Smut, smut, smutty smut. This is basically a chapter without plot, a cwp, if you will – so forgive me :)

Chapter 38: Nox

By the time Friday night rolled around Draco had managed to convince and unconvince himself that planning to meet with Potter in a closed room with a bed and little chance of interruption and gods only know what kind of expectations was a terrible, or brilliant, but probably terrible idea.

Up until now, there was always an excuse, or the chance of interruption, to prevent things from getting out of hand. Which Draco had always found extremely irritating and inconvenient until right now, when the prospect of limitless freedom suddenly felt oppressive. He skipped lunch and struggled through dinner, battling an absurd state of nervous arousal. Maybe Pansy's way was preferable – sudden, surprising, no chance to really think.

Draco arrived early, but didn't go back to the bed. Instead he rummaged through the piles of crap around the door and recovered half a bottle of fire-whiskey. He took a large gulp and hissed as the liquid burned the back of his throat and settled in his empty stomach. He closed his eyes and allowed the warmth to diffuse through him. He thought about taking off his robes but his pyjamas weren't really warm enough. So he just closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Ok, it will be ok. He wanted this, anyway, right?

Footsteps outside drove away his relaxation again and took another gulp. The door opened, and a nervous-looking Potter stepped in quickly and closed the door behind him. He looked surprised to see Draco standing right there by the door, and then his eyes drifted to the bottle and a quirked an eyebrow.

Draco shrugged in what he hoped was dismissively, and offered up the bottle. Potter took it without hesitation and swallowed a large swig, grimacing at the burn and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Then he grinned nervously. They sort of stood there for a few seconds, just looking at each other, at for some reason it was unbelievably awkward, which made absolutely no sense considering that they'd been meeting like this for ages now. But not in here, Draco's brain helpfully reminded him.

Potter was the first to speak. "So, um…"

And Draco answered, "yeah." And then they both moved at the same time down the narrow corridors of piled crap until they reached the circle of sheet-covered furniture. Apparently Potter had covered the bed again, but he flicked his wand and sent it flying again now. The bed had been made. Had potter made the bed, too? Draco couldn't imagine why, except perhaps the force of habit.

Draco stood staring for a moment and made up his mind. He could do at least one thing that would make this easier.

"Nox" he muttered, aiming at the lights that lines the ceiling of the massive room. Suddenly they were plunged into darkness, and Draco heard a quiet chuckle next to him, and fingers grasping as his, and he squeezed, pulling Potter closer and turning him so that their mouths met.

And then everything seemed to make sense. Draco's face flushed with alcohol and arousal, and Potter's hands were pushing his robes off of his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt, and Draco nimbly imitated him. And suddenly he felt a calloused hand stroke up his back and pull him closer, until his bare chest was pressed against Potter's, and the warmth made him gasp. A broad expanse of hot skin slid against his, and he felt the tickle of the few little hairs on Potter's chest against his own, hairless one. He ran his hands over muscular shoulders and long, Seeker's arms. Potter's hands were everywhere, running up and down his back, then pulling away to run down his smooth chest and over muscular abs before tucking into the waistband of his pyjama bottoms ever so slightly, and just then Draco decided that they definitely should not be standing right now, and with a forcefulness that surprised even him, he spun them around and shoved Potter, hard, onto the bed. He couldn't see the boy except for a vague shape, but he heard the gasp and the following growl, and then he heard himself growling back and he stalked toward the bed and climbed up onto it, hands finding silk and tugging until Potter was bare, and then he was, too. His hand ghosted up Potter's bare thigh, tickling the fine hairs and drifting ever closer to his cock, bending in closer to send little puffs of hot breath closer and closer, and Potter gasped and parted his legs a little, pleading quietly,

"oh gods… please…"

Draco smirked. "Please what, Potter?" Potter just groaned and bucked a little desperately. "Tell me what you want…" Draco purred, dragging his tongue up the length of Potters erection and back down to ghost

"Malfoy, please… need you to… gods…"

Draco leaned in close to where he figured Potter's ear must be, and whispered with perfect, precise annunciation, "Do you want me to suck your cock, Potter?"

"Fuckyes!" he cried out desperately, bucking and spreading his legs, and Draco smirked and slowly settled himself between those strong thighs, and ran his tongue along the bottom of Potter's cock again before taking the head into his mouth.

It was a singularly bizarre feeling. It felt at once familiar, and foreign, to have this hot, thick, heavy thing in his mouth. He tried experimentally flicking his tongue into the slit, and Potter hissed and bucked into his mouth. Draco gagged at the feel of it going too deeply and his eyes watered. He growled, gripping Potter's hips and forcing them down against the mattress, and tried wrapping his lips over his teeth and diving down as far as he could manage. It tickled the back of his throat but if he closed his eyes and tried to relax, he found it was remarkably easy to ignore. He wrapped his fingers around the base to stroke the rest that he could fit into his mouth.

Meanwhile Potter was writhing, and he could hear hands gripping the sheets and a head lolling back and forth. And then a hand came down and threaded through Draco's hair and he tensed, unwilling to let Potter take control like that, but when the hand in his hair only stroked him gently, he relaxed again and resumed his sucking. His jaw was already sore and it was having trouble believing people did this for fun, when he flicked his tongue over the slit again and tasted salty-sweet precome. Oh. His own cock gave an interested twitch.

Potter spread his legs spread further, and Draco began trailing a spit-slick finger down, down past his perineum to ghost over his entrance, running little circles around it, teasingly. Potter started bearing down against the pressure and Draco stopped sucking long enough to whisper a wandless cleaning charm, and say,

"Tell me what you want, Potter." One hand was still pumping firmly, and his finger was still trailing circles, keeping the pressure just a little too weak to be satisfying.

"Please… fuck please… I need it… inside… fuck Malfoy…. nngah…"

"Do you want me to put… this…" he pressed against the little opening… "inside you? You want me to finger-fuck you?"

"Yes… fuck please please yes!…" Potter gasped as Draco breached him. The hot heat around his finger made him dizzy and his cock was achingly hard now as he resumed his sucking. He drove his finger gently in and out in rhythm with his mouth, and then tried to crook it, trying to find that bundle of nerves he knew to be in there, somewhere, though he couldn't be sure if he was hitting it.

Potter lasted a mercifully short time though, groaning "fuck Malf… fuck I can't… I'm gonna…nnnngah…" and Draco held still when Potter tensed up, and just sucked on the head until he felt the cock in his mouth pulsing and one, two, three bursts of hot come filled his mouth. He swallowed without thinking, wiping a drip from the edge of his mouth. He was just about to reach around for the fire-whiskey then a hand reached around the back of his neck and pulled him up to a kiss that caught him by surprise. Potter's tongue licked along his swollen lips, and teased his teeth apart until he opened and then that warm, wet tongue probed and plundered his mouth, like he was trying to gather up the remnants of his own flavour.

Draco moaned and reached down to fist himself, sure he couldn't stand another second of delay, when Potter's hand swatted his away and quickly replaced it with his own, and began stroking firmly, pushing Draco down until he was flat on the bed. Against his will his hips began thrusting up into the tight circle of Potter's fist, and then he felt a hot tongue and sharp teeth dragging across a nipple and he squirmed and whimpered and was unspeakably grateful that Potter could not see him right now because the last of his dignity fled as Potter replaced his hand with his mouth and began to suck mercilessly. He was already so close that it only took him a few seconds and was coming down Potter's open throat.

Draco collapsed onto the bed and Potter pulled himself to lie down next to him, close but not quite touching. As his breathing evening out, Draco considered looking for his clothes, but the enveloping darkness was so comforting. If only they could find that bottle now. Apparently Potter was thinking the same thing, because he leaned across Draco and reached over the edge of the bed, coming back with a triumphant laugh followed by the sound of swigging and swallowing, and then cold glass was pressed against Draco's chest and he winced and sat up, taking it and drinking deeply.

He hissed at the pleasant burn, and whispered, "fuck," falling back onto his back to stare into the darkness.

"Yeah," came the quiet reply as Potter lay back next to him, this time just a little closer, so that their arms brushed, but neither of them moved.

Gradually Draco began to wake from the fog of his orgasm, prolonged by the comforting darkness and the warmth of the whiskey. He was just about to sit up and try to find his clothes, when a gentle snore drifted over from beside.

Potter was sleeping.

Draco felt something clenching in his chest and he was overcome with a completely stupid, absurd impulse to pull up the covers and go to sleep next to him.

He stared into the darkness for a few long, quiet minutes, before he finally pulled himself up and off of the bed. He fumbled around in the robes to find his wand and cast a lumos, then quickly got dressed. He turned to look at Potter under the blue light from his wand. He'd never actually seen Potter completely naked before, and his breath caught as he gazed at the pale from. His arms and legs were tanned from Quidditch, but his torso was a soft white. His cock lay limp across the thigh of a leg that was bent out at the knee. One of his hands lay across his chest. He looked so vulnerable lying there. How utterly stupid of him to simply fall asleep next to a Death Eater, Draco could do anything to him.

At the thought, his chest clenched and something filled his throat and for some reason he reached down onto the floor and picked up Potter's robe and threw it over him, then walked away without looking back.