Hole

When Draco woke, the boy was curled into a tight ball, as far away as possible from his master on the edge of the bed. Draco hauled him in closer, smoothing his unresisting body to lie pressed in against him, face to face, skin to skin. Hole was not much shorter than he was, and by tucking the messy dark head into his shoulder Draco was able to pull the entire slender length of the slave against his body.

Drowsily he positioned his lower arm so that his hand cupped the boy's vulnerable nape, while his upper hand ran lazily over the firmly muscled shoulders, then skimmed the exposed pale skin over ribs and flank to rest greedily on the boy's hot, tenderised arse. His fingers dug into the uppermost buttock, feeling the boy tense with the shock of such rough handling on his fresh bruises. Draco smiled into the slave's hair as he emphasised his control by pulling the buttock roughly up and out to expose the boy's pucker to the cool night air. His cock twitched at the thought, stirring gently against the coarse hair of the other boy's groin, pressed relentlessly close. Draco thrust into the pressure, then rolled onto his back, pulling Hole on top.

Now both his hands were free to knead the soft mounds of arse, pressing the boy's groin closer for maximum pressure. The slave had given no sign that he was awake other than a slight whimper of surprise as he was positioned on top, but Draco could feel the boy's cock stirring reluctantly at the delicious friction. He was content to use the slave's body like a doll, grinding their groins together, cocks sliding in imperfect synchronicity. His hips arched up and his hands squeezed down until with a sigh he spurted messily between their slickly sweating bellies.

"Lick that off me," he commanded contentedly, pushing the slave off him. The pre-dawn light was barely enough to see by as Hole moved to kneel awkwardly between his thighs and lick his master's cock and belly clean. Draco's heartbeat slowed, his breathing evened out and be began to drift towards sleep to the thorough laving of Hole's tongue. "Mmmmm," he murmured sleepily. "Good boy. Clean yourself up when you're finished." He barely registered when the licking stopped and Hole left silently for the bathroom.

The next Draco knew, the sun was high in the sky. Hole was long gone, leaving only messy sheets and the scent of sex behind. Peppy must have been in because Draco's toolbox had been put away, and a tray with coffee, croissants and strawberry jam sat on his desk, preserved with a charm until he awoke.

Despite Hole's ministrations, Draco still felt a little sticky. In his shower he planned his day. He had nothing pressing at the Ministry and he hadn't been riding for several days, so... riding in the morning, and in the afternoon he would visit Madam Malkin's to see if his new dress robes were ready for their final fitting.

It was good to be in the open air again. His favourite mare, Marcasite, was fresh and eager to be trotting through the woods. When he was out here Draco wished he need not spend so much time indoors arguing with foolish Ministry peons, but realistically he knew that the delicate political manouvering was also a skill he enjoyed using at times.

As he dismounted, anticipating a pleasant lunch with his mother, Handy came out from the tack-room to take Marcasite from him, arriving just too late to prevent Draco from dismounting alone. The stablehand was flushed and his breeches were twisted awkwardly askew. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"My apologies, Master Draco. It won't happen again." said the man with admirable composure. Draco backhanded him casually. It was a minor infraction and he really couldn't be bothered administering a formal beating.

"Thankyou, Master Draco," said the slave. He stood up and bowed before leading Marcasite back to her stall, very properly ignoring the blood dripping from his nose and lip in favour of attending to his duties. Draco considered what could have distracted a usually reliable man from his work and turned towards the tack-room.

As he had suspected, the stablehands had just had their midday meal delivered by a slave, who was now spread-eagled over an overturned barrel. The red tunic of the slave was rucked up to allow the leading stablehand, Mucker, to pound into him, while his deputy fucked the boy's mouth and the final stable-hand waited patiently for a turn. The boy was blond, and Draco was surprised at the flash of relief he felt at that realisation. As they saw him, the tableau froze, but he merely gestured benignly for them to carry on.

He watched them for a few minutes, finding the earthy simplicity of their fucking arousing. The man in front tugged brutally on the boy's hair, forcing his head into a better position but it was clear that they were put off by his presence, and in any case he would be late for luncheon if he delayed any further. A few steps out of the tack-room he heard a protracted grunt as Mucker reached completion, and a stifled whimper from the boy. A hand slapped bare flesh.

Draco rubbed a rueful hand over his tented jodhpurs as he left the building. His cock would just have to wait.