Just Say The Word
Title: Just Say The Word
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K Rowling.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 3700
Summary:When Draco Malfoy enters the same pub as Harry and his friends, things take an interesting turn. "If you don't go over there right this minute," Hermione paused, and smirked at Harry. "Then I will."
A/N This is just a little fluffy o/s I fancied doing in between my WiP's. It doesn't really have much plot, but I hope you find it fun and smutty.
Thanks to my lovely pre-readers TwiWeasel and MssDare for casting their eye over this at short notice, and huge smooches to Fr333bird for beta'ing this. Her super speedy red pen and continuous encouragement made this fic so much better.
“Harry! Over here.”
Harry looked up and grinned as a rather enthusiastic Hermione stood and waved at him from a small table tucked away in the corner. He grabbed his drink and made his way over through the unusually busy pub, laughing as he saw Ron roll his eyes and attempt to pull Hermione back down onto her stool.
“Ronald Weasley,” she hissed, turning to look down at Ron and batting his hand away from her sleeve. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Before Ron could summon up a suitably acceptable reply, Harry had reached their table and Hermione didn’t hesitate to fling her slender, but surprisingly strong arms around him; almost cutting off his air supply in the process. “Hello, Harry.”
“‘Mione...can’t breathe.” Harry gasped in reply, prising her fingers from the back of his neck and gently depositing her in Ron’s lap. “Alright, mate?” Harry said, grinning at his best friend as he slid into the spare seat. Harry nodded his head over at Hermione, who was busy extricating herself from Ron’s grasp with an exaggerated huff, and raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction.
“Few too many firewhiskies,” Ron whispered conspiratorially to Harry, before wincing and leaning over to Harry’s side of the table as Hermione’s icy glare immediately zeroed in on him.
“I heard that,” she said, reaching up to smooth her long, softly curled locks, and eyeing Ron with a practised look of disdain. “And for your inf’mation, I am not drunk.” Harry fought to keep a straight face at her ever so slightly slurred speech, not wanting to incur Hermione’s formidable wrath. Ron was most definitely on his own there.
Harry chuckled into his drink, idly watching the other occupants of his favourite wizarding pub while he waited for Ron to inevitably admit defeat and accept the fact that Hermione was definitely not the slightest bit drunk.
He’d not seen the pair of them since last Friday night when they were here last, having been away all week on Ministry business. Harry loved his job, and wouldn’t dream of ever doing anything else, but all the recent travel was a right pain in the arse. A sharp elbow to the ribs snapped him out of his musing, almost making him spill his drink.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Harry snapped, scowling and rubbing his side. Hermione was gesturing over towards the door, urging him to look with a huge grin and knowing eyes. Under normal circumstances Harry would have laughed out loud at her comical expression, but he was far too busy ogling the striking couple who had just entered the pub. Well, he was definitely ogling the tall, blond, and irritatingly handsome figure that was Malfoy; but his companion, Pansy Parkinson - not so much.
Harry sighed and grabbed his drink, downing it in one and coughing slightly at the welcome burn. He watched them saunter across to the bar, all Slytherin grace and seemingly effortless style. He tried, in vain, to ignore the way his trousers got uncomfortably tight all of a sudden; Draco Malfoy was so far out of Harry’s league, it was pointless getting his hopes up, or anything else for that matter.
Harry dropped his head into his hands, willing his poor, deluded erection to give up already and accept the fact that it was never getting anywhere near Malfoy... or his gorgeous arse.
“Honestly, Harry.” Hermione said, her determined tone setting off alarm bells in Harry’s head. “You’ve been lusting after Draco Malfoy for the last two months, I don’t know why you just don’t ask him out.”
Harry sympathised as Ron choked a little on the mouthful of butterbeer he’d just taken. Although Ron accepted Harry’s sexual orientation without question, even Ron had his limits and Hermione’s persistent matchmaking, especially with Malfoy, was pushing them a little far.
“Merlin’s pants, Hermione,” Ron managed, looking more than a little ill. “Must you try and set Harry up with him, of all people.”
“Oh come on Ron,” Hermione answered, talking in that special voice that she used when Ron was being particularly clueless. “It’s glaringly obvious that they both like each other, I don’t see what the problem is.”
“Maybe it’s the fact that he’s an insufferable git, who’s about as appealing as... as... a Hungarian Horntail.” Ron cried, triumphantly; satisfied that he’d found an apt likeness.
As if on cue, the ‘insufferable git’ in question turned and looked over in their direction. Cool grey, appraising eyes swept over Harry’s face, lingering on his mouth. The hopeful bulge in Harry’s trousers grew impossible harder when Malfoy licked his pink, delicious looking lips before turning and laughing at something Pansy whispered into his ear. Harry watched transfixed as he ran his long, slender fingers through perfectly styled platinum hair and Harry’s cock twitched as he imagined how he could put those fingers to a much better use. When Malfoy met his eyes again and winked, Harry had to count to ten, thinking of all manner of unsavoury things, to prevent embarrassing himself in front of his friends.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, slipping a hand under the table to reposition his cock so it wasn’t almost folded in half. He sighed at the slight relief it brought, silently congratulating himself on performing the manoeuvre without either Ron or Hermione noticing. Unfortunately for Harry, someone else had noticed. The questioning arch of Malfoy’s perfect eyebrow, coupled with the ever present smirk, had Harry blushing profusely and wondering if he could possibly obliviate the blond without anybody noticing. With the way Parkinson was draped all over him, he seriously doubted it.
“Well?” Hermione prodded him with the tip of her wand, “Are you going over to say hello?”
“What? No!” Harry replied, horrified at the thought of going anywhere near Malfoy after what he’d just caught Harry doing. It would be bad enough facing him at work on Monday; he didn’t want to listen to his inevitable sarcastic remarks any sooner than absolutely necessary. “Besides, he’s with Pansy, and contrary to what you insist on believing, Hermione; Malfoy and I don’t like each other.”
“Rubbish.” Hermione snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “You know he’s not interested in Pansy Parkinson, even Ron knows that Draco prefers blokes.” She nodded over at Ron as she spoke and Harry grinned at his affronted expression. “And you two haven’t hated each other since we left Hogwarts, so don’t try to use that as an excuse. In fact with the amount of time you and Draco spend watching each other in that office of yours, I’m surprised any work gets done at all!”
Hermione sat back and crossed her arms, clearly happy with herself after putting Harry in his place. Harry was, quite frankly, beyond impressed that she’d managed to say the whole thing without slurring once.
“I’m warnin’ you Harry,” she added, waving her wand at him again and making Harry want to duck out of the way. “If you don’t go over there right this minute,” she paused, and smirked at him. “Then I will.”
“Best get over there, mate.” Ron sniggered from beside Harry, shoving him with his shoulder. “You know what she’s like.”
Oh God, Harry thought, casting a quick glance over towards Malfoy. He was still stood at the bar facing away from Harry, one hand wrapped around a glass of dark liquid, with the other in his pocket. Harry admired the way his trousers stretched tightly across his arse, before swallowing thickly and standing up, mentally preparing himself for his imminent humiliation.
In the two months since Draco Malfoy had joined Harry’s team at the Ministry, Harry had watched and wanted from the comfort of his desk. They’d traded teasing insults with one another, but that was the extent of their conversation. He’d seen the sort of people that Malfoy liked to parade about with in public, thanks to the numerous pictures in the Daily Prophet, and Harry knew he was sorely lacking in both looks and breeding.
“Go get him, Harry.” Hermione whispered, giggling behind her hand as Harry narrowed his eyes and glared at her.
“Fine. But if he fucking hexes me, Hermione, I will tell Molly that you throw away all the gooseberry and peanut-butter tarts she send you.” Harry smiled smugly at the shocked look on Hermione’s face. He didn’t blame her one bit -- although Molly Weasley’s cakes were usually beyond tasty, that particular treat was not one of her best -- but he wasn’t above using it as revenge if things went badly with Malfoy. Which they almost certainly would.
Harry pushed away from the table and reluctantly headed over towards the bar, thankful that at least his nervousness had tamed his cock into submission. He could only imagine the look on Malfoy’s face if he walked up to him with a raging hard-on.
As Harry got closer to the pair of Slytherins, he groaned as Pansy noticed him and smirked, nudging Malfoy. He turned his head in Harry’s direction, eyes widening ever so slightly before returning to their usual cool gaze. They travelled over Harry’s body, slowly and thoroughly taking in every inch and much to Harry’s utter horror, he was once again rock-fucking-hard.
Harry sighed, and not for the first time since he’d arrived the pub, wished he’d stayed at home tonight.
As if he wasn’t embarrassed enough by his unfortunate erection, the rather large lady to the side of Harry chose that exact moment to wave her arms about, catching Harry across the back of the shoulder, and consequently sending him careering head first into...oh no...Malfoy.
“Umpff!” Malfoy grunted as Harry fell into him and he had no choice but to grab Harry and steady him, before they both fell over. It just so happened that as a result, Harry’s groin was now flush against Malfoys thigh. “Well, well, well, Potter.” Malfoy purred next to Harry’s ear. “Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”
Harry’s traitorous cock twitched in delight as Malfoy’s warm breath tickled his ear, at about the same time that Pansy tapped Harry on the arm and handed him his wand, which he must have dropped as he stumbled.
“Hmm... not your wand then,” Malfoy whispered, still holding on to Harry.
“Um...no,” Harry mumbled against Malfoy’s shoulder, suddenly deciding that any further conversation at this precise moment was a very bad idea. “Excuse me.” Harry said, quickly extricating himself from Malfoy’s grasp and hurrying off to the relative safety of the loos.
“Fuck,” Harry hissed at the mirror as he braced himself against the sink. The toilets were blessedly empty, because Harry was in no mood for idle chit chat. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Harry scowled down at the bulge in his trousers, cursing it for its bad behaviour. ”Why can’t you do as I ask, just once?”
“It won’t answer back, Potter.” Harry jumped at the unexpected voice, wondering how Malfoy had managed to sneak in without him noticing. Harry’s wide green eyes shot up, meeting Malfoy’s amused gaze in the mirror. “Well, I certainly hope it won’t. But I wouldn’t put anything past The Chosen One.”
Harry rolled his eyes at the jibe, opening his mouth to supply a snarky comeback, but Malfoy shifted forward until his hips were snug against Harry’s arse. Harry gasped as he felt the unmistakable hardness of Malfoy’s prick, and swallowed whatever witty retort had been about to come out.
“Cat got your tongue?” Malfoy asked. His hands curled around Harry’s hips, pulling him back and rubbing his long, hard cock between Harry’s cheeks. Harry moaned, a deep, long, drawn-out moan that sounded embarrassingly loud in the empty bathroom. “I can help you with this,” Malfoy whispered, slipping a hand down to palm Harry’s aching cock. “Just say the word, Potter.”
Harry’s brain was currently residing in his tented boxers, and it took him a good few seconds to formulate a response. “Yes,” he eventually replied, wanting nothing more than to have Malfoy ‘help’ him with his rather large problem.
Harry caught Malfoy’s smirk in the mirror as his hands gripped Harry tight and with a loud crack, Malfoy apparated them back to his flat. Harry belatedly realised that he should perhaps have told his friends he was leaving. The fleeting thought vanished as quickly as it had appeared however, when Harry stumbled forward and came face to face with Malfoy’s huge four-poster bed.
Malfoy’s hands were still securely fastened around Harry’s hips; a fact Harry was made acutely aware of when Malfoy’s deft fingers found the buttons on Harry’s jeans and proceeded to undo them with surprising speed. They pooled in a heap around Harry’s feet and Malfoy’s hands wasted no time at all, slipping inside his red boxer briefs and stroking up and down Harry’s cock with the barest of touches.
“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on your cock for quite some time now, Potter.” Malfoy emphasised his words by wrapping his hand around Harry’s length and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Harry... if you’ve got your hands around my cock,” Harry breathed, letting his head fall back onto Malfoy’s shoulder. “I think it’s only fair...that you call me Harry.” Malfoy laughed softly, but leaned in to whisper against Harry’s ear.
“In that case...Harry.” Malfoy’s voice was soft and low, causing shivers to tingle up and down Harry’s spine. “When I have you naked on my bed with my cock in your arse...” Harry bit back a whimper. “...you may call me Draco.”
“Fuck...” Harry whispered, unable to stop himself from thrusting into Malfoy’s hand. Harry felt the all too familiar feeling stirring deep in his belly, warning him that at this rate he would be coming before ever reaching Malfoy’s incredibly inviting bed. With a pained sigh, Harry reluctantly placed his hand over Malfoy’s and stilled his movement. “It’s too much... I can’t... I’m going to...” Harry’s words trailed off into nonsense as Malfoy nipped and nibbled on Harry’s neck.
“On the bed... Harry.” Malfoy’s voice sounded slightly muffled against Harry’s skin, which burned at the thrill of hearing Malfoy say his first name in such a way. “Now.” Strong hands spun Harry around and gave him a none-too-gentle shove towards the bed.
Harry fell back, resting on his elbows to watch as Malfoy smirked and stalked over to stand between his parted legs. The blond cast an appraising eye over Harry’s splayed out form, tapping a solitary finger against the tip of his chin. “Mmm... although you do look incredibly alluring spread out on my bed, Harry. Something seems to be amiss.”
Malfoy drew his wand from inside his robes, and with a quick swish and a whispered spell, Harry’s clothes vanished. Leaving him totally naked and feeling rather exposed, considering the fact that Malfoy was still fully dressed. “There...” Malfoy grinned, his stormy grey eyes lingering over Harry’s bare torso and making Harry’s breath catch. “...much better.”
Not to be outdone, and wanting more than anything to see exactly what Malfoy was hiding under those ridiculously expensive robes of his, Harry pulled his own wand out and proceeded to point it at Malfoy.
“What do you think you’re doing, Potter?” the blond asked, narrowing his eyes.
“It’s Harry, remember.”
“My hand is no longer on your cock, Potter, so I can call you whatever I like,” Malfoy huffed, still eyeing Harry’s wand with a slight hint of apprehension. “Well?”
“I hope you’re not too fond of those clothes,” Harry said, waving his wand about in front of him and earning himself a raised eyebrow. “Because, Malfoy, turnabout is fair play.” Harry declared smugly, and before Malfoy could protest, Harry quickly muttered the required spell and grinned in satisfaction when Malfoy stood before him, now as stark bollock naked as Harry. “Mmmm...I agree. Much better.”
“You’re going to pay for that, you know.” Malfoy said, climbing onto the bed and onto Harry’s lap. His smooth, slender hands slid over Harry’s bare skin and wrapped around his cock. “Harry.”
“I’m counting on it,” Harry replied, reaching up and pulling Malfoy’s mouth down to his, forcing him to place a hand next to Harry’s head for balance. Harry kissed him thoroughly, moaning into Malfoy’s mouth as he felt the hand on his cock begin to move in slow, determined strokes. Malfoy’s hot, probing tongue did delicious things to the inside of Harry’s mouth, and Harry cursed the stupid need to breathe that forced him to break the kiss. Harry’s head fell to the side as he drew in great lungfuls of air, trying to get his breathing back on track, but the constant movement of Malfoy’s hand was severely hindering his progress.
“I want to fuck you, Harry.”
Malfoy’s urgent words caused Harry to immediately spread his legs so that Malfoy could settle between them. Malfoy’s fingers paused at the head of Harry’s dick, sliding around the top before another softly uttered spell had them all slick and ready, slipping down Harry’s shaft to his balls and the soft skin beyond. “I’ve wanted to do this every day since I moved into that infernal office, despite seeing you in those ill-fitting robes and horrendous Muggle clothes you insist on wearing.” Malfoy’s fingertips were now exploring Harry’s entrance and Harry had to laugh at the fact that Malfoy had managed to insult him while he had his fingers in Harry’s arse.
“Shut up, you insufferable prat, and just fuck me.” Harry spread his legs even further in invitation, grinning when Malfoy’s eyes flashed molten silver at the issued challenge,
“As you wish...” Malfoy replied, taking hold of his cock and stroking the tip against Harry’s hole, before entering him with one, long, hard thrust.
“Fuck, Draco...” Harry gasped out, finally giving in and using the Slytherin’s given name now that he did indeed have Draco’s cock in his arse. Harry arched his back, digging his fingers desperately into Draco’s pale hips as he held on tightly. Draco teased him mercilessly with slow, gentle strokes and Harry cursed loudly, muttering Draco’s name between pleas for faster, harder, and right-the-fuck-now.
“This, Harry” Draco said, grinning and shifting his hips in a positively sinful manner. “Is how it really feels...” Smooth hands grabbed Harry’s thighs and roughly pushed them back towards his body. “... to be fucked by a Malfoy.”
Harry lost himself in the warm body surrounding him and filling him, as Draco backed up his bold statement again and again; driving Harry a little further up the bed with each determined thrust of his hips. Harry was teetering on the edge of release, tendrils of ever-building pleasure licking up and down his spine. When Draco leaned in to kiss him, his taut stomach brushed over Harry’s cock and Harry came, hot and hard, barely registering Draco’s own release before he was covered from head to toe in a sweaty mess of trembling, blond Slytherin.
They lay in silence for a minute, each attempting to catch their breath.
“That was...” Draco trailed off and Harry smiled lazily at his apparent loss for words. “Salazar, Harry. If I’d know it would be that good, I’d have bent you over your desk on my first day at the office.”
“I think Ron might’ve had something to say about that.” Harry said, cringing as he imagined the look on Ron’s face.
“Well, Weasley would have had to wait his turn.” Draco replied airily, burying his nose in Harry’s shoulder.
“Turn? I’m not a fairground ride, you know.” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.
“A what?”
Before Harry could answer, Draco slid out of him and shifted onto his side next to him, his breath tickling Harry’s ear. “Considering my inability to share, I believe it’s a moot point anyway.”
Harry shook his head slightly at Draco’s ridiculousness and closed his eyes, far too relaxed to get into an argument over nothing. “Sleep,” he whispered, turning his head to nuzzle Draco’s hair and marvelling at the smell.
Harry felt the chilly tingle of Draco’s cleaning charm, followed by a long, slender arm snaking across his chest and a leg casually draped over his thigh. “Draco Malfoy, a cuddler?” Harry mumbled sleepily, laughing softly when Draco pinched his side in response.
“Fuck off, Potter.” Draco said, but his voice was soft and teasing. “If you tell anyone that, I will be forced to inform Pansy that you fancy a threesome.” Harry shuddered at the thought, vowing to never ever mention Draco’s nocturnal proclivities to a living soul. “Now, shut up and go to sleep.”
“Prat.”
“Tosser.”
Harry grinned to himself and wrapped his arms around the grumbling blond. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, Harry idly wondered if he should perhaps persuade Malfoy to work late on Monday, thinking that his desk idea was definitely worth investigating.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K Rowling.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 3700
Summary:When Draco Malfoy enters the same pub as Harry and his friends, things take an interesting turn. "If you don't go over there right this minute," Hermione paused, and smirked at Harry. "Then I will."
A/N This is just a little fluffy o/s I fancied doing in between my WiP's. It doesn't really have much plot, but I hope you find it fun and smutty.
Thanks to my lovely pre-readers TwiWeasel and MssDare for casting their eye over this at short notice, and huge smooches to Fr333bird for beta'ing this. Her super speedy red pen and continuous encouragement made this fic so much better.
“Harry! Over here.”
Harry looked up and grinned as a rather enthusiastic Hermione stood and waved at him from a small table tucked away in the corner. He grabbed his drink and made his way over through the unusually busy pub, laughing as he saw Ron roll his eyes and attempt to pull Hermione back down onto her stool.
“Ronald Weasley,” she hissed, turning to look down at Ron and batting his hand away from her sleeve. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Before Ron could summon up a suitably acceptable reply, Harry had reached their table and Hermione didn’t hesitate to fling her slender, but surprisingly strong arms around him; almost cutting off his air supply in the process. “Hello, Harry.”
“‘Mione...can’t breathe.” Harry gasped in reply, prising her fingers from the back of his neck and gently depositing her in Ron’s lap. “Alright, mate?” Harry said, grinning at his best friend as he slid into the spare seat. Harry nodded his head over at Hermione, who was busy extricating herself from Ron’s grasp with an exaggerated huff, and raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction.
“Few too many firewhiskies,” Ron whispered conspiratorially to Harry, before wincing and leaning over to Harry’s side of the table as Hermione’s icy glare immediately zeroed in on him.
“I heard that,” she said, reaching up to smooth her long, softly curled locks, and eyeing Ron with a practised look of disdain. “And for your inf’mation, I am not drunk.” Harry fought to keep a straight face at her ever so slightly slurred speech, not wanting to incur Hermione’s formidable wrath. Ron was most definitely on his own there.
Harry chuckled into his drink, idly watching the other occupants of his favourite wizarding pub while he waited for Ron to inevitably admit defeat and accept the fact that Hermione was definitely not the slightest bit drunk.
He’d not seen the pair of them since last Friday night when they were here last, having been away all week on Ministry business. Harry loved his job, and wouldn’t dream of ever doing anything else, but all the recent travel was a right pain in the arse. A sharp elbow to the ribs snapped him out of his musing, almost making him spill his drink.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Harry snapped, scowling and rubbing his side. Hermione was gesturing over towards the door, urging him to look with a huge grin and knowing eyes. Under normal circumstances Harry would have laughed out loud at her comical expression, but he was far too busy ogling the striking couple who had just entered the pub. Well, he was definitely ogling the tall, blond, and irritatingly handsome figure that was Malfoy; but his companion, Pansy Parkinson - not so much.
Harry sighed and grabbed his drink, downing it in one and coughing slightly at the welcome burn. He watched them saunter across to the bar, all Slytherin grace and seemingly effortless style. He tried, in vain, to ignore the way his trousers got uncomfortably tight all of a sudden; Draco Malfoy was so far out of Harry’s league, it was pointless getting his hopes up, or anything else for that matter.
Harry dropped his head into his hands, willing his poor, deluded erection to give up already and accept the fact that it was never getting anywhere near Malfoy... or his gorgeous arse.
“Honestly, Harry.” Hermione said, her determined tone setting off alarm bells in Harry’s head. “You’ve been lusting after Draco Malfoy for the last two months, I don’t know why you just don’t ask him out.”
Harry sympathised as Ron choked a little on the mouthful of butterbeer he’d just taken. Although Ron accepted Harry’s sexual orientation without question, even Ron had his limits and Hermione’s persistent matchmaking, especially with Malfoy, was pushing them a little far.
“Merlin’s pants, Hermione,” Ron managed, looking more than a little ill. “Must you try and set Harry up with him, of all people.”
“Oh come on Ron,” Hermione answered, talking in that special voice that she used when Ron was being particularly clueless. “It’s glaringly obvious that they both like each other, I don’t see what the problem is.”
“Maybe it’s the fact that he’s an insufferable git, who’s about as appealing as... as... a Hungarian Horntail.” Ron cried, triumphantly; satisfied that he’d found an apt likeness.
As if on cue, the ‘insufferable git’ in question turned and looked over in their direction. Cool grey, appraising eyes swept over Harry’s face, lingering on his mouth. The hopeful bulge in Harry’s trousers grew impossible harder when Malfoy licked his pink, delicious looking lips before turning and laughing at something Pansy whispered into his ear. Harry watched transfixed as he ran his long, slender fingers through perfectly styled platinum hair and Harry’s cock twitched as he imagined how he could put those fingers to a much better use. When Malfoy met his eyes again and winked, Harry had to count to ten, thinking of all manner of unsavoury things, to prevent embarrassing himself in front of his friends.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, slipping a hand under the table to reposition his cock so it wasn’t almost folded in half. He sighed at the slight relief it brought, silently congratulating himself on performing the manoeuvre without either Ron or Hermione noticing. Unfortunately for Harry, someone else had noticed. The questioning arch of Malfoy’s perfect eyebrow, coupled with the ever present smirk, had Harry blushing profusely and wondering if he could possibly obliviate the blond without anybody noticing. With the way Parkinson was draped all over him, he seriously doubted it.
“Well?” Hermione prodded him with the tip of her wand, “Are you going over to say hello?”
“What? No!” Harry replied, horrified at the thought of going anywhere near Malfoy after what he’d just caught Harry doing. It would be bad enough facing him at work on Monday; he didn’t want to listen to his inevitable sarcastic remarks any sooner than absolutely necessary. “Besides, he’s with Pansy, and contrary to what you insist on believing, Hermione; Malfoy and I don’t like each other.”
“Rubbish.” Hermione snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “You know he’s not interested in Pansy Parkinson, even Ron knows that Draco prefers blokes.” She nodded over at Ron as she spoke and Harry grinned at his affronted expression. “And you two haven’t hated each other since we left Hogwarts, so don’t try to use that as an excuse. In fact with the amount of time you and Draco spend watching each other in that office of yours, I’m surprised any work gets done at all!”
Hermione sat back and crossed her arms, clearly happy with herself after putting Harry in his place. Harry was, quite frankly, beyond impressed that she’d managed to say the whole thing without slurring once.
“I’m warnin’ you Harry,” she added, waving her wand at him again and making Harry want to duck out of the way. “If you don’t go over there right this minute,” she paused, and smirked at him. “Then I will.”
“Best get over there, mate.” Ron sniggered from beside Harry, shoving him with his shoulder. “You know what she’s like.”
Oh God, Harry thought, casting a quick glance over towards Malfoy. He was still stood at the bar facing away from Harry, one hand wrapped around a glass of dark liquid, with the other in his pocket. Harry admired the way his trousers stretched tightly across his arse, before swallowing thickly and standing up, mentally preparing himself for his imminent humiliation.
In the two months since Draco Malfoy had joined Harry’s team at the Ministry, Harry had watched and wanted from the comfort of his desk. They’d traded teasing insults with one another, but that was the extent of their conversation. He’d seen the sort of people that Malfoy liked to parade about with in public, thanks to the numerous pictures in the Daily Prophet, and Harry knew he was sorely lacking in both looks and breeding.
“Go get him, Harry.” Hermione whispered, giggling behind her hand as Harry narrowed his eyes and glared at her.
“Fine. But if he fucking hexes me, Hermione, I will tell Molly that you throw away all the gooseberry and peanut-butter tarts she send you.” Harry smiled smugly at the shocked look on Hermione’s face. He didn’t blame her one bit -- although Molly Weasley’s cakes were usually beyond tasty, that particular treat was not one of her best -- but he wasn’t above using it as revenge if things went badly with Malfoy. Which they almost certainly would.
Harry pushed away from the table and reluctantly headed over towards the bar, thankful that at least his nervousness had tamed his cock into submission. He could only imagine the look on Malfoy’s face if he walked up to him with a raging hard-on.
As Harry got closer to the pair of Slytherins, he groaned as Pansy noticed him and smirked, nudging Malfoy. He turned his head in Harry’s direction, eyes widening ever so slightly before returning to their usual cool gaze. They travelled over Harry’s body, slowly and thoroughly taking in every inch and much to Harry’s utter horror, he was once again rock-fucking-hard.
Harry sighed, and not for the first time since he’d arrived the pub, wished he’d stayed at home tonight.
As if he wasn’t embarrassed enough by his unfortunate erection, the rather large lady to the side of Harry chose that exact moment to wave her arms about, catching Harry across the back of the shoulder, and consequently sending him careering head first into...oh no...Malfoy.
“Umpff!” Malfoy grunted as Harry fell into him and he had no choice but to grab Harry and steady him, before they both fell over. It just so happened that as a result, Harry’s groin was now flush against Malfoys thigh. “Well, well, well, Potter.” Malfoy purred next to Harry’s ear. “Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”
Harry’s traitorous cock twitched in delight as Malfoy’s warm breath tickled his ear, at about the same time that Pansy tapped Harry on the arm and handed him his wand, which he must have dropped as he stumbled.
“Hmm... not your wand then,” Malfoy whispered, still holding on to Harry.
“Um...no,” Harry mumbled against Malfoy’s shoulder, suddenly deciding that any further conversation at this precise moment was a very bad idea. “Excuse me.” Harry said, quickly extricating himself from Malfoy’s grasp and hurrying off to the relative safety of the loos.
“Fuck,” Harry hissed at the mirror as he braced himself against the sink. The toilets were blessedly empty, because Harry was in no mood for idle chit chat. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Harry scowled down at the bulge in his trousers, cursing it for its bad behaviour. ”Why can’t you do as I ask, just once?”
“It won’t answer back, Potter.” Harry jumped at the unexpected voice, wondering how Malfoy had managed to sneak in without him noticing. Harry’s wide green eyes shot up, meeting Malfoy’s amused gaze in the mirror. “Well, I certainly hope it won’t. But I wouldn’t put anything past The Chosen One.”
Harry rolled his eyes at the jibe, opening his mouth to supply a snarky comeback, but Malfoy shifted forward until his hips were snug against Harry’s arse. Harry gasped as he felt the unmistakable hardness of Malfoy’s prick, and swallowed whatever witty retort had been about to come out.
“Cat got your tongue?” Malfoy asked. His hands curled around Harry’s hips, pulling him back and rubbing his long, hard cock between Harry’s cheeks. Harry moaned, a deep, long, drawn-out moan that sounded embarrassingly loud in the empty bathroom. “I can help you with this,” Malfoy whispered, slipping a hand down to palm Harry’s aching cock. “Just say the word, Potter.”
Harry’s brain was currently residing in his tented boxers, and it took him a good few seconds to formulate a response. “Yes,” he eventually replied, wanting nothing more than to have Malfoy ‘help’ him with his rather large problem.
Harry caught Malfoy’s smirk in the mirror as his hands gripped Harry tight and with a loud crack, Malfoy apparated them back to his flat. Harry belatedly realised that he should perhaps have told his friends he was leaving. The fleeting thought vanished as quickly as it had appeared however, when Harry stumbled forward and came face to face with Malfoy’s huge four-poster bed.
Malfoy’s hands were still securely fastened around Harry’s hips; a fact Harry was made acutely aware of when Malfoy’s deft fingers found the buttons on Harry’s jeans and proceeded to undo them with surprising speed. They pooled in a heap around Harry’s feet and Malfoy’s hands wasted no time at all, slipping inside his red boxer briefs and stroking up and down Harry’s cock with the barest of touches.
“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on your cock for quite some time now, Potter.” Malfoy emphasised his words by wrapping his hand around Harry’s length and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Harry... if you’ve got your hands around my cock,” Harry breathed, letting his head fall back onto Malfoy’s shoulder. “I think it’s only fair...that you call me Harry.” Malfoy laughed softly, but leaned in to whisper against Harry’s ear.
“In that case...Harry.” Malfoy’s voice was soft and low, causing shivers to tingle up and down Harry’s spine. “When I have you naked on my bed with my cock in your arse...” Harry bit back a whimper. “...you may call me Draco.”
“Fuck...” Harry whispered, unable to stop himself from thrusting into Malfoy’s hand. Harry felt the all too familiar feeling stirring deep in his belly, warning him that at this rate he would be coming before ever reaching Malfoy’s incredibly inviting bed. With a pained sigh, Harry reluctantly placed his hand over Malfoy’s and stilled his movement. “It’s too much... I can’t... I’m going to...” Harry’s words trailed off into nonsense as Malfoy nipped and nibbled on Harry’s neck.
“On the bed... Harry.” Malfoy’s voice sounded slightly muffled against Harry’s skin, which burned at the thrill of hearing Malfoy say his first name in such a way. “Now.” Strong hands spun Harry around and gave him a none-too-gentle shove towards the bed.
Harry fell back, resting on his elbows to watch as Malfoy smirked and stalked over to stand between his parted legs. The blond cast an appraising eye over Harry’s splayed out form, tapping a solitary finger against the tip of his chin. “Mmm... although you do look incredibly alluring spread out on my bed, Harry. Something seems to be amiss.”
Malfoy drew his wand from inside his robes, and with a quick swish and a whispered spell, Harry’s clothes vanished. Leaving him totally naked and feeling rather exposed, considering the fact that Malfoy was still fully dressed. “There...” Malfoy grinned, his stormy grey eyes lingering over Harry’s bare torso and making Harry’s breath catch. “...much better.”
Not to be outdone, and wanting more than anything to see exactly what Malfoy was hiding under those ridiculously expensive robes of his, Harry pulled his own wand out and proceeded to point it at Malfoy.
“What do you think you’re doing, Potter?” the blond asked, narrowing his eyes.
“It’s Harry, remember.”
“My hand is no longer on your cock, Potter, so I can call you whatever I like,” Malfoy huffed, still eyeing Harry’s wand with a slight hint of apprehension. “Well?”
“I hope you’re not too fond of those clothes,” Harry said, waving his wand about in front of him and earning himself a raised eyebrow. “Because, Malfoy, turnabout is fair play.” Harry declared smugly, and before Malfoy could protest, Harry quickly muttered the required spell and grinned in satisfaction when Malfoy stood before him, now as stark bollock naked as Harry. “Mmmm...I agree. Much better.”
“You’re going to pay for that, you know.” Malfoy said, climbing onto the bed and onto Harry’s lap. His smooth, slender hands slid over Harry’s bare skin and wrapped around his cock. “Harry.”
“I’m counting on it,” Harry replied, reaching up and pulling Malfoy’s mouth down to his, forcing him to place a hand next to Harry’s head for balance. Harry kissed him thoroughly, moaning into Malfoy’s mouth as he felt the hand on his cock begin to move in slow, determined strokes. Malfoy’s hot, probing tongue did delicious things to the inside of Harry’s mouth, and Harry cursed the stupid need to breathe that forced him to break the kiss. Harry’s head fell to the side as he drew in great lungfuls of air, trying to get his breathing back on track, but the constant movement of Malfoy’s hand was severely hindering his progress.
“I want to fuck you, Harry.”
Malfoy’s urgent words caused Harry to immediately spread his legs so that Malfoy could settle between them. Malfoy’s fingers paused at the head of Harry’s dick, sliding around the top before another softly uttered spell had them all slick and ready, slipping down Harry’s shaft to his balls and the soft skin beyond. “I’ve wanted to do this every day since I moved into that infernal office, despite seeing you in those ill-fitting robes and horrendous Muggle clothes you insist on wearing.” Malfoy’s fingertips were now exploring Harry’s entrance and Harry had to laugh at the fact that Malfoy had managed to insult him while he had his fingers in Harry’s arse.
“Shut up, you insufferable prat, and just fuck me.” Harry spread his legs even further in invitation, grinning when Malfoy’s eyes flashed molten silver at the issued challenge,
“As you wish...” Malfoy replied, taking hold of his cock and stroking the tip against Harry’s hole, before entering him with one, long, hard thrust.
“Fuck, Draco...” Harry gasped out, finally giving in and using the Slytherin’s given name now that he did indeed have Draco’s cock in his arse. Harry arched his back, digging his fingers desperately into Draco’s pale hips as he held on tightly. Draco teased him mercilessly with slow, gentle strokes and Harry cursed loudly, muttering Draco’s name between pleas for faster, harder, and right-the-fuck-now.
“This, Harry” Draco said, grinning and shifting his hips in a positively sinful manner. “Is how it really feels...” Smooth hands grabbed Harry’s thighs and roughly pushed them back towards his body. “... to be fucked by a Malfoy.”
Harry lost himself in the warm body surrounding him and filling him, as Draco backed up his bold statement again and again; driving Harry a little further up the bed with each determined thrust of his hips. Harry was teetering on the edge of release, tendrils of ever-building pleasure licking up and down his spine. When Draco leaned in to kiss him, his taut stomach brushed over Harry’s cock and Harry came, hot and hard, barely registering Draco’s own release before he was covered from head to toe in a sweaty mess of trembling, blond Slytherin.
They lay in silence for a minute, each attempting to catch their breath.
“That was...” Draco trailed off and Harry smiled lazily at his apparent loss for words. “Salazar, Harry. If I’d know it would be that good, I’d have bent you over your desk on my first day at the office.”
“I think Ron might’ve had something to say about that.” Harry said, cringing as he imagined the look on Ron’s face.
“Well, Weasley would have had to wait his turn.” Draco replied airily, burying his nose in Harry’s shoulder.
“Turn? I’m not a fairground ride, you know.” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.
“A what?”
Before Harry could answer, Draco slid out of him and shifted onto his side next to him, his breath tickling Harry’s ear. “Considering my inability to share, I believe it’s a moot point anyway.”
Harry shook his head slightly at Draco’s ridiculousness and closed his eyes, far too relaxed to get into an argument over nothing. “Sleep,” he whispered, turning his head to nuzzle Draco’s hair and marvelling at the smell.
Harry felt the chilly tingle of Draco’s cleaning charm, followed by a long, slender arm snaking across his chest and a leg casually draped over his thigh. “Draco Malfoy, a cuddler?” Harry mumbled sleepily, laughing softly when Draco pinched his side in response.
“Fuck off, Potter.” Draco said, but his voice was soft and teasing. “If you tell anyone that, I will be forced to inform Pansy that you fancy a threesome.” Harry shuddered at the thought, vowing to never ever mention Draco’s nocturnal proclivities to a living soul. “Now, shut up and go to sleep.”
“Prat.”
“Tosser.”
Harry grinned to himself and wrapped his arms around the grumbling blond. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, Harry idly wondered if he should perhaps persuade Malfoy to work late on Monday, thinking that his desk idea was definitely worth investigating.