Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Starfall	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 32486 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Forty-Two—The Pace of Pleasure
            “Do you want to? Tonight?”
            Draco’s voice was so soft. So was the hand that he smoothed over Harry’s shoulder and down, as if he was about to caress away his hair and his spine and his flesh, melting everything with a simple touch. Harry leaned back against him with a sigh, and Draco supported him with a delighted murmur, leaning Harry against the wall and holding him there as he stroked.
            Sometimes it’s the simple touches that are the most powerful.
            Harry sighed and stood there with drooping eyelids, wondering, waiting for a moment or movement that would tell him the answer to the question. He knew he could say no, always. That was the point. Draco would leave without being disappointed and ask the question again, later.
            Well, there was a possible wrongness there. Draco would probably be disappointed, probably wanted to sleep with Harry now, or there would have been no point in asking what he did.
            “Harry?” Draco asked against his earlobe, something he almost never did, and that let Harry know how long he had been standing there and pondering in silence.
            Harry thought about it, and thought about the pleasure that thrilled through his own nerves when he touched Draco, and thought about the fact that, more than he wanted to preserve some sort of privacy or modesty, he wanted to go with Draco and see what happened next. And he didn’t want Draco to go away disappointed.
            “Yes,” he said softly, and turned around, perversely enjoying the way that Draco’s eyes widened with the obviously unexpected answer. He opened his arms, and Draco surged into them after a moment. Harry took even more pleasure in kissing him and making Draco stumble back with a gasp and a moan.
            And then he just took pleasure. Because that was what he wanted, what both of them wanted, and what they were both suddenly striving towards with equal indulgence.
*
            Draco had been sure Harry would say no. And then, when he did say yes, Draco had to wonder if it was because Harry felt sorry for him, if there was something he was missing here, and if he shouldn’t have pressed Harry.
            No. He wouldn’t doubt this. Not when Harry was currently doing his best to kiss Draco’s teeth out. There had to come a point when he let go of his doubt, his fear, his sometimes outright terror that Harry wouldn’t want to be with him, and simply enjoyed.
            Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and steered them towards Harry’s bedroom door. It was instinctual. They were right there, after all; Draco had walked Harry to bed like he usually did, and his own rooms were all the way across the bloody Manor. They would do things here, like civilized people.
            Harry did stiffen a little when Draco fumbled with the catch of the door, and Draco paused. He still had to give Harry time to back out, if he wanted; there was not only no reason to force him, there was no way Draco could do it.
            But Harry took a deep, huffing breath that seemed to scorn his own inability to continue, and pushed Draco against the door so it fell open.
            They stumbled a few laughing steps, and Draco came near to measuring his full length on the carpet. But he managed to catch himself and spin them around so Harry was the one who landed on the bed. Draco crawled up beside him and spent a few moments trailing his fingers over Harry’s stomach and chest, leaving his shirt on.
            Oh, yes. Harry’s eyes went a deeper, quieter color, and his open mouth expelled a silence that was more telling than a sound would have been. He reached out and caught Draco’s wrist, and traced Draco’s hand downwards once more, searching for something. Draco wondered if it was one particular sensitivity, one particular shudder in muscles that must be dying sometimes for a pleasant touch, instead of the hostility so much of the world greeted Harry with—
            There it was. And Draco recognized the small, soft mound for what it was, of course, when he concentrated. One of Harry’s nipples. They were apparently more sensitive than Draco’s were.
            With a smile that probably gave Harry no real impression of what he would do next, Draco seized Harry’s left one, and twisted.
            Harry’s mouth flew open on a single long sigh. He arched his back, his eyes blank, and his hips rose and fell for a moment as though thrusting against an invisible lover. Draco quickly angled himself into position. He was going to be the lover, and he had no desire to compete, even against his own hands.
            Harry whispered, “Do that again,” voice hoarse and dry.
            Draco smiled, and did it again.
            Harry arched again, thrust again. His voice was pleading, but he had no one to plead to. Except me, Draco thought, and his gentleness from before was gone as he pinched and rasped down Harry’s nipple again and again. And I have no time for mercy.
            When Harry’s nipples must be sore and bruised, and he was beginning to pant heavily enough to make it sound as though he was scraping his lungs, Draco stopped. Harry at once turned his head towards him, and whispered, “More.”
            “Yes, I thought that might put you in the mood,” Draco whispered, a little idiotically, because it wasn’t like he had known how much that turned Harry on. But Harry wasn’t in a position where he wanted to question anything. Draco knew that much. Harry reached out and lifted Draco’s face, holding his mouth close, kissing him hard enough to make Draco’s head spin.
            And then he was the one drawing Draco down onto the bed, and Draco realized that his assumed position of more experienced lover might not count for that much after all.
            Not if the way Harry was smiling was any indication.
*
            Harry began with exploring Draco’s chest, after his shirt was off.
            Harry’s nipples were sore and twisted, and Draco had done that without ever undressing him. But then, he was experienced with several people, and Harry wasn’t. He thought he needed an advantage if he was going to make Draco melt in the same way.
            Draco let him take it, his hair spread around his face in a fetching (and utterly unreliable) halo, his breathing soft and regular. At least until Harry trailed a finger down the center of his breastbone, watching closely all the while, and Draco’s eyes widened and his breath became a soft moan.
            “Yes, you like that,” Harry whispered, and he liked it so much himself so that it was hard to tell who he was talking to.
            He did like touching Draco, a lot more than he had thought he would. For him, there had been Ginny, and then not much of anything else. Everything he had, he’d thought, he was going to compare to Ginny. For the rest of his days.
            “I do,” Draco gasped back at him, mouth open and eyes open and everything open, his hands reaching out as if he could hold onto Harry and make him press harder. Harry sat back with a thoughtful little cluck of his tongue.
            “Good,” Harry said, and he bent down and took one of Draco’s nipples in his mouth.
            There was a lot of scattering and twisting on the bed, and Draco gave a sound that was almost agonized, a half-shout. Harry smiled around the nipple and sucked harder and harder. He was going to give Draco something to think about, the way Draco had given him.
            Draco abruptly pushed him back, though. Harry supposed he’d bitten him and caused him discomfort, but Draco simply rolled him over and said, in a voice as dark as the soft shadows flickering from the fire, “My turn.”
            Harry’s resistance melted at the thought of what that might mean. He sighed and flung his arms over his head, turning so Draco could bite or suck at him or do whatever he wanted, at whatever pace of pleasure.
            Draco took his time slowly moving forwards, his eyes locked on Harry’s. Harry thought he might wriggle himself to death in anticipation, but it ended, at least a little, when Draco reached out and slowly took off his shirt.
            Harry had to close his eyes as Draco pulled it over his head, and not only because the cloth briefly scraped against his face. This was something more beautiful than he had envisioned, even with the sportive, playful rivalry that he and Draco had enjoyed in the last few minutes, even with the pleasure roused in him by Draco’s touches. Draco had laid the shirt aside with something that was kin to reverence and was slowly, gradually trailing his fingers up and down Harry’s chest, around and over his muscles. Harry’s breathing was speeding up to match the pace of the fingers.
            He wanted—he wanted. He wanted without clearly knowing what he wanted. He reached out with his own clumsy, glancing hand, and it bounced off Draco’s chest and down onto Harry’s own groin.
            Draco, watching him, smiled. He sat back and said, “I’m all yours. Where would you like to begin?”
            “I thought you said it was your turn.” Harry’s voice was soft, dry as dust. He licked his lips, thought of trying to pretend that Draco didn’t affect him that way, and then gave up.
            “I know,” said Draco, and inclined his head. “But I find that my pleasure is to give you yours, right now. I ask you again.” His smile was handsome and utterly devastating. Harry hoped that he didn’t figure that out. It would make him far too successful at manipulating all sorts of conversations. “Where would you like to begin?”
            Harry sat up and fastened his mouth to Draco’s like a starving man, and reached into Draco’s pants.
            The startled noise Draco made, and how quickly he backed up and nearly fell off the edge of the bed, was satisfying beyond words.
*
            Harry was unexpectedly forceful as he handled Draco’s cock, even though they’d done this once before. Draco supposed he might have lost his own memory of it. That kind of sheer pleasure wasn’t easily encompassed within a merely human mind.
            And you are babbling, and being silly.
            But he thought it anyway, and Harry was the only one of the lovers he’d had that he knew would never mock at something like that. He reached out and caught Harry’s wrist, and Harry slowed down and nipped demandingly at the curve of Draco’s ear.
            “Come on, touch me,” Harry said, and angled his body, lifting his hips, so that his groin was within easy reach.
            Draco found his hand reaching down as if guided, although later, he couldn’t remember Harry actually holding onto his wrist. It just seemed like an external force, anyway. Then he was touching, his fingers were there, and he gasped as he felt the smoothness, the way that Harry’s cock slid shining and dripping through his fingers.
            Harry made a groaning noise and thrust forwards. Draco squeezed, and knew in a flash that this would probably end just like that night on the couch when Blaise had caught them in a compromising position. They hadn’t taken their clothes off that night, either; Draco’s embarrassment had come from knowing his friend had seen his flushed face and the wet spot on his trousers, and Harry on top of him, and had no doubt whatsoever about what they’d been doing.
            And he wanted this night to be different. Special.
            “No,” he whispered, drawing back, and looking beneath his eyelashes at Harry.
            Harry was drawn so tight himself, it took him several seconds to come back to earth. But then his eyes flashed, and he leaned across the bed to grip and pinion Draco’s hands. “Why not?” he snapped. “If you said that I got my way tonight, and this is what I want—”
            “Answer me one thing,” said Draco, and stroked the tense back of Harry’s hand with what fingers he could move. “If we both come in our pants this time again, are you going to have the strength to fuck tonight?”
            Harry’s breath was so harsh that he sounded as if he was drowning, and he coughed a second later. Draco blinked at him, concerned. If it upset Harry that much, then of course he would go along with what Harry wanted.
            “I never thought of it like that,” Harry whispered harshly, and then sucked in more air and nodded. “Yes. I do want—something different than what happened last time.” And the way he let go of Draco’s hands and reached up to play with his hair rather than his groin at least convinced Draco that he meant what he said, even if he might not be able to bring himself to say the exact, crude words yet.
            Draco turned his head and captured Harry’s lips, startling him into exclaiming something. Draco didn’t need to listen to it, didn’t permit himself to listen to it. He tumbled them back onto the bed instead, and Harry was once again alive in his arms, turning himself around and resuming the kiss with a concentrated ferocity. Draco shivered a little. It was partially a shiver of pleasure, but more one of anticipation. If Harry was that fierce in this little interaction, what would he do later?
            What he would do was perfectly obvious in a second. He reached out and trailed a hand aggressively down Draco’s chest, squeezing now and then, and then he flung his arm across Draco’s groin and touched his arse suggestively.
            Draco nodded, his throat full, and sat up and pulled back so they could both get their trousers and pants off. Harry’s hands and eyes were hot enough to burn him all the way.
*
            Do you know what you’re doing? The voice was vaguely identifiable in Harry’s head, screeching. It might have been Aunt Petunia’s voice, which Harry sometimes thought was the source of all those stupid silent accusations that woke him up on a regular basis.
            No. But Draco does, Harry thought, and shook his trousers and pants off with a snap of cloth before he turned expectantly to Draco and raised his eyebrows.
            The voice was silenced, and Draco smiled slightly and rolled over onto his stomach. The smooth expanse of his back was more wonderful than Harry had thought it would be. He made a sound of startled appreciation and stroked down Draco’s spine, and Draco arched his back and made a rattling noise that could be described as a purr.
            “Yes, well, there are more important areas of me to touch than my back,” Draco hinted after a moment, when Harry had almost fallen into the stroking. “For example, you might touch my cock.” He wriggled his arse a second later, another suggestion.
            Harry bent over and kissed the back of his neck, and murmured, “What did you want me to use for lube?” He at least knew about lube. Give him that, he thought, to the silent voice in his head and anything or anyone else that might accuse him of not knowing enough.
            “The potion on the bedside table,” said Draco, with a strained laugh.
            Harry sat up and turned around, staring. “I thought no one else was in here,” he said, and stumbled over the words. “I mean, I thought this was only my bedroom right now.” His skin crawled, he had to admit, at the thought of a house-elf popping up in his bedroom and putting lube in the table, no matter how thoughtfully.
            “It is,” said Draco. “I put it there a—few nights ago. I was overconfident, I suppose you could say.”
            Harry turned back, startled now by the tone Draco’s voice had taken on. He was sucking his lip and looking at Harry like a little boy who expected to be scolded. Harry had to snort. The attitude was so ridiculous compared to the ones that Draco had been taking on, he reached out and smoothed down Draco’s hair with one hand. Then he shook his head and picked up the lube.
            “I don’t mind,” he said. “I just couldn’t figure it out.” And he undid the top of the flask, and inhaled the soft scent of the potion, so thick with daisies that Harry almost expected some kind of white paste when he took it out.
            Draco turned his head more fully towards him, as Harry smeared the potion over his fingers. “You have to make sure that your fingers and your cock are fully coated with it,” Draco whispered. “And then some.”
            Harry nodded. He had suspected something like that, and he was just as glad that Draco had said it, since Harry thought his voice would have choked off if he’d had to ask. He reached into the flask once more and made sure that his fingers were so coated that they looked like trailing clouds when they came out again.
            “Now reach down to my arse,” Draco muttered, and Harry started and looked up. He supposed that he had been sitting there for a long time staring at his fingers, and Draco was moving his arse impatiently.
            Harry reached as confidently as he could for Draco’s rear. It seemed—he wanted to touch it, and yet, at the same time, opening that small entrance was strange enough to make his heart pound and leap. He had never done something like this with Ginny. Why would he have?
            Draco made a soft noise when Harry slid his fingers into his arse, which made Harry wince. But Draco tilted his head back, with just enough of his face turned to Harry that Harry could see his eyes rolling, and muttered, “Get on with it.”
            “I’m so glad that we’re not trying to be romantic about it or anything,” Harry snapped, as he slid his second finger into Draco’s arse.
            “We can be romantic when you’re inside me and pumping away,” Draco snapped back. “Right now, you need to be further on your way to doing that.”
            Harry caught his breath and moaned out without realizing what he was doing. Yes, he could see himself doing that. More to the point, he could feel himself doing that, and he had to press his cock fiercely against the sheets for a second to prevent simply spurting everywhere and putting a messy end to the evening.
            Draco had a talent, he thought as he slid his index finger in. Of making Harry want things he had never known he wanted, of making Harry think of things he had never thought of until him.
            That didn’t mean it was a bad talent. Draco had taught Harry things about himself that he might never have explored if he had remained silent and dedicated to his job, if he was still an Auror with no hope for raising a child with someone else, if he had remained—
            Ethan.
            For the first time since Draco had exposed Ethan’s secret, Harry had to admit that he didn’t really miss him, or look back to the time when he had been Ethan in his journal with longing. He had thought, then, that he was as well as he could be again. He had had an imaginary family, true, but they were a family that was all his own in a way that no one else could ever be again. He might not have been happy, he could realize now. But he had been content, and he wouldn’t have bothered anyone.
            Draco had stomped into his life and changed that, and Harry didn’t want to change back.
            For once, he could enter onto a new life without thinking that he had to regret the old one, the way he had regretted the end of his marriage and the end of the deception he had practiced on Draco.
            Smiling, he slid his fingers more fully into Draco’s arse.
*
            It was so obvious that Harry had never done anything like this before, Draco wondered why so many of the papers insisted on calling Harry someone who had a dozen lovers, someone who wanted to take more people to bed than he had room.
            Then Draco snorted to himself. Someone else would have only known the truth about Harry if they’d seen him in the same private circumstances that Draco had. And Draco knew he, himself, would never permit that. So it seemed only right that the papers would continue to write the same rubbish about Harry that they always had.
            “Something funny?” Harry asked abruptly, as his fingers stopped moving in Draco’s arse. “Or something wrong?”
            Draco sighed and rolled his head back on his neck, opening himself up, relaxing himself further. And Harry could read his body language, luckily, because he let his fingers wander deeper, murmuring to himself for a moment as though Draco could translate Potterspeak.
            “I’m just glad that you’re here, doing this,” Draco whispered.
            There was a long pause, during which Draco wondered what else he might have done wrong without meaning to, and then Harry leaned over him and kissed the nape of his neck. “And I’m glad that you’re here doing this with me,” he whispered back.
            Draco’s throat closed up, and he only managed to nod about ten minutes later when Harry asked him if that was enough preparation. It shouldn’t have been that long, but considering Harry had never done this before and still had to coat his own cock…
            And, well, Draco didn’t mind how long this lasted.
            Harry finally began to slide into him. He went so slowly that Draco wasn’t sure it was happening until he felt a long drag when Harry seemed to panic and slide back out. Draco reached back a hand, searching without being able to see properly, clasping something that felt like an arm, and slapping it.
            “Come the fuck on and fuck me,” Draco whispered.
            Harry stilled once, and then began to push steadily forwards again. Draco dropped his head into his hands, exhaling hard. It was one thing to know all about the proper procedure and be able to instruct Harry, and another thing to feel Harry doing this.
            “Yes,” Draco said, and didn’t even know what he was saying it to, until he felt Harry settled into him, and Harry whispered it back into his ear.
            “Yes,” they said together, and then they began to move together, Draco lifting himself as much as he could to meet Harry’s thrusts, Harry pausing only once to pull Draco up to his knees before he began to thrust again.
            The pillows strained and blurred in front of Draco’s eyes. He knew Harry was actually the one doing most of the work, but he panted and moaned, and his sounds slipped out of his mouth without permission, and actually, this did feel like hard exertion.
            But such pleasure welled through him that he hardly cared.
            They were joined, they were bound by it, the pleasure that washed back and forth. Draco could hear Harry hissing steadily through his teeth as he thrust, and Draco didn’t think he knew he was doing it, or what those small noises were doing to Draco. He could feel Harry’s hands roaming and stroking up his back in small flares of warmth, and then dropping down to hold Draco so he could thrust again.
            It was spectacular. It was burning. It was so intense that Draco wasn’t surprised when he couldn’t hold, and began to come.
            Harry did the same thing a moment after, his teeth still clenched down, from the sound of it, and the release of warmth in his arse made Draco want to come again. He reached back and grasped what was definitely Harry’s arm this time, and dragged him down despite Harry’s indignant, “Ouch,” kissing him as soon as his face was in the proper position.
            Harry gasped, but gave himself to the kiss, even with his body trembling the way it was and his tongue almost vibrating. Then he pulled himself free from Draco and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at him.
            Draco didn’t mind the staring, not when it was as appreciative as this. He reached out, and his fingers closed in exhaustion around Harry’s.
            “I really liked that,” said Harry.
            And he had chosen exactly the right thing to say. Draco leaned his cheek on their joined hands, and said simply, “I did, too,” and basked in Harry’s wondering smile.
*
moodysavage: Thank you! Although Draco wasn’t even thinking primarily of someone else watching a memory of the conversation, he was just enjoying himself.
starr: Draco has all sorts of surprises in place for Quillona now. Not so much for Ginny, but he did promise Harry not to move too fast on that.
Anon: Thank you!
SP777: I think Draco and Harry have a tendency to think of each other as opposing House affiliations still, but no, they are not.
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Starfall