Smutty_claus 06
Title: water trade
Author: pennymintlick
Recipient's name: nightfalltwen
Pairing: Luna/Draco
Warnings: none
A/N: Takes place in the Shinjuku part of Tokyo, and especially in the
part known for its adult entertainment. A love hotel is an
establishment that offers a couple privacy to do as they please, or a
hotel that is specifically for sex.
It was good to be young and rich in Shinjuku. Draco Malfoy had the added bonus of being blonde and British, which brought an enjoyably sized crowd of the Japanese girls to his table in the clubs. He was a novelty, with gleaming pale skin and hair that changed hue with the different neons and lights in each cabaret or bar.
He didn't know what he was drinking, but it burned pleasantly on the way down and tasted nothing like Firewhiskey. Everything about then was becoming a more and more distant memory, and he wanted it that way. Yukiko, the tiny woman leaning over and showing him the line of her cleavage, looked nothing like Parkinson or any girl he'd gone to school with, even the attractive Chang.
Six years and he thought he deserved to move on.
And in this place, nobody knew his name and none of them cared if he gave them a fake name. They were happy to call him anything but something true. It wasn't as if he really thought he had to worry; Draco Malfoy was not someone even wizards in this country worried about. They'd hardly been worried by the Dark Lord, due to sheer distance. They didn't give a damn if an alleged Death Eater sat in bars with muggles and drank.
It was almost insulting that no one had come for him, but it was also peaceful, and Draco quietly left donations at the temple nearest to the small apartment he'd found in the interest of continuing on.
He was comfortable, being carried along in the river of colored lights that inhabited nighttime Tokyo.
Was, until a night in July that was warm and unusually dry, like desert heat. Azura-no was the bar of the night, a nice, classy little place where Draco went often enough that he was given the same table each time, and the orange-haired bartender sent him drinks that were probably supposed to be things Americans liked. Draco didn't care to correct him.
Yukiko glanced up, and Draco followed her gaze. Oh, she breathed, and as with each time he was spoken to here, Draco was grateful he'd learned a spell to understand the sodding language. I wonder where she's from, she whispered.
She being the blonde leaning over to watch the bartender mix her drink. It'd been forever since he'd seen a pretty blonde, and he hoped her face was half as nice as her ass or those long legs. He took a sip from his own glass, wincing a little at the strange mint taste. Didn't seem like a normal woman, he thought, to be out by herself in a dress like that, tight and dark blue, showing most of her legs and cut deep in the back, right down to the swell of her ass. "No way she's wearing a bra," he muttered, and Yukiko tittered.
With a knowing grin, she then stood and sauntered over to the blonde, whispering to her conspiratorially, and then, damn her, winked before moving to another table with another rich man. At least, he thought, he'd get to meet the blonde.
"Oh, shit," he swore when she finally turned his way.
It wasn't just some muggle tourist, oh no. It was Loony Lovegood, who had apparently done quite a bit of growing up. She looked just as shocked to see him as he felt, thankfully. Or at least he thought so, if any kind of emotion could be gleaned from her strange eyes.
She came to the table, toying nervously with her drink, and sat on the edge of the booth. "Hullo, Draco Malfoy. That woman said you'd like to meet me, but I'm afraid we already know each other a bit, don't we?"
"A bit," he specified sharply, scouring her face for the changes in it. Eyes were still spooky, but some of the childish roundness had faded, and her lips were fuller. "I didn't know it was you, Lovegood."
"Obviously," she said, managing to both sound wry and blush in the pink lights. "Otherwise you'd not have been gazing like that."
"I wasn't gazing."
Lovegood's smile was daring. "Yukiko says otherwise."
"How do you know her name?" he demanded, frowning. His reward was another smile, and a shrug. It was horribly irritating that he found that smile attractive. Probably you've just not seen a woman from home in long enough that anyone looks beautiful.
Setting her drink down on the table, Lovegood scooted herself a little bit closer to him, so that she wasn't half falling off the booth. "It's very strange to see you here," she said. "You like the mizu shoubai?" At his blank stare, she said, "The mizu shoubai. The water trade." She bit her lip, coloring a little. "Tokyo's nightlife, Malfoy. It comes from--"
"--I know where it comes from," he said, knowing that he should have snapped more fiercely. "And as you might imagine, I'm here so that I don't see you or anyone else from back there."
"Oh," she said, as if it hadn't been patently obvious. "Do you want me to leave, then? I haven't even... finished my drink. But I imagine that after all the fuss, about... well. The Death Eater thing, you might not want to speak to one of us," she finished, again with that shy blushing, and he saw a flash of something in her expression.
She wanted him. A cursory glance through memories confirmed that he'd sometimes caught her staring that bizarre stare at him in the hallways, and nothing could stop the smirk from settling on his face.
"Do stay, Lovegood," he drawled pleasantly. It would be amusing to have one of Potter's girls, and he couldn't deny that she'd become very shaggable.
A nod, and as she pushed some of her hair back from her face, he knew this would be easy. She'd probably never even had a boyfriend until recently. If at all. He imagined her naked on his bed, imagined her pink lips around his cock.
"Call me Luna," she said, and yes, he knew this was a sure thing. Her voice was more pleasant than he remembered, soft and tinkling like bells against the slow and heavy electronica the bar favored.
"Luna," he said, and then gave her a charm smile. "Why are you in Tokyo?"
She launched into a long-winded and very Ravenclaw story about being here to research some beast for her father's paper, about being a reporter and how she was looking forward to going to the coast to listen to the Japanese dialect of Mermish. While he normally would have begged her to shut up, it was a change from normal conversation. And she'd learned to be at least somewhat interesting, or his time away from all of it had allowed him more tolerance.
The bartender sent plenty of drinks over, until they were both pink-cheeked and laughing, and when Luna tried to stand, she fell back down into his lap.
He knew it was now, and kissed her, dragging the taste of mint and liquor from her lips. She gasped and wriggled on his thighs, and he suddenly wanted to fuck her so badly he could scream from it, grasping her and grinding against her like a horny teenager.
"Draco," she said, blue eyes dizzingly wide, and he didn't correct her.
They made it out of the bar and he could pay the tab tomorrow or Monday, he didn't care. He backed her up against the brick wall of the sex shop next door, and kissed her again. Luna strained against his hands on her hips, fingers tangling up and making his hair a mess. "Touch me," she gasped, "just once. Please, just once. That's all..."
Draco pulled away, looking at her in surprise. There was some kind of sadness mixed in with her parted lips and the flickering of lights across her face. "Don't," he said quietly. "I... yes." He slid his hand up her thigh, rubbed his fingertips against the silk of her underwear, watching the way she caught her breath at the touch.
He heard her swallow. "Can," she asked, "we go somewhere? One of the love hotels, please? I want..." Her lips, already swollen from the force of their kissing, pursed. "I want to see all of you. If that's alright."
This is becoming more than fucking her once for fun, he warned himself, but Draco Malfoy fucking hated warnings, so he didn't listen. He took her to the nearest love hotel, some Japanese establishment made just for a private place to have sex. It was garish on the inside, cursive neon proclaiming it the KISSU PALASU.
His hands sweated while he made the arrangments and Luna stared at the large aquarium. The clerk was young and female, with badly dyed hair and a grating giggle, and she wanted to know if Luna was his girlfriend. Her reward was a glare over the shoulder as he grabbed Luna's hand and took her to the elevator.
"You have a wallet," she told him, as if he didn't know. "That's very... muggle of you, I think." She grinned. "Can I see it?"
"No," he told her, leaning in and nipping at her lips so she might shut up. "And it's by a man named Louis, and it's practical and it has my money and other personal affects in it. You know, Luna. Personal means I don't share."
She laughed quietly and pressed one of the buttons, watching it light up.
The room was hideous as well, but it only got a cursory glance before he pushed her down on the stupid circle bed and got her dress up around her waist. "Yes," she gasped again, as he wasted no time in sliding his hand down into her panties. "Now, and then, and then slow later, yes?"
Draco heard himself agreeing in a rough voice. This was fucked up, and he was drunk, absolutely gone, he knew that. Loony Lovegood should not be Luna, and he should not be shoving down the front of her dress to see her tits. He should not feel his cock beg to meet her inner thigh, nor should he be cupping her breasts and thumbing her nipples.
But he was, and he was groaning and sweating as he pushed himself into her, mouthing her neck and feeling her slick heat cling to him. She mewled something obscene and it was all he needed to begin sliding in and out, thrusting and rolling his hips, never actually leaving fully because he couldn't bear to tear away from the soft squeeze of her.
He came in only moments, aware and amazed at the quiet convulsions as she came after.
Luna smiled up at him in his shock, and urged him down to the bed. She undressed them both then, running her fingers over every inch of his body with fascination, examining the way he looked in the lights from the window. Her fingers lingered over his forearms, and then she was riding him, and Draco wasn't so sure he was in control of the situation any longer.
He woke up at one point, the air and bedclothes cooling next to him. Luna was at the window, shoulder pressed against the glass. In his half-sleep, she was barely real, a creature of the mizu-shoubai just passing through. She'd drawn the curtains open and Shinjuku was at her side, bright lights against a black sky, bright lights against the pale skin he'd just touched. Her coltish limbs were terribly sad and worldly when hit with the red neon of the love hotel's sign. Blue from a brothel across the street blinked in and out of her bed-rumpled hair and made her eyelids look purple and exhausted with each slow blink. The colors met and ran together at the surprising jaunt of her small breasts, achingly sweet.
"Luna?" he questioned, just awake enough to hate the young, tentative quality in his voice. When she turned, he knew the colors of Shinjuku were on his pale hair and skin too. "What--"
"Hush now," she told him, and after glancing once more out the window, came back to the bed. She was warm against him, even if her hips poked him a little bit. "Go to sleep again." She smoothed the pads of her thumbs over his eyebrows, and Draco felt incredibly lonely, lonely for her and lonely for himself.
He closed his eyes to shut out the blue and white of her eyes, and kissed her until he fell back into sleep.
It was seven in the morning when Draco woke up again, fully aware.
She was gone. All of her clothes, her side of the bed smoothed up, the curtains closed. His clothes were folded neatly on a chair, with his wallet on top of them. His fucking wallet! Naked and uncaring, he flung himself from the bed and stumbled over, hitting his knees as he opened the wallet.
Everything was in order, he noticed, even though he knew, he just knew that she'd looked through it, for... for what? What did she care enough about to look at his ID, his business cards? Just enough yen was missing for her to take a train out of this part of the city. He hit his hand hard against the edge of the chair, and winced. "Fuck."
It was upon returning to the bed that he saw the carefully folded piece of paper. Hotel stationary, though he couldn't place why a hotel where people came to have sex needed stationary.
Dear Draco Malfoy, it said, and he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
As you can clearly see, I've had to leave. After all, my investigation of you is complete now. I will be pleased to let the Ministry know that you are no longer connected to He Who Must Not Be Named or his followers, and that you have no Dark Mark. Please consider yourself a free man, and free to return at any time.
Regards,
Luna Lovegood
Auror
His stomach dropped out, and he closed his eyes, utterly pissed off that he could still see the neon blinking from behind his eyelids.
When he checked out of the hotel, the giggly clerk asked him if his girlfriend had gone to work.
"Not my--" he started and sighed, scrubbing again at his limp hair. He needed a shower. This place was all over him. "Yes, she went to work. In London."
She asked if he would be joining her.
Draco paused, mid-signing his name, feeling his forehead and his eyebrows tingle a bit. He tapped the pen once, twice on the paper. "Oh." A tiny, stubborn curve in his lips wouldn't straighten back out. "Yes, I plan to Ap-- fly out there this afternoon."
Good, said the clerk brightly, and handed him a napkin.
L.L.
Ottery St. Catchpole
on the River Otter in Devon, England
"Ah, thank you," said Draco, and after pocketing the cocktail napkin, turned and headed out into the morning light.
Author: pennymintlick
Recipient's name: nightfalltwen
Pairing: Luna/Draco
Warnings: none
A/N: Takes place in the Shinjuku part of Tokyo, and especially in the
part known for its adult entertainment. A love hotel is an
establishment that offers a couple privacy to do as they please, or a
hotel that is specifically for sex.
It was good to be young and rich in Shinjuku. Draco Malfoy had the added bonus of being blonde and British, which brought an enjoyably sized crowd of the Japanese girls to his table in the clubs. He was a novelty, with gleaming pale skin and hair that changed hue with the different neons and lights in each cabaret or bar.
He didn't know what he was drinking, but it burned pleasantly on the way down and tasted nothing like Firewhiskey. Everything about then was becoming a more and more distant memory, and he wanted it that way. Yukiko, the tiny woman leaning over and showing him the line of her cleavage, looked nothing like Parkinson or any girl he'd gone to school with, even the attractive Chang.
Six years and he thought he deserved to move on.
And in this place, nobody knew his name and none of them cared if he gave them a fake name. They were happy to call him anything but something true. It wasn't as if he really thought he had to worry; Draco Malfoy was not someone even wizards in this country worried about. They'd hardly been worried by the Dark Lord, due to sheer distance. They didn't give a damn if an alleged Death Eater sat in bars with muggles and drank.
It was almost insulting that no one had come for him, but it was also peaceful, and Draco quietly left donations at the temple nearest to the small apartment he'd found in the interest of continuing on.
He was comfortable, being carried along in the river of colored lights that inhabited nighttime Tokyo.
Was, until a night in July that was warm and unusually dry, like desert heat. Azura-no was the bar of the night, a nice, classy little place where Draco went often enough that he was given the same table each time, and the orange-haired bartender sent him drinks that were probably supposed to be things Americans liked. Draco didn't care to correct him.
Yukiko glanced up, and Draco followed her gaze. Oh, she breathed, and as with each time he was spoken to here, Draco was grateful he'd learned a spell to understand the sodding language. I wonder where she's from, she whispered.
She being the blonde leaning over to watch the bartender mix her drink. It'd been forever since he'd seen a pretty blonde, and he hoped her face was half as nice as her ass or those long legs. He took a sip from his own glass, wincing a little at the strange mint taste. Didn't seem like a normal woman, he thought, to be out by herself in a dress like that, tight and dark blue, showing most of her legs and cut deep in the back, right down to the swell of her ass. "No way she's wearing a bra," he muttered, and Yukiko tittered.
With a knowing grin, she then stood and sauntered over to the blonde, whispering to her conspiratorially, and then, damn her, winked before moving to another table with another rich man. At least, he thought, he'd get to meet the blonde.
"Oh, shit," he swore when she finally turned his way.
It wasn't just some muggle tourist, oh no. It was Loony Lovegood, who had apparently done quite a bit of growing up. She looked just as shocked to see him as he felt, thankfully. Or at least he thought so, if any kind of emotion could be gleaned from her strange eyes.
She came to the table, toying nervously with her drink, and sat on the edge of the booth. "Hullo, Draco Malfoy. That woman said you'd like to meet me, but I'm afraid we already know each other a bit, don't we?"
"A bit," he specified sharply, scouring her face for the changes in it. Eyes were still spooky, but some of the childish roundness had faded, and her lips were fuller. "I didn't know it was you, Lovegood."
"Obviously," she said, managing to both sound wry and blush in the pink lights. "Otherwise you'd not have been gazing like that."
"I wasn't gazing."
Lovegood's smile was daring. "Yukiko says otherwise."
"How do you know her name?" he demanded, frowning. His reward was another smile, and a shrug. It was horribly irritating that he found that smile attractive. Probably you've just not seen a woman from home in long enough that anyone looks beautiful.
Setting her drink down on the table, Lovegood scooted herself a little bit closer to him, so that she wasn't half falling off the booth. "It's very strange to see you here," she said. "You like the mizu shoubai?" At his blank stare, she said, "The mizu shoubai. The water trade." She bit her lip, coloring a little. "Tokyo's nightlife, Malfoy. It comes from--"
"--I know where it comes from," he said, knowing that he should have snapped more fiercely. "And as you might imagine, I'm here so that I don't see you or anyone else from back there."
"Oh," she said, as if it hadn't been patently obvious. "Do you want me to leave, then? I haven't even... finished my drink. But I imagine that after all the fuss, about... well. The Death Eater thing, you might not want to speak to one of us," she finished, again with that shy blushing, and he saw a flash of something in her expression.
She wanted him. A cursory glance through memories confirmed that he'd sometimes caught her staring that bizarre stare at him in the hallways, and nothing could stop the smirk from settling on his face.
"Do stay, Lovegood," he drawled pleasantly. It would be amusing to have one of Potter's girls, and he couldn't deny that she'd become very shaggable.
A nod, and as she pushed some of her hair back from her face, he knew this would be easy. She'd probably never even had a boyfriend until recently. If at all. He imagined her naked on his bed, imagined her pink lips around his cock.
"Call me Luna," she said, and yes, he knew this was a sure thing. Her voice was more pleasant than he remembered, soft and tinkling like bells against the slow and heavy electronica the bar favored.
"Luna," he said, and then gave her a charm smile. "Why are you in Tokyo?"
She launched into a long-winded and very Ravenclaw story about being here to research some beast for her father's paper, about being a reporter and how she was looking forward to going to the coast to listen to the Japanese dialect of Mermish. While he normally would have begged her to shut up, it was a change from normal conversation. And she'd learned to be at least somewhat interesting, or his time away from all of it had allowed him more tolerance.
The bartender sent plenty of drinks over, until they were both pink-cheeked and laughing, and when Luna tried to stand, she fell back down into his lap.
He knew it was now, and kissed her, dragging the taste of mint and liquor from her lips. She gasped and wriggled on his thighs, and he suddenly wanted to fuck her so badly he could scream from it, grasping her and grinding against her like a horny teenager.
"Draco," she said, blue eyes dizzingly wide, and he didn't correct her.
They made it out of the bar and he could pay the tab tomorrow or Monday, he didn't care. He backed her up against the brick wall of the sex shop next door, and kissed her again. Luna strained against his hands on her hips, fingers tangling up and making his hair a mess. "Touch me," she gasped, "just once. Please, just once. That's all..."
Draco pulled away, looking at her in surprise. There was some kind of sadness mixed in with her parted lips and the flickering of lights across her face. "Don't," he said quietly. "I... yes." He slid his hand up her thigh, rubbed his fingertips against the silk of her underwear, watching the way she caught her breath at the touch.
He heard her swallow. "Can," she asked, "we go somewhere? One of the love hotels, please? I want..." Her lips, already swollen from the force of their kissing, pursed. "I want to see all of you. If that's alright."
This is becoming more than fucking her once for fun, he warned himself, but Draco Malfoy fucking hated warnings, so he didn't listen. He took her to the nearest love hotel, some Japanese establishment made just for a private place to have sex. It was garish on the inside, cursive neon proclaiming it the KISSU PALASU.
His hands sweated while he made the arrangments and Luna stared at the large aquarium. The clerk was young and female, with badly dyed hair and a grating giggle, and she wanted to know if Luna was his girlfriend. Her reward was a glare over the shoulder as he grabbed Luna's hand and took her to the elevator.
"You have a wallet," she told him, as if he didn't know. "That's very... muggle of you, I think." She grinned. "Can I see it?"
"No," he told her, leaning in and nipping at her lips so she might shut up. "And it's by a man named Louis, and it's practical and it has my money and other personal affects in it. You know, Luna. Personal means I don't share."
She laughed quietly and pressed one of the buttons, watching it light up.
The room was hideous as well, but it only got a cursory glance before he pushed her down on the stupid circle bed and got her dress up around her waist. "Yes," she gasped again, as he wasted no time in sliding his hand down into her panties. "Now, and then, and then slow later, yes?"
Draco heard himself agreeing in a rough voice. This was fucked up, and he was drunk, absolutely gone, he knew that. Loony Lovegood should not be Luna, and he should not be shoving down the front of her dress to see her tits. He should not feel his cock beg to meet her inner thigh, nor should he be cupping her breasts and thumbing her nipples.
But he was, and he was groaning and sweating as he pushed himself into her, mouthing her neck and feeling her slick heat cling to him. She mewled something obscene and it was all he needed to begin sliding in and out, thrusting and rolling his hips, never actually leaving fully because he couldn't bear to tear away from the soft squeeze of her.
He came in only moments, aware and amazed at the quiet convulsions as she came after.
Luna smiled up at him in his shock, and urged him down to the bed. She undressed them both then, running her fingers over every inch of his body with fascination, examining the way he looked in the lights from the window. Her fingers lingered over his forearms, and then she was riding him, and Draco wasn't so sure he was in control of the situation any longer.
He woke up at one point, the air and bedclothes cooling next to him. Luna was at the window, shoulder pressed against the glass. In his half-sleep, she was barely real, a creature of the mizu-shoubai just passing through. She'd drawn the curtains open and Shinjuku was at her side, bright lights against a black sky, bright lights against the pale skin he'd just touched. Her coltish limbs were terribly sad and worldly when hit with the red neon of the love hotel's sign. Blue from a brothel across the street blinked in and out of her bed-rumpled hair and made her eyelids look purple and exhausted with each slow blink. The colors met and ran together at the surprising jaunt of her small breasts, achingly sweet.
"Luna?" he questioned, just awake enough to hate the young, tentative quality in his voice. When she turned, he knew the colors of Shinjuku were on his pale hair and skin too. "What--"
"Hush now," she told him, and after glancing once more out the window, came back to the bed. She was warm against him, even if her hips poked him a little bit. "Go to sleep again." She smoothed the pads of her thumbs over his eyebrows, and Draco felt incredibly lonely, lonely for her and lonely for himself.
He closed his eyes to shut out the blue and white of her eyes, and kissed her until he fell back into sleep.
It was seven in the morning when Draco woke up again, fully aware.
She was gone. All of her clothes, her side of the bed smoothed up, the curtains closed. His clothes were folded neatly on a chair, with his wallet on top of them. His fucking wallet! Naked and uncaring, he flung himself from the bed and stumbled over, hitting his knees as he opened the wallet.
Everything was in order, he noticed, even though he knew, he just knew that she'd looked through it, for... for what? What did she care enough about to look at his ID, his business cards? Just enough yen was missing for her to take a train out of this part of the city. He hit his hand hard against the edge of the chair, and winced. "Fuck."
It was upon returning to the bed that he saw the carefully folded piece of paper. Hotel stationary, though he couldn't place why a hotel where people came to have sex needed stationary.
Dear Draco Malfoy, it said, and he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
As you can clearly see, I've had to leave. After all, my investigation of you is complete now. I will be pleased to let the Ministry know that you are no longer connected to He Who Must Not Be Named or his followers, and that you have no Dark Mark. Please consider yourself a free man, and free to return at any time.
Regards,
Luna Lovegood
Auror
His stomach dropped out, and he closed his eyes, utterly pissed off that he could still see the neon blinking from behind his eyelids.
When he checked out of the hotel, the giggly clerk asked him if his girlfriend had gone to work.
"Not my--" he started and sighed, scrubbing again at his limp hair. He needed a shower. This place was all over him. "Yes, she went to work. In London."
She asked if he would be joining her.
Draco paused, mid-signing his name, feeling his forehead and his eyebrows tingle a bit. He tapped the pen once, twice on the paper. "Oh." A tiny, stubborn curve in his lips wouldn't straighten back out. "Yes, I plan to Ap-- fly out there this afternoon."
Good, said the clerk brightly, and handed him a napkin.
L.L.
Ottery St. Catchpole
on the River Otter in Devon, England
"Ah, thank you," said Draco, and after pocketing the cocktail napkin, turned and headed out into the morning light.