Draco twitched irritably. For nearly two days he’d been feeling too big for his own skin, like it was stretched hot and tight over his bones. He grumbled under his breath as he pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the sweat beading his brow.
His eyes slid across the room where the scratching of Potter’s quill against report forms was filling the small room and causing a blood vessel to throb in Draco’s jaw. Potter was his Auror partner, the only one who had lasted more than two months with Draco. He hadn’t been very keen on partnering with Potter, but Potter was determined to put the past behind them from the moment they were assigned together. He was always fiercely covering Draco’s back in the field and inviting him to the pub for a pint with a lopsided, charming smile.
Draco’s resolve to rid himself of Potter as quickly as possible had faded by the third week of their partnership. Potter had effortlessly worn down his defenses with his easy smiles and by turning out to be a damn good detective on the force. He was cleverer than he looked, surprisingly enough. Draco had to admit that Potter was actually good at his job. They worked well together, balancing each other’s strengths and weaknesses as if they were yin and yang.
The only problem with being Potter’s partner was that he was an attractive tosser who featured more often than not in Draco’s dreams.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to stave off the headache that had been threatening to take hold for several days. Merlin, he was ready to snap at Potter and the man wasn’t even doing anything out of the ordinary. Draco’d been cranky and irritable since Wednesday and he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what had crawled up his arse. At afternoon tea the day prior, Pansy had teased him that it was like he was on his monthly cycle like some bloody witch.
Still, something was clearly off with him. With a heavy exhale, Draco rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the mottled, scarred flesh of his left arm that was once marred by the Dark Mark. He’d thought that bearing the Dark Lord’s mark was the height of his problems when it had cast a dark cloud over his head, making his attempts at a life in the aftermath of the war fraught with harsh judgment.
And then a werewolf had bitten him on a bitterly cold winter night while on a mission for the DMLE three months ago.
It was the one time Potter failed to save him in time in the line of duty. He had been too busy dueling with Fenrir Greyback and another wizard that had been hiding out with him in the mountains Greyback had holed up in. They did manage to capture Greyback in the end.
The first couple of transformations had been horrendous, but Potter made sure he had Wolfsbane potion and was there to help him get cleaned up each morning after the full moon. Draco thought Potter was just blaming himself for not being fast enough. He was still the only other person who knew about him being a werewolf. They’d left that detail out of their case report. Draco couldn’t face his new reality on his own, so he grudgingly accepted Potter’s help.
Draco poked a finger into the scarred flesh. If he squinted he could still make out faint lines of the Dark Mark. Usually touching his scar made his skin crawl with disgust, but just the simple act of the pad of his finger dragging over the mangled bite mark made an odd spark of heat run down his spine.
Draco blinked in bewilderment. He narrowed his eyes and carefully repeated the motion, nearly startling in his rolling chair when the heat swelled and seemed to radiate from his centre.
Draco’s eyes darted up and met Potter’s bright green gaze. He must have made a sound and not realised. He coughed to cover for himself and shrugged awkwardly.
Potter turned back to his report, nibbling on the end of his quill. Draco’s eyelids felt heavy as the hot flush crept up his chest. His eyes were glued to the way Potter’s chapped lips wrapped around the tip of his quill. His tongue darted out of the corner of his mouth when he was thinking. Draco’s eyes zeroed in on the pink tip peeking out.
Draco inhaled deeply as another lick of warmth zinged up his spine. He could smell Potter — a nifty new trick he’d picked up with his extra wolf traits — and, Merlin, he smelled divine. Potter was a mix of earthy, fresh woods on a summer’s day and a hint of his spicy cologne. Draco licked his lips to wet them, feeling parched all of a sudden. His breath was coming in rasping huffs. He felt a bead of sweat gather and slowly roll down the side of his temple. He swore it almost felt like it was sizzling with how hot the room was growing.
Potter glanced back up at him, worry flitting across his features for a brief moment. “You sure you’re feeling alright? You look a bit peaky.”
“I’m—I’ll be fine,” Draco tried to convince himself as well as Potter, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded at either. He felt like he couldn’t sit still.
He dug his long fingers into the silk knot of his tie and loosened it until it was hanging almost indecently around his neck. He quickly popped the top two buttons of his shirt to try to get some relief. He’d never allowed himself to stoop to the other Aurors’ level of blatant disregard for the DMLE uniform code before, especially now that he had a werewolf bite to hide, but Draco felt too overheated to stand being so buttoned up for another second longer.
He noticed Potter watching him, his plump lower lip caught between his teeth. Oh, fuck, Draco wanted to bite that lip until it was pink and swollen. Or better yet, be that lip. Something deep and ancient that lived in him now was calling to him, teasing the edges of his instincts to bare his neck for Potter to mark up, to claim Draco as his.
A shudder wracked through his body, leaving him shivering from the desire beginning to bloom in his chest. Circe’s tits, but he wanted Potter. He knew he could never act on it, but every fibre of his being was screaming at him in a wild crescendo that Potter was the only one who could help soothe the heat that was boiling the blood in his veins. He had no idea what was happening right now, but it was getting worse. He could feel the beginnings of an erection swelling in his pants beneath his robes. His skin almost felt like it was on fire and desire was welling up inside of him, sweltering and oppressive.
Draco could barely think clearly, his mind clouding with primal urges. Something wild inside of him wanted to present his arse to the nearest cock. He ached to be filled to the brim.
He thought that if he looked away that it might help. He quickly spun in his rolling chair to face the wall at the far end of their shared office, determined not to look at Potter.
It only seemed to help for a moment before his mind wandered and began to flood with various images of Potter, each more inappropriate than the last. His dream from the night before flashed before his eyes: Potter scooping him up and bending Draco over his desk before ravaging him. He hadn’t worn a stitch of clothing in his dream, save for the well-worn leather thigh holster for his wand. Draco licked his lips as he pictured the way Potter’s thigh muscles contracted and strained against the snug fit of the wand holster. He could barely contain a faint hum of pleasure at the delectable mental image.
Draco snapped back to attention and grunted in frustration in the back of his throat. He swiveled back to shove himself close to his desk to hide his insistent erection, muttering under his breath about going round the twist. He could feel a wet spot forming in his pants — he was like a randy teenager. His skin was tingling and he felt short of breath. Their small office seemed unbearably warm. He wondered for a sickening moment if something he’d eaten had been poisoned, but none of the effects he was dealing with could be tied to any one potion.
“Are the warming charms going wonky again?” Draco’s voice was scratchy and sounded foreign to him.
He tugged impatiently at his tie again, feeling uncomfortable and itchy in his clothes. He shifted in his chair and felt an odd sensation in the seat of his trousers, something leaking from him like he’d already been fucked. Draco was beginning to panic.
Potter shrugged and slipped another completed report into the outbox tray on his desk, completely oblivious to Draco’s suffering. The bastard was humming under his breath.
“Feels fine to me,” he said absently as he flipped through case file folders and plucked one to file away. “Want to go down to the Leaky for a pint after we finish up here?”
Draco hummed noncommittally, though he thought it came out rather strangled. He was completely focused on trying not to claw his way out of his expensive shirt and trousers in the middle of their office. His cock was throbbing, demanding to be touched. The slightest shift of his clothes against his skin made him want to cry out.
Potter didn’t even look up at him as he rummaged around his desk to track down the paperwork he was always misplacing on his disaster of a desk. Usually Draco let him flounder for a moment before shaking his head and Summoning the missing papers with a pointed Accio, but at the moment he was too busy getting distracted by the flex of Potter’s forearms as he shuffled the contents of his desk around. His sleeves were always rolled up when they were in the office, and he never remembered to wear a tie, preferring to leave his collar open instead.
Normally it wasn’t a problem.
Draco was stuck staring at the way the muscles rippled in his forearms as Potter balled up a bit of parchment and lobbed it towards the bin in the corner. He gripped the arms of his chair tightly to keep from flinging himself at the handsome sod.
Potter caught Draco staring.
“Malfoy?” Potter snapped his fingers and waved to catch his attention. His head tilted as he studied Draco curiously.
Draco’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He scoffed to distract from the fact that he’d practically been drooling over Potter. “It’s a wonder you can find anything with your abysmal organizational skills. How many times do I have to watch you flounder for an important case file?”
Potter shrugged with his easy, lopsided grin that charmed Draco out of any snit. Draco’s pulse pounded and his stomach fluttered in excitement. He blinked; he never usually reacted so strongly to Potter’s attractive smiles.
He shifted in his seat and felt another rush of the odd leaking sensation. Draco whimpered under his breath and wondered if he could get away with sneaking away to the loo without Potter noticing. He rubbed a hand across his face and swept back his damp hair. Merlin, his whole body was throbbing and aching to rub off against the nearest thing. What was wrong with him?
Draco caught another whiff of Potter’s earthy scent and actually moaned faintly under his breath. Potter glanced up at him sharply and crossed the room. The first touch of Potter’s fingers against his shoulder made him shudder and turn his whole body towards him.
“Malfoy? Christ, what is it?” Potter was biting his lip with a worried expression and rubbing his shoulder. His touch felt so good, Draco might actually be able to come just from that alone.
“I don’t…I don’t…?” Draco panted, swaying towards Potter. “Please…”
Potter’s eyes were flicking over his face. “You look terrible. You’re flushed and overheated.”
Potter’s hand cupped his cheek and Draco nuzzled into it, darting his tongue out to taste his skin. Potter’s touch was cool on his overheated skin. He hummed and licked Potter’s palm again. Potter stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Is this a lust potion?” he asked.
Draco shook his head and slumped forward against Potter’s chest, inhaling his scent in deep gulps. It was soothing the restless thing inside of him. Potter’s arms slowly slipped around and rubbed his back comfortingly. Draco snaked a hand down to cup the bulge of his erection through his trousers and couldn’t resist giving himself a squeeze.
“Jesus, Malfoy,” Potter said. “You can’t do that here.”
“Something rather different, I think,” Draco managed belatedly, mumbling against the hard planes of Potter’s chest. He gave himself another squeeze and licked his lips at the way his nerve endings shivered with pleasure. “I think I may need your assistance to get me out of here without anyone noticing.”
“Yeah,” Potter said, rubbing at the back of his neck and shooting a glance to their closed door. “Yeah, alright.”
Potter helped him stand and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to steady him. Draco turned his head and buried his nose against Potter’s neck. He smelled so good that Draco wanted to rut against his leg right there in the middle of their office. His prick jumped in his pants at the idea.
“Come on,” Potter choked out.
Miraculously, they made it to the Floo bay without incident. Draco was vaguely aware of Potter laughing to one of the Aurors about heading out for a pint to get started on the weekend. Draco’s whole world was focused down to every point where he and Potter touched and Potter’s scent wrapping him up in a cloud of comfort and desire.
The next thing he was aware of, they were in a dusty sitting room. “Where are we?”
“Grimmauld Place. My house,” Potter clarified.
Draco hummed, not really caring at the moment where the fuck he was as long as he got out of his clothes as soon as possible. He slumped down onto the sofa and couldn’t stop his palms from running over his chest. He tilted his head back and bit his lip on a gasp. He was nearly high on pleasure and he had barely touched himself.
“What are you doing?” Potter asked uncertainly. He was hovering by the fireplace, his wand in hand.
“What does it bloody look like?” Draco laughed. His breath hitched as his fingers circled his cock through his trousers. “Merlin, that feels so good.”
“Oh my god,” Potter mumbled, spinning on his heel to face the mantel.
Draco snorted. “Don’t bother, I’m not that shy. I don’t mind if you watch.”
“I still don’t understand what’s happening to you right now,” Potter reminded him, gripping the mantel and staring at the wall.
“I’d say it’s rather obvious at this point,” Draco murmured, losing interest in their conversation in favor of getting off. He felt like he could go ten rounds and still be ready for more. “My clothes itch,” he muttered absently.
Draco’s fingers worked, pulling his tie off and opening the buttons of his shirt. He frowned down at himself and fished out his wand, smirking as he spelled away his clothes. “That’s better.”
Potter risked a glance over his shoulder and quickly spun around to face the wall once more. “Oh my god,” he said again.
Draco tuned him out for the time being, humming low in his throat as he slid his fingers over his sensitive foreskin. Every touch felt better than usual. He tweaked one of his nipples and reached down to caress his balls. He grinned when he caught Potter peeking over his shoulder. Draco could see that he had an impressive erection tenting his trousers at Draco’s display. A shiver of pleasure ran through him at being found desirable for his Alpha.
That thought made him pause in stroking his cock, but another wave of heat brought his focus back to his need to come spectacularly. Touching himself felt good, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more.
The leaking sensation was back again, he rubbed his thighs together and felt slick and wet between his cheeks. Draco licked his lips and slid his hand down past his balls, spreading his legs. They easily glided through the slick, oily substance that seemed to be leaking from his arse. He ignored the panic that wanted to well up inside of him and rubbed his fingertip over his hole. It was odd, slicker than he was used to with just lube, but his arse felt so sensitive to just that simple touch that he couldn’t focus on the oddity of it all for longer than a moment.
“Oh shit,” Draco whispered as he pushed his finger inside, stroking the inside of his rim with a teasing touch. It still wasn’t quite enough to tip him over the edge while he fisted his leaking prick. “You can look, Potter. I can see you sneaking over there.”
“’M not,” Potter protested half-heartedly.
Draco grinned and twisted his hand on his cock, arching his back. “Are you touching yourself over there?”
“No,” Potter said quickly, voice strangled.
“I wouldn’t mind. I like the thought of you getting off on watching me,” Draco said in a rush. “I’ve had a dream or two about it. My favorite one is the one where you bend me over a desk in the office and lick my arse open for your cock.”
“Jesus, Malfoy,” Potter said, flexing his grip on the mantel and inhaling sharply.
“Shit, I need more, Potter,” Draco whined. His hand was flying over his cock and he still wasn’t any closer to the sweet release he was chasing. “I can’t do it on my own, it’s not enough. Will you touch me?”
“Malfoy, I — that wouldn’t be—”
“Potter, please! I need you,” Draco begged. He added another finger and thrust them deeper. “Merlin, I need your fat cock filling me up, I’m so empty without it. I’m dripping for you, Potter.”
Potter swore under his breath. Draco saw his palm fly to the front of his trousers, the heel of it pressing down.
“I might die if you don’t fuck me, I’ll burn up and burst into flames,” Draco wheedled, spreading his legs wider. If this ridiculous Lycanthropy blight was the only thing that would give him a go at Potter, he was going to bloody well take it.
Potter looked worried at his prediction, turning to face Draco. “Really?”
“I want you,” Draco said instead of answering.
“Are you even in your right mind right now? You’d never act like this without something making you do it,” Potter reasoned, holding his palms out placatingly.
“Sod off, I know what I need,” Draco countered, his mouth dropping open as he twisted his fingers and crooked them. The sound of his slicked arse squelching was obscene, but he didn’t care.
“Maybe we should take you to St. Mungo’s,” Potter suggested half-heartedly. He gestured vaguely at the Floo. “What if you really were dosed with something and this isn’t just one of your new, er, furry problems.”
“No,” Draco ground out. He pulled his fingers free and slinked to the floor so he could crawl on his hands and knees towards Potter, pinning him to the wall with a predatory gaze. “I’m aware enough to beg you to fuck me, Potter. You will, won’t you?”
“I…” Potter trailed off, gaping at him with wide eyes and tented trousers. He licked his chapped lips twice as Draco drew near.
Draco kneeled at his feet, good and obedient for Potter, and ran his palms up and down Potter’s muscular thighs. He bit his lip when they trembled under his touch. His fingers lingered on the leather wand holster strapped to his leg.
He glanced up to meet his hungry gaze as he ghosted his fingers over Potter’s erection. Potter gulped audibly as Draco mouthed at it, fondling Potter’s sac with nimble fingers. Potter’s breath was stuttering out of him and he reached blindly to hang on to the mantle for support as Draco put on a wanton display for him, showing him how good he could be to his Alpha.
“Malfoy,” Potter wheezed as Draco closed his lips over Potter’s throbbing prick. “God, I—fuck.”
“Mmm,” Draco hummed in agreement around his mouthful, the corners of his mouth quirking in a pleased smile.
“Fuck it,” Potter bit out under his breath and in the next moment he was on Draco, pushing him down onto his back on the Persian rug. “God,” he said again before he captured Draco’s lips in a heated kiss. “Want you, too, you bastard,” he mumbled against Draco’s lips.
Draco immediately opened up to him, keening and letting Potter lick into his mouth. He wrapped his legs around Potter’s waist and rubbed against him. Potter’s hands roamed all over Draco’s body and he rutted his thick prick against the back of Draco’s naked thigh. Draco let his fingers skate over the expanse of Potter’s back, appreciating his strong physique through his shirt. Potter’s fingers felt cool against his skin when he ran his fingers through his hair and down over his flank to grip his hip. Rubbing against him felt amazing, and for a moment Draco thought he might tip over the edge as Potter kissed a trail away from his mouth and down over his jaw. He made another frantic sound and bent his head to bare more of his neck for Potter, arching up against him when Potter’s teeth nipped his pulse point.
“Please, please, please,” he babbled, gripping a fistful of Potter’s wild hair. He cried out when he felt him sucking and dragging his teeth over his oversensitive skin.
Draco still needed more. He was leaking pre-come and the odd natural slick from his arse and his cock in a steady flow. His nerve endings were all screaming at him, and there was a fire in his blood chanting to be filled.
“More,” Draco growled, flipping them with a buck of his hips.
As soon as Potter was on his back Draco was on him, circling his groin against Potter’s and taking savage delight in the way his pre-come was staining Potter’s work trousers. Mine, mine, mine, his instincts chanted.
“Oh fuck, yeah, like that,” Potter begged. “That’s so bloody hot, Malfoy.”
Potter’s hands were fluttering all over his body, circling his aching cock and making him almost scream from how good Potter’s touch felt.
“Potter, please, I need, I need—” Draco’s fingers scrabbled at Potter’s clothes, practically tearing them off as he sought to satisfy the urges burning through his body. He didn’t even bother pulling the shirt off all the way, moving on to the trousers after opening the buttons.
As soon as Potter’s prick sprang free Draco made a desperate sound and straddled him, crying out when the thick head of Potter’s cock slid into him with little resistance. Draco’s world aligned with the rightness he felt.
“What the…did you cast prep spells?” Potter asked. His question quickly broke off into a groan as Draco rose and sank on his thick cock again, pushing his hips down hard and eagerly taking more of Potter’s massive cock.
Draco answered him with a ragged sound of his own, his head tipping back to expose the long line of his porcelain throat to Potter. Urges he still didn’t quite understand were shouting at him to submit, submit, submit to the best Alpha he could find. Potter might not be a werewolf like him, but his entire aura radiated Alpha to him. He was Draco’s Alpha, he had no doubt about it now.
“Potter,” he moaned as he worked himself on his thick cock. “Alpha, please.”
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Potter said breathlessly, his hips bucking to meet Draco’s hips each time he sank down.
Potter rolled up and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him and rocking his hips to thrust erratically. Draco moaned into the bruising kiss, dragging his nails across Potter’s back and meeting each of his thrusts. His entire world shrank down to the pleasure building and coiling tightly in his gut and how good Potter’s cock felt ramming into him, grazing the edge of his prostate. Sharp shocks of sensation sparked through him on every other thrust.
Draco leaned down to bury his face into the crook of Potter’s neck, hiding the keening noises he was making as Potter gripped his hips and pulled him down onto his cock.
They moaned in unison as Draco’s hole clenched around Potter’s prick, eagerly sucking it in.
“Please,” Draco whimpered.
Potter growled and flipped them again, hooking Draco’s knees on his arms and spreading him wide. His hips snapped back and forth and the sound of skin slapping on skin echoed in the room with their ragged breaths. Potter’s eyes were a vivid green, intense and dark as he watched Draco falling apart beneath him. Merlin, who knew he would be such a brilliant fuck.
Potter let one of his legs fall to the side in favor of wrapping his fingers around Draco’s weeping cock, stroking him and thumbing over his head. Draco swore and looked down to watch Potter’s cock pounding into him while he fisted Draco’s shaft.
“Are you going to come for me, Malfoy?” Potter’s question made his attention snap back up and he nearly lost it at the look of pure lust on Potter’s face.
He was smiling at Draco with the charming, crooked smile he loved.
Potter twisted his hand over the head of Draco’s cock at the same time he sank deep into Draco, all the way to the hilt and filled him. His nerve endings lit up like he’d been struck by lightning as Potter leaned down over him and muttered filthy things in his ear.
“Come on, Malfoy. Your perfect arse feels amazing. I want to watch you come all over yourself. Fall apart for me, just let go. I’ve got you,” Potter murmured hotly.
“Fuck!” Draco cried as he arched his back and came hard. His cock twitched and spurted pearly globs over Potter’s hand, landing in splashes against his stomach and chest.
Potter groaned and his thrusts grew erratic until he stiffened and hunched over Draco with a long, low sound of pleasure. Draco could feel his prick pulsing inside of him, pumping his spunk deep inside of him.
They were both panting, their chests heaving with each burning breath. Potter’s snort drew Draco’s attention. He looked down and saw that he was still hard. He’d just come harder than he had in a long time, and he was still ready for more.
Draco made a feeble sound, reaching out for Potter when he pulled out.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Potter hushed him, caressing his cheek. “I’m going to take care of you.”
Potter’s promise made Draco glow.
Potter shimmied down his body until he was level with his cock. He shot Draco a cheeky grin before swallowing it whole, his lips wrapped around it obscenely. Draco’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, his breath hitching in his throat. He was still loose and relaxed from his first orgasm, but Potter’s mouth immediately made him feel hot and aching all over again.
Draco spread his legs when Potter teased two of his fingers around the edge of his rim, playing with his own spunk that was seeping out of Draco’s arse along with the naturally slick substance. Potter swirled his tongue around his crown and sank two fingers into his hole.
Draco keened and reached down to thread his fingers through Potter’s hair, holding on for dear life with both hands. Potter’s fingers were shorter than Draco's, but thicker and blunter at the tips. He still managed to reach the edge of his prostate, brushing over it each time he crooked his fingers. He added a third and started to fuck him as he sucked him off. Potter was slurping messily, bobbing his head on his cock and taking him deep enough to nearly choke on his length.
“Oh, fucking Christ, Potter, like that, please, please,” Draco crooned, circling his hips into Potter’s mouth. “Suck me, yes! So good!”
Potter hummed and thrust his fingers in and out. They weren’t as thick as Potter’s divine cock, but it was enough. He was riding the wave as Potter pushed in deep while swallowing around the crown of his cock. Draco swore colourfully and arched as he came again, shooting down Potter’s throat and clenching around his fingers.
Potter fucked him through it, prolonging the sensations that were overwhelming him. His fingers moved slowly, plugging up his hole while he suckled gently at Draco’s cock. He was able to play with Draco well past the point he usually became oversensitive.
Draco draped an arm across his eyes while he caught his breath. “I can’t believe I just came twice. Merlin.”
Potter popped off of his cock with a wet slurp. “Quite impressive, that.”
Draco glanced down at him and felt his prick twitch with interest. Potter made a beautiful picture: his eyes were bright, his hair rumpled from Draco’s grip, and his lips were swollen and slick with spit. There was a drop of Draco’s come at the corner of his mouth that he wanted to lick up.
“Fancy a nap?” Draco asked hopefully. He still felt the urges stirring deep within him, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he needed Potter to fuck him again. He felt better after getting off twice, though.
“Yeah, I’m knackered now,” Potter agreed, sitting up. He scooped Draco into his arms, gathering his long limbs to his chest and carried him across the room to the sofa.
Draco had to restrain himself from preening for Potter. When Potter arranged them both on the sofa, Draco gave in to the urge to drape himself across Potter’s body, rubbing his nose close to where he could smell his delicious scent the strongest. Potter’s fingers gently ran over his back as they lay together on the sofa.
“I think I know a little about what this was,” Potter said after a few quiet moments. “Back before fifth year Sirius would help Remus through his transformations. There was once when I heard them for an entire weekend, even through muffling charms. It seemed a lot like this.”
Draco hummed and nestled closer. “God, I want you again already.”
Potter chuckled and wrapped his arms around him. “Yeah, I thought maybe it was just because they still missed each other. Maybe it’s some kind of pheromone thing. You do smell amazing. Like vanilla and treacle tart. I fucking love treacle tart.”
“When we wake up for another round we can order some and you can lick the syrup off of me,” Draco promised.
Potter hummed happily in agreement. They nodded off cuddled up together on the sofa with the fire warming Draco’s back and Potter’s fingers stroking his skin.
Draco stiffened and rolled onto his back. He blinked his eyes open and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling while he took stock of his body.
He ached and felt exhausted, but his arse didn’t twinge like it should from so many rounds of fucking. He caught brief glimpses of memories of the many rounds he and Potter had gone. The room absolutely reeked of sweat and sex. Draco no longer felt an insatiable need to submit to his Alpha any longer, though. He felt mostly like himself again, despite the sense of his energy being completely sucked out.
His fingers carefully felt along his neck, wincing at the heat of the bruises he could feel there. As he prodded at the tender love bites a vivid flash floated up from his clouded memories of Potter savagely clamping his teeth over Draco’s porcelain skin over and over each time he’d presented Potter his neck in submission. Draco’s breath caught as he thought of how Potter had marked his neck up and claimed Draco as his. Excitement fluttered in his stomach.
Gathering his courage, he turned his head to peek at Potter from the corner of his eye. He was rumpled in sleep, his mop of black curls flopping over his brow and his face crushed into his pillow inelegantly. His lips were plump and looked so kissable in that moment that Draco nearly rolled back against his side to taste them, but he restrained himself as he watched Potter sleeping.
Just as he was talking himself into reaching out to gently trace the line of Potter’s nose, his green eyes drowsily blinked open when Potter inhaled deeply. Potter stared at him for the space of two heartbeats before his eyes cleared with recognition. The corner of his lips quirked up and his face was split in a huge yawn.
Draco supposed he couldn’t fault him for being tired, they had completely worn each other out with brilliant rounds of pheromone-induced sex.
“Hi,” Potter murmured.
“Good morning. I think,” Draco said. He bit his lip and darted his eyes away while Potter stretched like an oversized cat, sighing happily when his joints creaked.
“How are you feeling?”
Potter shifted and slid an arm over Draco’s waist, like it was nothing, like they’d been doing it for years. Draco wanted nothing more than to sink back into his strong embrace. He could see where he must have left bruises and bite marks on the inside of Potter’s bicep. He wished he could remember exactly what Potter’s skin tasted like. It was tempting to remind himself.
“I…” Draco started, unsure of how to describe exactly what he was feeling. “I’m hungry.”
Potter snorted and shifted closer, rubbing his stubbled jaw against Draco’s bare shoulder. It looked good on him, Draco decided. He could definitely feel the remnants of stubble burn on the inside of his thighs. He wondered which round that had been from. All he could recall was a rush of quivering pleasure and a wicked tongue.
“Me too,” Potter agreed, bringing Draco out of his jumbled thoughts.
They were both quiet as the minutes stretched between them. Draco’s mind was whirring at a fast pace as he processed the situation they were in. With a sudden lurch something important dawned on him, something he’d read back at Hogwarts.
He sat up and turned an uneasy look on Potter.
“Merlin’s fucking balls. I think... I mean, I’m not entirely sure, because I’m still working this out as I go along, but I think what we’ve done counts as you…mating me, Potter,” Draco muttered, his cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment. He hid his face in his hands, hoping Potter didn’t notice the way they quivered.
Potter propped himself up on his elbow to pry Draco’s fingers away from his face. “Okay, and…?”
“Potter,” Draco said flatly. He fisted the sheets in a tight grip to keep his sanity from spiraling out of his control. “It’s like the equivalent of marriage. The wolf that takes over my body once a month thinks it bloody belongs to you now, like I’m something to be owned.”
Potter just smiled at him, lips tugging to the side. He looked carefree and well-shagged and Draco’s heart thudded with a rush of feelings. Potter’s thumb brushed over Draco’s bottom lip and grazed across his cheek.
“You’re not a possession, Draco,” Potter said after a few moments. “But I’m okay with belonging to you and your wolf if you are. Alright with it, that is. I know we’ve done this all out of order, but would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?”
Draco sputtered at how easily Potter accepted the situation, at a loss for any kind of response to Potter telling him he was fine with being his mate. Just like that, as if they didn’t have their partnership at work to discuss or that this would upend their whole lives. Aurors weren’t meant to fraternize with each other, and then there was the little matter of his Lycanthropy that the DMLE had yet to find out about.
Potter saved him from having to answer by gently tugging him forward into a kiss that was slow and soft. It made his heart sing with contented happiness and made the wolf inside of him howl with pleasure.
For the first time since he was bitten and turned, Draco felt at peace with his new reality. His life would never be glamorous or easy with the blight of being a werewolf — let alone one that was a Death Eater — but if he had Potter by his side, then maybe he could survive it. Potter made him feel brave.
“So, how about I scare us up some breakfast? Oh no, don’t get up,” Potter insisted with a mischievous grin, rolling over to cage Draco in with his arms. He dropped a playful peck to the tip of Draco’s nose. “I’m going to bring my wolf-husband a big spread in bed.”
He scrambled out of the bed and fled before Draco’s carefully aimed pillow could smack him. Draco groaned and flopped back against the sheets. “Ugh, Potter.”
“Harry!” Potter called in an amused singsong from the safety of the doorway. “If we’re married now, it’s only proper that you call your mate by my given name.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Draco grumbled, flinging Potter’s pillow for good measure. He missed by a long shot, but the echo of Potter’s delighted laughter in the hall made him smile anyway. He covered his face and felt his lips tugging into a grin he couldn’t contain any longer.