Chapter Twenty-Five of 'Keep This Wolf'- Cooperate
Chapter Twenty-Four.
Title: Keep This Wolf (25/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Creaturefic (Harry is a werewolf), violence, some gore, angst
Rating: R
Summary: Draco knows full well that he’s being set up. There is no other reason to pull an Unspeakable out of the Department of Mysteries and assign him to negotiate with a werewolf pack. But when he learns the werewolf leader is Harry Potter, Draco wonders if the setup isn’t a different kind than he anticipated.
Author’s Notes: A fic for enamoril, who asked for a story like my “Business Meetings,” where Draco is the leader of a group of vampires and Harry their Ministry-appointed negotiator, but reversed, with Draco as the negotiator and Harry as the werewolf. This story will be updated every Tuesday until it’s finished. The title comes from the poem “Wilderness” by Carl Sandburg:
THERE is a wolf in me … fangs pointed for tearing gashes … a red tongue for raw meat … and the hot lapping of blood-I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Twenty-Five--Cooperate
"I'm not..." Draco found his voice bleeding away, perhaps a good thing. He had no idea what he would have said, given the mind-destroying way Potter moved towards him, more lean and rippling muscle than even in his wolf form.
Potter shone, eyes and expression deep with amusement. He put a hand under Draco's chin and tilted his head back in a way that made Draco violently aware of how this position exposed his throat. "What were you going to say? That you're not a member of my pack? But the way my wolf responded to and kept you safe from himself shows that you are, very clearly."
It was hard to think with Potter's hot breath in his face like that. Draco reached up and closed his fingers around the knuckles of the hand holding his chin to give himself courage. "I won't let you bite me," he said. In the middle of his daze, it was the one thing he was still sure of.
“I never intended to bite you.” Potter’s voice was near his ear now, and Draco found himself unsure of when Potter had moved, let alone what his next move was likely to be. “I like that you’re the first human member of my pack, and I’d like to explore what that means. I hardly can if I turn you into a werewolf, now can I?”
Draco swallowed. “No.” His voice still came out softer and more tentative than he wanted. He shook his head and started to say something else.
Potter seemed to think his agreement was all he needed. “Good,” he said, still whispering, and then abruptly leaned down and kissed Draco’s throat.
The sheer heat of his mouth, the unexpectedness of it, the way that his breath seemed to wash over the corner of Draco’s lips even with his mouth busy, all went to Draco’s head. He kissed back, and found himself sucking Potter’s earlobe, not quite sure of what had happened.
Wait. This must mean--wait--
But Potter didn’t let him wait, and Draco admitted he didn’t want to wait either. It wasn’t as though his attraction to Potter was unexpected, unlike some of the other things happening here, and he wasn’t reluctant. Once he knew Potter wouldn’t bite him, it was surprisingly easy to lean back into the kissing and the stumbling around and let Potter have his way, as Draco had let him do with a few other things in the past.
And Potter could kiss.
His mouth might be unnaturally hot because it was a werewolf’s mouth, but it was also unnaturally good at this, maybe for the same cause. Draco’s tongue met another tongue, and then Potter braced him against the trunk of a tree and tore his mouth away, only to fasten it again, sucking, on Draco’s belly. Draco wondered if Potter was really going for what he thought he was going for, kneeling down and sucking him. It seemed like a strange thing for an all-powerful pack leader to do.
Potter looked up at him with a dark, mischievous smile, and Draco could almost hear the retort, even though Potter didn't make it out loud. I told you that I wasn’t all-powerful.
At the very least, when Potter tore his robes away and got to work with his mouth on Draco’s cock, Draco didn’t protest. Unless the groans coming out of his throat on a regular basis and the way his own throat worked in time to Potter’s swallows was a kind of protest that even he had never learned the name of.
*
Malfoy smelled delicious. Harry could confirm that now when he got his mouth around him, and the smell intensified instead of diminishing.
Harry couldn’t remember how long it was since he had done this. What mattered was that it had been a long time, and never with a member of his pack, as close he had grown with some of them and as much as he had wanted to. There was just too much chance that it would turn into accusations of favoritism or make the atmosphere in the pack sick and tainted when the affair ended, as it probably would. And Harry didn’t want someone who was concentrating on being a werewolf and wanted the favor of the pack leader to learn about and challenge him. Most of the people who had offered had been that way.
He wanted someone he could be close to, though. Someone whose scent he knew, someone who would roll on the ground with him and ask for more and not mind if he sometimes gave attention to other members of the pack. And someone who had a difference of some sort, so that no other packmates would think about them in the same way.
Malfoy was perfect.
Perfectly smelly, and perfectly strong, and perfect in the way that he kept arching towards Harry’s mouth, and didn’t stop once he’d begun. His voice was a series of low moans, strong enough that Harry clenched his hands on Malfoy’s hips. He was greedy, and he didn’t want to share if anyone else heard them and came along to see what was happening.
But his head spun then and the thoughts went away, and what really mattered was Malfoy almost sinking into the bark of the tree Harry had him pinned against, almost falling into a trance state, almost melting as he came. Harry swallowed that down with an easy flick of his tongue. Once he wouldn’t have been so blasé about it, but he had eaten a lot worse when he ranged through the forest in wolf form.
Malfoy slid down to the ground, and Harry was there to catch him, to draw him close and murmur, and let Malfoy sit in his lap instead of on the leaf mold. That worked for a moment, at least while Malfoy was leaning close against him and catching his breath.
Then he leaned back and shoved a little at Harry's shoulders and said with his haughtiest sneer, “Malfoys don’t depend on anyone else for support, you know.”
“I know that,” said Harry, keeping his voice as light as wind, and went back to casually nuzzling along the side of Malfoy’s throat.
“You do.” Malfoy didn’t even manage to make that a question, he was so surprised.
“Mmm.” Harry let his complaint trail away into what was almost a growl, a warm one, and then leaned back and put a hand behind Malfoy’s neck and looked into his eyes. “Think I could persuade you to return the favor--Draco?”
*
Draco shivered. He felt as though he had been put through a hard gallop and then brought back and told that he would have to do it all over again, that he hadn’t achieved the goal.
Whatever the goal was in the first place.
But he had another reason for his hesitation, one that he spoke of carefully, because Potter was looking at him with warm, possessive eyes and Draco found that he didn’t want to upset him. “One thing first. Would swallowing a werewolf’s semen turn me into a werewolf?”
Potter’s eyes opened wide, and then he laughed, a sound that wasn’t a bark, but went deeper into his chest than Draco had ever heard a laugh go. Draco felt his cheeks warm, but he stubbornly held Potter's gaze. He might be a fool, but at least he would be a human fool.
“That would be an innovative way to transform, but no.” Potter stroked his cheek. “I’ve never heard of any werewolf that could turn someone that way, or there would be more of them, considering that werewolves often have human-formed lovers.”
Draco heard the warning in human-formed, and nodded. There were certain thoughts that would get him in trouble if he expressed them here, and he was willing to give up the expression and concentrate on other things instead. “Then I’d like to suck you.”
Potter’s breath caught, his eyes warming like spring. “And will you call me Harry?” he asked, as Draco started to push his way off his lap.
Draco blinked, caught. Why should that request be so much more difficult than actually having a werewolf’s cock in his mouth?
“You don’t have to,” Potter said, and his voice was tender and resigned both at once. He grazed the back of his knuckles down Draco’s cheek and started to pull away, with reluctance that Draco could feel through his bones.
“No, damn it,” said Draco, and Potter halted and blinked, probably wondering what or who he was swearing at. “Why should I have to put off calling you by your name if I want to?”
“Er, I don’t know?” Potter said, and then shook his head as if he had realized that it was a question and Mr. All-Powerful Pack Leader shouldn’t ask a question of anyone. “But I thought you didn’t want to. Call me Harry, I mean.”
“I’m going to do it if I want to,” Draco said, and gave him a sloppy kiss. “It was only some loyalty to the Unspeakables or an old idea of myself that was keeping me from it, and honestly, I like the new me better.” He dropped to his knees, and told himself that he could use Cleaning Charms later.
Harry leaned back slowly against the tree that he’d earlier had Draco against. His eyes were bright enough that Draco almost fancied he could see a faint light shining from them, piercing the darkness. “Whatever you like.”
“I like,” said Draco, and he thought it would, because it was something that he had never done before, unlike sitting behind a desk or reforming artifacts or cowering in fear of Unspeakable Heldeson.
Harry was already removing his clothes, and Draco started a little at the size of his cock. “It wasn’t like I did this all the time,” he added defensively, when he felt how heavy Harry’s gaze was on the back of his neck.
“I’m pleased.”
Draco stretched himself into the husky appreciation in Harry’s voice, and then bent over and applied his mouth.
The steady sucking made Harry twitch and give a single great gasp. Draco would have asked if he was okay, except he had a pulse right next to his face, telling him that of course Harry was, and he also had better things to do with his mouth. He stuck out his tongue, carefully learning the taste and shape and scent of it, and Harry grunted and pushed down.
Draco choked and pulled his head back. “Don’t do that! There are benefits to inexperience, but that’s not one of them!”
“Sorry,” Harry panted, and his tongue lolled as he stared at Draco out of obsessive, burning eyes. “It’s just you’re so good.”
Draco sniffed a little, and hoped that his cheeks weren’t flushing as much at the compliment as he thought they were. “And compliments do me no good if I’m dead because you pierced the back of my throat with your cock.”
Harry looked appropriately stricken, and Draco decided he could modify the threat a little. “Not that that’s likely to happen,” he added. “But it could. So don’t shove yourself down my throat, okay?”
Harry nodded again, looking even more stricken, and took hold of his own hips as though his body was a misbehaving dog that he had to hold back. Draco controlled a chuckle--it simply felt so good to be in control like this again, capable of telling someone off, which he wouldn’t have tried when he was an Unspeakable--and bent down again.
This time, it was even hotter. He could feel the restrained little bucks and shoves that Harry made, the way he wanted to go further but wouldn’t let himself, and all because Draco had told him to hold still. It was perfection. The quivers ran through Draco’s mouth into his cheeks and teeth, and he would have wanted to come again if the languor hadn’t still been hanging in his bones.
He coaxed and worked with his mouth, and Harry tensed up. A gabble of noise came out of his parted lips, and Draco had the time and warning to decide whether he wanted to swallow or not.
He decided that he did, and sealed his lips and hands down on Harry, ignoring Harry’s frantic efforts to move away.
In the end, it wasn’t so overwhelming after all, only a little bitter, a little salty, a little sticky. Draco kept his mouth moving through it, sucking calmly, urging Harry on by the pressure of his fingers on his skin, and Harry finally gave in and let himself take it with a little moan and a little shake. Draco sat back when he was done and wiped off his lips, feeling enormously smug.
The way Harry was gaping down at him as though he was the most amazing person ever to kneel helped a lot, too.
“Not bad, was it?” Draco offered, and then Harry reached out and picked him up and swept him off the ground with that enormous werewolf strength Draco sometimes forgot he had, holding Draco up to face level and rocking him back and forth.
“Not bad, he says.” Harry’s grin was as wild as his hair, as his eyes, as his magic. “Now I know what you look like when you’re fishing for compliments.” And he sealed his mouth over Draco’s as if he wanted to swallow what Draco already had.
Draco leaned back in Harry’s arms, enjoying the kiss, near perfectly-relaxed by how strong Harry’s grip and tongue and hands were. If this was the kind of life that awaited him in a werewolf pack, he thought he would get along very well with it indeed.
“The pack might take some time to accept you as my lover,” Harry murmured an endless time later, when Draco had lost himself for long enough in the kisses and was beginning to think about either a bath or at least some Cleaning Charms to get back to normal. “Is that all right with you?”
“Are they going to challenge me for the position?” Draco asked suspiciously. He thought that a challenge protocol probably didn’t exist for the pack leader’s lover the way it did for the pack leader himself, but coming here had taught him how little he knew about werewolves and what they were capable of. He wouldn’t put it past them to come up with some crazy rule about something like this.
Harry laughed aloud and fell back on the ground, bringing Draco sprawling with him. Draco tried to ignore the mud getting up his nose, and reminded himself about the Cleaning Charms. Even if Harry was more casual about that sort of thing because he was a werewolf, Draco could afford to be.
And he was no longer an Unspeakable, who had to be crisp and presentable or be forced into it. He could be dirty if he wanted to.
“No,” Harry said at last, when Draco shifted pointedly in his arms and he appeared to remember that he hadn’t actually answered Draco’s question. “They have sometimes aspired to the position, but I haven’t found someone who was both part of the pack and able to handle the challenges of being my lover.” He nuzzled his head against Draco’s ear. “Until you.”
Draco thought about asking about that, about how this would work, when he was part of Harry’s pack and yet human, whether it was the done thing, whether it was something that other werewolf packs would accept, assuming they had to interact with those packs.
But he didn’t want to ask. He wanted to lie on the forest floor in Harry’s arms until Harry remembered baths of his own free will, and got up and took Draco towards his house.
And that was what they did.
Chapter Twenty-Six.
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