My father can only blame himself if I’m spoiled rotten. I didn’t tell him to give in to my every wish and demand from a young age—it’s only natural that now I’ve grown to have certain expectations. Of course he would never dare deny his only son anything for his nineteenth birthday.
Father adores throwing lavish parties anyway, sending the house elves in a tizzy with his high expectations and undeniable desire for perfection. The Manor does look rather charming; the garden is all lit up with glowing candles, fountains bubbling merrily, trays of the finest champagne floating between the chatting guests. In fact, it’s all a little too posh for my tastes but I can’t really complain. My most important request came in the guest list and I was sure to stand firm on my desire for those who would attend. My father moaned about having to invite ‘that incorrigible Potter’ but he relented all the same. He’s come to accept my friendship with Albus over the years and it was only natural that his father should be invited as well.
My breath stops when Harry Potter arrives, looking absolutely gorgeous and adorably uncomfortable. He suspiciously eyes the offered tray of truffle caviar canapes before politely declining and grabbing a glass of wine instead, his large and capable hands curling around the stem. His lips are so plush, so perfect as they part and sip the burgundy liquid, a deft tongue flicking out to catch a few drops which threaten to spill from his mouth.
Merlin, he looks divine in fitted dress robes and my heart pounds rapidly in my chest as I watch the lean lines of his body, highlighted with every move he makes. I can feel the moment he senses my presence; his body tenses and and his jaw tightens. I can already imagine the polite way he will ignore my flirting, as he always does, or the way his eyes will nervously skit around to find a quick escape when I approach him. There will be no escape tonight, however, not if I have anything to say about it.
“Hello Harry.” My voice is all silk, smooth and slippery, and I can see the pulse quicken in Harry’s throat.
“Scorpius.” Harry nods his head in greeting. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you. I do hope you enjoy yourself this evening.” I rest my hand on his arm and squeeze it lightly. “But I imagine you’ll find yourself well pleased before the night is over.”
“Will I?” Harry sounds casual, friendly but distant, yet I can see between the cracks. He swallows roughly and takes a large gulp from his near empty wine glass.
“Oh, you will.” My hand slides down his arm and stops at his wrist, fingers curling around the exposed flesh. I trace the sensitive skin covering his palm, fingernails catching on the rough callouses. “My birthday wish hasn’t come true yet, but I think you can help with that.”
“Scorpius.” Harry’s tone is full of warning but I detect a slight quaver in his voice, a sharp inhale as my fingers continue their exploration. “You have to stop this.”
Harry’s incredulous expression is so very endearing.
“You—you’re far too young, you’re my son’s best friend, and your father is over there glaring at us.”
Harry has a point—Father does look rather suspicious as his sharp, keen eyes observe us carefully.
“Interesting.” I flash Harry my most charming smile. “Not one of those reasons had to do with you not wanting me.”
“Well, of course that’s one of the reasons.” Harry remarks sternly, pulling his hand free from my grasp. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Harry Potter.”
Harry sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair, making it even more messy than before. He opens his mouth to respond but chooses instead to pinch his lips together in frustration, placing the wine glass down on a nearby floating tray and stalking off. He’s heading right towards the evergreen bushes—tall, lush and secluded. I can’t help but smile to myself; he’s making it almost too easy.
I look over my shoulder, pleased to find my father has turned away and seems to be in a heated debate with Mr Zabini about something. I do, however, catch Albus looking my way. He’s shaking his head in disbelief, a wry smile on his face. I offer him a wink and he responds with an overly exasperated shrug of his shoulders, playful defeat written all over his face. It’s not as if I needed his permission—or anyone’s for that matter—in order to pursue what I want, but Al is my best friend and I’m glad to have his approval.
I find Harry past the intricately trimmed bushes, his tie pulled loose and the top button of his shirt undone. He’s chewing his lip aggressively and pacing back and forth—distress is a good look on him.
“Are you having a good time, Harry?”
Harry starts when he sees me before he takes a steadying breath and crosses his arms.
“Scorpius, enough is enough. You have to stop this.”
“Oh, Harry.” I take a step closer, and then another and then one more. Harry backs away but finds himself pressed against a tall bush, the sharp branches likely digging into his back. “Don’t you know I always get what I want?”
His lips are unresponsive against mine at first, his hands lying still at the side of his body. It’s no matter to me—I know he wants me. I can sense his arousal coming off him in waves; feel his heart pounding against my chest, smell his woodsy cologne mixing with his musky sweat. I press myself further against him, my mouth moving against his, my thigh sliding between his legs and it’s only a matter of time before he snaps. His cock is already hard, a firm heat against my body, his breath stuttering as my hands tangle into his hair.
“Scorpius.” My name is a plea on his lips, harsh and broken.
“Give in to me, Harry,” I whisper against his mouth. “Let go.”
Fuck, he’s so strong. His arms wrap around my slight frame and he’s pulling me closer, tongue seeking entrance into my mouth. His body is so hot against mine, the layers of clothing between us doing nothing to disguise the pure heat radiating off his fevered flesh. He’s taken complete control, invading my mouth with his clever tongue and I gladly submit. I surrender to his rough hands sliding up my shirt, thumbs brushing against my sensitive nipples, give in to the wet slide of his tongue against mine and the sharp edges of his teeth digging into my lower lip.
“Is this what you wanted?” Harry’s voice is low and rough, deeper than I’ve ever heard it before.
“Yes,” I moan in response, but really it's a lie. I want so much more than this, I want… “Your cock, please. I need—”
“Fuck, Scorpius.” Harry’s hands are shaking as he undoes his trousers and I can sense the doubt in his movements, see the worry in his eyes.
I drop to my knees and rub my face against Harry's pants-covered cock, mewling like a cat in heat.
“Please, Harry.” Hesitation still dances across his face and I feel like I may just perish from desire. “I need it, I need it so badly.”
He pulls his cock out slowly, the flushed swollen head peeking out from the dark fabric. It's so gorgeous, how I always imagined it, thick and hard as it curves towards my face. Harry is gentle now, fingertips skating against my cheek as he brushes a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. He grips the base of his cock and guides it towards my mouth, my lips parting willingly. I almost cry in relief when the rosy head slides against my tongue. My lips wrap around his cock and I suck urgently, swallowing at the sudden rush of saliva in my mouth.
“Yes,” Harry groans, eyes hazy with desire. “That's so good, you're so good.”
My heart warms with his unexpected praise and my prick twitches in response. I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the vivid veins until I come to the head, swirling and dipping my tongue into his slit. Harry's hand is still holding his cock, jerking the base in time with my eager bobbing. I love that he's still in control—even as his neck flushes and his breathing turns ragged, Harry is undeniably in charge.
His movements become more urgent and his other hand comes to rest on my head, his fingers tangling through my hair. His thighs tremble and I taste a sharp burst of salt against my tongue. Harry’s fingers curl tightly in my hair, pulling my head back and his cock leaves my mouth with a slick pop.
Harry's groaning deeply, his hand a blur over his prick and I feel, rather than see, the first few drops of come land on my lips. I open my mouth readily, desire and need clawing at my chest as stripes of come paint my face. I feel debauched, dirty and used, and it's likely the most wonderful sensation I've ever experienced.
He's looks down at me worshipfully, bright green eyes wide in wonder as they sweep over my wrecked face covered in his release.
“Merlin,” he mutters underneath his breath before he drops to the ground, pushing me onto my back.
He makes quick work of my trousers, unfastening them and pulling my aching cock free. The cool night air caresses my hot prick and his firm hand curls around it. I arch into his touch—I'm so hard, so close, and his steady strokes are driving me mad.
Harry rearranges himself on the ground, his head right above my straining cock. He lowers his face, the merest brush of his lips against my leaking head and I gasp and buck uncontrollably. Come pulses from my cock, spilling over Harry's fingers and I groan in embarrassment as my orgasm overtakes me.
Harry only chuckles warmly, placing a soft kiss on my sensitive prick before casting a few cleaning spells over us both.
We recover in silence, the muffled conversations from the party seeming so very far away. Harry, eventually, clears his throat and turns to face me.
“We can't do this again, Scorpius. It's—it's not appropriate.”
I can only offer him a hazy smile in response, my body still floating with aftershocks of pleasure.
“I'm serious,” Harry repeats sternly. “This was a one time only thing.”
“Of course, Harry.” He eyes my pleasant expression with distrust. “I understand.”
Harry nods warily, standing up and brushing his clothing free of stray blades of grass. He gives me one last speculative look before he walks back in the direction of the party, back stiff and expression tightly controlled.
Sweet, naive Harry Potter; he's in way over his head. I'm Scorpius Malfoy and I always get what I want.