Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: thusspakekateFrom: mindabblesTitle:
Intercrural sex, loss of virginity, fingering. Other Warnings/Content:
Anal sex, hand jobs, premature ejaculation, a fair amount of alcohol consumptionWord Count:
Draco's fucked up a lot of things in his life, sometimes spectacularly. Watching that man with his hand on Harry's arm, thinking that he, instead of Draco, might be the first to fuck Harry, well, this, in terms of his life mistakes, could be monumental. Author's Notes:
Dear prompter, happy Kinky Kristmas. I hope you enjoy this. Thank you so, so much to the DD mods for their good humour, patience, and for keeping this fandom institution going. Thanks to my beta for her good humour and patience!
Harry looks good. Happy.
Draco takes a sip of his wine and wishes he'd grabbed something stronger.
Harry has new robes – dark blue, Draco's favourite colour on him – and he's had a haircut. Happiness looks bloody good on Harry.
Draco takes a deep breath and wonders what he's supposed to do with this.
"Firewhisky," Draco says to the server passing by with a tray. The man nods and a new tray, full of tumblers replaces the nearly empty one he was carrying.
Harry laughs at something that his companion says. It's a bright, musical sound. The man puts his hand on Harry's elbow as if it belongs there.
Draco takes two of the tumblers.
"You hanging in?" Pansy asks, taking one of the tumblers and saving him from looking like the drunk he wishes he were at this point.
"I'm perfect," he says.
Harry chooses that moment to look his way. Fuck, but he looks gorgeous. Harry nods and raises his glass almost imperceptibly. Draco does the same and immediately tries to decide how quickly he can leave.
"He does look good," Pansy chimes in. "Not as good as you, of course, but good."
"He's happy. I'm pleased he's happy. Now, can we go?"
"Oh darling, they've not even sung the first carol. The Ministry's Deputy Public Information Officer cannot leave before the Daily Prophet's snapped the photos of the carolling."
The Ministry of Magic employee Christmas party is famous for going on until the wee hours of the morning. Draco's just tipsy enough that the way Harry looks tonight is shifting from pain in his chest to an ache in his cock. He wants to be alone in his misery, cry into a bottle, and have a wank.
"No one will notice and you're a dear friend, so if they do, you'll tell them I've gone to drown myself in a bottle of whisky," says Draco.
"Don't be such a drama qu—Happy Christmas," Pansy chirps suddenly. Her and Draco's boss looms over them. He seems unusually tall and forbidding, red-faced and grimacing.
"And happy Christmas to you," Mr Goodpepper slurs.
Draco is unaccountably jealous of Goodpepper's reddened face. If the fumes emanating from him are any indication, he's as drunk as Aberforth Dumbledore on Bonfire Night. Draco realizes that isn't a grimace on the man's face but a drunken smile and he is isn't actually taller than Draco—Draco, unlike Goodpepper, has wilted the more he's had to drink and he's slumped more against the wall with each swallow. That's better, Draco thinks. Draco's job is all about reframing perceptions. It's all about looking impossible situations in the face and thinking, What am I to do with this?
. Perspective. Every brilliant move he's ever made has started there.
"Join me for the singing," Mr Goodpepper mumbles, slinging an arm around Draco's shoulders. "Let's make a good showing for the Public Affairs Department."
Given the amount of alcohol his boss has consumed, Draco thinks it might be a bit late for that. Goodpepper hands both Draco and Pansy sheets of parchment with all of the words to the evening's carols on them.
"Be back in a moment," Draco says, gesturing vaguely toward the loo. He shoves the parchment into Pansy's hand and notes with relief that his boss' attention has shifted to the tray of hors d'oeuvres floating by.
Pansy's attention, however, has not shifted. She's glaring at him. "And what would you like me to do with this, exactly?" She asks.
"Sing along," he says. "And do it loudly enough for both of us."
Draco makes a bee-line for the door, thinking of nothing but his fire and the bottle of brandy on the side-board. He almost makes it, too. He's almost at the door when he nearly runs right into Harry, who seems to be leaving too. That man he's been with all evening drapes Harry's cloak around his shoulders.
"Hello," Harry says, nodding at Draco.
Harry tenses suddenly, like Draco's presence is rattling him. Draco lets himself enjoy that for a moment. Harry's presence is certainly making him tense. Then he remembers that Harry has been tense around Draco since he was eleven years old.
Draco vaguely recognizes the man as the captain of Gryffindor's Quidditch team during their second year. He's burly and handsome and his hand rests on Harry's forearm. Draco wishes he had something witty to say, something that would make Harry smile, or at the very least regret for even a second that Draco's not the one taking him home.
"Good evening, Potter," says Draco, and that really, really
"Hello," says Harry again. His hand covers the broad one of the other man's in an easy, comfortable way.
It's starting to snow, and the fat, white flakes dot Harry's hair and shoulders in stark contrast. One lands on Harry's cheek and Draco wants to lean forward and touch it with his tongue.
Draco's job is all about perspective, and he's bloody good at it—usually. No matter how he tries, he can't seem to reframe his perspective about Harry and the fact that they are no longer together. And the oaf isn't helping.
"Malfoy," says the man, who Draco remembers is Oliver Wood.
Draco can't stand the thought that this Neanderthal arse is fucking Harry, something he never got to do.
"Good night," he says, to end the least brilliant conversation he has ever had in his life.
He Apparates home. He flat is beautiful, impeccable, and empty. He sheds his clothes, cleans his teeth, and is in bed in moments.
He closes his eyes and sees Wood's hand on Harry's arm. He imagines it—him bending Harry over, leaning to kiss Harry's beautiful back, trailing down his spine with his lips. Licking and kissing him to ready him. He can see Harry's arse—he'd got to see it once before he fucked everything up—and how Wood's big hand would look on that soft skin.
Draco shoves his hand down his pants and wraps it around his cock. He's been half hard since he let himself start thinking about Harry. He pictures Wood pushing his hard cock into Harry. Harry would gasp and push back against him, even if it hurt. Harry's strong shoulders and back muscles would ripple with the sensations. Draco speeds his hand on his cock. Wood morphs into him, being the first inside Harry, the first to show him how good it can be, as he should have been. He comes hard over his hand and curls onto his side.
His flat seems emptier now than before. He hopes sleep comes before his mind wanders again to what Harry and Wood are doing now. ***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***
"You don't have to go," Pansy says. "I'll do it."
Draco huffs in exasperation. "Send you to work with Potter? That'll go off famously."
Pansy frowns. She and Harry have still never really learned to be in the same room for very long. They can be cordial, but this is going to take more than cordiality. Besides, it's his job, and tact really, really is not her strong suit.
"It's my job and I can manage him just fine."
Draco turns to see Harry leaning on the frame of their office doorway. He raises his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead. Draco wants to reach out and smooth the lines.
"Just my latest chore, nothing about which you need worry," Draco says, covering without lying, and proving once again why he's moved so quickly to the second position in the Ministry of Magic Public Information Office.
"Where do you want to do this?" Harry asks. He lifts a roll of parchment, his speech presumably. His tone says he'd rather face an angry mother dragon than make this speech.
"Well, first we need to work on your attitude," says Draco, rolling his eyes.
Harry glares at him. It's the most intense attention he's given Draco in weeks and Draco feels his pulse accelerate.
"I'll clear out," Pansy says and she moves to the door so quickly it almost seems she Disapparates.
Draco smoothes the parchment out on his desk. There are about five words, with no apparent connection to each other, scrawled onto it.
"Got far, did you?" Draco asks. He keeps his tone light, but the last thing he wants to do is be in the position of crafting Harry's whole message from scratch. That's what led them down the path to this forsaken place where Draco has to see him nearly every day, but can't touch him.
Harry hesitates. "This is your area of expertise, not mine," Harry says. "As you well know."
This is the crux of it, why they ended things before they'd even really started them. The thing Harry hates most about his position is the thing that is Draco's 'area of expertise.' Draco had made the mistake of talking about work, about an upcoming interview with The Daily Prophet
and Harry's "image" when they were alone together, at Draco's place, and Harry has gone off his nut.
"All right, then," Draco says, pushing away images of Harry leaving his flat that night, and trying to get into the mind frame of the biggest Ministry function of the year and what everyone needs to hear from their favourite son.
"I'm in your capable hands," says Harry with a smile. It almost feels like a peace offering.
"Shall we start with what is it that you want the people at the event, and more importantly the reporters from The Daily Prophet
, to hear?" Draco says. "Then once we know what we want them to hear, we can figure out what you'll say."
"Don't you mean we need to figure out what the Ministry wants them to hear, then?" Harry asks.
"No," Draco says. "That isn't what I mean. Do me a favour. Assume that I am saying what I mean. I'll do the same for you."
"Draco," Harry says, lifting one hand as if in surrender.
This is why Shacklebolt always sends you to me. You still believe there's a way to tell truth straight out. Everything has a spin and only some of it is in our control," Draco feels himself starting to rave a bit. He can't stop himself now that he's started. This dangerously close to the argument that sent Draco flooing out of Harry's house a few weeks back and he needs Harry to understand, even if it is too late to fix their relationship. "You think that if you tell the truth and say what you mean, people will hear you. Look at what just happened here—I said I wanted to know what you wanted people to understand when you give your speech and, because of your cynical, overwrought, Gryffindor perceptions, you heard
that I was looking for the Ministry spin."
"I've had plenty of experience with my words being twisted," Harry says. "I'm not as naive you're implying. I just don't like that we have to think through every word, control it all so much. It reminds me too much of the way it was before, in the war. I thought we'd changed." He pause and levels Draco with a stare. "And I'm sure I've never been called cynical before."
"Where one stands determines what one sees," says Draco, meeting Harry's eyes. "Look, we're not covering up misdeeds. We're making sure that what we mean, you
mean, is as clear as possible. There are unseen layers in any communication. It's my job to manage that."
They are only writing the end of year speech for the public Ministry Christmas party. This is not about an Auror run amok or covering up corruption. On the topic of layers of communication, this conversation is not about the speech.
"Take the Minister asking you to do it this year instead of doing it himself. That's a message. He wants people to feel positive about the future, trusting in the Ministry to handle our affairs," Draco says. "Can we get to work? I'd like to be out of here before midnight."
"All right," says Harry. "Do you really want to hear what I have to say?"
Three hours later, they have something close to a ten minute speech. They still have to work on the delivery, so that Harry doesn't sound quite so forced into it, but the words themselves have been put neatly into place.
Massaging Harry's words wasn't always easy, and they were about two hours in when Harry finally admitted that he could see why words weren't always simply words.
Draco's exhausted and he needs a drink. They should stop now and finish up by practicing the speech tomorrow. He doesn't want to say goodnight. It's inevitable, though, and he decides he may as well get it done with quickly.
"I'm done in," he says, running his hands through his hair and rubbing his face. He stands, a little stiffly.
Harry stands at the same time. He smiles at Draco and Draco feels that smile in his toes.
Harry leans across the desk and touches Draco's cheek. Draco's stops breathing.
"Thanks," Harry says, and he closes the few inches between them and kisses Draco softly on the lips.
Draco allows himself to kiss back, pressing into Harry's kiss, deepening the pressure on his lips. Harry's mouth is warm and relaxed and he pulls back with a small smile.
"What was that?" Draco asks. He immediately wants to smack himself for speaking instead of doing more kissing.
Harry shrugs. "I was wrong," he says. "About you. About what you do. Should we finish up tomorrow?"
"My place," Draco says quickly. When Harry raises his eyebrows, Draco adds, "I've meetings all day and I don't want to stay here through dinner again."
"Okay," says Harry. He smiles and Draco's insides descend even further into mush. ***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***
Harry had been at Draco's flat only once before. That first time, he'd asked Harry round for a drink after work and he'd neglected to mention that he no longer lived at Malfoy Manor. Harry had hesitated and Draco's confidence had waivered for a moment, until he realized why Harry might not be too eager to go to Draco's.
Harry didn't hesitate this time and Draco pauses to question his own sanity as he opens the door and invites Harry in.
"We've a lot to do before tomorrow," Draco says, because he needs to remind himself of that fact. Harry has sat himself on Draco's sofa in that way he has of filling a space much bigger than his body.
"We have," Harry says. "A drink would help. I hate these things."
"You've made that clear," Draco says. He summons two glasses and pours a measure of firewhisky in each.
"See, I've learned something—I said, and you heard, what I meant," says Harry, grinning.
"You're terribly funny," Draco says. He grabs the roll of parchment with the completed speech, so that he has something to do with his hands other than grab Harry by the shirt and snog him senseless. "Now, let's hear you."
Harry stands in the middle of the room. "I really hate this," he says, as he grabs the parchment and begins to speak.
The messages they crafted are all things Harry means and Draco's pretty sure he's put down words that sound sincere and don't ring of platitudes. Harry would never say them if they did. Harry may hate this, but he's brilliant at it. Draco gets lost in the sound of his voice and being given permission to watch him with rapt attention.
"As the year comes to a close," Harry says, his voice deepening. "I hope to bring with me what I learned during that last year of the war. That together, we are more than the sum of our parts; that courage comes from surprising places; and that every single one of us has the power to do something to better our world. Thank you and a very happy Christmas and New Year to all of you." Harry's public persona disappears and he glances nervously at Draco. "How was that?"
Draco shakes himself out of his reverie. He stands and walks over to Harry. "It was good, very good, until the end."
"What was wrong with the end?" Harry says, folding his arms across his chest. What that position does for his shoulders and upper arms makes Draco want to reach out and trail his fingers over Harry's body. "I thought I was very inspiring."
You don't know the half of it, thought Draco. "Yes, but you dropped character and turned right back into the reluctant hero who doesn't believe in his own maddeningly impressive leadership skills. You have to stand," Draco says, grabbing Harry's wrist to uncross his arms, "like this." Draco curls his hand around Harry's shoulders and pushes them back, correcting his posture. "Follow-through is everything."
"You think I have maddeningly impressive leadership skills?" Harry asks, trying to catch Draco's eye.
Draco ignores him in favour of touching two fingers to the underside of his jaw to nudge his chin up into a more commanding stance. His fingers tingle where he touches Harry's skin and now Harry's looking directly into his eyes.
"What else is maddening?" Harry asks. He covers Draco's hand with his and twines their fingers together.
"Too many things to mention," Draco says. He reaches for his drink. He needs something to slow the pounding of his pulse, so he can think.
"I'm still a virgin," Harry blurts out and Draco knocks his drink over onto his beautiful Persian rug. Harry doesn't stop though, he carries on. "I only say, well, because I thought you might be wondering. I mean because of the way you were looking at Oliver and me when we were at the party."
"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with that
?" Draco asks. He can't take his eyes off the pink patches spreading on Harry's cheeks.
"That Quaffle's to you,"" Harry says, shrugging. "Your move, if you have one."
Draco kisses him at the same time as he thinks that this is a bad idea. It could all go pear shaped again and Draco didn't get out of bed for two days last time. No one else manages to do this. No one else invades his head and makes Draco doubt his next move like this. It makes him dizzy.
Harry tilts his head and presses against Draco's lips. Draco opens to the pressure, parts his lips, and sighs when Harry's tongue teases across his lips and teeth. Draco deepens the kiss, curling his tongue around Harry's. It's soft and warm and he swirls his tongue faster and deeper into Harry's mouth.
He wraps his arms around Harry, pulling their bodies flush against each other. He feels Harry's cock, hard already, against his thigh.
Harry's hands move over his back, down to smooth over his arse and Harry moans into the kiss. Draco wants him so badly he aches.
"Turn around," Draco says.
Harry looks at him sceptically, but he does what he's been told.
Draco presses his body against Harry's, chest to back. He trails his hands down Harry's front to his trousers. He pauses to allow for Harry to object and Harry moves Draco's hand to his belt buckle. Draco's hand shakes as he fumbles with Harry's belt and the button on his trousers. He feels awkward and nervous, as if he were the virgin.
"Yes, Draco," says Harry. He leans his head back onto Draco's shoulder and turns toward him. Draco licks at his lips and Harry opens to pull Draco's tongue to slide alongside his.
He lowers Harry's trousers and runs his fingers along the waistband of Harry's pants. Harry's hips start to move and Draco rubs one finger back and forth over the top of Harry's cock.
"What do you want Harry?" Draco asks, rolling his hips to press his erection against Harry's arse.
Harry kisses him again and grabs his wrist, pushing Draco's hand into his pants and over his cock. Draco moans and touches Harry's cock in gentle, teasing touches. Harry shivers and Draco wonders if he's going to come just from this. His cock feels perfect in Draco's hand. Draco presses against Harry, grinding his own hard cock against Harry's hips. Harry pushes back against him.
"I want to feel you against me," Draco says. He slides Harry's pants and trousers down to his knees. "Stunning," he murmurs against Harry's ear, as he cups Harry's arse with both hands and caresses the soft, hot skin.
He can feel Harry's question in the air, Is this it? Is this where you fuck me?
He wants to make him say it, make him ask, make him beg. The idea that Harry's never done it before, and that Draco could probably make it happen tonight, makes his knees threaten to buckle. Draco holds tight to Harry's hips, bends his knees, and slides his cock between Harry's thighs.
"Fuck," Harry gasps. "Are you going to—"
"Not now, not yet," Draco says. He pulls back and slides he cock again through Harry's thighs, right at the bottom of his arse. He can feel his cock nudge Harry's balls. He slides his hands around to Harry's stomach to feel the muscles jump. He thrusts between Harry's lean, muscular thighs and the heat and friction on his cock builds.
"Touch me, damn it," Harry groans.
Draco would love to tease him, to draw this out, but Harry's voice is so raw and needy. He wraps his hand around Harry's cock and strokes.
"Like that?" He asks. "God, you're so hard."
He moves his hand faster on Harry's cock. His hand is slippery now, as Harry gets closer.
Harry groans and his hips start to move, fucking into Draco's hand and then pushing back against Draco's body. Each time he pushes back, he presses Draco's cock against his balls and his voice makes a soft ah
"Next time, Harry," Draco says, squeezing the head of Harry's cock. "I'm going to fuck you. I'll fuck you and make you come for the first time with a cock in your arse."
Draco snaps his hips, thrusting faster between Harry's legs as he works his hand up and down on Harry's cock. It feels so good—this intoxicating mix of having Harry at his mercy and knowing, at the same time, that Harry's never in someone else's control for long. Draco can't wait until Harry snaps and takes over. Maybe next time.
"Fuck, next time. Fuck me," Harry groans and he comes over Draco's hand.
He slumps over the back of the sofa that's in front of them and Draco can see it now, how he will look with Draco's cock in his arse. Harry clenches his thighs tighter and Draco comes between them, hanging onto Harry's body for dear life, his palms pressed against Harry's stomach. Harry sighs when Draco comes.
Draco kisses the back of Harry's neck and his shoulders. Harry's not moving, not turning to kiss him or hold him. Draco pulls back and Harry doesn't move and the warm, luscious feeling in Draco's stomach turns cold. He trails his hand soothingly down Harry's back.
Harry stands. He still doesn't turn, but looks up. "Oh," Harry says, with a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. "It's late. I've an early start tomorrow." He finally looks at Draco as he pulls up his trousers. "Really early start."
"All right," Draco says slowly. He rights his own clothes and he feels like he has to watch every word, so he chooses to say very few.
"Thanks," Harry says. "For tonight. All the help."
Draco starts to ask him what's wrong, but he can't imagine the words that wouldn't make him sound pathetic and clingy.
"That part is my job," Draco says. He hates feeling at a loss for words. "I'll see you t—"
"At the party," Harry says. "I'll practice."
And he's gone, with the clear message that they will not be seeing each other tomorrow.
"Now that," says Draco to the empty room, "was an excellent example of how sometimes what you mean is not in the words." ***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***
It was Shacklebolt's idea, and it's a brilliant one. Every year, the Ministry of Magic holds an event for the public. The food is less plentiful and it's tea and pumpkin juice, not firewhisky and mead. The music is just as festive and it's hosted by the Minister himself, with special guests.
It might sound soppy, but it does make the people feel less distant from their government. The event means something to Draco, though he'd never admit that aloud. It was his help with the very first one three years ago that brought him to the attention of the head of the Public Affairs Department and landed him his current job.
Draco circulates in the crowd. His primary role here is to make sure that any reporters are steered to the proper people. Other than that, he can watch it unfold and wait for the speeches.
When Harry ascends the podium and points his wand at his throat, Draco is almost as nervous as if he were the one making the speech. He can almost forget the awkward, disappointing way that Harry left his flat three days ago, trousers barely pulled up and Draco's come probably still sticky between his thighs.
"He's painfully good at this, isn't he?" Pansy whispers in Draco's ear as Harry begins his speech. "Of course, I can hear you all over this. Are you proud?"
"I don't know. I can't hear him," Draco says.
Harry's brilliant. He pauses in all the right places, uses his hands the way Draco went over with him, and works the audience the way they practiced. Draco watches everyone in the room be seduced.
"You had to have spent a lot of time with him to prepare for this. So, did you finally fuck him?" Pansy asks. "Because that bit of news would certainly liven up the coverage of this event," she says, gesturing toward the line of reporters furiously taking notes in front of the podium.
Everyone is the room is seduced, with the exception of Pansy.
Draco glares at her. He'd made light of his and Harry's—whatever it was—before. He'd never told her that he couldn't stop thinking about Harry. He'd never told her that he didn't get out of bed for the entire weekend after they'd split. She'd never understand why they'd ended it and she'd ridicule Harry for being too special for fame.
"Shut up," Draco hisses at her. "You're not helping matters."
She begins to clap her hands. Harry's finished his speech and the room fairly swells with approval.
"If you need my help, darling, I think it's beyond hope. And there he goes."
Harry holds his position at the front of the room for about five seconds. Draco can almost see him counting in his head, then he's off the dais and heading to the back of the room.
Draco follows him.
"And there you go," Pansy calls after him.
Harry heads for the men's toilet. Draco pushes open the door and follows him in just in time to see Harry pulling a flask from his robe pocket.
"Potter," he snaps.
"Malfoy," Harry says, frowning. "What's with you? What did I do wrong? I thought I followed all your instructions, and thank fuck it's bloody over." He takes another swig from his flask.
Draco locks the door.
"I'm not here about the speech," he says. He advances on Harry and Draco sees Harry's hand twitch instinctively to his wand.
"What's got up your arse?" Harry asks. He squares his shoulders and faces Draco.
He's gorgeous—even when Draco wants to hex him, he can't stop thinking about the feel of his skin and the fire in his eyes when he looked at Draco the other night.
"What happened the other night?" Draco asks.
"I'm sorry it was so forgettable," Harry says.
"That's not what I mean, as you well know."
"So say what you mean. I thought that was your speciality."
"All right," Draco says. He steps closer so they are almost toe-to-toe, and so he can use the inch he has on Harry to his advantage. "How dare you assume I'd use my job to spread information about you?"
"? Harry's eyes burn into him and Draco is reminded that one inch isn't really enough of an advantage over him.
"You heard me. Tell me that's not why you ran out and haven't spoken to me since. Tell me that fucking the Public Information Officer doesn't scare the hell out of you."
Harry cocks his head and crosses his arms. Draco's so close to him that his arms are against Draco's chest. "Seems I missed both your promotion and when we fucked."
"I haven't gotten to either yet, but I intend to do both," Draco says.
Harry laughs. It's loud and unexpected, and maybe the best sound Draco's heard all day. "Confidence is something you don't lack."
"Harry, I'd never leak anything personal about you to the press, even if it benefitted the Ministry."
"I believe you wouldn't intend to," Harry says. He uncrosses his arms. "I shouldn't have run out like that."
"Come to mine after we're finished here, so we can talk?" Draco asks.
Harry nods and Draco sighs with relief.
The rest of the party passes in a fog. Draco watches the clock and cannot make the hands turn quickly enough to nine when he can get out of here and meet Harry.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Pansy says, shoving him on the shoulder. "Go. Get out of here. I'll cover for you." She pauses and says more quietly. "Don't think I don't know how much you want him. And don't, for a second, think that they'll find anything out from me."
"Thank you," Draco says. He kisses her on the cheek.
Draco Apparates to his front step. Harry is leaning against the railing. He's changed from his formal robes and is wearing a leather jacket over denims and a red jumper that fit his beautiful body like a glove.
"You're here," Draco says.
"I said I would be," Harry answers.
Draco opens the door and bows Harry in. Before he has a chance to take off his cloak, his back is against the wall and Harry is kissing him. He feels completely taken over by this man. It's almost frightens him.
Draco pulls back from the kiss. His lips tingle. "I thought we were going to talk."
"I changed my mind," Harry says, leaning to kiss Draco again.
Draco wants to melt under the onslaught of Harry's lips and the feel of his soft jumper under his fingers. He wants to rip off his clothes and drop to his knees and suck him, but some sensible part of his brain stops him.
"This is going to keep happening," Draco says. "Our jobs haven't changed and I'm not you. I can't barge ahead without a plan."
Harry scrubs his fingers through his hair. He looks like he's crawled through a hedge backwards and Draco has to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching to smooth it down.
"Right," Harry says, sighing in what can only be described as defeat. "You're right, so let's have the conversation. You're going to say you would never use your job against me, that part of your job is to protect us all from personal scandals, not cause them. You might point out that such a scandal would likely harm you more than it would me. I'm going to say that I've had one too many bad experiences. We'll go back and forth like that for a bit."
"Are you finished?" Draco asks. He feels bubbles of laughter percolating in his chest.
"Not quite," Harry says. He curls his fingers around Draco's neck. He moves closer to Draco so that Draco can see each of his eyelashes. "Then we'll agree that we've both changed. I'll admit I was a bit of an arse and you'll admit I had reason to be concerned."
"You've clearly given this some thought," Draco says. He slips his cloak off and holds out his hand to take Harry's jacket.
"I have," says Harry. "Did I cover everything?"
"I think you did—except that the bit about you having reason to be concerned," Draco says. He traces one finger down Harry's throat and along his collar bone. "This," he says, trailing the finger down the front of Harry's jumper, and then splaying his hand on Harry's chest, "is our business." He moves his hand further down and brushes over Harry's groin.
Harry's eyes flutter shut. Draco leans in to kiss him. He slides his hand under Harry's jumper and finds his soft t-shirt. He can feel with warmth of Harry's skin through the thin material.
"I want to touch your skin," Draco says. "I want you naked."
"Here?" Harry asks, looking around.
Draco takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom.
"Here," he says, once inside Draco's room. He sits on the bed. "Undress."
Harry stammers something he doesn't finish saying and his cheeks darken with embarrassment, but he pulls his jumper over his head and his t-shirt goes with it. He's so beautiful. Draco's cock hardens watching him. Harry pulls down his jeans and nearly stumbles taking them off.
"I'm going to sit for the socks," Harry says. "No one can look sexy taking off socks."
"I disagree, but I don't want you to fall. You injuring yourself would spoil my plans. Sit," says Draco.
Harry sits on the end of the bed. "I'm interested in your plans," Harry says, looking over his shoulder at Draco. "Now you. Fair's fair."
Draco sheds his clothing and Harry doesn't take his eyes of him. Draco watches Harry's cock fill as he watches Draco. He comes to stand in front of Harry and Harry's hands are on him immediately.
"Mm," hums Draco when he feels Harry's lips on his stomach. "You ready for this?"
"I think I've waited long enough, don't you?" Harry asks.
Draco certainly does think that. He's frankly stunned that he did wait this long. Harry told him why long ago and it's not really that surprising. He'd never really got past kissing with Ginny, then there was the war, then the frenzy of after the war, then he realized he was gay and enter his aversion to public attention. Draco bites his lip to steady himself when the full meaning of Harry wanting to share this with him hits him.
"Lie back," says Draco, his voice husky.
Harry lies back on the bed. Draco wants him on his back. He wants to see him spread out for him. He's still thin, with wiry muscles under pale skin. His cock is dark and hard and he squirms a little under Draco's gaze. Draco moves up the bed and touches Harry's chest. Harry's skin is warm and soft. His nipples are pink and rise to peaks when Draco rubs his fingers across them.
"Oh god," Harry moans. "What should I—"
"Don't move," Draco says. "Just be still."
Harry squirms again.
Draco touches him everywhere. He leans to follow his fingers with his mouth, kissing his chest, down his sides and lingering on each hipbone. He kisses the tip of Harry's cock and Harry gasps.
"Bend your knees," Draco says.
Harry does and he spreads his legs without being asked.
Draco sucks his finger into his mouth, wetting it. Harry's eyes are fixed on him, so Draco makes a point of sucking on his finger, swirling his tongue around it, and pulling it out slowly.
"Draco," Harry moans. "Please."
Draco circles Harry's hole with the wet finger. Harry opens him mouth in a silent O
"Does that feel good?" Draco asks, pressing just the tip inside.
"Yeah," Harry gasps.
Draco slips his finger in to the knuckle. He pauses and Harry pushes back against him, forcing his finger inside. Draco watches his long finger breach Harry and sink inside him. Harry's holding his breath.
"Okay?" Draco asks. He pulls it out and then slides it slowly back in. Harry's so tight around him.
"Yeah," says Harry, rough and deep. "Just, more, yeah?"
Draco says, "Take a breath." He slides another finger inside Harry.
Harry breathes out long and slow and in a second, he's moving again, fucking himself on Draco's fingers. Draco curves his other hand around Harry's hip. He feels the swell of his arse and imagines holding on as he thrusts inside. He thrusts his fingers in deeper and harder and Harry writhes. Draco reaches his wand and taps his palm, filling his hand with cool, slippery gel. He pulls his fingers out of Harry and Harry whines.
"Hold on," says Draco. He slicks three fingers and slides two back into Harry. After a moment, he adds the third. Harry sucks in a breath and Draco goes slowly. His own cock is throbbing with the need to thrust. He watches his fingers disappear inside Harry and slide back out. He feels Harry open to him. "You ready?"
"Ah, fuck, yes, I don't know, yes," Harry babbles.
Draco slips out his fingers and spreads the lube over his cock. He nearly comes just from the touch of his own hand, watching Harry, pink-cheeked and heavy-lidded, lying with his legs spread, waiting for Draco to fuck him.
"Yes," Draco says as he guides his cock towards Harry's hole. He presses the head of his cock against the tight muscle and Harry throws his arms over his head, gripping the headboard. Draco feels a rush of want like he's never felt before. The look of Harry, the pressure of Harry's body against the head of his cock, and the thought of what he's about to do—to be the first to do. "Oh, oh, fuck," Draco gasps. The pleasure surges through him and he comes so hard he sees white, covering Harry's hole and arse with his come. "Ah, ah, ah," he gasps and pants. "Fuck, fuck," he growls as his breath returns to him. He doesn't want to meet Harry's eyes. "Sorry," he says, daring a look.
"Bloody hell, that was hot," Harry says, looking at Draco with something close to awe.
"Oh," says Draco. His cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I could—we could. I mean, all this, and fuck, you're still a virgin," says Draco. "Give me ten minutes." He looks at Harry, hard and ready. "Five."
"I don't bloody think so," says Harry. He grabs Draco's arms and pulls him up, to lie on top of Harry.
Draco starts to ask if he doesn't think he's a virgin anymore—because, honestly, talk about framing and perspective—or if he can't wait five minutes to be fucked, but Harry interrupts him.
"There's more than one way to fuck," he says, rolling his hips to press his steel-hard cock against Draco.
"That's true," says Draco, and he's a little embarrassed, yet again, that he didn't think of this immediately.
Draco pushes himself up to sitting, to straddle Harry's hips. Harry smiles up at him hungrily. Draco's heart flutters in his chest. That bastard should be the one who's nervous.
Harry's hands land on Draco's thighs and Draco rolls his hips so Harry's cock rubs against his own. He's going to get hard again in no time. He can feel it already.
"Kiss me," Harry says, his tone suddenly needy, and Draco feels a little better at the tiny crack in the armour.
"Happy to," murmurs Draco.
He leans forward, hands on either side of Harry's head. Harry licks his bottom lip and closes his eyes just as Draco tilts his head to kiss him. Draco pulls Harry's lower lip between his lips and nips at it with his teeth. Harry groans and thrusts up against Draco. He rubs his hands over Draco's back, smoothes his palms over Draco's arse.
Harry's lips move against Draco's, whispered words, and he feels himself open and become slick.
"Fuck," he gasps. "I thought you were a bloody virgin," Draco says, breathless.
"I've said I was a virgin, not that I've been living in a cave."And what am I supposed to do with that, exactly,
, thinks Draco. Harry knows sex magic, wandless yet. He decides that his perspective should be that this can only be good for him.
"Touch me, then," Draco says, guiding Harry's hand between his legs.
Harry trails his fingers over Draco's balls and presses a finger behind them. He leans to Harry's chest and flicks his tongue over a nipple, making the muscles in Harry's stomach jerk.
Draco reaches behind himself and slides a finger into his arse. It's slippery with Harry's spell.
"I can't wait to feel you in me," he says, working his finger in and out.
"Oh, fuck," Harry moans. He slips his finger inside Draco next to Draco's finger. "So hot."
Draco pulls his finger out and plants his hands on Harry's chest. "Another one," he says. He doesn't really need this, but Harry's eyes are wide and Draco doesn't want to make this end any faster than it has to. It's not every day you're Harry Potter's first fuck. "Yes, just like that," he says.
"More?" asks Harry.
"No," Draco says. "I want to feel you."
Harry's eyes rolls back in his head, but his fingers don't stop working and stretching Draco's arse.
"Okay," says Draco. "I need you to fuck me."
Draco slides up Harry's body so that he can back onto Harry's cock. Harry tries to reach around to hold his cock steady, but he can't get the angle and Draco says, "Be still. Let me."
"Yes," Harry hisses. "I want you"
Draco reaches back and holds Harry's cock still. He pushes back until the head presses against his entrance. Harry makes a strangled sound and his hips twitch. The cords stand out on his neck and his breath is coming in short, sharp pants. Draco takes a deep breath and pushes down until he feels Harry push past his resistance.
"Oh," he moans at the thick, delicious feel of having Harry inside him. Draco's cock starts to fill again.
"Oh, god, oh, fuck," Harry groans. "Fuck, fuck me."
He moves. One of Harry's hands twists in the sheet and the other grips Draco's hip. His arm muscles bulge with the strain. Draco sinks onto Harry's cock until he's pressed against Harry's body. He rolls his hips, feeling the way Harry moves inside him, stretching him in new ways. Harry arches his back, his mouth is open, moving as if he's talking, but no sound comes out except ragged breaths. Draco lifts up and clenches his arse around Harry before he sinks slowly down again. He starts to move faster, up and down, rolling his hips when he bottoms out against Harry's body.
A flush blooms on Harry's chest. He punches the bed and opens his eyes, clearly with great effort.
"You?" he grunts. It's then that Draco realizes the bastard is waiting for Draco to come.
"Harry," Draco says, increasing his effort. "Come." He presses Harry as deep inside him as he can and rocks back and forth. Harry raises his head to watch as Draco strokes his own cock. "So good," he murmurs. Harry thrusts up into him, harder and faster and Draco says again, more commanding this time, "Come
Harry lets out a long, low, deep groan. His back arches, pushes him harder into Draco. He gasps and his hips thrust erratically and Draco is certain he will never, ever tire of watching Harry come.
Panting, Harry relaxes back onto the bed. He's still half-hard inside Draco. Draco rolls his body, keeping Harry inside him as he strokes his cock. He's over-sensitive, every nerve ending buzzing, and for a moment, he doesn't think he can do it.
"Come," Harry says. "God, I want to watch you come again." Harry reaches to pinch Draco's nipple and the sharp twinge, Harry's voice, and his hand on his cock push him over. His blood pounds in his ears and ever other sensation in his body rushes to his cock and he watches white stripes paint themselves over Harry's stomach.
Draco collapses on the bed next to Harry. He's gasping for breath and stares at the ceiling in disbelief that they've made it here without, as yet at least, fucking it up.
"That was incredible," says Harry. He turns on his side to look at Draco. His hand trails down the side of Draco's body.
"Yeah," Draco says quietly. "It was." Harry's intense and passionate, gorgeous and athletic. He's made for sex, really, and it still boggles Draco's mind that he made it to twenty-three a virgin. "I know you told me some of it before, but there has to be more. You, still a virgin at this age, is unbelievable."
"Was," says Harry.
still a virgin. I think we can safely say that's changed."
Draco has taught him something, because his tone is solid and confident, even as the tinge of embarrassment colours his cheeks.
"I'm not complaining, mind you, because that was, well...but you're stalling. How on earth did this happen?" Draco asks. He feels bubbles of laughter again. He's touching Harry's stomach and Harry's twining the fingers of his other hand in his and leaning to kiss his shoulder.
"I just never got around to it," Harry says, smiling against Draco's skin. "Maybe I was waiting for the right person."
"I have taught you something," Draco says. He rolls onto his stomach and kisses Harry on the lips. "That was the perfect message for your audience."
"Good," says Harry. He rubs Draco's back and lets his hand rest on the curve of the top of Draco's arse. "Because I'm hoping that very soon, you will be convinced to show me how that, what we just did, feels on other side of things."
Draco covers Harry's mouth with his. Harry's made his point. Draco couldn't be more convinced.