Word Count: ~4160
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Warnings: Rough sex
Summary: A near-death experience leads to an epiphany.
Author's Notes: Written for the daily_deviant October 2011 prompts of life-threatening situations, bathing/washing, and silence. Dedicated to lokifan, both for inspiring the pairing and for being generally awesome. Thanks to A for the beta!
“Exactly how much damage control am I going to have to do here?” Kingsley asked.
“Quite a lot, I'm afraid.” Draco Malfoy tapped the documents he'd spread out over the desk between them. “You'll have to sack Anderson at the very least. If it were just the centaur lover, I could’ve put a positive spin on it, but the selkie prisoner in his basement makes that impossible even for me. And then there's all this business with the vampire cult...”
“Fuck. How could I not know my own head of Magical Creatures was a raging pervert?”
“I seem to remember you saying something very similar about your head of Public Relations once.”
Kingsley grinned. “At least that surprise was a pleasant one.”
Draco flushed and dropped his eyes to his papers. Just that little hint of pink staining his cheeks was enough to make Kingsley lose his focus. He hoped Draco was free for lunch.
“I was going to sack Anderson anyway,” he said, trying to keep himself on track. “And I'll ensure that he's fully prosecuted for what he did to that poor selkie. What else – ”
Kingsley and Draco both gasped as the entire office rocked violently. A glass paperweight rolled off Kingsley's desk and shattered; picture frames toppled off the shelves behind him.
Draco drew his wand. “What on earth – ”
This time the room shook with such force that the floor buckled. Kingsley leapt to his feet, heart pounding, wand in his hand. An ominous cracking noise drew his eyes to the wall, where he was horrified to see a network of fissures spreading down from the ceiling. Dust and dirt trickled through them.
Suddenly, the floor was no longer solid. It yawned and pitched like the deck of a ship. Kingsley stumbled but managed to catch himself on his chair. Draco, on the other hand, was thrown half a metre backwards. He landed on his back with a pained grunt.
One of the fissures in the wall split open, showering the room in dirt.
“What's happening?” Draco shouted over the now incessant thunder of splintering wood and disintegrating sheetrock.
Blood rushing in his ears, Kingsley rounded the desk and staggered towards him across the rolling floor. He narrowly avoided being crushed by a collapsing bookcase. It had been years since he'd felt this – the realisation that his life was hanging by a thread, that death could come at any moment.
Kingsley fell to his knees by Draco's side. Draco grabbed his arm and opened his mouth to speak, but then he looked above Kingsley's head and his eyes widened. His wand hand whipped up so fast he almost clocked Kingsley in the face.
Kingsley flinched as several huge chunks of plaster rebounded off Draco's shield. Gods, they would have hit him right in the head. Mouth dry, he met Draco's eyes and knew the terror there was reflected in his own.
The office door burst open. An Auror Kingsley didn't know by name lurched through it.
“Minister, we've got to get you out of here!” he said, wheezing with a combination of fear and the dust that was thick in the air. “The subterranean support wards are destabilising. You have to – ”
The doorway caved in, burying the Auror under a mountain of rubble. Draco cried out.
Kingsley knew there was no helping the man. He fumbled in his robes for the small emergency Portkey he kept on him at all times, pulled Draco towards him, and said, “Escape Protocol B.”
The activated Portkey yanked them out of the Ministry, depositing them in a safehouse a few seconds later.
After the chaos they'd just been in the midst of, the silence of the safehouse was deafening. They'd landed with Draco sprawled out on his back, Kingsley half-atop him. Draco was shaking, gulping for breath, his heart racing so fast that Kingsley could feel it vibrating in his own chest. He was alive.
Flooded with relief and adrenaline, Kingsley lowered his face to the side of Draco's neck and breathed in deeply. He could smell Draco's intoxicating scent even under the fear and dirt. Heedless of the layer of dust covering Draco's skin, Kingsley kissed his throat. Draco's pulse beat a rapid tattoo against his lips.
“Draco,” he said.
Tremulous hands smoothed over his shoulders. Galvanized by this further proof of Draco's life, Kingsley kissed him full on the mouth, pushing his tongue in deep, trying to taste as much of Draco as possible. His cock strained against the placket of his trousers, and he shifted his position on top of Draco to better press it against Draco's hips.
“I need to fuck you.”
Draco drew a startled breath. Kingsley himself was surprised by his own bluntness, by how guttural his voice had been. Yet there was no denying the truth of his statement. He needed Draco. Now.
He yanked open the clasps on Draco’s robes. Draco didn’t resist, but he did say, “Are you sure this is the best – ”
Kingsley seized his mouth in another kiss, grabbing Draco’s hand and pressing it against his erection, which was ready to drill a hole through his trousers. Draco moaned and gave him a little squeeze that had Kingsley biting at his lips.
He rose up on his knees to cast off his robes while Draco wriggled out of his own beneath him. Kingsley dragged Draco’s trousers, pants, and shoes off his legs in one clumsy movement. Then he took hold of Draco’s hips and flipped him onto his stomach.
In the corner of his mind, Kingsley was appalled by his behaviour. He considered himself a gentleman – a thoughtful, considerate lover. That didn’t mean he and Draco never got rough, but they started slow and worked their way up to it; Kingsley was always aware of their significant size difference and the fact that it wouldn’t take much for him to injure Draco by accident.
But he was thrumming with adrenaline, blood pounding so loudly in his head that he couldn’t think straight. All he wanted was to grab and thrust and fuck.
Kingsley pulled Draco up to his knees, conjured a palmful of lube, and loosened up his hole as quickly as possible. Even as he freed his cock from his trousers and slicked it with the rest of the oil, Kingsley knew he hadn’t prepared Draco thoroughly enough. Penetration would be uncomfortable for him.
Draco wasn’t defenseless, though, and he had his wand. Kingsley had to trust that Draco wouldn’t allow himself to be hurt, would put a stop to things if necessary, because nothing short of that would even slow Kingsley down.
He lined his cock up with Draco’s hole and took him in one savage thrust. Draco gasped, back arching in an exaggerated U, but he didn’t protest.
Merlin, he was tight, so much tighter than usual. What little rationality Kingsley had been able to cling to evaporated at the sensation of that sweet little hole struggling to stretch around his shaft. He gave into his body’s urging to just fuck Draco’s brains out.
“Fuck, oh gods, Kingsley – ” Draco spread his thighs wider and lowered his chest to the floor. His voice was raw – not with pain, but with pleasure.
Relief intensified Kingsley’s lust. He braced his knees, kept a firm hold on Draco’s hips, and rutted on him in an animalistic frenzy. Each rapid snap of his hips sent his cock plunging deep inside Draco, balls slapping against the underside of Draco’s arse with an obscene smacking noise. When even that wasn’t enough, he pulled Draco back into his thrusts, working Draco on his cock like a doll.
Draco’s moans escalated into cries and then outright screams, short and sharp and full of ecstasy. His left arm was stretched out flat in front of him, the other between his legs, wanking himself. Kingsley couldn’t reach around to help him out; he was afraid he would fly apart if he let go for so much as a second.
It was scant minutes before Draco started to shake, a sure sign of imminent orgasm. Kingsley was glad, because his vaunted stamina seemed to have deserted him. His all-consuming arousal was going to hit the point of no return any second.
They peaked at the same time, Draco’s shriek all but drowned out by Kingsley’s harsh bellow. Even after his release had ripped through him, Kingsley couldn’t stop moving. He was a man possessed, clinging to Draco’s hips, fucking into him with desperate little grunts until his cock was so soft it just slipped out.
Kingsley collapsed onto his back beside Draco, chest heaving. Draco curled up against him.
“Kingsley,” he said in a soft, purring murmur.
Draco was never so cuddly or affectionate unless he’d been well-fucked. Reassured that Draco hadn’t been hurt or frightened by their frantic coupling, Kingsley turned towards him and pulled him close. He kissed Draco’s mouth and then stroked his back while Draco nuzzled his neck. Make that very well-fucked.
Kingsley felt for Draco’s heartbeat. It was still fast, but now that was thanks to lust and exertion rather than fear.
Though he’d enjoyed the sex – gods, had he ever – Kingsley felt no relaxation, no post-orgasmic lassitude. He was restless and on edge, unable to forget the madness of his collapsing office.
“The Ministry,” said Draco. His voice was hoarse from screaming. “We should go back.”
“We can’t. This safehouse is designed to shelter the Minister in a national emergency. The wards won’t go down for forty-eight hours unless an Auror releases them from the outside.”
“But we don’t know what’s happening.”
Draco’s heartbeat sped up. Kingsley pressed his hand harder against Draco’s back.
“I don’t like it either, but the most important thing to me is that you’re safe.”
Draco drew back a little to look at his face. “You’re the Minister for Magic. I shouldn’t be your priority.”
“So don’t tell anybody.”
Kingsley ached for the hundreds of people who had been in the Ministry; it killed him not knowing how many had died or whether the wards had been repaired in time. In the part of his brain where he was always the Minister, no matter where he was or what he was doing, Kingsley knew how unlikely it was that the support wards had destabilised on their own. He was facing the possibility of a terrorist attack that would threaten the peace he had worked so hard to achieve.
All of those concerns paled in comparison to the thought that Draco could have died today.
Kingsley ran his hand up the back of Draco’s neck to his hair. The gilt strands were so caked with dust and grime that they looked grey.
“Let’s get cleaned up,” he said.
He showed Draco to the bathroom, where he started the shower running while they took off the rest of their clothes. There was just enough room in the shower for two, though the breadth of Kingsley’s shoulders had him crowding Draco against the wall a bit.
Kingsley had never been happier with his shaved head. It took a full ten minutes and three shampooings to wash all the filth out of Draco’s hair. The results were worth it, however, when Draco’s hair was restored to its natural silkiness, even if Kingsley did miss the scent of Draco’s usual shampoo.
Once that was taken care of, they stood close together under the warm spray and scrubbed each other down with soap-lathered flannels. Their hands moved slowly, stroking and caressing as they washed away the horror of the morning. Kingsley couldn’t keep his mouth off Draco; his lips brushed against Draco’s cheeks and throat and shoulders without pause.
Banked desire flared hotter the more Kingsley explored Draco’s sleek muscles and slippery skin. He sucked on Draco’s neck, cock swelling with such urgency it was as if he hadn’t come at all. Kingsley held Draco against him with one arm and reached down to knead his arse with the flannel.
Draco licked water off his chest, erection laying heavy against Kingsley’s thigh. Kingsley dipped the flannel between his arsecheeks and rubbed it back and forth over Draco’s hole until Draco’s breath stuttered. The cloth came away stained with semen.
Arm tightening around Draco’s waist, he said, “You still have my come inside you.”
“Where it belongs.”
“Yeah?” Kingsley could feel that hot animal lust rising inside him again. He flipped Draco around so they were pressed chest-to-back, then fondled Draco’s balls under the pretence of washing them. “Is that what your gorgeous arse is made for? Taking my cock?”
Draco leaned against him, holding on to the arm wrapped around his waist. “I would argue that your cock was made to pleasure my arse.”
“Well, someone must have mucked up somewhere, because I barely fit inside that tight little hole of yours.”
“That’s the way I like it.” Draco tipped his head up, eyes smouldering, mouth damp and pink and open.
Kingsley bent to kiss him, pumping Draco’s cock with the flannel. Draco rocked his hips into the touch. His wet back slid against Kingsley’s erection in a maddening cadence, and Kingsley squeezed him harder.
Draco broke the embrace, but he didn’t go far. He braced himself against the shower wall and arched his back, looking at Kingsley over his shoulder. “Be rough. Like before.”
“You liked that?” Kingsley ran his hands down Draco’s sides, enjoying the sight of Draco’s pert arse lifted up and streaming with water.
“Gods, yes. Fuck me open on that massive cock.”
Body on fire, Kingsley grabbed Draco’s hips and plunged inside him. Draco’s cry reverberated off the tile.
Their height difference made having sex standing up a challenge, but they could manage it if Kingsley bent his knees and Draco leaned forward far enough. Even still, each one of Kingsley’s vigorous thrusts lifted Draco up onto the balls of his feet. Kingsley plastered himself against Draco’s back and pinned Draco’s hands to the wall with his own.
“Is this what you want?” he said into Draco’s ear.
“Yes – oh, yes, give it to me, take me – ”
Kingsley groaned. Draco bucked and twisted beneath him, begging for more with both his body and his voice, and every carnal demand he made stoked Kingsley’s desire. He could feel himself losing control, his thrusts becoming even rougher than before – borderline brutal. He had to rein himself in; it was his responsibility to make sure Draco didn’t get hurt…
But Draco wanted this, and that was what made it so hard for Kingsley to hold back. He’d almost lost Draco today. He couldn’t deny his lover anything, much less something they both wanted, something that summoned those rapturous cries from Draco’s throat. Kingsley gritted his teeth, holding himself in check on the razor’s edge between energetic deepdicking and outright carelessness.
Draco’s wails devolved into sobbing gasps and moans as his voice broke from strain. His shaking body made his need clear, but he couldn’t touch himself with Kingsley holding his hands down. Despite a prideful desire to see if he could make Draco come from being fucked alone – he had in the past – Kingsley released one of his hands, grabbed Draco’s cock, and pulled hard in time with his thrusts.
“Come on, baby.” Kingsley knew Draco was far gone when he didn’t protest the endearment. “Come for me.”
The violence of Draco’s orgasm took Kingsley by surprise. Draco convulsed against him, feet slipping on the tile floor, freed hand slapping the shower wall. His screams were raspy, the sounds of a man completely lost to sexual bliss. Come jetted over Kingsley’s hand and was washed away seconds later.
Though still propped against the wall, Draco’s body had gone liquid, and he could no longer hold his own weight. Kingsley put his arm around Draco’s waist and kept their left hands joined, using his own body to support Draco while he pounded him with brusque, urgent strokes. If he were Draco’s age, he’d have already come, but ten extra years meant a few extra minutes on the second go-round.
“Are you going to fill me up?” Draco asked in a throaty whisper.
“I’ll fucking fill you up, all right.” Kingsley pressed his face into Draco’s neck. “Get you all wet and sloppy.”
Draco went even limper in Kingsley’s arms. His heaving breaths were audible even over the roar of the shower and Kingsley’s own grunting. “I love how strong you are.”
“Show me who I belong to, I need you to own me – ”
It was Draco’s impassioned plea, even more than his tight arse, that pushed Kingsley over the brink. He bit Draco’s shoulder to stifle his shout and crushed Draco against him, relishing every pulse of come that marked Draco as his.
With Kingsley’s release, Draco lost his last bit of energy; he sagged like a rag doll. Kingsley kept a careful grip on him while he pulled out, then lifted Draco over his shoulder. As he turned off the shower, he recalled with fondness how vehemently Draco had objected the first time Kingsley had picked him up this way, how fiercely he’d struggled – and how desperate he’d been to be fucked once Kingsley had put him down.
Now, Draco was silent as Kingsley dried them both with a spell and took him into the small bedroom. He flipped aside the bedcovers and laid Draco down, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. Draco was going to give him hell later for not letting his hair dry naturally.
Dazed and half-asleep, Draco mumbled, “I like when you carry me.”
Kingsley smiled. “I know, baby.”
He got in bed beside Draco, pulling the covers over them both. Draco didn’t complain when Kingsley nudged him onto his side and spooned up behind him. Kingsley caressed Draco’s stomach, listening to him breathe, letting his hand slide up Draco’s chest to seek out his heartbeat, every now and then pressing his lips to Draco’s throat just to feel his pulse.
He didn’t want their relationship to be a secret anymore. So he was technically Draco’s boss – surely people wouldn’t think Kingsley was the type of man to take advantage of an employee. Draco had begged to be his, and Kingsley wanted the whole world to know that nobody, nothing, would take Draco away from him.
The morning’s catastrophe and the rounds of energetic sex that had followed should have exhausted Kingsley the way they had Draco, but he was wide awake, unable to quell the nagging fear that if he closed his eyes, he would open them to find that this had all been a dream, and that Draco had died back in his office after all. To distract himself, Kingsley fantasised about what it would be like if they revealed their relationship.
They could dine out in public without having to pretend they were working meals, visit each other’s homes without needing to be discreet or having cover stories prepared. Kingsley could kiss Draco right in the Atrium of the Ministry; he could leave bite marks on Draco’s neck that they wouldn’t have to heal, and everyone would know. The dozens of men and women who chatted Draco up every day wouldn’t dare flirt with the Minister’s lover.
Kingsley groaned in disbelief when his cock began to thicken again. When was the last time he’d had three erections in the space of a couple hours? Not since he’d been Draco’s age, certainly.
The hard heat of Draco’s body was only making things worse. Kingsley shifted his hips, searching for a less arousing position, but only succeeded in rubbing himself against Draco’s arse.
“Again?” said Draco.
Kingsley pulled his hips back, but Draco scooted backwards to maintain their connection. He lifted his top leg in clear invitation. Kingsley pushed it back down.
“Absolutely not. I know how sore you must be.”
“I’m never too sore for you.” Draco rolled onto his back, giving Kingsley an offended glare.
“It’ll go down by itself, Draco. I’m not a teenager; I don’t have to obey every single biological impulse.”
Draco cupped Kingsley’s face with one hand, eyes softening. “You do today.”
Kingsley covered Draco’s hand with his own, struck by how perceptive Draco could be. He turned his head to kiss Draco’s palm. “You’re not even hard.”
“I’ll still enjoy it.”
As if Kingsley would ever fuck Draco like that. He lifted himself to kneel over Draco’s body. Draco pulled his legs up in anticipation, but Kingsley slid down until he was nuzzling Draco’s limp cock.
Draco let out a pleased sigh, hand smoothing over Kingsley’s bare scalp. His cock was as beautiful as the rest of him – long and slim and a mouthwatering pink, a feast for every sense. Kingsley teased him with tongue and lips, licking around the shaft, suckling the head, ducking down to mouth Draco’s balls. When Draco’s flesh started to respond, Kingsley let himself become more forceful, sucking on Draco’s cock and enjoying the rare experience of feeling it come to life inside his mouth.
He pulled off and turned his attention to Draco’s hole. It was swollen, raw from being so roughly used, and dripping with come. Kingsley swiped the flat of his tongue over it, searching out the taste of himself.
“Oh, don’t, that’s filthy,” Draco said, though his objection was rather undermined by the way he pushed his arse against Kingsley’s face.
Kingsley cleaned him out thoroughly. Draco’s hole was loose enough that it was no challenge to get his tongue inside; Kingsley shoved it deep, fucking Draco and sucking his rim until he was squirming and begging for more. Checking once again that Draco wasn’t bleeding or torn, Kingsley conjured another handful of lube to spread over his cock.
He maneuvered himself back on top of Draco, who wrapped his legs around Kingsley’s waist. Kingsley didn’t miss Draco’s wince and sudden tension when he pressed inside, but he didn’t stop. It was a point of pride for Draco to be able to take Kingsley, and for Kingsley to withdraw without being asked would be a grave insult.
Moving as slowly as possible, Kingsley eased forward bit by bit until he was buried to the root. Instead of thrusting, he fell into a gentle rocking motion, keeping their hips locked together.
Draco relaxed, sliding his hands up Kingsley’s arms and over his shoulders. “Put your weight on me. I want to feel you.”
A pleasurable shiver raced down Kingsley’s spine, as it always did when Draco expressed appreciation for his size. Putting all of his weight on Draco was out of the question, but by now he knew exactly what it was Draco wanted – to be overwhelmed by Kingsley’s strength, to feel helpless yet also safe – and he knew how to give it to him. He lowered himself onto his elbows and dropped his upper body onto Draco’s, doing some creative bending in order to get their faces on the same level. Draco squeezed his thighs tighter, pulling Kingsley against him.
They stayed like that for a long, long time. It was more than just a simple act of penetration; it was about their connection – skin against skin, hearts beating in unison, breath mingling as they kissed. The sensation of Draco’s arse wrapped around his cock was secondary to Draco’s arms and legs holding him close, urging him deeper. Time could have stopped and frozen them like that, forever, and Kingsley would have had no regrets.
Draco’s breath grew shorter. He arched his back, rubbing his cock against the hard plane of Kingsley’s abdomen, straining towards climax. Kingsley watched his face, his closed eyes, his open mouth, the sweat glistening on his skin. Emotion swelled in Kingsley’s chest until the pressure became unbearable, and without conscious intention, he said, “I love you.”
Draco gasped, eyes flying open. Hot liquid pulsed over Kingsley’s stomach as Draco stared at him with wide eyes. It was the most silent orgasm Kingsley had ever heard him have; he wouldn’t have known Draco had come at all if he hadn’t felt it, slick and sticky between them.
Kingsley rested his face in the crook of Draco’s neck. He didn’t need Draco to say anything, it was enough for Draco to know how he felt…
Draco had stopped moving. Kingsley thrust faster, though he wasn’t sure he was going to make it a third time. Then Draco’s hand gripped the back of his neck and he pressed his lips to Kingsley’s cheek.
“I love you,” he said into Kingsley’s skin.
Kingsley lifted his head. Draco looked frightened but determined, and when he met Kingsley’s eyes and repeated the words a second time, then a third, Kingsley knew he was telling the truth. He seized Draco’s mouth, drawing Draco into him even as orgasm swept through him and into Draco, making them one, together and in love and alive.
Have A Drink On Me
Forget about the check, we'll get hell to pay.
- FIC: Alive