Frills & Spills
"I'm not wearing... are those bloomers?" said Harry, staring at the mass of pink ruffles and black lace currently occupying their bed.
Draco strolled out of the bathroom looking utterly dashing, his trousers tight satin and his cravat impeccably tied. "You lost the bet, you wear the bloomers," he said with a smirk. He could be flippant; he was decked out in a sage green waistcoat and grey satin trousers, and his hair had been streaked with blue and done up in an elegant, neat little tail that Harry could only envy.
"You really want me to go to tea with you, in a foreign country, in a dress?" said Harry, his own hair a damp mess from the shower.
Draco reached out and stole the towel from around Harry's waist, tossing it aside and grinning wickedly. Harry didn't bother to cover up, since Draco had seen it all before, but he did roll his eyes when Draco said, "You could go like this instead."
"Just give me the damned bloomers," Harry replied, vowing once again never, ever to wager anything with Draco ever again.
Twenty minutes later he was no less irritated, though he would admit, if only to himself, that there was a certain appeal to his new look. The silvery silk bloomers just barely showed under the hem of the short, flouncy pink dress, which had black lace accents that brought it up from the realm of five-year-old girl and turned it into something a bit different. The shimmering grey silk of the accent cuffs and ribbon in the headband added another bit of class, though the bows on his knee-socks made him feel ridiculous. Not that he wasn't anyway -- he was a boy, for fuck's sake, even if Draco had done some spells to streak his hair with colour, line his eyes with black and give his lips a pink sheen that matched the dress.
His cheeks were red all on their own, which Draco had humiliatingly declared charming.
After buckling the shiny black patent leather Mary Janes onto Harry's feet, Draco finished off his own costume with a rakish, wee top hat and sinuously curved cane. "There we go. I put your things in the purse, so we're all ready," he said cheerfully, moving with an ease that told Harry there was magic keeping the line of his trousers smooth and everything else in perfect place.
"You're sure I won't get arrested for public indecency or anything?" Harry asked, snagging the absurd little reticule; though he was wearing more fabric now than even his most formal robes, he still felt exposed, as though everyone in the world could see that he was hard in his bloomers.
They slipped out of their hotel room and downstairs, drawing no more stares than Draco's blond hair had been getting all along, and made their way to the train station; apparently they were headed for a specific cake shop in downtown Tokyo where this sort of clothing was de rigeur. Once on the platform they were quickly surrounded by a gaggle of young Japanese girls exclaiming over them in high-pitched, broken English, and Harry was grateful when their train came and Draco dragged him inside.
"You're so wearing the skirt next time!" hissed Harry, still recovering from the brave schoolgirl who'd tried to peek under his skirt and see if he was really a boy or a flat-chested girl.
"Only if you win," said Draco serenely, finding them a spot to stand in the crowded car.
Harry reached up and gripped one of the handles tightly while Draco was shoved up right behind him, so close he could feel the heat of Draco's body even through all the layers of satin and silk. They were surrounded on all sides by men in suits and boys and girls in school uniforms, and Harry couldn't help but wonder why Draco didn't have them leave earlier and miss the traffic.
He got his answer when familiar hands snuck their way up under his skirts, artfully rearranging them so that he could feel Draco's cock pressing against the silk bloomers, but the dress still appeared to be in place at a casual glance. Draco's voice was low and sensual as he whispered, "I could fuck you right here, and no one would notice."
"You're going to, aren't you?" said Harry, too breathless to be properly accusatory. A few murmured spells and Harry's bloomers were split from stem to stern, and his arse was open, slicked and ready.
"Yes," said Draco, unbuttoning his fly and positioning his cock at Harry's entrance, "I am."
Harry's cheeks were red as beets and his prick as hard as it had ever been; Draco pulled them slowly together, using the jostling motion of the train and crowd to give them something like rhythm. Harry desperately scanned the faces around them, but no one was looking their way, other than a few sly glances from a group of schoolgirls who'd seen them on the platform earlier. Harry let his eyes close as he rode Draco's cock and the train, wondering dreamily which would come first, them or their destination.
His eyes flew open a second later when cool fingers found their way under his skirt and began to tease and stroke his cock; Draco's hands were busy on his hips, and a shocked glance revealed that the boy in front of them had figured out what they were up to and decided to get a taste as well. His smile was sly and he leaned in and whispered something in Japanese that caused Draco's hands to tighten on Harry's hips in anger.
"He's saying we can't yell pervert, since we're up to naughty things already," Draco whispered into Harry's ear, then he kissed the shell in apology. "I'm so sorry, Harry, do you need me to stop?"
Harry shook his head; between the steady thrust of Draco's cock and the wicked tease of the boy's fingers, he was so ready to come that he didn't care who or how, though he knew he'd be mortified later. The boy looked smug, and tightened his fingers when Harry acquiesced to the touches, his other hand finding its way back to caress the place where Harry and Draco were joined.
That was all Harry needed and he had to bite his pink-sheened lips to keep from crying out as he came, spurting into the wicked boy's palm and hoping spitefully that he'd gotten the prat's uniform dirty. "Haa-rry, so good," the boy whispered in heavily accented English, his finger still teasing Harry's opening while his other hand came up so he could lick Harry's come off the slick fingers.
A burst of giggling from the girls in the corner completed Harry's humiliation, though when he looked over at them they didn't appear to be laughing at him. "I'll make it up to you," Draco whispered, then let out a soft gasp as his body tightened and he spilled into Harry as the train began to slow.
"You'd better," said Harry, though it lacked venom. He felt weirdly good now, as though nothing more embarrassing could possibly happen and he could relax and enjoy being the object of so much sexually charged attention.
A few more murmured spells and they were both restored to rights, though the wicked schoolboy was still licking Harry's seed off the back of his hand with relish, his other now occupied with keeping him upright while the train lurched. Harry was grateful for the bloomers now that they were whole again and provided a thin layer of protection against the world. The train stopped and Draco dragged him toward the doors, while the girls gave them a wave and a cute singsong, "Byeeee!"
Harry blushed and waved back, stumbling a little as they got out of the packed car and onto the crowded platform. Draco steadied him and led him to a quiet corner, then gave him a sweet, apologetic kiss. "I'm so sorry, Harry, are you all right?"
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then nodded. "It's ok, I mean..." He paused, trying to find the words, flushing a little and looking down to where his hands were fidgeting with the laces of his bodice. "I wouldn't want it to happen again or anything, but I guess it sort of worked for me, y'know?"
Draco tipped his chin up and kissed him, smile just short of smug. "Yeah, I know," he said, then tucked Harry's hand in the crook of his arm and turned. "And now, cake!"
Harry giggled and let himself be escorted, surprised to pass by another couple similarly attired, though they were both in dresses and Harry was fairly sure at least one of them was actually a girl. It was a short walk to the busy cake shop, the booths packed with students out of school and even a few other people decked out in frilly elegance. There was a short line to get in, but as soon as they walked up a girl dressed like a maid came out and began cooing at them in Japanese, leading them inside to the very last empty table in the place.
"What's she saying?" Harry asked, which prompted another round of cooing before the girl grinned and flounced off.
"She was admiring our outfits, and being incredibly impressed at how lovely you are for a white boy," said Draco with a wink, flipping through the menu. "Trust me to order?"
Harry laughed and nodded. "Just make sure there's proper tea," he warned; he might've had bracing sex on the train, but he wasn't about to go through a whole evening in the stupid pink dress without a good cuppa.
"They do this milk tea thing, but you like that, right?' Draco asked, scanning the menu, his cute little hat sticking out over the top.
"Yeah, as long as there's sugar, too," said Harry, idly tracing the front image on his menu of a beautifully decorated cake.
"Sugary milk tea, got it," said Draco distractedly. Harry sulked for a moment at the indignity of being ignored, until he got a wicked idea. One Mary Jane clunked to the floor, and then Harry began running his toes up over Draco's foot, then back around to slide up his calf. Draco peered at him over the menu and said, "Unless you want to end up accidentally eating raw squid or something, I'd cut it out. I don't read Japanese very well yet."
Harry couldn't help it; he giggled like the little girl he was supposed to be, and batted his eyelashes at Draco. "But Draco, I..."
Whatever coquettish thing he was going to say was cut off when the perky waitress returned, and she and Draco had a conversation, none of which made any sense to Harry.
"Pretty boy," she said to Harry with a grin once their order was taken, and Harry flushed and muttered his thanks.
After she left, Draco smiled and nudged Harry's toe with his own, saying, "I ordered you an assortment of small sweets, and a whole pot of tea."
Harry smiled back, grateful that Draco knew him well enough to know what to order in places like this, just as he had when they'd visited France, Spain, Italy and even the time they'd gone to see Charlie -- and Charlie's dragons -- in Romania. "You always take care of me," he said.
A Japanese boy dressed in a black-and-purple variation of Draco's finery came up to their table. "You are a very loving couple," he said, and Harry couldn't help but preen a little at that, a compliment far more valuable to him than how he looked in some stupid dress.
"Thank you," said Draco, long fingers touching Harry's across the table. The boy said something else in Japanese, a habit that was beginning to seriously annoy Harry as Draco replied in kind until he said with a rather cold finality, "I'm afraid we're also very exclusive."
"Your loss," he said, pretending to dust off his immaculate costume. He stepped over to Harry and leaned in, whispering in Harry's ear, "I've always wanted to taste real English cream."
Harry turned bright red and was grateful that the boy went quickly back to his table to settle his bill and leave, because he'd no idea what to say to that. "Are all Japanese teenagers so forward?" he asked Draco in a low voice, shocked to the core of his properly strait-laced British soul by the day's encounters.
Draco shook his head and shrugged. "It's a small segment, you've just had a run of luck today. Tomorrow I'll let you dress like a normal boy and you should be safer."
Harry couldn't help but grin at that; he had a feeling there were more costumes packed away in their magical luggage that Draco had hoped to be able to get Harry into, and he couldn't help but concede, "It's not so bad when you're with me, but perhaps we could keep the girl's clothes just to the hotel?"
Draco's smile was worth every humiliating future moment that Harry expected to spend wearing lace knickers in the near future, especially considering Draco always made it worth Harry's while to be adventurous, whether in the bedroom or out of it.
Today's bribe arrived in the form of a luxurious tea for two, including a silver three-tiered tray that could've come from the Malfoy's own parlour, laden with little bite-sized cakes, tarts, and even two little bright bowls of what looked like sorbet dusted with powdered sugar. There was a nice big china pot and matching cup-and-saucer sets, with plenty of milk and sugar to suit even Harry's tastes.
They ate and talked about the food, a mixture of West and East with things like green tea petit fours and ginger lime tarts; the thing Harry had thought was sorbet turned out to be mango ice cream wrapped in an odd substance that Draco assured him was made from rice flour, and was as delicious as everything else. By the time they were done, Harry had forgotten all about train perverts and sly, elegant boys and was once again grinning and happy, and just a bit hard under his skirts from all the footsie under the table.
"So," said Draco conversationally, his voice cultured and familiar among the chatter of foreign tongues. "I think I'd like to visit the loo, and I think you need to as well."
Harry gave him an odd look, then went pink as he realized what Draco was up to. He gave a shy nod and scooted out, snagging his purse as he went, just in case. Draco signalled the waitress that they were just using the bathroom and she smiled and took their mostly empty teapot, hopefully to provide them with more tea. Draco dragged Harry back to the tiny room. The door was marked with the familiar symbolic little man as well as more of the incomprehensible writing, and conveniently locked behind them.
"How can you look so sexy just eating a tart?" Draco asked, pushing Harry up against the sink so he could see himself in the mirror, watch as Draco fumbled to get the skirts up and bloomers down. Harry moaned when Draco went to his knees and buried his face in Harry's arse, spreading him wide and lapping at the greedy little entrance hiding there.
"I bet you look sexier eating me," said Harry hoarsely, whispering to keep himself from crying out and incriminating them both.
Draco chuckled and speared his tongue into Harry in reply, eliciting a gasp. Harry spread his legs wider, feet sliding easily in the girlish shoes, bloomers trapped around his thighs absurdly, prick rubbing shamelessly against the cool marble countertop and the scratchy lace of his petticoats. "Please, Draco, in me," he begged, panting and letting out little whimpering mewls he prayed were drowned out by the conversation outside.
"Yes, Harry, always," said Draco, though of course that wasn't precisely true, since Harry had been just where Draco was any number of times, though without all the lace and satin to deal with.
Draco fumbled his cock out and got the spells cast, and then he was sliding inside Harry, looking at them both reflected in the mirror like some otherworldly doppelgangers of themselves, flushed and elegant and beautiful even in pleasure. Harry's mouth was a shining pink 'o' that just begged to be filled, though Harry would never admit to Draco that for a moment he was thinking of their visitor and whatever lewd offer had been made and rejected on Harry's behalf. Harry's moans grew louder as he imagined being shared like this, dressed up pretty and passed around like a party favour, a fantasy he was happy to indulge in -- but only in his mind, where it was safe.
Draco gave Harry something else to think about instead, slipping two fingers into his mouth for him to suckle on and using the other hand to stroke Harry's prick with expert motions. Harry didn't last long after that, filled at both ends and brought swiftly to climax by his lover's passionate caresses both inside and out. He let his eyes fall shut but he thought he'd always remember the sight of himself, arched and gasping, mouth full of Draco's fingers and shining wet and open, eyes dark with pleasure as he spilled out over the cool stone, warming it briefly with his seed.
"Oh, my Harry," Draco moaned into his hair, and then Draco was coming as well and Harry managed to wrench his eyes open, though he'd seen the sight a hundred, a thousand times before. Even half obscured by Harry's unruly hair, Draco was beautiful as he found his release, his prick pulsing in Harry's arse as it poured into him.
Draco's fingers slipped free and both hands, each wet with Harry's fluids, lay glistening on the counter. "I do love you, you know," said Harry softly, laying his own hands over the top, and Draco grinned at him in the mirror.
"I know," he said, pulling out gently and turning Harry around for a kiss. "Just as you know I love and adore you, and will continue to gratefully pleasure you for days for enduring this for me."
Harry grinned and nuzzled him, punctuating it with a kiss. "Well, I can't say that didn't figure into my enjoyment of the day," he said, kissing Draco again, deeper this time. The marble was cool against his bum and he had a feeling there was come getting in places they'd have trouble removing it without sending the outfit back home to the house elves, but Harry didn't care. He twined his hands around Draco's neck and added shyly, "But I also can't say that I didn't enjoy being your little girl for a day."
Draco grinned back, wrapping his come-streaked hands right around Harry's waist and kissing him soundly. "Brilliant," he said, then stepped back. "All right, this will be tricky but I think we can get us both presentable enough that not everyone will know what we've been up to," he said, saying a charm that made Harry's arse and balls tingle even as it removed all the come from the dress, leaving it good as new.
They stepped out into the little cake shop and sat, finding a pair of chocolates waiting with their fresh tea and their bill. "I expect the waitress knew just what we were up to," said Harry with a smirk, recognizing the sweets from their trip to Italy.
Draco glanced down and laughed, conceding that yes, it did seem rather too much of a coincidence that she would have otherwise chosen to serve them Nipples of Venus.
Title: Frills and Spills