Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fate	By : silverdragon4736 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4778 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of the character from the books or movies, I don't make any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
CHAPTER 7

Draco was quiet for the first time since Potter had decided he was a sack of oat flour. Unfortunately, his screaming hadn't sparked a single response from him; other than that obnoxious whistling. The man thought he was a lark.

Potter had finally put him down a little while ago. Draco turned back toward the small glen near the road, where a covey of grouse were feeding. His stomach growled. He could just see them roasting on a fire. He was so very hungry, but he wouldn't admit that to the black headed man.

Potter looked at him for a moment, then at the birds. He quietly stepped toward the bushes. He turned to Draco and raised a finger to his lips, pointing at the birds.

Draco glared at him. Did he thing he didn't know enough to keep quiet?

Potter picked up a rock and threw it.

They had one grouse.

He picked up another stone and threw it. They had dinner for two.

Potter started to walk towards the fallen birds. Draco grabbed his arm and shook his head. Then he raised a finger to his lips and frowned, as Potter had.

Draco picked up a rock that filled his palm. "My turn." He mouthed, and resisted the urge to throw it at Potter when he crossed his arms and appeared to be holding a laugh.

Draco heaved a rock at another grouse.

"You hit it." Potter said in surprise.

He dusted his hands off and swaggered past a group of hazel bushes. "Of course. You needn't sound so surprised."

"Nothing you do surprises me, Malfoy." He walked over to the birds and squatted down.

Draco stopped swaggering. Potter had just called him predictable.

"I pretended it was your head."

Potter looked up at him and laughed as if he had expected him to say exactly that.

"Mine's the biggest one." Draco added smugly, and pointed at the two smaller birds that he'd killed.

He didn't answer, but gathered up the birds.

"The puny ones are yours," the blonde goaded.

Potter stood, grabbed his arm and pulled him into the forest.

The night was black and moonless, but it wasn't silent. An owl hooted and insects chittered. However, Draco was quiet for the first time in hours. They'd travelled well into the depths of the forest. He let Potter pull him along until the boy-who-lived deemed it was safe enough for them to make camp. He had his broad back to him as he reached for more branches for the fire.

Draco watched him, conceding that he didn't seem to have the hot-blooded temper he had had in Hogwarts.

Oh, the blonde had tried everything he could to spark rage in him. But Potter ignored him.

He huddled deeper into his robes. So now Draco had decided not to say anything. Silence. That ought to get him, he thought.

He glanced covertly at Potter. Draco should have hated him, for he hated everything that he stood for, the "Light's" hypocrisy. What difference did their side have with Death Eaters when in the end they wanted to get rid of the other side as well? He hated the way they dressed up rounding death eaters, not even caring for proof or motive, as a burden no one but them wanted and capable enough to carry-as if it was something people should be grateful about. Such hatred was a part of him, the one thing he'd clung to when it seemed there was no hope for him and his friends.

But he had trouble hating Potter. Draco couldn't look at him and see what they had gone through. He looked at him and he saw—oh, Merlin... He closed his eyes at the thought. He saw Potter as a man.

Draco refused to think of him as "handsome," but there were the strong lines of Potter's profile, his firm mouth, his strength, and the frustrating way he calmly reacted to almost everything he'd done to bait him.

Draco wanted to remember vengeance. What he remembered was Potter's kiss, his taste. He remembered him acting so silly and catching those apple pieces. He remembered wanting to laugh for the first time in so very long.

And he remembered Potter grabbing his wrists and pulling him into the carriage. Potter's hands on his back. How, when they fell, he had tried to protect him in some odd, gallant way.

A rival? Imagine that.

Draco needed to hate him. But he didn't.

He sat there, hungry, trying not to think about Potter as he roasted the birds, trying not to look at him and concentrating on everything he had endured on the run in the hope that he could dredge up some spark of fight against what he was feeling.

In the distance, a wolf howled. Draco pulled his robes tigher around him. A woods owl came out.

The fire crackled as Potter added wood. "You must be hungry."

"No. I'm not hungry." Then his cursed belly growled loudly.

Potter looked up at him while he turned the three grouse they had caught on a spit he'd made. "You're wrong, Malfoy. You are hungry. Your belly tells me so about every few minutes.

"I wasn't wrong." He said forgetting to be silent. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm never wrong."

"I suppose it wasn't your empty stomach calling just now?"

"Yes, it was. But I wasn't wrong." He added stubbornly. Potter looked at him until he admitted, "You were just right for a change." The Malfoy rule: Never admit you were wrong. "Don't worry yourself about me, Potter. Hunger is a normal state for someone being hunted by idiots and barbarians." He looked away from the meat, unable to watch it cook. He was so hungry he'd almost have eaten it raw.

Draco sat there, miserable because he had lost control of everything, even his belly. The rich smell of roasting finally got to him. "Aren't they cooked yet?"

Potter chuckled. "Almost."

"Remember the big one is mine."

There was long silence; then Potter asked, "I take it you're talking about the grouse?"

Draco should have seen that coming. "You are a sick man, Potter."

He shrugged. "If you want the big one, you can have it. Just ask."

Draco straightened and put his hand on his hips. "My stone hit the biggest grouse, and we both saw it. I want it understood. The bird in the middle is mine."

"Are we having another challenge, Malfoy?"

"I don't know what you mean. I was just pointing out which bird belongs to whom." He paused. "The birds are burning."

Potter looked down at the spit, where the two outer birds—his birds—were aflame. He swore and jerked the spit from the fire.

Draco held out his hand and asked sweetly, "May I have my bird, please?"

Potter narrowed his gaze and met his.

He pointed at the spit. "That nice plump one in the middle. The one that's not burned. That's mine."

Potter used Draco's dirk to pry of the charred bird. It crackled and the burned legs and wings crumbled to the ground. Draco almost felt sorry for him when he saw how he stared at it. Almost, but not quite. Potter should understand what hunger was.

"I'm waiting," Draco said brightly.

Potter stabbed the dirk into the plump bird, and the meaty juices ran out, sputtering as they dropped into the hot ashes. He slid the bird from the spit and held it up for Draco to take.

Draco plucked it off the dirk before Potter could do anything rash, like steal it for himself. He ripped off a leg and just stared at it for a moment because it looked as good at it smelled.

He tasted it, and closed his eyes. It was heaven. He chewed slowly, savouring the flavour. He licked his lips and sighed as he swallowed. He opened his eyes to find Potter staring at him with the look of a man starved. Draco quickly hugged the bird to his chest. "This is my bird, Potter."

"What bird?" Potter asked distractedly, still looking at Draco's mouth.

"This bird!" Draco held it up in front of Potter's face.

Scowling, Potter viciously bit into one of the charred birds. His expression changed. He looked like someone who had just eaten a big lump of coal. He stopped chewing. It looked as if his eyes were tearing and Draco could have sworn that his jaw twitched.

"Mmmm." Draco took another plump mouthful and oohed and aahed over how perfect it was.

Potter crunched down on the blackened meat, then paused, blanching slightly before he chewed again very slowly.

"This is sooo good."

Potter swallowed, hard, then grunted something about his being only a little well done.

"Mine's perfect." Draco leaned over and looked at Potter's bird. "Look. I believe there's a piece of meat right there." He paused and pointed toward the breast of Potter's bird. "A little one that's not too well done." He looked up at Potter. "See it?"

"It's fine," he growled and bit off another bite before tossing the carcass of his shoulder.

"So's mine." Draco bit into the meat with great relish, "Hmm, hmm, hmm."

Potter frowned at the second bird, then tossed it and the spit over his shoulder too.

The look he gave Draco said he knew exactly what he was doing and didn't like it one bit.

Just the kind of look that sparked him to say, "Delicious." He ducked his head to hide his grin. Oh, he thought, Can't take it, Potter? He ignored the quiet sound of Potter's footsteps and finished his delicious meal, then turned and tossed the bones into the fire.

Draco turned back around and looked up—his third mistake. His second had been ignoring the footsteps. His first had been pushing Potter too far.

Potter towered above him. "So torment is your game, now is it, Malfoy?"

"Yes, Potter," he said, returning his look evenly.

Potter pulled Draco up with such speed that his vision blurred. Potter held the blond fast against him. "You're about to learn a new game, Malfoy."

Malfoy fell right into his trap and opened his mouth to speak.

Harry kissed him into silence. He struggled for barely a moment—less fight than he'd expected.

While he used his hand to firmly hold the back of the blond head, he filled Malfoy's mouth with his tongue.

The blonde stilled and almost instantly raised his fists, which barely reached above Harry's shoulders.

Then slowly he opened his hands, lowered his warm palms and slid them around Harry's neck. Malfoy held him the way Harry held him.

After a long passionate kiss, Malfoy pulled his mouth away from his and rested his head against Harry's chin. "What are you doing to me, Potter?"

Harry pulled at his robe. "Stripping you naked and having my vile way with you."

Malfoy shook his head. "No." But then his lips moved over Harry's softly. His tongue darted past his, kissing him back passionately.

Harry moved his other hand down Malfoy's back, over the soft roundness of his arse, and felt him arch his body agains Harry's; then the blond's hand slid down around his waist.

Malfoy moved with him, responded as he had to every challenge Harry gave him.

His lips never left Malfoy's mouth, the mouth that pushed his patience to the limits; now it pushed his passion beyond anything he'd known before.

His hands gripped Malfoy tighter, and Malfoy matched him, hip to hip, tongue to tongue, movement to movement.

Harry could feel Malfoy's need to hold his own sense of power in this, as he did in everything.

His hands moved lower, up and under Malfoy's robes, pulled down his pants, then skimmed the back of his legs and moved to touch the warm soft skin of Malfoy's inner thighs.

**UNCENSORED SCENE**

The blonde gave a gasp at Harry’s touch, a sound he wanted to hear again. Malfoy’s skin was silky, like touching a rose petal. Harry stroked downward until he held the back of Malfoy’s knees and pulled them up around his hips.

The former Slytherin moaned something against his mouth, half plea, half cry. Malfoy’s hands tugged the back of Harry’s clothes up; then he slid his palms inside Harry’s trousers.

Holding him tightly, Harry sank to the ground with the smaller man beneath him. He broke the kiss for the first time and straddled Malfoy, running his fingers over the soft skin of his eyelids, down his jaw. "Malfoy..."

Silver eyes opened, and Harry ran his finger over Malfoy’s damp lips.

Harry was lost in the look Malfoy gave him and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find his way out.

Just as he had done to him, Malfoy reached out then and traced his jaw, then ran two fingers along Harry’s cheek to stroke his eyelids, his brows, then touch his lips.

Harry drew the blonde’s hand away, holding it while his other opened Malfoy’s robes and his shirt and stroked the white skin of his neck downward to his belly.

Malfoy caught his breath at Harry’s touch; then the silver eyes grew misty and he moistened his lips.

Harry parted Malfoy’s clothing more until his chest were bared, and he teased them with a slow fingertip. The blonde tried to sit up, his hands moving to mimic his touch, but Harry slid his arm under his back and pulled up so Malfoy arched toward him. Harry lowered his mouth to the slender man’s bare waist sucking until he had made his mark on him.

The whole time, Malfoy’s hands were busy pulling at Harry’s clothing, baring his chest.

Harry’s lips closed over Malfoy’s pink nipples, sucking until he had Malfoy moaning in pleasure.

Harry straightened and laid him back on the ground. Malfoy’s nails scored his flexed thighs. Harry touched him again and felt Malfoy’s body rise with the tide of passion his touch brought.

"Such fire, Malfoy," he whispered in his ear."Such hot fire." Harry cupped Malfoy low and touched him so he moaned.

Harry slowed his carress, and Malfoy cried out and ran his hands over him through the rough wool of his trousers.

Harry shifted out of his reach and slid his arms under his knees, lifting Malfoy to his mouth. Harry blew on him, sucking him there for the longest time.

Malfoy gave a thin moan of pure pleasure, then pulsed hard and fast. Before he had barely stopped throbbing, Harry did it again. He started licking lower and lower. Then, he pushed his tongue inside.

"Aaah..." Malfoy gasped. "What are you... Ngh..."

Harry held him down licking deeper and deeper. Malfoy’s legs trembled.

He inserted a finger and put his mouth back on Malfoy’s cock. Malfoy let out a startled moan and grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair. Harry inserted another making Malfoy tighten his grip.

"Sto—" Malfoy started when Harry pressed on his prostrate firmly. "Nnn.."

Malfoy’s whole body arched with pleasure as he let out a silent scream. Harry did it over and over until he had Malfoy gasping and writhing uncontrollably.

Harry lowered Malfoy’s legs to his hips and jerked down his trousers, moving over the trembling man, placing his hands by the blonde head. Harry shifted slowly up and down, rubbing against Malfoy.

Harry kissed a path up his belly, ribs, and chest. His mouth moved up his neck, and he paused, the swollen tip of him brushing against Malfoy’s opening.

Silver eyes grew wide, and Harry slowly entered him, watching his face for fear or pain. Malfoy jerked Harry’s head down and filled his mouth with his tongue. Harry inched inside more. He broke the kiss, closed his eyes and threw his head back as he entered completely with a swift thrust.

Malfoy screamed and punched Harry in the jaw.

"Damn... Malfoy." Harry’s eyes shot open and he froze; then he shook his head and flinched slightly before looking down at the blonde. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Malfoy glared up at him, accusation in his eyes. "I told you to stop and you hurt me!"

Harry’s eyes widened in surprised. "Are you—" Harry stopped what he was saying when he saw tears clinging at the corner of his silver eyes.

He moved his hands to hold Malfoy’s head and kissed him slowly until he had Malfoy panting, then he moved his mouth to Malfoy’s ear. "I’m sorry." He looked down at the blonde, his lips almost touching Malfoy’s. "Does it still hurt?"

Malfoy appeared to think about this for a moment, then wriggled his hips slightly.

Harry breathed slowly, searching for control, praying that he wouldn’t have to stop.

"No."

Harry shifted pulling back and watching Malfoy’s face for signs of pain.

"Don’t leave me," Malfoy said in a panicked rasp, his small hands holding on to Harry’s arse.

"I’m not leaving you, Malfoy." Harry slid forward. "Slow and easy." He slid back, beginning a timeless rythm.

Within moments, silver eyes drifted closed.

Malfoy’s hands slid up his forearms and gripped them tight.

Harry ceased all motion and asked, "Am I hurting you?"

The blonde opened his eyes, misty, slanted, a hypnotizing swirl of mercury.

"No." Malfoy shook his head. Then, as if to prove it, he tightened his knees on Harry’s hips.

Mine. Harry thought possessively.

He loved Malfoy in long slow strokes that drew out the sensation, that taught them the feel and texture and pleasure of each other. Primitive need made him want to come, but he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay inside Malfoy forever, feel the tightness, hear his murmurs, revel in him until Harry died from the intensity of him.

"More," Malfoy softly chanted with each breath, impatiently prodding Harry with his body to move more swiftly.

Harry gritted his teeth and continued just as slowly. Mercurial eyes opened and watched him, his expression half dare, half pleasure. He gripped Harry’s hips tightly and tried to quicken the pace.

Malfoy drew a long breath that Harry felt to the depths of him. "Quicker, Potter."

"Slower, Malfoy." He edged in and out so slowly, savouring each inch, the slow and easy friction that he knew would prolong their pleasure.

Malfoy pushed up, hard and strong, and a slight smile touched his lips when suddenly Harry was inside him as deep as anyone could be. Malfoy closed his eyes and moved against him. Harry matched the motion, but grasped Malfoy’s hips and slowed the movement as he bent to run his tongue over Malfoy’s shoulder and neck.

Malfoy arched up, and he slid an arm under the small of his back, his hips beginning a slow deep grind that made Malfoy moan and reach to grip his forearms again. Harry licked a path up his white belly and across each rib, then shifted his hold so his hands held Malfoy by the waist and he pulled the blonde up against him as he knelt, until the former Slytherin could do little but cling to his shoulders.

Not once did either of them miss a motion, a beat. He could feel every inch of the blonde with each withdrawal.

Malfoy’s release came hard and fast and on a scream that sent Harry far over the edge.

When Harry came around, he was sure he was blind. He opened his eyes expecting blackness and instead he found a blinding brightness. He was surrounded with soft platinum hair wrapped around him, as Malfoy's warm legs and his warm soft body. Had he been blinded, it would have been worth it.

Harry took a long, slow breath. The air was filled with the musky scent of sex and the clean pine smell of the woods.

He watched silver eyes slowly change. Malfoy stared up at him and murmured, "No..."

If Malfoy was the only one he could ever make love to, he would die a happy man. Harry realized then with sharp clarity that he'd just lost the one battle he had thought he could win.

win.

TBC

A/N: Well, there you go. You asked for the uncensored version even though I warned you guys it isn't any good. Be careful what you wish for and all that.

Anyway, just curious, how would you rate this smut out of 5? I'm thinking of writing more naughty scenes because with Harry and Draco and all their sexiness, it is not my fault that my mind continuously falls into the gutter whenever I'm trying to write this story. Aaand this is what they would be doing anyway in real life. So there!

Judge me as you will.
- 6
- 7
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

Fate