Draco was positive that the History classroom of Hogwarts Academy for the Gifted was not the place to be feeling as good as he was feeling this time of day. For one thing, he was skipping third period - surely that would have some kind of consequence. For another, Professor Binns could come back at any moment and he would want the use of his classroom back. That would not present much of a problem had Harry Potter not been on his knees before him, mouthing his erection through his underwear.

However much Draco protested, his rival turned roommate turned wank-mate insisted, and the blond found himself skipping his advanced Calculus class for the other's mouth. But now, as he looked down to the wild head of hair between his legs, he could not fathom why it was not him that had come up with this brilliant idea.

He lifted his hips from the edge of the desk he was pressed against so that the brunet could yank his pants and underwear completely down and expose him to the cool air of the classroom.

Draco found himself thinking back to his Calculus class and idly wondered how close Harry's tongue could get to the tip of his prick without actually touching it. Surely, there was an equation for such a question.

He was red down there; God he was red. And pulsing. Harry lifted a hand for reasons solely meant for torment. He used his fingers, rough from Rugby and other barbaric sports Draco showed no interest in, to trace the various bulging veins on the blond's sex as if he was an instrumentalist, searching for the correct way to hold his flute. A flute he was taking forever to put his bloody mouth on.

After the rough flat of a thumb stroked a line on the underside of him, a pearly drop collected at his violently red tip and grew as Harry's fingers somehow morphed into a palm and began rubbing him and gripping him, stroking back and forth or up and down or whatever until that pearly drop pushed itself away from him and he watched it drip and fall and land ... on the tip of Harry's tongue.

God, he hated that prick as he stared down into twinkling emerald eyes filled with a knowledge that seemed foreign to him. He redirected his gaze instead, just in time to watch that pearly drop disappear in the swiping of a tongue across smugly curved lips.

Draco groaned, threw his head back, and decided that the ceiling was a much better view. And then he felt lips around the tip of him.

He squeaked, of course, and looked down at the now hooded green eyes and gaped at Harry who now had his teeth situated around the helmet of his soldier and was blowing his achingly hot and wet breath against him. Only after Draco named every deity he could think of, did Harry seem satisfied enough to close his mouth completely around the blond's piece and sink it into him. Harry's tongue, like slick velvet, helped his sex along, guiding it further and further into the hot mouth and down the welcoming throat. God, he hated Harry. The git actually had the audacity to moan around him and send vibrations of said moan through Draco's body until he could feel it violently in the bottom of his toes.

Harry suddenly turned his head to the right - Draco's left - and, along with tickling the skin under the blond pubic curls, he sucked Draco soundly, pulled back until half of the glistening flesh was exposed and pushed back.

Then he did it again, this time turning his head to his left - Draco's right.

It was not until Draco felt a hand on the front of his pristine uniform shirt pushing him back that he realized he had hunched over the other teen and threatening to topple the two of them over at any time. He forced himself backwards and gripped the edge of the desk with both of his hand, absently thinking that his hands would be bruised later from the tightness of his grip.

And then Harry sucked, really sucked. And as he did, he pulled back until Draco left his mouth with a wet popping noise. Then his dark head bobbed, collected the other in his mouth once more. Then he pulled back and began the entire process all over again, again and again until Draco was sure he would be willing to name one of his children after that popping noise if it had a name.

As inappropriate as that thought - and many of the other one's bouncing around in Draco's overly excited mind - he could not help but think that he might just love Potter as Harry's mouth, vibrating with a moan up his shaft and stopping at his base of blond curls, sucked him so hard that his orgasm coursed through him more powerfully than if he had been struck by lightning, hit by a train, and shot into space all at once and his silver eyes crossed and rolled back and leap-frogged over one another and his knees buckled and his elbows buckled and he found himself as a heap on the ground beneath the smiling face of an angel.

And then that angel said, "Get up, Malfoy. We have to get to Chemistry before Snape gives us detention for being late again."

-END-