Fic: For Stress Relief (Draco/Harry, NC-17)
Title: For Stress Relief
Author: gracerene
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry, vague references to past Harry/OCs
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,600
Content/Warnings: auror partners, massage!fic, anal sex, fingering
Summary: Draco helps Harry relieve a little stress.
Notes: I have a not-so-secret weakness for massage!fic, so I had to give it a go. :D
Thanks to capitu and lauren3210 for looking this over for me! I played around with it a bit since, so all remaining mistakes are my own.
50 Reasons to Have Sex Masterlist
Read on AO3
"Shit," Harry muttered, wincing at the effort it took for him to get up out of his chair. His back had been bothering him for days; the stress of pouring over cold cases in an effort to find the link to their current investigation that he just knew they were missing was taking its toll on his body.
Draco glanced up at him from the sofa as he made his way stiffly to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His gaze seemed to instinctively track Harry's movements as he walked away. He was studying Harry with narrowed eyes when he made his way back into the room, and Harry wondered what was going through his mind. He'd been catching the edge of a lot of significant glances from Draco lately, but he could never seem to get a read on what they meant.
They'd naturally gotten to know each other better over the past couple of years, what with them being Auror partners and all, but ever since they'd been assigned this case, they'd been spending practically every waking moment together. The most surprising thing about this though, was just how little Harry minded. Harry considered himself a fairly social person, but he'd always valued his personal space and privacy, and normally having somebody so close to him at all times began to feel suffocating. It had been a big sticking point in the few relationships he'd had in the past two years, and probably not a small part of the reason they'd all left. Though the fact that Harry was never all that sad to see them go probably didn't help matters. But Draco always had been different. Harry sighed, settling carefully back into his chair and deliberately not thinking about why he didn't mind Draco being around so much. He had a case to focus on; he couldn't afford to be distracted.
"You need to get your back sorted."
Harry looked up from the file he'd begun to absently flip through. "What?"
"Your back. Did you really think I wouldn't notice how you've been hobbling around? I am an Auror, you know, noticing things is part of the job." His eyes traveled slowly up the length of Harry's body, and Harry shivered at the intensity of his gaze.
"I've not been hobbling. I'm fine!"
"No, you're not. You're stressed and tense and if we do manage to finally make a break in this case, you'll be useless in your condition. Worse than that, you'll be a liability. So, either you let me help, or I drag you to St Mungo's and let the Healers at you."
Harry deflated. Draco did have a point; he didn't want to put anybody in danger because he wasn't in peak condition. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
"A massage."
Harry just barely managed to keep his mouth from dropping open. "From you?"
"Yes, from me," Draco bristled. "I'll have you know I'm very good with my hands."
Harry's gaze dropped to Draco's long slender fingers and he gulped, his mind filling with images of all the wonderful, dirty things Draco's talented hands could do to him. He had a feeling it would be a very bad idea for Draco to put those hands on him, especially considering the fact that his lack of sleep and his constant exposure to Draco had seemed to have weakened Harry's defenses. Harry couldn't count the number of nights he'd woken up this past week, hard and aching, with Draco's name on his lips and the phantom press of Draco's hands on his skin.
"I don't know if - "
"It's that or St Mungo's. Take your pick." Draco tone brooked no argument.
Harry hesitated, but decided that his dislike of St Mungo's and fawning Healers outweighed his wariness of Draco touching him. Surely Harry would be able to control himself for the length of a single massage.
"Alright, where do you want me?" He asked, wincing at the unintended innuendo.
Draco smirked at Harry, before pursing his lips in concentration. "Well, I'd suggest the sofa, but all of our work is out here and I don't want to risk disturbing my system so...I'd say we'll have to use your bed, it's the only other surface in the flat that you can comfortably lie down on."
"Uh, what about the floor," Harry blurted out a bit desperately, hoping to avoid the added intimacy of Draco touching him in his bed.
Draco gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look and began walking towards Harry's room. "I'm not kneeling on your dirty floor to give you a massage when we have a perfectly fine bed at our disposal." Draco didn't seem to mind getting down and dirty during Auror investigations, so Harry wasn't sure why he had such an aversion to floors now, but Harry figured it was probably smarter to just do as Draco said.
Harry sighed and followed Draco to the bedroom, doing his best to mentally fortify himself. A task that was made exponentially more difficult by the sight of Draco rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, exposing the defined muscles of his forearms and the stark lines of his faded Dark Mark. Harry was fairly certain that there was something a bit sick about the reaction he had to seeing that mark on Draco's pale skin, though he contented himself with the knowledge that nobody but him needed to know the way it sent his pulse racing in a not at all unpleasant way.
"Alright, shirt off and face down on the bed," Draco commanded. "I don't suppose you have any massage oil?" His tone was straightforward, but Harry couldn't help but notice the slight tremor in Draco's hands. He wasn't sure if he should feel better or worse about the fact that he wasn't the only one who seemed nervous.
Harry shook his head and fingered the hem of his shirt. He wasn't sure why he felt so self-conscious all of a sudden - it wasn't like he'd never been shirtless around Draco before. But that was in the locker rooms at work; this felt so much more...intimate.
"Lucky for you, I have something in my bag that should work quite nicely," Draco carried on, seemingly unaware of Harry's internal struggle. "Shirt off, Harry," Draco reprimanded as he summoned the oil from his bag.
Turning his back to Draco, Harry hurriedly dragged his shirt off and threw himself on his mattress. Thank Merlin he'd had the foresight to clean his sheets and make his bed that morning.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Draco murmured. Harry rolled his eyes into the pillow and ignored him. Draco hummed quietly above him, the way he did when he was trying to make a decision. The fact that he knew that about Draco made Harry feel a bit warm. He wondered if Draco knew any of his quirks.
His train of thought, however, was quickly derailed as Draco climbed onto the bed and straddled Harry's thighs. Harry squeaked, his skin heating at the high pitched sound.
"Sorry," Draco said, not sounding at all apologetic. "Your bed is too wide to let me walk around and get a good angle. This will give me the most control."
Harry took a deep breath and released it. "That's fine," he responded, happy that his voice had managed to come back down to his normal register. Draco was a warm, heavy weight against the backs of his thighs, and Harry couldn't fight the surge of arousal at the close contact, his cock twitching against the sheets.
"Okay, now try to relax," Draco murmured, his voice low and soothing. "This will be a lot more difficult if you keep tensing up." That wasn't the first time he'd heard those words while in this position, though it had been in a completely different context. Strange how Harry couldn't remember being this aroused back then, how hearing those suggestive words from Draco in this innocent scenario made his mouth heart race in a way it never had before.
He tried to force himself to relax down against the mattress, and reign in his libido. This was about letting go of all the tension he'd been carrying around the past few weeks, not his attraction to Draco. Draco smoothed warm, oiled hands down the planes of his back, and Harry gave himself over to the soothing sensation, surprised at the warmth of Draco's hands. The thought of Draco warming up the oil for him had Harry smiling into his pillow.
Draco's hands were like heaven against his skin, the pressure a delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he dug his thumbs into the knots in Harry's muscles. Harry found himself drifting, not quite asleep, but not fully awake either as Draco worked him over. He was fully hard now, his erection pressed between the mattress and his stomach. It was a lazy sort of arousal, the kind that Harry was content to let just wash over him, indolent desire sweeping through him every time Draco smoothed his palms over Harry's sensitive sides or pressed his thumbs down the outline of his spine.
"Fuuuck, that feels good," Harry moaned softly into his pillow as Draco tackled a particularly difficult knot, the resulting relief as he worked it out making Harry's head spin and his cock ache. Unconsciously he began to rut lightly into the mattress, his hands clenching in the sheets by his head as he chased the friction, before his mind caught up to him and he froze, realizing exactly where he was and what he was doing. He cautiously relaxed, doing his best to not to move his hips against the sheets and fervently praying that Draco hadn't noticed what he'd just been doing.
He could hear Draco's uneven breaths above him, and his hands rubbed circles against the base of Harry's neck that had Harry choking back more moans. His back felt loads better, and Harry felt strangely disappointed knowing that meant the massage was almost over. And not just because he wasn't sure how to calm his arousal before Draco took notice.
As if he'd heard Harry's thoughts, Draco spoke up. "Would you like me to keep going?"
"Hmm?"
"I could do the rest of you, if you'd like?" Draco's voice was hesitant, almost nervous. "Your legs? I'm guessing your calves and thighs could use a good once over. I might as well do it, while I'm here."
Harry's heart thumped loudly, torn between wanting Draco to continue and knowing that he shouldn't. But his legs had been a bit sore and stiff lately, and they could definitely benefit from Draco's magical fingers. As Ron always said, In for a knut, in for a galleon. Though he was pretty sure Ron wouldn't thank him for using the saying to justify this particular situation.
"Sure, what do you need me to do?"
The hands against his neck stilled. "Well, I'll need you to take off your pajama bottoms," Draco said carefully.
"Erm...I'm not actually wearing anything underneath them." Harry cursed himself for not putting on pants earlier, or, rather, for not having done the laundry so that he had a pair of clean pants to put on in the first place.
Draco let out a strangely strangled sound, and backed up off of Harry's legs. "That's - That's okay, that'll probably make it easier for me anyways. We can just - just drape the sheet over your backside."
Harry felt the sheet settle over him. Blood warmed his skin as he squirmed out of his bottoms, kicking them off the bed. He was completely naked and the only thing between his lower half and Draco Malfoy was a paper-thin bedsheet. A sheet that was shifting, making his stomach clench as it slipped up over the backs of his knees and settled just below his bum. He should really invest in some better bed linens. Maybe some thick, flannel ones that wouldn't make him seem so exposed. Ones that wouldn't allow him to feel the air swirling around with Draco's every movement, making his skin break out in goosebumps.
"There, that's better." Draco's tone sounded a bit forced. "I'll start at the bottom and work my way up, shall I?"
He didn't wait for Harry to answer before grabbing a foot and beginning his ministrations. Harry couldn't stop his groan of appreciation. Honestly, he hadn't expected Draco to massage his feet at all, and the idea of Draco doing such an intimate and personal thing for Harry had his breath catching.
It wasn't long before Draco had made his way to Harry's calves, those clever fingers working their magic just as well on the muscles there as they had against his back. His arousal, which had been set aside in his nervousness over being naked, was now back full force. He hadn't ever considered calves to be a particularly sexual body part, but the sensual feeling of Draco's hands on them was forcing him to reconsider his stance.
Finishing with his calves, Draco once again climbed up onto the bed, this time crawling between Harry's spread legs to better access his thighs. Harry was feeling quite proud of himself for not starting this time at the close contact, except...were those Draco's bare legs brushing against his own?
"Draco, where are your trousers?" Harry managed to force out, doing his best to keep his voice calm and reasonable.
"Well I didn't want to get oil on them, now did I?" Harry could hear the slight defensiveness in his tone, as if undressing while giving a massage was a perfectly logical thing to do, and he just dared Harry to say otherwise. He knew that pushing Draco would only raise his hackles. Harry would just have to pretend that he was not at all affected by a partially undressed Draco, kneeling between Harry's naked, spread thighs and rubbing him down with oil. Piece of cake.
The first touch of Draco's hands against his thighs had Harry shuddering. He fought against the instinct to tense and shy away from the touch, instead just letting himself feel, breathing into the soothing sweep of Draco's palms up and down his skin. Harry had never felt so warm and relaxed and cared for. A thought that should probably alarm him, but his system was too flooded with endorphins and arousal to pay it any mind. Every upward motion, every brush against the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs sent waves of syrupy pleasure crashing over him.
Draco's touch lingered, each caress bringing him closer and closer to Harry's arse, the downward movements seeming almost hesitant as they brought his hands away from his bum. Harry's right hand clenched the sheet covering him as he willed Draco's palms higher. His mouth went dry at the thought of those lovely hands kneading his arse, those clever fingers massaging him everywhere. His fist twitched, as if his muscles were responding to the faintest thoughts floating through Harry's head, and the sheet slid off his arse, exposing him fully.
The hands on his thighs paused, and Harry's heart stopped, wondering if he'd just made a terrible, terrible mistake. But before he had a chance to make some kind of excuse and cover himself back up, the hands were moving again, sweeping up, up, up, thumbs rubbing at the crease where his arse met his thighs, almost questioningly.
Harry pushed up slightly into Draco in silent invitation. He heard Draco's soft gasp, and then he was grabbing Harry's arse, one fleshy cheek in each hand as he kneaded the globes, pushing them together and pulling them apart in turn. More oil dripped onto his arse, and Draco continued his mind-numbing ministrations. His skin felt hot and slick, and Draco's fingers dug deliciously into the muscles of Harry's arse, his fingers skating along his cleft and making Harry desperate for them to slide just a bit further in. Every time Draco pulled his cheeks apart Harry imagined what he must look like, his hole slick and shining with oil, clenching and quivering under Draco's gaze. He couldn't help his moan at the dirty image, and the sound was ridiculously loud in the relative silence of the bedroom.
Draco paused and his hands disappeared from Harry's arse. But Harry only had a moment to mourn their loss before they returned, one hand moving to hold his cheeks open while a slick finger made its way slowly down the crack of Harry's arse.
When the finger made it's way to the rim of Harry's hole, Harry gasped and couldn't stop the hitch of his hips back towards the light pressure. Everything had been leading up to this moment, and Harry felt desperate for it, realizing with perfect clarity that there was nothing he wanted more at this very second than for Draco to fuck him.
Once again Draco seemed to be reading his mind, because half a second later Draco's finger was sliding easily inside. Draco pumped his finger lazily before a second digit was pushing in, Harry's muscles so completely relaxed from the massage that there wasn't any burn at all as they pressed inside of him.
Harry rocked back against them, the movement dragging his cock against the sheets and pushing him more firmly onto Draco's hand. Draco had clearly done this before, his fingers finding his prostate with relative ease and rubbing against it mercilessly until Harry was a writhing mess.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Harry?"
Draco's voice was warm as he breathed against Harry's ear, and Harry shuddered, a little startled by the words putting voice to his desires. His tongue felt thick and ungainly in his mouth, and he could only nod helplessly as Draco's fingers moved inside him. Draco pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder and warmth spread through his chest at the surprisingly tender gesture.
Draco nudged his knees against the insides of Harry's legs, and Harry slid them out and up, spreading himself wide for Draco. Fingers slipped out of him and Harry found himself holding his breath as Draco's cock pressed against his opening and the thick weight of him slid inside.
Harry let out his breath all at once when Draco bottomed out, gasping for air as he clenched down on the hardness splitting him open. It felt fucking amazing, and Harry didn't know how he'd gone so long without. Nothing relaxed him like a good, hard shag, and knowing that this was Draco, somebody he'd come to respect and admire and lo - care for, made it that much better. Now all Draco needed to do was move.
He clenched down again and Draco seemed to get the message, immediately starting up a fast, hard, earth-shattering pace that had Harry grasping frantically at the sheets and biting his pillow to muffle his shouts.
Draco's wonderful hands, still slick with oil, slid over Harry's skin with every thrust, gripping his hips, squeezing his arse, holding his neck down as he fucked into him roughly. Harry gave himself up to the feeling, letting his senses overload with Draco, Draco, Draco. Every inch of him tingled with pleasure, toes curling and stomach clenching and pulse racing as Draco took him with broken moans and Harry's name on his lips.
His orgasm built, sharp and hot and overwhelming. Draco kept up his relentless rhythm, adding in a filthy grind of his hips, and that was enough. Harry came warm and sticky against the sheets, his hole fluttering around Draco's cock as Draco fucked him right through it. Harry's orgasm spurred Draco on, his slick hands gripping Harry's waist and pulling him back against his cock as he chased his own climax, slipping out at the last moment to come messily over Harry's arse.
Harry didn't move a muscle. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure that he could if he wanted to; his entire body felt like warm, melted goo against the sheets. He felt a little high, and was convinced that if any potioneer managed to brew and bottle this feeling then they would be a very rich person indeed. He felt the whisper of a cleaning charm, and the familiar tingle against his arse and belly before Draco rolled next to him on the bed.
"We probably need to get back to work, don't we?" Harry sighed, turning his head lazily to face Draco.
"It is past midnight. We could probably get away with turning in for the night, if we get an early start tomorrow."
Harry yawned at Draco's suggestion of sleep, his lids already feeling heavy.
"Did you - Did you want to stay?" He kept his gaze steady on Draco's face, torn between wanting to show his sincerity, and wanting to protect himself in case Draco turned him down.
Draco's expression flickered, and his calm mask dropped for just a moment, to reveal an almost hopeful expression. "I - I'd like that," Draco murmured, and Harry felt the full weight of possibility at his words.
Harry grinned and burrowed his way under the covers, dragging them up over the both of them.
After the case, Harry thought drowsily as sleep crept over him. He'd confront whatever this was between Draco and him, as soon as they'd finished with the case.
Author: gracerene
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry, vague references to past Harry/OCs
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,600
Content/Warnings: auror partners, massage!fic, anal sex, fingering
Summary: Draco helps Harry relieve a little stress.
Notes: I have a not-so-secret weakness for massage!fic, so I had to give it a go. :D
Thanks to capitu and lauren3210 for looking this over for me! I played around with it a bit since, so all remaining mistakes are my own.
50 Reasons to Have Sex Masterlist
Read on AO3
"Shit," Harry muttered, wincing at the effort it took for him to get up out of his chair. His back had been bothering him for days; the stress of pouring over cold cases in an effort to find the link to their current investigation that he just knew they were missing was taking its toll on his body.
Draco glanced up at him from the sofa as he made his way stiffly to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His gaze seemed to instinctively track Harry's movements as he walked away. He was studying Harry with narrowed eyes when he made his way back into the room, and Harry wondered what was going through his mind. He'd been catching the edge of a lot of significant glances from Draco lately, but he could never seem to get a read on what they meant.
They'd naturally gotten to know each other better over the past couple of years, what with them being Auror partners and all, but ever since they'd been assigned this case, they'd been spending practically every waking moment together. The most surprising thing about this though, was just how little Harry minded. Harry considered himself a fairly social person, but he'd always valued his personal space and privacy, and normally having somebody so close to him at all times began to feel suffocating. It had been a big sticking point in the few relationships he'd had in the past two years, and probably not a small part of the reason they'd all left. Though the fact that Harry was never all that sad to see them go probably didn't help matters. But Draco always had been different. Harry sighed, settling carefully back into his chair and deliberately not thinking about why he didn't mind Draco being around so much. He had a case to focus on; he couldn't afford to be distracted.
"You need to get your back sorted."
Harry looked up from the file he'd begun to absently flip through. "What?"
"Your back. Did you really think I wouldn't notice how you've been hobbling around? I am an Auror, you know, noticing things is part of the job." His eyes traveled slowly up the length of Harry's body, and Harry shivered at the intensity of his gaze.
"I've not been hobbling. I'm fine!"
"No, you're not. You're stressed and tense and if we do manage to finally make a break in this case, you'll be useless in your condition. Worse than that, you'll be a liability. So, either you let me help, or I drag you to St Mungo's and let the Healers at you."
Harry deflated. Draco did have a point; he didn't want to put anybody in danger because he wasn't in peak condition. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
"A massage."
Harry just barely managed to keep his mouth from dropping open. "From you?"
"Yes, from me," Draco bristled. "I'll have you know I'm very good with my hands."
Harry's gaze dropped to Draco's long slender fingers and he gulped, his mind filling with images of all the wonderful, dirty things Draco's talented hands could do to him. He had a feeling it would be a very bad idea for Draco to put those hands on him, especially considering the fact that his lack of sleep and his constant exposure to Draco had seemed to have weakened Harry's defenses. Harry couldn't count the number of nights he'd woken up this past week, hard and aching, with Draco's name on his lips and the phantom press of Draco's hands on his skin.
"I don't know if - "
"It's that or St Mungo's. Take your pick." Draco tone brooked no argument.
Harry hesitated, but decided that his dislike of St Mungo's and fawning Healers outweighed his wariness of Draco touching him. Surely Harry would be able to control himself for the length of a single massage.
"Alright, where do you want me?" He asked, wincing at the unintended innuendo.
Draco smirked at Harry, before pursing his lips in concentration. "Well, I'd suggest the sofa, but all of our work is out here and I don't want to risk disturbing my system so...I'd say we'll have to use your bed, it's the only other surface in the flat that you can comfortably lie down on."
"Uh, what about the floor," Harry blurted out a bit desperately, hoping to avoid the added intimacy of Draco touching him in his bed.
Draco gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look and began walking towards Harry's room. "I'm not kneeling on your dirty floor to give you a massage when we have a perfectly fine bed at our disposal." Draco didn't seem to mind getting down and dirty during Auror investigations, so Harry wasn't sure why he had such an aversion to floors now, but Harry figured it was probably smarter to just do as Draco said.
Harry sighed and followed Draco to the bedroom, doing his best to mentally fortify himself. A task that was made exponentially more difficult by the sight of Draco rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, exposing the defined muscles of his forearms and the stark lines of his faded Dark Mark. Harry was fairly certain that there was something a bit sick about the reaction he had to seeing that mark on Draco's pale skin, though he contented himself with the knowledge that nobody but him needed to know the way it sent his pulse racing in a not at all unpleasant way.
"Alright, shirt off and face down on the bed," Draco commanded. "I don't suppose you have any massage oil?" His tone was straightforward, but Harry couldn't help but notice the slight tremor in Draco's hands. He wasn't sure if he should feel better or worse about the fact that he wasn't the only one who seemed nervous.
Harry shook his head and fingered the hem of his shirt. He wasn't sure why he felt so self-conscious all of a sudden - it wasn't like he'd never been shirtless around Draco before. But that was in the locker rooms at work; this felt so much more...intimate.
"Lucky for you, I have something in my bag that should work quite nicely," Draco carried on, seemingly unaware of Harry's internal struggle. "Shirt off, Harry," Draco reprimanded as he summoned the oil from his bag.
Turning his back to Draco, Harry hurriedly dragged his shirt off and threw himself on his mattress. Thank Merlin he'd had the foresight to clean his sheets and make his bed that morning.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Draco murmured. Harry rolled his eyes into the pillow and ignored him. Draco hummed quietly above him, the way he did when he was trying to make a decision. The fact that he knew that about Draco made Harry feel a bit warm. He wondered if Draco knew any of his quirks.
His train of thought, however, was quickly derailed as Draco climbed onto the bed and straddled Harry's thighs. Harry squeaked, his skin heating at the high pitched sound.
"Sorry," Draco said, not sounding at all apologetic. "Your bed is too wide to let me walk around and get a good angle. This will give me the most control."
Harry took a deep breath and released it. "That's fine," he responded, happy that his voice had managed to come back down to his normal register. Draco was a warm, heavy weight against the backs of his thighs, and Harry couldn't fight the surge of arousal at the close contact, his cock twitching against the sheets.
"Okay, now try to relax," Draco murmured, his voice low and soothing. "This will be a lot more difficult if you keep tensing up." That wasn't the first time he'd heard those words while in this position, though it had been in a completely different context. Strange how Harry couldn't remember being this aroused back then, how hearing those suggestive words from Draco in this innocent scenario made his mouth heart race in a way it never had before.
He tried to force himself to relax down against the mattress, and reign in his libido. This was about letting go of all the tension he'd been carrying around the past few weeks, not his attraction to Draco. Draco smoothed warm, oiled hands down the planes of his back, and Harry gave himself over to the soothing sensation, surprised at the warmth of Draco's hands. The thought of Draco warming up the oil for him had Harry smiling into his pillow.
Draco's hands were like heaven against his skin, the pressure a delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he dug his thumbs into the knots in Harry's muscles. Harry found himself drifting, not quite asleep, but not fully awake either as Draco worked him over. He was fully hard now, his erection pressed between the mattress and his stomach. It was a lazy sort of arousal, the kind that Harry was content to let just wash over him, indolent desire sweeping through him every time Draco smoothed his palms over Harry's sensitive sides or pressed his thumbs down the outline of his spine.
"Fuuuck, that feels good," Harry moaned softly into his pillow as Draco tackled a particularly difficult knot, the resulting relief as he worked it out making Harry's head spin and his cock ache. Unconsciously he began to rut lightly into the mattress, his hands clenching in the sheets by his head as he chased the friction, before his mind caught up to him and he froze, realizing exactly where he was and what he was doing. He cautiously relaxed, doing his best to not to move his hips against the sheets and fervently praying that Draco hadn't noticed what he'd just been doing.
He could hear Draco's uneven breaths above him, and his hands rubbed circles against the base of Harry's neck that had Harry choking back more moans. His back felt loads better, and Harry felt strangely disappointed knowing that meant the massage was almost over. And not just because he wasn't sure how to calm his arousal before Draco took notice.
As if he'd heard Harry's thoughts, Draco spoke up. "Would you like me to keep going?"
"Hmm?"
"I could do the rest of you, if you'd like?" Draco's voice was hesitant, almost nervous. "Your legs? I'm guessing your calves and thighs could use a good once over. I might as well do it, while I'm here."
Harry's heart thumped loudly, torn between wanting Draco to continue and knowing that he shouldn't. But his legs had been a bit sore and stiff lately, and they could definitely benefit from Draco's magical fingers. As Ron always said, In for a knut, in for a galleon. Though he was pretty sure Ron wouldn't thank him for using the saying to justify this particular situation.
"Sure, what do you need me to do?"
The hands against his neck stilled. "Well, I'll need you to take off your pajama bottoms," Draco said carefully.
"Erm...I'm not actually wearing anything underneath them." Harry cursed himself for not putting on pants earlier, or, rather, for not having done the laundry so that he had a pair of clean pants to put on in the first place.
Draco let out a strangely strangled sound, and backed up off of Harry's legs. "That's - That's okay, that'll probably make it easier for me anyways. We can just - just drape the sheet over your backside."
Harry felt the sheet settle over him. Blood warmed his skin as he squirmed out of his bottoms, kicking them off the bed. He was completely naked and the only thing between his lower half and Draco Malfoy was a paper-thin bedsheet. A sheet that was shifting, making his stomach clench as it slipped up over the backs of his knees and settled just below his bum. He should really invest in some better bed linens. Maybe some thick, flannel ones that wouldn't make him seem so exposed. Ones that wouldn't allow him to feel the air swirling around with Draco's every movement, making his skin break out in goosebumps.
"There, that's better." Draco's tone sounded a bit forced. "I'll start at the bottom and work my way up, shall I?"
He didn't wait for Harry to answer before grabbing a foot and beginning his ministrations. Harry couldn't stop his groan of appreciation. Honestly, he hadn't expected Draco to massage his feet at all, and the idea of Draco doing such an intimate and personal thing for Harry had his breath catching.
It wasn't long before Draco had made his way to Harry's calves, those clever fingers working their magic just as well on the muscles there as they had against his back. His arousal, which had been set aside in his nervousness over being naked, was now back full force. He hadn't ever considered calves to be a particularly sexual body part, but the sensual feeling of Draco's hands on them was forcing him to reconsider his stance.
Finishing with his calves, Draco once again climbed up onto the bed, this time crawling between Harry's spread legs to better access his thighs. Harry was feeling quite proud of himself for not starting this time at the close contact, except...were those Draco's bare legs brushing against his own?
"Draco, where are your trousers?" Harry managed to force out, doing his best to keep his voice calm and reasonable.
"Well I didn't want to get oil on them, now did I?" Harry could hear the slight defensiveness in his tone, as if undressing while giving a massage was a perfectly logical thing to do, and he just dared Harry to say otherwise. He knew that pushing Draco would only raise his hackles. Harry would just have to pretend that he was not at all affected by a partially undressed Draco, kneeling between Harry's naked, spread thighs and rubbing him down with oil. Piece of cake.
The first touch of Draco's hands against his thighs had Harry shuddering. He fought against the instinct to tense and shy away from the touch, instead just letting himself feel, breathing into the soothing sweep of Draco's palms up and down his skin. Harry had never felt so warm and relaxed and cared for. A thought that should probably alarm him, but his system was too flooded with endorphins and arousal to pay it any mind. Every upward motion, every brush against the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs sent waves of syrupy pleasure crashing over him.
Draco's touch lingered, each caress bringing him closer and closer to Harry's arse, the downward movements seeming almost hesitant as they brought his hands away from his bum. Harry's right hand clenched the sheet covering him as he willed Draco's palms higher. His mouth went dry at the thought of those lovely hands kneading his arse, those clever fingers massaging him everywhere. His fist twitched, as if his muscles were responding to the faintest thoughts floating through Harry's head, and the sheet slid off his arse, exposing him fully.
The hands on his thighs paused, and Harry's heart stopped, wondering if he'd just made a terrible, terrible mistake. But before he had a chance to make some kind of excuse and cover himself back up, the hands were moving again, sweeping up, up, up, thumbs rubbing at the crease where his arse met his thighs, almost questioningly.
Harry pushed up slightly into Draco in silent invitation. He heard Draco's soft gasp, and then he was grabbing Harry's arse, one fleshy cheek in each hand as he kneaded the globes, pushing them together and pulling them apart in turn. More oil dripped onto his arse, and Draco continued his mind-numbing ministrations. His skin felt hot and slick, and Draco's fingers dug deliciously into the muscles of Harry's arse, his fingers skating along his cleft and making Harry desperate for them to slide just a bit further in. Every time Draco pulled his cheeks apart Harry imagined what he must look like, his hole slick and shining with oil, clenching and quivering under Draco's gaze. He couldn't help his moan at the dirty image, and the sound was ridiculously loud in the relative silence of the bedroom.
Draco paused and his hands disappeared from Harry's arse. But Harry only had a moment to mourn their loss before they returned, one hand moving to hold his cheeks open while a slick finger made its way slowly down the crack of Harry's arse.
When the finger made it's way to the rim of Harry's hole, Harry gasped and couldn't stop the hitch of his hips back towards the light pressure. Everything had been leading up to this moment, and Harry felt desperate for it, realizing with perfect clarity that there was nothing he wanted more at this very second than for Draco to fuck him.
Once again Draco seemed to be reading his mind, because half a second later Draco's finger was sliding easily inside. Draco pumped his finger lazily before a second digit was pushing in, Harry's muscles so completely relaxed from the massage that there wasn't any burn at all as they pressed inside of him.
Harry rocked back against them, the movement dragging his cock against the sheets and pushing him more firmly onto Draco's hand. Draco had clearly done this before, his fingers finding his prostate with relative ease and rubbing against it mercilessly until Harry was a writhing mess.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Harry?"
Draco's voice was warm as he breathed against Harry's ear, and Harry shuddered, a little startled by the words putting voice to his desires. His tongue felt thick and ungainly in his mouth, and he could only nod helplessly as Draco's fingers moved inside him. Draco pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder and warmth spread through his chest at the surprisingly tender gesture.
Draco nudged his knees against the insides of Harry's legs, and Harry slid them out and up, spreading himself wide for Draco. Fingers slipped out of him and Harry found himself holding his breath as Draco's cock pressed against his opening and the thick weight of him slid inside.
Harry let out his breath all at once when Draco bottomed out, gasping for air as he clenched down on the hardness splitting him open. It felt fucking amazing, and Harry didn't know how he'd gone so long without. Nothing relaxed him like a good, hard shag, and knowing that this was Draco, somebody he'd come to respect and admire and lo - care for, made it that much better. Now all Draco needed to do was move.
He clenched down again and Draco seemed to get the message, immediately starting up a fast, hard, earth-shattering pace that had Harry grasping frantically at the sheets and biting his pillow to muffle his shouts.
Draco's wonderful hands, still slick with oil, slid over Harry's skin with every thrust, gripping his hips, squeezing his arse, holding his neck down as he fucked into him roughly. Harry gave himself up to the feeling, letting his senses overload with Draco, Draco, Draco. Every inch of him tingled with pleasure, toes curling and stomach clenching and pulse racing as Draco took him with broken moans and Harry's name on his lips.
His orgasm built, sharp and hot and overwhelming. Draco kept up his relentless rhythm, adding in a filthy grind of his hips, and that was enough. Harry came warm and sticky against the sheets, his hole fluttering around Draco's cock as Draco fucked him right through it. Harry's orgasm spurred Draco on, his slick hands gripping Harry's waist and pulling him back against his cock as he chased his own climax, slipping out at the last moment to come messily over Harry's arse.
Harry didn't move a muscle. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure that he could if he wanted to; his entire body felt like warm, melted goo against the sheets. He felt a little high, and was convinced that if any potioneer managed to brew and bottle this feeling then they would be a very rich person indeed. He felt the whisper of a cleaning charm, and the familiar tingle against his arse and belly before Draco rolled next to him on the bed.
"We probably need to get back to work, don't we?" Harry sighed, turning his head lazily to face Draco.
"It is past midnight. We could probably get away with turning in for the night, if we get an early start tomorrow."
Harry yawned at Draco's suggestion of sleep, his lids already feeling heavy.
"Did you - Did you want to stay?" He kept his gaze steady on Draco's face, torn between wanting to show his sincerity, and wanting to protect himself in case Draco turned him down.
Draco's expression flickered, and his calm mask dropped for just a moment, to reveal an almost hopeful expression. "I - I'd like that," Draco murmured, and Harry felt the full weight of possibility at his words.
Harry grinned and burrowed his way under the covers, dragging them up over the both of them.
After the case, Harry thought drowsily as sleep crept over him. He'd confront whatever this was between Draco and him, as soon as they'd finished with the case.