“You sure you don’t wanna come with us, mate?” Ron asks as he fastens his scarf around his neck. “Ginny won’t be there, in case you’re worried about it being awkward or anything.”
“I’m sure,” Harry replies, pushing Ron out of the room. “And Ginny and I are fine, I just don’t feel like going to Hogsmeade is all.”
“Alright,” Ron calls over his shoulder as he leaves the dorm. “I’ll get you some treacle fudge!”
Harry waves to Ron and moves back inside the room, his heart pounding against his chest. He grabs his wand and fires off a few privacy spells. Nearly all of the seventh and eighth year students should be out in Hogsmeade for most of the day, but it’s always best to be safe. Malfoy will arrive any minute now and Harry wants to make sure everything is perfect.
Not that he’s trying to make the messy dorm romantic or anything; there’s nothing wrong with a freshening spell and new sheets. He can’t help it if the spell leaves a sweet vanilla scent in its wake, nor that the lighting has somehow become dim and intimate despite the bright winter sun outside.
It’s no big deal, anyway; just Harry Potter losing his virginity… to Draco Malfoy. Merlin, it sounds insane when he thinks of it that way, and thinking is all he’s done since their last encounter. Vivid memories of Malfoy thrusting between his thighs and hot come dripping down his legs have been a constant image as he wanks lately. Whenever he closes his eyes and loses himself in the moment, he can’t help but wonder what would happen if Malfoy aimed a little higher. What if Malfoy pushed himself inside—all the way inside.
Harry pushes the heel of his palm against his growing erection and focuses on the task at hand. Does he have time to light a few candles?
“So this is where the hero sleeps.” Malfoy’s voice startles Harry as he closes the door behind him and walks over to the window. “The view’s not bad, although, personally, I prefer the dungeons.”
Malfoy is all cool and controlled, face expressionless as he aimlessly scans the room. The only betrayal in his calm demeanour is the faint blush that stains his pale cheeks.
Harry opens his mouth to speak, to say something biting or clever, but no words form. Instead, he locks eyes with Malfoy, silently undressing and watching intently as Malfoy follows suit. Harry wills the trembling in his hands to subside as he finally pulls off his pants and walks toward the bed. He grabs the bottle of lube on the bedside table—a well used bottle that Seamus gifted him the other day with a knowing smile—and holds it out to Malfoy.
The silence is deafening and Harry can hear Malfoy swallow roughly as he walks over to the bed, their fingers brushing as Malfoy takes the lube from him. Harry’s skin tingles from the contact, anticipation filling his veins and spreading throughout his body.
“What am I supposed to do with his?” Malfoy’s smirk is only half-hearted, his eyes glowing with desire.
“I thought you were supposed to be paying me back from our last encounter,” Malfoy drawls, his stolid indifference less convincing by the minute. “Why am I expected to do the work?”
“Because, Malfoy, I’m giving you a gift this time.” Harry climbs on the bed and crawls onto hands and knees, turning his back and exposing his arse to Malfoy.
“Oh?” Malfoy responds, voice cracking ever so slightly. “And what would that be?”
“Me,” Harry states simply, blood rushing through his ears in the silence that follows.
The bed dips as Malfoy climbs on as well, his warm body covering Harry’s as he leans over and brushes his lips against Harry’s neck.
“That’s very generous of you,” Malfoy breathes into his ear.
Harry hears the click of the bottle of lube opening, followed by the feel of a cool, slick finger circling his hole. Malfoy’s movements are slow and careful, his gentle caress sending sparks down Harry’s spine. Harry can’t help but arch back into Malfoy’s touch as he presses his finger inside, his arse greedily welcoming the slippery digit. Malfoy soon adds another finger, twisting and scissoring the two until Harry feels well stretched and undeniably aroused.
“Soon,” Malfoy promises, slipping in one more finger. “We don’t want to rush your first time.”
Harry longs to protest, to angrily deny the accusation but the only sound that escapes is a pitiful whine as Malfoy removes all three fingers. Harry has little time to miss their presence as he feels Malfoy line up the swollen head of his prick, wetness dripping down his crack as Malfoy generously pours more lube between them.
Pain fills Harry’s vision as Malfoy pushes inside, the stretch and ache nearly unbearable. He grips the sheets in his fists, squeezing his eyes shut as he desperately wills his body to relax.
“Shh, Potter,” Malfoy murmurs in his ear. “Just breathe through it.”
Harry takes a steadying breath, and then another, his muscles slowly but surely losing some tension as his body adjusts to the thickness filling it.
“Just like that.” Malfoy rubs comforting circles over his back. “You’re doing so well, you’re so good.”
The praise sends jolts of pleasure through Harry’s chest, traveling directly to his groin. The intense ache is easing ever so slightly, the burning pressure becoming enjoyable.
“Move, Malfoy,” Harry pants out. “Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely…”
Malfoy slowly pulls himself halfway out, the slow drag of his well-slicked cock sending shivers through Harry’s body. Malfoy pushes himself back in, timidly at first but then faster and faster until Harry is a shuddering mess beneath him.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Malfoy gasps, fingers digging into Harry’s hips. “You feel so amazing, so damn incredible. Does it feel good for you?”
“Yes, yes,” Harry moans, pushing himself back against Malfoy’s thrusts, delighting in the painful pleasure of the movement.
Harry’s cock is rock hard, his stomach sticky as it slaps against him with every thrust, begging to be touched.
“I want to come,” Harry pleads, his hands unable to leave the stability of the bed with Malfoy’s intense onslaught.
“I thought this was all for me, Potter,” Malfoy teases, even as his hand reaches below to grasp Harry’s dripping prick.
“Yes, for you,” Harry cries out, babbling incoherently as Malfoy strokes his cock in time with his thrusts. “All for you.”
“Then come for me,” Malfoy commands, thumb caressing the underside of Harry’s cock.
Harry nearly sobs in relief as his orgasm overtakes him, ropes of come spilling onto the bedspread and clinging to Malfoy’s fingers as he continues to pump him dry.
Malfoy releases his hold and returns his full attention to Harry’s arse, hips snapping and breath ragged as he desperately thrusts into Harry. His fingernails dig into Harry’s flesh and his speed increases, sweat dripping from his body and landing on Harry’s back. Harry’s arse aches with the full force of it all but he’s so sated, so lost in the aftermath of his orgasm, he can hardly feel the pain.
“Yes, just like that.” The words slip from Harry’s mouth. “Yes, Draco!”
“Oh fuck,” Malfoy groans and he thrusts one, final time before his hips still and his forehead rests against Harry’s back. He can feel the intense throbbing of Malfoy’s cock, the warmth filling his body, the wet dribble when Malfoy slowly pulls out with a soft hiss.
Malfoy collapses next to Harry, their arms touching as they lay side by side on the bed. Harry’s skin is sticky; their combined sweat and come slowly drying in the cool breeze that filters through the room. Harry should be disgusted, really, but he can’t be bothered to move, not even to reach for his wand and spell them both clean. Malfoy must feel the same, because he quietly remains next to Harry for several minutes. The silence no longer awkward and unnatural but peaceful and gently buzzing with an unspoken mutual satisfaction.
Eventually Malfoy stretches out, leaning over the bed to retrieve his wand from his trousers where they lay crumbled on the floor. Harry’s skin tingles as Malfoy sits up and casts a cleaning charm over them both. Harry watches him carefully, longing for Malfoy to lay back down and return to their hazy silence. However, Malfoy remains seated upright, his hands gripped tightly around his wand as he stares across the room. Harry reluctantly sits up himself, his shoulder brushing Malfoy out of his intense daze. Malfoy turns to look at him, their faces so close and all Harry has to do is lean in. Just one more inch and their mouths will meet and Harry can finally stop wondering how those full, pink lips would feel against his. His heart pounds against his chest, his body frozen as he stares at Malfoy.
“I should go,” Malfoy states carefully, his gaze traveling down to Harry’s mouth.
No, that’s not what Harry wants at all. He wants to capture that lower lip between his teeth, suck it gently into his mouth. He wants to run his fingers through Malfoy’s silky hair and pull him back onto the pillow. He wants to ask Malfoy to stay, wants to rest a little longer with him in the safety and warmth of the bed. Words fail him, however, and his only response is the slightest nod of his head, watching mournfully as Malfoy grabs his clothing and quickly re-dresses.
There is no sharp or witty remark as Malfoy leaves his room, no promise of what is to come next. Malfoy pauses at the door before he speaks so softly Harry isn’t entirely sure he spoke at all.
“Thank you, Harry.”
Next Installment Coming 28 August 2016