"Nothing Scarlet or Grey" for Aigua Nightshade (1 of 2)
Title: Nothing Scarlet or Grey
Gift for: #073 Aigua Nightshade
From: #42 Eris Moriendi
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Very dark themes and graphic (fully consensual) sex.
Word Count: ~13,800
Summary: Harry clings to what he can.
Note: For the very lovely and talented Aigua Nightshade for Reversathon 2007. Many thanks to R. for the beta!
Nothing Scarlet or Grey
The message hadn't been expected, although in a half-conscious and shy sort of way it'd been hoped for from the moment the sun had set in the sky. Harry smiled as he rolled it into a ball and threw it up into the air.
"Incendio!"
With a shower of golden sparks, the paper took the shape of a brightly burning phoenix. It circled the room waiting for him, continuing to blaze long after an ordinary sheet of paper would've turned to ash and drifted to the earth.
Harry threw on his Invisibility cloak and ducked into the tent he was sharing with Ron, who was already fast asleep for the evening. Harry knew he'd taken a potion to make it so and was grateful for it. If everything went as planned, the war would end tomorrow; they all needed their rest.
Which didn't explain why Harry, who had waited his whole life for the next morning's fight, quickly grabbed his broom and hurried out of the tent to where the bright paper guide waited. It spiraled upward from the earth and he took to the sky, following its whimsical path of loops and dives for the sheer joy of it, even though he already knew his destination.
It didn't take long to reach what appeared to be a Muggle junkyard. An artificial stench rose from the ground to reach him. Aluminum cans and bottles, old bikes and cars, and other strange things of the sort that would have had Arthur Weasley practically jumping from his broom in excitement to see it filled a perfect, fenced-in rectangle of earth.
He landed carefully, a few feet in front a small, run down structure built to imitate an outhouse in an old Muggle western. There was even a crescent moon carved in the door. Harry had designed it himself and was particularly proud of it.
Carefully making sure any signs or hints of anticipation or a happiness that would have been out of place had been removed from his face, Harry pushed open the door and walked in.
The place was much larger on the inside. A comfortable, cushy sofa similar to the ones in the Gryffindor common room was set before a large fireplace that smelled sweetly of burning cedar and pine. Gladly, the burning phoenix dove into the fire.
"Took you long enough," Malfoy said from his comfortable spot on the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry was not surprised to find him there; the building was enchanted to admit only the two of them; Harry had designed that charm as well.
"It's a beautiful night for flying," Harry answered. He crossed the room to sit next to Malfoy, who refused to move over to make room. Not that Harry minded the proximity.
"Is it," Malfoy said evenly. "I'd think you would have something better to do tonight. Like go over the plans, make sure everything is safe." It was said with a sneer, but beneath lurked a hint of the uncertainty that was often in Malfoy's expressions, now that Harry knew him well enough to look for it.
"Everything's fine. We've been going over this for weeks now. There isn't any point in dwelling on it, is there?" It came out more sharply than he'd meant, but damned if Malfoy hadn't started a fluttering in Harry's stomach. Nerves, he thought, Malfoy's insecurities are contagious, but he knew there was more to it than that.
Malfoy scowled. "That's so like you! Just assume everything is going to work out fine-"
"Just stop it. You are the one who called me, remember?" There never could be peace, not even when so much was on the line. Harry wondered why he bothered.
Because he compliments you, a small, quiet voice inside himself commented, because you don't hate him at all, not anymore. Harry ignored it.
"Have you at least figured out who the spy is yet?" Malfoy demanded. "Or is that not worth dwelling on either?"
"Whoever it is, they're not after your precious neck, are they? So what do you care?"
"Well forgive me for not wanting anything to happen to you!" Malfoy shouted, and then closed his mouth with an audible snap, scowling.
A few very uncomfortable moments followed the admission.
"You can't lie," Harry reminded him eventually.
As though either of them could ever forget it. Malfoy had been so determined to prove his loyalty to the Order that he'd somehow convinced Remus to help him make an Unbreakable Vow to Harry that he would never knowingly tell a lie to him.
Unfortunately (or so Harry had thought at the time), that had meant he was the obvious choice to receive Malfoy's reports.
Malfoy glared at him.
"For what it's worth, I don't want anything to happen to you, either," Harry said, looking at the fire, not wanting to see Malfoy's reaction and hoping he stayed silent for once.
Because while Ron or Hermione might lie to him, if they thought it was in Harry's best interest, Malfoy couldn't, not for anything.
Not that he had ever been exactly forthcoming, or that he hadn't tried to play word games and mislead without openly lying - but never once had he done it when it really mattered. And if Malfoy said a thing directly, well. That guarantee was an addictive luxury for someone in Harry's position, which was no doubt what Malfoy had intended in making his Vow.
"There's a spy," Malfoy changed the subject.
"We've established that." Harry said, relief putting a bite into his tone that made him wince.
"It's someone close to you," Malfoy said, looking at his hands. "Very close. The Dark Lord has them under Imperius."
That last bit about Imperius was new information, if not unexpected. "Have you been able to find out who?"
Malfoy shook his head. "No. Not for certain, although I have reason to think it might be Weasley-"
It was far from the first time that Malfoy had pointed the finger at Ron. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Not Ron again. What is your problem with him? He is not weak or stupid, and he is not under Imperius!"
Harry worked with his friends every day and was as absolutely certain that Ron and Hermione weren't under any malicious spells as he was about himself. He was so completely sure that he had chosen Ron to be the one guarding Malfoy's back the next day.
The spell Malfoy would cast was critical; by creating a conduit of his energy through Malfoy's Dark Mark, Harry would be able to Apparate undetected right to Voldemort himself. An incredible advantage, but one that came at a price - it had to be cast in relatively close proximity to Voldemort and while casting Malfoy would be completely vulnerable. Hermione was needed at Order Headquarters to make sure no one did anything stupid, and Ron was the only other person Harry trusted to watch Malfoy's back.
And while Harry could appreciate both Malfoy's and Ron's discomfort with the situation, he didn't care. It was more important that they both be kept somewhat safe, both for the war effort and for Harry personally.
"If you say so," Malfoy said, oddly subdued.
"I do," Harry said, suddenly tired. He stood up to leave. "I guess we all have a lot to do before tomorrow. 'Night, Malfoy."
"I want to kiss you," Malfoy said before Harry had taken more than two steps to the door.
Behind him, Harry heard a log crack loudly in the fire. He turned in time to see a bright spark drift out and wink out into the darkness.
"Me? Why?" It wasn't particularly coherent, but enough had happened in Harry's life for him to mistrust having what he'd wanted so badly gifted him so easily.
"Because you are going to win tomorrow," Malfoy answered slowly, as though speaking to a particularly dull shop boy, but his uncertainty was transparent. "And if I don't say something now, I might not get another chance. And," he added as though in afterthought, "Because you need me too much to hex me right now."
"I don't want to hex you," Harry said. He was at a bit of a loss. Every time he'd imagined this moment - and there had been many - he was sweeping Malfoy up in a moment of passion. Much like he had with Ginny, only without the chest monsters. His fantasies certainly did not include the awkwardness he felt or the strange twisting in his stomach.
He crossed the room, hoping he didn't trip over his feet before he reached Malfoy. Fortunately for Harry's pride, he made it uneventfully. Malfoy did not move away, did not even look away, as Harry, praying his hands wouldn't shake, slowly cupped Malfoy's face.
He waited for a moment in case Malfoy had planned to laugh at him, but instead of mocking Malfoy seemed to melt into the touch, grey eyes closing. Harry kept his own eyes open for only a few more moments, long enough to lean over and kiss Malfoy, lightly, pressing their lips together, allowing the kisses to grow longer, more passionate.
There was nothing like a struggle about the way Malfoy accepted him, leaned in eagerly and responded to every move that Harry made. Harry quickly forgot himself, forgot awkwardness or his need to prove himself, forgot everything but the boy he was kissing and his own need to devour as much of him as he could.
They stood there, wrapped up in each other and there were no thoughts in Harry's mind except this taste here, sweet salt just beneath Malfoy's earlobe, or can I touch him there and daring to reach and to hear Malfoy suck in his breath as his reward, or off and opening Malfoy's black robes to find a shockingly vivid scarlet shirt beneath.
The pure red of the shirt clashed horribly with the red of the fire and the wine red of the sofa and the strawberry red of Malfoy's flushed cheeks. It was an unexpected imperfection that was impossibly arresting and all Harry would see was Malfoy's pale skin and fine bones looking fragile beneath the riotous richness of colour.
Then Malfoy's eyes opened a fraction, slivers of darkened grey, and lips Harry could barely restrain himself from leaning in to kiss again formed words, always the truth.
"Keep going and I will do anything you want."
Malfoy backed up and sat down on the sofa with his legs spread so Harry could see the outline of his cock, hard and straining, trapped in his trousers. He began unbuttoning his shirt and Harry nearly cried out to stop him, say they were going to fast or maybe they shouldn't. But Malfoy's fingers lingered on each button before sliding it open, his gaze cast deliberately down, glancing up from time to time to gauge the effect it was all having on Harry. He never stopped, revealing flushed skin, hard nipples waiting to be bitten, pinched, surrendering to Harry without a fight, without a price negotiated or a battle won.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, certain he wouldn't be understood, his voice came out so low.
Malfoy smiled, his wickedness a slow burn that Harry felt right in his cock. "Trying to seduce you. Is it working?"
The last button came open, and Malfoy let his hands drop to either side of him. He looked up again, holding Harry's gaze as Harry moved forward, back to the couch and knelt on the floor in front of him. Malfoy waited, his breath loud in Harry's ears, still watching Harry's every move and when Harry rested his hands on Malfoy's stomach, fingers spread as though to feel every single inch of skin all at once, he gasped and his arms flew around Harry's shoulders, pulling him closer.
Harry slid forward, not allowing himself to be pulled up, not yet, instead working on the button of Malfoy's trousers. His mouth was already watering at the thought of what he was going to do, and he began to move more quickly, opening and pulling down Malfoy's trousers and pants. The moment Malfoy's cock sprang free, he leaned in, nuzzling it, savoring the heavy smell and running his tongue along it, stealing a little taste before he grabbed it and swallowed it as far as he could.
He started to move, attacking Malfoy's cock, sucking him down and releasing him over and over. Malfoy whimpered and whined softly the entire time, and eventually Harry felt the first light touches of Malfoy's fingers in his hair, not pressing but touching. He looked up, but Malfoy's eyes were closed, his face screwed up in pleasure.
It was enough to make Harry let go; he didn't want it to end yet.
Malfoy laughed a little, and to Harry's ears it sounded thick with frustration. "Harry, please. Fuck, please."
"You said anything," Harry said, kissing up Malfoy's stomach and then his chest, pausing to nibble on one nipple. "You said you were seducing me."
"Yes." The syllable quickly turned into a hiss when Harry bit down. "I've wanted this for so long, you have no idea."
"God, I want - I'm going to fuck you." Harry felt Malfoy shiver when he said it, felt the hard press of Malfoy's cock against his stomach.
"Yes. I want that, yes," Malfoy said as though Christmas had come early, reaching down to remove Harry's robes at last. Having his robes off did help to relieve the overwhelming heat a little, and still more so when Malfoy pulled Harry's t-shirt over his head, leaving Harry to tend to his own trousers while he pushed his own completely off his legs onto the floor.
Facing a naked Malfoy, naked himself, it finally occurred to Harry that there wasn't any lube in their small meeting place. But Malfoy had come prepared; he got up from the couch and walked over to where his robe was in a puddle on the floor. A few moments of groping and he held up a small jar.
Instead of handing it over, Malfoy walked with it back to the couch, this time walking to one end, to one of its large and padded arms. He took one look over his shoulder at Harry, grinned his most evil grin, and spread his legs a little before slowly bending over. Deliberately he unscrewed the lid, covered his fingers, and reached around behind himself to sink two into his arse.
Harry watched, cock throbbing, while Draco got himself ready to be fucked by him, obviously enjoying every second of it, the little exhibitionist. He made a noise that was nearly a growl. It should have been embarrassing, but he didn't care. He walked over, holding out his cock, next to the jar Malfoy still held. He grabbed Malfoy's hair, not hard but firmly, turning his head so that he could see how hard he was.
"Put it on me now."
Malfoy swallowed, his lips inches from Harry's cock, and brought his hand back around, his fingers already shining with lube, but instead of sliding it on he gripped Harry's shaft and sucked the head of Harry's cock into his mouth.
"Fuck!" Harry gasped, as every drop of blood in his body seemed to race to his already oversensitized cock. He couldn't quite remember how to tell Malfoy to stop, so instead he smacked him on the arse, hard.
Malfoy whimpered around him, and Harry gasped and then swatted him again, knowing that if Malfoy didn't stop it this time he'd lose it. Fortunately, Malfoy let Harry's cock slip from his mouth, his eyes glazed.
"Lube, now," Harry said, rubbing Malfoy's back encouragingly.
This time Malfoy did not play any tricks. He dipped his fingers into the jar, slathering the warm, slippery herbal stuff around Harry's cock.
Harry walked around Malfoy slowly, appreciating his lean body folded over the arm of the sofa from the side and then from behind. He grasped Malfoy gently around the waist and pulled him back a little, bringing their bodies together so that there was enough space between Malfoy and the sofa to reach around and wank Malfoy while he was fucking him.
Only then, when they were nestled together, Harry's chest leaning over Malfoy's back, did he slowly start to push his cock into Malfoy's relaxed and willing body. Malfoy began to tremble but not out of nerves or pain. Harry was hyper-aware of every line of tension and relaxation in Draco's body beneath him, the way he pushed back or away. He rested his cheek on Draco's back as he pushed the rest of the way in, and he could hear Draco's heart beating loudly while he did it.
Harry moved slowly at first, stroking Draco's cock and pulling in and out deliberately, savoring every second of the contact.
Neither of them spoke or made a sound beyond their breathing. Harry was far too focused on simply feeling, but the more he had, the more he wanted. He began to speed up, the rhythm of his hand on Draco's cock beginning to falter as his own need rushed through him.
Still, he felt Draco responding - the harder Harry fucked him the hotter Draco's back got and the faster his breath came until he was whimpering again and trying his best to push back against Harry harder still. So Harry let go of Draco's cock, grasping him by his hips and thrusting into him as hard as he could. He looked down just in time to see Draco's hand working his own cock, and hear him moan loudly, wordlessly, and come in spurts all over the couch.
It didn't take long after that, knowing Draco had come, continuing the punishing pace of his thrusts into Draco's hot tight arse. He leaned over and kissed as far down Draco's spine as he could, his heart in perfect synch with his body and it was so brilliant, so perfect, that he finally came apart, coming deep inside Draco, not aware of anything until he realized he was still rocking into him.
Carefully, he pulled out, and helped Draco to lay beside him on the sofa. "I don't dare fall asleep here," Harry said after a few moments, when they'd caught their breath. He kissed Draco lightly on his cheek. "Not tonight, anyway."
"Why, is there somewhere you have to be tomorrow?" Malfoy looked up and and grinned.
"I wish I didn't." Cold reality was intruding on the warmth of the room. Harry might well not survive the upcoming battle. There were no guarantees.
"I wish you didn't, too. But look at the bright side - you'll have a whole life ahead of you to spend with me when you're finished. You're a very lucky man."
An embarrassing lump formed in Harry's throat, and he couldn't say anything for a moment.
"If you want to, of course," Draco added when the silence dragged on, looking away. "There's no accounting for personal taste, especially yours."
Harry found his voice quickly. "No!" he shouted, a bit too loudly. He paused, stroking Draco's face while he tried to find the right words. "No. I mean I want to, more than anything. Sirius left me his house and I think now he'd want us to live there. If you want to."
Draco's smile outshone the fire.
Continued in Part 2.
Gift for: #073 Aigua Nightshade
From: #42 Eris Moriendi
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Very dark themes and graphic (fully consensual) sex.
Word Count: ~13,800
Summary: Harry clings to what he can.
Note: For the very lovely and talented Aigua Nightshade for Reversathon 2007. Many thanks to R. for the beta!
Nothing Scarlet or Grey
The message hadn't been expected, although in a half-conscious and shy sort of way it'd been hoped for from the moment the sun had set in the sky. Harry smiled as he rolled it into a ball and threw it up into the air.
"Incendio!"
With a shower of golden sparks, the paper took the shape of a brightly burning phoenix. It circled the room waiting for him, continuing to blaze long after an ordinary sheet of paper would've turned to ash and drifted to the earth.
Harry threw on his Invisibility cloak and ducked into the tent he was sharing with Ron, who was already fast asleep for the evening. Harry knew he'd taken a potion to make it so and was grateful for it. If everything went as planned, the war would end tomorrow; they all needed their rest.
Which didn't explain why Harry, who had waited his whole life for the next morning's fight, quickly grabbed his broom and hurried out of the tent to where the bright paper guide waited. It spiraled upward from the earth and he took to the sky, following its whimsical path of loops and dives for the sheer joy of it, even though he already knew his destination.
It didn't take long to reach what appeared to be a Muggle junkyard. An artificial stench rose from the ground to reach him. Aluminum cans and bottles, old bikes and cars, and other strange things of the sort that would have had Arthur Weasley practically jumping from his broom in excitement to see it filled a perfect, fenced-in rectangle of earth.
He landed carefully, a few feet in front a small, run down structure built to imitate an outhouse in an old Muggle western. There was even a crescent moon carved in the door. Harry had designed it himself and was particularly proud of it.
Carefully making sure any signs or hints of anticipation or a happiness that would have been out of place had been removed from his face, Harry pushed open the door and walked in.
The place was much larger on the inside. A comfortable, cushy sofa similar to the ones in the Gryffindor common room was set before a large fireplace that smelled sweetly of burning cedar and pine. Gladly, the burning phoenix dove into the fire.
"Took you long enough," Malfoy said from his comfortable spot on the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry was not surprised to find him there; the building was enchanted to admit only the two of them; Harry had designed that charm as well.
"It's a beautiful night for flying," Harry answered. He crossed the room to sit next to Malfoy, who refused to move over to make room. Not that Harry minded the proximity.
"Is it," Malfoy said evenly. "I'd think you would have something better to do tonight. Like go over the plans, make sure everything is safe." It was said with a sneer, but beneath lurked a hint of the uncertainty that was often in Malfoy's expressions, now that Harry knew him well enough to look for it.
"Everything's fine. We've been going over this for weeks now. There isn't any point in dwelling on it, is there?" It came out more sharply than he'd meant, but damned if Malfoy hadn't started a fluttering in Harry's stomach. Nerves, he thought, Malfoy's insecurities are contagious, but he knew there was more to it than that.
Malfoy scowled. "That's so like you! Just assume everything is going to work out fine-"
"Just stop it. You are the one who called me, remember?" There never could be peace, not even when so much was on the line. Harry wondered why he bothered.
Because he compliments you, a small, quiet voice inside himself commented, because you don't hate him at all, not anymore. Harry ignored it.
"Have you at least figured out who the spy is yet?" Malfoy demanded. "Or is that not worth dwelling on either?"
"Whoever it is, they're not after your precious neck, are they? So what do you care?"
"Well forgive me for not wanting anything to happen to you!" Malfoy shouted, and then closed his mouth with an audible snap, scowling.
A few very uncomfortable moments followed the admission.
"You can't lie," Harry reminded him eventually.
As though either of them could ever forget it. Malfoy had been so determined to prove his loyalty to the Order that he'd somehow convinced Remus to help him make an Unbreakable Vow to Harry that he would never knowingly tell a lie to him.
Unfortunately (or so Harry had thought at the time), that had meant he was the obvious choice to receive Malfoy's reports.
Malfoy glared at him.
"For what it's worth, I don't want anything to happen to you, either," Harry said, looking at the fire, not wanting to see Malfoy's reaction and hoping he stayed silent for once.
Because while Ron or Hermione might lie to him, if they thought it was in Harry's best interest, Malfoy couldn't, not for anything.
Not that he had ever been exactly forthcoming, or that he hadn't tried to play word games and mislead without openly lying - but never once had he done it when it really mattered. And if Malfoy said a thing directly, well. That guarantee was an addictive luxury for someone in Harry's position, which was no doubt what Malfoy had intended in making his Vow.
"There's a spy," Malfoy changed the subject.
"We've established that." Harry said, relief putting a bite into his tone that made him wince.
"It's someone close to you," Malfoy said, looking at his hands. "Very close. The Dark Lord has them under Imperius."
That last bit about Imperius was new information, if not unexpected. "Have you been able to find out who?"
Malfoy shook his head. "No. Not for certain, although I have reason to think it might be Weasley-"
It was far from the first time that Malfoy had pointed the finger at Ron. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Not Ron again. What is your problem with him? He is not weak or stupid, and he is not under Imperius!"
Harry worked with his friends every day and was as absolutely certain that Ron and Hermione weren't under any malicious spells as he was about himself. He was so completely sure that he had chosen Ron to be the one guarding Malfoy's back the next day.
The spell Malfoy would cast was critical; by creating a conduit of his energy through Malfoy's Dark Mark, Harry would be able to Apparate undetected right to Voldemort himself. An incredible advantage, but one that came at a price - it had to be cast in relatively close proximity to Voldemort and while casting Malfoy would be completely vulnerable. Hermione was needed at Order Headquarters to make sure no one did anything stupid, and Ron was the only other person Harry trusted to watch Malfoy's back.
And while Harry could appreciate both Malfoy's and Ron's discomfort with the situation, he didn't care. It was more important that they both be kept somewhat safe, both for the war effort and for Harry personally.
"If you say so," Malfoy said, oddly subdued.
"I do," Harry said, suddenly tired. He stood up to leave. "I guess we all have a lot to do before tomorrow. 'Night, Malfoy."
"I want to kiss you," Malfoy said before Harry had taken more than two steps to the door.
Behind him, Harry heard a log crack loudly in the fire. He turned in time to see a bright spark drift out and wink out into the darkness.
"Me? Why?" It wasn't particularly coherent, but enough had happened in Harry's life for him to mistrust having what he'd wanted so badly gifted him so easily.
"Because you are going to win tomorrow," Malfoy answered slowly, as though speaking to a particularly dull shop boy, but his uncertainty was transparent. "And if I don't say something now, I might not get another chance. And," he added as though in afterthought, "Because you need me too much to hex me right now."
"I don't want to hex you," Harry said. He was at a bit of a loss. Every time he'd imagined this moment - and there had been many - he was sweeping Malfoy up in a moment of passion. Much like he had with Ginny, only without the chest monsters. His fantasies certainly did not include the awkwardness he felt or the strange twisting in his stomach.
He crossed the room, hoping he didn't trip over his feet before he reached Malfoy. Fortunately for Harry's pride, he made it uneventfully. Malfoy did not move away, did not even look away, as Harry, praying his hands wouldn't shake, slowly cupped Malfoy's face.
He waited for a moment in case Malfoy had planned to laugh at him, but instead of mocking Malfoy seemed to melt into the touch, grey eyes closing. Harry kept his own eyes open for only a few more moments, long enough to lean over and kiss Malfoy, lightly, pressing their lips together, allowing the kisses to grow longer, more passionate.
There was nothing like a struggle about the way Malfoy accepted him, leaned in eagerly and responded to every move that Harry made. Harry quickly forgot himself, forgot awkwardness or his need to prove himself, forgot everything but the boy he was kissing and his own need to devour as much of him as he could.
They stood there, wrapped up in each other and there were no thoughts in Harry's mind except this taste here, sweet salt just beneath Malfoy's earlobe, or can I touch him there and daring to reach and to hear Malfoy suck in his breath as his reward, or off and opening Malfoy's black robes to find a shockingly vivid scarlet shirt beneath.
The pure red of the shirt clashed horribly with the red of the fire and the wine red of the sofa and the strawberry red of Malfoy's flushed cheeks. It was an unexpected imperfection that was impossibly arresting and all Harry would see was Malfoy's pale skin and fine bones looking fragile beneath the riotous richness of colour.
Then Malfoy's eyes opened a fraction, slivers of darkened grey, and lips Harry could barely restrain himself from leaning in to kiss again formed words, always the truth.
"Keep going and I will do anything you want."
Malfoy backed up and sat down on the sofa with his legs spread so Harry could see the outline of his cock, hard and straining, trapped in his trousers. He began unbuttoning his shirt and Harry nearly cried out to stop him, say they were going to fast or maybe they shouldn't. But Malfoy's fingers lingered on each button before sliding it open, his gaze cast deliberately down, glancing up from time to time to gauge the effect it was all having on Harry. He never stopped, revealing flushed skin, hard nipples waiting to be bitten, pinched, surrendering to Harry without a fight, without a price negotiated or a battle won.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, certain he wouldn't be understood, his voice came out so low.
Malfoy smiled, his wickedness a slow burn that Harry felt right in his cock. "Trying to seduce you. Is it working?"
The last button came open, and Malfoy let his hands drop to either side of him. He looked up again, holding Harry's gaze as Harry moved forward, back to the couch and knelt on the floor in front of him. Malfoy waited, his breath loud in Harry's ears, still watching Harry's every move and when Harry rested his hands on Malfoy's stomach, fingers spread as though to feel every single inch of skin all at once, he gasped and his arms flew around Harry's shoulders, pulling him closer.
Harry slid forward, not allowing himself to be pulled up, not yet, instead working on the button of Malfoy's trousers. His mouth was already watering at the thought of what he was going to do, and he began to move more quickly, opening and pulling down Malfoy's trousers and pants. The moment Malfoy's cock sprang free, he leaned in, nuzzling it, savoring the heavy smell and running his tongue along it, stealing a little taste before he grabbed it and swallowed it as far as he could.
He started to move, attacking Malfoy's cock, sucking him down and releasing him over and over. Malfoy whimpered and whined softly the entire time, and eventually Harry felt the first light touches of Malfoy's fingers in his hair, not pressing but touching. He looked up, but Malfoy's eyes were closed, his face screwed up in pleasure.
It was enough to make Harry let go; he didn't want it to end yet.
Malfoy laughed a little, and to Harry's ears it sounded thick with frustration. "Harry, please. Fuck, please."
"You said anything," Harry said, kissing up Malfoy's stomach and then his chest, pausing to nibble on one nipple. "You said you were seducing me."
"Yes." The syllable quickly turned into a hiss when Harry bit down. "I've wanted this for so long, you have no idea."
"God, I want - I'm going to fuck you." Harry felt Malfoy shiver when he said it, felt the hard press of Malfoy's cock against his stomach.
"Yes. I want that, yes," Malfoy said as though Christmas had come early, reaching down to remove Harry's robes at last. Having his robes off did help to relieve the overwhelming heat a little, and still more so when Malfoy pulled Harry's t-shirt over his head, leaving Harry to tend to his own trousers while he pushed his own completely off his legs onto the floor.
Facing a naked Malfoy, naked himself, it finally occurred to Harry that there wasn't any lube in their small meeting place. But Malfoy had come prepared; he got up from the couch and walked over to where his robe was in a puddle on the floor. A few moments of groping and he held up a small jar.
Instead of handing it over, Malfoy walked with it back to the couch, this time walking to one end, to one of its large and padded arms. He took one look over his shoulder at Harry, grinned his most evil grin, and spread his legs a little before slowly bending over. Deliberately he unscrewed the lid, covered his fingers, and reached around behind himself to sink two into his arse.
Harry watched, cock throbbing, while Draco got himself ready to be fucked by him, obviously enjoying every second of it, the little exhibitionist. He made a noise that was nearly a growl. It should have been embarrassing, but he didn't care. He walked over, holding out his cock, next to the jar Malfoy still held. He grabbed Malfoy's hair, not hard but firmly, turning his head so that he could see how hard he was.
"Put it on me now."
Malfoy swallowed, his lips inches from Harry's cock, and brought his hand back around, his fingers already shining with lube, but instead of sliding it on he gripped Harry's shaft and sucked the head of Harry's cock into his mouth.
"Fuck!" Harry gasped, as every drop of blood in his body seemed to race to his already oversensitized cock. He couldn't quite remember how to tell Malfoy to stop, so instead he smacked him on the arse, hard.
Malfoy whimpered around him, and Harry gasped and then swatted him again, knowing that if Malfoy didn't stop it this time he'd lose it. Fortunately, Malfoy let Harry's cock slip from his mouth, his eyes glazed.
"Lube, now," Harry said, rubbing Malfoy's back encouragingly.
This time Malfoy did not play any tricks. He dipped his fingers into the jar, slathering the warm, slippery herbal stuff around Harry's cock.
Harry walked around Malfoy slowly, appreciating his lean body folded over the arm of the sofa from the side and then from behind. He grasped Malfoy gently around the waist and pulled him back a little, bringing their bodies together so that there was enough space between Malfoy and the sofa to reach around and wank Malfoy while he was fucking him.
Only then, when they were nestled together, Harry's chest leaning over Malfoy's back, did he slowly start to push his cock into Malfoy's relaxed and willing body. Malfoy began to tremble but not out of nerves or pain. Harry was hyper-aware of every line of tension and relaxation in Draco's body beneath him, the way he pushed back or away. He rested his cheek on Draco's back as he pushed the rest of the way in, and he could hear Draco's heart beating loudly while he did it.
Harry moved slowly at first, stroking Draco's cock and pulling in and out deliberately, savoring every second of the contact.
Neither of them spoke or made a sound beyond their breathing. Harry was far too focused on simply feeling, but the more he had, the more he wanted. He began to speed up, the rhythm of his hand on Draco's cock beginning to falter as his own need rushed through him.
Still, he felt Draco responding - the harder Harry fucked him the hotter Draco's back got and the faster his breath came until he was whimpering again and trying his best to push back against Harry harder still. So Harry let go of Draco's cock, grasping him by his hips and thrusting into him as hard as he could. He looked down just in time to see Draco's hand working his own cock, and hear him moan loudly, wordlessly, and come in spurts all over the couch.
It didn't take long after that, knowing Draco had come, continuing the punishing pace of his thrusts into Draco's hot tight arse. He leaned over and kissed as far down Draco's spine as he could, his heart in perfect synch with his body and it was so brilliant, so perfect, that he finally came apart, coming deep inside Draco, not aware of anything until he realized he was still rocking into him.
Carefully, he pulled out, and helped Draco to lay beside him on the sofa. "I don't dare fall asleep here," Harry said after a few moments, when they'd caught their breath. He kissed Draco lightly on his cheek. "Not tonight, anyway."
"Why, is there somewhere you have to be tomorrow?" Malfoy looked up and and grinned.
"I wish I didn't." Cold reality was intruding on the warmth of the room. Harry might well not survive the upcoming battle. There were no guarantees.
"I wish you didn't, too. But look at the bright side - you'll have a whole life ahead of you to spend with me when you're finished. You're a very lucky man."
An embarrassing lump formed in Harry's throat, and he couldn't say anything for a moment.
"If you want to, of course," Draco added when the silence dragged on, looking away. "There's no accounting for personal taste, especially yours."
Harry found his voice quickly. "No!" he shouted, a bit too loudly. He paused, stroking Draco's face while he tried to find the right words. "No. I mean I want to, more than anything. Sirius left me his house and I think now he'd want us to live there. If you want to."
Draco's smile outshone the fire.
Continued in Part 2.