Actions

Work Header

Mirror, Mirror.

Work Text:

The light played softly at the corners of the pane, not bright enough to light the room beyond, but just enough to emit an eerie silver glow about its periphery. Draco stepped close, knowing that the writhing bodies on the couch beyond the glass could no more see past the one way mirror than he had been able to when he'd been out on the dance floor, yet somehow every of his skin was alive with nervous trembling that they would look up and see him standing there, watching.

He rested a shuddering palm against the glass and shivered as the cold seeped through, staining his skin with its detached silver stare as though granting him leave to watch his fill via it's wide unblinking eye. His body was taut with fire within but he felt chilled, each hair upon him standing tall and waving in ecstasy at the sight before him. He watched, his breath catching in his throat as the brunet again sank down upon the blond's rigid prick, red lips slick with spit and precome, cheeks hollow with fervour, eyes wide with adoration fixed on his squirming lover’s face, blue eyes locked on brown.

'Wrong, wrong, wrong', his father’s voice taunted him from within. ‘It’s unnatural, it’s sick, watching them is as bad as doing it, wanting it, and you don't want it do you, Draco', the voice sneered as arousal scorched up and down his spine, 'you don't really want to 'do' that, do you?'

Both hands on the glass now, oddly hoping that somehow his palms would burn through and the two would see him, would fuck each other close and careful, knowing he was watching, loving each other for his eyes alone…

"Well, I guess breaking and entering wasn't enough, Malfoy. You had to add voyeurism to it, huh?"

He didn't bother to turn. Potter had been stalking, glaring and scowling at him ever since they'd spotted each other with mutual shock across the crowded bar. "Go away,” he said softly, too softly most likely, his own heartbeat nearly drowned out by the pounding rhythm of the club without.

"What are you even 'doing' in here, Malfoy? That door was locked for a reason."

Careful footfalls up close behind him, steady but careful. Potter's eyes had obviously not improved over the years, but then, Draco realised duly, his own gaze still locked upon the saliva drenched flesh gliding back and forth before him, Potter hadn't appeared to be wearing his glasses.

"It's a VIP room, Potter. It's not precisely what I'm used to, but it'll do." He bit his lip as the couple on the sofa beyond the mirror moaned and twisted against each other, the clubs secluded shadowy corners seemingly perfect for interludes just as this, but only this pair had interested him. "It'll do," he whispered again, eyes locked on the twisting forms, one cock sliding in an eager fist, the other dripping now as it plunged deep past those rosy lips.

A soft rustle of fabric behind him piqued his curiosity enough to lift a brow, glancing back to see Potter a bare step behind him, arms folding across his chest as he also closely observed the intimacy so openly laid out before them. "Do you think they know someone's watching?"

Draco laughed humourlessly, jealousy etched in every breath he took between dry chuckles, "Potter, they see only each other, but then maybe you can't tell without your bloody spectacles." He turned back to the display with a gentle shudder. “You don't see them,” he sighed.

"I see them just fine, Malfoy. I’ve got contacts in. What I 'don't' see is how you of all people came to be here, dancing, drinking and apparently watching people get off, in a muggle gay bar."

"No," Draco sneered gently, turning, hands resting on the lip off the mirror’s sill behind him as he faced his former childhood nemesis, " I don't suppose you 'would' understand, would you, Boy-hero?"

Harry rolled his eyes, momentarily distracting Draco as he noted the dim lights of the strobes beyond the glass turned the room black, the colour sapped by darkness, Potter's eyes black in a face of white and grey, hair like shadow partially hanging in his face. "Oh yes, let's dig all that up again, shall we? Let's, for a moment, ignore the fact that I was merely surprised to find the pureblood icon in a muggle bar, and a gay bar to boot, considering it’s a well known fact he's engaged to his schoolmate sweetheart, the estimable Ms. Parkinson, and focus on your inability to get past your complex concerning my ridiculous bloody tabloid nicknames."

The music throbbed and pounded, the glass shivering with each beat as Draco leaned more fully against it, the odd copper taste of blood in his mouth as he took in Potter's attire, black top, black trousers, all black it seemed, not that he could see otherwise in this light, but somehow the man before him seemed a world away from the boy he'd hated.

"We broke up." The words were out of him before he could prevent them.

"I'm sorry." Potter's cool tone and lifted brow implied surprise but not sympathy, Draco realised, and he welcomed the lack of gushing platitudes, eyes fixed on the unearthly gleam of the lights reflecting off the pallor of Potter's skin, the flesh about his throat.

"Don't be, we were hardly well suited."

"Oh?" Draco felt a chill ripple through him as Potter's eyes fell and held on the writhings beyond the glass once more and was it just his imagination or did his breath catch, just there, just like…

"No. No, we… wanted… different things."

Black eyes back on him, black with darkness or black from something else?

"Like, she wanted marriage and babies, whereas you wanted…?" A square palm waved slowly at the window, gesturing casually towards the now peaking couple.

"Yes,” Draco hissed, hating how bare he felt in the grey half-light, the black and white of this odd encounter with the object of his former hatred, turning his back to gaze fixedly out into the club. "I wanted."

"What did you want, Malfoy?"

Soft words, spoken just behind the tender flesh of his earlobe, a heavy palm just grazing at his hip.

"That?" A nod, just outside the periphery of his vision towards the couple beyond, semen currently trickling thickly down over the brunet's jaw and Draco shivered violently, whispering 'No' in a harsh burst even as he nodded fervently.

"You wanted to fuck men?" The words, heavy and hot against his nape as the hand trailed from his hip to lower belly, tapered fingers smoothing circles over the delicate ivory silk and Draco shook his head silently, eyes smarting as he remained unblinking in his perusal of the come-stained mouth now licked clean before them.

"No?" Draco swallowed a sob of startled distress as the hand on his stomach stilled then pressed down hard, fingers stretched proprietarily over the taut abdominal muscles, a hot, soft mouth pressed tight to his ear, "Malfoy… Did you want to 'be' fucked?"

His hands pressed down tight against the mirror’s ledge and Draco imagined he could feel every separation in the fibre of the wood, every scratch and detail as he flexed and gulped, blood rushing in his ears, his nod so swift that it was barely perceptible.

"Malfoy," the word was an abomination, a caress, a curse, an endearment pressed tight against the flesh of his throat as Potter dipped his head, brow pushing, nudging at his temple as he spoke words that stung and shook against his skin, "Do you want…'me'… to fuck you?"

Tears burned Draco's eyes, squeezed shut in horror and relief. "Yes," he whispered, legs weak, sagging back into the dark with the Gryffindor's arms already bracing him, “Please.”

The hand resting heavily on his belly pressed down a moment, sliding to grasp his hip, spinning him as though he were paper light, the other palm lifting to cup him at the base of his skull, thumb roughly pushed into the silken tresses as Potter squarely met his gaze, his eyes, hair and shadows black, mouth oddly blood red in the mirror’s light.

"Do you know what you're asking for?" The words were blunt, almost patronising and impatiently uttered, eyes roaming Draco's face for signs of aversion or reluctance.

"Why did you come here?" The question floated from Draco's mouth without permit, breathy and wondering and entirely lacking the control he so needed, wanted to display.

A dark brow lifted, "I followed you. You knew I would."

Draco closed his eyes on a rising surge of humiliation, "If I had known that, I wouldn’t have asked, Potter, I… Why? Why did you follow me?"

Hot breath gusted by his ear once more, hairs prickling along his arms as the fingers at his nape flexed and tightened. "I was curious… Draco Malfoy in a gay muggle sex club looking desperately lost and completely unspoiled. What would you have done in my place? " The hand on his hip slid up to smooth over his chest before resting heavily on his shoulder. “Besides," the hoarse mutter in his ear continued, "You wanted me to follow you, that's why you left the door open, why I'm here with you now. All that's left is to find out what it is you 'really' want."

Draco's hands, perfect porcelain, manicured and so far lifeless at his side, abruptly found motion and purpose, resting, pressed palms flat against Potter's abdomen, even before he'd finished speaking, grey eyes halfway open at Harry's sudden stilted breath.

"I want,” he murmured absolutely, breathless still and quaking with shame as his memory flashed and filled with the glide of erect cock over lips and tongue, fingers scraping down to pull gently but urgently at Potter's fly, a fuse now burning fast that he hadn't recalled being lit until now. Even as the zipper slid home, hand delving inwards, grasping needfully, he was on his knees, squeaking suddenly as the hand at his nape shot into his locks to pull cruelly, fingers twisted harshly in the golden strands.

"You didn't bring me in here to suck me." The words were blurred with the throb echoed by the hard flesh in Draco's palm, still hotly confined within the blackness of Potter's trousers, unseen and yet so present that Draco swore he felt his pulse jump and halt to match its beat to his.

His tongue felt thick and useless in his mouth; he wanted to tell Potter he hadn't brought him in there at all, that he'd rather die than suck him, but gods how his mouth already watered, the shadows now around him as he knelt giving him a burst of need that had seemed too bare, too raw up in the light. Potter's cock was heavy and radiating heat, his fingers curled about it, tongue aching for it, but what hurt more, stung so hard it made Draco's eyes water was the truth, the total truth of the brunet’s words. Every glance back to see if Potter was behind him, the shiver of fear edged with arousal as he'd broken into the room, each throb of his restricted erection as he'd watched the two outside the window, waiting, waiting for Potter, now testament to his awful, dreadful need.

He wanted. Oh god he wanted…

Slowly he drew his hand out from within Potter's trousers, fingers still treasuring their prize, Potter's eyes closing briefly as the cool air struck his erection even as his brows drew together in consternation and Draco shook.

"Just a taste,” he whispered and, letting his eyes drift shut with what felt entirely too close to reverence, he let his mouth open over just the head, tongue darting out to smooth experimentally over the frantically beating vein as his mouth slid down just low enough to be full, tears building behind his tightly shut lids at the overwhelming burst of satisfaction that came from having Harry Potter in his mouth. He drew his cheeks in tight, liking the wet, sucking noise it produced when he pulled back for breath, liking more the hot, moist glide of Potter's hard flesh over his lower lip, but as he tried opening his mouth that fraction wider to try to take more in, a shaking but firm hand insinuated itself about the soft flesh of his mouth, Potter's thumb digging softly into his jaw as his index finger pushed bruisingly against the cheek already hollow on his cock.

"No more," Potter's voice was guttural and violent, hands both pushing and pulling Draco from his length before dragging him roughly to his feet, "No more."

Potter's mouth was on him then, no gentle kisses or deep, thrashing duels between tongues. The Gryffindor tilted Draco's head and positively sank his teeth into his neck, mouth hot and possessive on his tender flesh. Harry's arms wrapped around him in a way he could not have dreamed of, twisting to crush him against his body but making Draco feel so safe, so cherished and protected as his mouth moved, biting and marking him up and down his previously pale throat, that shudders coursed throughout him at the freedom of being so utterly conquered.

Harry reared back, teeth bared and what seemed like anger burning in his eyes before lunging to tear Draco's shirt upwards and off of him, buttons clattering near noiselessly to the ground as the brunet’s growl of satisfaction drowned out everything but the blood pounding in Draco's ears as he dove back in to sear the newly exposed skin with his mouth.

“God,” he muttered in what should have seemed like disgust but transported to an almost terrifying greed as his mouth dragged hotly down the skin of Draco’s sternum, “God, how are you so perfect, so fucking sweet and pale when I know you’re not, you’re not…” His tongue laved a taut nipple suddenly before resolutely sucking hard against the peak and Draco whimpered, surprised when the brunet abruptly straightened. “Did I hurt you, was that too much, too hard?” Harry murmured with concern in his eyes and tone.

“No,” Draco muttered, eyes sweeping down to Potter’s cock, still shining with his spit, then back up to the dark eyes, gleaming with desire for ‘him’, and coming to rest on the damp lips he so badly yearned to feel on him. “No, it’s good, it’s good, but ‘this’,” he wrapped his arms round Harry's shoulders and dragged him forward so the hot length of his erection pushed stickily against the planes of Draco’s stomach, “is ‘so’ much better.”

Potter’s heartfelt groan suggested he agreed, his hands latching suddenly onto Draco’s backside, clenching his fingers against the gloriously plump flesh, thrusting his hips to let the tip slip back and forth through the fine line of blond hair leading down from Draco’s navel. The rough timbre of the moans echoing in Harry's throat released a so far unrealised captive craving in Draco’s gut for contact, a desperate raging need to press his skin on Potter’s, feel that rub of flesh from head to toe.

He jerked back from the Gryffindor’s enthusiastic embrace as far as the brunet’s eagerly gripping palms would allow, to jerk frantically at his own buckle and zipper with one hand, yanking frustratedly at the hip of Harry's lowered trousers in a futile attempt to further remove them.

A low chuckle coupled with a strongly pressed caress against his rear had Draco arching back, his task forgotten momentarily as the sensation of Potter’s fingers imbedding themselves in his flesh distracted him, only the shock of chill air prickling his skin bringing him out of his pleasure haze long enough to notice his trousers and underwear pulled down to his ankles, Potter pushing his own down and away, toeing out of shoes and bunched up fabric till he stood, absurd almost, in nothing but his socks, proud erection bobbing impatiently against his belly.

“Well?” Harry's amused voice broke through Draco’s fixed perusal of the bounty now bared before him and the Slytherin blushed when he realised his own trousers were still knotted above his boots, stubbornly obstructing the path of their desire. Trying to not look as discomfited as he suddenly felt, he crouched, pulling off his shoes, socks and trousers before standing, shivering with near humiliation under Potter’s darkly watchful gaze.

Beautiful.” He nearly missed it, staring at his feet past the throbbing insistence at his groin, but somehow the whispered word crept past the blushing pounding of shame in his ears, eyes lifting, stunned, to meet the ardent fire burning through the monochrome light.

Harry’s trembling fingertips skated down over the pristine pallor of Draco’s abdomen. The blond’s breath hitched, followed by a by a swift tongue over suddenly dry lips as those same fingers brushed vaguely at the weeping tip of Draco’s cock and oddly, under that awed and absorbed touch, Draco ‘felt’ beautiful.

Slowly, too slow almost for Draco to bear, Harry fell to his knees, letting his mouth follow the path his hand had taken, nuzzling deep, exhaling hot, moist air over the tender orbs beneath a smattering of surprisingly dark blond hair, his hand slipping up to firmly grip Draco’s shaft, squeezing it roughly as it jerked and spasmed in his palm. “No,” he said sternly, letting his tongue quickly lap the steady stream of precome from the tip, “Not yet.”

Draco whined softly. After a few maddening moments more of butterfly kisses along the length of his cock and Draco’s consistent murmuring cries, Harry pressed his face against the blond’s belly, groaning as a persistent twitch smeared precome along the underside of his jaw.

“How long?” he muttered thickly, words blurred against Draco’s skin.

“How… long... what?” Draco uttered breathlessly, peering to see past the black locks to that mouth upon his body.

“How long have you wanted… this?”

Draco swallowed, trying to restore moisture to a mouth now so suddenly dry he fancied he'd never speak again in Potter's presence, "I uhhh…" He took a harsh indrawn breath, air whistling over his teeth as Harry's tongue mapped some sort of mark upon his skin, " I… saw… that paper, the one with… ahhh… those pictures."

He risked a glance downwards, saw the slow smile so close to his swiftly overheating skin, watched the fire burning in those eyes rage yet higher as Harry slowly rose from his knees, never breaking eye contact till he abruptly turned his head to press that tortuous mouth against his ear.

"So tell me, Malfoy. Tell me what you saw in those pictures that made you so…" He squeezed his hands tight on Draco's rear, drawing a strangled yelp from him, "…curious? Hmm?"

"You were… ahhh, you were fucking someone… a man, on… on the hood of a, a muggle car…"

"Did you see 'who' it was I was 'fucking', Draco?" A tongue-tip pressed swiftly in and out of the hollow of his ear, a crude yet gentle mimicry of his actions in said photographs.

"Z, Z, Blaise! Blaise Zabini!" Draco managed to grate out harshly, trying to push his hips both away and into the caress upon his buttocks, against those fingers that now slid slowly between, searching, stroking, but barely, just barely, touching where he craved it most.

"And 'who' precisely is Zabini?" Harry purred, deliberately circling a rough fingertip before pulling back to squeeze bruisingly against the warm globes of Draco's rear, then tracking blunt fingernails up his inner thigh, smirking when Draco's eyes rolled backwards in his head. "Who is he, Malfoy?"

"A Slytherin?"

"Close, Draco." Harry pressed his balled up fist against him, scraping the knuckles back and forth across Draco's sinfully tight opening, "Try a little closer, hmm?"

Draco couldn’t breathe, Harry's cock was smearing precome copiously against his belly and his fingers were close, so close to breaching him if only he could think, just 'think'…

"M, My friend! Blaise is, was… My friend?"

He felt Harry smile against his ear, heard the whispered 'lubricus' before a slick, warm digit pressed tight against his hole. “Good boy,” Harry breathed, moving round to slowly lick his way up his jawline, "Now, why would that be important to me?"

"I, I don't know.” Desperation edged Draco's voice, the promise of a blunt edged digit inside him too much of a distraction for clear headed thought.

Harry ducked his head to press hot kisses to Draco's tightly shut eyelids, murmuring soothing words of seeming nonsense as he pressed that one digit into him, knowing that while the sensation should not be painful, it was certainly very new and the raw emotions the action caused could be more than disorienting.

"I'll tell you then, shall I?" he breathed against Draco's scrunched lashes, enjoying the slow glide of his finger in and out of the blond's tight hole as Draco's breath caught in gasps and stuttered noises of impatient longing and approval as Harry gently teased the taut ring with a second fingertip.

"Dear, sweet little Blaise, your friend, your follower, your greatest fan. For years he parroted your every word as though it were the gospel truth and maybe even Voldemort wouldn't have been able to convince him otherwise. He adores you, he emulates you, he even 'smirks' like you do… All of this, of course, was nothing more than a delightful bonus. What 'truly' drew me to him was a matter of chance, fate stepping me in where I would once have walked away, guiding me, instead, to watch and listen."

The second finger thrust in and twisted, catching on something that had pleasure scrunching in his gut and tendrils of 'something' curling throughout Draco's body, his breath leaving him in a series of staccato sobbing sounds and Harry groaned deep in his throat, twisting Draco's head up to bruisingly seize his mouth.

The fingers twisted and speared into him and out again, the third already threatening, probing gently for space as Draco whimpered and surged against Harry's chest, urgently needing breath but so much more 'wanting' to die this way, moaning in distress as those hot, possessing lips tore themselves up and away.

"I watched him, watched your little whore friend taking it in a club just like this, crying out like a bitch in heat throughout and I wondered just how such a reserved, uptight little prick could be so wild when he was horny. I was about to walk away and then he was coming, started making these noises, these tiny little sobbed noises that sounded, god, just like he was in pain, so much pain but his agony was both his and my pleasure. He got to come like a freight train, twice I might add, and I got a forceful reminder of a turning point in my life."

The third was in and Draco was pushing himself to the balls of his feet, face turning into Harry's throat and whining disconsolately and slavering very gently at the hot skin beneath his mouth.

"He sounds just like you when he comes you know." Harry's voice was almost conversational as he twisted the third finger over and around that new source of stomach rippling pleasure, "I can't tell you just how good it was to close my eyes and pretend it was you screaming with my cock inside you, remembering just how good you looked, that first day I realised I was gay, the day I found myself watching you, fisting my dick so hard I actually hurt myself and biting clear through my sodding lip so you wouldn't hear me, wouldn't see me watching you jacking off in the Quidditch showers."

Draco wanted to cry, scream even, anything to break the tension, shatter the awful knowledge that Harry had wanted him for so long, so long and Draco had never known, never been able to do a damn thing about it. Until now.

“You… you watched… me?”

“Yes, and then when I was deep, as deep as I could get inside your ‘friend’, I closed my eyes and listened to those little noises and I could see you, back arched, fingers tight on your dick and god, I could ‘see’ myself inside you.”

Draco pushed himself hard back against those intrusive and yet so not ‘enough’ digits, lifting his head to look up into eyes still dark with want, green banished by desire, his own eyes dull from shallow, gasped breath and the deep aching in his bones. “Harry,” he whispered, knowing somehow the brunet would hear him, words or no, “Be inside me ‘now’… please.”

A gleam seem to run the periphery of Potter’s predatory gaze, a final stab of his fingers inside Draco making him melt before they unceremoniously pulled free and an agile forearm speared beneath one thigh, spreading him even as the other arm hoisted him up, his back pressed tight to the frigid glass behind him, legs wrapping tight about Harry's waist.

“Is this why you came here? Is this why you’ve been coming here each night, Malfoy?”

Harry's hard, unrelenting mouth prevented reply briefly, stripping away any protective layers, any idea Draco may have ever had of keeping his motives and actions to himself.

“Told you were here, would be here, told you come here, pick muggles up and, and fuck them,” he panted, trying and failing to keep the mingled jealousy and triumph from his voice.

He’d come here for Harry Potter, and now he had him.

Harry pulled back slightly, a wonderful expression of shock and delight overriding the desire for the barest moment. “You’re here because of ‘me’, just…me?” he whispered, semi-incredulous.

“Just you,” Draco confirmed, licking a quick swipe over Harry's lower lip and swivelling his hips lightly in an effort to bring Harry's slick head into greater contact with him. “A Malfoy has the best, Potter, and if I ‘must’ be gay, and it appears I must, then I must have the best… and that means ‘you’, Harry. I always wanted ‘you’, for a friend, an enemy and now… for ‘me’.”

“And if I ‘didn’t’ want you?” Harry's tone was tight with suppressed amusement and something close to wariness, irritation and… disappointment? Draco lifted a hand from bracing himself on Potter’s shoulders to trail shaking fingers through the silken wave of ebony nearly falling over Harry's gleaming and oddly defeated gaze.

“But you ‘did', Harry, you followed me, walked right after me in here and proceeded to make almost every fantasy I’ve had come true.”

Harry's jaw clenched, and Draco leaned in to mutter hotly against his mouth “Thank Merlin you did, Potter. Malfoys just don’t ‘do’ unrequited…”

And somehow Potter knew, felt how much he really meant it because his tongue was pushing in, stroking over Draco’s teeth and sucking all the breath from his lungs on a heartfelt moan and suddenly there were firm hands gripping and separating his cheeks as Harry hauled him closer to his aching prick tip.

“Just as well, Malfoy, because, oddly enough just a moment or so ago I made a decision,” he was against him, pushing so gently, the snub tip just resting in the slight indent, twitching rhythmically with his frantically beating pulse. “I’ve decided that ‘I’ don’t do one night stands anymore… that a problem, for you, at all?”

Draco whined, glaring as he pushed back and downwards, desperately trying to impale himself on that rigid heat, “Not a problem, Harry, ‘really’, but please, please could you…?”

Harry smiled then, bright and feral, triumph evident as his skin flushed and he let his lips trail a blaze of heat across Draco’s cheekbone to whisper fiercely in his ear, “Please ‘what’, Draco?”

“Please, Harry… fuck me…please.”

And then Harry's mouth was on his, tongue plunging deep and stealing the resounding groan from between his lips as his cock pushed in, thick and hot, stretching him so wide and so full that it was almost too much effort to even breathe in its wake.

They held there for a beat, kissing furiously, panting and sweating as Harry seemed to throb and expand with every second he was inside Draco and suddenly the cool glass behind him was a blessing against his overheated skin and he had to see him, dragging himself backwards off of Harry’s mouth to look deep into his eyes.

“You, you ok?” Harry mumbled, licking lips that were already glistening in the lights flickering in the room beyond, eyes briefly scanning back and forth over Draco’s face, grinning at the Slytherin’s slow smile and nod, leaning back to pull out just slightly before sliding back in and seizing Draco’s mouth again in one fluid motion.

“MMmc yhsss!” Draco’s spine seemed to arc of its own accord, his head falling backwards against the glass with a thump, Harry retreating and slamming home again in sharp, jabbing thrusts as he dipped his head to suck hard at the bared, curved expanse of throat before him. “FUCK yes,” he cried again, oddly thrilled as the slick sound of Harry sliding into him again and again echoed in the darkened room, “Fuck yes…”

There was an odd sort of burning, starting low in his belly and working its way up his spine and each jerk of powerful hips into his seemed to make it harder to writhe, harder to push back, harder to stop the tiny, gasped noises seemingly flowing past his lips.

“Yes…” Harry hissed, biting up and down over his collar bone, cock suddenly ramming in deeper, rougher as the arms and clutching fingers securing Draco at his waist suddenly dug in bruisingly, teeth and lips and tongue suddenly clashing with Draco’s own. “That’s it, that’s the sound… ah god, Draco, watching you fuck your fist that day, so wet and slippery and… GOD…” The harsh, nearly hurt cries from Draco’s throat seemed to double as Harry hitched him forward enough to let his cock slip and slide between their sweat drenched bellies.

“God…. God I wish they could see you through this glass,” Harry groaned as Draco pushed his face into the damp crook of his neck, mouthing wetly and whimpering as they thrust and thrashed against each other, “Watch you fucking writhing on my dick, let them watch you like you were watching them and gods just wanting you so much cos you’re the hottest fuck here, the best… God, gods, Draco… the only one, the only one…”

And then he was crushing Draco back against the glass, hands suddenly moving, one to brace them against the glass as he suddenly pushed in deep and kept his body close, circling round and round and stretching Draco’s ass wide with each roll of his hips, his other hand reaching up between them to stroke and pull franticly at Draco’s dripping length, mouth sealing over the desperate wail that immediately issued forth at his touch.

Their hips collided and ground and thrashed against each other, Harry's hand, slick with sweat and pre-come, a virtual blur between them as Draco did his best to suck the life from the Gryffindor’s lungs. The mirror behind them started to flex minutely in time with their mounting pleasure and one of the two sated lovers without frowned suddenly as a ripple seemed to pass over the polished surface.

Harry's cock was battering its way in circles deep in Draco’s ass, his breath a damp, staccato stutter over Draco’s face as he rained kisses down across his fevered skin, Draco’s mouth forming a perfect deep red ‘O’ of almost surprise as his orgasm approached.

“Oh, god... Harry… please… YES…” And his muscles betrayed him then, spasming and locking and stretching somehow to accommodate the pleasure rocketing throughout his body, igniting his nerve endings to riot as he clenched and seized upon Harry's prick. Sobbing, as his cock sputtered and streams of come erupted over Harry's fingers, Draco tore his hands away from the brunet’s shoulders to fist tightly into the silky ink black locks, dragging Harry's parted and gasping red lips over his own, deliberately clenching and pushing down against him as the Gryffindor gasped and spilled into his willing hole.

Locking thighs that trembled now beneath their joint weight, Harry pulled his mouth from Draco’s with a needy gasp, nuzzling into the damp hollow of the blond’s throat as he tried to draw in as much oxygen as he could before lifting his unfocused gaze to look directly into heavy lidded, triumphant grey.

“Mmmm,” Draco purred, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against Harry's, “that was just… perfect.”

Harry grinned, lopsidedly, “Is this what you hoped for? What you wanted, coming here tonight?”

Draco’s eyes gleamed and he let soft lips drag gently over Harry's. “It’s everything I wanted,” he whispered and felt a shiver pass through the former hero, mouths fusing urgently once more till a startled gasp from the doorway shattered their haven.

“Oh. My. God.” Draco tore his mouth free, eyes fixed in horror over Harry's shoulder as his previously enjoyed couple from the other side of the mirror gaped back at him.

“I… we…” Draco began, blushing as he realised the enormity of their situation, the fact of their nudity and obvious positions, now struggling slightly in Harry's grasp as the Gryffindor turned to look back over his shoulder.

“Hi,” Harry called with a cheery grin, “I know this must seem odd but we were watching and you guys, you were ‘so hot’… well…” He let them watch his eyes slide over Draco adoringly, “We just had to have each other. There and then.”

Draco trembled and felt Harry's arms tighten about him, a warmth suffusing near every part of him. “There and then…” he echoed before blushingly glancing back at the lovers by the door.

“Sorry for ummm… ‘Watching’…” he began and was suddenly aware of their admiring eyes upon both him and Harry.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” the blond said as the blond as he caressed the brunet at his side, eyes flickering back to their couch outside the glass as his lover pressed himself firmly into his grasp, “It was our pleasure.”

“Literally,” added the brunet with a lascivious wink, before pulling away and dragging his lover by the hand, backing through the door with a jaunty wave. “Have fun… and feel free to pick up where you left off, I know we will.” And then the door shut smartly behind them and mere moments passed between their exit and their sudden dash back into the club, flinging themselves back upon their couch with smug looks thrown towards the other couples moving towards their spot, each smiling up towards the mirror before falling hungrily into each other’s arms.

Harry had set Draco down as the two had bolted and he turned now to press himself back against the glass, watching as they instantly began their impassioned worship of each other’s body. He placed his palms against the still cool glass and sighed as Harry nuzzled his nape, hands tracing intricate patterns over Draco’s torso, Harry's cock reawakening to press insistently against the warm curves of Draco’s bottom.

“Do you think they’ll tell anyone?” Draco murmured breathlessly, letting Harry's wicked fingers part his thighs to let his hot cock-head brush against his still gaping entrance, pushing his hips back and mewling gently as Quidditch callused fingers stroked him back to full tumescence.

“Maybe,” Harry purred against his ear, now sliding fingers up into Draco’s hair to tilt his head back, lips moving on Draco’s own as he spoke gently, caressingly, “Would you care?”

“But if they… they … tell?” Draco gasped, arms winding back to secure himself to Harry, whimpering as Harry's mouth retreated far enough to smirk as he eased just the tip of his prick inside him.

He settled his still smiling mouth back against the now keening blond’s. “It won’t matter,” he promised, sliding fully home as Draco sighed in utter satisfaction, “After all, it ‘is’ my club.”

Fin.