Inhibitions

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT gmail DOT com)


The negotiations were delicate in a way that only Faeries could make them. Summer and two different groups of wyldfae had sent representatives. Harry wasn't sure why the White Council had chosen him to represent them--his skills ran more to pissing people off--but he suspected it was a sign that someone wanted the negotiations to fail. Harry was unexpectedly grateful that Marcone had maneuvered his way into the meeting. The guy was damn savvy; he'd already kept Harry from fucking this up once.

He'd been expecting interference, but Harry was still surprised when the spell slammed into him. He should've been reeling, but he was steady as a rock. Except that suddenly he couldn't think of any reason not to punch the wyldfae who'd been making digs at him.

He clenched his fists and started to rise, but a hand clamped down high on his thigh. His head whipped around to glare at Marcone. The man spared him a glance. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," Marcone said smoothly, giving no sign that his hand had moved north, cupping Harry's cock; rage was supplanted by an equally unrestrained lust. "I believe Mr. Dresden is feeling unwell. Perhaps we could take a break?"

Harry stopped paying attention, too focused on trying to return Marcone's touch, though the man kept shifting out of his reach. All Harry knew was that a couple of frustrating minutes were followed by the click of a door shutting and Marcone wasn't holding him off anymore. Harry crowded him up against the wall and kissed him, slipping his tongue into Marcone's mouth when he opened it and, Stars, that was good; Marcone knew how to kiss. Harry ground his cock against Marcone and growled in appreciation when he felt the arousal mirroring his.

The growl when Marcone shoved him away was less appreciative.

"What is wrong with you?" Marcone snarled.

"A spell, you idiot," Harry snapped.

Marcone's lips thinned. "What's it doing?"

"As far as I can tell, it stripped away my inhibitions." Harry scowled. "My temper is the weak link in these negotiations."

"This recess can't go on too long," Marcone said. "How long will the spell last?"

"I don't know. But it must be brief--they'd want me to be totally normal when the cavalry came running." Harry smirked suddenly. "You'll have to keep me busy until it wears off."

He made a play for the fly of Marcone's pants, unsuccessfully. "Harry, you don't want this."

Harry growled in pure frustration. "Right now I can't do anything I don't want."

Marcone's grip slackened for a moment. Harry quickly had his hand inside Marcone's pants. His hot cock filled Harry's palm perfectly. He drew it out and hummed happily at the darkly flushed head, shining with pre-come.

"You're going to regret this," Marcone grated out. His hands gripped Harry's shoulders, but didn't push him away.

"Probably," Harry agreed. He dropped to his knees, leaned forward, opened his mouth, and let Marcone's cock slip inside.

His lips stretched around Marcone's cock, the slick weight of the head resting on Harry's tongue...it was different. But good. The grunts of pleasure Marcone made as Harry tried moving his tongue around and sucking were even better. Harry curled his hands around Marcone's hips and concentrated on taking him in deeper. It was surprisingly easy to relax and swallow, to let Marcone pump his hips back and forth. Harry moaned and dropped a hand into his lap, opening his own pants.

He closed his fist around his throbbing cock; pleasure jangled along his nerves. He moaned again, then deeper when Marcone's hands slid into his hair. Harry concentrated on keeping his throat relaxed and enjoying the wet slide of spit-slick skin against his lips, letting Marcone set the pace, letting Marcone fuck his mouth, and jerked his own cock in the same rhythm.

"Harry," Marcone gasped. It was all the warning he got before Marcone climaxed, coming in pulses down his throat. It didn't even occur to Harry to pull back; he just swallowed convulsively over and over, until Marcone pulled out of his mouth. Harry was licking his lips before he realized that his fist was sticky with come from his own orgasm.

He slumped back onto his heels, feeling dazed, and wondered what the hell he'd just done...and exactly when the spell had worn off.

--End--