nursedarry | Fic: Parselsmut Non-Interruptus

Title: Parselsmut Non-Interruptus
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: None, EWE
Word Count: 1000+
Warnings: h/d boysecks! oh, and foul language
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. They belong to JKR & WB and a few other people who have more money and free time than I have.
A/N: Way back in the day, the wonderful

bryoneybrynn wrote me Parselsmut Interruptus for the Aussie Red Cross Appeal. And then I was dared to write a sequel. Go read her fic first, leave her some love and then come back here and rinse and repeat. I've tried to remain true to form and style, but if I haven't please feel free to criticise. (There is also artwork promised for this fic by the lovely

noeon. Watch this space!) Tons of thanks to her for the help and beta.

Meet me at Friend of the Devil, 2pm ~DM

That’s all Draco had written on the parchment.

Potter stood outside the establishment and scowled. What sort of thing could Draco Malfoy be planning if they needed to meet at Blaise Zabini’s notorious Wizarding head shop?

Potter looked up just in time to see Draco almost stride by him. At the last minute, Draco grabbed Potter by the wrist and pulled him inside the shop. Draco didn’t stop until they’d reached the counter, where Blaise was showing a patron a book of popular ink-work. Draco let go of Potter’s wrist and quickly unbuttoned his own shirt.

“Here’s the deal, Blaise. I want you to take this thing off me- carefully- and put it on Potter. Somewhere he can’t see it.”

“WHAT?!” Blaise and Potter said simultaneously.

Draco turned and said, “Listen, Potter, do you want to fuck or not?”

“Er-”

“Cause this is the only way it's going to happen,” Draco said.

Blaise looked over at his surprised customer and then back to the pair. "I think I'll let you two have this conversation alone.”

"This is not a conversation,” Draco clarified.

“Malfoy, aren’t you going to miss it?” Potter asked, somewhat surprised at the sacrifice, temporarily ignoring what was driving it.

“Of course I’m going to fucking miss it; I’ve had this tattoo on my chest since I was fifteen.” Draco spat.

“And you’re willing to part with it because you feel that strongly-”

“Potter, I’m willing to part with it for the sake of your arse,” Draco declared.

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Well, if that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is.” He glanced to the other patron who still hadn’t stopped gawping and said “Listen, I’ll get back to you in a few; this is obviously a matter of some urgency. Have a look through these.” Blaise loaded the man up with several more albums of tats and left him, motioning Harry and Draco to a room beyond one of the heavy velvet curtains in the back of the shop.

Draco gestured to Potter to follow knowing that if he didn’t go after Potter directly, the git might change his mind and make a run for it. Hell, Draco was tempted to himself.

Potter scowled, but followed Blaise. Draco watched Potter walking, which just served to remind Draco of why they were here in the first place. He duly followed Potter.

~*~

“Ow, fuck, Malfoy! Easy, this thing still hurts,” Harry complained as Draco massaged his arse through the denim. They’d barely made it inside the flat before Malfoy had turned on him and grabbed him roughly. Potter had grabbed back just as urgently until Malfoy’s hands had moved south.

“Stop being so soft,” Draco snarled, moving his hand to palm Potter’s cock through his jeans. “Or not.”

“Gods,” Potter groaned and leaned his head back against the hallway wall. His hand reached up and tangled itself it Draco’s hair and pulled the other man into a harsh kiss.

Draco groaned as he was invaded. Damn Potter and that talented mouth.

Once they had released each other’s tongues, Draco grabbed Potter, spun him round and pushed him down the hall into the front room. “Stop,” he said, as they reached the large leather sofa. He reached around Potter and quickly undid his jeans, pulling them and his pants down to the floor. Then Draco unceremoniously bent Potter over the wide armrest of the sofa.

“Hello gorgeous,” Draco beamed.

“You’d better be talking to my arse, Malfoy, because talking to snakes is what stopped us from finishing this the first time.” Potter said, looking over his shoulder malevolently. “And if it’s not too much trouble, how about closing the damn curtains?”

Malfoy yanked his wand from his trouser pocket, flicked it at the curtains, and threw it down on the floor. The late afternoon sunlight gave way to cool shade.

Careful to avoid the delicate snake but never taking his eyes off it, Draco ran a hand over Potter’s arse cheeks. Damn, but he could look at that arse forever, made all the more attractive by the new tattoo. Potter’s tattoo, Draco reminded himself sourly.

Eyes on the prize, Draco, he said to himself, remembering why it was now Potter’s tattoo. Draco dropped to his knees, pushed apart Potter’s cheeks and buried his face between them. Potter let out a most attractive-sounding moan.

Once Draco’s tongue and fingers had worked their magic, he stood, unfastened his own trousers and pushed them down his hips- no easy task with a raging hard-on. Newly purchased bottle of lube was retrieved from a trouser pocket (cherry-flavoured, a personal recommendation from Blaise), and Draco set to work slathering up his swollen cock. Then he reached around Potter with the other hand and grabbed him similarly, whilst positioning himself.

Draco spared a glance at the snake tattoo, willing it to keep its forked tongue silent, regardless of where it now was.

“Malfoyyy…” Potter whined impatiently, looking over his shoulder and appearing ridiculously fetching with his fringe hanging rakishly over his eyes.

Draco wasted no more time with thoughts of tattoos and stupid snake-talk and pushed himself into The Boy Who Lived To Become The Man With the Sweetest Arse in the Wizarding World.

Nor did Draco mince about with a slow build-up, but went straight to the full-on fuck-this-is-so-good rhythm he hadn’t managed to get to when he was first shagging Potter.

All too soon, Draco was panting “Gonna come…gonna come…” just as Potter did so all over his hand. And his expensive leather sofa.

Draco exploded inside Potter, crying out the man’s bloody name. Trying to catch his breath, Draco withdrew his spent cock and let his body fall onto Potter’s, both of them a sweaty mess, but feeling utterly drained and infinitely satisfied.

~*~

They'd finally made it to the bedroom and now lay replenishing their fluids with Draco's supply of expensive bottled water.

"So when are you getting one?" Potter asked.

"One what?"

"Tattoo. I think a lion would look great just here." Potter gave Draco's left arse cheek a firm squeeze.

Draco's cock responded almost as fast as Draco did. "I don't think so."

Potter set down his glass and slid under the covers. "Then I get to top," he said, just before stuffing Draco's cock into his mouth.

"You're dreaming," Draco said when he'd finished sputtering out his mouthful of water and could form a mostly-coherent sentence.

Potter took a long languorous lick. "It's either that, or the Pride of Gryffindor goes right here." He ran his tongue slowly from Draco's shaft, over his balls, along Draco's crack and stopped on his left arse cheek. Potter sucked thoughtfully whilst his fingers slowly drove Draco crazy.

~*~

"Does it hurt?" Potter asked, stroking Draco's still sensitive arse with his palms. "Mine did for a bit."

"Shut up," Draco growled. "And fuck me harder."

The End.