Work Text:
Auror Physicality Training . Draco sighed. They had magic, what the fuck did they need to work out like common Muggles for? He’d nearly had a coronary when he’d gotten the owl informing him he was required to report to the new Auror Training Gym at seven in the morning five days a week. It was bad enough he had to be at work at eight most mornings, he didn't want to be there an hour early to lift weights or run in place on a treadmill. Honestly.
Prepared for the worst, Draco walked into the gym at five minutes after seven, water bottle on hand and a towel thrown over his shoulder. He was prepared to be sweaty. He was prepared to be cranky.
He was not prepared to be turned on.
Potter. Potter . Fucking Potter. Of course he was here, all the Auror trainees were here. Draco wanted to hex himself for not having realised he’d have to watch Potter workout. Of course even if he had, he probably would’ve imagined being able to tease Potter—tell him he was running as slow as a three-legged crup on the enchanted treadmill, or ask him if he needed Draco to spell the weights so they were light as a feather. Granted it’d only been a few months since they all started training, but Potter didn’t look particularly fit. He was always traipsing around in ill-fitting jeans and ugly jumpers, and during actual training he wore joggers at least a size too big and a funny Muggle thing he’d called a hoodie that was equally too large. Draco hadn’t even been sure Potter had a body beneath the layers of frumpy clothing he always wore.
So really, how the fuck was Draco supposed to be prepared for this ?
Potter was hanging off the funny contraption in the back of the room that stood in front of the wall of mirrors, pulling himself up and down by just his arms as Weasley yelled at him to keep his hips in and his feet straight. He was once again wearing joggers and that stupid hoodie he liked. While normally Draco would be appalled by Potter’s inability to find clothing that fit, now all it meant was that Potter’s bottoms were hanging so low on his hips they were nearly falling off. The sharp angles of his hip bones were exposed and the flat expanse of his stomach on full display, because everytime Potter pulled himself up the hoodie rose up completely. Potter was like some sort of machine, up down, up down, over and over effortlessly as his clothing fluttered around his apparently fucking perfect body.
Fuck.
Potter was a mess. His hair was a mess, his clothes were a mess, his personality was a mess. Draco had a hard enough time controlling his reaction to the way it felt to stand beside Potter when he was duelling—the air crackling with his magic—or controlling the flip of his stomach when Potter mouthed off to him, or worse, winked at him.
Potter was a fucking disaster and apparently so was Draco because he was standing into the middle of the gym at a quarter past seven on a Monday morning fighting off his attraction to the walking human equivalent of a tornado.
Draco was halfway through a very thorough internal debate about which section of the gym would provide him with the best vantage point to discreetly watch Potter when a change in Potter’s movements caught his attention because suddenly on ever upswing of his body, Potter’s hips were rolling and Merlin’s fucking tits that was obscene. Draco swallowed, glancing around, but no one else seemed as scandalized as Draco. No one else seemed horrified to discover that the line of Potter’s not diminutively sized cock was visible beneath the fabric of his pale grey joggers.
Then, as if Draco’s life could not possibly get any worse, Potter turned to look at him and all the breath left Draco’s lungs as Potter, the complete and utter fucker, winked.
Draco did the only sensible thing and promptly turned around and left.
*~*~*~*
The next morning Draco was prepared. He set his alarm half an hour early and had a long, slow wank before pulling on his own joggers and cotton t-shirt and heading to the gym.
To his great relief—or disappointment, he wasn’t completely sure—Potter was not doing pull ups when he arrived. Instead Potter was lying flat on his back on the set of mats in the corner. Refusing to be caught staring again Draco surveyed his options and decided on one of the treadmills which not only offered him a nice view of Potter doing whatever the fuck Potter was doing but was also one of the only open spaces in the gym. Draco thought only Muggles would invent a machine that let you run and run and never get anywhere. It was the stupidest fucking invention Draco had ever heard of.
Five minutes later, once Draco had figured out how to calibrate the machine to his unique magical signature, registered his Auror badge number to officially monitor his progress, and decided on a speed and incline setting that seemed easy enough to not exhaust him but not so easy he might get accused of not following the training protocol he began to move. It was a brisk enough pace, but apparently it was too much for Draco because the moment he looked up it was to see Potter doing a stretch that looked inhuman. He was folded completely in half, his legs over his head and his arse in the air, and Draco’s brain forgot to tell his feet how to move and before Draco knew it he was face planting on the treadmill and being thrown back onto the floor in an embarrassing heap.
“Oh Merlin, is he alright?” someone yelled.
Draco refused to open his eyes to see who was speaking. Perhaps if he pretended to be dead someone would take pity on him and levitate him to the Healer’s office where he could nurse his wounded pride in peace.
“Malfoy, are you okay?”
Draco groaned loudly. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know whose voice that was. Of fucking course it was Potter who came to see if he was alright. Potter probably went around trying to rescue kneazles stranded in trees and help old ladies cross the street, the tosser.
“I meant to do that,” Draco said, finally opening his eyes and refusing to look at Potter’s face.
Potter held out his hand in front of Draco’s face in a silent offering, his voice heavy with disbelief when he spoke. “Sure you did.”
“I did,” Draco insisted, swatting Potter’s hand away and resisting the urge to bemoan the fact that it felt like a hippogriff had kicked him in the balls.
“Stubborn wanker,” Potter snorted.
Draco took in a deep breath, slowly exhaling it through his nose as he made eye contact with Potter. He was annoyed to find that they were the exact same height. Fuck Potter and his late puberty growth spurt. Draco had really rather enjoyed the knowledge that he was just an inch taller than Potter.
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you for checking on me. Don’t you need to go back to whatever it was you were doing over there with your arse in the air?” Draco hoped he sounded less flustered than he felt.
Potter looked amused. “Were you watching me?”
Draco’s face heated. “No.”
Potter’s smile grew. “I was doing yoga. My Mind Healer suggested it after,” Potter stopped, his face taking on a faraway look before he shook his head. “After everything. It’s a great workout to clear your mind. Helps release tension. I could show you sometime if you liked.”
Images of Potter showing Draco how to bend his own body in half flashed through Draco’s mind and Draco’s cock began to harden, before thoughts of him being the one to bend Potter in half drowned out the sound of Potter asking him if he was sure he was okay. Merlin . This was not okay. Not even a little bit.
“I need to see the Healer,” Draco blurted out, ignoring the look of confusion and worry that spread across Potter’s face as he hobbled out of the gym with his hands held over his crotch, wishing his fall from the treadmill really had killed him.
That night after work instead of going directly home like he usually did he went straight to Diagon Alley and into Flourish and Blotts, where he spent nearly two hours combing through the disorganized shelves that made up the out of print section before he found what he was looking for— Witcom’s Wizardry for the Aroused Gentleman: A Guide to the Art of Seduction and Pleasure . Draco tried to hide his blush as he shoved five Galleons at the clerk to purchase the book. He remembered Nott telling him about this book back at school. Draco had ignored him completely, positive he wouldn’t have need of because he always wore robes. He wished now he’d paid attention then.
Two hours and several failed attempts later Draco had successfully mastered the cloaking spell to hide his erection. He wasn’t sure it made him any more of a gentleman—especially not with the things Draco was thinking about doing to Potter that made him need the spell in the first place—but at least this way Potter wouldn’t know.
*~*~*~*
Draco managed to avoid embarrassing himself the rest of the week by ensuring that he avoided anything in the gym he might fall off of and settled for spending most of his time in the corner alternating between seeing how far past his toes he could stretch or bouncing on one of the oversized balls. He was not entirely sure what the fuck the balls were for and he had no desire to ask anyone either.
More than once he caught Potter watching him, and though his face heated he managed to avoid becoming too much of disaster. He was pretty sure Potter knew he was watching him as well, but try as he might he couldn’t make himself stop.
To his surprise Potter seemed completely at ease in the gym. Whether he was doing yoga, running on the treadmill (at a speed which quite honestly made Draco want to take a nap just watching him), or making pull ups look like a sex act, he seemed confident and calm in a way he wasn’t outside of the gym.
If Draco had thought he was possibly, maybe, just a little bit attracted to Potter before, it was nothing compared to how he felt three weeks into their new training program when he walked into the gym fifteen minutes late to find Potter hanging from the pull up bars wearing low slung joggers and a thin white t-shirt that did nothing to hide the muscled skin and dark rounded nipples beneath it. Worse still, the shirt actually fit, which meant Draco was privy to the flex of muscles in Potter’s biceps and forearms as he lifted himself up easily. Fuck, Potter was strong.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Draco had blurted out before he could stop himself. Weasley snickered and several of the Aurors near him stopped their workouts to turn and watch.
Potter stopped mid pull-up, green eyes focused intently on Draco, and before he knew it Potter was swinging his body back and forth as if to build momentum. Draco only had a moment to wonder what it was for when Potter swung off the bars and went flying across the room to land just a few feet from Draco. What was Potter, some sort of fucking ninja?
“Show off,” Draco grumbled to no one in particular. “Stop staring you nosy fuckers,” He barked at everyone else, pleased when they all had the decency to turn away. Everyone except Potter, who walked forward, closing the distance between them.
“Show off am I?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm. It made his fringe stick up on one side, but instead of making him look like an idiot it somehow made him look cute. Fucked. Draco was fucked .
“Yes.”
Instead of looking chastised Potter looked pleased. “Does that mean I impressed you?”
Draco choked on air. The audacity of Potter! He was absolutely infuriating. When Draco didn’t want to fuck him, or be fucked by him, he wanted to hex him.
“Absolutely not.”
Potter smiled. “I’ve seen you watching, you know.”
Draco swallowed. Fuck. Were they actually doing this? Draco had thought for sure they had somehow silently but mutually agreed to not mention whatever it was that was going on between then. Sure, Draco watched Potter–but Potter watched him too! There was no need to be ridiculous and talk about it.
“I do not.”
“You can’t lie for shit. Anyway, I know it looks big but it’s really not that big.” Draco’s brain went fuzzy. Was Potter talking about his cock? This could not be happening. “It’s really not scary,” Potter added, misinterpreting Draco’s reaction.
“I’m not scared of it!” Draco blurted out, his face aflame. What kind of cocky fucker was Potter anyway? Sure, the line of his cock looked fairly substantial in his joggers, but it wasn’t that big. Certainly not big enough Draco was afraid of it. Draco wasn’t afraid of anything–well that wasn’t entirely true. He was afraid of failure and thestrals and possibly just a little bit afraid of spiders. But he definitely wasn't afraid of Potter.
“So do you want to try it out?” Potter shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled almost shyly.
Draco blanched, eyes darting around the room. There were at least ten other Auror trainees in the gym. It was only seven forty-two in the morning for fuck’s sake. Draco hadn’t even had his breakfast or his second cup of tea yet.
“I could show you how to do it.”
“I don’t need you to show me how to do it. I’m perfectly aware how it works. I’ve got one of my own!”
“You’ve got one of those at home?” Potter asked in surprise, jerking his thumb at the equipment he’d just been using. Oh. Oh .
Of course Potter wasn’t talking about his cock. Fuck, Draco shouldn’t have skipped breakfast today. Maybe his stomach had begun to eat his brain cells in desperation. That was the only possible explanation for how Draco could ever have thought Potter was asking him to try out his cock.
“Of course I do. I’m a strong believer in keeping up a healthy workout routine.”
Potter didn’t look at all like he believed Draco, his left eyebrow pulling up in the corner.
“So you can do pull ups then?”
“More than you can I’m sure.” Fuck, Draco wished his mouth would stop speaking. Why was he digging himself further and further into this hole? Just last week he’d watched Potter do thirty-nine pull-ups without breaking a sweat. Draco had never even touched that ridiculously over complicated looking piece of workout equipment but he was certain that however many pull-ups he might be able to do, it wouldn’t be more than Potter. Perhaps he needed to see the Healer after all. This obsession with one-upping Potter couldn’t possibly be normal or healthy.
“Alright, let's see it them.” Potter widened his stance a bit, and Draco’s eyes were drawn to the line of Potter’s half hard cock visible beneath his joggers. He wondered if Potter got turned on by working out or if his cock always looked like that.
“I’m not dressed properly, I couldn’t possibly—”
“Meet me back here at six then,” Potter interrupted as if Draco hadn’t been feeding him the most obvious lie known to man.
Draco licked his lips, watching the easy rise and fall of Potter’s chest. “No one else will be here at six,” he said stupidly.
“That was the general idea.” Potter’s face broke out into a wicked smile and Draco was exceedingly glad he’d mastered the erection cloaking charm last night because that look directed at him had his own cock straining at the soft material of his joggers.
Meeting Potter back here after work when no one else would be around was a horrible idea. A completely and utterly awful idea. Draco was sure to do something stupid like confess his feelings or drop to his knees. He absolutely needed to say no.
“I suppose I could make that work,” is what he actually said.
“Brilliant,” Potter answered, walking backward and joining Weasley in another round of pull-ups.
Draco dropped to the floor uselessly and this time he didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t watching Potter. Six o'clock couldn’t come fast enough.
*~*~*~*
Draco arrived at the gym at a quarter till six, determined to be the first one there. He walked into the room and dropped his bag of stuff in the corner, murmuring the spell to turn the lights on and blinking at the harsh fluorescent lighting as he walked over to the equipment in the back with a frown. It really was big. It also seemed rather complicated but Draco didn’t really care what any of the other weights or bars on the thing were for. The only thing he needed to concern himself with was the pull up bars.
He knew Potter was strong, but he also figured it couldn’t actually be that hard to just hang there and pull yourself up. Potter certainly made it look simple enough. So, gathering his resolve, he stretched his arms up and hopped to grab onto the bars.
“There, that wasn’t so difficult,” he said to himself, repressing the sudden urge to swing back and forth like a child might.
As it turned out, pull-ups were not as easy as they looked. Draco clenched his hands around the bar and pulled and while his body moved up—because he wasn’t that weak even if he wasn’t in great shape—he realised immediately that his movements were jerky and he only got to six before he dropped to the ground with a sigh. Fuck. That was harder than it looked.
To Draco’s horror, the gym echoed with the sound of clapping and when he looked up it was to see Potter with his gym bag slung over his shoulder, the same clothes as that morning on his body and a look of amusement plastered across his face.
“I was simply warming up. I didn’t want you to find me out-pull-upping you and get embarrassed.” Draco was pretty sure out-pull-upping was not actually a real phrase but he wasn’t about to admit that. Draco was nothing if not committed, even to his own bullshit.
Potter barked out a laugh. Draco turned away so Potter wouldn’t see him smile.
“So you don’t want my help then? I could show you a few things to maximize muscle movement and ensure you’re reaching your full potential.”
Draco heard the sound of Potters gym bag dropping to the floor. Potter’s footsteps were getting closer and Draco blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Maybe you should go first, just so you’re not daunted by my prowess.”
Draco turned around just in time to see Potter’s eyes crinkling up at the corners behind his glasses. “That’s awfully generous of you.”
Draco’s face was hot, his skin flushed and clammy. Potter was too close, the warmth of his body radiating towards Draco in waves. He smelled like the shepherd's pie the canteen had served today and his hair was a disaster from their dueling training just hours before. There was no reason for Draco’s heart to beat faster or his head to spin. It was only Potter. He wasn’t anything special. Except he was. Merlin, he was.
Draco spent half his life telling anyone who would listen that Potter was just like everyone else, when the truth was there wasn’t a single soul like Potter.
“I’ll try not to set the bar too high,” Potter said easily, walking towards the bars and jumping up to grab onto them easily. “Keep count,” Potter said, before winking at Draco and beginning his sets.
“One, two, three—” Draco muttered, marveling at the graceful way Potter's body rose and fell. Now that he’d tried it for himself he had even more appreciation for the way Potter looked when he did it. Potter wasn’t just strong, Potter was controlled .
“Four, five, six—” he continued, his voice strangely loud in the otherwise quiet gym. Draco was used to the clanking of the machines and the mindless chatter of too many other people. This was the first time he’d been in the gym without everyone else and it felt decidedly different. Draco continued to count as Potter moved, his stomach muscles quivering with the movement as he kept going. By the time Draco got up to forty Potter didn’t even look tired. Rather, he looked invigorated, his own eyes on Draco as he moved up and down, up and down. The longer he went the more pronounced the line of his cock became until Draco was positive that Potter either got off on working out or on being watched by Draco. He fervently hoped it was the latter because Draco’s cock was just as hard.
“Forty-five, forty-six—” he croaked, his own breathing becoming labored as he moved even closer. Potter's eyes flashed with an unreadable expression before he shifted his grip. Before Draco could think better of it he was standing directly in front of Potter, who had begun to roll his hips with every pull upward.
“Fifty—oh fuck ,” Draco whimpered, moving too close, close enough that Potter’s hips and his not at all small erection rubbed up against the side of Draco’s chest all the way to his shoulder.
Potter let out a sound of his own, something between a gasp and a moan and before Draco could think twice his hands were on Potter’s hips holding him firmly in place.
“I think—” Draco huffed, mouth just inches from Potter’s clothed cock, “We need to establish just got strong you are.”
“What did you have in mind?” Potter asked, holding himself up. Draco could see the muscles in his arms tense with the effort.
“I’ll suck you, so long as you stay like that.”
“Fuck,” Potter huffed, and if Draco weren’t so turned on he might have laughed, but as it were he thought he might actually lose his mind if he didn’t touch Potter, and soon. “Yes, yeah—okay. Yes.”
That did earn a laugh from Draco, who slipped his fingers under the waistband of Potter’s sweats and boxers and tugged them down to rest just below his arse. Potter’s erection bobbed free and Draco shifted his stance, spreading his legs a big wider to lower himself until he was at just the right height.
“Malfoy, are you really—” but Draco didn’t give him a chance to finish, instead engulfing Potter’s cock in one go.
Potter’s arms went slack and his cock slipped out of Draco’s mouth.
“Shit, sorry, fuck,” Potter laughed, pulling himself up again so that his arms made perfect right angles. The position looked much harder for Potter to hold but was much better for Draco to suck. Draco grinned, leaning forward to drag his tongue along the underside, his left hand reaching around behind Potter to trail down the crease of his arse. “Stay still or I win.”
“Win what?” Potter groaned, looking like he was fighting the urge to let his eyes fall shut when Draco swiped his tongue along the slit of Potter’s cock to swallow up the precome.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Draco murmured, before wrapping his hand around the base of Potter’s cock and sucking hard on the tip. Draco felt decidedly more in control now.
Potter’s head fell back and his mouth fell open with a whimper as Draco continued to bob his head and suck, his fingers twisting and fisting the length of Potter’s cock that wouldn’t fit in his mouth.
“Please, I can’t stay like this much longer, fuck, please,” Harry begged and Draco’s entire head spun with the weight of that . He moved his hands back to the warm skin of Potter’s hips, his thumbs digging into the firmness as he swallowed Potter’s cock down as far as it would go and hummed loudly.
It was only a minute later, a few more enthusiastic sucks before Potter’s body was shaking beneath his hands—from exhaustion or the intensity of his orgasm, Draco wasn’t sure. Draco sucked him dry, waiting until he was sure Potter was done before pulling off and lifting his t-shirt to wipe his own mouth.
“Fucking fuck,” Potter groaned as he dropped gracelessly to the mat below him. His chest was heaving, his joggers still pooled around his strong thighs and his now soft cock laying among a mass of dark curls against his stomach. Potter’s eyes were shut and he lifted one arm before dropping it again as if he were physically incapable of moving it. “I can’t move, you’ve killed me.”
“That’s a pity, I was rather hoping you might show me some yoga next.”
Potter cracked an eye open to look at Draco curiously. “Yoga?”
Draco grinned, dropping down onto the mat and straddling Potter’s legs. To Draco’s immense delight Potter’s cock began to harden again the second Draco stroked the thick trail of hair between his cock and belly button. “Yeah, I was hoping you might show me what you look like bent in half again.”
Realisation dawned on Potter’s face and his cock hardened further at that as he opened both eyes. “I might have enough energy for that.”
Before Draco could respond Potter had grabbed ahold of his hips and flipped them both over so that was Potter was on his knees, half-hard cock hanging out, straddling Draco with a look of determination on his face.
“Although I was thinking maybe we’d see what you looked like bent in half too.”
Draco couldn’t help but smirk. “I was thinking we might try both. Think you can keep up?”
“Both is good,” Potter said with a grin, leaning down to capture Draco’s lips in a kiss. His lips were soft, the kiss more gentle than Draco could have expected and Draco let out a sigh of contentment as his hands found their way into Potter's hair.
Perhaps, Draco thought as he dug his fingers into the warm flesh of Potter’s rounded arse, eliciting an erotic sound of pleasure, the gym wasn’t completely horrible after all.