Mistaken Identities

DISCLAIMER: Absolutely none of the characters in this story belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them and I will not be (nor do I have any interest in) making any money with this story. I repeat, not mine.

It's alright, if you want me
And It's alright, if you wanna touch me
It's alright, if you wanna lay me down
Well, It's alright, if you wanna do me.


Do you have a specialty?
Something a little cruel you'd like to do to me
I don't even know your name
And I'll probably never see you again
-Madison Avenue


Draco entered the club, strolling through the darkness and anticipating a night of heavy drinking. He’d told his father that needed "to sow some oats” which was how he had managed to get away with being in New York during his winter break, just months before he was supposed to be pledging his allegiance to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord. His lips twisted in a grimace and he shouted his order at the bartender who produced his vodka shot and the jack and coke with surprising speed. He tipped well, downed the shot, and prowled the club.

There wasn’t actually much of a wizarding community in NYC; it was simply too large and muggle oriented to get away with the kinds of magic your average witch or wizard did on a regular basis. Though, having now visited the city himself, he was pretty sure nobody would give a shit if you apparated an elephant onto the sidewalk. As long as it didn’t screw up traffic any more than it already was. Magic also tended to go awry here. Or at least, that was what he had been told. Regardless, it suited Draco’s needs since his father was convinced he was whoring his way across the city before settling into the serious business of torturing and murdering for Voldemort. He frowned. He had little desire to think such dark thoughts tonight.

He danced and flirted his way around the club, making sure to keep the liquor flowing. And while many of the women were willing, his heart just wasn’t in it. He shrugged. At this moment, getting laid was not at the top of his agenda. At least, that’s what he thought until he spotted her. She was dancing close the front of the dance floor, near the pounding speakers. The first thing to capture his attention was her shoes. He looked down to make sure he didn’t lose his drink as some drunken girl slid past him and her boots caught his eye. Black, sliding over her knees, up her thighs, and with stilettos that looked absolutely impossible to dance in. Her short brown hair was slicked down, her eyes lined in black. Her skirt was short and her top was little. In short, she looked a lot like the other women gyrating on the dance floor. Except, when he looked closer, she was so very different and he couldn’t put his finger on why. He perused his way up her body and was intending to move on when their eyes met. There was something there, something intense and desperate that tugged at his heart and his groin. He wanted her. And like any good Malfoy, was as excited about the chase as the capture.

He didn’t move in right away. He downed the last of his drink and tossed the plastic cup over his shoulder. He let the music wash over him and for the first time that night really danced. Not that inane bobbing to the music, but with every fiber of his person. He let every lustful feeling he’d ever had in his life come to the surface and moved. He circled around her, letting her catch a glimpse here and there pretending to ignore her. She knew he was there. From the corner of his eye, he watched her reject a man over eager for her lushness with just a deadly look. Again, there was something familiar and very very sexy about that look. He continued to watch her, more obviously now. She moved as if she were needed to be free, as if this was only thing in her life that mattered.

He moved close to her, stopping to catch her eye. She didn’t stop dancing but she turned and looked at him. So prissy, so unimpressed. He loved it. He bowed, ever so slightly, letting a slow smile steal across his face. She looked surprised for an instant and then she gave a tiny smile and an even tinier nod. It was enough. He stepped closer to her but didn’t touch. He let his body move with hers, sometimes mirroring, sometimes moving in opposition. They moved like that, together, for a while. He wasn’t sure how long. It was better than some of the sexual encounters he’d had in his life. She initiated the touching. Just a skimming of fingers down his chest. He shuddered. He could play the game with the best of them; there was little choice with his family and destiny. Suddenly he didn’t want to play anymore.

“Come to my hotel room with me,” he said into her ear. She looked at him steadily, weighing him, wondering why he’d decided to change the rules. He looked at her and dropped some of his walls, letting her see more of him than anybody had in probably a decade. ‘Please’ he mouthed.

Then she smiled brilliantly and reached out to take his hand. In some weird way, he felt like a child as she led him off the dance floor and to the coat check. They didn’t talk as they left the club, or in the taxi they took back to the hotel. They just held hands. She made small circles with her thumb that sent shivers down his spine. The taxi stopped and he held onto her hand as they got out of the taxi. He slid her jacket down her shoulders and pulled her close, standing behind her as they rode the elevator. He pulled the plastic key card out of his pocket and opened the door, entering first to turn on a light and dropping their jackets on the nearest plush arm chair. The door closed with a click and they stood, staring at each other.

And then they were on each other, mouthing meeting, tongues battling. He slid his hand down to cup her breast, teasing the nipple with his palm. She moaned into the kiss, nipple growing rigid at his attentions. She slid both her hands up his chest, and ripped his shirt open. Buttons flew everywhere and she broke the kiss to move her mouth down his chest, licking and biting. He panted as her tongue moved over one nipple and then the other. He slid his hands into her hair and guided her mouth back to his, shrugging out of his shirt. They broke apart long enough for her to yank her shirt over her head and before it hit the floor he’d unhooked her bra. He slid it over her arms and tossed in on the floor, pushing her back against the hotel room door. He ground his hardness into her and she gasped, rolling her hips up to feel more of him pressed against her. He dipped his head to breast, moving his mouth to the sensitive underside and biting gently. She groaned, thrashing her hips. He moved up to the nipple, sucking and rolling it in his tongue. He moved to the other perfect globe and repeated the movements. She arched her back into in it, moaning.

“Please... please,” she mumbled. Her fingers tugged at his belt and he moved his hands under her skirt, hands moving over creamy skin to find her panties already soaked through.

“Oh god...” he moaned into her neck. He focused his brain for a moment and ripped her panties off. She made a satisfied sound and unzipped his fly. Her hand found the weeping tip of his cock and slid the wetness around him before stroking him rock hard. He slid his thumb over her nub, rubbing small circles as she keened her pleasure. He struggled to find his voice.

“The condoms... they’re...” He jerked his head vaguely in the direction of the bed.

“It’s ok,” she breathed. Draco paused. He knew they were both covered. Preventing pregnancy and STD’s was one of the more embarrassing but useful charms one learned at Hogwart’s but most muggle women cared about condoms. Then she guided his shaft to the opening of her heat and he decided not to worry about it. He grabbed her leg and wrapped it around his waist, the leather of her boots slick against his skin. He entered her in one long, smooth stroke. He rocked, buried inside her slickness.

“Faster... I want it faster!” She dug her nails into his ass and growled. He growled back and picked up the pace, pumping in and out of her. He changed the angle of his stroke and her gasp told him he’d hit the right spot. Her hands wrapped around his neck, her fingers wrapped in his hair. His moved his thumb over her nub and stroked in time with his movements.

She closed her eyes, tipping her head back as the orgasm washed over her. Her whole body trembled and her tight walls contracted around Draco’s cock and he felt himself lose it, pinning her to the wall as he came. He stayed there, enjoying the feeling of coming down inside her, pressed against her.

He controlled the nervous gesture to check the small bead braided in his hair that maintained the illusion he’s cast over his appearance. He was pretty sure it was in place since the woman he’d just had the best sex of his life with was looking at him with half-lidded eyes and he was pretty she would be freaking out if he’d suddenly changed appearances. Suddenly, he realized he’d missed something she’d said.

“What?”

“I said, I think I could use a shower,” she replied, smirking at him.

He felt his cock twitch at the idea of her in a shower. “I think I can arrange that.”