A/N: Hello my loves! I know it's been a while *winces* but I thought that maybe if I offered you all some porn, it would make you a little less mad at me. XD Anyway, I've been reading around that it is the tenth anniversary for Harry and Draco and I wanted to write them a little bit of smut. It has a little bit of a plot but not much. It's really just dirty, angry porn...with some fluff. I can't resist the fluff, hahah! I hope you all enjoy and I would love to know what you think!
Warnings: Um, Boy sex. The hot, dirty, against-the-wall kind of boy sex. If you don't like this then I recommend you go elsewhere. Also, Harry has a bit of a potty mouth ;P
Yes
It was just his stupid mouth running off with him again. That's all. A mocking taunt that was meant to inspire rage rather than…
Well, rather than this anyway.
"Merlin, Malfoy! Where did your balls go? Did they shrivel up and drop off when Voldemort kicked the bucket? Wait, you probably never had any to begin with! As a matter of fact, I bet you fuck like an old man on Sleeping Potions!" yes, not his brightest moment he was willing to admit. But he should have known. Really. Nothing ever went the way it was supposed to. Now, as he looks back on it, the 'insult' was a result of the constant simmering fury that had built up over the last year, beginning in the weeks after the end of the war and merely escalating until he didn't even know himself anymore. Even Ron and Hermione were giving him a wide berth and throwing him worried looks that told him he needed to take a deep breath and just relax. But he couldn't and no matter how much he tried, the angrier he seemed to get. It resulted in fights with just about everyone in his dorm, snapping at everyone else even if they simply looked at him funny and his magic going haywire at the most inconvenient times. Harry had been in more detentions in the months he had been back at Hogwarts to finish his OWLs than he'd had since first year and the teachers were no longer catering to the fact that he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Killed Fucking Crazy Snake Face. Which, in his opinion, was a about time.
Still, that did not explain why he was here.
Here, with his entire body shoved up against a wall, cheek getting scraped by the cold, rough stone with a one furious and rather violent blond pressed against his back. Something was gnawing at the back of his mind as his trousers were torn from his hips then his shirt from his shoulders, making him gasp but he couldn't make the thought materialize. He hadn't meant what he said, of course. As a matter of fact, he probably shouldn't have said it at all but he hated how he couldn't stop thinking about Malfoy, as if it was a habit he had been unable to forget from sixth year, only now the other boy was different, changed and Harry was more interested in the way his hair fell against the back of his pale neck and the way his silver eyes no longer held any expression, even when people abused him. Which was often. This unfettered obsession, for that was what it was and even he couldn't deny it, only served to fuel his anger and though he had been avoiding Malfoy all year in hopes that it would all just simply go away, it never really did.
Today, though, something had snapped. A burly sixth year Gryffindor whose name was something that rhymed with Douche had stopped the blond from going to his seat during breakfast that morning, a large, square hand planted in the middle of the slender chest and had said something that had all the other houses laughing, (though Harry had missed what it had been, exactly, because the blood roaring through his ears had rendered him nearly deaf). Normally the bullies didn't touch Malfoy, as if he had a disease but this one had no such compunctions and it was this touch more than the insults that fueled is rage. A butter plate in front of Harry cracked down the middle and all the silverware rearranged itself but since everyone was now intent on the one sided exchange going on beside the Slytherin table, it went unnoticed.
And Malfoy just stood there, head down, eyes lowered, taking the abuse just like he always did, silently and utterly lacking in pride. Once, he would have lifted his chin and given the taller boy such a look of distain, it would have frozen the sixth year to the floor where he stood. But now…Harry had grit his teeth and fisted his hands under the table, willing the blond to show something. "It's the condition of his parole," Hermione had said the very first day they had come back, when Ron had asked in an indignant voice what the hell Malfoy was doing at Hogwarts, "He has to finish his schooling with top grades on all of his exams and he can't get into any trouble or its three years in Azkaban,"
Maybe it had been those words that had started his obsession. Harry had never thought of Malfoy as brave before but the boy had to have a steel set of balls to set foot in the school again that he'd had a huge hand in helping destroy. And he had kept to those guidelines, never once setting a foot out of line and it infuriated Harry to the point of doing something rather incredibly stupid. He had gotten out of his seat when the insults and that fucking touch had grown too much and walked purposely over to where Malfoy was standing quietly, his anger shimmering around him in a snapping cloud of barely leashed magic. It had sent the other Gryffindor, Douche bag Something-or-other, scampering and the blond had turned slowly to face him, resignation the only emotion in his eyes.
"I guess you're going to tell me how disgusting I am too," even his voice was dull and a few more dishes in the immediate area shattered. Every single eye in the hall was on them, students holding so still as if they were afraid one indrawn breath would set off an explosion. Maybe it would too, but not for the reasons they might think. Harry had crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the blond, pulling his magic back under his skin with an effort.
"No. What I think is disgusting is how you're letting these stupid fucking arse-wipes use you as their personal snot rags. Even I could come up with better insults than them and I'm crap at it," his harsh language had earned him several gasps around the room but he had been so intent on Malfoy's face that he didn't miss the tiny upwards curl of the other boy's full lips. It was gone a second later but it had been there none-the-less. Encouraged, he had bullied on, not caring who was listening, "You would never have taken shit like this before and even though you were a fucking prat, you at least had some pride about it," in the ensuing silence, he could hear the brains of those watching starting to churn, no doubt beginning to wonder why the hell Harry Potter was essentially telling Malfoy to stick up for himself. The gray gaze fell to the floor but not before they had snagged on his own emerald eyes, questioning and unsure. And perhaps, just maybe, a little bit relieved.
And for some reason that made him even angrier. Not because of the relief but because the blond should have to feel it at all..
"I…have none of that left. I don't need it," the words came out smoothly but behind them there was choked regret and he felt the weight of the choices the blond had made weighing heavily in the atmosphere around them. He just couldn't understand giving up.
"Bullshit," he hissed, spitting the last syllable hard enough to make the students closest to them flinch. But Malfoy didn't flinch. No, he had faced much harder things and he had prevailed. It was only in coming back to this school that he had faded away and become something less. Harry wasn't sure why the thought of a broken Malfoy scared him but it did, "You can tell yourself whatever you like but the fact remains that you are too fucking scared to lift your head and tell them all to fuck off," Several of the teachers were standing and making their way over, though they didn't look too thrilled at having to break up a fight that involved their precious Harry Potter.
And through it all, Malfoy continued to look away, carefully hiding himself behind his wall constructed of shattered ice shards.
That was when Harry exploded, saying the stupidest thing he had probably ever said in his life while turning every single plate in the hall to dust and disrupting the spell on the ceiling so that the warm, starry night disappeared and lightning cracked sharply against one of the beams. Everyone jumped and a few people screamed and he rolled his eyes, reigning it back in again. Someone was yelling his name but he didn't care because Malfoy had gone absolutely still, as if he was afraid if he moved he would betray himself. Then, very slowly, he lifted his head until his eyes found Harry's again.
The raw fury that met his own head on left the dark haired boy speechless. And, in the back of his mind, a voice was whispering, yes…yes, that's what I've been looking for. McGonagall had reached them then and herded both boys in their proper direction with a stern admonishment but for a short moment, he had forgotten his own anger in the wake of someone else's.
In the wake of Malfoy's, which was inexplicably beautiful and the sight of it made catching his breath difficult.
…
Later, in History of Magic, a note fluttered onto his desk, unnoticed by the rest of the snoozing, drooling class and he opened it after a moment of contemplation, too bored to really care much. The words, however, that greeted him made him sit upright and blink in shock. There, in Malfoy's neat, loopy script, was the very question he had been pondering himself for the past few months…
Do you think about how I fuck often, Potter? The deep, gray eyes were fixed on him when he glanced over at the other side of the room and he could not tell what Malfoy was thinking behind the intensity of his gaze. For the first time in more than a year, those eyes were watching him and the feeling made his mouth go dry. He turned back to contemplate the note, nervously fiddling with his quill before making a decision and jotting down his answer. When he sent it back, he made sure to watch Malfoy's face when he opened it and the open astonishment that melted into sharp, thoughtful heat made his heart skip.
Yes.
…
That, he surmised through the haze that had seized him, was how he ended up here, groaning as those long, slender hands stroked up the front of his thighs and over the flat line of his abdomen, making him shudder. Teeth blazed against the back of his shoulders and cut into his back and the pain added to his desire, heating it up until it blazed under his skin and tightened heavily in his groin. The other boy was breathing harshly against his skin, breaths humid and sending tiny ripples of pleasure through Harry, who was already shivering pleasantly from the contrast of the cold stone against his overheated skin. The scent of Draco Malfoy overwhelmed him, smelling of open skies, something citrusy and sweat; it smelled so good and every time he sucked in a desperate breath, it filled his nose and sent a pulse to his already dripping cock. Because, oh fuck, this was Malfoy doing this to him, touching him in places he didn't even know could feel so good and making him unravel with breathtaking intensity.
"Damn it, Potter," the blond hissed against his skin, sucking what was probably going to be a rather livid bruise onto the side of Harry's neck as he crushed his pelvis into the dark haired boy's backside, "Why does it always…have to be you?" and really, it was a very good question when he stopped to think about it. Why was it that Harry and Draco were so drawn to each other, whether it be for hate, rivalry or…something else? It could have been anyone, any other person and that would have been fine, normal even but he didn't want just anyone. He wanted tow-headed, conceited, passionate, lovely Draco and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Especially not when the slender hands were drawing fire over his skin with every touch and a hard erection was pressing into the crevice of his arse through the silky material of the other boy's trousers.
It was safe to say that he was sort of expecting the blond to do something since that morning, especially after the way Draco had looked at him in class. But he had still been caught off guard when a hand had caught hold of his wrist when he was walking to Gryffindor tower after Charms and yanked him into a dark alcove hidden behind a thick tapestry. He'd barely had time to be surprised before he was slammed up against the wall hard enough to have him seeing stars and someone else was on him, biting and licking desperately at his lips, hot hands all over his body, searing him right through his clothes. He had known almost at once that it was Malfoy and elation had flared through his mind before he succumbed to it, meeting kiss for kiss, lick for lick, touch for touch. So this was what was hiding under that cool exterior and dark, silvery stares, this fiery passion that threatened to melt him from the inside out.
When he had been spun around and pushed even harder into the stone, he had hardly been surprised, though he did wish he could touch the pale skin and silky hair some more. Instead he braced himself against the wall and pushed back into the other boy, already lost to the need building inside of him. There had been a hissed Silencing spell mixed in there but as their voices rose, he began to doubt that it would hold up for very long. And it was still well before dinner, in a rather well traversed hall, students passing by on their way to their classes or Professors that had a free period. Though they were well secluded, there was still a good chance that they could be discovered and Harry just couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Malfoy's hot, sinful tongue was swirling over the knob of his back and then started to make its way down, licking fire through the dark haired boy's veins.
"M—Mal—Draco…" he hadn't meant to say the blonde's fist name out loud but that was what came out anyway and the other boy caught his hips and squeezed, no doubt going to leave finger-shaped bruises on Harry's skin as the blond hummed something intelligible, "please," he whispered against the cool stone, "Please," because that was all he could manage. The rest of the world had been swept away on the tide of sharp desire, taking with it his anger and the lingering grief from the war and left him with nothing but heat and yes and more…
The groan that rumbled against the back of his neck was incredibly hot and deep, making him ache even more, although he had been positive that wasn't possible and then those wonderful, beautiful hands were wrapping around his cock and sliding over the curve of his arse and he just couldn't think anymore. He wanted in ways he didn't know he could and he didn't even realize he had reached down and curled his own finger's around Malfoy's, following the motion of his hand as it stroked and squeezed and fuck…He might have cursed, might have murmured the blonde's name but he couldn't really tell because his mind was a blank and his blood sounded loud in his ears. Against his back, Malfoy's heart thudded rapidly in time to his own.
"Fuck, Potter…you're so…" and he stopped talking, groaning as Harry pushed his hips into those hands, still caressing and teasing and spreading the fire ever faster and brighter through his body. His mouth was dry as he panted against the wall and he delighted in the way his breath caught against his parched throat. Outside in the hall someone walked by, laughing at something and he bit his lip, whimpering when Malfoy squeezed his cock harder, making him buck and shake.
"So…so what?" he breathed, wanting to know what the blond was going to say, wanting to know that he wasn't the only one who was aching for this, gagging for it, so much so he was sure he would die if he couldn't have it. The hand that had been kneading his backside slipped between his crack and he unconsciously spread his legs, begging for more.
"Like this," he hissed, sucking momentarily on his earlobe and making the dark haired boy moan again, "Like I can do anything to you and you'll let me…" those fingers stroked and searched and swiped over the puckered skin of his entrance and for a moment all he could see was white, "I want to fuck you, Potter," and all his brain could do was chant yesyesyesyesyes…He supposed he could have tried to say the words out loud but the jerk of his hips and the way he had to press the back of his free hand against his mouth, leaving indents in his skin was enough of a response. At any rate, Draco didn't seem to care about hearing him give permission. He had already whispered the one spell every young wizard learned upon reaching puberty, pressing his body against Harry's as he inserted a slick finger in.
And…oh! Harry groaned behind his gritted teeth, forehead mashed against the stones in front of him as of that would steady him against the tide pleasure trying to sweep him away. It burned a little as the thin digit slipped into his body but it felt so good too and he mindlessly pressed back into it, wanting more and more. The blond was hissing soft words into his neck, sometimes licking at his skin, sometimes sucking on his earlobe and between his finger slowly working in and out of his hole, their joined hands still slowly stroking his cock and the wet heat of his mouth, tongue, breath, voice, Harry quickly dissolved into a whimpering mess. Half the noises that spilled out of his throat even surprised him but he couldn't stop making them, not when he felt like he was lit up from the inside by the liquid light of the sun.
"Fuck…fuck…don't s-stop…God…" and another finger breached him, this time a little painful, and he took that respite to pull himself back from the edge, concentrating on the way the other boy felt pressed so close to him rather than the discomfort. This time it took a little longer to adjust and despite Draco's obvious urgency, he allowed Harry to get used to the intrusion before beginning to move his hand again.
"Salazar…if I had known you would be so hot like this…I would have done this ages ago…" the blonde's voice was broken and needy, longing so audible it made Harry ache and they sent a jolt through him, inordinately pleased that his one-time rival wanted him then too. It seemed too surreal, that they could be like this after everything that had happened but there was no longer denying their connection. Apparently they didn't need to hate each other to still hold the same violent passion that had always sparked their fights and as he drank it in, everything, even the pain, he realized how much he had missed it.
"Yes…yes…" he whispered, wondering if the blond had even heard him and then the world was dissolving in a spray of violent sparks as Draco slammed three fingers into the dark haired boy and twisted them. The resulting burst of heat and bliss made Harry arch his back so hard he thought it might snap and he screamed, throwing his head back as if that would help drag more air into his oxygen starved lungs. Why hadn't they been doing this all along? It was brilliant and wonderful and he knew he could very quickly get addicted to it. Judging by the way Draco spoke of how he wanted it, Harry could almost hope that he just might be allowed to become addicted and not only would it be okay, his craving would be fed and sated every time. Still those clever fingers teased and stroked that spot inside of him and the pleasure began to take form, spreading through his belly and tightening through his balls, his orgasm promising to be spectacular...All he needed was a little bit more, he was so….so close…
Then Draco's hand was gone, his incredible hand and Harry gasped a protest, his cock so hard it hurt and the space inside of him feeling empty. Below him had formed a little white puddle, pre cum weeping freely from his prick. It had slicked the blonde's hand, which had stilled at the same time he pulled the fingers of his other hand free, and seeped through to cling to Harry's, warm and sticky.
"Going to fuck you now…" the blond grunted into Harry's damp hair and all he could do was moan in response, wanting it so bad it was like a heavy, cloying taste at the back of his throat. Fingers pulled him back, angling his hips and then opened him up to the scrutiny of those sharp silvery eyes. The thought that Draco was looking at him, looking at such a secret, dirty place just made him even more desperate and he huffed out a breath that was a plea and a moan and a shattered breath all in one.
And then…
Oh, then…
The slide, push, thrust of Draco's cock into him was like a flare of fire, stealing all of the air that was left in his lungs and he clawed at the stone, fingernails scraping uselessly against the rough surface. It hurt and for a moment his desire lagged as that bright burn took precedence over everything else, making him wonder what the hell he had been thinking, allowing this to happen. He needn't have worried, though, because as soon as the blond was fully seated, his balls pressed against Harry's arse, the pain receded and the need for something, anything, swooped down over him and made him nearly incoherent with want. Draco had stopped all movement as soon as he bottomed out, free arm clutching the dark haired boy around the middle and his open mouth pressed against the back of Harry's neck. He sounded as if he had run a hundred miles and his cock felt so hot and gigantic as it throbbed within him. But most of all, he seemed to be shaking, as if holding back was torturing him. And that was when Harry realized what he needed and he pushed back against the blonde's hold, moaning quietly from behind clenched teeth.
"Move…oh, move…" Draco hissed sharply and without warning pulled out and slammed back in. And it didn't hurt. No, it felt so damn good Harry thought he would melt and he met the next thrust by pushing back with his arms braced in front of him. The friction was brilliant and on the fourth thrust, the blond rammed into that spot, the one that had the dark haired boy seeing stars earlier. Pleasure in the form of white, molten heat bolted up his spine and he uttered a broken cry, legs positively shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright. The sounds and the heat, it was all so fucking magnificent and there was absolutely no room for anything else, even when the Silencing spell shattered around them and they both moaned and gasped and pleaded and cursed. He didn't care if the whole world heard them, heard Draco Malfoy fucking their Golden Savior.
"Ha-Harry…oh, f-fuck…Harry," it was the first time he had ever heard the blond say his given name and when it was in that voice, broken and husky with pleasure, it sent sparks shooting through him and the fire in his belly tightened, licking at the inside of his skin until he thought he would burst. The hand curled around his erection began to move again, jerky and imperfect but oh, so good. He might have whispered Draco's name then, because it was on the tip of his tongue, swirling through his mind and branding itself into his skin along with every single little touch. Each thrust shoved him roughly into the wall but it didn't matter if his cheek and forehead bruised because his orgasm was shimmering at the edges of his awareness promised to be incredible. He ached for it even as he wished for this to never end.
It was the teeth sinking into his shoulder that pushed him over the edge, the sharp pain weaving through the throbbing, overwhelming pleasure and he thought he might break from coming so hard. His vision turned black then white then a million swirling colors as the heat rushed through him and out of him in long, shuddering pulses, his cum striping the gray walls and dripping to the floor. In the wash of such intense pleasure he couldn't even drag in a breath, much less even gasp Draco's name like he wanted to. And in the midst of the nerve-searing bliss, he was aware of the blond groaning long and low in the back of his throat and then clutching the dark haired boy was he thrust hard and uneven, cock twitching and filling Harry with liquid heat.
For a few long seconds they wavered there, barely able to even gasp for air, Draco plastered over Harry's back, both of them still shuddering with aftershocks. Then the blonde's knees gave out and they slid to the floor, never once parting. Their breathing sounded harsh in the stillness of the alcove and there was a silence coming from the hallway, as if they were the only ones left in the castle. Shaking, Harry leaned forward and rested his forehead against the stone, not even aware that he was getting his own release smeared in his hair. Inside of him he could still feel the other boy, softer but still there and he didn't want to move from his spot in Draco's lap. Actually, Harry thought wryly, he didn't think he could. The bone and muscle in his legs seemed to have been rendered jelly and he knew he wouldn't be able to walk for a few minutes.
The arm around his waist moved then, slipping higher and holding him tight and for a moment he had a wild, irrational fear that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. This was Malfoy after all, the boy that he had hated for six years and almost killed in a damp, cold bathroom; who had almost tortured him with the Cruciatus curse and spit vitriol at him every chance he had gotten, had worn "Potter Stinks" badges and hid behind his father's name. But then a soft breath brushed across the back of his neck and a long, straight nose buried in the hair at his nape and he relaxed again because this was the same boy but all at once, he wasn't. Yes, this was Draco, who he realized he knew better than anyone else and who he wanted, irrational and unexpected as that may be, who was bitingly witty and beautiful and stronger than anyone ever realized. This was okay. This was perfect.
"I can practically hear you thinking, Potter," the other boy muttered against the cooling sweat on his skin and he frowned at the regression, "Stop that, you'll break something," Fingers stroked along his belly, oddly tender after the recent violence of the sex they'd just had and he breathed out a long breath, humming a soft complaint.
"I thought you called me Harry," he replied, shocked at how strange and rough his voice sounded. The blond snorted softly and in a clumsy, ill-advised move, Harry was straddling Draco's lap and looking down into soft, darkened gray eyes. They were fascinating, he realized, surrounded with the longest, palest eyelashes and the molten color of the irises were circled with a nearly black ring, making them even more impressive. They reminded him of threatening storms and angry seas and he thought that he could look at them forever.
"I did, didn't I?" the blonde's grin was like a ray of light, so natural and relaxed that Harry lost the rhythm of his breathing again but before he could do something stupid like blabber about how beautiful he thought Draco was, the other boy leaned forward and kissed him, melting away any words floating in the back of his mouth. It was gentler, kinder but no less wonderful, their lips molding together as if they were meant to, tongues curling and gliding rather than trying to dominate. The taste of the blond suffused the heat still lingering in his veins and before he knew it, his hands were tangled in the silky blond strands and his heart was an erratic tattoo against the back of his tongue.
"Merlin…" he hissed in wonder and the blond seemed to agree, his eyes already black with lust. Harry wondered how a simple kiss could make them need each other again so soon but it did and he wouldn't want it any other way. He shifted in the blondes lap and the open zipper of the other boy's trousers rubbed against his thigh, "Why is it," he said with a playfully disgruntled frown, no matter that Draco kissed it away a moment later, "that I am the only one naked here?" and he crossed his arms, glaring down at the blond as if he wasn't sitting naked with cum seeping from his entrance onto Draco's trousers. It caused the blond to stare at him with huge eyes for a moment, blinking in surprise…
And then he threw back his head and laughed the most beautiful, freest laugh Harry had ever heard.
…
The hand in clasped in his own tightened for a moment and then pulled at his arm, forcing him to slow to a halt.
"I'm not sure if this is a good idea," Draco was standing an arm's length away, eyes cast to the side as if he couldn't look at the dark haired boy and if he was less in control of what he let the outside world see, he would have been twisting his free hand in his shirt. He did bite his lip, though and Harry unthinkingly reached out and gently pulled it free. The action had the gray gaze cutting to him, uncertain and full of broken pride. It hurt to see, this return of Draco's shattered spirit and while he knew he had not come close to curing it, he had to hope that he could restore the other boy's confidence and pride in the days, months, years to come.
"It's probably not," he conceded and the blond eyed him warily, hand trying to tug free of his grip. But Harry just tightened his fingers and refused to let the blond pull away. Finally Draco stopped struggling and looked at the large doors to the Great Hall apprehensively, "But I don't really care. Do you?"
It had been a week and a half since their tryst in the alcove and they had been meeting secretly since then, each time even more brilliant then the last. It left them to agree that this was for real, for keeps and there was no point in hiding it. Slowly the blonde's confidence and pride was restoring itself and Harry was no longer angry all the time. They had helped each other in ways no one else could have and no one was going to take that from them. Even so, he could understand Draco's reluctance to show up in front of the entire school that had been bullying him for months hand in hand with Harry.
"No," came the quiet response now and the gray eyes were full of fire. It made his heart skip and his grip in the blonde's hand to tighten again, "No, I don't,"
And with that, he pushed the doors open, never once letting go of Harry's hand…
~fin