Fit to Print - Part 3
Title: Fit to Print
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Ginny bashing, but only by Draco. WIP
Summary: A story in which Draco falls madly in love (but with a straight, heartbroken boy), Harry is said straight, heartbroken boy (but you know, shit happens). A tale of friendship, love, Gryffindor determination and all the news that is fit to print. (And lots of drinking)
Author's Notes: I will freely admit that I took a great deal of inspiration from several wonderful gay story lines out there: Maurice, Were the World Mine and primarily Clara Sheller (a fabulous French show which you MUST watch if you haven't!) The main premise of Draco falling in love with a straight boy, comes from a college friend of mine who when one day she was looking very down simply explained, "I've fallen in love with a straight girl." They were together for 5 years!
This is a LONG bit (but oh so nice and NC-17 and angsty!) One more long part after this!!
Fit to Print - Part 3
When Draco finally sleeps that night, he dreams. And when he dreams, he dreams he is sitting on a beach chair, a colorful cocktail in his hand and the crystal blue surf of the Cote d'Azur stretching out before him. It is a good dream, oddly enough, until the gentle ebb and flow of the waves begins to sound less like the gentle surf and more like someone pounding on his front door. He looks at his companion, confused, and the desperately handsome Gilles Rousseau - Seeker for the French national Quidditch team and well known playboy - lazily turns his blond head towards Draco and lowers his shades. "I sink someone is trying to speak with you, mon cheri."
Draco sits bolt upright in his bed, the pounding at the door suddenly twice as loud. The early morning light of Boxing Day casts his room in hazy grays.
He pushes back the sheets and grabs a thin dressing gown from the hook on the bathroom door. The satin is cool on his bed-warm skin as he makes his way to the front door. He can't think who would be banging down his door at this hour. Maybe Pansy had gotten into another classic Parkinson row with her parents over Christmas dinner or there is some crisis at the Prophet that needs immediate attention. Of course in his heart of hearts, Draco hopes for some Christmas miracle that the person on the other side of the door might just be…
"Harry," he breathes as he opens the front door to see the object of his wildest wishes standing on the other side. Draco had left shortly after Harry had vanished, not even bothering to tell his parents. It had taken several Sleeping Drafts but finally he had slept. Harry however has that wild look of one who hasn't caught a wink all night. He still has on the red button-down shirt he'd had on at dinner, the collar now crumpled. His hair is out of place and dull. His eyes are glazed.
"Where did you go?" Draco asks.
"Home," Harry says tightly.
"And... what are you doing here now? Exactly?" He asks, his sleepy brain still trying to sort the situation.
"I need you to kiss me."
This statement does not help to clarify matters in the least.
"What?" Draco finally manages.
"I need for you to kiss me," Harry says again, deliberately.
Still completely flummoxed, but aware enough that this conversation does not need to be happening in the hallway outside he flat, Draco grabs hold of the front of Harry's shirt - had the fool even bothered to put on a coat before coming over here? - and drags him inside, slamming the door firmly shut behind him. The damn bells of the wreath ring for several long seconds.
"What the hell are you on about?"
Harry stands with his fists clasped determinedly at his sides. "You love me."
It isn't a question. "You know I do."
"Well, I love you too. In my own way." Harry begins to pace, looking like some caged animal. "I've been up all night thinking about this and I've been just sick, Draco. I kept thinking that I can't be what you want me to be but then I don't want to hurt you. I know what a broken heart feels like and I won't do that to you."
"You can't just will yourself to have feelings for someone," Draco says. "Especially when that someone is a man and you are not bent." Draco pulls his robe tighter around his chest and starts towards the kitchen to put on the kettle. "Don't insult me, Harry. I'm not some pre-pubescent girl. I'll get over you," he mumbles that last bit to himself even though he knows he probably won't get over Harry. At least not without years of therapy.
Harry follows him, still hell-bent on his agenda. "You said you needed to tell me how you feel even if it meant losing me, and I kept thinking over and over again tonight that I don't want to lose you. And I just kept thinking that all that must mean something, right? I mean, a normal straight guy finds out his best friend fancies him and he freaks out a bit but he doesn't stay up all night wondering if maybe…" His words trail off, his eyes fall softly on Draco's face, his lips more precisely.
Draco can feel his heart pounding his chest. "If what?"
"If kissing a man." Subconsciously, Harry wets his lips catching them between his teeth. Then a sheepish smiles forms. "I mean, it can't be that bad right? You do it all the time."
"I'm also gay." When Harry doesn't blanche at all at that statement Draco says, cautiously, "You don't mean to say…"
"I don't find the idea of kissing you completely abhorrent."
"Oh, well," Draco, spins back around, throwing a tea bag into his mug with a dramatic flair. "Thanks ever so much."
"Well, that's got to count for something right? I'm trying here, Draco." Draco turns back to see Harry looking so completely earnest and steps off the drama train before it completely leaves the station. His shoulders relax as Harry steps close to him, close enough that Draco can look nowhere else but into Harry's eyes.
"I care about you." Draco can hear Harry's breath, shallow and fast. He wonders if his heart is beating as fast as his own. "Kiss me," Harry says on one of those breaths. "Show me."
Draco hesitates. What would it mean, to kiss Harry Potter? What possibility would lie within it? It is perhaps the most meaningful kiss Draco may ever share with a man, so what would this kiss need to be? It would need to encompass all his love. All his want. A kiss to end any and all questions Harry may have and pull out those secret desires that have lain hidden within him his entire life but only need to see the light of day to blossom. This kiss would change his life. Forever.
No pressure then.
He lifts one hand and cards his fingers through the long hair at Harry's temple, trailing his thumb softly against the skin of his jaw. Draco presses the pad of his thumb to the soft swell of Harry's lower lip, forcing his beautiful mouth open. A breath escapes and Harry shivers but does not pull away. He does not even flinch. A perfect pink flush rises in his cheeks and Draco feels his own arousal swell.
"I feel like I'm about to have my first kiss again," Harry whispers.
Draco wets his lips and smiles softly. "In a way, love, you are."
Harry matches his smile and it is with his lips so perfectly shaped that Draco catches them with his.
He kisses him so gently at first, no tongue, no sweeping motion. Just a long lingering press, a tasting of tender flesh. He is so careful, that with Harry's eyes closed he might even think it is a women he is kissing and not a man. He does not need to frighten Harry away with the power two men can share, the pure animalistic rigor.
Draco savors this first touch as if it will be the only one he will have from Harry and when their mouths softly break apart with a soft sound, he steps even closer, angles Harry's head even higher and kisses him even deeper the second time around.
He can hear Harry's breath gain speed as Draco opens his mouth against his. Harry follows suit without a moments hesitation and soon their tongues meet, fluttering against each other as if by accident, sending flares of electricity through Draco's blood. First kiss with a man or no, Harry is brilliant. He kisses without apology and with an intensity that Draco should not have been so surprised by and yet it thrills him like he could have never anticipated.
As they stand there, Draco in his dressing gown and Harry in yesterday's clothes, he feels the impossible. His heart pounds near to bursting as he kisses his improbable love. His throat aches with tears that wish to fill his eyes. A life-long process of school boy pettiness and arch defiance that blurred into mutual respect and eventual trust, all comes to a head in this long awaited epiphany.
At least for him.
As Draco's blood races and his cock swells, there is no way to know if this is having any affect on Harry at all.
He pulls back, opening his eyes. Harry's eyes remain closed, his lids fluttering, his chest rising and falling heavily.
"So?" Draco pants. Finally Harry opens his eyes. He grins.
"You need to shave."
"So do you."
"I'm not used to that."
"No, I'd imagine not."
Harry bites at his lower lip, all wet and red. It's all Draco can do not to bite those lips himself. He runs his hands over Harry's shoulders and clasps his biceps. Good Merlin, if they aren't two perfectly pert muscles.
"How did it feel?" Draco asks.
"Different. But not bad." Harry blushes. "Not bad at all actually. You're a good kisser."
"Takes two to tango."
Harry stares at him for a long moment, then shakes his head slowly. "This is so damned weird."
The gap of space between them is filled with two small laughs, releasing the tension a bit. "We can stop," Draco says, letting go of his arms.
Harry snorts and grabs Draco around the waist. "Not bloody likely," he grumbles, just before he seals Draco's mouth with another kiss.
*
Draco is dreaming again. Dreaming of winter white light filling his bedroom, his naked legs tangled with a lovers under light sheets. Fingers, hesitant yet tender, run through his hair and stir him from his dream within a dream. He rolls over to see Harry watching him, his green eyes open, soft and unafraid. Draco can't think of a time he has ever seen Harry so at peace.
Draco's heart swells, as only it can in one's imagination, so full of love and tenderness. He kisses this dream-world Harry, pressing him back against the sheets. Harry's strong arms surround him, his hands pressing against the skin of Draco's back. And when Draco slips on top of him, Harry opens his thighs willingly, hooking his ankles around Draco's calves and pulling him even closer.
Hard, hot flesh connects and Harry groans his name. "Draco." Harry twists against the sheets with unbearable need and it is only then, as the moan that forms in Harry's throat travels all the way through his body down to his groin does Draco remember that this is no dream.
They had both become braver in the bedroom. Harry had snuck his hands beneath the slippery fabric of Draco's robe, pulling at the knot and easing the fabric off Draco's shoulders. He'd paused for a moment, fascinated as he splayed his hands across Draco's flat chest, brushing across hardened nipples. Draco had undone each button of Harry's shirt with deliberate slowness, exploring Harry's jaw and neck as he did.
They'd gotten on the bed, the top button of Harry's trousers undone and Draco's thin flannel pajamas doing little to hide how riled up this extended make-out session had made him. For the first time that evening, a nervous tension had snuck under Harry's skin.
"You alright?" Draco had asked. He'd felt cautious every step of the way not to push Harry too far and feeling another man's erection pressed against his thigh could have been the thing to send him over the edge. Harry, however, had nodded rigidly, his grip deathly hard on Draco's biceps.
Watching carefully for any further signs of panic, Draco had slid on top of him. When Harry did not protest, he had been unable to stop the roll of hips forward. What he’d found, to his amazement and utter thrill, was a matching hardness beneath Harry's pants. Harry, who until then had done little more than gasp, sigh and pant his way through the encounter, had rewarded Draco with a mind-numbing keen at the weight of Draco‘s body on top of him. Somewhere his heart had leapt, though he was too busy getting it on with Harry Potter to really notice how much.
Harry had uttered some unintelligible mumblings, a combination of curse words and yes's. Draco would have been happy to come off just like this, frotting his way to orgasm both still in their clothes like the teenage boys they had once been, and it would have happened sooner than Draco cared to admit when Harry spoke.
"I want to see it," He'd whispered and Draco had felt his cheeks flush red hot. Meeting Harry's eye the entire time, he'd knelt back on his heels, slipping the band of pajamas over his hips. The morning sun, by that point shining bright through the windows, had done nothing to hide Draco's body. Not that he'd wanted to hide. He stroked himself several times, his breath hitching as he did. He couldn't remember a time he was so turned on.
"Jesus," Harry had breathed, as he‘d settled back against the pillows, perfecting his view. He'd swallowed several times, his eyes wider than the moon. But Draco had been unable to stand it a minute longer and with an almost feral growl, had begun kissing his way down Harry's chest, reaching for the zipper on Harry's trousers. He'd needed to taste him like he needed to breath.
"Stop," Harry had said firmly, grabbing Draco's wrists and his heart had sunk instantly. It had clearly been too fast, too far. He'd looked at Harry, prepared to utter a million apologies when instead, Harry had undone his pants and rolled over.
It had been so unexpected that Draco had had to stare at the curve of Harry's arse for several seconds before he'd fully understood what was happening. He'd pressed at Harry's shoulder, turning him back over.
"We don't have to do that, Har. There's so much more to do, I promise..." He'd smirked. "You have no idea what this mouth is capable of." Draco had bent his head again, kissing his way towards Harry's navel when Harry had stopped him once more. And it had been the look in Harry's eyes this time that had truly given Draco pause.
"She," He'd said but then bit the word. "Any girl can do those things. Any girl can do that." He'd looked pointedly at his cock then back up at Draco. "But only you can do this." As Draco had shook his head uncertainly, his brow narrowing, Harry had brushed his knuckles across his face. "Please. I need to know. I need you to do it."
"And I need you do want it," Draco had replied, sitting back on his heels, his brow cross. "I'm not going to...make love to you if this is still just some experiment."
Harry had knelt forward, brining them chest to chest. He'd captured Draco's face in both his hands. "I don't know what this is," he'd whispered and Draco had known he was speaking the truth. Harry's eyes had scattered across Draco's face, a long, almost loving perusal of all Draco's features, coming back to meet his gaze as he spoke again. "But right now, at this very moment, there is nothing else in the world I want more than to feel you inside me."
Draco had whimpered pathetically, his bones going to liquid. He'd let his head drop back, the weight of it falling into Harry's hands as Harry's lips grazed up the side of his neck, catching his lips as he pulled him down on top of him.
They'd joined together as equals, not as one with all the experience and one who still questioned. Harry's body had moved and responded to each of Draco's advances, his body tenuous and beautiful under his exploring fingers. With every kiss, every sigh, every thrust into unseen places Draco had brimmed with amazement and with love.
Much as he does now. Harry is hard. For him. Again. It is almost impossible to believe. "I'm so turned on right now," Draco says, pressing his forehead against Harry's in an attempt to cool his heels for a moment. "Are you sore at all?"
He'd been as gentle as possible, and Merlin knows he hadn't lasted as long as usual, but the first time is the first and he knows what kind of pain can settle in.
"A bit, yeah."
"I have salve for that. Remind me to give you some." Draco kisses him deeply and smiles. "But not right now. I promised to show you how much more we can do, didn't I?"
Draco straddles his hips and gives himself a moment to truly admire the man before him. Harry's body is flat and muscled in all the right places, lithe and trim. His skin pale and smooth.
"You're gorgeous," he whispers, as Harry's stomach contracts beneath his fingers. Harry's cock is equally gorgeous where it rests on his abdomen and Draco's cock jumps at the sight. He notices Harry starring, his eyes glazed with desire. "You can touch me too, you know."
"I know...I just..."
"Do it, Harry."
With a determined look, Harry trails his hand over Draco's hip, through the crease of his thigh and circles his thumb around the base of Draco's cock. He slips the palm of his hand up towards the head.
"You're a natural," Draco gasps.
"I have had a bit of practice with this," says Harry, cheekily.
"But it's different isn't it?" Draco says, breathing heavy. "A familiar action and yet so different because it isn't you you're touching." Draco rocks his hips in time with Harry's strokes. Harry watches, enrapt, his lower lip caught in his teeth. "Now, twist at the top." Draco orders and Harry obeys. "Oh, fuck, that's good." Draco whines. He runs his hands across his chest, putting on a pretty show.
"I could make you come like this, couldn't I?" Harry asks completely breathless.
"Just like this," Draco replies. "But I don't want you to. Give me your hand."
Harry seems loathe to stop touching Draco, but eventually he does. Draco places Harry's hand to his own cock to relieve some of the tension.
"Take care of yourself for a minute," Draco whispers. Harry, clearly mad with need, groans throatily with thanks. After giving Harry the satisfaction of a few leisurely strokes and allowing himself the immense pleasure of watching Harry Potter wank in front of him, he stills Harry's hand with a soft touch to his wrist, carefully prying open each of Harry's fingers and pressing his cock into Harry's fist along with his own.
Harry seems hardly able to stand it. He throws his head back and squeezes his eyes tight shut. Draco leans over him, whispering hot words against his ear.
"Feels good, doesn't it? You and me, hard for each other? Who needs a soft pussy when you have two hard cocks rubbing against each other?"
Harry moans, high and long.
"You have no idea how many times I've imagined what it would be like to be with you. How your body would feel. What noises you'd make. The look on your face as you come. It's better than I could have ever dreamed. Don't stop, Harry. Keep going. Bring us off."
As if on cue, Draco feels his orgasm winding up deep within his body. Harry pants as if he is running a marathon. "I'm coming," he says, then repeats it again with greater urgency, "I'm coming!"
Draco's body burns from the built up pressure before a tidal wave of pleasure powers through him crashing against the shore just as Harry comes too.
And for the second time that day, they collapse back onto his bed in a beautiful, messy pile of sweat and quivering limbs.
*
Draco excuses himself shortly there after to take a shower. He pauses to look in the mirror. His hair is a mess and his cheeks and chest are flushed but there is a giddy smile on his face that just won't go away. He takes the time to shave and moisturize after, the sun shining through the narrow window makes his hair glow golden blond.
He's never felt like this after a night, or in this case a morning, spent with a man. He's had plenty of paramours, but between the lingering prejudice he'd faced in his early twenties and his commitment to his career in his mid-twenties, he finds himself in his late twenties never really having been in a serious relationship. Or this completely head over heels. He brushes his teeth, giving himself his most dashing smile in the mirror when he finishes.
"Someone's looking quite pleased with themselves this morning," the mirror's crystalline voice chimes. And Draco smiles again. Pleased indeed.
Harry is still lying in bed where Draco had left him when he emerges from the bathroom. One hand is flung over his head while his other scratches through the small patch of hair between his pecs. His eyes are fixed, unseeing, on the ceiling. Draco knows this look. It's the Holy- fuck-I-just-had-sex-with-a-man look. He's worn it before himself, all those years ago.
Draco sits carefully on the edge of the bed. "Here's that salve I was telling you about," Draco says. Harry looks at him only long enough to take the tube from him and mumble a half-hearted thanks. "You'll want to shower first so the bathroom is yours if you want it."
Harry doesn't budge.
"Look," Draco places his hand on Harry's wrist. "I've been where you are. After your first time with a man, it can be completely overwhelming..."
Harry's eyes dart to Draco's, his jaw clenched. "Overwhelming," he snarls, "Does not even begin to cover it." He rips the sheets off and throws himself out of bed. He gathers up his clothes hurriedly from where they still lay on the floor, snapping on his pants and shoving his undershirt on roughly over his mussed hair.
Draco feels suddenly cold, his happiness slipping away by the second. "Harry..." he tries to start again but once more Harry interrupts him.
"I was supposed to get married in six months. Married, Draco." He rakes his fingers hard through his hair. "To the woman I have been in love with since I was 16. And now we just..." He gestures meekly at Draco's bed, looking almost sick. "I gotta go."
"Harry, listen to me," Draco moves around the bed, grabbing Harry by the wrist so he can't get away too soon. "I know you're confused but I'm here, alright? For whatever you need." He opens his arms wide, offering himself up. "Talk, getting drunk, a relationship, an occasional fuck, I don't care. Use me for whatever you need, even if it is just to get over Ginny."
Harry pulls away, looking offended on Draco's behalf.
"I love you." Draco continues softly. "I'll take from you whatever you'll give me."
"You deserve better than that," Harry says resolutely. He shakes out his shirt, giving himself a moment to calm down. "And right now, I'm not the person to give that to you. I'm still hurting the way things ended with Ginny and after this...I shouldn't have come here."
"No." Draco is the one to interrupt now. "I think it's good you did. I think this," he gestures between them. "It needed to happen."
Harry looks at him a long time. "Does this mean I'm bi now? Or gay?"
"Well," Draco arches one brow higher. "I think we can scratch completely straight off the list."
Harry almost smiles but his shoulders do relax a bit. "I just need some time, Draco. Some time to sort out my own head."
Draco nods and settles back on the bed to watch in silence as Harry finishes getting dressed.
"You'll be at the Hogwarts Ball right?" Harry asks from where he kneels to tie his shoes.
"Couldn't miss it if I tried."
"I'll see you there, alright?" He stands and puts the slave in his trouser pocket. "But until then, I think it's better if we don‘t talk."
Draco wants to protest, not understanding how that would make any of what Harry is going through any easier. But in the end he just shrugs and says, "Alright."
Harry turns to walk out of the bedroom when Draco remembers something.
"Wait," he says and hurries quickly to his closet. "You forgot this last night." He emerges from his closet with the cloak he'd given Harry just the night before slung over his arms. "I noticed the puffy monstrosity remained at home this morning and it's supposed to be wretchedly cold today."
Harry reaches for it, then hesitates. "You're sure you want me to take it still?"
"It was a gift, given in friendship and love," Draco says, undoing the clasp at the collar and holding it open for Harry to put on. "No matter what happens next, the motivation was true at the time."
Harry steps into the cloak, sliding his arms into the sleeves. The fit is perfect, as Draco knew it would be. He can't help but slide his hands across Harry's broad shoulders, inhaling deeply and taking in lungs full of his smell. Harry looks at him over his shoulder.
He places a hand on Draco's freshly shaved face, his thumb sweeping over the smooth skin. "I don't regret this," he whispers. "Not one bit of it."
Draco's eyes flutter closed, his lips pressed into a hard line. He nods, not realizing how much he needed to hear those words until he had heard them. Harry kisses him softly on the cheek.
"G'bye, Draco." He says then slips out the door.
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Ginny bashing, but only by Draco. WIP
Summary: A story in which Draco falls madly in love (but with a straight, heartbroken boy), Harry is said straight, heartbroken boy (but you know, shit happens). A tale of friendship, love, Gryffindor determination and all the news that is fit to print. (And lots of drinking)
Author's Notes: I will freely admit that I took a great deal of inspiration from several wonderful gay story lines out there: Maurice, Were the World Mine and primarily Clara Sheller (a fabulous French show which you MUST watch if you haven't!) The main premise of Draco falling in love with a straight boy, comes from a college friend of mine who when one day she was looking very down simply explained, "I've fallen in love with a straight girl." They were together for 5 years!
This is a LONG bit (but oh so nice and NC-17 and angsty!) One more long part after this!!
Fit to Print - Part 3
When Draco finally sleeps that night, he dreams. And when he dreams, he dreams he is sitting on a beach chair, a colorful cocktail in his hand and the crystal blue surf of the Cote d'Azur stretching out before him. It is a good dream, oddly enough, until the gentle ebb and flow of the waves begins to sound less like the gentle surf and more like someone pounding on his front door. He looks at his companion, confused, and the desperately handsome Gilles Rousseau - Seeker for the French national Quidditch team and well known playboy - lazily turns his blond head towards Draco and lowers his shades. "I sink someone is trying to speak with you, mon cheri."
Draco sits bolt upright in his bed, the pounding at the door suddenly twice as loud. The early morning light of Boxing Day casts his room in hazy grays.
He pushes back the sheets and grabs a thin dressing gown from the hook on the bathroom door. The satin is cool on his bed-warm skin as he makes his way to the front door. He can't think who would be banging down his door at this hour. Maybe Pansy had gotten into another classic Parkinson row with her parents over Christmas dinner or there is some crisis at the Prophet that needs immediate attention. Of course in his heart of hearts, Draco hopes for some Christmas miracle that the person on the other side of the door might just be…
"Harry," he breathes as he opens the front door to see the object of his wildest wishes standing on the other side. Draco had left shortly after Harry had vanished, not even bothering to tell his parents. It had taken several Sleeping Drafts but finally he had slept. Harry however has that wild look of one who hasn't caught a wink all night. He still has on the red button-down shirt he'd had on at dinner, the collar now crumpled. His hair is out of place and dull. His eyes are glazed.
"Where did you go?" Draco asks.
"Home," Harry says tightly.
"And... what are you doing here now? Exactly?" He asks, his sleepy brain still trying to sort the situation.
"I need you to kiss me."
This statement does not help to clarify matters in the least.
"What?" Draco finally manages.
"I need for you to kiss me," Harry says again, deliberately.
Still completely flummoxed, but aware enough that this conversation does not need to be happening in the hallway outside he flat, Draco grabs hold of the front of Harry's shirt - had the fool even bothered to put on a coat before coming over here? - and drags him inside, slamming the door firmly shut behind him. The damn bells of the wreath ring for several long seconds.
"What the hell are you on about?"
Harry stands with his fists clasped determinedly at his sides. "You love me."
It isn't a question. "You know I do."
"Well, I love you too. In my own way." Harry begins to pace, looking like some caged animal. "I've been up all night thinking about this and I've been just sick, Draco. I kept thinking that I can't be what you want me to be but then I don't want to hurt you. I know what a broken heart feels like and I won't do that to you."
"You can't just will yourself to have feelings for someone," Draco says. "Especially when that someone is a man and you are not bent." Draco pulls his robe tighter around his chest and starts towards the kitchen to put on the kettle. "Don't insult me, Harry. I'm not some pre-pubescent girl. I'll get over you," he mumbles that last bit to himself even though he knows he probably won't get over Harry. At least not without years of therapy.
Harry follows him, still hell-bent on his agenda. "You said you needed to tell me how you feel even if it meant losing me, and I kept thinking over and over again tonight that I don't want to lose you. And I just kept thinking that all that must mean something, right? I mean, a normal straight guy finds out his best friend fancies him and he freaks out a bit but he doesn't stay up all night wondering if maybe…" His words trail off, his eyes fall softly on Draco's face, his lips more precisely.
Draco can feel his heart pounding his chest. "If what?"
"If kissing a man." Subconsciously, Harry wets his lips catching them between his teeth. Then a sheepish smiles forms. "I mean, it can't be that bad right? You do it all the time."
"I'm also gay." When Harry doesn't blanche at all at that statement Draco says, cautiously, "You don't mean to say…"
"I don't find the idea of kissing you completely abhorrent."
"Oh, well," Draco, spins back around, throwing a tea bag into his mug with a dramatic flair. "Thanks ever so much."
"Well, that's got to count for something right? I'm trying here, Draco." Draco turns back to see Harry looking so completely earnest and steps off the drama train before it completely leaves the station. His shoulders relax as Harry steps close to him, close enough that Draco can look nowhere else but into Harry's eyes.
"I care about you." Draco can hear Harry's breath, shallow and fast. He wonders if his heart is beating as fast as his own. "Kiss me," Harry says on one of those breaths. "Show me."
Draco hesitates. What would it mean, to kiss Harry Potter? What possibility would lie within it? It is perhaps the most meaningful kiss Draco may ever share with a man, so what would this kiss need to be? It would need to encompass all his love. All his want. A kiss to end any and all questions Harry may have and pull out those secret desires that have lain hidden within him his entire life but only need to see the light of day to blossom. This kiss would change his life. Forever.
No pressure then.
He lifts one hand and cards his fingers through the long hair at Harry's temple, trailing his thumb softly against the skin of his jaw. Draco presses the pad of his thumb to the soft swell of Harry's lower lip, forcing his beautiful mouth open. A breath escapes and Harry shivers but does not pull away. He does not even flinch. A perfect pink flush rises in his cheeks and Draco feels his own arousal swell.
"I feel like I'm about to have my first kiss again," Harry whispers.
Draco wets his lips and smiles softly. "In a way, love, you are."
Harry matches his smile and it is with his lips so perfectly shaped that Draco catches them with his.
He kisses him so gently at first, no tongue, no sweeping motion. Just a long lingering press, a tasting of tender flesh. He is so careful, that with Harry's eyes closed he might even think it is a women he is kissing and not a man. He does not need to frighten Harry away with the power two men can share, the pure animalistic rigor.
Draco savors this first touch as if it will be the only one he will have from Harry and when their mouths softly break apart with a soft sound, he steps even closer, angles Harry's head even higher and kisses him even deeper the second time around.
He can hear Harry's breath gain speed as Draco opens his mouth against his. Harry follows suit without a moments hesitation and soon their tongues meet, fluttering against each other as if by accident, sending flares of electricity through Draco's blood. First kiss with a man or no, Harry is brilliant. He kisses without apology and with an intensity that Draco should not have been so surprised by and yet it thrills him like he could have never anticipated.
As they stand there, Draco in his dressing gown and Harry in yesterday's clothes, he feels the impossible. His heart pounds near to bursting as he kisses his improbable love. His throat aches with tears that wish to fill his eyes. A life-long process of school boy pettiness and arch defiance that blurred into mutual respect and eventual trust, all comes to a head in this long awaited epiphany.
At least for him.
As Draco's blood races and his cock swells, there is no way to know if this is having any affect on Harry at all.
He pulls back, opening his eyes. Harry's eyes remain closed, his lids fluttering, his chest rising and falling heavily.
"So?" Draco pants. Finally Harry opens his eyes. He grins.
"You need to shave."
"So do you."
"I'm not used to that."
"No, I'd imagine not."
Harry bites at his lower lip, all wet and red. It's all Draco can do not to bite those lips himself. He runs his hands over Harry's shoulders and clasps his biceps. Good Merlin, if they aren't two perfectly pert muscles.
"How did it feel?" Draco asks.
"Different. But not bad." Harry blushes. "Not bad at all actually. You're a good kisser."
"Takes two to tango."
Harry stares at him for a long moment, then shakes his head slowly. "This is so damned weird."
The gap of space between them is filled with two small laughs, releasing the tension a bit. "We can stop," Draco says, letting go of his arms.
Harry snorts and grabs Draco around the waist. "Not bloody likely," he grumbles, just before he seals Draco's mouth with another kiss.
*
Draco is dreaming again. Dreaming of winter white light filling his bedroom, his naked legs tangled with a lovers under light sheets. Fingers, hesitant yet tender, run through his hair and stir him from his dream within a dream. He rolls over to see Harry watching him, his green eyes open, soft and unafraid. Draco can't think of a time he has ever seen Harry so at peace.
Draco's heart swells, as only it can in one's imagination, so full of love and tenderness. He kisses this dream-world Harry, pressing him back against the sheets. Harry's strong arms surround him, his hands pressing against the skin of Draco's back. And when Draco slips on top of him, Harry opens his thighs willingly, hooking his ankles around Draco's calves and pulling him even closer.
Hard, hot flesh connects and Harry groans his name. "Draco." Harry twists against the sheets with unbearable need and it is only then, as the moan that forms in Harry's throat travels all the way through his body down to his groin does Draco remember that this is no dream.
They had both become braver in the bedroom. Harry had snuck his hands beneath the slippery fabric of Draco's robe, pulling at the knot and easing the fabric off Draco's shoulders. He'd paused for a moment, fascinated as he splayed his hands across Draco's flat chest, brushing across hardened nipples. Draco had undone each button of Harry's shirt with deliberate slowness, exploring Harry's jaw and neck as he did.
They'd gotten on the bed, the top button of Harry's trousers undone and Draco's thin flannel pajamas doing little to hide how riled up this extended make-out session had made him. For the first time that evening, a nervous tension had snuck under Harry's skin.
"You alright?" Draco had asked. He'd felt cautious every step of the way not to push Harry too far and feeling another man's erection pressed against his thigh could have been the thing to send him over the edge. Harry, however, had nodded rigidly, his grip deathly hard on Draco's biceps.
Watching carefully for any further signs of panic, Draco had slid on top of him. When Harry did not protest, he had been unable to stop the roll of hips forward. What he’d found, to his amazement and utter thrill, was a matching hardness beneath Harry's pants. Harry, who until then had done little more than gasp, sigh and pant his way through the encounter, had rewarded Draco with a mind-numbing keen at the weight of Draco‘s body on top of him. Somewhere his heart had leapt, though he was too busy getting it on with Harry Potter to really notice how much.
Harry had uttered some unintelligible mumblings, a combination of curse words and yes's. Draco would have been happy to come off just like this, frotting his way to orgasm both still in their clothes like the teenage boys they had once been, and it would have happened sooner than Draco cared to admit when Harry spoke.
"I want to see it," He'd whispered and Draco had felt his cheeks flush red hot. Meeting Harry's eye the entire time, he'd knelt back on his heels, slipping the band of pajamas over his hips. The morning sun, by that point shining bright through the windows, had done nothing to hide Draco's body. Not that he'd wanted to hide. He stroked himself several times, his breath hitching as he did. He couldn't remember a time he was so turned on.
"Jesus," Harry had breathed, as he‘d settled back against the pillows, perfecting his view. He'd swallowed several times, his eyes wider than the moon. But Draco had been unable to stand it a minute longer and with an almost feral growl, had begun kissing his way down Harry's chest, reaching for the zipper on Harry's trousers. He'd needed to taste him like he needed to breath.
"Stop," Harry had said firmly, grabbing Draco's wrists and his heart had sunk instantly. It had clearly been too fast, too far. He'd looked at Harry, prepared to utter a million apologies when instead, Harry had undone his pants and rolled over.
It had been so unexpected that Draco had had to stare at the curve of Harry's arse for several seconds before he'd fully understood what was happening. He'd pressed at Harry's shoulder, turning him back over.
"We don't have to do that, Har. There's so much more to do, I promise..." He'd smirked. "You have no idea what this mouth is capable of." Draco had bent his head again, kissing his way towards Harry's navel when Harry had stopped him once more. And it had been the look in Harry's eyes this time that had truly given Draco pause.
"She," He'd said but then bit the word. "Any girl can do those things. Any girl can do that." He'd looked pointedly at his cock then back up at Draco. "But only you can do this." As Draco had shook his head uncertainly, his brow narrowing, Harry had brushed his knuckles across his face. "Please. I need to know. I need you to do it."
"And I need you do want it," Draco had replied, sitting back on his heels, his brow cross. "I'm not going to...make love to you if this is still just some experiment."
Harry had knelt forward, brining them chest to chest. He'd captured Draco's face in both his hands. "I don't know what this is," he'd whispered and Draco had known he was speaking the truth. Harry's eyes had scattered across Draco's face, a long, almost loving perusal of all Draco's features, coming back to meet his gaze as he spoke again. "But right now, at this very moment, there is nothing else in the world I want more than to feel you inside me."
Draco had whimpered pathetically, his bones going to liquid. He'd let his head drop back, the weight of it falling into Harry's hands as Harry's lips grazed up the side of his neck, catching his lips as he pulled him down on top of him.
They'd joined together as equals, not as one with all the experience and one who still questioned. Harry's body had moved and responded to each of Draco's advances, his body tenuous and beautiful under his exploring fingers. With every kiss, every sigh, every thrust into unseen places Draco had brimmed with amazement and with love.
Much as he does now. Harry is hard. For him. Again. It is almost impossible to believe. "I'm so turned on right now," Draco says, pressing his forehead against Harry's in an attempt to cool his heels for a moment. "Are you sore at all?"
He'd been as gentle as possible, and Merlin knows he hadn't lasted as long as usual, but the first time is the first and he knows what kind of pain can settle in.
"A bit, yeah."
"I have salve for that. Remind me to give you some." Draco kisses him deeply and smiles. "But not right now. I promised to show you how much more we can do, didn't I?"
Draco straddles his hips and gives himself a moment to truly admire the man before him. Harry's body is flat and muscled in all the right places, lithe and trim. His skin pale and smooth.
"You're gorgeous," he whispers, as Harry's stomach contracts beneath his fingers. Harry's cock is equally gorgeous where it rests on his abdomen and Draco's cock jumps at the sight. He notices Harry starring, his eyes glazed with desire. "You can touch me too, you know."
"I know...I just..."
"Do it, Harry."
With a determined look, Harry trails his hand over Draco's hip, through the crease of his thigh and circles his thumb around the base of Draco's cock. He slips the palm of his hand up towards the head.
"You're a natural," Draco gasps.
"I have had a bit of practice with this," says Harry, cheekily.
"But it's different isn't it?" Draco says, breathing heavy. "A familiar action and yet so different because it isn't you you're touching." Draco rocks his hips in time with Harry's strokes. Harry watches, enrapt, his lower lip caught in his teeth. "Now, twist at the top." Draco orders and Harry obeys. "Oh, fuck, that's good." Draco whines. He runs his hands across his chest, putting on a pretty show.
"I could make you come like this, couldn't I?" Harry asks completely breathless.
"Just like this," Draco replies. "But I don't want you to. Give me your hand."
Harry seems loathe to stop touching Draco, but eventually he does. Draco places Harry's hand to his own cock to relieve some of the tension.
"Take care of yourself for a minute," Draco whispers. Harry, clearly mad with need, groans throatily with thanks. After giving Harry the satisfaction of a few leisurely strokes and allowing himself the immense pleasure of watching Harry Potter wank in front of him, he stills Harry's hand with a soft touch to his wrist, carefully prying open each of Harry's fingers and pressing his cock into Harry's fist along with his own.
Harry seems hardly able to stand it. He throws his head back and squeezes his eyes tight shut. Draco leans over him, whispering hot words against his ear.
"Feels good, doesn't it? You and me, hard for each other? Who needs a soft pussy when you have two hard cocks rubbing against each other?"
Harry moans, high and long.
"You have no idea how many times I've imagined what it would be like to be with you. How your body would feel. What noises you'd make. The look on your face as you come. It's better than I could have ever dreamed. Don't stop, Harry. Keep going. Bring us off."
As if on cue, Draco feels his orgasm winding up deep within his body. Harry pants as if he is running a marathon. "I'm coming," he says, then repeats it again with greater urgency, "I'm coming!"
Draco's body burns from the built up pressure before a tidal wave of pleasure powers through him crashing against the shore just as Harry comes too.
And for the second time that day, they collapse back onto his bed in a beautiful, messy pile of sweat and quivering limbs.
*
Draco excuses himself shortly there after to take a shower. He pauses to look in the mirror. His hair is a mess and his cheeks and chest are flushed but there is a giddy smile on his face that just won't go away. He takes the time to shave and moisturize after, the sun shining through the narrow window makes his hair glow golden blond.
He's never felt like this after a night, or in this case a morning, spent with a man. He's had plenty of paramours, but between the lingering prejudice he'd faced in his early twenties and his commitment to his career in his mid-twenties, he finds himself in his late twenties never really having been in a serious relationship. Or this completely head over heels. He brushes his teeth, giving himself his most dashing smile in the mirror when he finishes.
"Someone's looking quite pleased with themselves this morning," the mirror's crystalline voice chimes. And Draco smiles again. Pleased indeed.
Harry is still lying in bed where Draco had left him when he emerges from the bathroom. One hand is flung over his head while his other scratches through the small patch of hair between his pecs. His eyes are fixed, unseeing, on the ceiling. Draco knows this look. It's the Holy- fuck-I-just-had-sex-with-a-man look. He's worn it before himself, all those years ago.
Draco sits carefully on the edge of the bed. "Here's that salve I was telling you about," Draco says. Harry looks at him only long enough to take the tube from him and mumble a half-hearted thanks. "You'll want to shower first so the bathroom is yours if you want it."
Harry doesn't budge.
"Look," Draco places his hand on Harry's wrist. "I've been where you are. After your first time with a man, it can be completely overwhelming..."
Harry's eyes dart to Draco's, his jaw clenched. "Overwhelming," he snarls, "Does not even begin to cover it." He rips the sheets off and throws himself out of bed. He gathers up his clothes hurriedly from where they still lay on the floor, snapping on his pants and shoving his undershirt on roughly over his mussed hair.
Draco feels suddenly cold, his happiness slipping away by the second. "Harry..." he tries to start again but once more Harry interrupts him.
"I was supposed to get married in six months. Married, Draco." He rakes his fingers hard through his hair. "To the woman I have been in love with since I was 16. And now we just..." He gestures meekly at Draco's bed, looking almost sick. "I gotta go."
"Harry, listen to me," Draco moves around the bed, grabbing Harry by the wrist so he can't get away too soon. "I know you're confused but I'm here, alright? For whatever you need." He opens his arms wide, offering himself up. "Talk, getting drunk, a relationship, an occasional fuck, I don't care. Use me for whatever you need, even if it is just to get over Ginny."
Harry pulls away, looking offended on Draco's behalf.
"I love you." Draco continues softly. "I'll take from you whatever you'll give me."
"You deserve better than that," Harry says resolutely. He shakes out his shirt, giving himself a moment to calm down. "And right now, I'm not the person to give that to you. I'm still hurting the way things ended with Ginny and after this...I shouldn't have come here."
"No." Draco is the one to interrupt now. "I think it's good you did. I think this," he gestures between them. "It needed to happen."
Harry looks at him a long time. "Does this mean I'm bi now? Or gay?"
"Well," Draco arches one brow higher. "I think we can scratch completely straight off the list."
Harry almost smiles but his shoulders do relax a bit. "I just need some time, Draco. Some time to sort out my own head."
Draco nods and settles back on the bed to watch in silence as Harry finishes getting dressed.
"You'll be at the Hogwarts Ball right?" Harry asks from where he kneels to tie his shoes.
"Couldn't miss it if I tried."
"I'll see you there, alright?" He stands and puts the slave in his trouser pocket. "But until then, I think it's better if we don‘t talk."
Draco wants to protest, not understanding how that would make any of what Harry is going through any easier. But in the end he just shrugs and says, "Alright."
Harry turns to walk out of the bedroom when Draco remembers something.
"Wait," he says and hurries quickly to his closet. "You forgot this last night." He emerges from his closet with the cloak he'd given Harry just the night before slung over his arms. "I noticed the puffy monstrosity remained at home this morning and it's supposed to be wretchedly cold today."
Harry reaches for it, then hesitates. "You're sure you want me to take it still?"
"It was a gift, given in friendship and love," Draco says, undoing the clasp at the collar and holding it open for Harry to put on. "No matter what happens next, the motivation was true at the time."
Harry steps into the cloak, sliding his arms into the sleeves. The fit is perfect, as Draco knew it would be. He can't help but slide his hands across Harry's broad shoulders, inhaling deeply and taking in lungs full of his smell. Harry looks at him over his shoulder.
He places a hand on Draco's freshly shaved face, his thumb sweeping over the smooth skin. "I don't regret this," he whispers. "Not one bit of it."
Draco's eyes flutter closed, his lips pressed into a hard line. He nods, not realizing how much he needed to hear those words until he had heard them. Harry kisses him softly on the cheek.
"G'bye, Draco." He says then slips out the door.