A/N: This is a story I wrote months ago, but never published here, so you may have read it somewhere else! :)
Draco Malfoy is not attractive.
Not even one bit.
Nope.
Not when he runs his hand in his silky blond hair, that looks so incredibly soft.
Nor when he rests his pointy chin in his hand, his gaze venturing outside the window, and the fine features of his face seem altogether relaxed, he almost looks peaceful.
Not even when the tip of his tongue pokes out of his full lips and delicately maps his bottom lip.
No. Draco Malfoy is definitely not attractive.
Although Harry could maybe understand why some girls would find him good-looking, or handsome even. Harry supposes that girls are particularly attracted to blond hair and blue eyes. Such a cliché, really. Harry rolls his eyes. He wouldn't fall for something like that, certainly not. He prefers more ordinary physiques that show the person's deep personality, yes, people who don't really stand out in a crowd.
Not aristocratic, racy blond boys, nope. Not one second.
And it's not because right now, Malfoy is taking his shower nonchalantly, after another intense Quidditch match where, for the very first time, he has managed to catch the Snitch before him, that Harry is going to stare at the sharp lines of his lean body. Nope. He certainly won't. Nor will he notice how the water runs smoothly on the incredibly pale skin, so pale that it looks as if it never sees the sun.
Curiously, Harry doesn't mind that much having lost the Snitch to Malfoy. Because he knows, deep inside, that he has been distracted, and that he has not really put all he had to catch it. True, he did want to win the match for his team, and true, he has been disappointed at not catching it, and it has hurt his pride a bit, but, in the end, it doesn't really seem to matter to him that much now. He has other things on his mind.
And right now, the match is over, everybody else is gone – the Slytherins have promised Malfoy one hell of a party, and have gone to prepare it, while the Gryffindors hastily left the premises, head bowed and faces grim - and Harry is standing only a few feet away from Malfoy relaxing under his shower.
It is not the first time Harry waits for everybody to leave the changing rooms in order to enjoy some peace and quiet. He has actually been doing that quite a lot over the last few weeks, since he has become somewhat rather shy around other guys. Exactly, shy. He doesn't feel comfortable around them anymore. He feels… awkward. Almost like he shouldn't be there. He doesn't precisely know why, but he now feels uneasy at the idea of having other blokes take a look at his bits.
Fair enough, he has been walking around naked in those changing rooms for years before, and the other blokes didn't seem particularly interested in staring at his private parts. But that's no valid reason. He simply doesn't want to do that anymore. He has grown up, and needs more privacy now. Hence the waiting until everybody has gone. That way, nobody will stare at his bits.
And that way, he won't look at other guys' private parts either. Because it's just not done. No straight guy takes good looks at other boys' bits. That would be weird, and if Harry did, it could maybe mean he is gay. Which he is not. Absolutely not. He likes girls, very much so. He is absolutely, positively, definitely NOT gay.
And if somehow he does happen to take quick glances at other boys' private parts, it is absolutely not to stare, but only to assess the competition and know what he is supposed to expect. Some kind of male reassurance, really, nothing more than that. And this perfectly straight behaviour also applies to his dreams as well.
It is not like Harry has ever dreamed of naked boys, no, it's more that he was dreaming about Quidditch, and somehow, instead of his dream being all about the match, like any dream about Quidditch would, it tended to focus on the after-match, the part in the changing rooms. Silly, really. Although Harry doesn't know why he would dream about boys taking showers in the changing rooms when really, there is nothing remotely interesting about that. Nothing at all.
And the fact that his cock is painfully hard in the morning every time he has this kind of dream, just means he is a healthy young man. Yes, that's it. And he wanks a lot, because he is eighteen, he has needs, he doesn't have any more threat of immediate death dangling above his head, and in the end, he is not that difficult. He can wank about anything or anyone, really.
And that's only because he is a healthy young man, in the prime of life, that right now, his body – his naked body, yes, because, nobody takes showers with their clothes on, really, that wouldn't be very smart – tenses as he is watching Malfoy showering, still safely hidden from view.
Oh.
Malfoy is lathering his body thoroughly, and it's- it's interesting. Yes, because his hands run all over his fit body, his firm chest, his taut stomach, and Harry gasps when Malfoy's left hand reaches below, all the way down to the curly blond patch of hairs lying there. He does this thing with his hands on his- well, his cock, cleaning it meticulously, taking his time, almost making a show out of it, as Harry watches, fascinated. Not that he's being fascinated by Malfoy's prick sliding smoothly in his curled fingers, no, but rather by the concentration on Malfoy's face as he is pulling the foreskin back and cleaning the red head underneath. It's funny, really, how watching Malfoy doing just that, an intimate but rather ordinary daily act, brings heat in many parts of his body.
But Harry doesn't really have time to ponder that though, as Malfoy turns around now, and displays his arse unashamedly at him. Harry's breath catches as Malfoy runs a soapy hand along the cleft of that perfect arse, and starts cleaning his, Merlin, his arsehole, before going over his arse cheeks once more.
Harry must admit that Malfoy has a rather pretty round arse, that looks quite firm, from where he stands. Although he is a bit too far to really know about that to be honest. One should get closer to be able to take a really good look at Malfoy's round arse. Or touch it. Yes, one should definitely touch it to really know if it is as firm as it looks.
Because Malfoy may be bragging right now, with his firm-looking round arse, but as long as nobody is able to touch it, to certify it is indeed as firm as it looks, well, it is merely nothing else but bragging. Yes, that's it! The arrogant prat is once again bragging! Unbelievable! Even there, under the shower, he is showing off! As if Harry would be stupid enough to fall into his trap! Ha! Not on your life, Malfoy!
Who does he think he is, really? Flaunting his incredibly smooth-looking, round, firm arse to people, because, hello? Even if right now, there's nobody else but Harry in the room, and well, Malfoy can't really see him, it is still a bit of a provocation. Exactly, provocation!
And Harry has to do something about it. Because Malfoy definitely shouldn't be allowed to flaunt his arse like that to anybody. Harry has to go and teach him a lesson. Like right now.
He hastily removes his glasses, and throws them on the nearest bench, before walking right into the showers, making Malfoy jump and swiftly turn around.
"Potter? What the fuck are you doing here?" Malfoy blinks a few times quickly, and looks pretty surprised to see Harry standing here, very close to him, very naked, and um, well, very aroused.
And Harry must admit, it's a pretty good question. One worth thinking about. Because really, what on earth is he doing in the showers with Malfoy, his prick aching hard?
Yeah, it doesn't really make sense. Harry really should go away now. That would be the sensible thing to do. Because, he is so not turned on by Malfoy's body being so close to him. And he so not wants to press his hands on Malfoy's beautiful chest, nor does he want to grab Malfoy's incredibly interesting cock into his hand. Or into his mouth. No. Because, that would definitely be kind of gay, wouldn't it? And Harry is not gay.
Okay, so maybe he is a little. But just a little bit, not like completely gay. He just- he's just curious. Yes, that's it. He is not gay, he is curious, and as a very curious person, he likes to conduct experiments to discover new things. Which is why, right now, as the water keeps pouring on the two of them, he falls down on his knees, staring at Malfoy's beautiful, mouth-watering, definitely rapidly hardening dick, and takes it into his mouth without another thought.
He hears a loud moan up there, and he suddenly seems to remember that the cock definitely belongs to someone. He closes his eyes, and lets Malfoy's prick slide on his tongue. It's- it's- wow. Harry has no word to describe the feeling of Malfoy's hot hard dick on his tongue. It's heavy, and soft, and oh, God, as he swirls his tongue around the head, it's just brilliant. Like really, incredibly, fucking brilliant.
He suddenly feels Malfoy's hand in his hair, keeping him in place, and setting the pace, the water pouring down on his back, as he sucks on Malfoy's cock on and on. Harry has to hold on to something, so he presses one hand on the tiled wall of the shower, and uses the other one to hold Malfoy's cock in place. He circles his fingers around it, and slowly starts jerking him off, all the while licking and sucking the head like mad.
Malfoy's cock is pure bliss. Harry wants to worship it. And so he does. He sucks, he licks, he pulls out before taking the length back in his eager mouth again. He is all over himself, not thinking about anything else anymore, but Malfoy's cock in his mouth. Oh, and yes, Malfoy's balls as well. Because Harry would very much like to touch them right now. Feel them. And – oh God, if the sound Malfoy makes as Harry finally cups his bollocks isn't incredibly hot! Harry's hand has left the wall to grab Malfoy's dick instead, all the while cupping his heavy, very full balls with his other hand and sucking him like his life depends on it.
As he feels Malfoy close, Harry suddenly freezes, swiftly removes his hands and mouth from Malfoy's bits, and frowns. He hears Malfoy gasp up there, and ask in a raspy voice, "Potter?"
This is wrong. This is so wrong.
Because this is not the reason he joined Malfoy in the shower in the first place. The reason he crossed the room and found himself in there, was because he needed to check on Malfoy's arse. And he still hasn't! Harry can't believe he could be so oblivious sometimes!
"Potter, what are you- oh, fuck, Potter!" Malfoy exclaims, as Harry suddenly stands up, turns him around rather abruptly, and pins him hard on the cold tiles of the shower stall. And now, he can finally take a good look at this gorgeous, presumably firm, round arse.
Harry keeps his left hand firmly pressed on Malfoy's shoulder blades, and lets his right hand wander down Malfoy's back, the tip of his fingers caressing the soft slippery wet skin of Malfoy's back before finally – finally! – reaching his beautiful round arse.
Merlin. It is very smooth, and oh, very, very firm. And Harry revels in the touch of this beautiful, firm, round, perfect arse. Malfoy is panting like mad, and catches his breath as once again, Harry finds himself on his knees, to get a much better view at the wonder that is displayed in front of him.
His eyes are wide open as he places both hands on each of Malfoy's arse cheeks, and Malfoy moans, as Harry gently caresses them, completely fascinated, hands running around in circles over the definitely smooth butt. Malfoy's cheeks are amazing. Soft. Blemish-free. Wonderful. One should definitely expose them somewhere so that everybody could have access to these beautiful, perfectly round arse cheeks.
Harry is completely overwhelmed with lust and so hard he could come right here and then without touching himself. But he won't, no. Not yet. Because right now, his hands are moving on their own accord, and are slowly spreading Malfoy's cheeks, eliciting another delicious gasp from him.
And what lies beneath them is even more interesting. Malfoy's puckered hole. Harry is fascinated once again, almost hypnotised. His mouth salivates at the sight of this very intimate part of Malfoy's body. And suddenly, it is all too much. He pokes his tongue out, and tentatively starts licking a long stripe along Malfoy's cleft, right from the bottom up to the top.
"Oh, Potter, yes, yes, fuck, Potter, FUCK!" Malfoy's cry is music to his ears, as he licks a second time, and a third, and soon he can't count anymore. He just keeps on licking Malfoy's hole, and fuck if this isn't hot as hell! Malfoy has by now been rendered completely incoherent by Harry's licking, and writhes and moans like crazy.
Harry licks, sucks, and even lightly bites the soft flesh, and it feels so good, so incredibly fucking good! Malfoy's taste is arousing, and Harry loses himself in how amazing the whole thing just is. Fucking brilliant. He feels Malfoy's hole literally open under the assaults of his tongue, and he presses it hard inside, eliciting another loud whimper from Malfoy, who is now trembling crazily. Harry fucks him restlessly with his tongue, over and over again, before his cock is so hard he has to do something about it or he will explode.
He stands up so fast, he is almost dizzy, grabs his cock and strokes it like mad, before once again spreading Malfoy's legs with his other hand, brushing his balls in the process, the boy's palms now pressed firmly on either side of his head on the tiled wall, as he whimpers loudly and speaks Harry's name over and over again like a mantra.
Harry rubs his prick hard on Malfoy's hole a few times, feeling the head desperate to get in there, but it is too much, too soon, and he feels his balls tighten, as a first spurt of come shoots out from his painfully hard dick and splatters all over Malfoy's hole and arse cheeks, and Harry lets out a loud cry. As a reflex, he thrusts his hips forward, and a second spurt comes out as his hands grip Malfoy's hips hard, and the head of his cock breaches Malfoy's hole and finally passes the tight ring of muscles. Harry slides all the way in, until he is buried deep inside Malfoy and another spurt of come shoots from his dick, coating Malfoy's insides, making him groan beautifully. This is fucking brilliant. Harry cries as he pulls back and slams forward again, and another spray of come erupts from his dick, and another, and another, and he feels Malfoy shudder against him and shout his name, as Harry thrusts again a few more times before finally steadying himself in this hot and oh-so-tight, definitely firm arse.
He comes slowly down from this one hell of an orgasm, and only fleetingly realises that Malfoy is panting heavily, his forehead pressed against the wall, and his hands still holding on it. Through his fogged brain, Harry watches Malfoy's come being drained away by the still running water.
As Harry slowly withdraws from Malfoy's arse, he shivers. Suddenly, the immensity of what he has just done dawns on him.
He has just fucked Draco Malfoy.
Like in Draco Malfoy.
Like in Draco Malfoy, the biggest prat ever.
Like in Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin, arrogant bastard, Draco Malfoy, the ferret, Draco Malfoy, the ex-Death Eater.
Oh, and Draco Malfoy the boy.
Harry closes his eyes and hears Malfoy turn the water off.
"Well, if I had known what catching the Snitch would lead me to, I certainly would have tried harder before," Malfoy smirks and Harry flicks his eyes open, only to face the bloody git. Harry stares blankly at Malfoy's slightly narrowed eyes and instantly wants to slap him. "Anyway, I didn't know you played for the team, Potter," Malfoy adds, a weird look in his eyes.
"I don't," Harry snaps. "I'm not gay." Because he is not- although he must admit, fucking another boy into oblivion might give the wrong idea. Shit, he is not so sure anymore.
Malfoy lets out a little laugh. "Right, you're not gay, and yet you've just come hard inside my arse. Oh, and licked my dick as well. And my arsehole, too. Merlin, Potter-"
"It won't happen again. I'm sorry," Harry mumbles, and storms out of the shower as dignified as one can be in such a situation.
"Well, that's too bad," Malfoy follows him, an edge to his voice, as he grabs his arm, forcing him to stop. Malfoy then leans in and whispers in his ear. "Because I would very much like to return the favour," and Harry shivers as he suddenly feels a soft hand ghosting over his left arse cheek. His prick jerks at the touch and he gasps. He is not going to get hard over Malfoy again.
He turns around slowly, facing Malfoy, who is eyeing him expectantly, and right at this moment, as he is finally able to take a good look at him – blond, dripping hair falling over beautiful blue-grey eyes, fine features, straight nose, and full, slightly parted lips - Harry knows he is lost. Because he doesn't know anything anymore. Because everything is so fucking confusing right now. And because nothing makes sense in all that is happening to him – although that is hardly news.
And yet, among all these crazy, weird and scary feelings, there is one thing that Harry finally knows for sure: Draco Malfoy is a bastard, a fucking pain in the arse, a complete tosser, but he is definitely NOT attractive.
No.
Draco Malfoy is way beyond attractive.
Draco Malfoy is fucking hot as hell.
Shit. Harry is getting hard again.