Draco tilted his head to focus upon his idiot Gryffindor boyfriend. “And how, precisely, do you propose to do it. Potter? Here—or over there?” He flung out an accusing forefinger, indicating the giant four poster bed the Room had kindly provided, just out of the more intimate circle created by the two sofas and the braided hearth rug and the low table set between them. “On the bed. I admit, I much prefer a mattress—much softer—but it’s your call, arse, so set it in gear, yeah? Move along now.”
“Um…here,” Harry decided abruptly, taking hold of Draco’s upper arms and tugging. “Come up and ‘round. Over the back of the divan, alright? Then they can’t see absolutely everything—“
“All to the better,” Draco snuck in, darkly. "I'm sure."
“But they’ll still know it’s true—that we’re lovers. I mean, that I love you,” Harry stumbled over that bit, gasping a tad. “Cause I do.” Harry--deliciously—went beet red.
“And I you, git-for-brains,” a quite gratified Draco made sure to announce loudly, both for Harry’s sake and to shove the fact of the matter straight up the nosy, pointy, disapproving nostrils of their assembled audience.
Weaselbee, Draco noted as he rose obediently, looked simply gobsmacked; his cheeks a brilliant scarlet, his jaw resting upon his chest. And Granger—that swot—she was much the same, except that she was licking her lips in a very odd manner, blinking rapidly at the toe of them close together, Draco's arse under Harry's palms, and her small hands were clenching methodically—in, out, in and out, open-and-shut, just as Harry would soon be sawing in and out of Draco’s mostly willing arsehole.
“Pfft!” he huffed, twisting low and spreading his bared legs appropriately. “You’d think they'd never heard of live porn, Foureyes.” He tilted his chin mockingly as Harry grasped his bare hips, guiding him into position over the spine of the couch. “Are you certain you’ve reached majority, Weaselbee? Because you’ll draw flies like that—“
“Babe,” Harry captured Draco’s mouth for a quick kiss, a hand wrenching his chin round upon his neck to do so. “Don’t stir things up, alright? We’ve a job to—“
“M’not a ‘job’, Potter!’ Draco snorted righteously. “I’m a treat-and-a-half, you gumptious git! Better appreciate me. I don’t do this for just any—“
“I know, love,” Harry cooed in his ear, letting his chin go at last, leaving damp skin and pinkened cheeks and wet swollen lips behind him as he moved. “Just, er. Just lean forward, alright? I’ll do the work.”
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Exhibitionism/public sex.
Date: 2011-10-02 02:41 pm (UTC)Draco tilted his head to focus upon his idiot Gryffindor boyfriend. “And how, precisely, do you propose to do it. Potter? Here—or over there?” He flung out an accusing forefinger, indicating the giant four poster bed the Room had kindly provided, just out of the more intimate circle created by the two sofas and the braided hearth rug and the low table set between them. “On the bed. I admit, I much prefer a mattress—much softer—but it’s your call, arse, so set it in gear, yeah? Move along now.”
“Um…here,” Harry decided abruptly, taking hold of Draco’s upper arms and tugging. “Come up and ‘round. Over the back of the divan, alright? Then they can’t see absolutely everything—“
“All to the better,” Draco snuck in, darkly. "I'm sure."
“But they’ll still know it’s true—that we’re lovers. I mean, that I love you,” Harry stumbled over that bit, gasping a tad. “Cause I do.” Harry--deliciously—went beet red.
“And I you, git-for-brains,” a quite gratified Draco made sure to announce loudly, both for Harry’s sake and to shove the fact of the matter straight up the nosy, pointy, disapproving nostrils of their assembled audience.
Weaselbee, Draco noted as he rose obediently, looked simply gobsmacked; his cheeks a brilliant scarlet, his jaw resting upon his chest. And Granger—that swot—she was much the same, except that she was licking her lips in a very odd manner, blinking rapidly at the toe of them close together, Draco's arse under Harry's palms, and her small hands were clenching methodically—in, out, in and out, open-and-shut, just as Harry would soon be sawing in and out of Draco’s mostly willing arsehole.
“Pfft!” he huffed, twisting low and spreading his bared legs appropriately. “You’d think they'd never heard of live porn, Foureyes.” He tilted his chin mockingly as Harry grasped his bare hips, guiding him into position over the spine of the couch. “Are you certain you’ve reached majority, Weaselbee? Because you’ll draw flies like that—“
“Babe,” Harry captured Draco’s mouth for a quick kiss, a hand wrenching his chin round upon his neck to do so. “Don’t stir things up, alright? We’ve a job to—“
“M’not a ‘job’, Potter!’ Draco snorted righteously. “I’m a treat-and-a-half, you gumptious git! Better appreciate me. I don’t do this for just any—“
“I know, love,” Harry cooed in his ear, letting his chin go at last, leaving damp skin and pinkened cheeks and wet swollen lips behind him as he moved. “Just, er. Just lean forward, alright? I’ll do the work.”