Kept

The shower went a long way in making him feel remarkably human again and although he was shit tired, he was actually looking forward to a night out on the town. Friday night in Boston always guaranteed a good time. Draco needed ample loads to take his mind off his problems. He hadn't brought much in the ways of clothing so he opted for a pair dark blue low-rise jeans and a fitted navy blue shirt. He tugged the sleeves up but thought better of it at the sight of the tattoo on his inner left forearm. He rolled the sleeves back down, the tattoo would arouse too many questions, none of which Draco was ready to answer. The only pair of shoes in his possession, the beat up Chucks he'd worn throughout his journey completed his outfit.

He made his way downstairs minutes later, making sure to slip his guitar beneath the single bed and turn off the light. Draco found Blaise in the living room seated on the brown suede couch. Seinfeld on the TV screen had him riveted, and he tossed his head back and laughed. Draco lips curled, Blaise's was laughter infectious. He must've stepped on a loose floorboard because it creaked noisily from his added weight alerting Blaise to his presence.

“You always did know how to work a pair of jeans.” Blaise said candidly as he rose from the couch, approaching Draco with purposeful strides. He raised his hands and folded down the collar of Draco's shirt, his fingers trailing down to settle on the sturdy chest. “You were quite the pro at getting me out of mine.”

Draco smirked as he rested his own hands at Blaise hips, the actions comfortably familiar. “Didn't take much doing, Blaise.” He said quietly, pulling Blaise close, Draco could feel the hard erection press against his thigh. “See, you're already begging to come out your jeans.” Sure, strong fingers gripped Blaise through his jeans and his gasp was quickly followed by an involuntary whimper. “Or would you like to come in them?”

“Draco---fuck,” He panted, drawing closer he nuzzled the side of Draco's neck, the scent of his cologne, woodsy and dark had blood rushing to his groin. His hips jerked forward, needing, craving more of the hand that fisted him.

“Ooh, what do we have here? A little tug-of-war?”

Blaise groaned, out of need, out of frustration when Draco released his hold. He remained where he stood, with aching cock and what could possibly turn out to be the worst case of blue balls in long fucking time. “I fucking hate you right now, Cedric.” Blaise groused as he finally stepped away, cock at half-mast.

“Payback's a bitch, Blaisy-poo. That's for the brunette last week, this close man,” he held his thumb and index an inch away from the other, “this fucking close and I would've had the best blow-job of my life, but no, you just had to stroll your candy ass in here and point out the brunette was jailbait!”

“He was jailbait, asshole. Besides, he was only using you to get to Harry. Little shit's obsessed with him.”

“Can't really say I blame him.” Said Cedric, the acrimonious tone of his voice wasn’t lost on Draco as he caught sight of the dark expression that fleeted across his features. Before Draco could turn to Blaise for an explanation, Cedric continued. “You must be Draco, heard a lot about you. Cedric Diggory.” Draco accepted the offered hand, shook twice and released, noticing the derision had gone just as quick as it appeared. The devil-may-care attitude back in place. Never one to overlook a handsome face, Draco returned his hand to his side and continued his casual perusal of Blaise roommate.

The “Rich boy” Blaise had called him. He was movie star pretty. Home grown GQ hunkiness at its finest. He had the fine athletic physique of someone who either ran a lot or played soccer on occasion. Lean and muscular but not overly so, defined only in areas of his wide naked chest and chiseled abdomen. The jeans he wore hung temptingly low around his narrow waist putting to display the deep creases at the junction of his torso and legs. He had rock star hair. Mussed and short cropped. Perfect bed-head that hinted at his recent activities, as dark, brooding silver-blue eyes assessed Draco just as keenly. He grinned after a second, lopsided, and achingly charming he rubbed his jaw with the perfect five-o'clock shadow and winked. “No wonder why Blaise's been all gung-ho about you coming. You're fucking gorgeous man.”

Draco returned his grin. “You're not pretty bad looking yourself, Cedric.”

“And you're charming. You better keep a close eye on him, Blaise else someone might just snatch him away. So, what'ya two lovebirds up to tonight?” he headed to the kitchen, swaying hips like they were going out of style. All for Draco's benefit, Blaise had no doubt. The slight crease between his brows was his futile attempt not to wish ill will on his roommate as he glanced over and witnessed Draco’s avid interest in their resident pansexual. As much as it rankled, Blaise held no claim over Draco. Best friend or not, a nine year rift tended to change people’s preferences---views, Blaise didn’t even know if Draco even wanted him like that. Never mind that Draco had reacquainted himself with Blaise’s Johnson not five minutes ago.

“The Goblet first, we’ll grab a bite and a pitcher, then maybe check out the clubs on Hammond. You working tonight?”

“Nope, had the night off.” after taking a swig of his bottled water, he recapped it and joined them in the living room. “I'm heading to DiC’s in a little bit, Harry's performing tonight.”

“Shit, that’s tonight? I totally forgot about that.”

“You know he won't let you live it down if you missed it. Remember what happened last time? He didn't talk to you for like what a week? Ollie said he might cut out early to go see him if the bar’s not busy. Wanna make a night of it? It's gonna be a full house.”

“Don't have much of a choice. Dray--”

“No worries, Blay, so long as it's a good time, we're good.”

“Sweet, let me grab a shirt and we'll be out.”
`*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The last time Draco had ventured out into the Boston night life he'd been a seventeen year old cocky shit with too much anger issues and a hard dick aimed and loaded for a good time. It'd been the night before they'd been scheduled to leave for Washington. He'd been angry at the world. At his mother. He hadn't called Blaise, a rarity, since they'd done virtually everything together. No. It'd been a spur of the moment thing; pure teenage rebellion with a healthy dose of self-absorbed angst to go along with it. It hadn't gone far, in fact the most fun his dick had received that night had been from his trusty left hand after he'd been turned away from numerous clubs for being a little too young.

The difference between that night and this one was that he was legal now. And adult fun was at his complete disposal. He flashed his ID; the thirty dollar cover charge was overlooked by the beefy bouncer at the door, who, upon looking down at his list, waved them in. Apparently, they were expected. They entered the club with Cedric in the lead, Blaise in the middle and Draco bringing up the rear.

Dukes in Chains or DiC as it was affably known to its frequent clientele was one of several gay clubs on Hammond that catered to the more unique lifestyle of the gay personal. It followed the atypical formula. Loud Pop music surged through the speakers while psychedelic lights spun rainbow dots on the dance floor and its countless occupants. Liquor, served by the bottles were carried around by scantily clad pretty boys who'd happily let you cop a feel if you tipped them well enough. Everyone was preened and pretty, bottled beauty at every corner. The scent of many, sweaty and cloying perfumed the humid air, fusing with the heavenly fog whispering up and around the oversexed throng. The dance floor was crowded, an orgy of gyrating bodies moving as one to the reggae beat, grinding, trying to pass dry fucking as dancing.

As clichéd as it all was, there was something quite different about DiC’s that set them apart from its competitors. As they were led to their seats, a VIP lounge on the second floor of the club with a panoramic view of the dance floor, Draco's lips quirked as he took in the dick-shaped neon pink Plexiglas tables. There were maybe ten or so that surrounded larger dick-shaped neon pink stage, with its very own stripper pole reinforced into the vaulted ceiling. On each of those pink tables one could find a very beautiful twink in some form of undress dancing to the music. The larger stage remained empty.

Seconds after settling into the rounded booth-like structures with its deep red enclosures that gave one the illusion of privacy, a waiter came to their table. Tall, pretty, pierced and blond, he took a seat on Cedric's lap and proceeded to smack cheery red lips against his cheek. “Hey Gorgeous,” he greeted with a smile, sweat, alcohol and vanilla peeled off him. “Here to see Harry? Hey, Blaise.”

Blaise tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Roh.”

Roan laughed and rolled his eyes. “Always the talker. Funny how you’re more vocal in bed.”

Blaise’s face warmed even as he glared at Roan and almost anticipating the retort Draco knew was forthcoming, he settled a hand on Blaise’s thigh in comfort before reaching across the table to introduce himself to the skinny blond. “I’m Draco.”

The smile Roan turned his way was two parts seductive and one part sweet. “Roan, but everyone calls me Roh.”

“The best ass DiC's has to offer.”

Roan laughed and playfully smacked Cedric's chest. “Flatterer.”

“What will it get me?” Cedric leered, fingers tip-toeing up smooth tanned legs.

“Everything.” Roan dipped his head and took possession of Cedric's lips. The kiss, hot and wet, lasted for seconds before Roan pulled away. “Take me home?”

Cedric grinned, “I'll think about it. Meanwhile, what'dya have to drink?”

“What do you want?”

“Bottle of Patron to start? Maybe some Lagavulin?”

With one last lingering kiss, Roan stood, “I'll see what I can do. Boss man's here tonight, wouldn't want to piss him off.”

“Not in a good mood?”

“Jet lagged, horny and according to Brandon, the cops are casing the joint because some stupid crystal twink O'ded last night. It’s been pretty tense since he got here. Brandon told me he came straight from his jet, wanted to catch the show.”

“Don't go to any trouble on our account, Roh.” Said Cedric, toying with the silver chain hanging off Roan's nipple piercing. “Tom's a real bitch to mess around with.”

“Aww, didn't know you cared so much, Ced. No worries, worse comes to worst, I'll just tell him you’re Harry's friends. Alright, be back as soon as I can.” he was off before they could miss him, maneuvering through the crowd like a pro. He sidled up to the boisterous occupants of the VIP lounge four tables away from theirs and went on to plop himself on the lap of some drunken geezer with octopus hands.

“Why do you keep messin’ around with that kid, you know he’s just using you for your money, right?”

“Get off my dick, Blaise.” He said tersely then turned to Draco and conspiratorially whispered. “He’s still a little pissy that Roh chose me instead of him.”

“Because of your money.” Was Blaise’s caustic reply.

“Sure and the size of my dick had nothing to do with it.”

“Can’t say it made much of a difference when I was under you.”

Draco was far too entertained to mind not being included in the conversation. Tension crackled in the air between them, the scathing looks and cutting remarks going a long way in adding to that tension. It was interesting seeing the change in Blaise. When they’d been younger, it’d taken quite a bit to get under Blaise’s skin, but it seemed Cedric accomplished the feat effortlessly. And if the grin on his too handsome face was any indication, took great pleasure in baiting the biracial man. “You two should fuck again, if for nothing else than to get all that animosity out of your system.” Draco said conversationally only to burst out laughing at Blaise’s affronted expression.

“Never gonna happen.”

“Happened once before----”

“Hey, Hey, Gentlemen, gentlemen, DJ Dice on the ones and twos! I'd like to welcome you all to another fantastic evening here at DiC's, home to your wildest fantasies!” The booming voice coming from the DJ booth interrupted Cedric’s comment, as they all turned to listen. “We have a great performance lined up for you tonight all thanks to Mr. Riddle himself! Please give him a round of applause.” The crowd cheered and applauded toward the large window with the neon blue lights located high above the pink phallic shaped stage. Where if one looked closely could make out the shadowed form of a man standing in front of that window, looking down at them, a glass tumbler held in his hand. Draco's gaze remained intent on the glass window for only seconds more before the DJ's voice drew his gaze back down to the stage.

The din of the crowd peeked, their anxiousness and anticipation sending vibrations through the air. “Alright, Gents, I know what you've all been waiting for and he's been very eager to dance for you, please put your hands together for Harry!” The deafening applause that ensued instantly quieted at the sound The LL cool J's “Doin it” in the background. The flashing multi-hued disco lights dimmed while a soft, orange-red spotlight illuminated the stage. The very first sight of him garnered a collective gasp from nearly everyone in the club.

Draco wasn't immune.

Head raised, gaze intent, they all watched as he slithered, head first, down the steel pole. Upon hitting the stage, he flipped over with effortless ease and with cat-like grace crawled to the edge of the stage. Draco barely heard the lewd catcalls of the crowd or the music that pulsed all around them as he watched DiC's most infamous stripper dance.

He touched himself, caressed himself in ways that made men want to bat away at his hands to trace every naked inch of peaches and cream skin and see if he tasted as sweet as he looked. The smile on his lips was a call for debauchery. Pure sex. He was completely and utterly breathtaking.

Draco was riveted.

Naked except for the indecently small, impossibly tight vinyl shorts he donned, there was nothing else to cover the delicate contours of his lithe form. He was tall, slender, and graceful in his strides as he moved around the stage. Seduction in his every step. Draco felt that seduction like a blow to his senses. The effect hit him in the gut and crept between his thighs.

Climbing to his feet, with shuttered eyes and hands buried in wavy shoulder length hair, he watched as Harry danced, in complete supplication to the music. Draco wanted to be on his knees and worship. And suddenly, like a bad trip, the crowd bled away and it was only them in his mind. Harry fucked himself to the music only for Draco's viewing pleasure. That illusion however quickly shattered as Draco watched Harry amble down the three little steps on the far left of the stage and danced his way to a crowd of college guys on the first floor.

The unexpected spear of white-hot jealousy that ripped through his core almost brought Draco to his knees as he watched Harry sidle up to one guy in particular. Frat boy, with eager hands touched Harry in turn, his friends, the crowd egged him on as he slipped bills of money down those made for fucking shorts. When Harry bent low at the waist, hands on the floor, glorious ass grinding against shit out of luck frat boy, Draco wanted to break hands. He shot to his feet before he could think, ignorant of Blaise and Cedric's call he headed to the first floor. But, before he could make it pass the second spiral step, he saw two burly men emerge from their shadowed corners as they interfered with the private show. The crowd booed. Draco applauded the security detail as they escorted Harry back to the stage.

Like any good performer, Harry worked the crowd again, turning boos into cheers, seducing eager men in opening wallets and give over their weekly earnings. By the time he worked his way to the pole, the pink neon stage was littered with green bills. He climbed the pole with all the expertise of a learned acrobat, writhed and moved like a contortionist, wrapping forever legs around the steel pole. He twirled, swirled, dipped and flipped all on that lucky pole and when he finally came back down, it was all Draco could do not to bum-rush the stage and go early man on the enthralling Harry.

When he disappeared, the absence of his presence was staggering. At least in Draco's opinion. He blinked a few times as if emerging from the best orgasm of his life. He looked around, everything appeared the same, but nothing felt the same. The air felt a little too tight against his skin. The people too fucking generic. Plastic. He felt unbalanced and when he turned around, he found Cedric's Cheshire grin annoying and Blaise's frown misplaced, familiar, but misplaced.

“Come and have a drink, Draco, I know exactly how you're feeling. Believe me man you need this more than I do.” Before he could think better of it, Draco grabbed the shot glass Cedric offered and tossed back the clear liquid. It went down smooth and lit a fire in the pit of his stomach. “Want another?” Cedric held up the bottle of Patron invitingly, sloshing it from side to side.

“Fuck it.”

Fuck it meant they finished the bottle of Patron in fifteen minutes, the Lagavulin was gone just as quick. By the fifteenth shot, they garnered a crowd in their little VIP lounge, their threesome became a more-some and when Oliver—Ollie made his grand entrance, they welcomed him to the fold with three of their best buddies. Jose, Jack and Jim respectively. Buzzed drunk became sloppy drunk and sloppy drunk had Cedric and Roan and two other strippers on the glass table dancing to Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop”. Decidedly fucked up, Draco slumped into the booth. With his legs spread apart, an empty shot glass held precariously between his fingers, he watched through a warm haze as Cedric and Roan sandwich Blaise between them. The sight was magnificent and went a long way in giving Draco the very obvious bulge in his pants. He was feeling good, so good in fact that he could even fool himself into the thinking the pretty little piece heading their way was the infamous Harry. The illusion however didn’t last very long when he realized too soon that it really was Harry moving through the tide of bodies to get to their little lounge.

“Harry!” Cedric and Oliver chorused in drunken revelry ambushing the slender man, they pulled him in their circle and hugged him fiercely as though it been years rather hours since they’d last seen him. They were always friendlier when they had a few drinks in them. Harry didn’t seem to mind though as he embraced them, stepping back only when Cedric finally relinquished his hold. He didn’t get a chance to move too far however as Oliver slung an arm around his shoulder, shifting the majority of his weight on Harry. “Didn’t get to catch the show, babe, but heard you were amazing as always!” he was screaming, unnecessary really seeing as he was practically on top of the grinning brunet.

“Fucking sexy as shit.”Cedric added, and then turned a grinned towards Draco, “Nearly had our man Draco over there shootin his load. Ain’t that right Draco?”

Draco scrambled to a sitting position and made every attempt not to ogle. That feat proved nearly impossible as Harry approached and if Draco had believed him beautiful before, he was nearly bowled over upon closer inspection. His beauty hadn’t been exaggerated by the play of lights as he’d initially thought; Harry was quite simply put stunning. Perspiration glistened off peaches and cream skin and never had Draco envied sweat more. The fuck-me shorts gave Draco a bit of a staring problem and he had to mentally kick himself to look up. Up close, he appeared taller, but Draco still had a few inches on him a fact that made him want to stand up and loom over him, crowd him up against the nearest wall and use those few inches to his advantage.

But that would have to wait it seemed as amazingly bright green eyes made prominent by kohl black eyeliner zeroed in on him. Draco felt the heat rise to his face; it was the oddest sensation, one he hadn’t felt since before he was a teenager. He didn’t even know he could still feel bashful, embarrassed even, but starring up at that face, into those Midori green eyes, he was incapable of preventing the blush from staining his cheeks. Thanking whatever God was in charge of watching over his ass for the dimmed lights, he cleared his throat, came to his feet and held out his hand.

“Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you. I—ah enjoyed the show.” In the back of his mind he knew that was kind of lame. Seriously, where the hell did he think he was a board meeting? It seemed Harry thought it was pretty fucking lame too seeing as the sexy little smile on his face widened to a full grin, a stretch away from laughter as he took Draco’s hand. His grip was surprisingly strong, the palm of his hand baby soft.

“Ah, so you’re the infamous Draco. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things I hope?” he flashed him a smile, amping up the charm to redeem himself for his earlier idiocy.

His gaze roamed over Draco, slow, deliberate, sexy as fuck, before settling back on Draco’s face, his grin said it all. “Depends on what you consider good.”

“You tell me.”

“Hmm, good is...good, but bad…but is so much more fun. Come on, let’s dance.” He was leading Draco onto the dance floor before he could be the wiser; all form of protest from the peanut gallery went unheeded as they practically ran to the dance floor. The firm hold he had on Draco’s hand did not ease even as they found room among the gyrating masses. “So…you liked my show?” he asked without missing a beat, snaking his arms around Draco’s neck he pressed himself close, practically jumping inside Draco’s skin. His breath was warm against Draco’s ear, sexy, tenor soft, filled with so many implications.

“Yeah.” it was all his brain could manage to say, muddled and not completely able to believe he had Harry in his arms, Draco felt slow. His very presence was enough to make him reel and boy was he reeling. He wasn’t used to this. Normally, when he cared enough to give chase, he was the one in the lead, the one with the easy charm, the one who decided when and where. But right now the roles were reversed and he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that.

What he was sure of however was that this thing he was feeling was spiraling quickly out of his control; he’d never been affected this quickly. When Harry pulled away, Draco frowned, feeling the loss of his touch instantly. This was a problem. More than attraction, he found that it was turning into an obsession, a need greater than anything he’d ever felt before.

Swaying his slender body the music, Harry danced out of Draco’s reach, retreating into the crowd, that come hither smile lured Draco to follow him. Under his spell, propelled by the seduction of smoldering green eyes, Draco knew in that instant that he would follow this man to hell itself.

When Draco finally cornered him, in the shadowed corner of the club, with faceless bodies moving on opposite ends of where they stood, he made good on one of his recent fantasies and stooped down to capture those candy pink lips. And damn. Nothing had ever tasted sweeter. Draco took his fill and then some, teasing the plush seam of his lips with his tongue until Harry allowed him access, Draco breathed him in. their tongues stroked, caressed, hot, wet, eager, oh so very eager, they did things to each other Draco could only imagine doing with other appendages of his body. They nibbled on lips, teeth clinked and when oxygen became an exigency they breathed deep, lust mingling in the air they shared. He pressed his face to Harry’s cheek, his lips roaming along that pretty face, nudging at his jaw Draco whispered a path of open-mouthed kisses along the honeyed column of Harry’s neck. God his cock was so hard it hurt. Draco thrust forward, grinding their groins together and the friction it created was the sweetest of torture. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” He nearly growled. Growled for fuck sakes!

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Draco felt fingers in his hair before he was pulled down for another kiss. It nearly undid him. Harry tongue fucked him until Draco forgot his own name. “Wanna be bad with me, Draco?”

“Fuck yeah.” They were like children, Harry in the lead, Draco at his heel; they escaped their shadowed corner and swam through the sea of bodies to the back exit. Their laughter rang through the warm night air as they bounded out the back alley. And because neither one could keep their hands to themselves, Draco only gave a small grunt as his back connected with the brick wall. Harry was on him like skin on bones, hands and fingers everywhere, his mouth devoured Draco.

“This is insane,” Harry breathed between kisses, “I don’t normally do this.” not unless he was absolutely sure the guy was loaded first. This thing right here, what he was doing with Draco, this wasn’t usually how Harry operated. With ragged breaths Harry came away from Draco, took a few steps back and stared at the blond. “No wonder why Blaise is infatuated by you. You’re dangerous, Draco.” His heart was an incessant drumbeat in his chest.

“Somehow I think it’s the other way around.” Draco said warily sighting the forms of the muscle bound meat heads from earlier. Like before they came from seemingly nowhere, three David Banners in hulk mode. Draco wasn’t happy to see them this time around, especially when one of them was holding a G39 to his head.

“Fun’s over, pretty boy.” He was in all cases cosmetically challenged and the vicious scar running lengthwise across his face didn’t help matters.

Draco held up his hands, “Alright take it easy.”

“Jesus Christ, Rex, put the damn gun down!”

Scar face—Rex didn’t turn to look at an anxious Harry, his inscrutable gaze pinned on Draco. “Go with Charlie, Harry, Tom’s expecting you.”

“Like hell! Look Rex, it’s my fault alright, I’m the one who brought him back here. He didn’t do anything, so ease up!”

“Didn’t look like he wasn’t doing anything, seems to me pretty boy over here was enjoying things a little too much. Weren’t you, pretty boy?”

His voice grated and Draco wanted nothing more than to punch that smirk off his face. “Didn’t know it was a crime.”

“Well whatdya know boys, pretty boy’s got jokes.” His comrades chuckled along with him; the right hook that occurred seconds later had Draco’s ears ringing. Hunched over, with hands on his knees, he spat out blood. “Well how’s that pretty boy, funny enough for ya?” The elbow to the back of the neck had him on the floor; the kicks to the ribs from steel toed boots knocked the wind out of him.

“Rex that’s enough!” Harry screamed, jumping in front of the larger man, holding his hand out to stop him from doing anymore damage. “Tom is not going to like this.”

Rex grinned and finally met Harry’s gaze. “Tom’s the one who asked me to deliver the message. Learn to keep your hands off people’s property next time, pretty boy.” That parting shot was for Draco. Having struggled to his knees, his arm nursed his middle as he watched Harry leave with the three men. It wasn’t until the back door closed behind them that he showed any form of pain. He was used to the pain. His father and his ‘associates’ had done a lot worse. What killed Draco however was that whoever this Tom fellow was, he wasn’t going to be anyone to fuck around with. And if the tattoo he’d seen on the side of Rex’s neck proved his suspicion than Harry was in some deep shit.