Harry Potter and The Charming Prince (BP7)

Harry took Draco's hands in his own and studied his husband's face for a moment, studying the worry and fear that seemed to have become etched into his skin and reflected in his eyes. Harry couldn't have that, couldn't be the one that crushed the happiness that Draco had been feeling all week. Still holding Draco's hands, Harry rose on his knees and leant forward. He brought his hands around to the small of Draco's back, effectively capturing his husband in that small space against the door. Harry ran his hot tongue along the side of Draco's neck before retracing the path with cool breath until he reached the front of Draco's throat which he caught lightly in his teeth.

Draco reacted as he always did, arching into Harry's touch, lifting his chin in offering and moaning. His body trembled in both desire and relief. He knew this, understood it when Harry slid into the role of lion claiming him.

Harry could feel the pulse in Draco's neck beneath his teeth and smiled inwardly when he felt it begin to race. The flames of fury that had raged across Harry's emotions earlier created a backdraft of lust that now swept through his veins and he bit harder, taking what belonged to him no matter how many Malfoys returned to the Manor. Harry released Draco's throat and licked at the red mark before sliding to the right to whisper in his ear, "I'm going to mark every fucking inch of you, Draco. You might be a Malfoy but you're about to be filled with the Potter heritage."

Draco shuddered, his cock immediately leaping to the promise of that. "Yesss," he hissed, turning his head to nuzzle the side of Harry's face, his husband's inky black hair tickling his nose.

Harry used his left hand to hold on to both of Draco's wrists and brought his right hand up to twine his fingers into Draco's silky blond strands at the back of his head, gripping tightly. "Time for the main course, Draco," Harry breathed into his husband's ear while dominating every part of Draco's space with his own body. "Get your arse on that table, flat on your back and don't you dare hesitate for one second!" With that, Harry released Draco and stood up before stepping back.

Draco was always shocked, though delighted, when this kind of mood struck Harry. The blond scrambled to his feet. He practically stumbled to the table, laying back, only an arms reach from where his own unfinished bowl of soup still sat.

Harry hid a smile as he watched Draco rush to the table and climb atop it with more determination than his usual grace. The candleholders in the centre of the table wobbled for a moment and then steadied as Draco lay down as instructed and Harry could see his chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation. Harry was still somewhat angry and upset but not with his husband. Even as Harry had yelled and cursed, he had known that none of his fury was the result of anything Draco had done or said but was more a result of the tension he had been feeling since Narcissa had first arrived and vague, disquieting thoughts that had been dancing in the back of his head. Draco had taught Harry that some of his best magic occurred when he was angry and he intended to take full advantage of that fact tonight – right there in the middle of the Malfoy dining room table. Like a lion on the prowl, Harry stealthily made his way to the table and let his eyes wander over his prey. The only problem with that? Too many barriers to the vulnerable skin that belonged to him. Harry held up all five fingers on his right hand and smiled dangerously at Draco. "I'm still hungry, Draco," Harry said casually, in a tone that contradicted the territorial glitter in his eyes. "Let's see what's on the menu tonight, shall we?"

The aura of danger that Harry exuded when he got like this wasn't just a metaphor. It crackled in his magic, and as a Sensitive, Draco's own magic responded, skin shivering and body tensing. He knew, to his core, that Harry would never do anything to really endanger him. Yet, Draco loved that Harry would push that edge sometimes, doing things that others would probably be horrified to know "their hero" was capable of. Draco's prick reacted with an eager twitch and Draco clenched his teeth on the moan that tried to escape.

Harry circled closer, his hand still in the air, until he reached the chair he had been sitting in earlier. Using the chair to climb up, Harry soon stood on top of the dining room table near Draco's feet, looking down at his husband. The smile faded away and Harry's brows furrowed as he tilted his head. He folded down one of the fingers on his extended right hand and as he did, Draco's shoes vanished from his feet. Harry murmured, "Counting down ... we're at four now."

Draco's toes curled as Harry's magic washed over him. He splayed his hands on the table, feeling the linen beneath his fingers. He knew he would soon be feeling more of it against his backside. Of all the places they had had sex, the dining table hadn't been one of them. "Four," he whispered in reply, in case Harry wanted him to count it aloud.

Harry's mouth curved upward into a smile that could only be called feral and he nodded once at his husband. "Very good, Draco, keep going ..." With that, Harry folded down the next finger and the silk black socks disappeared, leaving Draco's feet completely bare.

Draco managed not to laugh but his mouth turned up in a smirk, the magic ticking. "Three," he said, his voice bordering on an insolent drawl this time.

Making a small tsk-ing sound with his mouth, Harry shook his head. "You'll have to do better than that, Malfoy, or one of us might be going to bed without dinner tonight. Now where were we?" Harry slowly curled his thumb down over the two fingers already resting against the palm of his hand and, as skin touched skin, the black dress robes that hugged Draco's body melted into thin air.

Every time Harry used his magic to strip Draco, it was as if it caressed every inch of his skin where the clothing had been and Draco shuddered, arching his back as his skin prickled with the heat of it. He forgot to count, only managing a keening sound.

"Fuck," Harry whispered, nearly forgetting the game as he stared down at Draco who was practically writhing against the white linen beneath him. Licking his lips, Harry brought down one more finger and the dark silk underwear vanished, exposing the jutting hip bones that beautifully framed the cock that Harry planned to feast on. Lifting his eyes to Draco's face, Harry lowered the last finger and his own clothes were spelled away instantly and not a moment too soon as he fell to his knees with a growl and crawled quickly up Draco's body. "Dinner is fucking served," Harry said against Draco's lips, his hands clutching at his husband's shoulders. With that, Harry's mouth crashed against Draco's with a hunger that was almost violent.

Draco would have laughed then, but his mouth was busy, opening to the kiss that was as much teeth and tongue as lips. He arched up again, the head of his own prick sliding wetly against Harry's hip and moaning at the feel of Harry's sliding up over his to his belly. He lifted one hand to Harry's side and the other to his husband's head, pushing his fingers into the thick hair. Between them he felt their tattoos spark into movement.

Harry pulled his lips away from the kiss that had been nearly bruising in intensity and lowered his head in blind exploration until he reached the rapidly pebbling nipple and latched on, sucking and nipping while the moans caught in his throat made a deep muffled sound. "Oh, fuck ..." Harry panted, pulling in much needed oxygen. His hands were now gripping Draco's biceps. "I'm going to fuck you from the third course all the way to dessert; I'm going to fucking fill you with me!"

Both desire and amusement rippled through Draco, lips drawing up into another smirk. He imagined how scandalized his mother would be by Harry's current table manners. "I'm yours and I'll take anything you want to dish out, Potter," he teased, but meant every word.

"Yes," Harry growled, moving with a speed that seemed impossible that brought him back up and face to face with Draco. "You will and you'll fucking love it." Before his husband could respond, Harry slithered down the pale body. Releasing his grip on Draco, Harry's left arm shot out and swept away the pieces of china that stood between him and the goblet of wine he was reaching for. Shattering sounds filled the air but Harry didn't care. He pulled the goblet close and slowly dribbled the White Burgundy wine over the flat expanse of Draco's belly before greedily sucking and licking the liquid with sounds that were almost obscene. In between slurps, Harry murmured, "You taste so fucking good ... so good."

"Oh, Gods!" Draco gasped, and a sound that was half-moan and half-laughter bubbled from him. The cool of the wine contrasted intensely with the warmth of Harry's mouth – and it tickled as well as aroused. Draco's cock bobbed in response as if to insist that Harry tongue should pay more attention below his navel.

Harry lifted up and sat back on his heels, grinning now at Draco with the remnants of wine smeared across his lips and his chin. Even his cheeks glistened with the liquid. The grin widened and Harry's green eyes danced as he raised the goblet in the air and poured the contents over Draco's hip, his thighs ... his cock. Harry then tossed the empty goblet backwards over his head and more shattering was heard. "Sorry, Draco," Harry smirked, sounding anything but sorry. "Thirsty." And without another word, he leant over and slid his lips completely over Draco's fevered cock, tasting the combination of sweet and salty. All Harry could think was fuckfuckfuck which wasn't really thinking at all, but Draco tasted so good and he was so hungry. No meal would ever satisfy his taste buds the way Draco's cock did.

Draco practically screamed, first as the cool liquid splashed against him and then at the delicious heat of Harry's mouth devouring him. The blond's hands fisted in the tablecloth on either side of him, yanking frantically and sending what dishes remained on the table rattling, some joining the goblet in shattering to the floor.

Harry didn't know why but he was taking some strange pleasure in the breaking sounds of the glassware and dishes. It seemed to add to the frenzied delight he took in devouring every delicious inch of Draco. Using his tongue with practised skill, Harry brought it roughly up the underside of Draco's cock, tracing along the veins before reaching the top and gently nudging the slit in search of any wine that might be hiding from him. Harry had no plans to let a single drop go to waste. He gave one final lick and then placed both of his hands beneath Draco's thighs and pushed up in a quest for better access to the rest of the sticky liquid. "Oh, fuck," Harry breathed in anticipation. "I want to climb inside you ...."

Draco gave a delighted bark of laughter at that, happily spreading his legs as directed. He felt the wine dripping down between them, sticky rivulets dripping from his sac. "Oh, please," he begged.

"Fucking love your table manners," Harry laughed before diving forward. He pulled one sac into his mouth and gently sucked and cleaned the stickiness away from the wrinkled skin. When he was left only with the flavour of Draco, Harry moved on to the other one and performed the same meticulous cleaning ritual, humming happily the entire time. He wasn't quite done yet, though. There was one more place that harboured the vintage wine that Harry was sure was too expensive to go to waste. Leaning to the side, Harry snatched up another wine goblet and flung the liquid out where it splashed against the wall and ran down in wet streaks. He quickly Transfigured the glass into a round fat pillow complete with the Malfoy crest and pushed it beneath Draco's hips to lift him a little higher. "Time to fucking eat," Harry growled and bent over to lick Draco's furled hole where the last of the wine glistened seductively.

Draco was near delirious with pleasure. He keened and shook with every suck and lick. And eagerly lifted his hips when told to, legs shaking with the anticipation fuelled adrenaline. He could feel a drop of liquid sliding down the crevice between his buttocks and see Harry's intense green eyes following the path. He felt his hole tremble under the scrutiny and his cock dripping its own liquid onto his still slick belly.

Spreading Draco open even further with his hands on that perfect arse, Harry traced his tongue in ever tightening circles, lapping up the sweetness with satisfied moans. When he finally made his way back to the hole that had begun to quiver, Harry first turned his head and kissed the inside of Draco's thigh before plunging his tongue inside and pushing past the ring of muscles that wouldn't take defeat without a show of effort. Harry alternated pushing inside with licking and sucking while Draco's body steadily relaxed beneath his ravenous affections.

Draco threw his head back, whimpering and moaning as he returned to curling his fists into the linen on the table. "Yes, yes, please, Har-ry!"

As the tablecloth was bunched up and pulled, Harry felt something splash the back of his thigh with a sting. He turned and saw the silver candlestick holder as it wobbled before settling down again. A flash of memory caught Harry and the image of the two of them covered in red wax like drops of blood played in his mind. The circumstances then were different, and not so different, from what was happening now except that Harry wanted to believe his trust in Draco's love for him was stronger now. Which meant he needed to truly believe it. Harry grinned and reached behind him to pull one of the long tapered white candles out of the holder and sat up on his knees, lifting the candle and keeping it upright so the wax only dripped down the candle. His other hand drifted down to the puckered hole he had recently abandoned and lightly stroked the soft skin there, still wet from Harry's mouth.

"Draco," Harry breathed. "Want to eat by candlelight?"

Draco looked up in shock at Harry, eyes wide. He'd confessed to his husband, in the midst of the turmoil following that incident with Theo back at Hogwarts, that he liked wax play. Harry had never acted on that information and Draco had assumed he would avoid it afterward. Now, the blond swallowed hard, giving Harry a firm nod but not trusting himself to speak.

Harry loved that Draco trusted him to do this, especially since he had never done it before and now they were playing with danger. His free hand kept teasing and touching Draco down below; the only lubricant was Harry's saliva and, knowing that Draco enjoyed a bit of pain with his pleasure, he left it that way and waited for the right moment to press in. Harry locked eyes with Draco, watching carefully for any signs of distress as he lifted the candle and moved it forward over his husband's torso. Anticipating that first splash of liquid fire was part of the game and Harry smiled as he made intricate designs in the air without tipping his hand either way yet.

Draco's eyes focused on the flame end, watching as the wax melted, collecting into a heavy glimmering pool that would soon fall onto his naked damp skin. He took a deep breath, holding it while he waited for the fall.

Up and down. Back and forth. Harry had seen Draco inhale and then grow still but that just wouldn't do at all. Harry brought his other hand up and, still watching Draco, put two fingers in his mouth and sucked for a moment, coating them liberally before withdrawing them and touching Draco's hole again. One finger moved forward, pushing just past the slightly loosened barrier and when Draco exhaled at the sensation, Harry tipped the candle and painted a line down the left side of Draco's chest from his nipple to just below his rib cage.

Draco's attention had been so focused on the candle he hadn't realised what Harry intended with the other hand. He shuddered as he was breached, body spasming around the sudden intrusion so that he nearly missed the hot liquid falling. The first drop splashed onto his already erect nipple, the pain blossoming moments later. He cried out, writhing under the dual onslaught.

"Oh, Merlin ..." Harry murmured, stunned at the reaction of his husband and feeling himself grow harder as an erotic sort of power washed over him. Licking his lips and fighting against the urge to lick Draco's cock, Harry pushed in further and twisted his finger until his search yielded that special place which now came under Harry's assault. As his finger scraped past the bundle of nerves, Harry tipped the candle again and a matching line marched its way down Draco's right side.

Draco's hands were balled into the fabric of the tablecloth, back arching and toes curling around the edge of the table itself as he tried to hold himself in place. His right nipple quivered in anticipation just before the drop landed and Draco's cock mirrored the spasms, dripping pre-come in a sticky line to his belly where it pooled on his skin almost like the wax that now cooled the left side of his chest. His breathing was a ragged sound that seemed to fill the room.

A part of Harry wanted to stop and make sure Draco was all right but a part of Draco – the part that was rigid and leaking – told Harry that his husband was doing just fine. Pulling his finger out, Harry bypassed the second finger and went directly for three. Pressing in steadily and massaging the walls the entire way, he worked his way back to the nerve center and the moment he felt Draco's body jerk, Harry connected the two lines with a third line across the middle. Smiling now in satisfaction at the wax H painted on Draco's chest, he brought the candle down to his own hip and let a small drop splash on the back of the dragon tattoo which caused the fluttering and writhing to increase in ways that brought heat pooling deep in Harry's belly. He blew the candle out with a gleam of possession in his eyes and said in a husky voice, "Fuck, yeah ... you belong to me ...."

Sensations rolled through Draco – the burning of the wax against his damp skin, the burning stretch of his opening below, the pulsing pleasure inside where Harry's fingers worked him and, sparking through it all, Harry's magic like flame warming him inside and out. "Yes, belong to you, always you," he managed, voice cracking with intensity as he looked up into Harry's eyes.

Harry tossed the candle aside and pulled his fingers free. He then leant forward and kissed Draco's chest, his ribs, his belly with tenderness. One more kiss, this time on Draco's hip before Harry sat back up on his knees and, taking one slim ankle in each hand lifted them to his shoulders. He looked down into the grey eyes that held emotions that only Harry had permission to see and he hoped that his own eyes reflected all of that back to the only man he would ever love. A silent Lubrication Spell marked the last of the rituals needed before Harry's body could do what it had been aching to do all evening. "You fucking belong with me, Draco," Harry mumbled as he lined himself up and pushed forward in one smooth thrust. The sigh tumbled from his lips in the form of incoherency. "Oh, fuck, yeah ... fuck, oh, fuck ..."

The lion on Draco's hip nearly roared in pleasure as the one above him, Harry, slid deep. "Belong with you," Draco echoed his husband, reaching up to clutch the man's shoulders, gripping slick skin. There was nothing in the world like the sensations of Harry's flesh and magic filling him, pleasure radiating out and up Draco's spine.

In the small pause he took, allowing Draco's body to meld itself to Harry's in a way that was familiar yet always felt like the first time, Harry's dragon tattoo moved frantically against his skin increasing the heat of the moment. He ran his hands up and down Draco's body, never stopping in a quest to own, absorb, take what was already his and Harry's mouth mirrored the frenzy with kisses being trailed across the pale column of neck and collarbones. "Inside you always," Harry gasped as he slid almost all the way out and thrust back in with a vengeance bourne of need. "Fuck, yeah ..."

Draco arched his neck as he practically clawed at his husbands shoulders and arms, wrapping his legs around Harry's hips and doing his best to move with him as each thrust lifted his buttocks and rattled the few unbroken objects on the table. The remaining silver candlesticks fell over, one guttering out and the other paused on the edge of the table, wax dripping off its end and onto the floor.

"Love ... being inside ... you," Harry groaned as his sweat-dampened hair clung to his forehead and Draco's tight walls clung to his cock. Harry could swear he felt every contoured dip and ridge inside of his husband and the furrows being etched into Harry's skin by Draco's hand created a painful sensation that only made everything feel even better. He blinked back the sting of sweat rolling into his eyes and twisted his upper body to the right, bringing his teeth down on Draco's shoulder and biting ... hard.

Draco shouted, the pain and pleasure spiking so that he nearly came. He was trying to hold back, to let Harry's magic bring them together. That magic was sparking over his skin even now, rippling with his husband's desire. Draco felt the wax cracking where it stuck to his sweat-soaked skin and hissed as the salt from their bodies stung the small burns. All of it combined, to make him dizzy. "Love you!" he shouted.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck," Harry chanted mindlessly, after pulling his mouth away from Draco. He threw his head back, the tendons in his neck stretching and nearly pulsing with every thrust, every slide, as Harry pounded into Draco with a fury of lust that sent his magic spiralling out of his body. Harry felt the rush hit him as he was pulling away and stilled for a second before slamming into Draco and emptying himself into his husband, the thick fluid coating Draco's passage in spurts that matched the beat of Harry's heart. The groan that tumbled from Harry's mouth sounded something like, "Love you too ..."

Heat engulfed Draco, spreading out from where they were joined, pulsing with the spilling from his husband inside him. Draco felt every throb, the beating of his husband's heart and Harry's breath on his skin. His own release spattered between their bodies, mingling with the wax as he clutched Harry tightly.

The tiny thrusts that Harry's body continued making were more of a reflex now. His bunched and knotted muscles began to uncoil and relax as he dropped his head into the curve of Draco's neck and struggled to replenish his oxygen supply with muffled gasps and moans. He couldn't imagine what the two of them looked like at that moment and he didn't care; not that he could see much with his glasses now fogging up. Harry only knew that no matter what happened in the future with the return of Narcissa and Malfoy traditions that might never make sense, Draco loved him and needed him. Harry would learn to work around everything else. Turning his head inward, Harry finally regained the use of his voice and said hoarsely, "Fuck, Draco ... you felt so good."

Draco chuckled, the sound still breathless. He could feel the tablecloth bunched up under him, the unforgiving surface of the hardwood table and the sticky mess of wax, wine, sweat and semen that practically glued their bodies together. He gave a little squeeze with his muscles to the cock still buried inside of him. As the cloud of magic and sex lifted from his mind, he relaxed, realising his husband had done what he always did to relieve his tension and fear. The sheer physicality of it was very Gryffindor and completely Harry. Draco ran the fingers of one hand through Harry's thick damp hair. "Yes, perfect," he answered with a smirk.

Harry smiled at that against Draco's neck and trailed lazy fingers up and down his husband's arm. Using the last bit of energy he had, Harry lifted up slightly and pressed a soft kiss to Draco's mouth before whispering against his lips, "Yes ... we are."

[Worth the wait for this one?]