hd365_mod (hd365_mod) wrote in hd_365, @ 2006-07-14 22:37:00 |
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Current mood: | dorky |
Original poster: moonflower_rose
Title: A Betting Man
Author: moonflower_rose
Pairing: HP/DM
Genre/Rating: NC-17; smut
Warnings: The usual
Length: 240(ish) words
Summary: Harry won - or did he? All I could squeeze out was a drabble...my slash is somewhat constipated.
Disclaimer: Please see my disclaimer here.
Oh God, the heated stretch, the pressure, the sticky trickle of sweat down his spine and the itchy burn of his knees being grazed by the pile of the rug. Potter was bloody well rambling on and on, but Draco couldn’t understand a word of it. All he knew was that he was streaking toward the finish line, dizzied and boiling and quivering from flaxen brow to clenched toe – fuck – dripping on himself, on the carpet, unable to take hold and pull because he had to hold himself up and his shoulders were aching so, but did it really matter when he could feel his balls drawing up tight, tighter, could feel his cock begin to jerk – yes –
Draco wailed brokenly and came in violent spurts. Hot come splashed against his stomach and promptly dribbled to the floor in viscous strands.
“And – that–” Harry concluded, panting between snaps of his hips against Draco’s clutching arse, “–is why – you should never – ever – bet against me – on sport. Especially – Muggle ones – like – football. Aaah!”
As Draco gathered his breath and his wits, Harry groaned and shot, and promptly fell forward onto Draco’s back, driving both of them to the floor with a collective “Oooff!”
“Surely,” Draco wheezed, “my loss was a win for both of us?”
He could feel Harry’s shrug against his back.
“You think so now,” there was a pause for a rattling breath, “but I’m not the one who’ll have rug-burns in the morning.”