Day 10 – Mask Kink
The invitation had been delivered in secret, slipped into Harry's pocket during a Ministry event, the wax seal unmistakably Malfoy. It had felt like a challenge, a test, and Harry had spent days debating whether or not to attend. He knew the rumors—whispers of the Malfoy ball that began as a high-society masquerade but always descended into something far more debauched as the night wore on. A sex party, a carefully guarded secret among the elite of wizarding Britain.
Harry hadn't been sure what to believe at first. But his curiosity—and his complicated, often dangerous pull toward Draco Malfoy—had finally gotten the better of him.
And now, standing in front of the grand gates of Malfoy Manor, Harry adjusted the black mask that covered most of his face, his pulse quickening with a mix of nerves and excitement. He knew what he was walking into tonight, but the question that lingered in the back of his mind was why? Why had Draco invited him, of all people?
As Harry entered the grand ballroom, he was immediately hit by the opulence and the heavy air of anticipation that filled the room. The room glittered with chandeliers casting golden light over polished marble floors, and the guests—cloaked in dark robes and intricate masks—moved like shadows, mingling and watching each other with hungry, veiled gazes.
It was intoxicating, and Harry couldn't help but feel the tension, the unspoken understanding of what would come later.
His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for something—or rather, someone—amidst the masked faces. Despite the anonymity the masks provided, Harry knew there would be one person he could spot even without seeing their face.
And then, there he was.
Standing near the far side of the ballroom, dressed in sleek black robes, was Draco Malfoy. His mask was elegant, silver and intricate, but it couldn't hide the unmistakable platinum blond hair that spilled over the back of it. The way Draco held himself, his posture sharp and composed, gave him away instantly.
Harry's breath caught in his throat. Even with the mask, Draco was impossible to miss. And the moment Draco turned his head and their eyes met across the room, Harry knew that Draco had been waiting for him.
A small smirk tugged at the corners of Draco's lips beneath the mask, and Harry's pulse quickened. He felt a surge of something—anticipation, desire, maybe even a touch of danger—rise within him as Draco lifted a glass of champagne to his lips, his eyes never leaving Harry's. The invitation in that gaze was unmistakable.
Harry swallowed hard, his feet carrying him toward Draco without hesitation. As he wove his way through the crowd, he could feel the eyes of other guests following him, their masked faces turned toward him with curiosity. They knew he was an outsider, someone who didn't belong in this secretive, elite world of masks and indulgence.
When Harry reached Draco, they stood close, the sound of the music and murmuring conversations fading into the background as Draco lowered his glass, his smirk widening.
"I wondered if you'd actually come," Draco murmured, his voice low and rich, just loud enough for Harry to hear.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he glanced around the room, taking in the masked faces, the way everyone seemed to be watching them while pretending not to. The heavy anticipation in the air was palpable, the energy shifting as the night edged closer to its inevitable descent into debauchery.
"You invited me," Harry replied, his voice steady, though he could feel the tension winding tighter inside him. "Of course I came."
Draco's eyes gleamed beneath the silver mask, his gaze trailing over Harry's form, taking in the tailored robes and the black mask that covered most of his face. "Good," Draco said, his tone full of dark amusement. "I was hoping you'd be brave enough."
There was a brief pause, a moment where they simply stood there, the tension between them thick and electric. Harry's breath came faster as Draco took a small step closer, his presence overwhelming in a way that made Harry's pulse race.
"You know what happens at this ball, don't you, Potter?" Draco asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the words sent a jolt of heat through Harry's body.
Harry swallowed, his gaze locked on Draco's. "I've heard the rumors."
Draco chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. "The rumors don't even begin to cover it."
With a subtle gesture, Draco motioned toward the ballroom, where the atmosphere had already begun to shift. The guests—still masked—were drawing closer to one another, the low hum of conversation turning into soft whispers and breathless laughter. Hands slipped beneath robes, lips brushed against skin, and the ballroom, once filled with elegant dancing, began to transform into something far more carnal.
Harry's throat tightened as he watched, the heat in his body intensifying with every passing second. He knew what this was, what Draco had invited him to witness—and perhaps to take part in.
Draco leaned in closer, his breath hot against Harry's ear as he whispered, "Do you want to see more?"
Harry's breath caught in his throat as Draco's words sent a shiver down his spine. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind spinning with the weight of the decision before him. But Draco's presence, the way his silver mask glinted in the dim light, the way his voice seemed to curl around Harry like a seductive spell—it made it impossible to say no.
"Yes," Harry breathed, the word slipping out before he could stop it.
Draco's lips curled into a slow, wicked smile, and he reached out, taking Harry's hand in his. His touch was firm, possessive, and Harry felt a jolt of heat rush through him as Draco pulled him toward a secluded alcove at the edge of the ballroom, away from prying eyes but still within sight of the writhing crowd.
Once they were hidden from view, Draco pressed Harry against the wall, his body caging him in, his lips brushing the shell of Harry's ear. "You're out of your depth here, Potter," Draco murmured, his voice full of dark promise. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
Harry's breath hitched, his hands trembling as he reached up to grab Draco's shoulders, pulling him closer. "Then show me," he whispered, his voice rough with need.
Draco's eyes gleamed beneath his mask, and without another word, he crashed his lips against Harry's in a heated, desperate kiss. The pressure was immediate, overwhelming, and Harry responded with equal fervor, his hands clutching at Draco's robes as their bodies pressed together.
Draco's hand slid down to Harry's waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of Harry's robes as he pushed his hips forward, grinding against Harry in a way that made Harry gasp. The heat between them was unbearable now, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every movement.
"You want to be taken here?" Draco growled against Harry's lips, his voice rough as his hand slipped beneath Harry's robes, fingers brushing over the heated skin of his abdomen. "In the middle of the Malfoy ball, where anyone could see?"
Harry groaned, his head falling back against the wall as Draco's fingers slid lower, his touch firm and deliberate. "Yes," Harry gasped, his body trembling with need. "Fuck, yes."
Draco's lips curled into a dark smile as he pressed his body even closer to Harry's, his breath hot against Harry's neck. "You're going to regret saying that."
Without warning, Draco's hand slipped lower, undoing the fastening of Harry's trousers with swift precision. Harry's breath came in ragged bursts as Draco's fingers wrapped around his cock, the heat of Draco's hand sending a shockwave of pleasure through him.
The sound of the ball continued around them, the low hum of moans and whispered words mixing with the rustle of fabric and the unmistakable sounds of pleasure. But for Harry, all that existed in that moment was Draco—his touch, his voice, his presence.
Draco stroked him slowly, teasingly, his fingers moving with a deliberate pace that made Harry's entire body tremble. "Look at you," Draco muttered, his voice rough with arousal as he watched Harry's face twist with pleasure. "Falling apart so easily."
Harry gasped, his hands clutching at Draco's shoulders as his hips jerked forward, desperate for more. "Don't—" he started, his voice breaking, "don't stop."
Draco's lips curved into a smirk as his hand moved faster, stroking Harry with rough, precise movements that made Harry's breath catch in his throat. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming, and Harry could feel himself teetering on the edge.
"I won't stop," Draco whispered, his lips brushing against Harry's ear. "But you're going to have to hold on."
Harry's body jerked at the command, his cock throbbing in Draco's hand as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. With a final, desperate gasp, Harry's body tensed, his release hitting him with a force that left him breathless. His orgasm surged through him, and he came, his release spilling over Draco's hand as his entire body shuddered with the intensity of it.
Draco's hand remained on Harry's cock, the slick warmth of Harry's release coating his fingers as Harry's body trembled with the aftershocks of his orgasm. For a moment, Harry stayed pressed against the wall, his breath coming in ragged bursts, his body weak and spent. The reality of what had just happened—how quickly he'd come, how easily Draco had unraveled him—settled in, and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck.
Draco's smirk was almost predatory as he pulled his hand away, wiping the remnants of Harry's release on a handkerchief he conjured with a flick of his wand. "That didn't take long, did it?" Draco teased, his voice low and smooth, full of wicked amusement.
Harry's face burned as he avoided Draco's gaze, but he could feel the weight of Draco's eyes on him, the triumph in that smirk. "Shut up," Harry muttered, his voice a little breathless, though there was no real bite in his words.
Draco chuckled softly, stepping closer to Harry, his body towering over him, the lingering scent of Harry's release in the air between them. "Don't be embarrassed, Potter," Draco purred, leaning in to press a soft, teasing kiss to Harry's lips. "You were delicious to watch."
Harry's heart pounded at Draco's words, the lingering embarrassment mixing with the sharp pulse of desire that hadn't fully faded. But now, Harry wasn't content to be the only one undone. There was a fierce determination settling in his chest, a need to regain control of the situation. His fingers twitched with the urge to return the favor, to make Draco lose himself the same way.
With a surge of confidence, Harry reached up, gripping the collar of Draco's robes and pulling him down into another heated kiss. This time, it was Harry who took charge, his hands moving with purpose as he pushed Draco's robes aside, his fingers seeking the warmth of Draco's skin beneath.
Draco let out a soft, surprised hum against Harry's lips, but he didn't resist. Instead, he leaned into the kiss, his hands gripping Harry's waist, his body pressing even closer. Harry could feel the heat radiating off Draco, the tension in his muscles, and the unmistakable hardness pressing against his thigh.
"Let me," Harry whispered, his voice still a little shaky but filled with determination as he pulled back, his lips brushing against Draco's jaw. His hands slid lower, fumbling slightly as he worked to undo the fastenings of Draco's trousers.
For a moment, Draco didn't say anything, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts as Harry's fingers brushed against his cock. When Harry's hand finally wrapped around him, Draco's head fell back, a soft, breathy moan escaping his lips.
Harry's face flushed again—this time from the intimacy of the moment, from the realization that he had Draco Malfoy, the picture of composure and control, unraveling beneath his touch. His hand moved slowly at first, unsure but eager, stroking Draco with deliberate care.
"Careful, Potter," Draco murmured, his voice rough with arousal as his hands gripped Harry's shoulders for balance. "You've already shown how easily you lose control."
Harry's lips curled into a small, nervous smile as he glanced up at Draco, his hand moving faster now, finding a rhythm that made Draco's breath catch in his throat. "Maybe I'm not the only one who loses control," Harry muttered, his voice softer, but the tension in the air between them was electric.
Draco's response was a low, guttural groan, his body pressing forward into Harry's touch as his hips jerked slightly, seeking more. "Fuck, Harry," Draco gasped, his voice breaking as Harry's hand tightened around him, stroking him with increasing urgency.
The sight of Draco—his head tilted back, lips parted, his body trembling with need—was overwhelming. Harry could feel the power shifting between them, the way Draco's composure was crumbling, and it only fueled his determination. He wanted to see Draco fall apart, to watch him come undone the same way he had.
Draco's breath came in short, sharp gasps, his hands gripping Harry's shoulders tightly as he tried to keep himself steady. "You think you can make me lose it?" Draco muttered, though his voice was thick with arousal, the challenge weak as his hips bucked into Harry's hand. "I don't—fuck—lose that easily."
Harry smirked, feeling a surge of confidence as Draco's cock throbbed in his hand, the heat between them building with every stroke. "We'll see about that," Harry muttered, his fingers working faster, stroking Draco with rough, deliberate precision.
Draco's body jerked, his breath hitching as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Harry could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in Draco's body, the way his legs trembled, the way his hands gripped Harry's shoulders like a lifeline.
"Come for me," Harry whispered, his voice low, his hand moving faster, his thumb brushing over the head of Draco's cock, teasing him with just the right amount of pressure. "I want to see you lose control."
Draco's response was immediate. His entire body tensed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pleasure finally pushed him over the edge. "Fuck—Harry—" Draco gasped, his voice breaking as his release hit him with a force that left him trembling. His cock pulsed in Harry's hand, his release spilling over Harry's fingers, warm and slick.
For a moment, Draco's body was rigid, his head falling back as a low, guttural groan escaped his lips, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. But Harry's hands were there, steady and sure, holding him up as Draco came, his breath ragged and uneven.
As the last waves of Draco's orgasm ebbed away, he collapsed forward, his forehead resting against Harry's shoulder, his breath coming in shaky bursts. Harry's own body trembled with the intensity of the moment, his hand still wrapped around Draco's cock, slick with his release.
They stayed like that for a long moment, the air between them heavy with the scent of sex and the lingering tension of their encounter. Harry could feel the rapid beat of Draco's heart against his chest, the heat of Draco's body pressing against his own.
Draco finally pulled back, his silver eyes dark and half-lidded beneath the mask as he looked down at Harry, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. "Well done, Potter," Draco murmured, his voice rough but laced with approval. "Maybe you're not so hopeless after all."
Harry's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pride as he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Thanks, I guess."
Draco's smirk widened as he reached up, brushing a thumb over Harry's cheek, his gaze softening slightly. "You're going to have to stay for the rest of the night now," Draco murmured, his voice full of promise. "There's so much more for you to see."
Harry's breath caught in his throat as Draco's words sent a fresh jolt of anticipation through him. He knew that whatever came next, he wasn't leaving Malfoy Manor anytime soon.