FIC, Best Birthday Ever, D/H, NC-17
Title: Best Birthday Ever
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It’s Draco’s birthday, and he wants to role-play. And Harry goes along with it, because he’s good like that-even if it means he has to wear a skirt. D/H. Bottom!Harry.
Warnings: Crossdressing, teacher/student roleplay, schoolgirl!Harry, anal sex
Author’s Note: Written for ryokoblue, for her birthday. I <3 you, hon!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. There would be some traumatized people out there if I did! #snicker#
“I’m going to kill you for this,” said Harry, tugging at the hem of his skirt self-consciously.
“I happen to think you look quite fetching,” said Draco, looking Harry up-and-down in a way that, frankly, was far too lecherous to have been lawfully permissible.
He would have told Harry to stop fiddling with his outfit, but every time he pulled its front a little further down, the back inched up accordingly, and Draco was thoroughly enjoying the view. Very thoroughly.
“Plus, you did say you’d give me whatever I wanted,” he said. “It is, after all, my birthday.”
Harry grunted, and Draco smirked at him.
“I still think this was a terrible idea,” said Harry, prudishly smoothing down the little pleated piece of fabric riding low on his hips, and higher up than Harry thought was decent on his thighs.
He frowned at his reflection, which was currently posing prettily for Draco’s benefit. Their bedroom mirror had always acted a little funny like that; Harry thought it might have had a little bit of a crush on the blond.
“Terribly fantastic, you mean,” said Draco, running his hand up Harry’s thigh, but Harry batted it away.
“No touching until we start,” said Harry.
“You’ll go through with it, then?” said Draco, quirking an eyebrow.
“I just said it was terrible. I never said I wouldn’t do it,” said Harry.
He had not failed to notice the rather…pronounced bulge forming in the crotch of Draco’s trousers.
“You’re a doll, Harry,” said Draco, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.
“Don’t call me that,” said Harry, without heat. “I feel enough like a girl already.”
“You’ll feel even more like one when I get my cock in you,” said Draco, murmuring it low and dark and sweet, and it made Harry shiver, and blush uncomfortably.
“Is that a promise?” said Harry-somewhat more breathlessly than he liked, but if the cloudy grey of Draco’s eyes was anything to go by, Draco liked it very much, indeed.
“Oh, absolutely,” said Draco, and when his hand touched Harry’s leg again, Harry didn’t push it away.
“Maybe we should start,” said Harry, unevenly, and Draco laughed; and the sound of it rippled through the room.
“Maybe we should,” said Draco. And then, so silkily: “Get on the bed. We’ll do things just the way we talked about.”
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, but didn’t lie down, like he was supposed to.
“Harry?” said Draco, his brow creasing. “Lie down.”
“But, Professor Malfoy,” said Harry, looking up at him through his fan of long dark lashes-and it sent all the blood rushing right to Draco’s cock; he knew that Draco loved it when he used those brilliant fuck-me eyes like that, peering up through a soft shutter of black-“I don’t want my shoes to get your bed dirty. May I take them off?”
“Go ahead, M-Ms. Potter,” said Draco. “Five points to Gryffindor for such…thoughtfulness. Though I do think my bed will be getting quite messy, regardless.”
“Really?” said Harry, taking off his prissy black Mary-Janes one by one; undoing each tiny buckle on each tiny strap and slipping them off onto the floor; leaving on the long, knee-high white socks. “Why is that?”
“We’ll be doing some very messy things on it, Ms. Potter,” said Draco, watching avidly as Harry turned and crawled up completely on the bed-and, fuck, fuck, he’d even worn the panties; they were so thin and frilly: Draco was never going to last-and sat down, looking a bit nervous.
“What will we be doing, Professor?” said Harry, biting his bottom lip.
“Oh, all sorts of things,” said Draco.
Harry’s lip was very wet and red under the hard white grip of his teeth. He was nibbling-nibbling!-on it, and when he let it go, it was simply too soft and bruised and pliant to ignore: it was begging for Draco’s kisses-for his cock; it made Draco forget all the clever things he was planning to say.
“Are they…bad things?” said Harry, blinking at him. “I don’t want to be bad, Professor Malfoy! I’m a good girl.”
And, oh, he was far too good at this, thought Draco, catching a tiny glimpse of Harry’s tiny white underwear-just barely peeking out from between his thighs, underneath the rumpled skirt.
Yes, thought Draco, as Harry saw what he was looking at and flushed, pulling his skirt back down again. Far too good.
“Professor?” asked Harry.
“No, they’re not bad,” said Draco, walking toward him and brushing his hand against Harry’s knee. “The only way you could be bad is if you didn’t do exactly as I said. Do you think you can do that, Ms. Potter? Can you be…obedient?”
His hand rubbed up Harry’s knee and to his bare inner thigh, and Harry stared at it with his bright green eyes big and shocked, and said, “I-I-”
“Ms. Potter?” said Draco, warningly.
“Y-yes sir, Professor Malfoy. I’ll be good,” said Harry.
“Excellent,” said Draco, and the back of his finger grazed against Harry’s half-hard cock, and his eyebrows lifted high, high into his hairline.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” he asked, running his fingers along Harry’s thinly-covered shaft; making Harry’s hips twitch, half bucking-up into the heat of Draco’s hand.
“I can explain!” said Harry. “I-it was-”
“What an extraordinarily interesting girl you are, Mr. Potter,” he said. “Have you been hiding your cock from me all this time?”
He palmed Harry’s erection under his skirt, and Harry gasped.
“Sir, please don’t tell-I’ll do anything! Please, no one can find out!”
“You are such a terribly naughty boy, you know, Mr. Potter-sneaking around in all those slutty skirts; flaunting that tight little rear of yours for all the boys to see. They all toss off to it, did you know?”
“No-” said Harry, denying it, but Draco wasn’t done.
“Surely you must have known. Boys like you always know.”
“Boys like me?” said Harry-so, so innocently; Draco almost could have believed it.
“Yes. Boys like you. You see, you, Mr. Potter, are what is called a cock-tease. You make men pant over you, and then deny them what they want.”
“No, Professor-” he said.
“I bet that skirt’s not even regulation-length, is it?” said Draco, ignoring his denials. “You probably charmed it too short, didn’t you? Because you know it does this to me.”
He’d grabbed Harry’s wrist and put Harry’s small hand against the straining front of his trousers, and Harry whimpered and tried to turn away-tried to take his hand off that throbbing hardness, but he couldn’t. Draco wouldn’t let him.
“Professor Malfoy, you’re scaring me!” said Harry, and he was flushed red and panting.
“Don’t be scared, Mr. Potter,” said Draco, caressing the side of Harry’s heated face. Harry had always been so good at blushing. “I’ll make it good for you. Don’t you want your first time to be with someone who can give you what you want-someone who knows what they’re doing?”
“You…you won’t tell, if I do?” said Harry. “You won’t tell anyone my secret if-if I sleep with you?”
“I wouldn’t breathe a word,” said Draco.
“Oh,” said Harry. “Oh, then I…I guess it’s okay, then.” He looked away, as pretty and demure as could be. “I’ll do whatever you want, Professor.”
“I’m very glad you see things my way, Mr. Potter,” said Draco.
Harry didn’t say anything.
“Look at me,” said Draco, and Harry did, and Draco cupped his face and kissed him, and coaxed his mouth open with his tongue, and Harry said, “Mmmph,” around it, and tilted his head further to the side.
“I’ve been wanting to do that the whole semester,” said Draco.
“It was...very nice,” Harry said, and his eyelashes fluttered down, and his hands trembled where they lay so gently against Draco’s. “I never imagined it could be like that.”
“No one’s ever kissed you like that before?” said Draco.
“No, never,” said Harry, and licked his lips distractingly. “I really liked it, though. Will we…will we be doing more of that?”
“Naturally,” said Draco, and tipped Harry’s head up, and kissed him-kissed them so they were both breathing heavily, and Draco had gotten Harry on his back and was lying on top of him, between his thighs. He supported his weight on both his elbows, on either side of Harry’s head, and ground their cocks together as they kissed. Harry’s legs wrapped around his waist, and it was brilliant.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” said Draco, kissing Harry’s mouth, and cheek, and chin, and the center of his forehead, next to his scar. He wasn’t sure if he was role-playing or not, anymore.
“Professor, you don’t-” said Harry.
“Shh. I know I don’t. I want to say it, because it’s true.”
But Harry dragged him down and kissed him, and wouldn’t hear another word about it. It sometimes (often) amazed Draco how unconscious Harry was of his own good looks-he wasn’t aware of just how appealing he really was (for more than just his physicality, no matter how striking it may be); Draco could never convince him of it.
“Mr. Potter,” said Draco tightly, as Harry rocked his pelvis lewdly under him; against his body. “As stimulating as this is, I would like to come inside you, if you please, and not right here inside my pants.”
“But I like this,” said Harry. “Will I like…that?”
“I like this, too,” said Draco, “but I’ve been thinking about coming in that round little bottom of yours for far too long to wait now.”
Harry’s mouth made a deliciously scandalized O, and Draco kissed him, and stuck his tongue inside his mouth, and Harry moaned.
“And I’ll be careful with you,” said Draco. “I’ll make sure you like it very much.”
“O-okay,” said Harry. “I trust you…sir.”
Draco shuddered, and the motion rubbed together their two cocks, and Harry grabbed the bedspread and said, “Please!” (So wanton, now; it was lovely.)
“What do you want?” said Draco, drawing back.
“Professor, you know-” said Harry.
“I want to hear you say it. What do you want from me, H-Mr. Potter?”
“I want your cock in me,” said Harry, and it sounded so dirty it even shocked him.
“Well, then,” said Draco, moving to stand back on his feet-making Harry put his feet back on the bed again. “We’ll just have to do something about that, now don’t we?”
“Oh, yes-please, Professor…” said Harry.
“So beautiful,” said Draco, but Harry didn’t hear him, so he couldn’t deny it again.
Harry’s skirt had ridden up, and with his hair rumpled and the color high in his cheeks-his lips were puffy, for God’s sake, from all that kissing-he looked good enough to eat.
His legs were spread out wide on either side of his hips, bent at the knee with his feet on the coverlet and everything showing beneath his skirt: his pricy white panties all lined with lace (Draco had said, “They’re so Lolita. So feminine. I’m getting them for you,” and hadn’t listened a whit to Harry’s token protests) had a huge wet spot where Harry’s cock-head had been rubbing and rubbing against it, smearing it with precome; the material veered dangerously into the firm, round globes of Harry’s arse.
Draco couldn’t take his eyes off of him.
“I want you, I want you,” said Harry, and Draco fumbled at his fly more clumsily than he had since Hogwarts, and his first few awkward times.
Draco took off his belt-flung it aside carelessly, and its buckle made a gratifying clank as it landed against the wooden floor-and pulled down his pants and trousers to mid-thigh (not bothering to remove them all the way; there was no time), and Harry said, “Oh, God, Professor! I don’t think that will fit in me!” and Draco nearly groaned, it was so sexy.
“Oh, it will fit, alright,” said Draco, and pulled Harry’s panties down to his knees-but no further; he wanted Harry to feel them pulling at his legs as he brought him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm-and pulled him down to the edge of the bed, and turned him around onto his stomach.
“Oh, oh,” sobbed Harry, head buried in the mattress as Draco grabbed the lube from their bedside drawer; he slathered it on his middle finger, fucking Harry with that single, long digit over and over again.
“I don’t think I can last, Professor Malfoy-” said Harry, as Draco put another finger in him; his fingertips brushed against the tiny sensitive nub of Harry’s prostate.
“You’d better find a way,” said Draco, and scissored his fingers in Harry’s arse-that pink ring stretched and expanded around them in the most fascinating way-and Harry said, “Inside me, please, get inside me!” and Draco poured some more lube onto his hand and fisted himself, putting that helpful little bottle aside; then he steadied Harry with one hand on his waist, and pressed the glistening pink head of his cock into Harry’s entrance: shoving his way completely into Harry’s pretty white arse.
Draco would have had to use more lube if this had really been Harry’s first time (he had used more lube for Harry’s first time); otherwise, Harry wouldn’t have been able to sit for a week (at least not without a healing spell, or pain-relieving potion-and wouldn’t Snape have been thrilled to have brewed that!), but Harry’s body was used to the glorious fullness of Draco’s cock, and he liked to feel the friction of it; its girth. He liked the steady, slow burn of it sliding and pushing and insistent inside him; the way his arsehole swallowed the whole long length of it: squeezing and squirming and invaded totally. Harry liked it best like this.
“You could almost be a girl right now,” said Draco, his big hands tight on Harry’s hips-his thumbs pressing bruising indentations into the base of Harry’s back. “With that slim back and that delectable arsehole of yours so small and pretty around my prick, and your dick so hard and hidden in the bed, you could be my good little girl just as easily as my good little boy.”
“You-” Harry moaned, and bucked. “You don’t want me to be a girl, do you?” he asked.
“Oh, no, Mr. Potter,” said Draco. “I assure you, I’m quite fond of you as you are.”
His hand crept around and pulled at Harry’s cock, which was trapped between his stomach and the bed. Draco rubbed at its head, and the big vein running underneath it-then went further down, to Harry’s bollocks: fondling and kneading and cupping, so Harry shouted, “Pleasepleaseyes!” and fisted the comforter, and rocked his arse back tightly onto Draco’s cock.
“You. are. mine,” said Draco, biting the back of Harry’s neck, and Harry said, “Oh, yes, yours-” and his hips were lifting up off the mattress and into Draco’s thrusts, and Draco came; and Harry made such a soft, mewling sound when he felt its heat so wet and right inside him, and Draco’s cock twitched again, again, shooting his seed into Harry’s arse in stringy-white bursts: and, oh, oh, it went on endlessly, Harry never wanted it to stop-and he groaned when Draco pulled out of him, but that emptiness was immediately replaced with two of Draco’s fingers, squelching and seeking and probing at Harry’s prostate-over and over, it was too much-and Harry came, and Draco’s fingers were so gentle and so slick, and Harry shouted his name-“Draco!”-and suddenly he was flying; grabbing the snitch; floating in freefall; and Draco’s fingers in his arse were what took him there.
“Oh, God,” said Harry, when he could think again.
“Yeah,” said Draco, sprawled out beside him.
“That was-” said Harry.
“Yeah,” agreed Draco.
Then there was silence; their breaths slowing down, normalizing.
“I was wrong about the panties,” said Harry, finally.
“I know,” said Draco, grinning at him.
“The role-playing thing wasn’t so bad, either,” said Harry.
“I’m glad you think so,” said Draco.
“It was kind of weird having you call me ‘Potter’ again, though,” said Harry. “I guess I’ve gotten used to people calling me ‘Mr. Malfoy’ now.”
“I told you you would,” said Draco. And, oh, he was so smug!-and Harry loved it, they both knew he did.
Harry snorted. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Live it up. And happy birthday, by the way.”
“Well, it’s not over yet,” said Draco. “I still have a few hours to go before it’s not my birthday anymore.” He looked at Harry appraisingly.
“Pull up your panties,” he said.
“What!” said Harry.
“Oh, I think you heard me,” said Draco, giving him his most dazzling smile-and who could resist that? The man could charm gold from Goblins with that smile. Harry couldn’t resist.
“Well, fine,” said Harry, not nearly as put-out as he was trying to sound-and Draco knew it. “But this time I’m taking off the skirt!”
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It’s Draco’s birthday, and he wants to role-play. And Harry goes along with it, because he’s good like that-even if it means he has to wear a skirt. D/H. Bottom!Harry.
Warnings: Crossdressing, teacher/student roleplay, schoolgirl!Harry, anal sex
Author’s Note: Written for ryokoblue, for her birthday. I <3 you, hon!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. There would be some traumatized people out there if I did! #snicker#
“I’m going to kill you for this,” said Harry, tugging at the hem of his skirt self-consciously.
“I happen to think you look quite fetching,” said Draco, looking Harry up-and-down in a way that, frankly, was far too lecherous to have been lawfully permissible.
He would have told Harry to stop fiddling with his outfit, but every time he pulled its front a little further down, the back inched up accordingly, and Draco was thoroughly enjoying the view. Very thoroughly.
“Plus, you did say you’d give me whatever I wanted,” he said. “It is, after all, my birthday.”
Harry grunted, and Draco smirked at him.
“I still think this was a terrible idea,” said Harry, prudishly smoothing down the little pleated piece of fabric riding low on his hips, and higher up than Harry thought was decent on his thighs.
He frowned at his reflection, which was currently posing prettily for Draco’s benefit. Their bedroom mirror had always acted a little funny like that; Harry thought it might have had a little bit of a crush on the blond.
“Terribly fantastic, you mean,” said Draco, running his hand up Harry’s thigh, but Harry batted it away.
“No touching until we start,” said Harry.
“You’ll go through with it, then?” said Draco, quirking an eyebrow.
“I just said it was terrible. I never said I wouldn’t do it,” said Harry.
He had not failed to notice the rather…pronounced bulge forming in the crotch of Draco’s trousers.
“You’re a doll, Harry,” said Draco, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.
“Don’t call me that,” said Harry, without heat. “I feel enough like a girl already.”
“You’ll feel even more like one when I get my cock in you,” said Draco, murmuring it low and dark and sweet, and it made Harry shiver, and blush uncomfortably.
“Is that a promise?” said Harry-somewhat more breathlessly than he liked, but if the cloudy grey of Draco’s eyes was anything to go by, Draco liked it very much, indeed.
“Oh, absolutely,” said Draco, and when his hand touched Harry’s leg again, Harry didn’t push it away.
“Maybe we should start,” said Harry, unevenly, and Draco laughed; and the sound of it rippled through the room.
“Maybe we should,” said Draco. And then, so silkily: “Get on the bed. We’ll do things just the way we talked about.”
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, but didn’t lie down, like he was supposed to.
“Harry?” said Draco, his brow creasing. “Lie down.”
“But, Professor Malfoy,” said Harry, looking up at him through his fan of long dark lashes-and it sent all the blood rushing right to Draco’s cock; he knew that Draco loved it when he used those brilliant fuck-me eyes like that, peering up through a soft shutter of black-“I don’t want my shoes to get your bed dirty. May I take them off?”
“Go ahead, M-Ms. Potter,” said Draco. “Five points to Gryffindor for such…thoughtfulness. Though I do think my bed will be getting quite messy, regardless.”
“Really?” said Harry, taking off his prissy black Mary-Janes one by one; undoing each tiny buckle on each tiny strap and slipping them off onto the floor; leaving on the long, knee-high white socks. “Why is that?”
“We’ll be doing some very messy things on it, Ms. Potter,” said Draco, watching avidly as Harry turned and crawled up completely on the bed-and, fuck, fuck, he’d even worn the panties; they were so thin and frilly: Draco was never going to last-and sat down, looking a bit nervous.
“What will we be doing, Professor?” said Harry, biting his bottom lip.
“Oh, all sorts of things,” said Draco.
Harry’s lip was very wet and red under the hard white grip of his teeth. He was nibbling-nibbling!-on it, and when he let it go, it was simply too soft and bruised and pliant to ignore: it was begging for Draco’s kisses-for his cock; it made Draco forget all the clever things he was planning to say.
“Are they…bad things?” said Harry, blinking at him. “I don’t want to be bad, Professor Malfoy! I’m a good girl.”
And, oh, he was far too good at this, thought Draco, catching a tiny glimpse of Harry’s tiny white underwear-just barely peeking out from between his thighs, underneath the rumpled skirt.
Yes, thought Draco, as Harry saw what he was looking at and flushed, pulling his skirt back down again. Far too good.
“Professor?” asked Harry.
“No, they’re not bad,” said Draco, walking toward him and brushing his hand against Harry’s knee. “The only way you could be bad is if you didn’t do exactly as I said. Do you think you can do that, Ms. Potter? Can you be…obedient?”
His hand rubbed up Harry’s knee and to his bare inner thigh, and Harry stared at it with his bright green eyes big and shocked, and said, “I-I-”
“Ms. Potter?” said Draco, warningly.
“Y-yes sir, Professor Malfoy. I’ll be good,” said Harry.
“Excellent,” said Draco, and the back of his finger grazed against Harry’s half-hard cock, and his eyebrows lifted high, high into his hairline.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” he asked, running his fingers along Harry’s thinly-covered shaft; making Harry’s hips twitch, half bucking-up into the heat of Draco’s hand.
“I can explain!” said Harry. “I-it was-”
“What an extraordinarily interesting girl you are, Mr. Potter,” he said. “Have you been hiding your cock from me all this time?”
He palmed Harry’s erection under his skirt, and Harry gasped.
“Sir, please don’t tell-I’ll do anything! Please, no one can find out!”
“You are such a terribly naughty boy, you know, Mr. Potter-sneaking around in all those slutty skirts; flaunting that tight little rear of yours for all the boys to see. They all toss off to it, did you know?”
“No-” said Harry, denying it, but Draco wasn’t done.
“Surely you must have known. Boys like you always know.”
“Boys like me?” said Harry-so, so innocently; Draco almost could have believed it.
“Yes. Boys like you. You see, you, Mr. Potter, are what is called a cock-tease. You make men pant over you, and then deny them what they want.”
“No, Professor-” he said.
“I bet that skirt’s not even regulation-length, is it?” said Draco, ignoring his denials. “You probably charmed it too short, didn’t you? Because you know it does this to me.”
He’d grabbed Harry’s wrist and put Harry’s small hand against the straining front of his trousers, and Harry whimpered and tried to turn away-tried to take his hand off that throbbing hardness, but he couldn’t. Draco wouldn’t let him.
“Professor Malfoy, you’re scaring me!” said Harry, and he was flushed red and panting.
“Don’t be scared, Mr. Potter,” said Draco, caressing the side of Harry’s heated face. Harry had always been so good at blushing. “I’ll make it good for you. Don’t you want your first time to be with someone who can give you what you want-someone who knows what they’re doing?”
“You…you won’t tell, if I do?” said Harry. “You won’t tell anyone my secret if-if I sleep with you?”
“I wouldn’t breathe a word,” said Draco.
“Oh,” said Harry. “Oh, then I…I guess it’s okay, then.” He looked away, as pretty and demure as could be. “I’ll do whatever you want, Professor.”
“I’m very glad you see things my way, Mr. Potter,” said Draco.
Harry didn’t say anything.
“Look at me,” said Draco, and Harry did, and Draco cupped his face and kissed him, and coaxed his mouth open with his tongue, and Harry said, “Mmmph,” around it, and tilted his head further to the side.
“I’ve been wanting to do that the whole semester,” said Draco.
“It was...very nice,” Harry said, and his eyelashes fluttered down, and his hands trembled where they lay so gently against Draco’s. “I never imagined it could be like that.”
“No one’s ever kissed you like that before?” said Draco.
“No, never,” said Harry, and licked his lips distractingly. “I really liked it, though. Will we…will we be doing more of that?”
“Naturally,” said Draco, and tipped Harry’s head up, and kissed him-kissed them so they were both breathing heavily, and Draco had gotten Harry on his back and was lying on top of him, between his thighs. He supported his weight on both his elbows, on either side of Harry’s head, and ground their cocks together as they kissed. Harry’s legs wrapped around his waist, and it was brilliant.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” said Draco, kissing Harry’s mouth, and cheek, and chin, and the center of his forehead, next to his scar. He wasn’t sure if he was role-playing or not, anymore.
“Professor, you don’t-” said Harry.
“Shh. I know I don’t. I want to say it, because it’s true.”
But Harry dragged him down and kissed him, and wouldn’t hear another word about it. It sometimes (often) amazed Draco how unconscious Harry was of his own good looks-he wasn’t aware of just how appealing he really was (for more than just his physicality, no matter how striking it may be); Draco could never convince him of it.
“Mr. Potter,” said Draco tightly, as Harry rocked his pelvis lewdly under him; against his body. “As stimulating as this is, I would like to come inside you, if you please, and not right here inside my pants.”
“But I like this,” said Harry. “Will I like…that?”
“I like this, too,” said Draco, “but I’ve been thinking about coming in that round little bottom of yours for far too long to wait now.”
Harry’s mouth made a deliciously scandalized O, and Draco kissed him, and stuck his tongue inside his mouth, and Harry moaned.
“And I’ll be careful with you,” said Draco. “I’ll make sure you like it very much.”
“O-okay,” said Harry. “I trust you…sir.”
Draco shuddered, and the motion rubbed together their two cocks, and Harry grabbed the bedspread and said, “Please!” (So wanton, now; it was lovely.)
“What do you want?” said Draco, drawing back.
“Professor, you know-” said Harry.
“I want to hear you say it. What do you want from me, H-Mr. Potter?”
“I want your cock in me,” said Harry, and it sounded so dirty it even shocked him.
“Well, then,” said Draco, moving to stand back on his feet-making Harry put his feet back on the bed again. “We’ll just have to do something about that, now don’t we?”
“Oh, yes-please, Professor…” said Harry.
“So beautiful,” said Draco, but Harry didn’t hear him, so he couldn’t deny it again.
Harry’s skirt had ridden up, and with his hair rumpled and the color high in his cheeks-his lips were puffy, for God’s sake, from all that kissing-he looked good enough to eat.
His legs were spread out wide on either side of his hips, bent at the knee with his feet on the coverlet and everything showing beneath his skirt: his pricy white panties all lined with lace (Draco had said, “They’re so Lolita. So feminine. I’m getting them for you,” and hadn’t listened a whit to Harry’s token protests) had a huge wet spot where Harry’s cock-head had been rubbing and rubbing against it, smearing it with precome; the material veered dangerously into the firm, round globes of Harry’s arse.
Draco couldn’t take his eyes off of him.
“I want you, I want you,” said Harry, and Draco fumbled at his fly more clumsily than he had since Hogwarts, and his first few awkward times.
Draco took off his belt-flung it aside carelessly, and its buckle made a gratifying clank as it landed against the wooden floor-and pulled down his pants and trousers to mid-thigh (not bothering to remove them all the way; there was no time), and Harry said, “Oh, God, Professor! I don’t think that will fit in me!” and Draco nearly groaned, it was so sexy.
“Oh, it will fit, alright,” said Draco, and pulled Harry’s panties down to his knees-but no further; he wanted Harry to feel them pulling at his legs as he brought him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm-and pulled him down to the edge of the bed, and turned him around onto his stomach.
“Oh, oh,” sobbed Harry, head buried in the mattress as Draco grabbed the lube from their bedside drawer; he slathered it on his middle finger, fucking Harry with that single, long digit over and over again.
“I don’t think I can last, Professor Malfoy-” said Harry, as Draco put another finger in him; his fingertips brushed against the tiny sensitive nub of Harry’s prostate.
“You’d better find a way,” said Draco, and scissored his fingers in Harry’s arse-that pink ring stretched and expanded around them in the most fascinating way-and Harry said, “Inside me, please, get inside me!” and Draco poured some more lube onto his hand and fisted himself, putting that helpful little bottle aside; then he steadied Harry with one hand on his waist, and pressed the glistening pink head of his cock into Harry’s entrance: shoving his way completely into Harry’s pretty white arse.
Draco would have had to use more lube if this had really been Harry’s first time (he had used more lube for Harry’s first time); otherwise, Harry wouldn’t have been able to sit for a week (at least not without a healing spell, or pain-relieving potion-and wouldn’t Snape have been thrilled to have brewed that!), but Harry’s body was used to the glorious fullness of Draco’s cock, and he liked to feel the friction of it; its girth. He liked the steady, slow burn of it sliding and pushing and insistent inside him; the way his arsehole swallowed the whole long length of it: squeezing and squirming and invaded totally. Harry liked it best like this.
“You could almost be a girl right now,” said Draco, his big hands tight on Harry’s hips-his thumbs pressing bruising indentations into the base of Harry’s back. “With that slim back and that delectable arsehole of yours so small and pretty around my prick, and your dick so hard and hidden in the bed, you could be my good little girl just as easily as my good little boy.”
“You-” Harry moaned, and bucked. “You don’t want me to be a girl, do you?” he asked.
“Oh, no, Mr. Potter,” said Draco. “I assure you, I’m quite fond of you as you are.”
His hand crept around and pulled at Harry’s cock, which was trapped between his stomach and the bed. Draco rubbed at its head, and the big vein running underneath it-then went further down, to Harry’s bollocks: fondling and kneading and cupping, so Harry shouted, “Pleasepleaseyes!” and fisted the comforter, and rocked his arse back tightly onto Draco’s cock.
“You. are. mine,” said Draco, biting the back of Harry’s neck, and Harry said, “Oh, yes, yours-” and his hips were lifting up off the mattress and into Draco’s thrusts, and Draco came; and Harry made such a soft, mewling sound when he felt its heat so wet and right inside him, and Draco’s cock twitched again, again, shooting his seed into Harry’s arse in stringy-white bursts: and, oh, oh, it went on endlessly, Harry never wanted it to stop-and he groaned when Draco pulled out of him, but that emptiness was immediately replaced with two of Draco’s fingers, squelching and seeking and probing at Harry’s prostate-over and over, it was too much-and Harry came, and Draco’s fingers were so gentle and so slick, and Harry shouted his name-“Draco!”-and suddenly he was flying; grabbing the snitch; floating in freefall; and Draco’s fingers in his arse were what took him there.
“Oh, God,” said Harry, when he could think again.
“Yeah,” said Draco, sprawled out beside him.
“That was-” said Harry.
“Yeah,” agreed Draco.
Then there was silence; their breaths slowing down, normalizing.
“I was wrong about the panties,” said Harry, finally.
“I know,” said Draco, grinning at him.
“The role-playing thing wasn’t so bad, either,” said Harry.
“I’m glad you think so,” said Draco.
“It was kind of weird having you call me ‘Potter’ again, though,” said Harry. “I guess I’ve gotten used to people calling me ‘Mr. Malfoy’ now.”
“I told you you would,” said Draco. And, oh, he was so smug!-and Harry loved it, they both knew he did.
Harry snorted. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Live it up. And happy birthday, by the way.”
“Well, it’s not over yet,” said Draco. “I still have a few hours to go before it’s not my birthday anymore.” He looked at Harry appraisingly.
“Pull up your panties,” he said.
“What!” said Harry.
“Oh, I think you heard me,” said Draco, giving him his most dazzling smile-and who could resist that? The man could charm gold from Goblins with that smile. Harry couldn’t resist.
“Well, fine,” said Harry, not nearly as put-out as he was trying to sound-and Draco knew it. “But this time I’m taking off the skirt!”