fic: Bound By Silken Threads
Sep. 30th, 2011 12:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesTitle: Bound By Silken Threads
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/James Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Summary/Warnings: Written for my kink bingo square of 'bondage (other)', featuring psychological or symbolic bondage. D/s, ADW: (48/23), PWP.
Notes: Thanks to my lovely betas for catching my million and one SPAG errors. Any remaining are my own fault. Although this ficlet stands alone, it is an extract from a much longer thing exploring the origins of their relationship which currently exists mainly inside my own head.
Word Count: ~2100
Like always, James gets there a little early. He has to assume that Draco is aware of his presence, because he's sure there aren't any Floos left unwarded at the Manor. Still, he forces himself to sink into the hard-backed chair outside the study and waits the ten or so minutes until the allotted time. He rests his hands on his knees and focuses on breathing slow and deep. It's almost like the build-up to a duel, the same excitement that trembles through him for days beforehand and then settles into something deep and warm low in his gut.
When the clock down the hall starts to strike seven, James stands and presses his hand to the panel nearest the door handle. It swings open at his touch to reveal Draco's study. It's a beautiful room. James has only ever seen it at night with the thick dark green curtains drawn tight over the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the desk, but he's always imagined that during the day it is flooded with light. Now though, there's the fire's ruddy glow, and the sparkling light from a chandelier, a single lamp on the desk completing the interplay of different kinds of light. Draco is seated, as ever, behind the paper-strewn desk in a tall chair. He glances up from his work as James closes the door behind himself.
"Strip," he says. "And place your clothes neatly in the cupboard."
James does as he's instructed, crossing to the usual cupboard and removing his travelling cloak first. He hangs it up and brushes out a crease, before easing off his shoes and socks. He balls up his socks and tucks them inside his left shoe, toes curling in the thick carpet. He can hear the scratch of Draco's quill as he unbuttons his shirt and hangs it up alongside his cloak. He folds his trousers and places them on a low shelf, belt and underwear stacked neatly on top.
Ritual complete, he moves to stand in front of the desk, hands loose at his sides, feet slightly apart. It feels to James that he stands there for ages, but he can tell by the measured ticking of the clock that it's no more than ten minutes. He takes the opportunity to observe Draco in the silence. Draco's as smartly dressed as ever, imposing in neat black robes. His face is unmoving apart from the occasional frown of concentration, hair neatly tied back, his quill moving across the parchment.
Finally, Draco sets his quill down and James's heartbeat spikes for a second, something like resignation flooding him when Draco pours himself a glass of iced water. After he's taken a long sip, he sets the glass down on a folded napkin to save the desk from condensation and – finally, god finally – looks up at James. His expression betrays nothing though, no hint of approval, but not of anything else either. James swallows and it sounds loud in his throat, feels clumsy.
"Arms straight," Draco says. "Take a step closer and bend from the waist to put your palms flat on the desk."
James does as he's told, setting his palms on the highly polished wood of Draco's desk, testing the position. There's barely any strain on the back of his legs right now; Draco's desk is quite high. But James knows if he's forced to hold the position for a long time it will ache.
"Good." Draco nods and he leans back in his chair, finally seeming relaxed for the first time. After a moment, and another sip of water, he stands. James hears his steps cross the room, barely audible on the thick-pile carpet, and then the opening and closing of the cupboard.
He guesses that Draco has removed his outer robe but he doesn't get the opportunity to check for a while because Draco stays behind him for a long moment. James holds his position tightly, aware Draco is probably making an inspection. Sure enough, James feels the cool tip of Draco's wand on the inside of his thigh and he spreads his legs a little wider. He can feel Draco's eyes on him like a touch, sweeping up the backs of his legs, lingering on the narrowing of his waist.
James has to wonder how he appears to Draco, with the firelight flickering on his skin, his head bowed and his body arranged in tense lines to Draco's satisfaction. He jolts when he feels Draco's hand skim from his upper thigh to his shoulder, but keeps his hands pressed flat to the desk. Draco makes an approving sound and moves around to stand at the opposite side of the desk. Sure enough his outer robe is gone, leaving him in a dove-grey shirt and dark trousers that make him look like he's been carved from ivory, silver and platinum.
When Draco waves his wand a small bundle of black silk appears on the desk, which Draco separates out into two short lengths. They're much shorter than usual. James can't imagine that either of them would be able to wrap once around his wrist, let alone tie him securely.
James remembers Draco saying to him once, 'mindless chatter is one thing, but you needn't be silent unless I order it', so he wets his lips and asks, "What – "
Draco drapes one of the stretches of silk over the back of James's wrist and he understands with a thrill of mixed anxiety and lust. Okay, he tells himself. Okay. You can do this. He's not entirely sure though, and by the time Draco has placed the silk over his other wrist, James can feel dread rising up in his throat. He doesn't know that he has it in him for this. The silk looks so insubstantial, barely an inch of it either side of his skin, a brighter lustre to it than the polish of the desk. It's not enough, god, how can it possibly be enough?
Draco touches him for a longer moment this time, hand warm on James's shoulder blade.
"Calm down," he says, and James squeezes his eyes shut tight, takes a couple of breaths, and nods his head once.
James is grateful when Draco takes a seat again. Normally when cuffs click closed around his wrists, or bespelled ropes yank his arms up above his head, James feels safe and calm. Now, with the silk nothing more than a gesture, the only real bond is Draco's expectation that James will remain still. James needs this, just a moment to process everything.
Draco appears to be reading over whatever it was he wrote earlier, but James can feel the electric thrum of his attention nonetheless. Still, in the time it takes Draco to loosen his tie, remove his cufflinks, and finish his drink, James manages to calm himself a little.
This will be a challenge yes, but Draco isn't cruel. He doesn't demand things of James that he would never be able to accomplish. He doesn't set James up to fail. When Draco glances up at him from under his lashes, James is waiting for the look, and he gives Draco a tiny nod. Draco looks pleased and he stands, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. James wonders what it will be. Perversely, he thinks it will be easier for him to stay in place if it's a paddle or a whip than if it's a spanking. Draco's hands on his bare skin always make him a little wild.
He's surprised, but probably shouldn't be, when Draco doesn't lay a hand on him straight away. Instead he moves to James's side and presses hot kisses up the length of his throat. It's James's weak spot (one of them, anyway) and he makes a desperate noise, thinking that it's probably not a good sign he's on the edge of falling apart when they've only just got started. As he drags his lips over James's skin, sucking a bruise under the angle of his jaw, his hands start to wander freely. He touches every inch of James's skin like it's his to possess and James's arms threaten to buckle at the certainty of the caresses.
Of course. James has always found it easier to obey in the midst of pain than pleasure. And nobody knows him like Draco does, so of course it's all slow kisses, touches meant to shock and arouse without giving him that intensity to focus on.
The worst-best-worst part is when Draco prepares him, one slow finger at a time. James's hands shudder forward minutely on the desk and his breath catches. The silk stays in place though, draped neatly across his wrists, and James feels almost dizzy with relief. His mind and his heart are both racing, but he does not want this to end. Draco fucks him mercilessly with three fingers, reaching up to pinch and tug at one of his nipples and James bites his lip against a sob, hips hitching uselessly in the air.
He wants to move his hands, and he could, but he won't. Because he is choosing not to. Draco told him not to, yes, but this is all on James, not whether restraints will hold him, but whether he has enough grit and determination to obey even without the aid of cuffs. And he bloody well will, he tells himself firmly, pressing his fingertips harder to the polished wood. He can be good enough for this. He can make Draco proud.
James's breathing steadies around a long exhale and he feels the fingers of Draco's free hand dancing over the top of his thigh, an acknowledgement of his effort. James swallows hard, closes his eyes for a moment, and waits. He isn't left hanging for long, just the customary pause as Draco cleans his hand – always so fastidious – and brief rustling as he shifts his clothes aside. That's always enough to get James going; the idea that Draco barely has a stitch out of place while James is totally bare and exposed.
James lets out a stream of breath as Draco slides into him, filling him to the hilt. His fingertips are sore, verging on numb, from pressing so hard into the desk. It's nothing to the ache intensifying in his balls, the slow burn rising from his centre, promising to overwhelm him in short order. Draco makes him come fast and hard with one expert hand just shy of too tight on his dick, the other spread flat on the small of his back. He always seems to enjoy fucking James when he's strung-out on pleasure, floating too high to do more than take anything Draco chooses to give.
When Draco's close, his hand strays to James's shoulder and his fingers feel sharp, hard for the first time all night. His breathing is loud behind James and these tiny little slips in Draco's control shake James up in the best way possible. He stares down, vision narrowing to his wrists, to two delicate stretches of black silk, unsecured but enough to keep him there while Draco makes use of him. Even thinking that makes James gasp, head dropping down between his shoulders as a low moan escapes him.
Draco's hips snap forward once, twice more, and his grip on James's shoulder tightens further, short nails digging in as he spends himself. James shudders as though it was his own orgasm all over again and for a moment, Draco leans against him, the fine material of his expensive suit almost unbearable against James's overheated skin. The wet press of a kiss to his spine more than makes up for it.
Then Draco is gone, leaving James feeling high and tired and raw and a tiny bit bereft all at once. He swallows and when his arms buckle Draco catches him swiftly around the waist, pulling James back from the desk with him. The silk catches on his fingers, and James curls his fists around them on reflex. Draco settles them both in one of the deep armchairs, James between his legs, probably fucking up the upholstery good and proper.
Draco drops a kiss onto his temple, a few loose strands of his hair escaping to tickle James's cheek. Draco's fingers rub soothingly over the outside of James's wrists, the soft inside of his arms. James wiggles his fingers, shaking away a little of the tingling feeling that had come into them towards the end.
"Alright?" Draco asks, curling one arm tight across James's waist.
James leans back against him and nods. "Better than."
Moving almost absently, he smoothes out the lengths of silk and wraps them neatly around three of his fingers. He lifts the black band to his mouth and kisses it once before he slides it into Draco's palm. As he leans his head back against Draco's shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed, James feels Draco tangle their fingers together, silk heating between their palms.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/James Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Summary/Warnings: Written for my kink bingo square of 'bondage (other)', featuring psychological or symbolic bondage. D/s, ADW: (48/23), PWP.
Notes: Thanks to my lovely betas for catching my million and one SPAG errors. Any remaining are my own fault. Although this ficlet stands alone, it is an extract from a much longer thing exploring the origins of their relationship which currently exists mainly inside my own head.
Word Count: ~2100
Like always, James gets there a little early. He has to assume that Draco is aware of his presence, because he's sure there aren't any Floos left unwarded at the Manor. Still, he forces himself to sink into the hard-backed chair outside the study and waits the ten or so minutes until the allotted time. He rests his hands on his knees and focuses on breathing slow and deep. It's almost like the build-up to a duel, the same excitement that trembles through him for days beforehand and then settles into something deep and warm low in his gut.
When the clock down the hall starts to strike seven, James stands and presses his hand to the panel nearest the door handle. It swings open at his touch to reveal Draco's study. It's a beautiful room. James has only ever seen it at night with the thick dark green curtains drawn tight over the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the desk, but he's always imagined that during the day it is flooded with light. Now though, there's the fire's ruddy glow, and the sparkling light from a chandelier, a single lamp on the desk completing the interplay of different kinds of light. Draco is seated, as ever, behind the paper-strewn desk in a tall chair. He glances up from his work as James closes the door behind himself.
"Strip," he says. "And place your clothes neatly in the cupboard."
James does as he's instructed, crossing to the usual cupboard and removing his travelling cloak first. He hangs it up and brushes out a crease, before easing off his shoes and socks. He balls up his socks and tucks them inside his left shoe, toes curling in the thick carpet. He can hear the scratch of Draco's quill as he unbuttons his shirt and hangs it up alongside his cloak. He folds his trousers and places them on a low shelf, belt and underwear stacked neatly on top.
Ritual complete, he moves to stand in front of the desk, hands loose at his sides, feet slightly apart. It feels to James that he stands there for ages, but he can tell by the measured ticking of the clock that it's no more than ten minutes. He takes the opportunity to observe Draco in the silence. Draco's as smartly dressed as ever, imposing in neat black robes. His face is unmoving apart from the occasional frown of concentration, hair neatly tied back, his quill moving across the parchment.
Finally, Draco sets his quill down and James's heartbeat spikes for a second, something like resignation flooding him when Draco pours himself a glass of iced water. After he's taken a long sip, he sets the glass down on a folded napkin to save the desk from condensation and – finally, god finally – looks up at James. His expression betrays nothing though, no hint of approval, but not of anything else either. James swallows and it sounds loud in his throat, feels clumsy.
"Arms straight," Draco says. "Take a step closer and bend from the waist to put your palms flat on the desk."
James does as he's told, setting his palms on the highly polished wood of Draco's desk, testing the position. There's barely any strain on the back of his legs right now; Draco's desk is quite high. But James knows if he's forced to hold the position for a long time it will ache.
"Good." Draco nods and he leans back in his chair, finally seeming relaxed for the first time. After a moment, and another sip of water, he stands. James hears his steps cross the room, barely audible on the thick-pile carpet, and then the opening and closing of the cupboard.
He guesses that Draco has removed his outer robe but he doesn't get the opportunity to check for a while because Draco stays behind him for a long moment. James holds his position tightly, aware Draco is probably making an inspection. Sure enough, James feels the cool tip of Draco's wand on the inside of his thigh and he spreads his legs a little wider. He can feel Draco's eyes on him like a touch, sweeping up the backs of his legs, lingering on the narrowing of his waist.
James has to wonder how he appears to Draco, with the firelight flickering on his skin, his head bowed and his body arranged in tense lines to Draco's satisfaction. He jolts when he feels Draco's hand skim from his upper thigh to his shoulder, but keeps his hands pressed flat to the desk. Draco makes an approving sound and moves around to stand at the opposite side of the desk. Sure enough his outer robe is gone, leaving him in a dove-grey shirt and dark trousers that make him look like he's been carved from ivory, silver and platinum.
When Draco waves his wand a small bundle of black silk appears on the desk, which Draco separates out into two short lengths. They're much shorter than usual. James can't imagine that either of them would be able to wrap once around his wrist, let alone tie him securely.
James remembers Draco saying to him once, 'mindless chatter is one thing, but you needn't be silent unless I order it', so he wets his lips and asks, "What – "
Draco drapes one of the stretches of silk over the back of James's wrist and he understands with a thrill of mixed anxiety and lust. Okay, he tells himself. Okay. You can do this. He's not entirely sure though, and by the time Draco has placed the silk over his other wrist, James can feel dread rising up in his throat. He doesn't know that he has it in him for this. The silk looks so insubstantial, barely an inch of it either side of his skin, a brighter lustre to it than the polish of the desk. It's not enough, god, how can it possibly be enough?
Draco touches him for a longer moment this time, hand warm on James's shoulder blade.
"Calm down," he says, and James squeezes his eyes shut tight, takes a couple of breaths, and nods his head once.
James is grateful when Draco takes a seat again. Normally when cuffs click closed around his wrists, or bespelled ropes yank his arms up above his head, James feels safe and calm. Now, with the silk nothing more than a gesture, the only real bond is Draco's expectation that James will remain still. James needs this, just a moment to process everything.
Draco appears to be reading over whatever it was he wrote earlier, but James can feel the electric thrum of his attention nonetheless. Still, in the time it takes Draco to loosen his tie, remove his cufflinks, and finish his drink, James manages to calm himself a little.
This will be a challenge yes, but Draco isn't cruel. He doesn't demand things of James that he would never be able to accomplish. He doesn't set James up to fail. When Draco glances up at him from under his lashes, James is waiting for the look, and he gives Draco a tiny nod. Draco looks pleased and he stands, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. James wonders what it will be. Perversely, he thinks it will be easier for him to stay in place if it's a paddle or a whip than if it's a spanking. Draco's hands on his bare skin always make him a little wild.
He's surprised, but probably shouldn't be, when Draco doesn't lay a hand on him straight away. Instead he moves to James's side and presses hot kisses up the length of his throat. It's James's weak spot (one of them, anyway) and he makes a desperate noise, thinking that it's probably not a good sign he's on the edge of falling apart when they've only just got started. As he drags his lips over James's skin, sucking a bruise under the angle of his jaw, his hands start to wander freely. He touches every inch of James's skin like it's his to possess and James's arms threaten to buckle at the certainty of the caresses.
Of course. James has always found it easier to obey in the midst of pain than pleasure. And nobody knows him like Draco does, so of course it's all slow kisses, touches meant to shock and arouse without giving him that intensity to focus on.
The worst-best-worst part is when Draco prepares him, one slow finger at a time. James's hands shudder forward minutely on the desk and his breath catches. The silk stays in place though, draped neatly across his wrists, and James feels almost dizzy with relief. His mind and his heart are both racing, but he does not want this to end. Draco fucks him mercilessly with three fingers, reaching up to pinch and tug at one of his nipples and James bites his lip against a sob, hips hitching uselessly in the air.
He wants to move his hands, and he could, but he won't. Because he is choosing not to. Draco told him not to, yes, but this is all on James, not whether restraints will hold him, but whether he has enough grit and determination to obey even without the aid of cuffs. And he bloody well will, he tells himself firmly, pressing his fingertips harder to the polished wood. He can be good enough for this. He can make Draco proud.
James's breathing steadies around a long exhale and he feels the fingers of Draco's free hand dancing over the top of his thigh, an acknowledgement of his effort. James swallows hard, closes his eyes for a moment, and waits. He isn't left hanging for long, just the customary pause as Draco cleans his hand – always so fastidious – and brief rustling as he shifts his clothes aside. That's always enough to get James going; the idea that Draco barely has a stitch out of place while James is totally bare and exposed.
James lets out a stream of breath as Draco slides into him, filling him to the hilt. His fingertips are sore, verging on numb, from pressing so hard into the desk. It's nothing to the ache intensifying in his balls, the slow burn rising from his centre, promising to overwhelm him in short order. Draco makes him come fast and hard with one expert hand just shy of too tight on his dick, the other spread flat on the small of his back. He always seems to enjoy fucking James when he's strung-out on pleasure, floating too high to do more than take anything Draco chooses to give.
When Draco's close, his hand strays to James's shoulder and his fingers feel sharp, hard for the first time all night. His breathing is loud behind James and these tiny little slips in Draco's control shake James up in the best way possible. He stares down, vision narrowing to his wrists, to two delicate stretches of black silk, unsecured but enough to keep him there while Draco makes use of him. Even thinking that makes James gasp, head dropping down between his shoulders as a low moan escapes him.
Draco's hips snap forward once, twice more, and his grip on James's shoulder tightens further, short nails digging in as he spends himself. James shudders as though it was his own orgasm all over again and for a moment, Draco leans against him, the fine material of his expensive suit almost unbearable against James's overheated skin. The wet press of a kiss to his spine more than makes up for it.
Then Draco is gone, leaving James feeling high and tired and raw and a tiny bit bereft all at once. He swallows and when his arms buckle Draco catches him swiftly around the waist, pulling James back from the desk with him. The silk catches on his fingers, and James curls his fists around them on reflex. Draco settles them both in one of the deep armchairs, James between his legs, probably fucking up the upholstery good and proper.
Draco drops a kiss onto his temple, a few loose strands of his hair escaping to tickle James's cheek. Draco's fingers rub soothingly over the outside of James's wrists, the soft inside of his arms. James wiggles his fingers, shaking away a little of the tingling feeling that had come into them towards the end.
"Alright?" Draco asks, curling one arm tight across James's waist.
James leans back against him and nods. "Better than."
Moving almost absently, he smoothes out the lengths of silk and wraps them neatly around three of his fingers. He lifts the black band to his mouth and kisses it once before he slides it into Draco's palm. As he leans his head back against Draco's shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed, James feels Draco tangle their fingers together, silk heating between their palms.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-09-30 05:20 pm (UTC)I do love the way you write these two. I may have said that before. XD If any more of this should see the light of day, it would make me immeasurably happy. :D
no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 10:05 am (UTC)Hee, I have so much love for this pairing, there is nothing like enough in the world. And oh yes, I have plans for the longer story, at some point :D
no subject
Date: 2011-09-30 06:13 pm (UTC)Nom nom nom nom.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 10:06 am (UTC)omg I wish you were heeeere, I'm DLing SPN right now. *flail*
no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-30 11:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 10:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 10:18 am (UTC)That's always enough to get James going; the idea that Draco barely has a stitch out of place while James is totally bare and exposed.
Yes! That's so hot! :)
no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 02:30 pm (UTC)So hot and gorgeous. I am going to stand over you and yell until you finish this entire duelling 'verse, you know. :D
no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 08:39 pm (UTC)Ahahaha, yes, yell by all means. Just yell after darkfest and healer!fic and any of the other million things I've promised to do yus? ;)
no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 08:17 pm (UTC)A LOT TOO HOT
~rainbowmenky
no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-02 10:22 pm (UTC)I love how Draco gives James that moment that he needs to compose himself. It speaks so much of their respect for each other.
And this was ridiculously hot, to boot.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-04 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-04 10:38 am (UTC)PS Do you mind if I friend you?
no subject
Date: 2011-10-09 07:45 pm (UTC)And of course I don't mind, friend away ♥
no subject
Date: 2011-10-03 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-04 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-13 01:23 am (UTC)if there is more of this verse then I WILL BE HERE READING IT.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-17 01:22 pm (UTC)There will be more at some point. Fucking RL, goddamnit.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-23 06:58 pm (UTC)And I *love* that there was cuddling afterwards. <3
no subject
Date: 2012-01-02 08:43 pm (UTC)