Really Messed UpAuthor: kittyaugustCharacters/Pairings:
claustrophilia: arousal by confined spacesOther Warnings/Content:
Handjobs, non-penetrative sex, semi-public sex, workplace sex, endytophilia (sexual partners who remain clothed), mild olfactophilia (smell/scent kink), some borderline negative self-talk, implied bottom Harry, turning trauma into kink.Word Count:
Harry and Malfoy get a little messy in an MLE supply closet.Author's Notes:
Love and kittens for carpemermaid
for reassuring my muse and ensuring my spelling and grammar isn't too atrocious.
This is my first official Daily Deviant
fic, thank you for having me!
Harry really should hate this. Everything about it. He should hate Malfoy, with his satiny blond hair and his silky skin, pressed up close and whispering sexual promises just this side of threats in Harry's ear with his pureblood drawl. And he should really
hate the tight, dark confines of the MLE supply closet. Problem was, he didn't hate any of it. Quite the opposite.
Malfoy's hands were already working their way into Harry's clothes and down to his skin. He shoved Harry's Auror robes off his shoulders and tore at his shirt to get it free of his trousers.
The tiny space closed in on him, but the edge of panic in his blood just made the whole thing better. Malfoy kissed him like a hex and Harry moaned into it; reckless and wrecked when Malfoy had barely even touched him. Worst of all, Malfoy knew what it did to him. Knew the way Harry responded wasn't just about the sex, wasn't just about filling some human need. Malfoy knew it was him and here and this, messing around and getting messed up by his former nemesis in a dusty closet, that did it for Harry. He knew what kind of power he had over Harry and he used it mercilessly.
He pressed his hard body in tightly against Harry, used his superior height and sheer sexiness to hold Harry in place. His hands were all over Harry's skin, and damn that felt good. So much better than it should. Malfoy was so close, and the space was so small, and he couldn't escape even if he wanted to. Malfoy broke their frantic kiss; Harry couldn't help going after him, just a little.
Malfoy smirked at him like he knew every secret Harry didn't want to have. As if he knew that wanting to get fucked in a closet by Draco Malfoy wasn't even the start of it. God, how he wanted the git. It was so messed up. Getting fucked up and fucked in a cupboard, for Godric's sake. A really fucking small
cupboard. He made the mistake of looking up so he didn't have to look at Malfoy knowing him like that.
Then, Harry couldn't breathe The ceiling seemed to be getting closer, which wasn't possible, except that he was a wizard and anything was possible and- Malfoy captured his lips, drew his head back down and kissed him again, even harder than before. Panic and pleasure washed through his blood, better than any potion. Everything narrowed down to tongue and teeth and oh fuck yes. And wow, Malfoy smelled good. He always smelled good, spicy and warm and every sodding thing Harry wanted.
Harry almost missed it when Malfoy slid his hand into Harry's pants and gripped his cock, tight. So damn tight. Almost hard enough. He didn't move though. Why didn't he move? The absolute bastard.
"Malfoy," Harry snapped, breaking the frenzied kiss just to do so.
Malfoy just chuckled, dark and hot and Harry could feel it in both their bodies, close as they were. He was so hard it hurt and Malfoy was just holding him. Pinning him. Harry struggled, pushing back and wriggling and trying to get some friction, something, anything out of Malfoy.
He still didn't move. Just held Harry down with his body, deft fingers curled around Harry's prick like a prize Snitch, but not sodding doing anything with it. The shelves dug into Harry's shoulders like a reminder. The ones next to them were very close too, but Malfoy was closer. His arms kept Harry trapped. One hand braced on the shelf behind, one on Harry's cock like a claim. Every breath Harry took was heavy and rough. Each one, laced with stale air, fresh stationery, and Malfoy. Arousal and confinement battled inside him, and if Malfoy would just move, just touch him a little more, he would probably come right there.
Harry was about to speak, about to demand, but Malfoy stopped him with another brutally glorious kiss. Just when Harry thought he was really lost, drowning in Malfoy and the constraint of their positions, Malfoy finally gave him something. Finally
. It was slow, too slow compared to the kiss and the throbbing rush of Harry's blood. But it was good. Almost perfect. It was almost a caress, fingers tracing the line of his aching prick. Malfoy managed to tease with his hands while devastating Harry with a kiss. Harry almost sobbed--maybe he did because Malfoy chuckled again, low and dark and inescapable.
Harry's hips stuttered up into Malfoy's touch and suddenly Malfoy's tugging strokes turned rough, even rougher than usual. Harry had to bite back a whimper. He needn't have bothered when Malfoy bit his lip. It was right on the edge of too much, and then it really was too much, too good. A tumbling freefall of shuddering bliss. Harry couldn't hold back the yelp of shocked pleasure as his orgsam overcame him. Malfoy gasped along with him, as though Harry coming apart in his hands was the worthy of some kind of awe.
Harry opened eyes he hadn't noticed closing. In the dim light of the cupboard Harry could only just make out the sharp lines of Malfoy's face. He was looking down and Harry followed his gaze to Harry's own prick. It glistened, even in the dark, the remnants of his release staining him and Malfoy both. Harry's heart was still beating too fast in his chest. The cupboard was still too small and Malfoy was still too near, and it was all so good.
Malfoy was still aroused too, Harry realised through the warm bliss of the fading orgasm which clouded him. And still dressed, which wasn't fair at all with Harry's pants and trousers around his ankles and his robes and shirt falling off him to join them.
Harry let go of the shelf he'd been holding the whole time, so tightly that his knuckles hurt as his hands untwisted. He used his hands to force Malfoy to look at his face instead of his cock. Then, for the first time since they entered the closet, Harry kissed Malfoy. Languid and anticipatory. Malfoy kissed him back in kind. Harry could feel the solid line of Malfoy's erection digging into his hip. Malfoy still hadn't let go of Harry's softening prick and he didn't mind. Safe and near and just a little bit trapped. It felt good. Really good.
He rolled his hips, even though he was still over sensitive from his climax. He wanted Malfoy to feel him. He wanted to mess up Malfoy's expensively soft trousers. He wanted to leave a mark, no matter how transient. He wanted sodding Malfoy.
"Fuck me," Harry whispered into Malfoy's ear.
"What, here?" Malfoy sounded surprised. He shouldn't have been, all things considered. Malfoy laughed again, low and secret. Real and close and his. Harry loved that fucking sound.
Harry nodded. He pressed himself suggestively against Malfoy. "Right here," Harry managed to say.
"You're really messed up, Potter." Malfoy's voice was a purr and he made it sound like a good thing. "I think I like it."
Harry kissed him again, because words were overrated. Malfoy gave in instantly, kissed back commanding and needy all at once. He was good like that.