He was so close already, cock hard, pulsing, and aching for how much he wanted to come.
It was the first day of his summer holidays – just a few weeks in the middle of July – and it was so hot. Draco had woken up later than the usual, and he’d expected to find a warm body next to his on the fancy, lemon-flavoured, silk sheets.
However, he’d been let down, because the other side of the bed had been empty and cold, a sign that Draco had been left alone for quite some time already. Draco had tried not to pout, but he hadn’t succeeded.
It had been only a few minutes, before he found out where his partner had gone. From the bedroom’s balcony, Draco had saw Harry in the middle of their garden, sitting under the gazebo in just a pair of shocking pink shorts, picking up slices of pineapple from a plate.
Draco had gripped the railing a little stronger, and quickly plotted his revenge.
Now, he’d been jerking under the sun for at least ten minutes. He’d sit on a chair near the edge of the marble colonnade, legs open between two columns to ensure the view of him wanking himself outdoors would’ve been eased to Harry.
His hole clenched every time he touched the head of his cock with his thumb, gasping and making little moans as he remembered how fucking wonderful the night before had been.
Draco had counted on Harry’s presence in their bed for how long Draco would’ve wanted: there was no place to be at, no urgency to take care of, no headaches to stand, no Teddy to meet and play with – long gone with Andromeda and Mother to the French coast. Draco hadn’t voiced his desires, trusting Harry to figure out what he really wanted, but damn if he did.
Now Harry was relaxing alone, eating exotic fruit alone, and, was he singing that Muggle summer song that was always on the radio since the end of fucking April? Draco wanted so much to choke him, preferably with his cock.
Precome was making the movements of his hand easier, but the musky smell of his own sex and sweat was just increasing the feeling of loss he was sensing over his shoulders, making him desperate and needy in a way only Harry could put an end to.
Suddenly, Draco’s lips let escape a louder moan, and Harry’s head quickly turned in Draco’s direction, pineapple halfway to his mouth, green eyes wide open, gaze changing from soft to incredulous. Draco tugged at his cock a little harder, almost coming under Harry’s lust flashing from his eyes, almost coming…
In the space of a blink, Harry had disappeared from the garden, and Draco felt a callous hand over his, a presence behind his own figure. “Don’t come,” it was murmured murmured in Draco’s ear, and fuck, fuck, how couldn’t he?
Harry had Apparated on the balcony and surprised Draco in the same way Draco had been surprised by the simplicity that Harry had decided to use in leaving Draco in bed alone that same morning.
After years of dating, people would’ve said Draco knew Harry more than Harry knew himself. In reality, Harry was a continuous surprise, and that was one of the thing Draco liked the most about him – along with his bravery, his kindness, his dirty mouth and his cock that always left Draco sated, happy and cared for.
Draco moved his own hand away, letting Harry grip his cock better, leaning back against the chair and looking up at Harry’s face where a strange expression shaped his eyebrows, brown cheekbones and plump lips, full and rosy and ready to be kissed and bitten and fucked.
“Took you forever to notice me,” Draco sighed, finally enjoying Harry’s hand on his body. “Was starting to wonder if I was invisible.”
Harry smiled in a way he only did when Draco was being a sap – and Draco knew he was, but honestly, he wanted to come and he wanted to come soon: there was nothing wrong in showering Harry with sappiness, if that would’ve lead to the finish faster.
“If you were in another continent,” Harry commented, voice lower than Draco was expecting, “and I knew I could do a hand job to you, I’d take a Portkey just for the sake of it.”
Draco chuckled a little, before giving a moan against Harry’s jaw, who had just kneeled behind the chair and was now wanking Draco with full force and from the perfect angle for Draco to come - yes, yes, he was coming, fucking finally.
He moaned and moaned into Harry’s ear, while his balls emptied and Harry kissed his neck and whispered encouragements into his ear – you’re so beautiful and yes, c’mon and perfect.
Then, he sunk into the chair, shivering when Harry’s thumb touched the slit of his cock and moved down along the length to spread the come everywhere - tracing the vein, barely petting the balls and shyly probing at his hole. Draco quickly reached for Harry’s wrist, taking it to his mouth to lap the stickiness away, sucking at Harry’s digits while looking directly into Harry’s eyes, a perfect mimic of him sucking at Harry’s cock – later.
“Such a pest, you are,” Harry murmured with a rough voice, as he was now the one who had come, not Draco.
Draco snorted, shaking his head. “Look who’s talkin’,” he pointed, stretching onto the chair to try to erase his muscles from the post coital state he knew was coming - limbs spread out, body fully on display for Harry to look and suffer.
Harry made a funny face. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Draco mimed, “that you don’t have to blame me, when you did leave the bed in the first place.” Silence followed his words, but it wasn’t bad: Draco knew Harry was just trying to process a decent reply. (He also knew that himself only was going to win this.)
“It’s not me who started wanking on the fucking balcony just to gain the other’s attention,” Harry chose to say, half-accusing, half-disbelieved. Then, as if he hadn’t realised already what had just happened, “God, you’re whipped,” he added, fondness lacking from every word. He lowered his head again and kissed Draco’s sensitive spot behind his ear.
“Mmh,” Draco murmured, closing his eyes, enjoying the warm sun on his creamed naked body and Harry’s lips right where they belonged, praising Draco’s body. “I’m on holiday, I deserve a special treatment.”
Harry smiled lazily against Draco’s jaw. “You want a special treatment every fucking day.”
“Language,” Draco admonished him, pinching his arm. “Today, we were supposed to stay in bed. Did you know that or you just played at being chased?” He talked as if what they were having was a normal, routine conversation about what to buy at the grocery store. There was no sign of accusation or rudeness in his tone.
However, Harry certainly sensed that an argument was on the way, because he started to bite at Draco’s jugular with the intent of leaving a mark there, reducing Draco to a puddle of bone and flesh and moans and nothing else. “Did not,” he whispered over the pulse of Draco’s vein, almost an apology. Sweetness would’ve got him everywhere.
“Since you missed your chance to make me happy,” Draco explained while Harry worked on the hickey, murmuring low against the skin, “bring some of that pineapple to me. I’m starving.”
Harry finally raised his head to look at Draco’s face. “Are you serious?”
Draco hit him in the chest, the movement making the spot where Harry’s mouth had been ache in the best way. “I am. Chop chop, Potter.”
Harry laughed into Draco’s hair. “As you wish, Malfoy.”
Then, he disappeared inside the bedroom, leaving Draco still naked and covered in come enjoying the summer weather.
(If Harry needed a hand job too, well. There would’ve been plenty of time to return the favour, now that Harry knew what Draco’s plans were. For now, Draco just wanted to make him suffer a little bit more.)