thepretender501: (Words: I've been disgusting)
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Title: Be My Baby
Author:
[info]thepretender501
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Charlie/Draco
Summary: You know how to tame dragons don’t you, daddy?
Warnings: Chan play, drunk!sex with the associated consent issues, daddy!kink 
Word Count: ~3069
Author's Notes: Endless thanks to
[info]treacle_tartlet for basically holding my hand on this from start to finish and to [info]forsanethaec for pointing out the not so obvious and the obvious. Thanks [info]skriftlig for helping me iron out the kinks near the end. Special thanks to [info]hd2o  group, especially [info]talekayler , [info]kitty_fic , and [info]curiouslyfic for their support. [info]deathjunke thanks for the prompt! Um, this is dirty and wrong and I’m going to hell for writing it but it was loads of fun. Hope you enjoy!


Originally posted here for [livejournal.com profile] hp_kinkfest . *is proud*


 

 

“Charlie, did I— did I say thanks for coming with me?” Hermione sighed loudly. Her hair brushed Charlie’s upper arm as she rested her head on his shoulder. “It was for a good cause.”

“I was actually going to kill Ron for volunteering me, but this has been fun, despite the fact that I feel ancient around you lot. Honestly, you were babies the last time Puddlemere United won the Quidditch Cup. It’s absurd.” Charlie rubbed his eyes. The golden ballroom was beginning to blur around the edges. He could see streaks of people still swaying on the dance floor.

“Stupid Ron and stupid Harry and stupid last minute Auror stuff. What were you saying?” Hermione asked. Her weight rested against his arm.

“I said the masquerade ball was actually--never mind. How many glasses of wine did you have Hermione?”

She lifted her head and stared at him through glassy eyes. “One.” She hiccupped. “And a half,” she added swaying slightly. She leaned on the bar for support. “I don’t drink.” She announced.

“Ah.” Charlie smirked. “That’d be the problem.” He felt a slight buzz but Hermione looked ready to topple over.

“That is not a problem, Charlie Weasley. Drinking should not be encouraged. It damages the liver and not to mention the effect it has on one’s magic…and…” She covered her mouth and lifted a finger on her other hand as if to say ‘one moment’.

“That’s it, I’m taking you home,” Charlie said.

She suddenly bunched up her blue gown with her free hand and hurried out of the ballroom, high heels clacking loudly on the marble floor.

Charlie heard a soft chuckle from behind him. He sighed and turned around.

“Always knew she wouldn’t handle liquor well.” Pansy Parkinson sat on the other edge of the bar, smoke curling up towards the enchanted ceiling from the cigarette held between two slender fingers. 

 “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, Parkinson, now I’m afraid we’d best be off.” Charlie tipped back the last of his chardonnay and stood up, only to find himself stumbling. He hadn’t intended to drink so much but the waiter had a nice smile and a cute arse. He was also the only one in the room who wasn’t younger than Charlie by nearly a decade.

Pansy laughed louder. “Take a seat, Weasley. She’s going to be in there a while.” 

“No… no, I’ll—I’ll go grab our cloaks.” He rubbed his arm and picked up his waistcoat, casually slinging it over his shoulder. He’d loosened his tie and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, but nothing would make him feel comfortable in dress robes.  

Pansy shrugged and puffed out a ring of smoke. He didn’t know why, but he was quite fond of her. He nodded a good night and she lifted her masque in salute.  

He trailed through the hazy blur of colored gowns and robes and hurried up the staircase, deciding that the Zabini manor house was ridiculously convoluted. Cool air wafted over him as he pushed open the large double doors and stepped into the hallway. A few people were filing out towards the Apparition point, but he was largely alone. He glanced at the portraits lining the walls, uncomfortably aware that their disapproving eyes were following his every movement.

Distracted, he walked right into a wall. A wall with arms and legs and a face—Draco Malfoy’s face.

Charlie drew back, preparing for the biting remarks or the sneering that Ron always described so furiously, but instead Malfoy slipped his arms around Charlie’s neck and leaned against him. “Mm,” he hummed, his breath hot and smelling of firewhiskey. “Hello daddy,” Malfoy whispered.

“Steady on, Malfoy! I’m not old enough to be your bloody--” Charlie swallowed hard. Malfoy was sucking at the tender skin of his neck. Charlie shut his eyes and attempted to disentangle himself from Malfoy’s limbs. “I-I’m not your dad,” he said once he was free.

Malfoy giggled. It was amusing to watch. It would probably embarrass him later but he didn’t seem able to stop. Charlie noticed the flush in Malfoy’s usually pale skin; it spread to his neck and Charlie wondered what else it covered. He felt himself get hot behind the ears.

Malfoy eventually caught his breath. He captured Charlie’s tie. Eyes down, he traced the fabric slowly, inching his fingers up. “Come on, Weasley. My favorite, Weasley.” He looked up, eyes glassy and dilated, lips wet. Charlie’s mouth watered and he swallowed. Favorite? Malfoy had a favorite Weasley, he thought vaguely.

 “You could be my daddy tonight, though. Couldn’t you?” Malfoy snaked his arms around Charlie’s neck again. This time his fingers curled into Charlie’s hair as he nibbled at Charlie’s neck.

“Malfoy, stop that. You’re drunk,” Charlie muttered but, his eyes drifted closed in spite of himself. Malfoy pressed closer and Charlie could feel Malfoy’s chest heaving and hips grinding against him. His hands tangled in Charlie’s hair.

“Enough!” Charlie squirmed under the heat of Malfoy’s body.

“Please, daddy… I’ll be such a good boy. Let me show you…”

It was insulting, really; how dare Malfoy call him that? He tried to concentrate on his sense of outrage instead of his increasingly hardening cock. He gripped Malfoy’s waist and turned him, pushing him against the wall. “Don’t you have a daddy?” He was suddenly aware his breathing was shallow.

 “Not one as big and strong as you.” Malfoy chuckled, arching his back and continuing to tease Charlie’s hair. “You know how to tame dragons don’t you, daddy?”

Charlie looked around. The hallway was still empty, but the occupants of the portraits appeared scandalized. He turned back to Malfoy. “Say that word again.”

Malfoy smirked and licked his already wet lips. He opened his mouth but Charlie covered it before he could speak.

“Come...” Charlie said. Head dizzy and heart pounding, he led Malfoy down the unfamiliar hallway. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this aroused. It was the alcohol… it had to be.  

Malfoy giggled and stumbled behind him, trying to keep up. Charlie pushed open the nearest door and dragged Malfoy into what looked like the dining room. Light flickered from the guttering candles on the long, oaken table. Charlie didn’t notice anything else. He slammed the door shut and shoved Malfoy against the back of it with a soft thud.

“Say it again, Malfoy,” Charlie said, somewhat breathlessly.

“Mm, call me Draco.” Malfoy said. Right, Draco, Charlie rolled his eyes, this was fucking ridiculous. What the hell was he going to do with this young man? He absently dropped the hand that held Draco against the door. Draco reacted by pushing himself off the frame and tasting Charlie’s lips, his heated arms wrapped around Charlie’s shoulders, fingers tangled into his hair and wet tongue pressed insistently into his mouth. Charlie could feel Draco’s repeated little breaths against his lips; the sensation tickled and raced straight to his groin, and he gasped. Merlin, Draco tasted of firewhiskey and peppermint candy. Charlie reached up and gripped Draco’s shoulders. With a rough jerk he freed himself and shoved Draco back against the wall.

“What’s wrong, daddy?” Draco whispered.  That. It was all Charlie wanted to hear. That word. The little blond prat. Charlie’s breath was coming in sharp bursts.

“Please, daddy, please fuck me.” Draco moaned softly. He let his head fall back, his back arch, and his hips jerk forward. His eyes glittered in the candlelight and he grabbed Charlie’s tie again. Pale, slender fingers slid the knot down and yanked the tie off. 

 “I’ll be such a good little boy from now on I promise. I’ll do whatever daddy wants.” Charlie didn’t need to be asked again. He shucked off Draco’s dinner jacket and hastily undid the buttons on his dress robes.  Draco was giggling again. It was maddening how sexy it sounded. All the haughtiness, privilege and pretension had vanished from his features leaving him exposed. Not to mention Draco had blond hair, like the waiter Charlie had been fantasizing about all night. He didn’t remember seeing Draco at the party, not once, but right now fucking the skinny boy right through the wall was all he could think about. 

“Ever ridden a dragon, daddy?”

“All the time,” Charlie said huskily, nipping at Draco’s bottom lip.

Draco’s fingers brushed against the fabric where Charlie’s swollen cock bulged.  Charlie groaned and pressed into the touch. “Is it hard?” A wicked grin lit up Draco’s face.

“Mm. Very hard,” Charlie said his voice sounded surprisingly hoarse. “It’s hard and warm… sometimes wet and filthy.” He pushed Draco’s silk shirt off his shoulders and it pooled on the floor with a soft swishing sound.

Draco groaned. “Fuck, I bet you’re good.” He slid away from the wall and dropped to his knees so suddenly that Charlie gasped.

“I bet you’re good, daddy.” Draco worked on the zip of his trousers with frightening speed. Charlie watched, still in shock, as his cock sprang free and Draco— so greedy— swirled his tongue over the tip.

“Fuck.” Charlie’s hips jerked forward slightly, his head buzzing as Draco enveloped his length and moaned. The vibrations sent shivers up his spine. So hot in that greedy mouth. He could fucking come just like this.  The filthy sound of sucking could bring him over the edge. He twined his fingers into Draco’s fine hair, attempting to anchor himself.  

“Draco,” he muttered.

“Mm,” Draco replied, mouth full, hands gripping Charlie’s thighs.

“Draco, stop.”  Charlie swayed again.

Draco didn’t seem to hear him. His tongue swirled faster and he latched on eagerly.

“Draco, gonna come. Draco, fuck… Draco! Stop!”

Draco looked up, eyes blown, tongue slowing. He released Charlie with a wet pop and grinned. “Don’t come yet, daddy. I want you inside me. I’ve been such a good boy, haven’t I?” He got to his feet slowly, his movements fluid, almost graceful.  

 

Charlie stumbled to the table, hitching up his trousers as they began to slip low. He braced himself against the table top. The candles still burned low, hissing as the flame dipped into the wax. He heard voices on the other side of the door and vaguely remembered where he was. Slipping his wand from his pocket, he cast Muffliato on the room, then settled down in one of the chairs.

“Come here, Draco,” Charlie whispered. “Come and sit on daddy’s lap.” It probably sounded silly but he was too far gone to care.

Draco approached quickly and straddled Charlie’s hips. Charlie tugged on the fly of Draco’s trousers and yanked them down. He licked his lips when he saw the hard length waiting for him, a pearl of white glistening at the tip. He gripped Draco’s cock and ran his thumb over it, shuddering as Draco gasped. “Mm, daddy’s gonna fuck you…” Charlie muttered.

“Hard, daddy?” Draco was panting.

“Hard, baby.” Charlie licked his thumb clean, eliciting another gasp from Draco. He then grabbed his wand and muttered a lubrication spell. Draco seemed to lose his balance at that; he grabbed Charlie’s shoulders and steadied himself.

“It’s so big, daddy… want you to fill me…” He lifted himself up in Charlie’s lap and began to settle down, slowly, onto Charlie’s cock.  

“Good, daddy?” Draco whispered. He squeezed Charlie’s shoulders as he lowered himself.

 

“Fuck… such a good boy… so good. Do you need daddy’s help?” Charlie held his breath as he was engulfed in the tight, wet heat.   

“Mm, no daddy, I can do it by myself.”

Once Draco’s weight was settled on Charlie’s thighs, he began rolling his hips. Lifting and lowering himself so rapidly it was all Charlie could do to grasp his waist and hold on.

“Oh fuck yes…daddy, you’re so big… right there…mm…please, daddy!”

Draco’s voice. Those words.  Charlie squeezed Draco tighter and closed his eyes, trying to postpone the inevitable. His chest tightened and his cock pulsed in time with his heart. The slick slap of skin against skin echoed off the walls of the room and still Draco rode, his voice rising and body quivering in Charlie’s arms. His cock pressed hard against Charlie’s stomach. Dizzy and drunk with need, Charlie groaned as Draco clenched tightly around his cock. 

“That’s it, good boy,” he gasped. He reached for Draco’s cock and squeezed as Draco bobbed up and down on his lap.

Draco stopped crying out for daddy. He threw his arms around Charlie’s neck and increased his pace, making sounds in Charlie’s ear, just primal noises, as if he might’ve forgotten how to speak.

“Come on, baby…” Charlie pumped his fist faster over Draco’s erection. He bit down on his tongue as Draco suddenly tensed.

“Fuck, sweetie. Such a good boy,” Charlie gasped as hot liquid spurted onto his chest and rolled down his fingers. Draco shouted incoherently and his body spasmed. The movements were enough to bring Charlie over the edge. He dug his fingers into Draco’s sides and held him down, held him still as he came crying out, rambling dirty words against Draco’s neck. He couldn’t remember the last time he came so hard he couldn’t think…couldn’t breathe…couldn’t see straight.

He didn’t know how long it took for him to come back to himself. Slowly he became aware of Draco’s fingers curling in his hair and stroking the nape of his neck gently. He heard the hissing of the candles and Draco’s soft panting against his cheek. Felt his cock still half hard buried in Draco’s arse. He could feel lube and his come sliding out of Draco’s arsehole right back down onto his own cock. Come drying on his chest, his fingers. Draco’s trembling body in his arms. Draco’s heartbeat. Christ, what the hell had he just done?

“Mm, daddy.” Draco sighed. He sounded oddly sober; it was unnerving. “Want to go again, yeah?” His lips brushed against Charlie’s jawline.

“Malfoy…I don’t know what—don’t know why that happened.” Charlie shifted unsteadily in the seat and Draco groaned.  

“But it was good.”

“Yes, but—mmf—get up.”

Draco didn’t move; instead he held Charlie tighter. He seemed to have trouble with listening. “What if I’d rather stay? You’re still hard, I can feel it. You want me.” Now Charlie was certain Draco had sobered up. Fuck. He’d done all of that and Draco was sober enough to remember it. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t remember seeing Draco approach the bar. The bar… bloody hell. Hermione was probably wandering the manor house searching for him. He had to get up.

“Malfoy--” 

“I said call me Draco, daddy,” Draco snapped.

“Draco, get up. I have to go.”  

 “One more time…come on, daddy. You’re so hard now.” Draco swirled his hips gently.

It was true. Charlie’s body reacted to Draco the same way it had when he was sixteen changing out in the Quidditch locker rooms right after a match. It was fucking humiliating then. Now it only made sense to stay inside and fuck his baby a second time. No, that wasn’t right. He was thinking with his cock again.

“You’re being naughty, Draco. Daddy doesn’t want a naughty boy. Get up,” Charlie tried.

“So punish me,” Draco whispered.

Charlie stopped struggling and sat back exasperated. Draco seemed to take this as a sign of surrender. He leaned down and kissed Charlie again.

“Mm, next time, okay baby?” Charlie murmured against his lips.

“Next time?”  Draco drew back and Charlie was surprised to see genuine shock in his eyes. “You want a next time?”

Charlie shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“I don’t know I guess—I thought it would be harder since I’ve wanted you for--” Draco paused and Charlie was sure he’d be pale pink in regular lighting. He smiled and cupped Draco’s chin urging him closer. Draco bent down and kissed him. This time his mouth wasn’t as insistent and Charlie felt the slow build in his chest as Draco’s lips lingered and his tongue teased though it didn’t quite ignite the same frantic spark from moments earlier. Charlie absently brushed his fingers along Draco’s forearm feeling the raised skin where he had been marked when Draco pulled away suddenly, sated. With a very Malfoy-like smirk, he slowly lifted himself from Charlie’s lap.

“You’ll dream about me,” he said as he hitched up his trousers.

Charlie leaned back in the seat and stretched. “Damn right I will.”

Draco was positively grinning as he spelled himself clean and buttoned his robes. It was just this side of adorable.  Charlie stifled the urge to sit Draco right back on his lap.

At the doorway, Draco paused.

“I hope you’re serious Charlie, because I just--I wanted you,” he said without turning around.

“Run along, Draco. We’ll play again soon,” Charlie promised.

Draco beamed. “Okay, daddy.” He pushed out of the dining room door.

 It should’ve felt wrong, the location, the sex, the words, the entire evening— but somehow, Charlie felt more uneasy about this possibly being their last meeting. He remembered Hermione again and hurried into his robes before leaving the room.

He grabbed his and Hermione’s cloaks from the coat room, already imagining his next meeting with Draco. Maybe he’d bring Draco to Romania, let him see the dragons, and then fuck him outside against one of the massive evergreens. Or maybe he’d just take Draco to his flat and throw him on the ruddy old sofa. He could see Draco screaming, writhing, and begging for daddy. He shivered.

“Where were you, Weasley?” Zabini’s sharp voice cut into his thoughts. It was only then that Charlie realized he was back in the ballroom.

“Upstairs,” he said vaguely shuffling the cloaks in hand. The room was empty but for Zabini, Parkinson and Hermione who sat, head down and arms sprawled out at one of the empty tables. God, how long had he been in there with Draco? In Draco…he glanced at Hermione.

“She’s asleep.” Zabini said. “Wasn’t it your job to babysit?”

Charlie chuckled, he couldn’t help it.

Zabini frowned. “What?” he asked. He glanced at Parkinson and she shrugged lighting another cigarette. “What’s funny?” Zabini demanded.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Who said I wasn’t babysitting?”


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