Jae's Journal

Title: Potter's Passionate Panting
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC17
Warning(s): Explicit sex, creature fic
Additional warning: Author is not responsible for underage readers. Mind the rating and warning(s).
Word count: 1755
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Belated birthday gift for kitty_fic, using the prompts lingerie, knotting
Author's note: Sequel to Potter's Passionate Bite
Summary: Draco is coerced into wining, dining, and shagging.



After two intense sexual encounters with Harry sodding Potter--the werewolf!--Draco was adamant that it would not happen again. Draco was doing a good job of avoiding Potter. He hadn't counted on being thwarted by the same charity that organized the bachelor auction that led to Draco's first disastrous encounter with Potter.

Draco was completely dismayed when he was contacted by Charlotte Queensbury-Sams, who claimed that Harry Potter Himself had offered to make a substantial donation if only the charity could convince Draco to go to dinner with him.

"I think not," was Draco's stiff response.

"Mr Potter claims you cut your first date short and didn't even have lunch with him, as per the agreement, Mr Malfoy," said Mrs Queensbury-Sams. "By rights, he could demand his initial contribution back. Instead, all he's asked is that you give him another chance in exchange for an even larger donation."

Draco could guess at the amount by the gleam in her eyes. However, he would not be manipulated. Draco drew in a breath to extend his regrets.

"Your mother must be so proud of you for single-handedly restoring your family name," gushed Mrs Queensbury-Sams. "Why, I'd be ecstatic if my daughter or son captured the attention of Mr Potter!"

Draco had been out-maneuvered, and he knew it. "Where am I to meet Potter for dinner?"


Draco stepped from his Floo and flung the box that Mrs Queensbury-Sams had given him onto the settee. She'd informed him that Potter had chosen an outfit for Draco to wear, and that the Floo address was in the box.

"That smug git," muttered Draco. "He can take his outfit and shove it up his twat."

Curiosity, however, compelled Draco to at least take a look. If Potter had put another Red Riding Hood costume in there, Draco would shove it up his twat for him. He broke the seal on the box, noting that it was from Twilfitt and Tattings. Inside was a charcoal gray suit made of a sumptuous material. Draco ran his fingers over it, impressed in spite of himself. The box included a matching shirt and tie, along with silk socks and a pair of loafers in the finest leather.

As he lifted each item carefully from the box, Draco's gaze landed on the final item. It was a naughty piece of lingerie in brilliant red satin.

"Oh, hell no," Draco exclaimed out loud. There was no way he was donning such a ridiculous garment to indulge Potter's fetishes.

A scrap of parchment fluttered to the ground, and Draco stooped to pick it up. He recognized Potter's infantile scrawl, which only served to irritate him further.

Malfoy, I can't wait to see you tonight, dressed in this special outfit I had made for you. I know you're planning to forego the undergarment. If you do, our deal is off and I will let Mrs Queensbury-Sams know that you were uncooperative. I eagerly await our dinner. The Floo coordinates are below.

Yours, Harry

Draco gritted his teeth and crumpled the parchment into a ball.

Fucking werewolf


Draco exited the Floo and brushed imaginary ash from his bespoke new suit. He looked around himself, lip curling in an automatic sneer even though he'd emerged into a well-appointed parlor.

Potter sauntered in a moment later. He grinned at Draco, then looked him up and down...slowly. Twice.

It felt almost like a physical caress, and Draco fought the urge to squirm.

Potter's grin widened. "Are you wearing the lingerie?"

"Yes."

Potter blinked and then frowned. "That was too easy," he said. "Why don't I trust you?"

"Since you're not going to see what I'm wearing beneath my clothing, there's no harm in telling you that I am wearing the absurd thing."

"We'll see about that, Malfoy," said Potter. He pivoted and headed back the way he'd come, beckoning for Draco to follow him.

Draco heaved a sigh and did so, telling himself this was for charity and family honor. When he exited the parlor into what was clearly a house, Draco halted.

"Where are we?"

"My home," Potter replied over his shoulder.

"Potter, this is highly inappropriate."

"If we were blushing virgins, I would agree," said Potter. "However, we've already banged one another's brains out twice, and I've marked you as my mate."

"I am not your mate!"

Potter shrugged. "So you say. Come along; dinner is waiting."

Seething now, Draco trailed after him, already planning to eat and escape. He stoically ignored his body's traitorous reaction to the prospect of getting his brains banged out again. It wasn't going to happen.

Potter led the way into an informal dining room, where he gallantly pulled Draco's chair out for him. Draco took a seat, electing not to argue. A house-elf served the first course and took her leave.

"How is your mum?" asked Potter.

Draco responded in kind, and the meal progressed with no further drama. The food was excellent, and the conversation remained neutral. Draco found himself relaxing and enjoying the repast. Later, once the dishes had been cleared, they repaired to the lounge and relaxed with snifters of brandy. Draco was feeling rather mellow, and he even laughed at some of Potter's witty observations.

Potter finished his drink, set it aside, and relieved Draco of his glass.

"Oy, I wasn't done with that," Draco protested.

Potter downed the remaining brandy in one gulp and set the glass beside his on the side table. He turned to Draco, and his eyes grew heated. "Now that the wining and dining is out of the way, it's time for more banging."

Draco's prick flexed in giddy glee, and he scowled in reaction. "Potter, I did not come here to engage in another round of hide the sausage."

"Nice try, Malfoy, but I'm convinced you were aware that if you came this evening, you'd be coming as well."

Draco's spine stiffened, along with his cock. "I say, Potter," he began, only to find himself flat on his back on the sofa. "Po-mmpf...."

Draco's mouth was abruptly engaged with something other than complaining. He told himself quite sternly that he was not going to kiss Potter back, but his lips didn't get the message. Draco was soon an enthusiastic participant, snogging Potter for all he was worth. He arched up, seeking some relief for the ache at his groin. The buttons of his shirt seemed to melt away under Potter's clever fingers.

Those questing fingers paused and Potter sat up. His head tilted to the side in a distinctly lupine manner. "You cheeky slag," he said with a grin. "You wore the lingerie." Potter then dispensed with all niceties. He pulled his wand and Vanished Draco's clothing, leaving him wearing nothing but the ridiculous, feminine garment.

"Damn it, Potter!"

"Mm, you look gorgeous in that," Potter murmured. "I can't wait to mate with you."

"Sorry, wha...?"

Draco's words ended with a yelp as he was flipped from his back to his front. Potter immediately moved to cover Draco's barely-covered body. He nosed the hair away from Draco's nape and nuzzled him there. Draco breathed out a sigh of delight until he remembered he didn't like Potter.

"Cease manhandling me, you brute," Draco snapped. He squirmed to get away, only to realize that his movements were only exciting Potter further. Draco chose to ignore his body's own rising excitement.

"I'm not a man, I'm a werewolf," Potter whispered from behind him.

Draco blamed his resulting quiver for fear, rather than passion. He was almost disappointed when Potter moved back. He had expected he'd need to fight harder for what was left of his dignity. Draco should have known Potter wasn't giving up. That fact was brought home to him when Potter reached between Draco's legs and unsnapped the frilly lingerie he was wearing.

"Potter!"

"Shush, Malfoy. I'll take care of you."

Draco was given no chance to respond before Potter's body was draped over him once more. Draco's breath quickened and he squirmed anew. When he felt the hot prod of Potter's lubed cock at his entrance, Draco froze. When had Potter unzipped and lubed up? He opened his mouth to lodge at least a token protest, but all that emerged was a low, throaty groan when Potter's thick cock split him open.

Potter didn't stop, but he took his time as he pushed in...all the way in...until his groin met Draco's arse cheeks. Draco let his breath out, noting the slight catch as he did so. Merlin, he was so stretched and full he ached. Potter nuzzled Draco's nape again, then scraped the sensitive skin there with his teeth.

"Don't you...don't you dare bite me, you savage," Draco muttered in warning. Potter gave him a light nip, as if challenging Draco to do something about it. All Draco was capable of was another shaky moan.

Potter's lower body began to move--pulling back and pushing forward. His hips pumped slowly, rhythmically, thrusting his cock in and out and stroking Draco's clenching hole just so. Draco forgot all about protesting. He dipped his spine, arching his back to signal his submission. Potter rewarded him with a roll of his hips that had Draco's eyes rolling back in his head. He gritted his teeth, allowing only a small whine to escape.

Potter reached around, fumbling for Draco's prick and then giving him a few rough tugs. Draco's mouth fell open, and he wailed out loud. His hips picked up Potter's tempo, and Draco began rocking back and forth on the sofa in front of Potter as he became a willing participant in their frenzied coupling.

Potter's breath stirred Draco's hair as he panted with passionate exertion. His pace quickened, indicating he wasn't going to last much longer. For that matter, Draco wasn't going to last either. Another thrust-and-tug from Potter, and Draco was done. He cried out in pleasure, body going taut as he spilled all over Potter's hand and sofa. Behind him, Potter rammed in hard once more and howled through his orgasm.

As before, just as Draco was coming down from his endorphin high, he felt an odd, stretching pressure when the base of Potter's cock swelled, locking their bodies together.

"Potter!" he shrilled, wriggling in an effort to extricate himself.

"Stop struggling," mumbled Potter, letting his weight settle onto Draco's back. "You may hurt yourself if you try to pull off too soon."

"I'm going to hurt you in a moment," Draco threatened.

"Excellent," said Potter. "Werewolves enjoy a bit of rough."