hd365_mod (hd365_mod) wrote in hd_365, @ 2006-01-22 07:35:00 |
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Current mood: | Coffee deprived |
Current music: | Radio |
Entry tags: | prompt 2: bubbles, yodels-fic |
Sunday....Bubbles
Original poster: yodels
Title: What are Sundays for?
Author: yodels
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Draco is late, but Harry is the one who ends up repentant.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
A/N: The prompt/challenge was bubbles. I'll just take this opportunity to say how much I have been loving all the different takes on this particular prompt.
Harry lay on the sofa, staring into space. The room was dark save for the blue flicker of the telly, which was turned to some inane comedy, but with the sound muted. It was full-on night, 9 at least, and Harry had not seen Draco all day. It was a Sunday for fuck’s sake, a day of rest and relaxation, a day to enjoy the company of his loved ones, but Draco had left before Harry had even woken, a brief note on the kitchen table. He was visiting his mother and would be gone most of the day. Well, most of the day had passed a good bit of the evening as well, and Harry was bored, and more than a little irritated.
He closed his eyes and let the silence of the house wash over him. Unconsciously, Harry opened his mouth slightly and began blowing mouth bubbles of saliva. It was a leftover habit from his years in the cupboard, when loneliness and boredom had fine-tuned some fairly quirky habits. His thoughts drifted back to Draco. Where the hell was he? Harry couldn’t even call on the mobile as he knew the wards around the Manor would block it out. He was torn between worry and displeasure, with the latter winning out.
“That’s revolting, Potter! You have the manners of a 4-year old,” Draco’s strident tone was accompanied by a genuine scowl. He hadn’t yet removed his cloak, and he was standing across the room silhouetted by the ambient light from outside.
Harry quickly swiped his sleeve across his face and sat up. That gesture deepened the glower that Draco was wearing, though he didn’t comment. Harry blushed at being caught in such infantile behavior, and smiled a bit sheepishly.
“Sorry. Boredom got the best of me. Where have you been for so long? I expected you back hours ago,” Harry tried, and failed, to keep the petulance out of his voice.
“Why? Miss me? Horny? Hungry, more like. No one here to help you with dinner,” Draco snorted derisively and lowered himself into a chair opposite Harry. “I was at the Manor, you knew that. My mother was feeling particularly nostalgic today, brought on by a couple of glasses of wine, and the anniversary of my dear, departed father. I couldn’t leave early,” Draco’s tone was quite matter-of-fact, but his eyes shone with some other emotion.
Harry’s irritation dissipated in a cloud of remorse. He had completely forgotten that today was the anniversary of Lucius’ death. Of course, Draco would be with his mother all day. He was off the sofa and on his knees in front of Draco in half a heartbeat. Insinuating himself between Draco’s legs he moved as close as humanly possible, slipping his hands behind Draco’s back.
Harry kissed him gently and chastely, and then whispered, “I am sorry. I had forgotten entirely about today. How is your mother? How are you, for that matter?”
“She’s coping. And, I’m fine. It was good to be together today, but I’m glad to be done and have it behind me. Let’s talk about something else. What did you do all day besides blow bubbles and pine for my body?”
Harry laughed softly, “Not much, actually. Watched terrible programs on the telly, or didn’t watch really. Read for a bit, slept a bit and thought about you.”
“Did you touch yourself when you thought about me?” Draco leered and then licked a broad, wet stripe up Harry’s neck.
Harry shook his head, “Saving myself for the real thing.” He gripped the hem of Draco’s jumper and pulled it roughly over his head, tossing it to the side. Harry pushed Draco back into the chair and attached his mouth to Draco’s left nipple, using teeth and tongue to work it into a hard nub. Draco’s head had dropped to the back of the chair, but his hands busily pulled at Harry’s shirt until he was also bare-chested.
Harry’s mouth roamed all over Draco’s exposed skin, trailing hands that were scratching and pinching and soothing all at once. Harry bit his way up Draco’s neck, sucked on the earlobe for a moment before roughly whispering, “What do you want, Draco?”
Draco swallowed convulsively a few times, trying to regain some composure, but then gave up. “I want you, Potter. I want to be inside you. I want to feel the warm, wet, tight heat that is you. I want to feel you clenching around my cock. I want to hear you pant, groan and beg for me. That’s what I want. “
Harry nodded mutely, that was about all the foreplay he needed. Draco rarely indulged in any kind of dirty talk, but when he did, it sent a jolt directly to Harry’s cock. He stood abruptly, slithered out of his jeans and was back on his knees in front of Draco in a flash.
Quickly undoing Draco’s wool trousers, Harry had him naked in next to no time. Draco’s erect cock jutted out from it’s nest of blond hair and Harry immediately took it into his mouth, using his hands to make up the difference. Squeezing the shaft lightly, Harry swirled his tongue around the swollen head and very cautiously grazed his teeth along the ridges, just enough to induce a shiver. Draco thrust shallowly into Harry’s mouth, but pulled away after only a few moments. He managed to rasp out a quick warning, “I’m going to come if you keep up like that.”
Nodding and smiling, Harry accio’d a pot of lubricant from the other room and quickly smeared some of the stuff on Draco’s saliva-wet cock. He then stood, turned around and presented his backside to Draco and lewdly spread his legs. Draco dipped several fingers in the lube, and used one hand to open Harry and the other to slip a finger into Harry. They both moaned softly at the first penetration, and Harry bent over just a bit to offer better access. Draco pushed a second finger, and then a third in, twisting and turning his fingers to prepare him thoroughly. Harry’s keening had reached a crescendo and Draco instinctively knew that he was ready. He removed his hand and grasped Harry’s hips, pulling him down into a sitting position on his lap. When Draco was fully impaled in Harry, he let him take the lead and set the pace. Harry braced himself on the arms of the chair and began leisurely, and seductively, raising and lowering himself onto Draco. Light kisses, nips and licks were planted all over his back, and Draco’s hand came around to gently offer some much-needed attention to Harry’s prick.
Harry’s arms were beginning to shake with the effort of holding himself up, so Draco took the opportunity to propel them both out of the chair and onto the floor. Draco was dislodged from Harry as they situated themselves on the rug, but they quickly re-engaged and in this position, Draco’s thrusting took off at a rapid pace. Harry lowered his chest to the floor and raised his hips as high as he could while kneeling. Draco leaned down and covered Harry’s back with his chest and ran his hands down Harry’s outstretched arms, entwining their fingers.
Harry could feel his climax building and he clenched his arsehole in an effort to bring Draco along for the ride. Draco groaned deeply at the sensation and Harry’s orgasm was suddenly spilling out of him in hot, milky streams. Draco’s breathing was rough and uneven and he thrust a few more times before coming with a loud gasp. He lay motionless for a moment before rolling off of Harry and lay flat out on the rug; a sweaty, heaving, smiling mass of shiny flesh and hair.
The blue television light flickered and danced over their prone bodies, as only their fingertips touched, relishing the silence that was neither awkward nor uncomfortable. Draco was glad to be back home and Harry was happy to have at least a semblance of a Sunday with his loved one.