence.
With one hand, he reaches for the end of James's tie, looping it neatly around his fist to pull him in. As with everything else, James doesn't surrender to the pressure and give in to the unspoken command, he just decides to allow himself to be controlled. He follows the pressure of the tie until he's leant right over the desk, his face close to Draco's. Draco makes him wait for a long moment before kissing him, sucking on that full lower lip. It's the only feature on his face that makes James look his nineteen years. The strong jaw and five o'clock shadow, not to mention the depths in his hazel eyes, all belong to a much older man.
James raises one hand to touch Draco's knuckles, wrapped around with fine silk. Draco tugs a little harder on the tie, just for the hell of it, and James lets out a throaty murmur. Draco smiles as he plants his finger tips on James's chest and pushes him away gently. He leans back in his chair, and looks James up and down, his eyes catching on the silver buckle of the wide leather belt that cuts across James's hips.
"Strip," he says, and notices the corner of James's mouth quirk in a smile before he looks back down to his paper work and adds, "Leave the tie."
James bends his left arm at the elbow and fumbles briefly. A few moments later there are twin clicks as James sets his cufflinks down on the desk. Draco takes a sip of his coffee and dips the nib of his quill into the ink twice, touching the tip to the inside neck of the bottle to remove the excess. James's fingers start work on his shirt buttons, and quickly speed up.
Draco raises his quill. "Slower."
James complies with shaking hands, and Draco gives up any pretence of working, sitting back in his chair instead, watching as James's tanned chest and tightly pebbled brown nipples are exposed between hanging lengths of white cotton. Draco just watches, content with the knowledge that he has mapped every one of those tightly defined muscles with his fingers and his tongue.
By the time James is fully naked – clothes folded neatly and piled on the chair in the corner of the room – he is also fully hard, thick cock pointing aggressively upright from a thatch of dark curls. Draco lets his gaze trail up and down James's body, the tie still hanging around his neck, drawing Draco's eyes down to that hard length again, the reddened head whose tone almost matches the twin patches of heat in James's cheeks.
"Come here," Draco says, and there's that quirk of a smile again, the one James thinks is so subtle. He is utterly unselfconscious – but then with a body like that he has little to be shy about – as he walks around the desk and stops next to Draco's chair. Draco runs his finger up the underside of James's cock and through the smear of thin liquid pooling on the head. He lifts his hand and James bends from the waist to take Draco's finger into his mouth. His tongue seems to curl all the way around the digit in a long lick and then James straightens up again, leaving Draco to look at him in amusement.
"You really are a wanton little slut, aren't you?" he asks.
Unlike others Draco has known in this way, James doesn't cringe from the words, and nor does he lap them up in some sort of misguided self-loathing. Instead he just meets Draco's eyes steadily, his stare challenging and just this side of insolent.
"Kneel," Draco orders, and James's brow furrows.
"But I – "
"Kneel," Draco says again, gesturing at the patch of carpet next to his chair. "It's your night off, not mine," Draco says calmly. "We'll deal with your presumption later."
It's quite miraculous, really, how quickly James goes to his knees after that.