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“Mr. Potter, tardy as usual. I should apologise—is this detention cutting into your precious social life?”
“Professor Malfoy, it’s 8 o’clock, I’m not late.” Potter scuffled into the classroom, casting a Tempus as proof. It ticked over to 8:01 as he spoke.
Draco sucked air through his gritted teeth. “A Muggle said it best: ‘To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, to be late is to be forgotten.’ But you couldn’t possibly be forgotten if you tried, could you, Mr. Potter?”
The boy dug a finger into his collar, tugging at the red tie as he shifted nervously. “Actually, Professor, I’d prefer just to be left alone.”
Draco tsked and rolled his eyes. “Well, too bad for you. Your detention this evening will be served on your knees, and I will be watching.”
“Professor?”
“The floors, Potter. Magic just isn’t doing the trick lately. I believe they need a good, hard scrubbing.” Draco gestured to a bucket and sponge that he’d had Filch dig out of his storeroom especially for this. A specialized Aguamenti filled the bucket with soapy water.
With another flourish of his wand, his classroom door locked with a loud click. “You’ll scrub until I deem the job complete.”
“Professor, I have homework—”
“You might have considered the consequences of your actions earlier, Mr. Potter. Better get to work, I won’t give you an extension on the essay due tomorrow.”
Sighing, Potter relented. Draco watched carefully as he stripped off his outer robes and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Rounding his desk, Draco sat in his high-backed leather chair, crossing one leg over the other and settling in for a show.
He hummed quietly as the boy got down on his hands and knees and began scrubbing in earnest. Luckily for Draco, Potter was facing away from him, his arse on display in a set of too-tight trousers. Merlin, what a feast.
“That’s it, Mr. Potter. Put your back into it.”
The boy paused momentarily, shifting on his knees hesitantly before taking up the task again. Draco adjusted himself, his cock half-hard in his trousers.
The only sound in the classroom was the shhr shhr shhr of the sponge against stone floors and the spill of water each time Potter wrung out the sponge. Draco’s breath hitched.
“Potter.”
The boy looked over his shoulder at Draco, wide-eyed. “Professor?”
“If I had an alternative detention for you, one that might get you out of here a bit earlier, would you prefer that option?”
Potter twisted towards him, still on his knees, sponge in hand. “Yes, Professor. Please.”
“This is for me, not you, mind. I have my own work to get to tonight, and I can’t very well do anything with you here.”
Potter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course.”
“I don’t offer this to just anyone, Mr. Potter. You can’t go off telling anyone about it. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Professor. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Good. Come over here, then.”
Potter stood and walked towards the desk, wiping his damp hands on his trousers.
“Filthy, Mr. Potter.”
“Professor?”
“I might have at least summoned you a towel.” Draco leaned back in his chair and uncrossed his legs, spreading them wide, his erection tenting his trousers obscenely. “You’ll need to come a bit closer for this.”
Potter took a few tentative steps forward. His eyes dropped to where Draco was palming his crotch. They both inhaled sharply, and the boy’s eyes flew up to meet Draco’s.
“Have you ever sucked cock before, Mr. Potter?”
“Erm, yes?”
“Yes…?”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Are you asking me or telling me, Mr. Potter?”
The boy froze in place under Draco’s steely gaze. Draco could see his jaw muscle clench. “I’m telling you, Professor Malfoy.”
“We’ll see. Merlin knows that you have quite the ego, don’t you? On your knees, then.”
Draco caught Potter’s eye roll as he knelt but deigned to ignore it. No sense in interrupting a good thing.
A pair of glittering emerald eyes looked up at him. Missing was the trademark lightning bolt scar skittering down over the left eye, Potter’s teenage skin pristine and unmarred. Draco ruffled the brown curls so that the fringe fell over his eyes.
No, a ruffle was too affectionate; he had forgotten himself. He tightened the hair in his grip, and Potter let out a sharp cry.
“Hush now, Mr. Potter. We can’t have anyone interrupting us, can we?”
“No, Professor.”
Draco unfisted the hair and leaned back in his chair. “Well, go on then, put your mouth to use. Merlin knows you had no problem running it during class this afternoon.”
With trembling hands that betrayed his confident façade, Potter reached out for Draco’s trousers, unbuttoning them. Draco let him fumble around, knowing he would be too proud to ask for help. Finally, Draco’s cock sprung free from its confines.
“Why don’t I just—” Draco waved his wand, vanishing their clothing. “We can’t have you going back to your room with any incriminating evidence on your clothes, can we, Mr. Potter?”
Potter shivered. “Erm, no sir.”
Draco swiped a thumb across Potter’s plump bottom lip, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. Finding none, he wrapped his hand around to the back of Potter’s neck and urged him closer.
Potter closed the gap himself, darting his tongue out to lap up the pre-come beaded on Draco’s cock.
“No teasing,” Draco scolded.
Potter shook off Draco’s hand and flattened his tongue against the underside of Draco’s dick, staring him down as he sucked the tip into his mouth.
“That’s a good boy,” Draco exhaled. Potter hollowed out his cheeks, tongued at the slit. “It’s like you were made to suck my cock,” Draco shuddered. “How much can you take, do you think?”
Potter dipped his head down, saliva dribbling down towards Draco’s balls. Draco felt Potter’s throat tighten as he choked, Draco’s cock nudging at his soft palate.
“That’s the trick, you know,” Draco said, wiping a stray tear off Potter’s cheek. “Gagging generates extra saliva, helps you take more of me in.”
The boy nodded solemnly. He took a deep breath in and lowered himself on Draco’s cock again.
“That’s it, breathe through your nose.”
Draco was slowly unravelling, struggling to withhold the moans that threatened to surface with each bob of Potter’s head.
“Isn’t this so much better than scrubbing floors, Mr. Potter?” He sunk his fingers into the mess of hair, tugging slightly.
The boy moaned, the vibrations only adding to Draco’s pleasure.
“Do you know what would be even better than this?” Draco said to the top of the boy’s head.
Teary eyes looked up at him questioningly, the boy’s lips still stretched around Draco’s cock.
Draco stroked the boy’s cheek. “If I fucked you. Did you think I couldn’t see your… interest down there?”
Potter groaned, covering his groin with both hands as he continued to work Draco over. A pretty blush settled over his cheeks.
“Have you ever been fucked, Mr. Potter?”
The boy pulled off and hesitated a moment; then, as if making a decision, shook his head no.
“Would you like to be fucked, Mr. Potter?”
“Fuck. Yes, Professor,” Potter stammered.
Draco pulled him up onto his feet and bent him over the desk, too close for pleasantries. Casting a fast series of charms, he heard Potter inhale sharply. He dug his fingers into his arsehole, made loose and wet by Draco’s magic.
He rubbed the head of his cock roughly over Potter’s opening. Groaning, he sunk into the virgin arse inch by glorious inch. The boy whimpered piteously.
Draco caught himself. “Colour?”
“Green, Professor!”
“Thank Merlin,” he muttered, digging his fingers into the boy’s narrow hips as he pistoned in and out. He grabbed Potter’s hair, forcing him to arch his back. “Beautiful,” Draco whispered.
He could tell the moment he found Potter’s prostate, his moans dissolving into low, incoherent chanting: “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Professor, please.”
“I want to come on your face.” Draco didn’t wait for a response, pulling out and gripping the base of his cock tightly, already teetering so close to the edge.
The boy didn’t need to be told twice. He practically threw himself to his knees, twisting his fist over his cock. Albus Potter’s face looked up at him, his mouth open and panting. Draco stuttered for a moment.
In the next breath, Albus’ nose cracked oddly out of place. A faint, familiar scar glimmered over his skin.
“Fuck, Potter.” Draco recovered, stroking his cock once, twice, three times before the first rope of cum hit Harry’s face, half on his tongue, half over the famed scar gracing his cheek once again.
Draco groaned and drooped forward, bracing himself on the desk as wave after wave of his orgasm tore through him.
On the ground, Harry swallowed the load on his tongue, licking his lips, a desperate expression on his face. He wanked himself furiously. “Professor, I’m coming,” he keened.
He leaned back, exposing himself fully to Draco’s gaze. Draco watched in awe as his husband’s orgasm hit, emptying himself onto the floor of the classroom.
Draco fell back into his chair, breathing heavily. Harry crumpled, resting his back against Draco’s desk. They were quiet for a few moments as they caught their breath.
“Thought I lost you there for a minute,” Harry huffed.
“Forgot what we were doing—I’d be lying if it wasn’t disconcerting seeing Albus’ face below me.”
“Not Albus’ face, don’t say it like that.” Harry groaned, dropping his head back, eyes closed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”
Draco chuckled. “I think we can safely say that was a worthwhile experiment.”
“Waiting for the Polyjuice to brew was agony,” Harry said. “But yeah, worthwhile. I haven’t come like that in a while.”
“What, I don’t do it for you anymore, Potter?” Draco taunted him, poking his side with his cold toes.
“Fuck off, we both know that’s not true. Fun to switch it up, though.”
“Think we can get back to our quarters without running into anyone?” Draco picked up his wand and cast a Scourgify , cleaning them up a bit. He stood, unsteady at first, and grabbed their clothes from a desk drawer.
“Hope so.” Harry accepted a hand up, pulling Draco into a deep, lingering kiss. “Want to continue this in the shower?” he whispered, smiling against Draco’s lips.
“Let’s go, Mr. Potter.”
“That’s Malfoy-Potter, Professor.” Harry spanked Draco’s arse. “Race you.”