Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/510431.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Al/Scorpius
  Character:
      Albus_Severus_Potter, Scorpius_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      dub-con
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-03-20 Words: 755
****** Stuck ******
by all_not_well
Summary
     Malfoy was alone, as far as Al could see. There was no sign of
     whoever had recently used and abandoned him.
Malfoy stood with his hands braced against the rough stone wall, not ten feet
from the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He might as well have been in
the red-light district on Mardjinn Alley – he was the perfect picture of a
pretty young whore fresh from his latest trick. He stood with his head bowed,
his face hidden behind the shining fall of his white-blond hair. He lacked a
shirt or robe, though he still had his black-and-yellow tie draped loosely
around his neck. His trousers were tangled down around his ankles. His pert,
pureblooded arse stuck out on display for anyone to see.
Gleaming-white gobs of come trickled down Malfoy’s slender thighs.
Al had to fumble with the placket of his own trousers, which were suddenly far
too tight for his comfort.
And Malfoy just stood there. Well-fucked, clearly, and breathing hard. But he
was alone, as far as Al could see. There was no sign of whoever had recently
used and abandoned him.
Al could only stand and stare, stupefied by the sight. The air under his dad’s
invisibility cloak was close and stale; he wanted to rip the shimmering fabric
away and take a deep breath of clean, cool, sex-soaked dungeon air. Sweat
crawled down Al’s scalp and dampened the collar of his shirt.
Malfoy’s thighs trembled, and his arse flexed.
Al shifted his weight without even thinking, ready to take a step closer. His
mouth watered.
Then he heard it. A thick wet choking sound. A sniffle through tear-clogged
sinuses.
Fuck.
Not a whore, then, but a victim.
He saw then what he’d missed before. The long, uncomfortable stretch of
Malfoy’s arms. The way his heels didn’t quite touch the floor. The red chafing
around his wrists from the invisible bonds that held him in place.
Al bit his lip hard, willing his erection to flag, even a little bit. The
situation was all sorts of wrong, but somehow his cock found it so perfectly
right all the same. A Malfoy at his mercy. Al was Slytherin enough to be able
to appreciate the symmetry of that particular concept.
But he was too much a Potter to take advantage.
Al let the cloak slip from his shoulders. The fabric pooled around his feet
with a soft whisper of sound, barely audible over Malfoy’s harsh breaths - but
Malfoy apparently heard it all the same. His head came up and his blond hair
fell back, smooth as silk, against the damp nape of his neck. He twisted,
trying to peer back over his shoulder, though his stretched arms hampered his
efforts.
Al expected a plea for help, or perhaps panic; to his shock, he got neither.
Instead Malfoy pushed himself up on tiptoe, arching his back and thrusting his
arse out in invitation.
Al’s cock throbbed; he wanted nothing more than to take what was so clearly on
offer. Why had he never noticed just how lithe and gorgeous Malfoy had become?
All that pale skin, just begging to be licked.
That filthy, stretched arsehole…
Potter, I’m a Potter, Al chanted in his head. Potter to the rescue. He tried to
picture his father, looking stern and forbidding in crimson Auror robes. His
father would do the right thing. But Al wasn’t his father, and the memory did
nothing to block the vivid reality in front of him. Al bit his lip a second
time, and felt the skin split. He licked his lips and tasted copper.
"Stop that," he said out loud. "You don’t – I’m not going to fuck you." His
mouth wanted to linger on the ffffffffffuck, his teeth scraping lightly over
his stinging bottom lip. His voice sounded hoarse and strange to his own ears,
as though someone else had spoken the words.
"Please," Malfoy whispered. "Please fuck me, I deserve it. I’m a slut, I need
it--"
"Knock it off," Al said sharply.
Malfoy fell silent, though he shifted restlessly, his fingers scrabbling at the
wall.
Potter. Potter. I’m a Potter. Al sighed.
He spared a glance down to Malfoy’s groin and immediately wished he hadn’t:
Malfoy’s cock was half-hard, blushing rosy-red.
Al wondered briefly if he really could make Malfoy want it – then firmly
stomped down on that thought.
"How do I get you off this wall?"
"Fuck me," Malfoy whispered.
"Damn it, Malfoy--"
Malfoy shook his head, blond hair flying every which way. "Need three more," he
said, so softly that Al had to lean in close to hear him. "The bindings won’t
release until then."
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� Tomoya groaned, letting his upper body
relax just enough to let his arms, which were bracing him up ward, relax. There
wasn’t any sound from the other side of the prop wall, and Tomoya was getting
sick of Wataru taking all his time with replying. This time, before he could
clear his throat and get onto him for wasting time, Tomoya’s attention was
directed to two hands suddenly planting themselves on his hips.
He squeaked, a sound he really hoped Wataru hadn’t heard, and his body flinched
away from the pair of hands before he heard Wataru’s laugh again, this time
sounding off. “You could’ve warned me before grabbing onto me. Are you gonna
start pulling?” He asked, lifting his upper body to once more brace against the
wall, ready to help as much as he could from his position.
“Ah, yes, of course~! But, before that, Tomoya-kun…” The hands on Tomoya’s hips
shifted, one gripping it more firmly while the other slid back, and then along
his-- oh.
Of course Wataru would.
“What the hell-?!” Tomoya’s legs kicked back, blindly aiming for any part of
Wataru they could hit. “Get your hands off my ass, you gross pervert!” He kept
kicking, voice raising as he shouted about how disgusting Wataru was, for even
trying to suggest they do something like that right now, did he think this was
just some weird manga and Tomoya was just going to let him touch him like
that?!
His shouts were met with staggered responses of “Tomoya-kun--” “Hold on!” and
“It won’t take long!”. Wataru let him kick at him for nearly half a minute,
before he managed to grab and hold on Tomoya’s legs, pushing them together and
then-- holding them to his chest? That’s what it felt like, and Wataru’s voice
was harder to hear once Tomoya’s kicks died down to nothing.
“Ah, it would be a shame to waste an opportunity such as this, Tomoya-kun! Who
knows when we’d get the chance to again? It’s the perfect set-up, and-- pardon
how boldly I say this-- you look so sexy! Really, your natural eroticism is
shining like this. Not taking the opportunity would be a crime!” He sounded
earnest, and Tomoya tried to ignore Wataru’s hands on his legs, one by his
ankles and dipping under his uniform slacks to rub at the skin on his ankle and
the other’s fingers idly moving over fabric covering his thigh.
No way, Tomoya wanted to say, knew he should say. While no one other than the
theatre club used this storage area, who was to say someone wouldn’t come
wandering around, or worse, that Hokuto-senpai wouldn’t have come looking for
them because Trickstar’s practice was cancelled or something? Something in him
stopped that no from coming out, though, and he’d likely blame it on Wataru
later, but...
“If anyone sees us, I’m definitely blaming you, and I’ll never forgive you,”
Tomoya finally said, resisting the urge to kick Wataru still when the third
year let go of his legs, pressing a kiss against the back of Tomoya’s thigh as
he presumably stood up.
“Don’t worry, Tomoya-kun, I wouldn’t want to share this sort of thing with
anyone else, no matter how cute you look,” Wataru promised as his hands moved,
easily finding Tomoya’s belt and unbuckling it before unbuttoning them and
sliding them down. Tomoya shivered, shifting his legs while Wataru pushed his
pants down, letting them bunch around his knees.
It’s not like he’d need to take them off entirely anyway, he thought to himself
as his face flushed. He hadn’t been entirely unaffected by Wataru’s suggestion,
nor by the other’s close proximity to him. There was something humiliating in
being almost entirely at Wataru’s mercy, too, even though he knew the other
wouldn’t hesitate to stop should he have asked.
“Are you okay?” Wataru asked, pulling Tomoya out of his thoughts. He nodded
before realizing Wataru couldn’t see him, hastily following it with a quick
“yeah, go ahead.” Wataru’s hands rested on his hips again, this time clad only
in his underwear, and Tomoya’s body twitched under his fingers as he slid them
under the waistband, slowly pulling them over the curve of his ass. He waited,
feet shifting until his underwear settled with his pants, stomach tight from
anticipation and arousal. He felt Wataru’s hands move again, squeezing his ass
before spreading the cheeks. All Tomoya had of a warning was a warm breath of
air against his skin before Wataru licked over his hole.
The noise he let out was embarrassing, and he really hoped Wataru couldn’t hear
him properly. Tomoya’s arms moved, one hand covering his mouth and the other
closing into a fist that he pressed against the wall. Any noises he made would-
- hopefully-- be muffled by his hand, and he wouldn’t have to deal with Wataru
teasing him about how much he may or may not have liked this later. All the
while, Wataru continued his purposeful and careful licks, intent on getting as
many reactions out of Tomoya as he could. When he finally got a good one,
Tomoya’s hips wriggling back toward him when he pulled back, he went back with
what seemed like twice the energy, teasing Tomoya’s entrance with his tongue
before working it in, giving him just before to make him nudge his hips back
more.
Tomoya didn’t get far, still stuck in place in the wall, and the pause Wataru
took after that made him antsy, shifting from one shaky foot to the other. His
knees pressed together, helping him keep his balance, and Tomoya wondered just
how far they’d end up going like this.
He got his answer soon enough; in the time it took for Wataru to return, he’d
taken off his pants. Tomoya’s hips twitched as he felt Wataru’s dick brush
against his skin, and he whined as Wataru rubbed against him for a few moments.
He felt one hand on his hip, and one last slide against his skin before
Wataru’s dick settled between his thighs. Combined with his pants and underwear
around his knees, Tomoya instinctively pressed his legs together when Wataru
began sliding his cock between them. He whined as Wataru slid against his own
dick, his thighs squeezing the third year snugly.
He couldn’t hear Wataru’s reaction, but he felt his hips still for a moment
before continuing, then moving back, slowly building up a careful rhythm of
sliding between Tomoya’s thighs and against his cock. Tomoya’s cheeks were
flushed and he pressed his hand against his mouth harder, trying to ignore how
nice this felt. It was humiliating; the only difference compared to anything
they’d done before was that he was stuck like this, Wataru able to fuck his
thighs as he wished without any resistance.
Briefly, Tomoya’s mind darted to what it’d be like if Wataru was actually
fucking him; just the thought was enough to make his legs tighten, knees
bending as he moaned against his hand and came. Wataru didn’t slow down,
instead pressing through Tomoya’s thighs and continuing to fuck between them.
Tomoya was sensitive, twitching and moaning louder with each slide against his
spent cock. A few minutes later, Wataru finally came; Tomoya could feel it
hitting his thighs and even his ass as Wataru pulled back, holding the tip just
over his hole.
Tomoya shivered, his whole body suddenly feeling exhausted, and it’s with a mix
of disgustion of relief that he felt Wataru pulling his underwear back up. The
mess on his legs wasn’t cleaned up, but he doubted they could clean it in the
time they had; he’d just have to sneak his clothes into the wash that night
after his family fell asleep. He stood there for a few minutes, Wataru
presumably catching his breath as well, before he heard the other speak.
“Ah...I suppose I should go look for help now, right? I’ll be back soon,
Tomoya-kun, so don’t go anywhere!” Wataru’s voice sounded winded, although he
would probably end up much more put together than Tomoya in the next few
minutes. Tomoya didn’t think any of it as he heard the storage room door open
and close, signaling Wataru’s exit to find help. He shifted his legs, trying to
find a more comfortable position to wait in, causing his pants to slide down
his calves a few more inches. The movement made him freeze, eyes wide and head
twisting to look back at the wall.
Wataru, in his infuriating way of rushing from one thing to the next, had
forgotten to also pull Tomoya’s pants up, leaving what was sure to be an
embarrassing and way too personal sight for whoever his senpai got to come
help. Suddenly renewed with energy, Tomoya began pushing at the prop wall.
He hoped it would take Wataru a while to find that promised help.
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