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Nature of the Beast	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 48976 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Twenty-Eight—Massage and Melting
            The way that Draco’s hands skimmed over his muscles left Harry not only gasping, but wondering why in the world he had never tried this before. Why not? It seemed so harmless—it wasn’t like he was letting Draco have access to his every thought and plan, or read his mind, or anything—but it was so good. He let his head fall into his hands instead of watching Draco sideways, and moaned.
            Draco was still for a second, hands trembling. Harry hesitated, then smiled. He had been about to ask Draco what was wrong, but he thought he knew.
            “Do that again,” Draco whispered a second later, by his ear. Harry lost the smile in an instant, and arched his back. He wasn’t the only one who could cause a response in someone else, a response that was teasing but that they wanted to be harder.
            “Moan?” Harry whispered. “It’s hard to do unless you start touching me the way you did last time, like th-that. Oh, Merlin.” Because Draco’s hands were back on his shoulders, thumbs digging into the center while the rest of his fingers rubbed a strong, insistent circle. Draco hissed and Harry hissed back, feeling nearly as though he was speaking Parseltongue.
            Maybe Draco would like that, too.
            But it was hard to concentrate on what Draco would like, or even methods that he might use to seduce Draco, because his skin was prickling with gentle itchiness, and he wanted to move back. He wanted those fingers that were smoothing so lightly across his skin to press harder. He didn’t think he would be very coherent, if he asked. He shoved his shoulders back and made a grunting noise.
            Draco paused for a second, and in the tense silence around them, Harry read his fear that he might have done something wrong. Then he chuckled as if to himself, and began smoothing what felt like extra oil into Harry’s skin.
            “You do want more, don’t you?” he whispered. His voice was deep and thick, a croon that had lost some of its sweetness. His wings trembled and vibrated, and Harry could feel the faint, thin wind they generated stirring his hair. “You do?”
            With a start, Harry realized he was supposed to respond, that Draco might not feel at ease until he did so. He nodded violently into his pillow and lifted his head with a little hiss, trying to make his back into a curve that would be irresistible to touch. He knew some people could do that, although he didn’t know if he was one of them.
            Draco chirped, or at least made a noise that sounded a lot like it. Harry tried to open his eyes and sit up, startled a little out of the mood, but Draco pressed down with his fingers and chirped again, and Harry relaxed back with a long sigh, dropping his head onto his hands.
            “I’ll take care of you,” Draco said. He sounded almost delirious with something that was probably pleasure, Harry thought, his skin still prickling with Draco’s touch and the realization that he wanted someone to do what Draco was doing. “Just lie back and put everything in my hands, and I’ll take care of it. Of you. Of everything.”
            Harry frowned into the pillow at that. He wasn’t sure that he wanted someone who would do that. It was the same conflict he had had with Draco before this, about whether he would be responsible for some things. He couldn’t do this if Draco was responsible for everything.
            “It’s only an expression,” Draco whispered, and his voice was still light and teasing, if not as delirious as before. “Let me for right now, and you can rise and take up your burdens again when the massage is done.”
            He sounded as if he was rolling his eyes, and it was that more than anything else which made Harry relax. If he could laugh at himself, then he wasn’t dreaming about submission Harry could never give him.
            More than anything else, Harry wanted honesty between them now. He needed to know what Draco needed, and what he wanted. And he needed Draco to know the same things about himself.
            We can do this. But we have to be careful.
            At least, that was what Harry thought until the fingers dug again into the middle of his back and melted away some of his resistance. Then his head rolled forwards, and he was more than all right with this symbolic surrender.
*
            He’s always thinking. About consequences, and that sort of thing. I suppose that’s what his tenure as a political being has taught him.
            Draco understood, he really did. And he wouldn’t waste the gift of the understanding and the chance that Harry was giving him. But he also wanted to destroy that thinking and scatter Harry’s brain to the far corners of the universe.
            He thought he’d found it when he dug down hard with his hands. He got an incoherent mumble, and when he arched his neck a little so he could look down at Harry’s face around the corner of his temple, he saw—
            He saw what he had to see, Draco thought a little while later. What would give him the strength and courage to go on with trying to seduce Harry and give him freedom at the same time. He needed a reward, and Harry had given him one.
            But that thought came to him later, just like Harry’s thoughts came back later. What Draco saw was Harry’s parted lips and rapidly blinking eyes, and his hands clenching in the sheets of the bed, and his soft exhale of breath that became a rapid Oh.
            “Harry?” Draco whispered, bending over and leaning his lips down towards Harry’s ear. His head was whirling. His wings were beating as slowly and regularly as if he was flying.
            “Yeah?” Harry asked, gasped really, and rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes fully.
            They were blank, glazed. Draco reached out and touched Harry’s cheek. He couldn’t have stopped himself now if he’d known that someone would take his fortune away if he touched Harry. “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “Can I kiss you?” It was amazing, the way he could cling to his self-control enough to ask that instead of just taking. But he remembered the way Harry would feel if Draco didn’t ask, and so the self-control was there.
            “What?” Harry blinked dazedly, and some of the glaze slid away. Then he nodded frantically. “Yeah, you can. Just keep touching me, please.”
            It was a lot harder to massage Harry when he was turned like that so Draco could kiss him at the same time, but Draco managed. His hands were locked on Harry’s shoulders, and he could at least stroke those. And he dug his fingers in and rubbed them back and forth in tiny, tight circles at the same time as he planted his lips on Harry’s, and Harry cried out and lifted his arms to hold Draco.
            Draco was tumbling inside his head, inside his body, so happy he could scarcely move. Only his lips and his hands and his tongue, when Harry’s mouth opened, were alert enough to work. He stroked and soothed and kissed and aroused at the same time, and Harry was wrapping around him like a monkey.
            For a moment, Draco worried that he might have used some of his Veela magic without realizing it, and he was influencing Harry in a way that Harry wouldn’t have liked if he was conscious, but Harry moaned and kicked at his chest, and suddenly Draco was on the bed with him, trying not to crush his wings.
            And after that, it didn’t matter.
*
            Harry didn’t know where this sudden tide of lust had come from, but he liked it.
            It was like burning gold dust that flooded him and brought life he hadn’t known was missing back to his limbs. He wanted to kiss, and kiss, and kiss. And then he wanted to bite, and he bit the first thing he thought of, Draco’s tongue.
            Draco froze. Then he shoved Harry flat, and his wings were breaking free, frantically flapping, above them, and the wind blew Harry’s hair back. It didn’t detach Harry’s mouth from Draco’s, though, which was the only thing Harry cared about.
            It was so good. Harry was coming to regret ever being afraid. Why had he been afraid? There was some pain, maybe, there would be pain when Draco forced his way in, but at the moment, Harry only wanted to shed his trousers and let Draco do whatever he wanted.
            The lust burned, and burned. Harry kissed and bit Draco’s lips in a frenzy, and Draco pulled back, staring at him.
            “What changed your mind so suddenly?” he asked. His voice was hoarse, and the only thing Harry thought about was how beautiful he looked with big eyes and swollen lips and wings that curved and drooped above him like palm fronds.
            “Does it matter?” Harry snapped, and reached up to hook his fingers through Draco’s hair. He pulled him back down, and Draco made a muffled sound and shoved at his chest with both hands held flat. But Harry didn’t have time to listen to his frankly silly concerns. He was kissing, and Draco was the only one who could ease the heat inside him. Harry opened his legs and humped up at him impatiently.
            Draco sprang aside, into the air.
            Harry snarled at him and sat up, snatching at him. Draco darted out of the way and hovered there with his wings making the pillows and sheets and everything else on the bed flutter. Harry glared at him. “You wanted so badly to fuck me and now you’re just letting the chance pass you by?” he demanded.
            “I want you to think about this.” Draco’s voice was long and slow, and Harry wondered why he wasn’t consumed by the same fiery desire that Harry could feel smoldering in his own stomach. Wasn’t this what a Veela bond was supposed to be like? “You changed your mind suddenly. I want to make sure that it wasn’t the result of—of anything I did.”
            “You seduced me,” said Harry, and put on a smile that he hoped was seductive itself. He didn’t think so, though, from the frankly odd stare Draco gave him. Harry snapped his fingers at him. “Come on. Don’t you want to?”
            Draco’s eyes sparked with so much passion that Harry smiled hopefully. “I want to,” Draco said. “But with you in your right mind.”
            “This is my bloody right mind!” Harry flung out his arms out and slumped back on the pillow, glaring. “Bloody Veela.”
            “No, it’s not,” Draco said gently. “I wonder…You got so angry at Maundy, after months of not being angry at all. I think you had to subdue it because you were taking care of me, and I needed you. But I wonder if maybe you would have been exploding with rage if not for that.” He hesitated. “And you held back your lust for the same amount of time, right? I know those rumors about you sleeping with other people are bollocks. So what if this is the same kind of recoil, explosion, of emotions? Not what you want.”
            Harry slammed his head into the pillow. What did Draco want? Harry had thought it was surrender. Fine, Harry had surrendered. He would lie back and let Draco fuck him, because that was what Draco wanted, and right now, also what Harry wanted. He wanted someone inside him, because he felt empty, because it would feel good, because he was lonely. You’d think that Draco would leap to take advantage of the opportunity.
            But, of course not. Of course not. Harry gagged on a flood of bitterness that welled up inside his throat like vomit. No matter what he did, what he said, how he tried to prove himself and what he wanted, Draco always wanted Harry to be something he wasn’t.
            “Fine,” he said. “If you won’t do it, then I’ll just have to do it myself.” And when Draco opened his mouth as if he was going to ask about that, Harry reached down and grasped his own cock.
            Draco stared at him for a second with his mouth open. Harry gave him a faint smile and began stroking. At least he could cause some emotion in Draco besides patronizing concern, then. That was nice to know.
            But it wasn’t enough, or it wasn’t fast enough, to ease the consuming heat racing through his body. Harry got his hand under the cloth and yanked and pulled, but it still wasn’t enough. He groaned and rolled over to rub against the sheets, and that wasn’t enough, either. He swore and drew his wand.
            Draco grabbed his wrist.
            “Will you stop it?” Harry bucked as hard as he could under Draco’s hold. “You wouldn’t do anything about it, so it’s my right to do something. Or are you going to tell me that my cock belongs to you or something and I can’t masturbate?” he added, getting up on his knees so he could get some slack in Draco’s arm, and then flinging himself backwards as hard as he could.
            “I would like it very much if that was true,” Draco said, and moved with him, his wings beating, so that Harry was just lying on his back with Draco hovering over him again, the way he had been before. Harry could see advantages to that, and he tried to arch up so that Draco could do something useful for once in his life, but Draco again hovered out of the way, his eyes uncannily intense. “But it’s not. And I want to know what you’re feeling now.”
            The lust was banking and breaking in Harry like a wave, and he gasped and arched up again. Now it wasn’t even desire. It was just burning, and he rolled away from Draco and rode out the pain in as much silence as he could manage.
            Which wasn’t much. He seemed to have lost the knack of suffering in silence when he ended the magical control over his emotions. Instead he was sobbing brokenly in a minute, and gasping after that, and then the fire seemed to ease back and flood into some deep recess of his limbs where he couldn’t touch it. And Harry was left there weak and clear-headed, not knowing what the fuck had just happened.
            “It was what I thought it was, wasn’t it?” Draco asked a minute later. He was sitting on the bed with his head turned away, one hand tracing random patterns on the quilt. “It was a recoil from what you experienced before. A reaction.”
            Harry tightened his muscles in humiliation and closed his eyes. But Draco was still there, a breathing presence, and frankly, Harry was tired of retreating. That wasn’t the way he had done it when he was in Gryffindor, or on the Horcrux hunt, or any other time when there were responsibilities that he had to fulfill and he felt fully alive. This wasn’t the way he wanted to live his life, either.
            “Yes,” he said at last. “That has to be it. I was frantic, I wanted to fuck, and then—and then it was like it leaked out of me and didn’t come back.”
            Draco grunted quietly, and didn’t say anything for long enough that Harry wondered if he was going to at all. But then he had part of his answer, as he felt Draco’s hand in his hair.
            “You don’t have to be ashamed of it,” Draco said. “It’s amazing that you resisted as much as you did.”
            Harry rolled over so he could stare at Draco. “You had to prevent me from tearing my own cock off. That doesn’t sound like resisting it to me.”
            Draco gave him a gentle, pained smile, and reached out to wind his fingers around Harry’s. “But you didn’t do that. And you didn’t use your magic against me, do you realize that? You could have drawn your wand and flung me across the room—or maybe you could even have turned my foot inside out, the way you did before. But you didn’t.”
            Harry blinked. That was true. As angry as he had been at Draco just a few minutes ago, he hadn’t even thought of that.
            Still… “I don’t know that it was virtue,” he muttered. “After all, I was too lustful to think of anything but satisfying it.”
            Draco picked up his hand and held it to his lips. “Listen to your dominant Veela mate,” he said, in a prissy voice that robbed the words of any chance to sting. “If I say that you were brave and courageous, then you were.”
            Harry leaned back and managed to laugh a little. “All right. I can accept that. It’s easier—easier than to accept what might have happened.”
            Draco nodded. Then he leaned in and looked at Harry, and Harry’s breath caught. This wasn’t really hot, what Draco was doing right now, kneeling beside him and bringing his wings down so that Harry couldn’t see much else, but had to focus on Draco’s face and eyes. It was intimate, though.
            “Listen,” Draco whispered. “I want you to know that I wanted to. I haven’t wanted something so much since I first became your mate. But I’m going to do it when you’re in your right mind and want it, too—not when you can barely think or speak and you’re flopping around on the bed like a landed fish.”
            Harry stared for a minute, then lowered his head and managed to vent his feelings a little with a chuckle. “Not the most attractive description.”
            “Not the most attractive sight,” said Draco, and his hand tightened again.
            After a second, Harry rolled over and leaned his head against Draco’s thigh. Draco breathed in, his wings trembling and rising and falling over Harry, and then settled again and drew Harry tightly against his side. Harry smiled sleepily, and fell into the deep slumber waiting for him.
*
Meechypoo: Both Draco and Harry will have to be more patient, but I think the reward outweighs the pain of that.
CareLessLover: Thank you!
Eros: Harry doesn’t have any Veela blood, so he won’t show Veela traits. But he is capable of being interested in a Veela, as he showed here.
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Nature of the Beast