Harry loves Draco’s arse. Loves looking at it, loves patting it when they’re out in public and he’s feeling possessive, loves clutching it as they fuck, so as he bends his head, his heart is pounding with anticipation.

At the first flick of his tongue against his hole, Draco stiffens. Ignoring him, Harry presses his nose to Draco’s skin, closes his eyes, and proceeds to thoroughly map the dimensions of that furled opening.

Draco manages to stay quiet for a few moments, but soon enough he’s trembling, his legs moving restlessly, his hips shifting as he moans into his pillow.

Harry ignores all that, too. His world has narrowed to giving Draco pleasure, to exploring all of him he can, to making him come apart under Harry’s tongue.

Draco’s hole is clenching, as if asking for something, and Harry, determined to give it what it needs, presses his tongue to the very centre, penetrating just inside.

It’s as if something breaks in Draco. “Fuck! Harry!” he shouts, his arse pressing up against Harry’s face. “Please—”

Harry groans. He’s hard, so hard, and all he wants to do is shift back and shove his cock as deep as it will go, but no, he also wants Draco to come from his tongue alone, so he persists, wriggling his tongue inside Draco, sealing his lips around his hole, fucking him with his mouth.

Draco’s trembling, nonsense words falling from his lips. Harry’s pretty sure he hears fabric tearing, and then he feels the shudders. Draco’s shaking, crying out, his sphincter muscles contracting around Harry’s tongue, and a moment later, Harry feels dampness seeping onto the sheets.

Harry pulls his tongue out, gently circling the hole a few times before shifting away. Draco looks spent, broken.

Trembling with his own need, Harry casts the quickest Lubrication Charm of his life on his cock, positions it, and slides home.

Draco moans weakly as Harry fucks him at a furious pace, his normal finesse gone. Chasing his pleasure quickly, it only takes a few strokes for Harry to come, pumping his seed deep inside Draco. With a groan, he collapses on top of Draco and struggles to catch his breath.

“Heavy,” Draco whinges.

Without a word, Harry pulls out, rolling over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He’s utterly wasted, shagged out.

Draco rolls onto his back as well before finally curling into Harry’s side. Harry’s arms encircle him and they lie there for a while.

“Well?” Harry whispers into Draco’s hair. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Draco huffs softly. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he grouses, but Harry can hear the humour in his voice.

“Yes, I rather think I am,” he says.

“Fine. It was…acceptable.”

Harry laughs. “Acceptable enough that you think you’d be up for it again?”

Draco’s thumbs are playing with Harry’s nipples. “I could probably be persuaded.”

“Brilliant.” Harry hums. “Let’s clean up and go to sleep.”

“Mmhm.” Draco agrees.

Once they’ve charmed the sheets clean and dry, and Draco’s Summoned a blanket to cover them, Harry’s eyes drift closed.

“Harry. One thing.”

“Mmhm, what?” Harry mumbles.

“You never said who introduced you to rimming.”

Harry smiles. “Does it matter?”

He hears Draco yawn before he presses his face into Harry’s neck. “No, I suppose not.” He chuckles. “Although, just so you know, I’m definitely never kissing you ever again.”

Harry laughs. “We’ll see about that.”

~