(Week-1 Challenge Response) The Victory Dance
Title: The Victory Dance
Summary: Draco and Harry are back to their old Hogwarts ways…
Challenge: The harrydraco Community Week 1 Drabble Prompt (Kink or Object): 'Parseltongue'
Word count: 459
Rating: PG-13 (for strong language)
Warnings: PWP & Unbeta'd (sorry)
Harry's brow furrowed; sweat began to bead on his face, like condensation on a glass of cold water on a hot, hot day. He gripped the edge of the table with one hand, knuckles white.
Across from him, Draco matched his intensity; grunting behind gritted teeth. His eyes narrowed as he squirmed in his seat. Every muscle in his body tensed and flexed as if trying to pull strength from their very cells.
"Give ... uh ...up yet, Potty?"
"Not... mnnnh... on your life... Malfoy!"
Harry breathed through clenched lips and held his breath. His face became coloured with splotches of red.
"Fuck," he murmured under his breath.
"Scared, Potter...?"
"You wish."
But, Harry was losing; he could feel it. He could see the mad glint in Malfoy's straitened eyes even as his grip tautened. Harry leaned in; a failed attempt at gaining leverage. He saw his opponent flush and squirm, but it was little consolation.
Harry was losing.
"Oh, Potter," Draco almost laughed through strained lips, "This... rrrgh... has been... long-time coming..."
There was desperation in Harry's resolve; his eyes betrayed his normally calm demeanor.
But, Harry had a plan.
Malfoy began to laugh, a minacious cackle. But the laugh was cut by a familiar sibilant hiss.
"H'aaaai essss-ssh ssssssiiiiiiiiii ssss'schess'schi'ess"
Draco's eyes widened; his grip loosened; his back straightened.
"Ow! Fuck, Harry!!!"
Draco was almost thrown off of the chair as his arm slammed down, palm up, on the tabletop. Draco's shoulder twisted slightly to accommodate the awkward position.
Harry punched the air, victoriously. "And Harry takes the snitch!"
"... fuck off ..." Draco mumbled, pouting and rubbing his soar shoulder.
Harry pushed away from the kitchen table and began his 'victory dance'; which was nothing more, really, than Harry squatting down, sticking his arse out, slapping it, looking back at Draco, singing the 'disco whistle' complete with a rousing chorus of " Who da' man!? Who da' man?!" and then answering himself in a raspy falsetto "You are, Harry -- You are, Harry."
Draco scowled, still enraged at the turn of events. "I said no magick, Harry!"
Harry leaned in over the table with a smug look drawn over his face, "You didn't say 'no Parsletongue', baby. That's not magick."
"...That's still cheating..."
Draco crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his chair, "I call shenanigans."
Harry's expression turned serious-- deadly serious -- as he pointed at Draco, still leaning over the table, "Get up... drop your trousers... and bend over this fuckin' table..."
Draco pouted but didn't move.
"Now," Harry commanded through gnashed teeth.
Draco's mien became a mockery of youthful innocence, his moue suddenly far more seductive than necessary. With a shrug and a sly smile, Draco offered "... best two-out-of-three, mate ...?"
Draco couldn't remember being fucked so hard...
... or so well.
A/N: Changed the title of the fic considering which part got the most attention.... :winks:
Summary: Draco and Harry are back to their old Hogwarts ways…
Challenge: The harrydraco Community Week 1 Drabble Prompt (Kink or Object): 'Parseltongue'
Word count: 459
Rating: PG-13 (for strong language)
Warnings: PWP & Unbeta'd (sorry)
Harry's brow furrowed; sweat began to bead on his face, like condensation on a glass of cold water on a hot, hot day. He gripped the edge of the table with one hand, knuckles white.
Across from him, Draco matched his intensity; grunting behind gritted teeth. His eyes narrowed as he squirmed in his seat. Every muscle in his body tensed and flexed as if trying to pull strength from their very cells.
"Give ... uh ...up yet, Potty?"
"Not... mnnnh... on your life... Malfoy!"
Harry breathed through clenched lips and held his breath. His face became coloured with splotches of red.
"Fuck," he murmured under his breath.
"Scared, Potter...?"
"You wish."
But, Harry was losing; he could feel it. He could see the mad glint in Malfoy's straitened eyes even as his grip tautened. Harry leaned in; a failed attempt at gaining leverage. He saw his opponent flush and squirm, but it was little consolation.
Harry was losing.
"Oh, Potter," Draco almost laughed through strained lips, "This... rrrgh... has been... long-time coming..."
There was desperation in Harry's resolve; his eyes betrayed his normally calm demeanor.
But, Harry had a plan.
Malfoy began to laugh, a minacious cackle. But the laugh was cut by a familiar sibilant hiss.
"H'aaaai essss-ssh ssssssiiiiiiiiii ssss'schess'schi'ess"
Draco's eyes widened; his grip loosened; his back straightened.
"Ow! Fuck, Harry!!!"
Draco was almost thrown off of the chair as his arm slammed down, palm up, on the tabletop. Draco's shoulder twisted slightly to accommodate the awkward position.
Harry punched the air, victoriously. "And Harry takes the snitch!"
"... fuck off ..." Draco mumbled, pouting and rubbing his soar shoulder.
Harry pushed away from the kitchen table and began his 'victory dance'; which was nothing more, really, than Harry squatting down, sticking his arse out, slapping it, looking back at Draco, singing the 'disco whistle' complete with a rousing chorus of " Who da' man!? Who da' man?!" and then answering himself in a raspy falsetto "You are, Harry -- You are, Harry."
Draco scowled, still enraged at the turn of events. "I said no magick, Harry!"
Harry leaned in over the table with a smug look drawn over his face, "You didn't say 'no Parsletongue', baby. That's not magick."
"...That's still cheating..."
Draco crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his chair, "I call shenanigans."
Harry's expression turned serious-- deadly serious -- as he pointed at Draco, still leaning over the table, "Get up... drop your trousers... and bend over this fuckin' table..."
Draco pouted but didn't move.
"Now," Harry commanded through gnashed teeth.
Draco's mien became a mockery of youthful innocence, his moue suddenly far more seductive than necessary. With a shrug and a sly smile, Draco offered "... best two-out-of-three, mate ...?"
Draco couldn't remember being fucked so hard...
... or so well.
A/N: Changed the title of the fic considering which part got the most attention.... :winks: