Fran's Archive: 31072002 - After the Party
I've been going through an old journal and came across this story written in July 2002. It's a Resolution futurefic for Harry's 22nd birthday.
NC17
Summary: Wednesday 31st July 2002. Harry’s 22nd birthday.
Location: You know the place....
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31072002 - After the party
Harry Potter flopped onto the sofa and let out a long sigh of contented satisfaction. Allowing his body to mould into the soft cushions he sprawled spread-eagled, legs stretched out before him, arms almost at right angles to his body, palms facing upwards.
There were few days in his short life that he could actually say were memorable.
Finding out he was a wizard. Winning his first Quidditch match. Leaving Privet Drive for the final time. Making love to Draco for the first time. The images floated through his mind; some crystal clear, others tinged with sadness.
Today he decided -- Wednesday 31st July 2002 -- was another one to add to his list. To have woken on his 22nd birthday next to the man he loved had been wonderful, but it was even more special because this was the first time he had ever shared his birthday with Draco.
Birthdays 1 to 17 had been spent with the Dursleys (except, he reminded himself with a hint of sadness, his 11th which he had spent with Hagrid). Birthdays 18 to 21 had been on his own. But today, when he had opened his eyes, Draco had been looking down at him and his expression had left Harry with the feeling those grey eyes had been watching him sleep for hours.
He had, he reminded himself, spent half an hour with Draco on his 11th birthday. That was the day he had found out he was a wizard and had first seen the grey-eyed boy in Diagon Alley. But that didn’t really count did it?
Harry’s head dropped back against the cushions and for a moment he stared at the ceiling. The room was in darkness except for a sliver of light from the hallway and he watched the shadows it created, absently trying to make out shapes. He didn’t move as tiny islands of light began to illuminate the room, causing the shadows above him to flicker as they were chased away by the candlelight. Draco’s movements around the room were silent, but Harry could sense his presence and knew what direction the soft tones of his voice would come from as he quietly intoned *“Lumos”,* sparking the candles to life.
He knew Draco was walking towards the sofa without looking. It was as if he could feel his lover’s aura closing in on him. The sensation sent a shiver though his body and he let his eyelids drop. He felt so responsive at the moment; could feel the lashes against his cheeks and the texture of his clothes on his skin. The very air in the room seemed to crackle about him as Draco stopped behind the sofa. He was aware of Draco’s hands resting on the sofa on either side of his head. Felt the cushions sank a little under the weight and breathed in the remarkable stillness that descended around them both.
Then Draco’s lips brushed against his forehead, the pressure like a spark of energy between them.
Harry had kissed and been kissed by many people over the years, but Draco was the only person who ever touched the scar which zigzagged from his eyebrow to hairline just above his right eye. The curse mark caused him such pain when Voldemort, the dark wizard who had inflicted it on him, was close by. Yet when Draco touched him, the pain seemed to dissipate as though his lover could take the hurt away.
And now, when the mark was nothing but a scar, Draco fingers or mouth on it would cause a warmth deep inside, a sensation he had never been able to fully describe. It was more than sensual, more than erotic, yet it wasn’t sexual in the slightest.
Brushing the black fringe away, Draco slowly trailed the tip of his tongue down the mark. It stood out vivid red on Harry temple, a sure sign that he was tired. Reaching the dark eyebrow, he changed tack and kissed the closed eyelids before moving on to the slightly parted lips.
Kissing Harry upside down like this was strange; taking that upper lip between his teeth and sucking on it the way he would normally play with the lower one. Parting those lips further with his tongue was another strange sensation. The oh-so-familiar landscape of Harry’s mouth was different and exploring it a whole new experience he savoured. His eyes flickered down the body laid out before him. Harry’s arms were still spread wide, exposing the whole of his chest, the buttons of his shirt pulled tight by the posture. And the legs were spread equally apart, feet turned out, relaxed completely. He had never really looked at Harry like this before and he resisted the urge to tip over the back of the sofa and to fall into that lap laid out so invitingly.
Still only touching him with his mouth and tongue, Draco trailed a line of kisses back to Harry brow before finally pulling back a little. “Had a good day?”
“Oh yes.” Harry’s red lips formed the words, speaking slowly before sweeping his tongue over his own lips. “The sex this morning was great. And I loved the presents. The beach was wonderful, especially as I know you hate the beach.”
“Hate is probably a bit strong. Perhaps detest or dislike intensely.”
“Well, I had a good time. The picnic hamper was superb,” Harry groaned as Draco’s hand brushed against his chest, playing with an already hard nipple through the shirt. “The beach was suitably deserted and you rose from the waves like Ursula Andress in Dr No.”
“Who?” Draco pulled at Harry’s shirt, pushing his fingers through the gap between the shirt buttons.
“James Bond.” Harry’s eyelids fluttered shut as he followed the trail of Draco’s fingers over and around his chest.
“Ah, right. Muggle secret agent.”
“And the sex on the beach was good.”
Burying a hand in Harry’s dark hair, he teased the strands out, letting them bounce back. “Remind me not to make love to you on a beach again. It’ll take days to get rid of all of the sand.”
“And Hermione’s party was brilliant.” Eyelids finally flickered open and green eyes stared back at Draco. “Did I remember to mention the sex?”
Draco smiled; the hand, which had been playing with Harry’s nipple, ran briefly up the side of Harry’s neck and behind his ear. “I think I get the picture.” He bent to Harry’s mouth again, teasing at the lips. “And you have such a wonderful mouth.” His own tongue swirled around Harry’s as he pulled away. “Can I tempt you with more Champagne? This mouth deserves nothing but the best.”
“Champagne?”
“Mmmmm”
“Do you know what I’d really like?” Harry finally lifted his hands and reached back behind him, making contact with Draco’s face for the first time.
“What?”
“I’d kill for a beer.”
“A beer?” The tone of Draco’s voice mirrored exactly what he thought of the suggestion. “I have spent the day feeding you delicacies, tempted you with the finest of wines. Hermione laid on a repast fit for kings and queens. The port and brandy she served were exquisite. And you, The Great Harry Potter, wants a beer.”
“Please.” Harry’s coy expression was enough to melt even the hardest Malfoy heart.
“Philistine.” Draco straightened, letting Harry’s hands trail over his body as he moved away.
By the time he returned with the bottle (it was pointless pouring it into a glass), Harry was seated cross-legged on the sofa; his shoes had been kicked off and lay haphazardly on the floor. He still had on his light summer cloak, which now hung down from his shoulders, almost enveloping him in dark green and silver. Draco handed over the bottle. “You look like some sort of elf all wrapped in that cloak.”
“What about you?” Harry gesticulated with the bottle. “All gold and scarlet. I bet there are fairy wings underneath that cloak.”
Draco pushed a swathe of shimmering material back over his shoulder. “Would you like to check?”
“Maybe later.”
Pausing briefly to light a fresh candle, Draco glanced at the clock. It was ten to midnight. “Is there anything else I can get for the birthday boy? After all, in another ten minutes you’ll turn back into a pumpkin and all your presents will disappear in a puff of smoke.” He folded his arms and gave Harry a tender smile as he decided his lover didn’t look like an elf at all. With his long black hair and vivid green eyes glinting in the candlelight, Harry looked like some sort of water sprite. He wondered whether there was any fairy blood in the Potter family and decided to investigate it. That would certainly explain many things about Harry.
As he watched him, Harry’s expression changed. It didn’t harden, but there was suddenly something calculating in those green eyes, and a faint smile flickered across his face. “Actually there is.”
“Oh?” Draco lit another candle.
“Yes.” Harry cocked his head to one side, his gaze appraising. “I want to see you strip for me.”
Draco gave a little laugh. “When I asked if you wanted anything I was thinking of food and drink.”
“It’s my birthday.” The words were quiet, commanding, and sensual. “I’ve stripped for you, but I don’t think you’ve ever undressed in front of me.”
“Of course I have.”
“Sure, quickly. Throwing your clothes in some dark corner. I want to see you unwrap yourself for me.”
Grey eyes glittered wickedly. “I think I can do that for you.” Draco reached for the clasp on his cloak.
“And then I want you to come for me.”
The hand froze. “Sorry?”
“I want you to come for me.” Harry held Draco’s gaze and slowly ran his hand up the beer bottle. The glass was ice-cold, covered in condensation and he studied his hand fleetingly before sucking the moisture from his now wet fingers. “There, on the sheep skin rug, while I watch. I want to see you touch yourself.” He took the bottle into his mouth, lips curling around the glass as he sucked on it momentarily before letting go with an audible ‘pop’. “You’ve seen me masturbate ... even helped, but I’ve never watched you.” Uncurling himself from the sofa, he stood up, holding the long neck of the bottle against his skin.
Draco watched Harry carefully insert a finger into the bottle’s opening before placing it on a table. The finger remained inside as the green eyes held him stationery in their gaze, then it was pulled out. ‘Provocative Harry’ was something Draco was used to, but this Harry was different. There was a definite predatory gleam in those eyes as he paced across the room to where Draco stood.
Harry stopped before him and looked up, eyes almost black in the subdued lighting. “Please.”
Draco met the gaze, aware of his growing arousal as he drank in the intense stare. “Okay, sweet. How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?”
With that Harry raised the finger that had been inside the beer bottle and ran it over Draco’s lips. It slid easily inside. Draco reached up and took hold of the hand. Eyes intent on Harry’s face, he slid the finger in and out before sucking hard. He could taste the beer on it and he swirled his tongue around the end before pulling it out.
Still holding the hand, he raised the finger towards Harry’s mouth, pushing it in along with his own index finger. “But I need something to work on. Something to help me.” He pulled the fingers out and took a moment to kiss Harry before pulling back and scrutinizing him with a practiced eye. “I think I need you naked, love.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.” Harry whispered. He stepped back and started to unbutton his shirt.
“No, wait.”
Harry turned bashful eyes towards Draco, fingers delicately holding a button.
“Let me.”
“All right.” The words were mouthed, almost inaudible.
Draco stepped in front of the smaller man and reached for the clasp of Harry’s cloak. He fingered it for a moment, but in the end decided not to unfasten it. Instead, he smoothed the fabric between his fingers before pushing it back over Harry’s shoulders. It hung down his back in gentle folds.
Long pale fingers moved to the shirt and began pushing the small buttons through their buttonholes. Each was unfastened with the utmost care, revealing more and more of Harry’s lightly tanned torso. Draco could make out the line of ribs and muscle beneath the skin, and in the centre of Harry’s chest, he could see the slight movement of the beat of his heart. He released the final button and placed the flat of his hand over Harry’s chest, the warmth of the skin underneath permeating his own flesh. The hand remained very still, feeling the rise and fall of the chest both from Harry’s breathing and his heartbeat. Without realising it, Draco’s own breath took on the same rhythm.
Draco pushed the shirt off, letting it glide over the skin before floating to the floor.
A shiver went through Harry’s body as Draco adjusted the cloak again, drawing it carefully over Harry’s naked shoulders. His fingers followed the edges of the cloak down until he was on his knees in front of the lover.
Harry felt a hand against his calf and he raised the foot. He reached out, holding Draco’s shoulder for support even though he didn’t need it. First one sock was removed, and then the others, and Harry’s toes curled into the warmth of the rug. He felt fingers brush over his hips and his eyelids closed.
The snugness of the trousers released as Draco pulled at the zip. Then he pulled the soft material over the sensual curve of Harry’s hips and down his thighs. Harry was aware of the path of Draco’s hands as they pushed the garment down and finally removed it. Then those same fingers curled into the waistband of his bright red boxers. “Who’s the little slut then? Sexy red underwear today?” He pushed boxers, drawing them over the curve of Harry’s hips.
“You know what colour I have on. You got the bloody things for me.”
“Oh, I know.” Draco pushed the back down first, both hands lingering on the curve of Harry’s arse, then the fingers tucked back inside and pulled down the front, releasing Harry’s semi-hard penis. It hung so close to Draco’s mouth that Harry could feel the other’s breath on it. He wanted to grab hold of Draco and push into that hot waiting mouth, wanted to feel Draco surround him, but instead he waited.
And waited.
Finally the tip of Draco’s tongue flicked over the head and Harry thought he might die. His hands grabbed at the blond hair, but Draco captured both hands with his own. “Oh no. You have to wait.” Harry growled in frustration and when Draco gave a laugh the frustration grew further. “This was your idea remember.”
“Not this bit of it.”
“Too bad.” Draco looked at him, the expression predatory. The grey stare ran down the almost naked body and Draco finally uttered, “Sit down.”
Harry sat.
He sat and watched as Draco came back to his feet and removed the red and gold cloak with a slow almost singing sound of silk against skin. It floated to the floor, spreading across the rug with the shimmering gold lining upper most. The iridescent light of the candles flickered across the surface, making it glow and reflect upwards.
At some point, Draco must have removed his shoes and soaks because when he stepped onto the silk it was with bare feet. Those same exquisite feet Harry marvelled over and loved to touch. He wanted to stare at them as they picked up the gleam of the silk, but almost instinctively his eyes were drawn to Draco’s slim fingers as they began to undo the buttons of his own shirt. They worked their way upward as they had on Harry’s shirt, but as each button slid loose, the fingers would tease the edges of the shirt further apart.
As the last button came free, Draco stretched, the material gaping apart to reveal the smooth, pale flash of his torso. In the candlelight, Harry could make out the dark pink puckered nipples, the lightly muscled abdomen and the dark, dark hole of Draco’s navel.
Almost hypnotised by the sight, Harry felt his cock twitch and he was torn between wanting to reach out a hand to touch Draco and wanting to touch himself. But he knew if his hand were to close around his cock now, he would probably come straight away. Instead he parted his legs slightly and gripped his own knees
The shirt slithered from his shoulders and Draco shock his head, his hair setting obediently about his face and neck. Then he turned around, facing away from Harry, and pushed his trousers down over his hips. Hands swept them from his arse, freeing himself from the confines of this final garment, and he bent forward, straight legged, and pushed them down to his ankles. The perfect arse was spread before the birthday boy and Harry wanted nothing more than to reach forward and bury himself inside it. He closed his eyes and swallowed.
When he opened them again, Draco was naked on the floor, down on his hands and knees, and the only sound in the room seemed to be thundering beat of Harry’s heart. He followed Draco’s lithe cat-like crawl across the floor as candlelight gleamed across the now bare flesh, picking out the contours of his body, the curve of his arse, the hollow of his back, a shoulder blade, the bend in his wrist as long fingers were placed carefully on Harry’s bare knees.
Harry would have whimpered if his mouth hadn’t been so dry. He tried to swallow as Draco knelt before him, the grey eyes almost black. Draco’s thumbs turned lazy circles on the inside bend of Harry’s knees. “I...” The spoken word came out as a squeak and Harry realised he should never have called Draco’s bluff. This was the man who could read his every mood, tap into his emotions and knew how to pleasure him in ways Harry would not have thought possible. And he had Harry exactly where he wanted him right now.
“God I love you.”
The two thumbs continued their slow circles and Draco leaned forward slightly. “Harry, I love you too.” The voice was beyond a whisper, it seemed to rumble through Draco’s hands and into Harry’s flesh.
Draco pushed away.
The loss of contact elicited a sob from Harry who at that precise moment wanted Draco’s cock buried deep inside him. He slid from the sofa and started to move forward.
“No!” The tone in Draco’s voice halted Harry’s movements. “This is what you wanted. So be a good boy and wait.” He watched Harry through hooded eyes as he sat almost motionless on the floor. Then, in a single fluid movement, he moved back until his body was framed by the gold of his cloak. There he knelt back on his heels and once again met Harry’s eyes.
Slowly he reached for his own knees and spread them wide apart. Fingers lingered for a moment in the same place they had held Harry a few moments before, and then they carefully traced a line up the inside of each thigh. The hands paused briefly at the junction of leg and torso, fingers tracing the fold down into his groin. Back and forth. Never quite reaching his already hard cock. He allowed his fingers to linger around the base, toying briefly with his testicles, and his eyes close briefly, fighting for control as the fluttering sensation built in the pit of his stomach. He responded by allowing himself a single stroke of his hand up the hard shaft. His thumb ran over the straining head, coming away sticky with his fluids. He held the thumb out towards Harry who moved forward eagerly, taking it into his own mouth and licking it clean.
Pulling his thumb free, Draco returned to pleasuring himself, letting his fingers trail up his body. He paused briefly around his navel, circling and touching the sensitive area. He watched Harry’s expression as he pushed his thumb, still wet with Harry saliva, into the dark hollow of his navel, before continuing the journey up his body. The path of his hands left fire across already hot skin, across his sides, over his stomach, in a line stretching from navel to throat.
With an audible groan, Draco touched his own face, fingers trailing out into the soft silk of his hair and he let his head fall back slightly, arching his spine as the fingers returned to the curve of his neck. Then, deliberately he looked back at Harry and smiled coyly.
He held the green gaze as very slowly he placed the index finger of his right hand into his mouth. His lips closed around it and he let his eyelids flutter closed. Drawing the finger out, he replaced it with his left index finger, a moan of pleasure rumbling deep in his throat.
As he withdrew the finger, he saw that Harry was touching his own lips with a hand, crewing at a fingernail.
Draco exhaled loudly as he touched himself again, fingertips trailing over his collarbones and down the line of his breastbone. He stopped as his hands reached his nipples and feinted a look of surprise at finding them there.
“Oh!” he breathed softly and let the wet index fingers turn languid movements over the sensitive surface of each nipple. They hardened beneath his touch, hard pebbles of engorged flesh that sent sparks of pleasure through his already sensitised body. He felt the heat building in his groin again, and he deftly gave each nipple a quick pinch.
He felt so close... so very close...
Almost forgetting he had an audience, Draco’s hands teased over the taught muscles of his abdomen and came to rest at the top of his legs. There he paused, aware of the amazing feeling growing deep within his belly, a tension that was building, and building. So close he might come without even touching himself.
“Fuck....” The curse sounded like a prayer as he closed his fingers around his cock. It felt slick with his own fluids and his hand moved easily over the warm skin. Slowly stroking from base to head and back again. His fingers moved easily over the hard shaft and his other hand reached again for his testicles. It felt good to hold himself, to feel his erection throbbing in his hand as he squeezed, fingers moving over the familiar warm flesh.
He cursed again, the word becoming a sob of pain and pleasure rolled into one as his hand moved, drawing the sensitive foreskin back and forth. His thumb rubbing against the head each time his hand reached the top of its journey.
Then it hit him, the point of no return as all the muscles in his groin seemed to tense up. For a moment he felt an incredible fullness within him. His hand froze as if he could hold himself on that precipice for a lifetime, but the all-consuming fire tipped him over the edge. He stroked again.
Once.... Twice....
For a second Draco remained completely still as his orgasm hit him. It slammed into him with such force that in the intensity of the moment he almost forgot to breathe. His hand continued to move over his erection, pumping it of its fluid as he came hard, the thick liquid coating his hand and belly.
Then slowly, so slowly he almost wasn’t aware of it, he fell back, legs a tumble beneath his heaving body as he finally remembered to breathe, his hand still clutched tightly about his semi-hard penis.
Harry had watched with fascinated wonder from the moment Draco had first spread his knees wide. Almost hyperventilating, he had followed the passage of those hands up the pale form, could almost feel them on his own flesh as they moved tantalizingly slowly first up the thigh and then up the body.
When Draco had given him a taste of himself, Harry thought he was going to come right there and then. He managed to hold himself back as Draco’s thumb had dipped into his navel. He had so wanted to put his own finger in there, wanted to touch that bared throat and put a finger in that wet, wet mouth.
And when Draco had touched his own nipples, Harry had reached for his own cock and had been holding himself when Draco had finally touched his own erection. He was still holding himself now as Draco lay before him, spread across the gold of his cloak, legs now stretched towards Harry, chest heaving in great lungfuls of air as, in the afterglow of his orgasm, he tried to breathe. Harry could see the heart beating in Draco’s chest, the skin rising in a rhythmic beat that countered the ragged breathing. He could see Draco’s mouth, open in unspoken pleasure. Could see the soft lashes of his closed eyes spread on his flushed face.
Harry knew what it felt like to do that. But to watch Draco perform such an intimate act. To witness this afterglow. He had never seen anything so perfect, so breathtakingly beautiful. And all he knew was that he wanted to possess that body, to fall into it and live in this moment for the rest of his life.
Draco tried hard to still his fast beating heart. God, his chest hurt. He felt almost winded from the intensity of the act. As he lay against the cool silk of his cloak, he was so very aware of everything. It felt like all his nerve endings were exposed to the air. His skin tingled as the heat left his body and he basked in a strange stillness. A part of him craved sleep, wanted to curl up here on the floor and sleep. But the rest was aware of the rustle of fabric a few feet from him.
He lay motionless, keeping his eyes closed, and waited.
It was the heat of another body he felt first, and then the fluid sensation of soft fabric rippling up his legs. He didn’t move as a hand brushed against his side, and a knee passed over him. As the spectre that was Harry moved closer, the candlelight no longer found its way through his closed eyelids. Instead there was just darkness and the feel of fabric rising further and further up his body.
Draco felt the fingers touch his hair, pushing it back from his moist temples. Was aware of the pressure of a thumb slowly running across his closed eyelid. Breath hitched in his throat as the cloak dipped around him. Close... Oh so close...
“Draco.”
The voice was so quiet Draco wasn’t sure if he heard it. Eyelids finally open and he found himself in a world surrounded by Harry’s hair. Light flickered through the black strands and he looked up into the face inches above his own.
And into the vivid green eyes unshielded before him. Intense green openness. “Harry...”
Somewhere he was aware of pressure on his thighs, pushing them apart, and fingers slick with his own fluids pressing into him, filling him. He lifted his knees, spreading himself open before his lover. No worries, no fears, just a trust which had kept them alive through the worst of Voldemort’s excesses and the constant fear that one day Harry might not come home to him.
As Harry removed his fingers, Draco reached for him, pulling Harry close as his cock entered him, pleasure and pain mingling in that first thrust as Harry pushed against the tightness of the body beneath him. Once past that initial resistance, Harry pushed deeper, until he was completely sheathed inside of Draco.
They groaned together, Harry from the tightness holding him and Draco from the sensation of complete fullness. Harry didn’t move for a moment and the two lay very still, holding each other deeply in a shared embrace.
“What if we can’t beat him, Draco? What if we can never be free of him?” Harry ran a hand over his beloved’s face, wanting to remember every inch of it. He pulled almost completely out before thrusting with slow care back in again, the tightness almost overwhelming.
“Don’t talk about that, sweet. Just make love to me now.” Draco bore down, his muscles tightening further around Harry as he began to thrust deeper and deeper. He knew Harry wouldn’t last long, and when he came, Draco held him as tightly as possible, wanting to keep Harry inside of him.
He knew that shadows and clouds were advancing, cutting everyone off from the light. Could he keep Harry safe until he had to face Voldemort that one final time? Did he have the strength to let Harry make that journey from which he might not come home?
“It’s not July any more.” Harry gathered the body beneath him in to his arms, holding him tightly, scared of what lay ahead. “It’s August already and time’s running out.”
“I know.”
“And my scar hurts.”
They lay quietly, neither willing to be the first to move, wrapped in their cloaks. Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Red and gold. Green and silver. Mingled together as it wrapped about them, holding them tightly.
The candles flickered, each slowly burning out as dawn lightened the darkness of night.
In the western sky, dark clouds marred the sunrise.
**************************
So lately, been wondering
Who will be there to take my place
When I'm gone you'll need love to light the shadows on your face
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all
Then between the sand and stone, could you make it on your own
The Calling -- Wherever You Will Go
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NC17
Summary: Wednesday 31st July 2002. Harry’s 22nd birthday.
Location: You know the place....
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31072002 - After the party
Harry Potter flopped onto the sofa and let out a long sigh of contented satisfaction. Allowing his body to mould into the soft cushions he sprawled spread-eagled, legs stretched out before him, arms almost at right angles to his body, palms facing upwards.
There were few days in his short life that he could actually say were memorable.
Finding out he was a wizard. Winning his first Quidditch match. Leaving Privet Drive for the final time. Making love to Draco for the first time. The images floated through his mind; some crystal clear, others tinged with sadness.
Today he decided -- Wednesday 31st July 2002 -- was another one to add to his list. To have woken on his 22nd birthday next to the man he loved had been wonderful, but it was even more special because this was the first time he had ever shared his birthday with Draco.
Birthdays 1 to 17 had been spent with the Dursleys (except, he reminded himself with a hint of sadness, his 11th which he had spent with Hagrid). Birthdays 18 to 21 had been on his own. But today, when he had opened his eyes, Draco had been looking down at him and his expression had left Harry with the feeling those grey eyes had been watching him sleep for hours.
He had, he reminded himself, spent half an hour with Draco on his 11th birthday. That was the day he had found out he was a wizard and had first seen the grey-eyed boy in Diagon Alley. But that didn’t really count did it?
Harry’s head dropped back against the cushions and for a moment he stared at the ceiling. The room was in darkness except for a sliver of light from the hallway and he watched the shadows it created, absently trying to make out shapes. He didn’t move as tiny islands of light began to illuminate the room, causing the shadows above him to flicker as they were chased away by the candlelight. Draco’s movements around the room were silent, but Harry could sense his presence and knew what direction the soft tones of his voice would come from as he quietly intoned *“Lumos”,* sparking the candles to life.
He knew Draco was walking towards the sofa without looking. It was as if he could feel his lover’s aura closing in on him. The sensation sent a shiver though his body and he let his eyelids drop. He felt so responsive at the moment; could feel the lashes against his cheeks and the texture of his clothes on his skin. The very air in the room seemed to crackle about him as Draco stopped behind the sofa. He was aware of Draco’s hands resting on the sofa on either side of his head. Felt the cushions sank a little under the weight and breathed in the remarkable stillness that descended around them both.
Then Draco’s lips brushed against his forehead, the pressure like a spark of energy between them.
Harry had kissed and been kissed by many people over the years, but Draco was the only person who ever touched the scar which zigzagged from his eyebrow to hairline just above his right eye. The curse mark caused him such pain when Voldemort, the dark wizard who had inflicted it on him, was close by. Yet when Draco touched him, the pain seemed to dissipate as though his lover could take the hurt away.
And now, when the mark was nothing but a scar, Draco fingers or mouth on it would cause a warmth deep inside, a sensation he had never been able to fully describe. It was more than sensual, more than erotic, yet it wasn’t sexual in the slightest.
Brushing the black fringe away, Draco slowly trailed the tip of his tongue down the mark. It stood out vivid red on Harry temple, a sure sign that he was tired. Reaching the dark eyebrow, he changed tack and kissed the closed eyelids before moving on to the slightly parted lips.
Kissing Harry upside down like this was strange; taking that upper lip between his teeth and sucking on it the way he would normally play with the lower one. Parting those lips further with his tongue was another strange sensation. The oh-so-familiar landscape of Harry’s mouth was different and exploring it a whole new experience he savoured. His eyes flickered down the body laid out before him. Harry’s arms were still spread wide, exposing the whole of his chest, the buttons of his shirt pulled tight by the posture. And the legs were spread equally apart, feet turned out, relaxed completely. He had never really looked at Harry like this before and he resisted the urge to tip over the back of the sofa and to fall into that lap laid out so invitingly.
Still only touching him with his mouth and tongue, Draco trailed a line of kisses back to Harry brow before finally pulling back a little. “Had a good day?”
“Oh yes.” Harry’s red lips formed the words, speaking slowly before sweeping his tongue over his own lips. “The sex this morning was great. And I loved the presents. The beach was wonderful, especially as I know you hate the beach.”
“Hate is probably a bit strong. Perhaps detest or dislike intensely.”
“Well, I had a good time. The picnic hamper was superb,” Harry groaned as Draco’s hand brushed against his chest, playing with an already hard nipple through the shirt. “The beach was suitably deserted and you rose from the waves like Ursula Andress in Dr No.”
“Who?” Draco pulled at Harry’s shirt, pushing his fingers through the gap between the shirt buttons.
“James Bond.” Harry’s eyelids fluttered shut as he followed the trail of Draco’s fingers over and around his chest.
“Ah, right. Muggle secret agent.”
“And the sex on the beach was good.”
Burying a hand in Harry’s dark hair, he teased the strands out, letting them bounce back. “Remind me not to make love to you on a beach again. It’ll take days to get rid of all of the sand.”
“And Hermione’s party was brilliant.” Eyelids finally flickered open and green eyes stared back at Draco. “Did I remember to mention the sex?”
Draco smiled; the hand, which had been playing with Harry’s nipple, ran briefly up the side of Harry’s neck and behind his ear. “I think I get the picture.” He bent to Harry’s mouth again, teasing at the lips. “And you have such a wonderful mouth.” His own tongue swirled around Harry’s as he pulled away. “Can I tempt you with more Champagne? This mouth deserves nothing but the best.”
“Champagne?”
“Mmmmm”
“Do you know what I’d really like?” Harry finally lifted his hands and reached back behind him, making contact with Draco’s face for the first time.
“What?”
“I’d kill for a beer.”
“A beer?” The tone of Draco’s voice mirrored exactly what he thought of the suggestion. “I have spent the day feeding you delicacies, tempted you with the finest of wines. Hermione laid on a repast fit for kings and queens. The port and brandy she served were exquisite. And you, The Great Harry Potter, wants a beer.”
“Please.” Harry’s coy expression was enough to melt even the hardest Malfoy heart.
“Philistine.” Draco straightened, letting Harry’s hands trail over his body as he moved away.
By the time he returned with the bottle (it was pointless pouring it into a glass), Harry was seated cross-legged on the sofa; his shoes had been kicked off and lay haphazardly on the floor. He still had on his light summer cloak, which now hung down from his shoulders, almost enveloping him in dark green and silver. Draco handed over the bottle. “You look like some sort of elf all wrapped in that cloak.”
“What about you?” Harry gesticulated with the bottle. “All gold and scarlet. I bet there are fairy wings underneath that cloak.”
Draco pushed a swathe of shimmering material back over his shoulder. “Would you like to check?”
“Maybe later.”
Pausing briefly to light a fresh candle, Draco glanced at the clock. It was ten to midnight. “Is there anything else I can get for the birthday boy? After all, in another ten minutes you’ll turn back into a pumpkin and all your presents will disappear in a puff of smoke.” He folded his arms and gave Harry a tender smile as he decided his lover didn’t look like an elf at all. With his long black hair and vivid green eyes glinting in the candlelight, Harry looked like some sort of water sprite. He wondered whether there was any fairy blood in the Potter family and decided to investigate it. That would certainly explain many things about Harry.
As he watched him, Harry’s expression changed. It didn’t harden, but there was suddenly something calculating in those green eyes, and a faint smile flickered across his face. “Actually there is.”
“Oh?” Draco lit another candle.
“Yes.” Harry cocked his head to one side, his gaze appraising. “I want to see you strip for me.”
Draco gave a little laugh. “When I asked if you wanted anything I was thinking of food and drink.”
“It’s my birthday.” The words were quiet, commanding, and sensual. “I’ve stripped for you, but I don’t think you’ve ever undressed in front of me.”
“Of course I have.”
“Sure, quickly. Throwing your clothes in some dark corner. I want to see you unwrap yourself for me.”
Grey eyes glittered wickedly. “I think I can do that for you.” Draco reached for the clasp on his cloak.
“And then I want you to come for me.”
The hand froze. “Sorry?”
“I want you to come for me.” Harry held Draco’s gaze and slowly ran his hand up the beer bottle. The glass was ice-cold, covered in condensation and he studied his hand fleetingly before sucking the moisture from his now wet fingers. “There, on the sheep skin rug, while I watch. I want to see you touch yourself.” He took the bottle into his mouth, lips curling around the glass as he sucked on it momentarily before letting go with an audible ‘pop’. “You’ve seen me masturbate ... even helped, but I’ve never watched you.” Uncurling himself from the sofa, he stood up, holding the long neck of the bottle against his skin.
Draco watched Harry carefully insert a finger into the bottle’s opening before placing it on a table. The finger remained inside as the green eyes held him stationery in their gaze, then it was pulled out. ‘Provocative Harry’ was something Draco was used to, but this Harry was different. There was a definite predatory gleam in those eyes as he paced across the room to where Draco stood.
Harry stopped before him and looked up, eyes almost black in the subdued lighting. “Please.”
Draco met the gaze, aware of his growing arousal as he drank in the intense stare. “Okay, sweet. How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?”
With that Harry raised the finger that had been inside the beer bottle and ran it over Draco’s lips. It slid easily inside. Draco reached up and took hold of the hand. Eyes intent on Harry’s face, he slid the finger in and out before sucking hard. He could taste the beer on it and he swirled his tongue around the end before pulling it out.
Still holding the hand, he raised the finger towards Harry’s mouth, pushing it in along with his own index finger. “But I need something to work on. Something to help me.” He pulled the fingers out and took a moment to kiss Harry before pulling back and scrutinizing him with a practiced eye. “I think I need you naked, love.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.” Harry whispered. He stepped back and started to unbutton his shirt.
“No, wait.”
Harry turned bashful eyes towards Draco, fingers delicately holding a button.
“Let me.”
“All right.” The words were mouthed, almost inaudible.
Draco stepped in front of the smaller man and reached for the clasp of Harry’s cloak. He fingered it for a moment, but in the end decided not to unfasten it. Instead, he smoothed the fabric between his fingers before pushing it back over Harry’s shoulders. It hung down his back in gentle folds.
Long pale fingers moved to the shirt and began pushing the small buttons through their buttonholes. Each was unfastened with the utmost care, revealing more and more of Harry’s lightly tanned torso. Draco could make out the line of ribs and muscle beneath the skin, and in the centre of Harry’s chest, he could see the slight movement of the beat of his heart. He released the final button and placed the flat of his hand over Harry’s chest, the warmth of the skin underneath permeating his own flesh. The hand remained very still, feeling the rise and fall of the chest both from Harry’s breathing and his heartbeat. Without realising it, Draco’s own breath took on the same rhythm.
Draco pushed the shirt off, letting it glide over the skin before floating to the floor.
A shiver went through Harry’s body as Draco adjusted the cloak again, drawing it carefully over Harry’s naked shoulders. His fingers followed the edges of the cloak down until he was on his knees in front of the lover.
Harry felt a hand against his calf and he raised the foot. He reached out, holding Draco’s shoulder for support even though he didn’t need it. First one sock was removed, and then the others, and Harry’s toes curled into the warmth of the rug. He felt fingers brush over his hips and his eyelids closed.
The snugness of the trousers released as Draco pulled at the zip. Then he pulled the soft material over the sensual curve of Harry’s hips and down his thighs. Harry was aware of the path of Draco’s hands as they pushed the garment down and finally removed it. Then those same fingers curled into the waistband of his bright red boxers. “Who’s the little slut then? Sexy red underwear today?” He pushed boxers, drawing them over the curve of Harry’s hips.
“You know what colour I have on. You got the bloody things for me.”
“Oh, I know.” Draco pushed the back down first, both hands lingering on the curve of Harry’s arse, then the fingers tucked back inside and pulled down the front, releasing Harry’s semi-hard penis. It hung so close to Draco’s mouth that Harry could feel the other’s breath on it. He wanted to grab hold of Draco and push into that hot waiting mouth, wanted to feel Draco surround him, but instead he waited.
And waited.
Finally the tip of Draco’s tongue flicked over the head and Harry thought he might die. His hands grabbed at the blond hair, but Draco captured both hands with his own. “Oh no. You have to wait.” Harry growled in frustration and when Draco gave a laugh the frustration grew further. “This was your idea remember.”
“Not this bit of it.”
“Too bad.” Draco looked at him, the expression predatory. The grey stare ran down the almost naked body and Draco finally uttered, “Sit down.”
Harry sat.
He sat and watched as Draco came back to his feet and removed the red and gold cloak with a slow almost singing sound of silk against skin. It floated to the floor, spreading across the rug with the shimmering gold lining upper most. The iridescent light of the candles flickered across the surface, making it glow and reflect upwards.
At some point, Draco must have removed his shoes and soaks because when he stepped onto the silk it was with bare feet. Those same exquisite feet Harry marvelled over and loved to touch. He wanted to stare at them as they picked up the gleam of the silk, but almost instinctively his eyes were drawn to Draco’s slim fingers as they began to undo the buttons of his own shirt. They worked their way upward as they had on Harry’s shirt, but as each button slid loose, the fingers would tease the edges of the shirt further apart.
As the last button came free, Draco stretched, the material gaping apart to reveal the smooth, pale flash of his torso. In the candlelight, Harry could make out the dark pink puckered nipples, the lightly muscled abdomen and the dark, dark hole of Draco’s navel.
Almost hypnotised by the sight, Harry felt his cock twitch and he was torn between wanting to reach out a hand to touch Draco and wanting to touch himself. But he knew if his hand were to close around his cock now, he would probably come straight away. Instead he parted his legs slightly and gripped his own knees
The shirt slithered from his shoulders and Draco shock his head, his hair setting obediently about his face and neck. Then he turned around, facing away from Harry, and pushed his trousers down over his hips. Hands swept them from his arse, freeing himself from the confines of this final garment, and he bent forward, straight legged, and pushed them down to his ankles. The perfect arse was spread before the birthday boy and Harry wanted nothing more than to reach forward and bury himself inside it. He closed his eyes and swallowed.
When he opened them again, Draco was naked on the floor, down on his hands and knees, and the only sound in the room seemed to be thundering beat of Harry’s heart. He followed Draco’s lithe cat-like crawl across the floor as candlelight gleamed across the now bare flesh, picking out the contours of his body, the curve of his arse, the hollow of his back, a shoulder blade, the bend in his wrist as long fingers were placed carefully on Harry’s bare knees.
Harry would have whimpered if his mouth hadn’t been so dry. He tried to swallow as Draco knelt before him, the grey eyes almost black. Draco’s thumbs turned lazy circles on the inside bend of Harry’s knees. “I...” The spoken word came out as a squeak and Harry realised he should never have called Draco’s bluff. This was the man who could read his every mood, tap into his emotions and knew how to pleasure him in ways Harry would not have thought possible. And he had Harry exactly where he wanted him right now.
“God I love you.”
The two thumbs continued their slow circles and Draco leaned forward slightly. “Harry, I love you too.” The voice was beyond a whisper, it seemed to rumble through Draco’s hands and into Harry’s flesh.
Draco pushed away.
The loss of contact elicited a sob from Harry who at that precise moment wanted Draco’s cock buried deep inside him. He slid from the sofa and started to move forward.
“No!” The tone in Draco’s voice halted Harry’s movements. “This is what you wanted. So be a good boy and wait.” He watched Harry through hooded eyes as he sat almost motionless on the floor. Then, in a single fluid movement, he moved back until his body was framed by the gold of his cloak. There he knelt back on his heels and once again met Harry’s eyes.
Slowly he reached for his own knees and spread them wide apart. Fingers lingered for a moment in the same place they had held Harry a few moments before, and then they carefully traced a line up the inside of each thigh. The hands paused briefly at the junction of leg and torso, fingers tracing the fold down into his groin. Back and forth. Never quite reaching his already hard cock. He allowed his fingers to linger around the base, toying briefly with his testicles, and his eyes close briefly, fighting for control as the fluttering sensation built in the pit of his stomach. He responded by allowing himself a single stroke of his hand up the hard shaft. His thumb ran over the straining head, coming away sticky with his fluids. He held the thumb out towards Harry who moved forward eagerly, taking it into his own mouth and licking it clean.
Pulling his thumb free, Draco returned to pleasuring himself, letting his fingers trail up his body. He paused briefly around his navel, circling and touching the sensitive area. He watched Harry’s expression as he pushed his thumb, still wet with Harry saliva, into the dark hollow of his navel, before continuing the journey up his body. The path of his hands left fire across already hot skin, across his sides, over his stomach, in a line stretching from navel to throat.
With an audible groan, Draco touched his own face, fingers trailing out into the soft silk of his hair and he let his head fall back slightly, arching his spine as the fingers returned to the curve of his neck. Then, deliberately he looked back at Harry and smiled coyly.
He held the green gaze as very slowly he placed the index finger of his right hand into his mouth. His lips closed around it and he let his eyelids flutter closed. Drawing the finger out, he replaced it with his left index finger, a moan of pleasure rumbling deep in his throat.
As he withdrew the finger, he saw that Harry was touching his own lips with a hand, crewing at a fingernail.
Draco exhaled loudly as he touched himself again, fingertips trailing over his collarbones and down the line of his breastbone. He stopped as his hands reached his nipples and feinted a look of surprise at finding them there.
“Oh!” he breathed softly and let the wet index fingers turn languid movements over the sensitive surface of each nipple. They hardened beneath his touch, hard pebbles of engorged flesh that sent sparks of pleasure through his already sensitised body. He felt the heat building in his groin again, and he deftly gave each nipple a quick pinch.
He felt so close... so very close...
Almost forgetting he had an audience, Draco’s hands teased over the taught muscles of his abdomen and came to rest at the top of his legs. There he paused, aware of the amazing feeling growing deep within his belly, a tension that was building, and building. So close he might come without even touching himself.
“Fuck....” The curse sounded like a prayer as he closed his fingers around his cock. It felt slick with his own fluids and his hand moved easily over the warm skin. Slowly stroking from base to head and back again. His fingers moved easily over the hard shaft and his other hand reached again for his testicles. It felt good to hold himself, to feel his erection throbbing in his hand as he squeezed, fingers moving over the familiar warm flesh.
He cursed again, the word becoming a sob of pain and pleasure rolled into one as his hand moved, drawing the sensitive foreskin back and forth. His thumb rubbing against the head each time his hand reached the top of its journey.
Then it hit him, the point of no return as all the muscles in his groin seemed to tense up. For a moment he felt an incredible fullness within him. His hand froze as if he could hold himself on that precipice for a lifetime, but the all-consuming fire tipped him over the edge. He stroked again.
Once.... Twice....
For a second Draco remained completely still as his orgasm hit him. It slammed into him with such force that in the intensity of the moment he almost forgot to breathe. His hand continued to move over his erection, pumping it of its fluid as he came hard, the thick liquid coating his hand and belly.
Then slowly, so slowly he almost wasn’t aware of it, he fell back, legs a tumble beneath his heaving body as he finally remembered to breathe, his hand still clutched tightly about his semi-hard penis.
Harry had watched with fascinated wonder from the moment Draco had first spread his knees wide. Almost hyperventilating, he had followed the passage of those hands up the pale form, could almost feel them on his own flesh as they moved tantalizingly slowly first up the thigh and then up the body.
When Draco had given him a taste of himself, Harry thought he was going to come right there and then. He managed to hold himself back as Draco’s thumb had dipped into his navel. He had so wanted to put his own finger in there, wanted to touch that bared throat and put a finger in that wet, wet mouth.
And when Draco had touched his own nipples, Harry had reached for his own cock and had been holding himself when Draco had finally touched his own erection. He was still holding himself now as Draco lay before him, spread across the gold of his cloak, legs now stretched towards Harry, chest heaving in great lungfuls of air as, in the afterglow of his orgasm, he tried to breathe. Harry could see the heart beating in Draco’s chest, the skin rising in a rhythmic beat that countered the ragged breathing. He could see Draco’s mouth, open in unspoken pleasure. Could see the soft lashes of his closed eyes spread on his flushed face.
Harry knew what it felt like to do that. But to watch Draco perform such an intimate act. To witness this afterglow. He had never seen anything so perfect, so breathtakingly beautiful. And all he knew was that he wanted to possess that body, to fall into it and live in this moment for the rest of his life.
Draco tried hard to still his fast beating heart. God, his chest hurt. He felt almost winded from the intensity of the act. As he lay against the cool silk of his cloak, he was so very aware of everything. It felt like all his nerve endings were exposed to the air. His skin tingled as the heat left his body and he basked in a strange stillness. A part of him craved sleep, wanted to curl up here on the floor and sleep. But the rest was aware of the rustle of fabric a few feet from him.
He lay motionless, keeping his eyes closed, and waited.
It was the heat of another body he felt first, and then the fluid sensation of soft fabric rippling up his legs. He didn’t move as a hand brushed against his side, and a knee passed over him. As the spectre that was Harry moved closer, the candlelight no longer found its way through his closed eyelids. Instead there was just darkness and the feel of fabric rising further and further up his body.
Draco felt the fingers touch his hair, pushing it back from his moist temples. Was aware of the pressure of a thumb slowly running across his closed eyelid. Breath hitched in his throat as the cloak dipped around him. Close... Oh so close...
“Draco.”
The voice was so quiet Draco wasn’t sure if he heard it. Eyelids finally open and he found himself in a world surrounded by Harry’s hair. Light flickered through the black strands and he looked up into the face inches above his own.
And into the vivid green eyes unshielded before him. Intense green openness. “Harry...”
Somewhere he was aware of pressure on his thighs, pushing them apart, and fingers slick with his own fluids pressing into him, filling him. He lifted his knees, spreading himself open before his lover. No worries, no fears, just a trust which had kept them alive through the worst of Voldemort’s excesses and the constant fear that one day Harry might not come home to him.
As Harry removed his fingers, Draco reached for him, pulling Harry close as his cock entered him, pleasure and pain mingling in that first thrust as Harry pushed against the tightness of the body beneath him. Once past that initial resistance, Harry pushed deeper, until he was completely sheathed inside of Draco.
They groaned together, Harry from the tightness holding him and Draco from the sensation of complete fullness. Harry didn’t move for a moment and the two lay very still, holding each other deeply in a shared embrace.
“What if we can’t beat him, Draco? What if we can never be free of him?” Harry ran a hand over his beloved’s face, wanting to remember every inch of it. He pulled almost completely out before thrusting with slow care back in again, the tightness almost overwhelming.
“Don’t talk about that, sweet. Just make love to me now.” Draco bore down, his muscles tightening further around Harry as he began to thrust deeper and deeper. He knew Harry wouldn’t last long, and when he came, Draco held him as tightly as possible, wanting to keep Harry inside of him.
He knew that shadows and clouds were advancing, cutting everyone off from the light. Could he keep Harry safe until he had to face Voldemort that one final time? Did he have the strength to let Harry make that journey from which he might not come home?
“It’s not July any more.” Harry gathered the body beneath him in to his arms, holding him tightly, scared of what lay ahead. “It’s August already and time’s running out.”
“I know.”
“And my scar hurts.”
They lay quietly, neither willing to be the first to move, wrapped in their cloaks. Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Red and gold. Green and silver. Mingled together as it wrapped about them, holding them tightly.
The candles flickered, each slowly burning out as dawn lightened the darkness of night.
In the western sky, dark clouds marred the sunrise.
**************************
So lately, been wondering
Who will be there to take my place
When I'm gone you'll need love to light the shadows on your face
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all
Then between the sand and stone, could you make it on your own
The Calling -- Wherever You Will Go
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