A rainstorm caught them in the middle of their picnic on the grass. They didn’t have an umbrella, so they become dank in a minute, the breezy, humid rain threatening to make them catch a cold.
“I want to fuck under that tree,” Draco spoke loudly, pointing a huge oak not far away from their spot.
Harry made a shrug. “There’s not so much difference. We can fuck at home.”
Draco tsked, rolling his eyes, eyelashes soaked. “I want to suck your cock with just the sound of the rain, nothing else.”
Harry smiled, took Draco’s hand and they disappeared.
They unlocked the door of the house with frantic motions, desperation making it difficult to focus on anything else that wasn’t the body, the heat of the other.
They moved in circles inside the living room, until Draco’s back hit the tough surface of a column of marble, hissing against Harry’s mouth as he went dizzy for a brief moment.
“As you wished, we’re not going to talk,” Harry whispered against his jaw. “You’re going to come on command, and not. Going. To talk.”
Draco’s cock throbbed. “You’re full of shit,” he commented, before Harry bit his lower lip, hard.