Three Reasons [6] (Harry/Draco, NC-17)
May. 25th, 2016 01:32 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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hp_may_madnessTitle: Three Reasons [6]
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Seriously, Harry is an a** in this.
Prompt: Stigmatophilia
Author's Notes: Lots of internal thoughts from Harry in this one, but then sex.
Previous Parts: [1][2][3][4][5]
Harry told Ron and Hermione he wanted to spend the first night in his new flat alone, but Malfoy was there. He hadn’t really lied to them. It was the first day of his new free life. Free from a destiny hovering over him, free from his family, free from classmates and admirers. In the first place he got to pick all on his own. The type of night he should spend alone reflecting on his life and where he wanted to go with it.
But he couldn’t say no to a night spent fucking Malfoy.
So when he ran into him while out shopping for things for his apartment, and Malfoy just assumed that Harry wanted his opinion. Then assumed he wanted help setting it up—and breaking it in. Harry wasn’t about to refuse.
He was pants at things like that. And, to be honest, had Harry not seen that apartment before—in a memory that was forever burned in his mind—he probably would have stayed lost and indecisive on that as well.
The flat wasn’t completely furnished, but Draco made sure he got the basics. A bed, a table for the kitchen, a couch for the living room. Linen, dishes. It was still sparse and mostly empty after all of Harry’s things, new and old, were unpacked and put away, but they had a place to sit. And, more importantly, a place to fuck.
Malfoy sighed as he looked around after they’d finished dinner. Harry wondered how well he remembered the place from the small glimpse they’d seen at the Hogwarts’ theatre. Was he seeing all the many things Harry had to buy before they got to that moment they shared?
Looking around, Harry could tell that tonight wasn’t the night. The place looked far more lived in that day on the screen. They still had time.
Harry’s pulse sped up at the thought. He still had time with Malfoy. Plenty more time before they moved on with their lives to devour each other, to fuck over every surface of his new flat, to feel the press of their sweaty bodies against each other still shaking from coming moments before.
Fuck, how had Harry been so certain he’d be able to live without that?
Because he had been. He’d been sure they’d end once they left Hogwarts. That the moment they saw was, like Ron thought, a one-night thing far in the future. Nothing to worry about. Getting pissed, seeing each other, and then walking away.
Although Harry knew the time would eventually have to come, Harry didn’t like the way thoughts of after Malfoy made him feel.
The idea that they had plenty of time before one or the other fell in love with someone was a much happier thought. Happier still was the next thought that came to him: what if Malfoy wasn’t the type to love? That sounded much more like the Malfoy he knew. Then Harry didn’t have to worry about Malfoy ending their thing until his parents forced him to get married. Maybe, not even then. Because, if Malfoy didn’t do love, then he wouldn’t love her.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Malfoy sounded amused. ‘You have such a serious look on your face.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Just . . . the future.’
Malfoy smirked at that. ‘Yeah?’
And because every time Malfoy smirked, Harry couldn’t help but take it as a challenge he leaned in and whispered, ‘Like here in five minutes, when you’re naked on my bed with your arse in the air, begging me to quit teasing you with my cock and to fill you with my come already.’
‘Five minutes?’ Malfoy wasn’t smirking then. His breath already hitched as he spoke, and Harry had hardly begun to rub his cock through his trousers. They’d learned months before that all Harry had to do was use that tone, and Malfoy would be hard within seconds.
It was only fair really.
All Malfoy had to do was look at Harry and would be in the same position. It didn’t even have to be his if you asked me right now, I’d get down on my knees and swallow your come look, but it helped.
‘Do you think we can get there faster?’ Harry asked, and then they were both up, kissing and making their way to the bed.
It might have taken closer to fifteen minutes for them to get to the bed, but that hardly mattered. Luckily they didn’t have any hazards in their way or they might not have bothered with the bed at all. And really, it did need to be broken in.
Without Harry asking, Malfoy got into position. He was whining by the time Harry brushed the tip of his cock against Malfoy’s exposed arsehole. Harry couldn’t stop the relieved laugh as it escaped him. There was an irrational fear that Malfoy would reject him, and it always hovered around him until Harry’s come—or in this case pre-come—made contact with Malfoy’s skin. He didn’t know why he felt it was the proof he needed that this was real, but there it was:
Harry’s cock slid through his own pre-come over Malfoy’s arsehole as Malfoy’s whine turned into, Harry.
Fuck. Harry had to pull back. He’d get hard again. Coming twice was a minimum for him and they both knew that, but Harry still didn’t want to come just yet. He flipped Malfoy over so that he could see his face. It didn’t help him calm down. Just if he was going to come without even being in him, he wanted to at least be looking at his face as he came on him.
Malfoy’s eyes met his and Harry could tell that he knew. Shite. He hated that Malfoy knew him that well. It was just sex, though. They’d had a lot of sex, so of course he could read all of Harry’s cues during it. Harry could read Malfoy’s, too.
Trailing his hands up Harry’s thighs, Malfoy asked, ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s not about what I want,’ Harry said. It was true enough. Harry couldn’t get off unless Malfoy was loving it.
Malfoy smirked. ‘I want . . . it to be about what you want.’
He did that every once in awhile. Wanted to learn something new about Harry. Swallowing, Harry threaded his fingers through Draco’s and pressed his hands back against the pillows on either side of his head. Both his arms were bare then. With Voldemort’s power gone, so were all his marks. Not just faded, but gone like he was. It was still there, though. Hiding under the surface. Harry tore his eyes away from Malfoy’s arm to look at his face.
‘Are you serious?’
Harry could feel himself blush. It was the ultimate symbol of this thing he couldn’t explain about his relationship with Malfoy. The symbol of a pledge to serve the man who plotted Harry’s murder, and a message that said they hated everything that Harry was. Malfoy took the pledge, believed the message, and now he swallowed around Harry’s cock and begged for his come.
There was a spell that made the Dark Mark show itself. It didn’t hurt that Harry could tell. Auror training had just started, so Harry hadn’t had a chance to use the spell on a Death Eater yet. They practiced the spells on tattoos in training.
Malfoy knew of the spell, of course. They’d used it on him for his trial.
Nodding, Harry rubbed his thumb over Malfoy’s hand to try and calm him down.
‘Why?’
‘It’s part of you,’ Harry said, and when Malfoy gave him a stern look he added, ‘You like my scar.’
‘That actually is a part of you.’
‘It’s a mark that showed part of Voldemort’s soul was inside me most of my life.’ After a beat, Harry continued, ‘And even if it wasn’t that—it’ll always be the mark I got from the night my parents were murdered.’
Malfoy bit his lip as he considered it. Finally, he nodded. Harry released his hands and moved to lay half next to and half on top of him. It took a few tries before Harry could even get a faint trace of it. Malfoy’s fingers were in Harry’s hair as he worked. They traced his scar and Harry didn’t push his hand away. It’d been awhile since he pushed Malfoy’s hand away from his scar anyway.
It had always caused a fight with Ginny when Harry pushed her away, but Malfoy accepted it. He was patient. Getting closer and closer, stopping when Harry wanted him to until Harry didn’t want him to anymore.
They stared down at the mark once it appeared.
Harry ran his thumb around the mark, not touching it and causing Malfoy to hold his breath. Slowly, Harry brought his lips to Malfoy’s wrist and then kissed around the area his thumb had just traced. Since Malfoy didn’t stop him, Harry started at his wrist and kissed up Malfoy’s arm. It was just a tattoo anymore. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t tell if his lips were touching the mark or not.
But Malfoy’s breathing and erection told Harry what his eyes couldn’t see. His breath hitched when he first touched it. His cocked filled and hardened as Harry breathed across it. Harry’s waning erection sprang to life from Draco’s reactions.
‘Do you like this?’
Malfoy didn’t answer, but Harry didn’t need him to. His body answered for him. Harry’s lips moved from Malfoy’s arm back to his mouth and their erections brushed as Harry moved back on top of him. Malfoy sat up, pulling Harry into his lap.
It caught Harry off guard and he pulled up, grabbing the headboard. His cock was in Malfoy’s face, and Malfoy took the opportunity to tease Harry by breathing over its head, and to trail his fingers down Harry’s crack. Harry felt the spell both from its effect and Malfoy whispering the incantation over his cock.
‘Harry, are you okay?’
Harry nodded, but couldn’t speak. He’d never done this before. Of course, Malfoy knew that, because he’s the only one Harry had ever had sex with. They’d talked about it—Harry didn’t remember when, he just remembered telling him. Sometime during one of their first times, back when they still only met in bathrooms.
‘I want you,’ Malfoy said and the words relaxed Harry enough for him to slip his first finger inside Harry. ‘You’re already so close, Harry. Just relax.’
Malfoy rubbed Harry’s thigh with his free hand, and Harry nodded again. It was different, but it didn’t hurt. Felt a little weird. Malfoy was right: Harry had been close. Malfoy already found Harry’s prostate and Harry bit his lip and shuddered as Malfoy’s finger moved against it.
‘Merlin, I want you, Harry.’
Looking down, Harry saw the Dark Mark flexing between his legs as Malfoy worked his finger in and out of him. ‘Fuck,’ Harry said. ‘What do you want to do to me?’
When he looked at Malfoy’s face, Malfoy wasn’t smirking like Harry expected. His eyes were widened with surprise. Harry was a little surprised himself. Malfoy didn’t talk and Harry did during sex. It was their thing. As Malfoy fumbled for words, Harry cut him off. Just because they were doing something new didn’t mean they had to change everything.
‘You want to fuck me, Malfoy?’ The words helped Harry relax even more, helping Malfoy move in and out of him more freely.
If Harry kept talking, they might not get around to Malfoy’s cock inside him until their second round. But as the pressure built, Harry saw why it was easy for him to get Malfoy to beg for this. Harry started to say something to that effect, but the look that Malfoy was giving him stopped the words in his throat. He never could speak when Malfoy looked at him like that. Harry knew what that look meant. He was about to come, and Harry wasn’t even touching him.
Malfoy leaned forward so Harry went to meet him halfway, only Malfoy didn’t kiss him.
Instead, he whispered against his lips, ‘I want to make love to you, Harry.’
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Seriously, Harry is an a** in this.
Prompt: Stigmatophilia
Author's Notes: Lots of internal thoughts from Harry in this one, but then sex.
Previous Parts: [1][2][3][4][5]
Harry told Ron and Hermione he wanted to spend the first night in his new flat alone, but Malfoy was there. He hadn’t really lied to them. It was the first day of his new free life. Free from a destiny hovering over him, free from his family, free from classmates and admirers. In the first place he got to pick all on his own. The type of night he should spend alone reflecting on his life and where he wanted to go with it.
But he couldn’t say no to a night spent fucking Malfoy.
So when he ran into him while out shopping for things for his apartment, and Malfoy just assumed that Harry wanted his opinion. Then assumed he wanted help setting it up—and breaking it in. Harry wasn’t about to refuse.
He was pants at things like that. And, to be honest, had Harry not seen that apartment before—in a memory that was forever burned in his mind—he probably would have stayed lost and indecisive on that as well.
The flat wasn’t completely furnished, but Draco made sure he got the basics. A bed, a table for the kitchen, a couch for the living room. Linen, dishes. It was still sparse and mostly empty after all of Harry’s things, new and old, were unpacked and put away, but they had a place to sit. And, more importantly, a place to fuck.
Malfoy sighed as he looked around after they’d finished dinner. Harry wondered how well he remembered the place from the small glimpse they’d seen at the Hogwarts’ theatre. Was he seeing all the many things Harry had to buy before they got to that moment they shared?
Looking around, Harry could tell that tonight wasn’t the night. The place looked far more lived in that day on the screen. They still had time.
Harry’s pulse sped up at the thought. He still had time with Malfoy. Plenty more time before they moved on with their lives to devour each other, to fuck over every surface of his new flat, to feel the press of their sweaty bodies against each other still shaking from coming moments before.
Fuck, how had Harry been so certain he’d be able to live without that?
Because he had been. He’d been sure they’d end once they left Hogwarts. That the moment they saw was, like Ron thought, a one-night thing far in the future. Nothing to worry about. Getting pissed, seeing each other, and then walking away.
Although Harry knew the time would eventually have to come, Harry didn’t like the way thoughts of after Malfoy made him feel.
The idea that they had plenty of time before one or the other fell in love with someone was a much happier thought. Happier still was the next thought that came to him: what if Malfoy wasn’t the type to love? That sounded much more like the Malfoy he knew. Then Harry didn’t have to worry about Malfoy ending their thing until his parents forced him to get married. Maybe, not even then. Because, if Malfoy didn’t do love, then he wouldn’t love her.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Malfoy sounded amused. ‘You have such a serious look on your face.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Just . . . the future.’
Malfoy smirked at that. ‘Yeah?’
And because every time Malfoy smirked, Harry couldn’t help but take it as a challenge he leaned in and whispered, ‘Like here in five minutes, when you’re naked on my bed with your arse in the air, begging me to quit teasing you with my cock and to fill you with my come already.’
‘Five minutes?’ Malfoy wasn’t smirking then. His breath already hitched as he spoke, and Harry had hardly begun to rub his cock through his trousers. They’d learned months before that all Harry had to do was use that tone, and Malfoy would be hard within seconds.
It was only fair really.
All Malfoy had to do was look at Harry and would be in the same position. It didn’t even have to be his if you asked me right now, I’d get down on my knees and swallow your come look, but it helped.
‘Do you think we can get there faster?’ Harry asked, and then they were both up, kissing and making their way to the bed.
It might have taken closer to fifteen minutes for them to get to the bed, but that hardly mattered. Luckily they didn’t have any hazards in their way or they might not have bothered with the bed at all. And really, it did need to be broken in.
Without Harry asking, Malfoy got into position. He was whining by the time Harry brushed the tip of his cock against Malfoy’s exposed arsehole. Harry couldn’t stop the relieved laugh as it escaped him. There was an irrational fear that Malfoy would reject him, and it always hovered around him until Harry’s come—or in this case pre-come—made contact with Malfoy’s skin. He didn’t know why he felt it was the proof he needed that this was real, but there it was:
Harry’s cock slid through his own pre-come over Malfoy’s arsehole as Malfoy’s whine turned into, Harry.
Fuck. Harry had to pull back. He’d get hard again. Coming twice was a minimum for him and they both knew that, but Harry still didn’t want to come just yet. He flipped Malfoy over so that he could see his face. It didn’t help him calm down. Just if he was going to come without even being in him, he wanted to at least be looking at his face as he came on him.
Malfoy’s eyes met his and Harry could tell that he knew. Shite. He hated that Malfoy knew him that well. It was just sex, though. They’d had a lot of sex, so of course he could read all of Harry’s cues during it. Harry could read Malfoy’s, too.
Trailing his hands up Harry’s thighs, Malfoy asked, ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s not about what I want,’ Harry said. It was true enough. Harry couldn’t get off unless Malfoy was loving it.
Malfoy smirked. ‘I want . . . it to be about what you want.’
He did that every once in awhile. Wanted to learn something new about Harry. Swallowing, Harry threaded his fingers through Draco’s and pressed his hands back against the pillows on either side of his head. Both his arms were bare then. With Voldemort’s power gone, so were all his marks. Not just faded, but gone like he was. It was still there, though. Hiding under the surface. Harry tore his eyes away from Malfoy’s arm to look at his face.
‘Are you serious?’
Harry could feel himself blush. It was the ultimate symbol of this thing he couldn’t explain about his relationship with Malfoy. The symbol of a pledge to serve the man who plotted Harry’s murder, and a message that said they hated everything that Harry was. Malfoy took the pledge, believed the message, and now he swallowed around Harry’s cock and begged for his come.
There was a spell that made the Dark Mark show itself. It didn’t hurt that Harry could tell. Auror training had just started, so Harry hadn’t had a chance to use the spell on a Death Eater yet. They practiced the spells on tattoos in training.
Malfoy knew of the spell, of course. They’d used it on him for his trial.
Nodding, Harry rubbed his thumb over Malfoy’s hand to try and calm him down.
‘Why?’
‘It’s part of you,’ Harry said, and when Malfoy gave him a stern look he added, ‘You like my scar.’
‘That actually is a part of you.’
‘It’s a mark that showed part of Voldemort’s soul was inside me most of my life.’ After a beat, Harry continued, ‘And even if it wasn’t that—it’ll always be the mark I got from the night my parents were murdered.’
Malfoy bit his lip as he considered it. Finally, he nodded. Harry released his hands and moved to lay half next to and half on top of him. It took a few tries before Harry could even get a faint trace of it. Malfoy’s fingers were in Harry’s hair as he worked. They traced his scar and Harry didn’t push his hand away. It’d been awhile since he pushed Malfoy’s hand away from his scar anyway.
It had always caused a fight with Ginny when Harry pushed her away, but Malfoy accepted it. He was patient. Getting closer and closer, stopping when Harry wanted him to until Harry didn’t want him to anymore.
They stared down at the mark once it appeared.
Harry ran his thumb around the mark, not touching it and causing Malfoy to hold his breath. Slowly, Harry brought his lips to Malfoy’s wrist and then kissed around the area his thumb had just traced. Since Malfoy didn’t stop him, Harry started at his wrist and kissed up Malfoy’s arm. It was just a tattoo anymore. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t tell if his lips were touching the mark or not.
But Malfoy’s breathing and erection told Harry what his eyes couldn’t see. His breath hitched when he first touched it. His cocked filled and hardened as Harry breathed across it. Harry’s waning erection sprang to life from Draco’s reactions.
‘Do you like this?’
Malfoy didn’t answer, but Harry didn’t need him to. His body answered for him. Harry’s lips moved from Malfoy’s arm back to his mouth and their erections brushed as Harry moved back on top of him. Malfoy sat up, pulling Harry into his lap.
It caught Harry off guard and he pulled up, grabbing the headboard. His cock was in Malfoy’s face, and Malfoy took the opportunity to tease Harry by breathing over its head, and to trail his fingers down Harry’s crack. Harry felt the spell both from its effect and Malfoy whispering the incantation over his cock.
‘Harry, are you okay?’
Harry nodded, but couldn’t speak. He’d never done this before. Of course, Malfoy knew that, because he’s the only one Harry had ever had sex with. They’d talked about it—Harry didn’t remember when, he just remembered telling him. Sometime during one of their first times, back when they still only met in bathrooms.
‘I want you,’ Malfoy said and the words relaxed Harry enough for him to slip his first finger inside Harry. ‘You’re already so close, Harry. Just relax.’
Malfoy rubbed Harry’s thigh with his free hand, and Harry nodded again. It was different, but it didn’t hurt. Felt a little weird. Malfoy was right: Harry had been close. Malfoy already found Harry’s prostate and Harry bit his lip and shuddered as Malfoy’s finger moved against it.
‘Merlin, I want you, Harry.’
Looking down, Harry saw the Dark Mark flexing between his legs as Malfoy worked his finger in and out of him. ‘Fuck,’ Harry said. ‘What do you want to do to me?’
When he looked at Malfoy’s face, Malfoy wasn’t smirking like Harry expected. His eyes were widened with surprise. Harry was a little surprised himself. Malfoy didn’t talk and Harry did during sex. It was their thing. As Malfoy fumbled for words, Harry cut him off. Just because they were doing something new didn’t mean they had to change everything.
‘You want to fuck me, Malfoy?’ The words helped Harry relax even more, helping Malfoy move in and out of him more freely.
If Harry kept talking, they might not get around to Malfoy’s cock inside him until their second round. But as the pressure built, Harry saw why it was easy for him to get Malfoy to beg for this. Harry started to say something to that effect, but the look that Malfoy was giving him stopped the words in his throat. He never could speak when Malfoy looked at him like that. Harry knew what that look meant. He was about to come, and Harry wasn’t even touching him.
Malfoy leaned forward so Harry went to meet him halfway, only Malfoy didn’t kiss him.
Instead, he whispered against his lips, ‘I want to make love to you, Harry.’
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Date: 2016-05-25 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-25 11:26 pm (UTC)