Title: Clockwork
Author: Imriel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3200 [personal best!]
Disclaimer: Harry Potter & Co. belong to JKR.
Warnings: Uh, porn, porn, and more porn.
Summary: Draco doesn't know why he and Potter are drawn to each other time and time again, all he knows it that it happens like clockwork.
Draco self-consciously smoothes his hand down the front of the silky black dress he's wearing, despite the fact that the dress is charmed to have a perfect line down the front. It was created for wizards just like Draco—who liked the feeling of wearing the feminine clothing, without having to worry about possible embarrassing situations with inadvertent erections. Much like the one Draco was beginning to sport due to his growing anticipation as he strides down the steps into the dark interior of the club.
The reason Draco was wearing the dress, and coming to this club, was that he knew a certain person was supposed to be there, was always there this time of the month. And like clockwork, Draco always found himself descending the same stairs with the same fluttery feeling in his stomach.
He enters the club's smoky dance room, weaving through the throngs of people, eyes continuously searching. And then… he sees him; slouching against the wall off to the side, watching the people dancing with a detached interest. Draco can feel his pulse quickening, and just seeing Potter is sending blood rushing to his cock. He can sense the very instant that Potter notices him. Energy jolts through his veins as Potter's attention focuses on him. He pushes himself off the wall with a predatory ease that Draco only used to see in Potter in the air. But now as Potter—there's no other word for it—stalks closer, he feels the same nervous excitement that he used to feel in their matches in school.
Potter stops just a few feet away from him. Draco can feel the hot sweep of his gaze as it runs over his body. He feigns nonchalance though, glancing down at himself and looking up at Potter with a raised eyebrow.
"Like what you see, Potter?" he smirks.
Potter doesn't say anything, just quirks his lips in a brief smile before reaching out and pulling Draco to him. Draco automatically falls into his embrace, draping his arms over Potter shoulders. It never seems to matter that Draco is has an inch or two on Potter—the energy that emanates off of him always makes Draco feel almost fragile in comparison.
They sway together to the music, safe in the darkness of one of the club's unoccupied corners. The pounding bass beats through Draco's body, making him dizzy and breathless. All he is aware of is the man holding him, Potter's hands hot and damp on his back, the beads of sweat on his upper lip. And without knowing who leans first, Potter's lips are suddenly on his, slightly chapped and Draco's already gasping back, pressing urgently into Potter's body.
This is what he's here for, as Potter pushes him back into a pillar, kissing and grinding, Potter's hands gripping as Draco's lifted up against the pillar, legs wrapping around Potter's waist. Draco's hands scrabble desperately for something to hold onto, feels like he's weightless, finally sinks his hands into Potter's hair and holds on tight as Potter continues to ravage his mouth, tongue dipping in hotly for teasing brushes against his own.
Draco tears his mouth away to gasp for breath, and Potter's groaning and burying his face in his neck, biting and sucking. Draco feel his hands tighten on his arse, before one is skimming beneath the dress, brushing a finger against Draco's entrance.
"Fuck," Draco hisses, his stomach tightening and his arousal soaring. "Fuck, let's get out of here," he moans into Potter's ear. Either Potter doesn't hear him, or he's intent to just fuck Draco into the wall, regardless of the oblivious couples grinding just off to their side.
Potter lifts his head, then, leans his forehead against Draco's and stays still for a minute, breathing harshly. Then his looks at Draco, and Draco knows exactly what he must look like: lips red and kiss bruised, shiny with spit, hair mussed, the dress that doesn't fit him perfectly because he lacks the right bits hanging haphazardly off a slender shoulder.
"God I'm going to fuck you so hard," Potter says like a promise, kissing Draco again, who pulls away immediately and snarls.
"If you're actually planning on fucking me tonight, then let's go!"
Potter kisses him again, and drops him to the floor, grabbing Draco's hand and pulling him through the club. The cold winter air hits Draco's flushed face like a slap as they walk out the door.
"My place is closer," Potter mumbles, which Draco already knows, has been fucked in it many times before this. He starts to head towards the park that Potter's apartment is on the other side of, when Potter's hand tugs him in the opposite direction.
"C'mon let's go to my place, we went to yours last time," Potter says as he starts walking in the opposite direction from his apartment. Draco stares at him incredulously and thinks that Potter must be incredibly sloshed and a little bit mad. His next thought is inevitably that he hopes Potter's not too far gone and that his equipment's going to function correctly. Though I couldn't feel any issues there a few minutes ago, he snickers to himself.
"Potter," he calls as he jogs to catch up with the figure slowly but determinedly walking down the sidewalk. "Your apartment is in the other direction." He can't believe he has to say something so completely obvious, but Potter has gone insane.
"No," Potter says with a grin, "this is a shortcut." He starts walking down the street again. Draco watches him continue for a few seconds, and decides he won't put up with it.
"Potter, you've gone mental," he declares. "Either that or you don't really want to fuck me." He whirls around and starts off at a brisk pace towards the park, making it through the gates and onto the grass before he's tackled to the ground. Potter is breathing heavily on top of him, his hands scrabbling at Draco's clothes. Draco can feel where he's going to have bruises from hitting the ground, but he still smirks. Predictable.
Potter flips him onto his back and plants both hands on either side of Draco's head, holding himself above and staring down at him. Draco looks into Potter's dark eyes and shudders with the lust he sees there.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard," Potter says again, and Draco moans in agreement as Potter falls on top of him. He cants his hips up to meet with Potter's, and sparks fly through him as his erection meets Potter's. Their mouths crash together and Potter is fumbling again at the edges of his dress, hands pushing up the flimsy material. As the cold wet grass in the park contacts Draco's bare legs, he gasps.
I am not going to let Potter fuck me in the dirt where anyone can walk by.
With a superhuman strength of will, he pushes Potter off him and rolls over. He looks over his shoulder at Potter who's sitting prone and bewildered on the ground. Draco flashes a grin at him before he's off and running. He can hear Potter cursing and scrambling off the ground behind him. Spinning around and prancing a few paces backwards, he watches Potter moving drunkenly and determinedly after him.
"Hey Potter," he sings, "You want to fuck me? You'll have to catch me!" He jogs backwards half-heartedly, heading steadily towards the other end of the park, and Potter's apartment. Hurry up and catch me Potter.
But instead of chasing after him in a demonstration of Gryffindorish competitiveness, Potter barks a laugh, narrowing his eyes before taunting, "Maybe you don't want to be fucked tonight. Maybe you don't want this." He makes a crude gesture towards his groin before dashing off, laughing madly.
Draco laughs in surprise before chasing after him. At least he's heading in the right direction. Draco catches up with Potter in no time, being slightly less inebriated. His fingers tangle in Potter's shirt, the momentum spinning them both around before Potter trips and drags them both down, Draco falling heavily onto Potter's chest.
He laughs breathlessly, leaning down to nip at Potter's jaw and whisper hotly into his ear, "Oh, I want you." His hand snakes down to grip the hard bundle in Potter's jeans, eliciting another groan from the man beneath him. And with a maneuver Draco had thought Potter too drunk to execute, he finds himself again the one on the ground.
Draco loves the warm heavy weight on top of him. When Potter leans down to kiss him, almost sweetly, Draco melts into him, arms reaching up to twine behind Potter's neck, one leg curling around a muscular thigh. When Potter pulls away briefly to just look at him, Draco notices that it's started to snow, and it doesn't seem to fit with the hot and heavy feeling inside of him that it can be cold enough to snow. The flakes are falling softly around the two of them, but Draco's heart is beating fast, his blood pounding and all he can really feel is Potter's breath as it puffs against his face, and the hard press of Potter's erection against his thigh. He pulls Potter down to kiss him again, and briefly thinks about giving in and letting Potter fuck him right here in the park, in the snow.
Reality pricks him as the cold wetness of the grass starts to soak through the back of his dress, and even though he's got Potter as a human blanket on his front, there's a bed just beyond the gate and down the sidewalk, where he can do everything he wants to Potter without worrying about getting pneumonia. So he gives Potter a last soft kiss before gently pushing at his chest. He stands up, offering a hand down to Potter. He takes it, and after Draco's hauled him up too, they stand close together for a moment before Draco starts leading the way. He doesn't let go of Potter's hand.
xxx
They finally stumble through the doorway and into Potter's flat. When it looks like other man is heading to get another drink, Draco, who has already deemed Potter has had enough to drink this evening, grabs Potter's head in both hands and kisses him. When he thinks he's sufficiently driven the thought of alcohol out of Potter's head, he pulls back, leading his dazed partner straight to the bedroom. He pushes Potter onto the bed, and waits until he catches Potter's eye.
Never breaking eye contact, he pulls each strap off his shoulders, and lets the dress pool to the ground. Without the charmed dress to conceal his arousal, his cock juts obscenely in the matching black thong. Potter's eyes leave his to stare unabashedly at his groin. Draco moves towards the bed, pushing Potter down as he straddles him. Their cocks touch through fabric, and groaning, Draco begins to leisurely rut himself against Potter while he leans down to kiss him.
When one of Potter's hands reach up to grasp at his arse, Draco curses and starts to pull at Potter's shirt, desperate to feel skin on skin. His hands run eagerly over Potter's chest as it's revealed, tweaking his nipples when his hands reach them, smoothing his hands over Potter's shoulders and down his arms. He sits up to look down at his panting lover, and feels Potter's fingers hooking in the side strings of his thong, pulling it down to free his aching cock. Draco can't stand Potter being clothed for one more second; he slides down his body to unfasten his jeans and pull them down his legs, Potter awkwardly kicking and trying to help.
Potter is left in only his pants, which Draco briefly spares a second to give an appreciative glance at the way his cock tents the fabric before he pulls them down too. Potter's cock slaps onto his belly, straining and flushed red, pre-come beading the tip. Draco gives is it a long swipe of his tongue from base to tip before moving up to do what he's craved all night. He lies down on top of Potter, their bodies pressed together, every bit of skin touching.
They lie like that together for a moment, before Potter starts to shift restlessly, insinuating a leg in between Draco's legs. Potter presses his thigh insistently against Draco's balls, and moaning, Draco reaches over the side of the bed for the bottle of oil sitting on the nightstand. He sits up and is about to pour the oil into his hands when the bottle's taken from him.
"Let me," Potter whispers, splashing a generous amount into his palm and slicking his fingers. He trails his fingers over Draco's side, over his cheeks, dipping in to brush at his opening. Draco jerks impatiently, yearning for Potter to do what he's been teasing him with his touches all night. He's rewarded when Potter's finger starts to wriggle its way inside him. He bears down on the digit, willing more, but Potter ignores his silent wish and just circles the finger within him. Draco opens his mouth for a demand but all that emerges is needy whine. But apparently Potter interprets it correctly because he's pushing a second finger in to join the first and immediately starts finger-fucking Draco in earnest.
He wantonly rides Potter's fingers, exalting in the slight sting and burn of Potter being on just the right side of rough. When Potter crooks his fingers just right, Draco clenches down hard and moans. Potter's reaction is immediate.
"Fuck, need to be inside you right now," he curses. He grabs his cock, giving a quick jerk to coat it with the residual oil. Gripping Draco's hips, he guides him into place, thrusting a few times ineffectually. Draco reaches below him to take a firm hold of him erection and lead him where he's supposed to be. The blunt tip of his shaft nudges at Draco's hole until it pushes in, and slowly the rest of the shaft is also engulfed as Draco slowly bears down. Finally Potter is entirely inside of him, Draco's balls resting against Potter's abdomen. Draco sits there for a moment, circling his hips a little, but mainly savoring the feeling of Potter's cock hard and filling him.
Potter throws his head back and tightens his fingers on Draco's hips, wordlessly urging him to move. Draco complies, slowly lifting himself up and dropping back down. He keeps the pace agonizingly slow so he can enjoy the stretching sensation as he takes Potter back into himself each time he eases down. It also has the added bonus of driving Potter insane.
And sure enough, Potter's already beginning to snap up his hips to meet Draco's in an attempt to make him move faster, harder. Draco just plants his hands on Potter's chest and moves even slower, almost the point of complete withdrawal every time he moves up. The effort is extremely taxing, and Draco can already feel his thighs beginning to tremble, but he doesn't think he'll have to worry about it much longer, the way Potter's beginning to thrash beneath him.
He still yelps though when he's suddenly tossed to the other side of the bed, Potter's change in grip on his hips the only warning. Potter's already surging towards him, grabbing his legs and throwing them over his shoulders, his cock sheathing itself in Draco's body again.
"You're such a fucking tease," Potter growls as he begins to pound into Draco. As if to validate that statement, Draco tries to clench down at the peak of every thrust. Potter groans and hunches his shoulders forward more, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic. He drives forward a few final bruising times before stiffening, and Draco can feel the sting of his hot come filling him.
Draco loves the feeling of a softening cock inside him, clenches to keep Potter from slipping out of him as long as possible. Potter pulls out though, collapsing backwards into a glistening sweaty heap. Draco lets himself be distracted for a moment by the lovely sight of Potter's gleaming muscles before his attention's brought back to his own cock, still rock hard and leaking copiously.
He crawls up until he's crouched over Potter's body. He reaches out to tuck a damp lock of hair behind Potter's ear while whispering, "Forget about something?" He dips his hips to let the tip of his cock skim a wet line along Potter's skin. Batting away Potter's hand as it languorously reaches for him, he positions Potter's post-coital and moldable body into a more upright position before sitting up himself. Taking his cock in hand, he rubs the head against Potter's lips. Potter seems more than happy with this arrangement, eagerly opening his mouth to suck on the head. His tongue swirls around him, stabs into his slit. Draco moans and winds his fingers into messy black hair, gently beginning to fuck Potter's mouth. Potter lets him, bobbing his head in time, his tongue working patterns on his shaft. One of Potter's hands come up to fondle his balls, the other reaches up to grasp his arse. When Potter's fingers start playing with the edge of his slackened hole, Draco's hips involuntarily jerk forward. Potter swallows around him, and that combined with the fingers touching his sensitized skin is enough to send him over the edge. Potter's hands hold him still as Draco empties his come down Potter's throat. Potter never stops fingering his hole throughout, the digits now dipping in and out of the wet hole.
"Enough," Draco moans, his whole body feeling over sensitized. But Potter doesn't seem inclined to listen. He turns Draco around, spreads his arse and leans down to lick where his fingers were. Draco wails at the pleasure that jolts through him, almost too much, especially when Potter starts lapping at the edges of his hole and letting his fingers resume fucking him. He's sore from the pounding Potter gave him not so very long ago, but the pain is blending with the pleasure into a mixture that he's not at all recovered enough for.
He wrenches himself away despite Potter's immediate moue of disappointment. Turning around he captures the pout in a kiss, tasting himself in Potter's mouth. Pulling the blankets up around them, he rests his head briefly on Potter's chest, murmuring, "In the morning." He presses a kiss to Potter's shoulder before rolling over onto his side, with his back to Potter. A moment later an arm is sliding around his middle and Potter's body, radiating heat, is pressing against him. Draco relaxes into the body behind him, ruefully noticing that Potter's breathing has already deepened.
As he starts slipping into sleep, he wonders what others would call their strange relationship—if it could even be called a relationship. All he knows is that once he leaves Potter's bed tomorrow morning, he'll have a few weeks of respite before the urge will start again; the itch that hasn't gone away with time, that he hasn't managed to get rid of however many times they've fucked. For a few weeks he'll be able to be with others and the thought of Potter won't enter his mind once. But once those few weeks are up he knows he'll start looking for Potter again, just like Potter will be looking for him. Inevitable, inescapable. Like clockwork.