AWDT fic

Title: Gloss
Pairing: HP/DM
Genre/Rating: Fluffy* porn; NC-17
Length: 2,719 words (so not a drabble, and you lovely AWDT folk have my sincere apologies!)
Warnings: Cross-dressing (mild)

This week's prompts are any from the past year's collection. I chose:

Prompt: "Lip gloss is for girls."

*literally! :)

Read it at Skyehawke, The Hex Files, or below. :)


Gloss


Harry sighed sleepily. He could hear how silly it sounded, how very satisfied and generally pleased about life it made him seem, but it was alright. Draco would pounce on it in a second, and that was okay, too. Harry made a mental note of that particular sound Draco had made, right before he’d come, and reserved it to use as offence, when the occasion arose.


His thoughts were spot on; Draco laughed in his ear, face still buried between Harry’s head and the pillow, his body draped over Harry’s like a large cat, warm and soft and heavy and bearing no resemblance whatsoever to his usual lithe grace. “Like that, Potter?”


Harry let his hand travel lazily over the warm patch of skin at the base of Draco’s spine. “Yeah.”


“You sound like an old, married man.”


“I can deal with that. I am an old, married man.”


Draco’s teeth found his earlobe and bit. “Bastard. I can’t believe you never told me.”


“And at least,” Harry went on, feeling smug, “I don’t sound like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl when I come.”


Draco’s entire body went rigid and his head jerked up. “I do not!”


His entire face was flushed and embarrassed, but Harry cruelly mimicked the sound anyway, crunching his face into the contorted expression Draco usually had at about that point. “Oh – harder, Harry – oh, fuck, I – ” Harry made the noise. Draco went crimson and Harry couldn’t go on, choking on his laughter. Whatever punishment Draco came up with for this would be worth it for the outraged look currently on his face.


His cheeks blazing, Draco scowled. “Just because I have a higher voice than you doesn’t mean I sound like a girl. I happen to be a tenor.”


“It was girly,” Harry stated. “Very girly. I think we should put you in a skirt.”


The outrage, if possible, grew. “Don’t even suggest it!”


Harry opened his mouth to say something else along these lines, something to further provoke Draco, until this image formed itself in his mind. Draco in a skirt. Draco in silky, satiny, girly clothing. Lingerie, that was the word. Draco in that old lip gloss Ginny had left in his backpack years and years ago, which Harry should have thrown out but had kept it as a sentimental reminder for some reason. Maybe if Ginny ever spoke to him again, he’d get rid of it. Not that there was any reason to hope this; it had been eight years since Harry had known he preferred, well, not women, and five since he’d come out. Two since he’d started sleeping with Draco and one since he’d told anyone else about it. He smiled up into Draco’s eyes. “What if I suggested it in all seriousness?”


Draco’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Pardon me?”


In another age, Harry would have felt shy, but they’d done kinkier things than cross-dressing. He shrugged and grinned. “It could be fun.”


“You want me to wear a skirt?”


Harry shrugged, nonchalant.


Draco pressed his lips together. “What else would I have to wear?”


Harry knew then that it was not out of the question at all. He smiled again. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said airly. “I’ll go shopping.”


“Maybe I should come with you.”


“Maybe you should,” Harry agreed. Silly as he’d feel shopping for women’s lingerie with Draco, he’d feel a lot sillier on his own.


Draco settled down again, his forearms resting on the pillow beside Harry’s face. “The things I do for you, you kinky bugger,” he said affectionately.


“Hey, remember your leather phase?” Harry retorted. “I went along with that, didn’t I?”


“I still have the whip somewhere,” Draco said, his eyes gleaming.


“Don’t even think about it.”


“You’re no fun. That’s the last time I bottom from the top for you.”


Harry pinched his arse. “That’s what you think.” He yawned. “I’m hungry. Are we still going out for dinner?”


Draco looked at the clock. “Oops, yeah. We’d better get going. We’re supposed to be there at seven.”


* * *


Harry cherished weekends above anything else. Diagon Alley had been full, but they’d been secretive and avoided everyone in Disillusionment Charms. Which the clerk at the lingerie store had assured Harry’s barely-visible form, was the preferred method of shopping in her shop, at least. Particularly for male customers. Draco had kept very quiet and Harry left somehow hoping she was thinking that he was with his sister or something. It wasn’t that he had a problem with being open. He just didn’t need the entire magical community to know that Harry Potter was into jewelled v-strings.


Said item weighed less than half a gram and made the bag in his hand feel nearly empty. Harry presumed that the other items in Draco’s bag were a little heavier, but not by a lot. They picked their way through the heavy stream of traffic heading toward the Leaky Cauldron and Apparated back to the flat from behind the gates. Inside, they weren’t much more talkative, moving around the flat and then the bedroom, taking off coats, putting on music, uncorking champagne. It was four and the sun was just turning the corner of the sky, heavy and warm. Draco disappeared into the bedroom, saying something vague about taking off the tags. Harry smiled at the closed door and drank some champagne. It wasn’t cold out, but he lit the fire anyway and moved the furniture back from the hearth. He concentrated, and a few moments later, the old knitted afghan Molly Weasley had given them had been transfigured into something white and furry. Harry’s lips twitched; Draco would probably hate it after. But he’d like it before and during, and that was the important thing. He moved the champagne and its bucket to the coffee table and began to undress, slowly and without any particular rush – just a pleasant buzz of anticipation.


The bedroom door opened and Harry looked up. His eyes met Draco’s across the room and he was aware of smiling again. Draco had one ankle crossed over the other, lounging against the doorframe, barefoot. His legs were bare, too, and the short, flirty blue skirt they’d bought (purportedly for Draco’s little sister) skimmed over pale, slender thighs. The illusion suffered slightly when Draco shifted, the muscles of his legs rearranging themselves as he moved, but it was entrancing nonetheless. Draco smiled at him and slid a thumb beneath one of the straps of the white lace camisole he was wearing. It was sheer, his nipples rosy and looking freshly pinched or bitten beneath it. Harry’s cock was standing at attention, and they hadn’t even come close to starting yet. He picked something up from the coffee table, nestled just behind the champagne. “Come here.”


Draco held his gaze and crossed the room slowly, taking care to make sure that Harry was watching as he spun. The skirt barely covered his arse and Harry caught a glitter of rhinestones with the rear view. “Like it?” Draco asked, eyes narrowed and glowing with mischief.


Harry caught the extended hand and lifted it as though to kiss. It turned into something of a snogfest between Harry and Draco’s right hand; he’d always had such a thing for those hands. Draco’s breath caught and he made no effort to pull his fingertips out of Harry’s mouth. “You’re beautiful,” Harry said, and meant it.


That got him a cocky smile. “I know,” Draco said demurely, and spun again.


“But you’re missing something,” Harry said.


Draco stopped, cross. “No I’m not!”


“Yes you are. Come here.” They were right in front of each other, but Harry beckoned anyway.


“What?”


He brought out the lip gloss. “This,” he said. “I want to put it on you. Please?”


Draco frowned at the small, pink tube. “Lip gloss is for girls,” he stated.


Harry leered. “Well, that works out just perfectly, then, you pretty girl, you.”


Draco’s cheeks went pink. Whatever comment he obviously wanted to make, he suppressed. And gave Harry a decidedly seductive look instead. “I suppose that’s true,” he said breathily. “Make me pretty, then.” The lips pursed, pouting out at him, inviting.


Heat stirred in Harry’s belly. “Okay,” he said, a little breathy himself. He uncapped the tube and slid a small amount of shiny, clear lip gloss over Draco’s mouth. It was faintly sweet, and Harry was fleetingly glad that Ginny hadn’t worn it very often. It didn’t smell like her and he was glad that it didn’t. “Rub your lips together,” he said.


Draco obeyed him, doing it slowly, sensuously. “How does it look?”


“Beautiful,” Harry breathed.


He was pouted at again. “How does it taste?”


Harry didn’t wait for a second invitation, eager to taste it for himself. He pressed his lips to Draco’s, arms settling rather gently around Draco’s shoulders, as if he were somehow more fragile now. The satin straps slid under his forearm and Draco’s tongue was in his mouth. Familiar. And sweeter. The lip gloss tasted distantly of fruit, of strawberries.


They were on the fluffy, white throw in moments, the lip gloss still clutched tightly in Harry’s left hand, kissing wildly and Harry’s free hand running over the lace, down to Draco’s knee, squeezing, then coming back up, pushing the flimsy blue material away. Draco propped himself up on one elbow to watch this part. He didn’t say anything, but he was smiling and looking just a shade self-conscious. The skirt was pooling around his hips and Harry’s eyes greedily locked into the bulging mass behind the tiny v-string. It was black and trailed rhinestones across the misshapen front. The back, Harry knew, hid even less. He bent forward and breathed around the twitching mass. Draco moaned softly. Harry closed his mouth over it, through the silk, nuzzled it with his nose and let it slide against his cheek. His tongue dug into the hardness through the damp silk, curled around the coiled length of Draco’s cock.


“… You’re killing me,” Draco groaned, fingers curled into claws in the white fluff.


Harry smiled wickedly. “I know.” He planted a kiss high on the inside of Draco’s thigh. “Turn over.”


Draco obeyed without argument, which should have said something for the level of anxiety he was currently feeling, and Harry was pleased. The brooch holding the three silken strings together at the back glittered against Draco’s skin. Harry’s tongue followed the strings to it, sliding over the cold of the stones and back to the heat of Draco’s firm skin. Draco was trembling, trying to thrust into the furry throw, but Harry held his hips steady. “Harry…”


It was a groan again, and suddenly Harry wanted to see the front view once more. He unbuttoned the skirt, turned Draco onto his back and pulled the skirt off. “Beautiful,” he said again, like a prayer.


“I know.” Draco’s smile was bordering on pain.


Harry had an idea. He slid his fingers up beneath the lace camisole and Draco helped him take it off. Harry lay down on his side beside him and the floor was soft against his skin. The lip gloss was uncapped again, and he painted Draco’s nipples with it. Draco was trying to hold still, but every so often, his legs would move as though he were about to stand up or something. Harry paid this no mind and trailed his mouth over the shining nipples. They were hard and sweet beneath his lips and Draco flung the back of his hand across his mouth. Harry added more to Draco’s lips. Draco’s cock was now poking over the top of the v-string, flat against his belly and oozing clear fluid. Harry inched down and pulled the v-string off. The lip gloss made a clear stripe up the underside of Draco’s cock and mingled with the fluid at the head, and Harry put his mouth over both and licked it off. All of it. Draco’s fingers were in his hair now and he was practically wailing Harry’s name.


And finally, Harry took pity on him. Draco’s legs were already spread wide, angling his cock up to Harry’s mouth. It was a small thing to guide Draco’s legs up, just a little, and to push inside him like that. Never mind that Harry’s pulse was jackhammering against his eardrums or that he was so very ready to come himself that he was biting his lip and trying not to think of it, just so that he could go slow, make this last just a bit long – it was so sweet, and Draco was beautiful beneath him, his mouth shiny from the gloss and his tongue – he had to have the mouth on his again, so Harry kissed him. Their foreheads stayed together as his body dove into Draco’s, hard, again, just there – he was seeing white spots bursting behind his eyelids and everything smelled of strawberries and the dearly familiar smell of their intimacy. The sensations rose up and overwhelmed him, the bitterness of desire turning suddenly into nothing but pleasure. And Draco’s breath lost its desperate edge and turned to sweetness in his ears, and if he’d made that sound again, Harry hadn’t even been aware of it. He heard himself panting, and it was confused with their mouths meeting again and their tongues getting in the way of their breath.


They came apart slowly, Draco still holding tightly to him. Harry’s mouth was covered in the gloss and it tasted like the candy Dudley had gotten sometimes, when they’d been little. There would be just a moment of this, of this gentleness, before the snark came back. Not that Harry minded. But the sweet, half-minute of wordless afterglow – it was definitely one of the best things in life, Harry had long ago decided. Draco would cling to him and cuddle just a bit, and while that didn’t stop once they started talking, it changed just a little.


Draco’s mouth was somewhere near his ear, only Harry was on top this time. He lipped at Harry’s ear. “Was I a good girl?” he asked, a sly hint of humour and something deliciously darker wound into it.


The moment changed, but Harry didn’t mind it. He laughed and shifted himself to the side, where he could see Draco. “A lovely girl. Very pretty and very… indulgent.”


“Indeed,” Draco said, smirking just a bit. “Let’s both remember that, shall we?”


A few apprehensions made themselves known to the back part of Harry’s mind, but for the moment, they could be forgotten. “Okay.”


Draco’s hand patted about and located the abandoned lip gloss. He picked it up and held it between them, glinting in the firelight. “Was this Ginny’s?”


There was no recrimination, just simple curiosity. “Yes,” Harry admitted.


“Did you think of her?”


The question actually shocked him. “No!” Harry said, with force. “Not at all. Were you thinking that the entire time?”


“Not during it,” Draco said. “But before, maybe a bit.”


Harry took it out of his hand and set it down, then laid his arm over Draco’s chest. “I would never do that to you,” he said fervently.


Draco smiled, and this time, it was all mischief again. “Sure, whatever. No need to get all mushy on me.”


Harry sighed. “Prat.”


“You love me.”


“Yeah, I do.”


“Good.” Draco leaned over and kissed him. “Though it does beg the question of how you know what a twelve-year-old girl sounds like when she comes. Just saying.”


Harry smacked him. “Shut it, you.”


“Make me.”


“Oh, I will.” Harry closed his eyes. “Ten minutes.”


“Right. You’ll fall asleep.”


“In which case, I’m sure you’ll wake me,” Harry said lazily.


Draco curled himself around Harry, draping arms and legs everywhere, as seemed to be his preferred method of marking territory. “Can’t if I’m asleep, too.”


Harry just laughed again, shaking his head. “Fine, then.”


There was a pause. “Or I could go and get some Polyjuice and we could roleplay again.”


“Don’t even go there, sweetheart.”


“Don’t call me that.”


“Fine, sugar.”


“Stop calling me girl names.”


“They’re endearments. And besides, they suit you, my pretty.”


Draco kissed his chin. “Fine, then. As long as I’m the prettiest.”


Harry rolled his eyes and ignored him. And let out a long, silly-sounding sigh of contentment.


-fin-


You know how I feel about your thoughts. :)