and the Porn War rolls on...
Oct. 29th, 2005 09:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyvaderIf you are new to the little battle that ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dreambastion and I have going, see the last few posts on both of our journals. This is an ongoing thing :)
Title: A Challenge Met
Series: Part 2 of the 'Revenge Fic Porn War
Author: LadyVader
Archive: Always ask the author first please
Pairing/s: H/D
Category: Random smut
Summary: "Good Boy," he whispered...
Rating: NC17
Warnings: UTTERLY UNBETA'D, total ignorance of canon, semi-noncon, fingerfucking, violence, language, and SLASH! Flee li'l homophobes... Fleeeeeeeeeeee!
Site: www.Strange-Infatuations.com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters from the Harry Potter books and films do not belong to me in any way and I'm making no money out of this shameless warping of their characters for my own amusement. Please don't sue me... I've got widdle cats to feed dammit!!!!! ;)
Dedication: For Angel, my beta and bud extraordinaire… because she wrote me SMUT with which to destroy me!!! ;P Right back atcha hon. *mwah*
A Malfoy never rushed. Draco had been taught that from an early age. Malfoy's never rushed, hurried or scurried because a Malfoy was never late. If you're important, his father had told him, People will wait.
And yet…
Draco ran, he ran all the way from the Quidditch pitch, round the outside of the rather decorative display the advanced Herbology students had created depicting the house colours and emblems, before darting into the corridors towards the end of the group study areas, a few minutes walk from the Ravenclaw dorms. Students were only permitted to use these rooms during certain hours, under supervision of a professor or Prefect and, as Prefect, Draco was certain the corridors would again be clear tonight. He'd worked hard to keep them that way. After all, who knew when the need would arise to have the empty rooms at his disposal, who knew when opportunity would make itself known at precisely the time he strolled back through here from a prior assignation.
He knew. That time was tonight and he was late, later than the night before, perhaps already too late for what he'd hoped for, dreamed about all day long and if he'd missed his chance then he'd be running straight back to Slytherin to decapitate their supposed Quidditch captain. After he'd skinned him.
He stumbled to halt just before the turn into the moonwashed stone walkway, so loosely connected to the building itself. It was merely a few windows, placed carefully every few feet but the effect was that of being embraced by the outdoors, the windows bare and open into the night. He bit his lip as he wrenched his wand from within his Quidditch bracers to cast a cleanser charm over himself. Just because he'd lacked the time to change, it didn't mean he had to smell like the Quidditch pitch too.
Besides, he had entirely better plans for being sweaty that night. He scowled as he turned into the corridor, striding with what he hoped seemed a casual determination. The best laid plans indeed.
He stopped at the windowsill, bright with light and cold beneath his fingers as he recalled its involvement the previous night, Potter's raw breaths and sobbing pleas still heavy in his mind and he felt his flesh rise and rub excruciatingly against the leather of his practice gear.
"Potter." He breathed into the darkness, halting the air in his chest as he listened intently for anything, something, a rustle of fabric, a sharp gasp as before. His fingers clenched tighter on his wand. If the Gryffindor were there & hiding, he could easily call for that fabled cloak and be on him, all over him within moments.
But it wasn't what he wanted. He'd watched Potter at breakfast, wasn't sure he could have pulled his greedy, heavy gaze from the other boy if he had even wanted to. He'd been subtle, his eyes covertly craving from beneath lowered gilt lashes but Potter's eyes had been on him every other second. He'd been wound tighter than a Basilisks coil, waiting, shifting, squirming and watching Draco so obviously that even Crabbe had noticed.
He'd ignored his blundering friend's queries, intent on not looking at Potter. Potter was expecting him to do something, anticipating a humiliation not yet thought of let alone put into action. Draco resented that. It would have been far too easy to simply to just lift those fingers and wave them mockingly towards the Gryffindor, perhaps stopping to lick the butter his toast would have been bound to leave on them. But he didn't.
Instead he rose at the end of his meal, lifting his eyes just once to meet Potters, an instant connection so clear it almost seemed to resound from the walls of the Great Hall, before turning to stroll to his first class. He hadn't looked at him for the rest of the day. Not lifting his eyes at lunch or dinner, although had he suspected an impromptu practice was about to be called then perhaps he would have. But he had held out. He had what he needed.
His cock twitched again as he pictured Potter's squirming against the bench and wondered idly if he was sore, Draco 'had' shoved four fingers inside him with nothing more than the Gryffindors spit to guide them. He moaned quietly.
There. And then again. The telltale sweep of burnished, glittering and most importantly invisible fabric.
'Come to me' Draco ordered silently, quaking with his need for the 'Hero' to give himself to him. 'Come on Potter…'
The night air rippled just to his right and even as Draco caught his breath, the Boy Who Lived stood before him.
Draco smiled, enjoying the brief flash of panic of the brunet's face.
"Good Boy." He whispered, and seized him.
Spinning, two hands tight in Potter's robes, he slammed the Gryffindor against the wall before crushing him in place with the weight of his own form, one leather clad thigh firmly insinuating itself between the smaller boys.
"Been here long, Potter?" He grunted, fighting now to snatch hold of Harry's hands and twist them away, noting the wand cleverly clasped between the fingers of the brunets right hand. "Did you actually show and then wait for me? How long have you been stood here, trying to decide if you should crawl back to your little tower or stay here, stay here and let me have you?"
Harry managed to wrench one hand clear, scrabbling against Draco's chest and throat to push him from him. "Shut up!" He shouted, white and trembling, wand still dangling limply from his fingers even as he tensed and shoved back against the bigger boy. "Just shut the fuck up, shut your mouth Malfoy!"
Draco panted and bared his teeth. "Good idea!" He growled back and lunged in deeper to bite harshly at Potter's mouth, not tearing but crushing the soft flesh between his lips and teeth, snarling in triumph at Harry's astonished whimper. He pulled back, licking at the abused skin before abruptly hurtling back against the opposing wall as words and sound burst clear from Harry's lips.
Apparently he'd remembered he had that bloody wand.
"Back the fuck off!" Harry yelped more than shouted, wand aimed but shaking plainly in his white-knuckled grasp.
Draco stood and caught his breath, back braced against the obliging stone.
"Calm down Potter. Anyone would think you weren't expecting this." He cocked an eyebrow. "You 'do' remember why you're meeting me here, right Potter?"
The brunet swallowed painfully. "It's not what you think." He rasped out, stiffening when Draco pushed away from the wall, advancing heedless of the wand now digging into his chest.
"Oh?" He queried mockingly, "And what do I think? Because, I've got to tell you this Potter, I'm a little confused."
The Gryffindor flinched ever so slightly, blinking. "I'm not here, not because you told me to be…. Not for… that."
Draco's hand covered Harry's, long elegant fingers overlapping the nerveless cold digits numbly clasped about his wand. "And that’s where I'm confused," Draco seemingly purred, "Because if you don't want this," his thumb rubbed gently against the back of the brunets, deliberately dragging his skin slowly over the pronounced ridges of knuckle, "Then why are you here?"
Harry blinked in the pure white light bouncing off the stone walls and highlighting Draco's hair with something akin to a halo affect, shaking heavily from head to foot. "Who…" he stuttered, voice catching as a gust of wind swirled in through the open window to chill each boys skin, "Who are you loyal to? What's your allegiance?"
Draco's eyebrows quirked neatly in a practised expression of polite incredulity. "Potter, do you honestly expect me to stand here and bare my soul, my seeming life plans to you simply because you've asked?"
Potter didn't so much as shift an inch beneath his mocking gaze, his jaw tightening with seeming determination. "Malfoy. Are you joining him?"
Draco let his lashes flutter in the light, enjoying the reflection of them in Potter's glasses. "Him? Him who, Potter?"
Potter's teeth flashed, bared suddenly and the Slytherin enjoyed a tremor of anticipation at the sudden show of ire. "Your Father. Voldemort. Either, both. Are. You. Joining. Them?"
The slow, smooth smile was too easy, felt too good emerging but Draco couldn't withhold it all the same. "Why should I tell you, Potter?"
The taut column of the Gryffindors throat flexed convulsively as he swallowed.
"Tell me." He commanded hoarsely.
Draco lifted his arm, extending it and twisting so that the Gryffindor might let his eyes linger over the leather concealed forearm, his voice a low whisper in the night. "You want to know if I'm a Deatheater?"
Potter shook, nodding once, sharp and somehow terrified.
"I'll show you," Draco took a step forward, "You can examine my arm to your hearts content, I might even tell you what you want to know." His smile was white and feral in the glass of Potter's spectacles. "But not until after."
"A… after?"
Draco blinked, oddly charmed by Potter's pretended ignorance of his intent. It seemed Gryffindors could lie after all.
"Yes Potter, after. It is, after all, why I'm here."
He was close enough now to put out a hand and let his fingers casually slide from Potter's collar bone to his inner elbow where he fancied he could feel the blood beating fiercely even under the Gryffindors volumous robes.
"So," he purred, wetting his lips and watching the green eyes focus and follow the motion, "how about this. We'll fuck and then we'll talk about my allegiance."
He closed his fingers in the material at Potter's arms, a handful on each side as he attempted to steer the brunet back towards the wall, only to have Harry spin away, hands held up to ward the Slytherin off.
"No," Harry panted, breathless and so suddenly loud in the former quiet, "No."
Draco's lip curled and twitched upwards into a sneer. So much for Gryffindor courage. "No?" He drawled back, the word weighty with ice.
"Show me your arm," Harry spoke, words seeming to form like crystal before him in the cool night air, breath catching upon his lips as he continued, "Show me then… then you can fuck me."
Every blood vessel in Draco's body strained and surged upwards and he imagined he swayed on his feet before responding. "Sacrificing yourself, Potter? Take it for the good of the team and all that?"
"Yes." Harry whispered and Draco hated him for the word. "And no."
Grey eyes widened slightly at the brunet's latter words before deft fingers lifted to the fastenings on his left bracer. "Tell me you want to." He commanded softly and gloried in the hitch in Potter's breathing. "Tell me you want me to fuck you."
"I… I want you to…" Harry's voice trailed off, the words disappearing like mist as his voice cracked then died out.
"Well?" Draco grit his teeth against the urge to leap forward and shake the admission from the supposed Hero.
Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, before lifting back up, uncertain and slightly accusing as those red lips parted. "You… you said," He blurted and Draco cocked an impatient eyebrow, breath halted, leaden in his chest as the brunet finished his gentle accusation. "You said you'd put your cock in me. If I came back."
The Gryffindor took a step closer to Draco once more. "And I'm here. Now."
Draco exhaled heavily through his nostrils, hands already unlacing his bracer with more speed than perhaps elegant, ripping at the leather and turning his pristine forearm to the moonlight and Potter's gaze.
"There." He said quietly.
"Yes." Harry agreed, eyes traversing the smooth flesh swiftly before lifting to Draco's, a slow, predatory smile showing the Slytherin's pleasure.
"And now," he whispered, fingers already seizing Potter's robes to pull him closer. "I believe we had an agreement… Harry."
A tremor ran through the Gryffindors trim form and Draco fancied he could feel the heat spoke up and outwards from the brunets skin as he ran his hands up and over the slim chest to push a hand tight against Harry's nape. "Kneel down."
The urgent whisper barely left Draco's lips before Harry was white as paper and twice as fragile. "Why?" He whispered back and Draco was struck with amusement at the seeming reverence their soft tones implied.
"Now, now Potter." He soothed, threading long white fingers into the dark, silken strands of the Gryffindor's hair, pushing the thick wave back from that almost obscenely bright scar and letting his teeth catch over his lower lip and the bolt that rushed through him at the sight of it. "You know why… think about it. Yesterday you were sucking on my fingers because…?"
Harry's shoulders stiffened and he pushed upwards against the palm trying to slowly ease him downwards. "Because I wanted to. That’s why." He spat, with the sort of quiet dignity Draco had spent years despising him for.
"And you don't want this?" The words were off Draco's lips before he could stop them, hating the almost vulnerable soft tone he heard as they travelled to Potter's ears.
"I… I don't think I, not like this. I thought you…"
Draco let go his hold upon the Gryffindor and stepped close enough to taste Potter's breath, eyes dilating in turn as he watched the green slowly swallowed by heated black. He tilted his head as though to kiss the boy and revelled in the slow bloom of heat in the previously pale cheeks. Potter was resisting but he was definitely interested.
He let his head drop just low enough to be able to taste the brunets lips, just once, just enough to have his senses reeling as he pulled away.
"Potter… I want to fuck you. I want to be so deep inside you that you can't help but feel me in every fucking fibre of your being." He relished the shudder that coursed directly from the Gryffindor's body into his. "But that can't happen, won't happen unless you get down and get me wet."
A different shudder that time. Draco wasn't sure whether he liked it. He wanted Potter to submit to him, certainly, to do it because he told him to…. But so unwillingly? Irrelevant, he decided slowly exhaling through his nose. He was in charge here and it was time Potter learned to earn his rewards.
"B…but, can't I just?" The crude hand gesture that would normally have driven Draco into a frenzy of fantasies centred on the glory of fucking Potter's callused fist was beneath him, too much, too pitiful for their current situation and he let a sneer distort his lips.
"Potter…" he hissed, letting his hand lift and tighten ever so gently against the smooth throat. "You want it? Then get down and suck it."
Harry's jaw clenched once and a fine sheen of perspiration broke out over the scarred brow before the red lips tightened against the tremor running through them and slowly, near imperceptibly, he began to lower himself to his knees.
Draco let a hand drop to smooth back through the ebony strands before lifting both arms to brace against the wall, watching interestedly as Potter raised trembling hands to unfasten his Quidditch uniform, the laces drawing yet tighter as the blond's flesh rose and stiffened further within its confines as the Gryffindor trailed clumsy fingertips back and forth over the knots.
With an almost startled breath of pleasure, Draco was slowly, agonisingly released, inch by inch as the laces were drawn away. He found himself stood, braced over a kneeling Harry Potter at his feet, clad from head to toe in his leather Quidditch practice gear, cock standing proud and free, unerringly aiming its already moistening crown towards Potter's bright, beautiful, bitten red lips.
He breathed out slowly. Moments such as this had to be savoured because anything this perfect would never come again, nothing this good could ever get better…
Harry brought up a shaking hand to tentatively close shivering fingertips about the root and, licking his lips and lifting suddenly scared green eyes up to Draco's face, gave one long, aching pull from base to tip.
"Potter…." Draco breathed, lost, groundless for a dizzying, shaken moment, eyes fixed on Harry's eyes before watching, entranced as Potter parted those perfect lips and placed them against the weeping head, a single tear abruptly streaked downwards as the brunet let his lips catch and drag as he kissed and suckled at the tip.
"Fuck," Draco breathed, stilling his hips from slamming forward and fucking the mouth so nervously offered him 'til it bled, choosing instead to let his palm skate down the wall to cradle Potter's jaw, his thumb slipping up to catch the tear and press it into the underside of the Gryffindors distended lower lip as it gently held its grip against his crown.
"Harry." He murmured soothingly and the green eyes blinked up at him, obscured by glasses and spiky wet lashes and a soft whimper left the Gryffindor as a little more of Draco's cock slid in then back out of his mouth. Something in Draco twisted. Something dark and unknown in the base of his stomach and he didn't like it, not one bit. Potter's eyes flickered shut and he moved his hand, the gentlest shift of grip to steady the now throbbing length as he leaned in closer, trying to take more into his mouth, the same small, hurt noise emitting when the head made contact with his throat.
Draco couldn't stand it. Fisting his fingers into the brunets locks, he yanked Harry up and away, increasing pressure so the Gryffindor was forced to stand, shocked and slick-lipped, panting against the wall as Draco crushed him in place, cock beating in protest in Potter's hand between their bodies as the cool air hit it.
"Tears, Potter?" He twisted the dark head to lick the offending moisture away, perhaps with a little more force than was necessary, his own hand skating down to press insistently at Potter's groin. Nothing.
He ground his teeth together for a moment, furious that for some reason he couldn't seem to force Potter back to his knees and all the way down onto his aching, dripping prick. He moved his hand across to Potter's nervous clasp about him, taking hold of the slim wrist there and easy it gently into motion, back and forth, and back and forth and twisting just there. He crooned encouragingly into Potter's temple and then, to his delight, the fingers began moving of their own accord and Harry leaned into his body, face hidden in Draco's throat.
"No you don't…" Draco whispered breathlessly, turned on beyond belief at the sensation of Potter's lips, sticky with his own precome, pressed against his skin. He pulled Harry's head back up by his hair again, smiling wickedly as he saw the flash of irritation from the Gryffindor as he yanked on the roots again. "Not sure I really like tears getting in the way of your sucking my cock, Potter."
Harry gasped as Draco sealed his mouth over his own moist and swiftly swelling lips, mewling mindlessly into the Slytherin's mouth as he deliberately sucked and plundered, tongue fucking Harry's mouth with a great deal of accuracy, reminding them both of the rhythm he'd set with his fingers the previous night.
Shuddering at the reminder, Draco abruptly brought the hand also smeared with his own precome up to push two fingers between their clinging lips and tongues, opening his eyes to watch Harry's open in turn, wide, surprised and… was that pleased to find himself forced to lick and suckle at the proffered digits as Draco let his other hand rest on the brunets hip, gathering and yanking the Gryffindor's robes into his fist.
He fought back a grin as slowly Potter's ankles, calves, knee's then finally, beautiful long thighs, clenching and leanly muscled in the moonlight as Draco twisted the excess material into his fist, knotting it in place just an inch shy of the darker boys sleeping prick, moving his hand round to harshly grip the rounded buttocks, holding them apart and loving the mewl and twitch of excitement the action produced, muttering receptively as Harry's fingers slipped and sped on his own flesh.
"Wetter." He breathed, pulling back to shove his fingers deeper in and to his surprise the Gryffindor moaned, deep and resonating through both their chests, eyes open and fixed, half-lidded and hot on Draco's face as he let his mouth fall wide, the Slytherin's digits now fucking his mouth with disturbingly wet sounds that had Draco twitching rhythmically in Potter's grasp.
After a moment of breathless, heated staring as Harry's red lips got redder around Draco's skin, he pulled his fingers free with a pop, crowding close and insinuating himself between those thighs, dipping oh so slightly to twist his hand round, fingers already pressing at Potter's hole, the inarticulate cry wrenched from Harry's mouth almost enough to send Draco toppling over the edge.
He pushed in, hard and spared a second to feel something akin to regret when Potter winced and arched away from his touch, still a little too dry and sore from before, white teeth biting into that lush lower lip, soft mewls of pain trembling over Draco's skin as he dove forwards again seizing Potter's mouth and biting down himself as he twisted and pressed up for Potter's sweet spot.
Harry sobbed something, unknown and mostly unheard against Draco's mouth, grinding back onto his fingers and Draco tore his head back, growling and gripping the back of Potter's upper thigh brutally. "Lift your leg up." He spat, too lost in focus for softness 'til Potter leant back into the wall, one long white thigh lifted to prop itself at Draco's hip, body wide open and lost beneath his touch. He yanked his fingers free, heedless of the wild cry bursting out from the brunet, lifting his hand to spit onto his hand before thrusting three fingers back inside Harry.
The loud 'clunk' of Harry's head meeting the wall thrilled Draco only slightly less than that wide-eyed gaze glazing over and the near silent gasps issuing forth as Draco thrust and fucked his fingers into his body, hips crashing forward to finally press and achingly hard erection of his own against Draco's. Harry's hand fell away from its clasp about Draco's hot flesh but the Slytherin forgave him instantly as Potter bucked and cried, thrusting forward against Draco's cock and then back onto his hand, arms twining up to cling and steady himself about the blond's shoulders, whimpering throughout.
"Yes, Potter…. Yes." Draco hissed and twisted his hand before crushing his mouth back over Harry's and letting his hips and fingers talk for him.
A few aching, grinding seconds passed and suddenly the Boy Who Lived started sobbing, shuddering, actually sucking on the tip of Draco's tongue, hips thrashing back and forth and, as Draco briefly considered pulling away to watch, long, shining strands of come erupted from the Gryffindor to streak over and across Draco's still leather clad chest and torso, near screaming Draco's name back against his lips.
“Good Boy,” Draco whispered, letting Harry sag against him, catching his breath and idly wondering whether he could carry off scooping up some of the Gryffindor's come from his uniform and feeding it back to him. “Good boy.”
Slowly, Harry lifted his head from where it had dropped into the crook of Draco’s neck, blinking hazy eyes into the Slytherin’s grey gaze, murmuring drowsily as Draco pressed a last harsh kiss to his lips before he found that same hand hard at his nape.
“And now, Potter,” Draco was breathless with need by now and entirely too likely to explode all over the brunets pretty face before he even got to it, “Suck me.”
Draco could have screamed, in fact he wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t, only the corridors near silence convincing him he hadn’t, the gasping panted breaths from Harry the only sound to drown his senses.
Firm hands had gripped his hips, almost as his words left his lips, Harry already sinking to his knees and if he lacked any real skill in the act then he more than made up for it with the tiny noise of pleasure he made when Draco’s cock slid neatly, wetly over his lips and deep into his throat, his own come mixing with Draco’s precome making his flesh so slick that Harry only needed to bob his head back and forth to set the Slytherin’s cock gliding smoothly back and forth over his tongue.
So this was dying, Draco mused from a far off point, wondering just why the Chang bitch had never made his blood seethe in his veins like this, why her practised deepthroating would never ever match up to the inexperienced way Potter let his teeth drag over so slightly over his foreskin, suckling loudly and wetly at the head in a sloppy kiss before diving back down to swallow as much as he could take.
“Fuck, yeah,” Draco whimpered, unable to help slamming his hips forward to push the entirety of his length into Potter’s willing mouth, fucking the Gryffindor's throat with short sharp thrusts and damn near expiring when the Gryffindor crooned a low, enthusiastic ‘Mmm’ on every instroke “Take it, Potter, take it… I,”
Draco’s eyes actually teared up as every cell in his body rebelled and rose up against him when so wanted, fucking longed for this moment to never end.
“Potter…” He gasped, so nearly lost when Harry tilted his head up to match eyes to his, the tip just sliding back into his mouth as their gazes locked and Draco gave his final command with the very last breath he had. “Swallow.”
Harry blinked, wide eyes deliciously surprised before closing on a long moan that had Draco sobbing out once more and bucking, letting Harry swallow his cock along with his come as it shot into the Gryffindor’s waiting throat, his cries echoing throughout the corridor as the world spun on its axis.
Harry Potter sucked his cock and drank down every drop. He wanted those words on his gravestone, assuming he’d never recover from the blackness pulling at the edges of his vision but then there were firm hands holding him upright, helping him down as his knees buckled and breath sobbed from his lungs.
They lay there, each panting and shell-shocked, stuck to each other with come, sweat and sticky leather before an ominous sound threw them both into action.
“Mrrrow.”
Shooting bolt upright once more, head reeling, Draco strongly considered hexing Mrs Norris to the nearest Basilisk. “Fuck.” He snarled and began yanking at his laces.
Harry stood on shaking legs, pale now and looking slowly more alarmed by the moment.
“Well? Get the fuck out of here Potter, you’ve got that cloak, get going before Filch catches up to his fucking feline cohort already!”
Harry blinked. “What about you?” The words were barely human, his voicebox fucked raw by Draco’s cock and for a moment they both froze, utterly stilled by the realisation of what had just occurred.
“Potter, I’m a Prefect. Get the fuck out of here.” Draco snapped, hating how oddly responsible he felt for the pallor of the brunet’s skin, sighing with something far too close to relief as the Gryffindor blinked out of sight behind a thick swathe of material once more.
Footsteps could be heard closing in and Draco assumed his best righteous sneer, ready to see off the pathetic squib so idiotically stalking them.
“Potter.” He hissed suddenly, almost too late as Filch closed in on him. The moonlight swung and held briefly in one focused spot and Draco licked his lips.
“Come back tomorrow.”
Fin.
dreambastion and I have going, see the last few posts on both of our journals. This is an ongoing thing :)Title: A Challenge Met
Series: Part 2 of the 'Revenge Fic Porn War
Author: LadyVader
Archive: Always ask the author first please
Pairing/s: H/D
Category: Random smut
Summary: "Good Boy," he whispered...
Rating: NC17
Warnings: UTTERLY UNBETA'D, total ignorance of canon, semi-noncon, fingerfucking, violence, language, and SLASH! Flee li'l homophobes... Fleeeeeeeeeeee!
Site: www.Strange-Infatuations.com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters from the Harry Potter books and films do not belong to me in any way and I'm making no money out of this shameless warping of their characters for my own amusement. Please don't sue me... I've got widdle cats to feed dammit!!!!! ;)
Dedication: For Angel, my beta and bud extraordinaire… because she wrote me SMUT with which to destroy me!!! ;P Right back atcha hon. *mwah*
A Malfoy never rushed. Draco had been taught that from an early age. Malfoy's never rushed, hurried or scurried because a Malfoy was never late. If you're important, his father had told him, People will wait.
And yet…
Draco ran, he ran all the way from the Quidditch pitch, round the outside of the rather decorative display the advanced Herbology students had created depicting the house colours and emblems, before darting into the corridors towards the end of the group study areas, a few minutes walk from the Ravenclaw dorms. Students were only permitted to use these rooms during certain hours, under supervision of a professor or Prefect and, as Prefect, Draco was certain the corridors would again be clear tonight. He'd worked hard to keep them that way. After all, who knew when the need would arise to have the empty rooms at his disposal, who knew when opportunity would make itself known at precisely the time he strolled back through here from a prior assignation.
He knew. That time was tonight and he was late, later than the night before, perhaps already too late for what he'd hoped for, dreamed about all day long and if he'd missed his chance then he'd be running straight back to Slytherin to decapitate their supposed Quidditch captain. After he'd skinned him.
He stumbled to halt just before the turn into the moonwashed stone walkway, so loosely connected to the building itself. It was merely a few windows, placed carefully every few feet but the effect was that of being embraced by the outdoors, the windows bare and open into the night. He bit his lip as he wrenched his wand from within his Quidditch bracers to cast a cleanser charm over himself. Just because he'd lacked the time to change, it didn't mean he had to smell like the Quidditch pitch too.
Besides, he had entirely better plans for being sweaty that night. He scowled as he turned into the corridor, striding with what he hoped seemed a casual determination. The best laid plans indeed.
He stopped at the windowsill, bright with light and cold beneath his fingers as he recalled its involvement the previous night, Potter's raw breaths and sobbing pleas still heavy in his mind and he felt his flesh rise and rub excruciatingly against the leather of his practice gear.
"Potter." He breathed into the darkness, halting the air in his chest as he listened intently for anything, something, a rustle of fabric, a sharp gasp as before. His fingers clenched tighter on his wand. If the Gryffindor were there & hiding, he could easily call for that fabled cloak and be on him, all over him within moments.
But it wasn't what he wanted. He'd watched Potter at breakfast, wasn't sure he could have pulled his greedy, heavy gaze from the other boy if he had even wanted to. He'd been subtle, his eyes covertly craving from beneath lowered gilt lashes but Potter's eyes had been on him every other second. He'd been wound tighter than a Basilisks coil, waiting, shifting, squirming and watching Draco so obviously that even Crabbe had noticed.
He'd ignored his blundering friend's queries, intent on not looking at Potter. Potter was expecting him to do something, anticipating a humiliation not yet thought of let alone put into action. Draco resented that. It would have been far too easy to simply to just lift those fingers and wave them mockingly towards the Gryffindor, perhaps stopping to lick the butter his toast would have been bound to leave on them. But he didn't.
Instead he rose at the end of his meal, lifting his eyes just once to meet Potters, an instant connection so clear it almost seemed to resound from the walls of the Great Hall, before turning to stroll to his first class. He hadn't looked at him for the rest of the day. Not lifting his eyes at lunch or dinner, although had he suspected an impromptu practice was about to be called then perhaps he would have. But he had held out. He had what he needed.
His cock twitched again as he pictured Potter's squirming against the bench and wondered idly if he was sore, Draco 'had' shoved four fingers inside him with nothing more than the Gryffindors spit to guide them. He moaned quietly.
There. And then again. The telltale sweep of burnished, glittering and most importantly invisible fabric.
'Come to me' Draco ordered silently, quaking with his need for the 'Hero' to give himself to him. 'Come on Potter…'
The night air rippled just to his right and even as Draco caught his breath, the Boy Who Lived stood before him.
Draco smiled, enjoying the brief flash of panic of the brunet's face.
"Good Boy." He whispered, and seized him.
Spinning, two hands tight in Potter's robes, he slammed the Gryffindor against the wall before crushing him in place with the weight of his own form, one leather clad thigh firmly insinuating itself between the smaller boys.
"Been here long, Potter?" He grunted, fighting now to snatch hold of Harry's hands and twist them away, noting the wand cleverly clasped between the fingers of the brunets right hand. "Did you actually show and then wait for me? How long have you been stood here, trying to decide if you should crawl back to your little tower or stay here, stay here and let me have you?"
Harry managed to wrench one hand clear, scrabbling against Draco's chest and throat to push him from him. "Shut up!" He shouted, white and trembling, wand still dangling limply from his fingers even as he tensed and shoved back against the bigger boy. "Just shut the fuck up, shut your mouth Malfoy!"
Draco panted and bared his teeth. "Good idea!" He growled back and lunged in deeper to bite harshly at Potter's mouth, not tearing but crushing the soft flesh between his lips and teeth, snarling in triumph at Harry's astonished whimper. He pulled back, licking at the abused skin before abruptly hurtling back against the opposing wall as words and sound burst clear from Harry's lips.
Apparently he'd remembered he had that bloody wand.
"Back the fuck off!" Harry yelped more than shouted, wand aimed but shaking plainly in his white-knuckled grasp.
Draco stood and caught his breath, back braced against the obliging stone.
"Calm down Potter. Anyone would think you weren't expecting this." He cocked an eyebrow. "You 'do' remember why you're meeting me here, right Potter?"
The brunet swallowed painfully. "It's not what you think." He rasped out, stiffening when Draco pushed away from the wall, advancing heedless of the wand now digging into his chest.
"Oh?" He queried mockingly, "And what do I think? Because, I've got to tell you this Potter, I'm a little confused."
The Gryffindor flinched ever so slightly, blinking. "I'm not here, not because you told me to be…. Not for… that."
Draco's hand covered Harry's, long elegant fingers overlapping the nerveless cold digits numbly clasped about his wand. "And that’s where I'm confused," Draco seemingly purred, "Because if you don't want this," his thumb rubbed gently against the back of the brunets, deliberately dragging his skin slowly over the pronounced ridges of knuckle, "Then why are you here?"
Harry blinked in the pure white light bouncing off the stone walls and highlighting Draco's hair with something akin to a halo affect, shaking heavily from head to foot. "Who…" he stuttered, voice catching as a gust of wind swirled in through the open window to chill each boys skin, "Who are you loyal to? What's your allegiance?"
Draco's eyebrows quirked neatly in a practised expression of polite incredulity. "Potter, do you honestly expect me to stand here and bare my soul, my seeming life plans to you simply because you've asked?"
Potter didn't so much as shift an inch beneath his mocking gaze, his jaw tightening with seeming determination. "Malfoy. Are you joining him?"
Draco let his lashes flutter in the light, enjoying the reflection of them in Potter's glasses. "Him? Him who, Potter?"
Potter's teeth flashed, bared suddenly and the Slytherin enjoyed a tremor of anticipation at the sudden show of ire. "Your Father. Voldemort. Either, both. Are. You. Joining. Them?"
The slow, smooth smile was too easy, felt too good emerging but Draco couldn't withhold it all the same. "Why should I tell you, Potter?"
The taut column of the Gryffindors throat flexed convulsively as he swallowed.
"Tell me." He commanded hoarsely.
Draco lifted his arm, extending it and twisting so that the Gryffindor might let his eyes linger over the leather concealed forearm, his voice a low whisper in the night. "You want to know if I'm a Deatheater?"
Potter shook, nodding once, sharp and somehow terrified.
"I'll show you," Draco took a step forward, "You can examine my arm to your hearts content, I might even tell you what you want to know." His smile was white and feral in the glass of Potter's spectacles. "But not until after."
"A… after?"
Draco blinked, oddly charmed by Potter's pretended ignorance of his intent. It seemed Gryffindors could lie after all.
"Yes Potter, after. It is, after all, why I'm here."
He was close enough now to put out a hand and let his fingers casually slide from Potter's collar bone to his inner elbow where he fancied he could feel the blood beating fiercely even under the Gryffindors volumous robes.
"So," he purred, wetting his lips and watching the green eyes focus and follow the motion, "how about this. We'll fuck and then we'll talk about my allegiance."
He closed his fingers in the material at Potter's arms, a handful on each side as he attempted to steer the brunet back towards the wall, only to have Harry spin away, hands held up to ward the Slytherin off.
"No," Harry panted, breathless and so suddenly loud in the former quiet, "No."
Draco's lip curled and twitched upwards into a sneer. So much for Gryffindor courage. "No?" He drawled back, the word weighty with ice.
"Show me your arm," Harry spoke, words seeming to form like crystal before him in the cool night air, breath catching upon his lips as he continued, "Show me then… then you can fuck me."
Every blood vessel in Draco's body strained and surged upwards and he imagined he swayed on his feet before responding. "Sacrificing yourself, Potter? Take it for the good of the team and all that?"
"Yes." Harry whispered and Draco hated him for the word. "And no."
Grey eyes widened slightly at the brunet's latter words before deft fingers lifted to the fastenings on his left bracer. "Tell me you want to." He commanded softly and gloried in the hitch in Potter's breathing. "Tell me you want me to fuck you."
"I… I want you to…" Harry's voice trailed off, the words disappearing like mist as his voice cracked then died out.
"Well?" Draco grit his teeth against the urge to leap forward and shake the admission from the supposed Hero.
Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, before lifting back up, uncertain and slightly accusing as those red lips parted. "You… you said," He blurted and Draco cocked an impatient eyebrow, breath halted, leaden in his chest as the brunet finished his gentle accusation. "You said you'd put your cock in me. If I came back."
The Gryffindor took a step closer to Draco once more. "And I'm here. Now."
Draco exhaled heavily through his nostrils, hands already unlacing his bracer with more speed than perhaps elegant, ripping at the leather and turning his pristine forearm to the moonlight and Potter's gaze.
"There." He said quietly.
"Yes." Harry agreed, eyes traversing the smooth flesh swiftly before lifting to Draco's, a slow, predatory smile showing the Slytherin's pleasure.
"And now," he whispered, fingers already seizing Potter's robes to pull him closer. "I believe we had an agreement… Harry."
A tremor ran through the Gryffindors trim form and Draco fancied he could feel the heat spoke up and outwards from the brunets skin as he ran his hands up and over the slim chest to push a hand tight against Harry's nape. "Kneel down."
The urgent whisper barely left Draco's lips before Harry was white as paper and twice as fragile. "Why?" He whispered back and Draco was struck with amusement at the seeming reverence their soft tones implied.
"Now, now Potter." He soothed, threading long white fingers into the dark, silken strands of the Gryffindor's hair, pushing the thick wave back from that almost obscenely bright scar and letting his teeth catch over his lower lip and the bolt that rushed through him at the sight of it. "You know why… think about it. Yesterday you were sucking on my fingers because…?"
Harry's shoulders stiffened and he pushed upwards against the palm trying to slowly ease him downwards. "Because I wanted to. That’s why." He spat, with the sort of quiet dignity Draco had spent years despising him for.
"And you don't want this?" The words were off Draco's lips before he could stop them, hating the almost vulnerable soft tone he heard as they travelled to Potter's ears.
"I… I don't think I, not like this. I thought you…"
Draco let go his hold upon the Gryffindor and stepped close enough to taste Potter's breath, eyes dilating in turn as he watched the green slowly swallowed by heated black. He tilted his head as though to kiss the boy and revelled in the slow bloom of heat in the previously pale cheeks. Potter was resisting but he was definitely interested.
He let his head drop just low enough to be able to taste the brunets lips, just once, just enough to have his senses reeling as he pulled away.
"Potter… I want to fuck you. I want to be so deep inside you that you can't help but feel me in every fucking fibre of your being." He relished the shudder that coursed directly from the Gryffindor's body into his. "But that can't happen, won't happen unless you get down and get me wet."
A different shudder that time. Draco wasn't sure whether he liked it. He wanted Potter to submit to him, certainly, to do it because he told him to…. But so unwillingly? Irrelevant, he decided slowly exhaling through his nose. He was in charge here and it was time Potter learned to earn his rewards.
"B…but, can't I just?" The crude hand gesture that would normally have driven Draco into a frenzy of fantasies centred on the glory of fucking Potter's callused fist was beneath him, too much, too pitiful for their current situation and he let a sneer distort his lips.
"Potter…" he hissed, letting his hand lift and tighten ever so gently against the smooth throat. "You want it? Then get down and suck it."
Harry's jaw clenched once and a fine sheen of perspiration broke out over the scarred brow before the red lips tightened against the tremor running through them and slowly, near imperceptibly, he began to lower himself to his knees.
Draco let a hand drop to smooth back through the ebony strands before lifting both arms to brace against the wall, watching interestedly as Potter raised trembling hands to unfasten his Quidditch uniform, the laces drawing yet tighter as the blond's flesh rose and stiffened further within its confines as the Gryffindor trailed clumsy fingertips back and forth over the knots.
With an almost startled breath of pleasure, Draco was slowly, agonisingly released, inch by inch as the laces were drawn away. He found himself stood, braced over a kneeling Harry Potter at his feet, clad from head to toe in his leather Quidditch practice gear, cock standing proud and free, unerringly aiming its already moistening crown towards Potter's bright, beautiful, bitten red lips.
He breathed out slowly. Moments such as this had to be savoured because anything this perfect would never come again, nothing this good could ever get better…
Harry brought up a shaking hand to tentatively close shivering fingertips about the root and, licking his lips and lifting suddenly scared green eyes up to Draco's face, gave one long, aching pull from base to tip.
"Potter…." Draco breathed, lost, groundless for a dizzying, shaken moment, eyes fixed on Harry's eyes before watching, entranced as Potter parted those perfect lips and placed them against the weeping head, a single tear abruptly streaked downwards as the brunet let his lips catch and drag as he kissed and suckled at the tip.
"Fuck," Draco breathed, stilling his hips from slamming forward and fucking the mouth so nervously offered him 'til it bled, choosing instead to let his palm skate down the wall to cradle Potter's jaw, his thumb slipping up to catch the tear and press it into the underside of the Gryffindors distended lower lip as it gently held its grip against his crown.
"Harry." He murmured soothingly and the green eyes blinked up at him, obscured by glasses and spiky wet lashes and a soft whimper left the Gryffindor as a little more of Draco's cock slid in then back out of his mouth. Something in Draco twisted. Something dark and unknown in the base of his stomach and he didn't like it, not one bit. Potter's eyes flickered shut and he moved his hand, the gentlest shift of grip to steady the now throbbing length as he leaned in closer, trying to take more into his mouth, the same small, hurt noise emitting when the head made contact with his throat.
Draco couldn't stand it. Fisting his fingers into the brunets locks, he yanked Harry up and away, increasing pressure so the Gryffindor was forced to stand, shocked and slick-lipped, panting against the wall as Draco crushed him in place, cock beating in protest in Potter's hand between their bodies as the cool air hit it.
"Tears, Potter?" He twisted the dark head to lick the offending moisture away, perhaps with a little more force than was necessary, his own hand skating down to press insistently at Potter's groin. Nothing.
He ground his teeth together for a moment, furious that for some reason he couldn't seem to force Potter back to his knees and all the way down onto his aching, dripping prick. He moved his hand across to Potter's nervous clasp about him, taking hold of the slim wrist there and easy it gently into motion, back and forth, and back and forth and twisting just there. He crooned encouragingly into Potter's temple and then, to his delight, the fingers began moving of their own accord and Harry leaned into his body, face hidden in Draco's throat.
"No you don't…" Draco whispered breathlessly, turned on beyond belief at the sensation of Potter's lips, sticky with his own precome, pressed against his skin. He pulled Harry's head back up by his hair again, smiling wickedly as he saw the flash of irritation from the Gryffindor as he yanked on the roots again. "Not sure I really like tears getting in the way of your sucking my cock, Potter."
Harry gasped as Draco sealed his mouth over his own moist and swiftly swelling lips, mewling mindlessly into the Slytherin's mouth as he deliberately sucked and plundered, tongue fucking Harry's mouth with a great deal of accuracy, reminding them both of the rhythm he'd set with his fingers the previous night.
Shuddering at the reminder, Draco abruptly brought the hand also smeared with his own precome up to push two fingers between their clinging lips and tongues, opening his eyes to watch Harry's open in turn, wide, surprised and… was that pleased to find himself forced to lick and suckle at the proffered digits as Draco let his other hand rest on the brunets hip, gathering and yanking the Gryffindor's robes into his fist.
He fought back a grin as slowly Potter's ankles, calves, knee's then finally, beautiful long thighs, clenching and leanly muscled in the moonlight as Draco twisted the excess material into his fist, knotting it in place just an inch shy of the darker boys sleeping prick, moving his hand round to harshly grip the rounded buttocks, holding them apart and loving the mewl and twitch of excitement the action produced, muttering receptively as Harry's fingers slipped and sped on his own flesh.
"Wetter." He breathed, pulling back to shove his fingers deeper in and to his surprise the Gryffindor moaned, deep and resonating through both their chests, eyes open and fixed, half-lidded and hot on Draco's face as he let his mouth fall wide, the Slytherin's digits now fucking his mouth with disturbingly wet sounds that had Draco twitching rhythmically in Potter's grasp.
After a moment of breathless, heated staring as Harry's red lips got redder around Draco's skin, he pulled his fingers free with a pop, crowding close and insinuating himself between those thighs, dipping oh so slightly to twist his hand round, fingers already pressing at Potter's hole, the inarticulate cry wrenched from Harry's mouth almost enough to send Draco toppling over the edge.
He pushed in, hard and spared a second to feel something akin to regret when Potter winced and arched away from his touch, still a little too dry and sore from before, white teeth biting into that lush lower lip, soft mewls of pain trembling over Draco's skin as he dove forwards again seizing Potter's mouth and biting down himself as he twisted and pressed up for Potter's sweet spot.
Harry sobbed something, unknown and mostly unheard against Draco's mouth, grinding back onto his fingers and Draco tore his head back, growling and gripping the back of Potter's upper thigh brutally. "Lift your leg up." He spat, too lost in focus for softness 'til Potter leant back into the wall, one long white thigh lifted to prop itself at Draco's hip, body wide open and lost beneath his touch. He yanked his fingers free, heedless of the wild cry bursting out from the brunet, lifting his hand to spit onto his hand before thrusting three fingers back inside Harry.
The loud 'clunk' of Harry's head meeting the wall thrilled Draco only slightly less than that wide-eyed gaze glazing over and the near silent gasps issuing forth as Draco thrust and fucked his fingers into his body, hips crashing forward to finally press and achingly hard erection of his own against Draco's. Harry's hand fell away from its clasp about Draco's hot flesh but the Slytherin forgave him instantly as Potter bucked and cried, thrusting forward against Draco's cock and then back onto his hand, arms twining up to cling and steady himself about the blond's shoulders, whimpering throughout.
"Yes, Potter…. Yes." Draco hissed and twisted his hand before crushing his mouth back over Harry's and letting his hips and fingers talk for him.
A few aching, grinding seconds passed and suddenly the Boy Who Lived started sobbing, shuddering, actually sucking on the tip of Draco's tongue, hips thrashing back and forth and, as Draco briefly considered pulling away to watch, long, shining strands of come erupted from the Gryffindor to streak over and across Draco's still leather clad chest and torso, near screaming Draco's name back against his lips.
“Good Boy,” Draco whispered, letting Harry sag against him, catching his breath and idly wondering whether he could carry off scooping up some of the Gryffindor's come from his uniform and feeding it back to him. “Good boy.”
Slowly, Harry lifted his head from where it had dropped into the crook of Draco’s neck, blinking hazy eyes into the Slytherin’s grey gaze, murmuring drowsily as Draco pressed a last harsh kiss to his lips before he found that same hand hard at his nape.
“And now, Potter,” Draco was breathless with need by now and entirely too likely to explode all over the brunets pretty face before he even got to it, “Suck me.”
Draco could have screamed, in fact he wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t, only the corridors near silence convincing him he hadn’t, the gasping panted breaths from Harry the only sound to drown his senses.
Firm hands had gripped his hips, almost as his words left his lips, Harry already sinking to his knees and if he lacked any real skill in the act then he more than made up for it with the tiny noise of pleasure he made when Draco’s cock slid neatly, wetly over his lips and deep into his throat, his own come mixing with Draco’s precome making his flesh so slick that Harry only needed to bob his head back and forth to set the Slytherin’s cock gliding smoothly back and forth over his tongue.
So this was dying, Draco mused from a far off point, wondering just why the Chang bitch had never made his blood seethe in his veins like this, why her practised deepthroating would never ever match up to the inexperienced way Potter let his teeth drag over so slightly over his foreskin, suckling loudly and wetly at the head in a sloppy kiss before diving back down to swallow as much as he could take.
“Fuck, yeah,” Draco whimpered, unable to help slamming his hips forward to push the entirety of his length into Potter’s willing mouth, fucking the Gryffindor's throat with short sharp thrusts and damn near expiring when the Gryffindor crooned a low, enthusiastic ‘Mmm’ on every instroke “Take it, Potter, take it… I,”
Draco’s eyes actually teared up as every cell in his body rebelled and rose up against him when so wanted, fucking longed for this moment to never end.
“Potter…” He gasped, so nearly lost when Harry tilted his head up to match eyes to his, the tip just sliding back into his mouth as their gazes locked and Draco gave his final command with the very last breath he had. “Swallow.”
Harry blinked, wide eyes deliciously surprised before closing on a long moan that had Draco sobbing out once more and bucking, letting Harry swallow his cock along with his come as it shot into the Gryffindor’s waiting throat, his cries echoing throughout the corridor as the world spun on its axis.
Harry Potter sucked his cock and drank down every drop. He wanted those words on his gravestone, assuming he’d never recover from the blackness pulling at the edges of his vision but then there were firm hands holding him upright, helping him down as his knees buckled and breath sobbed from his lungs.
They lay there, each panting and shell-shocked, stuck to each other with come, sweat and sticky leather before an ominous sound threw them both into action.
“Mrrrow.”
Shooting bolt upright once more, head reeling, Draco strongly considered hexing Mrs Norris to the nearest Basilisk. “Fuck.” He snarled and began yanking at his laces.
Harry stood on shaking legs, pale now and looking slowly more alarmed by the moment.
“Well? Get the fuck out of here Potter, you’ve got that cloak, get going before Filch catches up to his fucking feline cohort already!”
Harry blinked. “What about you?” The words were barely human, his voicebox fucked raw by Draco’s cock and for a moment they both froze, utterly stilled by the realisation of what had just occurred.
“Potter, I’m a Prefect. Get the fuck out of here.” Draco snapped, hating how oddly responsible he felt for the pallor of the brunet’s skin, sighing with something far too close to relief as the Gryffindor blinked out of sight behind a thick swathe of material once more.
Footsteps could be heard closing in and Draco assumed his best righteous sneer, ready to see off the pathetic squib so idiotically stalking them.
“Potter.” He hissed suddenly, almost too late as Filch closed in on him. The moonlight swung and held briefly in one focused spot and Draco licked his lips.
“Come back tomorrow.”
Fin.