pushdragon recs

Sep 21, 2021 18:39



draco under glass | pushdragon | NC17

Malfoy only continues to watch him and wait. It occurs to Harry that uncomfortable questions come easier from the mouths of men in glasses. The lenses shelter Malfoy's eyes, taking the hardness out of them, and the fine silver frames with strands of white hair brushing over them by his temples put a scholarly cast on his face. With his stillness and the visual harmony of his white skin and simple black robes, Malfoy has put himself out of reach of Harry's anger. He wonders if Malfoy himself understands how effective a shield it is.

istanbul was | pushdragon | G

Byzantium, after all, took the name of one man upon itself and flourished.

nocturne for quill and ink | pushdragon | NC17

The note is written in Draco's sharp-edged scrawl. Its steep downward slant suggests negligence, as if he'd written it while holding something more important in the other hand. It lies on the dining room table - a battered hulk of oakwood run aground against the wall between the windows that look onto the laneway. Draco has shoved back the debris of stained teacups, discarded letters and slag-heaps of old Prophets to make a bare border around the note, so it can't be missed.

étude: a lesson in voice (sequel to nocturne for quill and ink) | pushdragon | NC17

On the mornings when Draco pulls things out of the cupboards, sorts out the piles in the hallway, and starts putting it all into boxes, Harry takes refuge in the bedroom. On the first day, Harry throws a mug at him when he opens the door, hard enough to shatter into splinters and keep him out for the whole day and night. On the second day, he pulls Draco onto the bed and subjects him to the sort of brutally thorough handjob that leaves him wrapping himself around Harry's body, panting and begging. The subsequent days fall somewhere in between.

The house is full of stacked boxes. Only the kitchen cupboards remain to be emptied.

A TALE OF HORNS SERIES:

1/4. a tale of horns: the inaugural tongues of fire photographic wall calendar | pushdragon | NC17

"Is that all you want to do? Fritter away the last of your family's money on crazy stunts?"

"Until I run out of challenges," Draco snapped back. He could feel his jaw going rigid, along with all the tendons in his face.

"Don't," Potter said and kissed him.

This time, concentrating, Potter was good at it. Better than good. He kissed like it was an erotic act in itself, more than just an introduction to something more carnal. His tongue lingered in Draco's mouth. His body raising itself over Draco's once more was a heat source in the cooling air.

In the end it was Draco who gave in to impatience and slid his hand back into the open front of Potter's trousers. Their murmurs met in Potter's mouth when he cradled Potter's slack length and worked it towards hardness. But Draco needed more than a grope this time. Needed to see everything that Potter had, get it out in the open, claim it, suck it, rub himself into it. Potter's hand followed his shoulder as he scrambled down the ottoman and guided the tip of Potter's cock between his lips. That got him a very satisfying shudder and, with it, a realisation. Once was never going to be enough, not for any of this. He liked the way Potter moved. He liked the way Potter smelled. He liked the way Potter didn't stop being Potter when he fucked.

2/4. mating rituals of the winged predator: how mr. february got almost everything he wanted (sequel to a tale of horns) | pushdragon | NC17

He knew how he wanted it to be. He wanted Potter like he'd got him by the end of that afternoon of the photo shoot - drunk on sex to the point where there was no glimmer of self-control left in him, drifting and trailing on Draco's whim. Holding nothing back. Giving himself over completely to pleasure. That's how Draco wanted him, and when he'd got him to that point, Draco was going to fuck him. And Potter would be so out of it he'd barely even remember how Draco had done it; all he'd know is that an hour later his hands were still shaking and his hips were still jerking to the rhythm of Draco's thrusts and he had never, ever felt so empty in his life as he did without the stroke of Draco's cock in him. That's how Draco wanted it. But he had to admit, there were about a hundred other ways he was prepared to accept it.

3/4. claws that catch: the fierce beast in his lair (sequel to mating rituals of the winged predator) | pushdragon | NC17

A couple of Potter's limbs cracked as he stretched out by Draco's side. He bent his face down close, questioning. Draco couldn't - he couldn't let Potter kiss him right now, not when he didn't have the slightest defence in place. He dragged one hand out from behind his head and laid his fingertips on Potter's lips. Potter's breath slipped between them, warm and slow. He took two of Draco's fingers gently between his teeth and let his eyes fall closed and seemed content with that. His eyebrows were a wretched mess and his lashes clumped together with moisture, the product of exertion and all that abuse of his gag reflex. He was really just a little bit pathetic in his eagerness. Draco drew his fingers free as Potter's forehead descended to rest in the crook of his neck. He even allowed the possessive drape of Potter's leg over his own.

4/4. dragon riding for beginners: how the cover boy finally got it (sequel to claws that catch) | pushdragon | NC17

This was a temporary arrangement, even if a mere two nights in a hotel bed in Brasov had been a long enough absence to make his pulse quicken just now as he approached Potter's front door. He could have come round the back way, through Toad's Eye Lane, like everybody else. But he liked this door with its short journey through Muggle streets in his slightly inappropriate clothes. He liked having a doorway that was all his own. He liked the little foyer inside the door, with the quiet company of Potter's coats on their pegs as Potter's arms slid around his neck and he got his first taste of a long night of Potter's mouth. He was even quite fond of the strips of blue and red stained glass that flanked the doorway, which, for a few select minutes in the early evening, might dapple Potter's left hip in colour as Draco backed him into the wall and undressed him.

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