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ustorycollectorTitle: Stutter
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling and associates are the legal owners of these characters and settings. I am writing for pleasure not profit
Warnings: explicit sexual content
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 4,707
Summary: Harry and Draco have been having sex for a while. Which is fine. It is. Except it isn't. Harry wants more and it's only a matter of time before he tells Draco.
Author's Notes: Beta'd by the wonderful Fleetofshippyships. This fic is also available on AO3 Enjoy!
Harry can’t help himself. His hand tightens around the glass in front of him, his eyes stuck on the blond standing by the bar. It’s almost effortless, the way he rests against the wood. No one should have a body like that, so long and lean. Harry’s eyes skim over Draco’s arse, beautifully curved in his stupidly tight trousers. Why does Draco always have to wear trousers that tight? How does he do his job in trousers that tight?
Feeling his pocket vibrate, he jumps, sliding his phone out and frowning. Everyone who would message him using muggle technology is here, sitting at the table with him. Or standing at the bar with their back to him, like they don’t even know he’s there, brooding into his pint.
He looks at the message on his phone, and his heart clenches.
‘Enjoying the view?’
Harry holds back a grimace, but can’t control the deep blush that rises up his neck. Of course he’s enjoying the view. Draco knows he’s enjoying the view. That’s why he wore those fucking trousers.
‘How do you work in trousers that tight?’ Harry quickly types back, placing his phone face down on the table in front of him, glancing at Draco before turning away. Hermione catches his eye and gives him a sympathetic smile. He runs his hand through his hair, giving her a small nod, letting her know he’s ok. Because he is really. Just not as ok as he’d like to be.
He looks over at Draco again, his eyes drawn to him like a magnet. He laughs at something Parkinson has said, his head tilting back, his long neck is exposed. A column of white that Harry aches to mark. He shuffles slightly in his chair and downs his pint. Dean asks them all if they want another drink, and Harry thinks he nods. His eyes are still stuck on Draco, watching the way his long fingers are stroking along the neck of the bottle he’s drinking from. Because that’s not distracting at all. Prick.
The problem isn’t that Draco is undeniably attractive, or stupidly distracting, or even that he’s the best shag Harry has ever had. The problem is that that’s all Draco wants to be. A phenomenal fuck and a quick goodbye. No conversation. No affection. No relationship at all. He has seen Draco literally lose all control, seen him turn into a boneless mess, but has never seen him first thing in the morning. Does he snore? What does he look like in those early moments? What is it like to sleep next to him, to feel his heat and weight in his bed?
No, the problem isn’t that Draco will fuck Harry. The problem is that Harry wants more. He wants everything. He wants Draco.
*****
“You know, I wouldn’t wear my tight trousers if I didn’t know what they do to you,” a voice drawls behind him as he stands at the urinal. Harry groans, the deep timbre running through him, and zips up before turning to look at Draco. He takes a deep breath, trying to slow his heart down, and tries to raise one eyebrow.
“Who says they have any effect on me?” he says, as he moves to the sink to wash his hands. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees something he thinks might be insecurity flicker in Draco’s eyes, before it disappears and he goes back to looking bored. Draco raises one eyebrow. Harry tries not to feel jealous.
“Hmm… I’ll just leave then?” Draco turns to go and Harry jumps, moving to stand between Draco and the exit. Draco smirks at him and pulls out his wand, casting a wordless charm at the door. Locking and silencing it. Harry feels his stomach twist, his skin feeling hot. He knows what’s going to happen. Because it’s happened hundreds of times before.
Draco moves quickly, his long fingers running through Harry’s hair as their lips collide, hot and firm. Melting into it, Harry wraps his arms around Draco, holding him closer. Feeling Draco against him, his muscles hard and strong through the thin shirt, his cock starts to swell. He moans as he feels Draco’s fingers tug at his hair, before his thumbs move to stroke at Harry’s jaw.
Waves of need run through Harry, and he starts to rock his hips, feeling Draco harden in his impossibly tight trousers. He opens his mouth, stroking his tongue along Draco’s, tasting beer and mint and sweetness, the heat of Draco making his head spin. Fuck, he needs this. Draco responds, their tongues running together, making his breath come quicker as his mind whirs. This is it, kissing Draco, this is all he needs. Forever and always.
Draco’s hands move to rub down his back, and he presses forward, needing more. A groan escapes from the back of his throat, as his cock presses painfully against his fly. Smooth strands slide through his fingers as he runs his hands through Draco’s hair. Draco’s perfect fucking hair that he won’t let anyone touch. Anyone but Harry. Unable to resist the urge, he pulls back, running his lips over the soft skin of Draco’s neck, feeling his pulse speeding. Opening his mouth, he scrapes his teeth along the fragile skin, sucking until he knows there will be deep purple bruises there. Bruises he made. Fucking beautiful bruises that mark Draco as his. Until Draco heals them.
Draco whines, his hands clenching in Harry’s t-shirt before moving between the two of them. Harry’s cock twitches as Draco’s nimble fingers undo their trousers. Yanking at Harry’s jeans and pants, Draco lets Harry’s cock spring free before dropping his own. Harry growls into Draco’s neck as he feels their cocks slide together, the skin silky smooth and searing. There is no way he could ever get used to this feeling.
Draco’s hand wraps around the two of them. Powerless to control himself Harry pants into Draco’s shoulder, nuzzling into the muscle through his shirt. Starting to pump slowly, Draco runs his thumb over the tops of their cocks, and Harry stops breathing altogether. His hands clench as he rocks his hips, fucking into Draco’s hand as he feels Draco’s nose run through his hair. Fuck Draco’s good at this. Harry lifts his head and takes Draco’s mouth, kissing him roughly as Draco pumps them, bringing Harry closer to the edge.
“Fuck…” Harry groans as Draco speeds up, and he feels Draco smirk against his mouth. Draco’s free hand wraps around Harry’s neck, deepening the kiss and pushing Harry over the edge. The orgasm rips through him, his come spurting over Draco’s hand in silvery streaks. Shuddering against Draco, vaguely registering through the post-orgasmic haze that Draco is coming too. Gasping Harry’s name.
After a moment, Harry lets go of Draco’s shirt and casts a quick cleansing spell on the two of them. He steps back and pulls his pants and jeans up, tucking himself away and trying not to look at Draco. This moment, the awkward moment after sex when Draco is getting ready to leave, this is the moment he hates.
“I’ll come to yours later,” Draco says and Harry looks at him, his throat tightening at the sexy smile Draco gives him. He ends the charms on the door and leaves Harry standing in the middle of the bathroom, wishing that later was now.
*****
“Potter,” Draco drawls as he Apparates into Harry’s bedroom. Harry looks up from where he’s been lying on his bed, pretending to read whilst waiting for Draco to appear. Like a fucking puppy. At least if Draco would agree to use the floo or door, Harry would have that moment where he answered to prepare himself. At least mentally.
Jumping off his bed, he stumbles to meet him, his cock already hardening at the sight of Draco in his bedroom. Draco’s hands land on Harry’s hips as Harry plunges his into Draco’s hair, pulling him close, their lips crashing together. Teeth clash and tongues slide as they kiss fervently.
Harry moves his hands, undoing the buttons of Draco’s ridiculous shirt, revealing smooth skin and defined muscles. Thoughts of ripping the shirt off run through his mind, but he quickly dismisses them. If he ruins Draco’s shirt he’ll never hear the end of it. Draco is very particular about his shirts.
Letting go of Harry’s hips, Draco wriggles out of his shirt, chucking it into the corner of the room before tugging at Harry’s t-shirt. Harry’s stomach twitches as Draco’s cold fingers brush against his skin. He feels the smirk against his mouth and pulls back to glare at him. Before he can say anything, his t-shirt is yanked over his head, knocking his glasses askew. He rights them before surging forward and latching onto Draco’s collarbone. Sucking and lapping at the skin, he tastes the bitter tang of cologne and the warm saltiness of Draco. It makes his head spin, and his fingers fumble as he tries to undo his trousers.
“If you know I’m coming here I don’t see why you wear clothes at all.” The rumble of Draco’s voice vibrates through Harry and he growls in response. Shucking his jeans and pants, his cock springs free. He starts kissing down Draco’s body, tracing the lines of hard muscle that any respectable Healer shouldn’t possess. When does Draco have the time to keep fit and be at the hospital? He nuzzles the coarse blonde hairs at the base of Draco’s stomach, groaning as he feels Draco’s hands running through his hair and Draco erection against his chin.
He undoes Draco’s trousers and yanks them down quickly, releasing Draco’s cock. Leaning back Harry looks at it, long and pink and perfect. And so heart-achingly familiar. Blonde curls brush against his nose as he kisses the crease of Draco’s groin, Draco’s cock brushing against his cheek. Draco’s breath hitches as Harry mouths at his balls, his legs straining against the trousers around his ankles as he tries to open them wider. Grinning, Harry leans back and goes to take off Draco’s stupidly posh shoes. Shoes that he knows from past experience Draco is ridiculously precious of.
Shoes abandoned and trousers chucked against the wall Harry returns to the more important business of sucking Draco’s cock. Heat pools between his legs as he licks along the underside of it, feeling the weight on his tongue. Draco’s hands are in Harry’s hair, small mewling sounds escaping from his lips. Harry smiles up at Draco before taking his cock into his mouth, sucking it down as far as he can go. Fuck, he could do this forever, pulling the sounds out of Draco as he runs his tongue along Draco’s length, twirling around the top.
“Harry…” Draco gasps and Harry moans around Draco’s cock. His hands slide around Draco’s arse, his fingers dipping into the crease between his cheeks. He runs one finger lightly over the tight ring of muscles, and Draco’s hips jerk forward. Pulling back Harry glares and holds his hand out, wordless and wandlessly summoning the lube from his bedside table. He watches as Draco’s eyes darken at the show of power. Slytherins. So predictable.
“On your knees or on your back?” Harry asks, and Draco glares at him before dropping to the floor, pressing a harsh kiss to his lips. Feeling the desperation in Draco’s kisses sends Harry’s mind into overdrive, his cock aching, his heart clenching. Moving quickly, Harry spins him, pressing him into the carpet and staring at Draco’s arse like the fucking prize it is. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get some blood into his brain, before taking a shuddery breath and staring at the man in front of him. Harry flicks open the tube, and squeezes a dollop onto his fingers.
Separating Draco’s cheeks Harry looks at the perfect hole in front of him. Fuck, this is what he wants. Always. He runs one slicked finger over it and watches as Draco shudders against the carpet. He strokes along Draco’s leg with his free hand, the fine hairs soft against his fingertips. It’s not just the sex. It’s not just this, Draco face down on his bedroom floor. He wants more. He wants all of it. Always.
Draco twitches and Harry knows he’s getting impatient. Because he knows Draco. He knows the little sounds and movements he makes when he’s tired and bored and desperate and impatient. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the thought to the side and focuses on the task at hand. No point in thinking about things that probably will never happen. He ignores the way his heart tightens at the thought.
He presses lightly against Draco’s hole, the tip of his finger disappearing into the heat. Fascinated, he watches as the muscles flex around his finger, pulling it in, small whimpers escaping from Draco’s lips. Harry starts to move, pulling his finger out before pressing it in again, each time going slightly deeper. He loves this bit. Loves making Draco go boneless just using his fingers, stretching Draco before pounding into him. Sometimes he just uses his fingers, bringing Draco to orgasm without touching anything else.
Once his finger is fully pressed inside Draco’s perfect arse, he curls, searching for the small gland he knows is there. Draco cries out, his hands clenched in front of him and Harry knows he’s hit the spot. He pumps slowly, each time brushing against Draco’s prostate, watching as Draco rocks on his knees.
“Fuck it Harry… more!” Draco’s voice is thick with need and Harry can’t help but smile. He did that. He made Draco sound like that. As he palms at his own aching cock, trying to relieve some pressure, he slides his finger out before pressing in with two. A hiss of breath comes from Draco as he adjusts, and Harry rubs at his arse, knowing that it’ll soothe him. Sliding his fingers in and out of Draco, curling them to hit that sweet spot, Harry feels like he can’t breathe. Can’t think.
“Draco… you… shit…” Harry stutters as he watches Draco writhe in front of him, pressing back onto Harry’s fingers as Harry scissors them, stretching him open. Draco’s hole is red and tight and fucking perfect. Harry adds a third finger, moving more quickly as Draco rocks onto him, fucking himself on Harry’s fingers. He watches his hand now rubbing shamelessly at himself as he feels the tight heat around his fingers.
“Fuck! Harry,” Draco growls, “fuck me!” Fucking, finally. Picking up the lube Harry pulls his fingers out of Draco, watching as the muscles flutter around nothing, and slicks up his cock. He holds the dull end against Draco’s hole and presses, the slick pop as the head of his cock passes the tight ring sounding dirty and gorgeous. Clenching his eyes shut Harry focus on the tight heat surrounding his cock. His fingers dig into Draco’s hips and he starts to move, pressing in slightly before stilling to let Draco get used to the intrusion.
Finally he’s fully seated, his balls pressed against Draco, sweat dripping down his back. He takes a deep breath and waits. Waits for the little clues from Draco that he’s ready for Harry to move. Little clues that Harry knows almost as well as his own. Draco clenches his arse around Harry and Harry knows. He starts to thrust, slowly at first, the slide making him shake.
Draco’s hand moves to rest against Harry’s, his fingers soft and Harry knows. His hips snap as he starts to pump in earnest, drawing deep groans from Draco. His vision narrows, his senses dulling as he moves. There isn’t anything other than this. Other than Draco and him, here, now. He feels his balls tighten and he leans forward, reaching around to pump Draco in time with his thrusts. Unable to help himself, he presses tender kisses to Draco’s back and his strokes become erratic.
With a cry Draco comes, his hot release spilling over Harry’s hand, splattering on the carpet. The clench of his hole around Harry pushes him over the edge, filling Draco with his come. He lets go of Draco and collapses, his softening cock sliding out of him. Draco grasps for Harry’s wand and casts a quick cleaning charms, before flopping down next to him. The two of them lie on the carpet, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room .
Harry closes his eyes and imagines what it would be like for this to be the sound that he woke up to. Draco breathing next to him. Maybe they would have morning sex before work. He could give Draco a back massage when he’d had a long day at the hospital, and Draco could fix him up when he got hurt on a mission. His fingers itch to reach over and touch him. To believe that Draco is there for the night.
“We really should try and make it to the bed Potter, your carpet does nothing for my knees,” Draco sneers after a moment, standing and moving to pick up his boxer briefs. Harry stares at the ceiling, the deep satisfaction in his chest quickly being replaced by a gnawing emptiness. Of course. Time for Draco to leave. He listens to Draco move around the room collecting together his clothes, not able to look up. He knows what he'll see and he feels sick. He can't do this anymore. He can't watch Draco leave again, not so soon after he's watched Draco bent in front of him.
“Draco…” Harry's voice sounds small and he winces at the use of Draco's first name. They never use first names when they're not naked and sweating. He can feel Draco still, can imagine the look on Draco's face. Oh well, he's started now. He sits up, ignoring the rush of cold air across his back. Draco is frowning at him, his tight black boxers clinging to his arse, his shirt hanging open, his hair mussed, looking sexy as hell. Fuck.
“Yes?” he prompts, his voice sounding weird, too thick, too tight. Harry moves to grab his pants and slips them on before moving towards Draco. Draco continues to frown, his grey eyes piercing into Harry. He takes a deep breath. Might as well just go for it.
“What is this?” he asks, and he watches as something rushes over Draco's face before his frown deepens.
“This?” Draco asks, his body too still.
“Yeah. This. Us. What are we? What are we doing?” Harry moves closer and Draco stares, his chest falling and rising under his shirt. Harry itches to reach out and touch him, to bring him close, to feel the hard planes of muscle against him.
“You know what we're doing.” Draco's eyes don't leave Harry's, and Harry feels his heart spasm.
“No, I don't. Are we just fucking? A little screw every few days and no conversation? Is that all this is ever going to be?” He can feel his voice getting louder and he takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. Glancing around the room he looks for something to ground himself and only finds Draco. He looks at the man in front of him, the man he loves and the shocking realisation that all he needs is Draco punches him in the gut.
“Is that what you want?” Draco's voice is still fucking tight, and Harry growls, swooping closer so that he can feel the heat coming from Draco.
“Why won't you answer the question? Why won't you ever tell me what you want? You need to tell me! I need to know! Because no, alright, no! That's not what I want,” he shouts, his hands hovering near Draco's shoulders, “all I want is to be with you... always. You and me. I need you. I want you. I love you. But if you don't, you really need to tell me. You have to let me go, because I can't do this anymore.” Draco doesn’t blink and Harry feels his shoulders slump. Fuck. He's going to say no.
Draco stares at him for a moment, his eyes rippling, the flecks of light blue in them shining. Harry holds his breath as he waits, hopes, silently begging. And then Draco takes a step back, slipping his trousers on before spinning on his heel and disappearing.
*****
“You ok?” Hermione asks him, rubbing his back in slow smooth circles. Is he ok? No. No he isn’t. He’s basically fucked up everything. He gives her a look and she grimaces.
“What do you think?” He groans, running his hand through his hair. This is all so fucked up. Why did he have to open his mouth? He could have gone on happily sleeping with Draco and never actually sleeping with him. Except he couldn’t. Not really.
“Oh Harry…” Hermione uses her soft voice and Harry holds back the wince. He must look really bad.
“So let me get this straight, he likes Malfoy?” Ron asks, his brow drawn low in confusion. Harry glares at him and Hermione’s hand stills.
“Yes, Ronald,” Hermione snaps. Although to be fair to Ron, he hasn’t always been the most observant when it comes to gay relationships. It took him five months to realise Dean and Seamus were together.
“And they’ve been… uh… for a while?” Ron flushes and Harry groans, banging his head on the table.
“Yes,” Hermione replies for him. Harry stares at the wood in front of him. Yeah, they had been, for quite a while. But not anymore. Never again apparently.
“And Harry just ended it because he wanted more?”
“Oh Ron…”
“Ok! As long as I’m caught up.” Looking up from the table Harry gives Ron a look and Ron nods in return. He leans over and slaps Harry on the arm in what Harry knows is solidarity. At least Ron likes him. The ticking of the clock seems to get louder as they sit in the kitchen, a pool of sadness surrounding them. He really fucked up. All he wanted was Draco.
The floo rings and they sit for a moment, resolutely ignoring it. After a moment Ron clearly gets annoyed because he makes a strangled noise before shoving his chair back and stalking out of the room. Harry doesn’t care who it is, he doesn’t want to see anyone at the moment. He just wants to lament his love life on his own.
“Harry… there’s someone here for you.” Ron calls a moment later, coming back into the kitchen. Harry looks over and feels his heart leap into his throat.
“Draco?”
“Hello.” Draco’s voice is strained again. Fucking strained. Again. He looks over at Hermione and nods his head at her. “Granger.” She waves slightly and glances at Ron. They stand in the room, all of them glancing at each other, the clock still ticking obnoxiously loudly.
“I think we’ll go upstairs,” Harry sighs after a moment, standing and walking out of the room. Ron gives his shoulder another slap as he walks past and he feels a surge of love for his best friends. They’re awesome. He knows Draco is following him up the stairs, the soft tap of his stupid shoes against the wood jarring in Harry’s ear. As pushes open the door to his room it occurs to him that Draco has never walked into his room this way before.
“So you came back.” Harry turns to look at Draco, trying to ignore the glint in Draco’s eyes, the curve of his lips, the sharp angles of his jaw.
“Excellent observational skills, Potter,” Draco drawls. Anger flares in Harry’s stomach. Fuck him.
“Why?” Harry spits and Draco frowns.
“Excuse me?”
“Why did you come back? To get your shoes?” He forces himself to stand on the spot, to not move towards Draco.
“You asked me a question.” Draco sounds wary and Harry’s heart jumps. Fucker. Why can’t he just carry on being a twat and let Harry hate him in peace? Why does he have to sound so fucking wary?
“And?” Harry tries to keep the edge in his voice, but judging by the way that Draco’s shoulders relax slightly Harry guesses it didn’t work.
“And I suppose I felt I needed to give you an answer.” Draco raises one eyebrow, back to looking cocky and fucking sexy.
“So? Go on then. I’m all ears.” Harry makes a flurrying gesture. “Answer my question. What is this?”
“This wasn’t supposed to be anything.” Draco’s voice gets louder, and Harry realises he’s nervous. Draco Malfoy is nervous. Shit. “This was supposed to be a little bit of fun at the end of a long day!” Draco shouts and Harry feels his pulse pick up. No. Draco does not get to be angry about this.
“Yeah, well that isn’t enough for me anymore!” growls Harry, and Draco crosses his arms.
“Why not? What could you possibly want from me?” He looks so smug Harry wants to punch him. Or kiss him. Anything to wipe that look off his face, like there isn’t anything Harry could possibly want from him.
“You! For fucks sake, you,” Harry yells, his legs numb as his mind spins.
“Why? Why me? You can have anyone you want Harry,” Draco yells back and Harry stops, staring at him. Draco’s eyes shine and Harry finally registers it as panic. He’s not nervous. He’s scared. He’s confused. He’s…
“Anyone except you, apparently.” Harry lowers his voice and shoves his hands in his pockets. He watches as Draco shuffles on the spot, visibly thinking. Patience. That’s all Harry needs. To give Draco time to get his head around the idea that Harry might want him more than anyone in the world. For always.
“I can’t be nice to you.” Draco’s voice is small and Harry frowns.
“What?”
“I… I can’t be nice. I won’t pander to you because you’re Harry Potter.” Draco stares him down. Harry’s heart flutters and he nods slowly. Right.
“Ok…” He takes his hands out of his pocket and starts to move, achingly slowly towards the blond in front of him.
“I won’t let you get away with being a dick. Or for being grumpy at the end of the day when you’re tired.” Draco’s voice gets stronger and Harry tries to control the twitch in his lips. He should not smile right now. That would be bad.
“Alright.” He nods, moving closer, his eyes stuck on Draco’s.
“And I’ll argue with you when you don’t clean up after yourself. You live like a slob here. I won’t live like a slob.”
“Noted.” Harry’s so close to Draco he can see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes, can smell the expensive cologne, can feel the heat coming from him. Shaking, Draco keeps his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’ll expect you to at least try to spend time with my friends and family. And I won’t go out with you unless you learn how to act somewhat properly in society. You can’t wear your Converse to Ministry functions anymore.”
“What a shame.” Harry can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. Because this is it. Draco is saying yes.
“And I can’t abide snoring. You better not snore.” Draco’s eyes dart down to Harry’s lips as Harry moves closer, their noses brushing against each other’s. Harry’s grin widens and he nuzzles at Draco’s nose.
“I’ll try not to.”
“And—” Grabbing the back of Draco’s neck Harry presses their mouths together, revelling in the taste of Draco, the feel of his lips moving with Harry’s. Hands slide around his waist, pulling him closer, and his heart soars. His tongue slides into Draco’s mouth and the kiss deepens, hands moving through hair, over muscles, keeping them close. After a moment Draco pulls back, panting. “I suppose you think that this is me saying that I love you too.”
“Do you?” Harry smirks and the heat in Draco’s eyes tells him that he does.
“Shut up Harry.” Draco smiles back and Harry laughs.
“Make me.” Draco’s lips close over his own and he falls into Draco, more than ready for his always.
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling and associates are the legal owners of these characters and settings. I am writing for pleasure not profit
Warnings: explicit sexual content
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 4,707
Summary: Harry and Draco have been having sex for a while. Which is fine. It is. Except it isn't. Harry wants more and it's only a matter of time before he tells Draco.
Author's Notes: Beta'd by the wonderful Fleetofshippyships. This fic is also available on AO3 Enjoy!
Harry can’t help himself. His hand tightens around the glass in front of him, his eyes stuck on the blond standing by the bar. It’s almost effortless, the way he rests against the wood. No one should have a body like that, so long and lean. Harry’s eyes skim over Draco’s arse, beautifully curved in his stupidly tight trousers. Why does Draco always have to wear trousers that tight? How does he do his job in trousers that tight?
Feeling his pocket vibrate, he jumps, sliding his phone out and frowning. Everyone who would message him using muggle technology is here, sitting at the table with him. Or standing at the bar with their back to him, like they don’t even know he’s there, brooding into his pint.
He looks at the message on his phone, and his heart clenches.
‘Enjoying the view?’
Harry holds back a grimace, but can’t control the deep blush that rises up his neck. Of course he’s enjoying the view. Draco knows he’s enjoying the view. That’s why he wore those fucking trousers.
‘How do you work in trousers that tight?’ Harry quickly types back, placing his phone face down on the table in front of him, glancing at Draco before turning away. Hermione catches his eye and gives him a sympathetic smile. He runs his hand through his hair, giving her a small nod, letting her know he’s ok. Because he is really. Just not as ok as he’d like to be.
He looks over at Draco again, his eyes drawn to him like a magnet. He laughs at something Parkinson has said, his head tilting back, his long neck is exposed. A column of white that Harry aches to mark. He shuffles slightly in his chair and downs his pint. Dean asks them all if they want another drink, and Harry thinks he nods. His eyes are still stuck on Draco, watching the way his long fingers are stroking along the neck of the bottle he’s drinking from. Because that’s not distracting at all. Prick.
The problem isn’t that Draco is undeniably attractive, or stupidly distracting, or even that he’s the best shag Harry has ever had. The problem is that that’s all Draco wants to be. A phenomenal fuck and a quick goodbye. No conversation. No affection. No relationship at all. He has seen Draco literally lose all control, seen him turn into a boneless mess, but has never seen him first thing in the morning. Does he snore? What does he look like in those early moments? What is it like to sleep next to him, to feel his heat and weight in his bed?
No, the problem isn’t that Draco will fuck Harry. The problem is that Harry wants more. He wants everything. He wants Draco.
*****
“You know, I wouldn’t wear my tight trousers if I didn’t know what they do to you,” a voice drawls behind him as he stands at the urinal. Harry groans, the deep timbre running through him, and zips up before turning to look at Draco. He takes a deep breath, trying to slow his heart down, and tries to raise one eyebrow.
“Who says they have any effect on me?” he says, as he moves to the sink to wash his hands. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees something he thinks might be insecurity flicker in Draco’s eyes, before it disappears and he goes back to looking bored. Draco raises one eyebrow. Harry tries not to feel jealous.
“Hmm… I’ll just leave then?” Draco turns to go and Harry jumps, moving to stand between Draco and the exit. Draco smirks at him and pulls out his wand, casting a wordless charm at the door. Locking and silencing it. Harry feels his stomach twist, his skin feeling hot. He knows what’s going to happen. Because it’s happened hundreds of times before.
Draco moves quickly, his long fingers running through Harry’s hair as their lips collide, hot and firm. Melting into it, Harry wraps his arms around Draco, holding him closer. Feeling Draco against him, his muscles hard and strong through the thin shirt, his cock starts to swell. He moans as he feels Draco’s fingers tug at his hair, before his thumbs move to stroke at Harry’s jaw.
Waves of need run through Harry, and he starts to rock his hips, feeling Draco harden in his impossibly tight trousers. He opens his mouth, stroking his tongue along Draco’s, tasting beer and mint and sweetness, the heat of Draco making his head spin. Fuck, he needs this. Draco responds, their tongues running together, making his breath come quicker as his mind whirs. This is it, kissing Draco, this is all he needs. Forever and always.
Draco’s hands move to rub down his back, and he presses forward, needing more. A groan escapes from the back of his throat, as his cock presses painfully against his fly. Smooth strands slide through his fingers as he runs his hands through Draco’s hair. Draco’s perfect fucking hair that he won’t let anyone touch. Anyone but Harry. Unable to resist the urge, he pulls back, running his lips over the soft skin of Draco’s neck, feeling his pulse speeding. Opening his mouth, he scrapes his teeth along the fragile skin, sucking until he knows there will be deep purple bruises there. Bruises he made. Fucking beautiful bruises that mark Draco as his. Until Draco heals them.
Draco whines, his hands clenching in Harry’s t-shirt before moving between the two of them. Harry’s cock twitches as Draco’s nimble fingers undo their trousers. Yanking at Harry’s jeans and pants, Draco lets Harry’s cock spring free before dropping his own. Harry growls into Draco’s neck as he feels their cocks slide together, the skin silky smooth and searing. There is no way he could ever get used to this feeling.
Draco’s hand wraps around the two of them. Powerless to control himself Harry pants into Draco’s shoulder, nuzzling into the muscle through his shirt. Starting to pump slowly, Draco runs his thumb over the tops of their cocks, and Harry stops breathing altogether. His hands clench as he rocks his hips, fucking into Draco’s hand as he feels Draco’s nose run through his hair. Fuck Draco’s good at this. Harry lifts his head and takes Draco’s mouth, kissing him roughly as Draco pumps them, bringing Harry closer to the edge.
“Fuck…” Harry groans as Draco speeds up, and he feels Draco smirk against his mouth. Draco’s free hand wraps around Harry’s neck, deepening the kiss and pushing Harry over the edge. The orgasm rips through him, his come spurting over Draco’s hand in silvery streaks. Shuddering against Draco, vaguely registering through the post-orgasmic haze that Draco is coming too. Gasping Harry’s name.
After a moment, Harry lets go of Draco’s shirt and casts a quick cleansing spell on the two of them. He steps back and pulls his pants and jeans up, tucking himself away and trying not to look at Draco. This moment, the awkward moment after sex when Draco is getting ready to leave, this is the moment he hates.
“I’ll come to yours later,” Draco says and Harry looks at him, his throat tightening at the sexy smile Draco gives him. He ends the charms on the door and leaves Harry standing in the middle of the bathroom, wishing that later was now.
*****
“Potter,” Draco drawls as he Apparates into Harry’s bedroom. Harry looks up from where he’s been lying on his bed, pretending to read whilst waiting for Draco to appear. Like a fucking puppy. At least if Draco would agree to use the floo or door, Harry would have that moment where he answered to prepare himself. At least mentally.
Jumping off his bed, he stumbles to meet him, his cock already hardening at the sight of Draco in his bedroom. Draco’s hands land on Harry’s hips as Harry plunges his into Draco’s hair, pulling him close, their lips crashing together. Teeth clash and tongues slide as they kiss fervently.
Harry moves his hands, undoing the buttons of Draco’s ridiculous shirt, revealing smooth skin and defined muscles. Thoughts of ripping the shirt off run through his mind, but he quickly dismisses them. If he ruins Draco’s shirt he’ll never hear the end of it. Draco is very particular about his shirts.
Letting go of Harry’s hips, Draco wriggles out of his shirt, chucking it into the corner of the room before tugging at Harry’s t-shirt. Harry’s stomach twitches as Draco’s cold fingers brush against his skin. He feels the smirk against his mouth and pulls back to glare at him. Before he can say anything, his t-shirt is yanked over his head, knocking his glasses askew. He rights them before surging forward and latching onto Draco’s collarbone. Sucking and lapping at the skin, he tastes the bitter tang of cologne and the warm saltiness of Draco. It makes his head spin, and his fingers fumble as he tries to undo his trousers.
“If you know I’m coming here I don’t see why you wear clothes at all.” The rumble of Draco’s voice vibrates through Harry and he growls in response. Shucking his jeans and pants, his cock springs free. He starts kissing down Draco’s body, tracing the lines of hard muscle that any respectable Healer shouldn’t possess. When does Draco have the time to keep fit and be at the hospital? He nuzzles the coarse blonde hairs at the base of Draco’s stomach, groaning as he feels Draco’s hands running through his hair and Draco erection against his chin.
He undoes Draco’s trousers and yanks them down quickly, releasing Draco’s cock. Leaning back Harry looks at it, long and pink and perfect. And so heart-achingly familiar. Blonde curls brush against his nose as he kisses the crease of Draco’s groin, Draco’s cock brushing against his cheek. Draco’s breath hitches as Harry mouths at his balls, his legs straining against the trousers around his ankles as he tries to open them wider. Grinning, Harry leans back and goes to take off Draco’s stupidly posh shoes. Shoes that he knows from past experience Draco is ridiculously precious of.
Shoes abandoned and trousers chucked against the wall Harry returns to the more important business of sucking Draco’s cock. Heat pools between his legs as he licks along the underside of it, feeling the weight on his tongue. Draco’s hands are in Harry’s hair, small mewling sounds escaping from his lips. Harry smiles up at Draco before taking his cock into his mouth, sucking it down as far as he can go. Fuck, he could do this forever, pulling the sounds out of Draco as he runs his tongue along Draco’s length, twirling around the top.
“Harry…” Draco gasps and Harry moans around Draco’s cock. His hands slide around Draco’s arse, his fingers dipping into the crease between his cheeks. He runs one finger lightly over the tight ring of muscles, and Draco’s hips jerk forward. Pulling back Harry glares and holds his hand out, wordless and wandlessly summoning the lube from his bedside table. He watches as Draco’s eyes darken at the show of power. Slytherins. So predictable.
“On your knees or on your back?” Harry asks, and Draco glares at him before dropping to the floor, pressing a harsh kiss to his lips. Feeling the desperation in Draco’s kisses sends Harry’s mind into overdrive, his cock aching, his heart clenching. Moving quickly, Harry spins him, pressing him into the carpet and staring at Draco’s arse like the fucking prize it is. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get some blood into his brain, before taking a shuddery breath and staring at the man in front of him. Harry flicks open the tube, and squeezes a dollop onto his fingers.
Separating Draco’s cheeks Harry looks at the perfect hole in front of him. Fuck, this is what he wants. Always. He runs one slicked finger over it and watches as Draco shudders against the carpet. He strokes along Draco’s leg with his free hand, the fine hairs soft against his fingertips. It’s not just the sex. It’s not just this, Draco face down on his bedroom floor. He wants more. He wants all of it. Always.
Draco twitches and Harry knows he’s getting impatient. Because he knows Draco. He knows the little sounds and movements he makes when he’s tired and bored and desperate and impatient. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the thought to the side and focuses on the task at hand. No point in thinking about things that probably will never happen. He ignores the way his heart tightens at the thought.
He presses lightly against Draco’s hole, the tip of his finger disappearing into the heat. Fascinated, he watches as the muscles flex around his finger, pulling it in, small whimpers escaping from Draco’s lips. Harry starts to move, pulling his finger out before pressing it in again, each time going slightly deeper. He loves this bit. Loves making Draco go boneless just using his fingers, stretching Draco before pounding into him. Sometimes he just uses his fingers, bringing Draco to orgasm without touching anything else.
Once his finger is fully pressed inside Draco’s perfect arse, he curls, searching for the small gland he knows is there. Draco cries out, his hands clenched in front of him and Harry knows he’s hit the spot. He pumps slowly, each time brushing against Draco’s prostate, watching as Draco rocks on his knees.
“Fuck it Harry… more!” Draco’s voice is thick with need and Harry can’t help but smile. He did that. He made Draco sound like that. As he palms at his own aching cock, trying to relieve some pressure, he slides his finger out before pressing in with two. A hiss of breath comes from Draco as he adjusts, and Harry rubs at his arse, knowing that it’ll soothe him. Sliding his fingers in and out of Draco, curling them to hit that sweet spot, Harry feels like he can’t breathe. Can’t think.
“Draco… you… shit…” Harry stutters as he watches Draco writhe in front of him, pressing back onto Harry’s fingers as Harry scissors them, stretching him open. Draco’s hole is red and tight and fucking perfect. Harry adds a third finger, moving more quickly as Draco rocks onto him, fucking himself on Harry’s fingers. He watches his hand now rubbing shamelessly at himself as he feels the tight heat around his fingers.
“Fuck! Harry,” Draco growls, “fuck me!” Fucking, finally. Picking up the lube Harry pulls his fingers out of Draco, watching as the muscles flutter around nothing, and slicks up his cock. He holds the dull end against Draco’s hole and presses, the slick pop as the head of his cock passes the tight ring sounding dirty and gorgeous. Clenching his eyes shut Harry focus on the tight heat surrounding his cock. His fingers dig into Draco’s hips and he starts to move, pressing in slightly before stilling to let Draco get used to the intrusion.
Finally he’s fully seated, his balls pressed against Draco, sweat dripping down his back. He takes a deep breath and waits. Waits for the little clues from Draco that he’s ready for Harry to move. Little clues that Harry knows almost as well as his own. Draco clenches his arse around Harry and Harry knows. He starts to thrust, slowly at first, the slide making him shake.
Draco’s hand moves to rest against Harry’s, his fingers soft and Harry knows. His hips snap as he starts to pump in earnest, drawing deep groans from Draco. His vision narrows, his senses dulling as he moves. There isn’t anything other than this. Other than Draco and him, here, now. He feels his balls tighten and he leans forward, reaching around to pump Draco in time with his thrusts. Unable to help himself, he presses tender kisses to Draco’s back and his strokes become erratic.
With a cry Draco comes, his hot release spilling over Harry’s hand, splattering on the carpet. The clench of his hole around Harry pushes him over the edge, filling Draco with his come. He lets go of Draco and collapses, his softening cock sliding out of him. Draco grasps for Harry’s wand and casts a quick cleaning charms, before flopping down next to him. The two of them lie on the carpet, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room .
Harry closes his eyes and imagines what it would be like for this to be the sound that he woke up to. Draco breathing next to him. Maybe they would have morning sex before work. He could give Draco a back massage when he’d had a long day at the hospital, and Draco could fix him up when he got hurt on a mission. His fingers itch to reach over and touch him. To believe that Draco is there for the night.
“We really should try and make it to the bed Potter, your carpet does nothing for my knees,” Draco sneers after a moment, standing and moving to pick up his boxer briefs. Harry stares at the ceiling, the deep satisfaction in his chest quickly being replaced by a gnawing emptiness. Of course. Time for Draco to leave. He listens to Draco move around the room collecting together his clothes, not able to look up. He knows what he'll see and he feels sick. He can't do this anymore. He can't watch Draco leave again, not so soon after he's watched Draco bent in front of him.
“Draco…” Harry's voice sounds small and he winces at the use of Draco's first name. They never use first names when they're not naked and sweating. He can feel Draco still, can imagine the look on Draco's face. Oh well, he's started now. He sits up, ignoring the rush of cold air across his back. Draco is frowning at him, his tight black boxers clinging to his arse, his shirt hanging open, his hair mussed, looking sexy as hell. Fuck.
“Yes?” he prompts, his voice sounding weird, too thick, too tight. Harry moves to grab his pants and slips them on before moving towards Draco. Draco continues to frown, his grey eyes piercing into Harry. He takes a deep breath. Might as well just go for it.
“What is this?” he asks, and he watches as something rushes over Draco's face before his frown deepens.
“This?” Draco asks, his body too still.
“Yeah. This. Us. What are we? What are we doing?” Harry moves closer and Draco stares, his chest falling and rising under his shirt. Harry itches to reach out and touch him, to bring him close, to feel the hard planes of muscle against him.
“You know what we're doing.” Draco's eyes don't leave Harry's, and Harry feels his heart spasm.
“No, I don't. Are we just fucking? A little screw every few days and no conversation? Is that all this is ever going to be?” He can feel his voice getting louder and he takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. Glancing around the room he looks for something to ground himself and only finds Draco. He looks at the man in front of him, the man he loves and the shocking realisation that all he needs is Draco punches him in the gut.
“Is that what you want?” Draco's voice is still fucking tight, and Harry growls, swooping closer so that he can feel the heat coming from Draco.
“Why won't you answer the question? Why won't you ever tell me what you want? You need to tell me! I need to know! Because no, alright, no! That's not what I want,” he shouts, his hands hovering near Draco's shoulders, “all I want is to be with you... always. You and me. I need you. I want you. I love you. But if you don't, you really need to tell me. You have to let me go, because I can't do this anymore.” Draco doesn’t blink and Harry feels his shoulders slump. Fuck. He's going to say no.
Draco stares at him for a moment, his eyes rippling, the flecks of light blue in them shining. Harry holds his breath as he waits, hopes, silently begging. And then Draco takes a step back, slipping his trousers on before spinning on his heel and disappearing.
*****
“You ok?” Hermione asks him, rubbing his back in slow smooth circles. Is he ok? No. No he isn’t. He’s basically fucked up everything. He gives her a look and she grimaces.
“What do you think?” He groans, running his hand through his hair. This is all so fucked up. Why did he have to open his mouth? He could have gone on happily sleeping with Draco and never actually sleeping with him. Except he couldn’t. Not really.
“Oh Harry…” Hermione uses her soft voice and Harry holds back the wince. He must look really bad.
“So let me get this straight, he likes Malfoy?” Ron asks, his brow drawn low in confusion. Harry glares at him and Hermione’s hand stills.
“Yes, Ronald,” Hermione snaps. Although to be fair to Ron, he hasn’t always been the most observant when it comes to gay relationships. It took him five months to realise Dean and Seamus were together.
“And they’ve been… uh… for a while?” Ron flushes and Harry groans, banging his head on the table.
“Yes,” Hermione replies for him. Harry stares at the wood in front of him. Yeah, they had been, for quite a while. But not anymore. Never again apparently.
“And Harry just ended it because he wanted more?”
“Oh Ron…”
“Ok! As long as I’m caught up.” Looking up from the table Harry gives Ron a look and Ron nods in return. He leans over and slaps Harry on the arm in what Harry knows is solidarity. At least Ron likes him. The ticking of the clock seems to get louder as they sit in the kitchen, a pool of sadness surrounding them. He really fucked up. All he wanted was Draco.
The floo rings and they sit for a moment, resolutely ignoring it. After a moment Ron clearly gets annoyed because he makes a strangled noise before shoving his chair back and stalking out of the room. Harry doesn’t care who it is, he doesn’t want to see anyone at the moment. He just wants to lament his love life on his own.
“Harry… there’s someone here for you.” Ron calls a moment later, coming back into the kitchen. Harry looks over and feels his heart leap into his throat.
“Draco?”
“Hello.” Draco’s voice is strained again. Fucking strained. Again. He looks over at Hermione and nods his head at her. “Granger.” She waves slightly and glances at Ron. They stand in the room, all of them glancing at each other, the clock still ticking obnoxiously loudly.
“I think we’ll go upstairs,” Harry sighs after a moment, standing and walking out of the room. Ron gives his shoulder another slap as he walks past and he feels a surge of love for his best friends. They’re awesome. He knows Draco is following him up the stairs, the soft tap of his stupid shoes against the wood jarring in Harry’s ear. As pushes open the door to his room it occurs to him that Draco has never walked into his room this way before.
“So you came back.” Harry turns to look at Draco, trying to ignore the glint in Draco’s eyes, the curve of his lips, the sharp angles of his jaw.
“Excellent observational skills, Potter,” Draco drawls. Anger flares in Harry’s stomach. Fuck him.
“Why?” Harry spits and Draco frowns.
“Excuse me?”
“Why did you come back? To get your shoes?” He forces himself to stand on the spot, to not move towards Draco.
“You asked me a question.” Draco sounds wary and Harry’s heart jumps. Fucker. Why can’t he just carry on being a twat and let Harry hate him in peace? Why does he have to sound so fucking wary?
“And?” Harry tries to keep the edge in his voice, but judging by the way that Draco’s shoulders relax slightly Harry guesses it didn’t work.
“And I suppose I felt I needed to give you an answer.” Draco raises one eyebrow, back to looking cocky and fucking sexy.
“So? Go on then. I’m all ears.” Harry makes a flurrying gesture. “Answer my question. What is this?”
“This wasn’t supposed to be anything.” Draco’s voice gets louder, and Harry realises he’s nervous. Draco Malfoy is nervous. Shit. “This was supposed to be a little bit of fun at the end of a long day!” Draco shouts and Harry feels his pulse pick up. No. Draco does not get to be angry about this.
“Yeah, well that isn’t enough for me anymore!” growls Harry, and Draco crosses his arms.
“Why not? What could you possibly want from me?” He looks so smug Harry wants to punch him. Or kiss him. Anything to wipe that look off his face, like there isn’t anything Harry could possibly want from him.
“You! For fucks sake, you,” Harry yells, his legs numb as his mind spins.
“Why? Why me? You can have anyone you want Harry,” Draco yells back and Harry stops, staring at him. Draco’s eyes shine and Harry finally registers it as panic. He’s not nervous. He’s scared. He’s confused. He’s…
“Anyone except you, apparently.” Harry lowers his voice and shoves his hands in his pockets. He watches as Draco shuffles on the spot, visibly thinking. Patience. That’s all Harry needs. To give Draco time to get his head around the idea that Harry might want him more than anyone in the world. For always.
“I can’t be nice to you.” Draco’s voice is small and Harry frowns.
“What?”
“I… I can’t be nice. I won’t pander to you because you’re Harry Potter.” Draco stares him down. Harry’s heart flutters and he nods slowly. Right.
“Ok…” He takes his hands out of his pocket and starts to move, achingly slowly towards the blond in front of him.
“I won’t let you get away with being a dick. Or for being grumpy at the end of the day when you’re tired.” Draco’s voice gets stronger and Harry tries to control the twitch in his lips. He should not smile right now. That would be bad.
“Alright.” He nods, moving closer, his eyes stuck on Draco’s.
“And I’ll argue with you when you don’t clean up after yourself. You live like a slob here. I won’t live like a slob.”
“Noted.” Harry’s so close to Draco he can see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes, can smell the expensive cologne, can feel the heat coming from him. Shaking, Draco keeps his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’ll expect you to at least try to spend time with my friends and family. And I won’t go out with you unless you learn how to act somewhat properly in society. You can’t wear your Converse to Ministry functions anymore.”
“What a shame.” Harry can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. Because this is it. Draco is saying yes.
“And I can’t abide snoring. You better not snore.” Draco’s eyes dart down to Harry’s lips as Harry moves closer, their noses brushing against each other’s. Harry’s grin widens and he nuzzles at Draco’s nose.
“I’ll try not to.”
“And—” Grabbing the back of Draco’s neck Harry presses their mouths together, revelling in the taste of Draco, the feel of his lips moving with Harry’s. Hands slide around his waist, pulling him closer, and his heart soars. His tongue slides into Draco’s mouth and the kiss deepens, hands moving through hair, over muscles, keeping them close. After a moment Draco pulls back, panting. “I suppose you think that this is me saying that I love you too.”
“Do you?” Harry smirks and the heat in Draco’s eyes tells him that he does.
“Shut up Harry.” Draco smiles back and Harry laughs.
“Make me.” Draco’s lips close over his own and he falls into Draco, more than ready for his always.
