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Dreamless Sleep

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The Slytherin dormitory is dark at night. A deep green glow is the only source of light once the lamps have been put out. It ripples off the walls and bed curtains with the ebb and flow from the Black Lake reflecting off the algae on the windows.

Blaise shifts under his sheets. He's hot despite the dungeon chill. His cock strains in his pants as he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the thundering snores of his dorm mates and find sleep. His curtain is open on Snape's orders. After Draco was sliced open by Potter several nights back, his Head of House took him aside and requested that he keep an eye on Draco during the night.

Draco's had to take Dreamless Sleep ever since the incident and Blaise can tell Snape's more worried about Draco than he lets on. The poncy brat acts as though he's above everybody else and needs no assistance, but one look at his greying complexion and dark circles under his eyes shows that he's nearing a breaking point. Honestly, Blaise doesn't give a flying fuck. He figures Draco deserves whatever stress he's under, whatever it takes to knock him down a peg and get him to realise he's not God's gift to the wizarding world.

He opens his eyes again, silently cursing the wet spot spreading on the cotton of his pants. If he didn't need to be on babysitting duty, he'd see if Pansy was up for a midnight tryst.

He turns on his side facing Draco's bed. The curtain is pulled back on that side, without Draco's knowledge, again on Snape's orders. After he takes his draught and passes out, Blaise is to subtly watch for signs of overdose or to notify Snape if it wears off faster than usual as Draco builds a tolerance to it.

Draco sleeps nude.

Blaise finds that odd and at the same time he sort of envies Draco's comfort with his own body. Not that Blaise is unattractive. He's gorgeous and he knows it, but despite the loyalty Slytherins have to their own house, he's black, he's different ... and it's an invisible cloud he lives under, always standing a bit apart.

He takes a deep breath and releases it. There's no sense in getting worked up over things he can't change at this time of the night, better to redirect his thoughts.

His eyes wander up the curve Draco's body makes under his sheet, the pale expanse of back revealed from where the sheet bunches around his waist. He's lost weight and muscle too, it looks like. Asshole deserves to suffer a bit. Deep down though, he feels guilty. He doesn't know all of what's eating Draco up, and shouldn't judge him too harshly, but the years and years of watching him strut around like the king of the world makes the feelings hard to bury.

Draco shifts in his sleep, turns onto his back, the sheet slipping so it only covers his right leg, hip and his bits. His face is tucked down, the worried creases smoothed out at last. He looks his own age again. Not so careworn.


He's tried to ignore it. Over the last couple of years there have been occasions he could have taken Draco for a midnight tryst, where Draco had pretty much made it clear that if Blaise offered, he'd accept, but he'd not felt the pull – the attraction, like he does with girls. Until now.

In the dark, in the privacy of his bed, his cock hard and libido surging, the sight of Draco's undress and total submission to sleep has him longing to touch. He wonders if Draco's skin is as soft as it looks, as soft as a girl's. The angry scars on his chest stand out against his pale skin, even in the darkness, but they look like they will fade with time and more Essence of Dittany.

He can't quite reconcile what he wants with what he's doing at this point. Perhaps a test to see if Draco is really in a state a dreamless sleep, to see if a gentle touch will alter his sleep at all. He's just got to do it.

He slips out from under his sheet and settles his bare feet on the cold floor between their beds, gets up and stands above Draco's sleeping form, pausing, listening. There's no change in the sound of snoring coming from the others.

He reaches out and touches Draco's shoulder with the barest brush of his fingers, testing, watching for a change in his expression. Holding his breath, he applies a bit more pressure and strokes his palm down Draco's arm. His palm is hot and Draco's skin is cool. It's soft as satin, silky. His cock throbs and then he holds his breath.

Draco's reacting. His face is changing, lips pulling up at the corners. Blaise releases his breath shakily and tries it again. Running his palm from Draco's shoulder down his arm, watching his face. He hums in his sleep.

Fuck, he's fucked. That sound goes straight to his cock. If he wasn't wearing pants he'd be dripping from his slit onto the floor. He bites his lip and lowers his hand to Draco's sheet covered prick. Bites back his groan.

Yeah. There's definitely a part of him that's gay ... Or maybe it's just the danger.

Draco hums again in his sleep, a contented sound, and reflexively lifts his hips to increase the pressure against Blaise's palm. The sensation of Draco's cock swelling beneath his hand does him in. He shuts his eyes, practically chokes trying not to make a sound, and comes in his pants.


It's night again and Blaise stares up at his bed hangings, listening for the telltale sound of Draco's rhythmic breathing to let him know he's succumbed to the potion.

What the fuck is he doing, getting hard as he pictures Draco's sleeping body, helpless, unguarded? He's been watching Draco more closely lately. He looks miserable, as if he's shouldering a huge burden and not quite coping.

His body's response to Draco at night is entirely inappropriate and wrong, but the wrongness only serves to drive his desire to greater heights.

A bead of sweat slips down the side of his face from his temple. One hand rests up behind his head while the other twiddles with the coarse trail of hair around his navel. His cock strains against the waistband of his pants and he wants so much to touch it, to give it room to breathe, release, but not yet. It's better when he lets himself ramp up his need to come.

Finally ... finally Draco's breathing evens out and Blaise pulls back his curtain with a whispered spell.

He stares down at Draco's sleeping face and then at his body. He's lying on his back, legs straight and one hand rests on his stomach, while the other lies limply at his side.

Blaise straddles his legs, careful not to rest his weight on them and palms his erection through his pants. He glances at the small bulge Draco's cock makes in his bed sheet and Blaise just has to rub against it. He lowers himself over Draco's body, holding himself up with his arms and slowly, ever so slowly drags his cock back over Draco's, biting back the moan in his throat, watching for changes in Draco's breathing or other signs of wakefulness.

There aren't any. He closes his eyes and rocks his hips forward and back over Draco's cock, his heart racing as he feels it start to grow and harden underneath him.

It's not enough. Blaise sits back on his heels. He's got to see what he's doing. He slides the sheet off Draco's hips and stares at his erection. It's not quite as big as Blaise's, but it's hard and the purplish head pokes out from his foreskin, its slit swollen and slick.

Blaise pulls his own cock free of his pants, resting the elastic behind his balls, making them appear tight and full of come. He settles his bollocks on top of Draco's, their cocks lined up together with strings of his precome lubricating them. He grunts softly as he can feel Draco's heart beat through his cock and it only makes him harder.

He pauses when Draco shifts in his sleep, reacting to the stimulation by canting his hips upwards a bit, and stretching his right arm that had been on his stomach up over his head, exposing his armpit.

Blaise salivates at the sight. He seriously sometimes wonders what's wrong with him. Pansy gives him a hard time with his fascination with her armpits and his sometimes requests that she not wash or shave them for a few days so he can get off on it. But this … Draco's armpit is all man. He's slight and not as built as Blaise or the other Slytherins, but he's more angular and defined than the girls and his armpit isn't nearly as thatched as Blaise's, but he's got hair there.

He's in too deep as it is, might as well go all in.

He leans back over Draco, again holding himself on his arms and making sure the only part of him that's touching is his cock dragging up and down over Draco's. He lowers his face into Draco's armpit and inhales deeply. Unfortunately Draco is fastidious about cleanliness and smells of soap, but there's still a hint of his sweet musk clinging to the hair and Blaise breathes it in, unable to stop himself from rubbing it into his face, sucking the hair and licking his pit.

His cock throbs and then he pauses, surprised, as a warm splash hits his cock and the rub is suddenly much slicker. He pulls back a bit and looks down and then can't stop the groan from rising in his throat. Draco fucking came in his sleep.

Blaise looks up, checking his face. He's definitely still asleep, his lips fixed in a smirking smile, relaxed with slumber.

He sits back again on his knees and thighs, watching his cock slide through the mess beside Draco's softening cock. He uses his fingers to add a bit of stimulation to his foreskin, watching the head slip in and out and then he's coming, adding wave after wave of come in thick spurts to the pooling puddle in Draco's navel until it overflows and spills down his sides.

Blaise releases a shuddering breath, wipes his hand through the trail of hair on his own stomach and pulls up his pants. He retrieves his wand and siphons up the come from Draco's body with a whispered, "Tergeo." He doesn't want to wash himself yet. He climbs backwards off the bed and pulls the sheet back over Draco.

The prat will sleep well tonight anyway. Blaise knows how much better he feels sleeping after a good orgasm. He spares one last glance at Draco's sleepy smirk and slips out from behind the curtain.

He crawls back into his own bed, once again assaulted by the sounds of his snoring dorm mates. He brings his musk-scented hand up to his face and breathes it in, allowing it to calm his racing heart. This game he's playing is fucking dangerous, but oh so good.

Sleep finds him quickly.


Blaise is sitting on one of the leather sofas with Pansy on his lap. She's got him all worked up while the rest of the upper years are dancing, playing drinking games, or snogging on the rest of the furniture. It's been a while since Snape has given the go ahead for a party. Blaise thinks he's concerned about how down they've all been after losing at Quidditch. He'd told Snape that Draco seems to be acclimating the the Dreamless Sleep earlier that day. His conscience squirms a bit at the thought of what he might do to Draco the next time he crawls in bed with him. There's no denying to himself that it will happen again.

Pansy hops off his lap, as Daphne signals to her that she needs the loo.

Blaise adjusts his trousers and picks up his bottle of Butterbeer from the table. It's strong. Nott said he'd improved it and Blaise has resigned himself to only one bottle, not trusting that Nott hasn't boosted the alcohol content beyond what's reasonable.

He swallows his mouthful, careful not to choke as Draco flings himself onto the sofa beside him and drops the back of his head into Blaise's lap, his face flushed red and smiling.

It won't do to act overly interested. "Draco, you're pissed," he observes, hoping Draco is so far gone that he won't notice Blaise's hard on.

"Tell me something I don't know," Draco quips back, shutting his eyes contentedly, all the worries he's been carrying lately temporarily vanished.

Blaise snorts softly. "Why don't you go first?"

Draco opens his eyes blearily and cocks an eyebrow, then glances at Blaise's crotch and back up to his face. "You're watching me." It's a statement, not a question.

Blaise takes another draught from his bottle. He maintains his cool and waits for Draco to go on.

"You're watching me all the time lately." He licks his lips, his eyes brighter than usual. "I've got nothing to lose. If you ever want to fuck, ask, and I'll say yes."

Blaise grins despite himself. Draco's so far gone with drink, but there's a sort of underlying truth to his words. Draco's hinted in the past that an advance would be welcome, but never come out and put it so bluntly. As he stares, he thinks about what it would be like to take him up on the offer. Pictures his lithe body, wrapped around him, his face screwed up as he comes, and realises it doesn't appeal. Thinks a moment longer, finishes his drink.

When he looks back down, Draco seems to have moved on to another line of thinking as he's staring at a group of students playing truth or dare. (Nobody ever chooses dare.)

It's a calculated risk, but Blaise can't stop himself from saying the words. His brain is strategising, lining up possible later moves based on how Draco responds. "Maybe when you're sleeping."

Draco's face snaps back to meet his faster than he'd expected considering how drunk he is. He smirks and pulls himself back into a seated position. "Touché. Only in my dreams, right?" He sighs and stands up. "At least my dream self will get a bit of action." He smoothes the wrinkles from his trousers. "Until then." He gives Blaise a flirty wink and a nod and then moves on to join the game.

Holy shit. It's not possible Draco's aware of his designs, is it? Perhaps he is and has just given Blaise permission to continue. Instead of killing his erection as the thought of fucking Draco while he was awake did, the idea that he could potentially fuck him while he sleeps sends his brain spiralling. He doesn't even care about waiting for Pansy to come back. He's got to cool down before he explodes.


He's got to be losing his mind. He lies awake, hard as a rock even though it's hours since the sofa incident. His mind spins. What the fuck am I doing? What is wrong with me? He should get up and see if Pansy is still awake and mad at him. He could salvage that, but ... there's no challenge there. Fucking her doesn't send his heart pumping in a mad frenzy like the idea of ... He tries not to let the idea form fully, but it's a lost cause and he knows it.

He gives in. He can hear Draco's soft snores from the extra strong Dreamless Sleep and all the alcohol he'd consumed on top of it.

Their dorm mates are all crashed on their beds. Blaise slips out of his bed in his pants and behind Draco's curtains. He crawls into bed with Draco where he sleeps on his side, barely covered by his sheet and throws an Imperturbable Charm on the curtain.

Blaise slips his pants off and fits himself behind Draco, pulling him into a spooning position. He's out cold, but his body is putting off so much heat it's like a furnace. The sensation of bare skin to bare skin, cool and dry and warm and slick is divine. It's only going to get hotter.

He runs his hands along Draco's chest, up to his neck, down to his waist and hips and then fits his cock between Draco's thighs. A whispered lube spell eases the glide. He reassures himself that he's not taking it too far. He's got no intention of fucking Draco up the arse, but shit … the snug fit of his cock sliding between Draco's thighs and up along the cleft of his arse, then pushing forward, bumping Draco's bollocks … this could get addictive quickly. He teases the tip of Draco's cock as it fills in his palm and brings the drops of precome up to his lips, tasting him and getting off on the flavour, the smell of Draco's musk. He hasn't showered before bed tonight and Blaise eats it up.

His cock is so hard and leaking, he's not going to last long. He holds onto Draco's chest with his right arm tucked up under his sleeping body and fits his fingers in a ring around the head of Draco's cock, feeling the foreskin slip back and forth as he jerks him in rhythm with his thrusts. Draco's thighs are tight, not as tight as his hole must be, but Blaise pushes that thought to the back of his head. He tells himself he's not going there, but deep down, he knows he's royally fucked up and likely will eventually.

He presses kisses to the back of Draco's neck and behind his ear, loving the sounds of Draco's gentle sleeping huffs as his body responds.

Blaise licks the line of Draco's jaw, exhilarating in the roughness of his unshaven skin on his tongue and then his hand is covered in wet warmth and he spills his own come between Draco's thighs, bumping his sac and letting himself go.


As he lies back on his pillow in his own bed, luxuriating in the scent of come and musk on his body he wonders how far this game he's playing will go before it crashes and burns.

One more glance at Draco's sleeping body under his sheet, all cleaned up and tucked away again, as if nothing has happened makes him realise it really doesn't matter. It's fucking worth it.