DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.
A Long Way From Home….by Samayel
Harry had been looking forward to his first year of college with mingled anticipation and dread. It had been hell getting a scholarship, especially since his grades were only fairly above average, but as an emancipated minor, he had a few resources that most couldn't apply for.
He'd gone to court the previous year, suing for complete emancipation from his 'supposed' guardians, an aunt and uncle who had more or less spent the previous sixteen years making his life hell on earth.
When the proceedings looked in doubt, Harry had finally snapped. He'd peeled off his shirt in the courtroom and turned his back, letting the magistrate see the old belt scars that marred otherwise tanned and healthy skin. The judge spluttered for a bit, asked Harry to please clothe and seat himself, then lambasted the Dursleys before stripping them of their guardianship.
He'd spent a year and half working nights for a parcel service, separating packages for shipment out of state. The pay had been really good, and renting a studio apartment had been fairly easy. He'd saved almost every penny he could spare, and now he was finally where he'd always wanted to be. College. He was going to be somebody someday, and that somebody wouldn't be a gawky, underfed kid with outdated glasses and a wardrobe made of hand-me-downs.
All his life, he'd been the odd kid, the quiet one, the freak, or at least that was what the Dursleys had made him out to be, spoiling every opportunity for Harry to make new friends or actually enjoy life a little. Not anymore. Today, walking across campus, Harry Potter was already re-inventing himself, and this would be a brand new life, with no trace of the old one to hold him back.
Harry reached his dorm room, the last at the end of a long hall on the fourth floor of an enormous building, and stepped inside for the first time.
It was a tiny, spartan little room, just two beds, two desks, and two chairs. The walls were industrial off white, and the carpet a neutral beige. The only distinguishing features were the unpacked belongings of another student, who appeared to be absent. This suited Harry fine, since he had a few changes to make before anyone arrived.
Harry unpacked his possessions with care, few though they were. Though the jeans and T-shirt he was wearing now were threadbare and oversized, he had a battered old trunk of his father's that held his new purchases. Just before leaving behind his studio, Harry went shopping, for something more than necessities, for the first time ever. He had jeans that fit, shirts that were clean and soft, socks and underwear that weren't half missing, and shoes that still shined.
Harry moved to the shared bathroom between suites, and made the changes he'd been waiting for all his life. His old clothes were dropped into a trash bag as he peeled them away, and after preparing the new contacts carefully, he dumped his hideous old glasses in, too.
It was hell getting the contacts in right, but he finally managed it, blinking and tearing, and looked at the boy in the mirror. Tall, slender, and tanned, with soft features, save for a strong, if somewhat narrow, chin. The normal mess of black hair was gone, sheared away the day before, and a short, sleek buzz cut was left behind.
Long faded, a scar on his head was all that was left of the accident that had killed his parents. Driving home in a particularly violent thundershower, they'd been struck by a tree that fell directly into the road. The only survivor had been the year old infant in the back of the car, Harry James Potter.
His aunt and uncle had always spoken ill of his parents, but Harry had dug up the records, and even though he'd never told them, he had known for years that his parents were neither drunk nor jobless. Arguing served no purpose against them, and it only increased the odds of the belt coming into play, so Harry had held that wonderful knowledge to himself, like a warm blanket in the cold night of the Dursleys home.
Harry slipped into his new clothes, designer boxer briefs first, clean socks second, acid washed denim jeans next, and an A&F T-shirt last. He blinked and smiled widely. The boy in the mirror was really cute! He looked confident, and happy. He looked like he could have been an athlete, or a member of student government, or even a homecoming king!
Harry wrapped up the bag of trash, and headed back out into the room. He unpacked his remaining possessions, the rest of the clothes, towels, sheets and blankets, his own pillow, far softer than the one he'd grown up with, his hot plate and cooking gear (cooking for himself was a lifetime habit, else he'd never have been fed, and his cookware represented his first major purchases once he left home), school supplies and a few organizers and shelves to keep them on, and finally, the only picture of his parents he had.
James and Lily Potter, holding Harry between them, beaming with joy over their child. He'd had it framed in an expensive silver filigreed frame, the only pricey luxury he'd ever afforded himself while saving to get here. Nothing else from his old life mattered, but this, this was his inspiration. This picture was why he was here. If it took everything he had, he would finish college like his parents had, and become everything the Dursleys had said he couldn't!
The Dursleys had hated his parents, and Harry had always suspected that it was because his parents were university educated, which was how they met, and his aunt and uncle weren't. Aunt Petunia was just a housewife, a gossip, and a complete shrew, and her husband had been selling hardware since the day he left high school. Nothing wrong with any of that, but for some reason only known to them, they hated anyone who had wanted something more…especially Harry's parents.
Harry wanted to teach at a university someday, and that kind of thing took a lot of money, and a lot of time in school, but that's what his father had done, albeit briefly before his death, and that's what Harry wanted to do, too. It might take ten years to get the education he needed, but he was ready to work until he dropped to get what he wanted, and that attitude had gotten him this far.
He sat down on the bed he'd just made and just stared at the elegantly framed, slightly yellowed picture of his mother and father.
'I did it! I wish you could be here to see this, but I made it, just like you would have wanted me to. I'm just getting started, too. Nothing's going to stop me now! And don't worry…I won't get distracted…'
The door to the room practically exploded inwards, and a tall black boy, so buried under boxes and bags that he was almost completely obscured from view, stumbled in and dumped the entire mess onto the other bed.
"Mother Of God, Drake! You callous, little bitch! Tell me again why I agreed to haul all your shit up here! I've never seen a boy pack this much just to live in a dorm before. What the hell is up with that?"
The tall boy, who as it turned out, had fine cheekbones and an almost regal air about him, was still sweating and gasping for breath when a second person entered the room, and Harry found himself holding his breath without realizing it.
The second boy was criminally slender, had blond hair that slid like silk down past his shoulders, and was wearing the kind of club go-er's gear that was normally reserved for after midnight. The pants looked like leather, but they were lipstick pink and looked like they'd been sprayed on in liquid form and just dried there. The shirt was cropped, and obviously meant for a girl, showing so much smooth, pale midriff that Harry found it hard to concentrate all of a sudden. On the shirt itself, a cutesy picture of a unicorn was done with glitter, and the word 'Horny' was spelled out beneath it.
He had several earrings in each ear, a little hoop in his left nostril, another in his right eyebrow, and a tiny jewel dangling from a chain over his bellybutton. He even had tiny rings on his smallest toes, which were visible through his sandals, and those, too, looked expensive, and suspiciously like they were originally intended for a woman as well. The high cheekbones, angular jaw line, and unusually pale, soft looking skin just added to the gender illusion.
When 'Drake' took off his oversized, sequin-edged sunglasses to answer, carefully tweezed eyebrows and kohl smudged, ice gray eyes were revealed, and Harry's eyes didn't miss the glitter-pink nail polish on the hand holding the glasses, either. It seemed possible that he might actually be in the presence of the most effeminate man ever born on this planet. Unlike his friend, this boy's other hand was only burdened by one small bag…a hot pink faux-leather purse.
"Because, Blaise! My BMW has towed your carcass to every club we've ever been to for the last year. You'd have spent the last three-hundred and sixty five days letting your mom throw local girls at you every…fucking…night! Is this, I ask you, the way you should treat the giver-goddess who spared you from such a hideous fate?"
Blaise paused a moment, then nodded amiably. "Good point, but still, bitch, you got too much shit! You are gonna be the death of me yet, miss thing. Hello, stranger!"
Blaise noticed Harry first, and put a hand out in greeting. "Blaise Zabini, honey, friend at large, and today only, human pack mule. Nice to meet you."
Harry pulled his eyes away from Drake for the first time since he'd entered, and tried to remember how to smile like he was relaxed. He took Blaise's hand as casually as he could, and shook it firmly. "Harry…Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, too."
Drake practically slithered in between them, bumping Blaise's arm out of the way with his ass, and smiling like a starving shark. "Don't mind him, he's the black sidekick, he'll get shot before the movie's half over. I'm Drake Malfoy…star of the show, so very nice to meet you. I'm assuming you're my dorm mate?"
Drake's gaze held a hungry kind of appraisal that Harry was unused to and actually kind of frightened by. Nobody had ever looked at him 'that' way before. Like he was water in the middle of a desert.
Blaise slapped Drake hard enough across the ass to interrupt Drake's handshake. "SLUT! I saw him first, ya dizzy cow! Back the fuck up!" At least his voice sounded amused, and Harry guessed that this was just the way they treated each other as friends.
"You assume right. I just got unpacked a minute ago. It's nice to meet you, too." Not bad. Less than an hour in college, and the first two people he'd met both liked him and thought he was hot. They might be gay, but that was okay. Harry had never had friends, just a few people from work that he got along fairly well with. Gay or straight, meeting two people who thought he seemed cool was a head rush in itself.
Harry frantically searched for conversation to make, and decided on being brutally blunt, since that would allow him to say things as openly as possible. He just wasn't good at the whole social dynamics thing yet.
"So…I'll go out on a limb here. Out and proud?" Harry managed to get a nervous smile up while he asked.
Drake smirked wickedly, then went into mock histrionics. "OH MY GOD! Blaise! This man…this man has clearly mistaken me for some kind of shrieking queen! Please…clear this up for him."
Blaise snickered. "I would bitch, but you an I both know you smashed your closet in sixth grade and burnt the mutha-fuckin' kindling in your parent's backyard! The only butch things you've ever done were boyfriends!" Then Blaise cracked up and rolled off to the side, holding his stomach while he laughed.
Harry tried to suppress laughing at Drake, whose very presence made his stomach clench inexplicably, every time he turned his eyes to Harry. Drake broke the tension by giving a wounded look to Blaise and pouting outrageously.
"Don't mind Blaise, he's just jealous because someone dropped a house on his sister!" Drake sat down on his bed, crossing his legs and letting his sandal dangle from one nail-polished toe, and looked at Harry speculatively. His voice was still light hearted, but just a hair more serious when he asked his next question.
"You're correct, of course. You're okay with that, aren't you? I mean, you seem way too cool to be put off over something like that."
Harry watched the way Drake idly chewed the very tip of his sunglasses. He saw the metallic glint that clearly marked a tongue ring from just between the pink glossed lips. His heart felt like it would start beating some other year .
"Yeah…I mean…does anybody care about that anymore? You both seem like you're a lot of fun, so I have no complaints. Where are you from?"
Drake snorted. "Smalltown, USA, but I'm destined for bigger things. Don't be fooled by the look…I was the co-valedictorian for my class. I'm planning to major in Business Admin and start something of my own. I think it's just that I loathe the notion of working for anyone else. Plus, I need to be rich enough to support my shopping addiction."
The last was added with a wry smirk and a wink to Blaise, and Blaise took it from there.
"I survived high school in a pathetically small town thanks to this little pink punk here. As for miss co-valedictorian here…you ought to know that she never would have made it through eighth grade algebra if Mr Stevenson hadn't been a pedophile! Ya WHORE!" Blaise stuck his tongue out at Drake, who huffed and raised an indignant middle finger. Then Blaise continued.
"We put in applications and both got accepted here, but my dorm is three buildings over. My parents wanted me in Pre-Med, but I pissed them off furiously when I went for Dramatic Arts and Theatre. You know how parents are, always pushing their dreams off on you."
It felt like Harry's turn to speak, and in the spirit of honesty, he just told the truth.
"Well, not really. My parents died in a car crash when I was one. I never really knew them, but they were both graduates from here. My father was a professor…or he was going to be…but the accident happened while they were moving…I was the only survivor. So, I was going to try Education and History, and eventually teach at the college level."
Both the other boys had blanched, which was especially impressive for Drake, who was hard to imagine as paler than he started, and Harry suddenly wondered if his limited social skills had just trashed the entire moment.
"God, that's awful! I'm sorry, Harry…" Blaise started, but Harry cut him off quickly, trying to soothe it over as fast as possible. He definitely didn't want a social faux pas on his first day.
"Thanks, but it's okay…really! It was a long time ago and I was too young to know them. I'm okay. So you two were best friends in school and came here together? That's really nice. I left my old town behind, there's no one here that I know, so it's like starting over for me."
Drake regained his equilibrium and snorted. "I wouldn't say best friends. I'd say partners in crime, co-conspirators, evil sisters. My best friend is my CD player…Blaise?"
Blaise pulled a small portable CD player out of one of the bags. "Does her highness need musical inspiration to unpack by?"
He started flipping through a small CD case, snorting in derision as he turned from CD to CD. "Cher, Madonna, Shakira, Cher, Whitney, Madonna, Cher, Shakira, Britney, Cher, Madonna. Jesus, sweetie, do you listen to anything made by someone with a cock?"
Drake smiled vindictively. "Ricky Martin," and stuck his tongue out, proudly displaying the silver stud in it.
"Bitch! He don't count…that man is the biggest bottom in the music business…unless somebody gives you a contract…hussy!"
They collapsed into a fit of giggles before Drake picked through his bags for the power cord, and Harry waited to hear the music, trying to rationalize the sudden erection he'd developed when Drake stuck his tongue out. Bass kicked in first, and a club mix of Madonna made itself known a second later.
Blaise started separating bags and boxes, and Drake bounced from package to package, pulling out things he wanted and spreading them out on the desk while he gyrated to the music. Those incredibly skin tight pants left nothing to be imagined, and there weren't even pockets on the back, leaving nothing to distract from the soft curves of Drake's…
Harry's cheeks started to flame. He fumbled with some of the socks in his trunk, trying to appear casual. He never noticed the exchange of serious looks between Blaise and Drake while he was busy, nor did he hear the hasty whispers over the booming music. He was much too concerned with the sudden and indisputable realization that his dick was stone hard because of a cute blond BOY, and his gut reaction to the ass shaking in those pink leather pants was an urge to just peel them off and start fucking.
To date, his sexual experience was limited to porn and his right hand, and his fantasies had been limited to local girls that had never spoken to him. He'd never met anyone like Drake, who made being gay look fun…not to mention sexy and cute. This was a little more than his mind could handle at the moment, and still stay focused on his unpacking.
Blaise interrupted everyone a minute later. "Ooo-kayy. I fulfilled my obligations here! Mountain of crap delivered, thank you for the ride, Dray. Nice to meet you, Harry, but I have a room of my own in another building where I need to unpack my own things. I am so out of here. Catch you two later!"
Harry waved and smiled, grateful for the distraction, until he realized he would be alone with Drake. Then Drake answered Blaise's last comment.
"Not if you don't hurry! Well, I don't know, actually. Harry? Do you take a long time to come?"
Harry's blush reached epic proportions while Blaise could be heard laughing as he made his way down the hall.
Drake turned around, still smiling, and started putting up posters on his wall. Naturally, divas of pop were a major running theme. Harry fumbled nervously with the contents of his trunk, hoping that Drake would explain the comment, and dreading that explanation at the same time.
One of the larger posters was just too wide for Drake alone to reach both ends, and the blond boy cursed under his breath while straining to reach it. Drake's ass was displayed to brutal effect while he stretched, and the half shirt that he wore rode up, making a show of the pale, slender back, lined with taut muscle and wrapped by utterly flawless skin. Harry gaped until Drake's voiced snapped him out of his reverie.
"Harry, you're tall, so could you come up here and hold this still for me so I can pin it?"
Harry stood up, suddenly feeling much too warm for comfort, and also desperately wishing that he was still in his baggy old pants, because his hard-on was threatening to throb its way out of the ones he had on now. Nonetheless, he stepped forward and stood directly behind Drake, using one hand to hold the poster to the wall, so Drake could look for a pin.
"Sure. No problem." The fact that his voice nearly cracked didn't do much to make Harry believe in his own act of confidence and calm.
Drake didn't reach for a pin. He pushed himself backward from the wall, planting his ass firmly against Harry's crotch, gasping in surprise.
"Oops." Drake giggled like a giddy schoolgirl, and for once, Harry didn't mind, in fact, it sounded adorable coming from Drake. "You need some help with that?"
Drake sat down on the bed, eye level with Harry's groin, and looked up at Harry with a gaze that promised immediate gratification if Harry said the word 'yes'.
"Yes?" Harry stepped back, letting the poster fall, hoping his answer hadn't sounded as squeaky and frightened to Drake as it had sounded to him.
A heartbeat later, his jeans had been undone, his boxer briefs were joining the jeans in a pool around his ankles, and a soft, warm and wet little mouth was working some kind of insane magic around the head of his cock, and that magic involved the flickering motions of a tongue ring, expertly used.
Harry leaned forward again, needing the wall for support, while Drake looked upward, and made happy noises of pleasure as he labored over Harry's erection skillfully.
Not having anything to compare it against, Harry couldn't say for sure if this was the best blowjob ever, or the worst, but he was pretty sure that blowjobs in general were the best thing ever invented, surpassing ice cream, puppies and electricity by a wide margin.
Drake's long fingernails slithered along the back of Harry's balls, and Harry felt like he'd touched a live wire as his body reacted instinctively, shuddering violently while Drake sucked hard, greedily swallowing as Harry came and came into his waiting mouth.
Drake never let go while he followed Harry to the floor, letting the taller boy lie back and catch his breath, still lapping away the occasional pearl of come that worked its way out of Harry's cock. Harry just gasped and trembled a little, suddenly aware that the hand on his cock was not his own, and also excited by the happy little smile on Drake's lips.
A minute later, Drake seemed to notice that Harry's erection hadn't flagged at all, even if Harry himself was still barely coherent, and just as Harry began muttering praise, feeling sheepish about his silence, Drake peeled off his shirt and pants (as well as the skimpiest thong Harry could have imagined), revealing slim shoulders and nipples pierced by steel rings, along with slender legs and an erection just a little more than half the size of Harry's own. The sight thrilled Harry more than he would have imagined an hour ago, and Drake launched into a second full scale assault on Harry's stubborn dick.
Harry only glanced up when the hand that had been stroking him vanished for several seconds, when his eyes opened, Drake was still face down in his lap, but both hands were busy opening a little square package with a condom inside it. That incredible mouth popped away, and the slender latex wrap was sliding down the length of his cock before he could get any words out.
Drake gave him a single serious look, as if to say, 'Is this what you want?', and Harry nodded his assent, looking in amazement as Drake, who had just slicked Harry's latex coated erection in slick gel, climbed up, and slowly sat down, enveloping Harry's cock with a mind-bogglingly tight heat. Every few seconds, Drake would rise up a little, then push himself further down, until a minute later he was seated firmly on Harry's hips.
Drake began to gyrate his hips, biting his lower lip and making little noises that Harry was fairly sure were of pleasure, and he thanked god that he'd only just come a few minutes ago, else this would have finished him off in seconds.
Unsure of what to do with his hand, Harry slid one up the taut expanse of Drake's stomach, and gently pulled at one of the small steel rings. The way Drake cried out almost frightened him, but a soft hand pulled his back to the same spot, demanding more, while Drake ground all the harder into Harry's lap.
Drake leaned back, and pulled Harry's hand, dragging him up as Drake made himself comfortable on the floor, and slim legs rested on Harry's shoulders as he curled his own legs underneath himself, careful not to withdraw from the skinny blond now underneath him.
All he had to go on was the atrocious porn he'd seen now and then, but Drake responded well enough to it that Harry revised his estimate of the stuff on the spot. Woman or man, pushing in steadily and evenly at the same pace seemed to get a good reaction.
Drake's face was flushed, and his eyes kept closing, and the smile on his face was only interrupted by occasional moments when it curled into a startled 'O' of approval. Harry leaned forward, his arms alongside of Drake's chest, and idly stroked the little rings through Drake's nipples. Drake let loose a needy whimper, and Harry knew it was a good choice.
He quickened his pace by pure instinct, feeling a building urge swelling in him, a restless tide that was rapidly approaching its peak, and Drake seemed to know it as well, since he moved his hand to his own stiffened flesh and began to gently stroke just the glans. A minute later, Harry felt the slim boy beneath him tremble, and white droplets rained between them, dotting the taut landscape of Drake's chest, while Drake moaned softly, biting his lip hard to stifle anything louder.
The spectacle set Harry's mind on fire, and with a few quick thrusts, he was coming again, this time filling the latex sheath with his orgasm, keenly aware of the maddening sensations that came of sliding in and out of Drake's slick warmth.
Being deep inside another person, even if it was a boy, was infinitely superior to anything he'd ever felt using his hand, and muscles he'd never even used before involved themselves in this orgasm for the first time. Harry's shuddering stopped only when his body had nothing left to give, and he collapsed practically on top of the naked blond beneath him.
Drake rolled them over, pushing a gasping Harry until Drake was on top, where he'd started, with Harry's softening cock still buried inside him. Drake laid his sweaty brow on Harry's chest, and panted for a few seconds before lifting his head, dizzy, yet seemingly still perky and confident.
"That was fucking awesome! Sooo…tell me…how do I stack up against everyone else you've ever slept with…on a scale of one to ten?" He set his elbows on Harry's chest, rested his chin in his hands, and just smile, waiting dreamily for an answer.
Harry stammered for a few seconds. "Ten? I…I haven't…well…"
Drake's eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped instantly. "OH MY GOD! Tell me…just tell me that was NOT your first time!"
Harry half smiled and shrugged helplessly. Those conditions didn't leave him any answer to give. Drake collapsed on Harry's chest and cooed.
"I can't believe a virgin was that good…well it helps that you've got an awesome dick, but really, once I get you trained up, your going to be a living legend, Harry! That begs the question…you wouldn't be in the market for a boyfriend, would you? As it happens, here I am in a new town, no man to call my own, and here you are, a perfect fit…"
Drake blushed adorably at his own choice of words, suddenly realizing that Harry was still in him even now.
Harry smiled helplessly, while Drake waited for his answer, suddenly and dizzyingly aware of his situation. He'd been at college for an hour at the most, he was no longer a virgin, his new roommate, and first friend ever, was completely naked and comfortably seated on his half hard dick, which essentially meant, that for all intents and purposes, he must be gay. So what the hell? Harry said yes.
Drake flopped onto him with a giddy squeal, and promptly kissed Harry on the mouth, which was yet another first. It was a hungry, teasing kiss, and tiny nips at Harry's lips confused him, and that little metal stud brushed across his own tongue as Drake's own uncommonly talented one invaded Harry's mouth. All in all, it was more than satisfying, and the sudden recollection that Drake's mouth had recently caught a full load of Harry's come really didn't bother him at all.
Drake sat up suddenly, and grabbed his small purse, fetching his cell phone from within. A speed dial later, he was happily chatting, still happily naked and astride Harry's sated cock.
"Blaise! Bitch, guess what?…I gots a man!…HAH! Fuck you, bitch! Seven and a half…I win!"
Harry looked at Drake…confused, and a little irritable…his dick was definitely longer than that. Drake recognized his concern immediately and explained.
"Not that, Harry! He said it would be ten minutes before we were naked…it was seven and a half…you're ten…maybe a little more!"
Harry mouthed the words, 'How do you know?', and Drake instantly replied with a wink.
"Believe me, it was just in me, I know!" Drake shifted his hips. "Yeah…that's ten." Then he turned back to the phone.
"What? Oh! Yeah…like a horse, but with talent! He's perfect! Hmm? Oh, that? You know my wrists, right? 'Bout that thick."
Harry was blushing furiously, but not really minding it. His day was already more surreal than any on record, why not naked cell phone calls sharing explicit sexual details about his anatomy? In fact, Drake's occasional movements during conversation were kind of turning him on!
"How foul! You're just jealous, heifer! This one is all mine and I'm not sharing! I think, this semester, I'm going to major in Harry! OH! DAMN, GIRL! Just a minute…" Drake wriggled his hips tentatively and looked at Harry in amazement before speaking again.
"Sweetie? I hafta go…my stud is hard again, and you know I never walk away from a challenge! What? Of course, girl! We'll find a man for you yet! Ciao!"
The cell phone snapped shut and was casually flung aside. Drake kissed Harry fiercely while shifting his body, ultimately parting from Harry's mouth only to carefully turn himself around so that he was seated on Harry's lap, his whipcord slender back and hips fitting comfortably against Harry's chest and groin.
Drake tilted his head back and pulled Harry into another kiss, and whispered meaningfully to Harry when it ended. "Harry Potter, you're a long way from home…you happy?"
And words came easier to Harry than ever before. "I'm a thousand miles from where I grew up, Drake, but I've never been more at home in my entire life. Yeah, I think I'm the happiest I've ever been."
TWENTY YEARS LATER:
Harry pulled into the metered parking spot in front Drake's Den, the only gay themed coffeehouse and bookstore on campus, and picked up the card and flowers from the passenger seat. Drake might be working late in the back office, but that didn't mean their anniversary would go uncelebrated. Twenty years of domestic insanity and bliss deserved more to mark it than both of them coming home late and passing out before another workday!
Harry was gearing up for classes tomorrow, and the start of a new semester meant long hours of preparation for the year's new crop of students. Being a professor wasn't all tweed jackets and grading the occasional paper, but Harry was as comfortable in this town as could be, and he loved his job almost as much as he loved his husband.
His hair was just beginning to go gray at the temples, and his body lacked the wiry intensity he'd possessed at eighteen, but he'd filled out nicely, growing into a fit and handsome man of just a few inches more than average height, with a solid build that hadn't run to flab like so many other men his age did.
As he stepped into the shop that he and Drake had practically built from scratch, the bell above the door jingled pleasantly, and the girl clerking looked up cheerfully and waved. The staff adored Harry, but lived in terror of Drake, who ran a tight ship and took attitude from no one. Harry waved back and headed toward the back office, flowers and card tucked behind his back.
Drake sat at his desk, typing away at the computer, muttering curses about quarterly taxes and new state food handling regulations, but his entire body relaxed when Harry stepped in. He turned his chair around and craned his neck up to meet Harry's kiss.
"You never could wait for me! Mmmmm, roses! You always remember this day. You know that's just one of about a million things I love about you, don't you?"
Harry nodded and slipped the card onto the desk, looking at Drake with renewed awe. Twenty years hadn't done much harm to Drake, either. The babyish softness of his face had been planed into fine strong lines, and even if his clothing choices had sobered a bit with age, his hair was still impeccable, and his ears, nose and eyebrow were still pierced. His tongue, too, and that never failed to make Harry's glands stir to life, even after two decades. He placed his hands gently on Drake's face.
"I know, but how could I forget the best day of my life? I've got reservations for us…you're favorite…northern Italian. We still have an hour and a half yet, though. You almost finished?"
Drake smiled coyly. "Well, I was, but something just came up." He arched an eyebrow and ran a fingertip across Harry's belt.
Harry grinned sheepishly and hurried to close the office door.
The girl at the counter sighed and turned up the music for the store. Those two! Really! You'd have thought they were still in college. Who could figure it? Still, she thought, it was amazing to see anyone together after twenty years these days…and any two people who still felt that way after twenty years, well, they deserved to do whatever the hell they wanted. She pulled her textbook closer, and tried to make sense of Biology, studiously ignoring the occasional squeals and rhythmic bumping from the back office.