Tonight, the accusation of cheater would likely only get a quirk of an eyebrow, Draco defiantly continuing to magic his vest undone because there's too much tension between them. He needs Snape, and fumbling fingertips would take too long on the long line of buttons down his front. His hands coming in to drag it down and off Snape's arms, an unspoken whisper of power walking it over to the chair that his jacket adorns; no reason to leave it on the floor. He trembles as Snape's hands move back to his hips, fingers popping the button of his trousers undone, and then dragging down the zipper. Fingers cupped him through the black silk of his boxers, Draco already half-hard, just from the kisses, the touching, the knowledge of what Snape wanted.

His boxers are slightly fitted, the black silk close around his slender thighs, against his hips, accenting his figure even when he's stripped down almost to his underwear. Snape's pushing him back, guiding him to the bed, and Draco hasn't stopped at the vest, magic undoing that white shirt as surely as it had the black vest. Fingers pull his boxers down with his trousers, and there's a brief, sharp gasp, wide-eyed and trembling as fingers palm over his ass still heated and sensitive from the abuse nights before... He'd always assumed that threat about not sitting down for a week to be hyperbole; apparently not quite. Draco leans in, tip-toes to brush a kiss to his lips, and then moves back with a nod.

He's naked as he gracefully slips his small feet out of his boxers and trousers, the clothes obediently setting themselves on the chair. He settles himself in the middle of the bed, body braced on his elbows, hips lifted slightly, head tilted back to expose his throat. He looks up at Snape through hooded eyes with a smile curving his full lips.

"Like this?" His desire bleeds through those deep blues.