"The Swing" - H/D smutlet
I know it’s only fifteen minutes before England’s quarterfinal match with Portugal, but I did manage to get the football!smut for the match which took place last Monday finished just in time.
So, I present The Swing ... NC17 ... PWP ... H/D ... Harry has been watching England play Croatia and Draco, with ulterior motives, has been eating strawberries.
Note: A ‘punnet’ is a small container, a bit like a basket, for soft fruit, such as strawberries
Thanks to golden_snitch12 for her wonderful quick beta. And to olivia_lupin who managed to beta this despite being up to her knees in packing crates. Thank you both for your hard work. If there are any mistakes, they are mine.
This one is for ias ... Belated happy birthday, Issy ... I hope you had a great day.
Both this and Post-Match Analysis take place in the Resolution universe, but they are only one possible version of the future of the boys.
Location: A house somewhere in the South of England. I can’t tell you where exactly because it is unplottable thanks to anti-location spells.
The time: Monday 21st June 2004, during after the Croatia v England football match.
**************
The Swing
Harry couldn’t decide which was more frustrating -- the fact that Michael Owen seemed incapable of scoring a goal or the fact that Draco Malfoy was currently sitting next to him eating strawberries and cream.
What made that even worse was that Draco wasn’t actually doing anything. He was just sitting there slowly working his way through the large punnet of ripe, juicy strawberries while watching the England vs. Croatia match. So the fact that Harry found his gaze constantly drawn from the large wide-screen television to either Draco’s fingers or mouth was getting him more and more frustrated.
Draco had arrived in the lounge with just twenty minutes of the match remaining, plonked himself down next to Harry and smirked. “Are we still winning?” Harry had nodded, not really paying his lover that much attention. His response of “Excellent” was lost in Harry’s yell as Wayne Rooney scored his second goal.
Still excited, Harry dropped back onto the sofa and had finally looked at Draco. “I thought you were going to wear red and white.” He waggled a finger at Draco’s casual shirt and trousers. “You know, in honour of the match.”
“I decided on honouring England with something else,” came the reply. Then before Harry managed to say anything else, Draco had pulled out his wand and Accio-ed a punnet of strawberries and bowl of cream from the kitchen. He delved into the punnet for a moment before pulling out a suitably large strawberry. “See ... red....” The berry was dipped into the bowl before being presented to Harry. “And white.” A dollop of thick cream crowned the fruit. He’d held it there until Harry had leaned over and bitten into it.
And that had been what Draco had been doing ever since. Oh, he would occasionally ask a question ... “Why did Rooney get taken off when he’s doing so well?” had been the first one just after he’d arrived ... but for the most part he had sat there eating and quietly behaving himself.
But every now and then, Harry would catch the movement of Draco leaning towards the coffee table. He would stretch his neck as he stared into the dish, tendons taut and throat working as he swallowed. Then, when he had found the perfect berry, his long slender fingers would reach for it, holding it by the little green stalk. Harry had to watch as the strawberry was dipped into the cream before Draco sat back and raised it to his mouth, sometimes taking the whole fruit in so that just the stalk was left, or biting it in half, white teeth visible for a split second.
If that wasn’t bad enough, one of his lover’s bare feet was resting on the edge of the coffee table and his toes would clench and flex as he ate. The only other time Harry had ever seen Draco’s toes do that was when he was on the verge of coming.
It would have helped, Harry decided shortly after the first strawberry had found its way into Draco’s spectacular mouth, if Draco had made suitable noises of delight or somehow pretended he was getting off on the sensation, but there was nothing ... not a sound.
That was turning on Harry more than if Draco had been laid naked across the coffee table covered in strawberries and cream, and demanding Harry remove every trace from his skin.
By the time Frank Lampard had scored England’s fourth goal, Harry was as hard as hell and desperate to lick the strawberry juice he could see covering Draco’s lips. He wanted to stick his finger in the cream and let Draco lick it clean.
And now that the final whistle had sounded, all he wanted to do now was fuck the man senseless.
He reached for the remote control and turned the television off. When he looked back at Draco, his lover was staring at his cream-covered fingers. Harry sat back on the sofa, his left shoulder now resting against Draco’s right.
“So....” Draco glanced sideways and raised his fingers towards his mouth. “We won.”
Harry’s hand shot up and grabbed at Draco’s wrist, halting the fingers just short of the open mouth. “Two to them. Four to us.” He licked carefully at one of the fingers; the strawberry and cream flavour a delight.
“Which means?” Draco shifted a little closer.
“Well, because of the France-Switzerland result, we get to play Portugal on Thursday.” Harry sucked the fingers into his mouth, delighted by the way Draco’s eyelids fluttered closed briefly before opening again, dilated pupils almost obscuring the grey.
“And if we win that one?” There was a roughness to Draco’s voice and Harry wondered if he was getting hard. He wanted to touch but knew if he did, he might very well come himself just from that brief contact.
Harry pulled the finger from his mouth with an audible pop. “Then we’re through to the semifinals next Wednesday.”
“Hmmm.” Draco reached for another berry, which he bit in half and held the remainder out. Harry took it between his teeth as Draco pulled the stalk away. It was sweet and juicy, tasting like Draco’s cream covered fingers. “If we win the semifinals, we’ll been in the final?”
Harry nodded again, shifting slightly to try and relieve the pressure of his throbbing erection. “Yes.”
“When’s that?”
“The fourth of July.” Harry finally reached out his hand, cupping Draco through his trousers.
Draco moaned softly. “So, three wins and I get to have you in public?”
Harry chuckled, remembering the conversation they’d had in the aftermath of some incredible sex after the England/Switzerland match. “Don’t bet on it, Draco. If I were you, I’d take what I can get now and worry about the rest later. Come here.” He pulled Draco towards him.
The kiss was sweet and indulgent, with a sense of both possessing and being possessed that they had always enjoyed. It continued for several minutes as they held on to each other, hands roaming over skin and hair. Draco tasted of the fruit he’d eaten, and Harry delighted in trying to steal that taste with his tongue. He licked it from Draco’s swollen red lips and plundered his mouth.
When Draco’s fingers finally tangled possessively in his hair, Harry allowed the other man to take command, revelling in the feeling of being held and made love to by the person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world. He could feel the blood rushing to his lips as Draco sucked on them and the sensation of the man’s tongue in his mouth ... filling him ... was enough to make him come there and then in a shattering release.
*****
He came back to reality slowly. Draco was holding him, stroking at his hair, planting little kisses along his cheek and whispering words of endearment in his ears. With a contented sigh, Harry cuddled into Draco’s side and finally opened his eyes.
“Back again?” Draco kissed him softly.
“Sorry, but that was your fault. You and those strawberries.”
“Mmmm. I love watching you come -- never say sorry for that.” The kisses continued, covering Harry’s face and neck. “Are you going to come again for me later?”
“Do you have to ask? Where do you want me?”
“Out in the garden....” He kissed Harry’s cheeks. “Under the stars.” The lightning bolt scar. “On the swing.” Harry’s mouth.
“Okay.” Harry luxuriated in the attention, the feeling of Draco’s hands roaming over his body, removing his glasses and pulling at his shirt. “But my swing ... not your poncey garden seat thing.”
Draco grinned. “Well, you know I’m game for anything.”
“Can I undress you?”
*****
The swing hung from the ancient oak tree, moving slightly in the night breeze. Harry had jumped up to the limb it hung from on his first visit to the garden, hanging there as he excitedly told Draco it was the perfect branch for a swing. He’d made such a fuss when he put it up, inviting their friends over for dinner so they, too, could see his new toy.
Draco had watched, feeling indulgent, as Harry had shown it off, curious as to why it caused so much excitement in the man he loved. Later, when the group of Gryffindors had been saying their goodbyes, he’d walked out to the oak, which had been turned silver by the full moon. Draco had sat on the smooth wooden seat and reached for the stout ropes and set the swing into motion. It had a sound of its own -- the creak of the ropes against the branch -- that was almost meditative, and he found himself drawn back to his own childhood. There had been a swing in the woods at Malfoy Manor and he could remember someone pushing him on it, but the memory wasn’t of his mother or father.
The swing had still been there the last time he’d gone home. He’d gone into the woods, walking the old familiar path, and finally found it again. As he’s swung higher and higher, he remembered it was his beloved grandmother who had taken him there, joining him in his squeals of delight as she pushed him back and forth. He had been so deep in the memory that he wasn’t even aware of Harry’s presence until he spoke.
“Enjoying yourself?” The swing slowed and as it became stationary, Draco had made to get off. “No, stay there.” The seat was wide enough for them both, and Harry had sat beside him, their arms automatically moving behind each other as the swing began to move again.
“Why did you want this so badly?” Draco had asked as he leaned against Harry’s shoulder.
Harry hadn’t answered immediately. “Remember when we went to Godric’s Hollow?” Draco had nodded. They had gone there at the height of the war and the consequences of the visit had been hard on them both. “I had a dream the first night about my dad putting up a swing in the garden there. It seemed so real that I thought it might be a memory.”
They’d made love on the swing that night and as they’d hung there in the moonlight, Draco had told Harry things about his childhood he’d never told anyone else.
Tonight there was no moon and it had rained earlier, leaving the air smelling clean, and Draco once again sat on Harry’s swing. His lover was kneeling before him and Draco gripped at the ropes, panting softly as the swing moved him in and out of Harry’s incredible mouth.
He murmured words of encouragement, eyes fixed on Harry’s mouth swollen around him. Harry would plunge down, taking all of him in before pulling back, tongue curled around his cock, until just the tip was held in the hot wetness. Then just as the night air started to cool his heat, Harry would take him deep into his throat again. If Harry hadn’t pulled off, he would have come right there.
Harry came to his feet, kissing Draco and allowing him to taste himself on Harry’s tongue.
“Are you ready?”
“Oh yes,” Draco replied, his voice a husky whisper. “Are you?” His hand slipped around Harry’s arse, feathering over the slicked entrance.
“Oh yes,” Harry mirrored the other man’s previous words. “You’ve already made sure of that. Ready for a bit of magic?”
Draco nodded as he shifted back on the seat a little. The swing juddered as Harry planted first one foot and then the other on either side of Draco’s hips. “Careful.”
“I’m okay.” Harry’s cock now hung so close to the blond’s mouth that he had to lick at it. The swing juddered again. “But if you do that I won’t be.”
Carefully Harry lowered himself so that he was sitting on Draco’s lap, legs dangling on the opposite side of the swing seat. Chest to chest, they held onto each other for a moment, content to feel the breeze on bare flesh and the heat where they touched. And between them, their cocks pressed together, smearing their bellies with precome.
Draco finally pulled away a little and placing both his hands on Harry’s arse, he whispered a levitation charm. It didn’t hold Harry up, but kept him from tipping off of the swing. He watched as Harry gripped the ropes, biceps tightening as Harry pulled himself up and allowed Draco to guide him down onto his lover’s erection.
Slowly, Harry lowered himself, beads of perspiration on his chest and forehead, until Draco was fully seated inside him. They had kept eye contact throughout, and Draco thought he could read every moment of pleasure/pain that journey had caused.
“Fuck, Harry, you feel incredible.”
Harry moaned, tightening around the cock impaled inside him. “So do you. Every time you do this to me I feel like I’ve come home.”
“Mmmm.” Draco leaned forward, sucking first on one of Harry’s nipples and then the other. “Every time I’m with you, I know I’m home.” He started to flex his hips a little. “What does it feel like? Me being inside you?”
“Like I’m possessing you. Like you’re the part of me that was taken when he killed my parents.” Harry kicked out gently, setting the swing into motion. “Just sit still for the moment ... let me do this.”
“Okay.”
As Harry’s movements worked the swing, he lifted off and sat back down, building a slow and steady rhythm that made Draco groan. He hung onto the ropes both for support and because without them he was sure he would have floated away on a wave of pure ecstasy. He lost track of time as Harry moved up and down his shaft, and Harry’s erection rubbed against him.
“Draco....”
“Yes?” Draco hissed as he could feel the heat building inside him, a familiar tightening in his balls that told him he was balanced on the edge and would tip over at any moment.
“Come for me....”
And he did.
*****
It started to rain again as they hung there, suspended above the ground and for a while neither moved, content to remain as they were.
“It’s raining,” Harry finally ventured.
Draco shrugged against Harry’s chest. “We’re wizards, who cares about the rain.” He cast a spell that put them inside a protective bubble. “This is so good.”
“I know. I’m glad England won.”
“So am I.” Draco let his hands drift across Harry’s back, feeling the muscles shift and move beneath his fingers. “What about Thursday? Care to wager on the outcome of that?” He felt Harry stiffen a little and he pulled back. In the darkness it was hard to make out Harry’s expression. “What?”
“Well, Hermione called earlier and invited everyone over for the evening. You know, to watch the match and have dinner.”
“And?”
“I said we’d go.”
Draco groaned. That was all he needed, to have to spend the evening with a group of jolly Gryffindors. “Will it be the usual suspects?”
“I expect so. She mentioned that Neville was going to be spending the day sorting out her herb garden.”
“Okay, if you want, I expect I can put up with Finnigan’s jokes and Thomas’ constant chatter about the Quidditch team he works for.” Draco paused thoughtfully, his mind working. Finally he smiled. “But I have terms and conditions.”
Harry gave a sigh. “What is it this time?”
“If England loses, while everyone commiserates, I get to shag you in their bathroom.”
“God, if that’s what you want for a defeat, what are you expecting for a win?
“Simple, Potter. While they’re celebrating, you get to shag me in Hermione and Sev’s bedroom.”
~~~Fin
21st June 2004
So, I present The Swing ... NC17 ... PWP ... H/D ... Harry has been watching England play Croatia and Draco, with ulterior motives, has been eating strawberries.
Note: A ‘punnet’ is a small container, a bit like a basket, for soft fruit, such as strawberries
Thanks to golden_snitch12 for her wonderful quick beta. And to olivia_lupin who managed to beta this despite being up to her knees in packing crates. Thank you both for your hard work. If there are any mistakes, they are mine.
This one is for ias ... Belated happy birthday, Issy ... I hope you had a great day.
Both this and Post-Match Analysis take place in the Resolution universe, but they are only one possible version of the future of the boys.
Location: A house somewhere in the South of England. I can’t tell you where exactly because it is unplottable thanks to anti-location spells.
The time: Monday 21st June 2004, during after the Croatia v England football match.
**************
The Swing
Harry couldn’t decide which was more frustrating -- the fact that Michael Owen seemed incapable of scoring a goal or the fact that Draco Malfoy was currently sitting next to him eating strawberries and cream.
What made that even worse was that Draco wasn’t actually doing anything. He was just sitting there slowly working his way through the large punnet of ripe, juicy strawberries while watching the England vs. Croatia match. So the fact that Harry found his gaze constantly drawn from the large wide-screen television to either Draco’s fingers or mouth was getting him more and more frustrated.
Draco had arrived in the lounge with just twenty minutes of the match remaining, plonked himself down next to Harry and smirked. “Are we still winning?” Harry had nodded, not really paying his lover that much attention. His response of “Excellent” was lost in Harry’s yell as Wayne Rooney scored his second goal.
Still excited, Harry dropped back onto the sofa and had finally looked at Draco. “I thought you were going to wear red and white.” He waggled a finger at Draco’s casual shirt and trousers. “You know, in honour of the match.”
“I decided on honouring England with something else,” came the reply. Then before Harry managed to say anything else, Draco had pulled out his wand and Accio-ed a punnet of strawberries and bowl of cream from the kitchen. He delved into the punnet for a moment before pulling out a suitably large strawberry. “See ... red....” The berry was dipped into the bowl before being presented to Harry. “And white.” A dollop of thick cream crowned the fruit. He’d held it there until Harry had leaned over and bitten into it.
And that had been what Draco had been doing ever since. Oh, he would occasionally ask a question ... “Why did Rooney get taken off when he’s doing so well?” had been the first one just after he’d arrived ... but for the most part he had sat there eating and quietly behaving himself.
But every now and then, Harry would catch the movement of Draco leaning towards the coffee table. He would stretch his neck as he stared into the dish, tendons taut and throat working as he swallowed. Then, when he had found the perfect berry, his long slender fingers would reach for it, holding it by the little green stalk. Harry had to watch as the strawberry was dipped into the cream before Draco sat back and raised it to his mouth, sometimes taking the whole fruit in so that just the stalk was left, or biting it in half, white teeth visible for a split second.
If that wasn’t bad enough, one of his lover’s bare feet was resting on the edge of the coffee table and his toes would clench and flex as he ate. The only other time Harry had ever seen Draco’s toes do that was when he was on the verge of coming.
It would have helped, Harry decided shortly after the first strawberry had found its way into Draco’s spectacular mouth, if Draco had made suitable noises of delight or somehow pretended he was getting off on the sensation, but there was nothing ... not a sound.
That was turning on Harry more than if Draco had been laid naked across the coffee table covered in strawberries and cream, and demanding Harry remove every trace from his skin.
By the time Frank Lampard had scored England’s fourth goal, Harry was as hard as hell and desperate to lick the strawberry juice he could see covering Draco’s lips. He wanted to stick his finger in the cream and let Draco lick it clean.
And now that the final whistle had sounded, all he wanted to do now was fuck the man senseless.
He reached for the remote control and turned the television off. When he looked back at Draco, his lover was staring at his cream-covered fingers. Harry sat back on the sofa, his left shoulder now resting against Draco’s right.
“So....” Draco glanced sideways and raised his fingers towards his mouth. “We won.”
Harry’s hand shot up and grabbed at Draco’s wrist, halting the fingers just short of the open mouth. “Two to them. Four to us.” He licked carefully at one of the fingers; the strawberry and cream flavour a delight.
“Which means?” Draco shifted a little closer.
“Well, because of the France-Switzerland result, we get to play Portugal on Thursday.” Harry sucked the fingers into his mouth, delighted by the way Draco’s eyelids fluttered closed briefly before opening again, dilated pupils almost obscuring the grey.
“And if we win that one?” There was a roughness to Draco’s voice and Harry wondered if he was getting hard. He wanted to touch but knew if he did, he might very well come himself just from that brief contact.
Harry pulled the finger from his mouth with an audible pop. “Then we’re through to the semifinals next Wednesday.”
“Hmmm.” Draco reached for another berry, which he bit in half and held the remainder out. Harry took it between his teeth as Draco pulled the stalk away. It was sweet and juicy, tasting like Draco’s cream covered fingers. “If we win the semifinals, we’ll been in the final?”
Harry nodded again, shifting slightly to try and relieve the pressure of his throbbing erection. “Yes.”
“When’s that?”
“The fourth of July.” Harry finally reached out his hand, cupping Draco through his trousers.
Draco moaned softly. “So, three wins and I get to have you in public?”
Harry chuckled, remembering the conversation they’d had in the aftermath of some incredible sex after the England/Switzerland match. “Don’t bet on it, Draco. If I were you, I’d take what I can get now and worry about the rest later. Come here.” He pulled Draco towards him.
The kiss was sweet and indulgent, with a sense of both possessing and being possessed that they had always enjoyed. It continued for several minutes as they held on to each other, hands roaming over skin and hair. Draco tasted of the fruit he’d eaten, and Harry delighted in trying to steal that taste with his tongue. He licked it from Draco’s swollen red lips and plundered his mouth.
When Draco’s fingers finally tangled possessively in his hair, Harry allowed the other man to take command, revelling in the feeling of being held and made love to by the person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world. He could feel the blood rushing to his lips as Draco sucked on them and the sensation of the man’s tongue in his mouth ... filling him ... was enough to make him come there and then in a shattering release.
*****
He came back to reality slowly. Draco was holding him, stroking at his hair, planting little kisses along his cheek and whispering words of endearment in his ears. With a contented sigh, Harry cuddled into Draco’s side and finally opened his eyes.
“Back again?” Draco kissed him softly.
“Sorry, but that was your fault. You and those strawberries.”
“Mmmm. I love watching you come -- never say sorry for that.” The kisses continued, covering Harry’s face and neck. “Are you going to come again for me later?”
“Do you have to ask? Where do you want me?”
“Out in the garden....” He kissed Harry’s cheeks. “Under the stars.” The lightning bolt scar. “On the swing.” Harry’s mouth.
“Okay.” Harry luxuriated in the attention, the feeling of Draco’s hands roaming over his body, removing his glasses and pulling at his shirt. “But my swing ... not your poncey garden seat thing.”
Draco grinned. “Well, you know I’m game for anything.”
“Can I undress you?”
*****
The swing hung from the ancient oak tree, moving slightly in the night breeze. Harry had jumped up to the limb it hung from on his first visit to the garden, hanging there as he excitedly told Draco it was the perfect branch for a swing. He’d made such a fuss when he put it up, inviting their friends over for dinner so they, too, could see his new toy.
Draco had watched, feeling indulgent, as Harry had shown it off, curious as to why it caused so much excitement in the man he loved. Later, when the group of Gryffindors had been saying their goodbyes, he’d walked out to the oak, which had been turned silver by the full moon. Draco had sat on the smooth wooden seat and reached for the stout ropes and set the swing into motion. It had a sound of its own -- the creak of the ropes against the branch -- that was almost meditative, and he found himself drawn back to his own childhood. There had been a swing in the woods at Malfoy Manor and he could remember someone pushing him on it, but the memory wasn’t of his mother or father.
The swing had still been there the last time he’d gone home. He’d gone into the woods, walking the old familiar path, and finally found it again. As he’s swung higher and higher, he remembered it was his beloved grandmother who had taken him there, joining him in his squeals of delight as she pushed him back and forth. He had been so deep in the memory that he wasn’t even aware of Harry’s presence until he spoke.
“Enjoying yourself?” The swing slowed and as it became stationary, Draco had made to get off. “No, stay there.” The seat was wide enough for them both, and Harry had sat beside him, their arms automatically moving behind each other as the swing began to move again.
“Why did you want this so badly?” Draco had asked as he leaned against Harry’s shoulder.
Harry hadn’t answered immediately. “Remember when we went to Godric’s Hollow?” Draco had nodded. They had gone there at the height of the war and the consequences of the visit had been hard on them both. “I had a dream the first night about my dad putting up a swing in the garden there. It seemed so real that I thought it might be a memory.”
They’d made love on the swing that night and as they’d hung there in the moonlight, Draco had told Harry things about his childhood he’d never told anyone else.
Tonight there was no moon and it had rained earlier, leaving the air smelling clean, and Draco once again sat on Harry’s swing. His lover was kneeling before him and Draco gripped at the ropes, panting softly as the swing moved him in and out of Harry’s incredible mouth.
He murmured words of encouragement, eyes fixed on Harry’s mouth swollen around him. Harry would plunge down, taking all of him in before pulling back, tongue curled around his cock, until just the tip was held in the hot wetness. Then just as the night air started to cool his heat, Harry would take him deep into his throat again. If Harry hadn’t pulled off, he would have come right there.
Harry came to his feet, kissing Draco and allowing him to taste himself on Harry’s tongue.
“Are you ready?”
“Oh yes,” Draco replied, his voice a husky whisper. “Are you?” His hand slipped around Harry’s arse, feathering over the slicked entrance.
“Oh yes,” Harry mirrored the other man’s previous words. “You’ve already made sure of that. Ready for a bit of magic?”
Draco nodded as he shifted back on the seat a little. The swing juddered as Harry planted first one foot and then the other on either side of Draco’s hips. “Careful.”
“I’m okay.” Harry’s cock now hung so close to the blond’s mouth that he had to lick at it. The swing juddered again. “But if you do that I won’t be.”
Carefully Harry lowered himself so that he was sitting on Draco’s lap, legs dangling on the opposite side of the swing seat. Chest to chest, they held onto each other for a moment, content to feel the breeze on bare flesh and the heat where they touched. And between them, their cocks pressed together, smearing their bellies with precome.
Draco finally pulled away a little and placing both his hands on Harry’s arse, he whispered a levitation charm. It didn’t hold Harry up, but kept him from tipping off of the swing. He watched as Harry gripped the ropes, biceps tightening as Harry pulled himself up and allowed Draco to guide him down onto his lover’s erection.
Slowly, Harry lowered himself, beads of perspiration on his chest and forehead, until Draco was fully seated inside him. They had kept eye contact throughout, and Draco thought he could read every moment of pleasure/pain that journey had caused.
“Fuck, Harry, you feel incredible.”
Harry moaned, tightening around the cock impaled inside him. “So do you. Every time you do this to me I feel like I’ve come home.”
“Mmmm.” Draco leaned forward, sucking first on one of Harry’s nipples and then the other. “Every time I’m with you, I know I’m home.” He started to flex his hips a little. “What does it feel like? Me being inside you?”
“Like I’m possessing you. Like you’re the part of me that was taken when he killed my parents.” Harry kicked out gently, setting the swing into motion. “Just sit still for the moment ... let me do this.”
“Okay.”
As Harry’s movements worked the swing, he lifted off and sat back down, building a slow and steady rhythm that made Draco groan. He hung onto the ropes both for support and because without them he was sure he would have floated away on a wave of pure ecstasy. He lost track of time as Harry moved up and down his shaft, and Harry’s erection rubbed against him.
“Draco....”
“Yes?” Draco hissed as he could feel the heat building inside him, a familiar tightening in his balls that told him he was balanced on the edge and would tip over at any moment.
“Come for me....”
And he did.
*****
It started to rain again as they hung there, suspended above the ground and for a while neither moved, content to remain as they were.
“It’s raining,” Harry finally ventured.
Draco shrugged against Harry’s chest. “We’re wizards, who cares about the rain.” He cast a spell that put them inside a protective bubble. “This is so good.”
“I know. I’m glad England won.”
“So am I.” Draco let his hands drift across Harry’s back, feeling the muscles shift and move beneath his fingers. “What about Thursday? Care to wager on the outcome of that?” He felt Harry stiffen a little and he pulled back. In the darkness it was hard to make out Harry’s expression. “What?”
“Well, Hermione called earlier and invited everyone over for the evening. You know, to watch the match and have dinner.”
“And?”
“I said we’d go.”
Draco groaned. That was all he needed, to have to spend the evening with a group of jolly Gryffindors. “Will it be the usual suspects?”
“I expect so. She mentioned that Neville was going to be spending the day sorting out her herb garden.”
“Okay, if you want, I expect I can put up with Finnigan’s jokes and Thomas’ constant chatter about the Quidditch team he works for.” Draco paused thoughtfully, his mind working. Finally he smiled. “But I have terms and conditions.”
Harry gave a sigh. “What is it this time?”
“If England loses, while everyone commiserates, I get to shag you in their bathroom.”
“God, if that’s what you want for a defeat, what are you expecting for a win?
“Simple, Potter. While they’re celebrating, you get to shag me in Hermione and Sev’s bedroom.”
~~~Fin
21st June 2004