Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: James Potter/Lucius Malfoy
He's wearing tight black leather pants. Crawling, panting, pleading and you gasp. He's rubbing himself against a black chair, eliciting erotic moans from his own lips as his hips thrust against the polished wood. Hands roaming over his chest, wandless magic conjuring sticky honey to trickle over his skin. He breathes into the rhythm that the hand on his chest creates, loud and drawn-out.
Honey spreads over his collarbone, treating porcelain complexion with translucent goo. One hand runs up his throat and over his pretty face, slicking back his ice-pale hair with the sweat that trickled down his temple. Fingers rake through now wet tresses.
He sinks onto his leather clad knees, hands splayed out before him. Muscles and shoulder blades dance under ivory skin, his hips demand attention, bucking in seduction. Pouted lips moan the words 'slut' and 'whore'.
He rolls onto his back, pushing himself along the smooth tiled floor and arching his back. He finds your broomstick, his hands closing around it. Honey drips down the wooden shaft as he begins to move his fist in an upward motion, sweeping his grip along the handle.
Leather slides over the polished nimbus, he climbs onto your beloved broom. Snitches and Quaffles don't know this seduction, and it's driving you mad. Your jaw drops as the straining crotch of his leather pants grinds into the wood, fucking it. He should be fucking you.
You can almost feel it. The hardness – against yours; hot and hard, and thrusting. The end of the broom is in his mouth now, he's tonguing the wood. Leaning over it, possessing it. His back is arched perfectly, like a carved statue. His grey eyes sweep over you hungrily as he rubs against the broomstick, the first attention he's given you.
The broom clatters to the ground. He's crawling towards you. Leather sliding across tiled floor. Eyes devouring, consuming, taking you in. He's swallowing you whole with his solid steel seduction.
Tearing down your innocence, ripping through barriers and his hands aren't even on you yet. Your resolve has almost been spent; you've almost sold yourself to his gaze. You keep a hold on control, but you’re so close to loosing it.
His hands touch your hips and it’s shocking; you're gasping already. Your cock is aching and desperate, threatening to erupt. Your breathing is becoming faster in anticipation. His hands – so hot on you, through the fabric of your clothes.
The words he spoke earlier are echoing through your mind as his hands unclasp your button and move to the zipper.
"Lucius," his name leaves your lips in a breath, a tone of desperation in your voice. His hand closes over your arousal through the fabric and your cock jumps. You moan, sweat forming on your skin.
Nails drag against your hip as he lowers your pants, slowly and seductively. His eyes haven't left contact with yours; he's rubbing himself against your lower calf. His hair tickles your leg as he leans closer, his breath hot against your pulsing cock as he draws nearer. You can't take it; you thrust forward into the warm wetness of his mouth.
The erotic noise he utters around your weeping cock nearly brings you to your knees in surrender. You push your fingers through his hair, feeling the sweat that is lathered through the vanilla strands. You crave roughness.
He's taking you further, almost impossibly deeper into his mouth. His swollen lips suck possessively as his tongue winds its way snake-like around your arousal. Just like it did to your broom only moments ago. Your hips are driving further, though now his hands restrain you. You feel the cold pressure of the wall against your back, a sudden chill runs through you; he brings a hand to your balls all at once. You come into his mouth with a loud groan of submission.
You raise a hand to your hair, pressing a palm to your forehead as you gulp in air. Your skin is tingling and covered with a sheen of silver sweat. Your hips buck very slightly as he draws away slowly, eyes shifting back to your face. He licks his lips, collecting a trail of your come from its descent on his chin.
You sink to the floor against the stone wall, your cock going soft and your breathing slowing gradually. Your pants are tangled around your ankles, one hand absently twisting your shirt. He leans down closer, straddling your material shackled ankles as he lowers onto your lap. Your raised knees support him; you lift your dazed stare to his pretty face as you feel leather on your bare thighs.
Heat radiates through his pants, he presses closer to you and raises a hand to tilt your chin. Your parted lips are consumed by his dominance; his tongue slithers skilfully along your teeth and drags along the roof of your mouth. He's bruising you and you're moaning and you can't get enough.