Chapter Text
There’s a lift that takes Harry up to Malfoy’s flat which is on the top floor, because of course it is. He feels like his entire body is thrumming with anticipation as he steps in and it crosses his mind that maybe he should come up with some sort of plan.
- Be a fucking gentleman. “I want your arse”, though to the point, was hardly the stuff of romance. And yes, alright, it did lead to a reciprocation of interest and flirting and ear nibbling which ultimately led to the (glorious) kissing and holding and touching and the promise of later. Without all of which Harry wouldn’t be here now, feeling all fucking fluttery
- Ask him out for dinner. And not the Potter Special. A real date. Make his intentions clear. Woo Malfoy’s pants off properly (metaphorically speaking, of course) (and, hopefully, literally)
- Kiss him again
Fuck he really hopes he can kiss him again. Should that be part of the plan? And will it be like before? Malfoy close and warm and wrapped around him, his lips full and pliant sliding against Harry’s. The memory of it does nothing to calm his nerves which only seem to amplify as the doors open and he sees Malfoy standing there waiting for him. He’s still wearing Harry’s red jumper and a small soft smile that tugs at Harry’s heart.
For a moment neither of them move. Then Harry stalks forward out of the lift and Malfoy is on him before the doors ding shut.
It’s not like before.
It’s frantic and intense and just on the edge of violent. Malfoy catches Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth, bites hard enough that Harry moans, opens his mouth more, Malfoy’s tongue coming up to tangle with his. Harry’s hands slide round Malfoy’s waist to pull him in tight and Harry kisses him harder, his lips and tongue building to a heady cadence.
Malfoy’s hips roll against his and Harry moves his hands down to grip the curve of his arse and holy fucking hellfire it’s delicious. Harry’s not sure he ever wants to let go and thinks about staying exactly where they are, hands firm and steady on Malfoy’s perfect arse as they rub up against each other, desperate and needy in the hallway until they both come. He can feel how hard Malfoy is against him and there’s definitely no hiding his own arousal.
But.
No. Harry wants this to last, wants to keep him as long as he possibly can.
Harry breaks their kiss, breathing hard, tonguing at the spot where Malfoy bit him. He tastes copper.
“Mm, sorry about that,” Malfoy says, smirking.
Harry huffs out a laugh. “No you’re fucking not.”
“You’re right I’m not.” Malfoy’s hand is on his jaw, his thumb skating softly over Harry’s lip.
Harry kisses it and smiles. “Are you going to invite me in? Or are we putting on a show for your neighbours?”
Malfoy makes an amused sound. “You’d be surprised how many of them would be into that.”
“That’s horrify-“
But Malfoy catches Harry’s mouth back up into a kiss, licks tentatively at the tender spot on Harry’s lip and starts to pull him forward.
It’s awkward, clinging to each other as much as possible as they stumble along, neither one willing to break apart for the sake of a few feet to get inside Malfoy’s flat. It’s only when Harry hears a door kicked shut and something solid pressed against his back that he even realises they’ve made it in. Malfoy’s hands are working at the buttons of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and Harry reluctantly lets go of him so he can shrug it off, fling it aside.
Harry’s pinned against the door and Malfoy is leaning into him; kissing down Harry’s jawline, nuzzling into his neck, licking and kissing and gently biting. Harry slides a hand up into Malfoy’s hair; he means to grip it, to keep Malfoy’s head in place but it’s so bloody soft and touchable he just runs his hand through the fine, white-blond strands, wondering what kind of shampoo Malfoy uses, what it smells like. He angles his head slightly and inhales.
Grapefruit and mint.
Harry lets his head thunk back against the door and just lets himself get lost in the feeling of Malfoy all around him; the hard press of his body against Harry’s, warm and solid and lovely, Malfoy’s hair between his fingers, Malfoy’s mouth on his throat. Malfoy nudging between his thighs, rolling his hips again and again, harder and harder.
The pressure building at the base of his spine is too familiar and his hands fly to Malfoy’s hips, slowing him down but not pushing him away; Harry’s cock is achingly hard in his jeans and every drag and press against Malfoy makes him shiver with need.
He’s going to come. He’s going to come in his pants like a horny teenager. And somewhere the tiny, rational part of his brain that’s hanging on for dear life is shouting The Plan! The Plan! Somewhere between seeing Malfoy still in his red jumper and groping Malfoy’s arse the plan has veered slightly off course.
“DracoMalfoyWillYouHaveDinnerWithMe?” Harry gasps out, a little frantic.
And he can definitely feel Malfoy smiling against his skin, can hear the quiet, pleased sound Harry’s words have elicited. Malfoy backs off just enough that Harry lets out an embarrassingly loud whimper at the loss of him. He fists his hands in the red jumper so Malfoy knows not to back off any further.
Malfoy places his hands on the door either side of Harry’s head, his arms boxing him in. “You’re asking me out on a date?” he asks, planting a chaste kiss on Harry’s lips.
Harry nods, perhaps more vigorously than necessary. “Yes,” he grits on, when Malfoy presses against him and fuck, he feels so bloody good.
Malfoy kisses along his jaw, teeth grazing the skin. “The Potter Special? ” he murmurs, his mouth at Harry’s ear.
Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh for fucks sa–mmph! ”
Malfoy’s kissing him, slow and deep and Harry just melts into it. Malfoy’s hands slide down to Harry’s shoulders, briefly, before they’re cupping his face; his thumbs caressing Harry’s cheeks as his tongue sweeps inside Harry’s mouth. When they part, Malfoy stays close, resting his forehead against Harry’s.
This close, Harry can see the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of Malfoy’s nose. Fucking hell, how has he never noticed those before? He wants to kiss them. Would that be weird?
Does he have freckles anywhere else?
Harry really needs to know.
“Say yes,” Harry says.
Malfoy bites his lip, a small tugging at the corners of his mouth as he releases it. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Whatever gets you to say yes.” Harry grins, feeling thoroughly charming as Malfoy laughs (his real laugh, Harry knows it) and kisses him again.
“Fine. Yes then.” Malfoy sighs in mock-surrender. “How was the watch-and-wait?”
“Boring,” says Harry, sliding his hands around to Malfoy’s back, pulling him in tight. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this.” Harry swallows, feeling nervous. “Us.”
“Well,” says Malfoy, licking his lips, his voice slightly unsteady, “that doesn’t sound boring at all.” He’s letting himself be pulled in, his arms wrapping behind Harry’s neck. There’s virtually no space left between them now. “What, exactly, did you think about?”
“All the ways I want you,” Harry says, “all the ways I could have you.”
*
It doesn’t take long to get to Malfoy’s bedroom. Seconds maybe, Harry isn’t sure. It’s entirely possible they apparated. The room is cast in the warm glow of a bedside lamp. The bed is huge and pleasingly solid-looking with more pillows than one person needs. About the right amount for two people, Harry thinks, walking Malfoy backwards towards the bed.
Harry lowers his hands to Malfoy’s arse again, hooks an ankle around his calf and rolls his hips. He tries not to grin too much when Malfoy wobbles a bit against all three movements because he does it again, with more gusto, and then Malfoy’s on his back on the bed looking a bit startled as to how he got there. Harry surges over him, legs clamping either side of Malfoy’s hips and wrapping his hands around his wrists, pinning them to the bed.
“Was that an Auror move? Seems a bit overtly sexual for DMLE.” Malfoy struggles against him experimentally before giving himself over to Harry’s control. “Well this hardly seems fair, Potter.” He doesn’t look at all disgruntled by the chain of events.
Harry leans down and places the sweetest, softest kiss he possibly can on Malfoy’s lips. “Bold of you to assume I play fair, Malfoy.” Harry releases his wrists and sits up, still straddling him and feeling deeply gratified that Malfoy keeps his hands exactly where they are.
Harry slowly pushes up the hem of the red jumper, exposing Malfoy’s torso. “I love that you wore this. Loved seeing you in something that’s mine.” He doesn't miss the way Malfoy’s mouth curves up into a wicked little smirk. He trails his fingertips over perfect, pale skin; Harry just wants to touch him everywhere. “Drove me mad in that meeting though.” His palm slides up Malfoy’s side, over his ribs, up to his chest.
Harry barely touches a nipple with the pad of his thumb when he hears a sharp intake of breath from underneath him. He locks eyes with Malfoy and runs his thumb over the nipple again, circling around it with slow, careful consideration. Malfoy’s whole body seems to mutinously arch into Harry’s touch and he flushes, sucking his lower lip into his mouth.
Harry leans down and kisses him, long and lingering and sweet, but doesn’t stop stroking around his nipple, doesn’t stop when Malfoy starts making breathy little moans against his mouth. Harry decides he wants to hear more of that please, so he shimmies down and - still stroking and teasing - flicks his tongue over the other nipple. Malfoy’s hands fly up to his face and he bites down on a knuckle to stifle a moan.
Harry looks up, tugs Malfoy’s hands away from his face with a shake of his head, no. “I want to hear you.”
Underneath him, Malfoy stares wide-eyed like Harry has asked him to do something completely impossible, but he nods and dutifully places his hands back where they were, fingers twitching like they want to reach out but can’t.
And oh, Harry really likes that.
He resumes with a little more vigour, swirling his tongue around the small pink bud before closing his mouth over it, sucking gently while his thumb and forefinger continues with the other and fucking hell the noises Malfoy is making. Harry wonders if he could make Malfoy come just from this; it certainly feels like he could every time Malfoy arches up, his erection desperately seeking some kind of contact or relief.
Malfoy’s nipple is slick where Harry’s worked it over; he runs a finger around it thoughtfully before giving the same attention to the other until it’s just as pink and peaked as the first.
He’s met with a contraction of muscles as he licks at Malfoy’s stomach, and follows it up with his lips and teeth, travelling across Malfoy’s pale abdomen with gentle biting kisses. Harry’s half off the bed when he reaches the waistband of Malfoy’s trousers, nipping at the skin just above as he considers what to do.
With a flourish of his hand, he wandlessly vanishes Malfoy’s trousers and underwear.
Malfoy snorts. “I bloody knew you vanished the pea – fuck!”
Harry takes Malfoy’s cock deep into his mouth and pulls off torturously slow. Harry feels a shift on the bed and looks up; Malfoy has propped himself up, eyes unyielding as he licks his lips, watching Harry take his cock deep into the wet heat of his mouth. Harry pulls off, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Malfoy’s.
Harry takes his time. He licks at the slit and under the head, strokes Malfoy’s length with his fingers and presses light, fluttery kisses to Malfoy’s hip bones and the insides of his thighs, nuzzles the blond curls at the base of his cock, breathing him in. Harry runs the tip of his tongue over the leaking end, then he’s swirling his tongue and sucking lightly on the throbbing head of Malfoy’s cock, the precome salty-bitter on his taste buds.
Above him, Malfoy’s voice is rough. “You’re so-“
Harry doesn’t hear what he is, just hears a low guttural sound as he wraps his mouth around Malfoy’s cock and takes in as much of him as he can, loving the weight of it on his tongue, the feel of the head butting against his throat. He feels rather than sees Malfoy yank off the red jumper and flop back onto the bed, hears him release a shaky sigh as Harry starts to suck in earnest, hollowing his cheeks and curling his tongue around the head of Malfoy’s cock whenever he draws back. When he hears the tempo switch of Malfoy’s breathing he goes as deep as he keen, feeling inexplicably harder when Malfoy’s hips twitch and he fucks up into Harry’s mouth. Harry moans at the feeling, sucks harder, encouraging Malfoy to do it again. And again. And again.
Malfoy’s release is hot against the back of his throat and Harry swallows all of it down, caressing Malfoy’s hip gently with his fingers through his orgasm.
When Harry props himself up, his eyes widen as he sees Malfoy in all his naked, post-orgasmic glory. His head is turned away slightly; deep, calming breaths coming from his open mouth, bottom lip plump and pink and wet where he’s been biting it. His hair is...well, it’s a wonderful sex-mess really. Malfoy’s fingers are curled loosely near his head against the bedcovers, like he’s been grabbing at the soft blond strands while Harry made him come. It’s sticking out every which way and there’s one lock of hair that curls adorably at his temple.
Harry strokes it back with affection. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I could come just looking at you.”
Malfoy’s eyes flutter open, dark and intense and...uncertain. Did Harry say too much? But then Harry stops thinking at all when he’s pulled in for a hard, bruising kiss; Malfoy’s tongue swirling in Harry’s mouth, hand fisted tightly in his hair. He must be able to taste himself, Harry thinks, the thought sending a zing of pleasure directly to his cock, Christ he’s the sexiest man alive.
When he releases Harry, the uncertainty has vanished and Malfoy gives him a once-over, arching a perfect blond eyebrow. “And you seem to be overdressed.” It’s true; Harry’s only lost his jacket. He hasn’t even taken his boots off yet. “Strip, ” Malfoy orders.
Harry does. Malfoy watches him, sitting upright on the edge of his bed, long legs dangling. This, more than anything else they’ve done so far, feels the most intimate and Harry can feel his face warm, feeling shy. Still, he’s rather pleased to see Malfoy’s cock start to fill out again when he’s down to just his underwear. He hooks his thumbs over the waistband before Malfoy stops him.
“Wait,” he says, reaching out for Harry. “Come here.”
Harry settles his palms on Malfoy’s thighs either side of him, runs his palms up and down the taut muscle, the fine hair there soft against his skin as his boxers are slipped off; his furiously red prick springs free and he instinctively lifts a hand towards it, but Malfoy bats him away, wrapping his pale fingers firmly around the shaft, stroking him excruciatingly slowly.
He runs his fingertips over Malfoy’s shoulders, back across his collarbones and down his chest; Harry grazes a nipple, watching for Malfoy’s reaction and releases a sharp breath when his cock is gripped tighter, precome leaking from the end.
“Fuck me ,” Harry mutters under his breath, watching his cock slide slowly in and out of Malfoy’s fist.
Malfoy hums thoughtfully, “Maybe next time. I think though, for tonight, I’d prefer you to fuck me.”
Harry might’ve stopped breathing because part of his brain is thinking I’m going to fuck Draco Malfoy and another part is chanting nexttimenexttimenexttime! Harry nods vehemently.
Malfoy presses a kiss to his lips. “Good.”
*
Harry’s placing one of Malfoy’s many pillows in the middle of the bed and desperately trying not to touch his cock when Malfoy returns from his bathroom. He presses a small vial of lube into Harry’s hand and shifts back onto the bed.
Harry reaches out to stop him, pushing encouragingly on Malfoy’s hip. “On your front.” Malfoy’s eyes widen slightly when he sees Harry toss the vial onto the bed, so Harry kisses him. “Please?”
Don’t come yet, don’t come yet, Harry thinks. He’s kneeling between Malfoy’s thighs, edging his legs slightly further apart with his knees, the length of his cock pressing and rubbing against the crease of Malfoy’s arse as Harry leans over him. He kisses and licks his way down Malfoy’s spine, but every shuddery sigh seems to make Harry inexplicably harder. Harry grips himself at the base of his cock, taking a deep breath as his urge to come subsides to the point where he can mostly think.
When Harry nuzzles into the crease of his arse, he murmurs a charm and Malfoy flinches against him, relaxing again when Harry presses his lips to the base of his spine, his tongue dipping teasingly lower.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Fuck, Harry. Yes,” says Malfoy, seemingly in one breath.
As if Harry needs further encouragement, Malfoy spreads his legs a little wider, angling his hips to push his arse up towards him.
Harry’s hands reach out of their own volition and start rubbing slowly at Malfoy’s cheeks, squeezing and massaging, his thumbs working their way inwards to spread them slightly apart.
When Harry licks a long line up and over the tiny, puckered hole Malfoy lets out a sound that is something like a whimper and groan. Harry grins and licks firmer, focusing his tongue back and forth and around Malfoy’s entrance, teasing in circles that has him shuddering.
Harry points his tongue and works at the hole, rosy pink and tiny, pushing firm and eager to open him up. When his tongue presses inside, Malfoy presses back, seeking more of him and Harry feels dizzy with it; fucking into Malfoy with his tongue, the taste and feel of him, Malfoy murmuring things like fuck and yes and more and HarryHarryHarry around gasps and moans of undeniable pleasure.
Malfoy’s breathing sounds ragged and broken and he snakes a hand towards his cock before Harry pulls it away and lifts his head. “Not yet.” Malfoy grumbles something incoherent into the duvet that sounds suspiciously like a combination of French expletives and frustration; Harry smirks, massaging around Malfoy’s hole with the tip of his index finger before sliding it in, slow and gentle up to the knuckle.
Malfoy sighs shakily with it. “More,” he says, after a beat.
Instead, there’s more French swearing when Harry replaces his finger with his tongue, pressing in harder, licking and sucking mercilessly until Malfoy is trembling with it, little gasping moans escaping on each inhalation of breath.
“Please Harry, please, please…”
Harry licks his way back up to the base of Malfoy’s spine, presses an impossibly affectionate kiss there as he nudges for him to roll back over. He does so, and Harry can see that Christ Malfoy is wrecked ; he’s flushed and pink and lovely, a sheet of sweat covering his entire body, grey eyes glaring up at him dark and wild and there’s something almost feral in there too, like he could absolutely kill Harry if he doesn’t fuck him right now. Malfoy reaches for his own cock again, impossibly hard and leaking precome over his stomach. Harry licks it off, grabs Malfoy’s hands and pins them down by his head, giving his wrists a gentle squeeze.
“Behave yourself now,” Harry says, but then he’s reaching between them and wrapping his fingers firmly around the base of Malfoy’s cock.
Malfoy releases a long shaky breath, blinking at the ceiling before he looks at Harry, freckles stark on his pale features.
Those fucking freckles, they’re going to be the death of him.
“Better?” Harry asks.
“Yeah,” whispers Malfoy, his free hand coming up to Harry’s cheek.
Harry leans into it, angles his head to press his lips to Malfoy’s palm before reaching up to give it a quick squeeze and then he’s leaning back onto his heels between Malfoy’s thighs, retrieving the lube.
Harry finds Malfoy’s prostate once he’s got two fingers opening him up and he relentlessly brushes over the bundle of nerves as he pulls out and pushes back in. After Harry had released his wrists, Malfoy had stretched his arms above his head, hanging them over the edge of the bed and Harry nearly came at the sight of him; the long lines of his exquisite body practically offered up to him like a gift. He’s kept this position and bears down on Harry’s fingers every time he thrusts back in, the only sounds above the slick-sucking sounds of Harry’s fingers are Malfoy’s groans and Harry’s heavy breathing.
Harry’s barely introduced a third finger when Malfoy sharply says “enough .”
“You don’t want…?” Harry’s voice is rough with arousal.
Even around his fingers Malfoy is still tight and Harry’s not being egotistical but he’s not exactly small in the cock-department; which of course Malfoy already knows because he was openly ogling it when Harry stripped off. It was brilliant.
Malfoy shakes his head. “Just want you. So much.”
Harry gently removes his fingers and shifts closer, wrapping a hand around his cock, stroking a layer of lube up his shaft. He presses the head against Malfoy’s entrance, bends at the hip so he’s leaning over Malfoy and propping himself up so he can kiss him, so sweet, so soft.
“You’re sure?” Harry doesn’t know why he asks it, what he really means by it until Malfoy answers him.
“I’m so fucking sure about you, Harry.”
And Harry feels like his heart is going to explode with the way Malfoy is looking up at him; so wide-eyed and open, vulnerable with what he’s said, fierce in his conviction. He watches Malfoy’s face as he pushes past the tight ring of muscle, brushes a kiss against his forehead and nuzzles into his hair when Malfoy’s eyelids start to flutter as he pushes, slow and deep, until Harry’s completely buried in him.
And Malfoy’s so tight and hot and beautiful around his cock that Harry sort of wants to stay there until he remembers that he needs to move. He pulls back and thrusts back in, shallow and gentle, feeling Malfoy clench and relax around him.
“Keep going,” Malfoy whispers, curling a leg around Harry’s waist and urging him on. Harry leans down and kisses him again, nips at Malfoy’s lip.
“That’s for before,” he says, and grins when Malfoy huffs out a surprised chuckle.
Harry pitches his hips back and forth, gentle until Malfoy starts to move with him, moaning on each of Harry’s slow thrusts, pushing back against him.
“More,” Malfoy gasps, his hand wrapping around his own cock and stroking up. “Harder.”
And Harry can’t hold back, he fucks Malfoy hard like he’s wanted to for - fuck it, months. He’s wanted this, him, for months. Longer. Malfoy meets him with every thrust until they quickly find a rhythm and Malfoy’s hand works his cock, up and down, in time as Harry fucks deep into him.
When Harry lifts Malfoy higher off the pillow it changes the angle of his cock and hits Malfoy’s prostate, causing the release high-pitched whine-sob from underneath him that alarms Harry for a moment, has him take down the tempo. “Shit are you okay?!”
“Don’t you dare – fucking – stop – Ah! Right there – Potter!” Malfoy gaps out on each thrust.
So Harry doesn’t stop. Doesn’t stop until Malfoy clenches around him, coming all over his stomach and his fist and shouting Harry’s name.
“I’m– I need to– Malf– Draco. Draco fuck, I want – “ That’s all Harry gets out before Malfoy – Draco – is clenching around him again and Harry’s coming, white noise filling his ears as Draco rides him through his orgasm. He’s shaky with it, taking a minute to blink back to reality; he’s breathing hard, his skin warm and shiny with sweat.
“That was– You’re so–” Harry doesn’t have the words, just lets himself list sideways, sliding out of Draco awkwardly and pulling him into his arms. “Come here.”
They lie like that for a long time, Draco curled up in Harry’s arms, head tucked under Harry’s chin, pressing little fluttery-soft kisses to Harry’s throat; when Harry feels the tingling coolness of a cleaning charm wash over his body, he pulls back from a grumbly Draco and peers at him curiously.
“Wandless?” Harry asks.
Draco rolls his eyes. “Not all of us need to wave our hand about like we’re the Queen of bloody England.”
“I don’t– “ Draco silences his protest with a kiss, moving his lips slow and soft, before nudging Harry up the bed and under the covers. “Hush now, bedtime.”
There are more freckles on the back of Draco’s neck.
Harry discovers them in the early hours of the morning, his chest flush against Draco’s back, arm curled protectively around Draco’s lithe torso. They’re so faint Harry almost misses them, creeping up into the blond hair at the nape of his neck. Harry nuzzles into them, smiling against Draco’s skin as he lets out a contented little sigh and falls back asleep.