Title: From your mouth to mine
Author: digthewriter
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Curvophilia: arousal from or preference for heavier/fuller-figured partners.
Other Warnings/Content: NA
Word Count: 3180
Summary/Description: Draco wants Potter. In order to get him, Draco tries a more direct approach. That's how Gryffindors were, weren't they?
Author's Notes: Thanks to ruinsplume for the beta. This is my first entry ever as a member so yay for that. I hope you guys like it! *I'm so nervous.* The title is a (more) twisted version of Nirvana’s lyrics from the song Drain You.

"He's really let himself go."

The sentence caught Draco's attention immediately. He looked up from his book in the direction Pansy and Blaise were glaring.

Potter had entered Florean Fortescue's with Weasley and Granger and was standing by the till. Draco's own ice cream had melted in its cup.

Draco's eyes raked over Potter's body. He was wearing a heavy long coat, out of the ordinary for how it was only October, and Weasley was patting his back.

"If he hadn't quit being with the Aurors, I bet he'd still look good," Pansy said, sipping on her skim milk cappuccino with fat-free whipped cream.

"He still looks good," Draco mumbled, not realising he'd blurted it out loud.

In that moment, almost as if he'd heard them talking, Potter turned to look at the three of them. Blaise cleared his throat and looked away, Pansy rolled her eyes and returned to her magazine, but Draco continued to stare.

There was just something about Potter that kept his attention. Draco's eyes went up and down Potter's front. His coat was open; he was wearing a long button-down shirt with black slacks and black shoes. He didn't look half bad. As Potter licked the head of his ice cream cone, Draco desperately wanted to be that fucking thing.

Gods, he wanted Potter to lick him like that. Images of sitting on top of Potter, having his big arms surround him as Draco played with Potter's nipples blurred his vision.

He didn't see Granger and Weasley approaching him.

"What is your bloody problem, Malfoy?" Weasley snarled. Granger placed a hand on his shoulder to pull him back.

"Why are you all staring?" she asked, sounding indignant. She almost challenged Draco before she was glaring at all of them.

"Come on, guys. We're going to be late," Potter said placing a hand on Weasley's other shoulder and squeezing it lightly. He sounded so calm, it almost bothered Draco.

Draco regarded Potter's fingers immediately. They were thick, with short, clean nails and when he squeezed Weasley's shoulder again, Draco nearly let out a whimper. Fuck, he wanted those fingers around him. He wanted Potter to squeeze his shaft with them as he wanked him.

Granger turned to look at Potter. "But, Harry—"

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me, remember?" Potter's voice was so low, Draco had to strain to hear. "Come on. Your ice cream's going to melt, Ron."

That seemed to catch Weasley's attention and he stalked away from the table while Granger and Potter followed. Potter turned to look at Draco again, as Draco was still staring. He looked confused. Draco had no idea what he looked like, but whatever it was, was obviously something Potter had not expected.

"Merlin, Draco. Why don't you push him on the chair and jump in his lap?" Pansy said, full of disdain, as she all but threw her magazine at Draco.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, trying to return his attention to his book. He didn't register any words though, they were all blurred together while he remembered Potter's tongue licking the vanilla—

"You looked like you wanted to eat him," she said.

"It was really weird, mate," Blaise added.

"I'll be right back." Draco stood up from his chair and ran his way out of the door, rushing after Potter. Though, when he'd catch up with him, he'd no idea what he was going to say.

"What do you want?" Weasley, of course, was the first to greet him.

"I need to speak to Potter."

"Why?" Weasley snarled. Draco could see Weasley reaching for his wand when Potter stopped him again.

"Bugger off, will you?" Draco snapped. "I want to talk to Potter. If he doesn't want to talk to me, he can tell me so!"

"Go ahead, I'll catch up," Potter said calmly. When Granger nodded at him, Weasley pulled away. Potter was still holding onto his ice cream cone which was now half gone. Draco looked from Potter's hand, the ice cream, to Potter's lips, and then back again.

"Malfoy?"

"Where are you heading off to?" Draco asked. It was the first thing he could think of.

"What?"

"You said you were going to run late. Where are you going?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't care," Draco said. He continued to watch as Potter brought the cone near his mouth to lick at the ice cream. Potter's tongue darted in and out. Draco's mouth dried.

"Malfoy?" Potter's voice rose. Draco realised he'd been repeatedly calling on Draco as Draco had stopped paying attention.

"Come over to my place." Draco folded his arms looking straight into Potter's eyes. He was being a fool about this; doing it all wrong. No, he needed to get right to the point. That's how Gryffindors were, weren't they?

"Excuse me?" Potter's hand stilled halfway to his mouth again and he gaped at Draco.

"Please don't stop licking," Draco said.

"Listen, Malfoy, if this is some sort of a joke—"

"It's not. Just eat your bloody ice cream before it melts and come to my place."

"I can't. We have plans," Potter said and Draco smiled in triumph. It wasn't a no. It was an I can't.

Before Draco could say something else to try to convince Potter, he'd turned around and started to walk away.

"Wait..." he said but Potter didn't turn. He kept walking.

*

It had taken Draco numerous amounts of anonymous hook ups to come to terms with what got him off. In theory, sex was sex. In reality, if he didn't have something to grab onto...he was mostly wasting his time.

No, it wasn't a real shocker he had a thing for Potter, but when he saw Potter nearly ten years after the war, in his real element, Draco knew he couldn't look away.

According to Draco, Potter was a real man. A man with some serious meat on his bones, and Draco wanted a piece of that. He hated how it all sounded, how it sounded in his head, and how it sounded when someone vocalised it—but Draco wanted Potter. He wanted Potter to claim him, he wanted to rub his hands over Potter's body, his skin, feel the intensity of flesh there.

By no means, was Potter a big man—but Potter as a gay man wasn't what society expected of him, either. Potter wasn't the type of bloke who spent hours at the gym to keep himself fit, nor was he the type of vain celebrity who feasted on his fans, not giving a shit what he looked like.

Draco knew. Draco knew Potter was looking for someone who wanted him—who could keep up with him—and wouldn't give a hippogriff's arse about who he was or what he looked like or how he fucked. Except Draco—he wanted Potter for exactly those reasons. He wanted Potter for who he was...what he looked like under those clothes—that body he could hold on to, that skin he could claim to be his and...The idea of being there with Potter, to bury his face in that flesh, to have someone as big as Potter on top of him—got Draco off. He wanted to hear that sound of skin on skin when Potter rammed into him, when Potter spread his legs and trapped Draco inside his thighs—fuck, Draco wanted it all.

Draco knew. Draco knew how he could make Potter fuck.

Fuck him.

*

When Draco arrived home for the night, he expected it to be quite uneventful. He'd spent most of his day with his friends, so they weren't going to come knocking on his door, and Draco didn't think his mother was going to stop by either. So when there was a knock on his door at nine in the evening, he was surprised to find Potter standing there.

Potter looked him up and down. Draco was almost self-conscious. He was wearing thin silk trousers and a t-shirt he normally wore to bed until he got himself off, at which point he used it to wipe off his come. It was his nightly ritual: he wore a tattered old shirt that only had one purpose.

"Potter." His voice was sharp, though he tried to keep it calm, since he was unbelievably excited about this.

"You told me to come over to your place...so yeah..." Potter's words slurred slightly and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Are you drunk?"

"Shit. I might be," Potter said holding on to the side of the door as he steadied himself. "I...you fucking confuse me, Malfloy..."

"Do you want to come in?"

"I don't know, do I?"

"I don't know...do you?"

Draco got out of the way and waited. He hoped Potter would walk into his flat and not leave; he didn't even know if Potter was capable of Apparating home when he was so drunk. Eventually, after thinking it over for a long time, Potter walked in.

Draco locked the door behind him and helped Potter to the sofa.

"I hate the way you look at me, you know," Potter said, throwing his head back as he relaxed into his seat and released a long sigh.

"You do?"

"No..." Potter said. "I like it, but it confuses me, and I hate that."

"You're drunk," Draco said.

"Maybe. Maybe you should have a few drinks so I can..." Potter paused and looked uncomfortable.

"Can what?" Draco asked. He was sitting so close to Potter's body. His knee was resting against Potter's thigh and all Draco wanted to do was take Potter's jacket off, open up Potter's shirt and run his hands all over Potter's body. God, he wanted to press his hands against Potter's skin, massage him all over and—if he could—rub his cock against it.

"Why do you want to get me drunk, Potter?" Draco asked, his face close to Potter's ear and he was sure his hot breath would send shivers down Potter's spine.

"So I can seduce you."

Draco was thrown back with that confession for a second, but he didn't recoil. "You don't have to get me drunk to seduce me, Potter."

"I don't?" Potter asked, looking, sounding utterly adorable. "But you look like you and I look like—"

"You're hot, Potter," Draco said, placing his hand on Potter's chin and forcing him to look into Draco's eyes. "I want you." He desperately wanted to kiss him then.

"Shut up," Potter said, pushing Draco's hand away and pulling his coat as if trying to close it.

"Stop that. I don't like it," Draco said.

"Why?" Potter asked. When Draco looked into his eyes then, there was so much emotion that Draco couldn't comprehend it all. He recognised anger, hurt, hatred, embarrassment, but that wasn't all—there were years of hidden sentiments that Draco couldn't name if he tried. And he should know: he'd tried to name all of them in himself.

Draco took this opportunity to settle himself in Potter's lap and gently bounced up and down on his haunches. "What if I told you I think about you licking me the way you were licking that ice cream today?"

Potter's mouth opened slightly before he quickly closed it.

"What if I told you I think about you fucking me all the time?"

"You do?"

"Fuck off. You know I do. It's why I look at you like—"

"I thought I was some big joke between you and your friends. The way you'd always been—"

"Why are you here, Potter?" Draco stopped him. No, it wasn't a joke to Draco, but maybe it was to Pansy and Blaise but Draco didn't want to focus on his arsehole friends being arseholes.

Potter looked uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat, and as he did, Draco felt Potter's erection brush against him.

"I told you, I don't have to be drunk for you to seduce me..." Potter looked like he was going to reply but Draco placed a finger on Potter's lips to shut him up. Then, Draco leaned down to kiss Potter. He tasted like Firewhisky, cherries, chocolate... and Merlin Draco was ready to come right then, there in his lap. "Come with me." He stood up off the sofa grabbing Potter's hand before guiding them to the bedroom.

Once there, Draco summoned a sobering up potion and handed it to Potter.

Potter watched as Draco got on the bed and took his clothes off. He sat against the pillows, his legs open with his erection pointing towards the ceiling. Draco simply waited for Potter to make his move.

Potter reluctantly took his ugly brown coat off. Then Draco watched with wide eyes as Potter took off his shoes, socks, his black trousers and, finally, his black shirt.

Draco was so hard, his entire body ached. All he wanted to do was launch himself on Potter, wrap his arms around Potter's waist, and rub his face against Potter's belly. He didn't know why that turned him on; he’d even thought about seeking counselling to figure out why full-figured men were the ones that did it for him, but he’d refrained. Anyone who was his age, had a body like he did, wanted a man just like himself. But not Draco. Draco wanted what Potter had. He wanted all of it.

"Stop looking at me—"

"Come over here and take me, Potter."

Potter evidently didn't need to be told twice. He settled himself on his knees on Draco's bed before turning Draco around. Then, before Draco even knew what was happening, Potter's face was in-between Draco's cheeks and he was licking Draco's hole.

"Fuck..." Draco breathed.

He lost all logic once Potter's tongue darted in and out of his hole, fucking him into next Tuesday. All Draco could do was grab onto his pillow, bury his face in it, and hope that a rim job would not be the way he'd end up meeting his ancestors in the afterlife.

He was nearly on the brink of orgasm, his cock leaking against his sheets, when Potter stopped. Draco nearly whined at the loss of sensation but he knew better. If Potter stopped fucking him with his tongue, it would only mean he was getting ready to fuck him.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you."

"You couldn't."

Potter slapped Draco's arse. "Don't get overconfident, Malfoy."

"My overconfidence is my biggest asset, Potter."

Potter pushed in, releasing a low groan, as he grabbed possessively onto Draco's hips. "I would think it was your tight arse."

"Fuck..." Draco moaned, burying his face in his pillow again, "uh...that too."

Potter pounded into Draco as if there were no tomorrow. Every time Draco felt Potter's balls against his arse, he loved the feeling of Potter's stomach against his back.

"Just keep it there..." Draco pleaded, pushing back against Potter's cock, hoping Potter would simply move their bodies together and not slam in and out of him. It wasn't that Draco didn't like the feel of Potter's cock ramming him, but he wanted to enjoy the feeling of Potter's entire body pressed against him. He liked feeling Potter's soft skin against his own—he wanted to lose himself in that.

He didn't know how long they moved together, but when Potter came inside him, he wrapped his big, soft fingers around Draco's cock to get him off. It was as if everything Draco had ever imagined was finally coming true. And it was even better because it was with Potter.

When Draco had settled down from his high of being royally fucked, he realised that Potter was no longer next to him. He turned to look and found Potter getting dressed. He'd put on his shirt, which was still open, and his boxers.

"What are you doing?"

Potter looked at him as if Draco had two heads. "Leaving," he said.

"Shut the fuck up and get in bed, Potter."

"You can't boss me around, Malfoy."

"Potter..." Draco brought himself close to Potter as he walked on his knees to the edge of the bed and pulled him close. He pressed his head against Potter's stomach and rested it there.

"Don't, Malfoy..."

"Gods, you're so fucking sexy. Do you know that?" Draco looked up at Potter whose eyes were wide. Draco started to rub his palms against Potter's soft skin before he brought his hands down to rub them in-between Potter's thighs.

"What..." Potter stopped to clear his throat. "What do you want?"

"I thought that was obvious," Draco said, playing with Potter's balls over Potter's boxers. His erection was tenting the fabric. "Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

Potter didn't say anything, he seemed to be watching Draco's hands as Draco explored Potter's body—pressing his hands everywhere and massaging Potter all over.

"I want to..." Draco's tone was husky; he tried to muster all the sex in it as he could. "...get you on my bed. Hold you from behind and fuck you...right here..." Draco pushed his fingers in and out from between Potter's thighs as he reached around with his other hand, doing the same from the other side.

"Why?"

"Because I fucking want to."

"No...why me?"

Draco's eyes narrowed; he got up off the bed so he was face to face with Potter. He didn't know why he wanted Potter like that. He couldn't answer Potter's question as to why, or why him... All he knew was he wanted Potter there. He'd been thinking about Potter for days, weeks, years, since he'd seen him after the war and now that Potter was here —Draco wasn't going to let him go.

Draco took Potter's nipples in between his fingers, flicking at them. He twisted them and then leaned down to lick them one at a time; he felt a shudder pass across Potter. "I love this blush that spreads all over your body...." Draco traced his fingers down Potter's front again. He knew he hadn't answered Potter's question, but if Potter's reaction was anything to go by, Draco didn't have to.

"You're...this..." Potter visibly gulped as his Adam's apple bobbed and Draco bit his lower lip. "It's real?"

Draco almost snorted but he knew better than to do anything that might look like he was insulting Potter. "As real as the soreness in my arse right now because you've just been there. Fucking me with that perfect cock of yours."

Potter chuckled lightly as he removed his shirt, throwing it on the floor. Draco's eyes raked Potter's body again and Potter raised an eyebrow at him. "You want this? You want me?"

Draco nodded, locking eyes with Potter again. He pulled Potter to the bed and before settling behind him, he helped Potter remove his boxers. Draco rested his head against the back of Potter's neck, kissing it lightly. His hand wrapped around Potter's belly—it slowly dipped down to grab Potter's cock and his own cock nestled in between Potter's legs.

"Gods. I want all of you."