Draco had pulled Potter hard against him, and their bodies collided as he wedged his face into Draco's bared neck. Potter's hands reached out to clasp his hips, fingers brushing under the edge of his t-shirt to rest on the skin above the waistband of his jeans. Draco expected the rough curl of Potter's fingers to anchor them together, but instead, Potter kept his touch light, stroking in feathery caresses.

The bite mark on his neck tingled and tightened in anticipation at the proximity of Potter's mouth, and Draco steeled himself for the sting to come. It never came. Instead, Potter rubbed the bridge of his nose over the two small marks, teasing and slow, alternating the touch with the drag of his lips and slow licks from his tongue.

It was excruciatingly tender, fraught with emotion, and utterly, completely, devastatingly wrong. With everything breaking between them, Potter had no right to force affection on him. No right to make it feel so good, like it might mean something real. Something he might have hoped for. Draco's eyes scrunched closed, halting the trek of the salty moisture that had gathered. He bit down on his lip to stifle the moan stalled in his throat as Potter's hands slid between them. The vampire's mouth latched onto the bite mark, covering it with his lips as his tongue danced over it, while his hands went for Draco's fly. In seconds, Potter had both their cocks out, eager and straining, trapped in the confines of his fist.

Draco's stomach did a flip, knowing that it only took the barest of touches from Potter to get him hard and wanting.

He canted his hips, feeling the rough drag of skin on skin and the tight vise of Potter's hand. Potter groaned against his neck, biting down on the mark, but not hard enough to bleed. Draco threw his head back and hissed, squirming, desperate to feel more.

Potter moved his feet, shuffling them past the sofa to the far wall where Draco's back landed with a thud. With jeans shoved down to both their thighs, and Potter's hand on their cocks, it was a wonder they didn't tumble to the floor.

Draco's hands fidgeted against the old wallpaper, before coming up to tangle in the glorious nest of Potter's hair. At the clench of his fingers in the silky strands, Potter moaned again, a low-pitched rumble that shook them both.

What started off so terribly tender erupted into something more fierce as Potter bucked, becoming more aggressive with his mouth and hands, taking control. Draco's eyes flew open at the sharp denial in his blood.

No.

If this was to be the last time, he'd be damned if it wasn't on his own terms.

Draco felt the snarl curling on his lips as his fingers curled in Potter's hair, twisting and painful. Potter let out a harsh curse of, "Fuck, Draco!" as Draco yanked his head back and shoved Potter to his knees with sheer force.

He looked down to see his cock, rock hard and leaking, staring Potter straight in the face.

"Suck my cock, Harry."

Potter's green eyes flashed at the use of his given name, and he didn't waste a second before opening up and swallowing him down, pushing Draco's hips flat against the wall for leverage. Potter's mouth wasn't as hot, not without Draco's blood recently coursing through him. The sensation was still killer, warm and wet, the whole situation made hotter by the sight of Potter on his knees. That was enough for Draco.

The suck and slide of Potter's mouth was fierce and aggressive, and it mimicked perfectly the swirl of emotion that raged inside Draco. His head fell back against the wall, fingers still clutched in Potter's hair, hanging on and applying pressure.

Potter didn't seem concerned at all, if anything it spurred him on, drawing out sharp gasps and growls as he sucked Draco off. The pads of Potter's fingers pulled him closer, sending him deeper into Potter's throat, urging him to move his hips.

He bucked, and Potter stilled to open even wider. The vampire's hands traveled from Draco's hips, sliding across his skin to grab at his arse and jerk him forward. Draco snorted roughly through his nose and stared down at Potter. He was deliciously debauched, lips swollen, mouth wet and red, stretched around the length of his erection. Eyes high and bright, blown wide with arousal. Hard, leaking cock straining out into the air, thighs trembling, looking every inch like someone who could take Draco apart.

Draco secured his grip to hold Potter's head still, and gave an experimental thrust of his hips. The sound Potter made was filthy and perfect. He thrust again, sharp and deep, and watched as Potter's cock twitched and dripped moisture onto the floor. Potter took his hands from their clutch at Draco's arse and braced them on the wall, astride Draco's hips, to further hold himself in place.

The breath seized in Draco's lungs at the offer being wordlessly given.

And then he moved.

The muscles in Potter's arms bunched and flexed as Draco fucked into his throat, and at that moment, Potter was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. He took each stroke beautifully, and Draco panted, feeling that throat close around and him and suck. The orgasm started at the base of his spine, sizzling through his nerves and setting every part of him on fire. The sensation burst in short, sharp spikes, pulsing out through his cock and into Potter's waiting mouth.

Draco cried out as he came, a guttural sound laced with angst and release. He knew it would always be like this, charged and blinding, but there was too much else that he couldn't overlook.

Potter swallowed and staggered back, head hung low, gasping for air.

Draco crouched in front of him, lifted his chin, and kissed him hard, bruising and cruel. Potter whimpered, whispery and broken, and the sound sludged through Draco's veins like lead, oozing into the dark and empty space in his heart that somehow had always belonged to Potter. He pulled back with a jerk, firm in his resolve, even though it weighed heavy on his tongue, more bitter than sweet, chalky and scorched like ash in his mouth.

He looked down to see Potter's half-hard cock hanging out of his jeans, dribbling into a pearlescent pool on the floor. Potter had come untouched with Draco's cock in his mouth, and not a drop of blood between them.

"I hope you enjoyed that," Draco whispered against Potter's lips, "because this is the last time we do this. You may need me, but you no longer get to use me. I don't care if you have to wank yourself raw and your hand falls off at the wrist. This is the last time."

Draco stood and did up his fly, casting one more glance at Potter on the floor. His eyes were screwed shut, and he braced himself on one arm, panting into the open air. Draco swung a leg over Potter's head, stepped over him and walked up the stairs, never looking back. Not even when he heard the soft thump of Potter's body hitting the floor and the sound of muffled tears.