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Luna enters into the gloom of Draco's potion room, down within the pit of what she calls his hideaway, and what Ron calls his dungeon (before he realises who he's talking to and goes very quiet). Even though she's never had an interest in potions, she likes watching him measure and slice with the infinite patience he reserves only for this. That isn't why she's wandered down now, fresh from the garden and smelling of dirt and lilies, but on any other day, it would be.
She approaches him slowly but loudly, making sure her feet stomp a little as she nears him. They've learnt the hard way not to surprise him when there are dangerous ingredients at hand. Prepared or not, he still tenses, predictably but not unkindly, when she twines her arms around his waist and nuzzles her forehead into his back. She's teaching him about affection.
"Are you excited?"
His waist is narrow enough to wrap him in her grip and rest her arms on his pointy hip bones. The longer she holds on, the more he softens under her. Somehow he oscillates between touch-starved puppy and disgusted recluse depending on what time of day she catches him and today is no different. He awoke clinging to her, spent the morning with his head on her lap, and by the afternoon had hidden himself down here in the safety of darkness.
"About our upcoming trip to find more imaginary vermin? Thrilled."
He's defensive because he's nervous. That's okay. She's never been one to take words too seriously.
"About tonight, of course."
Peeking over his shoulder, she watches his hand still over the neatly chopped Gurdyroot.
"Oh, yes." He tries to go back to his work as if he hadn't paused or stiffened or shown weakness. "Tonight."
"We don't have to. Neville lent me his copy of Enchanted Encounters and I'd like to start it. He tells me chapter five is particularly steamy," she says it in her off-handed way, so he feels no qualms saying no.
Traversing the minefield of his emotions is not the easiest, but patience and kindness works with most animals.
"Ugh, you don't actually plan to read that drivel, do you?"
She hums and kisses his neck, right below his ear. She's found it makes him much more agreeable.
"Maybe I'll read it aloud to you."
It could be the dimness of the room, or that Draco isn't looking at her with those cool, surveying eyes, but a surprise urge of daring falls over her. Usually, she would ease him into things and take her time until he grumbled with impatience, but it's plainly obvious to everyone (but him) how much he'll enjoy what they have planned. He doesn't realise it or won't admit it, but Luna knows him well.
She pushes her hips forward into the plushness of his arse and, despite the lack of hardness between her legs, grinds into him with the tingling promise of their upcoming evening. For all his statuesque qualities, he can't hold back his gasp. She presses him against the table edge so that he's trapped by the cage of her body. There's nothing he can do but hold still as she rubs against him, behaving himself while she untucks his shirt and trails her hands over his chest. He's always so warm and tense here, like a wild beast allowing her to touch their vulnerable underbelly. She circles his nipples just slightly, enough that she knows they've hardened into peaks that'll poke against his shirt. Even though she wants to keep going, to touch him here until he humps the desk to climax, she needs him eager and fearless for later.
"Good luck with your potion."
She grants him one last kiss on the cheek before she leaves his heated form and skips off back upstairs. Smiling, she listens to the furious swears he aims at her back.
Draco follows her around like a sulking cat for the rest of the day. He sighs obnoxiously when she looks away, but retreats affronted at her audacity when she goes to comfort him. She's used to his theatrics, both from school and years of dating, and knows the best way to handle them is to ignore them altogether. They always sort themselves out in the end.
That doesn't mean she doesn't smile into her mug when he purposely sits with his back to her, checking over his shoulder occasionally to see if she's watching and is adequately miserable without his company. Dramatic as ever. She finds his silliness charming, even if she isn't sure how much is a joke and how much is sincere bitterness at her horrible, horrible neglect of his precious needs.
"Are you alright, Draco? Is there a cluster of flustered Dabberblimps hiding in the corner? You should know they don't like being watched, especially not so fiercely."
He whirls around, face aghast in indignation. "You know perfectly well what–oh, just–" he takes a deep breath to calm himself. "What you did earlier was especially cruel even for you, you merciless tease. I demand compensation!"
"But what did I do?" Luna asks innocently.
That sends him into a fresh tirade, leaving him sparking as he fumes about tormenting she-devils and his deprived constitution. Many of the terms he uses are almost certainly made up on the spot. Luna half-listens with a smile, enjoying watching the pink flush creep to his neck.
"Draco," she interrupts. As much as she loves him, impassioned and full of life, she'd hate for him to tire himself out completely.
His mouth goes thin with annoyance, but he pauses his spiel. "What?"
"Shall we go to the bedroom? I can see you're very excited about our plan."
"Excited?" He scoffs, appalled. "Clearly you haven't been listening to a word I've said. If you had you'd know I couldn't care less about your little proposal."
"You are excited: you've been half-hard for the past hour. I expect that's been rather uncomfortable, hasn't it?"
He gapes at her. "How did you–I've had my back turned to you!"
"You've been rubbing your thighs together. It wasn't very subtle. Were you thinking about me spreading your legs and taking you?"
To her satisfaction, Draco has nothing to say to that. He manages an out-of-character, endearing stutter of words that could be anything from no to yes, of course, obviously. It isn't often she stuns him into silence and she collects each moment like the precious pebbles she's found in the woods, tucked away and ready to revisit when she needs them.
"That's good, Draco. I want you to be excited when I fuck you."
She doesn't swear often. Something about her swearing always seems to stop the conversation, making people stare at her even more oddly, as if she'd just said the stars were made of melted-down Knuts (when everyone knows they're made of phoenix tears). But she always likes Draco's reaction–awed and chided, his silence bordering on shyness.
When she walks over to him and holds out a hand, he takes it with a deferential air and allows her to lead him to their bedroom. If she knew sticking something up his arse would make him this well-behaved, she would've done it a long time ago.
The bedroom lights spark to life, their golden glow illuminating the den. Draco freezes by the doorway with a lost expression. Since the war, trying new things, changes, and situations he can't anticipate, all throw him off-guard in a way he isn't used to. It's been slow going, but piece by piece he's regrown his confidence. In moments like this, Luna is reminded that those scars and fears are still there, just buried.
“You’re nervous,” she states.
“Don’t be ridiculous–”
“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid.” She turns to face him and kisses him softly on his pouting mouth. When she wraps her arms around him, he deflates. "I've heard it can be good, even."
"Rubbish," he grumbles, plonking his forehead on her shoulder.
She soothes her hand down his back. The bumps of his spine meet and curve into the touch like they've missed her. It's taken a long time for him to feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable for her, to bear himself so willingly, so openly to her judgement. When she pulls back to remove each layer of his clothing, she treats it with all the care of removing a rose's guard petal. Vulnerability doesn't come easy to him–emotionally or physically, as someone who loathes the marks on his body and still suffers from memories of those who gave him them–and she understands the weight each covering holds. What he is trusting her with.
"You can say no." She kisses him on his pointed nose, unable to take her hands from his freshly exposed skin. "At any time. We can play Swivenhodge instead."
"But you're terrible on a broom," he says fondly. "I'd rather not have you falling off again."
Luna shrugs; she's never minded a few bumps and bruises. "But I'd be having fun. I'd like you to have fun too, Draco."
"And I am." He seems to steel himself, drawing himself into the arrogant boy he used to be. "Though I'd be having much more fun if you were naked, too."
"Can you help me?" She asks because she likes to watch him as he undresses her. The subtle delight as he reveals her curves, his never-fading joy despite how many times he sees them.
"Of course," he says without snark. "It would be my pleasure."
Draco takes his time, hands roving over newly displayed skin, touching her more than necessary to remove a simple dress and underwear. Not that Luna is complaining. He leaves her knickers until last like he's saving the best present on Christmas Day, and even when he tugs them down it's like he's savouring the revelation.
He goes to touch between her legs, but she grasps his wrist to stop him.
"Not yet. Tonight is about you." She pecks him on the lips in apology, drawing his hand away.
"We've all night to do… that. Let me make you feel good first–as a sign of my gratitude." His body shifts from flustered to charming seducer, the confident smile tempting her to give in.
"You're stalling."
He rolls his eyes, scoffing, the seductive act dropping immediately. "I'm not. Merlin, if this is what happens when I try and be considerate–"
"Shh." She pulls him closer with a hand around his neck. The snark she can forgive because he's scared, so long as he's careful with his words. "Trust me, hm?"
Sighing, he rests his forehead against hers. "I do."
"Good. I trust you too." They share a smile, one filled with a tenderness they had never expected to grow. "Now, lie on the bed, won't you?"
"If I must," he bemoans dramatically, throwing himself onto the mattress. His pale skin makes a stark juxtaposition against her collection of Suzani bed covers. He stretches out with catlike grace into an exaggerated provocative pose, raising an eyebrow in invitation.
As attractive as the sight of his long legs and delicate waist stretched out before her is, that's not where she wants him.
"No, lie on your front."
"Oh?"
He makes a big show of turning around, smirking and wriggling his arse with the familiar cockiness she's used to. For someone who's never bottomed before, he knows how to tilt his hips and show off what little fat he has. His cheeks are as flawless as the rest of him, milky and begging to be hit, and Luna has to resist reminding him of his spanking kink. Instead, she takes her wand and murmurs a cleaning spell–without warning, just to see him jump–before placing it on the bedside table and joining him on the bed.
"Are you comfortable?"
"Mm, very," he says. His eyes are half-closed, his body resting relaxed on the mountain of blankets and pillows that make up their bed.
Luna climbs up behind him, kneeling so that both of his legs lay together between hers. "Here." She guides his hands to his cheeks. "Hold yourself open, please."
"What? Why is that necess–oh!"
Draco's pink, tiny hole looks so delicate, pure and spread, that Luna can't resist diving in with her lips and tongue. Not when he's done her the kindness of shaving. It flutters in surprise as Draco gasps, jerking against the bed. He keeps his position, but Luna can tell this certainly wasn't what he expected. He's tense, and it makes his hole tight, but that just encourages her to try harder.
She soothes one long lick along his perineum all the way to his hole. Reaching under him, she pulls his genitals so that they're tucked back, pushing his legs together so that they stay exactly where she wants them. The tip of his dick peeks out of his foreskin, seemingly thrilled by this choice. When she brings the head into her mouth for a brief suck, Draco whimpers into the pillow. Her thumbs help hold his hole open, though he's doing so well by himself, just to see the satin pinkness inside him. She presses her tongue flat against it, feeling him relax as she rubs the flesh over and over his little slit. The puckered hole loosens under her attention as each lick has him moaning and arching up into her. She kisses him there, as gentle as a feather, before wiggling her tongue as deep inside as it can go.
"Luna!" His legs kick out like he can't control himself, jerking his hips back into her face.
"If you're this excited already, I can't wait to see what you'll be like when I'm inside you." She blows warm air over his hole to watch it clench. "You look lovely like this. Very pretty."
He half-grumbles, half-whines something into the pillow, but she's too interested in the way his hole twitches to listen.
She sinks her tongue back inside, letting her saliva drool down over him. They'll use lube, of course, but that won't stop her from wetting him with her mouth too. Her hand moves to tease his cock, caught snuggly between his thighs, feeling the precum dampen her fingers. It jumps in her grip while Draco's hips start to rock onto her tongue, grinding like it might go further, might touch him deeper.
When she pulls back, he squawks in frustration.
"What do you think you're doing?!" He wriggles his hips uselessly. "Get back to it! I was almost there!"
"I know," she says, and when he starts to splutter, livid, she interrupts him. "Things have only just begun–you wouldn't want it to end too soon, would you?"
He huffs, placated for now. "Fine."
She leans over him to grab her wand from the bedside table, going out of her way to rub against the flesh of his arse. Teasing him has become a favourite pastime of hers.
The familiar wood rests comfortably against her palm, just as the lubrication spell rolls off her tongue with ease. Slick coats his walls until it spills freely down his taint in clear rivulets. She runs the tip of her wand along his thigh to make goosebumps break out along his skin, a sinful idea growing in her mind as she watches his dripping hole clench and unclench. He doesn’t shy away from her wand when it circles his rim–he moans.
Wand play is exactly the scandalous, taboo kink he would lust after during his shame-filled nights at Hogwarts. With its obscene intimacy and unorthodox show of trust, tied in with the closeness of using a wand, an extension of someone's self. It’s why Luna likes it too.
So, when she slides her wand inside, they gasp in unison.
He's so wet and eager that it's nothing more than a taunting promise. Still, the way he takes it like he's hungry for anything, even the light drag of wood along his walls, is something she won't forget. She’s suddenly disappointed that her wand is so straight, for the sight she has is delightful–the lewd ease in which it sinks in, the hungry pull of his hole–but it's not enough just to see him take it, she wants it spreading him too. If he enjoys pegging enough, and she knows he will, she can't wait to see what they'll find to stretch him. Dildos with bulges and knots, toys that make his hole strain, ones that'll leave him gaping afterwards.
She whispers another lubrication spell, knowing it will be pouring thick and slippery all the way down his channel, before pulling her wand out. Ignoring his moan of frustration, she Accios the strap-on over. She doesn’t put it on yet, he still needs preparation, but she rests it against him so that the silicone brushes him each time he moves.
Her two fingers find his hole instead, pushing in without trouble, a trickle of lube oozing out around her fingers. Somehow, she knew his arse would be made for it.
"Have you done this before, Draco?"
"I've told you before, no I ha–ah! Oh, do that again!"
Luna flexes her fingers against something that makes him writhe, speechless with pleasure. He likes their normal sex, of course he does, but this reaction is completely new. Seeing him weak and hungry under her is a whole new kind of euphoria.
"You said you hadn't been with anyone else. Have you done it to yourself? All alone with your fingers inside yourself?"
That makes him pause.
"Luna, I." He's gone very still. "Well, I, maybe, only a few…"
"I think you've done it a lot." She burrows her fingers in deeper and then stops moving them altogether. "In your dorm room, late at night. With one hand working your cock and the other filling up your hole."
"Fuck."
"Why didn't you ask your dorm mates? I'm sure they would've been willing to help."
"You evil cow, move your hand!" He thrusts back onto her digits, which Luna finds much more appealing than giving him what he wants. "Yes, alright, I did it! Do it. Sometimes I…"
"Go on." She slides lightly over the soft spot to encourage him.
"Sometimes I do it when you're out of the house. I lock myself in the bathroom and f–I finger myself until I come."
"Naughty," she whispers, though she doesn't really mind. If anything, the revelation makes her even slicker between her thighs. "Do you touch your cock?"
"Occasionally. I like to–there are times when I try to come untouched."
She imagines Draco on his knees in the bathroom, fingers pumping inside him desperately while his cock pulses out streaks of come. She can see it vividly, him drooling and moaning, but there's always a possibility of making him reenact it.
"You're so silly," she says, scissoring her fingers absentmindedly. "We should've done this ages ago."
"I thought you might–look, it admittedly wasn't my smartest decision. Please, oh wise witch, make up for lost time and ruin my arse already?"
"All you had to do was ask."
The strap-on is quick to put on thanks to her practice in front of the mirror, curiously turning this way and that to see herself from every angle, and she knows from experience how good she looks. Draco gives her an appreciative whistle over his shoulder. She conjures up even more lube for the strap, and then an extra spurt for his hole, just in case. Her wand sits to the side, within reach, in case they need more.
She rests the tip of the dildo, modestly sized for their first time, against his winking hole.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," he whines, thrusting back to meet her. His hole just barely slips over the head and he spits impatient complaints into the pillow. "Obviously, I'm ready, you– oh!"
The dildo sinks inside him, and he melts. His eyes cross and his body seems to give up and go limp with pleasure, the only tension left is from his arms holding his cheeks apart still. It gives her the perfect view of the black, unyielding girth spreading his hole, forcing him apart. His doughy rim kisses at it, swallowing it down, lube bubbling up from inside him to keep the movement slick. Luna can already tell he'll be wanting bigger and thicker cocks. From the effortless way he takes each inch, to the breathy moans as it fills him, it's like he was made for this. She remembers a product boasting the design of a dragon's cock, girth and ridges included, and can't help but wonder what Draco would look like taking it.
The hilt settles against him. Luna takes the opportunity to run a hand over his curved back. "Good?"
He's a blushing mess; hair array, face slack in rapture, panting with his tongue out like a dog. Of course, he's okay, but it's safer to check, anyway.
"Good, yes, so good. Move already, fuck."
"That's not a very nice way of asking." She grinds her hips against his bum, eliciting a squeak.
"You can't be serious," he says through gritted teeth. "We're in the middle of fucking and you're concerned about my manners."
"Say please." She drapes herself over him like a blanket, shaking her hips and smiling at how flustered he's getting. It wouldn't be so fun to tease him if he didn't react so sweetly.
He bucks back as if to fuck himself on her cock, but her weight keeps him from moving how he'd like. "Ugh, fine. You horrid torturer, please move."
A kiss on the neck is all she warns him with before she thrusts properly–harshly–with enough force to knock the breath from him. He cries out, hands letting go of his cheeks to claw at the bedsheets. After all that hesitation, it's almost too easy to take him apart. With each slide inside, she can hear the wet squelch of his hole as he's forced to submit under her, as well as the hungry drag of his walls pleading to keep her deep within him. She knows he's clenching his legs together for the slightest hint of friction against his poor, neglected cock.
"Do you think you could come like this? Without me touching you?"
Deep down, they both know he's been dying for this for years. Just the thought of her inside him had him hard in his pants. Now that she's fucking him, stretching his virgin hole, it's a miracle he's lasted so long.
"Yes! Oh fuck, yes, make me come."
She laces her fingers with his and stutters her hips into a brutal, unrelenting pattern. Her lips find his neck and start sucking marks onto the bare canvas, purple signs of ownership he can wear to work. He's trapped under her, unable to do anything but take it, moaning like it's everything he's ever wanted.
"Think of all the ways we could stretch you. I think we should get you a plug to wear so that you're always ready to take me–I saw one at the shop. It had a pretty emerald jewel. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, shit–"
"Or maybe we could ask someone over? Someone with a nice big cock to stretch you out. Hannah told me that Neville is very–" she grinds down for added effect, "–well endowed."
Draco's back arches, and everything seems to pause. The static crinkle of magic tickles the back of Luna's neck before the mirror behind them cracks, the lights flicker, and Draco comes untouched. He's a wailing, squirming mess, humping forward and back in uncoordinated little thrusts. Spunk spurts between his legs, coating his thighs in white. Luna watches him writhe, keeping her pace steady throughout, milking him of every drop.
What a sight he makes. Wrung out and dishevelled. He twitches and jerks as she keeps moving, but she doesn't still until he taps her leg, whining from oversensitivity.
"You're trying to kill me," he mumbles. His eyes are closed and his body is a quivering puddle on the mattress.
"Not yet." She leans back over him to whisper in his ear, pressing down against his arse one last time. "Now it's my turn."