Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Broken Dreams	By : Queenie_Mab Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3557 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from Harry Potter, created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Raincoast. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
~***~

They arrive at the steps of Potter's house after goodness knows how long. Draco is drunk and can't be bothered to keep up with something so mundane as the passage of time.

Draco stumbles up the narrow front steps, behind Potter, bumping his face into Potter's arse when Potter stops to put the key in the lock.

They dissolve into fits of drunken giggles, and Draco knows he's being entirely undignified, but it hardly matters, because Potter is acting just as stupid.

"Welcome," Potter says as they cross the threshold into a dreary hallway. The wallpaper is new, but entirely clashes with the style of the house, and the low light from the oil lamps on the wall leaves most of the hall in shadow, making it feel smaller than it actually is. "Um, I'm still working on making it suitable to live in, but it works for me, I guess."

Draco looks back as Potter swims into focus. Potter is blushing, and it's adorable. No. Draco tries to stamp the thought of adorable out of his mind, until another wave of warmth from the alcohol fuelling his blood tells him that it doesn't fucking matter if Potter is adorable. Potter's eyes are on Draco, though not meeting his, and Draco takes the opportunity to look at Potter's features closer up.

His eyelashes are long; so long, in fact, they've left greasy streaks on the inside of his eyeglass lenses. His lips aren't full exactly, but they aren't thin like Draco's either. They look kissable, especially when Potter wets them with his tongue, like he's doing right now.

"What—" Potter stammers, and Draco realises just how close he's standing. Barely an inch separates them.

The next thing to do would be to kiss the lips that tantalise him, Draco's mind supplies, and so he does.

He leans in to press his lips to Potter's, feeling the soft give of flesh open up to his, and the startled huff of air that he steals from Potter's mouth. The kiss starts slow and cautious, as if Potter isn't sure of what he's doing or why, but Draco's feeling his entire body heating up, and he darts his tongue into Potter's mouth, tasting of whiskey and a hint of mint. Potter's toothpaste, he supposes.

Draco closes the distance between their bodies, backing Potter against the wall, and pushing a leg between Potter's thighs. His hands explore Potter's body through his clothes, up into Potter's hair, softer than Draco had expected it to feel, and then Potter's lips close and tighten. He turns his head to the side.

"Wait, Malfoy."

Draco groans his frustration at hearing those words, and buries his face into the crook between Potter's neck and shoulders. "No…" Draco murmurs. "Don't… Please, don't tell me to stop."

"I'm not," Potter says, and Draco looks up, encouraged by the hungry keen in Potter's throat. "It's just that something is poking me in the back and it hurts."

"Oh!" Draco says, stepping back, or rather stumbling. Potter follows him all the way to the floor where they land in a graceless pile.

Potter laughs, pushing himself up and shrugging out of his coat. The whiskey bottle thuds against the floorboards, still in his pocket.

Draco scrambles to his feet after Potter, and before he realises it, Potter's kissing him again. They're kissing and walking, mouths moving and meeting, bodies bumping and grinding, and somehow Potter manages to guide them into the front room where they land gracelessly again, on the sofa.

Potter's hands are warm against Draco's bare skin as Potter slips them under Draco's shirt, feeling the contours of Draco's chest, and it's a brilliant feeling. Draco doesn't have room in his brain for thoughts of not pushing Potter to go too far, not at this point. They've consumed so much alcohol, Draco is surprised their cocks are functioning properly.

Speaking of cocks, Draco moans loudly as Potter shifts under his hips, bumping their groins together. Draco's cock is about to break free from his trousers of its own volition, it's so hard and ready. But Potter's hands are there a moment later, unfastening Draco's trousers and pulling Draco's erection free from his underwear.

"Gods, I love your hands on my cock!" Draco says, rather loudly if he stops to think about it, but Potter isn't giving him any time to think. Potter's hands have moved to his own trousers and are opening them too.

Realising where they are headed, Draco makes short work of pulling his shirt off and shimmying out of his trousers. He stands in only his socks, hand running up and down his cock in teasing strokes watching Potter take off his clothes, still seated on the sofa.

And then they are both naked, and hard, and staring.

Potter's eyes are wide, pupils blown as he rakes Draco's body with his gaze, as if memorising every hill and valley of muscle definition because he fears he'll never have another chance.

Draco drops to his knees before Potter, grimacing at the pain blossoming in his kneecaps from hitting the hardwood floors with bare legs and no balance. He pushes his way between Potter's thighs, running his hands up and down Potter's legs and hips, loving the softness of his body hair against his arms. He ducks his head forwards, eyes still fixed on Potter's face, while he licks a stripe up Potter's cock from its base to the tip. He flicks the small jewel of precome from the slit and closes his eyes, inhaling the ruddy scent of Potter through his nose, wrapping his lips around the head of Potter's cock, moving a hand to steady it. He tongues the foreskin lightly, wetting it, pulling it up and and back over the glistening head with his suction, revelling in the sounds of pure need Potter can't help but make.

Ah yes. This is where Draco wants Potter: under his power, willing to do anything to get Draco to keep doing that, but Potter, being who he is, doesn't let Draco enjoy his power trip very long.

Draco has barely moved his lips from Potter's cock when Potter's voice growls at him from above. "I want to see your arse."

The alcohol is still flowing freely through Draco's veins. He's hot and horny, and the demand makes it all ten times hotter. Potter twists out from under Draco and pushes him onto the sofa, on his knees. Draco balances on his knees, holding the back of the sofa to support himself, keenly aware that his arse is entirely displayed for Potter. His face burns.

Potter doesn't say anything for a few moments, and Draco feels his heartbeat speeding up. He's wondering what Potter is thinking. A trickle of sweat slips down from his temple into his ear and he wills Potter to say something. He's not used to this feeling of unease and nerves.

And then, bliss! Potter's hands caress his arse cheeks, tentatively at first, but progressing quickly into more kneading touches, and Draco feels his hole open up as Potter spreads them, taking in the sight with a long hard stare.

"Like what you see, Potter?" Draco asks. He is trying to hold onto his snark as much as possible, but for some reason his question comes out less than snarky. It sounds more worried than he'd intended. Does he really care what Potter thinks of his arsehole? His mind reels under the spinning of the alcohol pumping in his bloodstream, but the answer comes to him in a resounding yes.

"How could I find this anything other than beautiful?" Potter's voice is quivering and full of emotion. Draco cocks his head to chance a look behind him. Potter's not going to start crying, is he?

Draco isn't sure how he's supposed to respond, so he says nothing, but relaxes, allowing his arse to relax too, feeling the insides, not often exposed to the air, meet Potter's breath, hot and cool at the same time. Fuck... Potter's face is right there!

Draco is about ready to speak, but finds his words stolen from him as he lets his breath out in a long hiss. Potter's tongue is running up from the tight base of his balls, flat over his hole and up to the bump of his tailbone.

"Fuck!" Draco can't help exclaim, though it sort of comes out sounding more like 'uck', as he's breathing so hard.

"Is this okay?" Potter asks.

It's all Draco can do to murmur his assent that yes, Potter worshipping his arse with his tongue of his own volition is more than okay with Draco. He nods his head and buries his face, growing hotter by the second, into the cushioned back of the sofa as Potter's tongue moves in for a fresh assault.

And bloody hell, Draco's cock is leaking all over the sofa as Potter, never one for doing anything halfway, has curled his tongue into a point and shoved the whole thing inside Draco's body as far as it will reach.

"Oh!" Draco can't help but call out. "Oh — fuck, yes! That!"

Potter is a pro at eating arse, and Draco would be put out at that, as he hates it when Potter bests him at anything, but as it's his arse Potter's talents are stimulating, Draco has nothing but praise on his lips.

Potter's tongue fucks his hole harder, unfolding within him, poking at the sides of his channel with sharp jabs and following with long caresses, just loosening the whole thing up and coaxing it wide open. Draco feels like he has left his body, or rather, not. It feels like his body has become reduced to his arsehole and the glide of Potter's tongue inside it, and that's where Draco exists too. Nothing, the fact he has arms and legs, a head, a body, even matters right now. The only thing in the world that Draco wants is to open up as wide as he can, to show Potter exactly how hot he is and how much his arse is begging to be filled.

"Oh, Gods, fuck me, Potter," Draco chants. He's having trouble holding onto the sofa's back, as his hands feel like they've stopped working. "Fill me up with your fat cock," he breathes lowly, unable to say anything other than the first thing that comes into his head. "Fuck me so hard and fast I can taste your come in my mouth."

Potter's tongue presses in as deep as it will go once more and then he pulls it out, smacking his lips in an entirely unsexy way that makes Draco's cock leak even more.

Potter's hands are on his hips and then his cock head is at Draco's entrance, and he's teasing. It's sliding up and down the crevice, but not going where it needs to go.

"Fuck tease!" Draco gasps, his palms slipping on the back of the sofa. "Please." It comes out as as a whine, a groan, a pleading.

Potter's lips are on Draco's back, and Draco can feel Potter's warm body spooning up over his spine, his cock firmly trapped between Draco's cheeks.

"I've never done this before," Potter says quietly. "I'm not sure how to do it without hurting you."

Draco's eyes fly open and he turns his head, his whole upper torso, contorting himself to try to see Potter's face. And finally Potter lifts up from Draco's spine and Draco meets his sparkling green eyes, their pupils blown and full of longing.

"You won't. I'm good. You're good. Stick it in, and thrust." Draco knows he probably sounds a bit condescending, or at the very least impatient, but fuck's sake, he needs this. They can deal with the feelings and crap later.

Potter nods, his glasses fogging and slipping down his nose. He tears them off and tosses them on the pile of clothes on the floor.

Draco stops thinking or caring or breathing even as Potter's cock finally penetrates him. Potter does it as he was instructed. Sticks it in and thrusts ahead all the way, and Draco is left breathless, wordless, eyes shut tight as his struggles to relax around Potter's surprisingly enormous girth.

Potter isn't much better off, based on the sounds he's making. He's grunting, moaning, gasping and fucking Draco within an inch of his life, and Draco takes it, warming to the burn deep inside his core; his face has to be as red as a beetroot. He's so turned on, he thinks his cock is going to explode without a hand touching it. It's certainly doing a fantastic job at soaking the cushion with trickles of pre-come.

"I — I'm getting weak," Potter grunts. "Can't keep going."

Draco's knees quiver too, he hasn't had enough protein. "Come here, sit down. I'll ride you," he says. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now, not even lack of strength. He needs Potter's cock in his arse, needs to be the one to bring Potter to orgasm, to show him how wonderful sex feels and how not bad it is.

Surprisingly, Potter obeys. He pulls out and flings himself on the sofa beside Draco, looking up into Draco's face with a mixed expression. Lust battles fear. Draco doesn't want to let fear win out. He leans sideways, and kisses Potter, tasting the sharpness of his backside on Potter's tongue, but it's not bad. No, even that is good. It's tart and musky, but clean. He could thrive off Potter's tongue if Potter would allow it, and he pours all his longing, trying to show how much he wantsneedsbreathes Potter for his own survival.

Potter breaks the kiss as Draco straddles him. Their foreheads press together, their lips half an inch apart. "My mouth, it's dirty."

"No, it's perfect," Draco says, plunging his tongue into the hot wet mouth again, to prove it.

His cock rubs against Potter's and Draco loves it. He keeps Potter's mind off what's happening by moaning into his mouth and upping the ante on their kiss. He's never kissed anybody like this before. This is the kiss he's been saving for 'the one' and fuck it all that 'the one' has to be Harry-fucking-dysfunctional-hot as hell-Potter!

Draco raises his hips upwards, balancing again on his knees, feeling his legs burn with the effort, but it's worth it. He uses one hand to guide Potter's cock into himself, breath hitching as he lowers himself on top of Potter, impaling himself on the not-at-all-small cock Potter was born to wield.

He rides Potter's cock for all it's worth, loving the feeling of Potter's hands settling on his hips as Potter kisses him back, giving as much to it as Draco.

Draco feels like he could cry if he lets himself go much further. It's too perfect. Potter fills him just right. The kisses they're sharing are fuelled by passion. Draco remembers kissing Blaise and feeling overwhelmed, trying to keep up and match him, but with Potter, neither of them are leading, nor are they following, they are just kissing and it's so perfect, Draco's eyes prickle and he shuts them tight, letting his thighs do the work of lifting himself up and down Potter's length.

Then Potter's hands grow more firm on his hips — just in time too, Draco is buggering tired and his muscles are screaming — but the pleasure building between them is soright there there is nothing Draco will do to interrupt it before they reach their climax.

Draco allows Potter's hands to hold him in place, stilling himself, still raised on his haunches, but now Potter pumps up into him and OH... it's so much better this way. Potter's has angled his hips and his cock batters Draco's prostate spot on, over and over again.

Draco pulls off Potter's mouth, chancing a look down at his own neglected erection that appears to be doing just fine on its own. Potter looks too, still pumping, slower, but steadily, with long thrusts that take Draco's breath away. Pre-come seeps from the slit of Draco's cock. It's pearly-white mixed with iridescent fluid, or maybe it's the alcohol that makes him see it that way, but it's feeding a growing pool of slick gathering in Potter's navel.

"So hot," Potter gasps, "I want to make you come. I want to watch you come."

"Let me turn around," Draco says, his fringe dripping with perspiration. He's more than ready to do this the easy way, and facing out riding a cock is the fastest way he knows to bring himself over the edge.

It only takes a moment before Draco is sliding back into place on Potter's cock, holding himself up with one arm around Potter's shoulders and the other on the arm rest. Potter pulls him down, so they are mostly chest to back and Draco lets his head fall back, baring his throat, while Potter holds him in a full body hug.

They find an easy rhythm, their hearts pumping hard but slowing as the frenzy from earlier slows down. Draco fucks himself on Potter's cock by rolling his hips, meeting Potter's shallow upward thrusts in a perfect balance. Potter's cock presses Draco's prostate with every roll of his hips and Draco feels his orgasm upon him. He really wants Potter to be the one to come first, fearing that Potter will freak out at the sight of Draco's come and shrivel up back into his ball of fear and loathing. The continuing assault drives him ever closer and his cock is so hard and flushed red, straining up towards his navel. Draco can see the slit spasm as it leaks, squeezing out pearly droplets and his breathing quickens.

"Are you close?" Potter asks, his voice high-pitched and breathless. It sounds like Potter is really close too.

"Yes," Draco gasps, feeling Potter speed his thrusts just enough. He's gone. His cock twitches and come shoots out in long thick ropes of white, painting his chest. Potter's breath hitches behind him at the sight, but Draco's not finished. He pushes back on Potter's cock again and another jet of come spurts out, dribbling over his cock head, the slit opening and closing like it's blowing bubbles.

"Fuck!" Potter cries; his hands and arms tighten around Draco's torso and he digs his chin into Draco's shoulder, trembling.

"Yes! Merlin, oh fucking yes!" Draco cries out. Waves of bliss roll over him, throughout him, inside him, just under his skin, making him tingle from top to toe. Potter came. Potter came inside him. It leaves Draco feeling lightheaded with the idea and he relaxes back on Potter's shoulder, contorting himself so he can kiss Potter's lips, but something's off.

Potter is cold and his skin has gone clammy. Draco can see sweat pouring off Potter's face as if all his pores have opened up and are just expelling all the moisture in him. Potter's lips tremble, he's trying to speak, but no words come out.

Draco rolls off and sits beside Potter on the sofa, not caring that he's covered in come and leaking from his backside. He pulls Potter into an embrace while Potter's teeth chatter.

"We need to get you to bed," Draco says. "Where is it?"

Potter holds on, shuddering against Draco's hot chest, looking up into Draco's eyes, as if he's just flown to the moon and back.

It takes some work, but Draco leads Potter up the stairs of the gloomy house and finds his bedroom. He gets Potter into bed and under the blankets and curls around his back, spooning him and holding onto his chest, willing his warmth to reach through Potter's chill.

Potter shudders in Draco's arms, but presses his back into Draco's chest and Draco can hear his breathing even out.

"I'm sorry," Potter mumbles. "I d…don't kn…know what's wr…wrong."

Draco shushes him, pressing his lips against the soft trail of hair on the back of Potter's neck. "It's all right. It was intense for me too. I've got you. You're not alone."

Potter seems to melt under Draco's reassurance. He closes his eyes and grips Draco's hands with his own, as if to tell Draco not to let go.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Broken Dreams