I'm not a girl, Potter. I don't need foreplay."
"Bossy pain in the arse," Potter grumbled, but as he said it, he was pushing Draco down onto his stomach on a soft, black duvet, running his tongue down his spine, caressing his back as he moved lower. Then he was grabbing Draco's slacks and pants and yanking them down to the tops of his thighs.
Draco felt Potter's teeth sink into his left arse cheek and he gasped, his back arching, his cock rubbing against the bedding. Moments later he felt large hands on each cheek, and he was being spread, exposed. Instinctively he tightened, but then Potter's mouth was there, hot moist breath wafting over him just before Potter's tongue thrust against him, pressing, pushing, then withdrawing before doing it again. Draco ground out a moan, his forehead pushing into the bed, his fingers clutching convulsively at the fabric. When Potter's tongue had finally loosened him enough to breach him, and slid sinuously inside, Draco gasped. His cock felt as if it might explode at any moment, and he reached back blindly and clutched Potter's thick hair in his hand.
"Potter, please," he begged. "Now, please…"
He heard movement behind him, felt his shoes being pulled off and heard them drop heavily to the floor, felt his pants and trousers jerked off over his feet. He heard rustling and pictured Potter's jeans dropping. A drawer opened and closed. He glanced back over his shoulder as the bed dipped between his feet and saw Potter pouring lube from a blue bottle into his hand. He snapped it closed and tossed it aside, then met Draco's eyes for a moment before bringing his hand to his arse.
The lube was cool as Potter spread it over and around his entrance. Draco's eyes closed tightly when he felt one of Potter's blunt fingers tease the muscle before sliding carefully inside of him. He reached down and curled his hand around his own cock as Potter withdrew and entered with two fingers, and Draco pushed back against his hand, his forehead pressed once again into the soft bedding, his hand stroking himself as Potter stroked into him with those long, dexterous fingers. When they pressed forward and down, expertly finding and stroking over his prostate, Draco let out a hissing breath between clenched teeth. Potter pulled his hand away, positioned himself behind him, and Draco felt something infinitely broader and more blunt press against him.
Slowly, carefully, Potter breached the twin rings of muscle, sliding inside of him with a soft grunt. It burned and Draco hissed.
"Oh," he muttered, his face in the duvet. "Oh, fuck." Potter remained still for a moment, then moved shallowly inside of him. "Oh, fuck," he said again, but he reached back with one of his hands and gripped Potter's thigh, pulling him in again. "Oh… oh fuck."
"Ready now?" Potter asked gently, and Draco jerked his head in affirmation.
Potter caught Draco's narrow hips between hard hands, and held him still as he began to move inside of him in long, slow strokes that made Draco's breath catch in his throat.
"Feel good?"
"Oh, god, oh yes," he moaned. "Yes, yes. You're so… fucking… thick…"
"And you're so bloody tight." He felt Potter's mouth on his back, felt Potter's hand curl around his ribcage, but concentration had tunneled down to the thick cock stroking into his arse, and his own hand, moving more and more quickly on his own straining erection. He braced one hand on the bed, let his head drop forward, felt sweat slip down his forehead and off of his nose. "Oh, yeah," he growled as Potter's strokes picked up momentum, and he heard and felt Potter's skin slapping his own. "Oh, oh, oh…" he gasped out each time Potter's hips pumped forward, his hand moving so fast now that it was a blur. "Oh, god, yeah…" Potter's hands slid up his back and hooked over his shoulders, fingers clutching, pulling him back as he moved into Draco harder, faster. A symphony of hard, disjointed breathing and small sounds of pleasure mixed between them, accompanied by the wet slap of flesh on flesh and the rhythmic squeak of the bedsprings. "Oh, god, I'm so close," Draco moaned. "I'm so fucking close…"
Potter reached around him with both hands then, curling them around Draco's upper thighs, gripping the tendons that stood out in bold relief on either side of his groin. He pulled Draco back until he was all but sitting on Potter's lap, angled his thrusts upwards, and Draco let out a shattered cry as the new position brought his prostate into searing, continuous contact with the hard crown of Potter's cock. Potter moved harder, faster, skin slapping louder and louder. Draco felt his balls draw up tight, felt a rushing jolt of pleasure streak down his spine.
"I'm gonna come," he gasped. "I'm gonna… oh, god!"
He'd never felt anything like that orgasm. It shot from his spine through his arse, into his balls, and his cock jerked hard in his fist as he erupted over the bed in arching streams of translucent white. Some struck him in the chin, and the chest, and still it went on as he gasped and jerked, his body one giant spasm of raw nerve endings. Potter continued to drive into him, and he heard the tortured growl, felt Potter's fingers dig into his soft inner thighs with bruising force, felt the hard body behind him jerk and then arch, shuddering as he lifted Draco from his knees.
"Oh, fuck," Draco cried, his own orgasm still roaring through him, leaving him a shaking, trembling wreckage. "Oh, sweet Circe." He jerked one last time, and then went limp, falling forward, and the only thing that kept him from planting his face in the duvet was the arm that curled around his chest and held on. And for the first time in the whole of Draco's life, an orgasm sent his consciousness slipping away.
.
.
"Get off," he ordered, his voice muffled by the bedding.
"Hmmm?" Potter hummed against his ear, but didn't move.
"I said, get off."
"Just did that."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Very clever, Potter."
"Listen, Draco," Potter said lazily, his mouth near Draco's ear. The rush of warm air made gooseflesh rise on Draco's shoulders. "As I'm still inside of you, do you think you might find a way to call me Harry?"
"No," Draco said emphatically. "Now move. You're heavy as hell, and I'm lying in the wet spot."
"Bossy git," Potter muttered, but there was more indulgent fondness in his voice than exasperation. He pulled out carefully, but even so, Draco winced and hissed. "Did I hurt you?" Potter asked, his hand coming to rest on Draco's shoulder.
"I'm all right," Draco answered, feeling his face heat. "It's just… been a while."
"Ah."
He felt the bed shift and turned his head, peering through his fringe at Potter, who'd settled on his back beside him. His tawny skin was slick with sweat, his hair stuck to his face in wet clumps, and he still looked sensational. Draco shifted and grimaced in distaste.
"You really are sore."
"That was not pain," Draco said primly. "So don't get an inflated ego over how well-endowed you are. I wasn't lying when I said I was on the wet spot, and it's sticky."
Draco made a surprised, needy sound, and Potter's lips slid to the other nipple and he gave it the same taunting treatment. By the time his tongue slid down the indentation between Draco's straining abs, Draco's hips were shifting impatiently and his breath was escaping in short, needy sounds that mortified him on some level, but he was too far gone to care. When Potter shoved Draco's pants down and took his cock into his hand, then his mouth, Draco cried out, his hands fisting in the duvet on either side of his head.
Potter pulled against Draco's cock with his tongue and his cheeks, all wet suction and heat. Draco grew more and more restive, his head moving against the counterpane, his legs twitching. Potter curled one firm hand around Draco's thigh and stilled it, then slid beneath to push the long leg up as his mouth moved lower, briefly caressing Draco's balls before sliding lower yet. When his mobile, wicked tongue traced the hypersensitive puckered flesh of his opening, Draco groaned deep in his chest, grabbing his leg behind the knee and pulling it against his chest.
"Potter," he gasped. Potter hummed, and the vibration was almost more than Draco could bear. He began to shake, his breathing loud and harsh. He felt Potter's tongue move against him again, pressing inside of him, and he jerked. "Potter!" he cried, his other hand dropping and fisting in messy black hair.
"Draco." Potter stuck his fingers in his mouth, covering them with saliva, then slid his lips along the tendon between Draco's leg and groin as he reached down, caressing the crease in his arse. His eyes lifted to Draco's, so dark that they were nearly black. "Really, we've been through this," he said smoothly, pressing, slipping a finger sleekly inside, curling it, making fireworks explode in Draco's head. He whimpered. "Don't you think we can get past your aversion to my first name?" he whispered.
"I'll call you Henrietta if it will force you to get on with it," Draco ground out between clenched teeth. Potter's slow smile was wickedness itself as he pulled his finger out and pressed in again, adding a second, carefully loosening the tight ring of muscle.
"Harry will suffice, thanks."
Draco's neck was arched and he was breathing harshly through his mouth by the time Potter had prepared him completely, massaging his aching prostate the entire time. He knelt between Draco's legs and looked down into his face.
"Lube?" he asked softly.
"Table," Draco answered, panting. "Drawer." He'd been ready to go on saliva alone, he was that desperate, but part of him knew he'd be grateful later for the consideration.
Potter raised his hand and muttered a spell, and the drawer flew open and the bottle sailed into his hand. Draco felt a thrill run the length of his spine and gooseflesh broke out on his chest as Potter's magic brushed his skin. His legs were pushed up, and Potter flicked open the bottle with one hand and poured the slick, cool lube directly onto his loosened opening. Draco shuddered, his teeth gripping his lower lip. Potter's fingers came back briefly, spreading the gel, then he shifted closer, and Draco felt the pressure of Potter's cock pressing against him. Then he paused.
"Potter," Draco wheezed, gripping the man's forearms hard.
"Harry."
Draco's eyes had rolled up and glazed at the sensation of Potter's cock against him, and he fought to bring them back into focus. He found Potter watching him closely.
"Wha…?"
"Harry, Draco. My name is Harry."
Draco curled his fingers into Potter's muscular arms, panting shallowly as the thick head slowly breached him, but went no further. "Potter!" he cried out, trying to lift his hips to force him deeper, but Potter flattened a hand over Draco's lower abdomen and held him down. Draco growled between his teeth.
"Draco," Potter said. "My name is Harry. Is this really so difficult?"
Draco felt sweat dripping down his temple, felt his fringe glued to the dampness soaking his brow. Every muscle in his body was straining; his arms were shaking. Why was he fighting this, he wondered wildly? Why couldn't he just say it? He dampened dry lips with his tongue. Only once in the entirety of their acquaintance had he ever called Potter anything other than… Potter. But to do so now, staring up into the watchful eyes while pinned beneath the coiled strength and about to be taken, completely vulnerable? It seemed like a huge step, a massive leap of trust, and his heart was pounding jarringly hard in his chest. Trust; it required trust. He licked his lips again.
"Harry."
It was just a breath of sound, not really loud enough for Potter to hear, but he must have read his name on Draco's lips for he slid home with a satisfied sigh. Bracing himself with Draco's legs over his arms, he leaned down and kissed him gently. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he murmured against his mouth, then lifted his chest and began to move.
Draco stared into the face above his, watched features tight with pleasure, saw how his jaw jutted forward slightly with each slow, measured thrust. Tendons stood out in bold relief down each side of his throat, muscles bunched and flexed across the top of his shoulders and down the center of his stomach. He moved with slow, steady strokes, taking his time, easing the initial sting and burn of entry with care. And the usual feeling of fullness, something Draco loved - if the truth be told even craved - was somehow more. More satisfying, more exhilarating, more exciting. Draco's cock never flagged; it stayed hard as a rock, flat against his belly, a small pool of pre-come mingling with the slender trail of fair hair beneath his navel. He lifted his hands and slid them into Potter's damp hair, fingers curling around the silky strands and holding on. Potter's eyes opened and he stared down into Draco's face, and Draco held the gaze, unblinking.
Inevitably, the pace picked up. The bed didn't squeak, but the headboard bounced rhythmically against the wall and Draco made short, sharp sounds that mingled with the wet sound of the lube and the soft grunts that began to accompany each increasingly forceful thrust. Potter reached between them and curled a slick hand around Draco's cock, fisting him in time with each forward motion, and Draco's toes curled and his neck arched as he felt pressure building through his pelvis, in his balls.
"Ah, ah, ah…" he gasped. His thighs were pressed tight against his chest, even without Potter holding them there, and he curled his spine, lifting his head, arching his groin up, making Potter's cock slide directly over his prostate. "Oh, shit!" he cried with a garbled moan, dropping one hand from Potter's hair to clutch at the duvet. But Potter's free hand caught it, and he linked their fingers and held on. No one had ever held his hand like that during sex, and it seemed in that moment more intimate than anything that had come before. More intimate than Potter's other hand fisting his cock, more intimate even somehow than the cock moving hard into his arse. He stared up into Potter's flushed, damp face, into the wide, watchful eyes, and whatever he thought he'd once felt for Antonio was eclipsed in the flood of emotion that filled his chest. Tears stung his eyes, and with a shattered, startled cry, he felt his release burst from him to paint both of their stomachs with shining drops of thick, pearly white.
He was still shaking from the force of his orgasm when he felt Potter's movements go from smooth and steady to erratic and short, so hard they shoved Draco along the mattress. Potter gasped and shuddered, his head dropped back and his teeth clenched, his fingers clutching Draco's in a punishing grip. Draco felt the cock inside of him pulse.
"Oh, God," Potter ground out, his body convulsing. "I love you, Draco. God, I love you…"
He hung above Draco for a moment, body rigid, muscles clenched, then he slowly collapsed, catching himself before he dropped onto Draco, lowering himself on trembling arms instead. He turned his face into Draco's neck, his breath sawing against the sweat-slicked skin. Draco lifted his arms and embraced him, and found that the words were there, just waiting to be said.
"I love you," he whispered, his lips against Potter's ear. "I love you, too…. Harry."
Potter's broad shoulders shuddered, and his lips moved against Draco's throat as he slipped his arms beneath the slender body and held him tight. For several long moments, there were no words. What needed to be said had been said.