Title: Getting Hard
Author: snegurochka_lee
Pairing: Harry/Scorpius
Rating: NC-17
Themes Chosen: Rimming & phallophilia
Other Warnings: Scorpius is out of school but still young enough to get hard, and get off, pretty easily. That's all that matters for this one. Harry is unmarried for reasons that don't matter to a PWP. :)
Word Count: ~3,300
Summary: Scorpius always preferred to do it now, now, and then maybe again in twenty minutes, but Harry took forever. Slowly, though, Scorpius is beginning to see the appeal of being patient.
Notes: Honestly, Scorpius Malfoy, I am supposed to be writing other things right now, not concerning myself with your sex life. Happy now? This is probably for marguerite_26 and snarkyscorp, if they would like it. :) To the rest of my wonderful, brainstorming flist who suggested different pairings for this: I AM SORRY.



Getting Hard

by Snegurochka

*


It generally takes Harry longer – nearly twice as long as Scorpius himself, an eternity, really – to get hard.

Scorpius didn't notice it at first. As soon as Harry walked into a room, Scorpius's dick was at stiff attention. No, scratch that; if he even saw Harry's name written down anywhere, Scorpius's dick wanted to be the quill that had done it. Actually being in Harry's presence made it all the worse; his seventh year at Hogwarts was a fucking nightmare, with that entire Defence module that the Aurors taught. And if Harry dared stand anywhere near him, it was game over.

"Lie down," murmurs Harry now, his palm running up Scorpius's bare back. He starts with knuckles brushing over Scorpius's tailbone and ends with his fingers curled over Scorpius's shoulder, guiding him down. The warmth of Harry's chest against his back has lifted away, and Scorpius wants to whimper at him to come closer again, God, don't ever step back, but he only does it to give Scorpius room to kick his trousers off and crawl onto the bed, so Scorpius can't protest too much.

No, he didn't notice at first, but that was years ago, years spent trying – and failing, mostly – to get Harry to notice him, to agree to have a drink with him, to go home with him and press him down against the sheets and wake up with him and kiss him on that spot where his hair swept under his earlobe and – yeah. Years. He had him now, though. Did he ever. All Scorpius's fantasies had come true; everything he had ever dreamed about Harry Potter was alive in his world, and it was better than he could have hoped – magical really, the way Harry's hands felt against Scorpius's skin, the way Harry's mouth lit him on fire, the way Harry's prick –

Oh. Yeah, that. Scorpius didn't notice at first, but Harry's prick, Jesus fuck. It was its own thing of beauty, this completely unexpected bonus that Scorpius only uncovered later, their fourth (sixth?) date, far too late, at any rate, when he finally decided he wasn't going to come in his trousers that night, he wasn't, not again, and so what if that had already happened more times than he could count – outside the French restaurant Harry had taken him to for their first date, or just inside Harry's front door on their second, or, well, you get the idea. Each time, Harry would only grin against Scorpius's neck and lift himself away, brushing a kiss up to Scorpius's cheek and leaning in close. "Next time," he'd whisper, "we'll do this properly."

And so Scorpius swore to himself he would be good, he wouldn't lose control, he'd be patient and, and, an adult and give his dick a stern talking to, and promise it that if it fucking behaved for longer than four minutes, it could have the chance to meet Harry bloody Potter's dick, and wouldn't it like that?

He crawls onto the bed now at Harry's command, reliving all these memories. The sheets are cool and his palm nearly slides forward on them. He grabs at them instead, grinning, and throws a look over his shoulder at Harry as he spreads himself out on his stomach. No, Harry isn't hard yet, but Scorpius knows what's coming, and that is more than good enough. The bed dips with the weight of Harry's knee as he climbs up, then the other, each straddling one of Scorpius's thighs. Scorpius feels the warm heaviness of Harry's balls as he kneels over Scorpius's leg, his hands brushing light touches over his arse. "Good," Harry murmurs with a sigh. "That's so good."

Scorpius didn't used to know about this, didn't think it could ever be this good if he could just be patient. That fourth (sixth? whatever) date, his fingers still greasy from fish and chips (of all the bloody things to eat), Scorpius hauled Harry through the Floo and attacked him in Scorpius's tiny living room, kissing him with everything he had and pressing his hand in hard against Harry's trousers. "Jesus," Harry muttered into his mouth, his fists tight in Scorpius's shirt and his hips pressing up into Scorpius's searching fingers, but he didn't– he wasn't– Scorpius frowned, glancing down. He was used to the boys from school, or the clubs, boys with lithe bodies and pricks that could hit a Bludger and barely feel it, but Harry was– Harry was –

Thick. Fat. And... hanging. Part of Scorpius's brain registered that it was still a bloody handful, and he should be grateful for that, but he couldn't focus on it; he could only back away and wipe his mouth, face flaming and eyes on the floor. "So, uh, thanks for dinner."

"Oh. Right. No problem. I..." Harry ran a hand through his hair, but he was watching Scorpius. "Are you... ?" He pressed his lips together as if coming to a decision, and then he cleared his throat. Scorpius looked up at him. "Not interested after all?" he asked, his smile forced and tight as he took a step back. Then he raised his hands. "Hey, it's all right. No harm done." The grin faded, and he turned to the Floo.

Eyes wide, Scorpius launched himself forward and nearly tackled him to the floor. "No! What? I'm– God, I'm interested. I thought you weren– I mean–" He furrowed his brow, snatching his hands back from where they'd landed around Harry's shoulders, gesturing awkwardly at Harry's crotch.

Harry glanced down, looking confused. "I'm– yeah? I'm– oh. Oh." The way his mouth curled up at that, a little lopsided grin that, fuck, it might have been at Scorpius's expense, but he couldn't be arsed to care much, not when Harry was smiling at him in that adorable, sheepish little way. Harry stepped towards him again, his hand falling to Scorpius's belt buckle. He paused, searching out Scorpius's eyes. Trembling, Scorpius did his best to hold Harry's gaze, as the tips of Harry's fingers dipped lower, tracing the outline of Scorpius's rigid erection. "Ah," he breathed. "Looking for something like this?"

Swallowing, Scorpius dropped his gaze. "No, I just thought–"

"Scorpius," murmured Harry, and he was much too close then, gloriously close, crowding Scorpius against his living room wall. "Make no mistake that I'm interested." He grasped Scorpius's earlobe between his teeth and gave a little tug, sending Scorpius's mind spinning. "I'm very interested."

By the time Scorpius dropped to his knees that night, there was no more doubt in his mind.

Now, spread out on his stomach on the bed with Harry kneeling behind him, Scorpius can still nearly taste the memory of that first time he had Harry's cock in his mouth, felt Harry's come over his tongue, thick and sudden. He feels Harry's balls against the back of his thigh and the heavy thickness of Harry's prick sliding over his arse cheeks as Harry shifts down. He's not hard yet, not fully, but Scorpius isn't worried about that anymore. He will be. Oh, God, he will be. "Spread for me," whispers Harry, pushing Scorpius's thighs apart with gentle hands and sliding his thumbs into Scorpius's crease.

But even before, when Scorpius thought they were sorted, even by the tenth (fifteenth?) date, he could still get slammed by bursts of insecurity, worried he wasn't making Harry hard, that he wasn't doing enough to hold the attention of such a powerful wizard, and how could he, really? He was young and stupid, maybe – was that what Harry thought? – and he was beautiful, sure; that was clear, but was he enough? Every time they got to the bedroom and Harry stripped them both, crawling over Scorpius and trailing kisses up his chest, Harry's full, beautiful prick would sway between his legs, coming to rest against Scorpius's thigh or over his stomach. "Are you–" Scorpius would mumble reluctantly, scooting back on the bed – "uh, is everything okay?"

As if reading his mind, though, Harry would only tilt Scorpius's chin towards him and hold his gaze, nodding and keeping in a smile. "Oh yeah," he'd breathe, his fingers travelling over Scorpius's skin. "We've got all the time in the world."

Scorpius wasn't quite sure about that; he preferred to do it now, now, and then maybe again in twenty minutes, but Harry took forever.

Slowly, though, Scorpius began to see the appeal of being patient.

When he was patient, he noticed things more. When he was patient, he noticed that he could lie on the bed, lightly skimming his hands over his own chest and down, lower, fingering himself and letting out soft moans. Because while he did that, Harry would slowly begin to get hard. Now he knew to take his time. His reward was getting to watch Harry leaning against the footboard of his big bed, lightly touching his balls, the insides of his thighs, and finally his dick, letting it swell slowly under his touch as he watched Scorpius touch himself, bringing it to full, glorious hardness in a gradual way. Then Harry would tighten his strokes, his fist curled around only half of his generous length, the thickness of it bursting through his fingers.

Then, and only then, would he crawl towards Scorpius, pinning him in his gaze, and settle over top of him, nudging that beautiful prick between Scorpius's legs. "Now, what is it you've been staring at?" he'd whisper, his lips hot over Scorpius's ear, his lubricated fingers replacing Scorpius's own and pushing slowly inside him.

Now, Scorpius is already writhing against the sheets just at the hint of Harry's thumbs sliding into his crease and opening him up. This has become his favourite part. No, the fucking is still his favourite. Or maybe the slow, romantic kisses he can never get enough of. But this, well, it's a close race. Because this is what Harry does to him while Harry's prick fills. This is what Harry does to him to make sure Harry's prick fills. And despite Scorpius's fears, there has never been any doubt that it will, oh yes, it will, with an aching, steady pace.

"Open," murmurs Harry again, pulling at Scorpius's cheeks more insistently now, and Scorpius can feel Harry's warm breath on his skin, over his hole, everywhere. He is shameless when Harry does this. It was new to him the first time Harry asked him to lie down on his stomach and relax, and as Harry licked and teased and penetrated him with his tongue that night, Scorpius came three different times before Harry's cock had even entered him.

He pulls one knee up to open himself further now, obscenely, pushing back towards Harry's face. He feels a huff of breath and hears a soft chuckle, a smile ghosting over his arse, and then he is spread even further, Harry pulling him open as if he's tired of waiting. Scorpius sucks in a breath at the first lick, Harry's tongue wet and hot against his hole. The sensation of it melts Scorpius's bones, Jesus, not only because it's filthy and wicked and so very freeing in how wanton it makes him feel, but because Harry fucking loves it. The fact that doing this to Scorpius is what never fails to send the blood to Harry's prick, well, it gives Scorpius a tremendous sense of power. He adores it. He completely fucking adores kneeling and mashing his cheek into the bed, pulling himself open and hearing Harry's growls behind him.

Harry is groaning now, his fingers curled tight into the flesh of Scorpius's cheeks as his tongue presses into him. They are little sounds that Harry makes, low in his throat, and Scorpius can't believe he even notices, since he himself is whimpering into the mattress, his eyes squeezed shut and his body slowly catching fire. He doesn't even know how Harry does it, really – he's never tried this himself – but the sensation alternates between thick, broad strokes and quiet, concentrated thrusts, and when he feels Harry's tongue breach his hole, licking at his rim and pressing deeper, God, right inside, Scorpius nearly falls apart.

"Harry," he gasps. "Please."

Harry only presses in harder, the tip of his tongue flicking at Scorpius's hole, making Scorpius flex, he can feel himself doing it, and it's the dirtiest feeling. Harry's groans turn rough, and the thought that Harry can feel him doing it, feel Scorpius opening under his tongue, and that he loves feeling that, it gives Scorpius a rush of power that nearly finishes him.

"No, God, can't wait," he sobs, grabbing a pillow to bury his face and all his shameless begging.

Harry pulls back, whispering across Scorpius's damp skin. "Don't come," he warns. "If you come, you won't want to be fucked, you know you won't, not for an entire half hour." Harry pauses here for effect, or to mask his grin, and Scorpius wants to throw something at him because he's right, dammit, and when did he learn Scorpius's body so well? "And I want to be inside you when you come."

"Now," Scorpius chokes out, adding, "Are you ready?" He can ask things like that now without feeling too self-conscious, without worrying that he hasn't done enough to make Harry ready. He's also learned through experience that Harry likes to be asked, he likes it when Scorpius focuses on Harry's dick, checking in with it, cradling it in his hands, working it over as he kisses up Harry's chest and neck, watching it in awe as it gradually gets so hard Scorpius can't believe he was ever worried.

In reply, Harry wipes his mouth against the back of Scorpius's thigh, pausing to give him a soft bite, and then moves up his body. He feels the heavy weight of Harry's prick drag up his leg, and oh, fuck yes, he's ready. "Yeah," is all Harry says, his voice low and rough, and Scorpius can't help it, he turns and grins over his shoulder, because he's done this, he's made Harry so hard, and Harry wants to be here with him, making him fall to pieces and then fucking him into oblivion.

Scorpius's face must have been mashed into the pillow when Harry murmured the lubrication spell, because he didn't hear it, he didn't think about it, and now there is only Harry's thick cock pressing against him, the head wide and blunt outside Scorpius's hole, and he's already moaning in anticipation. He can feel himself flexing again, an invitation Harry can't miss, wet and slick and eager, oh so eager. With a deep growl, Harry runs one hand up Scorpius's back and uses the other to guide his cock inside, his knuckles gentle against Scorpius's arse as he gives one heavy push to get past Scorpius's entrance.

Scorpius gasps at the flood of sensation through his body. This is what makes it all worthwhile. This is why he no longer cares if Harry takes a bloody decade to coax all the blood to that gorgeous prick of his. Scorpius would wait forever if he had to. For this, he absolutely would.

Harry pushes the rest of the way in, slow, steady movements filling Scorpius up and stealing his breath. He pauses, then pushes in a little bit more, that final bit before his pubic hair is brushing Scorpius's arse cheeks and his balls are swaying close to Scorpius's. Scorpius treasures this moment, right here, when he's aching and desperate and Harry pauses like this to steady him, smooth hands on his back and whispered endearments against his skin – "Christ, look at you, taking me in like that. So fucking gorgeous." This closeness has nothing to do with fucking or coming, that will happen later, but this, this moment is the one when Scorpius falls in love with Harry all over again.

Mind, he's nothing against the fucking, when it starts. Harry is a powerful man with a gentle heart, that much Scorpius has learned, and at times like these, that translates to hard, steady thrusts combined with soft hands and a low, calming voice.

"Feel how hard you make me?" he's saying now, his mouth hot over Scorpius's shoulder blades. His prick withdraws from Scorpius's body and then shoves in deep, over and over again until Scorpius can barely answer. "So bloody beautiful, I can't–"

The rest of it is drowned out by Scorpius's moans, as he lifts himself to his knees and pushes back. Harry wraps strong arms around his chest and bites at his shoulder as he fucks him, Scorpius's entire body floating with sensation. Harry's right; he's so hard, so perfect inside Scorpius, each thrust opening him anew, each swell inside pushing Scorpius's passage wider to make room.

"Harry," he gasps. "I have to– I'm sorry, I can't–"

But Harry never lets him feel ashamed of getting off so much quicker than Harry; he only groans against Scorpius's back and wraps a strong fist around Scorpius's prick, making sure Scorpius knows that Harry doesn't see it as anything other than gorgeous, how quickly he can make Scorpius come. "Can you do it twice before I'm done?" he whispers wickedly, and Scorpius chokes on a laugh, his body singing, because yeah, he probably can. He has before.

And then his body is seizing up, Harry's fist squeezing his orgasm from him as he shudders underneath Harry, wrecked and shaking. "God, God, yes, fuck," he mutters, coating Harry's hand and feeling come trickle down over his balls. Harry slams into him hard, making him shout with sensation, but it's not a bad thing, it's fucking earth shattering, and he loves that Harry goes into overdrive when Scorpius comes, that Harry loves it so much it makes him want to hold Scorpius down and fuck him senseless.

"Not gonna last," Harry chokes out. "Not this time. Christ, you're so–" Then he takes a deep breath, his cock pistoning into Scorpius at a furious pace, his strong hands anchored over Scorpius's hips to keep him from collapsing to the bed in a puddle.

"Harder," whispers Scorpius, and Harry moans, oh, the sound is so beautiful, and Scorpius knows he's wanted, knows he's loved.

Harry presses in hard, one more time, his hips slamming up against Scorpius's arse, and Scorpius can feel the heavy pulses of Harry's orgasm shuddering through his passage. The shock of warm wetness makes him tremble, his arms nearly giving out where he's propping himself up, because he's done this to Harry, he has made him hard and made him come and made him collapse over Scorpius's back like this, murmuring delicious words about how good he is, how incredible, how gorgeous and sexy and perfect, and it's everything Scorpius could have dreamed of.

They fall to the bed, but Harry stays inside; his dick is long enough – Merlin – that it doesn't often come free unless Harry deliberately pulls it out. Clinging to Scorpius and rolling them onto their sides, Harry continues to thrust gently, pulses still working over his dick. Scorpius can feel the come begin to slip out of him as Harry softens, but he's still deliciously thick inside Scorpius's arse. Harry holds him close, kissing his neck and ear and breathing Scorpius in, humming happily. His fingers wander down to Scorpius's prick, and, oh yes, no surprise there, it's already rising again, the sensation of being fucked and filled so thoroughly having every effect.

"Think you can?" Harry whispers, amused, his fingers light over Scorpius's dick and his own prick still thick in Scorpius's arse, and Scorpius only laughs, turning to let Harry swallow his grin with a gentle kiss, because yeah, he's pretty sure that getting hard for Harry, or Harry for him, is never, ever a problem.


-fin-



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