Chapter Text
Things were already bad when Harry arrives home to find Ginny with her hair and makeup done and dressed in a black trench coat.
“Let’s go out.” She says. Harry looks down at himself.
“Can I change?”
Ginny huffs, flicking her fingers toward the hallway to their room. Harry goes.
He’s not sure where they’re going. He’s not sure Ginny has anything on under her coat. He’s not sure where it would be appropriate to go when one is wearing nothing under a trench coat.
He wears tight jeans and a tighter black shirt, his leather bomber on top. He puts more product into his hair, like it’ll make a difference, and finds Ginny applying lipstick in the hallway mirror.
“Ready?” She asks without looking away from the reflection of her red lips.
“Yeah.”
They leave, Ginny leading the way with their fingers looped together and her stiletto heels clicking on the pavement. There’s a speakeasy entrance nearby, where Ginny provides a password to let them through the magical entrance. They’re whisked to another part of town entirely. There must be dozens of entrances all leading to the same place, scattered throughout the city.
Inside is smoky, the murmur of voices drowned out by the pulse of music. Couples, groups of singles, friends and strangers are clustered around high tables or just off the dance floor. That floor is packed with sweating, glittering people pressing against each other, hands wandering and lips meeting.
Ginny seems familiar with the club, which Harry decides to not think about. Things have been bad for a while, and he wonders if his trust in her is misplaced the way her trust in him is. She takes off her coat. She is wearing clothes underneath - barely. Patterned tights, a skintight leather miniskirt, and a lacy top that might actually be just a bra. Her nipples are visible under it. Harry’s never seen this bra before. She nods at him to shed his jacket, and they pass both to the coat check attendant.
Harry drifts toward the bar, where Ginny meets him to order strong cocktails for both of them. Something with pineapple for Harry, which is an odd choice in his mind.
He drinks it anyway, and she watches. His arm wraps around her as they turn to watch other people move together. His hand is on the skin over her ribs, fingers tracing the lines of bone. He leans down to speak against her ear.
“Finish your drink and we’ll dance.”
Her eyes flick to his drink, then up at his face. He finishes his drink as well. She pulls his hand, walking back toward the dancing. When her back meets someone else’s, Harry’s arms twist around her waist, holding her tightly to himself. She turns in his grip, pressed against him, and his hands drop to her hips. His lips find her pulse point as she moves, arms reaching up to lock behind his neck. When her back arches, Harry’s hand splays over her stomach, feeling her bare skin where it meets the tanned hide of her skirt.
As he kisses the place under her ear, a flash catches his eye. His gaze lifts to see him across the room, turning his coat over to coat check. His eyes roam across the club as Harry’s had earlier, getting a feel for the environment. He finds Harry, pausing. Harry bites down as Draco watches. Blushes. Turns away. He moves along the wall to the bar.
Ginny flips around again, drawing Harry down for their lips to meet. This part has always been good with her. The physical, the sexual. They don’t work, but they go together when it’s just this. Her tongue traces his lips. It enters Harry’s mouth, finding his. He pulls her tighter against him so their hips move in rhythm. They have good rhythm, but that’s about it.
Her lipstick is smeared when she pulls back, and her expression turns sly as she admires her work. Harry bends to bite her throat again before he wipes her lipstick from his mouth. There’s a red and pink mark on her freckled skin, shiny still from his spit.
It’s good, the way they fit together here, where they don’t have to speak, they only exist as bodies finding pleasure in each other. Where it’s not emotion, it’s carnal desire.
She raises onto her toes to reach his ear, sucking marks into his skin, licking the shell the way she knows makes him weak in the knees. His eyes stay closed for long minutes on end, loving this, with her. Like it will fix things. It won’t, it never does.
Her hands slide under his shirt, held tight to his skin. One goes up his spine, the other below his belt and onto his arse, what she can reach past his tight jeans, at least. He lets her feel him up for another moment before pulling back to lift her, so she’s pressed hard against him, her legs wrapped around his waist, arms tight over his shoulders, her body tense to hold herself up just as much as Harry is. She ducks down to kiss him again. He tastes her lipstick, that dull, crayon-y taste that clings to her lips even after the colour is gone.
Here, Harry can shift his hands just beneath the hem of her skirt, groping her arse over the rough pattern of her tights. She’s not wearing underwear, he realises, and he finds her pussy pressed against the front of his jeans, wet and hot. He growls against her mouth as her lips stretch into a smirk.
He barely needs to support her, she’s keeping herself in place around him, leaving him free to slip his hand between them to press his fingers against her. Her face finds his neck, lips parted and exhaling in shuddering breaths in his ear. He can’t go inside her, not past the tights, but he doesn’t need to. She likes this, he knows, and it’s only confirmed by the low moan she presses into his hair.
Like this, he has his eyes open. He can look at anything without seeing it, all his focus on her body and how it responds to him.
But his attention is pulled away as he sees Draco dancing with another woman. She’s tall, not as tall as him, but tall enough. Her hair falls in thick waves around her shoulders, where he draws it back to whisper in her ear.
Harry watches him speak, and her lips pull up into a smile. Harry wonders what he’d said. He might make her laugh, he does that. He always makes women laugh. He grabs attention by his looks, but he’s charming, and that’s why they stay with him.
She seems to be enjoying his hands as they move over her body. He’s not as good with this part, with following the curves on a woman like he wants her body and not something else. He can trick himself into thinking she’s what he wants, but they don’t have the tension between them, the sensitivity to each others’ bodies like Draco has elsewhere. Harry’s seen it so many times, the way Draco’s body tightens in anticipation when he’s aroused, but doesn’t know it. The way he craves without realising what he really wants. He’s never aware of it himself. He knows what it feels like to be with a woman, and what he feels with Harry is so different that he’s never once realised why that is.
Ginny lifts in his arms, and he remembers he’s still holding her, his stilled fingers against her wet hole. Her eyes follow his before he can turn away from Draco kissing the woman, his hands tangled in her hair. Ginny looks down at Harry, brows drawn. He leans up to kiss her, but she lifts away. Staring, still staring. She looks back at Draco, so he does too. Draco, hands still in her hair as she gropes his lithe body, yanking his shirt from the tight tuck into the trousers he’s worn all day in the office.
Harry’s gaze rips away from him just in time to see realisation dawn on Ginny’s features. Her legs release, and she drops to the floor. She’s still watching him. He opens his mouth to speak, to deny, apologise, pretend he hasn’t been watching for months, ever since Draco came back into Harry’s life. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t start to leave like he thought she might. She walks around him, slowly. He turns with her, eyes fixed on her again.
When his back is to Draco, she closes in. Pulls him closer by the back of his neck to bite down hard, punishingly hard on his neck. He gasps, jerking her body against his, tightening his hold. She makes a pleased sound. Her hands run down his arms, taking his hands away from her. He watches her as she lifts the hand that had been at her pussy and sucks his fingers into her mouth, eyes dark. When she finishes, she makes him turn. Back to Draco. Her arms move around his waist, feeling up his chest over his shirt.
And Draco is there, still there, with the woman he wants to enjoy. Harry closes his eyes, but it doesn’t stop him from seeing Draco holding her body to his.
Ginny’s hand slides down Harry’s stomach, over his belt buckle, and doesn’t stop. She grips him harshly, and he thrusts involuntarily into it. Her lips are at his shoulder. She rubs him, her grip tight.
“Watch him.” She says into his ear. Harry shudders, a full body thing, helplessly opening his eyes.
Draco has her in his arms, hands low down her back. They’re still kissing, there’s still space between her hips. She might think it’s to hide his erection, Harry knows it’s to hide the opposite. They always think Draco is reserved. He’s not. He’s uninterested.
She’s pretty, a girl-next-door type of look. She has a tan, freckles. Her skin sparkles, like she’d sprinkled herself with glitter in preparation for the night. Draco will sparkle too, after he’s done with her. Ginny tightens her grip on Harry’s cock, and his eyes fall closed for just the barest second before he can force them open again.
They’re near a wall, the two of them, and her eyes turn playful as she shoves him against it with a hard thud. He lights up. He always does, when he’s pushed around. She has him now, attacking his throat, her hand moving down his body to cup him. He’s halfway hidden behind her wild curls, mussed by his hands. He drops his head back against the wall as she sucks or kisses or bites him.
And his eyes find Harry. They always do. They flicker closed as his face twists with pleasure, like he can’t bear to be watched by Harry in this intimate, public moment. Harry won’t look away, he won’t allow his eyes to close again, to stop watching.
Draco looks up again, his heavy-lidded eyes meeting Harry’s. They close. Open, finding Harry. Harry’s face is beyond his control, predatory, wanting, lusting after him. He wonders if Draco can read his expression. He doesn’t seem to know, he never seems to know. He banters with Harry all day long, acting like he can’t see how Harry wants him. Maybe he ignores it, but probably he doesn’t know. He doesn’t seem to know it’s an option, a man with a man.
Harry would show him how good it can be. He’ll know exactly what he wants by the time Harry finishes with him.
Draco’s head lowers, whispering into the woman’s ear. His neck is bitten red and slick with spit when she pulls away to nod. She takes his hand, taking her out of the club with him. They stop to kiss again, waiting for their coats. Draco looks at Harry again, and now there’s nothing between them, no tables or lights or bodies blocking his view. He sees Ginny’s hand on Harry’s cock. Ginny’s fingers go for Harry’s belt, swiftly unbuckling it with one hand, pulling his jeans open. She’s fast, expert at it. Draco flushes red as her hand disappears into Harry’s jeans, and he spins around, like it’s not meant for him to see. Ginny laughs against Harry’s shoulder.
Harry’s hips move against her hand, and he keeps watching Draco as they leave. Draco casts one last, lingering look over his shoulder, a moment Ginny takes to push Harry’s pants down so his cock is just barely visible to Draco. Harry’s muscles tighten, breath stuttering as Draco sees the moment, the moment before-
The split second Harry’s eyes close, Draco escapes. He’s gone as a flood of disappointment washes over Harry. Ginny fixes his trousers, jerking him around to her. Her eyes are dark, her expression an even mix of anger and excitement. He yanks her close again, kissing her bruisingly hard.
They don’t stay after Draco’s gone. They collect their things and leave, the cold night air dampening the magnetism between them. They walk the few minutes back to the flat, waiting until the door is closed, their coats are hung, and Ginny’s in her stocking feet before slamming together again. Harry groans, keeping her body close to his as he stumbles backward toward their bedroom.
She’s underneath him, ripping his clothes away. He has less to do, tearing off her tights and hiking her skirt up around her hips rather than take it off. She’s wet, so wet. He gets his mouth on her, briefly interrupted by her getting his shirt off over his head. When he dives back in, licking, sucking, she throws her head back. Her hands are buried in his hair, pulling on it. She’s grinding against his lips and chin, moaning. Her voice is music to his ears, he loves the sounds she makes. He sucks on her clit, tonguing it roughly.
“You want to be between his legs.” Ginny accuses. Harry groans, jerking her closer by her hips, shoving his tongue inside her until she moans again. “You want to suck on his hole, make him wet.”
“Gin.” Harry growls against her, not daring to look up. He’s so hard it hurts.
“I felt it, how hard you got with his eyes on you. You want him underneath you, all pretty and untouched, clueless as you show him just how good it can feel.”
“He doesn’t know. How could he not know.” Harry says.
“You’ll show him.”
He moves above her, and she licks herself off his lips and chin, sucking his tongue into her mouth. He thrusts his cock between her thighs, coated in her precum. It’s slick, so wet and perfect.
“He’ll deny it, he’ll hesitate, won’t he.” She says, then kisses him. He imagines it’s Draco’s lips against his, just briefly, before he looks at her, finding her watching him already. “Do you fight him, still?”
Harry nods. In both senses, they bicker at work often. It gives Harry a thrill, getting Draco worked up like they’re teenagers again, passionate about things that won’t matter in twenty years. They also duel. ‘Keep us sharp,’ they use as an excuse. Maybe it’s true for Draco.
And there’s magic skittering over Harry’s skin, making his hair stand up and his flesh tingle with arousal. Draco feels it, Harry knows. He doesn’t know what it is, but he wants it. He finds himself in duel after duel which he can’t win, Harry is too good, but he tries over and over, he never stays down. Harry loves that about him. Draco doesn’t give up, and Harry doesn’t want him to.
“Magic, or with fists?” Ginny asks, angling Harry’s cock against her hole. He thrusts in harshly before answering her. She’s hot and tight and wet around him.
“Magic. Once with fists.”
“That was a while ago, wasn’t it. Did he get too aroused to continue, or did you?”
Harry moans into her hair, remembering how difficult it had been to keep from thrusting against Draco’s arse in front of a dozen coworkers. He’d been so desperate to get his hands on Draco, mess him up, hurt him, bring him back to life like he’d been all those years ago. Break his cool, now when it’s actually a challenge. Draco’s grown up, but not enough. Not enough to resist Harry.
“He doesn’t know?” Ginny asks, disbelieving. Harry shakes his head. She scoffs. “He’s an idiot.”
Harry laughs, strained, moving against her.
“Tell me what you want to do with him.” She demands. “You want your mouth on him, you want to bite him all over until he’s shaking and begging.”
Harry groans, long and loud, his hips getting out of rhythm as he chases pleasure.
“I want him to beg me.” He whispers.
“Beg for your cock, or beg for mercy?”
Harry’s hips stutter, eyes rolling back.
“Anything. Anything. I want him.”
Ginny pulls hard on Harry’s hair, making him moan again, wrecked.
“You can’t have him, Harry. He’s straight.” Ginny taunts, and Harry fucks into her harder, getting a whine from her at last.
“He wants me.” He growls. “He wants me.”
“No he doesn’t.” Ginny says, pushing Harry up onto his arms, braced above her. She slaps his face, hard, and he groans, cock throbbing as his cheek stings. She’s grinning, full of anger and desire and resentment and wanting to hit him again. He invites it, rolling them over so he’s on his back, her astride. She slaps him, and his eyes close as his hips chase her. She holds herself just out of reach, just the tip of his cock inside her still. She hits him again.
“Please.” Harry whispers, his chin lifting. Another slap.
“You can’t take your eyes off him.” Ginny spits. Slaps him. Harry moans, nodding fast and jerky. She drops down his cock once, then lifts away again as he thrusts up into the air. His cock falls heavy against his stomach. Ginny’s hand closes around Harry’s throat. “You want him underneath you, to hear him whine and whimper and moan your name as he comes on your cock.”
Harry’s groan is long and full of need. His hands tighten around her thighs.
“He’d look good on his hands and knees for you.”
“Fuck!”
“Arse up, holding himself open for you.”
Harry is shaking, on the razor edge of coming. Ginny’s pussy slides over his cock laying aching on his stomach. She’s dripping wet. Harry pictures Draco bent over his desk, face flushed red as his hands pull apart his arse cheeks, stretched and ready for Harry, glistening with lube, still so, so tight. Harry’s would be the first cock to be inside him, the first to show him real pleasure, stretching him beyond what he thinks he can take. He’d look so good.
“Imagine how pathetic he’d sound with your mouth on his hole.” Ginny says, Harry can’t bear it, he wants it so badly he’s nearly weeping with it. His throat is stinging with every cold breath he sucks in. “Imagine how needy, after all these years finally learning what it feels like to be in bed with someone he’s attracted to.”
Harry shakes his head hard.
“He’s never wanted them. Not like he wants me. He wants me.”
“You can’t have him. Not unless you take him.”
“God, god!” Harry shouts, wanting to hear Draco beg, beg for Harry to have mercy on him, to stop, to ask permission first before he has Draco slammed against a wall, cock so far down Harry’s throat that he can’t breathe.
God it would feel so good, gagging on Draco’s pretty, aristocratic cock. Cum running down his throat as Draco sobs, pulling Harry away by his hair, pulling him closer when it doesn’t work. Harry could take all of him, he wants to take all of him, wreck Draco with sudden slick heat around him, Harry’s throat tightening around him as his need to have Draco as deep as he’ll reach wars with his body’s need to breathe. He’d get lightheaded, the way it feels when Ginny chokes him, cuts off his air for as long as she wants.
“I could show him.” Harry hisses as Ginny’s hand tightens. He closes his eyes, sucking in ragged breaths while he still can, and then he can’t. His body fights, jerking under her as he goes dizzy, the light filtering through his eyelids dragging far away, leaving him in a tunnel of darkness. She has him inside her again, fucking him as his nails bite into her thighs.
“Think of how pathetic you’ll sound, when you finally have him on your cock. You’ll be begging him. Let me come inside you, please Draco please, I need to fill you up, I need to see it dripping out of you, running down your thighs. Let me fuck you bare, nothing between your skin and mine…”
He needs it, he needs it so badly, he needs it more than air. He will beg, he’ll do anything to have it, have Draco.
Harry is so close, a long wheeze filling his empty lungs as she lets up just slightly, just enough so he won’t die. He’s so close. His chest inflates the second her hand lifts from his throat, and he lets out a sharp cry when she slaps his face again.
“Bastard.” She barks. “Pathetic, pining bastard.”
“I’m sorry.” He breathes, face twisting as he thrusts up deep inside her and spills. She ignores it, rubbing herself as she keeps riding him, ignoring him requesting for her to stop, let up, ignoring him shuddering in pain and overstimulation. Finally, she comes, her pussy throbbing around his aching, softening cock. He whines, panting hard as she climbs off him.
She takes off her makeup in front of the dresser, lets her hair down, takes off her earrings. She’s letting him watch his cum roll down her thighs in thick drops. She knows he loves it. He loves her. He’s always loved her.
She gets back in bed with him, the scent of her perfume defiled by their shared sweat. Her thigh moves over his, and he holds her close, nose against her throat. Her hand runs down his torso to grip his cock hard.