FIC: POSTURE
Author: talekayler
Gift for: bryoneybrynn
Prompt Number: 16
Title: Posture
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: It’s the sound of Harry’s harsh breathing that really gets his heart rate going, makes his breathing shallow. The way it echoes around the room, how it surrounds them and makes the world theirs.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Highlight: *PWP. Fingering, of course, with some rimming and a small come shot.*
Epilogue compliant? Disregarded in this case.
Word Count: 2078
Author's Notes: Dear prompter, I enjoyed writing this! I only hope that you enjoy it as well, and that it meets any expectations you have. ♥ Thank you so much to both deirdre_aithne and curiouslyfic for betaing and looking it over! You two are simply fabulous! ♥ ♥
It’s the sound of Harry’s harsh breathing that really gets his heart rate going, makes his breathing shallow. The way it echoes around the room, how it surrounds them and makes the world theirs. Draco watches as Harry’s eyelashes flutter and close, lie against his cheek. They stand out against the creaminess of his skin in a way that Draco’s would never do, the contrast making Draco’s fingers twitch, for him to yearn to dust kisses along those cheekbones. But even though the eyes are closed, there’s still a small sliver of green that always stays focused on Draco.
Draco trails the tips of his fingers down Harry’s torso and Harry arches into it, his fists gripping the sheets on either side of his waist. Draco traces across Harry’s sternum, over his belly and circles the small indentation of his navel with a slender forefinger. He allows his fingers to dance over the lines of hipbones, caressing the skin and raising trails of goose bumps.
A broken “Please” slips out of Harry’s mouth, his head thrashing from side to side, his hips coming off of the bed, and it’s all Draco can do to take in the sight. He rubs his thumb over Harry’s hip once more before he leans over him and repeats the path with his tongue, running it along Harry’s skin. He deviates from the path just enough to trace the hardened nubs of Harry’s nipples, sucking them into his mouth one at a time and making Harry cry out.
He’s been told not to touch. Draco can feel his arms shaking with the effort to stay still, to not grab Draco closer.
Draco presses a soft kiss just above Harry’s navel, dips his tongue inside and sucks on it briefly before moving down, running his lips teasingly to the side of Harry’s groin, feeling the tickle of wiry hairs on his cheek and chin. He breathes in the scent that is just so Harry, the musk that rises from his skin and makes his desire more potent.
It had taken him a while to convince Harry that they could be in a relationship. It had taken him even longer to get them to this point - to get them comfortable enough to be able to lie together in such a way. It had been agreed on that they would take their time with this, that there would be no hasty actions.
Harry shivers when Draco’s hair skates across his abdomen as he moves across to Harry’s other hip, sucking lightly at the skin as he does so. He blows a cool rush of air over the newly risen mark on Harry’s skin, and Harry’s hips jerk just a little in response.
Draco releases the sheets that he grips in favour of wrapping his hands around those hips just as he dips his head and sucks in the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth. There’s a hiss of escaped breath from between Harry’s teeth, and Draco hums his approval of Harry’s restraint from around the cock in his mouth. He slides his lips down slowly, teasing, his palms rubbing the warm skin under his hands - encouraging, supporting and soothing. Harry moans.
Draco pulls his mouth off with a quiet pop and moves downwards, sucking gently at Harry’s sac and lapping at the skin with kitten-like motions. Harry’s hips strain against Draco’s hold, his breathing hitching on every other inhalation, groans interspersed with pieces of Draco’s name.
Draco eases Harry’s legs up, pushing his knees back to his chest so that he can spread Harry’s arse cheeks, so that he is able to see the small furrowed hole. He’s not sure if the sweat that has appeared beneath Draco’s palms is from him or Harry. In his mind, it doesn’t really matter.
He stops, his nose a bare centimetre away from Harry’s perineum, and he closes his eyes to savour the fact that they have gotten to this point. That they have surpassed the expectations their friends had put in place, had broken the bounds on every bet. He’s ached for the chance for so long; he’s not about to ignore the impact it has on him. Or Harry.
Harry makes a strangled sound, and says, “Fuck it, Draco if you can’t-” before he breaks off with a curse as Draco drags his tongue over the line of his arse. Draco ends the next stroke with a lap at Harry’s balls, drawing them back into his mouth and earning a whimper from Harry.
On the next pass, Draco focuses on the flutter of Harry’s arsehole, tracing it with his tongue and wriggling inside briefly. Harry squirms; there’s the rustle of the bed sheets, the toss of his head on the pillow and a long drawn out moan. His hips begin to rock upwards slowly, as if it’s happening without his knowledge.
Draco is focused solely on his task, Harry’s whimpers urging him on as he licks and sucks, pushing his tongue further and further into Harry’s slowly loosening hole. Draco can’t help but moan; Harry’s taste is on his tongue, his scent surrounding him, the warmth of his skin against Draco’s hands, coming from the thighs spread on either side of his head. He begins to massage the flesh in his grasp, squeezing and pushing and pulling.
He releases one hip and brings his hand to Harry’s slick hole, tracing it with the tip of his finger in an imitation of what he had done earlier. He doesn’t dare press forwards with it yet, though. Harry’s never done anything with a male before, and he’s adamant that Draco takes his time; he’s not the only one. Draco knows this is Harry’s first time and he has every intention of making it one to remember.
Draco reaches over to the side and deftly uncorks the phial that rests on the bed beside him. He fumbles slightly when trying to coat his fingers properly, not wanting to stop lapping at Harry’s skin, eliciting those moans and small huffs of breath.
He feels Harry tense slightly when he brings his fingers back to Harry’s arse. He kisses Harry’s thigh as he runs his finger over Harry’s hole again, trying to reassure him without words. In response, he feels some of the tension ease out of Harry, hears a slow, even exhalation.
He nuzzles Harry’s thigh, slowly applying more and more pressure until the tip of his finger has edged inside. He feels Harry clench around it, then slowly begin to relax. Draco nips his thigh before shifting up onto his elbows, trying to get a better view of Harry. He’s spread out on the bed, panting, his hair sticking to his face and his eyes locked on where Draco kneels between his legs. Draco pushes his finger inside some more, before slowly drawing it out and running it along the rim again.
He repeats the slow process, his finger edging further and further inside. Eventually, Harry’s grip on the sheets loosens somewhat, and he begins to arch his hips into it, meeting Draco’s finger until he’s taken it up to the last knuckle. Draco removes his finger slowly, watching as the skin grips it, not wanting to let it go and trying to suck it back inside. His cock throbs against the bed sheets, but he ignores it in favour of Harry.
Once his finger has been fully removed, he slathers more of the lube over two more, and recoats the first. Harry watches him through heavily lidded eyes, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms hugging them tightly. Draco moves up Harry’s body, kissing his way up Harry’s torso until he has claimed his lips once more. Harry nips at his bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking, making Draco groan and rub his prick against the curve of Harry’s arse. Draco plants his left hand on the bed beside Harry, breaking the kiss to ask, “Still good?”
“Mmm hmm,” Harry sighs, his eyes closing. His hips twitch, though, trying to reclaim Draco’s attention.
Draco slowly edges another finger alongside the first, watching Harry’s eyes widen briefly and squeeze shut. When Draco pushes his fingers in - with maybe more force than necessary - Harry snaps them open and refocuses on Draco. His thighs tremble as Draco pumps his fingers in and out; his hips buck when Draco twists them, crooks his fingers so that they brush against Harry’s prostate.
“Draco,” Harry pants. Sweat coats his chest, making it shine in the candlelight. He bites on his lower lip, trying to stifle his moans but only succeeds in making his lip darken and plump. Draco watches as Harry’s tongue swipes across them, sees his teeth begin to worry his lip again.
He continues to pump his fingers in and out in a slow glide, making sure to hit Harry’s prostate on every second insertion. Harry bucks and moans and writhes, a ball of desire, the epitome of need. Draco sees his cock, a dark red where is lays against his stomach. He watches and Harry’s balls tighten, sees them draw up and a pearl of precome appear on the tip of Harry’s cock.
Careful to hold Harry’s eye, he lowers his head and licks the head of Harry’s prick, savouring the bittersweet tang as it hits his tongue. Harry has to adjust his grip on his calves, his sweat slicked palms unable to keep a firm hold. His lips part as he tries to suck in larger breaths.
Harry breaks the eye contact when Draco edges in a third finger, rubs it around the rim that’s stretched around his other digits as they continue to pump. His head falls back on the pillow, his neck arches and his nails dig into his legs. “So close,” he breathes.
Draco has to smile to himself. His fingers move at the same speed as they always did, long and slow and constant, never changing. Harry groans his frustration, trying to rock his hips. Draco watches another bead of precome slip out and he catches it on his finger before he slips his hand around the base of Harry’s cock. He strokes, swiping a thumb over the tip and pulls back the foreskin, teases the slit with the edge of his nail.
His hand moves faster, rubbing against Harry’s prostate on every draw now, eliciting keens and making Harry’s breath hitch until he’s coming, spilling over Draco’s hand, his cock pulsing in Draco’s hold and his hole clenching around Draco’s fingers. Draco groans and rubs himself against the coverlet, watching drops of come spatter across Harry’s chest, the odd drop landing near his neck or on his cheek.
Harry’s grip on his calves breaks, and his legs spill of to the sides. Draco can’t resist leaning forward to lick away that drop of white on Harry’s cheek. He feels the hot panting breaths against his face, feels the gentle, barely-there flutter of Harry’s lashes.
Draco eases his fingers out and wraps his hand eagerly around his own aching hardness, fisting it quickly. He sees Harry’s eyes open, still slightly dazed, and he watches Draco jerk off above him. He lifts a hand to trail his fingertips down Draco’s side, then drops it down to fondle his sac. Draco’s hips pump, fucking his hand as he remembers how his fingers felt inside Harry, remembers Harry’s expression when he came and how he had moaned “Draco.”
Harry’s name falls off his lips and Draco comes, spurting over Harry’s chest, his come mingling with that of Harry’s. Harry closes his eyes again when some hits his face, his mouth falling open just a little.
It takes all of Draco’s restraint not to fall over on top of Harry. He lies down to the side instead, propping his head on his hand as he watches Harry and tries to regain his breath. Harry turns to face him, black hair sticking to his forehead and his face flushed. Draco brushes off a stray drop of come that rests on Harry’s cheek, his hand falling to rest at the base of Harry’s throat, feeling the slowing pulse.
Harry smiles at him, and it’s brilliant and breathless. “Amazing,” he says, “you blew my expectations away.”
Draco flashes a cocky grin at him. “You had doubts?”
Harry matches his grin with one of his own, but doesn’t say anything. His eyes say it all.
fin
Gift for: bryoneybrynn
Prompt Number: 16
Title: Posture
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: It’s the sound of Harry’s harsh breathing that really gets his heart rate going, makes his breathing shallow. The way it echoes around the room, how it surrounds them and makes the world theirs.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Highlight: *PWP. Fingering, of course, with some rimming and a small come shot.*
Epilogue compliant? Disregarded in this case.
Word Count: 2078
Author's Notes: Dear prompter, I enjoyed writing this! I only hope that you enjoy it as well, and that it meets any expectations you have. ♥ Thank you so much to both deirdre_aithne and curiouslyfic for betaing and looking it over! You two are simply fabulous! ♥ ♥
It’s the sound of Harry’s harsh breathing that really gets his heart rate going, makes his breathing shallow. The way it echoes around the room, how it surrounds them and makes the world theirs. Draco watches as Harry’s eyelashes flutter and close, lie against his cheek. They stand out against the creaminess of his skin in a way that Draco’s would never do, the contrast making Draco’s fingers twitch, for him to yearn to dust kisses along those cheekbones. But even though the eyes are closed, there’s still a small sliver of green that always stays focused on Draco.
Draco trails the tips of his fingers down Harry’s torso and Harry arches into it, his fists gripping the sheets on either side of his waist. Draco traces across Harry’s sternum, over his belly and circles the small indentation of his navel with a slender forefinger. He allows his fingers to dance over the lines of hipbones, caressing the skin and raising trails of goose bumps.
A broken “Please” slips out of Harry’s mouth, his head thrashing from side to side, his hips coming off of the bed, and it’s all Draco can do to take in the sight. He rubs his thumb over Harry’s hip once more before he leans over him and repeats the path with his tongue, running it along Harry’s skin. He deviates from the path just enough to trace the hardened nubs of Harry’s nipples, sucking them into his mouth one at a time and making Harry cry out.
He’s been told not to touch. Draco can feel his arms shaking with the effort to stay still, to not grab Draco closer.
Draco presses a soft kiss just above Harry’s navel, dips his tongue inside and sucks on it briefly before moving down, running his lips teasingly to the side of Harry’s groin, feeling the tickle of wiry hairs on his cheek and chin. He breathes in the scent that is just so Harry, the musk that rises from his skin and makes his desire more potent.
It had taken him a while to convince Harry that they could be in a relationship. It had taken him even longer to get them to this point - to get them comfortable enough to be able to lie together in such a way. It had been agreed on that they would take their time with this, that there would be no hasty actions.
Harry shivers when Draco’s hair skates across his abdomen as he moves across to Harry’s other hip, sucking lightly at the skin as he does so. He blows a cool rush of air over the newly risen mark on Harry’s skin, and Harry’s hips jerk just a little in response.
Draco releases the sheets that he grips in favour of wrapping his hands around those hips just as he dips his head and sucks in the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth. There’s a hiss of escaped breath from between Harry’s teeth, and Draco hums his approval of Harry’s restraint from around the cock in his mouth. He slides his lips down slowly, teasing, his palms rubbing the warm skin under his hands - encouraging, supporting and soothing. Harry moans.
Draco pulls his mouth off with a quiet pop and moves downwards, sucking gently at Harry’s sac and lapping at the skin with kitten-like motions. Harry’s hips strain against Draco’s hold, his breathing hitching on every other inhalation, groans interspersed with pieces of Draco’s name.
Draco eases Harry’s legs up, pushing his knees back to his chest so that he can spread Harry’s arse cheeks, so that he is able to see the small furrowed hole. He’s not sure if the sweat that has appeared beneath Draco’s palms is from him or Harry. In his mind, it doesn’t really matter.
He stops, his nose a bare centimetre away from Harry’s perineum, and he closes his eyes to savour the fact that they have gotten to this point. That they have surpassed the expectations their friends had put in place, had broken the bounds on every bet. He’s ached for the chance for so long; he’s not about to ignore the impact it has on him. Or Harry.
Harry makes a strangled sound, and says, “Fuck it, Draco if you can’t-” before he breaks off with a curse as Draco drags his tongue over the line of his arse. Draco ends the next stroke with a lap at Harry’s balls, drawing them back into his mouth and earning a whimper from Harry.
On the next pass, Draco focuses on the flutter of Harry’s arsehole, tracing it with his tongue and wriggling inside briefly. Harry squirms; there’s the rustle of the bed sheets, the toss of his head on the pillow and a long drawn out moan. His hips begin to rock upwards slowly, as if it’s happening without his knowledge.
Draco is focused solely on his task, Harry’s whimpers urging him on as he licks and sucks, pushing his tongue further and further into Harry’s slowly loosening hole. Draco can’t help but moan; Harry’s taste is on his tongue, his scent surrounding him, the warmth of his skin against Draco’s hands, coming from the thighs spread on either side of his head. He begins to massage the flesh in his grasp, squeezing and pushing and pulling.
He releases one hip and brings his hand to Harry’s slick hole, tracing it with the tip of his finger in an imitation of what he had done earlier. He doesn’t dare press forwards with it yet, though. Harry’s never done anything with a male before, and he’s adamant that Draco takes his time; he’s not the only one. Draco knows this is Harry’s first time and he has every intention of making it one to remember.
Draco reaches over to the side and deftly uncorks the phial that rests on the bed beside him. He fumbles slightly when trying to coat his fingers properly, not wanting to stop lapping at Harry’s skin, eliciting those moans and small huffs of breath.
He feels Harry tense slightly when he brings his fingers back to Harry’s arse. He kisses Harry’s thigh as he runs his finger over Harry’s hole again, trying to reassure him without words. In response, he feels some of the tension ease out of Harry, hears a slow, even exhalation.
He nuzzles Harry’s thigh, slowly applying more and more pressure until the tip of his finger has edged inside. He feels Harry clench around it, then slowly begin to relax. Draco nips his thigh before shifting up onto his elbows, trying to get a better view of Harry. He’s spread out on the bed, panting, his hair sticking to his face and his eyes locked on where Draco kneels between his legs. Draco pushes his finger inside some more, before slowly drawing it out and running it along the rim again.
He repeats the slow process, his finger edging further and further inside. Eventually, Harry’s grip on the sheets loosens somewhat, and he begins to arch his hips into it, meeting Draco’s finger until he’s taken it up to the last knuckle. Draco removes his finger slowly, watching as the skin grips it, not wanting to let it go and trying to suck it back inside. His cock throbs against the bed sheets, but he ignores it in favour of Harry.
Once his finger has been fully removed, he slathers more of the lube over two more, and recoats the first. Harry watches him through heavily lidded eyes, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms hugging them tightly. Draco moves up Harry’s body, kissing his way up Harry’s torso until he has claimed his lips once more. Harry nips at his bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking, making Draco groan and rub his prick against the curve of Harry’s arse. Draco plants his left hand on the bed beside Harry, breaking the kiss to ask, “Still good?”
“Mmm hmm,” Harry sighs, his eyes closing. His hips twitch, though, trying to reclaim Draco’s attention.
Draco slowly edges another finger alongside the first, watching Harry’s eyes widen briefly and squeeze shut. When Draco pushes his fingers in - with maybe more force than necessary - Harry snaps them open and refocuses on Draco. His thighs tremble as Draco pumps his fingers in and out; his hips buck when Draco twists them, crooks his fingers so that they brush against Harry’s prostate.
“Draco,” Harry pants. Sweat coats his chest, making it shine in the candlelight. He bites on his lower lip, trying to stifle his moans but only succeeds in making his lip darken and plump. Draco watches as Harry’s tongue swipes across them, sees his teeth begin to worry his lip again.
He continues to pump his fingers in and out in a slow glide, making sure to hit Harry’s prostate on every second insertion. Harry bucks and moans and writhes, a ball of desire, the epitome of need. Draco sees his cock, a dark red where is lays against his stomach. He watches and Harry’s balls tighten, sees them draw up and a pearl of precome appear on the tip of Harry’s cock.
Careful to hold Harry’s eye, he lowers his head and licks the head of Harry’s prick, savouring the bittersweet tang as it hits his tongue. Harry has to adjust his grip on his calves, his sweat slicked palms unable to keep a firm hold. His lips part as he tries to suck in larger breaths.
Harry breaks the eye contact when Draco edges in a third finger, rubs it around the rim that’s stretched around his other digits as they continue to pump. His head falls back on the pillow, his neck arches and his nails dig into his legs. “So close,” he breathes.
Draco has to smile to himself. His fingers move at the same speed as they always did, long and slow and constant, never changing. Harry groans his frustration, trying to rock his hips. Draco watches another bead of precome slip out and he catches it on his finger before he slips his hand around the base of Harry’s cock. He strokes, swiping a thumb over the tip and pulls back the foreskin, teases the slit with the edge of his nail.
His hand moves faster, rubbing against Harry’s prostate on every draw now, eliciting keens and making Harry’s breath hitch until he’s coming, spilling over Draco’s hand, his cock pulsing in Draco’s hold and his hole clenching around Draco’s fingers. Draco groans and rubs himself against the coverlet, watching drops of come spatter across Harry’s chest, the odd drop landing near his neck or on his cheek.
Harry’s grip on his calves breaks, and his legs spill of to the sides. Draco can’t resist leaning forward to lick away that drop of white on Harry’s cheek. He feels the hot panting breaths against his face, feels the gentle, barely-there flutter of Harry’s lashes.
Draco eases his fingers out and wraps his hand eagerly around his own aching hardness, fisting it quickly. He sees Harry’s eyes open, still slightly dazed, and he watches Draco jerk off above him. He lifts a hand to trail his fingertips down Draco’s side, then drops it down to fondle his sac. Draco’s hips pump, fucking his hand as he remembers how his fingers felt inside Harry, remembers Harry’s expression when he came and how he had moaned “Draco.”
Harry’s name falls off his lips and Draco comes, spurting over Harry’s chest, his come mingling with that of Harry’s. Harry closes his eyes again when some hits his face, his mouth falling open just a little.
It takes all of Draco’s restraint not to fall over on top of Harry. He lies down to the side instead, propping his head on his hand as he watches Harry and tries to regain his breath. Harry turns to face him, black hair sticking to his forehead and his face flushed. Draco brushes off a stray drop of come that rests on Harry’s cheek, his hand falling to rest at the base of Harry’s throat, feeling the slowing pulse.
Harry smiles at him, and it’s brilliant and breathless. “Amazing,” he says, “you blew my expectations away.”
Draco flashes a cocky grin at him. “You had doubts?”
Harry matches his grin with one of his own, but doesn’t say anything. His eyes say it all.
fin