A note on the title: "Excited utterances" are a juridical concept - under U.S. Federal law, an excited utterance is a hearsay exception at trial evidence, because the assumption is that the emotional spontaneity of such an utterance means that it must be true.
This drabblish amble plays on the fact that Draco refers to Harry exclusively as "Potter" (always with a soupçon of audible derision, of course) and has never addressed him by his first name. Our yummy lads do some paradigm-altering blurting one rainy night in Hogwarts.
Mature sexual content of the male/male sort. I don't own the characters, etc.
Slash ahoy!
He hadn't meant to, it had just slipped out.
The breathless staccato litany emerged from Draco's mouth in little more than a whisper, but they were both pulled up short by its final word.
"Oh- god- Harry"
From his position on his knees in front of the lithe and writhing Slytherin, Harry suddenly stopped his clumsy but earnest ministrations, his open mouth now hanging empty before Draco's spit-slick cock, a change of venue that yanked something more like a choked howl than a proper interrogative out of the shocked blonde.
"Mugglefuckingno, whyareyoustopping"
Even as he said it, he suddenly realized what had escaped his lips more quietly a moment before, all too clearly recalled the warmth that filled his chest as those two gentle syllables had welled up and moved across his tongue like a prayer. "Like a prayer"? Oh bollocks. Pull yourself together, Malfoy. Scolding himself as a sentimental git, he shifted his body reflexively into the only semblance of dignified he could manage with his flawlessly tailored pants pooled around his ankles. Emotional defenses right back up faster than a fortress spell. His father would be proud. Anyway, it wasn't as if whispering the insufferable do-gooder's first name in the heat of passion meant anything. It wasn't as if he- loved him.
Oh. Damn.
Best not to think about that just now. Instead, he pushed his hips toward Harry's hovering face in silent command, but the boy who lived rocked back just enough to refuse, and locked his eyes on Draco's with an intimacy that made him feel- what? Vulnerable? Christ, Malfoys don't do vulnerable. What Malfoys do is glance away and gaze at the wall opposite as though they didn't care a whit whether the inexpert but thoroughly mind-destroying blowjob continued or not. Setting his face in what he hoped was an expression of smug boredom - although it felt more like ridiculously ill-disguised anguish of several kinds - Draco drew back to rest against the cool stones of the wall behind him and pretend he hadn't just reverently sighed the hero of Hogwarts's name like it was the very breath he needed to live.
Undeterred, Harry licked his still-wet lips nervously and surprised himself by making a demand, delivered much more authoritatively than he felt.
"Say it again."
Feigning ignorance as best he could, the pureblood casually replied "Say what again, Potter?"
Made bolder now by anger, Harry shot back "You bloody well know what. Say it. Say my name again."
Still staring unwaveringly at the blank wall as if it was the most interesting tableau he'd ever seen, Draco struggled, conflicting emotions as visible under his skin as veins, throbbing wildly. Finally, he hesitantly lowered his head to meet Harry's insistent gaze. His eyes ablaze with a dazzling battle of hope and fear, of inviting and aloof, of surprisingly unguarded and characteristically closed off, he curled his lip in the hint of an arrogant sneer he knew full well was just protection and growled his response.
"Make me."
