Two days later, the tumultuous rain was back…
The last customers had finally left and George was ready to close the store, to get the sleep he so badly needed. But just as he went to close the door behind him, after letting Verity out, someone grabbed his arm. Before he was able to make more than a small noise of protest, he was dragged out into the rain and found himself with his back against the wall.
His assailant pulled the hood of his robes back off his head long enough to reveal blond hair. George barely had time to gasp before his breath was stolen by rough kisses. George's head banged harshly against the wall, and for a moment he thought that he was going to lose his consciousness, but his knees only felt so weak because Draco Malfoy was kissing him.
Just as he tried to return the kiss, Draco broke it, pulling away and still being there, pressing against him with his fingers clutched in George's robe. His breath came out in small cloudlets and the freshly fallen drops of rain on his lips looked like pure crystals, waiting for George's thumb to wipe them away. He did, and then cupped Draco's cheek in his palm.
"I knew you would come," he lied, trying his best not to show how excited he was to see Draco, to feel him, to taste him…
"You didn't," Draco muttered before kissing George again, frantically, needy, and when George's lips brushed over the wetness on Draco's cheeks, it tasted salty.
George stopped kissing Draco's jaw line and pulled away, waiting for Draco to open his eyes. Despite them being red and swollen, something else immediately caught George's attention. He brushed the longer strands of Draco's pony away, revealing a red and bluish mark on his temple.
"What in the name of Merlin is that?" Before Draco could turn his head away, George caught his face in his hands.
"It's none of your business," Draco snapped at him.
George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure… What are you doing here, then? Faced death and now needing someone to get –"
"Shut up!" Draco pushed him against the wall and freed himself of George's grip. "I wanted to go to a place where I'd feel safe." Embarrassed, he lowered his head and hid his face behind wet strands of hair. "I couldn't think of anywhere else…"
George was not sure what to reply, so he just stood there for what felt like an eternity. Draco did not move either – he simply grabbed his left wrist with his hand and looked stubbornly at the ground.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Draco sneezed, rubbing his hand over his nose while George sighed.
"Won't you come in?" he asked and pointed at the store. Then he held out a hand to Draco, who looked at him slightly surprised. The corners of his mouth twitched and he nodded, before walking towards the door with George's hand on the small of his back.
The shop was already dark, and even after George magically locked the door, Draco did not appear to feel uncomfortable. Maybe he was telling the truth about feeling safe there. Draco looked around as though he could see more than just the silhouettes of products on the shelves. Then he turned around and caught George staring at him.
Before he could say anything, George waved his wand, and the resulting light almost blinded Draco. He grimaced and lifted a hand to protect his eyes. He opened his mouth to snap at George, only to find he had already headed for the stairs.
On his way upstairs, George looked over his shoulder and motioned for Draco to follow him.
"Want some tea?" George sized Draco up. "Or a towel? You don't have to seduce a towel out of me."
Draco looked away resentfully. "I didn't try to seduce anything –"
"You did," George interrupted and shook his head when Draco opened his mouth again. "Come on."
Draco hesitated for a moment, looking around as though he expected a pygmy puff to jump at him out of the darkness. As far as George knew, the pygmy puffs were not able to jump on their own and if a shadow wanted to throw them at Draco, they would not hurt. George felt like smiling at that thought but by the time he realised that maybe telling Draco would earn him a small laugh, it was too late.
Draco gave him a light push against the shoulder. "Move."
"Why the sudden rush?" George eventually smiled because Draco snorted in that familiar way. He had forgotten how cute his slightly pursed lips looked then, but if he remembered right, he was alone with that opinion, anyway. As he opened the door to his flat, he realised that he was alone in every possible way.
There was a time when the flat would not have been dark, and Fred would have been there, waiting for him, busy with the daily settlements. If he'd brought Draco with him then, Fred would have told him what a remarkably stupid idea that was, no matter how good it felt to kiss him. And Draco had not even wanted to kiss him. He'd just thought that was the only way George would let him in.
"So, why don't you go home, heal that wound and get to bed?" George asked, after turning on the lights and nodding towards the couch. His flat was small, but more than enough for him. Most of his time was spent in the shop, anyway.
"Because he knows where I live," Draco said, and from the way he cautiously examined the couch, he seemed to expect something to jump at him. But his knees appeared to give out beneath him eventually, as he sank into the couch.
"He? The one who's responsible for your bruise?" George asked from the small kitchen unit on the other side of the room. He put the teakettle on the cooker and saw, out of the corner of his eye, the mounting pile of dishes he had not cleaned in what appeared to be weeks.
"No, Merlin himself." Draco snorted. "Yes, the one who thought my face was only waiting to get to know his foot better. He certainly won't expect me to seek shelter… here."
"I see… So, you were trying to seduce protection out of me…" George turned around, leaning with his hip against the counter to face Draco. "Shouldn't be surprised, should I? Still a sneaky little Slytherin. But for you to go that far…" He ran a hand through his slightly wet hair and sighed as Draco avoided looking at him. "You must be desperate."
"What…" Draco grabbed his left wrist again, as if it was hurting. His knuckles were grazed, so badly that George wondered why he had not noticed before. "What if I was? What if I really only had this place to go to? What if all the people I used to call my friends now detest me? Would that make you feel pity for me?"
George nodded. "It would."
Draco looked at him again, grey eyes starting to fill with tears, and before George could really notice the shaking lips, Draco pressed a hand against his mouth. He tried hard but unsuccessfully to swallow his sobs which made George feel even more pity for him.
A crying Malfoy… George was unsure what to do about that.
Looking around, George searched for a tissue but only found a napkin. For the moment, that would have to do.
"Here." George sat down next to Draco and held out the napkin. Draco ripped it out of his hands and wiped his tears, before blowing his nose. George grimaced when Draco gave the napkin back to him.
"I'm so pathetic," he whined while George threw the napkin into the bin, quite surprised that he managed to hit it, considering the mountain of crumpled parchment it already contained. "Crying in front of a Weasley…"
"Hey, watch your mouth or I'll throw you out," George menaced.
Draco smiled half-heartedly. "You wouldn't. You have a crush on me."
"Uhm…" George blushed slightly. "Wouldn't call it 'crush'. More… I… I consider you attractive."
Draco looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Attractive? Like in birds flying around your head and twittering about how beautiful every single flaw in my face is?"
"Oh, just shut up," George said. His cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red and caused Draco to smirk.
"Why do birds suddenly appear?"
"Malfoy!" George pressed his hand against Draco's mouth. "Stop singing! What the… Where did you get that from?"
Draco grabbed George's wrist and pulled the hand away from his mouth. "Wrote it for you?" If he had not fluttered his lashes in that exaggerated way, George might have believed him, so he just threw Draco a warning look. "Overheard it in a Muggle café yesterday," Draco admitted. "Made me think about you, somehow. Kind of catchy, you know?"
"What where you doing in a Muggle café?" George asked to distract Draco from his once again reddening cheeks.
"Escaping," Draco said absent-mindedly. He was still holding George's wrist and now focused his gaze on it, stroking the fine red hairs on George's forearm. "It felt good, eventually. At the beginning I was just scared. Muggles have weird things… noisy things. And they're all so busy… hectic. I could watch them for hours running up and down the streets like ants."
"Draco Malfoy in the Muggle world…" George could not help but smile at the thought. "Someone should write a book about that."
"You'd be the only one reading it," Draco muttered, looking up again. "You would, wouldn't you?"
"If there was some hot sex in it – definitely." George let out something that reminded him of a chuckle when Draco slapped the back of his hand. But he had not chuckled for months, not to speak of laughed.
"You truly can be funny, Weasley." And Draco truly could smile in a very fascinating, beautiful way. And there truly were birds twittering into his ears when Draco lifted his gaze to look directly into George's eyes. "Never thought I could possibly like that."
"You like my humour?" George leant a little closer when Draco shrugged. "You do like my humour." He almost felt Draco's lips brushing over his when he said that but he was unsure if he should risk closing the distance even more. Draco's fingers dug deep into his wrist and George feared that they would not only leave visible marks, but would draw blood if he was not careful.
But when Draco closed his eyes as if in invitation, the teakettle started whistling; George wished he had not wasted any seconds.
Flinching at the chilling noise, they parted and George rose as fast as possible to his feet. He did not look at Draco as he hastened over to the kitchen, using the few moments to straighten his thoughts.
Draco seemed to be better at that – or he was simply not that affected by George's touch. When George turned around with the tea cups in his hands, Draco sat there wearing such a blank expression that George felt a stitch in his heart.
"Here…" He waited for Draco to take the cup but George only got his attention after he cleared his throat. "Careful, it's hot."
Draco nodded, using the cup to warm his hands, and once again George noticed the scraped knuckles, which reminded him why Draco was actually here.
"Won't you tell me about this?" When George reached for the bruised temple, Draco flinched again. The seconds Draco allowed George to brush the hair away from the blue mark felt like hours, but he would have waited longer just to feel the soft strands on his fingertips again. "What happened?" George asked while pulling out his wand to heal the injury.
Draco took a deep breath and waited for George to finish his healing spell before he spoke. "Do you remember Gregory Goyle?"
"One of your goon squad, right?"
Draco nodded. "He blames me… He said that Vincent's death… that Crabbe died because of me." Draco's jaw clenched as though he had trouble talking about this.
George put his tea cup on the coffee table and gave in to the urge to squeeze Draco's shoulder.
"Was this his revenge?"
"No…" Draco took a sip and grimaced. "Do you have sugar?"
"Don't try to distract me," George warned and took the cup from Draco's hand, putting it out of reach. "You're going to tell me what happened. Understood?" When Draco did not look at him, George grabbed his chin and tilted it upwards. "Come on, Draco."
The use of his first name seemed to soften Draco up a little. Again, he wrapped his fingers around his left wrist and George wanted to stop him, but he ended up with his hand lying uselessly on Draco's.
"He said that I have to pay," Draco said in barely more than a whisper. "That it's all my fault and that I don't deserve to live while Vincent is… dead. He wanted money… Don't ask me for what. Maybe to buy himself a way out of Azkaban or maybe just to have a good life… maybe he just wanted my money."
"The bag… So it was a bag full of Galleons?" George sighed when Draco nodded. "That's blackmail."
"No, really?" Rolling his eyes, Draco shook off George's hand and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "There's nothing I could do. Greg and I are… we were friends for more than a decade. He knows so much… too much. Father doesn't even have a clue what I told Vincent and him just to… boast. My family isn't going to Azkaban because Potter helped us, but there are many more reasons…" Draco stopped and his eyes widened full of shock. "Oh, no… and now I'm telling that to you! To a Weasley! That's as good as going straight to Azkaban."
"Thanks for your trust," George murmured. "I wish you'd know by now that I'm not going to tell anyone anything."
"It's just hard to believe."
"Shall I tell you something? I used to have a crush on you. I couldn't… I couldn't stop staring at you and searching for any hint of compassion that was sometimes visible in your features. But Fred told me that was futile, so I stopped. I was able to push this stupid infatuation to the back of my mind. But then Fred… died, and now you're here. And you're showing me so many things that bring this old infatuation out again without there being anyone telling me it's wrong to –"
He was cut short as Draco's mouth suddenly pressed against his in a hard kiss. Draco pulled away before George could return the kiss. He looked a little shocked, his eyes wide and slightly reddened from his long dried tears. George wanted to kiss him again, but he was not sure if Draco had done this without ulterior motives this time or if he just wanted to make sure that George would keep his little secret.
"I just felt like it," Draco breathed, as though he could sense George's doubts. "And I feel like doing it again," he added and buried his hand in George's hair, dragging him back into another kiss.
It was softer than George had expected, almost lazy. He tried to keep it this way for a while but eventually the need to explore Draco's mouth won. Gingerly, George placed his hand on Draco's side and tugged him closer, deepening the kiss. But although Draco opened his mouth for George's tongue, he was still holding back. George knew that they could do better than this.
Draco's breath quickened as George pressed him as close as possible to his chest. Kept from withdrawal by the hands on his back, Draco moaned softly and started to grab at the red hair with both hands now.
He lifted one leg onto the couch and turned slightly, giving George the perfect angle to pull him onto his lap. Just as George moved to do so, Draco gave a token push against his chest. Neither of them broke the kiss, but from almost passionate, they returned to gentle and almost… loving.
But this slow kissing did not stop an almost unbearable heat from rising in George's groin, even more painful than any desire he had ever tried to suppress. He wanted Draco. Wanted him badly. And Draco had to feel something similar because he was not pushing away when George's fingers moved over the buttons of his robe to open them. He did, however, pull slightly away from George's mouth, to ask in an amused voice:
"What are you doing?"
"Taking off your robe," George muttered against Draco's lips, pressing a short kiss to them as Draco tried to say something. "It's wet. You're going to catch a cold."
"Mhm…" Obviously not believing George, Draco shrugged the black cotton off his shoulders. "You're too good to be true."
"At kissing, I hope." Again, George wrapped his arms around Draco and captured every low laugh that escaped Draco's throat. And without the robe, there was far more visible of the enticing skin. But sadly, the stiff collar of Draco's shirt was still keeping George from marking his pale throat.
"I…" Draco moved his fingers over George's chest. "I think that magenta coloured robes don't suit your red hair. Bad choice." Slowly, almost cautiously, Draco opened the buttons of George's robe. His fast breath left a swollen and tempting mouth that made George think the most inappropriate thoughts while Draco removed his robe.
"I don't need to wear them all the time. Only when I want to make my employees think that we're on the same level."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "You don't really think playing the tough business man is sexy, do you?"
"Do you?" George opened the first three buttons of his shirt without ostentation while keeping Draco's attention on his mouth. Letting his lips hover only inches away from Draco's, he always pulled back a little when Draco tried to kiss him. "Come on, Draco. Do you?"
"Well, maybe." Draco smirked. "George."
"Ah, that's like music to my ears," George said and finally stopped teasing Draco when he elicited another laugh from him. He gently pushed Draco on his back after pressing their lips together again, keeping him too busy with the kiss to even think about pushing him away.
Slender hands wandered over George's back, pulling his shirt up a little and scratching over bared skin. Draco made a soft sound of pleasure as George's hips pressed against his.
At other times it might have scared George how easy it was to forget which side of the war Draco had chosen. But now, with his hands under Draco's shirt, moving over warm, smooth skin, such thoughts were far from his mind.
At least, until Draco had to mention the topic again…
George felt Draco stiffen at the same time as he heard him gasp. He withdrew his hands and pushed himself off Draco with a look of concern.
"What's wrong?"
Draco looked at him with a surprised expression, as if he had not expected George to notice his discomfort. He was good at hiding it. The gasps could easily be mistaken for pleasure and George wondered for a moment if maybe he was just searching for an excuse to put an end to this before it became something too deep.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked warily, his eyes slightly narrowed. "Can't you just go on with it?"
George's eyes widened. "Pardon?"
Draco rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed. "I'm not… I am not afraid. I like this. Why do you think that I don't?"
"Why do you think I do?"
Again, Draco rolled his eyes and seemingly extra slowly for George. He removed his hands from George's back and folded them in front of his chest. But he could not stay like that for long. Soon, he let out a sigh and placed one hand on George's chest.
"The last time someone lay on top of me like this…" Draco turned his head away in embarrassment and he started knocking his fingers against George's chest in the rhythm of his heartbeat. "I didn't want it."
"Fuck!" George sat up in an instant. "Someone raped –"
"Bloody idiot, no!" Draco's face was deep red now and he added quietly: "I'm not a bloody girl. I punched that bastard in the face and ran away, but… it's embarrassing."
"That you acted like a Muggle?" George was not sure where the sudden urge to make a joke came from, but it worked and Draco smiled weakly.
"That people think they can do that to me." He looked up at George, and stopped knocking against his chest.
George was unsure if he really wanted Draco to know how he felt right at that moment, but the splayed hand on his chest would certainly be able to feel his erratic heartbeat.
"Our home was full of Death Eaters. When they were drunk, they…" Draco clutched his fingers in George's robe. "They sometimes tried to hit on my mother. I rarely left her side. I didn't feel safe without my parents and… I thought that maybe I might be able to protect them after I got them into the mess."
George brushed the hair out of Draco's face until his expression softened up a little. "That's… brave."
Draco chuckled. "I was frightened, not brave. We weren't in a position where we could complain about anything. Staying together was all we could do to survive, I guess." Draco looked at George, still slightly embarrassed. But there was something else in his eyes. Like he wanted George to tell him he did not need to feel ashamed. "I once told them… that they… should… rather take me before touching my mother, but… I… I never thought they would take it seriously." Draco bit hard on his bottom lip until it stopped shaking. "When that… bastard was suddenly over me I couldn't stop thinking that I deserved to be treated that way… to be completely disgraced."
George wanted to say that he would never do anything to make Draco feel that way. That he cared too much about him and wanted him to enjoy it, but all that his voice managed at the moment was to say in an irritated tone:
"Why are you telling me this?"
Draco's embarrassment increased again and he blinked hastily, as though trying to hold back tears. "Because you're the only one who's shown any interest in me." His voice was shaking and his whole body quaked in the attempt not to cry again. But with George still sitting on his thighs, Draco had to feel trapped. In that position he might even feel forced to tell George so many things.
Or maybe he really trusted him a little…
"Hey…" George helped Draco sit up and pulled him in a tight embrace. "Don't hold back, Draco. You need to cry these tears someday, and better do it in my arms than all alone in your room… or something like that."
Muffled by the thin cotton of George's shirt, the noises Draco made sounded somewhere between laughter and sobs. Minute after minute, the place on his shoulder where Draco hid his face, was getting wetter and wetter. George rubbed Draco's back, hoping for the tensed muscles to relax underneath his fingers, but really, he was not sure how to comfort someone in this way. Whenever he had tried to cheer someone up, he had made a joke, trying hard to make the person laugh again – but that was always together with Fred. Alone, he was probably not able to comfort anyone.
But somehow, Draco's sobs softened and eventually he lapsed into silence. He was lying calmly in George's arms, giving the impression that he might have fallen asleep. George carefully moved to look at Draco, who raised his head as if by command.
"Come on." At Draco's questioning look, George nodded towards the door that led into his bedroom. "I'll show you where you can sleep."
Draco grabbed George's wrist and followed him with his eyes focused on the ground.
There were two beds in the room, one was made and the other one was a mess of cushions and blankets. George pushed Draco onto the one standing next to the window, the one that was not a mess, his bed. He never dared to touch Fred's bed on the opposite site of the room.
"I'll go and get you some pyjamas," George muttered, leaving the room before Draco could look at him again. In the living room, he first took a deep breath before going to the bathroom. The times when his mother had done his laundry were over. Not that she would not do it if he sent it to her, but George could not take her looks.
He still remembered that one time she had called him Fred. The most uncomfortable moment he could think of. The way everyone had stared at him had made him feel guilty. Guilty, because he was not able to act like the old George and that probably gave his family the impression that they had lost both twins.
Since then, he had stopped visiting his family regularly. Charlie had dragged him over to the Burrow once in a while before he had returned to Romania. Now, Ginny tried to replace Charlie, but she was a girl and she was physically not strong enough to drag him anywhere.
George sighed at the thought of what Charlie might have said if he'd stopped over and found someone in George's bed. Ginny would have probably screamed because it was Draco Malfoy, the personification of evil.
Shaking his head, George took the freshly laundered pyjama with him and returned to the bedroom, only to find Draco staring at the rivulets of rain that ran down the window. What made George gulp hard was that he was not wearing his trousers anymore. Neatly folded, they lay at the end of the bed and although Draco's legs were hidden underneath the blanket, just the thought of his bare skin touching the fabric made George think about the position he had had Draco in only moments ago. His shirt was opened and the white cotton fell off his right shoulder when he turned to look at George.
"Hope you don't mind," Draco said, acting completely innocent when he nodded to his trousers. "They ended up being a little tight." His smile was not so innocent anymore.
"Tell me one thing, Malfoy…" George sat down at the edge of the bed and watched Draco pulling his legs up to his chest, flinging his arms around them.
"Back to our last names, are we then?" Almost pouting, he pursed his lips.
George tried to ignore that. "Since when do you know that you like men?"
"Let's say…" Draco shrugged. "I'm still undecided."
"Are you?" Disbelievingly, George raised his eyebrows. "Because you're quite good at that seduction thing. A little obvious, maybe, but if you keep this up, it'll work."
"Ah, really? I'm just trying to make up for completely ruining the atmosphere before," Draco said with a small smile.
George shook his head. "I think that you're trying to distract me from the things you said, the tears you cried… something like that." With that he threw the pyjamas at Draco and smiled when they hit his face.
"Stop grinning like that, Weasley," Draco snorted and George would have fired something back but every word died on his tongue when Draco took his shirt off and threw it at George. He ducked in the last second and grabbed Draco's calf, pulling him harshly in his direction. Draco made a surprised noise as he landed flat on his back, his hand flying to the sheets to keep George from dragging him closer.
"Wha-What are you doing?" Draco struggled as George moved over him.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" George leant down to Draco's slightly parted mouth and regretted that he had admired the full lips too long, giving Draco the opportunity to speak.
"It's what you want to do to distract me," he said, seeming relieved when George lifted himself up again.
"I don't –"
"You don't smile as often as you did back in Hogwarts… Well, it's exactly the opposite now. Back then, you almost never stopped grinning. Now… your smile seems to be the rarest thing in the world." Ignoring George's snort at this exaggeration, Draco pointed towards the other bed. "It's your brother's, right? You haven't changed it since he's been gone, because –"
"Shut up!" George balled his hands into fists, took a deep breath and started to get up. "I'm sleeping on the couch. Have a good night, Malfoy."
Draco grabbed his hand. "George." He pulled him back down. "George…"
"I know my name," George rasped, slowly opening his hand again when Draco's fingers tried to move between his. It felt strange to hold such a cold hand and George felt the need to warm Draco's skin, which was still slightly scraped. He had forgotten to heal Draco's knuckles.
"This bed is big enough for both of us," Draco said and gifted George a smile. It was a more honest smile than George had ever seen on his face, and he just had to return it. "You know, this…" Draco traced his fingers over George's lips and eventually cupped his cheek. "This looks far better than that mischievous grin you always wore at school."
"You think so?" The stinging burning in his eyes caused George to blink far too often. "Why doesn't anyone else think so?" No longer able to deny the need to cry, George closed his eyes tightly and hoped that like this, Draco would not see his tears.
Draco moved his hand to George's neck and pulled him against his shoulder. "Better to cry in my arms than all alone in your room."
George lifted his head so he could bury his face in the crook of Draco's neck. He felt Draco tense up and the way he clumsily patted George's back showed that he was not used to giving someone comfort, but that was exactly what made feel George better. It meant that he was something special for Draco. That he alone was something special.
"Draco…"
"Ah, back to a first-name basis." Draco put his hands on George's shoulders and pushed him away so that they could look at each other. "Don't worry. I think we're even now when it comes to crying."
George sighed heavily. "I feel so lonely," he said quietly and looked to the messed-up bed.
Draco squeezed his shoulders. "Me, too…" He shook his head as George looked at him. "Yes, I know you can't compare that, but… There's nothing I can do. Nothing I say will change anything, but… I'm here now."
George gulped and reached out a hand to touch Draco's cheek, moving it up into the blond hair, which again fell like silk over his fingers since it had dried completely. Draco sighed and closed his eyes, letting George pull him closer and kiss him softly.
But the way Draco returned his kiss was anything but soft. He opened his mouth invitingly, wrapped his arms tightly around George and pressed against him in a needy way that had George ripping his own shirt over his head as fast as possible.
He pushed Draco back onto the bed, biting his lower lip, and making a small moan escape Draco's mouth, before he moved his attention to the perfect pale throat. Another moan followed and Draco arched against his body when George left marks all over his skin. Draco twisted on the sheets when George's mouth reached his nipple, sucking on it and scraping his teeth over it until Draco could not suppress a cry of pleasure.
With his left hand, George reached for the drawer of his bedside table, dragging it open and searching blindly for the lube. Unable to find it, he groaned, released Draco, and sat up.
Draco gasped for breath as he watched George slicking his fingers. Impatiently, he shrugged off the rest of his clothing and spread his legs.
Biting hard on his bottom lip, Draco grabbed the rails of the bed and tried not to show the pain he felt when George's finger slid inside him. It took him a moment to relax, but then he eagerly pushed back onto George's hand.
Groaning, George added a second finger and moved over Draco, kissing him almost violently while Draco opened his trousers. He pushed them down to George's knees and laughed when George nearly fell out of the bed as he tried to shed his trousers. Draco grabbed his biceps and held him on the bed, enclosing George's wrist with the other hand to push his fingers back inside him, three this time.
George could have gladly watched him doing that all night, and Draco's eyes told him that he knew this. Regaining control of his hand, George made Draco not only close his eyes but moan fiercely when he brushed his fingers lightly against his prostate. He wrapped his legs around George's waist and lifted his hips up, but instead of thrusting deeper, George withdrew his fingers.
Draco whined when George slowly worked his way forward, pushing into him bit by bit. It was hard not to pound vigorously into the tight heat, but the painful expression on Draco's face kept George from losing all of his control. He leant down to brush his lips over Draco's temple, tasting the fine film of sweat that covered Draco's entire body by now. Draco sighed at this gesture and did it again when George started moving his hips.
He kept his thrusts gentle and slow until the small gasps Draco let out became more encouraging. Draco's legs tightened around his waist, urging him deeper, and George forgot everything about control. Lost in his own pleasure, he slammed his hips forcefully against Draco's, pounding into him ruthlessly until his orgasm was dragged out of him by Draco's shuddering body.
Panting, George pulled out, and if Draco had not rolled him to the side, he would have collapsed on top of him. Throwing his arms over his head, George felt an uncomfortable stinging across his shoulder.
"What the…" He gasped in shock when he noticed the bloody scratches on his skin. "Malfoy, you animal!"
Rolling his eyes, Draco slapped his hand onto George's stomach and then looked at his fingernails. His short fingernails. Merlin alone knew how he had managed to scar George like that.
"I have your DNA underneath my nails now. If I get killed, they'll think you did it." He smirked at George, who reached out to ruffle his already completely messed up hair. Draco took advantage of George's lifted arm and sneaked underneath it and crossed his arms on George's chest. His smirk turned into a smile when George swung his arm around his shoulders.
"I won't let anyone kill you," George said. "Or hurt you again," he added, his eyes darting to Draco's grazed knuckles.
"So, you want to do this again?" Draco pressed his finger against George's lips before he could say anything. "I will only allow a 'yes'. I hope you're aware of that." George kissed the tip of Draco's finger. "Uh… you now tasted George Weasley DNA. How's that? Worth its own ice-cream flavour?"
George let out a loud laugh that shook his whole body. "Gross!" He flicked his fingers on Draco's forehead and took a deep breath. "You're gross, Malfoy."
"You are too," Draco said and leant into the touch of George's hand that now cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes and nestled his temple against George's shoulder, letting him play with his hair. "Tell me one thing, George…"
"Depends on what you want to know," George said.
Draco drew invisible lines between the freckles on George's chest and asked: "Since when?"
"What?" George frowned at Draco, who lifted his head again.
"Since when are you so deeply in love with me?" The smile on Draco's face was adorable and his sparkling grey eyes made these stupid birds appear again to tweet directly into George's ear.
George laughed again, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I was never 'in love' with you, Draco. I think I'm way better off calling the desperate need to fuck you a crush." The birds poked violently against George's temple but he kept smiling at Draco, whose smile seemed forced now.
"Yeah, I guess there's at least one thing I'm good at…" Draco released himself from George's grip and turned around, his back facing George now.
Confused, George placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Not one for cuddling?"
"Just can't sleep on that side." Draco's voice was muffled because he was speaking into the pillow.
"Okay. No prob!" George shifted and snuggled close against Draco's back, wrapping his arm around the slender waist. "Have a good night, Draco darling. I'll take care of your blackmailer tomorrow." He placed a kiss on Draco's shoulder but received not even a sigh in return. Leaning over Draco he realised that he had apparently already fallen asleep.
George kissed his cheek before reaching for his wand and switching out the light.
