SCENE #Being late
It’s a good month before he even considers letting me be his boyfriend, and he sure as fuck won’t let me call him it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I totally already am. He knows it. I know it. Every single student and professor in the school knows it. But Malfoy’s fucked in the head, and stubborn as hell. It’s two of his many sexy qualities that I can’t live without.
His friends hate me. Passionately. It’s awesome. Because now Malfoy’s nicer to me to make up for it. I know, it’s bizarre, but fucking adorable. They all feel like I fucked Nott over, and well, I sort of did. But I won, so tough shit.
“Potter, do you have to be here all the time? You’re getting your fucking stupid everywhere.” Blaise Zabini gives me a scathing glare, burrowing down in his leather armchair and hiding behind his book when I walk into the Slytherin common room. Malfoy’s in his dorm, taking a lifetime to get dressed, as usual.
If I didn’t know Zabini was straight, I’d consider the possibility that he might have a crush on me. Slytherins bitching at me make me wonder now. Malfoy might have fucked up my head permanently. I sit down on the arm of Zabini’s chair, making sure to be as annoying as possible. It works. His book is tossed aside, and he starts talking to me about Quidditch. Slytherins pretend to be complicated, but they’re really not. Well, except the ones plotting to murder and take over the world. But that’s any house, even Hufflepuff.
My boy finally shows up, looking amazing in his tailored slacks and creamy cashmere pullover. He’s also glaring such an obvious warning at Zabini, I’m seriously wondering again about that bitchy Slytherin thing. Doesn’t matter. No one’s got anything on Drake. I get up, snagging him around the waist, pulling him in tight before he can make a fuss. He smells good, and I bury my face into his neck, loving the feel of his silky locks on my skin.
“Stop pawing.” He looks up at me through his lashes, that damn smirk of his in place as he rubs up against me. Fucking tease. “I just got my hair right.”
“Stop being a girl.”
He smacks me, hard. He is not a girl. He is a very sexy boy that likes to inflict pain.
“Could you guys go, like, jump off the astronomy tower or something?” Parkinson snarls, snapping gum as she walks past us. Malfoy glares her way, then pulls me down for a deep kiss. He’s fucking sweet when his friends are giving us shit. Probably why I love picking him up at his dorm.
The noises of protest from the rest of the room are loud and exaggerated. Fuck them. “C’mon, baby. Before I start hexing people.”
He gives me a look as he pulls away, his lips a perfect swollen red. I want to kiss him again, but he ducks away. “Granger’s going to kill me.”
“Nope, she’s going to be rude, bossy, and ultimately leave you alone.” I wrap my fingers with his, his hand cool and firm in mine. It’s Sunday, and he’s agreed to hang out with Ron and Hermione for as long as it takes for them to want to beat the prat out of him. It’ll be a short meet up, but after that, I’m taking him to Hogsmeade. He likes looking at stuff, sometimes buying stuff, usually just talking mean shit about things while we laugh. It’s all good.
We’re twenty feet from the Great Hall when they come at us. It’s a daily thing now, and Drake just steps behind me so he doesn’t get in the way. Except, today goes a little different, Corner and Ripper determined to take me out to get to my boy, instead of trying to get around me. It throws me, because I really don’t want to hurt these idiots. They’re angry, fucked up kids whose families got the raw end of a very bad deal. But that’s not Draco’s fault, and it sure as fuck isn’t mine.
I’m bleeding pretty bad by the time I get them under control. Drake’s extra quiet, giving me these quick side glances that just beg apology. He’s being an idiot. I’d protect him even if he didn’t ask. Fuck, I’d protect him even if he hexed me to stay the fuck away. This is so much better than finding him half dead, or worse.
“Get over here, Potter.” He pulls me down a side corridor and into a small room. While he heals my hands, he swears, hating on just about everyone he can name at the moment. It’s damn cute, so I stay quiet.
“Let me see your face.”
“You’re mothering.”
He glares, grabs me by the hair, and pulls me down. “Shut up.” The burn from my cheek soon fades, along with the raw sting on my lip, the numbness relieving, the swelling gone. He hesitates as he presses his wand to the wound next to my eye, his cool fingers lightly running over my mouth. “You can really take a punch or twenty.”
He’s damn beautiful. “You want to punch me, Drake?”
He considers it, my toes curling from that vicious smile of his. “I think you’ve had enough for today. Not even ten a.m., and you’re already a mess.” He finishes healing me, slips his wand away, and waits expectantly.
“Want something?”
“Yes. To be very late.”
Raising my brows, I look around the room barely large enough to fit five people. I spell the door shut and cast a silencing spell. He gives me his extra sexy smirk, pulling me to him by the collar of my hood. I press him back against the wall, kissing him slow, thoroughly. There’s no rush anymore. He’s mine. He’s not going anywhere. Just, when he wraps his arms around me, moaning into my mouth, all my senses go nuts. Heat fills me. Crazy descends. He makes me a mad man.
I tear at his belt, pushing his shirt up, needing to feel every hard, smooth inch of him under my hands, against my skin.
“God, Harry… god.” He wrenches my hips against him, groaning from the contact of our hard dicks grinding together. He’s just as crazed, pulling my hoodie off over my head, tearing my tee right after. He runs his hands through my hair, cupping my face, staring at me in his intense way that’s as true to him saying he loves me as it’s probably ever going to get.
I slide the hem of his sweater and undershirt up, careful not to stretch his clothes out, moving my palms over his sides and arms as I strip him. He’s pure moonlight, pink tinting his cheeks, his nipples beaded and drawing my tongue.
“No,” he whispers when I move down his body, all ready to drink that beautiful cock of his down. “I want something else today. Different.”
I stare up at him, kissing his flat stomach, following the rise and fall of his chest. “What do you want, baby?” I bite my lip when he blushes, his eyes sliding away from mine. He’s nervous, which could be a really good thing, or a yelling thing if I embarrass him about it. I stand, dipping my head and pulling his chin up so I can brush my lips to his. “Curious about something?”
“God, yes.” His fingers bite into the flesh of my back, holding me flush against him. He talks into my ear, hiding his face from mine. He’s surprisingly shy sometimes, for all the many nasty things that come out of his mouth. “I want to know what it, uh, feels like.”
I smile against his cheek. He’s as vague as fuck. “Is this something you do to me? Or something I do to you?”
“Um… You do to me.” His hands grab mine, pulling me to his zipper. I cup him through his trousers, his erection heavy and warm against my palm.
“And what, exactly, am I doing to you?” I murmur in his ear when he doesn’t seem interested in furthering the conversation, his head thrown back as he pushes into my hand.
He gives a low growl in the back of his throat. Apparently I’m supposed to read his mind. “You know. That thing we’ve yet to actually do.” He sighs when I don’t answer.
Yeah, I’m going to make him say it, because hell, I want to hear him say it. And I’m still not a hundred percent certain we’re on the same page here. He asked me a week ago if I’d ever gotten a blood test, which makes me think he’s got something very specific on his mind. I felt the need to prove I was clean, just in case. But I’ve been thinking about sex a lot, and he hasn’t mentioned it yet, so who the fuck knows.
Pursing his lips, he leads my hands to his ass this time, down to the back of his thighs. He’s tense, but damn hard muscle and perky butt. “Fuck me. I want to know what it’s like.”
I have to close my eyes, because the room tilts at his answer, fire moving over my skin in a shudder of heat. Fuck yes. I spread my fingers wide, gripping his thighs through his pants, running up to caress the bottom of his ass. “Right now? In a closet? I can find you a nice bed, beautiful. A couch. Someplace warm. Candlelight. Fireplace. Sheets.”
He gives me a small smile, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “You keep me warm enough.”
“Drake, it’s just… Do you really want your first time in some little dingy room? We can wait a couple of hours. I can take you to dinner and stuff. Steal one of the lounges for an hour.”
“Potter, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were stalling.” He fixes me with a hard glare, one that usually means I’ve said the wrong thing big time. “If you don’t want to fuck me, I’m not going to force you to. I’m sure there are plenty of blokes out there that—”
God, he’s a prat. “Did I say I didn’t want to fuck you?” I pull him close, grinding his hips to mine. He feels amazing, and I have to stop myself from pushing his pants down. As snarky as he can be, he fucking deserves the best. I don’t want him regretting that he let me shag him in a dank little closet for his first time. Mostly because I plan on being with him forever, and he’s really good at dragging up old shit and ranting about it. “Drake, this can be a big deal.”
“Potter, I’m not a fucking chick. I let you rim me in a goddamn hallway for the first time. At least now we have four walls and a lock.”
He’s probably going to punch me. Hell, I want to punch me right now. “But maybe, just maybe, I might want to lie you down on a bed? Be able to hold you after? Not worry about you falling to the dusty floor if it’s too much for you?”
“Damn it!” He hits my shoulder. Ouch, but not full out ‘kill you’ ouch. “Just tie me up again so I won’t fall. Why are you making this so fucking complicated? It’s just sex.”
Tie him up? Is he trying to kill me?
“Drake, god, just give me a second to think about this.” I pull away, mind racing. I haven’t actually done this much, and the idea that I’m going to be his first, and might really fuck it up, feels like this terrible weight on my chest. I love him and I really don’t want to mess this up. A bed would help, at the very least.
“No.” He’s pissed. “What the fuck’s to think about? Either you fuck me or I go find someone that will.”
I turn my head back his way, glowering. Whatever he was going to say next, he doesn’t, his mouth clicking shut as he meets my eyes. He’s so full of shit and we both know it.
“You gonna call me your boyfriend?” I growl out, because I don’t want him to think he’s winning. Of course I’m going to fuck him. I’d be a goddamn idiot not to fuck him. That I’m not buried inside him already just shows how fucked in the head I am around him.
He smiles, knowing he’s won. God, he’s so fucking sexy when he’s smug. “Depends how good a job you do.”
The little bastard.
I start shooting spells out, warming the room, padding the walls with something a shit ton softer than stone, and throwing a fluffy carpet on the floor so his feet don’t freeze. The space is way too small to lie down in, but I can probably fit a chair if he wants.
“You want to sit or stand?” I turn back to him, finding that nervous expression on his face again before he immediately scoffs and looks away.
“Stand, of course.”
Of course. Like he even fucking knows. He yelps when I grab him and pull him hard against my chest. I find his eyes, and he’s all defense. I keep my voice gentle, even though he infuriates the hell out of me. “’Cus I was thinking, if you want to sit, it would be really hot to have you ride me.” I hold his face, moving my thumb over his lips until his expression softens. “You could straddle me, and hold onto my shoulders. I could see your face, see how much you like it. And if it’s too much, you can decide what to do. That way you only take as much as you like. You can have absolute control for how you want to do it.”
Licking his lips, he presses his cheek into my hand, his lids half closed as he sighs. He keeps his crystal clear eyes trained on me, his anger and anxiety drained away. “Harry, I want you to fuck me into the wall. If you want to do it the other way next time, fine. But this is what I want, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and you need to stop arguing.”
My entire body jerks, air exploding out of me in a blast. Fucking hell. He’s been thinking about this. Decided about this. Wants this.
Fine, I’m the biggest idiot ever.
The luckiest, stupidest idiot ever.
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give you it.” Because I’d be a goddamn fool to not give my boy everything he fucking wants.
He beams, pressing a kiss into my palm. “I want you to push me up against the wall. Hard. Really hard.”
“Now?”
He shakes his head, his smile widening. “Not yet. I still have clothes on. And someone ruined my perfectly good wall.”
I glance at the soft foam I had charmed to cover the wall. I immediately dispell it, then unzip his fly and tug his pants down his hips.
“Harder.” He’s got a look in his eye, the one right before he’s about to lose his mind. It’s hot, and if I didn’t know he’d kill me for making him come right now, I’d be sucking his dick. I yank his pants roughly the rest of the way down his long legs, tearing his shoes and socks off as he lifts each foot. The next time I stand, he gives me his arms, wrists together and facing inwards.
“Drake…” He’s really going to kill me here.
“Don’t argue. You can’t even understand how hot it makes me.” He blushes, but he doesn’t look away this time. “I like knowing you can do anything to me. That you set the pace, and make it so good, and… and when you’re in control, I don’t have to worry about anything.” He bites his lip. “I just feel.”
But he should worry, because I really haven’t fucked a lot of guys, and never while they were tied up and—Shut up, Potter. Keep your mouth shut, and just give him what he wants. This is about him, not you, and just keep your mouth shut before you fuck everything up with your insecure bullshit.
I kiss him so he can’t see the shit storm going on in my head. “You want to face me, or the wall?”
“Wall.” When he raises his arms again, I spell the leather wrap on them. His eyes go wide, as does his mouth. He’s mentioned repeatedly just how fucking crazy he felt that second time, tied up and completely at my mercy. Half afraid I was going to do something terrible to him, half so fucking aroused by what I did do. But he hasn’t asked me to do it again, and I think he’s been waiting for this. Another moment where he’s wondering if I’m going to do right by him, or go very, very wrong.
“You tell me if you feel any discomfort. The instant anything hurts or goes numb.”
“What if I don’t want to stop?”
So fucking beautiful. “We won’t, I’ll just fix it so you’re comfortable. You tell me if you want to stop, and we can stop that instant too.”
He nods, his eyes going sober again. He looks me up and down for a moment. “Keep the jeans on. I like how they feel.”
My god, he’s going to be the death of me. Probably really soon. Probably before he cums. “Alright.”
He’s nervous again, and when he says “Now,” I just want to reassure him I’m going to make it good for him, that I won’t hurt him, or disgrace him, or use him. But he doesn’t want to hear me talk, he wants me to move. So I slam him back against the wall, his bound arms between us.
“God.”
And he’s gone, just like that. My baby is really easy to please.
I push his arms up over his head. He arches into me, moaning, head back against the wall. I secure his arms above with something that will let him turn when I want to turn him. Which isn’t now. No, right now I want to watch his face, because he is fucking gone, and beautiful. I run my palms over his sides, feeling every lithe muscle twitch under my hands. When I dig my fingers in, he groans, trying to push into me, his cock dripping and soon to be really sore if he keeps rubbing against my jeans.
“Harry… please.” He tries to reach me again, but I keep my hips back. He might be able to come three times in an hour, but I can’t. I’m a slow burn kind of guy that can go long, but takes time to recharge, and he sets me off way too fucking easy.
He lifts his leg like he’s going to try and wrap around me—He just can’t take no for an answer. But he’s tied up, and he really gets no say in the matter. I grab his leg, stroking my palm up the inside of his thigh. He bucks, whimpering when I avoid his dick. I sink down to my knees, his eyes opening to watch me. My boy is also, apparently, really fucking naïve if he thinks I’m about to suck him right now.
I hold his hips steady, take his knee and hook it over my shoulder. It gives me access to run my tongue over his creamy smooth thigh, not to mention, opens him up to me. I suck a large, beautiful bruise on the inside of his leg, listening to every hitch of breath he makes. His hips keep moving as he tries to grind his cock into my cheek. I glance up at him, smirking when I catch sight of his dazed expression. While watching him, I give a light lick to the throbbing head of his cock, and he nearly cums then and there.
God, he makes me want to be fucking terrible to him. He’s panting up a storm by the time I finish spelling him clean and slick. I got a spell that can stretch him, let me fuck him in a perfect instant, but now is not the time for that. I want to stretch him. Slowly. I want to torture him until he’s begging me to fuck him all better. And he will. I know him. He’ll beg me before I’m done.
“Oh god… oh fuck!” He jerks at the touch of my finger against his pucker. Pretty sure he’s going to be coming in under a minute. I brush my lips to the head of his dick, parting ever so slightly. He gasps, trying to hump me deeper. He really is so wonderfully helpless right now. I flick my tongue across his slit, tasting his precum, and at the same time I slowly work the edges of his hole, small little pushes that start to loosen him up. I give the slightest of suction, my wet lips contouring to the tip of his cock, suckling him until he cries out. His hot seed streams into my mouth, over my lips and chin with every jerk of his dick.
I find him staring at me, his stormy eyes drinking down every inch of my face and his cum. He likes me messy, and fuck, I like how he messes me up. I push my slick finger deeper into him and he moans, his head falling back against the wall. He’s so tight inside, his muscles clamping down around my finger, offering resistance to every push in and every pull out. Crooking deep, I find his prostate, his body jolting when I give the spongy flesh a stroke. He clamps down on me, groaning, and the world gets dizzy. God, he’s going to be fucking tight.
I’m suddenly considering that stretching spell, because I want to be in him right this instant. When I look up, finding his face twisted in absolute need, his arms far above him keeping him from arguing over the matter, the feeling becomes damn unbearable. I’m so hard, and he’ll be fucking hot, and tight, and maybe even a little angry.
I plunge another finger in him before I completely lose my mind. I doesn’t help things. He gets loud, frantic, rocking on my fingers with each push into his tightness. I try to focus on what I’m doing, and not the aching throb in my too tight pants and the heat moving over my body. He’s slick inside, my fingers held painfully tight as I move in and out of his heat. I scissor him open carefully, my digits struggling against the strength of his inner muscles. I rest my face on his raised thigh, my breath bouncing back and making his drying cum itch on my skin.
God… Just fucking god… He wants me to fuck him. How long was he planning this? Did he choose the fucking room and everything? I’m so damn oblivious sometimes.
“Harry, please… God, I’m going to lose it…” He chokes on his next words, and I nearly stand, but his mouth is just wet, saliva dripping down his chin. I slow down though, because his legs are shaking pretty bad, and I don’t want him fainting on me. I want him tormented, but fucking happy about it. He’s already hard again, pressing hot and sticky against my neck with each sway of his body.
“Need you.”
I’m on my feet before I realize it, something primitive and wild sparking in me from those two rasping words. “I got you, baby.” His hair’s sweaty under my fingers, his lips clumsy and eager for my kisses. I crush him back against the wall, careful not to rub my jeans too hard against him. Everything about him is so sensitive. He’s this wild contrast of fragile and strong that gets me crazy.
“Now, Harry… Fuck… I want you inside me,” he pleads roughly into my mouth, the world spinning with every word.
I need to keep it together. I need to not lose my shit because I might hurt him, or end up using him just to get off. He deserves fucking everything, and I need to keep it together.
God, but he wants it up against a wall. Tied up. Completely vulnerable and in my control. Fuck. It’s true. He’s trying to fucking kill me.
It’s my boy; of course he’s trying to kill me.
I summon more lube, pressing three fingers against his crack while making sure my hips only touch the side of him so I don’t make his dick raw. He howls when I plunge into him, the chains rattling overhead, his body arching away and into my touch all at once. God.
“That’s it, baby, loosen up for me. I want you to relax, and let me do all the work.”
“Please, I just… please, Harry… please…”
I really should have gagged him. He might as well be sucking my dick with that mouth of his. He’s sweat and loud breath against me as I hold him still, driving my fingers into him to stretch, because god help me if I hurt him. He still feels so tight, so slick and hot, but I don’t think he’s going to get any looser.
“Give me a kiss, Drake,” I whisper, and he does, his tongue rubbing against mine, his lips raw and hungry. I let him go with a final wet smack, and he sees it in my eyes, feels it in the tension of my body, because he gives me the sexiest fucking grin ever.
“Come on, scarhead. Make me yours.”
Fucking hell. Right through the heart. Bullet to the brain. Dead as a doornail. My boy.
I turn him, too rough, but he whimpers for more. He gasps when his nipples hit the cool wall, but I can barely notice, my fingers a drunk fucking mess that have forgotten how to work a damn button and fly. I finally wrench my jeans down my thighs and pull him back against me, groaning from the feel of his smooth flesh against my burning hot cock.
“Yes, fuck, yes. Do it.”
“Baby, you need to shut the fuck up.” He really does, or I’m going to be inside him with no fucking kindness, no restraint, no control. I wrap my arms tight around his body, pushing flush against his back, resting my head on his raised, strong shoulder while I try to keep from losing my mind. He smells amazing, his skin damp, his breathing a damn serenade of desperation. “I’m gonna be gentle.”
“I don’t care—Do it, and stop stalling.”
I know, such a fucking romantic. But once again, he’s tied up and gets no say in the matter. I run a hand down his ass, squeezing, feeling him jump and grind back into me. Yeah, he’s ready. Fucking dying for it, ready. I bite back a hiss as I lube my cock up, trying not to linger on my aching length. God, I want him. “You want this, baby?” I push my thumb between his tight cheeks, settling my dick into that deep, warm crevis. “You ready?”
“Hurry the fuck—Oh. Harry… god…” He trails off with a cry when I press the head of my cock to his hole.
Everything gets really dark. Hot, and dark, and fucking dizzy when he pushes back, urging me in. I bury my face into his damp hair, groaning, feeling the slightest yielding of firm flesh against my tip. Gotta go slow… Gotta be something more than the fucking crazy he makes me. For him… Gotta keep it together for him.
“Please… please… It’s big… god, yes.”
He’s tight. Slick, and unimaginably hot. With all the oil, I know I can just slide right in, but I hold back because he can’t handle that. Gotta… go… slow… His muscles flex around my head, and I can feel his pulse with mine where we’re joined, his flesh slowly opening to me, encasing me in scalding, clenching agony that’s threatening to undo me.
He’s sobbing, soft, frantic noises that pull me from the absolute consuming feel of his tightness. “Baby? Drake, what do you need?” I scrape my fingernails into his hair and down his neck, trying to ground him. His head is bent forward, and he won’t let me see him when I try to turn his face.
“God… just, don’t stop,” he begs, his hips pushing against my restraining arm, again trying to drive me in deep.
I never should have let him talk me into it this way, with his face hidden from me. When I finally do get a peek at his profile, he’s completely undone, closed eyes steaming tears, bruised lips dripping clear fluid from his gasping mouth. Should have gotten him a bed. Satin sheets and lots of pillows. I run my hand over his throat, down his chest, soothing circles while he tries to adjust to his passage being stretched so wide by me. His thighs shake when I run my palms over them, and I tighten my other arm around his waist to keep him from falling.
He’s bucking by the time I’m satisfied he’s not going to collapse, his hips desperately trying to grind back. And fuck, he keeps clenching on me, squeeze, after mind shocking squeeze. I’m starting to worry I’m going to cum before I’m even in him all the way. I consider myself to have some fucking restraint and stamina, but he just fucks me up, makes me crazy. And I’m actually in him. My beautiful boy. My Drake.
Mine. Finally fucking mine.
“Oh god… oh god… oh… fuck.”
He’s clenching, hips jerking in my grip, but I can’t stop. I need to feel him, all of him, around every damn inch of me. I try to go slow. All I can feel is just how tight he is, the way he opens up, just to me… Only for me. He’s making those noises again, broken cries, but he’s still trying to drive me deeper at the same time. He’s lost, just like I’m lost, but at least we’re lost together.
I’m as deep as I can get, bottoming out, feeling his tight cheeks flush against balls. “I got you, Drake… You feel good… really, fucking good.”
“More—Move.” He sounds like I’m killing him, but I do as he says because I can’t actually stop. His passage grips me when I start to pull out, clenching around me, trying to keep me inside. I exhale loudly, my balls feeling fucking tight. God, I’m not going to last. I reach down, tugging carefully on my sac, trying to slow the crazy need to pound into him and fill him so good. He pushes his ass back, and with a growl I surge forward, sheathing into his tight heat and making him scream.
It goes fuzzy after that, the dark heat stealing my brain again, stealing my senses until all I can hear are his cries and my gasps, feel his hot, tight passage around my aching length as he squeezes me, opens to me, surrenders to my every demanding thrust. The wall is cool and rough against my arm, his body a furnace of wet heat everywhere else I touch, and pull, and hold. I drive into him, and he begs for more, each time, each maddening time. Again. Harder. Harder. He howls when I slip, jarring into his prostate, his entire body jerking and clenching. I aim for it next time, and he gets louder, tighter.
God, I hope he’s close, because I’m so fucking there. I fumble down his sleek body, finding his bobbing cock, pressing my palm to the hot flesh and wrapping my fingers loosely. He moves in my hand, all hard silken flesh, beautiful ridges and smooth thickness.
“Harry… God, I—Harry!”
I know, baby. Fuck, I know.
Every muscle in my body is screaming, hard, sweat soaked, and burning for him. He clenches so tight around me, and I slam forward a final time, wanting him to feel me filling him when he orgasms. God, so fucking tight. So fucking hot, and perfect, and my beautiful Drake.
He sobs when he comes, his cock twitching in my palm, his body bucking and writhing against mine. God, he came with me inside him. His passage clenches in pulse to his spurting streams of cum, and I let go, exploding inside him, coating his walls with my seed, making him mine the only way I know how.
God. My god.
The room is spinning, but I can’t be arsed to care. I hold him tight, listening as his cries slowly fade. I remain buried deep inside him as we breath erratic together, feeling him clench, loving how wet he is now that he’s dripping with my cum. He’s perfect, fucking perfect, outside and in. And he’s mine.
“Harry… my arms?” He sounds weak, exhausted, fucking ruined.
I dispell his bounds, catching his arms and pulling him back so all his weight is on me. He groans when my softened cock moves inside him, but doesn’t pull away. He belongs like this, filled with me, boneless and content. My Drake. I run my hands over his torso, rubbing his flesh, slicking his cum into his skin with his cooling sweat, soothing any lasting pain from his muscles.
I want to tell him I love him, but having him scoff at me will totally ruin the moment. Should have done it when he was still tied up. Next time, when I can gag him from saying stupid shit. God, I love him.
“How do you feel?” I ask, wishing he’d look at me.
“Crazy.”
Not quite the raving praise I was hoping for. “You okay, Drake?” I duck my head, rubbing my cheek over his ear and cheek. “Was it… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
He shakes his head no, leaving me to wonder which question he’s answering. My brilliant, fucking vague boy. I don’t want to worry, don’t want to be one of those clingy, insecure guys, but he’s suddenly so quiet, and he still won’t look at me.
I’m halfway to figuring out if I’m going to let him leave until he at least tells me he’s okay, when he finally turns his head, his lip caught between his teeth.
I hold my breath, finding tears sparkling in his eyes. Fuck, how bad was it? “Baby?”
“I, uh… I… I think I, um…”
Is he breaking up with me? He hasn’t even admitted we’re officially together, but why the fuck is he near tears and stuttering at me, if he’s not breaking up with me?
“Harry, can you kiss me?”
What?
“Harry?” His eyes move over me, a tear slipping free. “I really want a kiss.”
I kiss him, my mind a whirl of confusing thoughts and emotions. He turns in my grasp, my dick slipping from his wet heat. He wraps his arms around my neck, sighing into my mouth, fingers tangling into my hair.
Lips teasing over mine, he pulls back to whisper softly. “I love you.”
I freeze, my brain stuttering to a slamming hault. Suddenly I have this terrible, insane thought that this isn’t my boy at all. That I’m kissing someone polyjuiced as Draco, and unlike my brilliant boyfriend, I’m too fucking dense to notice.
Something must have gotten through on my face because he glares at me, and smacks me on the shoulder. Hard. Nope, this is Draco. Mean, nasty, beautiful Draco that just told me he loves me after mind blowing sex while nearly in tears, and I just stared at him like a slack-jawed idiot. Fucking up, Potter, once again.
“Sorry, Drake, just—Shit, I love you. I love you so much.” I hold him close before he can take another swing at me, pulling him up, his legs wrapping around my hips. “You can’t understand how crazy it makes me to hear you say you love me back.” It does. The more I think about it, the fucking stranger and more amazing it gets. He loves me. He actually said it.
Draco Malfoy loves me.
Holy fuck.
“Yes… well… yes,” he grumbles into my neck, then sighs again, tightening around me, kissing my jaw while I run my palms over him and hold him by his thighs. “You’re not the only one dealing with some fucking crazy. But god… god, can we do that again?”
I pull back to look at him, finding his eyes shining with desire. He’s stunning. “Baby, I’m going to need, like, at least a half hour, but then—”
“You fucking—Stop being so dense!” He hits me again, but he’s laughing at me. Apparently, I’m being funny. “Later. Shit, I’m sore, my legs feel like jelly, and my arms ache. And, well, I don’t think I’ll be sitting for a while, if you get my drift.”
I do, and it’s fucking sexy to think about. “You don’t need to sit. I think we’ve proven standing is a damn fine way for you to spend your time with me.”
“Harry.” He’s giving me that warning look, but I don’t care. ‘Cus he’s hot, he loves me, and he really takes my cock amazingly well.
“We can spend the rest of the day in the castle. I can find us a bed. Maybe something—”
“I want to go to Hogsmeade,” he says with a growl. “Stop being a dog. We can fuck whenever, but all the stores are going to be closed if we don’t leave soon.”
I blink. We can fuck whenever? “Tonight?”
I’m pretty sure he’s about to hit me again. It’s okay, I can take a punch. He wiggles until I release his legs and he can stand on the floor. He gets dressed in silence, shooting me grumpy side glances. I watch him, because he’s worth watching, and I’m not sure if I’m in trouble right now.
I’m probably in trouble. It’s me, after all.
I pull my pants up, realizing I’m half dressed and hanging out. A cleaning spell takes care of the most of it, and my t shirt doesn’t even stick once I pull it over my head. I throw my hoodie over my shoulder, still feeling sweaty and overheated. He’s waiting for me once I’m done, his eyebrow arched in a too cool for life expression. Yup, I’m in trouble.
But my baby loves me, and I’m not letting anything get me down. I grab him by the arm, pulling him in tight, ignoring his scowl to kiss him deep. He’s putty after a few minutes, groaning into my mouth, clinging to my shirt. “You were fucking heaven, Drake. Sorry I’m an idiot. It was fucking amazing—You are fucking amazing. Don’t get angry. I don’t want to ever let you go. I want you to be in my arms forever, even if you’re just holding me.”
“Fucking sap,” he mutters against my cheek, and I roll my eyes. He loves it. He talks shit about it, but he fucking loves it. And me. He loves me. Which is why he’s smiling, and no longer pissed off at me. I know my boy.
I strip the rest of the spells from the room, my arm around his waist and a beaming smile on my face when we leave.
Once we finally meet up with my friends, Ron giving me a mildly disgusted look after realizing why we’re late, Draco calls me his boyfriend when answering a question of Hermione’s. I grin like a fool for the rest of the day, no matter how many times he glares at me when he sees. I also manage to convince him to let me take him to a nice restaurant in Hogsmeade, even though I’m not dressed for it. Sure, I’m not the most romantic guy out there, but I’m determined to treat him right. That treating him right happens to be romantic is pure coincidence.
Mostly.