He was standing at the sink in a Ministry loo, his hands wet and sudsy beneath the taps, when there was a sudden silvery shimmer in the mirror and then a warm, solid weight pressed against Draco's back. An arm came up under Draco's ribs to pull him tight against the dark-haired man who appeared out of thin air behind him. One firm hand gripped Draco's wrist, while the other deftly slid Draco's wand free of its holster and sent it skittering across the filthy tiled floor. Green eyes met Draco's in the mirror, and glinted wickedly as Potter's pink tongue licked at the shell of Draco's ear.
"I should fuck you right here, Malfoy," Potter said, his hot breath tickling Draco's ear. "Right here where anyone could walk in and see you writhing on my cock like the filthy little slut you are."
Draco shivered once before steeling himself against the threat in that low, gravelly voice. Potter was bluffing, of course. He had to be bluffing.
"Honestly, Potter." Draco kept his movements steady and deliberate as he rinsed his hands clean and turned off the taps. "I should have you brought up on charges. Assault in a public lavatory? That's bold, even for an uncultured plebian like yourself."
He prided himself on the smooth timbre of his voice, and the steadiness of his hands. He was a Malfoy, after all. And a Malfoy did not show weakness in the face of the enemy.
Potter smiled, a dark and sensuous curl of his lip, and said nothing. His mouth fastened, leech-like, on the side of Draco's neck, sucking and nibbling in a way that was sure to leave a noticeable mark. Draco mitigated his shudder with an affected grimace of distaste.
He stood there, hands dripping over the sink, and glared at Potter's reflection. He knew Potter well enough by now; the brute would expect him to try to break free, but Draco had no intention of giving Potter the satisfaction of a physical confrontation. However, that left Draco with very few options. He'd have to brazen it out, and hope that Potter quickly grew bored with the game.
"Come now, Potter." Draco's scornful laugh echoed against the tiled walls. "Let's not be ridiculous, shall we? You and I both know that you're far too much a goody-goody to pull off this bad-boy persona."
But no sooner had Draco said the words when a memory he'd thought well-suppressed abruptly flickers to the surface of his consciousness. Sectumsempra.
He sucked in an unsteady breath.
"Drop your trousers, Malfoy." The threat in Potter's voice had evolved into a command, backed up by the sudden sharp jab of a wand into Draco's ribs.
"This isn't at all amusing, you know." Draco's voice wavered as a tight knot of fear settled in his throat. Inexplicably his arousal only intensified, his cock straining against the confines of his trousers, dribbles of pre-come wetting his pants.
"Don't make me say it again."
The green of Potter's eyes had darkened to nearly black. Draco stared at their reflections, watching as his own pale coloring faded further, to pasty white, as beads of sweat began to form on his upper lip. "Potter," he whispered. "Stop this."
Fill: Blackmail, dub-con
"I should fuck you right here, Malfoy," Potter said, his hot breath tickling Draco's ear. "Right here where anyone could walk in and see you writhing on my cock like the filthy little slut you are."
Draco shivered once before steeling himself against the threat in that low, gravelly voice. Potter was bluffing, of course. He had to be bluffing.
Fortunately the fit of Draco's robes was loose enough to hide the way his cock hardened in his trousers at the sound of Potter's voice. This wasn't the first time Potter had tried to pull something like this, though he was getting more risqué with each successive attempt. But he couldn't possibly know just how turned on Draco was by the game. And he would never be permitted to find out.
"Honestly, Potter." Draco kept his movements steady and deliberate as he rinsed his hands clean and turned off the taps. "I should have you brought up on charges. Assault in a public lavatory? That's bold, even for an uncultured plebian like yourself."
He prided himself on the smooth timbre of his voice, and the steadiness of his hands. He was a Malfoy, after all. And a Malfoy did not show weakness in the face of the enemy.
Potter smiled, a dark and sensuous curl of his lip, and said nothing. His mouth fastened, leech-like, on the side of Draco's neck, sucking and nibbling in a way that was sure to leave a noticeable mark. Draco mitigated his shudder with an affected grimace of distaste.
He stood there, hands dripping over the sink, and glared at Potter's reflection. He knew Potter well enough by now; the brute would expect him to try to break free, but Draco had no intention of giving Potter the satisfaction of a physical confrontation. However, that left Draco with very few options. He'd have to brazen it out, and hope that Potter quickly grew bored with the game.
"Come now, Potter." Draco's scornful laugh echoed against the tiled walls. "Let's not be ridiculous, shall we? You and I both know that you're far too much a goody-goody to pull off this bad-boy persona."
But no sooner had Draco said the words when a memory he'd thought well-suppressed abruptly flickers to the surface of his consciousness. Sectumsempra.
He sucked in an unsteady breath.
"Drop your trousers, Malfoy." The threat in Potter's voice had evolved into a command, backed up by the sudden sharp jab of a wand into Draco's ribs.
"This isn't at all amusing, you know." Draco's voice wavered as a tight knot of fear settled in his throat. Inexplicably his arousal only intensified, his cock straining against the confines of his trousers, dribbles of pre-come wetting his pants.
"Don't make me say it again."
The green of Potter's eyes had darkened to nearly black. Draco stared at their reflections, watching as his own pale coloring faded further, to pasty white, as beads of sweat began to form on his upper lip. "Potter," he whispered. "Stop this."