Fic: Truth or Dare. Challenge #43

Title: Truth or Dare.
By: Starkiller
Rating: 18+
Beta: Rian219
Disclaimer: Mine they are not, dream a girl can, no money, don’t sue.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Notes: Written for the second wave of the Eros Affair. Challenge number 43: Harry or Draco: I promise to let you rim me. Many thanks to Rian219 for helping break the writers block on this one and giving me some great ideas.



Battle lines were drawn, the challenges had been issued and the combatants stood in a disused and cobweb draped room on the top most floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The opposing groups glared at each other, each sublimely convinced of their own superiority and that they would win.

“Ready, Potter?”

Harry Potter, the Chosen One, Saviour of the Wizarding World glared at Draco Malfoy and nodded. “I am.”

There was silence then, save only for the sound of glass on stone, and then a soft cackle from the Slytherin side of the room. “Truth or dare…Weasel.”

Red faced with rage, Ron Weasley growled out at his smirking enemy, “Dare.”

“Gryffindors,” Blaise Zabini replied with an expressive roll of the eyes. “All right. I dare you to run naked through the girl’s dorms singing ‘God Save the Queen’ at the top of your lungs. Theodore’ll go with you to make sure you do it.”

Glaring and spluttering with rage, but with absolutely no intention of backing down, Ron stormed out of the room with a snickering Theodore in tow. Fifteen minutes later, the shocked shrieks of a dozen teenage girls floated upwards through the floor, and the Slytherins burst out laughing.

And that was how the night progressed. Truth, dare, question, answer, action, reaction. The bottle of fire whiskey the Slytherins had brought to help provide Dutch courage to those of their fellows that lacked the strength of character to follow through with their resolve was drunk swiftly. They were Slytherin; they would win this test of wills against their Gryffindor enemies, or die trying.

Or something like that, at any rate.

One bottle of fire whiskey was gone, and Blaise had accio’d another two bottles of vodka which were being passed around and drunk with great gusto. As the teenagers grew more and more drunk, the dares and truths grew wilder and wilder. Seamus dared Crabbe and Goyle to spend fifteen minutes snogging in the broom closet next to Filch’s office. Crabbe and Goyle did not return, and everyone had looked a little green at the endless possibilities that had provided. This, of course, meant that more alcohol was needed and more dares, for the love of Merlin!

When Blaise refused point blank to give Dean a blow job and stormed out of the room taking his cigarettes and a quarter bottle of vodka with him, Draco decided that transfiguring pumpkin juice into wine would be a splendid plan. And while the wine was distinctly orange in colour and tasted more pumpkin-y than wine-y, it was most certainly alcoholic. Slowly, through the power of liquor and teenage bravado, the Slytherins and Gryffindors either paired off, passed out, or followed Blaise’s example and slunk away.

Soon, only Harry and Draco remained. With a jug of pumpkin wine.

Silver eyes, narrowed and calculating, gazed into green. The bottle on the floor that was being spun – the tool by which the decision regarding who would ask, “Truth or dare,” and who would answer, was currently going around and around, and was, Harry mused, making him feel a little dizzy. But the bottle finally stopped spinning, and pointed unerringly at him.

“Truth or dare, Potter?”

Harry glared. Draco was such an insufferable git. He really wanted to smack that smug look off the blond’s pale, elegant face.

Wait a minute…since when had Malfoy been Draco, and since when had he been elegant?! Such deep and meaningful questions however, would have to be addressed later, as Draco, no, MALFOY, was asking Harry again.

“Dare,” Harry snarled.

The look the blond shot him was absolutely evil. “Fascinating. I dare you to let me rim you.”

“What?” Blink. Blink again. “What did you just say?”

“I said, Potter, that I dare you to let me rim you. Has your hearing failed as well as your mind?”

“If I’m so slow in the head, why do you want to do…that?!” Because if it was what Harry thought it was, well. That was…well, quite a revolting thought.

“I want to see if you’re up for it. What’s the matter? Scared, Potter?”

“No,” Harry glared at the smirking blond aristocrat.

“So get naked.” Draco was grinning broadly now, and Harry, muttering curses under his breath, began to remove his robes.

The blond watched appreciatively as Harry’s pale skin was revealed. His eyes travelled boldly up and down the lean form of the Gryffindor, noting scars – some old, some new, from a variety of accidents. He followed the line of hip and thigh with his eyes, and made a small, pleased noise as his gaze finally fell on Harry’s cock. Harry’s hard cock. A quick glance at Harry’s face and Draco suppressed the urge to crow with glee – the Gryffindor was blushing fiercely and all because Draco was eyeing him up and down.

“Lie down,” Draco purred, gesturing at a chaise lounge in one corner of the room. Where it had come from was something that was given only a moments thought as Harry, glaring and blushing by turns, marched over to the piece of furniture and sprawled on his back. “Oh, very nice,” the blond purred again, moving to stand beside the reclining Gryffindor. “Very, very nice.”

“Get on with it, Malfoy.” Harry was beginning to feel nervous; the heated gaze of the Slytherin was making his stomach churn with something akin to butterflies. And he couldn’t help feeling heat pool in his groin when Draco spoke in that soft, purring voice. That voice that went from his ears and straight to his cock. He licked his lips as Draco, elegant as ever, slowly peeled off his own clothes, revealing a slender, pale body, one nasty scar from neck to navel giving Harry a twinge of guilt. He had done that – there was no way around it. But even with the scar, long and jagged and silvery as it was, Draco’s white skin was flawless. The thatch of blond curls surrounding his cock immediately put paid to any rumours that the blond was not a natural one, and Harry could not stop the soft moan as he saw just how aroused Draco was.

It had to be the alcohol. Yes. It was the alcohol that was affecting his judgement and making him find Draco bloody Malfoy incredibly sexy. In the morning, when he woke up and recovered from his hangover, he would feel absolutely disgusted with himself that he had ever considered Malfoy to be sexy.

While he was silently affirming this to himself, Draco was getting between Harry’s legs and stroking warm hands up his thighs. That touch jerked the brunette back to the present and he whimpered softly, his cock twitching with increased arousal as Draco’s hands caressed his skin. He looked down and saw a bent head of silver-blond hair between his legs, the sight causing him to moan. Draco Malfoy was between his legs and oh.

Oh.

OH!

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his lips parted, as he felt the most astonishing thing. A warm, wet tongue licking around his balls, gently laving his flesh, soft lips sucking languidly. He groaned, spreading his legs wide, unaware that his posture was completely wanton and submissive. Between his thighs, Draco smirked to himself, and licked his way down to tease the skin just above Harry’s entrance. A whisper of magic and a pillow pushed under his hips to give the blond better access and Harry found himself awash in a sea of sensation.

That tongue – oh, sweet Merlin, that tongue! Slow sweeps of the flat of his tongue around the puckered muscle, and Draco made a soft humming sound that caused shivering vibrations through Harry’s nerves. The brunette cried out, cock now freely dripping precum, his fingers clenching against the chaise lounge. And when he thought it couldn’t get any better, it did.

Slowly, Draco pushed his tongue inside Harry’s body, curling the tip, lapping slowly, gradually increasing speed, and his lips pressed against Harry’s hot skin as he fucked him with his tongue. Harry was whimpering with pleasure, unable to restrain himself from wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking himself as Draco’s skilful tongue teased and penetrated, licked and thrust. Those soft, sinful lips against his body, that wicked tongue licking just there…Harry couldn’t restrain the loud cry of pleasure as Draco’s tongue worked its magic inside him.

It didn’t take long – having never been rimmed before, and finding the whole experience incredible, Harry was soon screaming with pleasure as he roughly fisted his cock in time to Draco’s tongue fucking him, and he came, thick and hot over his hand. As the tremors of orgasm receded, and Harry lay panting, Draco gave the ring of puckered muscle one last lick and pulled out, then sat back on his haunches and grinned.

“W-wow,” Harry stammered, unable to think of anything else to say. “That was…wow.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Potter.” Draco slithered off the chaise lounge, and Harry noted with some pleasure the splash of come on the blond’s own skin. So Malfoy had come as well. How very interesting. “Next time,” a slow smirk, “you’re going to suck my cock.”

If Draco – yes, it was Draco now, after something so intimate he could hardly be Malfoy again – had suggested that before doing those things to Harry with his tongue, Harry would have punched the blond in the nose. Instead, wide eyed, he just nodded. “O-okay.”

As the blond cast cleaning charms and got dressed, Harry just stared at him. He realised that Draco had not been drunk at all, and had been playing him from the moment the battle lines between Houses had been drawn, but he found he didn’t care. As Draco turned on his heel and marched towards the door, he could not help but call after him, “When?”

“Tomorrow,” Draco replied over his shoulder. “Room of Requirement. Eight in the evening. Don’t be late.”

As the door closed behind the blond, Harry, a huge grin splitting his face from ear to ear, replied, “I won’t.”