new one-shot.... Whipped
Title: Whipped - An Unusual Solution
Author: IcyAurora8
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Harry/other male (only slight contact)
Summary: In 6 months, Harry's life has completely turned upside down. Now, he wants nothing more than to get out of a promise he made in the spur of the moment, but Draco is intent on helping him out, no matter the means. (Despite the title, this story does NOT contain BDSM-related elements).
Rating: Mature/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe and all related characters do not belong to me.
Warning(s): Mature language, male/male relationships, sexual content, EWE, almost-PWP (there is a plot, I swear!), rimming, alcohol use, bottom!Draco (in this story, but mentions of past bottom!Harry). Additional medical warnings stated at the end of the story (so as not to ruin the plot).
Word Count: 6,227
Author's Notes: Thanks as always to my lovely betas, Aki-Hoshi and Michelle. You always know I couldn’t do it without you! Especially when I’m out of practice!
“Harry!” Draco yells as soon as the door slams shut. “I found something that I think will help!”
Harry groans, dropping his head to the desk where it hits the wood soundly, scattering his homework across the polished surface. He hears his Muggle pen clink against a stoppered ink bottle and he cracks open an eye to make sure it doesn’t tip. The last thing he needs on top of Draco's enthusiastic attitude is a stack of ruined worksheets that he doesn’t have the time or patience to redo.
He really shouldn’t have mentioned anything to Draco, but when the blond had looked up at him from between his legs, eyes burning with desire as he seemed to suck Harry's soul right out through his cock, finger wedged deeply inside him, Harry decided his mouth was no longer connected to his brain as his eyes rolled back into his head before fluttering shut.
“I want to taste you,” he’d said, the words pushed out through a breathy whimper before being cut off by a moan.
Five simple words, but Draco knew exactly what they meant. Never once had Harry uttered them, even when the thought crossed Harry’s mind that it wasn’t as dirty as everyone always said.
Even when Draco had his head buried between Harry's legs, or Harry had his legs spread on the bed, open and ready, or when Draco let him drive his cock home into that tight, perfect, pale arse.
And that was an odd occurrence all by itself. Harry would have never guessed, even six months ago, that he would be sharing a flat with Draco Malfoy, much less fucking him every chance he got.
It had only been about five months since Ron had moved out, situating himself in a tiny house with Hermione while they planned their wedding. Harry had been bored, not used to coming home to a dark and empty flat, and on a whim, decided to go out.
He didn’t even know what possessed him to decide that going to a club, rather than his usual pub of choice, was a good idea. He also didn’t know what had made him feel like he needed to drown his fairly non-existent sorrows in liberal amounts of alcohol, though that could also probably be blamed on the boredom.
What he did know, though, was that the tall, slender, sandy-haired man who had shoved his way through the crowded dance floor, stopping directly behind Harry as he danced alone, had sent a wave of shivers down his sweating back. The man had wasted no time pressing his hard body, and hard cock, tight to Harry's arse, wrapping his arms and wandering hands around Harry's midsection so quickly that it made Harry's knees buckle. The firm body behind him held him up though, the meaningless words whispered against his neck drowned out by the pulsing bass of the music, but it didn’t matter.
Harry had no problem deciding that he wanted this, whatever it was.
He’d definitely never considered it before, but maybe his subconscious had been telling him something when his feet had taken him to the door of a well-known and well-mixed straight-gay bar, and a Muggle one at that. That, and after all the drinks he’d had, the only thing he could concentrate on was the body still pressed flush against his, sensuously rocking his hips with the music so that every thrust had Harry panting.
He had let himself be dragged off the dance floor and down a dimly lit hall, the alcoholic-haze barely letting him think that this could be a bad idea. It briefly crossed his mind that a dirty loo wasn’t his first choice of scenery for what was about to happen, but then the man trailed a finger from the soft spot behind Harry's earlobe to his collarbone, lingering for a moment before dropping his hand to pinch Harry's hardened nipple through his thin t-shirt, and all traces of common sense were obscured by lust and inebriation.
They had barely swung open the door to the loo before the man had Harry pushed against the wall, hands pinned tightly above his head as he attacked Harry's neck with sharp bites and soothing licks. It felt so good that Harry's vision dimmed, or so it seemed.
In reality, he totally failed to notice the door banging open next to his prone body, missing his raised arm by mere centimeters. This new man stepped close, his tall body blocking the light from the shoddy fixture that scarcely looked attached to the cracked, discolored ceiling.
“Let him go and get the fuck out,” a firm voice commanded and it washed over Harry's senses like a piece of silk, Harry forcing his eyes closed at the sensation. He barely registered the fact that his arms were released or that they fell limply to his sides.
Upset that all the wonderful friction had been lost, he didn’t bother to open his eyes as he asked, words only slightly slurred, “Did you really have to do that? I was enjoying myself.”
A snort of amusement startled Harry, but he still didn’t open his eyes, trying to calm his breathing and will his erection away, or at least as much of it as he could. He’d have to fix that problem later. The man responded, “Yes, well, I don’t think you would have enjoyed the subsequent visit to a Healer after what he was about to give you.”
Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion before his drunken mind caught up. His eyes popped open and he tried to concentrate on the figure in front of him as he said, “Oh. Um… thanks, I guess.” He could feel his cheeks heating and he couldn’t believe his first experience would have been a bad one overall, if it hadn’t been for the tall blond in front of him. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, his eyes finally focusing on...
A man who happened to be Draco Malfoy.
Harry's mouth dropped open, shocked and unsure what to say. “I think I’d best be going now,” was the only response he was able to mumble, embarrassed that his childhood rival had just seen him getting ravished against a wall in a dingy loo. He couldn’t look at Malfoy as he turned and reached for the door handle.
“Potter, wait.” Malfoy spoke quickly, grabbing Harry's wrist which shot a brief jolt of pain up his arm. He hadn’t realized how tightly the sandy-haired man had been holding him and he was sure he’d have tender spots the next day.
Harry couldn’t turn around, much less speak, but his steps halted all the same.
“Let me take you home,” Malfoy told him.
Harry's mind immediately flashed back to the way the man had been sucking on his neck, grinding against his arse, and instead of the unknown Muggle’s face, Malfoy's had replaced it. Surprising himself, what little bit of his erection had finally started to go away returned with a vengeance.
Malfoy must have seen him tense up, and Harry was insanely glad he was facing the other direction as Malfoy corrected himself by saying, “I meant, you are too drunk to Apparate, and I doubt you could pull your own wallet out of your pocket right now, much less order a cab to get you home.” He paused, as if he was unsure if he should keep talking, but since Harry didn’t try to pull his wrist from Malfoy's grip, Malfoy continued, “Where do you live? I’ll side-along you.”
A quick thought of Why is he being so nice? occurred, but when Harry finally turned around and saw that Malfoy had the look of what some might call pity on his face, Harry somehow instinctively knew that maybe it was because he’d already been through something similar to what Harry would have just gone through with that man. A mixture of gratefulness and annoyance flashed through Harry, until he noticed that Malfoy was obviously dressed to pull, in Muggle denims and a deep gray t-shirt that couldn’t be tighter if it shrank. Then he realized he should just be grateful when it was obvious what Malfoy was giving up to do this for Harry.
He didn’t bother speaking, but he nodded and stepped closer to Malfoy, who in return, dragged him to the closest stall and shut the door to hide them. “Where do you live?” he repeated, and Harry told him the address to his flat.
It wasn’t until Malfoy pulled Harry close that Harry remembered his insistent erection, and coupled with a waft of Malfoy's undoubtedly expensive cologne and the pull of strong magic, Harry thought he might just come.
~~~~~
Malfoy had to Apparate them outside Harry's flat because of the wards, and Harry was too drunk to just take down the ones to let himself inside, so in a spur-of-the-moment decision, he removed them all, allowing Malfoy access to his home also.
He could barely say “Thanks” to the blond, and he was sure his face was bright red, considering what he had just been thinking as he had tried not to rut against Malfoy's leg after Apparating. He turned to enter his flat, but could barely get the door open without tripping. He immediately noticed a warm hand on the small of his back, steadying him as he flung open the door with more force than was necessary.
He tried to take a few steady steps forward, but he moved too quickly in his haste to get away from the hand that felt like it was burning a hole through his cotton shirt. He felt himself trip again, over a pair of trainers he had carelessly left on a small rug in front of his door, and in trying to right himself, he swayed backwards. This time, instead of a Muggle at a club, Malfoy grabbed him.
It was all Harry could do not to melt right there. One night out, just one, and suddenly he was having a sexuality crisis, had almost gotten laid, had been saved by Draco Malfoy, and realized that the blond was insanely handsome, smelled good, and had a cock so hard that Harry was cursing all the levels of hell.
That last part shocked Harry a bit, but he couldn’t prevent himself from grinding back against the hips behind him, just like he had done to the man at the club. Someone moaned, and Harry was pretty sure it wasn’t him.
That just fueled the fire and he twisted his body around with speed that belied Harry hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol that night. This time, he backed Malfoy up to the door, which was somehow closed again, and placed a hand on either side of Malfoy's head. Leaning into the blonde’s personal space, Harry placed his nose right under Malfoy's ear, inhaling the spiced scent that the man had intentionally rubbed there, waiting for someone like Harry to get worked up by it.
Feeling much less drunk than before, but also more courageous because of the alcohol in his system, Harry whispered in Malfoy's ear, “Why are you here?”
Harry leaned back enough to notice the deep gulp, the way that Malfoy's adam’s apple bobbed in his pale-skinned throat, and he had to force himself to look at Malfoy's lips when he said, “Because you needed someone to take you home.”
A logical enough answer, but not the one Harry was looking for. “Why did you interrupt me in the loo?”
Again, it was logical when Malfoy responded with, “Because no one should have to suffer the consequences of being with a bastard like that man is. He’s not worth it.”
Filing that bit of information away for later use, Harry noted that he hadn’t been incorrect when he thought Malfoy had probably been through a few bad experiences himself. But at least he had had the experiences, whereas Harry's first one had been ruined. He told Malfoy as much. “I didn’t even get a kiss tonight.”
Malfoy's gaze seemed to soften a bit as he stared at Harry, but Harry continued in a quieter voice. “You know, I didn’t go in there looking for that. But now that I almost had it… I miss that I could have had it. In fact… I think I still fancy it.” Harry really didn’t have much of a clue what he was babbling about, but every word that left his mouth made Malfoy open his eyes a little wider. Harry could feel the heat emanating from the blonde’s skin, making his whole body feel flushed.
He leaned closer to Malfoy again to get another whiff of the heady cologne, his hips moving with him until they casually brushed against the other man’s. Harry could still feel Malfoy's hard length under him, and he fought the urge to grind his hips forward. He knew he was drunk, but not enough to completely toss out consideration for the other person during an act like this.
He couldn’t resist though, asking just one more question, before dragging his tongue across Malfoy's pale skin on the side of his neck. “What do you want?” a repeat of his own admission.
Malfoy's breath ghosted across Harry’s ear, the words barely a whisper, “Gods, Potter, you looked so fucking hot with your head thrown back and your hands pinned to the wall. I wanted that the moment I saw it.”
Heart skipping a beat in his chest, Harry asked again, “So why did you really interrupt me in the loo?”
Harry could feel Malfoy shudder beneath him, his hips shifting slightly forward to push gently against Harry's. Harry pushed backed and Malfoy's answer came out as a breathy moan, “I wanted you.”
It was like something in Harry snapped, and he slammed his hips forward, pinning Malfoy's against the wall so that he could feel every inch of the hardness against his own. His hands slid around the blonde’s sides to the small of his back, pulling his upper body toward Harry so that their chests touched fully, burning hot despite the clothes they were still wearing, and then Harry dragged his tongue from Malfoy's collar bone to his chin, catching the slight stubble that had grown since whenever Malfoy had last shaved.
Malfoy groaned, sending a rumble through his chest and straight down to his cock which twitched against Harry's. He pulled back enough to see that Malfoy's eyes looked completely dilated, even in his dimly lit flat, and when one of Malfoy's hands came to grip the swell of Harry's arse and the other to the back of his neck, he leaned in and tasted the lips in front of him.
~~~~~
Somehow, within a matter of weeks, Draco ended up moving in with Harry. On paper, it looked simple enough-Draco's lease was up on his flat, he needed a place to stay and didn’t want to go back home, and Harry had a room to rent since Ron had moved out. At least, that was what Harry had written in the letters to his friends. He didn’t make mention at the time that it was a decision he had come to while still drunk that first night, right after Draco had sucked him off like his life depended on it, or the fact that he still thought it was a great decision the next morning when he sobered up.
Of course, at the time he hadn’t known Draco needed a place to live, but in his mind, he was not adverse to having the handsome blond move in anyway. Granted, his friends didn’t get all those details when they had finally told them (a couple months after Draco became Harry's roommate) that they weren’t just roommates.
And surprisingly, they took it rather well. Even Ron, who vowed he could be nice as long as he was allowed to trounce Malfoy's arse in Wizarding Chess. Since there was pretty much no one who could beat Ron at Chess, Harry thought it a fair trade for some peace between his friends and his… boyfriend.
Of course now… now, Harry wished he had something, anything (even a fight between Ron and Draco) to distract him from his current predicament.
“I want to taste you.”
As soon as he’d uttered those words, he had come harder than he ever had before, his vision fading out so quickly that he didn’t see the lights of the room flickering as his magic burst free and resonated around him. It was while he was descending from his post-orgasmic high that he wished he could take the words back. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say them in the first place, but he had a feeling it was the look Draco had been giving him, the way that Draco made him feel, the fact that he wanted to please, and to pleasure, Draco like he’d never believed possible.
It didn’t change the fact that the whole idea made him feel uncomfortable, and now that it had been said, he knew Draco wouldn’t ever give up on it. And Harry knew it wasn’t because he wanted him to do it that badly, though Draco definitely wasn’t adverse to it, but because Harry knew-even after just a few months of being together-that Draco would do anything to help Harry out. And if Harry had finally mentioned it, then he must be ready. Right?
But Harry wasn’t really sure. After all… Draco's other ideas of what might help had all been flops. Flavoured lubes, blindfolds, scented oils, special cleansing tools, and some flat rubbery sheets called ‘Dental Dam’ from a Muggle sex toy shop-Harry hadn’t even been able to get hard when Draco had shown him that last one.
But it wasn’t for his lack of trying. Never once had Draco pushed Harry. Actually, when Harry thought about it, never once had Draco even asked. It was like it was an unspoken agreement that they didn’t talk about it, and Draco didn’t seem to show any irritation at not getting the actions returned when he clearly loved doing it to Harry (and Harry loved receiving it).
Which is why Harry always felt so damn guilty whenever Draco brought back something new to try. Because the least Harry could do was try. After all, that was what you did for people you loved, and Harry was pretty sure he was steadily on the way to that point.
Lifting his head off his desk, Harry absently rubs the spot on his forehead where he clunked it down the hardest. It’s a bit tender, but it wouldn’t bruise. He straightens up his papers, thinking that there’s no way he can concentrate now that Draco has brought home another “experiment.” He has the rest of the weekend to work on his projects.
He closes the door to their office, which had originally started out as Draco's bedroom when he had moved in. Granted, that had lasted about a week before they both decided it was stupid to have an extra bed when he only slept in Harry's anyway. Walking down the hallway, he hears the shower going behind the closed door of the loo, and when he gets to the tiny kitchen, there’s a full bag on the counter.
Harry really doesn’t want to look, but he can’t contain the slight thrill of curiosity that shoots through him, and he opens the plastic sack. To his surprise, it’s merely full of groceries, so he takes the few moments required to toss the loaf of bread on the counter, place the small mesh bag of apples in a bowl on the tiny kitchenette table, and put the few cold items, mainly milk, cheese, whipped cream in a can, and a small container of ice cream, into the icebox. Draco had taken a liking to Muggle groceries, especially the sections with the premade meals. He thought it was amazing that all he had to do was put something in the oven or the microwave (both of which Harry had taught him how to use) to get a completely cooked meal.
It warms Harry to think that that could have been something he would have never known about Draco, had he not gone to that Muggle club a handful of months ago, or had enough liquid courage to make his own desires known to the blond later that night.
Lost in his own memories, he jumps when a hand wraps around his midsection and pulls him close. He can smell the expensive tang of Draco's soap, some fancy imported kind that lathers on smoothly and slickly, as Harry always remembers of their showers together whenever he inhales that scent.
It makes his cock harden slightly in his trousers, the thought of Draco leaning over, hands braced against the tile walls as the suds and water run down his back, over his crack, and to the silky-smooth sac beneath. Harry thinks about the way his finger would trace Draco's hole, the dusky-colored pucker opening up for him even before he started to push his way in. The way Draco would use his arms to lever himself back off the wall, shoving Harry's fingers as far into him as he could manage before he came fast and long, mouth hanging open as a low moan ripped from it only to be swallowed by the sound of the running water.
The way Draco would lean, spent, again the wall, come and soap lather dripping down the tile, trying to catch his breath as Harry lost his, wanking himself hard until he coated Draco's soaking wet back and arse with his own pleasure.
The way Draco would eventually stand upright and lean into Harry, wrapping their hands together as he started to scrub away the evidence of their shared experience, and making up for losing that with gentle kisses and soft caresses.
By the time Harry's mind pulls him back to the kitchen, where Draco is doing a pretty good imitation of the post-sex shower kisses on Harry's neck and barely-exposed shoulder, he is hard and has forgotten about Draco's shopping trip. He turns around slowly, making sure that Draco's arms don’t once leave his body in his careful spin. He pulls the blond close to him and for a moment can’t believe that this man in front of him is actually his boyfriend. His lover.
Quickly becoming his everything. He leans in to press a gentle kiss to Draco's mouth, but he doesn’t have to wait for an invitation for him to part his lips. Almost as soon as they touch, Draco's tongue is sweeping out to taste Harry, his lower lip bitten lightly then soothed with a swipe of his tongue.
Harry can feel the rumbling laugh in Draco's body. “You’ve been snacking again, I see. You taste like biscuits.” Harry would have blushed, except that Draco told him this often. It was his weakness after all, and even though Draco always teased him about it, whenever the tin on his desk was empty of the buttery biscuits, somehow another one miraculously appeared the next day. If it weren’t for those biscuits, Harry didn’t think he’d get any homework done at all.
Harry just kisses Draco instead of responding, taking his turn to taste Draco and wrap his arms around the man’s shoulders. He flicks his eyes and head to the hallway, and Draco nods. Harry is momentarily disappointed as Draco pulls his arms from around him, breaking their kiss. He more than makes up for it though when he grabs Harry's hand and shoots him a smile that makes Harry weak in the knees before leading him down the hall to his bedroom. To their bedroom.
Not quite roughly, Draco shoves Harry to the edge of the bed and he notices for the first time that Draco isn’t even dressed. Harry isn’t sure how he missed that the blond was only wearing a housecoat earlier, but he isn’t sorry about the convenience now. With a soft look in his eyes, Draco asks, “Get undressed?” Harry barely has to nod before he’s ripping off his clothes to toss them across the room, and through Draco's slight smirk, he tells Harry, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Before Harry has a chance to blink, Draco is already sweeping out of the room, the housecoat a flurry like it’s one of their old school robes, and Harry focuses on not tripping as he tries to pull his trousers and pants off at the same time. As soon as the fabric brushes over his prick, it sends tingles down his spine.
He lies back on the bed, feeling slightly awkward as his cock stands up proudly in the air with nothing to cover it, but then Draco practically runs back into the room. He takes only seconds to toss a can on the bed past Harry's shoulder and drop his robe, his cock already stiff and leaking.
It makes Harry lick his lips, seeing the blond standing in front him as if showing off before stalking his way to the bed and straddling Harry an instant later. Harry groans at the contact of skin against his cock, the pale, trimmed hair at Draco's groin brushing against him like a feather’s caress.
He doesn’t waste any time grabbing Draco behind his neck, wrapping his fingers in the soft hair there and pulling Draco's mouth down to meet his. He wants to devour him, and every brush of the slick tongue against his own has his cock jumping against his belly. He can feel the trail of wetness it’s leaving every time the tip touches the skin on his stomach. The feeling of want is overwhelming to Harry, and in that moment, he knows that what he told Draco is true.
He does want to taste him. He’s scared as hell, but he wants to taste every fucking inch of Draco Malfoy.
Instead of waiting for Draco to encourage him, like he’d had to every other time, this time Harry pushes the blond on top of him away, almost whimpering himself at the loss of contact. Then, in a rush of power, he flips their positions on the bed, landing Draco on his back and sliding his body close to his, their cocks brushing.
Leaning forward to whisper in Draco's ear, just because Harry knows how much it turns him on, he says, “Turn over. Get on your hands and knees.” His voice is quiet, but the command in it is as powerful as his magic, and he pulls his body back to watch. He can see Draco's throat work to swallow a moan before quickly moving his body into position. Draco only ever moved quicker if Harry spoke in Parseltongue.
Harry lets his eyes roam over the smooth, pale back in front of him. Draco is slender, enough that Harry can see the slight bumps of ribs down his sides, but he’s also covered in lean muscle that twitches whenever Harry even so much as breathes on his skin. Dragging his eyes away from the canvas in front of him, he locates the can Draco had tossed on the bed.
He starts to read the label, startled when he realizes what it is. He can’t cover the small laugh that escapes his mouth, and Draco turns his head to look over his shoulder at Harry. “Problem with that?” There’s no real snark in the comment, though.
Harry shakes his head, thinking for once that this could actually work. “You do realize this has alcohol in it, right?”
Draco nods, then says, “I already cast a protection charm, so my body won’t absorb any of it.” He doesn’t feel the urge to say any more, which is fine with Harry.
Harry glances at the label again, noting that the flavor is “Raspberry.” “Where did you find this?” he can’t help asking as he uncaps the container.
“Muggle liquor store.” Harry's mouth quirks into a smile at yet another thing Draco had taken a liking to. As a reward, more for himself than Draco, he runs a hand down the blonde’s back, noting how any skin he touches leaves a path of goosebumps in its wake.
Despite his nervousness, Harry can feel his cock leaking, leaving a smear of liquid on his thigh where it’s been touching as he was leaned over. Adjusting his body so that he’s directly behind Draco's raised arse, he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.
With a gentle finger, he touches the top of Draco's arse, just where the swell ends to join with his lower back. He can feel Draco jolt, and it makes him smile to think that he is making him nervous, too.
He brings his finger to the crevice in the middle, dragging it down the space between his cheeks until he can feel the puckered hole beneath it. It isn’t like he hasn’t done this part before, but for some reason it feels so different, knowing the intention.
He leans forward and presses a firm kiss to one side, then the other, inhaling the scent of Draco's expensive soap. And then, before he can lose his nerve, Harry places the aerosol can between his own legs to keep it nearby and uses his hands to pull apart the cheeks in front of him.
As soon as Draco's hole is exposed, it twitches like it knows it’s under observation, and Harry can’t help himself as he blows gently in its direction. He hears Draco moan lightly, and all of Harry’s nervousness seems to melt away at that sound of surrender.
“Hold yourself open,” Harry commands. Draco scrambles to pull a pillow down in front of him so that he can prop his head and shoulders on it, then leans his body forward and reaches behind himself to have his hands take the place of Harry's. The sight of Draco, arse straight in the air, completely exposed, makes Harry's cock jerk and he quickly runs his hand down the length of it, squeezing firmly to stave off his orgasm. It isn’t going to take much on his part at all.
Having pulled back from the edge, Harry grasps the whipped cream can and shakes it, biting back his own moan as it shakes the bed and by turn causes Draco's fully visible sac to tremble between his legs from the motion. Harry holds out his hand and turns the can upside down, pressing the trigger briefly.
A small dollop of whipped cream falls into his waiting hand and he lifts it to his mouth, tasting the tart raspberry flavour that’s liberally laced with alcohol. It makes his nose tingle, and he’s grateful that this experiment not only tastes good, but gives him a bit of liquored courage as well.
Running his finger over Draco's exposed flesh once more, he uses the can to apply cream to mimic the line his finger just traced. It barely touches his skin before Harry is already there, leaning in to lick it clean. He can feel Draco shudder beneath him, and he thinks to himself that he’s not even gotten to the good part yet.
Another strip of cream, and Harry's tongue is dragging it away from Draco's body, brushing past Draco's hole. Harry can’t see it from this angle, but he can feel it pulse beneath his tongue, and he feels the urge to go further, to be inside there.
This time, Harry sprays the whipped cream on his finger, using his digit to smear it over Draco… around… into him. The warmth of Draco's arse compared to the cool cream on his finger is so erotic to Harry that he tells Draco to look at him. He sees Draco’s head twist on the pillow, grey eyes glancing over his shoulder the best he is able at that angle, and Harry shows him exactly what he plans to do, how he pulls his cream-covered finger from Draco's arse, bringing it to his mouth to lick it clean.
Harry sees how Draco's mouth falls open, his breathing becomes heavier, how there’s a nicely-tinted blush spreading from Draco's shoulders down his back, testament to how turned on he is. Harry turns away so that he can spray more cream on to his finger before swiping it over Draco's already-loosened hole and plunging his tongue straight into it. He can taste the sweetness of the raspberries, the sharpness of the alcohol, and something uniquely Draco. Harry can feel Draco’s muscles contract around his tongue as he thrusts as far as he can, his entire face embraced between Draco's spread cheeks.
The shudders in the body beneath him are constant now, and he pulls back so he can lap at the pulsing hole in front of him, savoring the mixture of flavors. He brings a hand to his neglected cock, smearing his fingers, slightly-sticky from when he’d had them buried in Draco, over the flushed head. If he hadn’t already been sitting, his legs would have given out beneath him from that light touch.
Thrusting his tongue in once more, Harry works himself slowly as his free hand reaches between Draco's legs, fingers barely brushing his sac before wrapping around his hard length. Draco chokes out something between a groan and a cry as his whole body jerks, bringing his cock pumping straight through Harry's curled fist.
Harry stills his hands, knowing that this isn’t how he wants it to end. Almost reluctantly, he pulls back, leaving a last lingering kiss on Draco's cream-smeared arse, and says in a rough voice, “I’m going to fuck you now.”
What Harry isn’t expecting is for Draco to respond in a barely-audible groan of, “Oh Gods yes….” and as his voice trails off, he seems to thrust his arse higher into the air.
Harry looks at Draco's wet hole, saliva and cream running out and down over Draco's sac, a trail of glossy white. He tosses the can off the bed and props himself up on his knees, hands gripping tightly to Draco's slender hips. Part of him wants to thrust in as quickly as possible, but Harry knows it would be over too quickly if he did that, so instead, he drags his prick up and down the glistening crease, through the cream and evidence that his mouth had actually been there, over Draco's loosened hole where the tip of his cock seems to catch every time.
The words tumble out of his mouth, just like they had last time, except this time, Harry doesn’t regret them. Couldn’t ever regret them. “You look so hot like this, Draco. I can’t wait to fuck you. I can never wait to fuck you.”
Harry doesn’t know what else he says as he finally pushes into the tight warmth that’s so familiar to him now, but he does hear Draco chanting, “Harry, Harry, Harry” over and over, the words becoming more stuttered and broken with each firm stroke.
Harry reaches around once more to touch Draco's cock, a stream of come leaking all the way to the bedspread, and he feels Draco's breath hitch. “So close….” he barely has time to whimper before he’s coming, his scream muffled as he bites down on his own hand, and his arse is clenching around Harry's cock so hard that Harry's sure he won’t last another stroke.
When it hits him, it’s like white-hot lightning and Harry feels the world has opened up wide and swallowed him whole. He can barely ride out the last couple half-thrusts, instead his body going limp on top of Draco's as he swears he can feel his heart pounding in his head. His boyfriend doesn’t even try to move, and eventually Draco’s knees just seem to slide out from under him as he melts to the surface of the bed, not caring one bit that it’s covered in whipped cream and come.
In the movement, Harry's cock, spent but still hard, starts to slip out, but Harry grabs Draco as well as he can around his stomach and rolls them to the side, keeping Draco's body tight to his. He’ll only have another minute or two like this, but he wants it anyway.
He places a kiss to Draco's shoulder, then another one a little higher on his neck, and finally a third one as close to Draco's jaw as he can get. Draco turns his head slightly, sighing contentedly. “I’d kiss you right now, but I’m too damn lazy to move. That was incredible, Harry.”
Harry isn’t looking for praise, but it makes him blush nonetheless. He’s glad he did it, despite his initial reservations on the activity. “It wasn’t that bad,” he finally says.
He can feel Draco smile. “No, it’s not. And you know I don’t expect you to do it all the time. It’s not exactly for everyone.”
Harry has to chuckle at that, because it took Draco months of shopping trips and Harry a bottle of alcohol-infused whipped cream. He imagines Draco having much the same thought as he is: It’s amazing the things you’ll try for the ones you love. Of course, he thought with a lazy grin as he snuggled closer to Draco, it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten something out of it, too.
~FIN~
If you have the time, reviews are love! Also, please see precautions stated below.
WARNING: Please do not attempt this at home!! It is not safe to put anything alcoholic into your anal cavity due to the accelerated rate at which alcohol is absorbed. It can push your body into alcohol-poisoning, or worse, death, in a matter of minutes. This is not a safe practice and was only used in this story because the idea would not leave me alone (it was more along the lines of ‘what fun this whip cream is!’). Do not fail to note that even within the story, Draco took ‘safety precautions’ because I wanted to make sure that angle was clearly stated. Please see next paragraph for the reason of stated precautions.
The alcohol-infused whipped cream is real. I’ve had the pleasure of trying the Raspberry kind (Cream brand). Here are a couple of links to the websites. We are actually able to get it in 2 large liquor stores in our area, so if you are interested in finding it, I would suggest looking in those types first over your smaller liquor shops. http://givemecream.com/whipped/ and http://www.whippedlightning.com/
Author: IcyAurora8
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Harry/other male (only slight contact)
Summary: In 6 months, Harry's life has completely turned upside down. Now, he wants nothing more than to get out of a promise he made in the spur of the moment, but Draco is intent on helping him out, no matter the means. (Despite the title, this story does NOT contain BDSM-related elements).
Rating: Mature/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe and all related characters do not belong to me.
Warning(s): Mature language, male/male relationships, sexual content, EWE, almost-PWP (there is a plot, I swear!), rimming, alcohol use, bottom!Draco (in this story, but mentions of past bottom!Harry). Additional medical warnings stated at the end of the story (so as not to ruin the plot).
Word Count: 6,227
Author's Notes: Thanks as always to my lovely betas, Aki-Hoshi and Michelle. You always know I couldn’t do it without you! Especially when I’m out of practice!
“Harry!” Draco yells as soon as the door slams shut. “I found something that I think will help!”
Harry groans, dropping his head to the desk where it hits the wood soundly, scattering his homework across the polished surface. He hears his Muggle pen clink against a stoppered ink bottle and he cracks open an eye to make sure it doesn’t tip. The last thing he needs on top of Draco's enthusiastic attitude is a stack of ruined worksheets that he doesn’t have the time or patience to redo.
He really shouldn’t have mentioned anything to Draco, but when the blond had looked up at him from between his legs, eyes burning with desire as he seemed to suck Harry's soul right out through his cock, finger wedged deeply inside him, Harry decided his mouth was no longer connected to his brain as his eyes rolled back into his head before fluttering shut.
“I want to taste you,” he’d said, the words pushed out through a breathy whimper before being cut off by a moan.
Five simple words, but Draco knew exactly what they meant. Never once had Harry uttered them, even when the thought crossed Harry’s mind that it wasn’t as dirty as everyone always said.
Even when Draco had his head buried between Harry's legs, or Harry had his legs spread on the bed, open and ready, or when Draco let him drive his cock home into that tight, perfect, pale arse.
And that was an odd occurrence all by itself. Harry would have never guessed, even six months ago, that he would be sharing a flat with Draco Malfoy, much less fucking him every chance he got.
It had only been about five months since Ron had moved out, situating himself in a tiny house with Hermione while they planned their wedding. Harry had been bored, not used to coming home to a dark and empty flat, and on a whim, decided to go out.
He didn’t even know what possessed him to decide that going to a club, rather than his usual pub of choice, was a good idea. He also didn’t know what had made him feel like he needed to drown his fairly non-existent sorrows in liberal amounts of alcohol, though that could also probably be blamed on the boredom.
What he did know, though, was that the tall, slender, sandy-haired man who had shoved his way through the crowded dance floor, stopping directly behind Harry as he danced alone, had sent a wave of shivers down his sweating back. The man had wasted no time pressing his hard body, and hard cock, tight to Harry's arse, wrapping his arms and wandering hands around Harry's midsection so quickly that it made Harry's knees buckle. The firm body behind him held him up though, the meaningless words whispered against his neck drowned out by the pulsing bass of the music, but it didn’t matter.
Harry had no problem deciding that he wanted this, whatever it was.
He’d definitely never considered it before, but maybe his subconscious had been telling him something when his feet had taken him to the door of a well-known and well-mixed straight-gay bar, and a Muggle one at that. That, and after all the drinks he’d had, the only thing he could concentrate on was the body still pressed flush against his, sensuously rocking his hips with the music so that every thrust had Harry panting.
He had let himself be dragged off the dance floor and down a dimly lit hall, the alcoholic-haze barely letting him think that this could be a bad idea. It briefly crossed his mind that a dirty loo wasn’t his first choice of scenery for what was about to happen, but then the man trailed a finger from the soft spot behind Harry's earlobe to his collarbone, lingering for a moment before dropping his hand to pinch Harry's hardened nipple through his thin t-shirt, and all traces of common sense were obscured by lust and inebriation.
They had barely swung open the door to the loo before the man had Harry pushed against the wall, hands pinned tightly above his head as he attacked Harry's neck with sharp bites and soothing licks. It felt so good that Harry's vision dimmed, or so it seemed.
In reality, he totally failed to notice the door banging open next to his prone body, missing his raised arm by mere centimeters. This new man stepped close, his tall body blocking the light from the shoddy fixture that scarcely looked attached to the cracked, discolored ceiling.
“Let him go and get the fuck out,” a firm voice commanded and it washed over Harry's senses like a piece of silk, Harry forcing his eyes closed at the sensation. He barely registered the fact that his arms were released or that they fell limply to his sides.
Upset that all the wonderful friction had been lost, he didn’t bother to open his eyes as he asked, words only slightly slurred, “Did you really have to do that? I was enjoying myself.”
A snort of amusement startled Harry, but he still didn’t open his eyes, trying to calm his breathing and will his erection away, or at least as much of it as he could. He’d have to fix that problem later. The man responded, “Yes, well, I don’t think you would have enjoyed the subsequent visit to a Healer after what he was about to give you.”
Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion before his drunken mind caught up. His eyes popped open and he tried to concentrate on the figure in front of him as he said, “Oh. Um… thanks, I guess.” He could feel his cheeks heating and he couldn’t believe his first experience would have been a bad one overall, if it hadn’t been for the tall blond in front of him. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, his eyes finally focusing on...
A man who happened to be Draco Malfoy.
Harry's mouth dropped open, shocked and unsure what to say. “I think I’d best be going now,” was the only response he was able to mumble, embarrassed that his childhood rival had just seen him getting ravished against a wall in a dingy loo. He couldn’t look at Malfoy as he turned and reached for the door handle.
“Potter, wait.” Malfoy spoke quickly, grabbing Harry's wrist which shot a brief jolt of pain up his arm. He hadn’t realized how tightly the sandy-haired man had been holding him and he was sure he’d have tender spots the next day.
Harry couldn’t turn around, much less speak, but his steps halted all the same.
“Let me take you home,” Malfoy told him.
Harry's mind immediately flashed back to the way the man had been sucking on his neck, grinding against his arse, and instead of the unknown Muggle’s face, Malfoy's had replaced it. Surprising himself, what little bit of his erection had finally started to go away returned with a vengeance.
Malfoy must have seen him tense up, and Harry was insanely glad he was facing the other direction as Malfoy corrected himself by saying, “I meant, you are too drunk to Apparate, and I doubt you could pull your own wallet out of your pocket right now, much less order a cab to get you home.” He paused, as if he was unsure if he should keep talking, but since Harry didn’t try to pull his wrist from Malfoy's grip, Malfoy continued, “Where do you live? I’ll side-along you.”
A quick thought of Why is he being so nice? occurred, but when Harry finally turned around and saw that Malfoy had the look of what some might call pity on his face, Harry somehow instinctively knew that maybe it was because he’d already been through something similar to what Harry would have just gone through with that man. A mixture of gratefulness and annoyance flashed through Harry, until he noticed that Malfoy was obviously dressed to pull, in Muggle denims and a deep gray t-shirt that couldn’t be tighter if it shrank. Then he realized he should just be grateful when it was obvious what Malfoy was giving up to do this for Harry.
He didn’t bother speaking, but he nodded and stepped closer to Malfoy, who in return, dragged him to the closest stall and shut the door to hide them. “Where do you live?” he repeated, and Harry told him the address to his flat.
It wasn’t until Malfoy pulled Harry close that Harry remembered his insistent erection, and coupled with a waft of Malfoy's undoubtedly expensive cologne and the pull of strong magic, Harry thought he might just come.
~~~~~
Malfoy had to Apparate them outside Harry's flat because of the wards, and Harry was too drunk to just take down the ones to let himself inside, so in a spur-of-the-moment decision, he removed them all, allowing Malfoy access to his home also.
He could barely say “Thanks” to the blond, and he was sure his face was bright red, considering what he had just been thinking as he had tried not to rut against Malfoy's leg after Apparating. He turned to enter his flat, but could barely get the door open without tripping. He immediately noticed a warm hand on the small of his back, steadying him as he flung open the door with more force than was necessary.
He tried to take a few steady steps forward, but he moved too quickly in his haste to get away from the hand that felt like it was burning a hole through his cotton shirt. He felt himself trip again, over a pair of trainers he had carelessly left on a small rug in front of his door, and in trying to right himself, he swayed backwards. This time, instead of a Muggle at a club, Malfoy grabbed him.
It was all Harry could do not to melt right there. One night out, just one, and suddenly he was having a sexuality crisis, had almost gotten laid, had been saved by Draco Malfoy, and realized that the blond was insanely handsome, smelled good, and had a cock so hard that Harry was cursing all the levels of hell.
That last part shocked Harry a bit, but he couldn’t prevent himself from grinding back against the hips behind him, just like he had done to the man at the club. Someone moaned, and Harry was pretty sure it wasn’t him.
That just fueled the fire and he twisted his body around with speed that belied Harry hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol that night. This time, he backed Malfoy up to the door, which was somehow closed again, and placed a hand on either side of Malfoy's head. Leaning into the blonde’s personal space, Harry placed his nose right under Malfoy's ear, inhaling the spiced scent that the man had intentionally rubbed there, waiting for someone like Harry to get worked up by it.
Feeling much less drunk than before, but also more courageous because of the alcohol in his system, Harry whispered in Malfoy's ear, “Why are you here?”
Harry leaned back enough to notice the deep gulp, the way that Malfoy's adam’s apple bobbed in his pale-skinned throat, and he had to force himself to look at Malfoy's lips when he said, “Because you needed someone to take you home.”
A logical enough answer, but not the one Harry was looking for. “Why did you interrupt me in the loo?”
Again, it was logical when Malfoy responded with, “Because no one should have to suffer the consequences of being with a bastard like that man is. He’s not worth it.”
Filing that bit of information away for later use, Harry noted that he hadn’t been incorrect when he thought Malfoy had probably been through a few bad experiences himself. But at least he had had the experiences, whereas Harry's first one had been ruined. He told Malfoy as much. “I didn’t even get a kiss tonight.”
Malfoy's gaze seemed to soften a bit as he stared at Harry, but Harry continued in a quieter voice. “You know, I didn’t go in there looking for that. But now that I almost had it… I miss that I could have had it. In fact… I think I still fancy it.” Harry really didn’t have much of a clue what he was babbling about, but every word that left his mouth made Malfoy open his eyes a little wider. Harry could feel the heat emanating from the blonde’s skin, making his whole body feel flushed.
He leaned closer to Malfoy again to get another whiff of the heady cologne, his hips moving with him until they casually brushed against the other man’s. Harry could still feel Malfoy's hard length under him, and he fought the urge to grind his hips forward. He knew he was drunk, but not enough to completely toss out consideration for the other person during an act like this.
He couldn’t resist though, asking just one more question, before dragging his tongue across Malfoy's pale skin on the side of his neck. “What do you want?” a repeat of his own admission.
Malfoy's breath ghosted across Harry’s ear, the words barely a whisper, “Gods, Potter, you looked so fucking hot with your head thrown back and your hands pinned to the wall. I wanted that the moment I saw it.”
Heart skipping a beat in his chest, Harry asked again, “So why did you really interrupt me in the loo?”
Harry could feel Malfoy shudder beneath him, his hips shifting slightly forward to push gently against Harry's. Harry pushed backed and Malfoy's answer came out as a breathy moan, “I wanted you.”
It was like something in Harry snapped, and he slammed his hips forward, pinning Malfoy's against the wall so that he could feel every inch of the hardness against his own. His hands slid around the blonde’s sides to the small of his back, pulling his upper body toward Harry so that their chests touched fully, burning hot despite the clothes they were still wearing, and then Harry dragged his tongue from Malfoy's collar bone to his chin, catching the slight stubble that had grown since whenever Malfoy had last shaved.
Malfoy groaned, sending a rumble through his chest and straight down to his cock which twitched against Harry's. He pulled back enough to see that Malfoy's eyes looked completely dilated, even in his dimly lit flat, and when one of Malfoy's hands came to grip the swell of Harry's arse and the other to the back of his neck, he leaned in and tasted the lips in front of him.
~~~~~
Somehow, within a matter of weeks, Draco ended up moving in with Harry. On paper, it looked simple enough-Draco's lease was up on his flat, he needed a place to stay and didn’t want to go back home, and Harry had a room to rent since Ron had moved out. At least, that was what Harry had written in the letters to his friends. He didn’t make mention at the time that it was a decision he had come to while still drunk that first night, right after Draco had sucked him off like his life depended on it, or the fact that he still thought it was a great decision the next morning when he sobered up.
Of course, at the time he hadn’t known Draco needed a place to live, but in his mind, he was not adverse to having the handsome blond move in anyway. Granted, his friends didn’t get all those details when they had finally told them (a couple months after Draco became Harry's roommate) that they weren’t just roommates.
And surprisingly, they took it rather well. Even Ron, who vowed he could be nice as long as he was allowed to trounce Malfoy's arse in Wizarding Chess. Since there was pretty much no one who could beat Ron at Chess, Harry thought it a fair trade for some peace between his friends and his… boyfriend.
Of course now… now, Harry wished he had something, anything (even a fight between Ron and Draco) to distract him from his current predicament.
“I want to taste you.”
As soon as he’d uttered those words, he had come harder than he ever had before, his vision fading out so quickly that he didn’t see the lights of the room flickering as his magic burst free and resonated around him. It was while he was descending from his post-orgasmic high that he wished he could take the words back. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say them in the first place, but he had a feeling it was the look Draco had been giving him, the way that Draco made him feel, the fact that he wanted to please, and to pleasure, Draco like he’d never believed possible.
It didn’t change the fact that the whole idea made him feel uncomfortable, and now that it had been said, he knew Draco wouldn’t ever give up on it. And Harry knew it wasn’t because he wanted him to do it that badly, though Draco definitely wasn’t adverse to it, but because Harry knew-even after just a few months of being together-that Draco would do anything to help Harry out. And if Harry had finally mentioned it, then he must be ready. Right?
But Harry wasn’t really sure. After all… Draco's other ideas of what might help had all been flops. Flavoured lubes, blindfolds, scented oils, special cleansing tools, and some flat rubbery sheets called ‘Dental Dam’ from a Muggle sex toy shop-Harry hadn’t even been able to get hard when Draco had shown him that last one.
But it wasn’t for his lack of trying. Never once had Draco pushed Harry. Actually, when Harry thought about it, never once had Draco even asked. It was like it was an unspoken agreement that they didn’t talk about it, and Draco didn’t seem to show any irritation at not getting the actions returned when he clearly loved doing it to Harry (and Harry loved receiving it).
Which is why Harry always felt so damn guilty whenever Draco brought back something new to try. Because the least Harry could do was try. After all, that was what you did for people you loved, and Harry was pretty sure he was steadily on the way to that point.
Lifting his head off his desk, Harry absently rubs the spot on his forehead where he clunked it down the hardest. It’s a bit tender, but it wouldn’t bruise. He straightens up his papers, thinking that there’s no way he can concentrate now that Draco has brought home another “experiment.” He has the rest of the weekend to work on his projects.
He closes the door to their office, which had originally started out as Draco's bedroom when he had moved in. Granted, that had lasted about a week before they both decided it was stupid to have an extra bed when he only slept in Harry's anyway. Walking down the hallway, he hears the shower going behind the closed door of the loo, and when he gets to the tiny kitchen, there’s a full bag on the counter.
Harry really doesn’t want to look, but he can’t contain the slight thrill of curiosity that shoots through him, and he opens the plastic sack. To his surprise, it’s merely full of groceries, so he takes the few moments required to toss the loaf of bread on the counter, place the small mesh bag of apples in a bowl on the tiny kitchenette table, and put the few cold items, mainly milk, cheese, whipped cream in a can, and a small container of ice cream, into the icebox. Draco had taken a liking to Muggle groceries, especially the sections with the premade meals. He thought it was amazing that all he had to do was put something in the oven or the microwave (both of which Harry had taught him how to use) to get a completely cooked meal.
It warms Harry to think that that could have been something he would have never known about Draco, had he not gone to that Muggle club a handful of months ago, or had enough liquid courage to make his own desires known to the blond later that night.
Lost in his own memories, he jumps when a hand wraps around his midsection and pulls him close. He can smell the expensive tang of Draco's soap, some fancy imported kind that lathers on smoothly and slickly, as Harry always remembers of their showers together whenever he inhales that scent.
It makes his cock harden slightly in his trousers, the thought of Draco leaning over, hands braced against the tile walls as the suds and water run down his back, over his crack, and to the silky-smooth sac beneath. Harry thinks about the way his finger would trace Draco's hole, the dusky-colored pucker opening up for him even before he started to push his way in. The way Draco would use his arms to lever himself back off the wall, shoving Harry's fingers as far into him as he could manage before he came fast and long, mouth hanging open as a low moan ripped from it only to be swallowed by the sound of the running water.
The way Draco would lean, spent, again the wall, come and soap lather dripping down the tile, trying to catch his breath as Harry lost his, wanking himself hard until he coated Draco's soaking wet back and arse with his own pleasure.
The way Draco would eventually stand upright and lean into Harry, wrapping their hands together as he started to scrub away the evidence of their shared experience, and making up for losing that with gentle kisses and soft caresses.
By the time Harry's mind pulls him back to the kitchen, where Draco is doing a pretty good imitation of the post-sex shower kisses on Harry's neck and barely-exposed shoulder, he is hard and has forgotten about Draco's shopping trip. He turns around slowly, making sure that Draco's arms don’t once leave his body in his careful spin. He pulls the blond close to him and for a moment can’t believe that this man in front of him is actually his boyfriend. His lover.
Quickly becoming his everything. He leans in to press a gentle kiss to Draco's mouth, but he doesn’t have to wait for an invitation for him to part his lips. Almost as soon as they touch, Draco's tongue is sweeping out to taste Harry, his lower lip bitten lightly then soothed with a swipe of his tongue.
Harry can feel the rumbling laugh in Draco's body. “You’ve been snacking again, I see. You taste like biscuits.” Harry would have blushed, except that Draco told him this often. It was his weakness after all, and even though Draco always teased him about it, whenever the tin on his desk was empty of the buttery biscuits, somehow another one miraculously appeared the next day. If it weren’t for those biscuits, Harry didn’t think he’d get any homework done at all.
Harry just kisses Draco instead of responding, taking his turn to taste Draco and wrap his arms around the man’s shoulders. He flicks his eyes and head to the hallway, and Draco nods. Harry is momentarily disappointed as Draco pulls his arms from around him, breaking their kiss. He more than makes up for it though when he grabs Harry's hand and shoots him a smile that makes Harry weak in the knees before leading him down the hall to his bedroom. To their bedroom.
Not quite roughly, Draco shoves Harry to the edge of the bed and he notices for the first time that Draco isn’t even dressed. Harry isn’t sure how he missed that the blond was only wearing a housecoat earlier, but he isn’t sorry about the convenience now. With a soft look in his eyes, Draco asks, “Get undressed?” Harry barely has to nod before he’s ripping off his clothes to toss them across the room, and through Draco's slight smirk, he tells Harry, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Before Harry has a chance to blink, Draco is already sweeping out of the room, the housecoat a flurry like it’s one of their old school robes, and Harry focuses on not tripping as he tries to pull his trousers and pants off at the same time. As soon as the fabric brushes over his prick, it sends tingles down his spine.
He lies back on the bed, feeling slightly awkward as his cock stands up proudly in the air with nothing to cover it, but then Draco practically runs back into the room. He takes only seconds to toss a can on the bed past Harry's shoulder and drop his robe, his cock already stiff and leaking.
It makes Harry lick his lips, seeing the blond standing in front him as if showing off before stalking his way to the bed and straddling Harry an instant later. Harry groans at the contact of skin against his cock, the pale, trimmed hair at Draco's groin brushing against him like a feather’s caress.
He doesn’t waste any time grabbing Draco behind his neck, wrapping his fingers in the soft hair there and pulling Draco's mouth down to meet his. He wants to devour him, and every brush of the slick tongue against his own has his cock jumping against his belly. He can feel the trail of wetness it’s leaving every time the tip touches the skin on his stomach. The feeling of want is overwhelming to Harry, and in that moment, he knows that what he told Draco is true.
He does want to taste him. He’s scared as hell, but he wants to taste every fucking inch of Draco Malfoy.
Instead of waiting for Draco to encourage him, like he’d had to every other time, this time Harry pushes the blond on top of him away, almost whimpering himself at the loss of contact. Then, in a rush of power, he flips their positions on the bed, landing Draco on his back and sliding his body close to his, their cocks brushing.
Leaning forward to whisper in Draco's ear, just because Harry knows how much it turns him on, he says, “Turn over. Get on your hands and knees.” His voice is quiet, but the command in it is as powerful as his magic, and he pulls his body back to watch. He can see Draco's throat work to swallow a moan before quickly moving his body into position. Draco only ever moved quicker if Harry spoke in Parseltongue.
Harry lets his eyes roam over the smooth, pale back in front of him. Draco is slender, enough that Harry can see the slight bumps of ribs down his sides, but he’s also covered in lean muscle that twitches whenever Harry even so much as breathes on his skin. Dragging his eyes away from the canvas in front of him, he locates the can Draco had tossed on the bed.
He starts to read the label, startled when he realizes what it is. He can’t cover the small laugh that escapes his mouth, and Draco turns his head to look over his shoulder at Harry. “Problem with that?” There’s no real snark in the comment, though.
Harry shakes his head, thinking for once that this could actually work. “You do realize this has alcohol in it, right?”
Draco nods, then says, “I already cast a protection charm, so my body won’t absorb any of it.” He doesn’t feel the urge to say any more, which is fine with Harry.
Harry glances at the label again, noting that the flavor is “Raspberry.” “Where did you find this?” he can’t help asking as he uncaps the container.
“Muggle liquor store.” Harry's mouth quirks into a smile at yet another thing Draco had taken a liking to. As a reward, more for himself than Draco, he runs a hand down the blonde’s back, noting how any skin he touches leaves a path of goosebumps in its wake.
Despite his nervousness, Harry can feel his cock leaking, leaving a smear of liquid on his thigh where it’s been touching as he was leaned over. Adjusting his body so that he’s directly behind Draco's raised arse, he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.
With a gentle finger, he touches the top of Draco's arse, just where the swell ends to join with his lower back. He can feel Draco jolt, and it makes him smile to think that he is making him nervous, too.
He brings his finger to the crevice in the middle, dragging it down the space between his cheeks until he can feel the puckered hole beneath it. It isn’t like he hasn’t done this part before, but for some reason it feels so different, knowing the intention.
He leans forward and presses a firm kiss to one side, then the other, inhaling the scent of Draco's expensive soap. And then, before he can lose his nerve, Harry places the aerosol can between his own legs to keep it nearby and uses his hands to pull apart the cheeks in front of him.
As soon as Draco's hole is exposed, it twitches like it knows it’s under observation, and Harry can’t help himself as he blows gently in its direction. He hears Draco moan lightly, and all of Harry’s nervousness seems to melt away at that sound of surrender.
“Hold yourself open,” Harry commands. Draco scrambles to pull a pillow down in front of him so that he can prop his head and shoulders on it, then leans his body forward and reaches behind himself to have his hands take the place of Harry's. The sight of Draco, arse straight in the air, completely exposed, makes Harry's cock jerk and he quickly runs his hand down the length of it, squeezing firmly to stave off his orgasm. It isn’t going to take much on his part at all.
Having pulled back from the edge, Harry grasps the whipped cream can and shakes it, biting back his own moan as it shakes the bed and by turn causes Draco's fully visible sac to tremble between his legs from the motion. Harry holds out his hand and turns the can upside down, pressing the trigger briefly.
A small dollop of whipped cream falls into his waiting hand and he lifts it to his mouth, tasting the tart raspberry flavour that’s liberally laced with alcohol. It makes his nose tingle, and he’s grateful that this experiment not only tastes good, but gives him a bit of liquored courage as well.
Running his finger over Draco's exposed flesh once more, he uses the can to apply cream to mimic the line his finger just traced. It barely touches his skin before Harry is already there, leaning in to lick it clean. He can feel Draco shudder beneath him, and he thinks to himself that he’s not even gotten to the good part yet.
Another strip of cream, and Harry's tongue is dragging it away from Draco's body, brushing past Draco's hole. Harry can’t see it from this angle, but he can feel it pulse beneath his tongue, and he feels the urge to go further, to be inside there.
This time, Harry sprays the whipped cream on his finger, using his digit to smear it over Draco… around… into him. The warmth of Draco's arse compared to the cool cream on his finger is so erotic to Harry that he tells Draco to look at him. He sees Draco’s head twist on the pillow, grey eyes glancing over his shoulder the best he is able at that angle, and Harry shows him exactly what he plans to do, how he pulls his cream-covered finger from Draco's arse, bringing it to his mouth to lick it clean.
Harry sees how Draco's mouth falls open, his breathing becomes heavier, how there’s a nicely-tinted blush spreading from Draco's shoulders down his back, testament to how turned on he is. Harry turns away so that he can spray more cream on to his finger before swiping it over Draco's already-loosened hole and plunging his tongue straight into it. He can taste the sweetness of the raspberries, the sharpness of the alcohol, and something uniquely Draco. Harry can feel Draco’s muscles contract around his tongue as he thrusts as far as he can, his entire face embraced between Draco's spread cheeks.
The shudders in the body beneath him are constant now, and he pulls back so he can lap at the pulsing hole in front of him, savoring the mixture of flavors. He brings a hand to his neglected cock, smearing his fingers, slightly-sticky from when he’d had them buried in Draco, over the flushed head. If he hadn’t already been sitting, his legs would have given out beneath him from that light touch.
Thrusting his tongue in once more, Harry works himself slowly as his free hand reaches between Draco's legs, fingers barely brushing his sac before wrapping around his hard length. Draco chokes out something between a groan and a cry as his whole body jerks, bringing his cock pumping straight through Harry's curled fist.
Harry stills his hands, knowing that this isn’t how he wants it to end. Almost reluctantly, he pulls back, leaving a last lingering kiss on Draco's cream-smeared arse, and says in a rough voice, “I’m going to fuck you now.”
What Harry isn’t expecting is for Draco to respond in a barely-audible groan of, “Oh Gods yes….” and as his voice trails off, he seems to thrust his arse higher into the air.
Harry looks at Draco's wet hole, saliva and cream running out and down over Draco's sac, a trail of glossy white. He tosses the can off the bed and props himself up on his knees, hands gripping tightly to Draco's slender hips. Part of him wants to thrust in as quickly as possible, but Harry knows it would be over too quickly if he did that, so instead, he drags his prick up and down the glistening crease, through the cream and evidence that his mouth had actually been there, over Draco's loosened hole where the tip of his cock seems to catch every time.
The words tumble out of his mouth, just like they had last time, except this time, Harry doesn’t regret them. Couldn’t ever regret them. “You look so hot like this, Draco. I can’t wait to fuck you. I can never wait to fuck you.”
Harry doesn’t know what else he says as he finally pushes into the tight warmth that’s so familiar to him now, but he does hear Draco chanting, “Harry, Harry, Harry” over and over, the words becoming more stuttered and broken with each firm stroke.
Harry reaches around once more to touch Draco's cock, a stream of come leaking all the way to the bedspread, and he feels Draco's breath hitch. “So close….” he barely has time to whimper before he’s coming, his scream muffled as he bites down on his own hand, and his arse is clenching around Harry's cock so hard that Harry's sure he won’t last another stroke.
When it hits him, it’s like white-hot lightning and Harry feels the world has opened up wide and swallowed him whole. He can barely ride out the last couple half-thrusts, instead his body going limp on top of Draco's as he swears he can feel his heart pounding in his head. His boyfriend doesn’t even try to move, and eventually Draco’s knees just seem to slide out from under him as he melts to the surface of the bed, not caring one bit that it’s covered in whipped cream and come.
In the movement, Harry's cock, spent but still hard, starts to slip out, but Harry grabs Draco as well as he can around his stomach and rolls them to the side, keeping Draco's body tight to his. He’ll only have another minute or two like this, but he wants it anyway.
He places a kiss to Draco's shoulder, then another one a little higher on his neck, and finally a third one as close to Draco's jaw as he can get. Draco turns his head slightly, sighing contentedly. “I’d kiss you right now, but I’m too damn lazy to move. That was incredible, Harry.”
Harry isn’t looking for praise, but it makes him blush nonetheless. He’s glad he did it, despite his initial reservations on the activity. “It wasn’t that bad,” he finally says.
He can feel Draco smile. “No, it’s not. And you know I don’t expect you to do it all the time. It’s not exactly for everyone.”
Harry has to chuckle at that, because it took Draco months of shopping trips and Harry a bottle of alcohol-infused whipped cream. He imagines Draco having much the same thought as he is: It’s amazing the things you’ll try for the ones you love. Of course, he thought with a lazy grin as he snuggled closer to Draco, it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten something out of it, too.
~FIN~
If you have the time, reviews are love! Also, please see precautions stated below.
WARNING: Please do not attempt this at home!! It is not safe to put anything alcoholic into your anal cavity due to the accelerated rate at which alcohol is absorbed. It can push your body into alcohol-poisoning, or worse, death, in a matter of minutes. This is not a safe practice and was only used in this story because the idea would not leave me alone (it was more along the lines of ‘what fun this whip cream is!’). Do not fail to note that even within the story, Draco took ‘safety precautions’ because I wanted to make sure that angle was clearly stated. Please see next paragraph for the reason of stated precautions.
The alcohol-infused whipped cream is real. I’ve had the pleasure of trying the Raspberry kind (Cream brand). Here are a couple of links to the websites. We are actually able to get it in 2 large liquor stores in our area, so if you are interested in finding it, I would suggest looking in those types first over your smaller liquor shops. http://givemecream.com/whipped/ and http://www.whippedlightning.com/