Wake up call

Disclaimer: This is slash fanfiction. Of the moral fibre and societal crumbling sort. It involves graphic sex acts, rather confused mentalities, and oddness.
Not for kiddies or people who do not approve of smut. ‘cause that’s ty mty much what this is.
Smut and caffeine addledness.
Also tis about Harry Potter characters and references that have been trademarked, ergo I’m not making anything out of this other than an entertaining waste of time – and the author/owner does not know that I’ve stolen off with said characters and currently have them tied up in my wardrobe.
Kindly do not tell.
I apologise – I have not slept in a while. The coffee made me do it.
Bloodquartz.

* * *

He just knew today was going to be a bad day.
Any day that started off with you beiavisavished - and not in a good way, by a giant smirking penguin was definitely one that you’d be better off spending hiding in the back of your wardrobe.
The penguin obviously had a problem with this plan however – the goddamned thing wouldn’t stop pecking him in the ribs.
He muttered a curse under his breath, pulling away from it.
That penguin was this close to becoming a stir fry – he shied away from the incessant prodding wondering why it wasn’t already.
Damn potter, moral goodness must be some form of S.T.D.
He knew he should have been more careful.
Speaking of being more careful….Stuff the penguin.
“Do it again and it will be the last thing you live to regret …” he muttered, giving the black clad bird the patented Malfoy glare of doom.
And almost choking when instead of running in the opposite direction as fast as possible, it tipped its head to the side and asked ‘really?’ in a very curious and innocently seductive voice. oiceoice he knew rather well.

Draco sat up abruptly.
He was in bed. In a dungeon – Hogwarts he presumed. Mainly because home would have coordinated the drapes so they wouldn’t clash with bloodstains.
Not to mention there was a highly amused looking harry potter sitting next to him, his hand hovering close to a rather tender spot on his ribs.
He blinked. Apparently this time he was awake.
He was so la off off the every-flavoured-PEZ. That stuff just wasn’t good fou. ou.
He squinted at the grinning git sulkily.
“Go ‘way. I can’t deal with both you and a penguin before coffee.”
Harry raised one eyebrow, his green eyes glittering in amusement.
“ Do you want me to leave? Or do you just want coffee?”
Draco groaned melodramatically trying to burrow back under the sheets that he’d managed to kick off – dungeons were rather draughty – especially when you were only clad in boxers and sheeting
He scowledat tat the laughing brunette - who was currently eyeing the snitch shaped PEZ dispenser and shaking his head.
“urgh” he groaned again, to pull the attention back to him. “coffeeeee…”
“how about fantastic sex?” was the calm level response.
He had to ponder that one.
Sex, coffee. Coffee, sex – decisions, decisions – the boy wast bet being cruel now.
“ Coffee first” he decided after a few seconds pause. “Then sex.”
Instead he got a pillow in his face. Some people – oh, right – manners, he was always on at him about manners.
Draco peered out from under the pillow, looking up at harry blearily.
“Please?”

* * *

Draco Malfoy was possibly the most impossible creature on the planet. Harry mused, But he was also damndedly gorgeous enough to get away with it – unfortunately something he took advantage of repeatedly.
He looked down at where the blonde lay, peeking up at him from under the edge of a silver silk pillow beseechingly.
The grey eyes that were normally so sharp seemed to be a slightly more tempered shade, his creamy skin glowed in contrast to the stark white sheets that draped and twisted carelessly around him.
And his hair… Freed from two tonnes of hair gel it fell around his face in a silken web –nginnging to his cheeks and the pillows stubbornly.
It was completely pointless trying to get Draco out of bed – especially earlyish in the morning of a weekend.
Not that he was complaining. No classes, no one around for a couple more days and Draco half-naked and mussed in beWho Who said life was bad.
He flopped down next to the unmoving figure iciticiting a mew of protest from said figures perception of someone stealing his leg room.
Not that he needed it – at 5ft 4.25” (his measurements) Draco was one of the more petite seventh years around Hogwarts, although saying so would quite possibly kill you. With harry hovering on six foot, he could just about rest his chin on the top of his head.
The only problem with this was you ended up with teeth near enough to throat height to btherther a scary prospeconsionsidering that he’d found Malfoy’s had a tendency to bite.
And irritated Malfoy’s had a tendency to bite hard.
Unless distracted.

“Do you even realise what day it is?” harry teased, reaching out and batting the pillow away from Draco, tangling his fingers in that silken blonde mop to draw him closer.
“Yes” Draco paused and looked into green eyes that quite calmly accused him of lying
“Ok” he admitted, “no I do not know what day it is – nor do I particularly care…”
“Its Sunday” harry interrupted, grinning mischievously – but rather wisely removing his hand and other bodily parts from biting range.
“Its Sunday?” narrowed grey eyes alternately looked at him and up at the clock next to his bed.
“It is Sunday.” He repeated icily. “Its Sunday and eight O’Clock. Potter I should kill you. –Give me coffee and I’ll let you live.”
Harry rolled his eyes – honestly, he was not going to get anywhere until he’d given the spoiled brat caffeine
“Fine” he drew out his wand from his robes pocket and muttered “Prochula Chaphas” with a slight flick of his wrist at the bedside table.
At which a steaming cup appeared, promptly dived upon by a caffeine deprived Malfoy – judging from the speed that it came to an end, it didn’t suffer -much.
Draco set the cup down, pulling a face as he did so.
“You make bloody awful coffee potter”
“Well – make it yourself then.”
A look of complete bafflement crossed Draco’s face as he looked back at him; “Why on earth would I do something I can get someone else to do?”
Harry groaned and flopped down face first into a pillow.
Some thing’s, he thought in amusement, you just couldn’t change.
“Brat” he muttered into the fabric.
Actually, this was pretty comfy he mused, lightly rubbing his cheek over the cool silken fabric. No wonder Malfoy never wanted to get out of bed. His eyes sank closed as he settled into the warm indent of the mattress.
And was jolted back to the present by a prod in his ribs– a rather hard prod.
Hard enough to make him sit upright and frown at the blonde.
“Bloody hell – what was that for!?!”
Draco looked at him in mock astonishment, and folded his arms over his chest petulantly “let me guess” he drawled – “this is your latest brilliantly devised torture method – wake me up from a sound sleep, give me coffee, promise me sex and then fall asleep in _my bed_”
“Oh” harry smiled sheepishly pushing his glasses up on his nose, “right – no I’m awake.”
“..And?”
“And what?” he asked innocently, trying to hide his smile.
It probably wasn’t the wisest idea – a moment later he was struggling for breath under the weight of an irate blonde wielding a pillow.
“hey! Alright, alright – Malfoy if you don’t move that pillow….Ouch! Give me back my glasses!….Gah - Watch your knee you bony…oh I give up!”


Draco grinned down at him from where he sat straddling Harry’s stomach, his hands pinning his captive’s wrists to the bed above his head.
“Now – I believe you owe me something Potter”
Harry looked up blearily – now minus his glasses and thoroughly ruffled, although with a smile of his own playing over his lips.
“And what would that be Malfoy?”
Draco, still pinning him to the bed leant forward till strands of his hair stroked Harry’s forehead, his grey eyes steadily burning into the green ones directly beneath him.
“You promised Fantastic sex Potter” he murmured softly, lightly wriggling back against his hips – eliciting a strangled yelp from the prone figure.
“We Malfoy’s tend to get cranky when people break their word.”
“Malfoy’s are always cranky” harry replied casually, eyes glittering as he held himself forcibly still,
“Do you realise how bloody impossible it is to keep you happy!?!”
“I thought you liked a challenge” Draco whispered, his breath warm and caressing as he moved his lips up to kiss the lightly tanned forehead and then down to the tip of the straight nose.
Finally he relinquished his hold on Harry’s wrists to twist his fingers in the thick, dark hair as he slid his mouth deftly over soft parted lips that tipped up to meet his.


Harry swallowed a gasp as a slick tongue darted lightly between his lips, warm and tainted with the bitter taste of coffee.
Draco Malfoy, he had learnt – was a bloody tease. Not that that really surprised him, what really surprised him was how much he enjoyed it.
Closing his eyes harry concentrated on the pressure of Draco’s slender body pressed against his own, feeling fabric crushing into his skin – and damning the early morning coolness that had prompted him to put on more layers.
His mind wiped blank of thought as fingers twisted through his hair – tugging and stroking locks al cou counter in timing to the touches over houthouth.
If he weren’t already mad, it wouldn’t be long before it happened – just one minute more of this mocking game would probably do it. Draco had always delighted in being able to elicit responses from him – what he loved even more was watching him struggle against those responses.
And he insisted he didn’t have a sadistic streak.
He gave up struggling to contain the breathy whimper. Ok, so he had his own flaws as well – stubbornness being one of them.
But he’d still backed off from that argument - he got the feeling that he really didn’t want to explore what Malfoy’s definition of sadistic was – he was rather more demonstrative than could be comfortable.

He tilted his face into the kiss letting his mouth open further in invitation to the warmth that stroked against achingly sensitive skin. The pressure flickering over points that struggled for closer contact – not very successfully.
One thing with Draco – you could never be sure if it was a natural ability to get under your skin or if he actually put effort into it.
Either way he was bloody good.
His freed hands moved upwards to force the teasing mouth down to his own more firmly – but got distracted by the feeling of the slightest points of pressure trickling over his palm as it slid up over his jaw.
And Draco was normally so pedantic about keeping clean-shaven.
He roamed his fingers over the soft pressure and tautly clenching muscle, delighting in the oddness of the sensation.
“Quit it” Draco muttered, moving his mouth down to flutter kisses over Harry’s neck – trying to hide his automatic skiter away from the light touch.
Harry grinned, he could feel Draco’s scowl pressing against his skin and swallowed down the joyous laughter that bubbled up within him, tilting his head back in further offering to the fiercer ministrations.

“I do believe you’re ticklish” he murmured in amusement and astonishment - gleefully trickling his fingernails over the soft stubble and sending a shudder pulsing through the blonde.
And here he’d thought he had no weaknesses.
“Draco Malfoy – ticklish…”
The rest of his musing, and teasing was cut off by a sharp gasp torn from his throat as a hand slid out of where it tangled in his hair and down in between their bodies. Grasping a handful of fabric that bunched over a particularly sensitive point of his anatomy.
Gently, but still.
A gentle touch at that point was about the equivalent of a cattle prod. Needless to say, parts of him were now standing upright in shock – among other things.
Low blow that.


Harry gasped, his body tensing and s cls clenching over whatever skin he touched as the pressure withdrew – leaving his hips automatically arching upward against the warmth that settled just above them.
“That” He hissed furiously through clenched teeth, fingernails digging harshly into skin that slithered out from his grasp.
“Is completely unfair!”
Hands forcefully gripped the shoulders of his robes, holding him in place as the pressure on him shifted slightly and intense grey eyes clashed against his own – sparks of green shadowed in them as Draco stared downwards, his own breath ragged and a flush spreading over his pale skin.
“I thought all was fair…”
He leant down to press his lips fully against Harry’s. His breath sharp and fast as teeth raked over sensitive skin, warmth probing and withdrawing as he pulled away enough that they were pressed nose to nose.
“…In love and war”
There was a pause in which they both stared at each other - caught like a moth in a tract of light by unanswered questions.

A mutter of frustration escaped from Harry’s lips as he reached up impatiently to thread his fingers in the satiny hair that draped around Draco’s neck and brushed against his own face.
Pulling their mouths back together firmly as his fingers twisted trying to hold him in place.
Only problem was that it was about as easy to get a grip on his hair as on a unicorn mane –fingers just trickled through the fine strands, any tangle parting easily under the slightest pressure and leaving his grip empty and taunted by the sensations.
The curses turned to a sigh of relief as the hands pinning his shoulders moved, one curving around the nape of his neck easily and the other pressing under his shoulders to pull him up into to warmth of the deep probing kiss more firmly.
Nice to know they could agree on the important things.
His mouth opened wider as the silky tongue pressed forcefully into him, stroking deeply into crevices and twisting against his own hungrily – heat flowing through him thick and moist, leaving a sticky trail along its path like honey sliding heavily down through his veins.
Weight pulling them downwards, he slid his hands from where they were currently scrabbling over the pale neck, downwards - tracing over the sleek malleable back trying to force their way through the hot pressure of skin into something he could pull against him.
It was almost as if he managed to trickle over every inch that touched him, touching - yet weightless and impossible to pin down.
Everything about Draco was disturbingly fluid, clothed he seemed to move with a cat like grace. Unclothed though, his body seemed to consist of liquid rr thr than muscles that flowed over his bones in the same way that water flowed down the well worn path of a riverbed.
Resting against the slender waist, his hands tugged downwards over silk and skin desperately, trying to pull the warm pressure down against him. A scream of frustration rising in his throat as all pressure pulled away - Teeth tugging over his lower lip in a none too gentle fashion as Draco drew back, the pain a sharp jolt through his body.

This was unbearable. He couldn’t think, couldn’t form coherent curses, wouldn’t plead, - so he pretty much couldn’t do anything except whimper needily.
God but he’d get him back for this.
He lay in Draco’s arms, feeling trembling tension vibrating down each slight point of contact – at least it wasn’t solely him.
He tilted his head back against fingers that shakily played over his neck as shivers ran down his body – each one pulling muscles tighter as fabric rubbed over them trapping the heat of tension which burnt harsher each second.

Draco leant forward, laying him back down on the bed gently - a disturbingly predatory gleam in his eyes. Mind you it went well with the flush that spread across his cheeks.
“You’re going to have to do better than that potter…” he whispered, his voice low and unsteady as he stared down at him, his chest raising and falling harshly.
“Toffeoffee was lousy, you’d better at least deliver fantastic sex”
It was probably a very good thing that Harry’s hands were around his hips rather thas nes neck still - otherwise there could have been some very interesting questions regarding his one arch-enemy’s demise while half naked in his bed.
Although he was right – he’d never shut up if he didn’t deliver.


* * *

Draco laughed throatily watching the whirlpool of emotions twisting over the features that turned up towards him needily, shivers of desire rolling down his spine.
He let out a mew rustrustration as fingers played over his skin agitatedly, pressing and stroking harshly and gently.
Contrary to his words he was enjoying this _very_ much.
It sure bet out Goyle singing the dawn chorus as a wake up call any day.
His hands reached for the clasps of Harry’s robes hurriedly… and had no luck trying to undo them.
So he should have tried harder – who cared, there were simpler methods.
Instead he twisted his fingers in the askew fabric around the clasp and yanked. Hard.
Eliciting a strangled yelp from the writhing figure under him, and a grinding tearing noise, but hey - It worked.
One less barrier to a naked Harry Potter.
He looked down at the panting figure beneath him as he pushed the robes away from the long, coltish body, the arms already loosed from his waist to slip from the sleeves that enveloped them, returning to trace their unknown pattern almost instantly.
He knew his own breath was just as ragged, but he couldn’t imagine that harry saw anything near what he saw staring up at him.
Those green eyes were slightly un-focussed, as they normally were when relieved of the glasses – but they also glistened with, well, he presumed it was desire, and fury – especially considering the hardness that pressed against his own groin throbbingly.
He ran his fingers hurriedly down to the bottom of the white t-shirt that still covered him, the soft whimpers tugging different chords from his emotions as he pulled it up and over the mussed head rapidly, leaving that hair curling around his face in thick, dark unmanageable tendrils.

Now he lay there, his chest rising and falling fast against a background of black robes that pooled around him on the white sheets. Clad only in a pair of old jeans, with a flush darkening high cheekbones, sweat-drops beading like tiny crystalline points over the gold of his skin and his lips parted moistly, swollen with kisses he looked almost otherworl- im- impish and incredibly ravishable.
His whole body managed to exclude a mixture of childish innocence and mocking suggestiveness.
Draco felt a tightening whirlpool flitter through his body, flowing from his chest downwards, squeezing him so tightly he couldn’t breath.
Trust potter to make things difficult. Damn him.
No, he felt his lips turn up into a grin as he leant downwards towards the writhing figure – he’d much rather fuck him.
It was always so much more fun.

His tongue run over the bared chest inmootmooth motion, delighting in the taste of him – the salty sweetness of caramel that he drew his colouring from. That taste that pulled your mouth open further, sliding over the back of your tongue with warmth that almost burnt until it was smothered by the almost bitter crispness that echoed through your mouth.
He could hear soft mews of pleasure – only thing was he wasn’t sure if they were from harry or himself.
Although when he flickered his tongue over the hardness of one pert nipple, he knew who’s those cry’s were.
He closed his eyes, feeling muscles clench under his tongue and against his body as he pressed himself firmly against the squirming figure, his hands roaming over skin – not doing anything other than touching greedily, drinking in the twitching firmness under them.
A gasp caught in his own throat as fingernails rasped over a particularly sensitive spot low on his back, edging under the waist band of his boxers to skitter over skin that burnt hungrily for further touch.
Now he was finding it difficult to think.
He groaned pushing his weight downwards as denim rubbed against his bare legs and his pulsing groin - harry twisting erratically against him, both of them struggling to seal every space that fell between their bodies.
It was usually a good idea to get all clothes off before you got to that point.
Once again – damn potter, the boy was such a distraction.

Trying to ignore the fingers sliding over his skin – well, as much as humanly possible. Draco reached for the front of the jeans – one hand _trying_ to hold the squirming and whimpering figure still. Although the other couldn’t resist running fingers teasingly over the crotch before unzipping them - rather carefully.
Zips could be rather painful in some states.
Particularly, he thought his eyes flashing in surprise and amusement as he swallowed a gulp - if you’d forgotten underwear.
Which Harry seemed to have done. Well, no complaints here.
A low growl throbbed in his throat as he slid the thankfully loose jeans down lean thighs, threading them rather forcefully under hips that raised grudgingly.
His eyes slid downwards following the jeans and lingering over the length of him.
He’d be the first to admit that harry potter had a _very_ powerful wand.
So maybe 11 inches was a _slight_ exaggeration, but it was definitely nice and supple. Nice colour, good shape, fitted well … well, lets just say the wand chose the wizard it fitted perfectly.

A knot in his lower stomach clenched, sending spasms sparking through his whole body. He never got tired of that sight – and he’d never had a problem with envy….just an overwhelming desire to take it into his mouth.
Which really had been a bit of a problem the first time he’d seen him.
He couldn’t resist running his fingers over its length. Harry always made this small cry that was halfway between a pleading sob and a scream of frustration when he did that – no self-respecting Malfoy could resist it.
So he’d lied about the sadistic streak.
He stifled a cry himself, closing his eyes briefly as those fingers got their own back, sliding over his hips to delve downwards clenching around him just harshly enough to be warning.
He laughed shudderingly at Harry’s wordless hurry up – his whole body pulsing in expectation as he slid trembling hands to the waist of his boxers to tug them down. Shivering at the feeling of silk sliding over aching nerves – but ng ong out as the fabric was replaced with the firm softness of skin against skin.
His knee slid between Harry’s, parting his thighs gently – cautiously and questioning.
Well, he got his answer – if a little bit roughly.
Thighs parted willingly, twining around him as hands yanked him downwards.
Gryffindor’s did seem to lack in patience somewhat.

* * *

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his mouth alternately mouthing pleas and curses as heat crushed along his body, rough pressure kneading into muscles that jerked at the sudden contact. His muscles had felt tight before – now it felt like a fist had yanked on the very emanating point of each and every one. Pulling them so tight that shivers ran down them in time with his pulse.
His whole body felt like a spring, stretched to its limit and held by simply one point.
One very fragile point.
One very fragile point wrapped around one Draco Malfoy’s little finger – ally,lly, elsewhere. And not so little.
He swore he wasng tng to snap.
This was agony, his hands grasped at the body pressed against him.
He wanted - hell he needed him inside him _now_.
Every inch of him ached hungrily, muscles clenched to a state of shuddering pain. Nothing could hurt more than this was…
Could you die from need of sex? He really wouldn’t put it past Draco to have figured out how to kill him by desire.
A choked sob flew from his throat as the body lifted off him, leaving each spot of skin that it vacated screaming – and his mind begging in a repeated litany.
However his sob turned into a cry of relief as the warmth pressed back against him. A hand gently, almost soothingly stroking over his hip as he felt a slick finger enter him, stroking over places that pulsed gily.ily.
One day, he thought dizzily. Making mewling sounds of fury as his body thrust upwards against the withdrawing pressure desperately.
One day…
Oh god.
All thought was lost as Draco’s trembling body finally twined against his own, sending shivery sensations running along his spine and knotting in his lower stomach. The shudders echoing down the sweat-slicked skin pressed against him.
He arched up pleadingly - feeling a fluttering of soft kisses against his chest and almost screaming as Draco pressed slowly and gently inside his body - trembling with the effort to hold himself back from just thrusting as harshly as both of their bodies were screaming.


His body curved into the flesh tholleolled waves of something borderline between pleasure and pain against him, his hands skittering across silky skin and hair.
Unable to get a grip as per usual.
That was the problem with Malfoy, harry thought feverishly – he was just so hard to pin down unless you had handcuffs.
Or an extra pair of hands.
Mind you he had absolutely no problem being pinned down. It was hard to find reason to complain about your position when the mouth pressed into your skin breathed hot and needy in time to the throbbing sensation of pressure moving within you.
Especially when said pressure was rubbing over spots that sent showers of sparks shooting across your eyelids.
Hell, it was hard to do anything except cry out and writhe in desperation at that point.
And why make life difficult for yourself – especially if you’ve got someone else trying their damnedest to do it for you.

He cried out as Draco’s body ground against him even moirmlirmly, soft murmur’s mingling with the harsh desperate breathing.
Each thrust pulled his body tauter and closer to the warmth that ground against him, building up pressure that rose close to boiling point as it flowed through him.
He cono lno longer consciously feel anything except the feeling of heat that spread throughout his body. Even though part of him was altogether too aware of fingernails digging into his flesh and breath playing over skin hotly.
He was even aware – and quite satisfied with his own fingernails pressing into tense skin harshly.
Still, he really couldn’t take much more….
He had no idea what the words were that Draco whispered into his chest, but the soft pressure of them was enough to push him over the edge – the centre of his body falling and melting into liquid form, before shattering into pieces and splaying him out over the bed. He clutched instinctively at the solidness against him, his arms wrapping around Draco’s tense body – sliding perfectly into the warm hollows of his back.

Tremblingly he held the blonde as he arched against him – feeling him cry out, arms tensing around him, before burrowing his head into the hollow between Harry’s chest and neck.
Both of them collapsed against each other breathing so raggedly that it hurt.
Harry buried his head in the soft hair – Draco was going to throw a fit when he saw the state of it.
And the house elves were going to throw a fit when they saw the state of this bed.
Hopefully only a small, very quiet fit.
He smiled wickedly feeling Draco curve into him - trying to hide his frazzled state in his arms.
The boy was vain. But then, he had reasons.
He was just happy – strange as it seemed, to be holding him.
Their relationship pretty much summed up dysfunctional – but they were both having fun. These days they could do a lot worse.
So they lay there together– on his, yet again ruined robes.
Speaking of worse, he really had to come up with some form of payback.
Draco was just getting too used to having his own way. Not to mention today…
“so..” harry murmured teasingly, sitting up to look down at the horribly rumpled mess.
Honestly, he liked him like this – he looked kind of like a disgruntled dust bunny that had been enlarged a hundred fold.
Cute, fluffy looking and almost ethereal, but at the same time - you _knew_ there were health warnings about it.
“Do you know what day it is yet?”
Draco glared at him, pushing strands of hair out of his face before smirking up at him and stretching out in a lazy self-satisfied fashion. Rolling onto his stomach and kicking one leg up behind him to stretch it out before he gave him a particularly cute smirk.
“yep”
His green eyes were disbelieving as they traced over the lean frame – it was hard to be totally trusting of Draco. It wasn’t that he lied – just that he didn’t always tell the truth. Somehow there was a difference.
“ok then genius” he grinned his eyes tracing down the pale skin.- and the red trails that snaked down it vividly.
“what is today?”
“Sunday” Draco replied deadpan, grinning at him before flopping back down and burying his face in one of the pillows.