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Temporary Mate	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 17288 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Seven—Before the Rush
Harry didn’t know that he’d ever felt as good, and just from one touch of Draco’s hand.
The minute Draco’s hand clutched his hip, trails of warmth raced away from it. One reached up to his heart, and curled around it, making Harry gasp as something like a gentle version of adrenaline flooded him. Another raced down to his muscles, softening and loosening them, getting rid of the aches he had from sleeping in the chair.
And a third touched his groin and arse. Harry arched his back. He was empty and achingly hard, both, when seconds ago he would have only said that he was hard.
“That’s to get you ready,” Draco said, his voice soft and hoarse. Harry glanced at him and found him resting on his hands and knees next to the bed, his wings draping over him like great palm fronds. “Some—some Veela mates find it undignified.” He cleared his throat and then couldn’t seem to ask the question that he’d been prepared to ask.
“No, I d-don’t—oh, God, Draco!” Harry threw his head back as the trails of warmth that had been smoldering along in his body suddenly erupted into what felt like open flames. He flung out a groping hand, and found Draco there, waiting to hold onto it, onto him. The world shuddered and spun around him. “This feels so good.”
In a second, Draco’s reluctance or fear melted away, and he jumped into the air and hovered over Harry. The shadow of his wings provoked little flashes of new heat on Harry’s skin. “That’s what I want,” Draco whispered. “To bring you pleasure, for always.”
He settled onto the bed.
Harry reached up, guided by old memories in a book he’d read about Veela, and took hold of the edge of Draco’s left wing. Draco promptly straightened and stiffened, thrusting his erection against Harry’s hip.
Harry’s arse throbbed with how much he wanted something inside it. “Draco, please.”
“Yes, but not yet,” Draco said, because he seemed determined to be merciless this morning. He stroked his hand across Harry’s belly.
Harry yowled as more heat erupted there. He’d had gut-aches, and he’d had gut-wounds, but he’d never felt anything like this, the deep, trickling yearning for more. He grabbed Draco’s hand and slammed it back into place, and still that wasn’t enough.
“What’s going to satisfy me?” Harry gasped.
*
“I am.”
Draco hadn’t known he was going to speak until he heard Harry’s words. He pulled Harry towards him, nuzzling fiercely along his neck, and then giving in and biting as hard as he could.
Harry screamed as he came. His neck formed a gleaming, blood-stained bow in front of Draco. Draco breathed softly across the blood, and it rearranged itself and then caked and scabbed over, forming a mating rune. Draco touched it and smiled.
“What are you doing to me?”
Harry was almost whimpering. Draco pulled back so he could answer that question, and found Harry on his hands and knees, shivering. He was hard again, and he rolled his head back to stare at Draco with enough desperation that Draco felt claws sliding free of his fingernails without his permission.
He soothed them back into nails, and smiled at Harry. “Satisfying you.”
“Nothing is going to satisfy me at this point unless you’re inside me, above me. Now.”
Draco agreed, once he managed to work out the sense of Harry’s words from his gapes and gasps, and moved behind Harry. He had to close his eyes to regain his composure when Harry arched his arse against him, urging him to mount. Draco shook his head, pinched the edge of his own wing, and then drew his wand and conjured lube.
“What are you doing?” Harry could whine, Draco decided. “I’m ready—”
“Not ready enough to avoid pain later,” Draco said, and something in his voice must have reached down to Harry’s brain and asserted authority, because Harry’s mouth clicked shut. Draco reached into Harry’s arse with one delicate finger, hooking it.
There. Harry’s breath seized up, and he said, “You really will kill me before I have another orgasm.”
“Consider that I haven’t had even one so far,” Draco breathed into his ear, while his fingers worked Harry wider and wider open. The Veela’s magic spiraled around Draco, more delicate than smell or sight, telling him that Harry hadn’t done this recently with anyone. That made Draco flex his wings with delight.
“I could take care of that.”
Draco rubbed his cock against Harry’s leg in response to his tone of voice. “No, I think you’ll do as I wish,” he said simply. “And what I wish is to be inside you when I come.”
“I already offered to do something about that!” Harry abruptly yanked himself off Draco’s fingers and presented his entrance again. “You don’t need to do anything else. I don’t mind a little bit of pain later—”
Draco arched himself over Harry and bit his ear. “I do,” he said. “Listen to me. I am going to make you feel only pleasure and not pain.”
*
The words flooded Harry with belief. He had never felt anything like it before. It was as overwhelming and heady as the fragrance of a field of flowers.
I can trust him. I can listen to him.
Harry felt as if he were drunk, with none of the danger involved. Part of himself, the part that was always on guard and distrusting authority because he’d learned that the hard way, relaxed. Harry’s arms nearly folded beneath him at the sudden release of tension. He even uttered a small sob. Immediately Draco pressed himself against Harry and murmured a wordless question.
“It just feels good to know that I don’t have to protect myself all the time.”
“Ah, yes,” Draco said, and his fingers returned to Harry’s arse, probing and holding him open. “And it’s a privilege and a pleasure to take care of you.”
Harry lowered his head into his arms. No one had ever said anything like that to him.
Of course, he knew that people had thought it. Ginny probably would have, when they were dating. Now and then he’d thought he saw a glint in Michael’s eyes that indicated it.
But they couldn’t make him believe it. Not the way Draco could. Harry would believe it whether he wanted to or not, as long as Draco was speaking to him in that particular voice.
It was a comfort, though. Harry didn’t have to look out for creatures charging in through the walls of a tent, or throw curses on a moment’s notice because no one else was going to, or wake up at night and go check on Azkaban to make sure the captured Death Eaters from the war were still there. There was someone who would do that for him, if he asked for it.
He only had to lie here, and accept the way Draco’s fingers curved and then withdrew, and Draco laughed in a way that made Harry’s bones turn to liquid. His arms finally gave out completely. Draco paused and kissed his way up Harry’s spine, then gently put a pillow under his head.
“There you are,” Draco breathed. He paused, though, and Harry lay there listening to him take a few irregular, stuttering breaths with complete confidence. There would be a good reason Draco had stopped. Harry was eager for him to resume, but he could wait, to see what it was.
“Would you mind if I used my—magic?”
“Have I said I would so far?” Harry turned his head to the side, knowing exactly where Draco would be right now. And yes, he was crouched on the bed next to Harry staring at him with solemn, shining eyes.
“This is different, though. This magic will release any inhibitions you still have. It’ll make sure that you can come as many times as I want you to.” Draco took a deep breath and swallowed what Harry assumed was air. “I want you to—if I want you to keep crying and begging me for my cock, that’s what’ll happen.”
Harry smiled and reached out to caress his cheek. He already felt dreamy and content, floating on the pillow and the bed. But the thought of how much better he could feel if he let Draco use his magic made his cock stir and his body sway from side to side. “I want you to do whatever you want to do.”
Draco’s eyes widened, and a silvery swirl filled them that Harry suspected was pure Veela, not so much human. He leaned down and kissed Harry over and over again, until Harry’s lips were numb and tingling.
“Thank you,” Draco murmured, and pulled back, and placed his hands on either side of Harry’s spine. Harry expected to hear him say a spell, but he only lowered his wings and then lifted them a few times, like a bird getting ready for flight.
Harry felt the difference when the magic arrived, though.
It was the deepest, most wonderful thing. It felt as if the bed had suddenly become a bathtub filled with warm water. Harry arched his back and sighed again as some barriers that had been standing in the middle of his head and spirit just seemed to—melt away.
He could do what he wanted, he realized, clear-headed as never before. Draco wasn’t going to turn him away or judge him for it. There was no one here who needed to see the “Boy-Who-Lived” and think of him as perfect. There was nothing here except deep peace, and Harry’s need to ask for what he wanted.
“Fuck me, please,” Harry murmured. He got up on his hands and knees fully, no longer needing the pillow that Draco had put beneath his head. He turned around and smiled dreamily at Draco, who looked stunned. “What? Did you never use this magic before?”
Draco seemed to snap back into himself, and shook his head. “Of course not, since I never transformed into a Veela or had a mate before.”
“Tell me that I’m the only mate you’ll have.” Harry sighed as another rill of warmth cascaded down the side of his head. “And scratch my back.”
Draco slowly scratched in the middle of his back, sounding bemused as he asked, “Where’s the itch?”
“Funny, Draco,” Harry said, and reached out and clamped down on Draco’s wrist and raked his hand across the middle of his back. Draco gasped, and Harry let go of the hand and tilted his head back. Yes, there was a scratch that had taken off at least some skin down the center of his back, near the spine. Harry nodded. “Yes, perfect.”
“You want that?”
“Yes. I can’t carry marks around most of the time. I mean, it would make me less able to move fast when I was fighting an enemy,” Harry said simply, and dropped his head again. “But I don’t have to worry about that now.”
“No,” Draco said, his voice a little choked. “You don’t have to worry about that now.” He took a moment, as if his magic was still transforming his fingernails into claws, and then he raked Harry’s back again.
The pain leaped straight down into the middle of Harry’s chest and jump-started his heart. “Draco,” Harry moaned, and reared back on his heels. Then he grabbed hold of his arse-cheeks and pried them apart, holding them open in front of Draco’s stunned gaze.
“Come on,” Harry whispered. “Fuck me. I think I already asked you that, didn’t I?”
*
Draco’s wings grew longer and wider than he had known they could. His fingernails curled harder into claws, and he found himself moving forwards as if in a trance, mounting Harry and sliding into his arse.
He had thought this would mostly be about his own fantasies. Instead, it seemed it was about Harry’s.
Which was wonderful.
Harry hissed once, and then said, “I want you to move as fast as you can, fuck me as hard as you can.”
Draco’s vision darkened when he heard those words. Until then, he didn’t realize how desperately he’d been waiting to hear them. Or his Veela had. But at the moment, they were one and the same.
So he took Harry at his word, and began to fuck him hard enough that Harry was grabbing the sheets and swearing, and Draco’s vision went on narrowing and darkening and swarming with red specks.
The pleasure was unreal. It made it hard to breathe. Yet he was spreading his wings and screaming in Harry’s ear and tearing his nails down Harry’s back when he could get balanced enough to do it. It was incredible.
And Harry’s will…
He could feel it.
It bubbled and swirled past Draco like the waters of a brook. Draco only had to concentrate on it, and he knew what Harry wanted. When he wanted the angle of Draco’s cock changed, when he wanted to be grabbed and bruised, when he wanted Draco to pause for a bit and then hammer into his arse.
A stray thought flew by: Is it going to be like this every time I use my magic, or is it just for this bonding?
The pleasure incinerated the thought in the next instant. Draco found himself rearing up without deciding to, sinking his claws into Harry’s back again—Harry grunted and slammed himself back towards Draco in the sexiest way—and then mantling over Harry like a hawk over its prey as he screamed.
The orgasm felt unreal, too. It snatched Draco up and made his vision turn white and his whole body shudder as if he were falling. Draco’s hands clenched, his mind broke and settled and reformed, and he screamed a second time, weakly. His hips were moving on instinct, but the rest of him was still, draped over Harry.
I want that again. I want it.
With difficulty, Draco restrained the urge to spin out his own magic so that he would get hard again. He knew he could, and now he knew where the reputation Veela had for being insatiable came from, but he was so tired he might injure himself.
Or Harry.
And with that, the stream of Harry’s will poured over him again, and he knew Harry hadn’t come. Draco bent down, incredulous, hissing, ready to touch Harry’s cock if he had to, even though he knew Harry would prefer if he didn’t. “What—”
“Wanted—” Harry was gasping as if he’d spent hours in battle, his arms shaking and even his neck trembling. “Wanted—to wait for you to tell me I could.”
Draco smiled, suddenly languid and smug, as though his magic had flooded over him in turn. He reached out and touched the single point on Harry’s hip where his claws had cut deepest, bringing up a well of blood.
“Come,” he whispered.
*
Harry did.
The ripple started in the dimmest, furthest reaches of his body, and then it sped towards him, gathering strength and speed as it went. And by the time it crashed against his jaw and his groin and his hips and his teeth and every other part of him, it was a wave. Harry found himself screaming without breath, bent over, his hands clasped over his stomach. His face smashed straight into the bed, and still that wasn’t enough to muffle the scream.
He felt. He was pleasure. He was heat. He was will, his own and Draco’s, so joined that there was no telling them apart.
For a moment. Then the moment collapsed, like he had, and left him blinking and dazed in the center of the bed.
Draco bent over him, making smug noises that could have been either human or Veela. Harry rolled over and slowly stared up. He extended a hand without thinking, and Draco moved into it, his head bowed, his lips moving as he nibbled at Harry’s fingers.
“That was incredible,” Harry sighed.
“Yes. That was bonding.” Draco settled back on the bed and pulled Harry with him casually, not seeming to care that Harry’s body was limp and his should have been, so that Harry settled into the curve of his knees. “But I promise that we’re going to work on making the everyday thing as amazing as that.”
“That wasn’t everyday, Draco.” Harry yawned and found he couldn’t open his eyes. Well, that was all right. He knew where everything was: Draco’s hands, and Draco’s wings drooping soft around his shoulders, and the bleeding cuts on his hips and back and shoulders. “Nothing about being with you is. Don’t pretend it will be.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
Draco’s voice was soft and odd, but Harry didn’t want to question the source of the oddness right now, so he didn’t. He laid his head back on Draco’s shoulder and drifted instead. The warmth was rising from the bed like water in a bathtub again, and he followed it away and down, listening to Draco’s murmurs, taking his touches and reveling in them.
His last thought before he faded was about how he’d always hesitated to ask his lovers to mark him, because he might have to move fast on an Auror mission the next day.
This time, he could afford to let Draco do it, because Draco would be there at his side.
*
Jan: Thank you!
SP777: Yes, that's what both Draco and Harry feel, too.
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Temporary Mate