HARRY POTTER Fic: In a House Near Glasgow -- H/D
Title: In a House Near Glasgow
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Summary: Draco wants to say a lot of things.
Author's Note: Thanks to mirax_terrik for the lovely beta work.
IN A HOUSE NEAR GLASGOW
There's a bed in a room in a house near Glasgow, under a pregnant moon. Atop the sheets on the bed in the room in the house, there lay two men, skin shining in the silver glow of the night. Their bodies twist and push and stretch. Their hands grasp.
On their knees now, one with his face pressed into soft down pillows and the other with his face pressed into a smooth, hard back, they exhale in little, snuffling moans. A hot tongue slides over raised vertebrae and licks across twitching muscle.
A gasp.
"Please please please please..." growing in desperation; the cries are muffled against the white of a pillowcase as the tongue moves slowly down.
It is licking along the tiny ridge of tailbone at the top of a soft, musky-tasting crevice. It is swirling pretty patterns of saliva on trembling, hair-dusted cheeks. It is driving Harry insane.
Draco smiles against Harry's upper thigh and runs his thumbs between his cheeks, then spreads him wide. He breathes across the twitching flesh before him, hot and damp air causing gooseflesh to emerge on Harry's lower back. He licks once and Harry arches away, then wiggles back.
Draco is very precise about fucking Harry with his mouth. He holds him firmly in place with stroking fingers and times the thrusts of his tongue to the clenches of Harry's entrance. Every so often he lifts his head to admire the slackening hole, to rub his thumb against it, to push his little finger in and drag it against the soft, soft flesh just inside.
Harry is moaning incoherently, one long, shuddering sound broken only by shallow breaths taken through clenched teeth. He reaches down to fondle his weeping prick only to have his hand slapped away. He whines.
"Patience," Draco admonishes, and he presses his face in Harry's cleft and breathes in deep. His tongue slithers out and wets Harry's skin even more.
Harry pushes back against Draco's mouth unashamedly, trying to derive his pleasure through Draco's tongue if he's unwilling to let him achieve it through his cock. "Draco," he wails, drawing the name out to four or five syllables in length.
One of Draco's hands leaves Harry's body, and he shifts so that he's holding Harry up with a forearm under his hips, then he licks and nibbles for a moment more. When he pulls away again, gazing heatedly at the reddened and wet flesh spread so enticingly before him, Harry arches his back and rotates his hips, hoping to draw him back.
Draco glances away for a moment to find the items he'd set on the bed before they'd started. He picks up a black dildo, six and a half inches in length, and draws the tip of it across Harry's right cheek, then rubs its length into Harry's cleft. He bites back a moan of appreciation as Harry pushes back, wantonly, against the plastic prick, rubbing his ass up and down against it and gasping softly as the head depresses his tender opening.
You are so fucking beautiful, Draco wants to say. He wants to say a lot of things. He settles for slicking up the dildo and pressing it against Harry's entrance, and shoves all his stifled words to the back of his mind for now, as Harry squirms backward and his ass swallows the shaft of the artificial dick.
Draco holds the dildo by the base and absently rubs a hand over Harry's spine. His eyes are fixed on Harry's flesh, stretching tightly around the shaft of the sex toy. He's never seen anything as hot as Harry's clenching ass grasping the dildo as if it refuses to let go. He licks his lips and holds the toy in place; watches as Harry pushes forward and back with his elbows, fucking himself with it.
"More," Harry whimpers. "Moremoremore..."
"Kneazle," Draco mutters under his breath, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the trigger as he watches as the dildo begin to move like a live thing, squirming to get away from his grip and embed itself fully into Harry's body.
Draco doesn't blame it.
The vibrations from the now throbbing dildo quickly tickle open Draco's grip, and he lets go. It's really inside Harry now, but Draco knows that Harry could push it out if he became uncomfortable. And Harry's hips are doing that delicious shimmy-thrust that indicates just how close he is to spilling all over the sheets.
Draco moves to his back and twists his shoulders. He slides fluidly through Harry's spread legs and sucks Harry's needy cock down his throat.
Harry screams. It's a sound unlike any he's ever made before, high and keening and needy. Draco's hands are on his cheeks, massaging and spreading them. When Harry comes, it's with a wail and a violent undulation of his entire body, rebelling against the thrumming dildo inside him. He shudders and spurts down Draco's throat, then slumps forward, and Draco has to flip them quickly to prevent being smothered.
"Finite incantatem," Draco whispers.
Draco is on his knees and pulling at his flushed cock when Harry returns to himself moments later. Harry's prick is sticky and wet, and has flagged slightly. It throbs uncomfortably as it hardens again at the sight of Draco jacking off. Harry shifts, closes his eyes and expels the still dildo with a fluid roll of his hips, then tosses it aside and spreads his legs invitingly.
Draco is upon Harry in an instant, pushing Harry's knees to his chest and reaching down, one-handed, to position the slippery tip of his dick at Harry's twitching hole. He pushes in with a fluid thrust and is too far gone to wait for Harry to adjust, instead setting a hard, fast pace almost immediately. He's biting his lip and clenching his hands in tight fists on either side of Harry's head, while Harry's fingers dig into his upper arms and Harry's calves drum against his shoulders.
Harry releases one of Draco's arms and curls his hand around the back of Draco's head. He pulls Draco down to him and their lips part and touch. They breathe into each other's mouths, panting, strangled gasps tinged with desperation. It's an almost-kiss that affects them more than any mating of tongues would.
Only when his rhythm falters in preparation for orgasm does Draco open his eyes again. He stares down at Harry's translucent eyelids, crisscrossed with tiny blue veins. Harry's long eyelashes flutter and then Harry's staring at Draco with those penetrating green eyes of his that make Draco shudder with want every single time he looks into them.
Draco allows himself to gasp Harry's name when he comes, but only once. He can't afford any more.
Draco's fingers lightly stroke Harry's forehead, tracing his scar and then flitting across his brows. His other hand rests on Harry's bare belly. Harry sits between Draco's legs, one of his thighs draped over Draco's hip. He rubs Draco's right forearm with his thumb, tracing the outline of a sinister tattoo marring the pale flesh.
Draco wants to smooth out the creases in Harry's brow as the Dark Mark grows blacker. He touches them lightly with careful fingertips instead.
"He's calling you," Harry says, and sighs. Draco pretends not to hear.
"Let's just... be here for awhile longer," Draco says. He pretends that his voice just cracked because of disuse, and not because...
"Draco -- " Harry begins, but Draco's fingers move from Harry's forehead to his lips.
"Shh," he says. Draco pretends that they won't be enemies the moment they Apparate from their hideaway just outside Glasgow, and that they're just another ordinary couple, holding each other on a sunny Tuesday morning.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Summary: Draco wants to say a lot of things.
Author's Note: Thanks to mirax_terrik for the lovely beta work.
IN A HOUSE NEAR GLASGOW
There's a bed in a room in a house near Glasgow, under a pregnant moon. Atop the sheets on the bed in the room in the house, there lay two men, skin shining in the silver glow of the night. Their bodies twist and push and stretch. Their hands grasp.
On their knees now, one with his face pressed into soft down pillows and the other with his face pressed into a smooth, hard back, they exhale in little, snuffling moans. A hot tongue slides over raised vertebrae and licks across twitching muscle.
A gasp.
"Please please please please..." growing in desperation; the cries are muffled against the white of a pillowcase as the tongue moves slowly down.
It is licking along the tiny ridge of tailbone at the top of a soft, musky-tasting crevice. It is swirling pretty patterns of saliva on trembling, hair-dusted cheeks. It is driving Harry insane.
Draco smiles against Harry's upper thigh and runs his thumbs between his cheeks, then spreads him wide. He breathes across the twitching flesh before him, hot and damp air causing gooseflesh to emerge on Harry's lower back. He licks once and Harry arches away, then wiggles back.
Draco is very precise about fucking Harry with his mouth. He holds him firmly in place with stroking fingers and times the thrusts of his tongue to the clenches of Harry's entrance. Every so often he lifts his head to admire the slackening hole, to rub his thumb against it, to push his little finger in and drag it against the soft, soft flesh just inside.
Harry is moaning incoherently, one long, shuddering sound broken only by shallow breaths taken through clenched teeth. He reaches down to fondle his weeping prick only to have his hand slapped away. He whines.
"Patience," Draco admonishes, and he presses his face in Harry's cleft and breathes in deep. His tongue slithers out and wets Harry's skin even more.
Harry pushes back against Draco's mouth unashamedly, trying to derive his pleasure through Draco's tongue if he's unwilling to let him achieve it through his cock. "Draco," he wails, drawing the name out to four or five syllables in length.
One of Draco's hands leaves Harry's body, and he shifts so that he's holding Harry up with a forearm under his hips, then he licks and nibbles for a moment more. When he pulls away again, gazing heatedly at the reddened and wet flesh spread so enticingly before him, Harry arches his back and rotates his hips, hoping to draw him back.
Draco glances away for a moment to find the items he'd set on the bed before they'd started. He picks up a black dildo, six and a half inches in length, and draws the tip of it across Harry's right cheek, then rubs its length into Harry's cleft. He bites back a moan of appreciation as Harry pushes back, wantonly, against the plastic prick, rubbing his ass up and down against it and gasping softly as the head depresses his tender opening.
You are so fucking beautiful, Draco wants to say. He wants to say a lot of things. He settles for slicking up the dildo and pressing it against Harry's entrance, and shoves all his stifled words to the back of his mind for now, as Harry squirms backward and his ass swallows the shaft of the artificial dick.
Draco holds the dildo by the base and absently rubs a hand over Harry's spine. His eyes are fixed on Harry's flesh, stretching tightly around the shaft of the sex toy. He's never seen anything as hot as Harry's clenching ass grasping the dildo as if it refuses to let go. He licks his lips and holds the toy in place; watches as Harry pushes forward and back with his elbows, fucking himself with it.
"More," Harry whimpers. "Moremoremore..."
"Kneazle," Draco mutters under his breath, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the trigger as he watches as the dildo begin to move like a live thing, squirming to get away from his grip and embed itself fully into Harry's body.
Draco doesn't blame it.
The vibrations from the now throbbing dildo quickly tickle open Draco's grip, and he lets go. It's really inside Harry now, but Draco knows that Harry could push it out if he became uncomfortable. And Harry's hips are doing that delicious shimmy-thrust that indicates just how close he is to spilling all over the sheets.
Draco moves to his back and twists his shoulders. He slides fluidly through Harry's spread legs and sucks Harry's needy cock down his throat.
Harry screams. It's a sound unlike any he's ever made before, high and keening and needy. Draco's hands are on his cheeks, massaging and spreading them. When Harry comes, it's with a wail and a violent undulation of his entire body, rebelling against the thrumming dildo inside him. He shudders and spurts down Draco's throat, then slumps forward, and Draco has to flip them quickly to prevent being smothered.
"Finite incantatem," Draco whispers.
Draco is on his knees and pulling at his flushed cock when Harry returns to himself moments later. Harry's prick is sticky and wet, and has flagged slightly. It throbs uncomfortably as it hardens again at the sight of Draco jacking off. Harry shifts, closes his eyes and expels the still dildo with a fluid roll of his hips, then tosses it aside and spreads his legs invitingly.
Draco is upon Harry in an instant, pushing Harry's knees to his chest and reaching down, one-handed, to position the slippery tip of his dick at Harry's twitching hole. He pushes in with a fluid thrust and is too far gone to wait for Harry to adjust, instead setting a hard, fast pace almost immediately. He's biting his lip and clenching his hands in tight fists on either side of Harry's head, while Harry's fingers dig into his upper arms and Harry's calves drum against his shoulders.
Harry releases one of Draco's arms and curls his hand around the back of Draco's head. He pulls Draco down to him and their lips part and touch. They breathe into each other's mouths, panting, strangled gasps tinged with desperation. It's an almost-kiss that affects them more than any mating of tongues would.
Only when his rhythm falters in preparation for orgasm does Draco open his eyes again. He stares down at Harry's translucent eyelids, crisscrossed with tiny blue veins. Harry's long eyelashes flutter and then Harry's staring at Draco with those penetrating green eyes of his that make Draco shudder with want every single time he looks into them.
Draco allows himself to gasp Harry's name when he comes, but only once. He can't afford any more.
Draco's fingers lightly stroke Harry's forehead, tracing his scar and then flitting across his brows. His other hand rests on Harry's bare belly. Harry sits between Draco's legs, one of his thighs draped over Draco's hip. He rubs Draco's right forearm with his thumb, tracing the outline of a sinister tattoo marring the pale flesh.
Draco wants to smooth out the creases in Harry's brow as the Dark Mark grows blacker. He touches them lightly with careful fingertips instead.
"He's calling you," Harry says, and sighs. Draco pretends not to hear.
"Let's just... be here for awhile longer," Draco says. He pretends that his voice just cracked because of disuse, and not because...
"Draco -- " Harry begins, but Draco's fingers move from Harry's forehead to his lips.
"Shh," he says. Draco pretends that they won't be enemies the moment they Apparate from their hideaway just outside Glasgow, and that they're just another ordinary couple, holding each other on a sunny Tuesday morning.