Work Text:
“Ugh,” said Harry as he stepped inside and shut the front door after himself. “You will not believe the shit day I’ve… Draco?”
He listened for a moment, but the house was quiet, and Harry sighed. By this time Draco ought to be clattering about in the kitchen. It was his night to cook, and he’d kissed Harry goodbye on the doorstep just this morning and sent him off to work with the promise that there would be parmesan-crusted chicken and braised leeks waiting for him by the time he got home.
Harry had been greatly looking forward to it until about half an hour before his shift ended, when a wizard brought into the Ministry on Improper Use of Magic charges had somehow Conjured an entire swarm of live bats and then merrily fucked off in the midst of the ensuing chaos.
Harry had not been one of the lucky Aurors sent out to chase down the wizard, and good god, if he never saw another bat in his life it would be too soon. He’s pretty sure they’d left some of them lurking in the air vents, but he didn’t say anything about it, and if the possibility had occurred to anyone else, they hadn’t spoken up either. The bats would come out eventually, probably, and Harry fully intended for them to be someone else’s problem when they did.
By the time he’d had a spare moment to even think about sending off an owl to let Draco know he wouldn’t be home on time, it was too late to do him any good. Apparating would get him back here quicker than any owl could fly, and it was already more than an hour past when he should have been home. More than enough time for Draco’s irritation to boil over into a full strop.
Harry had braced himself for the worst.
But the kitchen, when Harry peeked his head in, was cold and dark. Which likely meant that Draco had lost himself in his work again. The perils of living with a potion brewer, Harry had discovered. Or maybe it was just a Draco thing. When he was hunched over a cauldron or had his nose stuck deep in a tome about potions theory, Draco often forgot to look up at a clock. Or out the window. Or away from his work at all.
Well. Harry had been worried about coming home to dried-out chicken and Draco in a snit, so he supposed he should be grateful today was one of the days Draco got caught up in brewing and lost track of time.
“Draco? I’m home,” he called out as he kicked off his shoes, then headed down the hallway to the spacious back room Draco used for his potions lab. The door was closed and he didn’t hear any movement from the other side, but that wasn’t anything unusual.
Harry reached for the doorknob, and found it sticky.
“Oh, ugh. Draco,” he sighed, examining his hand. It looked like strawberry jam, and sadly this wouldn’t be the first time Harry had found jam mysteriously smudged in bizarre places around the house. The door to Draco’s potions lab wouldn’t even crack the top ten strangest places Harry had found it.
For someone who had gone through a tremendous amount of training and fulfilled endless lists of strict certification requirements for his career, Draco certainly liked to play fast and loose with basic lab safety. That had been one of the first rules Snape had pounded into their tender adolescent skulls back at Hogwarts: never eat or drink anything in a potions lab. The risk of accidentally consuming ingredients or half-brewed potions could have disastrous results, to say nothing of what might happen if the food contaminated the potion and upset the delicate balance of ingredients and magic. Snape had driven the point home by telling them in grisly detail what had happened to a former student of his who’d smuggled food into the classroom, and one of his Chocolate Frogs hopped into his cauldron. Harry shuddered just thinking of it now.
And yet Draco blithely ignored even this essential aspect of lab safety in favor of keeping himself in a steady supply of tea and toast while he worked, and Harry knew for a fact that he’d be able to produce at least three different packets of biscuits stashed among Draco’s potion ingredients. And those were just the ones he knew about. He was sure Draco had more.
Well. Draco had been running his own potions lab for five years now and hadn’t managed to poison himself yet, so Harry supposed that had to count for something.
Harry grumbled to himself as he wiped his hand off on his thigh—his uniform had certainly seen worse stains than this, and thank goodness for Laundry Charms—and then cleaned the doorknob with a spell before he opened up the door.
…and discovered that the stuff on the doorknob was definitely not strawberry jam.
There’s a very particular smell that comes from an exploded cauldron, no matter what potion sets it off. It’s a little acrid, a little metallic, and vaguely charged, like the way the air feels before a really good lightning storm.
The smell of it hit him before he’d really even registered the rest of the room.
Harry sneezed twice in quick succession before the prickling made its way down to his lungs and he coughed hard, a big hacking cough that had him gasping in a hard lungful of air that only made his lungs prickle worse. A quick Air Purification Charm cleared the smell away quickly enough, and Harry looked round at the rest of it, clearing his throat a few times as the prickling rapidly faded. There was more of the sticky red jam-like potion spread out in an impressive blast around the cauldron on the worktable. Good god, it was even splattered over a stunningly large amount of the bloody ceiling. It was all over the table, the walls, and covered most of the floor aside from a curiously clean wedge that started at the worktable and stretched back across the room like a cast shadow. Where Draco must have been standing, Harry assumed.
There was a sodden pile of clothing beside the door, and three sticky red footprints where someone walked barefoot to the door. Draco must have done a Cleaning Charm on himself at that point, because the hallway floor was clear.
He must have gone for the bathroom, Harry guessed, letting himself breathe a deep sigh of relief. If the potion had been something dangerous, Draco would have Apparated himself straight to St Mungo’s from here without bothering to open the door. He certainly wouldn’t have bothered wasting the time it took to remove his clothes by hand; he’d have Vanished them immediately.
Harry left the potions lab and went upstairs, frowning a little. He didn’t hear the shower running at all. Maybe Draco had finished cleaning up already? Harry stuck his head into the bedroom to see if he was getting dressed in there, but found it dark.
Then he heard a soft whimper from down the hall.
Alarmed, Harry sprinted down the hallway to where the bathroom door was standing ajar and burst into the room, calling out, “Draco?”
“Harry,” Draco said helplessly, looking up at him with hazy eyes.
He was sitting on the floor, back propped against the tub, legs spread and one hand curled tightly around his cock. This had to be at least his third round, judging from the streaks of come spattered on his stomach and smeared down his thighs.
“What the…” Harry couldn’t stop staring. A distant corner of his mind knew he ought to be concerned, but. Harry swallowed hard. Finding his boyfriend naked and come-spattered and still wonderfully, beautifully hard was incredibly distracting.
“Potions accident,” Draco gasped out, giving his cock another squeeze. Harry watched the way his fingers curled as his hand shifted up, down, up. “I was, oh Merlin. Brewing. Pansy wanted, for her anniversary coming up. And I… fuck. Added too much powdered Ashwinder Eggs. I think, I think it was.”
Draco broke off and moaned, and he let his head drop back to rest on the rim of the bathtub, exposing the long line of his throat. He was flushed from the apples of his cheeks all the way down past his collarbones.
“I had the flame too high, and. I’d used powdered dragon’s claw… instead of crushed? Dissolved too quickly and reacted with the.” Draco broke off and moaned again, his eyes falling shut. His hand was still steadily working his cock, Harry could see the flashes of motion at the edge of his vision, but his eyes were pinned to the way Draco’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh. Oh. With the eggs.” His hips jerked up into his own hand, and he panted, his open mouth very wet and pink. Harry lost interest in Draco’s neck and stared at his lips instead. “Bit of a cock-up all the way around, unfortunately.” He huffed a soft laugh. “Next time I’ll know, oh Merlin. Better.”
“God I love the way your brain works,” Harry breathed. He absently reached down and cupped his palm over his hardening cock, and gave it a light squeeze.
Draco cracked open one eye and squinted at him. “What?”
“You’re clearly half out of your mind and you’re still going on about potions theory. Working out what went wrong and how you’ll do better next time,” Harry said. God, it felt warm in here. Was it warm in here? “You’re brilliant, you know. I love it.”
Draco had both eyes open now, and he was staring dazedly at Harry, brows furrowed as if he was trying to think hard and really struggling with it. “You went into my lab.”
“Well, yeah,” Harry said. He undid the top few buttons of his heavy Auror robes. It didn’t help, so Harry undid a few more. “Of course I did. I was looking for you.”
“Fuck,” Draco said. “Fucking shit. I’m sorry.”
“What for? No harm…” Harry trailed off and turned his hand palm-up. He still had faint traces of the sticky red potion lining the creases in his palm from where he’d touched the doorknob. “Oh.”
“You touched it, too? Merlin, you don’t do anything by half measures,” Draco muttered. He’d stopped stroking himself, and had his hand curled tight around the base of his cock. “Doesn’t matter. It works by… by… fuck. You have to breathe it in. Pansy wanted it to be burned in candles.” His hips twitched. “Of all the fucking things.”
“Oh,” Harry said again. “Candles?”
“I don’t know,” Draco said. He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he gave his cock another stroke. “You’d think it’d be a fire hazard, but. I didn’t really want to know. So I didn’t ask.
Harry felt like his skin was burning up from the inside out. He undid the rest of the buttons on his robes, shrugged out of them and tossed them aside, then started unbuttoning his trousers.
“Sorry,” Draco said again, watching raptly as Harry shoved his trousers down his hips and kicked them off.
“Is it dangerous?” Harry asked, stripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. “Does it wear off?”
Draco was staring at the way Harry’s erection made a tent in his pants, and how it bobbed as he balanced first on one foot, and then the other to peel off his socks.
“Draco?” Harry said, then snapped his fingers. And when Draco didn’t respond to that, Harry threw his socks at Draco’s face.
“What?” Draco asked, looking up at Harry. He plucked Harry’s sock from where one of them had landed on his shoulder and tossed it aside.
“Does this wear off?”
“Oh,” Draco’s gaze slid back down to Harry’s cock. “Eventually.”
“Eventually?” Harry repeated.
“Come over here,” Draco said instead of elaborating on that, shifting up onto his knees. He licked his lips. “I’ll suck you off.”
And suddenly, talking about how long this might last didn’t seem nearly so important. It could definitely wait until Harry’d had an orgasm or two. Either he was going to be perfectly fine, in which case it didn’t really matter, or he was about to die, in which case getting a blowjob was definitely the way he wanted to go.
“That’s very kind of you,” Harry said, trying to get free of his pants so quickly he nearly tripped himself.
Draco blinked up at him. “Well, seeing as how I accidentally dosed you with a, ah, I suppose I should say not-quite-legal lust potion, it really seems the least I could do.”
That cut through the hot haze wrapped around Harry’s brain. “Wait. How not-legal are we talking here?”
“Barely,” Draco breathed, reaching for Harry. “Hardly at all. Just a tiny bit illegal.” His fingers slid around Harry’s hip, curved gently over the swell of Harry’s arse, and drew him in closer. “I could tell you all about it. I could list every last rule and regulation I’ve broken,” Draco said, peeking demurely up at Harry through his lashes. His warm breath ghosted over the head of Harry’s cock as he spoke. “But I can think of at least a dozen better uses for my mouth at present.”
“Really?” Harry said, looking down at him. What had they been talking about before? Harry thought he’d just been annoyed at Draco for… something. “What are the other uses?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Draco said. He flicked his tongue over the tip, catching the bead of precome that had gathered on the slit.
The rush of pleasure at that one small lick felt like a punch to the stomach. “Oh,” Harry said.
He cupped one hand around the back of Draco’s head and guided him in, barely keeping the presence of mind to make sure he kept his fingers flat. Draco hated it when Harry pulled his hair, accidentally or otherwise. Draco’s eyes slipped shut as he opened his mouth and obediently took Harry’s cock—lips tight, tongue sliding along the underside—all the way down.
It was the best blowjob of Harry’s life.
It was, unfortunately, also the shortest.
Draco gave one strong suck, reached up with one hand to fondle his bollocks, and Harry came.
It crashed through him like a freight train, a wave of pleasure so intense that Harry lost himself in it, until only the thought, “don’t pull, don’t pull, don’t pull” was left rising above the rest.
When he came back to himself, he was propped up against the sink and Draco was trying to unclench Harry’s fist from his hair. He had a spot of come dotted on his lower lip. Harry had the urge to drop down to his knees and kiss it off.
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, untangling his fingers. He awkwardly tried to pat Draco’s hair back down into place. “Wow. That was—”
“Not done yet,” Draco said and sucked him right back down.
Harry’s knees nearly buckled, and only Draco’s hands pushing firmly on his hips, pinning him against the sink, kept Harry on his feet. It wasn’t that the feel of Draco’s mouth working up and down the length of his oversensitive cock ever got any less overwhelming, but Harry’s body eventually remembered how to hold itself upright despite it, mostly. Already, he could feel his body gearing up for another orgasm.
“Pansy is brilliant,” Harry said, then shook his head, because why should he waste his time thinking about her right now? Draco was here, and beautiful, and his mouth was on Harry’s cock. And, oh. Harry loved him so much it hurt. “You are brilliant. We need to do this again. This definitely needs to happen again.”
Draco scrunched up his nose, quirking one eyebrow at Harry as if to say, “Really?”
“On purpose, though,” Harry said. He brushed a lock of Draco’s hair off his forehead, then trailed his fingertip down the faint blue tracing of a vein that showed at Draco’s temple. “This would be even better if it was on purpose.” There’d be a bed if they did this on purpose. And Harry could have a blowjob without the cold porcelain edge of the sink digging into his arse, and he knew from experience that kneeling on the cold tile floor wasn’t exactly pleasant, either.
Draco rolled his eyes and, still diligently sucking, he gave Harry’s hip a reassuring little pat, then dropped his hand to his own cock and gave it a tug. Harry had a vivid flash of what Draco’s cock felt like in his hand, all soft damp skin, and so hard, god Harry loved Draco’s hard cock. Loved how most of the time, it was hard for him. Because of him.
Half-lost in his own pleasure, Harry watched with a strange sort of vague jealousy as Draco wanked himself firmly. He was making these soft little grunts at the end of each stroke, and the sound of it, and how Harry could feel each little noise through his cock. God, the sight of Draco down there on his knees with his mouth wrapped around Harry’s cock, the hot, wet feel of it, and the way his eyes kept flicking up to meet Harry’s before sliding shut again.
And the fact that this was Draco Malfoy, and in six years there was some part of Harry that still couldn’t quite believe that this was real. That Draco wanted to do this for him, that he had chosen to be with Harry, and then every day after that had chosen to stay with him. That it was possible to love someone this much.
He put his hand back on Draco’s head, slipping his fingers through the soft strands, sliding down to scratch gently, encouragingly, at the nape of his neck.
Draco gave a small hum of pleasure, and a moment later his mouth went slack around Harry’s cock. His hand stroked once, twice more, and then he groaned as he climaxed, his come splashing across Harry’s ankle. Draco blinked and mumbled something unintelligible, his tongue curling under the head of Harry’s cock, and he rubbed the top of Harry’s foot apologetically.
“Fine, it’s fine,” Harry said. “I don’t care. I’ve had your come in worse places.”
Draco sucked noisily at the head of Harry’s cock as he pulled off. “That was an accident,” he said. “It was one time and it was an accident.”
“You got it in my eye,” Harry said. “While I was wearing my glasses. I still don’t know how you got it past my glasses.”
“I said I was sorry!” Draco told him. “And anyhow, I told you—”
“Wait,” Harry said. It had just occurred to him that Draco’s mouth really ought to be on his cock right now. “Why are we talking about this?”
Draco blinked. “I don’t know. You brought it up.”
“Well obviously I shouldn't have,” Harry said. “I don't know what I was thinking. Please finish sucking my dick.”
“Since you ask so nicely,” Draco said dryly. But he got his mouth back on Harry’s cock before Harry could say anything else.
With Draco’s attention now undivided, Harry didn’t last much longer. It felt like no time at all had passed before he felt his body drawing tight, stretched out and coiled up all at once, and then he came hard. It was one of the really good ones, one that he felt all the way down to his toes, one of the ones where he went temporarily deaf and blind while his brain overloaded on sensation and drowned out his other senses.
This time, when his knees threatened to buckle, Draco let him down, slowly guiding him to the floor, then leaned in and kissed him.
“Mm,” Harry said against Draco’s lips. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Draco said with that ridiculously soft smile of his that was for Harry and Harry alone. “Welcome home, dear. How was your day?”
Laughing, Harry pulled him in for another kiss. “Absolute rubbish. There were about five thousand bats.”
Draco blinked. “Bats?”
“Bats,” Harry confirmed, and kissed him again just because he loved kissing Draco. “So many bats.”
Harry would have told him more about the bats, but Draco kissed him again, and then kept right on kissing him, and suddenly talking about Harry’s day wasn’t that important. This was so much better. This was always better.
Draco’s mouth was warm, his lips so soft against Harry’s and the very best part of all of it was how wonderfully familiar it was. He’d been kissing Draco for six whole years now, and sometimes Harry thought that even if he lived to be one hundred and fifty, even if he spent every minute between now and then kissing Draco, it still wouldn’t be enough. Draco sometimes poked fun at Harry for how much he liked kissing him, but Draco still never forgot to kiss Harry good morning each day, and then goodbye when he left for work, then hello when he came home, and then goodnight when they went to sleep. And he would let Harry snog him too, most evenings, unless he was busy in his lab, and just. Kissing Draco was really fantastic. Absolutely the best.
Harry was so fixated on Draco’s mouth that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Draco touched his cock. As it was, he jerked backwards and banged his head painfully against the sink.
Draco blinked at him. “What on earth was that?”
“You startled me,” Harry grumbled, rubbing at the back of his head. “Some warning might’ve been done.”
“Oh, sorry,” Draco said, very innocently. “I didn’t know. Perhaps you can show me how it’s done.” He twitched his hips forward, poking at Harry’s knee with his dick.
Now that Draco had brought Harry’s attention back to his cock, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even though his head had grown clearer, less hazy, he thought that the potion had to still be in his system because, despite coming twice already, he was still achingly hard and almost desperate to come a third time.
“Shut up and get your hand back on me,” he said.
“Where has the romance gone?” Draco sighed, but he got his hand back around Harry’s cock, and then Harry got his hand on Draco’s.
And, oh, Harry loved this. Loved the way Draco felt in his hand, how wonderfully hard he was. Harry gave him a long, slow stroke, and Draco made a low, helpless sound as Harry rubbed the pad of his thumb firmly under the head. That was a really wonderful noise. The best noise Harry had ever heard. He fully intended to get Draco to make that noise again.
“You should fuck me.”
Harry’s hand stilled, and Draco made a small sound of frustration and pushed his cock into Harry’s fist.
“You are brilliant,” Harry told him, and gave his cock a squeeze. “Where’s the… What are you…?”
Before Harry could even finish his question, Draco had turned away and bent himself over the edge of the bathtub. And now that Harry had a good view of his arse, he could see the shine of lube and, oh, there was the open tin of it, half-hidden by the cabinet. The thought of Draco alone in here, naked and half out of his mind on a lust potion, desperately working his fingers in and out of himself, nearly had Harry’s brain short-circuit entirely.
Draco arched his back, settling his knees further apart, thighs spread wide. “I’m ready, I’ve already—you don’t need to—oh.”
Harry pushed his finger deeper inside Draco, twisting it a little as he searched for…
“Oh fuck,” Draco said as Harry’s finger rubbed over his prostate. His head dropped down, exposing the vulnerable stretch of his neck, and Harry leaned down to press a kiss to the bump of the lowest vertebrae there, right at the top of his shoulders. “Fuck, that’s good.”
“Did you do this because you wanted to?” Harry asked, carefully stroking inside him. “Or because you were waiting for me?”
“Both?” Draco got out between gritted teeth, and Harry wished he could see Draco’s face. He could imagine it well enough: squeezed-shut eyes and furrowed brows and mouth hanging open. “Started to get ready for you, so you could fuck me as soon as you walked in the door. And then you took ages to come home and it felt really good and I. That was round two.”
Harry took a moment to picture that. “Did you touch your cock, too?”
“Mm. Yeah. Probably could’ve done with just my fingers, but. Well.” He laughed, a soft breathy huff of amusement. “You know what it’s like.”
Harry very much wanted to keep fingering Draco, wanted to take him apart and watch him fall to pieces. He thought that, with the potion and as worked-up as Draco was right now, he could probably make him come from nothing but a couple of fingers in his arse. But Harry want to get inside him too much to find out for sure.
Leaning over, he snagged the open tin and scooped out some with his fingers and slicked it over his cock. The wet sound of it made Draco whimper, and Harry could see the way his whole body went tense with anticipation.
“Okay?” he asked, lining himself up.
“Yes, yes, come on,” Draco said quickly.
Harry slid inside him slowly, carefully, with some part buried deep in the back of his brain balking at the idea of pushing into Draco after only putting a single finger in him, even though the rest of Harry knew perfectly well that Draco had taken care of himself earlier, and had felt for himself how relaxed Draco was, how wet he’d made himself.
He bottomed out, hips snugged up to Draco as close as he could get. There was always something almost overwhelming about that first slow push inside Draco, and Harry gave in to the urge to wrap his arms around Draco’s middle and hug him tight. After a moment, he felt Draco’s body shake with a silent laugh, and Draco patted Harry’s arm.
“All right, there?” he asked, his palm still warm against Harry’s forearm, rubbing him a little, slow and fond.
“Yeah, just. I love you, you know.”
“I had gathered that impression, believe it or not,” Draco said, then, “I love you too. Now please get on with it. I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t come soon.”
Harry kissed his back before straightening up again and rolling his hips in a shallow thrust.
“Harder,” Draco told him, and who was Harry to argue with that?
He drew back and then snapped his hips forward, so hard that Draco swayed with the motion. He’d been holding himself back, making sure Draco was open enough to take him easily, but now the last threads of his restraint unraveled, and he set up a fast, relentless rhythm. Draco was so hot and wet, and the friction of his body around Harry’s was nearly enough to make Harry lose his mind entirely.
He loved this, the way Draco’s body felt, but also knowing that he was inside another person, that he was inside Draco. It was so unbelievably intimate, being this close to someone, and sometimes it struck Harry all over again how amazing this was. He loved this, but he also loved it the other way, too. That extra edge of vulnerability that came from letting Draco inside him.
“God, I can’t wait to have you inside me,” Harry panted as he fucked hard into Draco. “I love the way you feel in me, you always feel so good. So big, so full.”
“Are you seriously talking about me fucking you while you’re fucking me?” Draco managed, gasping a little. “You are, oh Merlin, yes, just like that. You’re so weird.”
“Well,” Harry said. He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from gasping. “You look like you’re having a really good time.”
Draco laughed breathlessly. “Are you saying you want to switch? You want to get my cock in you?”
“Yeah. After this,” Harry told him. Draco’s hand slipped on the edge and he nearly pitched all the way into the bathtub. Harry curled his fingers tightly around Draco’s hips, helping to hold him steady. “After. You feel good like this too.”
“You’re such a slut,” Draco said fondly, rocking back against Harry, meeting each thrust halfway. “You’re so desperate to get me any way you can. Aren’t you? My mouth, my cock, my arse. And even when you’ve got one, you can’t stop thinking about getting the others. Come on, tell me.”
“Yeah, okay. Yeah,” Harry said, clutching at Draco’s hips. Trying to organize his thoughts enough to get words out felt nearly beyond him. “God, yes. I am. I just. Fuck. Draco.”
“I love it,” Draco said, groaning. “I love how much you want me.”
“Yeah, well,” Harry said. “You’re you.”
He tried to make it last, but too soon the end was looming up in front of him. The slap of skin on skin, the wet sound of his cock thrusting in and out of Draco, the way that Draco moaned and the harsh echo of Harry’s panting breaths. It was all too good. He groaned out Draco’s name as he went over the edge. Coming hurt a little bit this time, the slightest hint of pain curling through the overwhelming pleasure that crashed through him. The relief that crashed over him afterward felt almost as good as the climax itself. And, fuck. He was still hard.
“Did you come?” he asked Draco as soon as he felt like he could breathe again.
“No, but I’m so close—“ Draco began, elbow jerking as he wanked himself.
“Don’t you dare,” Harry said, grabbing his arm and pulling it away. “You’re going to fuck me now.”
“That wasn’t just talk?” Draco turned and looked at Harry over his shoulders. His face was flushed pink, and his hair was sticking a little bit to his sweaty forehead. He blinked when he saw the expression on Harry’s face. “Oh. All right, yes. We can do that.”
A little shiver of anticipation tickled its way up Harry’s spine, and he groped in his discarded clothing for his wand.
Normally, he very much preferred to use non-magical methods to open himself up. There was a spell for it, that would relax his muscles enough that he could take a cock, but he really, really hated the way it tingled. Also, he really, really liked being fingered.
But right now the need to have Draco inside him was too urgent, too sharp. He needed it now.
He cast, and then screwed up his face at the way it tingled through him.
“I know,” Draco said softly, soothing. He brushed back Harry’s hair, rubbing his thumb lightly over Harry’s forehead, and Harry leaned into the touch. “It’ll fade in a moment, and then I’ll make you feel so good.”
There was a wide dark pink mark stretching low across Draco’s ribs from where he’d been bent over the edge of the bathtub. Harry hadn’t realized that he’d been pushing Draco against it that hard. Draco had delicate skin that bruised if he so much as looked at it wrong, and normally Harry was so careful. He leaned down and kissed the mark. After a moment, Draco’s hands came down to card gently through his hair.
“Come on,” he said. “Focus.”
“You focus,” Harry told him nonsensically, and gave his chest another kiss, right at the base of his sternum. Draco’s skin was smooth and soft and warm and Harry loved the way it felt against his lips.
“You wanted my cock?” Draco prodded.
And yes, that. He very much wanted that. Harry sat up, kissed Draco’s mouth, then turned and settled onto Draco’s lap, with his back pressed against Draco’s chest. Draco’s arms came around him, one hand stroking over his belly, the other grasping his thigh. Harry reached back between them and steadied Draco’s cock as he sank down onto it, biting his lip, waiting, and—
There. Draco always made this one sound, this little punched-out exhalation, when he first got inside Harry. Harry loved that sound. He picked up Draco’s hand from his thigh and pressed a kiss to the center of his palm, and Draco trailed his fingers up Harry’s jawline and into his hair, curling through the thick locks and tugging firmly. Harry went a little boneless, letting Draco bend his head back and kiss at his neck. He scraped his teeth over Harry’s pulse, then let him go.
Harry knew what that meant. He shifted a little, getting his knees under him and settling his weight, then rocked his hips in the shallow, rolling thrusts that kept Draco’s cock deep inside him. Draco’s fingers tightened on Harry’s thigh, fingernails digging into the tender flesh. Harry took Draco’s hand in his own, holding it tight.
And, yes. This was exactly what he’d wanted. Draco felt enormous inside him, stretching him open, pushing deep inside. He was the first person Harry had ever done this with and he loved that, knowing that Draco was the only one. God, he felt good. He felt so—
“Oh,” he said, going still. He blinked a few times, and then looked down at where his erection had very suddenly begun to flag. “I think it’s wearing off.”
“Should we stop?” Draco asked. He was holding himself perfectly still, but Harry could feel him practically vibrating with tension. Fuck, he must be so close.
Harry gave his hips an experimental rock and, oh yes, that was rapidly heading towards overstimulation. “Sorry,” he said, stilling again. “It’s starting to get a bit uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” Draco said, pushing at Harry’s hips, and Harry lifted up, sliding off him. “I can finish up, it’s fine. It doesn’t feel as bad as it did earlier, shouldn’t be too much longer.” He grimaced. “I hope.”
“No, here. We can still do this,” Harry said, reaching for the tin of lube. He scooped out a generous amount and spread it between his thighs, then took Draco’s earlier position against the bathtub. “Go on.”
Still, Draco hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Come on. I’ll just, you know. Lie here and think of England.”
Draco gave him a pinch, and Harry laughed.
“Really, it’s not exactly a hardship. You’ll enjoy it. I like making you feel good.” He half-turned to smirk at Draco over his shoulder. “And I really like it when you come.”
“You’re far too good to me,” Draco sighed as he got up behind Harry and pushed his cock between Harry’s legs. His hair tickled Harry’s back as Draco bent down to brush a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You truly are.”
“Mm,” Harry said. He crossed his ankles and squeezed his thighs together to give Draco a nice, tight place to thrust. “You can tell me more about how good I am. I wouldn’t mind that.”
“You’re perfect,” Draco said, rolling his hips.
Harry snorted, and Draco gave his bottom a light smack.
“Shut up, you are.”
“I’m going to remember that the next time you bitch at me for leaving my shoes in the hallway.” Which would come in useful, since he’d done that when he’d come home tonight. “Or when I snore.”
“Almost perfect,” Draco amended. “I can’t imagine better, though. There’s no one better for me.” His hands stroked up Harry’s waist, and then down over his hips, and Harry pushed himself up a little to get a look at how the flushed head of Draco’s cock peeped from between his legs at the apex of every stroke. “And you’re pretty, too.”
Harry snorted again as he watched Draco’s cock appear and disappear, appear and disappear. “Need to borrow my glasses?”
“Nothing wrong with my eyes. I can think you’re pretty if I want to,” Draco huffed, then, quite suddenly, “Oh, ow. All right, I’m done too.” He sagged forward with no warning, and Harry flinched at the chilly edge of the bathtub suddenly pushed against his ribs. Draco rubbed his face against Harry’s back. His forehead was sweaty. “I’m never moving again,” he said.
Harry let him stay there for a few moments, then wriggled impatiently. “C’mon, this isn’t exactly comfortable for me.”
“Fine,” Draco sighed, slumping over to curl up on the bathmat. “Ugh. I’ll have to do something about this drop at the end. That was unpleasant.”
“Are you taking suggestions?” Harry asked, settling down beside him. Now that he wasn’t under the potion’s influence anymore, the tile floor was chilly and uncomfortable. He reached for his wand, then cast Warming and Cushioning Charms. “Because I liked how intense everything felt, but I didn’t like feeling like I needed to come. You should do something about that.”
“That’d be the ashwinder eggs. I’ll fix it next time,” Draco sighed, dropping his arm over his eyes. “While I’m soliciting feedback from you, did you notice that it was only the physical sensations that were heightened? Or did you feel more intensely as well?”
Harry rolled his head to the side and looked at Draco. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
Draco lifted his arm to peek at Harry. He was smiling a little. “I think it might have, but it’s hard to tell. You make me feel so intensely all the time.”
Reaching out, Harry tugged Draco onto his charmed patch of floor. “Me too,” he said.
Draco didn’t answer, but he did kiss Harry’s shoulder. “We should shower,” he said.
“Yeah, probably.” Harry reached out and picked at a patch of dried come on Draco’s stomach. “You’re all gross.”
“Mmph,” Draco said, and his arm tightened around Harry’s waist. “We’ll go in a minute.”
“In a minute,” Harry agreed.
He closed his eyes and put his hand on Draco’s, listening to the sound of their breath slowing back to normal. Downstairs, the furnace kicked on, humming faintly through the quiet house.
“So,” Harry said after a minute. “Are you ready to tell me exactly how not-quite-legal that potion was?”
“Shower time,” said Draco decisively, and hauled himself into the bathtub.
“Draco,” Harry called from the floor. “Come on, I’m not going to let this go so you might as well tell me.”
The rings of the shower curtain rattled as Draco yanked the curtain closed.
Harry sat up, and Draco peeked around the shower curtain at him, wearing his best innocent face. “Why do you want to know, Auror Potter? Do you intend to arrest me for it?”
“No, because I know you have strong feelings about Incarcerous Spells,” Harry said. “And I refuse to reward your bad behavior. It would only encourage you.”
“Well that’s true,” Draco said. His face disappeared, and a moment later the water turned on. “Although I’ll remind you that you said you wanted to do it again. Isn’t that conspiracy to commit… hm, conspiracy to… Come on, help me out. What’s the official charge?”
“Fucked if I know,” Harry said. “I don’t work in Illegals.”
“Shame. Roleplay’s more fun if you get all the details right.”
“You’re so weird,” Harry muttered.
“I heard that. Also, shut up,” Draco said. Then, impatiently, “Are you getting in here or not?”
“Yeah, okay,” said Harry, because even if his dick was currently uninterested, he’d still never been able to resist Draco Malfoy wet and naked. He got up off the floor and joined him in the shower.