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Title: Assault, Trespass and Vandalism - PART THREE!
Author: moonflower_rose
Pairing: HP/DM
Genre/Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: The usual...also, don't run with scissors...
Length: 4900(ish) words
Summary: Sequel to the fic Disturbing The Peace - written for my darling silentauror!!!
Disclaimer: Please see my disclaimer here.
Miss PART ONE? Click here. Recap PART TWO? Click here.
Harry must have fallen asleep. It was the only way to explain how he managed to awaken to the sound of Malfoy calling his name.
“Oi, Potter - Pott-ter! Having fun over there?”
Harry blinked, and moved to rub his eyes, belatedly realising that his hand had somehow become located inside his pants. He flushed immediately, and scowled at Malfoy, who was sitting up in bed now, still quite naked, and looking rather attractively rumpled and glassy-eyed. And seemingly, a bit more sober than before, if the improvement in diction was any indication.
“Shut up, Ferret, I was just scratching.”
Malfoy smirked. “Sure you were. And I only had mocktails this evening, and not a vat of whiskey.”
“I was!” Harry hurriedly pulled his hand out of his briefs, and sat on them, drawing his knees together primly. Malfoy laughed, a throaty sound that was aimed directly at Harry’s libido, and tucked a hand behind his head.
“You know what, Potter? There’s no point closing your legs like a virginal little girl, now - I already saw your jewels, up the inside leg of your boxers, and I already know you have a really small dick. Why hide now?”
Gryffindor pride rose in his chest, and his scowl deepened.
“Rubbish - if anything, you saw my thumb, seeing as I was scratching. My jewels are not small, I’ll thank you to know.”
Malfoy laughed again, scratching his stomach absently. “Sure thing, Potter. I’ll believe it when I see it, alright? You’re hung like a runty Red Cap, and that’s that.”
Oh, there was no way Malfoy was going to get away with that sort of talk - he may be gorgeous, but no man was good looking enough to take a crack at Harry Potter’s fishing tackle and get away with it. No man. Harry got up from the chair with a glare and strode determinedly over to Malfoy’s bedside.
And then, while his common sense was being distracted by his ego and pride, he pulled his pants down to his knees, and bared his bits in Malfoy’s face.
“Cop that.”
Malfoy stared at it. He cocked his head, first to the left, then the right, before squinting at it slightly. Harry stood proud. He couldn’t claim his cock was the biggest in Britain - and the story that had run in the Prophet a few years back about the butchers wife who claimed she could tell the size of a wizards wang by calculating the distance between his eyebrows, and who swore on her mothers grave that Harry’s was roughly the length and girth of a large bratwurst, was altogether ridiculous - but he wasn’t small, either. Not in the least. And if Malfoy tried to claim otherwise, when presented with irrefutable visual evidence, well, then he was just a bloody piss-head who wouldn’t know a decent cock if it came up and poked him in the -
Malfoy nodded. “I stand corrected.”
Harry nodded smugly in reply. Runty Red Cap indeed. I showed him. Harry moved to pull his pants back up, realisation dawning slowly that he had just showed his bits to Draco Malfoy - dear Lord! - and a hot flush prickling up the back of his neck.
“Why so hasty, Pott-head? Surely you can do better than that.”
What the bloody hell is that supposed to m-
Malfoy moved before Harry could stop him - not that he was entirely sure he would have, if warned in advance of what was coming. But there was no way of knowing Malfoy was about to do that - grab Harry about the upper thigh, long fingers gripping the flesh and pulling him closer; or what he’d do after that, which was beyond comprehension. Malfoy looked up at him, laying on his side, naked, on his bed; his head propped up on one hand, the other gripping Harry’s arse now. Malfoy smirked, and then his head moved, like a striking snake - how ironic - and filled his mouth with Harry’s cock.
Sweet mother of all things - merciful - holy FUCK!
Harry grew hard, faster than he had in his entire life, his cock becoming stiffer and longer and swollen, all within the glorious confines of Malfoy’s wet and welcoming mouth. He felt the brush of teeth and the slick roughness of Malfoy’s tongue, and then, oh yes, then suction, as Malfoy was forced to pull away a little, no longer able to house the length of Harry entirely in his mouth. He couldn’t help but whimper - Malfoy was sucking his cock. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, was rubbing his tongue along the underside of his hard on, was tightening his lips and hollowing his cheeks, was starting to bob his head to take Harry’s dick deeper, then shallower, then deeper again. “Yeah yesyesyesyesyesyessss…” Was he moaning aloud? Merlin’s saintly white knickers, he was going to come, and Malfoy was going to let him, he was going to come so hard that Malfoy’d be talking with a rasp for the rest of the year.
But then Malfoy pulled away. Malfoy let go of his cock and pulled away. Harry whimpered, and waited, hoping Malfoy was just kidding and was about to get back to it. He didn’t get back to it. Malfoy reclined back on the bed, a lazy grin on his face.
“That’s more like it. I knew you’d be able to do better, Potter, you just needed the right sort of encouragement.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Someone up there wants me to suffer. First Voldemort, then Colin Creevy for six whole years at Hogwarts, Rita Skeeter everywhere - now this. Half a blow job from Draco Malfoy. “Goddamn you, Malfoy,” he managed through gritted teeth, before he reluctantly pulled up his pants, and returned on shaky legs to the recliner in the corner.
It was difficult to sit comfortably, and wrangle his boner at the same time. It was still slick with Malfoy’s spit, and clinging stubbornly to the fabric of his underwear with irritating determination. Bastard. He looked up, and looked away again immediately. Malfoy was still naked, still sexy, and still smirking at him with that red-lipped pout and narrowed eyes. Harry sighed loudly, and adjusted himself again. He should have known this would happen. No good could possibly come of fooling around on the job - if anyone ever found out…well. He’d be fucked, and not the fun kind of fucked. It was grossly unprofessional. Malfoy was clearly drunk and lacking in judgement, and Harry had taken advantage - it was assault. He’d been warning himself and warning himself, but obviously he was daft.
His mental flagellation was interrupted by Malfoy, and his whiny, bratty voice.
“Potter, I have business to attend to in the bathroom. Help me up.”
Harry felt like saying no, and telling him he could yak in his own bed, or pee in it, or whatever, because he bloody well deserved to for being so damn irritating and hot. But he didn’t. Harry silently cursed the Sorting Hat for making him a Gryffindor, sighed again, stood, pointed his erection in a more comfortable direction, and went over to help Malfoy out of his bed.
Why, oh why, does his skin have to be so damn soft?
Harry held Malfoy carefully by the hips - the man could hardly stand, once he’d gotten out of the bed. Improved diction aside, he was still very obviously drunk, and was stumbling like a baby giraffe, or like Ron that time when he’d gotten a dead leg from sitting still too long on a surveillance mission. That had been pretty funny, but this…this wasn’t the least bit funny. And Ron didn’t have as nice an arse as Malfoy had, anyway, and certainly hadn’t taunted him with it like Malfoy currently was, with all that flexing and jiggling, and smooth touchability.
“Damn you Malfoy, and your sweet, sweet arse…” Harry muttered darkly under his breath.
“What’s that, Potter?”
“Nothing,” Harry grumbled, steering Malfoy through the bathroom door and attempting to do it without tripping over. “What do you want, anyway? Loo, or spew?”
Malfoy twisted out of Harry’s grasp with a sly laugh, and Harry’s stomach dropped. He recognised that laugh from Hogwarts days - it was Malfoy’s ‘I’m up to something dastardly’ laugh, and it normally meant nothing good for Harry.
“What do I want, Potter? Well, since you asked, what I want is for you to bend me over and fuck me til I’m sober.”
Harry blinked at Malfoy in shock for a moment, before narrowing his eyes in a scowl.
“Yeah, real funny Malfoy. You’re hilarious.”
Malfoy’s hand was suddenly wrapped around Harry’s wrist, pressing his palm against Malfoy’s crotch, which, to Harry’s giddy surprise, was half hard and growing harder by the second. He looked down - oh. Malfoy’s cock was even prettier and more mouth-watering, now that it was waking up. Harry shivered, and looked back up at Malfoy’s face.
“I’m glad you find me amusing, Potter,” Malfoy smirked, “but it’s not your funny bone I’m interested in, just at the minute.” He stepped closer to Harry, his breath tickling over Harry’s lips, making them twitch suddenly. “I want you to fuck me, right here, and right now. And I want you to do it facing the mirror, so I can watch you watching your own face as you come.”
It seemed to Harry like there must be a layer of something foggy surrounding his brain, making it difficult to understand what Malfoy was saying to him.
“But - but you said you had to go to the loo…”
Malfoy shook his head slightly, his lips almost touching Harry’s mouth. “I said I had business to attend to in the bathroom, Potter. If you assumed a different kind of activity to what I had in mind, well, that’s not my fault. I thought I’d heard you Gryffindor’s were brave? You’re not going to prove otherwise, are you, Potter?”
It felt like his chest was constricting - he could hardly take a breath. Malfoy wanted to shag. Harry wanted to, by God, his dick was attempting to split the seams of his underpants and drag him by sheer force of will on top of and inside of Malfoy. But should he? Should he? He was an Auror - this was his career at stake, for a bit of a poke…what if Malfoy said something tomorrow, complained to the Ministry? What would he do then?
“I - I’m on duty…you’re mingered…I shouldn’t…”
Malfoy pushed Harry’s hand harder against his cock.
“You hardly seem brave at all. Don’t you think it’s a little late to protest, Potter? Shouldn’t you have given consideration to all that rubbish before you decided to indecently expose yourself in my bedroom, earlier?” Malfoy licked his lips with sly calculation, and moved his hand, closing Harry’s fingers tight around Malfoy’s erection, and sliding. Harry gasped. Malfoy’s cock felt good in his hand, brilliant. “What would your saintly Auror’s say, if they knew you’d done that? Flashed me, like some kind of perve.” Malfoy’s cock shifted, hard and hot under his hand, and his fingers closed tighter reflexively. “You’ve gone too far now to stop…” Malfoy’s tongue flicked out and licked the corner of Harry’s mouth, “Just finish what you started…” His voice was barely audible now, just a breath of air over Harry’s lips. “You’ve crossed the line, and it can’t get any worse…why not enjoy it to the fullest?”
Harry’s willpower caved entirely.
“Okay,” he managed hoarsely, and crashed his mouth against Malfoy’s.
Malfoy made a noise, halfway between triumphant gloating and a moan, and pushed back against Harry. He latched onto Harry’s bottom lip and sucked hard, sliding his tongue into Harry’s mouth when he gave the expected gasp. Harry shivered hard at the first touch of Malfoy’s tongue against his, and wondered vaguely whether one could get drunk via another person’s alcohol-rich saliva…it didn’t matter. Malfoy tasted like expensive scotch, and Harry’s impending unemployment, and his hand was urging Harry’s to pull on his cock. Sex with Malfoy, yes, yes, he was going to get to do it. He kissed Malfoy frantically. He was the luckiest man in Britain.
Malfoy was walking them backwards to the vanity, navigating unsteadily around wet towels which littered the bathroom floor. Harry couldn’t help the slight moan that escaped his throat into Malfoy’s mouth as they bumped into the bench. Malfoy bit at his lips, caught Harry’s tongue in his mouth and sucked on it teasingly - Harry had one hand still clasping Malfoy’s cock, pulling on it, the other hand roaming over a naked thigh, up to cup a bare buttock. Malfoy grasped behind them at a shelf in the wall, grunting again when he reached what he wanted, and Harry’s hand was filled with a hard, rounded jar instead of Malfoy’s rounded arse. He pulled away.
“What’s this?”
Malfoy leaned back against the sink, looking at Harry through hazy, heavy lidded eyes.
“Something you can use to smooth the way, shall we say.” Malfoy turned then, leaning forward on his elbows until his spine arched and his round behind jutted in the direction of Harry’s cock. He flashed a smug smile over one shoulder. “When you’re ready, Potter.”
Harry turned the jar in his hand. Ella Bachè - I knew it! Ponce. The lid unscrewed noiselessly, and Harry dipped his fingers into the creamy lotion. “R-ready,” he breathed, and Malfoy chucked darkly. Harry reached out just one finger, and touched it to Malfoy’s arse - to his pleasure, he noted that the muscles of Malfoy’s back flexed as his fingertip made contact. It was sort of hypnotic, watching the cream gloss the pale skin, then disappear…he moved his fingers closer to the middle of Malfoy’s arse, and felt a surge of excitement again as Malfoy drew a sharp breath as Harry’s fingertip slicked the curving crease. He didn’t know whether Malfoy cared at all that it was him, Harry, who was touching him, or whether any bloke would have done, but it was nice to imagine that Malfoy maybe wanted him as much as Harry wanted Malfoy. Perhaps….perhaps Malfoy saw him that day, too, at the robes shop…maybe Malfoy had a secret crush on Harry, just like Harry had for him, and this was as thrilling to him as it was to Harry. He let out a breath that shuddered slightly, and watched as goosebumps rose on Malfoy’s back where the puff of breath grazed - Harry moved his fingers, pressing between Malfoy’s arse eagerly, but gently, until he felt the skin change from smooth to wrinkled.
“I can’t wait to fuck you…” The words were falling out of his mouth without his consent, and Malfoy shuddered this time too.
“Then don’t wait.” Harry caught Malfoy’s eyes in the mirror before them - they were narrowed and dark, and encouraging. Harry pressed one finger forward, and felt it slide inside of Malfoy without protest.
“Bloody hell - you really want it, don’t you?” Malfoy pushed himself back into Harry’s hand, forcing the finger deeper.
“Are you going to commentate the entire act? Shut up and concentrate, Potty, I’m not interested in anything coming out of your mouth unless it’s ‘oh, yes, right there, oh my God Draco’ or some variation. I’ll let you decide how you want to paraphrase.”
Harry scowled. Twerp. Let’s see if he can paraphrase this! Moving his finger in and out, Harry leaned forward and bit down on Malfoy’s shoulder, sucking hard and raising a vivid love bite within seconds. Malfoy cursed.
“Potter, you fuck, that better not have left a mark!”
Harry slid a second finger inside Malfoy, and smirked with satisfaction when Malfoy stopped swearing, instead moaning and pushing back with feeling. Mister suave won’t be so snappy when I - Harry smirked again as he felt the shudder and gasp ripple through Malfoy’s body in reply to the quirk of his fingers.
“Wow, Malfoy, I think the only thing I might be able to slip into faster than your arse is quicksand, and even then, it’d be a close match.”
“Potter - if you don’t want to fuck, then please, keep talking. However, if you are at all interested in getting a bit tonight, I suggest you shut up, and give me more.”
Harry shut up, drawing his fingers back to slide a third in beside the second. Malfoy groaned, a low noise of appreciation, and Harry whimpered a little too. He really, really wanted to do this, and so did Malfoy, clearly - for whatever reason. It didn’t matter why, not now, while Malfoy was asking for it, three fingers already sliding slick and easy, in and out. Harry really did need to shut up and get on with it, give Malfoy more of what apparently made him deliriously happy. He could worry about ethics, and who wanted it more, and why Malfoy wanted it at all, and whether Harry was just being used because of convenience - all those things, he could worry about some other time.
“More!” Harry dropped his head forward impulsively, touching his tongue to Malfoy’s spine, between his shoulder blades. Harry ran his tongue over the skin again, following the tense pattern of muscles under the skin, and Malfoy made some sort of sound, a gasp, and knocked an object into the basin. Harry bit him again, sucking and nipping at Malfoy’s flesh with his mouth, and his fingers slipped and skidded, in and out of Malfoy’s hole. “More!” Malfoy groaned again, and Harry fucked him harder with his fingers, sucked harder on his pale skin.
“More, goddamn it!”
Harry laughed shakily, incredulous. “I’ve given you three already, Malfoy!”
“Then give me four!”
With trembling fingers, Harry gave him four - Malfoy moaned, a long, low sound, and didn’t wait for Harry to move his fingers again, rather fucking himself roughly on his hand. Harry could feel the front of his pants were wet where his dick was hard and leaking.
“More, Potter!”
Harry looked down at his hand in Malfoy’s arse with bewilderment. “I don’t have any more, Malfoy! If I gave you anything else, you’d be feeling my shoulder!”
Malfoy stared at him in the mirror. “Then give me cock. Fuck, Potter, are you a virgin, or what?” He clenched around Harry’s fingers, and Harry swallowed audibly, barely keeping in a whimper. “I want you to put that lovely cock of yours in me, Potter. I want you to slam it in, as far as you can, til I can taste you in my mouth. Am I making myself clear? Fuck me.”
Jesus.
Harry nodded, his eyes locked on Malfoy’s in the mirror, and began to pull his hand away. Malfoy licked his lips, and fumbled for the jar of cream, blindly shoving his fingers inside and covering them, before reaching between his legs to stroke his cock. Harry swallowed again, and grabbed his own cock, pushing Malfoy a little further forward and taking one round arse cheek in hand, squeezing til Malfoy grunted, spreading him open. He aimed the head of his dick against Malfoy’s hole, almost unable to restrain himself from just shoving it in and forgetting about whether that was comfortable, or polite. Malfoy wriggled back, his eyes glittering in the mirror, and then Harry pushed forward.
“Yes…” Malfoy hissed, his lids falling half shut. “That’s it, Potter, I knew you knew how - shove it in, Gryffindor, stretch me open with that fat prick of yours - paint my insides with come until its sliding down my earlobes!”
What? Harry paused, his eyes closing briefly, cock halfway inside Malfoy and eager to go further. “That’s really kind of perverse, Malfoy.” The blond lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug, and shoved himself further down on Harry’s cock.
“Wuss. Get a move on!”
Right. Harry cast aside any interfering thoughts, and slid all the way inside Malfoy with a grunt. God yes. Hot, tight, perfect, perfect, hot - he pulled away, just a little, then slid forward again. Yes. He lifted his eyes to the mirror again, and found Malfoy watching him. Malfoy truly had the sexiest eyes Harry had ever seen on anyone, it wasn’t fair. Harry narrowed his own at Malfoy’s reflection. I’m going to mess up that cool as a cucumber thing you have going, Malfoy. I’ll make sure you’re hot instead, hot as a…potato. Um.
“God, you’re not going to come already, are you Potter? I knew it.”
“What! I am not! What the hell are you-”
“Then why are you making that face?”
Harry glared at Malfoy in the mirror. “I was thinking, that’s all! Jesus.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well could we have a little less thinking and a little more-oooooooooooooooo!” Malfoy’s face screwed up in the mirror, his mouth falling open and his eyes opening wide. Shit. Harry’s hips began to move almost on their own, apparently fed up with the bickering and moving proceedings along themselves. Malfoy felt so good; his arse round and soft and pulled hard up against Harry’s hips on every thrust like plump little cushions. Ella Bachè face cream was seemingly the best kind of lube in the universe, if the gloriously silky slide of his cock in and out of Malfoy was anything to judge by. He rocked forward, hard, and Malfoy gasped harshly and knocked something off the benchtop, sending it clattering into the sink.
“Uh, h-harder!”
Harry shoved forward again, cock throbbing when Malfoy managed a strangled grunt. He met his eyes in the mirror - pupils blown, heavy lidded, but not closed, still watching him, watching every little expression Harry made as his cock moved in and out of Malfoy’s hole. God, that was - Harry tried not to close his own eyes, and bent further over Malfoy’s back, unable to resist the desire to run his tongue over the dip and swell of his flexing, tightening muscles. Mmm, Malfoy’s skin tasted perfect too, just a little salty - he bit down, and Malfoy was making all sorts of noises now, lots of which seemed to be pleas for Harry to go harder (whether Malfoy meant the biting or the fucking, Harry wasn’t sure, and so he did both just to be thorough), and some of which sounded like threats of harm if Harry marred the pristine Malfoy skin. He ignored those. It was hard to take a person seriously when they were alternately cursing you and begging you for more.
Malfoy’s back arched. “Potter, just a little-” He adjusted his stance, rising up on his toes to bend further over the sink, and Harry thrust inward at a slightly different angle this time. More objects were knocked into the basin and off the bench entirely, clattering onto the tiles as Malfoy clutched at the vanity with one slick hand, and his cock with the other. Ah, fuck, he wasn’t long for it, not like this - it was too much, too much heat and too much of Malfoy’s ragged breathing, oh, and too much glorious friction, oh, too many long nights of wanking to just this idea, the idea of his cock right there inside Malfoy like it was the missing piece to some kind of pornographic, pure blood jigsaw -
“Mmmmmmpotter! Potter! Look at me.”
Harry caught his gaze in the mirror, and Malfoy drew his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it hard, jerking on his cock hard, and holy shit, someone had to save him now because he was actually going to die, Malfoy was going to manage what no one else, not even Voldemort, could. He was going to kill him, and he was going to do it through pure sex, and oh, oh oh, Malfoy’s pupils exploded, and he made a sound that was almost like pain, only it wasn’t, because he could hear a splatter on the cupboard, and felt Malfoy’s whole body tightening, all around him.
“God!” Then he was coming. He held onto Malfoy’s hips as if his life depended on it, never mind the bruises that might spring up after, and tried his hardest not to close his eyes. Malfoy was watching, he tried his very hardest not to just die on the spot, and god, the noises he was making, was he really growling like that? Ah, fuck, it was brilliant, and he sank his teeth into Malfoy’s shoulder again as it ended. God. Malfoy was slumped over the sink, panting, and there was a slippery, greasy hand print across the mirror where he’d evidently attempted to brace himself.
“That - was -”
“Yeah,” Harry wheezed, “I know.” He let his forehead rest between Malfoy’s shoulders, his hair sweaty and sticking to the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes, and felt the thud of Malfoy’s pulse all the way through his torso. Harry stuck out his tongue, without really deciding to, and licked Malfoy’s shoulder. Oh, he could get used to that taste. He could quickly become very much addicted to it.
“Potter…when you’re done cannibalising my spine, would you mind helping me to bed? You seem to have fucked the equilibrium right out of me, and I’ll be buggered - well, you know what I mean - if I can get there on my own.”
Harry sighed. Helping Malfoy back to bed meant this was officially over. He’d have to let Malfoy’s supple hips go, would have to pull himself from Malfoy’s blessed, blessed arse. He’d have to put his trousers back on, and…and go. Go back to the office, file his report, back to his sandwich, and Sandra, the latter two being quite lovely in their own rite, but not nearly comparable to the perfection of Draco Malfoy and his gorgeous body. He’d have to leave, never to experience that perfection again. Never to see Malfoy make that glorious orgasmic face again.
Harry had never felt more like weeping in his life. Not even that time when Neville dropped the Snap Dragon seedling in his lap by mistake, and the blighted weed had taken a snap at his upper thigh.
“Yeah, of course. I - yeah.”
He began to pull away - immediately, his cock twitched, as if to demonstrate its extreme displeasure at being separated from its most favourite, brand new friend. “It’s okay, Little Harry,” he whispered, “we’ll survive somehow.”
“Say something, Potter?”
Harry blushed. “No. Not me. All quiet here. Er.”
“Well, come on then. Not sure what you’re waiting for, a round of applause? Well done Potter, excellent fucking. Two thumbs up. I laughed, I cried, I screamed. Can we go now?”
Maybe never seeing Malfoy again wouldn’t be as difficult as Harry initially imagined.
Once detached, Harry manoeuvred himself under Malfoy’s arm, slinging one arm around his waist, and positioning Malfoy’s limb around Harry’s neck. Malfoy didn’t seem like he was terribly interested in helping much, and leaned heavily against Harry’s torso. With a slight groan, Harry began to walk them both back to Malfoy’s bedroom, the journey hampered by a stack of towels which seemed to have been upset during the kerfuffle, and which now resided in messy clumps on the bathroom floor.
“Are we there yet?”
“God, you’re insufferable.”
Harry lugged Malfoy the last few feet, and fairly tossed him onto the bed, where the git landed with an ‘oof’ and a glare. Harry plopped down next to him, red-faced and puffing a little.
“I might have vomited, you bloody fool!”
Harry rolled his eyes, and studied the toffee coloured cornices on the ceiling. “Yeah, well…your bed, your excessive consumption of alcohol, your problem. You’re hardly light, you know.”
Malfoy half sat, and scowled at him. “Are you saying I’m fat, Potter?”
Harry rolled his eyes again. “Oh, please. You’re fishing, aren’t you?”
Malfoy maintained his scowl for a moment longer, then apparently decided it wasn’t worth the effort, flopping back onto the pillows. “A bit.”
“Ponce.”
“Says the man who had his dick up my arse mere moments ago.”
Touché.
They lay in silence for a little while, catching their breath. That damned conscience was nagging at Harry again, telling him he should apologise for-
For what? The best shag of his pointy life? Harry tried not to groan aloud now that he had two voices in his head. Which were apparently at odds with each other. No, dolt. For acting like a slavering animal. If he accepts it, maybe you’ll be able to keep working at the Ministry - I hear the dustmen are paid above the award.
Harry bit his lip anxiously. How to say it? I’ll just tell him it was a mistake - no! No, he’d be offended…Malfoy pride and all that shit. And God, so very not a mistake. Um…oh! It was impulsive! Yes! I’ll say it was an impulsive thing to do, and apologise for behaving inappropriately, and that I hope I haven’t offended him, and that I’m willing to make up for it. If I’m lucky, he’ll be too hungover to torture me, and I’ll get away easy.
Harry turned his head, the words already forming on his lips - and stopped. Malfoy was looking at him. Had been for several minutes, it seemed.
“Potter,” he started, and Harry registered the slightly smoky look in his eyes before the words sunk in. “In fifteen minutes, I’m going to fuck you.” Harry swallowed hard. Did he say ‘fuck’? Or, like ‘kill’, or something? “So for the next fourteen minutes, I’m going to loosen you up. Go get the lube.”
Definitely said ‘fuck’.
It seemed like this might just be Harry’s lucky day.
...more to come...
Author: moonflower_rose
Pairing: HP/DM
Genre/Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: The usual...also, don't run with scissors...
Length: 4900(ish) words
Summary: Sequel to the fic Disturbing The Peace - written for my darling silentauror!!!
Disclaimer: Please see my disclaimer here.
Miss PART ONE? Click here. Recap PART TWO? Click here.
Harry must have fallen asleep. It was the only way to explain how he managed to awaken to the sound of Malfoy calling his name.
“Oi, Potter - Pott-ter! Having fun over there?”
Harry blinked, and moved to rub his eyes, belatedly realising that his hand had somehow become located inside his pants. He flushed immediately, and scowled at Malfoy, who was sitting up in bed now, still quite naked, and looking rather attractively rumpled and glassy-eyed. And seemingly, a bit more sober than before, if the improvement in diction was any indication.
“Shut up, Ferret, I was just scratching.”
Malfoy smirked. “Sure you were. And I only had mocktails this evening, and not a vat of whiskey.”
“I was!” Harry hurriedly pulled his hand out of his briefs, and sat on them, drawing his knees together primly. Malfoy laughed, a throaty sound that was aimed directly at Harry’s libido, and tucked a hand behind his head.
“You know what, Potter? There’s no point closing your legs like a virginal little girl, now - I already saw your jewels, up the inside leg of your boxers, and I already know you have a really small dick. Why hide now?”
Gryffindor pride rose in his chest, and his scowl deepened.
“Rubbish - if anything, you saw my thumb, seeing as I was scratching. My jewels are not small, I’ll thank you to know.”
Malfoy laughed again, scratching his stomach absently. “Sure thing, Potter. I’ll believe it when I see it, alright? You’re hung like a runty Red Cap, and that’s that.”
Oh, there was no way Malfoy was going to get away with that sort of talk - he may be gorgeous, but no man was good looking enough to take a crack at Harry Potter’s fishing tackle and get away with it. No man. Harry got up from the chair with a glare and strode determinedly over to Malfoy’s bedside.
And then, while his common sense was being distracted by his ego and pride, he pulled his pants down to his knees, and bared his bits in Malfoy’s face.
“Cop that.”
Malfoy stared at it. He cocked his head, first to the left, then the right, before squinting at it slightly. Harry stood proud. He couldn’t claim his cock was the biggest in Britain - and the story that had run in the Prophet a few years back about the butchers wife who claimed she could tell the size of a wizards wang by calculating the distance between his eyebrows, and who swore on her mothers grave that Harry’s was roughly the length and girth of a large bratwurst, was altogether ridiculous - but he wasn’t small, either. Not in the least. And if Malfoy tried to claim otherwise, when presented with irrefutable visual evidence, well, then he was just a bloody piss-head who wouldn’t know a decent cock if it came up and poked him in the -
Malfoy nodded. “I stand corrected.”
Harry nodded smugly in reply. Runty Red Cap indeed. I showed him. Harry moved to pull his pants back up, realisation dawning slowly that he had just showed his bits to Draco Malfoy - dear Lord! - and a hot flush prickling up the back of his neck.
“Why so hasty, Pott-head? Surely you can do better than that.”
What the bloody hell is that supposed to m-
Malfoy moved before Harry could stop him - not that he was entirely sure he would have, if warned in advance of what was coming. But there was no way of knowing Malfoy was about to do that - grab Harry about the upper thigh, long fingers gripping the flesh and pulling him closer; or what he’d do after that, which was beyond comprehension. Malfoy looked up at him, laying on his side, naked, on his bed; his head propped up on one hand, the other gripping Harry’s arse now. Malfoy smirked, and then his head moved, like a striking snake - how ironic - and filled his mouth with Harry’s cock.
Sweet mother of all things - merciful - holy FUCK!
Harry grew hard, faster than he had in his entire life, his cock becoming stiffer and longer and swollen, all within the glorious confines of Malfoy’s wet and welcoming mouth. He felt the brush of teeth and the slick roughness of Malfoy’s tongue, and then, oh yes, then suction, as Malfoy was forced to pull away a little, no longer able to house the length of Harry entirely in his mouth. He couldn’t help but whimper - Malfoy was sucking his cock. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, was rubbing his tongue along the underside of his hard on, was tightening his lips and hollowing his cheeks, was starting to bob his head to take Harry’s dick deeper, then shallower, then deeper again. “Yeah yesyesyesyesyesyessss…” Was he moaning aloud? Merlin’s saintly white knickers, he was going to come, and Malfoy was going to let him, he was going to come so hard that Malfoy’d be talking with a rasp for the rest of the year.
But then Malfoy pulled away. Malfoy let go of his cock and pulled away. Harry whimpered, and waited, hoping Malfoy was just kidding and was about to get back to it. He didn’t get back to it. Malfoy reclined back on the bed, a lazy grin on his face.
“That’s more like it. I knew you’d be able to do better, Potter, you just needed the right sort of encouragement.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Someone up there wants me to suffer. First Voldemort, then Colin Creevy for six whole years at Hogwarts, Rita Skeeter everywhere - now this. Half a blow job from Draco Malfoy. “Goddamn you, Malfoy,” he managed through gritted teeth, before he reluctantly pulled up his pants, and returned on shaky legs to the recliner in the corner.
It was difficult to sit comfortably, and wrangle his boner at the same time. It was still slick with Malfoy’s spit, and clinging stubbornly to the fabric of his underwear with irritating determination. Bastard. He looked up, and looked away again immediately. Malfoy was still naked, still sexy, and still smirking at him with that red-lipped pout and narrowed eyes. Harry sighed loudly, and adjusted himself again. He should have known this would happen. No good could possibly come of fooling around on the job - if anyone ever found out…well. He’d be fucked, and not the fun kind of fucked. It was grossly unprofessional. Malfoy was clearly drunk and lacking in judgement, and Harry had taken advantage - it was assault. He’d been warning himself and warning himself, but obviously he was daft.
His mental flagellation was interrupted by Malfoy, and his whiny, bratty voice.
“Potter, I have business to attend to in the bathroom. Help me up.”
Harry felt like saying no, and telling him he could yak in his own bed, or pee in it, or whatever, because he bloody well deserved to for being so damn irritating and hot. But he didn’t. Harry silently cursed the Sorting Hat for making him a Gryffindor, sighed again, stood, pointed his erection in a more comfortable direction, and went over to help Malfoy out of his bed.
Why, oh why, does his skin have to be so damn soft?
Harry held Malfoy carefully by the hips - the man could hardly stand, once he’d gotten out of the bed. Improved diction aside, he was still very obviously drunk, and was stumbling like a baby giraffe, or like Ron that time when he’d gotten a dead leg from sitting still too long on a surveillance mission. That had been pretty funny, but this…this wasn’t the least bit funny. And Ron didn’t have as nice an arse as Malfoy had, anyway, and certainly hadn’t taunted him with it like Malfoy currently was, with all that flexing and jiggling, and smooth touchability.
“Damn you Malfoy, and your sweet, sweet arse…” Harry muttered darkly under his breath.
“What’s that, Potter?”
“Nothing,” Harry grumbled, steering Malfoy through the bathroom door and attempting to do it without tripping over. “What do you want, anyway? Loo, or spew?”
Malfoy twisted out of Harry’s grasp with a sly laugh, and Harry’s stomach dropped. He recognised that laugh from Hogwarts days - it was Malfoy’s ‘I’m up to something dastardly’ laugh, and it normally meant nothing good for Harry.
“What do I want, Potter? Well, since you asked, what I want is for you to bend me over and fuck me til I’m sober.”
Harry blinked at Malfoy in shock for a moment, before narrowing his eyes in a scowl.
“Yeah, real funny Malfoy. You’re hilarious.”
Malfoy’s hand was suddenly wrapped around Harry’s wrist, pressing his palm against Malfoy’s crotch, which, to Harry’s giddy surprise, was half hard and growing harder by the second. He looked down - oh. Malfoy’s cock was even prettier and more mouth-watering, now that it was waking up. Harry shivered, and looked back up at Malfoy’s face.
“I’m glad you find me amusing, Potter,” Malfoy smirked, “but it’s not your funny bone I’m interested in, just at the minute.” He stepped closer to Harry, his breath tickling over Harry’s lips, making them twitch suddenly. “I want you to fuck me, right here, and right now. And I want you to do it facing the mirror, so I can watch you watching your own face as you come.”
It seemed to Harry like there must be a layer of something foggy surrounding his brain, making it difficult to understand what Malfoy was saying to him.
“But - but you said you had to go to the loo…”
Malfoy shook his head slightly, his lips almost touching Harry’s mouth. “I said I had business to attend to in the bathroom, Potter. If you assumed a different kind of activity to what I had in mind, well, that’s not my fault. I thought I’d heard you Gryffindor’s were brave? You’re not going to prove otherwise, are you, Potter?”
It felt like his chest was constricting - he could hardly take a breath. Malfoy wanted to shag. Harry wanted to, by God, his dick was attempting to split the seams of his underpants and drag him by sheer force of will on top of and inside of Malfoy. But should he? Should he? He was an Auror - this was his career at stake, for a bit of a poke…what if Malfoy said something tomorrow, complained to the Ministry? What would he do then?
“I - I’m on duty…you’re mingered…I shouldn’t…”
Malfoy pushed Harry’s hand harder against his cock.
“You hardly seem brave at all. Don’t you think it’s a little late to protest, Potter? Shouldn’t you have given consideration to all that rubbish before you decided to indecently expose yourself in my bedroom, earlier?” Malfoy licked his lips with sly calculation, and moved his hand, closing Harry’s fingers tight around Malfoy’s erection, and sliding. Harry gasped. Malfoy’s cock felt good in his hand, brilliant. “What would your saintly Auror’s say, if they knew you’d done that? Flashed me, like some kind of perve.” Malfoy’s cock shifted, hard and hot under his hand, and his fingers closed tighter reflexively. “You’ve gone too far now to stop…” Malfoy’s tongue flicked out and licked the corner of Harry’s mouth, “Just finish what you started…” His voice was barely audible now, just a breath of air over Harry’s lips. “You’ve crossed the line, and it can’t get any worse…why not enjoy it to the fullest?”
Harry’s willpower caved entirely.
“Okay,” he managed hoarsely, and crashed his mouth against Malfoy’s.
Malfoy made a noise, halfway between triumphant gloating and a moan, and pushed back against Harry. He latched onto Harry’s bottom lip and sucked hard, sliding his tongue into Harry’s mouth when he gave the expected gasp. Harry shivered hard at the first touch of Malfoy’s tongue against his, and wondered vaguely whether one could get drunk via another person’s alcohol-rich saliva…it didn’t matter. Malfoy tasted like expensive scotch, and Harry’s impending unemployment, and his hand was urging Harry’s to pull on his cock. Sex with Malfoy, yes, yes, he was going to get to do it. He kissed Malfoy frantically. He was the luckiest man in Britain.
Malfoy was walking them backwards to the vanity, navigating unsteadily around wet towels which littered the bathroom floor. Harry couldn’t help the slight moan that escaped his throat into Malfoy’s mouth as they bumped into the bench. Malfoy bit at his lips, caught Harry’s tongue in his mouth and sucked on it teasingly - Harry had one hand still clasping Malfoy’s cock, pulling on it, the other hand roaming over a naked thigh, up to cup a bare buttock. Malfoy grasped behind them at a shelf in the wall, grunting again when he reached what he wanted, and Harry’s hand was filled with a hard, rounded jar instead of Malfoy’s rounded arse. He pulled away.
“What’s this?”
Malfoy leaned back against the sink, looking at Harry through hazy, heavy lidded eyes.
“Something you can use to smooth the way, shall we say.” Malfoy turned then, leaning forward on his elbows until his spine arched and his round behind jutted in the direction of Harry’s cock. He flashed a smug smile over one shoulder. “When you’re ready, Potter.”
Harry turned the jar in his hand. Ella Bachè - I knew it! Ponce. The lid unscrewed noiselessly, and Harry dipped his fingers into the creamy lotion. “R-ready,” he breathed, and Malfoy chucked darkly. Harry reached out just one finger, and touched it to Malfoy’s arse - to his pleasure, he noted that the muscles of Malfoy’s back flexed as his fingertip made contact. It was sort of hypnotic, watching the cream gloss the pale skin, then disappear…he moved his fingers closer to the middle of Malfoy’s arse, and felt a surge of excitement again as Malfoy drew a sharp breath as Harry’s fingertip slicked the curving crease. He didn’t know whether Malfoy cared at all that it was him, Harry, who was touching him, or whether any bloke would have done, but it was nice to imagine that Malfoy maybe wanted him as much as Harry wanted Malfoy. Perhaps….perhaps Malfoy saw him that day, too, at the robes shop…maybe Malfoy had a secret crush on Harry, just like Harry had for him, and this was as thrilling to him as it was to Harry. He let out a breath that shuddered slightly, and watched as goosebumps rose on Malfoy’s back where the puff of breath grazed - Harry moved his fingers, pressing between Malfoy’s arse eagerly, but gently, until he felt the skin change from smooth to wrinkled.
“I can’t wait to fuck you…” The words were falling out of his mouth without his consent, and Malfoy shuddered this time too.
“Then don’t wait.” Harry caught Malfoy’s eyes in the mirror before them - they were narrowed and dark, and encouraging. Harry pressed one finger forward, and felt it slide inside of Malfoy without protest.
“Bloody hell - you really want it, don’t you?” Malfoy pushed himself back into Harry’s hand, forcing the finger deeper.
“Are you going to commentate the entire act? Shut up and concentrate, Potty, I’m not interested in anything coming out of your mouth unless it’s ‘oh, yes, right there, oh my God Draco’ or some variation. I’ll let you decide how you want to paraphrase.”
Harry scowled. Twerp. Let’s see if he can paraphrase this! Moving his finger in and out, Harry leaned forward and bit down on Malfoy’s shoulder, sucking hard and raising a vivid love bite within seconds. Malfoy cursed.
“Potter, you fuck, that better not have left a mark!”
Harry slid a second finger inside Malfoy, and smirked with satisfaction when Malfoy stopped swearing, instead moaning and pushing back with feeling. Mister suave won’t be so snappy when I - Harry smirked again as he felt the shudder and gasp ripple through Malfoy’s body in reply to the quirk of his fingers.
“Wow, Malfoy, I think the only thing I might be able to slip into faster than your arse is quicksand, and even then, it’d be a close match.”
“Potter - if you don’t want to fuck, then please, keep talking. However, if you are at all interested in getting a bit tonight, I suggest you shut up, and give me more.”
Harry shut up, drawing his fingers back to slide a third in beside the second. Malfoy groaned, a low noise of appreciation, and Harry whimpered a little too. He really, really wanted to do this, and so did Malfoy, clearly - for whatever reason. It didn’t matter why, not now, while Malfoy was asking for it, three fingers already sliding slick and easy, in and out. Harry really did need to shut up and get on with it, give Malfoy more of what apparently made him deliriously happy. He could worry about ethics, and who wanted it more, and why Malfoy wanted it at all, and whether Harry was just being used because of convenience - all those things, he could worry about some other time.
“More!” Harry dropped his head forward impulsively, touching his tongue to Malfoy’s spine, between his shoulder blades. Harry ran his tongue over the skin again, following the tense pattern of muscles under the skin, and Malfoy made some sort of sound, a gasp, and knocked an object into the basin. Harry bit him again, sucking and nipping at Malfoy’s flesh with his mouth, and his fingers slipped and skidded, in and out of Malfoy’s hole. “More!” Malfoy groaned again, and Harry fucked him harder with his fingers, sucked harder on his pale skin.
“More, goddamn it!”
Harry laughed shakily, incredulous. “I’ve given you three already, Malfoy!”
“Then give me four!”
With trembling fingers, Harry gave him four - Malfoy moaned, a long, low sound, and didn’t wait for Harry to move his fingers again, rather fucking himself roughly on his hand. Harry could feel the front of his pants were wet where his dick was hard and leaking.
“More, Potter!”
Harry looked down at his hand in Malfoy’s arse with bewilderment. “I don’t have any more, Malfoy! If I gave you anything else, you’d be feeling my shoulder!”
Malfoy stared at him in the mirror. “Then give me cock. Fuck, Potter, are you a virgin, or what?” He clenched around Harry’s fingers, and Harry swallowed audibly, barely keeping in a whimper. “I want you to put that lovely cock of yours in me, Potter. I want you to slam it in, as far as you can, til I can taste you in my mouth. Am I making myself clear? Fuck me.”
Jesus.
Harry nodded, his eyes locked on Malfoy’s in the mirror, and began to pull his hand away. Malfoy licked his lips, and fumbled for the jar of cream, blindly shoving his fingers inside and covering them, before reaching between his legs to stroke his cock. Harry swallowed again, and grabbed his own cock, pushing Malfoy a little further forward and taking one round arse cheek in hand, squeezing til Malfoy grunted, spreading him open. He aimed the head of his dick against Malfoy’s hole, almost unable to restrain himself from just shoving it in and forgetting about whether that was comfortable, or polite. Malfoy wriggled back, his eyes glittering in the mirror, and then Harry pushed forward.
“Yes…” Malfoy hissed, his lids falling half shut. “That’s it, Potter, I knew you knew how - shove it in, Gryffindor, stretch me open with that fat prick of yours - paint my insides with come until its sliding down my earlobes!”
What? Harry paused, his eyes closing briefly, cock halfway inside Malfoy and eager to go further. “That’s really kind of perverse, Malfoy.” The blond lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug, and shoved himself further down on Harry’s cock.
“Wuss. Get a move on!”
Right. Harry cast aside any interfering thoughts, and slid all the way inside Malfoy with a grunt. God yes. Hot, tight, perfect, perfect, hot - he pulled away, just a little, then slid forward again. Yes. He lifted his eyes to the mirror again, and found Malfoy watching him. Malfoy truly had the sexiest eyes Harry had ever seen on anyone, it wasn’t fair. Harry narrowed his own at Malfoy’s reflection. I’m going to mess up that cool as a cucumber thing you have going, Malfoy. I’ll make sure you’re hot instead, hot as a…potato. Um.
“God, you’re not going to come already, are you Potter? I knew it.”
“What! I am not! What the hell are you-”
“Then why are you making that face?”
Harry glared at Malfoy in the mirror. “I was thinking, that’s all! Jesus.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well could we have a little less thinking and a little more-oooooooooooooooo!” Malfoy’s face screwed up in the mirror, his mouth falling open and his eyes opening wide. Shit. Harry’s hips began to move almost on their own, apparently fed up with the bickering and moving proceedings along themselves. Malfoy felt so good; his arse round and soft and pulled hard up against Harry’s hips on every thrust like plump little cushions. Ella Bachè face cream was seemingly the best kind of lube in the universe, if the gloriously silky slide of his cock in and out of Malfoy was anything to judge by. He rocked forward, hard, and Malfoy gasped harshly and knocked something off the benchtop, sending it clattering into the sink.
“Uh, h-harder!”
Harry shoved forward again, cock throbbing when Malfoy managed a strangled grunt. He met his eyes in the mirror - pupils blown, heavy lidded, but not closed, still watching him, watching every little expression Harry made as his cock moved in and out of Malfoy’s hole. God, that was - Harry tried not to close his own eyes, and bent further over Malfoy’s back, unable to resist the desire to run his tongue over the dip and swell of his flexing, tightening muscles. Mmm, Malfoy’s skin tasted perfect too, just a little salty - he bit down, and Malfoy was making all sorts of noises now, lots of which seemed to be pleas for Harry to go harder (whether Malfoy meant the biting or the fucking, Harry wasn’t sure, and so he did both just to be thorough), and some of which sounded like threats of harm if Harry marred the pristine Malfoy skin. He ignored those. It was hard to take a person seriously when they were alternately cursing you and begging you for more.
Malfoy’s back arched. “Potter, just a little-” He adjusted his stance, rising up on his toes to bend further over the sink, and Harry thrust inward at a slightly different angle this time. More objects were knocked into the basin and off the bench entirely, clattering onto the tiles as Malfoy clutched at the vanity with one slick hand, and his cock with the other. Ah, fuck, he wasn’t long for it, not like this - it was too much, too much heat and too much of Malfoy’s ragged breathing, oh, and too much glorious friction, oh, too many long nights of wanking to just this idea, the idea of his cock right there inside Malfoy like it was the missing piece to some kind of pornographic, pure blood jigsaw -
“Mmmmmmpotter! Potter! Look at me.”
Harry caught his gaze in the mirror, and Malfoy drew his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it hard, jerking on his cock hard, and holy shit, someone had to save him now because he was actually going to die, Malfoy was going to manage what no one else, not even Voldemort, could. He was going to kill him, and he was going to do it through pure sex, and oh, oh oh, Malfoy’s pupils exploded, and he made a sound that was almost like pain, only it wasn’t, because he could hear a splatter on the cupboard, and felt Malfoy’s whole body tightening, all around him.
“God!” Then he was coming. He held onto Malfoy’s hips as if his life depended on it, never mind the bruises that might spring up after, and tried his hardest not to close his eyes. Malfoy was watching, he tried his very hardest not to just die on the spot, and god, the noises he was making, was he really growling like that? Ah, fuck, it was brilliant, and he sank his teeth into Malfoy’s shoulder again as it ended. God. Malfoy was slumped over the sink, panting, and there was a slippery, greasy hand print across the mirror where he’d evidently attempted to brace himself.
“That - was -”
“Yeah,” Harry wheezed, “I know.” He let his forehead rest between Malfoy’s shoulders, his hair sweaty and sticking to the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes, and felt the thud of Malfoy’s pulse all the way through his torso. Harry stuck out his tongue, without really deciding to, and licked Malfoy’s shoulder. Oh, he could get used to that taste. He could quickly become very much addicted to it.
“Potter…when you’re done cannibalising my spine, would you mind helping me to bed? You seem to have fucked the equilibrium right out of me, and I’ll be buggered - well, you know what I mean - if I can get there on my own.”
Harry sighed. Helping Malfoy back to bed meant this was officially over. He’d have to let Malfoy’s supple hips go, would have to pull himself from Malfoy’s blessed, blessed arse. He’d have to put his trousers back on, and…and go. Go back to the office, file his report, back to his sandwich, and Sandra, the latter two being quite lovely in their own rite, but not nearly comparable to the perfection of Draco Malfoy and his gorgeous body. He’d have to leave, never to experience that perfection again. Never to see Malfoy make that glorious orgasmic face again.
Harry had never felt more like weeping in his life. Not even that time when Neville dropped the Snap Dragon seedling in his lap by mistake, and the blighted weed had taken a snap at his upper thigh.
“Yeah, of course. I - yeah.”
He began to pull away - immediately, his cock twitched, as if to demonstrate its extreme displeasure at being separated from its most favourite, brand new friend. “It’s okay, Little Harry,” he whispered, “we’ll survive somehow.”
“Say something, Potter?”
Harry blushed. “No. Not me. All quiet here. Er.”
“Well, come on then. Not sure what you’re waiting for, a round of applause? Well done Potter, excellent fucking. Two thumbs up. I laughed, I cried, I screamed. Can we go now?”
Maybe never seeing Malfoy again wouldn’t be as difficult as Harry initially imagined.
Once detached, Harry manoeuvred himself under Malfoy’s arm, slinging one arm around his waist, and positioning Malfoy’s limb around Harry’s neck. Malfoy didn’t seem like he was terribly interested in helping much, and leaned heavily against Harry’s torso. With a slight groan, Harry began to walk them both back to Malfoy’s bedroom, the journey hampered by a stack of towels which seemed to have been upset during the kerfuffle, and which now resided in messy clumps on the bathroom floor.
“Are we there yet?”
“God, you’re insufferable.”
Harry lugged Malfoy the last few feet, and fairly tossed him onto the bed, where the git landed with an ‘oof’ and a glare. Harry plopped down next to him, red-faced and puffing a little.
“I might have vomited, you bloody fool!”
Harry rolled his eyes, and studied the toffee coloured cornices on the ceiling. “Yeah, well…your bed, your excessive consumption of alcohol, your problem. You’re hardly light, you know.”
Malfoy half sat, and scowled at him. “Are you saying I’m fat, Potter?”
Harry rolled his eyes again. “Oh, please. You’re fishing, aren’t you?”
Malfoy maintained his scowl for a moment longer, then apparently decided it wasn’t worth the effort, flopping back onto the pillows. “A bit.”
“Ponce.”
“Says the man who had his dick up my arse mere moments ago.”
Touché.
They lay in silence for a little while, catching their breath. That damned conscience was nagging at Harry again, telling him he should apologise for-
For what? The best shag of his pointy life? Harry tried not to groan aloud now that he had two voices in his head. Which were apparently at odds with each other. No, dolt. For acting like a slavering animal. If he accepts it, maybe you’ll be able to keep working at the Ministry - I hear the dustmen are paid above the award.
Harry bit his lip anxiously. How to say it? I’ll just tell him it was a mistake - no! No, he’d be offended…Malfoy pride and all that shit. And God, so very not a mistake. Um…oh! It was impulsive! Yes! I’ll say it was an impulsive thing to do, and apologise for behaving inappropriately, and that I hope I haven’t offended him, and that I’m willing to make up for it. If I’m lucky, he’ll be too hungover to torture me, and I’ll get away easy.
Harry turned his head, the words already forming on his lips - and stopped. Malfoy was looking at him. Had been for several minutes, it seemed.
“Potter,” he started, and Harry registered the slightly smoky look in his eyes before the words sunk in. “In fifteen minutes, I’m going to fuck you.” Harry swallowed hard. Did he say ‘fuck’? Or, like ‘kill’, or something? “So for the next fourteen minutes, I’m going to loosen you up. Go get the lube.”
Definitely said ‘fuck’.
It seemed like this might just be Harry’s lucky day.
...more to come...