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Harry Potter is the kind of bloke who looks good doing everything. Much to Draco’s frustration, that does include Absolutely Everything.
Harry looks good leaning over his desk at work, sifting through a stack of papers that he was no doubt supposed to have filed already. He looks good shopping in Diagon Alley, baskets and boxes of God knows what do-gooder objects shoved under his arms. He looks good at each and every gala the Ministry has thrown since the fall of the Dark Lord, standing at the side of the room – always to the side – clad in all manner of different colours and styles of robes. He looks good arguing with Draco about said ridiculous robe choices, claiming that orange is very in right now in various Austrian circles. He looks even better sizing Draco up as he gets flustered at this completely untrue statement, his eyelids lowering and his teeth biting his lip. He looks bloody brilliant on a broomstick, darting above the Quidditch pitch that they use for their Ministry rec league. He looks frustratingly gorgeous when he beats Draco to the Snitch every time, hand reaching in front of Draco’s face or over his shoulder or from somehow underneath him, besting him every time.
Draco isn’t even bothered anymore by the fact that his teammates don’t even expect him to win the games he plays Seeker against Harry because nobody ever wins against him. He can’t be bothered when Pike brings up some new manoeuvre Harry is likely to try, because all Draco can think about is Harry’s arse in Quidditch trousers.
He looks fantastic today, sweat dripping from his forehead and spraying everywhere when he shakes his head from side to side. A bead lands on Draco’s arm, and by the grace of Salazar Slytherin himself, even that bead of sweat is attractive to Draco.
Harry shoots Draco a sly smirk, tossing the now caught Snitch between his hands, palms a foot apart.
“Better luck next time, Draco,” Harry says, pocketing the Snitch. “Beer after a shower?”
Draco can’t handle watching Harry drink a beer. Last time they had gone out for one Draco had been so fixated on the way Harry’s throat had moved as he swallowed that he had somehow gotten roped into playing Beater for the next game. His shoulders had ached for weeks afterwards, but not as much as his cock had ached that night as he pulled on it for the fourth time, coming to the thought of Harry’s hands gripping the warm wood of his broomstick.
Draco doesn’t answer Harry, staring into the distance as Harry descends to the grass, high fiving his teammates on the pitch. His shoulders ripple under his Quidditch cloak, visible even from Draco’s advanced height.
Draco stays in the air for a while longer, willing his erection to subside. It’s no use flying with one anyway, it makes steering particularly difficult as one tended to pitch from side to side when there is an engorged body part balancing on the section of the broomstick that’s responsible for direction. Besides, Draco doesn’t much fancy coming in his Quidditch leathers at such a great height.
Harry always takes long showers after their rec games, which particularly vexes Draco. One does not need to stand under the water for forty minutes, slowly soaping up every inch of their body. Surely an arse cheek was not a necessary part of one’s body to wash when in a public shower. Nor were each individual toe, which Harry typically paid deft attention to, bending over in his cubicle and bracing himself on the wall with one hand for balance.
What kind of bloke looks good soaping up their toes? Draco knows he’s losing it, he knows, but he also doesn’t know how to stop, outside of fucking Harry, which is likely to be a terrible choice.
The only thing worse than not fucking Harry would be fucking Harry and having it not meet his expectations.
What if Harry made a sound like a Hippogriff when he came? What is he was completely silent and stone faced, as some boys who spent their Hogwarts years wanking in the dorms tended to be. What if he didn’t want to have sex with Draco at all?
Draco is a lost cause, to both himself and society. He’s too fixated on sex with Harry to be of any use to anyone, himself included.
He waits up in the air for going on twenty minutes, his fingers starting to go numb. Once it seems like everyone had left the change rooms, trailing off to the Floo or the Apparition point, he finally lets his feet touch the grass. Nobody comes over to him, likely thinking he was moping up in the sky after being bested by Harry once again. Their Hogwarts Quidditch rivalry had become legendary in the years since finishing school and taking up in the same rec league. Draco knows that Harry knows how much it works him up to be beaten by him, to always finish second on the leader board; a respectable position, but always second to Harry’s first place.
Draco makes his way towards the change rooms, tossing his broom and gloves onto the grass near the building. It was always incredibly difficult to pull them off once you got into the steamy shower room, and Draco didn’t want to waste any time before pulling something else off.
His erection hasn’t subsided by the time he gets into the room, pulling his Quidditch robe and shirt over his head. He throws them on one of the benches near the door, groaning at the stretch in his tired muscles. Harry had given him a good game today, at the very least.
Draco steps around the corner to survey the line of shower stalls, gasping upon seeing Harry’s form under the water yet again.
“Honestly, do you have a personal vendetta against water?” Draco asks, walking over. He takes the shower stall next to Harry’s, spelling the water on from a distance with his wand. “You’re always using up half the Thames in there.”
“Thought you’d gone home, you took so long.”
Harry is soaping up his arms, Draco notices. He wonders if he’s gotten to his arse yet.
“Felt like a bit more of a fly,” Draco replies, pulling off the rest of his clothing. Harry’s watching from under the spray, though he seems to be pretending like he’s not. It’s only natural, Draco knows, to steal glances at other naked blokes. He’s been doing it for years, after all. Comparing cocks from a distance is a very normal part of sharing a shower room.
Draco meets Harry eyes as he steps into his own stall, grateful to be under the water. He groans when warmth washes over him, the water giving his muscles a welcome reprieve.
“Rode you too hard, did I?” Harry asks.
Draco smiles at the innuendo, keeping his eyes closed. “I don’t seem to recall you doing that at all.”
“No, you’re right.” Harry’s voice is low and gravelly. Draco wonders if he sounds like that when he’s touching his prick.
“My shoulders aren’t what they used to be,” Draco says, rubbing at them with his hands, the cold from the air outside finally leaving the digits.
“Want a massage?” Harry asks.
Draco opens his eyes to quirk an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Finally pulling out your coin purse, are you? I wouldn’t say no. I want a masseuse though, one professionally trained. Preferably with big hands.”
Harry shuffles in his shower, stepping out from under the spray. He leaves the water on, Draco notices. He suspects Harry’s about to wander over to his coin purse to pull out a few Galleons and keep the joke going. Draco’s breath catches in his throat when Harry steps into his shower, standing close to Draco’s back.
‘I’m not professionally trained, but I’ll give it a fair go.” Harry’s voice is close to Draco’s ear now, his breath ghosting over the side of Draco’s face.
“Harry,” Draco says, turning to glance at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What you’re too chickenshit to do yourself,” Harry whispers, stepping closer. Draco can feel the warmth emanating from his body, like his skin is lit up from the inside with warming charms. “Do you want it firm or soft?” He places his hands on Draco’s shoulders, pressing lightly.
“Firm,” Draco says without thinking. “Very firm.”
Harry makes a noise of approval and digs his fingers into Draco’s tense muscles, working the knots apart with his fingers. Draco groans and leans back into Harry’s hands, the sensation rippling through the entire top half of his torso. Of bloody course Harry would be good at this too.
“That’s so good,” Draco groans, tipping his head back. The groan turns throaty as Harry moves his hands closer to the base of Draco’s neck, pulling and pushing at the muscle. “Fuck, you really should consider a career in this, you know.”
Harry makes a sound that Draco thinks is a whimper, his fingers faltering on one of the knots. He takes a step back from Draco, putting space between their lower bodies, as his fingers work. Draco frowns and arches his back, bringing his arse into brief contact with Harry’s cock. It’s very much erect, bobbing away from Draco as Harry’s hips stutter. He swears, his fingers faltering again.
Surely this isn’t all Harry came into Draco’s stall to do? Draco decides to find out, feeling very Gryffindor indeed. Harry was clearly rubbing off on him, though not in the right ways quite yet.
Draco turns to face Harry, rolling his head to fight off the last few knots in his shoulders. Harry’s biting his lip, his eyes dark. It always surprises Draco to see him without his glasses on, his facial shape seeming to change. Although that currently could have something to do with the immense hold Harry’s teeth have on his lip, his jaw clenching.
Draco holds Harry’s gaze as he takes his cock in his hand, palm covering the tip. He rubs it back and forth a few times, sees Harry’s knees falter. He encourages Harry’s arm to come up to rest on his shoulders, happy to hold him up if he’s about to collapse just from a hand on his prick.
“Been a while, has it?” Draco asks, twisting his hand on a downstroke. Harry moans, his forehead resting on Draco’s shoulder. He kisses Draco skin messily, leaving wet trails as he moves up his neck and to his ear, nipping at the lobe.
“No,” Harry says in a breathy voice, moaning directly into Draco’s ear. “It’s because it’s you.”
Draco barely has to stroke him for another minute, Harry’s cock hot and heavy in his hand, before he comes. Draco pulls back when he feels Harry’s cock start to twitch, hears his breathing falter and feels Harry’s mouth open against his neck. He pushes Harry’s head back to rest against the wall, eager to see him come all over Draco’s fist.
Draco nearly comes when Harry does. Harry’s orgasm seems to build and build in his body, even when he’s right on the edge already. Draco watches as Harry’s toes curl against the wet tiles, his fingers gripping tight on Draco’s arm, then his hip, then his shoulder. Harry can’t keep still, hands fluttering all over Draco, over himself, over the wall he’s leaning against, like he’s a puppet being pulled by a string. His legs shake, the muscles visibly clenching and releasing. Even his stomach muscles move, jolting and bunching when Draco’s fist brushes against them. His head is tipped back against the wall, beads of water rolling down his bared neck and coming to rest in the hollow of his collarbone.
He looks like porn, like something out of Draco’s dirtiest wank fantasies that could never actually be fulfilled because the people in them don’t act like they do in his imagination. Only, Harry does.
Harry comes with the sweetest moan Draco has ever heard, his mouth wide open, his lips swollen and red as though he’d been sucking cock for hours. His face scrunches then releases, a blissed out expression washing over his features. He fucks into Draco’s fist, though not enough to dislodge the position of Draco’s hand. Draco feels his own cock give a valiant twitch at the image in front of him, like he’s going to come without a hand on himself.
Draco can’t believe what he’s seeing. There’s no way Harry Potter looks this good when he comes. He’s crossed the line from fit, isn’t even in the realm of just hot anymore. Harry Potter is beautiful when he comes, and Draco knows now that it isn’t even remotely close to fair.
Harry sinks down to his knees after that, wrapping a hand around Draco’s cock and sucking the head into his mouth. He looks up at Draco with a demure expression, his lashes wet from the shower spray. His lips are bright red, his tongue tracing the ridges of Draco’s cock inside of his mouth. Draco goes off like a rocket, eyes wide and mouth open around a throaty gasp, no time to warn Harry beforehand.
Harry doesn’t seem to mind, swallowing down what Draco gives him. He stands up on shaky legs, chuckling as he leans against the wall. Draco wipes away a bit of come stuck to the corner of Harry’s mouth and Harry smiles, big and wide.
Draco’s fucked. He knows he’s fucked. How could he not be, now that he knows what Harry Potter looks like when he comes? He’s even more of a lost cause then he was before.
-- * --
Draco toys with the idea of it being Harry’s first hand job. He knows it’s not true, knows there’s absolutely no way it’s correct, but there’s little other explanation for how hard Harry had come. He knows that out of all the men and women Harry’s had on his arm at Ministry galas, out in the street, in pictures in the paper, at least one has to have given him a hand job. But Harry had gotten so worked up over the simple touch of Draco’s hand that there was little room for another explanation.
Nobody comes like that unless they’re new to the game. Or maybe Harry just likes hand jobs?
Draco vows to find out.
It doesn’t take Draco long to invite Harry round to his flat, all traces of doubt gone now that Harry had propositioned him in the shower.
Draco takes care to make his flat look presentable, tidies up and rearranges the bookshelf, wipes down the windowsills and cleans the inside of the kettle. It’s overkill, but he needs a clear head if he’s going to get to the bottom of this. He sets out a bottle of wine, two beers, and a bottle of Firewhisky, not sure what Harry will be in the mood for. He’s just being a gracious host, really.
Harry Floo’s into his flat in neat black trousers and a green sweater, completely unlike the type of tripe he usually wears. He’s dressed for a date, Draco realises. He hasn’t intended for their evening to be one, but he can see how Harry would take his invitation that way. He doesn’t mind, either.
“Hi,” Harry says, stepping into Draco’s kitchen. He looks a little shy, glancing at Draco from under his lashes. Draco’s breath catches in his throat, struck down once again by the fact that Harry looks gorgeous doing literally anything. Draco’s not sure how he ever got anything done during their years at Hogwarts. How he’d managed to not notice Harry’s appearance and demeanour for the first fifteen years of them knowing each other was bloody beyond him.
“Wine, beer, or Firewhisky?” Draco asks, not taking his eyes off of Harry. The air in the room feels heavy, like it could push Draco to his knees if enough of it piled onto his shoulders.
“Are you a wine drinker?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at Draco.
“Yes.” Draco steps closer to both Harry and the table, letting his arm brush against Harry’s as he leans over to pick up the bottle of wine. “This is a white, but I’ve got a red in the cupboard.”
“I’ll have what you’re having,” Harry says. His fingers brush against Draco’s wrist, tracing the bare skin on the back of his hand. “Wouldn’t want to mix tastes that don’t go.”
Draco smirks at him, wants to laugh at the presumptuousness. “What did you think you came here to do?”
“Snog, fuck, whatever you’re up for.” Harry shrugs, smiling at Draco. “I’m not fussed on the details.”
Draco pulls two empty glasses towards himself, uncorking the wine and pouring them each a generous glass. He hands one to Harry and sinks to his knees, smirking when Harry lets out a loud moan. Harry’s cock is already thick, pressing against the front of his trousers. Draco rolls a palm over it, breath hitching at the sound of Harry’s drawn out moan. He gets Harry’s zipper undone quickly, edging his trousers down his legs. There’s a light dusting of hair on the tops of Harry’s thighs; Draco nips at them, pressing a wet kiss to the reddened spot.
“Don’t go spilling any of that in my hair,” Draco says as he finally gets Harry’s pants down, wrapping a fist around Harry’s cock. Harry keens up above him, leaning back against Draco’s dining table. He whimpers when Draco’s lips close around the head of his cock. The taste of precum floods across Draco’s tongue, tasting a little like Harry’s sweat smells when he comes off the Quidditch pitch.
Draco moans around Harry’s cock, his hand dropping to rub at himself through his trousers. He glances up at Harry, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks, moving up and down the length of Harry’s cock. Harry’s got his lip between his teeth again, biting down on it and leaving little indentations. His eyes are wide as he watches Draco, his hands gripping the edge of the table. His legs start to shake under Draco’s palm, the muscles in his arms bulging as they take the weight that his legs now fail to.
Draco lets his eyes flutter shut, ripping his hand away from his own cock as he feels a wave of pleasure wash over him at the sight of Harry. There’s no way he’s coming in his trousers while sucking Harry’s cock, no matter how good he looks.
“Draco,” Harry moans, whimpering again. He throws his head back as he comes, cock twitching on Draco’s tongue. The taste of Harry floods Draco’s mouth as he sucks, his come rubbing back into his cock as Draco works his mouth up and down. The smell of Harry’s come pours into Draco’s nostrils as some escapes his mouth, caught on the skin of Harry’s cock. Draco can feel it between his fingers, making his grip slip on Harry’s softening cock.
Draco does indeed come in his trousers while sucking at Harry’s half hard cock, palm against his erection, staring up at Harry from his position on the floor.
Harry moans when he notices, reaching down to pull Draco up with shaking arms. His eyes are slightly wet, Draco notices, likely from squeezing them so hard. Harry looks blissed out, his smile lopsided and his legs still shaking.
He’s gorgeous. He’s like art.
Draco’s fucked and nobody’s even gotten fucked.
Harry finishes his wine and hands Draco his glass. He pulls his sweater over his head, kicks off his trousers and pants and steps out of his shoes and socks. His cock is damp with Draco’s spit, small streaks of semen clinging to the hair at the base of his cock.
Draco swallows heavily and takes a sip of wine, letting the tang mix on his tongue with the musky taste that Harry put there. It’s the best glass of wine he’s ever had.
“Bedroom?” Harry asks. He steps towards Draco and reaches for his trousers, popping the button and pulling down the zipper.
Draco doesn’t answer straight away, tipping back the rest of the wine in his glass. Harry’s hand wraps around his hip, snaking under the waist of his trousers. He leaves them unzipped but doesn’t pull them down, leaning in to bite at Draco’s neck. His lips are swollen, his tongue warm as he licks over the hollow in Draco’s throat.
“Down the hall,” Draco says, the words melding with a gasp as Harry slips his hand further into his pants, wrapping it around his steadily hardening cock.
“Lead the way,” Harry says, pulling his hand out of Draco’s pants. There’s come on it, coating Harry’s fingers and streaking his palm. Harry makes eye contact with Draco as he lifts his hand to his face, sucking one of his fingers into his mouth, right down past the second knuckle.
Draco moans and grabs Harry’s hand, tugging him down the hall. His trousers are a right nuisance in their unzipped state. He pulls them off as soon as they get into his bedroom, tossing his shoes and socks out into the hallway. Harry’s hands come around his waist, fingers pressing into his skin. He pulls Draco’s sweater up and over his head, pressing his body against Draco’s. Their cocks rub against each other, Harry’s hips bucking at the contact. He whimpers and moans at the brush of Draco against him like it’s the first time he’s felt him. It’s like he’s going to go off again even though he’s just come not five minutes ago. Just come spectacularly, if his reaction was any indication.
Harry’s brushes their mouths together then, sending a jolt of desire rocketing through Draco’s stomach, twisting and curling. Draco closes the distance and slides his lips against Harry’s, the smacking noise loud in the otherwise quiet room. It’s the first time they’ve kissed, Draco realises. He has no idea how he’s gone without it this long, has no idea how he’ll go without it again.
Harry moans against Draco’s mouth as Draco slips his tongue inside, curling it around Harry’s. Harry’s fingers grip Draco’s elbows, squeezing and pulling. His feet brush against Draco’s as he shifts. Draco can feel that Harry’s toes are curled, like he’s an inch from orgasm just from kissing Draco. Draco groans and moves his hands from Harry’s waist, slides them down and around until he’s gripping Harry’s arse. He pulls the cheeks apart and back together in a roll, squeezing and pulling. Harry whimpers again, his hips jerking towards Draco.
“I want it,” Harry whispers against Draco’s lips. “Fuck, I-“ He cuts himself off with a low sound, trembling in Draco’s arms.
Draco steps out of his hold, leaning back against the wall behind him. Harry looks wrecked, like he’s straight from Draco’s wet dream.
“On the bed,” Draco says, nodding towards his four-poster.
Harry does as he’s told, climbing onto the bed and laying down on his stomach, tucking his knees underneath him. Draco walks over to the bed and trails his fingertips down Harry’s spine, watching as goosebumps raise on his skin. Harry shivers and laughs lightly to himself. He’s still wearing his glasses, Draco notes. He climbs onto the bed next to Harry and reaches out to pull Harry’s glasses off his face, placing them on the bedside table.
Harry twists and pulls Draco down so that he’s half on top of him, leaning up to meet him halfway. He kisses Draco messily, tongues dragging together and lips sliding with a slick sound.
“On your back,” Draco says against Harry’s mouth. He slides a hand into Harry’s hair, tugging his head back. He bites at Harry’s Adams apple, feels the firm nub between his teeth. Harry keens and twists in his grip, flopping onto his back with an enthusiasm that makes Draco’s mattress bounce and the headboard clack against the wall.
“Why like this?” Harry asks, tugging Draco on top of him. Draco fits his legs between Harry’s and grinds their cocks together. Harry’s is slightly darker than his, a dusky colour that makes Draco’s mouth water. “I’ve been told I look quite nice on my hands and knees.”
“I’m sure you do, darling,” Draco says, running his hands up Harry’s arms. Draco’s not sure where the term of endearment came from, why it’s fallen out of his mouth so easily as though they’re dating, but he can’t make himself mind all too much as it makes Harry groan and arch into him.
Harry’s body is firm and lightly muscled after years of Quidditch. Draco traces the line of his stomach muscles with a finger, feels the upward curve of Harry’s firm chest. Harry shivers as Draco rubs over one of his nipples, shaking when Draco replaces his fingers with his tongue.
“It’s selfish, really.” Draco kisses Harry all wet and filthy, pressing his head back against one of Draco’s soft pillows. One of his hands comes up to rest at the top of Harry’s chest, right where it meets his neck. Harry’s breath skips at the contact, moaning like a two Knut whore even though Draco’s not pressing or squeezing or choking him at all. Draco shifts further up Harry’s body, kissing up his neck. He rests his mouth against Harry’s ear for a moment, grounding himself with the feel of Harry’s naked body stretched all along his. He breathes against Harry’s ear, kissing at it lightly. “I want to see what you look like when you come.”
Harry’s legs wrap around him then, grinding his lower half against Draco’s. His cock is wet against Draco’s, though Draco doesn’t know if it’s his own saliva from the earlier blowjob, Harry’s not-yet dried semen, or fresh precum leaking from Harry’s cock.
“Fuck me,” Harry says then, squeezing his thighs around Draco’s hips. Draco can’t believe his luck, can’t believe he’s here, doing this. He’s going to have to preserve this memory so that he can watch it in a Pensieve whenever he likes. He’s suddenly jealous of every single person who has ever gotten to see Harry like this because this is something to be treasured.
Draco pulls away, sitting back on his heels. Harry doesn’t loosen the grip of his thighs, his hips tilting to accommodate the change in Draco’s position. He’s going to be so good, Draco knows. He’s going to get fucked so good.
Draco must have said it out loud because Harry moans loudly and reaches down to grab his cock around the base, air puffing from between his lips.
“Please,” Harry mutters. The hand on his cock loosens and transfers to Draco’s, Harry wanking him slowly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need it, Merlin.”
“You can’t believe it?” Draco chuckles in a low tone. It’s thick with sex, he can hear it in his own voice. “I can. Look at you.”
“Bugger off,” Harry says, tightening his fist around Draco’s cock. He twists it at the head, making Draco’s vision white out for a brief moment.
“I’ve never seen someone look so much like sex personified,” Draco says, after taking a moment to collect himself. “I mean, your face alone.”
Harry’s brow creases and he lets go of Draco’s cock, twisting around like he’s planning on going back onto his stomach.
“Absolutely not,” Draco says, hands pressing Harry’s hips into the mattress and preventing him from turning. “You’re staying right there.” He wraps a hand around Harry’s cock, shuffling down until his face is level with it. He licks a stripe over Harry’s balls with the flat of his tongue. Harry’s hands fly up to his face, covering it completely. He moans against his palms, the sound muffled. Draco reaches up to tug at his elbow, dragging one of his hands back down to his chest.
“God, don’t look at my face,” Harry groans. His cheeks are red. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s really not,” Draco says, pulling at Harry’s other hand until he lets it drop away from his face, resting on the pillow next to his head. “Do you really not have any idea what you look like?”
“Not sure that I want to.” Harry’s breath hitches and he begins to fuck up into Draco’s hand. Draco slides his mouth over Harry’s cock to wet it, spreading the slickness with his fist.
“Oh, but I do,” Draco says. He licks Harry’s balls again, taking one into his mouth and sucking. Harry’s toes curl against his forearm, his foot arching. “You’re so pretty when you come, Harry.”
“Get in me now.” Harry’s voice is urgent, his hand sliding into Draco’s hair and tugging upwards. “Now, Draco, I mean it.”
Draco presses a kiss to the tip of Harry’s cock and lets go, shuffling into a sitting position. Harry’s panting, his breath coming fast as though he’s done anything more than lay there and let Draco suck his cock.
“You alright?” Draco whispers. He traces the line of Harry’s chin with a finger, rubbing his thumb over the curve of Harry’s jaw. He wants to memorise the curve of Harry’s jaw with his lips, with his tongue. The faint roughness of Harry’s stubble catches against the pad of Draco’s finger.
“God, are you always like this?” Harry reaches for Draco and tugs him back down, licking into his mouth. Draco indulges himself for a moment, curling his tongue around Harry’s, before sucking it into his mouth.
Draco tears himself away then, reaching for his bedside table. The sound of the drawer opening is harsh in a room that has only contained the sounds of bodies sliding against each other for the past half hour. Draco pulls out a jar of lube and places it on the bed next to Harry. Harry shivers at the touch of the cool glass against his skin, pressing his body against Draco’s as though huddling for warmth. Draco kisses him again, flipping open the lid of the jar.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells Harry as he slicks his fingers up, rubbing them together in an attempt to warm the lube somewhat before he uses it on Harry.
“Stop talking.” Harry spreads his legs, drawing his knees up towards his chest. “I’m serious.”
Draco stays quiet as he brings his fingers down to rub against Harry’s hole, spreading lube around the outside of it. “Why should I?”
“Because I don’t want to come yet.” Harry pushes at Draco’s arm, nudging his fingers closer towards his arse. Draco curls them so that his knuckles brush Harry’s hole, not letting Harry press Draco’s fingers into him.
“You can’t come just from my voice.” Draco rubs the knuckle of one of his fingers against Harry’s hole, pressing and twisting it.
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but now I’m not so sure.” Harry lifts his head to glare at Draco. “If you don’t put your fingers in me, I’m going to do it myself.”
“You’re mouthy,” Draco says, pushing the tip of his finger firmly into Harry. Harry moans and lets his head drop back against the pillow with a soft thump.
“I can keep quiet?” Harry says after a beat. His body chases Draco’s finger whenever he pulls it out, hips meeting him with a roll when he pushes it back in.
“Don’t you dare.” Draco pushes a second finger into Harry, curling them upwards. Harry gasps and his hips shoot off the bed, fucking up into the air. He grinds back down, pulling Draco’s fingers into him up to the last knuckle.
“Right there,” Harry gasps, fingers squabbling in the sheets. “Fuck, do that again.”
Draco does, fingers moving faster, wanting Harry open and ready now, lest he shoot all over the back of Harry’s thigh like a bloody schoolboy. Draco sees the sheets straining where his knees press into them, pulled tight in Harry’s fist as he tugs at them. His other hand is in his hair, clenched tight in the messy black strands that top his head.
Draco rubs his cock against the back of Harry’s thigh, watches Harry’s eyes shoot open. He presses a third finger into Harry and crooks them, keeping eye contact with Harry as Harry gasps, his eyes widening.
“You ready?” Draco’s voice is gravelly. He clears his throat, smirking when Harry’s cheeks flush red again.
“Fuck yes.” Harry hooks a leg over Draco’s elbow, pulling the other against his chest. He watches with dark eyes as Draco slicks up his cock. Draco rubs lube down his shaft, letting himself fuck into his fist a few times, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. He stops when Harry groans and tugs at his shoulder, trying to pull him closer.
“Alright, darling, alright,” Draco whispers, shuffling closer until his knees press against Harry. He presses the head of his cock against Harry’s hole, feeling it shift and open under the pressure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Harry mutters, rocking his hips, trying to drag Draco’s cock in.
Draco watches Harry’s face as he finally presses in, feels Harry’s hole open around him, warm and tight. Harry’s lip is between his teeth, his eyebrows raised and almost meeting in the middle. His eyes are squeezed shut, his breath coming quickly. The furrow in his brow eases when Draco is fully seated, his pelvis pressed against Harry’s arse. Harry’s eyes open, his pupils blown wide as he looks up at Draco.
“Fuck,” Draco says, breathless. Heat shoots through his stomach and down to his cock.
He’s fucking Harry Potter.
Draco’s fucked a lot of people. He’s fucked models, Quidditch players, members of the Wizengamot, and even a Muggle actor, but none of them have taken his breath away like Harry bloody Potter. None of them come as prettily as Harry, like their entire being is whittled down to their ability to orgasm.
The best part is, Harry clearly has no idea what he’s doing to Draco, no idea that he looks like a living, breathing piece of art as he gets fucked.
Harry makes a soft whimper whenever Draco thrusts in, arse clenching and releasing. His legs shake, thigh muscles tight under Draco’s palm. One of his hands twists in the sheets, the other holds Draco’s forearm tight, his fingers pressing so tightly that Draco’s sure he’ll have marks all the way down to his bone tomorrow. Harry’s face is blissed out, his mouth hanging open and his eyelids heavy as he watches Draco move above him. His body clings to Draco as Draco thrusts in and out again and again, rolling his hips against Harry.
Harry’s mouth starts to open and close, like he’s attempting to form words that can’t quite get out.
“Alright, darling?” Draco asks, rolling his hips firmly.
Harry inhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut, then forces them open. They’re so dark, the black of his pupils completely outcompeting the green of his irises. Draco nearly can’t take it, needs to speak so that he won’t come, needs to distract himself.
“You’re so gorgeous, Harry. You feel so good, you’re taking my cock so well.”
Harry’s fist leaves the sheets and come up to smack against Draco’s shoulder, grabbing at his skin.
“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. I’m never letting you out of this bed.”
The muscles in Harry’s arse and thighs are shaking, almost vibrating against Draco. His hole pulsates around Draco’s cock as though he’s already come. Draco glances at his cock to make sure, sees it still hard and leaking. He smiles at Harry, a moan caught in his throat.
“You were made for my cock, Harry. So perfect.”
Harry’s eyes slip closed, his mouth falling back open. He tips his head back, the muscles in his neck straining. Draco doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone take a cock so prettily before. Harry can’t be real, he must be a figment of Draco’s imagination.
Draco leans down, rolling his hips faster. His lips glance over Harry’s throat, fingers gripping Harry’s thigh. “You’re close, darling, I can feel it.”
Draco would think that Harry was hyperventilating if he hadn’t been listening to his breath this whole time, watched as it built to an apex.
“Would you like to come, darling?”
Harry’s eyes squeeze tighter, lines forming around the corners of his eyes. “Please, fuck, please,” Harry gasps. “Fuck, Draco, I’m so close, I’m-“
Draco drops a hand down to Harry’s cock, letting his fingers brush against the head. Harry makes a sound that’s almost a sob, his hips jumping into Draco’s touch. His arse is still pulsating around Draco’s cock. Draco wonders if it’s painful now, if Harry’s oversensitive inside.
“I’m going to make you come now,” Draco says, pressing a light kiss to Harry’s chest.
Harry sobs again. His body is coiled tight like a spring, ready to explode.
Draco wraps a hand around Harry’s cock, trying to ignore his own orgasm, ready to tip over the edge. Harry squirms in his grip, his moans high pitched and nearly constant. Draco pumps once, twice, feels Harry’s cock twitch firmly in his grip, feels the veins start to expand against his palm. He leans up to press an open mouthed kiss to Harry’s jaw, wet and sloppy. He breathes against Harry’s skin for a moment, feels Harry start to let go.
“Come for me, darling,” Draco says, caressing the head of Harry’s cock with his thumb.
Harry does, back arching off the mattress, head tipping back. He moans fuck and Draco and please over and over again. Draco slicks his hand with Harry’s come, moving it up and down his cock as it spurts.
“You’re so pretty when you come, darling,” Draco says, gasping as Harry clenches tightly around his cock. “So beautiful, so – fuck.”
Harry’s legs kick out, still coming, as Draco’s orgasm hits him. He groans and rolls his hips against Harry, his thrusts stuttering against Harry’s arse. Harry’s hole tightens and loosens in time with his thigh muscles, in time with the pulse that Draco can feel under his mouth, lips pressed to Harry’s neck. Harry’s whole body relaxes, melting into the sheets and into Draco, his legs falling open around Draco’s body.
Draco’s head spins. He rests his forehead against Harry’s collarbone, trying to catch his breath. He feels like he’s been hit by a Stunner, like his whole body has been reset. His mind certainly has.
“Wow.” Harry’s hand is in his hair now, combing through the strands. “Fucking hell, Draco.”
Draco doesn’t want to pull out, doesn’t think he’s got the energy needed to roll over. He should get Harry a towel or cast a cleaning spell or something, but he’s not sure his brain actually exists anymore.
“How much more time do you need before you can get it up again?” Draco hears himself say. He doesn’t think the words could have possibly come out of his mouth, but apparently they have.
Harry laughs loudly. He rubs his thumb over the back of Draco’s neck, drawing little circles on his skin.
Draco lifts his head to look at him, smiling sheepishly.
“There’s no way,” Harry smiles. “You’re panting for Merlin’s sake. You’ll have a heart attack.”
“Worth it.” Draco does pull out of Harry then, rolling onto his back next to him. Harry whimpers and rolls onto his side, reaching for Draco. He settles his fingers on the curve of Draco’s waist, resting them there.
“That was …” Harry trails off, leaning over to kiss Draco softly. His hands are shaking, Draco notices. “Something we are definitely doing again.”
“If I’d known you looked like that when you came I’d have suggested it years ago,” Draco says, pulling Harry back in and biting at his mouth. “Years. A decade, even.”
“Mmm,” Harry says, moving his head backwards and replacing his mouth with his thumb, rubbing it over Draco’s bottom lip. “I’ll need a minute. I’m sensitive, I think.”
Draco reaches down to tap a finger against Harry’s hole, pressing two fingers in and pushing until his palm rests against Harry’s arse. Harry shudders and grips Draco’s arm. He pulls a knee up, tucking it halfway under himself to spread against Draco’s hand.
“Yep, definitely sensitive,” Harry gasps, eyes fluttering shut.
“Good or bad?” Draco pushes up onto his elbow, fucking his fingers in and out slowly. His own come is thick around his fingers, clinging to his skin as he pulls it in and out of Harry’s body. It smears around Harry’s hole, leaving him looking filthy.
“Good.” Harry opens his eyes and smiles at Draco. His grin turns to an open mouthed moan as Draco curls his fingers, rubbing against his prostate. “Merlin, alright.”
“I need to see you come again.” Draco didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he’s glad he did because Harry rolls onto his back so fast that Draco’s fingers fall out, slapping against the bedsheets.
Draco doesn’t waste any time moving back between Harry’s legs. His cock is hard again, somehow. He’s not come this many times in such quick succession since he was a bloody teenager. It’s Harry, he knows. Harry has an effect on him, always has. He presses into Harry again, his cock sliding inside Harry’s loose hole like he’s coming home. He feels like he’s been fucking Harry for his entire life, rather than just one day.
Harry lets his legs fall open, lying back against the sheets like he’s just waiting for Draco to do all the work. Draco flicks at Harry’s hip as he rolls his own, feels his cock rub against Harry’s walls.
“Yeah?” Harry asks, eyes opening.
“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” Draco punctuates the question with a sharp thrust, jerking his hips firmly against Harry’s body.
Harry keens and grabs at Draco, fingers wrapping around Draco’s elbows. “No.”
“You look like you are. Am I boring you?” Draco lifts Harry’s legs up to hook one over his elbow, the other over his shoulder. His cock is painfully hard, every sensation heightened.
“No,” Harry says around a moan, fucking his hips back against Draco’s cock. “I’m concentrating. Feeling you.”
Draco fucks into Harry for a few more thrusts, nearly losing his head. Harry’s hole is wet and loose around his cock, Harry’s body completely sated under him, pliable as Draco fucks him. He stops the sharp thrusts, rolling his hips once, twice, and pulls out. He ignores Harry groan, batts away the hand that reaches down to tug at his cock, trying to force it back in. Draco rubs the head of his cock against Harry’s hole, dipping it in and pulling it back out.
“I think you should ride me,” Draco says, sitting back on his heels. “Let me get a better look at you.”
“You already are looking at me,” Harry says, sounding bratty. He scowls at Draco, but drops his legs back down to the bed.
Draco rolls away from Harry and shuffles to sit next to him. He sits with his back against the headboard, pushing a pillow between the small of his back and the wood behind him. Harry’s eyes are completely fixated on Draco’s cock, now only a few inches from his face. He hasn’t moved, still lying where Draco left him. He looks like he wants to suck Draco down, his mouth open and his eyes dark as both he and Draco watch a drop of Draco’s come roll down the length of his cock.
Harry groans and rolls over so quickly that Draco jumps. Harry throws a leg over Draco and presses his chest to Draco’s, sliding down to take Draco’s cock to the root before Draco can even catch his breath.
“Holy shit,” Draco gasps, digging his fingers into Harry’s arse.
Harry moans loudly, bracing himself with a hand on each of Draco’s shoulders. He leans in to kiss Draco as he begins to roll his hips, his whimpers transferring into Draco’s mouth. Draco bites at his neck as Harry’s tips his head back, eyes closing in his blissed-out face. Harry’s legs are shaking again, like he’s already close. A drop of precum flies off Harry’s cock with every few rolls of his hips, landing on Draco’s stomach. Draco gaps with each warm drop that touches his skin, groaning against Harry’s neck. He readjusts and begins to thrust up into Harry, his arms wrapping around Harry’s back to press against Harry’s shoulder blades.
“Fuck yourself on my cock, darling. That’s it,” Draco croons. He can smell Harry’s sweat when he presses his face into Harry’s armpit. The musky smell turns him on, makes his cock twitch inside Harry’s arse. Harry whimpers with every one of Draco’s thrusts. Draco can see his toes are curled against the sheets, the muscles in his calves visible as Harry clenches them. He shakes in Draco arms, babbling Draco’s name again.
“Are you going to come on my cock, darling?” Draco asks, lips against Harry’s ear. “You deserve it, you deserve to come.”
Draco’s hand drops down to wank Harry’s cock. He struggles to keep a rhythm, lost in the feeling of his own cock thrusting in and out of Harry’s body. His orgasm is a surprise, Draco tumbling over the precipice before he knows it’s happening. He clutches at Harry, gasping Harry’s name as Harry rolls his hips over and over, dragging Draco’s cock in and out of himself as waves of orgasm roll through Draco’s body.
Draco lets his head fall back against the headboard, catching his breath. He can feel his cock softening inside Harry, hopes that it doesn’t slip out before Harry finishes. He smooths a hand down Harry’s back, presses his fingers against Harry’s hole to feel where Harry’s body wraps around his cock.
“Draco,” Harry gasps. “Touch me, talk to me, please.”
“I’ve got you,” Draco says. He moves his hand from Harry’s arse to his balls, rolling them in his palm. They’re tight and heavy, drawn up against Harry’s body. “I’ll make you come, darling, don’t worry.”
“Yes,” Harry moans, tipping his head back. “Yes, Draco, yes.”
He comes then, cock jerking as soon as Draco wraps a hand around it, wanks it once. His hips stutter, legs shaking, arms shaking, fingers clenching around Draco’s shoulders. His face goes from squeezed tight to loose, his expression soothed and blissed out. Draco gasps as Harry’s arse clenches around his soft cock in pulses, massaging the sensitive skin.
“You’re gorgeous, darling, so beautiful, fuck.” Draco talks him through it, pressing kisses along Harry’s collarbone and up his neck until he reaches Harry’s face. Harry breathes against his mouth as Draco presses open mouthed kisses to Harry’s swollen lips, sucking one between his own.
Harry lets himself slip to the side, falling onto the bed next to Draco. He looks completely boneless, more sated than Draco has ever seen a human being be. Draco traces a finger over Harry’s nipple, laughing when Harry jolts, his eyes flying open.
“I’m not going again,” Harry says. He grabs at Draco’s hand, pulling it to his face and pressing a kiss to the palm. “Your cock has killed me.”
“Want a shower?” Draco stretches his arms out in front of him, rolling his wrists around.
“I feel confident in saying that I can’t stand right now.” Harry smiles dopily at Draco. He twines their fingers together, resting them on his chest.
“Pass me a wand?” Draco says, closing his free hand into a fist and opening it again, palm up. “I’ll cast a cleaning charm.”
“Mmm, give it a minute.” Harry wiggles his hips, smiling. “I don’t mind it.”
Draco swears and rubs a hand over his face, willing his cock to stay soft because there is no way-
Harry squeezes his fingers, still twined with Draco’s. He’s still smiling, his expression open and unguarded.
Draco returns the smile, squeezing Harry’s fingers back.
Draco's earlier thought is correct – he doesn’t let Harry leave the bed for a while. Harry doesn’t leave Draco’s flat at all for the rest of the weekend, and he returns for the entirety of the next one. Each time he comes, Draco thinks he looks even more gorgeous than the last time. He can’t imagine that’s going to change.